"--
How pretty!--tho' oft (as of course it must be)
Both his French and his English are Greek, DOLL, to me.
But, in short, I felt happy as ever fond heart did;
And happier still, when 'twas fixt, ere we parted,
That, if the next day should be _pastoral_ weather.
We all would set off, in French buggies, _together_,
To see _Montmorency_--that place which, you know,
Is so famous for cherries and JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.
His card then he gave us--the _name_, rather creased--
But 'twas CALICOT--something--a Colonel, at least!
After which--sure there never was hero so civil--he
Saw us safe home to our door in _Rue Rivoli_,
Where his _last_ words, as, at parting, he threw
A soft look o'er his shoulders, were--"How do you do!"
But, lord!--there's Papa for the post--I'm so vext--
_Montmorency_ must now, love, be kept for my next.
That dear Sunday night--I was charmingly drest,
And--_so_ providential!--was looking my best;
Such a sweet muslin gown, with a flounce--and my frills,
You've no notion how rich--(tho' Pa has by the bills)
And you'd smile had you seen, when we sat rather near,
Colonel CALICOT eyeing the cambric, my dear.
Then the flowers in my bonnet--but, la! it's in vain--
So, good-by, my sweet DOLL--I shall soon write again.
B. F.
_Nota bene_--our love to all neighbors about--
Your Papa in particular--how is his gout?
P.
Pages:
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391