LETTER XIII.

MY DEAR B.,-We was all at the wet feet at Chissick on Saturday; Lavy and Fulmer, and Mounsheer, my second, and the two "june dimiselles" as Mounsheer calls them; and sich a site as that for a breakfast, never did I clap my too eyes on-furst of all, we went off in Fulmer's broach and Mounsheer's brisket-all in the poring rein-two cargoes of us, and we was literally socked through and through afore we got there, and there was a great poodle under the place where I sot; however, we had paid our jennies, and we was determined to have a reseat in fool.

But now I must tell you before I begin, that when we got home, Fulmer sot down just like Swalter Scott, or Milton, or Pop, or any one of the potes, and rot a whole account of it in verse, every bit of it as true as if it warn't pottery at all, and then he sung it to us, Lavy playing the Pein forte accompaniment; and when I asked him to give it me for you, he tore it all to hattams. But I matched him there, as I had done afore. As soon as he was gone out of the room I picked up the pieces (which, if I had not a watched him, I think he would have gone and done himself); and so I stuck the paper together as well as I cood, but some of the virses is still missing; however, wherever there is a ole in the ballad I will supply the place with my pros, so as to make it a jint produxion just like Bowman and Flesher, or Merton and Reinholds, or Mathews and Yates.

VOL. II.

G

Fulmer begins thus, to your favourite toon of "Hunting the Hair" :

Go tell Jenkins to order the horses,

The clouds are all breaking, the sky's looking blue;
At half after one let us muster our forces,
And order the carriage at half after two.

Tell Emma and Susan,

To put their thick shoes on,

And get Maraboos on,

And send up for Kate;

Put the Halls in the rumble,
(I'm sure they can't grumble,)

With Bob and your humble,

They'll just make us eight.

"Where are ye going to ?" cries Mrs. Dickenson, "What can you do such a very damp day?"

"Comfort ourselves with champagne and cold chickens soon, See the big cherries, and hear Littolf play,

Iceing or prawning

(It's all under awning)
Or lounging the lawn in,

The crowd will be great;

So come, Mrs. Dickenson,

Folks will drop thick in soon,

Mud shan't stick in soon,
you

Come to the fête.

"The people are clever who get up this festival,
Men who sit toiling in science for weeks,

Hold councils on cabbages, and (which is best of all)
Speak upon salads and lecture on leeks;

Who sit (without raillery),

Vote upon celery,

Clear out their gallery

After debate

Men who can grapple

With onion or apple,

And tell if the sap '11

Rise early or late."

Off we started, the rain was just mizzling,

Crack went the whips, and we rattled through town; At Kensington coachstand it faster was drizzling, At Kensington church it began to come down:

The post-boys were whipping,

The post-horses slipping,

The Halls were quite dripping

At Hammersmith gate;

On we went dashing,

And squashing, and splashing,

Till after this fashion

We got to the fête.

Then there's a verse wanton, which of course I can't remember; but the Bow-street officers were all round the dore, and they looked to me as little like Bows as they did like officers; however, there was a large poodle to get over, and I heard them bid me wait till they sent for a Plank, which turned out to be a humane cretur, the head of the Pelisse. We had no umberellars, only our parisoles; but we got into a long tent, and there Fulmer told me I had better make my election to stay, because I was favoured both by the canvas and the pole; which I do not

understand, but he put it all in rhyme about a "hujus encampment," something you know, I don't quite remember, to "keep off the damp meant;" and then he praised the bootiful cretures what was a setting in the mud under the yawning, which cood not get out, and called them the most elegant flowers and fruits of the day.

It was no good a stopping there, however, for we was a mile a'most from the feeding place which Mr. Grunter had prepared for his fellow-creturs; so I determined wet or dry, nolus bolus, over I would go-it was uncommon squashy, and poor Lavy had a touch of the Room attics in her head before we come out, however it warn't no use complaining, so the two Hauls, which was phissitors of ours, and I ondertook to cross over the plot-of that, Fulmer says

'Cross the green ocean amongst the carousers there,

Oh! what a squabble, what pushing, what thumps;
Dandies appropriately drest in duck trowsers, were
Making their way through the water in pumps.
To see them a-tripping,

And sliding and slipping,

With cold meat and dripping

Here there is another ole, and I think it must be a herror of the arthurs, because "cold meat and dripping" is nonsense; however, no matter, we got over, and there, if you'll believe me, was a matter of a kipple of thousand humane creturs, just like pigs with their noses in the troffs, agin the wall, a heating

and a heating, and a grunting and a grumbling, over their uncles in gravelly mud.

I heard one man ask for a kennel of chicken, and another wanted a blanket of veel; but the master cock pot his head out of a French marqui, and said there warn't nothing shew (which, as you know, means hot, in the language of the Galls); so I squeedged out three young youths and two gulls which was a making themselves sick with eating isis, and made rheum for myself, and sot too to make up my jennys worth; but if you'll believe me dear B. (I didn't care for the muck I was a standing in, for I had a cork soul), but presently I felt drip, drip, drip, something a dripping into my neck behind, which I was so hot a crossing the grace plot I didn't feel at first, but which was the rein a coming through the callyko top of the yawning; and what was uncommon surprising to me, although the clouds above were so black, yet the rein which fell, cum down quite blue. I had a glass of Bucephalus, three big glasses of celery Shimpain (which shews the advantage of the garden, for it was just as good as any made from grapes), and a small glass of O. D. V., which the master cock in his white nite cap sent out to me. Fulmer called the people who got under cover, the con-tents, and them as could not, the non con-tents.

But if you had seen the way in which the genteelmen run about to fetch vitals for the ladies-it was quite charming. "I want a wing for a lady," says one "I want a couple of legs for my ant, who can't walk," says another-"A thick slice of beef for Miss Angelina," and so on. Oh! it was quite delightful,