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As we

Neuf, in order to go again to see the Mass. went along, I purchased two beautiful sieve jars, with covers, on purpose to keep Popery in.

I believe I forgot to say that we went one morning to an expedition of pictures at the Looksombre palace, so called from its dull situation-it was very fine -one particularly struck my fancy. It was Phoebe offering Hector to the Gods. There was another of Morpheus charming the Beasts, which was extremely moving. Mr. Fulmer shewed me a large picture, painted by David, which is wonderfully fresh, considering its vast age. I knew David was the greatest musician of his time, but I did not know that he was a painter into the bargain. These genuses are always gifted creturs.

We have been to the Jardin des Plantes, or place for wild beasts, where we saw some lepers and tygers and two birds called carraways, from India; there is also an oliphant, which contradicts the absurd story that these animals carry their trunks about with them -this great creature had nothing but a long 'snout, which made him look to me as if his tail had been misplaced-it was intended by Bonypart to put the statute of one of these animals up, for a fountain on the Bullwards, indeed the impediment is already constructed.

I was very much delighted with the place Louis Quinzy-so called from his having died of a sore throat-the Admiralty is situated here, with a dollygraph on the top-Mr. Fulmer introduced me to one of the officers in the naval department, who was a very favourable specimen of the French moreen.

We went to the Odium, a favourite playhouse of Bony part's, on purpose to see the Civil Barber, a play written by one Beau Marchy-but we were disappointed, for the house was not open, so by way of a pease-alley, as Mr. Fulmer calls it, we went to the Fait d'Eau, a kind of French uproar, where we paid very dear for tickets, and got no places after all. was quite sick and tired of the affair altogether, and if Mr. Fulmer had not got me a caffé au lait to carry me home, I think I should have perspired from fatigue.

I

I had almost forgot to tell you that we went to the palace at Marselles, distant from this about ten miles; it is indeed a beautiful place. There we saw the great Owes playing, which is water-works, and represents water coming out of the mouths of lions, and out of the ears and noses of frogs and goddesses, as natural as the life. Here is a wonderful fine chapel, all of marvel, and a strait canal which has no end-I forget how much it cost the nation to make all this water, but I am sure it is cheap at the money whatever it may be though by the name it seems to be still owing. Mr. Fulmer called such an expence an easy mode of liquidating a national debt-but really I don't know why.

I have little time for more at present, because two of the doctors from the Sore-bone are coming to see my daughter's sprained ancle to-night; but it is curious to remark how foolish the people are, when one has not a gentleman with one, for Mr. Fulmer being out to-day, I sent to the Traitors for the bill of fare, and the man talked of sending the dinner in

a cart, which I thought was useless, it being only just over the way. So they sent the bill, and I not being particular, and not understanding the names of the things, ordered the first four dishes in the list, and they sent me four different sorts of soup, and when I complained of the cook, the garkon or waiter talked of quizzing and quizzing her (doubtlessly meaning me), as if I had been a person of no consequence— indeed he once or twice went so far as to swear at me, and say dam when he spoke to me, but I had nobody at home to take my part, and therefore I eat the four soups and said nothing about it.

The daughter of Mr. Ratschild is going to be married-they call him Creases, but he is a Jew. He gives her a dot the day of her wedding, of five millions of franks.

Mr. Cambray Serres is more-which here means no more. I suppose, by his name, he is related to our royal family at home.*

Do you know, Mr. Bull, that I have found out one very surprising thing, the French ridicule the English in everything; they have got a farce which they call "Anglase poor rear," which is quite scandalous, and everything they have they nick-name after us; they call a note Billy, and a book Tom; a pie they have christened Patty; they call the mob a fool; any thing that is very shameful they call Hunt, but whether they mean John, Henry, Joseph, or Leigh, I cannot

* If so, it must have been through the celebrated Princess Olive of Cumberland, &c. ; but it is possible Mrs. R. may be alluding to the death of the Duke de Cambaceres, which occurred about this time.

discover-they call the winter a heaver-the autumn Old Tom, and the summer they call Letty.

I think the French must have been originally Irish, for they say crame for cream, and suprame for supreme, and so on: but I will endeavour to find out more about this.

I went to see a vealyard (that is, an old man,) who had been a sort of anchor-wright or hermit many years ago; he had been put into the dungeons of the Inquisition in furs, and suffered what they call the piano-forte and door of that terrible place-if we go to Room we shall see the buildings in which he was confined, and I dare say we shall go there, and from that to Naples, and into the Gulp of Venus, and so to Cecily, which I shall very much like whoever she may be, because I knew a namesake of hers down in Dorsetshire.

I must, however, conclude my letter, for I am hurried for Tim-Lavy begs her best love, and says in case she is married you must write her epitaph. Why do you not call upon Mr. R.? he will be very glad to see you, and now that he is alone he lives, in compliment to me, entirely upon turtle.

DOROTHEA J. RAMSBOTTOM.

LETTER IV.

Montague Place, Friday, April 23, 1824.

MY DEAR MR. BULL-I think you will be surprised at the prescription of this letter with the P. P. mark of the twopenny post; but poor Mr. Ramsbottom

being seriously illdisposed, we were off from Paris at a moment's notice, for, as good fortune would have it, my embargo which I wrote about was quite removed by the use of Steers's hopalittledog and bang shows every night.

Mr. R. is a little better, and has lost a good deal of what the French call song; indeed our medical man relies very much on the use of his lancaulet. The fact is, that the turtles is come over from the West Hinges, and Mr. R. committed a fox paw at the King's Head, in the Poultry, which caused our doctor (who lives in this neighbourhood, and is lively as he is kind) to say that as Mr. Ramsbottom nearly died by Bleaden, so bleeding must restore him. Bleaden is the name of the gentleman who keeps the King's Head, and bleeding, as you know, is the vulgar term for fleabottomizing.

I fear you have not received my journal regular, nor do I think I have told you of our seeing the Louvre, which we did the very day before we left Paris. I own, amongst the statutes, the Fighting Alligator pleased me most. As for Rubens's pictures, I could not look at them; for though Mr. Fulmer kept talking of the drapery, I saw no drapery at all; and in one, which is of Adonass preventing Venice from being chaste, the lady is sitting on a gold striped jacket. Mr. Fulmer said she had got an enormous anacreonism, at which Lavy laughed; so I suppose it had some allusion to her favourite writer, Mr. Moore, who is called Anacreon-why, I never could understand, unless it refers to the fashionable Maladies which he has introduced into the best society.

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