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rags, and no silver but de grey hair dat grow out of de great hole in de crown of his hat, like you see de pigeon's claw out of de top of de pie--but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.
He make de graceful bow to me; mon Dieu; liis knee come out of de pantaloon, and I see his great toe look at me out of ile end of his pump—but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.
I say to him, my contreman, mon ami, no l'argent, no credit, na dinner; vat for you leave your logement den ? vy you no take de refreshment, de sleep in your bed !
He say to me, “Ah, mon ami! I have no lodgment no bed ; I lodge in the open air, vere I pay no rent, and I sleep here ; de bench is my mattrass, and de tree dat hang over my head de curtain, and sometime de sentinal he come and tuck me in vid de butt-end of his bayonet ; for de Jean Bull no have de politesse to de autrefois jontilhomme at all! but I am a very jonteel man for all dat.'
Sacre bleu! no logement, no bed; pauvre homme, my heart is all melt with de great big pity for you, my friend, my countreinan, I shall take you home to my maison, and give you de dinner and de sleep for de night; for though you have no money, no credit, no dinner, no logement—though your hair grow out of de top of de hat, your knee valk out of de pantaloon, and your great toe peep out of de end of your pump—your shoe, I see you are a very jonteel man for all dat. My landlady she is particulaire, she no like de stranger sleep in her domicile, so ve vill vait and get de bon appetite till it is dark—den you sall pull off you shoe, and ve vill steal up de stair, and nobody sall know ve are dere.
So he pay de great compliment, give me de grand thanks ; for though his beard vas like de great black shoe brush stuck on his chin, and had no been shave for one month, he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Vell, ve valk under de tree, and talk of de grand restaurateur, vere dey have de five hundred dishes for dinner, and de splendid palace of de great monarque a Versailles, till at last it grow to de dark night-den ve steal home to my logement, and I open de door vid de little key vot I have in my pocket; den I rub my show on de mat, and I leave de dirt—mon ami, my countres man, he rub his shoe on de mat and he leave de sole dere-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Ve have de littel joke on his lose de sole ; den I pull off my shoe and dere is my stocking—mon ami, my countreman, he pull off his shoe, and dere is only his foot, he have no stocking at all but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Vell, ve have de little joke because he no have de stocking, and ve creep up de stair, light as de feather, vidout any body hear; for mon ami, my countreman, pauvre homme, he have no flesh, only de bone, for vant of de something to eat very often-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Vell, ve get into my room, mon apartment, mon ehambre a lit; dere I strike de light, make de fire, lay de cloth, and get my dinner from de cupboard. I pull out de large piece of bread, de neck of de mouton dat vas boiled yesterday, and de great dish of
soup maigre, dat I make hot; and I say, now mon ami, my countreman, ve vill have de dinner ; but before I commence I say de grace. Parbleu ! my friend he commence, and no say de grace at all-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
I got up for de cloth to put under my chin, dat I may no grease my frill vid de soup maigre ; begar, ven I came back to help myself, begar, dere is none ! mon ami, my countreman, he have swallowed it all up—but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Vell, ve have de littel joke about de soup maigre, sure not to grease de frill den, and I go to take some mouton; begar! dere is only de bones—mon ami, my countreman, he have eat up all de meat—but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
Vell, ve have de littel joke, and I laugh a littel on de wrong side of my mouth, about my friend eat all de meat and leave me de bone, and I go to make a shift with de crust of de bread, but by gar, dere is no bread at all; mon ami, my countreman he eat all de bread vhile I eat the soup—but he vas very jonteel man for all dat. Ve not have de littel joke dis time, and I content myself vid de cheese paring and de bit of salt.
At last it cnme time to go to bed—and I say mon ami, my countreman, ve vill aller coucher, put our heads in de night-cap: vell, I pull off my coat, dere is my vaistcoat--mon ami, my countreman pull off his coat, by gar, dere is no vaistcoat at all -but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
I pull off my vaistcoat dere is my shirt; mon ami, my countreman, have no vaistcoat to pull off, and, by gar, dere is no shirt at all—but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
I say, mon ami, my countreman, dere is de old sack dat de gardener bring vid de pomme de terre, you sall make de shift vid dat. Vell, he lay on de potatoe sack for his shirt, and I go to sleep: in de matin I vake and look for mon ami, my countreman, and by gar, he is no dere ! I look for my breeches, and by gar, dey are no dere.
Vell, I say I vill put on my vaistcoat and my coat, and see if he is gone down stair. By gar, dey are no dere ; nor more is my hat nor my stocking, nor my shoe, nor my anything ; but dare is de chapeau, vid de hole in de top, de pantaloon out of de knee, de shoe dat have no sole, and very little body, and de dam greasy, rusty, ragged habit of mon ami, my countreman.
Vell, I say, he has dress himself in all my tings by mistake ; he have no money, no credit, no logement, his hair grow out de top of his hat, his knee valk out of his pantaloon, his toe look out of his pump, his sole come out of his shoe; he eat my supper vhile I turn my head, and no leave me none-he have no vaistcoat, no shirt—he make a shift and sleep in my potatoe sackhe get up vhile I sleep and run avay vid all my clothes, it is all bad, ma foi—but he is very jonteel man for all dat.
So I make de fire vid his old clothes, as dey were too bad for de Jew—wrap myself in de blanket, and I think I vill go to my vork again; ven, by gar, I find all the vatch les montres dat vas left by my customers, because dey would not go, had all go vhile I vas asleep; mon ami, my countreman, had taken them vhile I vas dormi, and I vas ruin, and obliged to run avay—but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.
THE FAT ACTOR AND THE RUSTIC.
Meaning, (in metaphor,) for ever puffing,
But had he seen a player in our days
Equalled not that within the bounds
This actor's belt surrounds,
Of our odd fishes
Although his wishes
In this most laudable employ
He found himself at Lille one afternoon,
And catch a peep at the ascending moon,
Out of the town he took a stroll,
Refreshing in the fields his soul,
When we are pleasantly employed time flies ;
Until the moon began to shine,
Pulled out his watch, and cried—“ Past nine,
Stumping along with might and main ;
And, though 'tis plain
(Those who had seen him would confess it) he
Marched well for one of such obesity.
He puffed and blew along the road.
When in his path he met a clown
Returning from the town.
“Get in!” replied the hesitating loon,
“A load of hay went in this afternoon."
THE BUMPKIN'S COURTSHIP. WHILE on a visit to a relation in the celebrated city of York, I was acquainted with an honest farmer in the neighbourhood, who having resided there from a youth, was respected, and admitted into the society of most of the country gentlemen. He was a constant visitor at the house of my uncle, and his conversation, teeming with merry stories which serve to delight the ear at the expense of our sides, told in his simple, unadorned manner, could not but render his society agreeable to me.
Honest old farmer Burton, had an only son, who had reached the age of forty without entering into the matrimonial state; he was in fact, as true a picture of a country bumpkin as ever graced a dung-fork !-One day our discourse happening to turn upon the said Bumpkin, I expressed my surprise that he should never have had the good fortune to get married. “Why,' said the farmer 'It be not the fau't o' his face I reckon ; for he be as pratty a lad as here and there be one; ees, an'he ha' had his chances, by my feekins ! and had he been as cute as mysen, he mought ho had a buxom lass with no little o' money either.' This excited my curiosity, and I requested the farmer to ac
quaint me with the particulars, which he did as follows. You mun know, that my son used to work wi' me in the field ; that is he drived plough, sowed and reaped, and all other cultural works loike; and a steady hard working lad he wur too; till all on a sudden he becomed lazy loike, and wouldn't work at all. So I couldn't tell what to make on't; if I snubbed 'un 'twur all the same, and so at last, thinks I to mysen, I'll speak to un about it, calmy loike; an' so I did, and axt ’un what wur the matter wi' un; and so says he — Why, I dosen't know disactly, he, he, he! but ever sin' I ha' seed Molly Grundy at our village church, feather! I ha’ felt all over in sic' conflagrationloike, he, he, he !
Why ye beant in love, be ye ?— Why, he, he, he ! I can't say for sartin; haply I mought; but dang my buttoris, feather! if I dosen't think Molly bees in love wi’I, he, he, he !
—Be she?' says I, 'Ods dickens ! then, you mun mind your P's and Q’s lad ; for she ha' money. But did she speak to ye? 'E’es to be sure she did, and said I wur a pratty lad; he, he, he !' And what answer did you make ? «Why 1, 1-la’ft? Ah' but said I,' you should ha' made loove to her. But I don't know how, feather ; what be I to say?" "Why I'll tell ye; when you see her again, you thus address her : Oh! thou most incomparable of thy sex; thy eyes of diamond light, have pierced my heart's core; thy cheeks are carnation red,—thy lips like coral, —thy alabaster skin !—thy teeth, good lack !-and graceful mien, have scorched and burned up all the particles of my heart! deign then to dispense thy passions to me alone, thy faithful swain, who is this moment ready to espouse thee, thou irresistible and adorable woman.” “Well,' said I, and did he say so,—Why, no,' said the farmer ? 'a sad blunder he made on it, all thro’ his being no scholard; and lost both his sweetheart Molly, and her money into the bargain.'
When he got to Molly Grundy’s, he dropt on both his knees, scratch'd his head and thus began :
Oh ! Molly Grundy, feather ha' sent I here to dress ye ! Oh! thou most unbearable of my sex! Thy eyes domn'd light and pierced my heart sore;—thy cheeks are dangnation red !thy lips like mackeral !-thy plaster skin, thy teeth so black ! and hateful and mean! have scorched and burnt up all the articles of my heart : feign then to expend thy passion on me alone, thy hateful swine; who is this moment ready to expose thee thou detestable and deplorable 'ooman!
Molly Grundy no sooner heard his speech, than she took up a long hair broom, wopped poor Robin out o' the house, and he has never been able to get a wife, or had courage enough to make love to another woman since.