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The Parisians have probably some such school in their neighbourhood for teaching a peculiar dialect of the Enlish language; and the abundant influx of our countrymen into the French metropolis of late years has brought this dialect into much repute. One often sees emblazoned in large letters, over a shop window, meant probably as a decoy, but more likely, one would think, to operate as a warning to English Travellers

"Here they SPIKE the English." Which (being translated) does not at all intimate any blood-thirsty intention of impaling our countrymen alive, but merely declares that the English language is spoken in the house.

A lady from London perceived this inscription over a milliner's door; its import being explained to her, she went in, when having with some difficulty found out which of the Demoiselles it was that was skilled in spiking the English, she attempted to converse with her about a hat which she was trying on. After many vain attempts on both sides, the young French woman at last, observing that the hat was too small, brought out this accurate phrase,

"Is, Matame, he is too little big." In the Rue du St. Honore, a hairdresser has the following captivating invitation

"Hear to cut off Hares in English fashion."

In the Rue du Faubourg Poisson niere dwells a lady named Canraiz,

who tells the world, by means of her sign-board, that she is a

"Washerwoman and wash embroi

deries, lace, gazes, silk stockings, also household's furniture's in linen tables cloths, napkins, and calenders all at one's desire; she will also charge herself of the entertaining the works that is to be done to all sorts of linen for the body, and will be exactly delivered at one's desire."

At the Montesquieu Baths the Englishmen who frequent the place are informed, by a neat card, that

"As for the BROTHES, liquid, or any breakfast, and, in one word, all other things RELATIVE to the service of the bathes, the Persons will be so good as to direct themselves to the servant ba

thers, who will satisfy them with the

greatest attention."

"The Publick is invited not to search to displace the suckets and the swan necks, in order to forbear the accidents which may result of is, in not calling the servants bathers to His aid."

"The servants bathers, in consequence of having no woGEs desire the bathers do not FORGOT them."

The ticket of a boarding house in the Rue Grange Bateliere, has the following P. S. "One would find a pretty furnished Chamber to let."

The invitations to the minor theatres have generally something to captivate the English, and M. Olivier's bill is remarkable for the style in which he notifies his wonderful per formances.

burnt HAND KERCHIVES, "He shall begin with the cut and WHO shall take their primitive forms The watch thrown up ET nailed against the wall by a pistol shot-the enchanted GLASS WINE. The flying piece of money and an infinity of LEGERDEMAINS worthy to excite the curiosity of spectators.-The kandsome Elisina in her trunck-&c. There are to be seen Tow Automatons, who will dance up a RAPE and SALL do most DIFFICUL tricks. The Spectacle will be ended with a Phantasmagory WHO SALL be deposed in a manner as not to fright the ladies."

In books of travels, the same accu rate acquaintance with our language is often to be found, General Pillet

learnedly remarks, that the lowest class of our attorneys are the PETTY FOGEY. However, this gentleman's misrepresentation of our language is nothing to his misrepresention of our manuers. He gravely assures his readers, that the Archbishop of Canterbury ORDERED the following prayer against the French to be used in all churches, (Compare p. 66 of this vol.) "O Lord all mighty, give us the power to destroy even unto the last man this perfidious people, who have sworn to devour us alive,us thy faithful servants."

But to return to language-an English Epicure is very likely to be disappointed at a Restaurateur's, if he order a beef-steak. Ten to one but the waiter will bring him a BIFSTICK DE MOUTON, or a BIFSTICK DE VEAU; for these are dishes common in all the bills of fare; and the fact is, that the French understand by BIFSTICK nothing but a slice of meat, whether beef, mutton, or veal. Of the words ROAST BEEF, too, they have an equally vague idea. In Fouret's (a very excellent) Cookery Book, directions are given how to dress a "Ros bif de Mouton." The French bills of fare are at first sight quite astonishing from the number of dishes they contain, but the charm in a great measure vanishes when they are put (as some of them now are) into English. The following items, taken from a bill in the Palais Royal, display a sad lack of the sublime in Cookery :

PARODY.*

London, July 27, 1824.

SIR,-As I am a person of studious habits, I have often with much pleasure read your weekly publication entitled the " Nić-Nac," and make free valuable information. to say I have gained, through it, much Below you

have "

a hint to whom it may concern," which the author hopes, perhaps vainly, may, if inserted in your work, be the means of saving the expence of many cart-loads (to speak moderately) of pens, ink, and paper, to a certain individual who, 1 doubt not, can ill afford it.

Bid me the rhymes of fools endure,
Which never reach the heart!
Bid me refuse to heal the poor

Afflicted poet's smart!

Bid me pronounce thy songs divine,
But never bid me read a line!

Bid me encounter critics' spite,
And ask their pity too!
Bid me forget myself, and write
That I may rival you!
Bid me confess how much you shine-
But never bid me read a line!

Bid me o'er musty authors pore

O'er authors gaunt and bare !+
Ev'n bid me call the bard a Moore-
The Bard of Euston Square!
All this I'll do-but ne'er a line,
For pity, bid me read of thine.

N. B. The author of the above does not reside in Euston Square, but, in a more smoky part of the metropolis,

drags out life;" consequently it is not to be expected that he is so clearheaded as G. S. W.

Peas 66 with some fried bread cut soup, into dice-pigs' foot, crumbed and broiled-young artichokes served raw with oil and vinegar-cold slice beef and potatoes served with oil and vinegar-a duck's quarter with turnips-fried bits of fowl-pickled fowl-cod mashed with oil and garlic-Macaroni not baked, sooner ready.

To make up for this, however, in the list of liqueurs to be taken after dinner are the following exquisite compounds :

OIL OF ROSES! AND PERFECT LOVE!

Yours &c.

Auctor e necessitate.

* See Lines to Miss A. P., at p. 256 of this volume, by G. S. W., Euston Square.

None I hope will venture to deny that there are authors "gaunt and bare." The fact is, there are more so than otherwise; vide myself (bare enough God knows) as one example, and visit the attic writers of Drury Lane, and the slums.

2

FRENCH TRAVELLING.

I LEFT Touraine, whose leafy bowers
Are shelter'd by the clust'ring grape,
And on the dusty road for hours
Could neither breakfast,dine,nor sleep.

Is slumber o'er my senses stealing,
The jolting coach that slumber stops;
If the sense of hunger feeling,

Can I eat their nasty chops!

Filthy room's abomination,
Dirty knives, and small sour wine;
Vain, alas! expostulation;

You may starve-or you may dine.

Unshaved Frenchmen, spitting, snuffing,
Paris dames with painted face;
All alike their country puffing,
Taking pride in their disgrace.

France may boast her proud dominion;
But at once I plainly find,
That in all that's worth opinion,
She's a hundred years behind.

SONG.

OH! love is like the budding-rose, So fair and sweet to view; And youth is like a summer morn, When flowers are wet wi' dew. The lark on high may warble gay, But lovers are as light; The morning sun may glitter forth, But youth is far more bright! I saw a lass hie up the glen, Love glittered in her eye, And on her cheek its blushing glow Like rose-leaves there did lie.

Oh! love is like the rose that hides Beneath its leaves the thorn; And soon the stormy clouds of life Destroy youth's flowery morn. How sweetly sound in lovers' ears The tongues of those they love! Ah! sorrow soon may still the notes, As winter doth the grove. I saw a lass come down the glen, Tears fell fast frae her eyes; Her cheek was like the lily pale, Her bosom teem'd wi' sighs; And thus she said, oh! gin I were Beneath the green grass laid;

G.

Fause love hath broke my trusting heart, And me a wretch hath made!

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. "WHAT Angel so lovely and pure, Now gracefully crosses the street? No eye has beheld, I am sure, A mortal so charmingly sweet!

How lovely her form and her face!
Her eyes how enchantingly bright!
She moves, and her motions are grace,
She smiles, and her smiles are delight!

Her bosom is white as the snow,

And as pure, or I'll forfeit my life! Ah! ne'er can the man feel a woe Who calls this enchantress his wife!

I'm in love at first sight; and I feel

An affection no time will remove; To the magnet as true as the steel Will I to my conqueror prove!

Oh! tell me the name of the maid,
With impatience to hear it I die!
Alas! ne'er before, 'I'm afraid,
Her beauties have dazzled your eye!*

A youth, as he stood at the door, Thus question'd the host of an inn, Who said, 'Yes, I've seen her before, She owes me two shillings for GIN!""

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

Auctor e necessitate is a shrewd fellow, whom we shall be glad to hear from again. Clio may forward a letter, as usual, through the medium of the publisher.-Vito's "Fragment," shall have a place immediately: we are much flattered by his good opinion, and much obliged for the Newspapers, from which we shall doubtlesss contrive to pick some interesting morsels.-Pangloss has quite overwhelmed us with his favours, the weight of which we shall decrease as speedily as possible, by enabling our readers to participate in the pleasure we have derived from them. The Poems by J. W. F. B. shall not be delayed much longer, nor those of Alastor, Alphus, and W. B. A. Some articles by F. M. L. and Clio the first favourable opportunity.

LONDON--Printed and Published by 1. Wally, Camden Town; and also Published by C. Harris, Bow Seet, Covent Garden, by whom Communications for the Editor are received,

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TOM SHUTTLE & BLOUSALINDA.

A TRAGI-COMICAL TALE,

IN THREE CANTOS.

CANTO I.

VOL. If.

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