MY dear Lady -- ! I've been just sending out About five hundred cards for a snug little rout -- (By the bye, you've seen Rokeby? -- this moment got mine -- The Mail-Coach edition -- prodigiously fine!) But I can't conceive how, in this very cold weather, I'm ever to bring my five hundred together; As, unless the thermometer's near boiling heat, One can never get half of one's hundreds to meet -- (Apropos -- you'd have laugh'd to see Townsend, last night, Escort to their chairs, with his staff so polite, The "three maiden Miseries," all in a fright! Poor Townsend, like Mercury, filling two posts, Supervisor of @3thieves@1, and chief usher of @3ghosts!@1) But, my dear Lady -------! can't you hit on some notion, At least for one night to set London in motion? -- As to having the R -- g -- nt, @3that@1 show is gone by -- Besides, I've remark'd that (between you and I) The Marchesa and he, inconvenient in more ways, Have taken much lately to whispering in doorways; Which -- considering, you know, dear, the @3size@1 of the two -- Makes a block that one's company @3cannot@1 get through, And a house such as mine is, with doorways so small, Has no room for such cumbersome love-work at all! -- (Apropos, though, of love-work -- you've heard it, I hope, That Napoleon's old Mother's to marry the Pope, -- What a comical pair!) -- but, to stick to my rout, 'Twill be hard if some novelty can't be struck out. Is there no Algerine, no Kamchatkan, arrived? No Plenipo Pacha, three-tail'd and ten-wived? No Russian, whose dissonant consonant name Almost rattles to fragments the trumpet of Fame? I remember the time, three or four winters back, When -- provided their wigs were but decently black -- A few patriot monsters, from Spain, were a sight That would people one's house for one, night after night. But -- whether the Ministers @3paw'd@1 them too much -- (And you know how they spoil whatsoever they touch) Or whether Lord G -- rge (the young man about town) Has, by dint of bad poetry, written them down -- One has certainly lost one's @3peninsular@1 rage, And the only stray patriot seen for an age Has been at such places (think, how the fit cools) As old Mrs. V ----- n's or Lord L -- v -- rp -- l's! But, in short, my dear, names like Wintztschitstopschinzoudhoff Are the only things now make an evening go smooth off -- So, get me a Russian -- till death I'm your debtor -- If he brings the whole alphabet, so much the better. And -- Lord! if he would but, @3in character@1, sup Off his fish-oil and candles, he'd quite set me up! @3Au revoir@1, my sweet girl -- I must leave you in haste -- Little Gunter has brought me the liqueurs to taste. POSTSCRIPT. By the bye, have you found any friend that can construe That Latin account, t'other day, of a Monster? If we can't get a Russian, and @3that thing@1 in Latin Be not @3too@1 improper, I think I'll bring that in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EVENING WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE SPELLIN' BEE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LUCIFER IN STARLIGHT by GEORGE MEREDITH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 52. YA HAKK by EDWIN ARNOLD THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER by JOANNA BAILLIE BEYOND THE BAR by BEATRICE B. BEEBE |