Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush [61]
offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous of when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however--" "I wish you'd withdraw yourself," said Sir John, bursting into a most igstrorinary rage, "and not interrupt the company with your infernal talk! Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your impertinent tongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the place as I said; and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant; but you don't stay in my service after to- morrow. Go down stairs, sir; and don't stand staring here!" . . . . . . In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret that I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, a wiser, and, I trust, a better man. I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the style of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in the Doctor's Cyclopedear, "The Lives of Eminent British and Foring Wosherwomen."
SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV."
CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* DEAR WHY,--Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me (who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire for six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our sports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four posterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the two vollumes of a new book; which, as I have been away from the literary world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying neglected in my pantry, among my knife- cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, and things.
* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that "Oliver Yorke" is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical.
This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I see sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and have given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the Times of George IV.*
* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various other distinguished Persons. "Tot ou tard, tout se scait."--MAINTENON. In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn.
That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can't conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from that distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to that diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how we have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit--it's always good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private memoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I had to say in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, the benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor writing English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am puffickly
SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV."
CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* DEAR WHY,--Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me (who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire for six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our sports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four posterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the two vollumes of a new book; which, as I have been away from the literary world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying neglected in my pantry, among my knife- cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, and things.
* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that "Oliver Yorke" is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical.
This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I see sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and have given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the Times of George IV.*
* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various other distinguished Persons. "Tot ou tard, tout se scait."--MAINTENON. In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn.
That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can't conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from that distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to that diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how we have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit--it's always good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private memoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I had to say in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, the benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor writing English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am puffickly