140 Glimpses of Our Ancestors.
And they say things are bad in the City,
And Pa thinks they'll only get worse— And they say the new bonnets are pretty,
But I think them quite the reverse ! Lady Black has brought out her two daughters—
Good figures, but timid and shy; Mrs. White's gone to Bath for the waters,
And the doctors declare she will die. It's all off 'twixt Miss Brown and Sir Stephen,
He found they could never agree; Her temper's so very uneven—
I always said how it would be!
The Miss Whites are grown very fine creatures,
Though they look rather large in a room; Miss Grey has gone off in her features,
Miss Green is gone off with her groom. Lord Littleford's dead, and that noodle,
His son, has succeeded his sire; And her Ladyship's lost the fine poodle.
That you and I used to admire.
Little Joe is advancing in knowledge,
He begs me to send his regard ; And Charles goes on Monday to College,
But Mamma thinks he studies too hard. We are losing our man-cook, he marries
My French femme de chambre, Baptiste; Pa wishes you'd send one from Paris,
But he must be a first-rate artiste.
I don't like my last new piano,
Its tones are so terribly sharp, I think I must give it to Anna,
And get Pa to buy me a harp ! Little Gerald is growing quite mannish,
He was smoking just now a cigar! And I'm fagging hard at the Spanish,
And Lucy has learnt the guitar.
I suppose you can talk like an artist,
Of statues, busts, paintings, vertu ; But, pray, love, don't turn Bonapartist,
Pa will never consent if you do I " You were born," he will say, " Sir, a Briton,"—
But forgive me so foolish a fear; If I thought you could blame what I've written,
I would soon wash it out with a tear 1
And pray, Sir, how like you the ladies,
Since you've quitted the land of your birth ? I have heard the dark donnas of Cadiz
Are the loveliest women on earth. Th' Italians are lively and witty,
But I ne'er could their manners endure; Nor do I think French women pretty,
Though they have a most charming tournure.