FROM BOB FUDGE, ESQ., TO THE REV.
MORTIMER O'MULLIGAN.

I MUCH regret, dear Reverend Sir,
I could not come to * * * to meet you;
But this curst gout won't let me stir —
Even now I but by proxy greet you;
As this vile scrawl, whate'er its sense is,
Owes all to an amanuensis,
Most other scourges of disease
Reduce men to extremities —
But gout won't leave one even these .

From all my sister writes, I see
That you and I will quite agree.

FROM MISS FANNY FUDGE, TO HER COUSIN,
MISS KITTY — — .

IRREGULAR ODE.

Bring me the slumbering souls of flowers,
While yet, beneath some northern sky,
Ungilt by beams, ungemmed by showers,
They wait the breath of summer hours,
To wake to light each diamond eye,
And let loose every florid sigh!

Bring me the first-born ocean waves,
From out those deep primeval caves,

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE, TO MRS. ELIZABETH
— —

How I grieve you 're not with us! — pray, come, if you can,
Ere we 're robbed of this dear, oratorical man,
Who combines in himself all the multiple glory
Of Orangeman, Saint, quondam Papist and Tory; —
(Choice mixture! like that from which, duly confounded,
The best sort of brass was, in old times, compounded) —
The sly and the saintly, the worldly and godly,
All fused down in brogue so deliciously oddly!

LETTER V.

FROM LARRY O'BRANIGAN, IN ENGLAND, TO HIS WIFE
JUDY, AT MULLINAFAD .

Dear J UDY , I sind you this bit of a letther,
By mail-coach conveyance — for want of a betther —
To tell you what luck in this world I have had
Since I left the sweet cabin, at Mullinafad.
Och, Judy, that night! — when the pig which we meant
To dry-nurse in the parlor, to pay off the rent,
Julianna, the craythur — that name was the death of her —
Gave us the shlip and we saw the last breath of her!

LETTER IV.

FROM PATRICK MAGAN, ESQ., TO THE REV. RICHARD —

H E comes from Erin's speechful shore
Like fervid kettle, bubbling o'er
With hot effusions — hot and weak;
Sound, Humbug, all your hollow, est drums,
He comes, of Erin's martyrdoms
To Britain's well-fed Church to speak.

Puff him, ye Journals of the Lord,
Twin prosers, Watchman and Record!
Journals reserved for realms of bliss,
Being much too good to sell in this,

LETTER III.

FROM MISS FANNY FUDGE, TO HER COUSIN , Miss K
ITTY — —

STANZAS ENCLOSED .

TO MY SHADOW; OR, WHY? — WHAT? — HOW?

D ARK comrade of my path! while earth and sky
Thus wed their charms, in bridal light arrayed,
Why in this bright hour, walkst thou ever nigh,
Blackening my footsteps with thy length of shade —
Dark comrade, W HY ?

LETTER II.

FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MRS. ELIZABETH —

Just in time for the post, dear, and monstrously busy,
With godly concernments — and worldly ones, too;
Things carnal and spiritual mixt, my dear Lizzy,
In this little brain till, bewildered and dizzy,
'Twixt heaven and earth, I scarce know what I do.

First, I 've been to see all the gay fashions from Town,
Which our favorite Miss Gimp for the spring has had down.

LETTER I.

FROM PATRICK MAGAN, ESQ., TO THE REV. RICHARD — , CURATE OF — , IN IRELAND .

Who d' ye think we 've got here? — quite reformed from the giddy,
Fantastic young thing that once made such a noise —
Why, the famous Miss Fudge — that delectable Biddy,
Whom you and I saw once at Paris, when boys,
In the full blaze of bonnets, and ribands, and airs —
Such a thing as no rainbow hath colors to paint;

71

Meeting and who got drunk,
St. Marceau, your emblem,
He said, his fist at the pale man
- Ah! Toulet pig.

72

We said already seeing Siegfried ugly:
"Why he looks stupid?" - Eh! Jove is that it is!

73

In a secret dancing where women are out
I saw - there is no need to go to China,
I saw a Boche dance with Osnobitchine:
Ah, strange people, Munich! and what scenery!

74

- I declare, said Medea, Athens and Rafette,

61

Vile slanderers, what: "It is not the devil";
And that would be better than the other Destutt?
It! that his crimes were put to the Institute:
It! all guilty namesake and differences.

62

Me if I had the honor to be, Sir Doumic
I write like him. But I would sign: Sic.

63

Sarcey said one evening, "I do not know if you are
Like me; but Vautrin, it always ran me. "
Unquestionably. As long as you have believed
Life, and Balzac is to risette..

64

Pen to heart, long and short hair reasons,