I was in my GLOARY--the dear Countess and Lady Blanche was
dying with lauffing at my joax and fun--I was keeping the whole table in
a roar--when there came a ring at my door-bell, and sudnly Fitzwarren,
my man, henters with an air of constanation. 'Theres somebody at the
door,' says he in a visper.
"'Oh, it's that dear Lady Hemily,' says I, 'and that lazy raskle of a
husband of hers. Trot them in, Fitzwarren,' (for you see by this time
I had adopted quite the manners and hease of the arristoxy.)--And so,
going out, with a look of wonder he returned presently, enouncing Mr. &
Mrs. Blodder.
"I turned gashly pail. The table--the guests--the Countiss--Towrouski,
and the rest, weald round & round before my hagitated I's. IT WAS MY
GRANDMOTHER AND Huncle Bill. She is a washerwoman at Healing Common, and
he--he keeps a wegetable donkey-cart.
"Y, Y hadn't John, the tiger, igscluded them? He had tried. But the
unconscious, though worthy creeters, adwanced in spite of him, Huncle
Bill bringing in the old lady grinning on his harm!
"Phansy my feelinx."
"Immagin when these unfortnat members of my famly hentered the room:
you may phansy the ixtonnishment of the nobil company presnt. Old Grann
looked round the room quite estounded by its horiental splender,
and huncle Bill (pulling off his phantail, & seluting the company as
respeckfly as his wulgar natur would alow) says--'Crikey, Jeames, you've
got a better birth here than you ad where you were in the plush and
powder line.
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