This is an officer of my household, unknown to this country. Grab. And what may he be?-I'll humour the puppy. Buck. This is my Swiss porter. Tenez vous droit, Bearnois. There's a fierce figure to guard the gate of an hotel. Crab. What, do you suppose we have no porters? Buck. Yes, you have dunces that open the doors; a drudgery that this fellow does by deputy. But for intrepidity in denying a disagreeable visitor; for politeness in introducing a mistress, acuteness in discerning, and constancy in excluding a dun, a greater genius never came from the Cantons. Crab. Astonishing qualities! Buck. Retirez, Bearnois. But here's a bijou, here's a jewel indeed! Venez ici, mon cher La Loire. Comment trouvez vous ce Paris ici? La L. Très bien. Buck. Very well. Civil creature! This, monsieur Crab, is my cook La Loire, and for hors d'oeuvres, entre rotis, ragouts, entremets, and the disposition of a desert, Paris never saw his parallel. Crab. His wages, I suppose, are proportioned to his merit, Buck. A bagatelle, a trifle. Abroad but a bare two hundred. Upon his cheerful compliance, in coming hither into exile with me, I have indeed doubled his stipend. Crab. You could do no less. Buck. And now, sir, to compleat my equipage, regardez monsieur La Jonquil, my first valet de chambre, excellent in every thing: but pour l'accommodage, for decorating the head, inimitable. In one word, La Jonquil shall, for fifty to five, knot, twist, tye, frize, cut, curl, or comb with any garçon perruquier, from the land's end, to the Orkneys. Crab. Why, what an infinite fund of public spi rit must you have, to drain your purse, mortify your inclination, and expose your person, for the mere improvement of your countrymen? Buck. Oh, I am a very Roman for that. But at present I had another reason for returning. Crab. Ay, what can that be? Buck. Why I find there is a likelihood of some little fracas between us. But, upon my soul, we must be very brutal to quarrel with the dear, agreeable creatures, for a trifle. Crab. They have your affections then. Buck. De tout mon cœur. From the infinite civility shewn to us, in France, and their friendly professions in favour of our country, they can never intend us an injury. Crab. Oh, you have hit their humour to a hair. But I can have no longer patience with the puppy. Civility and friendship, you booby! Yes, their civility at Paris, has not left you a guinea in your pocket, nor would their friendship to your nation leave it a foot of land in the universe. Buck. Lord John, this is a strange old fellow. Take my word for it, my dear, you mistake this thing egregiously. But all you English are constitutionally sullen.-November fogs, with salt boil'd beef, are most cursed recipes for good humour, or - a quick apprehension. Paris is the place. 'Tis there men laugh, love, and live! Vive l'amour! Sans amour, et sans ses desirs, un cœur est bien moins heureux qu'il ne pense. Crab. Now would not any soul suppose that this yelping hound had a real relish for the country he has quitted? Buck. A mighty unnatural supposition, truly. Buck. And you really think Paris a kind of purgatory, ha, my dear? Crab. To thee the most solitary spot upon earth, my dear. Familiar puppy! Buck. Whimsical enough. But come, pour pas ser le tems, let us, old Diogenes, enter into a little debate. Mi lor, and you, Macruthen, determine the dispute between that source of delights, ce paradis de plaisir, and this cave of care, this seat of scurvy and the spleen. Mac. Let us heed them weel, my lord. Maister Crab has met with his match. Buck. And first for the great pleasure of life, the pleasure of the table; ah, quelle difference! The ease, the wit, the wine, the badinage, the percistage, the double entendre, the chansons à boire. Oh, what delicious moments have I pass'd chez madame la duchesse de Barbouliac. Crab. Your mistress, I suppose. Buck. Who, I! Fi done! How is it possible for a woman of her rank, to have a penchant for me? Hey, Mac. Mac. Sir Charles is too much a man of honour to blab. But, to say truth, the whole city of Paris thought as much. Crab. A precious fellow this! Buck. Taisez vous, Mac. But we lose the point in view. Now, Monsieur Crab, let me conduct you to what you call an entertainment. And first, the melancholy mistress is fixed in her chair, where, by the bye, she is condemned to do more drudgery than a dray-horse. Next proceeds the master, to marshal the guests, in which as much caution is necessary, as at a coronation, with, "my lady, sit here," and, "sir Thomas, sit there," till the length of the ceremony, with the length of the grace, have destroyed all apprehensions of the meat burning your mouths. Mac. Bravo, bravo! Did I na' say sir Charles was a phenomenon? Crab. Peace, puppy. Buck. Then, in solemn silence, they proceed to demolish the substantials, with, perhaps, an occa sional interruption, of," Here's to you, friends," "Hob or nob," "Your love and mine." Pork succeeds to beef, pies to puddings: the cloth is removed: madam, drenched with a bumper, drops a curtesy, and departs; leaving the jovial host, with his sprightly companions, to tobacco, port, and politics. Voilà un repas à la mode d'Angleterre, monsieur Crab. Crab. It is a thousand pities that your father is not a living witness of these prodigious improve ments. Buck. C'est vrai. But à propos, he is dead, as you say, and you are Crab. Against my inclination, his executor. Crab. Oh, my task will soon determine. One article, indeed, I am strictly enjoined to see performed; your marriage with your old acquaintance Lucinda. Buck. Ha, ha, la petite Lucinde! & comment Crab. Prithee, peace, and hear me. She is bequeathed conditionally, that if you refuse to marry her, twenty thousand pounds; and if she rejects you, which I suppose she will have the wisdom to do, only five... Buck. Reject me! Very probable, hey, Mac! But could we not have an entrevue? Crab. Who's there? Let Lucinda know we expect her. Mac. Had na' ye better, sir Charles, equip yourself in a more suitable garb, upon a first visit to your mistress? Crab. Oh, such a figure and address can derive no advantage from dress. Buck. Serviteur. But, however, Mac's hint may not be so mal à propos. Allons, Jonquil, je m'en vais m'habiller. Mi lor, shall I trespass upon your patience? My toilet is but the work of ten minutes. Mac, dispose of my domestics à leur aise, and then attend me with my portfeuille, and read, while I dress, those remarks I made in my last voyage from Fontainbleau to Compeigne. Serviteur, Messieurs; Du matin Sortant du tonneau, De toute la Sorbonne. [Exit. Crab. This is the most consummate coxcomb! I told the fool of a father, what a puppy Paris would produce him; but travel is the word, and the consequence, an importation of every foreign folly : and thus the plain persons and principles of old England, are so confounded and jumbled with the excrementitious growth of every climate, that we have lost all our ancient characteristic, and are become a bundle of contradictions; a piece of patch-work; a mere harlequin's coat. Ld. J. Do you suppose then, sir, that no good may be obtained Crab. Why, prithee, what have you gained? Ld. J. I should be sorry my acquisitions were to determine the debate. But do you think, sir, the shaking off some native qualities, and the being made more sensible, from comparison, of certain national and constitutional advantages, objects unworthy the attention? Crab. You shew the favourable side, young man but how frequently are substituted for national prepossessions, always harmless, and often happy, guilty and unnatural prejudices!--Unnatural-For the wretch who is weak and wicked enough to despise his country, sins against the most laudable laws of nature; he is a traitor to the community, where Providence has placed him; and should be denied those social benefits he has |