Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the
carridge smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we
bade ojew to Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure
we cut! and, my i, what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a
jackit made out of a cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-
tale about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare!
A bishop might almost have preached out of one, or a modrat-sized
famly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate
behind in the rumbill; master aloan in the inside, as grand as a
Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off we sett, bowing
gracefly to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, the great white
hosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium cracking
his wip, as loud as if he'd been drivin her majesty the quean.

. . . . . .

Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties,
willitches, and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens,
witch, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for
what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done
with sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the
boasting about them, I think I like our marrowphats better.

Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here
concarning them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away,
told me to go and get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald
the waiter of the inn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always
do), said "Bong" (which means, very well), and presently came back.

I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would you