_Four o'clock_.
Oh, DOLLY, dear DOLLY, I'm ruined for ever--
I ne'er shall be happy again, DOLLY, never!
To think of the wretch--what a victim was I!
'Tis too much to endure--I shall die, I shall die--
"My brain's in a fever--my pulses beat quick--
I shall die or at least be exceedingly sick!
Oh! what do you think? after all my romancing,
My visions of glory, my sighing, my glancing,
This Colonel--I scarce can commit it to paper--
This Colonel's no more than a vile linen-draper!!
'Tis true as I live--I had coaxt brother BOB so,
(You'll hardly make out what I'm writing, I sob so,)
For some little gift on my birthday--September
The thirtieth, dear, I'm eighteen, you remember--
That BOB to a shop kindly ordered the coach,
(Ah! little I thought who the shopman would prove,)
To bespeak me a few of those _mouchoirs de poche_,
Which, in happier hours, I have sighed for, my love--
(The most beautiful things--two Napoleons the price--
And one's name in the corner embroidered so nice!)
Well, with heart full of pleasure, I entered the shop.
But--ye Gods, what a phantom!--I thought I should drop--
There he stood, my dear DOLLY--no room for a doubt--
There, behind the vile counter, these eyes saw him stand,
With a piece of French cambric, before him rolled out,
And that horrid yard-measure upraised in his hand!
Oh!--Papa, all along, knew the secret,' is clear--
'Twas _a shopman_ he meant by a "Brandenburgh," dear!
The man, whom I fondly had fancied a King,
And, when _that_ too delightful illusion was past,
As a hero had worshipt--vile, treacherous thing--
To turn out but a low linen-draper at last!
My head swam around--the wretch smiled, I believe,
But his smiling, alas, could no longer deceive--
I fell back on BOB--my whole heart seemed to wither--
And, pale as a ghost, I was carried back hither!
I only remember that BOB, as I caught him,
With cruel facetiousness said, "Curse the Kiddy!
"A stanch Revolutionist always I've thought him,
"But now I find out he's a _Counter_ one, BIDDY!"
Only think, my dear creature, if this should be known
To that saucy, satirical thing, Miss MALONE!
What a story 'twill be at Shandangan for ever!
What laughs and what quizzing she'll have with the men!
It will spread thro' the country--and never, oh! never
Can BIDDY be seen at Kilrandy again!
Farewell--I shall do something desperate, I fear--
And, ah! if my fate ever reaches your ear,
One tear of compassion my DOLL will not grudge
To her poor--broken-hearted--young friend, BIDDY FUDGE.
_Nota bene_--I am sure you will hear, with delight,
That we're going, all three, to see BRUNET to-night.
A laugh will revive me--and kind Mr. COX
(Do you know him?) has got us the Governor's box.
[1] The column in the Place Vendôme.
[2] Miss Biddy's notions of French pronunciation may be perceived in the
rhymes which she always selects for "_Le Roi_."
[3] LE ROI, who was the _Couturière_ of the Empress Maria Louisa, is at
present, of course, out of fashion, and is succeeded in her station by the
Royalist mantua-maker, VICTORINE.
[4] It is the _brother_ of the present excellent _Restaurateur_ who lies
entombed so magnificently in the Cimetière Monmartre.