_A Monsieur Punch_
DEAR MISTER,--I have spoken you of my departure from Calendar on the
_breack_. Eh, well, he rained not of the whole of the whole--_du tout
du tout! Il faisait un temps superbe_--he was making a superb time, the
route was well agreeable, and the voyage lasted but two hours, and not
twelve. What droll of idea! In Scottish _twa_ is two, not twelve. I was
so content to arrive so quick, and without to be wetted that I gave the
coacher a good to-drink--_un bon pourboire_--though before to start all
the voyagers had paid him a "tipp", that which he called a "driver's
fee." Again what droll of idea! To give the to-drink before to start,
and each one the same--six pennys.
My friend encountered me and conducted me to his house, where I have
passed fifteen days, a sojourn of the most agreeables. And all the time
almost not one sole drop of rain! _J'avais beau_--I had fine--to buy all
my impermeable vestments, I carry them never. One sole umbrella suffices
me, and I open him but two times. And yet one says that the Scotland is
a rainy country. It is perhaps a season _tout a fait_--all to
fact--exceptional. But fifteen days almost without rain! One would
believe himself at the border of the Mediterranean, absolutely at the
South. And I have eaten of the "porridg", me Auguste! _Partout_ I essay
the dish of the country. I take at first a spoonful pure and simple. _Oh
la, la!_ My friend offers me of the cream. It is well. Also of the salt.
_Quelle idee!_ But no, before me I perceive a dish of _confiture_, that
which the Scottish call "marmaladde." _A la bonne heure!_ With some
marmaladde, some cream, and much of sugar, I find that the "porridg" is
enough well, for I taste him no more.
One day we make an ascension, and we see many grouses. Only we can not
to shoot, for it is not yet the season of the huntings. It is but a hill
that we mount. The name appears me to be french, but bad written. "Ben
Venue", that is to say, "_Bienvenu_"--_soyez le bienvenu_. She is one of
the first of the Scottish hills, and she says "welcome" in french. It is
a pretty idea, and a politeness very amiable towards my country. I
salute the hospitable Scotland and I thank her. It is a great country,
of brave men, of charming women--ah, I recall to myself some eyes so
beautiful, some forms so attracting!--of ravishing landscapes, and, at
that epoch there, of a climate so delicious. She has one sole and one
great defect. The best Scottish hotels cost very dear, and, my faith,
the two or three that I visited are not great thing like
comfortable--_ne sont pas grand'chose comme comfortable!_
One day we make a little excursion on the Lake of Lomond. The lake is
well beautiful, and the steamboat is excellent. But in one certain
hotel, in descending from a _breack_, and before to embark, we take the
"lunch." We bargain not, we ask not even the price, we eat at the _table
d'hote_ like all the world in Swiss, in France, even in Germany, when
there is but one half hour before the departure of the train or of the
boat. _Oh la, la!_ I have eaten in the spanish hotels, on the steamboats
of the italian lakes, even in the _restaurants--mon Dieu!_--of the
english railways, but never, never--_au grand jamais_--have I eaten a
_dejeuner_ like that! One dish I shall forget never; some exterior green
leaves of lettuce, without oil or vinegar, which they called a "salad."
_Parbleu_--by blue! In all the history of the world there has been but
one man who would have could to eat her with pleasure--Nabuchodonosor!
Agree, &c.,