The Secretairer of the Treasury is down here; he lives by Fire-light in this nayborhood—I suppose he come from the West Hinges, for they tell me he is a Planter as well as a Hempee, which Fulmer says he is.
I have heard a new comehumdrum, which is a very fashionable amusement here—"Why is the gravy of a leg of pork the best gravy in the world?"—"Because there's no Jews like it." I do not know where the joke is, only I spose there is one. I have hardly any thing to say, only I thought you would like to hear of Lavy's acoachman, and our prospect of removal from this place, which is not at all to my gout.
Yours always, dear B.,
Dorothea L. Ramsbottom.
XX.
MRS. RAMSBOTTOM GIVES HER OPINION OF THE RELATIVE MERITS OF MARGATE AND BRIGHTON.
To John Bull.
Oct. 1828.
My dear B.,—We are at length arrived in the subbubs of London. Since crowds of people have been collected at the Traitor's and Restorers in Regent-street, I am afraid to date this, lest the folks should come to look at us—but you can easily find out the redress at Fulmer's hothell.
We came last from Margate, which to my mind is far prefferible to Briton. At Briton you have always the great bright sparkling Ossian surfeiting the jingle from morning till night, enough to put one's eyes out, and drive one deaf—at Margate there is a beautiful arbour, in which there is no water whatsomever for twelve hours out of every twenty-four, which affords the curos observer a full view of Ossian's bottom: besides, instead of nasty hard jingle and stones, it is all beautiful blue mud, the sight of which, added to the smell of the juice from the gash works above, reminds one of the dear Mephistopholis, to the neighbourhood of which we have returned.