“Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these folks, you have seen all. Featurs differ a little, but face of all is so alike, that though p’raps you wouldn’t mistake one for another, yet you’d say they was all of one family. The king is their father.
“Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it will, but what little natur there is to England is among these upper crust nobility. Extremes meet. The most elegant critter in America is an Indgian chief. The most elegant one in England is a noble. There is natur in both. You will vow that’s a crotchet of mine, but it’s a fact; and I will tell you how it is, some other time. For I opine the most charmin’, most nateral, least artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here are rael nobles. Younger children are the devil, half rank makes ‘em proud, and entire poverty makes ‘em sour. Strap pride on an empty puss, and it puts a most beautiful edge on, it cuts like a razor. They have to assart their dignity, tother one’s dignity don’t want no assartin’. It speaks for itself.
“I won’t enter into particulars now. I want to shew you country life; because if you don’t want to hang yourself, don’t tarry there, that’s all; go and look at ‘em, but don’t stay there. If you can’t help it no how, you can fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, and one to go. If you do that, and make the fust late, and the last airly, you’ll get through it; for it won’t only make a day and a half, when sumtotalized. We’ll fancy it, that’s better than the rael thing, any time.
“So lets go to a country gentleman’s house, or “landed,” as they call ‘em, cause they are so infarnally heavy. Well, his house is either an old onconvenient up and down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad warmed, and shockin’ cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, new one, havin’ all or most, according to his puss, of those things, about lord’s houses, only on a smaller scale.
“Well, I’ll arrive in time for dinner, I’ll titivate myself up, and down to drawin’-room, and whose the company that’s to dine there? Why, cuss ‘em, half a dozen of these gents own the country for miles round, so they have to keep some company at the house, and the rest is neighbours.
“Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let’s see who they be! Why one or two poor parsons, that have nothin’ new in ‘em, and nothin’ new on ‘em, goodish sort of people too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle louder at host’s jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, ‘cause I never could see nothin’ to larf at in his jokes. One or two country nobs of brother landed gents, that look as big as if the whole of the three per cent consols was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that was young once, but have confessed to bein’ old maids, drop’t the word ‘Miss,’ ‘cause it sounded ridikilous, and took the title of ‘Mrs.’ to look like widders. Two or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a bustin’ of their stays off a’most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest son or two, with the eend of the silver spoon he was born with, a peepin’ out o’ the corner of his mouth, and his face as vacant as a horn lantern without a candle in it; a younger son or so jist from college, who looks as if he had an idea he’d have to airn his livin’, and whose lantern face looks as if it had had a candle in it, that had e’en amost burnt the sides out, rather thin and pale, with streaks of Latin and Greek in it; one or two everlastin’ pretty young galls, so pretty as there is nothin’ to do, you can’t hardly help bein’ spooney on ‘em.
“Matchless galls, they be too, for there is no matches for ‘em. The primur-genitur boy takes all so they have no fortin. Well, a younger son won’t do for ‘em, for he has no fortin; and t’other primo geno there, couldn’t if he would, for he wants the estate next to hisn, and has to take the gall that owns it, or he won’t get it. I pity them galls, I do upon my soul. It’s a hard fate, that, as Minster sais, in his pretty talk, to bud, unfold, bloom, wither, and die on the parent stock, and have no one to pluck the rose, and put it in his bosom, aint it?
“Dinner is ready, and you lock and lock, and march off two and two, to t’other room, and feed. Well, the dinner is like town dinner, there aint much difference, there is some; there is a difference atween a country coat, and a London coat; but still they look alike, and are intended to be as near the same as they can. The appetite is better than town folks, and there is more eatin’ and less talkin’, but the talkin’, like the eatin’, is heavy and solemcoloy.
“Now do, Mr. Poker, that’s a good soul, now do, Squire, look at the sarvants. Do you hear that feller, a blowin’ and a wheesin’ like a hoss that’s got the heaves? Well he is so fat and lazy, and murders beef and beer so, he has got the assmy, and walkin’ puts him out o’ breath—aint it beautiful! Faithful old sarvant that, so attached to the family! which means the family prog. Always to home! which means he is always eatin’ and drinkin’, and hante time to go out. So respectful! which means bowin’ is an everlastin’ sight easier, and safer too, nor talkin’ is. So honest! which means, parquisites covers all he takes. Keeps every thin’ in such good order! which means he makes the women do his work. Puts every thin’ in it’s place, he is so methodical! which means, there is no young children in the house, and old aunty always puts things back where she takes ‘em from. For she is a good bit of stuff is aunty, as thin, tough, and soople as a painter’s palate knife. Oh, Lord! how I would like to lick him with a bran new cow hide whip, round and round the park, every day, an hour afore breakfast, to improve his wind, and teach him how to mend his pace. I’d repair his old bellowses for him, I know.
“Then look at the butler, how he tordles like a Terrapin; he has got the gout, that feller, and no wonder, nother. Every decanter that comes in has jist half a bottle in it, the rest goes in tastin’, to see it aint corked. His character would suffer if a bit o’ cork floated in it. Every other bottle is corked, so he drinks that bottle, and opens another, and gives master half of it. The housekeeper pets him, calls him Mr., asks him if he has heard from Sir Philip lately, hintin’ that he is of gentle blood, only the wrong side of the blanket, and that pleases him. They are both well to do in the world. Vails count up in time, and they talk big sometimes, when alone together, and hint at warnin’ off the old knight, marryin’, and settin’ up a tripe shop, some o’ these days; don’t that hint about wedlock bring him a nice little hot supper that night, and don’t that little supper bring her a tumbler of nice mulled wine, and don’t both on ‘em look as knowin’ as a boiled codfish, and a shelled oyster, that’s all.