She never utters vulgar words, but talks just like nobility.
I met her at Vauxhall, last year, and she gave me a sad relation
About Miss Briggs: I recollect it every word;—but here's her own narration:
"Oh, dear! my dear Miss Popkins! have you heard what befel Miss B.?
(I wish, Papa, you'd get up to snuff the lights; one can hardly see:
Oh, la! you've made 'em flare up so, I declare we are quite in a blaze:
And, bless me! there's all the people staring at us, all in amaze!)
I'll tell you, while Papa is taking his punch; his pipkin he calls the bowl,
(You make yourself scarce any punch at home, Papa; so I suppose you'll drink the whole).
I'm sure he will, Miss P.; and even then he wont have quench'd his drouth.