“I'm in low sperits. A disagreeable insadent has just occurred. Lady
Pump, the banker's wife, asked me to dinner. I sat on her right, of
course, with an uncommon gal ner me, with whom I was getting on in
my fassanating way--full of lacy ally (as the Marquis says) and easy
plesntry. Old Pump, from the end of the table, asked me to drink
shampane; and on turning to tak the glass I saw Charles Wackles (with
womb I'd been imployed at Colonel Spurriers' house) grinning over his
shoulder at the butler.
“The beest reckonised me. Has I was putting on my palto in the hall, he
came up again: 'HOW DY DOO, Jeames?' says he, in a findish visper. 'Just
come out here, Chawles,' says I, 'I've a word for you, my old boy.' So
I beckoned him into Portland Place, with my pus in my hand, as if I was
going to give him a sovaring.
“'I think you said “Jeames,” Chawles,' says I, 'and grind at me at
dinner?'
“'Why, sir.' says he, 'we're old friends, you know.'
“'Take that for old friendship then,' says I, and I gave him just one on
the noas, which sent him down on the pavemint as if he'd been shot.
And mounting myjesticly into my cabb, I left the rest of the grinning
scoundrills to pick him up, & droav to the Clubb.”
“Have this day kimpleated a little efair with my friend George, Earl
Bareacres, which I trust will be to the advantidge both of self & that
noble gent. Adjining the Bareacre proppaty is a small piece of land of
about 100 acres, called Squallop Hill, igseeding advantageous for the
cultivation of sheep, which have been found to have a pickewlear
fine flaviour from the natur of the grass, tyme, heather, and other
hodarefarus plants which grows on that mounting in the places where
the rox and stones don't prevent them. Thistles here is also remarkable
fine, and the land is also devided hoff by luxurient Stone Hedges--much
more usefle and ickonomicle than your quickset or any of that rubbishing
sort of timber: indeed the sile is of that fine natur, that timber
refuses to grow there altogether. I gave Bareacres 50L. an acre for this
land (the igsact premium of my St. Helena Shares)--a very handsom price
for land which never yielded two shillings an acre; and very convenient
to his Lordship I know, who had a bill coming due at his Bankers which
he had given them. James de la Pluche, Esquire, is thus for the fust
time a landed propriator--or rayther, I should say, is about to reshume
the rank & dignity in the country which his Hancestors so long occupied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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