Seets i' Paris: Sammywell Grimes's trip with his old chum Billy Baccus, his opinion o' th' French, and th' French opinion o' th' exhibition he made ov hissenHartley, John
General
Seets i' Paris: Sammywell Grimes's trip with his old chum Billy Baccus, his opinion o' th' French, and th' French opinion o' th' exhibition he made ov hissen
Hartley, John
British -- France -- Paris -- Fiction; Dialect literature, English -- England -- Yorkshire; Paris (France) -- Fiction
It wor a grand relief to sit daan agean ith' cooil o' th' day an' sip
a drop o' coffee; (an' ther's noa mistak, they can mak coffee up to th'
mark,) ther wor just a gentle breeze an' fowk wor all awther lollin an'
takkin ther ease or else hurryin on to th' theatres. It ommost seems as
if pleasure wor ther livin, an' to a gurt extent aw suppooas it is. As
we'd been up all th' neet befoor we agreed to goa to bed i' gooid time
so as to be prepared for th' next day. We strolled along a rayther dark
an' narrow street till we coom to a door wi a row o' lamps ovver th'
top--fowk wor rollin in, an' bi th' bills we could manage to mak it aght
to be a sooart o' Variety Theatre. Havin a bit o' time to spare we went
in, an' it reminded me varry mich o' th' same sooart o' places at hooam.
It wor pretty well filled an' th' fowk seemed varry weel behaved, tho'
some o' th' men's faces wor ugly enough to freeten a child into a fit.
Th' band played some grand music, an' it wor a treat to hear "God save
the Queen," as a pairt on it. It seemed to have moor meanin nor awd
ivver known it to have befoor--Th' singers aw did'nt mak mich on,'ith'
furst place ther wor nobbut one on em'at had a voice ony moor musical
nor a penny trumpet, an' they shrugged ther shoolders an' twisted ther
faces an' stuck ther hands into sich shapes'at they lukt varry mich like
tryin to play th' fooil an' had'nt lent ha--One woman,--a strapper shoo
wor too--wi a voice as strong as a steam organ, an as sweet--coom
on drest to represent Liberty--republican liberty aw mean,--an' shoo
shaated an' yell'd an' threw hersen into shapes, an' waved a flag abaat,
an' altogether kickt up sich a row,'at th' fowk all began to shaat an'
yell an' wave ther caps abaat as if they wor goin wrang i' ther
heeads, (if sich heeads can,) an' when shoo'd done they kept up sich a
hullaballoo wol shoo coom back agean for a oncoor, but we'd had enough
soa we pyked aght as quietly as we could an' wended us way hooam. We bid
one another 'gooid neet,' an' wor sooin i' bed, net sooary to know at it
ud be Sundy ith' mornin.
[Illustration: 0115]
[Illustration: 0116]
CHAPTER VIII. DIMANCHE.
[Illustration: 9116]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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