You’ll have to learn a _chou_ is quite another sort of thing To that you put your foot in; that a _belle_ is not to ring; That a _corne_ is not the nubble that brings trouble to your toes; Nor _peut-être_ a potato, as some Irish folks suppose. No, no, they have no murphies there, for supper or for lunch, But you may get in course of time a _pomme de terre_ to munch, With which, as you perforce must do as Calais folks are doing, You’ll maybe have to gobble up the frog that went a wooing! But pray at meals, remember this, the French are so polite, No matter what you eat or drink, “whatever is, is right!” So when you’re told at dinner-time that some delicious stew Is cat instead of rabbit, you must answer “_Tant mi--eux!_” For little folks who go abroad, wherever they may roam, They cannot just be treated as they used to be at home; So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance, Of how a little English girl will perhaps be served in France! HINTS TO PAUL PRY. Oh, pleasing, teasing, Mr. Pry, Dear Paul--but not Virginia’s Paul, As some might haply deem, to spy The umbrella thou art arm’d withal, Cool hat, and ample pantaloons, Proper for hot and tropic noons;-- Oh no! for thou wert never born To watch the barren sea and cloud In any desert isle forlorn-- Thy home is always in a crowd Drawn nightly, such is thy stage luck, By Liston--that dramatic Buck. True as the evening’s primrose flower, True as the watchman to his beat, Thou dost attend upon the hour And house, in old Haymarket Street. Oh, surely thou art much miscall’d, Still Paul--yet we are never pall’d! Friend of the keyhole and the crack, That lets thee pry within and pore, Thy very nose betrays the knack-- Upturn’d through kissing with the door; A peeping trick that each dear friend Sends thee to Coventry, to mend! Thy bended body shows thy bent, Inclined to news in every place; Thy gossip mouth and eyes intent, Stand each a query in thy face; Thy hat a curious hat appears, Pricking its brims up like thy ears; Thy pace, it is an ambling trot, To post thee sooner here and there, To every house where thou shouldst not; In gait, in garb, in face, and air, The true eavesdropper we perceive, Not merely dropping in at eve,-- But morn and noon, through all the span Of day,--to disconcert and fret, Unwelcome guest to every man, A kind of dun, without a debt, Well cursed by porter in the hall, For calling when there is no call. Harm-watching, harm thou still dost catch-- That rule should save thee many a sore; But watch thou wilt, and, like a watch, A box attends thee at the door-- The household menials e’en begin To show thee out ere thou art in!