The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. YellowplushThackeray, William Makepeace
General
The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Didactic fiction; England -- Fiction; Household employees -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Master and servant -- Fiction
Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady is
quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior! “I
won't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face: not I!” No
more she does; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscrip
by the princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew that she could actially get
for it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble,
grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never
will have recors to disguise or crookid polacy. This ought to be an
ansure to them RADICLE SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equals
of fashnabble pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar
roagues have no notion of honor.
And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her ladyship
(long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)--after this
positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of DEFENDING her
missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a peculiarly
consideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by a
booxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND POUND for the Dairy. A
thousand pound! nonsince!--it's a phigment! a base lible! This woman
take a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, and
benyfactriss was concerned! Never! A thousand baggonits would be more
prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion.
But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my
expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally
vulgar, and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies which
I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this book, wrote as
all the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens
as if they were as common as sand-boys--there is in this book more
wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare
TO THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy at
school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own: never mind spellin,
I say, so long as the sence is right.
Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming lady of
honor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without any mistake:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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