the holiday resort of the other sisters. After the first visit there, Mrs. Kennicott writes:—
I am determined to be rammed, crammed, and jammed there next year, so I desire you will have no schemes that will interfere with my accompanying you from Oxford. I long to be twining honeysuckles, broiling chops, and talking sentiment with you, my dear friend Patty, and am an excellent gipsy cook; while Governess beholds with astonishment, and Sister Betty is preparing for us in the house, with the vain expectation that we shall, some time or other, come into it and look like gentlefolks.
Meantime, the Bas Bleu was at length published, and, coupled with a poem called Florio, dedicated to the Honourable Horace Walpole, and describing the career of a young man of fashion. It has some felicitous couplets, and embalms some manners and customs.
Florio is only idle—
'Twas doing nothing was his curse,
Is there a vice can plague us worse?
He was not vicious, though
Small habits, well pursued, betimes
May reach the dignity of crimes.
He talked fashionable slang,
And many a standard phrase was his,
Might rival bore or banish quiz.
Afterwards we hear of an excellent country squire who is capitally described:—
He dreaded nought like alteration,
Improvement still was innovation;
He said, when any change was brewing,
Reform was a fine name for ruin;
This maxim firmly he would hold,
"That must be always good that's old";
