Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

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my Great Central Oregons, prostrit. There was a momint when I thought I shouldn't be alive
to write my own tail!"
(Here follow in Mr. Plush's MS. about twenty-four pages of railroad calculations, which we
pretermit.)
"Those beests, Pump & Aldgate, once so cringing and umble, wrote me a threatnen letter
because I overdrew my account three-and-sixpence: woodn't advance me five thousand on
25,000 worth of scrip; kep me waiting 2 hours when I asked to see the house; and then sent
out Spout, the jewnior partner, saying they wouldn't discount my paper, and implawed me
to clothes my account. I did: I paid the three-and-six balliance, and never sor 'em mor.
"The market fell daily. The Rewin grew wusser and wusser. Hagnies, Hagnies! it wasn't in
the city aloan my misfortns came upon me. They beerded me in my own ome. The biddle
who kips watch at the Halbany wodn keep misfortn out of my chambers; and Mrs.
Twiddler, of Pall Mall, and Mr. Hunx, of Long Acre, put egsicution into my apartmince,
and swep off every stick of my furniture. 'Wardrobe & furniture of a man of fashion.' What
an adwertisement George Robins DID make of it; and what a crowd was collected to laff at
the prospick of my ruing! My chice plait; my seller of wine; my picturs—that of myself
included (it was Maryhann, bless her! that bought it, unbeknown to me); all—all went to
the ammer. That brootle Fitzwarren, my ex-vally, womb I met, fimilliarly slapt me on the
sholder, and said, 'Jeames, my boy, you'd best go into suvvis aginn.'
"I DID go into suvvis—the wust of all suvvices—I went into the Queen's Bench Prison, and
lay there a misrabble captif for 6 mortial weeks. Misrabble shall I say? no, not misrabble
altogether; there was sunlike in the dunjing of the pore prisner. I had visitors. A cart used to
drive hup to the prizn gates of Saturdays; a washywoman's cart, with a fat old lady in it, and
a young one. Who was that young one? Every one who has an art can gess, it was my blueeyed
blushing hangel of a Mary Hann! 'Shall we take him out in the linnen-basket,
grandmamma?' Mary Hann said. Bless her, she'd already learned to say grandmamma quite
natral: but I didn't go out that way; I went out by the door a whitewashed man. Ho, what a
feast there was at Healing the day I came out! I'd thirteen shillings left when I'd bought the
gold ring. I wasn't prowd. I turned the mangle for three weeks; and then Uncle Bill said,
'Well, there IS some good in the feller;' and it was agreed that we should marry."
The Plush manuscript finishes here: it is many weeks since we saw the accomplished
writer, and we have only just learned his fate. We are happy to state that it is a comfortable
and almost a prosperous one.
The Honorable and Right Reverend Lionel Thistlewood, Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy,
was mentioned as the uncle of Lady Angelina Silvertop. Her elopement with her cousin