Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

55
"Oh, wee," said the Erl of Yardham, and at the same moment his glas of ginawater coming
in, he took a drink, saying, "A voternsanty, Munseer:" and then he offered it like a man of
fashn to Jools.
A light broak on Jools's mind as he igsepted the refreshmint. "Sapoase," he said, "instedd of
slaughtering this nephew of the infamous Palmerston, I extract his secrets from him;
suppose I pump him—suppose I unveil his schemes and send them to my paper? La France
may hear the name of Jools de Chacabac, and the star of honor may glitter on my bosom."
So axepting Lord Yardham's cortasy, he returned it by ordering another glass of gin at his
own expence, and they both drank it on the counter, where Jools talked of the affaers of
Europ all night. To everything he said, the Earl of Yardham answered, "Wee, wee;" except
at the end of the evening, when he squeeged his & and said, "Bong swore."
"There's nothing like goin amongst 'em to equire the reel pronounciation," his lordship said,
as he let himself into his lodgings with his latch-key. "That was a very eloquent young gent
at the 'Constantinople,' and I'll patronize him."
"Ah, perfide, je te demasquerai!" Jools remarked to himself as he went to bed in his "Hotel
de l'Ail." And they met the next night, and from that heavning the young men were
continyually together.
Well, one day, as they were walking in the Quadrant, Jools talking, and Lord Yardham
saying, "Wee, wee," they were struck all of a heap by seeing—
But my paper is igshosted, and I must dixcribe what they sor in the nex number.
III.
THE CASTLE OF THE ISLAND OF FOGO.
The travler who pesews his dalitefle coarse through the fair rellum of Franse (as a great
romantic landskippist and neamsack of mind would say) never chaumed his i's within a site
more lovely, or vu'd a pallis more magniffiznt than that which was the buthplace of the
Eroing of this Trew Tale. Phansy a country through whose werdant planes the selvery
Garonne wines, like—like a benevvolent sarpent. In its plasid busum antient cassles,
picturask willidges, and waving woods are reflected. Purple hills, crownd with inteak
ruings; rivvilets babbling through gentle greenwoods; wight farm ouses, hevvy with
hoverhanging vines, and from which the appy and peaseful okupier can cast his glans over
goolden waving cornfealds, and M. Herald meddows in which the lazy cattle are graysinn;
while the sheppard, tending his snoughy flox, wiles away the leisure mominx on his loot—