Have follerd the Fancy, ever since cumming of Age, and bean to every Pugilistical fite, from the Gaim Chicking down to the fite last weak. Have bated Buls drawd Baggers, and Kild rats myself meening to say with my Hone Dogs. Ought to no wot Fancy his. Self prays is no re-comendation But have bean at every Fair Waik or Revvle in England. Ought to no then wot a Fare is.
Has for the Lonnon job--could Sea nothin like Fancy and nothing like fare. Only a Toy shop out of Town with a gals skool looking after it, without a Guvverness and all oglein like Winkin. Lots of the fare sects but no thimbel rig, no priking in the garter no nothing. Am blest if our hone little Fare down at Goos Grean don’t lick it all to Styx. Bulbeating, Baggerdrawing, Cuggleplaying, Rastlin, a Sopped pigtale, a Mane of Cox Jackasreacing jumpin in Sax, and a Grand Sire Peal of Trouble Bobs puld by the Collige youths by way of givin a Bell’s Life to the hole. Call that Fancy. Too wild Best Shoes, fore theaters besides a Horseplay a Dwarft a She Giant, a fat Child a prize ox five carriboo savidges, a lurned Pigg an Albany with wite Hares, a real See Murmad a Fir Eater and lots of Punshes and Juddis. Call that a Fare.
Now for Lonnon. No Sanderses--no Richardsens no wumwills menageris no backy boxis to shy for--no lucky Boxis. No poster makin no jugling or Dancing. Prest one yung laidy in ruge cheaks and trowsers verry civelly For a bit of a caper on the tite rop--But miss got on the hi rop, and call’d for a conestubble. Askt annother in a ridding habbit for the faver of a little horsemunship and got kicked out of her Booth. Goos Grean for my munny! Saw a yung laidy there that swallerd a Sord and wasn’t too Partickler to jump threw a hoop. Dutchesses look dull after that at a Fare. Verry dignified, but Prefer the Wax Wurk, as a Show. Dont sea anny think in Watch Pappers cut out by Countisses that have been born with all their harms and legs--not Miss Biffins.
Must say one thing for Goos Grean. Never got my pockit pict xcept at Lonnon--am sorry to say lost my Reader and Ticker and every Dump I had let alone a single sovran. And lost the best part of that besides to a Yung Laidy that nevver gave change. Greenish enuf says you for my Tim of Day but I was gammund by the baggidge to bye five shillin Pin Cushins. Wish Charrity had stayd at Hoam! The ould Mare got a coald by waiting outside. And the five Charrity pincushins hadn’t bran enuf in their hole boddys to make her a Mash.