Poe, Edgar Allen / 2008-07-30 00:00:00

1850
WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING
by Edgar Allan Poe
IT'S on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o'
pink satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould the
intheristhin words, "Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39
Southampton Row, Russell Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury." And shud ye
be wantin' to diskiver who is the pink of purliteness quite, and the
laider of the hot tun in the houl city o' Lonon- why it's jist mesilf.
And fait that same is no wonder at all at all (so be plased to stop
curlin your nose), for every inch o' the six wakes that I've been a
gintleman, and left aff wid the bogthrothing to take up wid the
Barronissy, it's Pathrick that's been living like a houly imperor, and
gitting the iddication and the graces. Och! and wouldn't it be a
blessed thing for your spirrits if ye cud lay your two peepers jist,
upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, when he is all riddy drissed
for the hopperer, or stipping into the Brisky for the drive into the
Hyde Park.
Read more


Parts: 1