"We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps-- Long twenty-fours--short culverins and mortars-- Condemn'd the 'Horse Guards' for a set of raps, And cursed our fate at being in such quarters. Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore; Some wished themselves five fathoms 'neat the Solway; And some did pray--who never prayed before-- That they might get the 'route' for Cork or Galway." A c'est egal, mam'selle, they don't mind these things in France A rather unlady-like fondness for snuff A crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops Accept of benefits with a tone of dissatisfaction Accustomed to the slowness and the uncertainty of the law Air of one who seeks to consume than enjoy his …
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