with fethers in his edd and all his stars on, and the young Marchynisses
with their ploomes, and trains, and little coronicks!

They lived in tremenjus splendor at home in their pyturnle alls, and had
no end of pallises, willers, and town and country resadences; but their
fayvorit resadence was called the Castle of the Island of Fogo.

Add I the penn of the hawther of a Codlingsby himself, I coodnt dixcribe
the gawjusness of their aboad. They add twenty-four footmen in livery,
besides a boy in codroys for the knives & shoes. They had nine meels
aday--Shampayne and pineapples were served to each of the young
ladies in bed before they got up. Was it Prawns, Sherry-cobblers,
lobster-salids, or maids of honor, they had but to ring the bell and
call for what they chose. They had two new dresses every day--one to
ride out in the open carriage, and another to appear in the gardens of
the Castle of the Island of Fogo, which were illuminated every night
like Voxhall. The young noblemen of France were there ready to dance
with them, and festif suppers concludid the jawyus night.

Thus they lived in ellygant ratirement until Missfortune bust upon
this happy fammaly. Etached to his Princes and abommanating the ojus
Lewyphlip, the Marcus was conspiring for the benefick of the helder
branch of the Borebones--and what was the consquince?--One night a fleat
presented itself round the Castle of the Island of Fogo--and skewering
only a couple of chests of jewils, the Marcus and the two young ladies
in disgyise, fled from that island of bliss. And whither fled they?--To
England!--England the ome of the brave, the refuge of the world, where
the pore slave never setts his foot but he is free!

Such was the ramantic tail which was told to 2 friends of ours by the