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ground—I instantly saw it was my own writing———
—O Seignieur! cried I—you have got all my remarks upon your head, Madam!—J'en suis bien mortifiée, said she—'tis well, thinks I, they have stuck there—for could they have gone deeper, they would have made such confusion in a French woman's noddle—She had better have gone with it unfrizled, to the day of eternity.
Tenez—said she—so without any idea of the nature of my suffering, she took them from her curls, and put them gravely one by one into my hat—one was twisted this way—another twisted that—ay! by my faith; and when they are published, quoth I,———
They will be worse twisted still.
CHAP.
