Gazette Of The United States

FOR THE GAZETTE OF THE UNITED STATES.

MR. FENNO,

S I have been long absent from America, it happens that an ignorance of many modern improvements, especially in language, subject me to some very odd mistakes.

I lately called, on a visit of friendship, at Mr. Modely's; being ushered into the parlour, I found his oldest daughter, Miss Sally, sitting in one of the windows, with a very pensive countenance, hemming a ruffle: With a freedom, which is natural to me, and being an old acquaintance, I enquired how all the family did.

We are all very well, said Miss Sally, except my dear Mare.

Your Mare! What ails her pray? O Sir, said Sally, she is very sick, you would hardly know her—she is so fallen away—she is a mere skeleton—she has lost her appetite—can eat scarcely any thing, and if her complaints do not soon take a more favorable turn, I fear the worst consequences may happen; and what would become of me, if I should lose her—and here the poor girl sobbed and cried sadly. I never was more surprised in my life, than on this occasion; for tho it is difficult to account for the strength of many incidental attachments, even to cats, dogs or horses; yet as I supposed from Mr. Modely's circumstances, and his affection to his dear girl, that if she should lose the pretty Nag, which it seems he had lately presented her, he would very readily give her another, I was exceedingly puzzled at the excess of her grief—accordingly I attempted to soothe and moderate her affliction, by saying, that such a loss could be easily made up—that ten or a dozen guineas would buy just such another: She started with amazement, and exclaimed, Sir, you astonish me! What do you mean? Can all the gold in the universe purchase me so kind, so affectionate a parent? Here I was, in my turn, equally surprised and confounded—Parent, said I—you puzzle me Miss Sally, beyond expression: was you not just now speaking of your Mare?

No sir, said she, of my Mamma: What confusion of terms! replied I.—Pray never lead me into such a mistake again by using what I now suppose is a modern pronunciation; the absurdity of it must be very apparent, when I assure you, Miss Sally, that I answered you in the simplicity of my heart: My young friend felt very forcibly the impropriety of sacrificing utility to fashion—and declared she would never subject herself to a similar misapprehension. I have since learnt that Pare is the modern pronunciation for Pa: A very ludicrous scene occurred in consequence of a mistake in the supposed meaning of this word; but the above may suffice for the present.

Yours,

PEREGRINE.

P. S. I was mentioning this incident to a friend—on which he observed, that I did not understand French.