English as She Is Spoke

with hers nails,” all doubtless painfully translated with the assistance of a French⁠–⁠English dictionary from “Il m’a arraché les cheveux,” “Il me donne des coups-de-pied,” “Il m’a laceré la figure de ses ongles.” It is noticeable that our instructor as a rule endeavours to make the possessive pronoun agree with the substantive in number and gender in orthodox Portuguese fashion, and that like a true grammatical patriot he insists upon the substantive having the same gender as in his native tongue; therefore “às unhas” must be rendered “hers nails” and “vóssas civilidádes” “yours civilities.” By this time no one will be disposed to contradict our inimitable Pedro when he remarks “E facéto” giving the translation as “He has the word for to laugh,” a construction bearing a suspicious resemblance to “Il a le mot pour rire.” “He do the devil at four” has no reference to an artful scheme for circumventing the Archfiend at a stated hour, but is merely a simulacrum of the well-known gallic idiomatic expression “Il fait le diable à quatre.” Truly this is excellent fooling; Punch in his wildest humour, backed by the whole colony of Leicester Square, could not produce funnier English. “He burns one’s self the brains,” “He was fighted in duel,” “They fight one’s selfs together,” “He do want to fall,” would be more intelligible if less picturesque in their original form of “Il se brûle la cervelle,” “Il s’est battu en duel,” “Ils se battent ensemble,” “Il manque de tomber.” The comic vein running through the “Familiar Phrases” is so inexhaustible that space forbids further quotation from this portion of the book, which may be appropriately closed with “Help to a little most the better yours terms,” a mysterious adjuration, which a reference to the original Portuguese leads one to suppose may be a daring guess at “Choisissez un peu mieux vos paroles.”

In the second part, entitled “Familiar Dialogues,” the fun grows fast and furious. Let us accompany our mad wag upon “The walk.” “You hear the bird’s gurgling?” he enquires, and then rapturously exclaims “Which pleasure! which charm! The field has by me a thousand charms”; after this, to the question “Are you hunter? will you go to the hunting in one day this week?” he responds “Willingly; I have not a most pleasure in the world. There is some game on they cantons.” Proceeding from “game” to “gaming” we soon run aground upon the word “jeu,” which as we know does duty in French both for a game and a pack of cards. “At what pack will you that we does play?” “To the cards.” Of course this is “A quel jeu voulez vous que nous jouions?” “Aux cartes;” and further on “This time I have a great deal pack,” “Cette fois j’ai un jeu excellent!”

Now let us listen to our friend at his tailor’s: his greeting is perky⁠—almost slangy. “Can you do me a coat?” he enquires, but quickly drivels down to “What cloth will you do to?” and then to the question “What will you to double (doubler) the coat?” obtains the satisfactory answer “From something of duration. I believe to you that.” After requesting to have his garment “The rather that be possible,” he overwhelms the procrastinating man of cloth with the stern remark “You have me done to expect too,” evidently a bold version of “Vous m’ avez fait trop attendre,” which draws forth the natural excuse “I did can’t to come rather.” Passing by a number of good things which one would like to analyse if space permitted, we arrive at “For to ride a horse,” a fine little bit of word painting almost Carlylean in its grotesqueness. “Here is a horse who have a bad looks. He not sall know to march, he is pursy, he is foundered. Don’t you are ashamed to give me a jade as like? he is undshoed, he is with nails up; it want to lead to the farrier.” “Let us prick (piquons) go us more fast, never I was seen a so much bad beast; she will not nor to bring forward neither put back.” “Strek him the bridle,” cries the horsedealer, “Hold him the rein sharters.” “Pique stron gly, make to marsh him.” “I have pricked him enough. But I can’t to make marsh him,” replies the indignant client. “Go down, I shall make marsh,” declares the dealer; upon which the incensed equestrian rejoins “Take care that he not give you a foot kicks,” and the “coper” sardonically but somewhat incoherently concludes with “Then he kicks for that I look? Sook here if I knew to tame hix.”

After the “Familiar Dialogues” we come upon a series of letters from celebrated personages, who would be puzzled to recognize themselves in their new dresses; and a collection of anecdotes which may be taken singly after dinner as a gentle promoter of digestion; the whole being appropriately concluded with “Idiotisms and Proverbs,” between which it must be confessed the distinction is purely imaginary; the following are a few gems: “Its are some blu stories” (contes bleus); “Nothing some money, nothing some Swiss,” “He sin in trouble water” (confusion of pécher and pêcher). “A horse baared don’t look him the tooth,” “The stone as roll not heap up not foam,” mousse meaning both foam and moss, of course the wrong meaning is essential to a good “idiotism.” “To force to forge, becomes smith” (a force de forger on devient forgeron). “To craunch the marmoset” and “To fatten the foot” may terminate the list, and are incontestably more idiotic, although scarcely so idiomatic as “Croquer le marmot” and “Graisser la patte.”

The column in Portuguese which runs throughout