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The World’s Wit and Humor: An Encyclopedia in 15 Volumes. 1906.

Theodore Hook (1788–1841)

Mrs. Ramsbottom’s Opinions on Popery

From “Ramsbottom Papers”

To Mr. Bull

GRAVESEND, April 2, 1829.
MY DEAR MR. B.: I have taken a trumpery residence hear for the seeson for the health of my third gull, which is frequently effected with a goose. I send you up a copy of the Gravesend Guide, which will explain all the booty of the place, and all its convenences.

Oh, B. B., I have got a krow to pluck with you. I cannot make out what makes you such a stench Protestant. Poor dear Mr. Ram never could bear Poppery, but I am afraid he was a big goat at bottom, for the mounsheer which massed my second, tells me that it is a sweat religion, and that you can always get ablution for paying for it, which is very pleasant.

I remember the riots of Hayti, when they burnt old Newgate and got to all the goals. They raised several houses to the ground, and burnt Lord Mansfield’s house in Bloomsbury Square, which was of brick and stone; what would they have done with his Willy up at Highgate, which is all made of wood; yet, after all, he goes on in the House of Pears a-speaking agin the Roaming Catlicks, just as if nothing had happened to him. He must be very antickated, now, I should think.

You have heard, in course, that the new Pop is erected. Mounsheer tells me that Ginger was a very good Pop as ever was. He died, notwithstanding his infallowbility. All Pops go off, and that is as it should be, for as they lives infallowbile, so they infallowbilly dies. Mounsheer told me that it was thought that either Carnal Fetch or Carnal Comealonzo would have been erected Pop, but that Charles Deece would have put his feeto upon Fetch. So they have erected Catllineye. They put poor Ginger after his death into a cistern, with his holy toes a-protruding out of a grating for the people for to kiss.

I should have liked to be in Room when the conclave was held. Oh, Mr. B., you very much mistake the Catlick priesthood. All the stories you hear of the Carnals keeping columbines is entirely calomel. They nose better than to do such things as those. For myself, I hop to see the day when all extinction in religion is forgot, and we shall see all our halters occupied by Poppish priests.

What does Mr. More, the almyknack maker, say on this toe-pick?

  • “Shall I ask the brave sojer that fites by my side,
  • In the kawes of mankind, If our creeds agree?
  • Shall I give up the friend I have bullied and tride,
  • If he kneel not afore the same halter with me?”
  • I says ditto, ditto, to Mr. More. Why should we hairyticks stick up for our authordoxies, or any other sich, or despise the Roaming Catlicks? We are decanters from the holy church ourselves, just as much as the Hairyons, or the Whistlings, or any others are from hours. Can’t we worship, every one after his own fashion? Why, do you know, Mr. B., the Quacker ladies goes down to Grinnage, and Woolidge, and Popalar, and the Isle of Docks, and all them parts, to phissit the poor female convix, which is about to be transpirted to Von Demons Land and Bottomy Bay, where the illustras Cook first found out the Cangerews. Poor gulls, I think it a pitty to send them out. They are some on ’em so juvenal. Oh, Mr. B., what must their rum and essences be when they reclect time past. Some on ’em, if they are hard-working meretricious gulls, gets married as soon as they gets to the Coloony, and when they does, Mr. Fulmer tells me, they play the very dooce with the malthouse system, which I spose means that they drink too much hail and bear in proporshun.

    A navel sergeant goes to take care on ’em, and sees that they want for nothing. He locks them up every night, and never suffers in foxes paws, but keeps them quite crekt, and they are in such order that he has just only to talk of the lock and the key to subdoo ’em in a minuet.

    Yours truly,