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
brule la cervelle_," "_Il s'cet battu en duel_," "_lis 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 pen
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 sail know to march, he is pursy, he is foundered.
Don't you are ashamed to