It's divided, as every boddy knows, into an upper town (sitouate on a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or bullyvar) and a lower town, which is on the level of the sea.

Well, will it be believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the other the Base Veal, which is on the contry, genrally good in France, though the beaf, it must be confest, is excrabble.
It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the Hotel de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; and if he'd been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he could not have given himself greater hairs, I can tell you.

Nothink was too fine for us now; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which belonged to the prime minister of France (at least the landlord said they were the premier's); and the Hon.

Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had not paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think that goold was too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break down with a man of his weight.

Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, besides bordo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the delixes of the Balong kitchins.