Robert Gibbon to Mrs. Mary Barstoole
Dear Nanny
The other gentilmen arent bothering now abowt anything but writting letters. so I thourght I'd as well write one to you.
We are in Doaver to-night, and have drivven the many miles from London in only two days. From all these hours in the coach you may well guess at the condishon of our back-sides. Ha! Ha! But this inn is a desent slop-house with a leg of mutton and beer to warsh it down. I confess I have taken a mug of the strong ale and a botel of Madeira upstairs with me, as I fear the corssing of the English Channel will be a develish old business.
But there will be drink enuff in the Continent I daresay. I do hope we shall have some good racing as well. George was so unyeelding to depart in the spring that we will miss all the racing in London this seeson. After this port town in France (devil if I can remember the name) I know we are off to Paris. After that, Italy at some time. I have no noshun what pictures and marbles and awt we are likely to see, along with Churches. But along with that learned stuff I hope we shall have time for a bit of fun.
I maynt be able to write you much. I havent a word of these dashed foregn tongues so I will be forced to rely on my companions. We will likely hire some local servants, wich will help us travel across the severall countrys. But we also come with two servants from England. The one is George's man, a young Blackamoor named Isaac Pope who has been with his family for some years. He seems a good valet and smart fellow, the son of freedmen Negroes from Barbados.
My own new valet is Dick Blackford, a West Country man late of Bristol. I only engajed his servises a few days ago, but alreddy he has proved himself an exeedingly clever and useful chap. He's a veteran of the Navy, around two-score years in age, a sometime sailor of fortune, and has a great fownt of adventuring stories and aneckdoates. Hugh finds him corse and George thinks he is shifty, but I think he will be of exellent help abroad.
I will take leave of you now (not French leave, not yet being in France. Ha! Ha!). I hope you remember me to the rest of the family, whom I will write purhaps when I have more ocaysion.
Your loving boy,
Robin
YOU ARE READING
1816: the Grandest Tour
Ficción históricaThe Regency era, just after Napoleon's fall: four cheerful but clueless young men set out from England on the Grand Tour of Europe. Join George, Robert, Hugh, and Tobias along with a host of memorable characters as they travel through dozens of coun...
