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"'Oh, then, whereaboats in the wide world are we, Captain? says I; 'maybe it id be in ROOSIA, or PROOSIA, the Garmant Oceant, says I. "'Tut, you fool, says he, for he had that consaited way wid him, thinkin' himself cleverer nor any one else 'tut, you fool, says he, 'that's FRANCE, says he.
If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?" "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man. "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." "She told me to ask you." "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care.
"'Take care you're not mistaken, says I; 'maybe it's only a fog-bank, Captain darlint, says I. "'O no, says he, 'it's the land in airnest. "'O, then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, Captain? says I; 'maybe it id be in Roosia, or Proosia, or the Garmant Oceant, says I.
They always spoke of "Proosia" and "Roosia," drank tea out of a "chaney" cup, and the eldest of them was still "much obleeged" for any little service rendered to her, played at "cyards," and took a stroll in the "gyarden." My grandfather, who was born in 1766, insisted to the end of his life on terming the capital of these islands "Lunnon," in eighteenth-century fashion.
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