The Diary of an Ennuyée
By Anna Brownell Jameson
26 Mar, 2019
Excerpt.......Calais, June 21.—What young lady, travelling for the first time on the Continent, does not write a "Diary?" No sooner have we slept on the shores of France—no sooner are we seated in the gay salon at Dessin's, than we call, like Bid
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Excerpt.......Calais, June 21.—What young lady, travelling for the first time on the Continent, does not write a "Diary?" No sooner have we slept on the shores of France—no sooner are we seated in the gay salon at Dessin's, than we call, like Biddy Fudge, for "French pens and French ink," and forth steps from its case the morocco-bound diary, regularly ruled and paged, with its patent Bramah lock and key, wherein we are to record and preserve all the striking, profound, and original observations—the classical reminiscences—the thread-bare raptures—the poetical effusions—in short, all the never-sufficiently-to-be-exhausted topics of sentiment and enthusiasm, which must necessarily suggest themselves while posting from Paris to Naples.
Verbiage, emptiness, and affectation!
Yes—but what must I do, then, with my volume in green morocco?
Very true, I did not think of that.
We have all read the Diary of an Invalid, the best of all diaries since old Evelyn's.—
Well, then,—Here beginneth the Diary of a Blue Devil. Less