( 593 ) 



THE TRAVELS OF THE DOBSON FAMILY. 



WHO will venture to deny that the English are the most restless and 

 sight-loving people of Europe*? If we could trace this love of 

 novelty so analogous to the ri KOL'IVOV of the old Athenians, to a 

 rational and highly laudable desire of information, we should be the 

 last to say a word in disparagement of so favourable a trait of national 

 character ; but when among the migratory thousands who steam 

 their way from our shores as the summer fairly sets in, we find so 

 many, who, instead of fairly throwing aside their nationality, and 

 observing and falling in with the simple habits of the people whom 

 they visit, carry all their prejudices, rife and rank, into the countries 

 that they pass through, and excite a feeling of dislike against Eng- 

 land, which even the long purse of John Bull cannot set aside, 

 what can we say ? We stand excused. But we are not going to 

 treat our readers to a moral disquisition. Our present aim is very 

 humble, but, we hope, not on that account, less instructive. We 

 give from a diary, which a residence of more than two years' on the 

 continent furnished us ample opportunities of filling with the eVea 

 irrepoevra of the traveller, the bond fide history of a party, with whom 

 it was our lot to fall in, as we were on our way to Rome two sum- 

 mers ago. FACTS are facts; and we assure the reader that, how- 

 ever entertaining on the one hand, or however dull and stupid the 

 narrative may be, on the other, we stand pledged for the historical 

 truth names excepted of all that is here narrated. May our hopes 

 be fulfilled, that by this good-natured ridicule, we may succeed in 

 deterring the younger Dobsons from making such fools of them- 

 selves as their parents did before them. But we have tarried too 

 long at the threshold : we must address ourselves to our task. 



Now, gentle reader, as the best method of getting fairly under 

 way, is by introducing you to the principal personages with whom 

 you will have to make this summer tour, without further pre- 

 amble, we will, with your permission, step into a small parlour in a 

 small house, in a small street, not more than a hundred miles from 

 High Holborn ; and in the aforesaid small parlour, we shall find a 

 small group consisting of five individuals, to whom you, gentle reader, 

 shall, in due order, be introduced. Jeremiah Dobson, Esq., the pater 

 omnipotens of the family, is that short man sitting with his legs upon 

 the fender. He is, as you perceive, a very English-looking person, 

 rather corpulent than slim ; he is half asleep, and only catches now 

 and then a word or two of the conversation, which he breaks in upon, 

 from time to time, with some such exclamations as " fudge ! pshaw ! 

 nonsense!'' Mr. Jeremiah Dobson is a retired ironmonger: 

 he is a good sort of man at bottom, but has somehow or other ac- 

 quired a rather high idea of his own talent, and a not inconsiderable 

 one of his importance to society in general. These notions he has 

 most probably got from his wife, who pays the utmost deference to 

 all the opinions and whims of her liege lord. 



Mrs. Dobson, whom we next introduce, is a quiet, homely, stay- 

 at-home sort of a body, who seems to have no tastes of her own, and 



JUNE, 1837. 2 Q 



