The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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BON-BON.  
Quand un bon vin meuble mon estomac,  
Je suis plus savant que Balzac--  
Mon brass seul faisant l'attaque  
De la nation Coseaque,  
La mettroit au sac;  
Plus sage que Pibrac;  
De Charon je passerois le lac,  
En dormant dans son bac;  
J'irois au fier Eac,  
Sans que mon cœur fit tic ni tac,  
Présenter du tabac.  
French Vaudeville  
THAT Pierre Bon-Bon was a restaurateur of uncommon qualifications,  
no man who, during the reign of----, frequented the little Câfé in the  
cul-de-sac Le Febvre at Rouen, will, I imagine, feel himself at liberty  
to dispute. That Pierre Bon-Bon was, in an equal degree, skilled in  
the philosophy of that period is, I presume, still more especially  
undeniable. His patés à la fois were beyond doubt immaculate; but  
what pen can do justice to his essays sur la Nature--his thoughts sur  
l'Ame--his observations sur l'Esprit? If his omelettes--if his  
fricandeaux were inestimable, what littérateur of that day would not  
have given twice as much for an "Idée de Bon-Bon" as for all the trash  
of "Idées" of all the rest of the savants? Bon-Bon had ransacked  
libraries which no other man had ransacked--had more than any other  
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