“I confess,” continued Tom, “it has been a puzzling one—for, to make something out of nothing is impossible.”
“Not in all cases,” said Bob.
“How so?—why you have proved it by your own shewing, that these nothings are to be made something of.”
"I perceive,” replied Tom, “that your acquaintance with Sparkle is not thrown away upon you; and it argues well, for if you are so ready a pupil at imbibing his lessons, you will soon become a proficient in London manners and conversation; but a Cipher is like a round robin,{1} it has neither beginning nor end: its centre is vacancy, its circle ambiguity, and it stands for nothing, unless in certain connections.”
They were now proceeding gently along Oxford Street, in pursuit of their way to Soho Square, and met with little worthy of note or remark until they arrived near the end of Newman Street, where a number of workmen were digging up the earth for the purpose of making new-drains. The pathway was railed from the road by scaffolding poles strongly driven into the ground, and securely tied together to prevent interruption from the passengers.—Tom was remarking upon the hardihood and utility of the labourers at the moment when a fountain of water was issuing from a broken pipe, which arose as high as a two pair of stairs window, a circumstance which quickly drew a number of spectators around, and, among the rest, Tom and his Cousin could not resist an inclination to spend a few minutes in viewing the proceedings.
The Irish jontlemen, who made two or three ineffectual attempts to stop the breach, alternately got soused by the increased violence of the water, and at every attempt were saluted by the loud laughter of the surrounding multitude.
To feelings naturally warm and irritable, these vociferations of amusement and delight at their defeat, served but to exasperate and enrage; and the Irishmen in strong terms expressed their indignation at the merriment which their abortive attempts appeared to excite: at length, one of the Paddies having cut a piece of wood, as he conceived, sufficient to stop the effusion of water, with some degree of adroitness thrust his arm into the foaming fluid, and for a moment appeared to have arrested its progress.
“Blood-an-owns! Murphy,” cried he, “scoop away the water, and be after handing over the mallet this way.” In a moment the spades of his comrades were seen in
1 Round Rubin—A Letter or Billet, so composed as to have the signatures of many persons in a circle, in order that the reader may not be able to discover which of the party signed first or last.
action to accomplish his instructions, while one, who was not in a humour to hear the taunts of the crowd, very politely scoop'd the water with his hands among the spectators, which created a general desire to avoid his liberal and plentiful besprinklings, and at the same time considerable confusion among men, women, and children, who, in effecting their escape, were seen tumbling and rolling over each other in all directions.