“Or probably,” said Dashall, “an author in search of ideas for his next publication, wherein he intends to cut up the ministers and their measures.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “or a quack doctor, examining if the editor has given insertion to his new flaming advertisement, wherein he promises to perform what is utterly impossible to be accomplished.”
“I wonder if he can speak,” said Tom, laying clown the paper; “I'll try him.—A fine morning, Sir.”
As this was directed immediately to meet the old gentleman's ear, he looked up for the first time since they had entered.
“Beautiful, Sir,” was the reply—and here the conversation ceased again.
“Excellent coffee,” said Sparkle,—“is there any news to-day, Sir?” endeavouring to rouse him again.
“There is always news, Sir,” was the reply, taking a plentiful supply of snuff.
“Of one sort or other,” continued Bon.
“Why yes, have we not every day a quantity of newspapers that make their appearance with the sun?”
“Truly,” replied Sparkle; “but you could hardly misunderstand me—I alluded to something out of the common run of events; such, for instance, as relates to the interests of the nation, the agricultural distress, the distress of the Irish, the state of the American independents, the proceedings of the Spanish cortes, and the French chamber; the movements of the Greeks, the operations of Turkey and Russia, or the—or—”