“Never mind,” said Dashall, “we are not of that description—and we sometimes laugh at nothing, which I apprehend is the case in the present instance.”
“I perfectly agree with the observation,” rejoined Sparkle; “it is a case in point, and very well pointed too.”
“Nothing could be better timed,” said Tallyho.
“What than a horse laugh in the public streets! D———d vulgar really—-quite outre, as we say. No, no, you ought to consider where you are, what company you are in, and never laugh without a good motive—what is the use of laughing.”
“A philosopher,” said Tom Dashall, “need scarcely ask such a question. The superiority of his mind ought to furnish a sufficient answer.”
“Then I perceive you are not communicative, and I always like to be informed; but never mind, here we shall have something to entertain us.”
“And at least,” said Sparkle, “that is better than nothing.”
The observation, however, was lost upon the incorrigible fribble, who produced his snuff-box, and took a pinch, with an air that discovered the diamond ring upon his finger—pulled up his shirt collar—and at the same time forced down his waistcoat; conceiving no doubt that by such means he increased his consequence, which however was wholly lost upon his companions.
“And this,” said Sparkle, “is the so much talked of statue of Achilles—The Wellington Trophy—it is placed in a very conspicuous situation, however—and what says the pedestal—
TO ARTHUR DUKE OF WELLINGTON, AND HIS BRAVE COMPANIONS IN ARMS, THIS STATUE OF ACHILLES, CAST FROM CANNON TAKEN IN THE VICTORIES OF SALAMANCA, VITTORIA, TOULOUSE, AND WATERLOO IS INSCRIBED BY THEIR COUNTRYWOMEN.