"Why, Ferrers?"
"Because it is a prudent policy in this country to surrender something trifling up to ridicule. If people can abuse your hat or your carriage, or the shape of your nose, or a wart on your chin, they let slip a thousand more important matters. 'Tis the wisdom of the camel-driver, who gives up his gown for the camel to trample on, that he may escape himself."
"How droll you are, Ferrers! Well, I shall turn in, and read the papers; and you—"
"Shall pay my visits and rejoice in my hat."
"Good day to you; by the by, your friend, Maltravers, has just passed, looking thoughtful, and talking to himself. What's the matter with him?"
"Lamenting, perhaps, that he, too, does not wear an odd hat for gentlemen like you to laugh at, and leave the rest of him in peace. Good day."
On went Ferrers, and soon found himself in the Mall of the Park. Here he was joined by Mr. Templeton.
"Well, Lumley," said the latter (and it may be here remarked that Mr.
Templeton now exhibited towards his nephew a greater respect of manner
and tone than he had thought it necessary to observe before)—"well,
Lumley, and have you seen Lord Saxingham?"
"I have, sir; and I regret to say—"
"I thought so—I thought it," interrupted Templeton: "no gratitude in public men—no wish, in high place, to honour virtue!"