"Because I don't want Rugge to trace us. He might do one a mischief; because I have a grand project of genteel position and high prices for the exhibition of that dog. And why should it be known where we come from, or what we were? And because, if the owner knew where to find the dog, he might decoy it back from us. Luckily he had not made the dog so fond of him but what, unless it be decoyed, it will accustom itself to us. And now I propose that we should stay a week or so here, and devote ourselves exclusively to developing the native powers of this gifted creature. Get out the dominos."
"What is his name?"
"Ha! that is the first consideration. What shall be his name?"
"Has he not one already?"
"Yes,—trivial and unattractive,—Mop! In private life it might pass.
But in public life—give a dog a bad name and hang him. Mop, indeed!"
Therewith Mop, considering himself appealed to, rose and stretched himself.
"Right," said Gentleman Waife; "stretch yourself—you decidedly require it."
CHAPTER V.
Mop becomes a personage.—Much thought is bestowed on the verbal dignities, without which a personage would become a mop.—The importance of names is apparent in all history.—If Augustus had called himself king, Rome would have risen against him as a Tarquin; so he remained a simple equestrian, and modestly called himself Imperator.—Mop chooses his own title in a most mysterious manner, and ceases to be Mop.
"The first noticeable defect in your name of Mop," said Gentleman Waife, "is, as you yourself denote, the want of elongation. Monosyllables are not imposing, and in striking compositions their meaning is elevated by periphrasis; that is to say, Sophy, that what before was a short truth, an elegant author elaborates into a long stretch."