[3] A remarkable instance of the prophetic force of Mr. Jingle’s imagination, this dialogue occurring in the year 1827, and the Revolution in 1830.
“A little, sir,” replied that gentleman.
“Fine pursuit, sir,—fine pursuit.—Dogs, sir?”
“Not just now,” said Mr. Winkle.
“Ah! you should keep dogs—fine animals—sagacious creatures—dog of my own once—Pointer—surprising instinct—out shooting one day—entering enclosure—whistled—dog stopped—whistled again—Ponto—no go; stock still—called him—Ponto, Ponto—wouldn’t move—dog transfixed—staring at a board—looked up, saw an inscription—‘Gamekeeper has orders to shoot all dogs found in this enclosure’—wouldn’t pass it—wonderful dog—valuable dog that—very.”
“Singular circumstance that,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Will you allow me to make a note of it?”
“Certainly, sir, certainly—hundred more anecdotes of the same animal.—Fine girl, sir” (to Mr. Tracy Tupman, who had been bestowing sundry anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the roadside).
“Very!” said Mr. Tupman.
“English girls not so fine as Spanish—noble creatures—jet hair—black eyes—lovely forms—sweet creatures—beautiful.”
“You have been in Spain, sir?” said Mr. Tracy Tupman.