“Yes,” observed the major; “and to carry on your political joke, it may be said that, like most worthies who gain a post, by turning round, he sleeps over his duty.”
“The epigram which accompanies it is not deficient in point,” said Mr. Seymour.
“The caprice of this watchman surpasses all bound
He ne’er sits in his box, but when going his round
While he no sooner rests, ’tis a strange paradox!
Than he flies from his post, and turns out of his box.”
“What have you there?” exclaimed the vicar; “arms and legs, without a body?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Seymour; “and which, on turning round, will present the figure of a king, invested with all the insignia of royalty.”
“It is indeed a king. Look at his crown and sceptre!” cried Louisa.
“Now for the epigram,” said the major, who then read the following lines:--