_Culch._ (_abandoning his map, and edging towards Miss TROTTER_).
Hem--we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national
history--Miss TROTTER.

_Miss T._ That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must
have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. PODBURY, your
friend has been telling me-- [_She repeats CULCHARD's remark._

_Podb._ (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow?

[_CULCHARD moves away with disgusted hauteur._

_The Guide_ (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, VELLAINTON meet
BLUSHAIR. Prussian général, BLUSHAIR, VELLAINTON 'e com hier. I see
'im. Ven 'e see ze maundt 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no ze
battle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de
Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell NAPOLEON 'oo zey are, 'e say. "Fine
mens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" SOULT 'e say, "Ah,
Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" NAPOLEON 'e _not_
know dem. SOULT 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'e know dem. In dat
Shirsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. NAPOLEON 'e coaled
op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, ze
shentelman is gone avay vonce more!

_Miss Trotter_ (_to CULCHARD, who has found himself unable to keep
away_). You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?

_Culch._ The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a
scene like this in solitude.