_Miss T._ _I_ should have thought you'd be too polite to tell me so;
but I was moving on, anyway.

[_She goes on. Before CULCHARD can follow and explain, he
finds himself accosted by Mr. TROTTER._

_Mr. T._ I don't know as I'm as much struck by this Waterloo field as
I expected, Sir. As an Amurrcan, I find it doesn't come up to some of
our battlefields in the War. We don't blow about those battlefields,
Sir, but for style and general picturesqueness, I ain't seen nothing
_this_ side to equal them. You ever been over? You want to come over
and see our country--that's what _you_ want to do. You mustn't mind me
a-running on, but when I meet someone as I can converse with in my own
language--well, I just about talk myself dry.

[_He talks himself dry, until rejoined by the Guide with
PODBURY and Miss TROTTER._

_Guide_ (_to PODBURY_). Leesten, I dell you. My vader--eighteen, no in
ze Airmi, laboreur man--he see NAPOLÉON standt in a saircle; officers
roundt 'im. Boots, op to hier; green cott; vite vaiscott; vite laigs--

_Podbury_. Your father's legs?

_Guide_. No, Sare; my vader see NAPOLÉON's laigs; leedle 'at, qvite
plain; no faither--nossing.

_Podbury_. But you just said you _had_ a faither!

_Guide_. I say, NAPOLÉON 'ad no faither--vat you call it?--_plume_--in