It used to be the custom of some very old-fashioned clubs in this city,
when a gentleman asked for change a guinea, always to bring it to him
in WASHED SILVER: that which had passed immediately out of the hands of
vulgar being considered 'as too coarse to soil a gentleman's fingers.'
So, when the City Snob's money has been washed during a generation
or so; has been washed into estates, and woods, and castles, and
town-mansions, it is allowed to pass current as real aristocratic coin.
Old Pump sweeps a shop, runs of messages, becomes a confidential clerk
and partner. Pump the Second becomes chief of the house, spins more and
more money, marries his son to an Earl's daughter. Pump Tertius goes on
with the bank; but his chief business in life is to become the father of
Pump Quartus, who comes out a full-blown aristocrat, and takes his seat
as Baron Pumpington, and his race rules hereditarily over this nation of
Snobs.



CHAPTER IX--ON SOME MILITARY SNOBS

As no society in the world is more agreeable than that of well-bred
and well-informed military gentlemen, so, likewise, none is more
insufferable than that of Military Snobs. They are to be found of all
grades, from the General Officer, whose padded old breast twinkles over
with a score of stars, clasps, and decorations, to the budding
cornet, who is shaving for a beard, and has just been appointed to the
Saxe-Coburg Lancers.

I have always admired that dispensation of rank in our country, which
sets up this last-named little creature (who was flogged only last week
because he could not spell) to command great whiskered warriors, who