At this moment, Mr. Burke suddenly sprung from his chair, which was
nearest the window, to look out; I accordingly followed his example, and
beheld a rather ludicrous procession, if such it could be called,
consisting of so few persons. The principal individual in the group was
a florid, fat, happy-looking gentleman of about fifty, with a profusion
of nearly white whiskers, which met at his chin, mounted upon a sleek
charger, whose half-ambling, half-prancing pace, had evidently been
acquired by long habit of going in procession; this august figure was
habited in a scarlet coat and cocked hat, having aiguillettes, and all
the other appanage of a general officer; he also wore tight buckskin
breeches, and high jack-boots, like those of the Blues and Horse Guards;
as he looked from side to side, with a self-satisfied contented air, he
appeared quite insensible of the cortege which followed and preceded him;
the latter, consisting of some score of half-ragged boys, yelling and
shouting with all their might, and the former, being a kind of instalment
in hand of the Dublin Militia Band, and who, in numbers and equipment,
closely resembled the "army which accompanies the first appearance of
Bombastes." The only difference, that these I speak of did not play "the
Rogue's March," which might have perhaps appeared personal.

As this goodly procession advanced, Mr. Burke's eyes became riveted upon
it; it was the first wonder he had yet beheld, and he devoured it. "May
I ask, sir," said he, at length, "who that is?"

"Who that is!" said Tom, surveying him leisurely as he spoke; "why,
surely, sir, you must be jesting, or you would not ask such a question;
I trust, indeed, every one knows who he is. Eh, Harry," said he, looking
at me for a confirmation of what he said, and to which, of course, I
assented by a look.