more slow; and often the sleek, napless hat was lifted up, and the brow
wiped. At length he bent his way towards the two great theatres, paused
before the play-bills, as if deliberating seriously on the chances of
entertainment they severally proffered, wandered slowly through the
small streets that surround those temples of the Muse, and finally
emerged into the Strand. There he rested himself for an hour at a small
cook-shop; and as I passed the window and glanced within, I could see
him seated before the simple dinner, which he scarcely touched, and
poring over the advertisement columns of the "Times." The "Times"
finished, and a few morsels distastefully swallowed, the Captain put
down his shilling in silence, receiving his pence in exchange, and I had
just time to slip aside as he reappeared at the threshold. He looked
round as he lingered,--but I took care he should not detect me,--and
then struck off towards the more fashionable quarters of the town. It
was now the afternoon, and, though not yet the season, the streets
swarmed with life. As he came into Waterloo Place, a slight but
muscular figure buttoned up across the breast like his own cantered by
on a handsome bay horse; every eye was on that figure. Uncle Roland
stopped short, and lifted his hand to his hat; the rider touched his own
with his forefinger, and cantered on; Uncle Roland turned round and
gazed.

"Who," I asked of a shop-boy just before me, also staring with all his
eyes, "who is that gentleman on horseback?"

"Why, the Duke to be sure," said the boy, contemptuously.

"The Duke?"

"Wellington, stu-pid!"