I have oftin, smokin my own shroot in silents in a corner of the Diwann,
listened to Jools and his friends inwaying aginst Hingland, and boastin
of their own immortial country. How they did go on about Wellintun,
and what an arty contamp they ad for him!--how they used to prove that
France was the Light, the Scenter-pint, the Igsample and hadmiration of
the whole world! And though I scarcely take a French paper now-a-days
(I lived in early days as groom in a French famly three years, and
therefore knows the languidg), though, I say, you can't take up Jools's
paper, the Orriflam, without readin that a minister has committed
bribery and perjury, or that a littery man has committed perjury and
murder, or that a Duke has stabbed his wife in fifty places, or some
story equally horrible; yet for all that it's admiral to see how
the French gents will swagger--how they will be the scenters of
civilization--how they will be the Igsamples of Europ, and nothink shall
prevent 'em--knowing they will have it, I say I listen, smokin my pip in
silence. But to our tail.

Reglar every evening there came to the "Constantanople" a young gent
etired in the igth of fashn; and indead presenting by the cleanlyness
of his appearants and linning (which was generally a pink or blew shurt,
with a cricketer or a dansuse pattern) rather a contrast to the dinjy
and whistkcard sosaity of the Diwann. As for wiskars, this young mann
had none beyond a little yallow tought to his chin, which you woodn
notas, only he was always pulling at it. His statue was diminnative,
but his coschume supubb, for he had the tippiest Jane boots, the
ivoryheadest canes, the most gawjus scarlick Jonville ties, and the most
Scotch-plaidest trowseys, of any customer of that establishment. He was
univusaly called Milord.