? but think proper to dress
himself like a harlequin in mourning? See, even young Aldermanbury,
the tallow-merchant, who has just stepped on board, has got a
travelling-dress gaping all over with pockets; and little Tom Tapeworm,
the lawyer's clerk out of the City, who has but three weeks' leave,
turns out in gaiters and a bran-new shooting-jacket, and must let the
moustaches grow on his little sniffy upper lip, forsooth!
Pompey Hicks is giving elaborate directions to his servant, and asking
loudly, 'Davis, where's the dwessing-case?' and 'Davis, you'd best
take the pistol-case into the cabin.' Little Pompey travels with a
dressing-case, and without a beard: whom he is going to shoot with his
pistols, who on earth can tell? and what he is to do with his servant
but wait upon him, I am at a loss to conjecture.
Look at honest Nathan Houndsditch and his lady, and their little son.
What a noble air of blazing contentment illuminates the features of
those Snobs of Eastern race! What a toilette Houndsditch's is! What
rings and chains, what gold-headed canes and diamonds, what a tuft the
rogue has got to his chin (the rogue! he will never spare himself any
cheap enjoyment!) Little Houndsditch has a little cane with a gilt head
and little mosaic ornaments--altogether an extra air. As for the lady,
she is all the colours of the rainbow! she has a pink parasol, with a
white lining, and a yellow bonnet, and an emerald green shawl, and
a shot-silk pelisse; and drab boots and rhubarb-coloured gloves;
and parti-coloured glass buttons, expanding from the size of a
fourpenny-piece to a crown, glitter and twiddle all down the front
of her gorgeous costume.
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