out, 'unlucky in their speculations!'[1] A pretty thing, indeed, that there should be distinctions of rank among other members of the community, and none among us! Where's your boasted British constitution? I should like to know—where are your privileges of aristocracy, if I, who am a gentleman born, know Latin, and have lived in the best society, should be thrust into this abominable place with a dirty fellow, who was born in a cellar, and could never earn more at a time than would purchase a sausage?—No, no! none of your levelling principles for me! I am liberal, Paul, and love liberty; but, thank Heaven, I despise your democracies!"
Thus, half in earnest,—half veiling a natural turn to sarcasm, would this moderate Whig run on for the hour together, during those long nights, commencing at half-past four, in which he and Paul bore each other company.
One evening, when Tomlinson was so bitterly disposed to be prolix that Paul felt himself somewhat wearied by his eloquence, our hero, desirous
- ↑ A phrase applied to a noted defaulter of the public money.
