exceedingly like its master, sniffing in vain for the fresh air, which, to the imagination of Mauleverer, was peopled with all sorts of asthmas and catarrhs! It was a fitting picture of an aristocrat, for these reasons;—because it conveyed an impression of indolence—of unwholesomeness—of luxury—of pride—and of ridicule! Mauleverer got out of his carriage at Salisbury, to stretch his limbs, and to amuse himself with a cutlet. Our nobleman was well known on the roads, and as nobody could be more affable, he was equally popular. The officious landlord bustled into the room, to wait himself upon his Lordship, and to tell all the news of the place.
"Well, Mr. Cheerly!" said Mauleverer, bestowing a penetrating glance on his cutlet, "the bad times, I see, have not ruined your cook!"
"Indeed, my Lord, your Lordship is very good, and the times, indeed, are very bad—very bad indeed. Is there enough gravy? Perhaps your Lordship will try the pickled onions?"
"The what?—onions!—oh!—ah! nothing can be better; but I never touch them. So, are the roads good?"
