Mrs. Sandboys did not require much persuasion to bring her to the same opinion. She was sick and tired of t’wretched place, she said, and would gladly send, “t’first thing” on t’morrow to Mrs. Wewitz for their boxes, so that they might start for Cockermouth by that evening’s train. Major Oldschool did all he could to laugh the Cumberland couple out of their fatalistic fancies, but his gibes and jests were of no avail. Mr. Sandboys assured him he was as immoveable as the Great Pyramid, and that Archimedes himself, even with his huge lever and the required fulcrum, would find that something more than a straw was needed to stir him. And thus the evening passed, the Major striving by every means to induce them to prolong their visit, telling them of the many wonders of the “Great Show”—at one moment describing to them the splendour of the glass fountain—and the next, picturing the beauty of the Veiled Vestal;—now speaking in hyperbolical raptures to Mrs. Sandboys of the magnificence of the silks and velvets from Lyons, and the ribbons from Coventry,—then turning to Elcy, and descanting on the size and value and brilliance of the far-famed Koh-i-noor, and the admired jewels of the Queen of Spain,—and afterwards trying to excite the curiosity of Mr. Sandboys with a glowing detail of the marvels of machinery in motion—the self-acting mules, and the Jacquard lace machinery, and the centrifugal pumps, and the steam printing-press, and the envelope machine—but despite the enthusiasm of his friend, Cursty remained fixed in his determination; and so as not to allow the Major even the chance of shaking it, the resolute Mountaineer took his chamber candlestick, and retired with his family to the apartments that the Major had directed Mrs. Coddle to have prepared for them.