While Uncle Jack turns to Mr Speck, Mr Bullion fixes his fork in a pickled onion in Jack's plate, and transfers it to his own--observing, not as incidentally to the onion, but to truth in general--"A man, gentlemen, in this country, has only to keep his eyes on the look-out, and seize on the first advantage!--resources are incalculable!" Uncle Jack, returning to the plate and missing the onion, forestalls Mr Speck in seizing the last potato--observing also, and in the same philosophical and generalising spirit as Mr Bullion--"The great thing in this country is to be always beforehand: discovery and invention, promptitude and decision!--that's your go. 'Pon my life, one picks up sad vulgar sayings among the natives here!--'that's your go!' shocking! What would your poor father say? How is he--good Austin? Well?--that's right: and my dear sister? Ah, that damnable Peck!--still harping on the _Anti-Capitalist_, eh? But I'll make it up to you all now. Gentlemen, charge your glasses--a bumper-toast"---- MR SPECK, (_in an affected tone_.)--I respond to the sentiment in a flowing cap. Glasses are not forthcoming. UNCLE JACK.--A bumper-toast to the health of the future millionnaire, whom I present to you in my nephew and sole heir--Pisistratus Caxton, Esq. Yes, gentlemen, I here publicly announce to you that this gentleman will be the inheritor of all my wealth--freehold, leasehold, agricultural, and mineral; and when I am in the cold grave--(_takes out his pocket-handkerchief_)--and nothing remains of poor John Tibbets, look upon that gentleman, and say, "John Tibbets lives again!" MR SPECK, (_chauntingly_.)-- "Let the bumper toast go round." GUY BOLDING.--Hip, hip, hurrah!--three times three! What fun! Order is restored; dinner-things are cleared; each gentleman lights his pipe. VIVIAN.--What news from England? MR BULLION.--As to the funds, sir? MR SPECK.--I suppose you mean, rather, as to the railways: great fortunes will be made there, sir; but still I think that our speculations here will-- VIVIAN.--I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir; but I thought, in the last papers, that there seemed something hostile in the temper of the French. No chance of a war? MAJOR MACBLARNEY.--Is it the wars you'd be after, young gintleman? If me interest at the Horse Guards can avail you, bedad! you'd make a proud man of Major MacBlarney. MR BULLION, (_authoritatively_.)--No, sir, we won't have a war: the capitalists of Europe and Australia won't have it. The Rothschilds, and a few others that shall be nameless, have only got to do _this_, sir--(_Mr Bullion buttons up his pockets_)--and we'll do it too; and then what becomes of your war, sir? (_Mr Bullion snaps his pipe in the vehemence with which he brings his hand on the table, turns round the green spectacles, and takes up Mr Speck's pipe, which that gentlemen had laid aside in an unguarded moment._) VIVIAN.--But the campaign in India? MAJOR MACBLARNEY.--Oh!--and if its the Ingees you'd--