“And to feel one is likely to be cheated is the pleasantest way of passing one’s time in town, Bunting, eh?” “Augh! and in cheating too!” answered the Corporal; “‘cause you sees, Sir, there be two ways o’ living; one to cheat,--one to be cheated. ‘Tis pleasant enough to be cheated for a little while, as the younkers are, and as you’ll be, your honour; but that’s a pleasure don’t last long--t’other lasts all your life; dare say your honour’s often heard rich gentlemen say to their sons, ‘you ought, for your own happiness’ sake, like, my lad, to have summut to do--ought to have some profession, be you niver so rich,’--very true, your honour, and what does that mean? why it means that ‘stead of being idle and cheated, the boy ought to be busy and cheat--augh!” “Must a man who follows a profession, necessarily cheat, then?” “Baugh! can your honour ask that? Does not the Lawyer cheat? and the Doctor cheat? and the Parson cheat, more than any? and that’s the reason they all takes so much int’rest in their profession--bother!” “But the soldier? you say nothing of him.” “Why, the soldier,” said the Corporal, with dignity, “the private soldier, poor fellow, is only cheated; but when he comes for to get for to be as high as a corp’ral, or a sargent, he comes for to get to bully others, and to cheat. Augh! then ‘tis not for the privates to cheat,--that would be ‘sumpton indeed, save us!” “The General, then, cheats more than any, I suppose?” “‘Course, your honour; he talks to the world ‘bout honour an’ glory, and love of his Country, and sich like--augh! that’s proper cheating!” “You’re a bitter fellow, Mr. Bunting: and pray, what do you think of the Ladies--‘are they as bad as the men?’” “Ladies--augh! when they’re married--yes! but of all them ere creturs, I respects the kept Ladies, the most--on the faith of a man, I do! Gad! how well they knows the world--one quite invies the she rogues; they beats the wives hollow! Augh! and your honour should see how they fawns and flatters, and butters up a man, and makes him think they loves him like winkey, all the time they ruins him. They kisses money out of the miser, and sits in their satins, while the wife, ‘drot her, sulks in a gingham. Oh, they be cliver creturs, and they’ll do what they likes with old Nick, when they gets there, for ‘tis the old gentlemen they cozens the best; and then,” continued the Corporal, waxing more and more loquacious, for his appetite in talking grew with that it fed on,--“then there be another set o’ queer folks you’ll see in Lunnon, Sir, that is, if you falls in with ‘em,--hang all together, quite in a clink. I seed lots on ‘em when lived with the Colonel--Colonel Dysart, you knows--augh?” “And what are they?” “Rum ones, your honour; what they calls Authors.” “Authors! what the deuce had you or the Colonel to do with Authors?”