_The Guide_ (_fixing CULCHARD with a pair of rheumy eyes and a gnarled forefinger_). You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite 'ouse? not dere, along my shdeek--so. Dat is vare PEECTON vas kill, Inglis Officer, PEECTON. Two days pefore he vas voundet in de ahum. 'E say to his sairvan', "You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!" He vandt to pe in ze bataille: he _vas_ in ze bataille--seven lance troo im, seven; PEECTON, Inglis Officer. (_CULCHARD nods his head miserably._) Hah, you 'ave de shart dere--open 'im out vide, dat de odder shentilmans see. (_CULCHARD obeys, spell-bound._) Vare you see dat blue gross, Vaterloo Shirshe, vere Loart UXBREEDGE lose 'is laig. Zey cot 'im off and pury him in ze cott-yardt, and a villow grow oudt of 'im. 'E com 'ere to see the villow growing oudt of his laig. _Culch._ (_abandoning his map, and edging towards Miss TROTTER_). Hem--we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national history--Miss TROTTER. _Miss T._ That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. PODBURY, your friend has been telling me-- [_She repeats CULCHARD's remark._ _Podb._ (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow? [_CULCHARD moves away with disgusted hauteur._ _The Guide_ (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, VELLAINTON meet BLUSHAIR. Prussian général, BLUSHAIR, VELLAINTON 'e com hier. I see 'im. Ven 'e see ze maundt 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no ze battle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell NAPOLEON 'oo zey are, 'e say. "Fine mens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" SOULT 'e say, "Ah, Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" NAPOLEON 'e _not_ know dem. SOULT 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'e know dem. In dat Shirsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. NAPOLEON 'e coaled op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, ze shentelman is gone avay vonce more! _Miss Trotter_ (_to CULCHARD, who has found himself unable to keep away_). You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company? _Culch._ The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a scene like this in solitude. _Miss T._ _I_ should have thought you'd be too polite to tell me so; but I was moving on, anyway. [_She goes on. Before CULCHARD can follow and explain, he finds himself accosted by Mr. TROTTER._ _Mr. T._ I don't know as I'm as much struck by this Waterloo field as I expected, Sir. As an Amurrcan, I find it doesn't come up to some of our battlefields in the War. We don't blow about those battlefields, Sir, but for style and general picturesqueness, I ain't seen nothing _this_ side to equal them. You ever been over? You want to come over and see our country--that's what _you_ want to do. You mustn't mind me a-running on, but when I meet someone as I can converse with in my own language--well, I just about talk myself dry.