_Mrs Nutts._ Well, I don’t know--I was saying so to Mrs Biggleswade over the way--but after all that had been said, he looked very nice and comfortable. To be sure the horse does look a little more concerned about the battle than the Dook himself; but Mrs Biggleswade assures me that that’s quite as the thing happened, all according to ’istory. But why--I want to know, after all the fuss of lugging him up--why is he coming down agin? _Nosebag._ Why, the _Daily Noose_ says that the Queen has done it all. Her Majesty, having a taste, and knowing how a gentleman ought to look on horseback, won’t have the Dook nohow. _Slowgoe._ That’s one story; but I think the other much more likely. And that is, that it’s aginst the Queen’s perrogative, and contrary to her state and dignity, to have any subject perched upon so high a place that her carriage must drive right under him. And now I think of it--for it never struck me before--there is a sort of a petty treason in it. Good thing Sir Frederick Trench didn’t live in Queen Elizabeth’s time. _She_ knew how to use her royal perrogative; she’d have had his head off to a certain. _Tickle._ Suppose she had. What would she have made o’ that? Why, nothin’. _Mrs Nutts._ But the poor soul and his horse must go somewhere! What’s to become of him, can any good Christian tell? _Nutts._ Very like a traveller gone astray, and wanting good entertainment for man and beast. _Tickle._ Well, I have heard, if nothing better can be done with it, that it’s to be taken somewhere to the sea-coast, and made a sort of lighthouse of. _Mrs Nutts._ A lighthouse of! A lighthouse! How? _Tickle._ Why, by fitting up a revolving light inside the statue’s head, to warn ships from sands and rocks. _Slowgoe._ And after all, I, for one, should have no objection to it. After all, ’twould be a very pretty compliment to the aristocracy o’ the land. (_Rising from his chair._) For are they not the lights and beacons that in time of danger---- _Nutts._ Come, none o’ that nonsense in this place. We’re none of us Lord Georges here. _Slowgoe._ Mr Nutts, I have once, remember--_once_ left your shop. _Nutts._ Well, I never care to balk a customer, not I; so you may take it even numbers if you like. _Mrs Nutts._ Don’t mind him, Mr Slowgoe; he’s a man as hates all authority. Talks, too, about the perlitical principles! All very well and very fine for bachelors, but I should very much like to know what men with wives and families have to do with principles at all--eh, Mr Peabody? You who’ve been a schoolmaster can answer that, I should think. _Peabody._ Very true, Mrs Nutts; for the great Lord Bacon--you have heard of him--eh, Mrs Nutts? _Mrs Nutts._ No doubt on it; but I can’t bring him to mind just now. _Peabody._ The great Lord Bacon was accustomed over his wine to say, that the man who had a wife and children had given hostages to fortune.