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 general, 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 T. (_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 some one as I can converse with in my own language--well, I just about talk myself dry. [_He talks himself dry, until rejoined by the_ GUIDE _with_ PODBURY _and_ MISS TROTTER. GUIDE (_to_ PODBURY). Leesten, I dell you. My vader--eighteen, no in ze Airmi, laboreur man--he see Napoleon standt in a saircle; officers roundt 'im. Boots, op to hier; green cott; vite vaiscott; vite laigs---- PODB. Your father's legs? GUIDE (_indignantly_). No, Sare; my vader see Napoleon's laigs; leedle 'at, qvite plain; no faither--nossing. PODB. But you just said you _had_ a faither! GUIDE. I say, Napoleon 'ad no faither--vat you call it?--_plume_--in 'is 'at, at ze bataille. PODB. Are you sure? I thought the history books said he "stuck a feather in his hat, and called it Macaroni." MISS T. I presume you're thinking of our National Amurrcan character, Yankee Doodle? GUIDE. My vader, 'e no see Napoleon viz a Yankedoodle in 'is 'at; 'e vear nossing. PODB. Nothing? What became of the green coat and white waistcoat, then, eh?