st as I had composed myself in
delicious indolence, a parcel fell with more than ordinary force on one
beneath. These were two of my talking friends. I stirred not, but sat
silently to listen to their curious conversation, which I now proceed to
give verbatim.

_Parcel fallen upon_.--"What the d--l are you?"

_Parcel that fell_.--"That's my business."

"Is it? I rather think its mine, though. Why don't you look where you're
going?"

"How can I see through three brown papers and a rusty black silk
handkerchief?"

"Ain't there a hole in any of 'em?"

"No."

"That's a pity; but when you've been here as long as I have, the moths
will help you a bit."

"Will they?"

"Certainly."

"I hope not."

"Hope if you like; but you'll find I'm right."

"I trust I didn't hurt you much."

"Not very. Bless you, I'm pretty well used to ill-treatment now. You've
only rubbed the pile of my collar the wrong way, just as that awkward
black rascal would brush me."

"Bless me! I think I know your voice."

"Somehow, I think I know yours."

"You ain't Colonel Tomkins, are you?"

"No."

"Nor Count Castor?"

"No."

"Then I'm in error."

"No you're not. I was the Colonel once; then I became the Count by way of
loan; and then I came here--as he said by mistake."

"Why, my dear fellow, I'm delighted to speak to you. How did you wear?"

"So-so."

"When I first saw you, I thought you the handsomest Petersham in town.
Your velvet collar, cuffs, and side-pockets, were superb; and when you
were the Colonel, upon my life you were the sweetest cut thing about the
waist and tails I ever walked with."

"You flatter me."

"Upon my honour, no."

"Well, I can return the compliment; for a blue, with chased buttons and
silk lining, you beat anything I ever had the honour of meeting. But I
suppose, as you are here, you are not the Cornet now?"

"Alas! no."

"May I ask why?"

"Certainly. His scoundrel of a valet disgraced his master's cloth and me
at the same time. The villain went to the Lowther Arcade--took me with him
by force. Fancy my agony; literally accessory to handing ices to
milliners' apprentices and staymakers; and when the wretch commenced
quadrilling it, he dos-a-dos'd me up against a fat soap-boiler's wife, in
filthy three-turned-and-dyed common satin."

"Scoundrel!"

"Rascal! But he was discovered--he reeled home drunk. _I_, that is, as
it's known, _we_ make the men. The Cornet saw him, and thrashed him