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 matter at all to me; but as I have money, and can't draw it without notice, blister me if ever I'll vote for revolution!"

"I'm disgusted with you, Pokey!" exclaimed Obadiah. "You ought to be on Bobby Peel's side of the house. It's such sentiments as these that have drawn a matter of eighteen hundred million a year from our vitals."

"I wouldn't draw nothing from nobody's vitals."

"Then why do you sanction such men as Teddy Rouse? Why, when you see him running after his girls, don't you set your face against him? Suppose you were the father of this girl—this Rosalie—would you like it?"

"I don't say I should!"

"Very well, then. I mean to say it's monstrous that we should pay fifty million a year to enable these men to run after their Rosalies, as old Teddy Rouse has been running after his. Don't tell me about the cloth! The cloth's rotten, and always was. Even before the Pope was welted at the battle of Bunker's Hill, they were both corrupt and clerical, and anything that's clerical must of course be rotten. Look at Russia, look at Prussia, look at China, look at Spain, look at France, look at Switzerland, look where you will, they're all alike, all corrupt, all rotten, all bad. I mean to say we must have a rattling revolution in order to keep society together: we must have a regular roaring rebellion, in order to keep us from anarchy and ruin. Are we to have a parcel of oligarchies, think you, squeezing the marrow out of our very bones eternally? Do you think that this can be eternally tolerated? No!—not a bit of it. No!—they must come down!—and, mark my words, when they do come down, they'll come down with a run. All your six-and-twenty-pun-ten men in the universe won't save 'em: come down they must and will!—Mark my words. You may try to keep such men as Teddy Rouse on—you may encourage 'em in running about after their Rosalies—"

"I don't encourage 'em in nothing of the sort!"

"Then why don't you stand up against 'em like a man? Shall we wink at such practices as these, when they come directly under our very noses?

"But I don't know nothing about practices. Look here!—this Rosalie!—what do I know about her?—how do I know that there's anything wrong?—who is she?—what's her business?—where does she come from?

"Didn't I tell you, France? She's one of the French dancers, no doubt. And as for not knowing whether there's anything wrong! Look here! Suppose you were to run about the village inquiring for Rosalie or Rosamond, or any other girl, what would Mrs. Pokey say?"

"Why, I don't suppose she'd like it."

"Very well, then. Doesn't that make the case clear? But I'll find this Rosalie out!—I'll run her down!—I'll pretty soon know who she is! Master Ted shan't be let off so easy as he has been. I'll stick to him—I'll show him up!—But ta-ta! can't stop.—Mind you take care of your six-and-twenty pun ten!"