‘I Was Inquiring,’ said Mr Podsnap, resuming the thread of his discourse, ‘Whether You Have Observed in our Streets as We
should say, Upon our Pavvy as You would say, any Tokens—’
The foreign gentleman, with patient courtesy entreated pardon; ‘But what was tokenz?’
Marks,’ said Mr Podsnap; ‘Signs, you know, Appearances—Traces.’
Ah! Of a Orse?’ inquired the foreign gentleman.
‘We call it Horse,’ said Mr Podsnap, with forbearance. ‘In England, Angleterre, England, We Aspirate the “H,” and We Say “Horse.” Only our Lower Classes Say “Orse!”’
‘Pardon,’ said the foreign gentleman; ‘I am alwiz wrong!’
Our Language,’ said Mr Podsnap, with a gracious consciousness of being always right, ‘is Difficult. Ours is a Copious Language,
and Trying to Strangers. I will not Pursue my Question.’
But the lumpy gentleman, unwilling to give it up, again madly said, ‘ESKER,’ and again spake no more.
‘It merely referred,’ Mr Podsnap explained, with a sense of meritorious proprietorship, ‘to Our Constitution, Sir. We Englishmen are Very Proud of our Constitution, Sir. It Was Bestowed Upon Us By Providence. No Other Country is so Favoured as This Country.’
‘And ozer countries?—’ the foreign gentleman was beginning, when Mr Podsnap put him right again.
‘We do not say Ozer; we say Other: the letters are “T” and “H;” You say Tay and Aish, You Know; (still with clemency). The sound is “th”—“th!”’
‘And OTHER countries,’ said the foreign gentleman. ‘They do how?’
‘They do, Sir,’ returned Mr Podsnap, gravely shaking his head;’they do—I am sorry to be obliged to say it—AS they do.’
The wisdom of Mr. Podsnap in Our Mutual Friend.
The Dickens Bicentennial continues.
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