CULCHARD, who has purchased a map in the Waterloo Museum as a means of approaching Miss TROTTER, is pounced upon by an elderly Belgian Guide in a blue blouse, from whom he finds it difficult to escape.

The Guide (fixing CULCHARD with a pair of rheumy eyes and a gnarled forefinger).  You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite ’ouse? not dere, along my shdeek—­so.  Dat is vare PEECTON vas kill, Inglis Officer, PEECTON.  Two days pefore he vas voundet in de ahum.  ’E say to his sairvan’, “You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!” He vandt to pe in ze bataille:  he vas in ze bataille—­seven lance troo im, seven; PEECTON, Inglis Officer. (CULCHARD nods his head miserably.) Hah, you ’ave de shart dere—­open ’im out vide, dat de odder shentilmans see. (CULCHARD obeys, spell-bound.) Vare you see dat blue gross, Vaterloo Shirshe, vere Loart UXBREEDGE lose ’is laig.  Zey cot ’im off and pury him in ze cott-yardt, and a villow grow oudt of ’im.  ’E com ’ere to see the villow growing oudt of his laig.

Culch. (abandoning his map, and edging towards Miss TROTTER).  Hem—­we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national history—­Miss TROTTER.

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 Trotter (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.