'You know me
pretty well, and I don't blab about such things. But, Ecod, I've made a
trifle.'
'Really, my dear Jonas,' cried Mr Pecksniff, with much warmth, 'a
gentleman like this should receive some attention. Would he like to
see the church? or if he has a taste for the fine arts--which I have no
doubt he has, from the description you give of his circumstances--I can
send him down a few portfolios. Salisbury Cathedral, my dear Jonas,'
said Mr Pecksniff; the mention of the portfolios and his anxiety to
display himself to advantage, suggesting his usual phraseology in
that regard, 'is an edifice replete with venerable associations,
and strikingly suggestive of the loftiest emotions. It is here we
contemplate the work of bygone ages. It is here we listen to the
swelling organ, as we stroll through the reverberating aisles. We have
drawings of this celebrated structure from the North, from the South,
from the East, from the West, from the South-East, from the Nor'West--'
During this digression, and indeed during the whole dialogue, Jonas had
been rocking on his chair, with his hands in his pockets and his head
thrown cunningly on one side.
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