If anything could have exceeded Mr Dennis's joy
on the happy conclusion of this ceremony, it would have been the rapture
with which he received the announcement that the new member could
neither read nor write: those two arts being (as Mr Dennis swore) the
greatest possible curse a civilised community could know, and militating
more against the professional emoluments and usefulness of the great
constitutional office he had the honour to hold, than any adverse
circumstances that could present themselves to his imagination.
The enrolment being completed, and Hugh having been informed by
Gashford, in his peculiar manner, of the peaceful and strictly lawful
objects contemplated by the body to which he now belonged--during which
recital Mr Dennis nudged him very much with his elbow, and made divers
remarkable faces--the secretary gave them both to understand that he
desired to be alone. Therefore they took their leaves without delay, and
came out of the house together.
'Are you walking, brother?' said Dennis.
'Ay!' returned Hugh. 'Where you will.'
'That's social,' said his new friend. 'Which way shall we take? Shall we
go and have a look at doors that we shall make a pretty good clattering
at, before long--eh, brother?'
Hugh answering in the affirmative, they went slowly down to Westminster,
where both houses of Parliament were then sitting.
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