blue swallow-tail, with yellow buttons now wearing a
tinge of their native copper, a very high velvet collar, on a level with the
tips of the Captain's ears, with a high waist, indicated by two lapelles, and a
pair of buttons high up in the wearer's back, a white waistcoat and scarlet
under-waistcoat, and a pair of the never-failing duck trousers, complete Thomas
Newcome's costume, along with the white hat in which we have seen him in the
morning, and which was one of two dozen purchased by him some years since at
public outcry, Burrumtollah. We have called him Captain purposely, while
speaking of his coat, for he held that rank when the garment came out to him;
and having been in the habit of considering it a splendid coat for twelve years
past, he has not the least idea of changing his opinion.
    Doctor M'Guffog, Professor Bodger, Count Poski, and all the lions present at
Mrs. Newcome's réunion that evening, were completely eclipsed by Colonel
Newcome. The worthy soul, who cared not the least about adorning himself, had a
handsome diamond brooch of the year 1801 - given him by poor Jack Cutler, who
was knocked over by his side at Argaum, and wore this ornament in his desk for a
thousand days and nights at a time - in his shirt-frill, on such parade
evenings, as he considered Mrs. Newcome's to be. The splendour of this jewel,
and of his flashing buttons, caused all eyes to turn to him. There were many
pairs of mustachios present; those of Professor Schnurr, a very corpulent
martyr, just escaped from Spandau, and of Maximilien Tranchard, French exile and
apostle of liberty, were the only whiskers in the room capable of vying in
interest with Colonel Newcome's. Polish chieftains were at this time so common
in London that nobody (except one noble member for Marylebone, and, once a year,
the Lord Mayor) took any interest in them. The general opinion was that the
stranger was the Wallachian Boyar, whose arrival at Mivart's the Morning Post
had just announced. Mrs. Miles, whose delicious every other Wednesdays in
Montague Square are supposed by some to be rival entertainments to Mrs.
Newcome's alternate Thursdays in Bryanston Square, pinched her daughter Mira,
engaged in a polyglot conversation with Herr Schnurr, Signor Carabossi, the
guitarist, and Monsieur Pivier, the celebrated French chess- to point out the
Boyar. Mira Miles wished she knew a little Moldavian, not so much