A speculative tour had taken this pair to Bristol, then the second city in England.

They sojourned in the suburbs.
One morning the postman brought a letter for Triplet, who was showing his landlord's boy how to plant onions.

(N.B .-- Triplet had never planted an onion, but he was one of your _a priori_ gentlemen, and could show anybody how to do anything.) Triplet held out his hand for the letter, but the postman held out his hand for a half crown first.

Trip's profession had transpired, and his clothes inspired diffidence.

Triplet appealed to his good feeling.
He replied with exultation, "That he had none left." (A middle-aged postman, no doubt.) Triplet then suddenly started from entreaty to King Cambyses' vein.