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"So ho!" exclaimed the Postilion as he came up, raising his lanthorn that he might view me the better; "it's you again, is it?" "Yes," I nodded. "Well, I don't like it," he grumbled, "a-meeting of each other again like this, in this 'ere ghashly place no, I don't like it too much like last time to be nat'ral, and, as you know, I can't abide onnat'ralness.
"Voice like his, too!" muttered the Postilion, backing away still farther; "yes, onnat'ral's the word strike me dumb if it ain't!" "Come, will you do as I ask, or must I make you?" "Why, I ain't got no objection to taking the gent's 'eels, if that's all you ask, though mind ye, if ever I see such damned onnat'ralness as this 'ere in all my days, why drownd me!"
"Forgotten?" repeated the Postilion, "Oh, Lord, yes!" and leaning over, he winked one eye, very deliberately; "forgotten 'er ah! to be sure of course!" and he winked again. "What do you mean?" I demanded, nettled by the fellow's manner. "Mean?" said he, "I means as of all the damned onnat'ralness as come on a honest, well-meaning, civil-spoke cove why, I'm that there cove, so 'elp me!"
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