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He'd go into public-'ouses with 'em, but he wouldn't drink; leastways, that is to say, he wouldn't drink beer, and Ginger used to say that it made 'im feel uncomfortable to see Bill put away a bottle o' lemonade every time they 'ad a drink.
There was the landlords of 'arf the public-'ouses in Wapping, all smoking big cigars; two dock policemen in plain clothes, wot 'ad got the arternoon off one with a raging toothache and the other with a baby wot wasn't expected to last the day out. They was as full o' fun as kittens, and the landlord o' the Jolly Pilots pointed out to Ginger wot reasonable 'uman beings policemen was at 'art.
There was the landlords of 'arf the public-'ouses in Wapping, all smoking big cigars; two dock policemen in plain clothes, wot 'ad got the arternoon off one with a raging toothache and the other with a baby wot wasn't expected to last the day out. They was as full o' fun as kittens, and the landlord o' the Jolly Pilots pointed out to Ginger wot reasonable 'uman beings policemen was at 'art.
"It keeps you stiddy, keeps you out of public-'ouses; not as they ain't good in moderation I 'ope you'll be 'appy." A friendship sprang up between the two men which puzzled the remainder of the crew not a little. The cook thanked him, and noticed that Mr. Lister was fidgeting with a piece of paper. "A little something I wrote the other day," said the old man, catching his eye.
The only thing about 'im that they didn't like was that 'e was a teetotaler. He'd go into public-'ouses with 'em, but he wouldn't drink; leastways, that is to say, he wouldn't drink beer, and Ginger used to say that it made 'im feel uncomfortable to see Bill put away a bottle o' lemonade every time they 'ad a drink.
"I a friend o' mine here doesn't approve o' public-'ouses." "What's the matter with him?" inquired his friend, anxiously. "It's it's a 'er," said Mr. Burton, in some confusion. Mr. Stiles threw himself back in his chair and eyed him with amazement. Then, recovering his presence of mind, he reached out his hand for the bottle. "We'll drink her health," he said, in a deep voice. "What's her name?"
"Ah! you ought to have seen that island. Beautiful yellow sands and palm-trees; cocoa-nuts to be 'ad for the picking, and nothing to do all day but lay about in the sun and swim in the sea." "Any public-'ouses there?" inquired Mrs. Gimpson. "Cert'nly not," said her son-in-law. "This was an island one o' the little islands in the South Pacific Ocean."
"I a friend o' mine here doesn't approve o' public-'ouses." "What's the matter with him?" inquired his friend, anxiously. "It's it's a 'er," said Mr. Burton, in some confusion. Mr. Stiles threw himself back in his chair and eyed him with amazement. Then, recovering his presence of mind, he reached out his hand for the bottle. "We'll drink her health," he said, in a deep voice. "What's her name?"
While she'd been talking I'd been thinking, and it came to me clear as daylight that there was no need for me to sacrifice myself any longer looking arter a dead man's watch and chain. I didn't know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, and arter peeping into seven public-'ouses I see the man I wanted sitting by 'imself in a little bar.
Josey Letherbarrow, what reads, an' 'as larnin', calls it the Sarky Fagus, an' my Kitty, she's studied at the school, an' SHE sez 'it's Sar-KO- fagus, mother, which it may be or it mayn't, for the schools don't know more than the public-'ouses in my opinion, leastways it's a great long white coffin what's supposed to 'ave the body of a saint inside it, an' Mr.
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