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Updated: June 6, 2025
Bob Irons, who travels in linen on our circuit, told me that he had made some slap-up acquaintances among the genteelest people at Paris, nothing but by offering them Sham. Leave me alone with 'em: I can find out any woman's history in half an hour. She has her place in the coopy, and the coopy holds THREE; so what does Sam Pogson do? he goes and takes the other two. Ain't I up to a thing or two?
"Even though his followers are such lying scoundrels as that Pogson? What do you make of that? What do you think of that?" "I think," she replied quietly, "that my father is too just a man to judge Christianity by the very worst specimen of a Christian to be met with.
On the following day he was with the Quaker in London, walking up and down Old Broad Street in front of the entrance leading up to Pogson and Littlebird's. "My dear friend," said the Quaker, "I do not say that it shall never be so. It is in the hands of the Almighty." Hampstead shook his head impatiently. "You do not doubt the power of the Almighty to watch over His creatures?"
"Hauthor of 'Don Juan, 'Child 'Arold, and 'Cain, a Mystery," said Pogson: "I do; and hearing the waiter calling you Madam la Bironn, took the liberty of hasking whether you were connected with his lordship; that's hall:" and my friend here grew dreadfully red, and began twiddling his long ringlets in his fingers, and examining very eagerly the contents of his plate.
Pogson had, by fair means or foul, induced an enormous number of witnesses to come forward and prove the truth of his statement, and day after day there were the most wearisome references to old diaries, to reports of meetings held in obscure places, perhaps more than a dozen years ago, or to some hashed and mangled report of a debate which, incredible though such meanness seems, had been specially constructed by some unscrupulous opponent in such a way as to alter the entire meaning of Raeburn's words a process which may very easily be effected by a judicious omission of contexts.
Daniel Tribbledale, junior clerk at Pogson and Littlebird's, had fought a battle with his passion for Clara Demijohn like a man; but, manly though the battle had been, Love had prevailed over him. He had at last found it impossible to give up the girl of his heart, and he had declared his intention of "punching Crocker's head" should he ever find him in the neighbourhood of the Row.
Klinkerfues, of Göttingen, telegraphed to Pogson, of Madras: ``Biela touched earth; search near Theta Centauri. Pogson searched in the place indicated and saw a cometary mass retreating into the southern heavens, where it was soon swallowed from sight!
And what is it now?" he shrieked in his anger, as the little boy off the high stool came rushing to him. "Mr. Pogson has just come back, Mr. Fay, and he says that he can't find those letters from Pollock and Austen anywhere about the place. He wants them immediately, because he can't tell the prices named without seeing them."
Pogson was as unscrupulous as fanatics invariably are.
"He can't pay them," said we both in a breath: "Pogson is a commercial traveller, with thirty shillings a week, and how the deuce is he to pay five hundred pounds?" "A bagman, sir! and what right has a bagman to gamble? Gentlemen gamble, sir; tradesmen, sir, have no business with the amusements of the gentry. What business had you with barons and lords' sons, sir? serve you right, sir."
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