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Updated: June 21, 2025
Mrs Harris jestly says to me, but t'other day, "Oh! Sairey Gamp," she says, "how is it done?" "Mrs Harris, ma'am," I says to her, "we gives no trust ourselves, and puts a deal o'trust elsevere; these is our religious feelins, and we finds 'em answer." "Sairey," says Mrs Harris, "sech is life. Vich likeways is the hend of all things!"
Mrs Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some check upon its palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in a faint voice: 'The awfulest things, Mr Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd! Which Mrs Harris's father never spoke a word when took so, some does and some don't, except sayin' when he come round, "Where is Sairey Gamp?"
Harris have said it before me, with the tears in her angel eyes one of them having a slight cast from an accident with the moderator lamp, Harris being quick in his temper often and often have she said to me: "Ah, Sairey, the quarrels of friends is affection's best restorer."
Require she never will, depend upon it, for her constant words in sickness is, and will be, "Send for Sairey?" During this touching address, Mrs Prig adroitly feigning to be the victim of that absence of mind which has its origin in excessive attention to one topic, helped herself from the teapot without appearing to observe it.
Women who are not fat and whose muscles are hard, may choose whichsoever one of these pleases them, but fat women, and women whose flesh is not too solid, must wear thick trousers, and would better have them lined with buckskin, unless they would be transformed into what Sairey would call "a mask of bruiges," and would frequent remark to Mrs. Harris that such was what she expected.
Before Florence Nightingale gave herself and initiated the movement for the training of young women of standing as nurses, such work had been left to the rough, uncouth, and often low-lived men and women, of whom the unspeakable Sairey Gamp, immortalized by Charles Dickens, is a fitting type.
Aint you, Bailey? 'R r reether so, Poll! replied that gentleman. 'Look here! cried the little barber, laughing and crying in the same breath. 'When I steady him he comes all right. There! He's all right now. Nothing's the matter with him now, except that he's a little shook and rather giddy; is there, Bailey? 'R r reether shook, Poll reether so! said Mr Bailey. 'What, my lovely Sairey!
'Which shows, said Mrs Gamp, casting up her eyes, 'what a little way you've travelled into this wale of life, my dear young creetur! As a good friend of mine has frequent made remark to me, which her name, my love, is Harris, Mrs Harris through the square and up the steps a-turnin' round by the tobacker shop, "Oh Sairey, Sairey, little do we know wot lays afore us!"
If he was to have any hand in them, things were to be done according to certain rules, which, as he said, prevailed in the world of fashion. The cook, who had a temper and who regarded her mistress, stood out long and boldly, but when the housemaid, who was to assist Mr Grandairs upstairs, absolutely deserted her, and sitting down began to cry, saying: "Sairey, why don't you do as he tells you?
I wuz right fond o' Sairey; but I declar' I 'd rather lost Sairey than to broke." "You would!" Mrs. Meriwether sat up and began to bristle. "Well, at least, you have the expense of her funeral; and I 'm glad of it," she asserted with severity. "Dat 's what I come over t' see you 'bout. I 'm gwine to give Sairey a fine fun'ral.
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