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'Here's your health, Sammy, and may you speedily vipe off the disgrace as you've inflicted on the family name. In honour of this toast Mr. Weller imbibed at a draught, at least two-thirds of a newly-arrived pint, and handed it over to his son, to dispose of the remainder, which he instantaneously did. 'And now, Sammy, said Mr.
Pickwick hastily, for he remembered how they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. 'Yes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam! 'Sir, said Mr. Weller. 'Help Mr. Wardle's servant to put the packages into the cart, and then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once. Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr.
These emotions, however, gradually subsided, and after three or four short relapses he wiped his eyes with the cuff of his coat, and looked about him with tolerable composure. 'Afore the governor vith-draws, said Mr. Weller, 'there is a pint, respecting vich Sammy has a qvestion to ask. Vile that qvestion is a perwadin' this here conwersation, p'raps the genl'men vill permit me to re-tire.
Whether it is Tony Weller, or "the Shepherd," or the Fat Boy, Hugh or the Raven, Toots or Traddles, Micawber or Skimpole, Gamp or Mantalini all are overloaded in the sense that they exceed nature, and are more or less extravagant. They are wonderful and delightful caricatures, but they are impossible in fact.
However, the locality has changed completely from what it was when Tony Weller "used the parlour" of the "Blue Boar," and such coaching inns that flourished then have all been swept away with the "shabby courts and alleys."
Her mother's brother, gentlemen, failed for eight hundred pounds, as a law stationer. 'Vell, said Mr. Weller, who had grown rather restless during this discussion, 'vith regard to bis'ness. The word was music to Pell's ears.
Weller, accosting his son on the morning after the funeral, 'I've found it, Sammy. I thought it wos there. 'Thought wot wos there? inquired Sam. 'Your mother-in-law's vill, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller. 'In wirtue o' vich, them arrangements is to be made as I told you on, last night, respectin' the funs. 'Wot, didn't she tell you were it wos? inquired Sam. 'Not a bit on it, Sammy, replied Mr.
'I wos a carrier's boy at startin'; then a vaginer's, then a helper, then a boots. Now I'm a gen'l'm'n's servant. I shall be a gen'l'm'n myself one of these days, perhaps, with a pipe in my mouth, and a summer-house in the back-garden. Who knows? I shouldn't be surprised for one. 'You are quite a philosopher, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. 'It runs in the family, I b'lieve, sir, replied Mr. Weller.
We ought not to be angry with others for their misfortunes; and yet when one meets the cretins who boast that they cannot read Dickens, one certainly does feel much as Mr. Samuel Weller felt when he encountered Mr. Job Trotter. How very singular has been the history of the decline of humour.
'Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller, said Mrs. Bardell, 'and here's the change, and I hope you'll take a little drop of something to keep the cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance' sake, Mr. Weller. Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced; whereupon Mrs.
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