438 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP
mind it; it's a reg'lar holiday to tbem — all porter and skettles. It's the t'other vuns as gets done over vith this sort o' thing- : them down- hearted fellers as can't svig- avay at the beer, mor play skettles neither ; them as vould pay if they could, and gets low by being boxed up. I'll tell you wot it is. Sir ; them as is always a idlin' in public houses it don't damage at all, and them as is alvays a vorkin' ven they can, it damages too much. * It's unekal,' as my father used to say ven his grog worn't made half-and-half — ' It's unekal, and that's the fault on it.' "
" I think you're right, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, after a few moments' reflection, "quite right."
" P'raps, now and then, there's some honest people as likes it," observed Mr. Weller, in a ruminative tone, " but I never heerd o' one as I can call to mind, 'cept the little dirty-faced man in the brown coat, and that was force of habit."
" And who was he ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'* Vy, that's just the wery point as nobody never know'd," replied Sam.
"But what did he do?"
" Vy he did wot many men as has been much better know'd has done iii t^ eir time, Sir," replied Sam, "he run a match agin the constable, and van it."
"In other words, I suppose," said Mr. Pickwick, "he got into debt ? "
" Just that. Sir," replied Sam, " and in course o' time he come here in consekens. It warn't much — execution for nine pound nothin', mul- tiplied by five for costs ; but hows'ever here he stopped for seventeen year. If he got any wrinkles in his face, they was stopped up vith the dirt, for both the dirty face and the brown coat wos just the same at the end o' that time as they wos at the beginnin*. He wos a wery peaceful inoffendin' little creetur, and wos alvays a bustlin' about for somebody, or playin' rackets and never vinnin' ; till at last the turnkeys they got quite fond on him, and he wos in the lodge ev'ry night, a chattering vith 'em, and tellin' stories, and all that 'ere. Vun night he wos in there as usual, alone vith a wery old friend of his, as wos on the lock, ven he says all of a sudden, ' I ain't seen the market outside. Bill,' he says (Fleet Market wos there at that time) — * I ain't seen the market out- side. Bill,' he says, ' for seventeen year.' * I know you ain't,' says the turnkey, smoking his pipe. ' I should like to see it for a minit, Bill,' he says. * Wery probable,' says the turnkey, smoking his pipe wery fierce, and making believe he warn't up to wot the little man wanted.
- Bill,' says the little man, more abrupt than afore, * I've got the fancy
in my head. Let me see the public street once more afore I die ; and if I ain't struck with apoplexy, I'll be back in five minits by the clock.'
- And wot 'ud become o' me if you wos struck with apoplexy ?' said the
turnkey. * Vy,' says the little creetur, * whoever found me, 'ud bring me home, for I've got my card in my pocket, Bill,' he says, * No. 20, Coffee-room Flight :' and that wos true, sure enough, for ven he wanted to make the acquaintance of any new comer, he used to pull out a little limp card vith them words on it and nothin' else ; in consideration o'
