Wery good power o' suction, Sammy,' said Mr Weller the elder, looking

into the pot, when his first-born had set it down half empty. 'You'd ha'

made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in that

station o' life.'

'Yes, I des-say, I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable livin','

replied Sam applying himself to the cold beef, with considerable

vigour.

I'm wery sorry, Sammy,' said the elder Mr Weller, shaking up the ale,

by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to drinking. 'I'm

wery sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as you let yourself be

gammoned by that 'ere mulberry man. I always thought, up to three

days ago, that the names of Veller and gammon could never come into

contract, Sammy, never.'

'Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course,' said Sam.

Widders, Sammy,' replied Mr Weller, slightly changing colour.

Widders are 'ceptions to ev'ry rule. I have heerd how many ordinary

women one widder's equal to in pint o' comin' over you. I think it's

five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it ain't more.'

Well; that's pretty well,' said Sam.

Besides,' continued Mr Weller, not noticing the interruption, 'that's a

wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, Sammy, as

defended the gen'l'm'n as beat his wife with the poker, venever he got

jolly. ‘And arter all, my Lord,’ says he, ‘it's a amiable weakness.’ So I

says respectin' widders, Sammy, and so you'll say, ven you gets as old

as me.'

'I ought to ha' know'd better, I know,' said Sam.

Ought to ha' know'd better!' repeated Mr Weller, striking the table

with his fist. 'Ought to ha' know'd better! why, I know a young 'un as

hasn't had half nor quarter your eddication - as hasn't slept about the

markets, no, not six months - who'd ha' scorned to be let in, in such a

vay; scorned it, Sammy.' In the excitement of feeling produced by this

agonising reflection, Mr Weller rang the bell, and ordered an

additional pint of ale.

Well, it's no use talking about it now,' said Sam. 'It's over, and can't

be helped, and that's one consolation, as they always says in Turkey,

ven they cuts the wrong man's head off. It's my innings now, gov'nor,

and as soon as I catches hold o' this 'ere Trotter, I'll have a good 'un.'

The Pickwick Papers