They had walked some distance, Mr Pickwick trotting on before,

plunged in profound meditation, and Sam following behind, with a

countenance expressive of the most enviable and easy defiance of

everything and everybody, when the latter, who was always especially

anxious to impart to his master any exclusive information he

possessed, quickened his pace until he was close at Mr Pickwick's

heels; and, pointing up at a house they were passing, said -

Wery nice pork-shop that 'ere, sir.'

Yes, it seems so,' said Mr Pickwick.

Celebrated sassage factory,' said Sam.

Is it?' said Mr Pickwick.

Is it!' reiterated Sam, with some indignation; 'I should rayther think it

was. Why, sir, bless your innocent eyebrows, that's where the

mysterious disappearance of a 'spectable tradesman took place four

years ago.'

'You don't mean to say he was burked, Sam?' said Mr Pickwick,

looking hastily round.

No, I don't indeed, sir,' replied Mr Weller, 'I wish I did; far worse than

that. He was the master o' that 'ere shop, sir, and the inwentor o' the

patent-never-leavin'-off sassage steam-ingin, as 'ud swaller up a pavin'

stone if you put it too near, and grind it into sassages as easy as if it

was a tender young babby. Wery proud o' that machine he was, as it

was nat'ral he should be, and he'd stand down in the celler a-lookin'

at it wen it was in full play, till he got quite melancholy with joy. A

wery happy man he'd ha' been, Sir, in the procession o' that 'ere ingin

and two more lovely hinfants besides, if it hadn't been for his wife,

who was a most owdacious wixin. She was always a-follerin' him

about, and dinnin' in his ears, till at last he couldn't stand it no

longer. ‘I'll tell you what it is, my dear,’ he says one day; ‘if you

persewere in this here sort of amusement,’ he says, ‘I'm blessed if I

don't go away to 'Merriker; and that's all about it.’ ‘You're a idle willin,’

says she, ‘and I wish the 'Merrikins joy of their bargain.’ Arter which

she keeps on abusin' of him for half an hour, and then runs into the

little parlour behind the shop, sets to a-screamin', says he'll be the

death on her, and falls in a fit, which lasts for three good hours - one

o' them fits wich is all screamin' and kickin'. Well, next mornin', the

husband was missin'. He hadn't taken nothin' from the till - hadn't

even put on his greatcoat - so it was quite clear he warn't gone to

Merriker. Didn't come back next day; didn't come back next week;

missis had bills printed, sayin' that, if he'd come back, he should be

forgiven everythin' (which was very liberal, seein' that he hadn't done

The Pickwick Papers