577 | 578 | 579 | 580 | 581 |
1 | 198 | 396 | 594 | 792 |
'
One of 'em's a parson,' said Mr Roker, filling up a little piece of paper
as he spoke; 'another's a butcher.'
'
'
Eh?' exclaimed Mr Pickwick.
A butcher,' repeated Mr Roker, giving the nib of his pen a tap on the
desk to cure it of a disinclination to mark. 'What a thorough-paced
goer he used to be sure-ly! You remember Tom Martin, Neddy?' said
Roker, appealing to another man in the lodge, who was paring the
mud off his shoes with a five-and- twenty-bladed pocket-knife.
'
I should think so,' replied the party addressed, with a strong
emphasis on the personal pronoun.
'
Bless my dear eyes!' said Mr Roker, shaking his head slowly from side
to side, and gazing abstractedly out of the grated windows before him,
as if he were fondly recalling some peaceful scene of his early youth; 'it
seems but yesterday that he whopped the coal-heaver down Fox-
under-the-Hill by the wharf there. I think I can see him now, a-coming
up the Strand between the two street-keepers, a little sobered by the
bruising, with a patch o' winegar and brown paper over his right
eyelid, and that 'ere lovely bulldog, as pinned the little boy arterwards,
a-following at his heels. What a rum thing time is, ain't it, Neddy?'
The gentleman to whom these observations were addressed, who
appeared of a taciturn and thoughtful cast, merely echoed the inquiry;
Mr Roker, shaking off the poetical and gloomy train of thought into
which he had been betrayed, descended to the common business of
life, and resumed his pen.
'
Do you know what the third gentlemen is?' inquired Mr Pickwick, not
very much gratified by this description of his future associates.
'
What is that Simpson, Neddy?' said Mr Roker, turning to his
companion.
'
'
What Simpson?' said Neddy.
Why, him in twenty-seven in the third, that this gentleman's going to
be chummed on.'
'Oh, him!' replied Neddy; 'he's nothing exactly. He WAS a horse
chaunter: he's a leg now.'
'Ah, so I thought,' rejoined Mr Roker, closing the book, and placing the
small piece of paper in Mr Pickwick's hands. 'That's the ticket, sir.'
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