Sammy for I knows him better so he sends his dooty in which I join

and am Samivel infernally yours 'TONY VELLER.'

Wot a incomprehensible letter,' said Sam; 'who's to know wot it

means, vith all this he-ing and I-ing! It ain't my father's writin', 'cept

this here signater in print letters; that's his.'

Perhaps he got somebody to write it for him, and signed it himself

afterwards,' said the pretty housemaid. 'Stop a minit,' replied Sam,

running over the letter again, and pausing here and there, to reflect,

as he did so. 'You've hit it. The gen'l'm'n as wrote it wos a-tellin' all

about the misfortun' in a proper vay, and then my father comes a-

lookin' over him, and complicates the whole concern by puttin' his oar

in. That's just the wery sort o' thing he'd do. You're right, Mary, my

dear.'

Having satisfied himself on this point, Sam read the letter all over,

once more, and, appearing to form a clear notion of its contents for

the first time, ejaculated thoughtfully, as he folded it up -

'And so the poor creetur's dead! I'm sorry for it. She warn't a bad-

disposed 'ooman, if them shepherds had let her alone. I'm wery sorry

for it.'

Mr Weller uttered these words in so serious a manner, that the pretty

housemaid cast down her eyes and looked very grave.

Hows'ever,' said Sam, putting the letter in his pocket with a gentle

sigh, 'it wos to be - and wos, as the old lady said arter she'd married

the footman. Can't be helped now, can it, Mary?'

Mary shook her head, and sighed too.

'I must apply to the hemperor for leave of absence,' said Sam.

Mary sighed again - the letter was so very affecting.

Good-bye!' said Sam.

Good-bye,' rejoined the pretty housemaid, turning her head away.

Well, shake hands, won't you?' said Sam.

The pretty housemaid put out a hand which, although it was a

housemaid's, was a very small one, and rose to go.

'I shan't be wery long avay,' said Sam.

The Pickwick Papers