It's a regulation of natur - a dispensary, as your poor mother-in-law

used to say.'

'A dispensation,' said Sam, correcting the old gentleman.

Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better,' returned Mr

Weller; 'I call it a dispensary, and it's always writ up so, at the places

vere they gives you physic for nothin' in your own bottles; that's all.'

With these words, Mr Weller refilled and relighted his pipe, and once

more summoning up a meditative expression of countenance,

continued as follows -

Therefore, my boy, as I do not see the adwisability o' stoppin here to

be married vether I vant to or not, and as at the same time I do not

vish to separate myself from them interestin' members o' society

altogether, I have come to the determination o' driving the Safety, and

puttin' up vunce more at the Bell Savage, vich is my nat'ral born

element, Sammy.'

And wot's to become o' the bis'ness?' inquired Sam.

The bis'ness, Samivel,' replied the old gentleman, 'good-vill, stock,

and fixters, vill be sold by private contract; and out o' the money, two

hundred pound, agreeable to a rekvest o' your mother-in-law's to me,

a little afore she died, vill be invested in your name in - What do you

call them things agin?'

Wot things?' inquired Sam.

Them things as is always a-goin' up and down, in the city.'

Omnibuses?' suggested Sam.

Nonsense,' replied Mr Weller. 'Them things as is alvays a-fluctooatin',

and gettin' theirselves inwolved somehow or another vith the national

debt, and the chequers bill; and all that.'

'Oh! the funds,' said Sam.

'Ah!' rejoined Mr Weller, 'the funs; two hundred pounds o' the money

is to be inwested for you, Samivel, in the funs; four and a half per

cent. reduced counsels, Sammy.'

Wery kind o' the old lady to think o' me,' said Sam, 'and I'm wery

much obliged to her.'

The Pickwick Papers