“He was the species of old gentleman, sir,” slowly returns that practical anatomist, after drinking, “that I should judge likely to take such opportunities as this place offered, of stowing away money, valuables, maybe papers.”
“As one that was ever an ornament to human life,” says Mr. Wegg, again holding out Mr. Venus’s palm as if he were going to tell his fortune by chiromancy, and holding his own up ready for smiting it when the time should come; “as one that the poet might have had his eye on, in writing the national naval words:
Helm a-weather, now lay her close, Yard arm and yard arm she lies; Again, cried I, Mr. Venus, give her t’other dose, Man shrouds and grapple, sir, or she flies!
—that is to say, regarded in the light of true British Oak, for such you are—explain, Mr. Venus, the expression ‘papers’!”
“Seeing that the old gentleman was generally cutting off some near relation, or blocking out some natural