over sideways upon that gentleman, squeezing him against the settle’s edge. Nor did either of the two, for some few seconds, make any effort to recover himself; both remaining in a kind of pecuniary swoon.
But the sight of Mr. Boffin sitting in the armchair hugging himself, with his eyes upon the fire, acted as a restorative. Counterfeiting a sneeze to cover their movements, Mr. Wegg, with a spasmodic “Tish-ho!” pulled himself and Mr. Venus up in a masterly manner.
“Let’s have some more,” said Mr. Boffin, hungrily.
“John Elwes is the next, sir. Is it your pleasure to take John Elwes?”
“Ah!” said Mr. Boffin. “Let’s hear what John did.”
He did not appear to have hidden anything, so went off rather flatly. But an exemplary lady named Wilcocks, who had stowed away gold and silver in a pickle-pot in a clock-case, a canister-full of treasure in a hole under her stairs, and a quantity of money in an old rattrap, revived the interest. To her succeeded another lady, claiming to be a pauper, whose wealth was found wrapped up in little scraps of paper and old rag. To her, another lady, apple-woman by trade, who had saved a fortune of ten thousand pounds and hidden it “here and there, in cracks and corners, behind bricks and under the flooring.” To her, a French gentleman, who had crammed up his chimney, rather to the detriment of its drawing powers, “a leather valise, containing twenty thousand francs, gold coins, and a large quantity of precious stones,” as discovered by a chimney-sweep after his death. By these steps Mr. Wegg arrived at a concluding instance of the human Magpie:
“Many years ago, there lived at Cambridge a miserly old couple of the name of Jardine: they had two sons: the father was a perfect miser, and at his death one thousand guineas were discovered secreted in his bed. The two