“The fact is, my young friend,” said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, “he has an obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and withstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing the infant negroes in the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moral pocket-handkerchiefs?”

“What’s a moral pocket-ankercher?” said Sam; “I never see one o’ them articles o’ furniter.”

“Those which combine amusement With instruction, my young friend,” replied Mr. Stiggins, “blending select tales with woodcuts.”

“Oh, I know,” said Sam; “them as hangs up in the linen-drapers’ shops, with beggars’ petitions and all that ’ere upon ’em?”

Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nodded assent.