“Cert’nly not,” said Mr. Weller.

“Vell now,” said Sam, “you’ve been a-prophecyin’ away, wery fine, like a red-faced Nixon, as the sixpenny books gives picters on.”

“Who wos he, Sammy?” inquired Mr. Weller.

“Never mind who he was,” retorted Sam; “he warn’t a coachman; that’s enough for you.”

“I know’d a ostler o’ that name,” said Mr. Weller, musing.

“It warn’t him,” said Sam. “This here gen’l’m’n was a prophet.”