Having divested himself of this encumbrance, Mr. Weller gave his body a sudden wrench to one side, and by a dexterous twist, contrived to get his right hand into a most capacious pocket, from whence, after a great deal of panting and exertion, he extricated a pocketbook of the large octavo size, fastened by a huge leathern strap. From this ledger he drew forth a couple of whiplashes, three or four buckles, a little sample-bag of corn, and, finally, a small roll of very dirty banknotes, from which he selected the required amount, which he handed over to Sam.

“And now, Sammy,” said the old gentleman, when the whiplashes, and the buckles, and the samples, had been all put back, and the book once more deposited at the bottom of the same pocket, “now, Sammy, I know a gen’l’m’n here, as’ll do the rest o’ the bisness for us, in no time⁠—a limb o’ the law, Sammy, as has got brains like the frogs, dispersed all over his body, and reachin’ to the wery tips of his fingers; a friend of the Lord Chancellorship’s, Sammy, who’d only have to tell him what he wanted, and he’d lock you up for life, if that wos all.”