“Why, he drove a coach down here once,” said Sam; “ ’lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London. Night afore he was going to drive up, committee on t’other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in;⁠—large room⁠—lots of gen’l’m’n⁠—heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that ’ere. ‘Ah, Mr. Weller,’ says the gen’l’m’n in the chair, ‘glad to see you, sir; how are you?’⁠—‘Wery well, thank ’ee, Sir,’ says my father; ‘I hope you’re pretty middlin,’ says he.⁠—‘Pretty well, thank’ee, Sir,’ says the gen’l’m’n; ‘sit down, Mr. Weller⁠—pray sit down, sir.’ So my father sits down, and he and the gen’l’m’n looks wery hard at each other. ‘You don’t remember me?’ said the gen’l’m’n.⁠—‘Can’t say I do,’ says my father.⁠—‘Oh, I know you,’ says the gen’l’m’n: ‘know’d you when you was a boy,’ says he.⁠—‘Well, I don’t remember you,’ says my father.⁠—‘That’s wery odd,’ says the gen’l’m’n.’⁠—‘Wery,’ says my father.⁠—‘You must have a bad mem’ry, Mr.