“Whenever I meet that Jingle again, wherever it is,” said Mr. Pickwick, raising himself in bed, and indenting his pillow with a tremendous blow, “I’ll inflict personal chastisement on him, in addition to the exposure he so richly merits. I will, or my name is not Pickwick.”

“And venever I catches hold o’ that there melan-cholly chap with the black hair,” said Sam, “if I don’t bring some real water into his eyes, for once in a way, my name ain’t Weller. Good night, Sir!”