"Yes, young man," said he, releasing the handle of the article in
question, retiring a step or two from my table, and speaking for
the behoof of the landlord and waiter at the door, "I will leave
that teapot alone. You are right, young man. For once you are
right. I forgit myself when I take such an interest in your
breakfast, as to wish your frame, exhausted by the debilitating
effects of prodigygality, to be stimilated by the 'olesome
nourishment of your forefathers. And yet," said Pumblechook,
turning to the landlord and waiter, and pointing me out at arm's
length, "this is him as I ever sported with in his days of happy
infancy! Tell me not it cannot be; I tell you this is him!"
A low murmur from the two replied. The waiter appeared to be
particularly affected.
"This is him," said Pumblechook, "as I have rode in my shay-cart.
This is him as I have seen brought up by hand. This is him untoe
the sister of which I was uncle by marriage, as her name was
Georgiana M'ria from her own mother, let him deny it if he can!"
The waiter seemed convinced that I could not deny it, and that it
gave the case a black look.
"Young man," said Pumblechook, screwing his head at me in the old
fashion, "you air a going to Joseph. What does it matter to me, you
ask me, where you air a going? I say to you, Sir, you air a going
to Joseph.
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