'Very good. I'll
take another. Cool; very cool. Come, gentlemen,' continued
Mr. Pickwick, still retaining his hold upon the jar, 'a toast. Our
friends at Dingley Dell.'
The toast was drunk with loud acclamations.
'I'll tell you what I shall do, to get up my shooting again,' said
Mr. Winkle, who was eating bread and ham with a pocket-knife.
'I'll put a stuffed partridge on the top of a post, and practise at it,
beginning at a short distance, and lengthening it by degrees. I
understand it's capital practice.'
'I know a gen'l'man, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, 'as did that, and
begun at two yards; but he never tried it on agin; for he blowed
the bird right clean away at the first fire, and nobody ever seed a
feather on him arterwards.'
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.
'Have the goodness to reserve your anecdotes till they are
called for.'
'Cert'nly, sir.'
Here Mr. Weller winked the eye which was not concealed by
the beer-can he was raising to his lips, with such exquisite
facetiousness, that the two boys went into spontaneous convulsions,
and even the long man condescended to smile.
'Well, that certainly is most capital cold punch,' said Mr.
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