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Dickens, Charles

"The Pickwick Papers"

"Well, ma'am,"
says he, "then I've just looked in to say that me and my family
ain't a-goin' to be choked for nothin'; and more than that,
ma'am," he says, "you'll allow me to observe that as you don't
use the primest parts of the meat in the manafacter o' sassages,
I'd think you'd find beef come nearly as cheap as buttons." "As
buttons, Sir!" says she. "Buttons, ma'am," says the little, old
gentleman, unfolding a bit of paper, and showin' twenty or
thirty halves o' buttons. "Nice seasonin' for sassages, is trousers'
buttons, ma'am." "They're my husband's buttons!" says the
widder beginnin' to faint, "What!" screams the little old
gen'l'm'n, turnin' wery pale. "I see it all," says the widder; "in a
fit of temporary insanity he rashly converted hisself into
sassages!" And so he had, Sir,' said Mr. Weller, looking steadily
into Mr. Pickwick's horror-stricken countenance, 'or else he'd
been draw'd into the ingin; but however that might ha' been, the
little, old gen'l'm'n, who had been remarkably partial to sassages
all his life, rushed out o' the shop in a wild state, and was never
heerd on arterwards!'
The relation of this affecting incident of private life brought
master and man to Mr.


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