'
'Wy not?' said Sam, rather disparagingly.
'Wy not!' rejoined Mr. Weller; ''cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their
consciences. A reg'lar coachman's a sort o' con-nectin' link
betwixt singleness and matrimony, and every practicable man
knows it.'
'Wot! You mean, they're gen'ral favorites, and nobody takes
adwantage on 'em, p'raps?' said Sam.
His father nodded.
'How it ever come to that 'ere pass,' resumed the parent
Weller, 'I can't say. Wy it is that long-stage coachmen possess
such insiniwations, and is alvays looked up to--a-dored I may
say--by ev'ry young 'ooman in ev'ry town he vurks through, I
don't know. I only know that so it is. It's a regulation of natur
--a dispensary, as your poor mother-in-law used to say.'
'A dispensation,' said Sam, correcting the old gentleman.
'Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better,'
returned Mr. Weller; 'I call it a dispensary, and it's always writ
up so, at the places vere they gives you physic for nothin' in
your own bottles; that's all.'
With these words, Mr. Weller refilled and relighted his pipe,
and once more summoning up a meditative expression of
countenance, continued as follows--
'Therefore, my boy, as I do not see the adwisability o' stoppin
here to be married vether I vant to or not, and as at the same
time I do not vish to separate myself from them interestin'
members o' society altogether, I have come to the determination
o' driving the Safety, and puttin' up vunce more at the Bell
Savage, vich is my nat'ral born element, Sammy.
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