mounted a long
waistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern, and over that again, a
wide-skirted green coat, ornamented with large brass buttons, whereof
the two which garnished the waist, were so far apart, that no man had
ever beheld them both at the same time. His hair, which was short,
sleek, and black, was just visible beneath the capacious brim of a
low-crowned brown hat. His legs were encased in knee-cord breeches, and
painted top-boots; and a copper watch-chain, terminating in one seal,
and a key of the same material, dangled loosely from his capacious
waistband.

We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for his journey
to London--he was taking sustenance, in fact. On the table before him,
stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and a very respectable-looking
loaf, to each of which he distributed his favours in turn, with the most
rigid impartiality. He had just cut a mighty slice from the latter, when
the footsteps of somebody entering the room, caused him to raise his
head; and he beheld his son.

'Mornin', Sammy!' said the father.

The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly to his
parent, took a long draught by way of reply.

'Wery good power o' suction, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller the elder, looking
into the pot, when his first-born had set it down half empty. 'You'd ha'
made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in that station
o' life.'

'Yes, I des-say, I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable livin','
replied Sam applying himself to the cold beef, with considerable vigour.

'I'm wery sorry, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, shaking up the ale,
by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to drinking.
'I'm wery sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as you let yourself be
gammoned by that 'ere mulberry man. I always thought, up to three days
ago, that the names of Veller and gammon could never come into contract,
Sammy, never.'

'Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course,' said Sam.

'Widders, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour. 'Widders
are 'ceptions to ev'ry rule. I have heerd how many ordinary women
one widder's equal to in pint o' comin' over you. I think it's
five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it ain't more.'

'Well; that's pretty well,' said Sam.

'Besides,' continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, 'that's
a wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, Sammy, as
defended t