undle on my arm and one patten in my hand, you might
have knocked me down with a feather, far less porkmangers which was a
lumping against me, continual and sewere all round. I was drove about
like a brute animal and almost worritted into fits, when a gentleman
with a large shirt-collar and a hook nose, and a eye like one of Mr.
Sweedlepipes's hawks, and long locks of hair, and wiskers that I
wouldn't have no lady as I was engaged to meet suddenly a turning round
a corner, for any sum of money you could offer me, says, laughing,
'Halloa, Mrs. Gamp, what are _you_ up to!' I didn't know him from a man
(except by his clothes); but I says faintly, 'If you're a Christian man,
show me where to get a second-cladge ticket for Manjester, and have me
put in a carriage, or I shall drop!' Which he kindly did, in a cheerful
kind of a way, skipping about in the strangest manner as ever I see,
making all kinds of actions, and looking and vinking at me from under
the brim of his hat (which was a good deal turned up), to that extent,
that I should have thought he meant something but for being so flurried
as not to have no thoughts at all until I was put in a carriage along
with a individgle--the politest as ever I see--in a shepherd's plaid
suit with a long gold watch-guard hanging round his neck, and his hand a
trembling through nervousness worse than a aspian leaf.

"'I'm wery appy, ma'am,' he says--the politest vice as ever I
heerd!--'to go down with a lady belonging to our party.'

"'Our party, sir!' I says.

"'Yes, m'am,' he says, 'I'm Mr. Wilson. I'm going down with the wigs.'

"Mrs. Harris, wen he said he was agoing down with the wigs, such was my
state of confugion and worrit that I thought he must be connected with
the Government in some ways or another, but directly moment he explains
himsef, for he says:

"'There's not a theatre in London worth mentioning that I don't attend
punctually. There's five-and-twenty wigs in these boxes, ma'am,' he
says, a pinting towards a heap of luggage, 'as was worn at the Queen's
Fancy Ball. There's a black wig, ma'am,' he says, 'as was worn by
Garrick; there's a red one, ma'am,' he says, 'as was worn by Kean;
there's a brown one, ma'am,' he says, 'as was worn by Kemble; there's a
yellow one, ma'am,' he says, 'as was made for Cooke; there's a grey one,
ma'am,' he says, 'as I measured Mr. Young for, mysef; and there's a
white one, ma'am, that Mr. Macready went mad in. There's a flaxen one as