as speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it
only yesterday. You know the duke, I think?"

Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, "No, I don't."

"Not know him!" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows you; as
every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your
good things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket."

And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust
answered him quite short and angry; but, after a little more flumery,
he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and
bleeved all his lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into
Mr. Blewitt's chambers togither.

Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up to
his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo smoke. I
never see any genlmn more than he was; he'd been smoakin seagars along
with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho' I'd often heard him
xpress his horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallow
pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason:
if he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus.

I didn't hear the convysation between 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man did:
it was,--"Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you one for a
friend to smoak?" (The old fox, it wasn't only the seagars he was a
smoakin!) "Walk in," says Mr. Blewitt; and then they began a chaffin
together; master very ankshous about the young gintleman who had come
to live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that
subject,--sayin that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly; how
glad he'd be, for his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and any friend of
his, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap
laid for him. "I really don't know this Dawkins," says he: "he's a
chismonger's son, I hear; and tho I've exchanged visits with him, I
doant intend to continyou the acquaintance,--not wishin to assoshate
with that kind of pipple." So they went on, master fishin, and Mr.
Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price.

"Confound the vulgar thief!" muttard my master, as he was laying on his
sophy, after being so very ill; "I've poisoned myself with his infernal
tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! he thinks
he'll ruin this poor cheesemonger, does he? I'll step in, and warn
him."

I thought I should bust a laffin, when he talked in this style. I knew
very well what his "w