I asked the young ‘ooman for a bottle o’ ale, when she put a tallish bottle down wi’ a beg head; an’ as I wur dry I knocked the neck off, an’ the ale kum a-fizzing out like ginger pop,—­an’ ’twer no use to try to stop the fizzle.  I had aal I could get in a glass, an’ it zeemed goodish.  She soon run back wi’ another bottle in her hand, an’ I tell’d her ’twer pop she hed put down.

“What hev you bin an’ dun, sur?” she sed; “that wur a bottle o’ Moses’s shampane, at seven shillin’s an’ sixpence a bottle.”

I tell’d her I know’d ‘twer nothin’ but pop, as it fizzled so.  Thur wur two or dree gentlemen in, an’ thay larfed at the fizzle an’ I. It seemed to meak me veel merryish, an’ I zed, “What’s to pay, young ’ooman?”

She sed, “Thirteen shillin’s, sur.”

“Thirteen scaramouches!” I sed.  “What vor?”

“Seven sausingers, dree and sixpence; twenty-vour slices o’ bread an’ butter, two shillin’s; an’ a bottle of shampane, seven and sixpence;—­kums to thirteen shillin’s,” she sed.

“Yer tell’d me as how the sausingers wur sixpence,” I sed; “an’ the slices o’ bread ud cut off a tuppeny loaf.”

She sed the sausingers wur sixpence each, an’ twenty-vour slices o’ bread an’ butter wur a penny each—­two shillin’s.

I sed, “Do ’e call that reysonable, young ’ooman? ’cause I bain’t a-gwain to pay thirteen shillin’s vor’t, an’ lose me train, an’ disappoint Sairy Jane.  Thirteen shillin’s vor two or dree sausingers, a few slices o’ bread an’ butter, an’ a bottle o’ pop—­not vor Roger, if he knows it”

Up kums a chap an’ ses, “Be you gwain to pay vor wat you hev hed?”

“To be sure I be.  Thur’s sixpence vor the sausingers, tuppence vor bread an’ butter, an’ dreppence the pop,—­that meaks ‘levenpence”; an’ I drows down a shillin’, and ses, “Thur’s the odd penny vor the young ’ooman as waited upon me.”

“You hed thirteen shillin’s worth o’ grub an’ shampane, an’ you’ll hev to pay twelve shillin’s moor or I shall take ‘e away an’ lock ’e up vor the night,” he sed.

“Do ’e thenk as how you could do aal that, young man?” I sed.  “No disrespect to ’e though, vor that don’t argify; but I could ketch hold on ‘e by the scroff o’ yer neck an’ the seat o’ yer breeches, an’ pitch ’e slick into the roadway among the iron.”

“Look heer, Meyster Turmot, you’ll hev to pay twelve shillin’ moor avoor you gwoes out o’ heer, or Lunnon won’t hold ’e to-night.”

I know’d Sairy Jane ud be a-waitin’, an’ as he sed the train were moast ready, I drows down a suverin’, an’ hed the change, an’ as I wur a-gwain out I hollurs out as how I shood remember Swindleum stashun.  I heer’d the lot a-larfin, an’ hed moast a mind to go in an’ twirl me ground ash among um vor thur edification.

I wur soon on the road agen, a-gwain like a house a-vire, an’ thur wur more clotheslines aal the way along on pwosts.

W’en we got nearish to Lunnon I seed sum girt beg round barrels painted black.[3] I axed a chap what thay wur, an’ he sed that thay wur beg barrels o’ stingo, an’ thur wur pipes laid on to the peeple’s housen vor thay to draw vram.