“All young Hengland, I’m told, considers the poim bewtifle.  They’re always writing about battleaxis and shivvlery, these young chaps; but the ideer of Southdown in a shoot of armer, and his cuttin hoff his ‘strong right hand,’ is rayther too good; the feller is about 5 fit hi,—­as ricketty as a babby, with a vaist like a gal; and though he may have the art and curridge of a Bengal tyger, I’d back my smallest cab-boy to lick him,—­that is, if I ad a cab-boy.  But io!  My cab-days is over.

“Be still my hagnizing Art!  I now am about to hunfoald the dark payges of the Istry of my life!”

“My friends! you’ve seen me ither2 in the full kerear of Fortn, prawsprus but not hover prowd of my prawsperraty; not dizzy though mounted on the haypix of Good Luck—­feasting hall the great (like the Good Old Henglish Gent in the song, which he has been my moddle and igsample through life), but not forgitting the small—­No, my beayvior to my granmother at Healing shows that.  I bot her a new donkey cart (what the French call a cart-blansh) and a handsome set of peggs for anging up her linning, and treated Huncle Bill to a new shoot of close, which he ordered in St. Jeames’s Street, much to the estonishment of my Snyder there, namely an olliffgreen velvyteen jackit and smalclose, and a crimsn plush weskoat with glas-buttns.  These pints of genarawsaty in my disposishn I never should have eluded to, but to show that I am naturally of a noble sort, and have that kind of galliant carridge which is equel to either good or bad forting.

“What was the substns of my last chapter?  In that everythink was prepayred for my marridge—­the consent of the parents of my Hangelina was gaynd, the lovely gal herself was ready (as I thought) to be led to Himing’s halter—­the trooso was hordered—­the wedding dressis were being phitted hon—­a weddinkake weighing half a tunn was a gettn reddy by Mesurs Gunter of Buckley Square; there was such an account for Shantilly and Honiton laces as would have staggerd hennyboddy (I know they did the Commissioner when I came hup for my Stiffikit), and has for Injar-shawls I bawt a dozen sich fine ones as never was given away—­no not by Hiss Iness the Injan Prins Juggernaut Tygore.  The juils (a pearl and dimind shoot) were from the establishmint of Mysurs Storr and Mortimer.  The honey-moon I intended to pass in a continentle excussion, and was in treaty for the ouse at Halberd-gate (hopsit Mr. Hudson’s) as my town-house.  I waited to cumclude the putchis untle the Share-Markit which was rayther deprest (oing I think not so much to the atax of the misrable Times as to the prodidjus flams of the Morning Erald) was restored to its elthy toan.  I wasn’t goin to part with scrip which was 20 primmium at 2 or 3:  and bein confidnt that the Markit would rally, had bought very largely for the two or three new accounts.