'And don't let's have no grinnin' at the cheer, Samivel,' said Mr.
Weller to his son, 'or I shall be committin' you to the cellar, and
then p'r'aps we may get into what the 'Merrikins call a fix, and
the English a qvestion o' privileges.'
Having uttered this friendly caution, the President settled himself
in his chair with great dignity, and requested that Mr. Samuel
would relate an anecdote.
'I've told one,' said Sam.
'Wery good, sir; tell another,' returned the chair.
'We wos a talking jist now, sir,' said Sam, turning to Slithers,
'about barbers. Pursuing that 'ere fruitful theme, sir, I'll tell
you in a wery few words a romantic little story about another
barber as p'r'aps you may never have heerd.'
'Samivel!' said Mr. Weller, again bringing his watch and the table
into smart collision, 'address your obserwations to the cheer, sir,
and not to priwate indiwiduals!'
'And if I might rise to order,' said the barber in a soft voice,
and looking round him with a conciliatory smile as he leant over
the table, with the knuckles of his left hand resting upon it, -
'if I MIGHT rise to order, I would suggest that "barbers" is not
exactly the kind of language which is agreeable and soothing to our
feelings.
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