He gave me a covering the other night.
Whenever I sor him in the Park, he was always riding an ansum hanimal.
What is he? They said in our 'all he was a hartis. I can 'ardly think
that. Why, there used to be a hartis come to our club, and painted two or
three of my 'osses, and my old woman too.
Lackey. There's hartises and hartises, Backystopper. Why, there's some
on 'em comes here with more stars on their coats than Dukes has got. Have
you never 'eard of Mossyer Verny, or Mossyer Gudang?
Backystopper. They say this young gent is sweet on Miss N.; which, I
guess, I wish he may git it.
Tommy. He! he! he!
Backystopper. Brayvo, Tommy. Tom ain't much of a man for conversation,
but he's a precious one to drink. Do you think the young gent is sweet on
her, Tommy? I sor him often prowling about our 'ouse in Queen Street,
when we was in London.
Tommy. I guess he wasn't let in in Queen Street. I guess hour little
Buttons was very near turned away for saying we was at home to him--I
guess a footman's place is to keep his mouth hopen--no, his heyes hopen--
and his mouth shut.
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