‘How do you do, Mr. Weller?’ said Mr. John Smauker, raising his hat gracefully with one hand, while he gently waved the other in a condescending manner. ‘How do you do, Sir?’
‘Why, reasonably conwalessent,’ replied Sam. ‘How do you find yourself, my dear feller?’
‘Only so so,’ said Mr. John Smauker.
‘Ah, you’ve been a-workin’ too hard,’ observed Sam. ‘I was fearful you would; it won’t do, you know; you must not give way to that ‘ere uncompromisin’ spirit o’ yourn.’
‘It’s not so much that, Mr. Weller,’ replied Mr. John Smauker, ‘as bad wine; I’m afraid I’ve been dissipating.’
‘Oh! that’s it, is it?’ said Sam; ‘that’s a wery bad complaint, that.’
‘And yet the temptation, you see, Mr. Weller,’ observed Mr. John Smauker.
‘Ah, to be sure,’ said Sam.
‘Plunged into the very vortex of soci
