"
"Sir," said Mr Nixon, taking his pipe from his mouth, and
sending forth a volume of smoke, "you speak like a book."
"It is the principle of association," said the stranger; "the
want of the age."
"Sir," said Mr Nixon, "this here age wants a great deal, but
what it principally wants is to have its wages paid in the
current coin of the realm."
Soon after this there were symptoms of empty mugs and
exhausted pipes, and the party began to stir. The stranger
addressing Nixon, enquired of him what was their present
distance from Wodgate.
"Wodgate!" exclaimed Mr Nixon with an unconscious air.
"The gentleman means Hell-house Yard," said one of his
companions.
"I'm at home," said Mr Nixon, "but 'tis the first time I ever
heard Hell-house Yard called Wodgate."
"It's called so in joggraphy," said Juggins.
"But you hay'nt going to Hell-house Yard this time of night!"
said Mr Nixon. "I'd as soon think of going down the pit with
the windlass turned by lushy Bob."
"Tayn't a journey for Christians," said Juggins.
"They're a very queer lot even in sunshine," said another.
"And how far is it?" asked the stranger.
"I walked there once in three hours," said a collier, "but
that was to the wake.
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