here, sir; here's a oyster stall to every half-dozen houses. The street's lined vith 'em. Blessed if don't think that ven a man's wery poor, he rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters in reg'lar desperation."
"To be sure he does," said Mr. Weller senior; "and it's just the same vith pickled salmon!"
"Those are two very remarkable facts, which never occurred to me before," said Mr. Pickwick. "The very first place we stop at, I'll make a note of them."
By this time they had reached the turnpike at Mile End; a profound silence prevailed until they had got two or three miles further on, when Mr. Weller senior, turning suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, said:
"Wery queer life is a pike-keeper's, sir."
"A what?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"A pike-keeper."
"What do you mean by a pike-keeper?" inquired Mr. Peter Magnus.
"The old 'un means a turnpike keeper, gen'lm'n," observed Mr. Samuel Weller, in explanation.
"Oh," said Mr. Pickwick, "I see. Yes; very curious life. Very uncomfortable."
"They're all on 'em men as has met vith some disappointment in life," said Mr. Weller senior.
"Ay, ay?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Yes. Consequence of vich, they retires from the world, and shuts themselves up in pikes; partly vith the view of being solitary, and partly to rewenge themselves on mankind, by takin' tolls."
"Dear me," said Mr. Pickwick, "I never knew that before."
"Fact, sir," said Mr. Weller; "if they was gen'lm'n you'd call 'em misanthropes, but as it is, they only takes to pike-keepin'."
With such conversation, possessing the inestimable charm of blending amusement with instruction, did Mr. Weller beguile the tediousness of the journey, during the greater
