gents. They're allays a-bringin' in some new-fangled thing or other, but
generally there's nowt in 'em. Still, to 'blige the company, I'll do owt
raisonable. I'm tough has a crocodile's tongue, and can stand a goodish
bit o' jingo and nonsense. Here goes, yer honour." Voltaire eyed him
doubtfully, and Simon coolly returned the stare.

"You are not a-gwine to waccinate me, be 'ee?" said Simon at length.

"No--why?"

"'Cause I can't stand that, tough as I be. I lived wi' a doctor once,
and says he to me, 'Simon, I want to speriment on ye,' says he. 'I'm
tough 'nough,' says I. 'I want to waccinate you 'gainst cholera, hoopin'
cough, and small-pox,' says he. 'What's that? give 'em to me?' says I.
'No,' says he, 'but to prevent you from a hevin' 'em.' 'That's yer
sorts,' says I. Well, gentlemen, he waccinated me, and I said to un,
'Never no more, yer honour.'"

"Why?" asked I.

"'Cause I'd rather hev cholera, hoopin' cough, and small-pox all
together than be waccinated. Jes like women, you never know where
they'll break out."

"Will you kindly sit down," said Voltaire, "while I go to my room for a
book?"

While he was gone I went to Simon, and spoke to him, and that gentleman
got very communicative.