connexions and real frends--he had fallen in with a couple of the
most etrocious swinlers that ever lived.

Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely
condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month
after that suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very
friendly with him. The reason was pretty clear,--Deuceace WANTED
HIM. Dawkins had not been an hour in master's company before he
knew that he had a pidgin to pluck.

Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to
keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the
Honrabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of
Blewitt's clause, who thought he had it safe. In fact, he'd
brought Dawkins to these chambers for that very porpos, thinking to
have him under his eye, and strip him at leisure.

My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game.
Gamblers know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation;
and though Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr.
Deuceace, they knew each other's dealins and caracters puffickly
well.

"Charles you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he always
spoak in that kind way), "who is this person that has taken the
opsit chambers, and plays the flute so industrusly?"

"It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great
friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I; "they seem to live in each
other's rooms."