Now, let's off, for the gentlemen are starin' at you, which won't hurt ye, ye know, but makes me jealous." Before the party moved away from the platform, a sharp tussle took place between Anthony and the farmer as to the porterage of the bulky bag; but it being only half-earnest, the farmer did not put out his strength, and Anthony had his way.
"I rather astonished you, brother William John," he said, when they were in the street.
The farmer admitted that he was stronger than he looked.
"Don't you judge by appearances, that's all," Anthony remarked, setting down the bag to lay his finger on one side of his nose for impressiveness.
"Now, there we leave London Bridge to the right, and we should away to the left, and quiet parts." He seized the bag anew.

"Just listen.

That's the roaring of cataracts of gold you hear, brother William John.

It's a good notion, ain't it?
Hark!--I got that notion from one of your penny papers.

You can buy any amount for a penny, now-a-days--poetry up in a corner, stories, tales o' temptation--one fellow cut his lucky with his master's cash, dashed away to Australia, made millions, fit to be a lord, and there he was! liable to the law! and everybody bowing their hats and their heads off to him, and his knees knocking at the sight of a policeman--a man of a red complexion, full habit of body, enjoyed his dinner and his wine, and on account of his turning white so often, they called him--'sealing-wax and Parchment' was one name; 'Carrots and turnips' was another; 'Blumonge and something,' and so on.