Go on, Sammy.' '"Lovely creetur,"' repeated Sam.
''Tain't in poetry, is it ?' interposed his father.
'No, no,' replied Sam.
'Wery glad to hear it,' said Mr.Weller.

'Poetry's unnat'ral; no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin'-day, or Warren's blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some of them low fellows; never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy.

Begin agin, Sammy.' Mr.Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity, and Sam once more commenced, and read as follows: '"Lovely creetur I feel myself a damned--"' 'That ain't proper,' said Mr.Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth.
'No; it ain't "damned,"' observed Sam, holding the letter up to the light, 'it's "shamed," there's a blot there--"I feel myself ashamed."' 'Wery good,' said Mr.Weller.

'Go on.' 'Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir--' I forget what this here word is,' said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in vain attempts to remember.
'Why don't you look at it, then ?' inquired Mr.Weller.
'So I am a-lookin' at it,' replied Sam, 'but there's another blot.
Here's a "c," and a "i," and a "d."' 'Circumwented, p'raps,' suggested Mr.Weller.
'No, it ain't that,' said Sam, '"circumscribed"; that's it.' 'That ain't as good a word as "circumwented," Sammy,' said Mr.Weller gravely.
'Think not ?' said Sam.
'Nothin' like it,' replied his father.
'But don't you think it means more ?' inquired Sam.
'Vell p'raps it's a more tenderer word,' said Mr.Weller, after a few moments' reflection.

'Go on, Sammy.' '"Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in a-dressin' of you, for you are a nice gal and nothin' but it."' 'That's a wery pretty sentiment,' said the elder Mr.Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark.
'Yes, I think it is rayther good,' observed Sam, highly flattered.
'Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin',' said the elder Mr.Weller, 'is, that there ain't no callin' names in it--no Wenuses, nor nothin' o' that kind.