3/17 I a thief! Oh, Mr Brass, you know me better. This is not right of you, indeed.' 'I give you my word, constable--' said Brass. But here the constable interposed with the constitutional principle 'words be blowed;' observing that words were but spoon-meat for babes and sucklings, and that oaths were the food for strong men. I give you my oath, constable, that down to a few minutes ago, when this fatal discovery was made, I had such confidence in that lad, that I'd have trusted him with--a hackney-coach, Mr Richard, sir; you're very slow, Sir.' 'Who is there that knows me,' cried Kit, 'that would not trust me-- that does not? |