When I looked down at the trampers whom we passed, and saw that well-remembered style of face turned up, I felt as if the tinker's blackened hand were in the bosom of my shirt again.

When we clattered through the narrow street of Chatham, and I caught a glimpse, in passing, of the lane where the old monster lived who had bought my jacket, I stretched my neck eagerly to look for the place where I had sat, in the sun and in the shade, waiting for my money.

When we came, at last, within a stage of London, and passed the veritable Salem House where Mr.Creakle had laid about him with a heavy hand, I would have given all I had, for lawful permission to get down and thrash him, and let all the boys out like so many caged sparrows.
We went to the Golden Cross at Charing Cross, then a mouldy sort of establishment in a close neighbourhood.

A waiter showed me into the coffee-room; and a chambermaid introduced me to my small bedchamber, which smelt like a hackney-coach, and was shut up like a family vault.
I was still painfully conscious of my youth, for nobody stood in any awe of me at all: the chambermaid being utterly indifferent to my opinions on any subject, and the waiter being familiar with me, and offering advice to my inexperience.
'Well now,' said the waiter, in a tone of confidence, 'what would you like for dinner?
Young gentlemen likes poultry in general: have a fowl!' I told him, as majestically as I could, that I wasn't in the humour for a fowl.
'Ain't you ?' said the waiter.

'Young gentlemen is generally tired of beef and mutton: have a weal cutlet!' I assented to this proposal, in default of being able to suggest anything else.
'Do you care for taters ?' said the waiter, with an insinuating smile, and his head on one side.