Varden, drop that gun, or it will be worse for you.' 'Don't mind his gun,' screamed Miggs.

'Simmun and gentlemen, I poured a mug of table-beer right down the barrel.' The crowd gave a loud shout, which was followed by a roar of laughter.
'It wouldn't go off, not if you was to load it up to the muzzle,' screamed Miggs.

'Simmun and gentlemen, I'm locked up in the front attic, through the little door on the right hand when you think you've got to the very top of the stairs--and up the flight of corner steps, being careful not to knock your heads against the rafters, and not to tread on one side in case you should fall into the two-pair bedroom through the lath and plasture, which do not bear, but the contrairy.

Simmun and gentlemen, I've been locked up here for safety, but my endeavours has always been, and always will be, to be on the right side--the blessed side and to prenounce the Pope of Babylon, and all her inward and her outward workings, which is Pagin.

My sentiments is of little consequences, I know,' cried Miggs, with additional shrillness, 'for my positions is but a servant, and as sich, of humilities, still I gives expressions to my feelings, and places my reliances on them which entertains my own opinions!' Without taking much notice of these outpourings of Miss Miggs after she had made her first announcement in relation to the gun, the crowd raised a ladder against the window where the locksmith stood, and notwithstanding that he closed, and fastened, and defended it manfully, soon forced an entrance by shivering the glass and breaking in the frames.