RICHARD BLEWITT; and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr.Dawkins.
This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it was for him too--he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm apinion that the Temple ruined him--that is, with the help of my master and Mr.
Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear.
Mr.Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just left the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own--six thousand pound, or so--in the stox.

He was jest of age, an orfin who had lost his father and mother; and having distinkwished hisself at Collitch, where he gained seffral prices, was come to town to push his fortn, and study the barryster's bisness.
Not bein of a very high fammly hisself--indeed, I've heard say his father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort--Dawkins was glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr.Blewitt, yonger son to rich Squire Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him.
Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr.Blewitt's gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,--mine being too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr.Blewitt's sort.
Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a cut-away coat.

In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see--he had very white hands, rayther a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and as black as Warren's jet--he spoke very low and soft--he seemed to be watchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd everybody.

As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort.

He was always swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as posbill.
He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would trust with life and soul.