So thought Dawkins, at least; who, though a quiet young man, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, foot-playing, and such like scientafic amusemints, grew hand in glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon.

Poor Daw! he thought he was makin good connexions and real frends--he had fallen in with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived.
Before Mr.Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr.Deuceace had barely condysended to speak to Mr.Blewitt; it was only about a month after that suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very friendly with him.

The reason was pretty clear,--Deuceace WANTED HIM.

Dawkins had not been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin to pluck.
Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to keep this one entirely to himself.

It was amusin to see the Honrabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, who thought he had it safe.