People 'ud think better on 'em if they didn't think such a lot of theirselves; wouldn't they now, mate ?" "Wouldn't they just! What do you think of that, Turnip?
You're on'y a second-hand turnip, now, and that's all along of being stuck-up and thinking such a lot of yourself! You won't go off for thirty bob, you won't see!" "Mate!" exclaimed the pipe, presently (after I had had leisure to meditate on the foregoing philosophical dialogue), "mate, I'll give you a riddle!" "Go it!" said the mate.
"Why," asked the pipe, in a solemn voice, "is a second-hand pewter- plate, stuck-up turnip, like a weskit that ain't paid for ?" "Do you hear, Turnip?
Why are you like a weskit that ain't paid for?
Do yer give it up?
I do." "'Cos it's on tick!" pronounced the pipe.
I could have howled to find myself the victim of such a low, villainous joke, that had not even the pretence of wit, and I could have cried to see how that greasy string wriggled and snuffled at my expense.
"My eye, mate! that's a good 'un! Do you hear, Turnip?
you're on tick, you know, like the weskit.

Oh, my eye! that'll do, mate; another o' them will kill me.

Oh, turn it up! do you hear?
On tick!-- hoo, hoo, hoo! Do you hear, Turnip?
_tick_!" Need I say I spent a sad and sleepless night?
When my disgust admitted of thought I could not help reflecting how very happy some vulgar people can be with a very little sense, and how very unhappy other people who flatter themselves they are very clever and superior can at times find themselves.
By the time I had satisfied myself of this my master uncurled himself and got up..