Mr Weller's knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar.
More Quotes from Charles Dickens:
All is going on as it was wont. The waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery the dust lies piled upon the shore the sea-birds soar and hover the winds and clouds go forth upon their trackless flight the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.Charles Dickens
You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts nothing else will ever be of any service to them. Stick to Facts, sir.
Charles Dickens
We've got a private master comes to teach us at home, but we ain't proud, because ma says it's sinful.
Charles Dickens
We cannot have single gentlemen to come into this establishment and sleep like double gentlemen without paying extra for it . . .
Charles Dickens
The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner.
Charles Dickens
He Mr Turveydrop is celebrated almost everywhere, for his Deportment.
Charles Dickens
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