“Fear nothing,” said Tom, as they passed the threshold; “don't be flurried by any thing said to you, 'tis only a heavy-wet party among the coal-heaving coves.”
As Bob entered the room, his very first action betrayed him, for, being accustomed to genteel behaviour, he took off his hat, which was in a moment knocked out of his hand by a hard featured fellow near him, whose face indicated the want of water, although so near the river.
“Order, order,” was vociferated in an instant by a jolly good-natured looking man exalted above the rest, who, at the same moment, rapped the table with his knuckles—“This here vay, gentlemen—Bill Muggins, mind you I arn't had your penny in the plate for Backy.”
“Vy, that's a lie!” roar'd out a Stentorian voice, “I never takes my seat before I sees my vay clear upon the board. I put a crooked ha' penny.”
“Yes, and two bad fardens vhat an't vorth nothing,” said another. “Make him tip” cried a third, “or else stick him in the nitch."{1}
1 Stick him in the nitch—Send him to Coventry.
Bob having regained his castor, followed his Cousin to the other end of the room, and after each depositing a penny in the plate, they took their seats at the table, where, being supplied with a flowing quart, they began to look around them.
The first thing which struck Tallyho's eye, was “No trust,” printed in large letters at one end of the room; a sort of indication, that a man without money would not be likely to meet with agreeable entertainment: then turning his head the other way, he discovered they were in a house of call for Coal Porters. Before the president (who, by way of distinction, had turned the broad flap of his coal-heaving hat forward in the fashion of a huntsman's cap) was placed a small round table, on which stood a gallon measure of heavy wet. On his right sat a worn-out workman fast asleep, and occasionally affording his friends around him a snoring accompaniment to a roar of laughter.