Lord George Gordon leaving the Maypole—Chap. xxxvii.
"If they're a dream," said Sim, "let sculptures have such wisions, and chisel'em out when they wake. This is reality. Sleep has no such limbs as them"—Chap. xxxi.
"Ha, ha!" roared the fellow, smiting his leg; "for a gentleman as 'ull say a pleasant thing in a pleasant way, give me muster Gashford agin all London and Westminster!"—Chap. xxxvii.
A nice trio—Chap. xxxix.