'Won't do,' said Sam. 'Never sign a walentine with your own name.'

'Sign it "Pickwick," then,' said Mr. Weller; 'it's a wery good name, and a easy one to spell.' 'The wery thing,' said Sam. 'I COULD end with a werse; what do you think?'

'I don't like it, Sam,' rejoined Mr. Weller. 'I never know'd a respectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin' copy o' werses the night afore he was hung for a highway robbery; and he wos only a Cambervell man, so even that's no rule.'

But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the poetical idea that had occurred to him, so he signed the letter-- 'Your love-sick Pickwick.'

And having folded it, in a very intricate manner, squeezed a downhill direction in one corner: 'To Mary, Housemaid, at Mr. Nupkins's, Mayor's, Ipswich, Suffolk'; and put it into his pocket, wafered, and ready for the general post. This important business having been transacted, Mr. Weller the elder proceeded to open that, on which he had summoned his son.

'The first matter relates to your governor, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 'He's a-goin' to be tried to-morrow, ain't he?'

'The trial's a-comin' on,' replied Sam.

'Vell,' said Mr. Weller, 'Now I s'pose he'll want to call some witnesses to speak to his character, or p'rhaps to prove a alleybi. I've been a-turnin' the bis'ness over in my mind, and he may make his-self easy, Sammy. I've got some friends as'll do either for him, but my adwice 'ud be this here--never mind the character, and stick to the alleybi. Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing.' Mr. Weller looked very profound as he delivered this legal opinion; and burying his nose in his tumbler, winked over the top thereof, at his astonished son. 'Why, what do you mean?' said Sam; 'you don't think he's a-goin' to be tried at the Old Bailey, do you?'

'That ain't no part of the present consideration, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Verever he's a-goin' to be tried, my boy, a alleybi's the thing to get him off. Ve got Tom Vildspark off that 'ere manslaughter, with a alleybi, ven all the big vigs to a man said as nothing couldn't save him. And my 'pinion is, Sammy, that if your governor don't prove a alleybi, he'll be what the Italians call reg'larly flummoxed, and that's all about it.'

As the elder Mr. Weller entertained a firm and unalterable conviction that the Old Bailey was the supreme court of judicature in this country, and that its rules and forms of proceeding regulated and controlled the practice of all other courts of justice whatsoever, he totally disregarded the assurances and arguments of his son, tending to show that the alibi was inadmissible; and vehemently protested that Mr. Pickwick was being 'wictimised.' Finding that it was of no use to discuss the matter further, Sam changed the subject, and inquired what the second topic was, on which his revered parent wished to consult him.

'That's a pint o' domestic policy, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 'This here Stiggins--'

'Red-nosed man?' inquired Sam.

'The wery same,' replied Mr. Weller. 'This here red-nosed man, Sammy, wisits your mother-in-law vith a kindness and constancy I never see equalled. He's sitch a friend o' the family, Sammy, that wen he's avay from us, he can't be comfortable unless he has somethin' to remember us by.'

'And I'd give him somethin' as 'ud turpentine and beeswax his memory for the next ten years or so, if I wos you,' interposed Sam.

'Stop a minute,' said Mr. Weller; 'I wos a-going to say, he always brings now, a flat bottle as holds about a pint and a half, and fills it vith the pine-apple rum afore he goes avay.'

'And empties it afore he comes back, I s'pose?' said Sam.

'Clean!' replied Mr. Weller; 'never leaves nothin' in it but the cork and the smell; trust him for that, Sammy. Now, these here fellows, my boy, are a-goin' to-night to get up the monthly meetin' o' the Brick Lane Branch o' the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. Your mother-in-law wos a-goin', Sammy, but she's got the rheumatics, and can't; and I, Sammy--I've got the two tickets as wos sent her.' Mr.