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 con-sideration, 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 rednosed man, Sammy, wisits your mother-in-law vith a kindness and constancy as 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 bees'vax 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
