Now I am not going to enter into a
discussion upon this point, for I know by experience, that the
public cares nothing for discussions, however learned and edifying,
but will take the present opportunity to relate a little adventure
of mine, which bears not a little upon this matter.
So it came to pass, that one day I was scampering over a heath, at
some distance from my present home: I was mounted upon the good
horse Sidi Habismilk, and the Jew of Fez, swifter than the wind,
ran by the side of the good horse Habismilk, when what should I see
at a corner of the heath but the encampment of certain friends of
mine; and the chief of that camp, even Mr. Petulengro, stood before
the encampment, and his adopted daughter, Miss Pinfold, stood
beside him.
MYSELF. - 'Kosko divvus (7), Mr. Petulengro! I am glad to see you:
how are you getting on?'
MR. PETULENGRO. - 'How am I getting on? as well as I can. What
will you have for that nokengro (8)?'
Thereupon I dismounted, and delivering the reins of the good horse
to Miss Pinfold, I took the Jew of Fez, even Hayim Ben Attar, by
the hand, and went up to Mr. Petulengro, exclaiming, 'Sure ye are
two brothers.
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