AtfirsttheevolutionsofthestoutmanhadescapedMr。Weller’sobservation，butbydegrees，ashesawMr。Pickwick’seyeseverynowandthenturningtowardshim，hebegantogazeinthesamedirection，atthesametimeshadinghiseyeswithhishand，asifhepartiallyrecognisedtheobjectbeforehim，andwishedtomakequitesureofitsidentity。Hisdoubtswerespeedilydispelled，however。forthestoutmanhavingblownathickcloudfromhispipe，ahoarsevoice，likesomestrangeeffortofventriloquism，emergedfrombeneaththecapaciousshawlswhichmuffledhisthroatandchest，andslowlyutteredthesesounds——Wy，Sammy！
Who’sthat，Sam？inquiredMr。Pickwick。
Why，Iwouldn’tha’believedit，sir，repliedMr。Wellerwithastonishedeyes。It’stheold’un。
Oldone，saidMr。Pickwick。Whatoldone？
Myfather，sir，repliedMr。Weller。Howareyou，myancient？Withwhichbeautifulebullitionoffilialaffection，Mr。Wellermaderoomontheseatbesidehim，forthestoutman，whoadvancedpipeinmouthandpotinhand，togreethim。