"These smalls," said Dennis, rubbing his legs; "these very smalls—they belonged to a friend of mine that’s left off sich incumbrances for ever: this coat too—I’ve often walked behind this coat, in the street, and wondered whether it would ever come to me: this pair of shoes have danced a hornpipe for another man, afore my eyes, full half-a-dozen times at least: and as to my hat," he said, taking it off, and whirling it round upon his fist—"Lord! I’ve seen this hat go up Holborn on the box of a hackney-coach—ah, many and many a day!" "You don’t mean to say their old wearers are all dead, I hope?" said Mr Tappertit, falling a little distance from him as he spoke. "Every one of ’em," replied Dennis. "Every man Jack!"