■'V, ■ 
 CORNELL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 4569.A1 1914 
 
 The posthumous papers of the Pickwick CI 
 
 3 1924 013 472 695 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013472695 
 
THE UNIVERSAL EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE WORKS OF CHARLES DICKENS 
 IN 22 VOLUMES 
 
 THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 OF THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
 
 " The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick 
 Club " was first published as a volume in 1837, 
 
 thaving previously been issued in twenty monthly 
 parts from April, 1836, to November, 1837. Its 
 
 full title was " The Posthumous Papers of the 
 Pickwick Glub : Being a Faithful Record of 
 the Peramhdations, Perils, Travels, Adventures, 
 and Sporting Transactions of the Corresponding 
 Members ; Edited by Boz." 
 
 This Edition contains all the emendationt 
 made in the text as revised by the Author in 
 1867 and 1868, and reproductions of the originai 
 illustrations by Phiz, 
 
c;f^' 
 
 CJ'f-AilL£5 DICXSJTS. 
 
 J'Xl-Z..-fi"t- 
 
 LOW'DOX 
 
THE 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS 
 
 WITH 43 ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ 
 
 p\'\ V 
 
 LONDON 
 
 CHAPMA^^& HALL, Ltd. 
 
 New York: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 

 a! 
 m 
 
 A ii^^^it ' 
 
 
 '')*,C',lfv V f' PRINTED m CKBAT BRITAIN BY 
 
 '-' I-* \\''' WILLIAM CLOWES ANO SONS, LIMITED, LONPON AND BECCLES- 
 
DEDICATION TO THE ORIGINAL 
 EDITION 
 
 TO MR. SERJEANT TALFOURD, M.P., ETC., ETC. 
 
 My Dear Sib, 
 
 If I had not enjoyed the happiness of your private 
 friendship, I should still have dedicated this work to you, as 
 a slight and most inadequate acknowledgment of the in- 
 estimable services you are rendering to the literature of your 
 country, and of the lasting benefits you will confer upon the 
 authors of this and succeeding generations, by securing to 
 them and their descendants a permanent interest in the 
 copyright of their works. 
 
 Many a fevered head and palsied hand will gather new 
 vigour in the hour of sickness and distress from your excellent 
 exertions; many a widowed mother and orphan child, who 
 would otherwise reap nothing from the fame of departed 
 genius but its too frequent legacy of poverty and suffering, 
 will bear, in their altered condition, higher testimony to the 
 value of your labours than the most lavish encomiums from 
 lip or pen could ever afford. 
 
 Beside such tributes, any avowal of feeling from me, on 
 the question to which you have devoted the combined advan- 
 tages of your eloquence, character, and genius, would be 
 powerless indeed. Nevertheless, in thus publicly expressing 
 my deep and grateful sense of your efforts in behalf of English 
 literature, and of those who devote themselves to the most 
 
vi DEDICATION TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION 
 
 precarious of all pursuits, I do but imperfect justice to my 
 own strong feelings on the subject, if I do no service to you. 
 
 These few sentences would have comprised all I should 
 have had to say, if I had only known you in your public 
 character. On the score of private feeling, let me add one 
 word more. 
 
 Accept the dedication of this book, my dear Sir, as a mark 
 of my warmest regard and esteem — as a memorial of the 
 most gratifying friendship I have ever contracted, and of some 
 of the pleasantest hours I have ever spent — as a token of my 
 fervent admiration of every fine quality of your head and 
 heart — as an assurance of the truth and sincerity with which 
 I shall ever be, 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Most faithfully and sincerely yours, 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 48, Doughty Street, September 27, 1837. 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 ADDRESS WHICH APPEARED IN PART 
 X., JANUARY, 1837 
 
 Ten months have now elapsed since the appearance of 
 the first number of the Pickwick Papers. At the close of 
 the year, and the conclusion of half his task, their Author 
 may perhaps, without any unwarrantable intrusion on the 
 notice of the public, venture to say a few words for himself. 
 
 He has long been desirous to embrace the first opportunity 
 of announcing that^it is his intention to adhere to his original 
 pledge of confining this work to twenty numbers. He has 
 every temptation to exceed the limits he first assigned to 
 himself, that brilliant success, an enormous and increasing 
 sale, the kindest notice, and the most extensive popularity, 
 can hold out. They are, one and all, sad temptations to an 
 author, but he has determined to resist them ; firstly, because 
 he wishes to keep the strictest faith with his readers; and, 
 secondly, because he is most anxious that when the 
 Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club form a complete 
 work, the book may not have to contend against the heavy 
 disadvantage of being prolonged beyond his original plan. 
 
 For ten months longer, then, if the Author be permitted to 
 retain his health and spirits, the Pickwick Papers will be 
 issued in their present form, and will then be completed. 
 By what fresh adventures they may be succeeded is no matter 
 for present consideration. The Author merely hints that he 
 
viii ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 has strong reason to believe that a great variety of other 
 documents still lie hidden in the repository from which these 
 were taken, and that they may one day see the light. 
 
 With this short speech, Mr. Pickwick's stage-manager 
 makes his most grateful bow, adding, on behalf of himself 
 and publishers, what the late eminent Mr. John Richardson, 
 of Horsemonger Lane, Southwark, and the Yellow Caravan 
 with the Brass Knocker, always said on behalf of himself and 
 company, at the close of every performance — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, for these marks of your favour, we 
 beg to return you our sincere thanks ; and allow us to inform 
 you, that we shall keep perpetually going on beginning again, 
 regularly, until the end of the fair." 
 
 December, 1836. 
 
 ADDRESS WHICH APPEARED IN PART 
 XV., JULY, 1837 
 
 186, Strand, June 30, 1837. 
 
 The Author is desirous to take the opportunity afforded 
 him by his resumption of this work, to state once again what 
 he thought had been stated sufficiently emphatically before, 
 namely, that its publication was interrupted by a severe 
 domestic affliction of no ordinary kind ; that this was the sole 
 cause of the non-appearance of the present number in the 
 usual course ; and that henceforth it will continue to be 
 published with its accustomed regularity. 
 
 However superfluous this second notice may appear to 
 many, it is rendered necessary by various idle speculations and 
 absurdities which have been industriously propagated durino- 
 the past month, which have reached the Author's ears from 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES ix 
 
 every quarter, and have pained him exceedingly. By one set 
 of intimate acquaintances, especially well-informed, he has 
 been killed outright ; by another, driven mad ; by a third, 
 imprisoned for debt; by a fourth, sent per steamer to the 
 United States ; by a fifth, rendered incapable of any mental 
 exertion for evermore ; by all, in short, represented as doing 
 anything but seeking in a few weeks' retirement the restora- 
 tion of that cheerfulness and peace of which a sad bereavement 
 had temporarily deprived him. 
 
 Notice to Con-espondents. — We receive every month an 
 immense number of communications purporting to be "sugges- 
 tions " for Pickwick Papers. . We have no doubt that they 
 are furnished with the kindest intentions ; but as it is wholly 
 out of our power to make use of any such hints, and as we 
 really have no time to peruse anonymous letters, we hope the 
 writers will henceforth spare themselves a great deal of 
 unnecessary and useless trouble. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 
 
 The Authors object in this work was to place before the 
 reader a constant succession of characters and incidents ; to 
 paint them in as vivid colours as he could command ; and to 
 render them, at the same time, life-like and amusing. 
 
 Deferring to the judgment of others in the outset of the 
 undertaking, he adopted the machinery of the club, which 
 was suggested as that best adapted to his purpose; but, 
 finding that it tended rather to his embarrassment than 
 otherwise, he gradually abandoned it, considering it a matter 
 of very. little importance to the work whether strictly epic 
 justice were awarded to the club, or not. 
 
X ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 The publication of the book in monthly numbers, containing 
 only thirty-two pages in each, rendered it an object of para- 
 mount importance that, while the different incidents were 
 linked together by a chain of interest strong enough to 
 prevent their appearing unconnected or impossible, the general 
 design should be so simple as to sustain no injury from this 
 detached and desultory form of publication, extending over 
 no fewer than twenty months. In short, it was necessary — or 
 it appeared so to the Author — that every number should be, 
 to a certain extent, complete in itself, and yet that the whole 
 twenty numbers, when collected, should form one tolerably 
 harmonious whole, each leading to the other by a gentle and 
 not unnatural progress of adventure. 
 
 It is obvious that in a work published with a view to such 
 considerations, no artfully interwoven or ingeniously compli- 
 cated plot can with reason be expected. The Author ventures 
 to express a hope that he has successfully surmounted the 
 difficulties of his undertaking. And if it be objected to the 
 Pickwick Papers that they are a mere series of adventures, 
 in which the scenes are ever changing, and the characters 
 come and go like the men and women we encounter in the 
 real world, he can only content himself with the reflection, 
 that they claim to be nothing else, and that the same objec- 
 tion has been made to the works of some of the greatest 
 novelists in the English language. 
 
 The following pages have been written from time to time, 
 almost as the periodical occasion arose. Having been written 
 for the most part in the society of a very dear young friend 
 who is now no more, they are connected in the Author's mind 
 at once with the happiest period of his life, and with its 
 saddest and most severe affliction. 
 
 It is due to the gentleman, whose designs accompany the 
 letterpress, to state that the interval has been so short 
 between the production of each number in manuscript and 
 its appearance in print, that the greater portion of the 
 Illustrations have been executed by the artist from the 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xi 
 
 Author's mere verbal description of what he intended to 
 write. 
 
 The almost unexampled kindness and favour with which 
 these papers have been received by the public will be a never- 
 failing source of gratifying and pleasant recollection while 
 their Author lives. He trusts that throughout this book, no 
 incident or expression occurs which could call a blush into the 
 most delicate cheek, or wound the feelings of the most sensi- 
 tive pferson. If any of his imperfect descriptions, while they 
 afford amusement in the perusal, should induce only one 
 reader to think better of his fellow-men, and to look upon 
 the brighter and more kindly side of human nature, he would 
 indeed be proud and happy to have led to such a result. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST CHEAP 
 EDITION 
 
 An Author who has much to communicate under this head, 
 and expects to have it attended to, may be compared to a 
 man who takes his friend by the button at a Theatre Door, 
 and seeks to entertain him with a personal gossip before he 
 goes in to the play. 
 
 Nevertheless, as Prefaces, though seldom read, are con- 
 tinually written, no doubt for the behoof of that so richly 
 and so disinterestedly endowed personage. Posterity (who 
 will come into an immense fortune), I add my legacy to the 
 general remembrance ; the rather as ten years have elapsed 
 since the Piclcwick Papers appeared in a completed form, 
 and nearly twelve since the first monthly part was published. 
 
 It was observed, in the Preface to the original Edition, 
 that they were designed for the introduction of diverting 
 
xii ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 characters and incidents ; that no ingenuity of plot was 
 attempted, or even at that time considered very feasible by 
 the Author in connection with the desultory mode of publica- 
 tion adopted ; and that the machinery of the Club, proving 
 cumbrous in the management, was gradually abandoned as 
 the work progressed. Although, on one of these points, 
 experience and study has since taught me something, and I 
 could perhaps wish now that these chapters were ' strung 
 together on a stronger thread of general interest, still, what 
 they are they were designed to be. 
 
 In the course of the last dozen years, I have seen various 
 accounts of the origin of these Pickicick Papers; which 
 have, at all events, possessed — for me — the charm of perfect 
 novelty. As I may infer, from the occasional appearance of 
 such histories, that my readers have an interest in the matter, 
 I will relate how they came into existence. 
 
 I was a young man of three-and-twenty, when the present 
 publishers, attracted by some pieces I was at that time 
 writing in the Morning Chronicle newspaper (of which one 
 series had lately been collected and published in two volumes, 
 illustrated by my esteemed friend Mr. George Cruikshank), 
 waited upon me to propose a something that should be 
 published in shilling numbers — then only known to me, or, 
 I believe, to anybody else, by a dim recollection of certain 
 interminable novels in that form, which used, some five-and- 
 twenty years ago, to be carried about the country by pedlars, 
 and over some of which I remember to have shed innumerable 
 tears, before I served my apprenticeship to Life. 
 
 When I opened my door in Furnivars Inn to the managing 
 partner who represented the firm, I recognised in him the 
 person from whose hands I had bought, two or three years 
 previously, and whom I had never seen before or since, my 
 first copy of the Magazine in which my first effusion — 
 dropped stealthily one evening at twilight, with fear and 
 trembling, into a dark letter-box, in a dark office, up a dark 
 court in Fleet Street— appeared in all the glory of print ; on 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xiii 
 
 which occasion, by-the-bye, how well I recollect it ! — I walked 
 down to Westminster Hall, and turned into it for half an 
 hour, because my eyes were so dimmed with joy and pride, 
 that they could not bear the street, and were not fit to be 
 seen there. I told my visitor of the coincidence, which we 
 both hailed as a good omen ; and so fell to business. 
 
 The idea propounded to me was that the monthly some- 
 thing should be a vehicle for certain plates to be executed 
 by Mr. Seymour, and there was a notion, either on the part 
 of that admirable humourous artist, or of my visitor (I forget 
 which), that a " Nimrod Club," the members of which were to 
 go out shooting, fishing, and so forth, and getting themselves 
 into difficulties through their want of dexterity, would be 
 the best means of introducing these. I objected, on con- 
 sideration, that although born and partly bred in the country 
 I' was no great sportsman, except in regard of all kinds of 
 locomotion ; that the idea was not novel, and had been 
 already much used ; that it would be infinitely better for the 
 plates to arise naturally out of the text; and that I should 
 like to take my own way, with a freer range of English scenes 
 and people, and was afraid I should ultimately do so in any 
 case, whatever course I might prescribe to myself at starting. 
 My views being deferred to, I thought of Mr. Pickwick, and 
 wrote the first number; from the proof sheets of which Mr. 
 Seymour made his drawing of the Club, and that happy 
 portrait of its founder, by which he is always recognised, and 
 which may be said to have made him a reality. I connected 
 Mr. Pickwick with a club, because of the original suggestion, 
 and I put in Mr. Winkle expressly for the use of Mr. Seymour. 
 We started with a number of twenty-four pages instead of 
 thirty-two, and four illustrations in lieu of a couple. Mr. 
 Seymour's sudden and lamented death before the second 
 number was published, brought about a quick decision upon 
 a point already in agitation ; the number became one of 
 thirty-two pages with two illustrations, and remained so to 
 the end. My friends told me it was a low, cheap form of 
 
xiv ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 publication, by which I should ruin all my rising hopes ; and 
 how right my friends turned out to be, everybody now knows. 
 
 " Boz," my signature in the Morning Chronicle, appended 
 to the monthly cover of this book, and retained long after- 
 wards, was the nickname of a pet child, a younger brother, 
 whom I had dupped Moses, in honour of the Vicar of Wake- 
 field ; which being facetiously pronounced through the nose, 
 became Boses, and being shortened, became Boz. " Boz " was 
 a very familiar household word to me, long before I was an 
 author, and so I came to adopt it. 
 
 It has been observed of Mr. Pickwick, that there is a 
 decided change in his character, as these pages proceed, and 
 that he becomes more good and more sensible. I do not 
 think this change will appear forced or unnatural to my 
 readers, if they will reflect that in real life the peculiarities 
 and oddities of a man who has anything whimsical about 
 him, generally impress us first, and that it is not until we 
 are better acquainted with him that we usually begin to look 
 below these superficial traits, and to know the better part 
 of him. 
 
 Lest there should be any well-intentioned persons who do 
 not perceive the difference (as some such could not, when 
 Old Mortality was newly published) between religion and the 
 cant of religion, piety and the pretence of piety, a humble 
 reverence for the great truths of Scripture and an audacious 
 and offensive obtrusion of its letter and not its spirit in the 
 commonest dissensions and meanest affairs of life, to the 
 extraordinary confusion of ignorant minds, let them under- 
 stand that it is always the latter, and never the former, 
 which is satirised here. Further, that the latter is here 
 satirised as being, according to all experience, inconsistent 
 with the former, impossible of union with it, and one of the 
 most evil and mischievous falsehoods existent in society - 
 whether it establish its head-quarters, for the time being 
 in Exeter Hall, or Ebenezer Chapel, or both. It may appear 
 unnecessary to ofiFer a word of observation on so plain a head. 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xv 
 
 But it is never out of season to protest against that coarse 
 familiarity with sacred things which is busy on the lip, and 
 idle in the heart ; or against the confounding of Christianity 
 with any class of persons who, in the words of Swift, have 
 just enough religion to make them hate, and not enough to 
 make them love, one another. 
 
 I have found it curious and interesting, looking over the 
 sheets of this reprint, to mark what important social improve- 
 ments have taken place about us, almost imperceptibly, even 
 since they were originally written. The licence of Council, 
 and the degree to which Juries are ingeniously bewildered, 
 are yet susceptible of moderation ; while an improvement in 
 the mode of conducting Parliamentary Elections (especially 
 for counties) is still within the bounds of possibility. But 
 legal reforms have pared the claws of Messrs. Dodson and 
 Fogg ; a spirit of self-respect, mutual forbearance, education, 
 and co-operation, for such good ends, has diffused itself, 
 among their clerks ; places far apart are brought together, to 
 the present convenience and advantage of the Public, and to 
 the certain destruction, in time, of a host of petty jealousies, 
 blindnesses, and prejudices, by which the Public alone have 
 always been the sufferers ; the laws relating to imprisonment 
 for debt are altered ; and the Fleet Prison is pulled down ! 
 
 With such a retrospect, extending through so short a 
 period, I shall cherish the hope that every volume of this 
 Edition will afford me an opportunity of recording the 
 extermination of some wrong or abuse set forth in it. Who 
 knows, but by the time the series reaches its conclusion, it 
 may be discovered that there are even magistrates in town 
 and country, who should be taught to shake hands every day 
 with Common-sense and Justice ; that even Poor Laws may 
 have mercy on the weak, the aged, and unfortunate ; that 
 Schools, on the broad principles of Christianity, are the best 
 adornment for the length and breadth of this civilised land ; 
 that Prison-doors should be barred on the outside, no less 
 heavily and carefully than they are barred within ; that the 
 
xvi ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 universal diffusion of common means of decency and health 
 is as much the right of the poorest of the poor, as it is 
 indispensable to the safety of the rich, and of the State ; 
 that a few petty boards and bodies — less than drops in the 
 great ocean of humanity, which roars around them — are not 
 to let loose Fever and Consumption on God's creatures at 
 their will, or always to keep their little fiddles going, for 
 a Dance of Death ! 
 
 And that Cheap Literature is not behind-hand with the 
 Age, but holds its place, and strives to do its duty, I trust 
 the series in itself may help much worthy company to show. 
 
 London, September, 1847. 
 
 PREFACE TO THE "CHARLES DICKENS" 
 EDITION 
 
 It was observed, in the Preface to the original Edition of 
 the " Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club," that they were 
 designed for the introduction of diverting characters and 
 incidents ; that no ingenuity of plot was attempted, or even 
 at that time considered very feasible by the author in 
 connexion with the desultory mode of publication adopted; 
 and that the machinery of the Club, proving cumbrous in the 
 management, was gradually abandoned as the work progressed. 
 Although on one of these points, experience and study 
 afterwards taught me something, and I could perhaps wish 
 now that these chapters were strung together on a stronger 
 thread of general interest, still, what they are they were 
 designed to be. 
 
 I have seen various accounts of the origin of these Pickwick 
 Papers, which have, at all events, possessed — for me — the 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xvii 
 
 charm of perfect novelty. As I may infer, from the 
 occasional appearance of such histories, that my readers 
 have an interest in the matter, I will relate how they came 
 into existence. 
 
 I was a young man of two or three-and-twent}', when 
 Messrs. Chapman and Hall, attracted by some pieces I was 
 at that time writing in the Morning Chronicle newspaper, 
 or had just written in the old Monthly Magazine (of which 
 one series had lately been collected and published in two 
 volumes, illustrated by Mr. George Cruikshank), waited upon 
 me to propose a something that should be published in 
 shilling numbers, — then only known to me, or, I believe, to 
 anybody else, by a dim recollection of certain interminable 
 novels in that form, which used to be earned about the 
 country by pedlars, and over some of which I remember to 
 have shed innumerable tears, before I had served my 
 apprenticeship to Life. 
 
 When I opened my door in FurnivaPs Inn to the partner 
 who represented the firm, I recognised in him the person 
 from whose hands I had bought, two or three years previously, 
 and whom I had never seen before or since, my first copy of 
 the Magazine in which my first effusion — a paper in the 
 "Sketches," called Mr. Minns and His Cousin — dropped 
 stealthily one evening at twilight, with fear and trembling, 
 into a dark letter-box, in a dark office, up a dark court in 
 Fleet Street — appeared in all the glory of print ; on which 
 occasion I walked down to Westminster Hall, and turned 
 into it for half an hour, because my eyes were so dimmed 
 with joy and pride, that they could not bear the street, and 
 were not fit to be seen there. I told my visitor of the 
 coincidence, which we both hailed as a good omen; and so 
 fell to business. 
 
 The idea propounded to me was, that the monthly some- 
 thing should be a vehicle for certain plates to be executed 
 by Mr. Seymour ; and there was a notion, either on the part 
 (jf that admirable humourist artist, or of my visitor, that a 
 
xviii ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 " Nimrod Club," the members of which were to go out shooting, 
 fishing, and so forth, and getting themselves into difficulties 
 through their want of dexterity, would be the best means of 
 introducing these. I objected, on consideration, that although 
 born and partly bred in the country, I was no great sportsman, 
 except in regard of all kinds of locomotion ; that the idea 
 was not novel, and had been already much used ; that it 
 would be infinitely better for the plates to arise naturally 
 out of the text ; and that I would like to take my own way, 
 with a freer range of English scenes and people, and was 
 afraid I should ultimately do so in any case, whatever course 
 I might prescribe to myself at starting. My views being 
 deferred to, I thought of Mr. Pickwick, and wrote the first 
 number ; from the proof sheets of which Mr. Seymour made 
 his drawing of the Club, and his happy portrait of its 
 founder: — the latter on Mr. Edward Chapman's description 
 of the dress and bearing of a real personage whom he had 
 often seen, I connected Mr. Pickwick with a club, because 
 of the original suggestion, and I put in Mr. Winkle expressly 
 for the use of Mr. Seymour. We started with a number of 
 twenty-four pages instead of thirty-two, and four illustrations 
 in lieu of a couple. Mr. Seymour's sudden and lamented 
 death before the second number was published, brought 
 about a quick decision upon a point already in agitation ; 
 the number became one of thirty-two pages with only two 
 illustrations, and remained so to the end. 
 
 It is with great unwillingness that I notice some in- 
 tangible and incoherent assertions which have been made, 
 professedly on behalf of Mr. Seymour, to the effect that he 
 had some share in the invention of this book, or of anything 
 in it, not faithfully described in the foregoing paragraph. 
 With the moderation that is due equally to my respect for 
 the memory of a brother-artist, and to my self-respect, I 
 confine myself to placing on record here the facts : 
 
 That, Mr. Seymour never originated or suggested an 
 incident, a phrase, or a word, to be found in this book. 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xix 
 
 That, Mr. Seymour died when only twenty-four pages of this 
 book were published, and when assuredly not forty-eight 
 were written. That, I believe I never saw Mr. Seymour's 
 hand-writing in my life. That, I never saw Mr. Seymour 
 but once in my life, and that was on the night but one 
 before his death, when he certainly offered no suggestion 
 whatsoever. That I saw him then in the presence of two 
 persons, both living, perfectly acquainted with all these 
 facts, and whose written testimony to them I possess. 
 Lastly, that Mr. Edward Chapman ,(the survivor of the 
 original firm of Chapman and Hall) has set down in writing, 
 for similar preservation, his personal knowledge of the origin 
 and progress of this book, of the monstrosity of the baseless 
 assertions in question, and (tested by details) even of the 
 self-evident impossibility of there being any truth in them. 
 In the exercise of the forbearance on which I have resolved, 
 I do not quote Mr. Edward Chapman's account of his deceased 
 partner's reception, on a certain occasion, of the pretences 
 in question. 
 
 " Boz," my signature in the Morning Chronicle, and in the 
 old Monthly Magazine, appended to the monthly cover of 
 this book, and retained long afterwards, was the nickname of 
 a pet child, a younger brother, whom I had dubbed Moses, in 
 honour of the Vicar of Wakefield ; which being facetiously 
 pronounced through the nose, become Boses, and being 
 shortened, became Boz. Boz was a very familiar household 
 word to me, long before I was an author, and so I came to 
 adopt it. 
 
 It has been observed of Mr. Pickwick, that there is a 
 decided phange in his character, as these pages proceed, and 
 that he becomes more good and more sensible. I do not 
 think this change will appear forced or unnatural to my 
 readers, if they will reflect that in real life the peculiarities 
 and oddities of a man who has anything whimsical about him, 
 generally impress us first, and that it is not until we are 
 better acquainted with him that we usually begin to look 
 
XX ADDRESSES AND PREFACES 
 
 below these superficial traits, and to know the better part 
 of him. 
 
 Lest there should be any well-intentioned persons who do 
 not perceive the difference (as some such could not, when 
 Old Mortality was newly published), between religion and the 
 cant of religion, piety and the pretence of piety, a humble 
 reverence for the great truths of Scripture and an audacious 
 and offensive obtrusion of its letter and not its spirit in the 
 commonest dissensions and meanest affairs of life, to the 
 extraordinary confusion of ignorant minds, let them under- 
 stand that it is always the latter, and never the former, which 
 is satirised here. Further, that the latter is here satirised as 
 being, according to all experience, inconsistent with the 
 former, impossible of union with it, and one of the most 
 evil and mischievous falsehoods existent in societ}' — whether 
 it establish its head-quarters, for the time being, in Exeter 
 Hall, or Ebenezer Chapel, or both. It may appear un- 
 necessary to offer a word of observation on so plain a head. 
 But it is never out of season to protest against that coarse 
 familiarity with sacred things which is busy on the lip, and 
 idle in the heart ; or against the confounding of Christianity 
 with any class of persons who, in the words of Swift, have 
 just enough religion to make them hate, and not enough to 
 make them love, one another. 
 
 I have found it curious and interesting, looking over the 
 sheets of this reprint, to mark what important social im- 
 provements have taken place about us, almost imperceptibly, 
 since they were originally written. The licence of Council, 
 and the degree to which Juries ara ingeniously bewildered, 
 are yet susceptible of moderation ; while an improvement in 
 the mode of conducting Parliamentary Elections (and even 
 Parliaments too, perhaps) is still within the bounds of 
 possibility. But legal reforms have pared the claws of 
 Messrs. Dodson and Fogg; a spirit of self-respect, mutual 
 forbearance, education, and co-operation for such good ends 
 has diffused itself among their clerks ; places far apart are 
 
ADDRESSES AND PREFACES xxi 
 
 brought together, to the present convenience and advantage 
 of the Public, and to the certain destruction, in time, of a 
 host of petty jealousies, blindnesses, and prejudices, by which 
 the Public alone have always been the sufferers; the laws 
 relating to imprisonment for debt are altered; and the 
 Fleet Prison is pulled down ! 
 
 Who knows, but by the time the series reaches its con- 
 clusion, it may be discovered that there are even magistrates 
 in town and country, who should be taught to shake hands 
 every day with Common-sense and Justice; that even Poor 
 Laws may have mercy on the weak, the aged, and unfortunate ; 
 that Schools, on the broad principles of Christianity, are the 
 best adornment for the length and breadth of this civilised 
 land ; that Prison doors should be barred on the outside, no 
 less heavily and carefully than they are barred within ; that 
 the universal diffusion of common means of decency and 
 health is as much the right of the poorest of the poor, as it 
 is indispensable to the safety of the rich, and of the State ; 
 that a few petty boards and bodies — less than drops in the 
 great ocean of humanity, which roars around them — are not 
 for ever to let loose Fever and Consumption on God's 
 creatures at their wiU, or always to keep their jobbing little 
 fiddles going, for a Dance of Death 1 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAQE 
 
 BlBLIOOEAFHIOAL NOTB U 
 
 Dedication to the Obiginai< ^Edition v 
 
 Addresses and Prefaces — 
 
 Address which appeared in Part X vii 
 
 Address which appeared in Part XV .... viii 
 
 Preface to the First Edition ix 
 
 Preface to the First Cheap Edition xi 
 
 Preface to the " Charges Dickens " Edition . . . xvi 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The Piokwickians 1 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The first Day's Journey, and the first Evening's Adventures ; 
 
 with their Consequences 5 
 
 , CHAPTER III 
 
 , A new Acquaintance. The Stroller's Tale. A disagreeable Inter- 
 ruption and an unpleasant Encounter 28 
 
 i CHAPTER IV 
 
 ' A Field-day and Bivouac. More new Friends. An Invitation to 
 
 ! the Country 38 
 
 \ 
 
 \ CHAPTER V 
 
 A short one. Showing, among other Matters, how Mr. Pickwick 
 undertook to drive, and Mr, Winkle to ride ; and how they 
 ■ both did it 48 
 
xxiv CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 PACK 
 
 An old-fashioned Card-Party. The Clergyman's Verses. The 
 
 Story of the Convict's Eeturn 57 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 How Mr. Winkle, instead of shooting at the Pigeon and killing the 
 Crow, shot at the Crow and wounded the Pigeon ; how the 
 Dingley Dell Cricket Club played All-Muggleton, and how 
 AU-Muggleton dined at the Dingley Dell expense ; with other 
 interesting and instructive matters 70 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 Strongly illustrative of the Position, that the Course of True Love 
 
 is not a Eailway 82 
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 A Discovery and a Chase 93 
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 Clearing up all Doubts (if any existed) of the Disinterestedness of 
 
 Mr. Jingle's Character 101 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Involving another Journey, and an Antiquarian Discovery. 
 Eeoording Mr. Pickwick's Determination to be present at an 
 Election ; and containing a Manuscript of the old Clergyman's 113 
 
 CHAPTEE XII 
 
 Descriptive of a very important Proceeding on the Part of Mr. 
 
 Pickwick ; no less an Epoch in his Life, than in this History 128 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 Some Account of Eatanswill ; of the State of Parties therein ; and 
 of the Election of a Member to serve in Parliament for that 
 ancient, loyal, and patriotic Borough 134 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Showing that an Attack of Eheumatism, in spine eases^ a 
 Quiokener to Inventive Genius f i'\jjv'\ .. ■■ .Ua-. !'._ j 
 
 FAO& 
 
 Comprising a brief Description of the Comp|rfiy at the Peacock 
 
 assembled ; and a Tale told by a Bagman .... 149 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 In which is given a faithful Portraiture of two distinguished 
 Persons : and an accurate Description of a Public Breakfast 
 in their House and Grounds ; which Public Breakfast leads to 
 the Recognition of an old Acquaintauce, and the commence- 
 ment of another Chapter 164 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 Too full of Adventure to be briefly described 176 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 . acts as a 
 
 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Briefly illustrative of two Points ; — first, the Power of Hysterics. 
 
 and, secondly, the Force of Circumstances .... 200 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 A pleasant day, with an unpleasant Termination .... 209 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 Showing how Dodson and Fogg were Men of Business, and their 
 Clerks Men of Pleasure ; and how an affecting Interview took 
 place between Mr. Weller and his long-lost Parent ; showing 
 also what Choice Spirits assembled at the Magpie and Stump, 
 and what a capital Chapter the next one will be . . . 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 In which the Old Man launches forth into his favourite Theme, and 
 
 relates a Story about a queer Client 235 
 
xxvi CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 PASR 
 
 Mr. Pickwick journeys to Ipswich, and meets with a romantic 
 
 Adventure with a middle-aged Lady in Yellow Curl Papers . 250 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 In which Mr. Samuel Weller begins to devote his Energies to the 
 
 Eeturn Match between himself and Mr. Trotter . . . 264 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the middle-aged 
 Lady apprehensive, which brings the Pickwickians within the 
 grasp of the Law 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Showing, among a variety of pleasant Matters, how majestic and 
 impartial Mr. Nupkins was ; and how Mr. Weller returned Mr. 
 Job Trotter's Shuttlecock, as heavily as it came. With 
 another Matter, which will be found in its Place . . . 284 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Which contains a brief Account of the Progress of the Action of 
 
 Bardell against Pickwick ....... 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Samuel Weller makes a Pilgrimage to Dorking, and beholds his 
 
 Mother-in-law gog 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A good-humoured Christmas Chapter, containing an Account of 
 a Wedding, and some other Sports beside : which although 
 in their way, even as good Customs as Marriage itself, are iK)t 
 quite so religiously kept up, in these degenerate Times . . 31 5 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 The Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton . , , ooq 
 
CONTENTS xxvii 
 
 CHAPTBE XXX 
 
 PAGB 
 
 How the Piokwickians made and cultivated the Acquaintance of a 
 couple of nice Young Men belonging to one of the Liberal Pro- 
 fessions ; how they disported themselves on the Ice ; and 
 how their first Visit came to a conclusion .... 342 
 
 CHAPTEB XXXI 
 
 Which is all about the Law, and sundry Oreat Authorities learned 
 
 therein 352 
 
 CHAPTER XXXn 
 
 Describes, far more fully than the Court Newsman ever did, a 
 Bachelor's Party, given by Mr. Bob Sawyer at his Lodgings 
 in the Borough 365 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Mr. Weller the elder delivers some Critical Sentiments respecting 
 Literary Composition ; and, assisted by his son Samuel, pays 
 a small Instalment of Retaliation to the account of the 
 Reverend Gentleman with the Bed Nose .... 377 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Is wholly devoted to a full and faithful Report of the memorable 
 
 Trial of Bardell against Pickwick 391 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 In which Mr. Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath ; and goes 
 
 accordingly 412 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 The chief features of which, will be found to be an authentic 
 "Version of the Legend of Prince Bladud, and a most extra- 
 ordinary Calamity that befell Mr. Winkle .... 425 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 Honourably accounts for Mr. Weller's Absence, by describing a 
 Soiree to which he was invited and went ; also relates how he 
 was entrusted by Mr. Pickwick with a Private Mission of 
 Delicacy and Importance 485 
 
xxviii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVIII 
 
 How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the Frying-pan, walked 
 
 gently and comfortably into the Fire 447 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX 
 
 Mr. Samuel Weller, being entrusted with a Mission of Love, 
 proceeds to execute it ; with what success will hereinafter 
 appear 458 
 
 CHAPTEE XL 
 
 Introduces Mr. Pickwick to a new and not uninteresting Scene in 
 
 the great Drama of Life 471 
 
 CHAPTEE XLI 
 
 What befell Mr. Pickwick when he got into the Fleet; what 
 
 Prisoners he saw there ; and how he passed the Night . . 482 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII 
 
 Illustrative, like the preceding one, of the old Proverb, that 
 Adversity brings a Man acquainted with strange Bed-fellows. 
 Likewise containing Mr. Pickwick's extraordinary and 
 startling announcement to Mr. Samuel Weller . . . 493 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIII 
 Showing how Mr. Samuel WeUer got into Difficulties . . . 506 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIV 
 
 Treats of divers little Matters which occurred in the Fleet, and of 
 Mr. Winkle's mysterious Behaviour ; and shows how the poor 
 Chancery Prisoner obtained his Eelease at last . . , 517 
 
 CHAPTEE XLV 
 
 Descriptive of an Affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller 
 and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick makes a Tour of the 
 diminutive World he inhabits, and resolves to mix with it, 
 in future, as little as possible [ 529 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 Records a touching Act of delicate Feeling, not unmixed with 
 Pleasantry, achieved and performed by Messrs. Dodson and 
 Fogg 544 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 Is chiefly devoted to Matters of Business, and the temporal 
 Advantage of Dodson and Fogg. Mr. Winkle re-appears under 
 extraordinary circumstances. Mr. Pickwick's Benevolence 
 proves stronger than his Obstinacy .... 552 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 
 Relates how Mr. Pickwick, with the assistance of Samuel Weller, 
 essayed to soften the heart of Mr. Benjamin Allen, and to 
 mollify the wrath of Mr. Robert Sawyer 563 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 Containing the Story of the Bagman's Uncle ..... 574 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 How Mr. Pickwick sped upon his Mission, and how he was re- 
 inforced in the Outset by a most unexpected Auxiliary . . 588 
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 In which Mr. Pickwick encounters an old Acquaintance. To which 
 fortunate circumstance the Reader is mainly indebted for 
 matter of thrilling interest herein set down, concerning two 
 great Public Men of might and power 601 
 
 CHAPTER LII 
 
 Involving a serious Change in the Weller Family, and the untimely 
 
 Downfall of the red-nosed Mr. Stiggins 614 
 
 CHAPTER LIII 
 
 Comprising the final Exit of Mr Jingle and Job Trotter ; with a 
 Great Morning of Business in Gray's Inn Square. Concluding 
 with a Double Knock at Mr. Perker's Door .... 624 
 
XXX CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEB LIV 
 
 FAOB 
 
 Containing some Particulars relative to the Double Knock, and 
 other Matters ; among which certain Interesting Disclosures 
 relative to Mr. Snodgrass and a Young Lady are by no means 
 irrelevant to this History 635 
 
 CHAPTER LV 
 
 Mr. Solomon Pell, assisted by a Select Committee of Coachmen, 
 
 arranges the Affairs of the elder Mr. Weller .... 648 
 
 CHAPTER LVI 
 
 An important Conference takes place between Mr. Pickwick and 
 Samuel Weller, at which his Parent assists. An old Gentle- 
 man in a snuflf-coloured Suit arrives unexpectedly . . . 659 
 
 CHAPTER LVII 
 
 In which the Pickwick Club is finally dissolved, and everything 
 
 concluded to the satisfaction of everybody .... 669 
 
T 
 4 
 
 ^.. 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Feontispiecb 
 
 ViGNBTTB Title 
 
 Me. Pickwick Addresses the Club .... 
 The Pugnacious Cibman . . . •. 
 
 The Sagacious Dog 
 
 De. Slammer's Defiance of Jingle .... 
 
 The Dying Clown 
 
 Mr. Pickwick in Chase of his Hat .... 
 Winkle Soothes the Befractoey Mare . 
 
 The Fat Boy Awake 
 
 Wardle and his Friends Under the Influence of 
 
 " THE Salmon " 
 
 The Breakdown - 
 
 First Appearance of Mr. Samuel Weller 
 Mrs. Bardell Faints in Me. Pickwick's Arms. 
 
 The Election at Eatanswill 
 
 Mes. Leo Hunter's Fanoy-Deess Dbjbunb 
 
 The Unexpected "Beeaking-up"of the Sbminaey foe 
 
 Young Ladies . 
 
 Mr. Pickwick in the Pound ..... 
 Me. Pickwick and Sam in the Attorney's Office . 
 The Last Visit of Hbyling to the Old Man . 
 The Middde-Agbd Lady in the Double-Bbddbd Eoom 
 Me. Wellee Attacks the Executive of Ipswich . 
 
 Phiz 
 
 4 
 8 
 10 
 18 
 32 
 42 
 52 
 84 
 
 86 
 100 
 106 
 132 
 146 
 170 
 
 190 
 220 
 224 
 246 
 260 
 284 
 
xxxii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGR 
 
 JOBTEOTTBEENCOONTEEsSAMINMr.MaZZLE'sKlTCHBN PMz 296 
 
 Cheistmas Evb at Mk. Waedle's .... .< 330 
 
 The Goblin and the Sexton •. 336 
 
 Me. Pickwick Slides i. 348 
 
 The Fiest Intekvibvv with Me. Seegbant Snubbin ,, 362 
 
 The Valentine 380 
 
 The Teial „ 398 
 
 The Caed-eoom at Bath . . . . . ,, 424 
 
 Me. Winkle's Situation when the Dooe " blew to " ,, 434 
 
 Conviviality at Bob Sawybe's „ 454 
 
 Me. Pickwick Sits foe his Portrait . . . ,, 482 
 
 The Warden's Eoom ,, 488 
 
 Discovbey of Jingle in the Fleet . . . . ,, 502 
 
 The Kbd-Nosbd Man Discoueseth ... „ 586 
 
 Mrs. Baedbll Encounters Me. Pickwick in the Peison „ 652 
 
 Mk. Winkle Eetuens under Extraordinary 
 
 Ciecumstanobs ,, 658 
 
 The Ghostly Passengers in the Ghost op a Mail „ 580 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer's Mode of Teavblling ... ,, 592 
 
 The Eival Editoes ... ... ,, 612 
 
 Mary and the Fat Boy . . . . „ 642 
 
 Wbllee and his Friends Drinking to Mr. Pell . „ 654 
 
POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 
 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE PICKWICKIANS 
 
 The first ray of light which illumines the gloom, and converts into 
 a dazzling brilliancy that obscurity in which the earlier history of 
 the public career of the immortal Pickwick would appear to be 
 involved, is derived from the perusal of the following entry in the 
 Transactions of the Pickwick Club, which the editor of these papers 
 feels the highest pleasure in laying before his readers, as a proof of 
 the careful attention, indefatigable assiduity, and nice discrimina- 
 tion, with which his search among the multifarious documents 
 confided to him has been conducted. 
 
 'May 12, 1827. Joseph Smiggers, Esq., P.V.P.M.P.C.,* pre- 
 siding. The following resolutions unanimously agreed to : — 
 
 ' That this Association has heard read, with feelings of unmingled 
 satisfaction, and unqualified approval, the paper communicated by 
 Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C.,t entitled "Speculations on 
 the Source of the Hampstead Ponds, with some Observations on 
 the Theory of Tittlebats ; " and that this Association does hereby 
 return its warmest thanks to the said Samuel Pickwick, Esq., 
 G.C.M.P.C., for the same. 
 
 ' That while this Association is deeply sensible of the advantages 
 which must accrue to the cause of science from the production to 
 which they have just adverted, — no less than from the unwearied 
 researches of Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C, in Hornsey, 
 
 " Perpetual Vice-President — Member Pickwick Club. 
 t General Chairman — Member Pickwick Club. 
 
 B 
 
2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Highgate, Brixton, and Camberwell, — they cannot but entertain 
 a lively sense of the inestimable benefits which must inevitably 
 result from carrying the speculations of that learned man into a 
 wider field, from extending his travels, and consequently enlargmg 
 his sphere of observation, to the advancement of knowledge, and 
 the diffusion of learning. 
 
 ' That, with the view just mentioned, this Association has taken 
 into its serious consideration a proposal, emanating from the 
 aforesaid Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C, and three other 
 Pickwickians hereinafter named, for forming a new branch of 
 United Pickwickians, under the title of The Corresponding Society 
 of the Pickwick Club. 
 
 ' That the said proposal has received the sanction and approval 
 of this Association. 
 
 ' That the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club is therefore 
 hereby constituted; and that Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G.C.M.P.C, 
 Tracy Tupman, Esq., M.P.C., Augustus Snodgrass, Esq., M.P.C., 
 and Nathaniel Winkle, Esq., M.P.C., are hereby nominated and 
 appointed members of the same; and that they be requested to 
 forward, from time to time, authenticated accounts of their journeys 
 and investigations, of their observations of character and manners, 
 and of the whole of their adventures, together with all tales and 
 papers to which local scenery or associations may give rise, to the 
 Pickwick Club, stationed in London. 
 
 ' That this Association cordially recognises the principle of every 
 member of the Corresponding Society defraying his own travelling 
 expenses; and that it sees no objection whatever to the members 
 of the said society pursuing their inquiries for any length of time 
 they please, upon the same terms. 
 
 ' That the members of the aforesaid Corresponding Society be, 
 and are, hereby informed, that their proposal to pay the postage of 
 their letters, and the carriage of their parcels, has been deliberated 
 upon by this Association : that this Association considers such 
 proposal worthy of the great minds from which it emanated, and 
 that it hereby signifies its perfect acquiescence therein.' 
 
 A casual observer, adds the secretary, to whose notes we are 
 indebted for the following account — a casual observer might pos- 
 sibly have remarked nothing extraordinary in the bald head, and 
 circular spectacles, which were intently turned towards his (the 
 secretary's) face, during the reading of the above resolutions : to 
 those who knew that the gigantic brain of Pickwick was working 
 beneath that forehead, and that the beaming eyes of Pickwick were 
 twinkling behind those glasses, the sight was indeed an interesting 
 one. There sat the man who had traced to their source the mighty 
 ponds of Hampstead, and agitated the scientific world with his 
 Theory of Tittlebats, as calm and unmoved as the deep waters of 
 
A PICKWICKIAN DEBATE 3 
 
 the one on a frosty day, or as a solitary specimen of the other in 
 the inmost recesses of an earthen jar. And how much more inte- 
 resting did the spectacle become, when, starting into full life and 
 animation, as a simultaneous call for ' Pickwick ' burst from his 
 followers, that illustrious man slowly mounted into the Windsor 
 chair, on which he had been previously seated, and addressed the 
 club himself had founded. What a study for an artist did that 
 exciting scene present ! The eloquent Pickwick, with one hand 
 gracefully concealed behind his coat tails, and the other waving in 
 air, to assist his glowing declamation ; his elevated position revealing 
 those tights and gaiters, which, had they clothed an ordinary man, 
 might have passed without observation, but which, when Pickwick 
 clothed them — if we may use the expression — inspired voluntary 
 awe and respect ; surrounded by the men who had volunteered to 
 share the perils of his travels, and who were destined to participate 
 in the glories of his discoveries. On his right hand sat Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman — the too susceptible Tupman, who to the wisdom and 
 experience of maturer years superadded the enthusiasm and ardour 
 of a boy, in the most interesting and pardonable of human weak- 
 nesses — love. Time and feeding had expanded that once romantic 
 form ; the black silk waistcoat had become more and more developed; 
 inch by inch had the gold watch-chain beneath it disappeared from 
 within the range of Tupman's vision ; and gradually had the capa- 
 cious chin encroached upon the borders of the white cravat : but 
 the soul of Tupman had known no change — admiration of the fair 
 sex was still its ruling passion. On the left of his great leader sat 
 the poetic Snodgrass, and near him again the sporting Winkle, the 
 former poetically enveloped in a mysterious blue cloak with a canine- 
 skin collar, and the latter communicating additional lustre to a new 
 green shooting coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely-fitted drabs. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's oration upon this occasion, together with the 
 debate thereon, is entered on the Transactions of the Club. Both 
 bear a strong aflSnity to the discussions of other celebrated bodies ; 
 and, as it is always interesting to trace a resemblance between the 
 proceedings of great men, we transfer the entry to these pages. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick observed (says the Secretary) that fame was dear 
 to the heart of every man. Poetic fame was dear to the heart of 
 his friend Snodgrass ; the fame of conquest was equally dear to his 
 friend Tupman; and the desire of earning fame in the sports of 
 the field, the air, and the water, was uppermost in the breast of his 
 friend VVinkle. He (Mr. Pickwick) would not deny that he was 
 influenced by human passions, and human feelings (cheers)— pos- 
 sibly by human weaknesses — (loud cries of " No ") ; but this he 
 would say, that if ever the fire of self-importance broke out in his 
 bosom, the desire to benefit the human race in preference effectually 
 quenched it. The praise of mankind was his Swing ; philanthropy 
 
4 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 was his insurance office. (Vehement cheering). He had felt some 
 pride— he acknowledged it freely, and let his enemies make the 
 most of it— he had felt some pride when he presented his Tittle- 
 batian Theory to the world ; it might be celebrated or it might not. 
 (A cry of " It is," and great cheering.) He would take the assertion 
 of that honourable Pickwickian whose voice he had just heard — it 
 was celebrated ; but if the fame of that treatise were to extend to 
 the furthest confines of the known world, the pride with which he 
 should reflect on the authorship of that production would be as 
 nothing compared with the pride with which he looked around him, 
 on this, the proudest moment of his existence. (Cheers.) He 
 was a humble individual. (No, no.) Still he could not but feel 
 that they had selected him for a service of great honour, and of 
 some danger. Travelling was in a troubled state, and the minds of 
 coachmen were unsettled. Let them look abroad and contemplate 
 the scenes which were enacting around them. Stage coaches were 
 upsetting in all directions, horses were bolting, boats were over- 
 turning, and boilers were bursting. (Cheers — a voice " No.") No ! 
 (Cheers.) Let that honourable Pickwickian who cried " No " so 
 loudly come forward and deny it, if he could. (Cheers.) Who 
 was it that cried "No?" (Enthusiastic cheering.) Was it some 
 vain and disappointed man — he would not say haberdasher — (loud 
 cheers) — who, jealous of the praise which had been — perhaps unde- 
 servedly — bestowed on his (Mr. Pickwick's) researches, and smarting 
 under the censure which had been heaped upon his own feeble 
 attempts at rivalry, now took this vile and calumnious mode of 
 
 ' Mr. Blotton (of Aldgate) rose to order. Did the honourable 
 Pickwickian allude to him ? (Cries of " Order," " Chair," " Yes," 
 " No," " Go on," " Leave off," &c.) 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick would not put up to be put down by clamour. 
 He Jiad alluded to the honourable gentleman. (Great excitement.) 
 
 ' Mr. Blotton would only say then, that he repelled the hon. 
 gent.'s false and scurrilous accusation, with profound contempt. 
 (Great cheering.) The hon. gent, was a humbug. (Immense 
 confusion, and loud cries of " Chair " and " Order.") 
 
 ' Mr. A. Snodgrass rose to order. He threw himself upon the 
 chair. (Hear.) He wished to know whether this disgraceful 
 contest between two members of that club should be allowed to 
 continue. (Hear, hear.) 
 
 ' The Chairman was quite sure the hon. Pickwickian would 
 withdraw the expression he had just made use of. 
 
 ' Mr. Blotton, with all possible respect for the chair, was quite 
 sure he would not. 
 
 'The Chairman felt it his imperative duty to demand of the 
 honourable gentleman, whether he had used the expression which 
 bad just escaped him in a common sense. 
 
1 , . --:^^ =r| ^ I, ; M 
 
 ,,yfofc!w'^v€^c4y/Cul^^ 
 
MR. PICKWICK SOLILOQUISES 5 
 
 ' Mr. Blotton had no hesitation in saying that he had not — he 
 had used the word in its Pickwickian sense. (Hear, hear.) He 
 was bound to acknowledge that, personally, he entertained the 
 highest regard and esteem for the honourable gentleman ; he had 
 merely considered him a humbug in a Pickwickian point of view. 
 (Hear, hear.) 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick felt much gratified by the fair, candid, and full 
 explanation of his honourable friend. He begged it to be at once 
 understood, that his own observations had been merely intended to 
 bear a Pickwickian construction. (Cheers.) ' 
 
 Here the entry terminates, as we have no doubt the debate did 
 also, after arriving at such a highly satisfactory and intelligible 
 point. We have no official statement of the facts which the reader 
 will find recorded in the next chapter, but they have been carefully 
 collated from letters and other MS. authorities, so unquestionably 
 genuine as to justify their narration in a connected form. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE FIRST day's JOURNEY, AND THE FIRST EVENING'S 
 
 adventures; with their consequences 
 
 That punctual servant of all work, the sun, had just risen, and 
 begun to strike a light on the morning of the thirteenth of May, 
 one thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven, when Mr. Samuel 
 Pickwick burst like another sun from his slumbers, threw open his 
 chamber window, and looked out upon the world beneath. Goswell 
 Street was at his feet, Goswell Street was on his right hand — as 
 far as the eye could reach, Goswell Street extended on his left ; 
 and the opposite side of Goswell Street was over the way. ' Such,' 
 thought Mr. Pickwick, ' are the narrow views of those philosophers 
 who, content with examining the things that lie before them, look 
 not to the truths which are hidden beyond. As well might I be 
 content to gaze on Goswell Street for ever, without one effort to 
 penetrate to the hidden countries which on every side surround it.' 
 And having given vent to this beautiful reflection, Mr. Pickwick 
 proceeded to put himself into his clothes, and his clothes into his 
 portmanteau. Great men are seldom over scrupulous in the arrange- 
 ment of their attire ; the operation of shaving, dressing, and coffee- 
 imbibing was soon performed : and in another hour, Mr. Pickwick, 
 with his portmanteau in his hand, his telescope in his great-coat 
 pocket, and his note-book in his waistcoat, ready for the reception 
 of any discoveries worthy of being noted down, had arrived at the 
 coach stand in St. Martin's-le-Grand. 
 
6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Cab ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Here you are, sir,' shouted a strange specimen of the human 
 race, in a sackcloth coat, and apron of the same, who with a brass 
 label and number round his neck, looked as if he were catalogued 
 in some collection of rarities. This was the waterman. ' Here 
 you are, sir. Now, then, fust cab ! ' And the first cab having 
 been fetched from the public-house, where he had been smoking 
 his first pipe, Mr. Pickwick and his portmanteau were thrown into 
 the vehicle. 
 
 ' Golden Cross,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Only a bob's vorth, Tommy,' cried the driver, sulkily, for the 
 information of his friend the waterman, as the cab drove off. 
 
 'How old is that horse, my friend?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, 
 rubbing his nose with the shilling he had reserved for the fare. 
 
 ' Forty-two,' replied the driver, eyeing him askant. 
 
 ' What ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, laying his hand upon his note- 
 book. The driver reiterated his former statement. Mr. Pickwick 
 looked very hard at the man's face, but his features were immovable, 
 so he noted down the fact forthwith. 
 
 ' And how long do you keep him out at a time ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick, searching for further information. 
 
 ' Two or three veeks,' replied the man. 
 
 ' Weeks ! ' said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment — and out came the 
 note-book again. 
 
 'He lives at Pentonwil when he's at home,' observed the 
 driver, coolly, ' but we seldom takes him home, on account of his 
 veakness.' 
 
 ' On account of his weakness ! ' reiterated the perplexed Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' He always falls down when he's took out o' the cab,' continued 
 the driver, ' but when he's in it, we bears him up werry tight, and 
 takes him in werry short, so as he can't werry well fall down ; and 
 we've got a pair o' precious large wheels on, so ven he does move, 
 they run after him, and he must go on — he can't help it.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick entered every word of this statement in his note- 
 book, with the view of communicating it to the club, as a singular 
 instance of the tenacity of life in horses, under trying circum- 
 stances. The entry was scarcely completed when they reached 
 the Golden Cross. Down jumped the driver, and out got Mr. 
 Pickwick. Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, who 
 had been anxiously waiting the arrival of their illustrious leader 
 crowded to welcome him. ' 
 
 ' Here's your fare,' said Mr. Pickwick, holding out the shilling to 
 the driver. 
 
 What was the learned man's astonishment, when that unaccount- 
 able person flung the money on the pavement, and requested in 
 
...^ v.^^iy±r>.i> ainD his horse 7 
 
 figurative terms to be allowed the pleasure of fighting him (Mr. 
 Pickwick) for the amount ! 
 
 ' You are mad,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Or drunk,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Or both,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Come on ! ' said the cab-driver, sparring away like clockwork. 
 ' Come on — all four on you.' 
 
 ' Here's a lark ! ' shouted half-a-dozen hackney coachmen. ' Go to 
 vork, Sam,' — and they crowded with great glee round the party. 
 
 ' What's the row, Sam ? ' inquired one gentleman in black calico 
 sleeves. 
 
 ' Row ! ' replied the cabman, " what did he want my number 
 for?' 
 
 ' I didn't want your number,' said the astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' What did you talce it for, then ? ' inquired the cabman. 
 
 ' I didn't take it,' said Mr. Pickwick, indignantly. 
 
 'Would any body believe,' continued the cab-driver, appealing 
 to the crowd, ' would any body believe as an informer 'ud go about 
 in a man's cab, not only takin' down his number, but ev'ry word 
 he says into the bargain ' (a light flashed upon Mr. Pickwick — it 
 was the note-book). 
 
 ' Did he though ? ' inquired another cabman. 
 
 ' Yes, did he,' replied the first ; ' and then arter aggerawatin' me 
 to assault him, gets three witnesses here to prove it. But I'll give 
 it him, if I've six months for it. Come on ! ' and the cabman 
 dashed his hat upon the ground, with a reckless disregard of his 
 own private property, and knocked Mr. Pickwick's spectacles off, 
 and followed up the attack with a blow on Mr. Pickwick's nose, 
 and another on Mr. Pickwick's chest, and a third in Mr. Snodgrass's 
 eye, and a fourth, by way of variety, in Mr. Tupman's waistcoat, 
 and then danced into the road, and then back again to the pave- 
 ment, and finally dashed the whole temporary supply of breath out 
 of Mr. Winkle's body ; and all in half-a-dozen seconds. 
 
 ' Where's an officer ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Put 'em under the pump,' suggested a hot-pieman. 
 
 ' You shall smart for this,' gasped Mr. Pickwick 
 
 ' Informers ! ' shouted the crowd. 
 
 ' Come on,' cried the cabman, who had been sparring without 
 cessation the whole time. 
 
 The mob bad hitherto been passive spectators of the scene, but 
 as the intelligence of the Pickwickians being informers was spread 
 among them, they began to canvass with considerable vivacity the 
 propriety of enforcing the heated pastry-vendor's proposition ; and 
 there is no saying what acts of personal aggression they might have 
 committed had not the affray been unexpectedly terminated by the 
 interposition of a new comer. 
 
8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' What's the fun ? ' said a rather tall thin young man, in a green 
 coat, emerging suddenly from the coach yard. 
 
 ' Informers ! ' shouted the croud again. 
 
 ' We are not,' roared Mr. Pickwick, in a tone which, to any 
 dispassionate listener, carried conviction with it. 
 
 ' Ain't you, though,— ain't you ? ' said the young man, appeahng 
 to Mr. Pickwick, and making his way through the crowd by the 
 infallible process of elbowing the countenances of its component 
 members. 
 
 That learned man in a few hurried words explained the real state 
 of the case. 
 
 ' Come along, then,' said he of the green coat, lugging Mr. 
 Pickwick after him by main force, and talking the whole way. ' Here, 
 No. 924, take your fare, and take yourself off^respectable gentle- 
 man, — know him well-— none of your nonsense — this way, sir, — 
 Where's your friends ? — all a mistake, I see — never mind — accidents 
 will happen — best regulated families — never say die — down upon 
 your luck — pull him up — put that in his pipe — like the flavour — 
 damned rascals.' And with a lengthened string of similar broken 
 sentences, delivered with extraordinary volubility, the stranger led 
 the way to the travellers' waiting-room, whither he was closely 
 followed by Mr. Pickwick and his disciples. 
 
 ' Here, waiter ! ' shouted the stranger, ringing the bell with 
 tremendous violence, ' glasses round, — brandy and water, hot and 
 strong, and sweet, and plenty, — eye damaged, sir ? Waiter ! raw 
 beef-steak for the gentleman's eye, — nothing like raw beef-steak for 
 a bruise, sir ; cold lamp-post very good, but lamp-post inconvenient 
 — damned odd standing in the open street half-an-hour, with your 
 eye against a lamp-post — eh, — very good — ha ! ha ! ' And tlie 
 stranger, without stopping to take breath, swallowed at a draught 
 full half-a-pint of the reeking brandy and water, and flung himself 
 into a chair with as much ease as if nothing uncommon had occurred. 
 
 While his three companions were busily engaged in proffering 
 their thanks to their new acquaintance, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to 
 examine his costume and appearance. 
 
 He was about the middle height, but the thinness of his body, 
 and the length of his legs, gave him the appearance of being much 
 taller. The green coat had been a smart dress garment in the 
 days of swallow-tails, but had evidently in those times adorned a 
 much shorter man than the stranger, for the soiled and faded sleeves 
 scarcely reached to his wrists. It was buttoned closely up to his 
 chin, at the imminent hazard of splitting the back; and an old 
 stock, without a vestige of shirt collar, ornamented his neck. His 
 scanty black trousers displayed here and there those shiny patches 
 which bespeak long service, and were strapped very tightly over a 
 pair of patched and mended shoes, as if to conceal the dirty white 
 
ca/n^^.^x/y^^ 
 
THE LIVELY STRANGER 9 
 
 stockings, which were nevertheless distinctly visible. His long 
 black hair escaped in negligent waves from beneath each side of 
 his old pinched up hat ; and glimpses of his bare wrists might be 
 observed between the tops of his gloves, and the cuffs of his coat 
 sleeves. His face was thin and haggard ; but an indescribable air 
 of jaunty impudence and perfect self-possession pervaded the whole 
 man. 
 
 Such was the individual on whom Mr. Pickwick gazed through 
 his spectacles (which he had fortunately recovered), and to whom 
 he proceeded, when his friends had exhausted themselves, to return 
 in chosen terms his warmest thanks for his recent assistance. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said the stranger, cutting the address very short, 
 ' said enough, — no more ; smart chap that cabman — handled his 
 fives well ; but if I'd been your friend in the green jemmy — damn 
 me — punch his head, — 'cod I would, — pig's whisper — pieman too, 
 — no gammon.' 
 
 This coherent speech was interrupted by the entrance of the 
 Rochester coachman, to announce that ' The Commodore ' was on 
 the point of starting. 
 
 ' Commodore ! ' said the stranger, starting up, ' my coach, — 
 place booked, — one outside — leave you to pay for the brandy and 
 water, — want change for a five, — bad silver — Brummagem buttons 
 — won't do — no go — eh ? ' and he shook his head most knowingly. 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Pickwick and his three companions 
 had resolved to make Rochester their first halting place too ; and 
 having intimated to their new-found acquaintance that they were 
 journeying to the same city, they agreed to occupy the seat at the 
 back of the coach, where they could all sit together. 
 
 ' Up with you,' said the stranger, assisting Mr. Pickwick on to 
 the roof with so much precipitation as to impair the gravity of that 
 gentleman's deportment very materially. 
 
 ' Any luggage, sir?' inquired the coachman. 
 
 ' Who — I ? Brown paper parcel here, that's all, — other luggage 
 gone by water, — packing cases, nailed up— big as houses — heavy, 
 heavy, damned heavy,' replied the stranger, as he forced into his 
 pocket as much as he could of the brown paper parcel, which 
 presented most suspicious indications of containing one shirt and 
 a handkerchief. 
 
 ' Heads, heads — take care of your heads ! ' cried the loquacious 
 stranger, as they came out under the low archway, which in those 
 days formed the entrance to the coach-yard. 'Terrible place — • 
 dangerous work — other day — five children — mother — tall lady, 
 eating sandwiches-^forgot the arch — crash — knock — children look 
 round — ^mother's head off — sandwich in her hand — no mouth to 
 put it in — head of a family off — shocking, shocking ! Looking at 
 Whitehall, sir? — fine place — little window — somebody else's head 
 
lo THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 off there, eh, sir ? — he didn't keep a sharp look-out enough either 
 • — eh, sir, eh ? ' 
 
 ' I am ruminating,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' on the strange mutability 
 of human affairs.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I see — in at the palace door one day, out at the window 
 the next. Philosopher, sir ? ' 
 
 ' An observer of human nature, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah, so am I. Most people are when they've little to do and 
 less to get. Poet, sir ? ' 
 
 'My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' So have I,' said the stranger. ' Epic poem, — ten thousand lines 
 — revolution of July — composed it on the spot — Mars by day, 
 Apollo by night, — bang the field-piece, twang the lyre.' 
 
 ' You were present at that glorious scene, sir ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Present ! think I was ; * fired a musket, — fired with an idea, — 
 rushed into wine shop — wrote it down — back again — whiz, bang — 
 another idea — wine shop again — pen and ink — back again — cut and 
 slash — noble time, sir. Sportsman, sir ? ' abruptly turning to Mr. 
 Winkle. 
 
 ' A little, sir,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 ' Fine pursuit, sir, — fine pursuit. — Dogs, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Not just now,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Ah ! you should keep dogs — fine animals — sagacious creatures 
 — dog of my own once — Pointer — surprising instinct — out shooting 
 one day — entering enclosure — whistled — dog stopped — whistled 
 again — Ponto — no go; stock still — called him — Ponto, Ponto — 
 wouldn't move — dog transfixed — staring at a board — looked up, 
 saw an inscription — " Gamekeeper has orders to shoot all dogs found 
 in this enclosure " — wouldn't pass it — wonderful dog — valuable dog 
 that — very.' 
 
 ' Singular circumstance that,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Will you allow 
 me to make a note of it ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir, certainly — hundred more anecdotes of the same 
 animal— Fine girl, sir' (to Mr. Tracy Tupman, who had been 
 bestowing sundry anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the 
 roadside). 
 
 ' Very ! ' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' English girls not so fine as Spanish — noble creatures — ^jet hair- 
 black eyes — lovely forms — sweet creatures — beautiful.' 
 
 ' You have been in Spain, sir ? ' said Mr. Tracy Tupman. 
 
 ' Lived there — ages.' 
 
 ' Many conquests, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Conquests ! Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizzgig — Grandee— 
 
 » A remarkable instance of the prophetic force of Mr. Jingle's imagination ; 
 this dialogue occurring in the year 1827, and the Revolution in 1830. 
 
■yft/rno^^ dd 
 
 t.^^^^^t-^^^2(:^<^?^i:::^^:;52^. 
 
A TRAVELLING COMPANION ii 
 
 only daughter — Donna Christina — splendid creature — loved me to 
 distraction — j ealous father — high-souled daughter — handsome 
 Englishman — Donna Christina in despair — pmssic acid — stomach 
 pump in my portmanteau — operation performed — old Bolaro in 
 ecstasies — consent to our union — ^join hands and floods of tears^ — 
 romantic story — very.' 
 
 ' Is the lady in England now, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Tupman, on 
 whom the description of her charms had produced a powerful 
 impression. 
 
 ' Dead, sir — dead,' said the stranger, applying to his right eye 
 the brief remnant of a very old cambric handkerchief ' Never 
 recovered the stomach pump — undermined constitution — fell a 
 victim.' 
 
 ' And her father ? ' inquired the poetic Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Remorse and misery,' replied the stranger. ' Sudden dis- 
 appearance — talk of the whole city — search made everywhere — 
 without success — public fountain in the great square suddenly 
 ceased playing • — weeks elapsed — still a stoppage — workmen 
 employed to clean it — water drawn off — father-in-law discovered 
 sticking head first in the main pipe, with a full confession in his 
 right boot — took him out, and the fountain played away again, as 
 well as ever.' 
 
 ' Will you allow me to note that little romance down, sir ? ' said 
 Mr. Snodgrass, deeply affected. 
 
 ' Certainly, sir, certainly, — fifty more if you like to hear 'em — 
 strange life mine — ^rather curious history^ — not extraordinary, but 
 singular.' 
 
 In this strain, with an occasional glass of ale, by way of 
 parenthesis, when the coach changed horses, did the stranger 
 proceed, until they reached Rochester bridge, by which time the 
 note-books, both of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Snodgrass, were 
 completely filled with selections from his adventures. 
 
 ' Magnificent ruin ! ' said Mr. Augustus Snodgrass, with all the 
 poetic fervour that distinguished him, when they came in sight of 
 the fine old castle. 
 
 ' What a study for an antiquarian ! ' were the very words which 
 fell from Mr. Pickwick's mouth, as he applied his telescope to 
 his eye. 
 
 ' Ah ! fine place,' said the stranger, ' glorious pile — frowning 
 walls — tottering arches — dark nooks — crumbling staircases — Old 
 cathedral too — earthy smell — pilgrims' feet worn away the old 
 steps — little Saxon doors — confessionals like money-takers' boxes 
 at theatres — queer customers those monks — Popes, and Lord 
 Treasurers, and all sorts of old fellows, with great red faces, and 
 broken noses, turning up every day — buff jerkins too — match-locks 
 — Sarcophagus — fine place ■ — old legends too — strange stories : 
 
12 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 capital ; ' and the stranger continued to soliloquise until they 
 reached the Bull Inn, in tlie High Street, where the coach stopped. 
 
 ' Do you remain here, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Nathaniel Winkle. 
 
 'Herc' — not I — but you'd better — good house — ^nice beds — 
 Wright's next house, dear — very dear — half-a-crown in the bill if 
 you look at the waiter — charge you more if you dine at a friend's 
 than they would if you dined in the coffee-room — rum fellows — 
 very.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle turned to Mr. Pickwick, and murmured a few 
 words ; a whisper passed from Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Snodgrass, 
 from Mr. Snodgrass to Mr. Tupman, and nods of assent were 
 exchanged. Mr. Pickwick addressed the stranger. 
 
 ' You rendered us a very important service this morning, sir,' 
 said he, ' will you allow us to offer a slight mark of OLir gratitude 
 by begging the favour of your company at dinner ? ' 
 
 ' Great pleasure — not presume to dictate, but broiled fowl and 
 mushrooms — capital thing ! what time ? ' 
 
 ' Let me see,' replied Mr. Pickwick, referring to his watch, ' it is 
 now nearly three. Shall we say five ? ' 
 
 ' Suit me excellently,' said the stranger, ' five precisely — till then 
 — care of yourselves ; ' and lifting the pinched-up hat a few inches 
 from his head, and carelessly replacing it very much on one side, 
 the stranger, with half the brown paper parcel sticking out of his 
 pocket, walked briskly up the yard, and turned into the High 
 Street. 
 
 ' Evidently a traveller in many countries, and a close observer of 
 men and things,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I should like to see his poem,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' I should like to have seen that dog,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 Mr. Tupman said nothing ; but he thought of Doima Christina, 
 the stomach pump, and the fountain ; and his eyes filled with tears. 
 
 A private sitting-room having been engaged, bed-rooms inspected, 
 and dinner ordered, the party walked out to view the city and 
 adjoining neighbourhood. 
 
 We do not find, from a careful perusal of Mr. Pickwick's notes 
 on the four towns, Stroud, Rochester, Chatham, and Brompton, 
 that his impressions of their appearance differ in any material point 
 from those of other travellers who have gone over the same ground. 
 His general description is easily abridged. 
 
 ' The principal productions of these towns,' says Mr. Pickwick, 
 'appear to be soldiers, sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and 
 dockyard men. The commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the 
 public streets are marine stores, hard-bake, apples, flat-fish, and 
 oysters. The streets present a lively and animated appearance, 
 occasioned chiefly by the conviviality of the military. It is truly 
 delightful to a philanthropic mind, to see these gallant men staggering 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S NOTES 13 
 
 along under the influence of an overflow, both of animal and ardent 
 spirits; more especially when we remember that the following 
 them about, and jesting with them, affords a cheap and innocent 
 amusement for the boy population. Nothing (adds Mr. Pickwick) 
 can exceed their good humour. It was but the day before my 
 arrival that one of them had been most grossly insulted in the 
 house of a publican. The bar-maid had positively refused to 
 draw him any more liquor; in return for which he had (merely 
 in playfulness) drawn his bayonet, and wounded the girl in the 
 shoulder. And yet this fine fellow was the first to go down to 
 the house next morning, and express his readiness to overlook the 
 matter, and forget what had occurred. 
 
 'The consumption of tobacco in these towns (continues Mr. 
 Pickwick) must be very great: and the smell which pervades the 
 streets must be exceedingly delicious to those who are extremely 
 fond of smoking. A superficial traveller might object to the dirt 
 which is their leading characteristic; but to those who view it 
 as an indication of traffic and commercial prosperity, it is truly 
 gratifying.' 
 
 Punctual to five o'clock came the stranger, and shortly after- 
 wards the dinner. He had divested himself of his brown paper 
 parcel, but had made no alteration in his attire ; and was, if possible, 
 more loquacious than ever. 
 
 ' What's that ? ' he inquired, as the waiter removed one of the 
 covers. 
 
 ' Soles, sir.' 
 
 ' Soles — ah ! — capital fish- — all come from London — stage-coach 
 proprietors get up political dinners — carriage of soles — dozens of 
 baskets — cunning fellows. Glass of wine, sir.' 
 
 ' With pleasure,' said Mr. Pickwick ; and the stranger took wine, 
 first with him, and then with Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. 
 Tupman, and then with Mr. Winkle, and then with- the whole party 
 together, almost as rapidly as he talked. 
 
 ' Devil of a mess on the staircase, waiter,' said the stranger. 
 ' Forms going up — carpenters coming down — lamps, glasses, harps. 
 What's going forward ? ' 
 
 ' Ball, sir,' said the waiter. 
 
 ' Assembly, eh ? ' 
 
 'No, sir, not Assembly, sir. Ball for the benefit of a charity, 
 sir.' 
 
 'Many fine women in this town, do you know, sir?' inquired 
 Mr. Tupman, with great interest. 
 
 ' Splendid — capital. Kent, sir — everybody knows Kent — apples, 
 cherries, hops, and women. Glass of wine, sir ? ' ' 
 
 ' With great pleasure,' replied Mr. Tupman. The stranger filled, 
 and emptied, 
 
14 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I should very much Uke to go,' said Mr. Tupman, resuming the 
 subject of the ball, ' very much.' 
 
 'Tickets at the bar, sir,' interposed the waiter; ' half-a-guinea 
 each, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman again expressed an earnest wish to be present at 
 the festivity; but meeting with no response in the darkened eye 
 of Mr. Snodgrass, or the abstracted gaze of Mr. Pickwick, he 
 applied himself with great interest to the port wine and dessert, 
 which had just been placed on the table. The waiter withdrew, 
 and the party were left to enjoy the cosy couple of hours succeeding 
 dinner. 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' said the stranger, ' bottle stands — pass it 
 round — way of the sun — through the button-hole — no heeltaps,' 
 and he emptied his glass, which he had filled about two minutes 
 before, and poured out another, with the air of a man who was 
 used to it. 
 
 The wine was passed, and a fresh supply ordered. The visitor 
 talked, the Pickwickians Hstened. Mr. Tupman felt every moment 
 more disposed for the ball. Mr. Pickwick's countenance glowed 
 with an expression of universal philanthropy ; and Mr. Winkle and 
 Mr. Snodgrass fell fast asleep. 
 
 'They're beginning up-stairs,' said the stranger — 'hear the 
 company — fiddles tuning — now the harp^there they go.' The 
 various sounds which foimd their way down - stairs announced 
 the commencement of the first quadrille. 
 
 ' How I should like to go,' said Mr. Tupman again. 
 
 ' So should I,' said the stranger,- — ' confounded luggage — ^heavy 
 smacks — ^nothing to go in — odd, ain't it ? ' 
 
 Now general benevolence was one of the leading features of the 
 Pickwickian theory, and no one was more remarkable for the 
 zealous manner in which he observed so noble a principle than 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman. The number of instances, recorded on the 
 Transactions of the Society, in which that excellent man referred 
 objects of charity to the houses of other members for left-off 
 garments or pecuniary relief is almost incredible. 
 
 ' I should be very happy to lend you a change of apparel for 
 the purpose,' said Mr. Tracy Tupman, ' but you are rather sUm, 
 and I am ' 
 
 ' Rather fat — grown up Bacchus — cut the leaves — dismounted 
 from the tub, and adopted kersey, eh ? — not double distilled, but 
 double milled — ha ! ha ! pass the wine.' 
 
 Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory 
 tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the stranger 
 passed so quickly away ; or whether he felt very properly scanda- 
 lised, at an influential member of the Pickwick club being 
 ignominiously compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not yet 
 
GOING TO THE BALL 15 
 
 completely ascertained. He passed the wine, coughed twice, and 
 looked at the stranger for several seconds with a stern intensity ; 
 as that individual, however, appeared perfectly collected, and quite 
 calm under his searching glance, he gradually relaxed, and reverted 
 to the subject of the ball. 
 
 ' I was about to observe, sir,' he said, ' that though my apparel 
 would be too large, a suit of my friend Mr. Winkle's would perhaps 
 fit you better.' 
 
 The stranger took Mr. Winkle's measure with his eye ; and 
 that feature glistened with satisfaction as he said — ' just the thing.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked round him. The wine, which had exerted 
 its somniferous influence over Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle, had 
 stolen upon the senses of Mr. Pickwick. That gentleman had 
 gradually passed through the various stages which precede the 
 lethargy produced by dinner, and its consequences. He had 
 undergone the ordinary transitions from the height of conviviality 
 to the depth of misery, and from the depth of misery to the height 
 of conviviality. Like a gas lamp in the street, with the wind in 
 the pipe, he had exhibited for a moment an unnatural brilliancy ; 
 then sunk so low as to be scarcely discernible : after a short 
 interval he had burst out again, to enlighten for a moment, then 
 flickered with an uncertain, staggering sort of light, and then gone 
 out altogether. His head was sunk upon his bosom ; and perpetual 
 snoring, with a partial choke occasionally, were the only audible 
 indications of the great man's presence. 
 
 The temptation to be present at the ball, and to form his first 
 impressions of the beauty of the Kentish ladies, was strong upon 
 Mr. Tupman. The temptation to take the stranger with him was 
 equally great. He was wholly unacquainted with the place, and 
 its inhabitants; and the stranger seemed to possess as great a 
 knowledge of both as if he had lived there from his infancy. Mr. 
 Winkle was asleep, and Mr. Tupman had had sufficient experience 
 in such matters to know, that the moment he awoke he would, in the 
 ordinary course of nature, roll heavily to bed. He was undecided. 
 ' Fill your glass, and pass the wine,' said the indefatigable visitor. 
 
 Mr. Tupman did as he was requested ; and the additional 
 stimulus of the last glass settled his determination. 
 
 ' Winkle's bed-room is inside mine,' said Mr. Tupman ; ' I couldn't 
 make him understand what I wanted, if I woke him now, but I 
 know he has a dress suit, in a carpet-bag, and supposing you wore 
 it to the ball, and took it off when we returned, I could replace it 
 without troubling him at all about the matter.' 
 
 ' Capital,' said the stranger, ' famous plan — damned odd situation 
 — fourteen coats in the packing cases, and obliged to wear another 
 man's — ^very good notion, that — very.' 
 
 ' We must purchase our tickets,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
i6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Not worth while splitting a guinea,' said the stranger, ' toss who 
 shall pay for both — I call ; you spin — first time — woman — ^woman 
 ■ — bewitching woman,' and down came the sovereign, with the* 
 Dragon (called by courtesy a woman) uppermost. 
 
 Mr. Tupman rang the bell, purchased the tickets, and ordered 
 chamber candlesticks. In another quarter of an hour the stranger 
 was completely arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nathaniel Winkle's. 
 
 ' It's a new coat,' said Mr. Tupman, as the stranger surveyed 
 himself with great complacency in a cheval glass ; ' the first that" s 
 been made with our club button,' and he called his companion's 
 attention to the large gilt button which displayed a bust of Mr. 
 Pickwick in the centre, and the letters ' P. C on either side. 
 
 ' P. C.,' said the stranger — ' queer set out — old fellow's likeness, 
 and " P. C." —What does " P. C." stand for— Peculiar coat, eh ? ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman, with rising indignation and great importance, 
 explained the mystic device. 
 
 ' Rather short in the waist, an't it ? ' said the stranger, screwing 
 himself round to catch a glimpse in the glass of the waist buttons, 
 which were half way up his back. ' Like a general postman's coat 
 — queer coats those — made by contract — no measuring — mysterious 
 dispensations of Providence — all the short men get long coats — all 
 the long men short ones.' Running on in this way, Mr. Tupman's 
 new companion adjusted his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. 
 Winkle ; and, accompanied by Mr. Tupman, ascended the staircase 
 leading to the ball-room. 
 
 ' What names, sir ? ' said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tuj)- 
 man was stepping forward to announce his own titles, when the 
 stranger prevented him. 
 
 ' No names at _ all ; ' and then he whispered Mr. Tupman, 
 ' Names won't do— not known — very good names in their way, but 
 not great ones — capital names for a small party, but won't make an 
 impression in public assemblies — incog, the thing — Gentlemen from 
 London ^ — distinguished foreigners' — anything.' The door was 
 thrown open ; and Mr. Tracy Tupman, and the sti-anger, entered 
 the ball-room. 
 
 It was a long room, with crimson-covered benches, and wax 
 candles in glass chandeliers. The musicians were securely confined 
 in an elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got 
 through by two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made 
 up in the adjoining card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a cor- 
 responding number of stout gentlemen, were executing whist therein. 
 
 The finale concluded, the dancers promenaded the room, and 
 Mr. Tupman and his companion stationed themselves in a corner, 
 to observe the company. 
 
 'Wait a minute,' said the stranger, 'fun presently — nobs not 
 come yet — queer place — Dock-yard people of upper rank don't 
 
AT THE BALL 17 
 
 know Dock-yard people of lower rank — Dock-yard people of lower 
 rank don't know small gentry — small gentry don't know tradespeople 
 — Commissioner don't know anybody.' 
 
 ' Who's that little boy with the light hair and pink eyes, in a fancy 
 dress ? ' inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 'Hush, pray — pink eyes — ^fancy dress — ^little boy — nonsense — 
 Ensign 97^1 — Honourable Wilmot Snipe — great family — Snipes — 
 very.' 
 
 ' Sir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the Miss Clubbers ! ' 
 shouted the man at the door in a stentorian voice. A great sensa- 
 tion was created throughout the room by the entrance of a tall 
 gentleman in a blue coat and bright buttons, a large lady in blue 
 satin, and two young ladies, on a similar scale, in fashionably-made 
 dresses of the same hue. 
 
 ' Commissioner — head of the yard — great man — remarkably great 
 man,' whispered the stranger in Mr. Tupman's ear, as the charitable 
 committee ushered Sir Thomas Clubber and family to the top of 
 the room. The Honourable Wilmot Snipe, and other distinguished 
 gentlemen crowded to render homage to the Miss Clubbers ; and 
 Sir Thomas Clubber stood bolt upright, and looked majestically 
 over his black neckerchief at the assembled company. 
 
 ' Mr. Smithie, Mrs. Smithie, and the Misses Smithie,' was the 
 next announcement. 
 
 ' What's Mr. Smithie ? ' inquired Mr. Tracy Tupman. 
 
 'Something in the yard,' replied the stranger. Mr. Smithie 
 bowed deferentially to Sir Thomas Clubber; and Sir Thomas 
 Clubber acknowledged the salute with conscious conde.scension. 
 Lady Clubber, took a telescopic view of Mrs. Smithie and family 
 through her eye-glass, and Mrs. Smithie stared in her turn at Mrs. 
 Somebody else, whose husband was not in the Dock-yard at all. 
 
 ' Colonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss Bulder,' were 
 the next arrivals. 
 
 ' Head of the Garrison,' said the stranger, in reply to Mr. 
 Tupman's inquiring look. 
 
 Miss Bulder was warmly welcomed by the Miss Clubbers ; the 
 greeting between Mrs. Colonel Bulder and Lady Clubber was of 
 the most affectionate description ; Colonel Bulder and Sir Thomas 
 Clubber exchanged snuff-boxes, and looked very much like a pair 
 of Alexander Selkirks — ' Monarchs of all they surveyed.' 
 
 While the aristocracy of the place — the Bulders, and Clubbers, 
 and Snipes — were thus preserving their dignity at the upper end of 
 the room, the other classes of society were imitating their example 
 in other parts of it. The less aristocratic officers of the 97th 
 devoted themselves to the families of the less important function- 
 aries from the Dock-yard. The solicitor's wives, and the wine- 
 raerchant's wife, headed another grade (the brewer's wife visited the 
 
 c 
 
i8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Bulders) ; and Mrs. Tomlinson, the post-office keeper, seemed by 
 mutual consent to have been chosen the leader of the trade part)'. 
 
 One of the most popular personages, in his own circle, present 
 was a little fat man, with a ring of upright black hair round his 
 head, and an extensive bald plain on the top of it — Doctor Slammer, 
 surgeon to the 97th. The Doctor took snuff with everybody, 
 chatted with everybody, laughed, danced, made jokes, played 
 whist, did everything, and was everywhere. To these pursuits, 
 multifarious as they were, the little Doctor added a more important 
 one than any — he was indefatigable in paying the most unremitting 
 and devoted attention to a little old widow, whose rich dress and 
 profusion of ornament bespoke her a most desirable addition to a 
 limited income. 
 
 Upon the Doctor, and the widow, the eyes of both Mr. Tupman 
 and his companion had been fixed for some time, when the stranger 
 broke silence. 
 
 ' Lots of money — old girl — pompous Doctor — not a bad idea — 
 good fun,' were the intelligible sentences which issued from his lips. 
 Mr. Tupman looked inquisitively in his face. 
 
 ' I'll dance with the widow,' said the stranger. 
 
 ' Who is she ? ' inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Don't know — never saw her in all my life — cut out the Doctor 
 ■ — here goes.' And the stranger forthwith crossed the room ; and, 
 leaning against a mantel-piece, commenced gazing with an air of 
 respectful and melancholy admiration on the fat countenance of the 
 little old lady. Mr. Tupman looked on, in mute astonishment. 
 The stranger progressed rapidly ; the little Doctor danced with 
 another lady ; the widow dropped her fan, the stranger picked it up 
 and presented it, — &. smile — a bow — a curtsey — a few words of 
 conversation. The stranger walked boldly up to, and returned 
 with, the master of the ceremonies; a little introductory panto- 
 mime; and the stranger and Mrs. Budger took their places in a 
 quadrille. 
 
 The surprise of Mr. Tupman at this summary proceeding, great 
 as it was, was immeasurably exceeded by the astonishment of the 
 Doctor. The stranger was young, and the widow was flattered. 
 The Doctor's attentions were unheeded by the widow; and the 
 Doctor's indignaition was wholly lost on his imperturbable rival. 
 Doctor Slammer was paralysed. He, Doctor Slammer, of the 97th, 
 to be extinguished in a moment, by a man whom nobody had ever 
 seen before, and whom nobody knew even now ! Doctor Slammer 
 — Doctor Slammer of the 97th rejected ! Impossible ! It could 
 not be ! Yes, it was ; there they were. What ! introducing his 
 friend ! Could he believe his eyes ! He looked again, and was 
 under the painful necessity of admitting the veracity of his optics • 
 Mrs. Budger was dancing with Mr. Tracy Tupman, there was no 
 
^l/^-^C^^^a/m/m,e^ cc^ca/f^^ceyty^J^za^ 
 
 
AT THE BALL 19 
 
 mistaking the fact. There was the widow before him, bouncing 
 bodily, here and there, with unwonted vigour; and Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman hopping about, with a face expressive of the most intense 
 solemnity, dancing (as a good many people do) as if a quadrille 
 were not a thing to be laughed at, but a severe trial to the feelings, 
 which it requires inflexible resolution to encounter. 
 
 Silently and patiently did the Doctor bear all this, and all the 
 handings of negus, and watching for glasses, and darting for biscuits, 
 and coquetting, that ensued ; but, a few seconds after the stranger 
 had disappeared to lead Mrs. Budger to her carriage, he darted 
 swiftly from the room with every particle of his hitherto-bottled-up 
 indignation effervescing, from all parts of his countenance, in a 
 perspiration of passion. 
 
 The stranger was returning, and Mr. Tupman was beside him. 
 He spoke in a low tone, and laughed. The little Doctor thirsted 
 for his life. He was exulting. He had triumphed. 
 
 ' Sir ! ' said the Doctor, in an awful voice, producing a card, and 
 retiring into an angle of the passage, ' my name is Slammer, Doctor 
 Slammer, sir — 97th Regiment — Chatham Barracks — my card, sir, 
 my card.' He would have added more, but his indignation choked 
 him. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' replied the stranger, coolly, ' Slammer — much obliged — 
 polite attention — not ill now, Slammer — but when I am — knock 
 you up.' 
 
 ' You — you're a shuffler ! sir,' gasped the furious Doctor, ' a 
 poltroon — a coward^ — a liar — a — a — will nothing induce you to 
 give me your card, sir ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I see,' said the stranger, half aside, ' negus too strong here 
 — liberal landlord — very foolish — ^very — lemonade much better — 
 hot rooms — elderly gentlemen — suffer for it in the morning — cruel 
 — cruel ; ' and he moved on a step or two. 
 
 ' You are stopping in this house, sir,' said the indignant little 
 man ; ' you are intoxicated now, sir ; you shall hear from me in the 
 morning, sir. I shall find you out, sir ; I shall find you out.' 
 
 ' Rather you found me out than found me at home,' replied the 
 unmoved stranger. 
 
 Doctor Slammer looked unutterable ferocity, as he fixed his hat 
 on his head with an indignant knock ; and the stranger and Mr. 
 Tupman ascended to the bedroom of the latter to restore the 
 borrowed plumage to tiie unconscious Winkle. 
 
 That gentleman was fast asleep ; the restoration was soon made. 
 The stranger was extremely jocose ; and Mr. Tracy Tupman, being 
 quite bewildered with wine, negus, lights, and ladies, thought the 
 whole affair an exquisite joke. His new friend departed ; and, after 
 experiencing some slight difficulty in finding the orifice in his night- 
 cap, originally intended for the reception of his head, and finally 
 
20 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 overturning his candlestick in his struggles to put it on, Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman managed to get into bed by a series of complicated 
 evolutions, and shortly afterwards sank into repose. 
 
 Seven o'clock had hardly ceased striking on the following 
 morning when Mr. Pickwick's comprehensive mind was aroused 
 from the state of unconsciousness, in which slumber had plunged it, 
 by a loud knocking at his chamber door. 
 
 ' Who's there ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, starting up in bed. 
 
 ' Boots, sir.' 
 
 ' What do you want ? ' 
 
 ' Please, sir, can you tell me, which gentleman of your party 
 wears a bright blue dress coat, with a gilt button with P. C. 
 on it.' 
 
 ' It's been given out to brush,' thought Mr. Pickwick, ' and the 
 man has forgotten whom it belongs to. — Mr. Winkle,' he called out, 
 ' next room but two, on the right hand.' 
 
 ' Thank'ee, sir,' said the Boots, and away he went. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' cried Mr. Tupman, as a loud knocking at 
 his door roused him from his oblivious repose. 
 
 ' Can I speak to Mr. Winkle, sir ? ' replied the Boots from the 
 outside. 
 
 ' Winkle — Winkle ! ' shouted Mr. Tupman, calling into the inner 
 room. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' replied a faint voice from within the bed-clothes. 
 
 ' You're wanted — some one at the door — ' and having exerted 
 himself to articulate thus much, Mr. Tracy Tupman turned round 
 and fell fast asleep "again. 
 
 ' Wanted ! ' said Mr. Winkle, hastily jumping out of bed, and 
 putting on a few articles of clothing : ' wanted ! at this distance 
 from town — who on earth can want me ? ' 
 
 ' Gentleman in the coffee-room, sir,' replied the Boots, as Mr. 
 Winkle opened the door, and confronted him ; ' gentleman says 
 he'll not detain you a moment, sir, but he can take no denial.' 
 
 ' Very odd ! ' said Mr. Winkle ; ' I'll be down directly.' 
 
 He hurriedly wrapped himself in a travelling-shawl and dressing- 
 gown, and proceeded down-stairs. An old woman and a couple of 
 waiters were cleaning the coffee-room, and an officer in imdress 
 uniform was looking out of the window. He turned round as Mr. 
 Winkle entered, and made a stiff inclination of the head. Having 
 ordered the attendants to retire, and closed the door very carefully, 
 he said, ' Mr. Winkle, I presume ? ' 
 
 ' My name is Winkle, sir.' 
 
 ' You will not be surprised, sir, when I inform you, that I have 
 called here this morning on behalf of my friend, Dr. Slammer, of the 
 Ninety-seventh.' 
 
 ' Doctor Slammer ! ' said Mr, Winkle, 
 
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 21 
 
 ' Doctor Slammer. He begged me to express his opinion that 
 your conduct of last evening was of a description which no 
 gentleman could endure : and (he added) which no one gentleman 
 would pursue towards another.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle's astonishment was too real, and too evident, to 
 escape the observation of Dr. Slammer's friend; he therefore 
 proceeded — ' My friend. Doctor Slammer, requested me to add, 
 that he was firmly persuaded you were intoxicated during a portion 
 of the evening, and possibly unconscious of the extent of the insult 
 you were guilty of. He commissioned me to say, that should this 
 be pleaded as an excuse for your behaviour, he will consent to 
 accept a written apology, to be penned by you, from my dictation.' 
 
 ' A written apology ! ' repeated Mr. Winkle, in the most emphatic 
 tone of amazement possible. 
 
 ' Of course you know the alternative,' replied the visitor, coolly. 
 
 ' Were you entrusted with this message to me, by name ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Winkle, whose intellects were hopelessly confused by 
 this extraordinary conversation. 
 
 ' I was not present myself,' replied the visitor, ' and in conse- 
 quence of your firm refusal to give your card to Doctor Slammer, 
 I was desired by that gentleman to identify the wearer of a very 
 uncommon coat — a bright blue dress coat, with a gilt button dis- 
 playing a bust, and the letters " P. C." ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle actually staggered with astonishment as he heard his 
 own costume thus minutely described. Dr. Slammer's friend pro- 
 ceeded : — ' From the inquiries I made at the bar, just now, I was 
 convinced that the owner of the coat in question arrived here, with 
 three gentlemen, yesterday afternoon. I immediately sent up to 
 the gentleman who was described as appearing the head of the 
 party, and he at once referred me to you.' 
 
 If the principal tower of Rochester Castle had suddenly walked 
 from its foundation, and stationed itself opposite the coffee-room 
 window, Mr. Winkle's surprise would have been as nothing com- 
 pared with the profound astonishment with which he had heard this 
 address. His first impression was, that his coat had been stolen. 
 ' Will you allow me to detain you one moment ? ' said he. 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied the unwelcome visitor. 
 
 Mr. Winkle ran hastily up-stairs, and with a trembling hand 
 opened the bag. There was the coat in its usual place, but exhibit- 
 ing, on a close inspection, evident tokens of having been worn on 
 the preceding night. 
 
 ' It must be so,' said Mr. Winkle, letting the coat fall from his 
 hands. ' I took too much wine after dinner, and have a very vague 
 recollection of walking about the streets and smoking a cigar after- 
 wards. The fact is, I was very drunk ; — I must have changed 
 my coat — gone somewhere — and insulted somebody — I have - no 
 
23 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 doubt of it ; and this message is the terrible consequence.' Saying 
 which, Mr. Winkle retraced his steps in the direction of the coffee- 
 room, with the gloomy and dreadful resolve of accepting the 
 challenge of the warlike Doctor Slammer, and abiding by the worst 
 consequences that might ensue. 
 
 To this determination Mr. Winkle was urged by a variety of 
 considerations ; the first of which was, his reputation with the club. 
 He had always been looked up to as a high authority on all matters 
 of amusement and dexterity, whether offensive, defensive, or in- 
 offensive ; and if, on this very first occasion of being put to the test, 
 he shrunk back from the trial, beneath his leader's eye, his name 
 and standing were lost for ever. Besides, he remembered to have 
 heard it frequently surmised by the uninitiated in such matters, that 
 by an understood arrangement between the seconds, the pistols 
 were seldom loaded with ball ; and, furthermore, he reflected that 
 if he applied to Mr. Snodgrass to act as his second, and depicted 
 the danger in glowing terms, that gentleman might possibly com- 
 municate the intelligence to Mr. Pickwick, who would certainly 
 lose no time in transmitting it to the local authorities, and thus 
 prevent the killing or maiming of his follower. 
 
 Such were his thoughts when he returned to the coffee-room, and 
 intimated his intention of accepting the Doctor's challenge. 
 
 ' Will you refer me to a friend, to arrange the time and place of 
 meeting ? ' said the oflficer. 
 
 ' Quite unnecessary,' repUed Mr. Winkle ; ' name them to me, 
 and I can procure the attendance of a friend afterwards.' 
 
 ' Shall we say — sunset this evening ? ' inquired the officer, in a 
 careless tone. 
 
 ' Very good,' replied Mr. Winkle ; thinking in his heart it was 
 very bad. 
 
 ' You know Fort Pitt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I saw it yesterday.' 
 
 ' If you will take the trouble to turn into the field which borders 
 the trench, take the foot-path to the left when you arrive at an angle 
 of the fortification, and keep straight on 'till you see me, I will 
 precede you to a secluded place, where the affair can be conducted 
 without fear of interruption.' 
 
 ' Fear of interruption ! ' thought Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Nothing more to arrange, I think,' said the ofiicer. 
 
 ' I am not aware of anything more,' replied Mr. Winkle. ' Good 
 morning.' 
 
 ' Good morning : ' and the officer whistled a lively air as he 
 strode away. 
 
 That morning's breakfast passed heavily off. Mr. Tupman was 
 not in a condition to rise, a,fter the unwonted dissipation of the 
 previous night ; Mr. Snodgrass appeared to labour under a poetical 
 
MR. WINKLE CONFIDES A SECRET 23 
 
 depression of spirits ; and even Mr. Pickwick evinced an unusual 
 attachment to silence and soda-water. Mr. Winkle eagerly watched 
 his opportunity : it was not long wanting. Mr. Snodgrass proposed 
 a visit to the castle, and as Mr. Winkle was the only other member 
 of the party disposed to walk, they went out together. 
 
 ' Snodgrass,' said Mr. Winkle, when they had turned out of the 
 public street, ' Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your 
 secrecy ? ' As he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped 
 he could not. 
 
 ' You can,' replied Mr. Snodgrass. ' Hear me swear — ' 
 
 ' No, no,' interrupted Winkle, terrified at the idea of his com- 
 panion's unconsciously pledging himself not to give information ; 
 ' don't swear, don't swear ; it's quite unnecessary.' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, in the spirit of 
 poesy, raised towards the clouds as he made the above appeal, and 
 assumed an attitude of attention. 
 
 ' I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an affair of honour,' 
 said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' You shall have it,' replied Mr, Snodgrass, clasping his friend's 
 hand. 
 
 'With a Doctor — Doctor Slammer, of the Ninety-seventh,' said 
 Mr. Winkle, wishing to make the matter appear as solemn as 
 possible ; ' an affair with an officer, seconded by another officer, at 
 sunset this evening, in a lonely field beyond Fort Pitt.' 
 
 ' I will attend you,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 He was astonished, but by no means dismayed. It is extra- 
 ordinary how cool ajiy party but the principal can be in such cases. 
 Mr. Winkle had forgotten this. He had judged of his friend's 
 feelings by his own. 
 
 ' The consequences may be dreadful,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I hope not,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' The Doctor, I believe, is a very good shot,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 'Most of these military men are,' observed Mr. Snodgrass, 
 calmly ; ' but so are you, an't you ? ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle replied in the affirmative ; and perceiving that he 
 had not alarmed his companion sufficiently, changed his ground. 
 
 ' Snodgrass,' he said, in a voice tremulous with emotion, ' if I 
 fall, you will find in a packet which I shall place in your hands a 
 note for my — for my father.' 
 
 This attack was a failure also. Mr. Snodgrass was affected, but 
 he undertook the delivery of the note as readily as if he had been 
 a Twopenny Postman. 
 
 ' If I fall,' said Mr. Winkle, ' or if the Doctor falls, you, my dear 
 friend, will be tried as an accessory before the fact. Shall I involve 
 my friend in transportation — possibly for life ! ' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass winced a little at this, but his heroism was 
 
24 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 invincible. 'In the cause of friendship,' he fervently exclaimed; 
 
 ' I would brave all dangers.' 
 
 How Mr. Winkle cursed his companion's devoted friendship 
 internally, as they walked silently along, side by side, for some 
 minutes, each immersed in his own meditations ! The mommg 
 was wearing away ; he grew desperate. 
 
 'Snodgrass,' he said, stopping suddenly, 'do not let me be 
 baulked in this matter — do not give information to the local 
 authorities — do not obtain the assistance of several peace officers, 
 to take either me or Doctor Slammer, of the Ninety-seventh 
 Regiment, at present quartered in Chatham Barracks, into custody, 
 and thus prevent this duel ; — I say, do not' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass seized his friend's hand warmly, as he enthusiasti- 
 cally replied, ' Not for worlds ! " 
 
 A thrill passed over Mr. Winkle's frame as the conviction that he 
 had nothing to hope from his friend's fears, and that he was destined 
 to become an animated target, rushed forcibly upon him. 
 
 The state of the case having been formally explained to Mr. 
 Snodgrass, and a case of satisfaction pistols, with the satisfactory 
 accompaniments of powder, ball, and caps, having been hired from 
 a manufacturer in Rochester, the two friends returned to their inn ; 
 Mr. Winkle to ruminate on the approaching struggle, and Mr. Snod- 
 grass to arrange the weapons of war, and put them into proper order 
 for immediate use. 
 
 It was a dull and heavy evening when they again sallied forth 
 on their awkward errand. Mr. Winkle was muffled up in a huge 
 cloak to escape observation, and Mr. Snodgrass bore under his the 
 instruments of destruction. 
 
 ' Have you got everything ? ' said Mr. Winkle, in an agitated tone. 
 
 ' Ev'rything,' replied Mr. Snodgrass ; ' plenty of ammunition, in 
 case the shots don't take effect. There's a quarter of a pound of 
 powder in the case, and I have got two newspapers in my pocket 
 for the loadings.' 
 
 These were instances of friendship for which any man might 
 reasonably feel most grateful. The presumption is, that the grati- 
 tude of Mr. Winkle was too powerful for utterance, as he said 
 nothing, but continued to walk on — rather slowly. 
 
 ' We are in excellent time,' said Mr. Snodgrass, 'as they climbed 
 the fence of the first field ; ' the sun is just going down.' Mr. ^^'inkle 
 looked up at the declining orb, and painfully thought of the pro- 
 bability of his ' going down ' himself, before long. 
 
 ' There's the officer,' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, after a few minutes' 
 walking. 
 
 ' Where ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 'There; — the gentleman in the blue cloak.' Mr. Snodgrass 
 looked in the direction indicated by the forefinger of his friend, and 
 
ON THE WAY TO THE GROUND 25 
 
 observed a figure, muffled up, as he had described. The officer 
 evinced his consciousness of their presence by sHghtly beckoning 
 with his hand ; and the two friends followed him at a little distance, 
 as he walked away. 
 
 The evening grew more dull every moment, and a melancholy 
 wind sounded through the deserted fields, like a distant giant 
 whisthng for his house-dog. The sadness of the scene imparted 
 a sombre tinge to the feelings of Mr. Winkle. He started as they 
 passed the angle of the trench — it looked like a colossal grave. 
 
 The officer turned suddenly from the path, and after climbing a 
 paling, and scaling a hedge, entered a secluded field. Two gentle- 
 men were waiting in it ; one was a httle fat man, with black hair ; 
 and the other — a portly personage in a braided surtout — was sitting 
 with perfect equanimity on a camp-stool. 
 
 ' The other party, and a surgeon, I suppose,' said Mr. Snodgrass ; 
 ' take a drop of brandy.' Mr. Winkle seized the wicker bottle which 
 his friend proffered, and took a lengthened pull at the exhilarating 
 liquid. 
 
 ' My friend, sir, Mr. Snodgrass,' said Mr. Winkle, as the officer 
 approached. Doctor Slammer's friend bowed, and produced a case 
 similar to that which Mr. Snodgrass carried. 
 
 ' We have nothing farther to say, sir, I think,' he coldly remarked, 
 as he opened the case ; ' an apology has been resolutely declined.' 
 
 ' Nothing, sir,' said Mr. Snodgrass, who began to feel rather un- 
 comfortable himself. 
 
 " Will you step forward ? ' said the officer. 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied Mr. Snodgrass. The ground was measured, 
 and preliminaries arranged. 
 
 'You will find these better than your own,' said the opposite 
 second, producing his pistols. ' You saw me load them. Do you 
 object to use them ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied Mr. Snodgrass. The offer relieved him 
 from considerable embarrassment, for his previous notions of load- 
 ing a pistol were rather vague and undefined. 
 
 ' We may place our men, then, I think,' observed the officer, with 
 as much indifference as if the principals were chess-men, and the 
 seconds players. 
 
 ' I think we may,' replied Mr. Snodgrass ; who would have 
 assented to any proposition, because he knew nothing about the 
 matter. The officer crossed to Doctor Slammer, and Mr. Snodgrass 
 went up to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' It's all ready,' he said, offering the pistol. ' Give me your cloak.' 
 
 ' You have got the packet, my dear fellow,' said poor Winkle. 
 
 ' All right,' said Mr. Snodgrass. ' Be steady, and wing him.' 
 
 It occurred to Mr. Winkle that this advice was very like that 
 which bystanders invariably give to the smallest boy in a street 
 
26 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 fight, namely, "Go in, and win : ' — an admirable thing to recommend, 
 if you only know how to do it. He took off his cloak, however, 
 in silence — it always took a long time to undo, that cloak — and ac- 
 cepted the pistol. The seconds retired, the gentleman on the camp- 
 stool did the same, and the belligerents approached each other. 
 
 Mr. Winkle was always remarkable for extreme humanity. It is 
 conjectured that his unwillingness to hurt a fellow-creature in- 
 tentionally was the cause of his shutting his eyes when he arrived 
 at the fatal spot ; and that the circumstance of his eyes being closed, 
 prevented his observing the very extraordinary and unaccountable 
 demeanour of Doctor Slamrner. That gentleman started, stared, 
 retreated, rubbed his eyes, stared again; and, finally, shouted 
 ' Stop, stop 1 ■ 
 
 ' What's all this ? ' said Doctor Slammer, as his friend and Mr. 
 Snodgrass came running up ; ' That's not the man.' 
 
 ' Not the man ! ' said Dr. Slammer's second. 
 
 ' Not the man ! ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Not the man ! ' said the gentleman with the camp-stool in his 
 hand. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied the little Doctor. ' That's not the person 
 who insulted me last night.' 
 
 ' Very extraordinary ! ' exclaimed the officer. 
 
 ' Very,' said the gentleman with the camp-stool. ' The only 
 question is, whether the gentleman, being on the ground, must not 
 be considered, as a matter of form, to be the individual who 
 insulted our friend. Doctor Slammer, yesterday evening, whether 
 he is really that individual or not : ' and having delivered this 
 suggestion, with a very sage and mysterious air, the man with the 
 camp-stool took a large pinch of snuff, and looked profoundly 
 round, with the air of an authority in such matters. 
 
 Now Mr. Winkle had opened his eyes, and his ears too, when he 
 heard his adversary call out for a cessation of hostilities ; and per- 
 ceiving by what he had afterwards said, that there was, beyond all 
 question, some mistake in the matter, he at once foresaw the increase 
 of reputation he should inevitably acquire by concealing the real 
 motive of his coming out : he therefore stepped boldly forward, and 
 said — 
 
 ' I am not the person. I know it.' 
 
 ' Then, that,' said the man with the camp-stool, ' is an affront to 
 Dr. Slammer, and a sufficient reason for proceeding immediately.' 
 
 ' Pray be quiet, Payne,' said the Doctor's second. ' Why did you 
 not communicate this fact to me this morning, sir ? ' 
 
 'To be sure — to be sure,' said the man with the camp-stool, 
 indignantly. 
 
 ' I entreat you to be quiet, Payne,' said the other. ' May I repeat 
 my question, sir ? ' 
 
MUTUAL SATISFACTION 27 
 
 ' Because, sir,' replied Mr. Winkle, who had had time to deliberate 
 ipon his answer, 'because, sir, you described an intoxicated and 
 ingentlemanly person as wearing a coat which I have the honoui, 
 lot only to wear, but to have invented — the proposed uniform, sir, 
 )f the Pickwick Club in London. The honour of that uniform I 
 "eel bound to maintain, and I therefore, without inquiry, accepted 
 he challenge which you offered me.' 
 
 ' My dear sir,' said the good-humoured little Doctor, advancing 
 srith extended hand, ' I honour your gallantry. Permit me to say, 
 iir, that I highly admire your conduct, and extremely regret having 
 ;aused you the inconvenience of this meeting, to no purpose.' 
 
 ' I beg you won't mention it, sir,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I shall feel proud of your acquaintance, sir,' said the little Doctor. 
 
 ' It will afford me the greatest pleasure to know you, sir,' replied 
 Mr. Winkle. Thereupon the Doctor and Mr. Winkle shook hands, 
 md then Mr. Winkle and Lieutenant Tappleton (the Doctor's 
 second), and then Mr. Winkle and the man with the camp-stool, 
 md, finally, Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass— ^the last-named gentle- 
 nan in an excess of admiration at the noble conduct of his heroic 
 riend. 
 
 ' I think we may adjourn,' said Lieutenant Tappleton. 
 
 ' Certainly,' added the Doctor. 
 
 ' Unless,' interposed the man with the camp-stool, ' unless Mr. 
 iVinkle feels himself aggrieved by the challenge ; in which case, I 
 iubmit, he has a right to satisfaction.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle, with great self-denial, expressed himself quite 
 iatisfied already. 
 
 'Or possibly,' said the man with the camp-stool, ' the gentleman's 
 second may feel himself affronted with some observations which 
 'ell from me at an early period of this meeting : if so, I shall be 
 lappy to give him satisfaction immediately.' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass hastily professed himself very much obliged with 
 he handsome offer of the gentleman who had spoken last, which 
 le was only induced to decline by his entire contentment with the 
 ivhole proceedings. The two seconds adjusted the cases, and the 
 whole party left the ground in a much more lively manner than 
 :hey had proceeded to it. 
 
 ' Do you remain long here ? ' inquired Dr. Slammer of Mr. 
 IVinkle, as they walked on most amicably together. 
 
 ' I think we shall leave here the day after to-morrow,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 ' I trust I shall have the pleasure of seeing you and your friend 
 It my rooms, and of spending a pleasant evening with you, after 
 :his awkward mistake,' said the little Doctor ; ' are you disengaged 
 his evening ? ' 
 
 ' We have some friends here,' replied Mr. Winkle, ' and I should 
 
28 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 not like to leave them to-night. Perhaps you and your friend will 
 join us at the Bull.' 
 
 ' With great pleasure,' said the little Doctor ; ' will ten o'clock be 
 too late to look in for half an hour ? ' 
 
 ' Oh dear, no,' said Mr. Winkle. ' I shall be most happy to 
 introduce you to my friends, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman.' 
 
 ' It will give me great pleasure, I am sure,' replied Doctor 
 Slammer, little suspecting who Mr. Tupman was. 
 
 ' You will be sure to come ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Oh, certainly.' 
 
 By this time they had reached the road. Cordial farewells were 
 exchanged, and the party separated. Doctor Slammer and his 
 friends repaired to the barracks, and Mr. Winkle, accompanied by 
 his friend, Mr. Snodgrass, returned to their inn. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. THE STROLLER'S TALE. A DISAGREEABLE 
 INTERRUPTION AND AN UNPLEASANT ENCOUNTER 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had felt some apprehensions in consequence of the 
 unusual absence of his two friends, which their mysterious behaviour 
 during the whole morning had by no means tended to diminish. 
 It was, therefore, with more than ordinary pleasure that he rose to 
 greet them when they again entered ; and with more than ordinary 
 interest that he inquired what had occurred to detain them from his 
 society. In reply to his questions on this point, Mr. Snodgrass 
 was about to offer an historical account of the circumstances just 
 now detailed, when he was suddenly checked by observing that 
 there were present, not only Mr. Tupman and their stage-coach 
 companion of the preceding day, but another stranger of equally 
 singular appearance. It was a care-worn looking man, whose 
 sallow face, and deeply sunken eyes, were rendered still more 
 striking than nature had made them, by the straight black hair 
 which hung in matted disorder half way down his face. His eyes 
 were almost unnaturally bright and piercing ; his cheek-bones were 
 high and prominent ; and his jaws were so long and lank, that an 
 observer would have supposed that he was drawing the flesh of his 
 face in, for a moment, by some contraction of tlie muscles, if his 
 half-opened mouth and immovable expression had not announced 
 that it was his ordinary appearance. Round his neck he wore a 
 green shawl, with the large ends straggling over his chest, and 
 making their appearance occasionally beneath the worn button-holes 
 of his old waistcoat. His upper garment was a long black surtout ; 
 
DISMAL JEMMY 29 
 
 md below it he wore wide drab trousers, and large boots, running 
 apidly to seed. 
 
 It was on this uncouth-looking person that Mr. Winkle's eye 
 ested, and it was towards him that Mr. Pickwick extended his 
 land, when he said ' A friend of our friend's here. We discovered 
 :his morning that our friend was connected with the theatre in this 
 jlace, though he is not desirous to have it generally known, and 
 ;his gentleman is a member of the same profession. He was about 
 :o favour us with a little anecdote connected with it, when you 
 entered.' 
 
 ' Lots of anecdote,' said the green-coated stranger of the day 
 Defore, advancing to Mr. Winkle and speaking in a low and 
 ;onfidential tone. ' Rum fellow — does the heavy business — no 
 ictor^ — strange man — all sorts of miseries — Dismal Jemmy, we call 
 him on the circuit.' Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass politely 
 welcomed the gentleman, elegantly designated as ' Dismal Jemmy ; ' 
 md calling for brandy and water, in imitation of the remainder of 
 the company, seated themselves at the table. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' will you oblige us by proceeding 
 with what you were going to relate ? ' 
 
 The dismal individual took a dirty roll of paper from his pocket, 
 ind turning to Mr. Snodgrass, who had just taken out his note-book, 
 said in a hollow voice perfectly in keeping with his outward man — ■ 
 ' Are you the poet ? ' 
 
 ' I — I do a little in that way,' repHed Mr. Snodgrass, rather taken 
 aback by the abruptness of the question. 
 
 ' Ah ! poetry makes life what lights and music do the stage — 
 strip the one of its false embellishments, and the other of its 
 illusions, and what is there real in either to live or care for ? ' 
 
 ' Very true, sir,' replied Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 'To be before the footlights,' continued the dismal man, 'is like 
 sitting at a grand court show, and admiring the silken dresses of 
 the gaudy throng — to be behind them is to be the people who make 
 that finery, uncared for and unknown, and left to sink or swim, to 
 starve or live, as fortune wills it.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Snodgrass : for the sunken eye of the dismal 
 man rested on him, and he felt it necessary to say something. 
 
 ' Go on, Jemmy,' said the Spanish traveller, ' like black-eyed Susan 
 —all in the Downs — no croaking — speak out — look lively.' 
 
 ' Will you make another glass before you begin, sir ? ' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 The dismal man took the hint, and having mixed a glass of 
 irandy and water, and slowly swallowed half of it, opened the roll of 
 3aper and proceeded, partly to read, and partly to relate, the 
 'oUowing incident, which we find recorded on the Transactions oi 
 ;he club as ' The Stroller's Tale.' 
 
30 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 THE STROLLER'S TALE 
 
 'TheIre is nothing of the marvellous in what I am going to 
 relate,' said the dismal man ; ' there is nothing even uncommon in 
 it. Want and sickness are too common in many stations of life, 
 to deserve more notice than is usually bestowed on the most 
 ordinary vicissitudes of human nature. I have thrown these few 
 notes together, because the subject of them was well known to me 
 for many years. I traced his progress downwards, step by step, 
 until at last he reached that excess of destitution from which he 
 never rose again. 
 
 ' The man of whom I speak was a low pantomime actor ; and, 
 like many people of his class, an habitual drunkard. In his better 
 days, before he had become enfeebled by dissipation and emaciated 
 by disease, he had been in the receipt of a good salary, which, if he 
 had been careful and prudent, he might have continued to receive 
 for some years — not many ; because these men either die early, or, 
 by unnaturally taxing their bodily energies, lose, prematurely, those 
 physical powers on which alone they can depend for subsistence. 
 His besetting sin gained so fast upon him, however, that it was 
 found impossible to employ him in the situations in which he really 
 was useful to the theatre. The public-house had a fascination for 
 him which he could not resist. Neglected disease and hopeless 
 poverty were as certain to be his portion as death itself, if he 
 persevered in the same course ; but he did persevere, and the result 
 may be guessed. He could obtain no engagement, and he wanted 
 bread. 
 
 ' Everybody who is at all acquainted with theatrical matters 
 knows what a host of shabby, poverty-stricken men hang about the 
 stage of a large establishment — ^not regularly engaged actors, but 
 ballet people, procession men, tumblers, and so forth, who are 
 taken on during the run of a pantomime, or an Easter piece, and 
 are then discharged, until the production of some heavy spectacle 
 occasions a new demand for their services. To this mode of life 
 the man was compelled to resort ; and taking the chair every night, 
 at some low theatrical house, at once put him in possession of a 
 few more shillings weekly, and enabled him to gratify his old 
 propensity. Even this resource shortly failed him ; his irregularities 
 were too great to admit of his earning the wretched pittance he 
 might thus have procured, and he was actually reduced to a state 
 bordering on starvation, only procuring a trifle occasionally by 
 borrowing it of some old companion, or by obtaining an appearance 
 at one or other of the commonest of the minor theatres ; and when 
 he did earn anything, it was spent in the old way. 
 
 ' About this time, and when he had been existing for upwards of 
 
A TUMBLER TUMBLING DOWNWARD 31 
 
 a year no one knew how, I had a short engagement at one of the 
 theatres on the Surrey side of the water, and here I saw this man 
 whom I had lost sight of for some time ; for I had been travelling 
 in the provinces, and he had been skulking in the lanes and alleys 
 of London. I was dressed to leave the house, and was crossing 
 the stage on my way out, when he tapped me on the shoulder. 
 Never shall I forget the repulsive sight that met my eye when I 
 turned round. He was dressed for the pantomime, in all the 
 absurdity of a clown's costume. The spectral figures in the Dance 
 of Death, the most frightful shapes that the ablest painter ever 
 portrayed on canvas, never presented an appearance half so ghastly. 
 His bloated body and shrunken legs — their deformity enhanced a 
 hundred fold by the fantastic dress — the glassy eyes, contrasting 
 fearfully with the thick white paint with which the face was 
 besmeared ; the grotesquely ornamented head, trembling with 
 paralysis, and the long, skinny hands, rubbed with white chalk — 
 all gave him a hideous and unnatural appearance, of which no 
 description could convey an adequate idea, and which, to this day, 
 I shudder to think of. His voice was hollow and tremulous, as he 
 took me aside, and in broken words recounted a long catalogue of 
 sickness and privations, terminating as usual with an urgent request 
 for the loan of a, trifling sum of money. I put a few shillings in his 
 hand, and as I turned away I heard the roar of laughter which 
 followed his first tumble on to the stage. 
 
 ' A few nights afterwards, a boy put a dirty scrap of paper in my 
 hand, on which were scrawled a few words in pencil, intimating 
 that the man was dangerously ill, and begging me, after the per- 
 formance, to see him at his lodging in some street^ — I forget the 
 name of it now — at no great distance from the theatre. I promised 
 to comply, as soon as I could get away ; and, after the curtain fell, 
 sallied forth on my melancholy errand. 
 
 ' It was late, for I had been playing in the last piece ; and as it 
 was a benefit night, the performances had been protracted to an 
 unusual length. It was a dark cold night, with a chill damp wind, 
 which blew the rain heavily against the windows and house fronts. 
 Pools of water had collected in, the narrow and little-frequented 
 streets, and as many of the thinly-scattered oil-lamps had been 
 blown out by the violence of the wind, the walk was not only a 
 comfortless, but most uncertain one. I had fortunately taken the 
 right course, however, and succeeded, after, a little difficulty, in 
 finding the house to which I had been directed — a coal-shed, with 
 Che story above it, in the back room of which lay the object of my 
 search. 
 
 'A wretched-looking woman, the man's wife, met me on the 
 stairs, and, telling me that he had just fallen into a kind of doze, 
 led me softly in, and placed a chair for me at the bedside. The 
 
32 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 sick man was lying with his face turned towards the wall ; and as 
 he took no heed of my presence, I had leisure to observe the place 
 in which I found myself. 
 
 ' He was lying on an old bedstead, which turned up during the 
 day. The tattered remains of a checked curtain were drawn round 
 the bed's head, to exclude the wind, which however made its way 
 into the comfortless room through the numerous chinks in the door, 
 and blew it to and fro every instant. There was a low cinder fire 
 in a rusty unfixed grate ; and an old three-cornered stained table, 
 with some medicine bottles, a broken glass, and a few other 
 domestic articles, was drawn out before it. A little child was 
 sleeping on a temporary bed which had been made for it on the 
 floor, and the woman sat on a chair by its side. There were a 
 couple of shelves, with a few plates and cups and saucers : and a 
 pair of stage shoes and a couple of foils hung beneath them. With 
 the exception of little heaps of rags and bundles which had been 
 carelessly thrown into the corners of the room, these were the only 
 things in the apartment. 
 
 ' I had had time to note these little particulars, and to mark the 
 heavy breathing and feverish startings of the sick man, before he 
 was aware of my presence. In his restless attempts to procure 
 some easy resting-place for his head, he tossed his hand out of 
 the bed, and it fell on mine. He started up, and stared eagerly 
 in my face. 
 
 ' " Mr. Hutley, John,'' said his wife ; " Mr. Hutley, that you sent 
 for to-night, you know." 
 
 ' " Ah ! " said the invalid, passing his hand across his forehead ; 
 " Hutley — Hutley — let me see." He seemed endeavouring to 
 collect his thoughts for a few seconds, and then grasping me tightly 
 by the wrist said, " Don't leave me — don't leave me, old fellow. 
 She'll murder me ; I know she will." 
 
 ' " Has he been long so ? " said I, addressing his weeping wife. 
 
 ' " Since yesterday night," she replied. " John, John, don't you 
 know me ? " 
 
 ' " Don't let her come near me," said the man, with a shudder, as 
 she stooped over him. " Drive her away ; I can't bear her near 
 me." He stared wildly at her, with a look of deadly apprehension, 
 and then whispered in my ear, " I beat her, Jem ; I beat her yester- 
 day, and many times before. I have starved her and the boy too ; 
 and now I am weak and helpless, Jem, she'll murder me for it ; I 
 know she will. If you'd seen her cry, as I have, you'd know ittoo. 
 Keep her off." He relaxed his grasp, and sank back exhausted on 
 the pillow. 
 
 ' I knew but too well what all this meant. If I could have enter- 
 tained any doubt of it, for an instant, one glance at the woman's 
 pale face and wasted form would have sufficiently explained the 
 
& c^^onayl^/coMfrU 
 
THE SICK CLOWN 33 
 
 real state of the case. " You had better stand aside," said I to the 
 poor creature. " You can do him no good. Perhaps he will be 
 calmer, if he does not see you." She retired out of the man's sight. 
 He opened his eyes, after a few seconds, and looked anxiously 
 round. 
 
 ' " Is she gone ? " he eagerly inquired. 
 
 ' " Yes — yes," said I ; " she shall not hurt you." 
 
 ' " I'll tell you what, Jem," said the man, in a low voice, " she 
 does hurt me. There's something in her eyes wakes such a dreadful 
 fear in my heart, that it drives me mad. All last night, her large 
 staring eyes and pale face were close to mine ; wherever I turned, 
 they turned; and whenever I started up from my sleep, she was at the 
 bedside looking at me." He drew me closer to him, as he said in 
 a deep, alarmed whisper — " Jem, she must be an evil spirit — a devil ! 
 Hush ! I know she is. If she had been a woman she would have 
 died long ago. No woman could have borne what she has." 
 
 ' I sickened at the thought of the long course of cruelty and 
 neglect which must have occurred to produce such an impression 
 on such a man. I could say nothing in reply ; for who could offer 
 hope, or consolation, to the abject being before me ? 
 
 ' I sat there for upwards of two hours, during which time he 
 tossed about, murmuring exclamations of pain or impatience, rest- 
 lessly throwing his arms here and there, and turning constantly from 
 side to side. At length he fell into that state of partial unconscious- 
 ness, in which the mind wanders uneasily from scene to scene, and 
 from place to place, without the coritrol of reason, but still without 
 being able to divest itself of an indescribable sense of present 
 suffering. Finding from his incoherent Wanderings that this was 
 the case, and knowing that in all probability the fever would not 
 grow immediately worse, I left him, promising his miserable wife 
 that I would repeat my visit next evening, and, if necessary, sit up 
 with the patient during the night. 
 
 ' I kept my promise. The last four-and-twenty hours had pro- 
 duced a frightful, alteration. The eyes, though deeply sunk and 
 heavy, shone with a lustre frightful to behold. The lips were 
 parched, and cracked in many places : the dry hard skin glowed 
 with a burning heat, and there was an almost unearthly air of wild 
 anxiety in the man's face, indicating even more strongly the 
 ravages of the disease. The fever was at its height. 
 
 ' I took the seat I had occupied the night before, and there I sat 
 for hours, listening to soimds which must strike deep to the heart 
 of the most callous among human beings — the awful ravings of a 
 dying man. From what I had heard of the medical attendant's 
 opinion, I knew there was no hope for him : I was sitting by his 
 death-bed. I saw the wasted limbs, which a few hours before had 
 been distorted for the amusement of a boisterous gallery, writhing 
 
 D 
 
34 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 under the tortures of a burning fever — I heard the clown's shrill 
 laugh, blending with the low murmurings of the dying man. 
 
 'It is a touching thing to hear the mind reverting to the 
 ordinary occupations and pursuits of health, when the body lies 
 before you weak and helpless ; but when those occupations are 
 of a character the most strongly opposed to anything we associate 
 with grave or solemn ideas, the impression produced is infinitely 
 more powerful. The theatre, and the public-house, were the chief 
 themes of the wretched man's wanderings. It was evening, he 
 fancied; he had a part to play that night; it was late, and he 
 must leave home instantly. Why did they hold him, and prevent 
 his going ? — he should lose the money — he must go. No ! they 
 would not let him. He hid his face in his burning hands, and 
 feebly bemoaned his own weakness, and the cruelty of his perse- 
 cutors. A short pause, and he shouted out a few doggrel rhymes — 
 the last he had ever learnt. He rose in bed, drew up his withered 
 limbs, and rolled about in uncouth positions; he was acting — ^he 
 was at the theatre. A minute's silence, and he mxurmured the 
 burden of some roaring song. He had reached the old house at 
 last : how hot the room was. He had been ill, very ill, but he 
 was well now, and happy. Fill up his glass. Who was that, that 
 dashed it from his lips ? It was the same persecutor that had 
 followed him before. He fell back upon his pillow and moaned 
 aloud. A short period of oblivion, and he was wandering through 
 a tedious maze of low arched-rooms — so low, sometimes, that he 
 must creep upon his hands and knees to make his way along ; it 
 was close and dark, and every way he turned, some obstacle 
 impeded his progress. There were insects too, hideous crawling 
 things with eyes that stared upon him, and filled the very air 
 around : glistening horribly amidst the thick darkness of the place. 
 The walls and ceiling were alive with reptiles — the vault expanded 
 to an enormous size — frightful figures flitted to and fro — and the 
 faces of men he knew, rendered hideous by gibing and mouthing, 
 peered out from among them ; they were searing him with heated 
 irons, and binding his head with cords till the blood started; and 
 he struggled madly for life. 
 
 ' At the close of one of these paroxysms, when I had with great 
 difficulty held him down in his bed, he sank into what appeared to 
 be a slumber. Overpowered with watching and exertion, I had 
 closed my eyes for a few minutes, when I felt a violent clutch on 
 my shoulder. I awoke instantly. He had raised himself up, so 
 as to seat himself in bed — a dreadful change had come over his 
 face, but consciousness had returned, for he evidently knew me. 
 The child who had been long since disturbed by his ravings, rose 
 from its little bed, and ran towards its father, screaming with fright 
 — the mother Jiastily caught it in her arms, lest he should iiijure 
 
VISITORS 35 
 
 it in the violence of his insanity ; but, terrified by the alteration 
 of his features, stood transfixed by the bed-side. He grasped my 
 shoulder convulsively, and, striking his breast with the other hand, 
 made a desperate attempt to articulate. It was unavailing — he 
 extended his arm towards them, and made another violent effort. 
 There was a rattling noise in the throat — a glare of the eye — a short 
 stifled groan— and he fell back — dead ! ' 
 
 It would afford us the highest gratification to be enabled to 
 record Mr. Pickwick's opinion of the foregoing anecdote. We 
 have little doubt that we should have been enabled to present it 
 to our readers, but for a most unfortunate occurrence. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had replaced on the table the glass which, during 
 the last few sentences of the tale, he had retained in his hand, 
 and had just made up his mind to speak^ — indeed, we have the 
 authority of Mr. Snodgrass's note-book for stating, that he had 
 actually opened his mouth — when the waiter entered the room, 
 and said — 
 
 ' Some gentlemen, sir.' 
 
 It has been conjectured that Mr. Pickwick was on the point of 
 delivering some remarks which would have enlightened the world, 
 if not the Thames, when he was thus interrupted : for he gazed 
 sternly on the waiter's countenance, and then looked round on 
 the company generally, as if seeking for information relative to 
 the new comers. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Mr. Winkle, rising, ' some friends of mine — show 
 them in. Very pleasant fellows,' added Mr. Winkle, after the 
 waiter had retired — 'Officers of the 97th, whose acquaintance I 
 made rather oddly this morning. You will like them very much.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's equanimity was at once restored. The waiter 
 returned, and ushered three gentlemen into the room. 
 
 ' Lieutenant Tappleton,' said Mr. Winkle, ' Lieutenant Tappleton, 
 Mr. Pickwick — Doctor Payne, Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Snodgrass, you 
 have seen before : my friend Mr. Tupman, Doctor Payne — Dr. 
 Slammer, Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Tupman, Doctor Slam — .' 
 
 Here Mr. Winkle suddenly paused; for strong emotion was 
 visible on the countenance both of Mr. Tupman and the Doctor. 
 
 ' I have met this gentleman before,' said the Doctor, with marked 
 emphasis. 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 'And — and that person, too, if I am not mistaken,' said the 
 Doctor, bestowing a scrutinising glance on the green-coated 
 stranger. ' I think I gave that person a very pressing invitation 
 last night, which he thought proper to decline.' Saying which the 
 Doctor scowled magnanimously on the stranger, and whispered his 
 friend Lieutenant Tappleton. 
 
36 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You don't say so,' said that gentleman, at the conclusion of the 
 whisper. 
 
 ' I do, indeed,' replied Doctor Slammer. 
 
 ' You are bound to kick him on the spot,' murmured the owner 
 of the camp-stool with great importance. 
 
 'Do be quiet, Payne,' interposed the Lieutenant. 'Will you 
 allow me to ask you, sir,' he said, addressing Mr. Pickwick, who was 
 considerably mystified by this very unpoUte by-play, ' will you allow 
 me to ask you, sir, whether that person belongs to /our party ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' he is a guest of ours.' 
 
 'He is a member of your club, or I am .mistaken?' said the 
 Lieutenant, inquiringly. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' responded Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And never wears your club-button ? ' said the Lieutenant. 
 
 ' No — never ! ' replied the astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Lieutenant Tappleton turned round to his friend Doctor Slam- 
 mer, with a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulder, as if 
 implying some doubt of the accuracy of his recollection. The 
 little Doctor looked wrathful, but confounded ; and Mr. Payne 
 gazed with a ferocious aspect on the beaming countenance of the 
 unconscious Pickwick. 
 
 'Sir,' said the Doctor, suddenly addressing Mr. Tupman, in a 
 tone which made that gentleman start as perceptibly as if a pin had 
 been cunningly inserted in the calf of his leg, ' you were at the ball 
 here last night ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman gasped a faint affirmative, looking very hard at 
 Mr. Pickwick all the while. 
 
 ' That person was your companion,' said the Doctor, pointing to 
 the still unmoved stranger. 
 
 Mr. Tupman admitted the fact. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' said the Doctor to the stranger, ' I ask you once again, 
 in the presence of these gentlemen, whether you choose to give me 
 your card, and to receive the treatment of a gentleman ; or whether 
 you impose upon me the necessity of personally chastising you on 
 the spot?" 
 
 ' Stay, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I really cannot allow this matter 
 to go any further without some explanation. Tupman, recount the 
 circumstances.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman, thus solemnly abjured, stated the case in a few 
 words ; touched slightly on the borrowing of the coat ; expatiated 
 largely on its having been done ' after dinner ; ' wound up with a 
 little penitence on his own account ; and left the stranger to clear 
 himself as he best could. 
 
 He was apparently about to proceed to do so, when Lieutenant 
 Tappleton, who had been eyeing him with great curiosity, said with 
 considerable scorn — ' Haven't I seen you at the theatre sir ? ' 
 
THE AFFAIR OF HONOUR MELTS AWAY .^7 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied the unabashed stranger. 
 
 ' He is a strolling actor,' said the Lieutenant, contemptuously ; 
 turning to Dr. Slammer — ' He acts in the piece that the Officers of 
 the 52nd get up at the Rochester Theatre to-morrow night. You 
 cannot proceed in this affair. Slammer — impossible ! ' 
 
 ' Quite ! ' said the dignified Payne. 
 
 'Sorry to have placed you in this disagreeable situation,' said 
 Lieutenant Tappleton, addressing Mr. Pickwick ; ' allow me to 
 suggest, that the best way of avoiding a recurrence of such scenes in 
 future, will be to be more select in the choice of your companions. 
 Good evening, sir ! ' and the Lieutenant bounced out of the room. 
 
 ' And allow me to say, sir,' said the irascible Doctor Payne, ' that 
 if I had been Tappleton, or if I had been Slammer, I would have 
 pulled your nose, sir, and the nose of every man in this company. 
 I would, sir, every man. Payne is my name, sir- — Doctor Payne of 
 the 43rd. Good evening, sir.' Having concluded this speech, and 
 uttered the three last words in a loud key, he stalked majestically 
 after his friend, closely followed by Doctor Slammer, who said 
 nothing, but contented himself by withering the company with a look. 
 
 Rising rage and extreme bewilderment had swelled the noble 
 breast of Mr. Pickwick, almost to the bursting of his waistcoat, 
 during the delivery of the above defiance. He stood transfixed to 
 the spot, gazing on vacancy. The closing of the door recalled him 
 to himself. He rushed forward with fury in his looks, and fire in 
 his eye. His hand was upon the lock of the door; in another 
 instant it would have been on the throat of Doctor Payne of the 
 43rd, had not Mr. Snodgrass seized his revered leader by the coat 
 tail, and dragged him backwards. 
 
 'Restrain him,' cried Mr. Snodgrass, 'Winkle, Tupman — he 
 must not peril his distinguished life in such a cause as this.' 
 
 ' Let me go,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hold him tight,' shouted Mr. Snodgrass ; and by the united efforts 
 of the whole company, Mr. Pickwick was forced into an arm-chair. 
 
 ' Leave him alone,' said the green-coated stranger — ^ brandy and 
 water — jolly old gentleman — lots of pluck — swallow this- — ^ah ! — 
 capital stuff.' Having previously tested the virtues of a bumper, 
 which had been mixed by the dismal man, the stranger apphed the 
 glass to Mr. Pickwick's mouth; and the remainder of its contents 
 rapidly disappeared. 
 
 There was a short pause ; the brandy and water had done its 
 work ; the amiable countenance of Mr. Pickwick was fast recover- 
 ing its customary expression. 
 
 ' They are not worth your notice,' said the dismal man. 
 
 ' You are right, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' they are not. I am 
 ashamed to have been betrayed into this warmth of feeling. Draw 
 your chair up to the table, sir.' 
 
38 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The dismal man readily complied : a circle was again formed 
 round the table, and harmony once more prevailed. Some linger- 
 ing irritability appeared to find a resting-place in Mr. Winkle's 
 bosom, occasioned possibly by the temporary abstraction of his 
 coat— though it is scarcely reasonable to suppose that so slight a 
 circumstance can have excited even a passing feeling of anger in a 
 Pickwickian breast. With this exception, their good humour was 
 completely restored; and the evening concluded with the con- 
 viviality with which it had begun. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A FIELD-DAY AND BIVOtJAC. MORE NEW FRIENDS. AN INVITATION 
 TO THE COUNTRY 
 
 Many authors entertain, not only a foolish, but a really dishonest 
 objection to acknowledge the sources from whence they derive 
 much valuable information. We have no such feeling. We are 
 merely endeavouring to discharge, in an upright manner, the re- 
 sponsible duties of our editorial functions ; and whatever ambition 
 we might have felt under other circumstances to lay claim to the 
 authorship of these adventures, a regard for truth forbids us to do 
 more than claim the merit of their judicious arrangement and im- 
 partial narration. The Pickwick papers are our New River Head ; 
 and we may be compared to the New River Company. The labours 
 of others have raised for us an immense reservoir of important facts. 
 We merely lay them on, and communicate them, in a clear and 
 gentle stream, through the medium of these numbers, to a world 
 thirsting for Pickwickian knowledge. 
 
 Acting in this spirit, and resolutely proceeding on our determina- 
 tion to avow our obligations to the authorities we have consulted, 
 we frankly say, that to the note-book of Mr. Snodgrass are we 
 indebted for the particulars recorded in this, and the succeeding 
 chapter — particulars which, now that we have disburdened our 
 conscience, we shall proceed to detail without further comment. 
 
 The whole population of Rochester and the adjoining towns rose 
 from their beds at an early hour of the following morning, in a 
 state of the utmost bustle and excitement. A grand review was 
 to take place upon the Lines. The manoeuvres of half-a-dozen 
 regiments were to be inspected by the eagle eye of the commander- 
 in-chief; temporary fortifications had been erected, the citadel was 
 to be attacked and taken, and a mine was to be sprung. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was, as our readers may have gathered from 
 the slight extract we gave from his description of Chatham, an 
 
HUMOURS OF A CROWD 39 
 
 enthusiastic admirer of the army. Nothing could have been more 
 delightful to him — nothing could have harmonised so well with the 
 peculiar feeling of each of his companions — as this sight. Accordingly 
 they were soon a-foot, and walking in the direction of the scene 
 of action, towards which crowds of people were already pouring 
 from a variety of quarters. 
 
 The appearance of everything on the Lines denoted that the 
 approaching ceremony was one of the utmost grandeur and im- 
 portance. There were sentries posted to keep the ground for the 
 troops, and servants on the batteries keeping places for the ladies, 
 and sergeants running to and fro, with vellum-covered books under 
 their arms, and Colonel Bulder, in full military uniform, on horse- 
 back, galloping first to one place and then to another, and backing 
 his horse among the people, and prancing, and curvetting, and 
 shouting in a most alarming manner, and making himself very 
 hoarse in the voice, and very red in the face, without any assignable 
 cause or reason whatever. Officers were running backwards and 
 forwards, first communicating with Colonel Bulder, and then order- 
 ing the sergeants, and then running away altogether ; and even the 
 very privates themselves looked from behind their glazed stocks 
 with an air of mysterious solemnity, which sufficiently bespoke the 
 special nature of the occasion. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and his three companions stationed themselves in 
 the front rank of the crowd, and patiently awaited the commence- 
 ment of the proceedings. The throng was increasing every moment ; 
 and the efforts they were compelled to make, to retain the position 
 they had gained, sufficiently occupied their attention during the 
 two hours that ensued. At one time there was a sudden pressure 
 from behind ; and then Mr. Pickwick was jerked forward for several 
 yards, with a degree of speed and elasticity highly inconsistent with 
 the general gravity of his demeanour) at another moment there 
 was a request to ' keep back ' from the front, and then the butt-end 
 of a musket was either dropped upon Mr. Pickwick's toe, to remind 
 him of the demand, or thnast into his chest, to ensure its being 
 complied with. Then some facetious gentlemen on the left, after 
 pressing sideways in a body, and squeezing Mr. Snodgrass into the 
 very last extreme of human torture, would request to know ' vere 
 he vos a shovin' to ; ' and when Mr. Winkle had done expressing 
 his excessive indignation at witnessing this unprovoked assault, 
 some person behind would knock his hat over his eyes, and beg 
 the favour of his putting his head in his pocket. These, and other 
 practical witticisms, coupled with the unaccountable absence of 
 Mr. Tiipman (who had suddenly disappeared, and was nowhere to 
 be found), rendered their situation upon the whole rather more un- 
 comfortable than pleasing or desirable. 
 
 At length that low roar of many voices ran through the crowd. 
 
40 THE PICKAVICK CI-UB 
 
 which, usually announces the arrival of whatever they have been 
 waiting for. All eyes were turned in the direction of the sally-port. 
 A few moments of eager expectation, and colours were seen flutter- 
 ing gaily in the air, arms glistened brightly in the sun, column after 
 column poured on to the plain. The troops halted and formed ; 
 the word of command rung through the line, there was a general 
 clash of muskets as arms were presented ; and the commander-in- 
 chief, attended by Colonel Bulder and numerous officers, cantered 
 to the front. The military bands struck up altogether ; the horses 
 stood upon two legs each, cantered backwards, and whisked their 
 tails about in all directions : the dogs barked, the mob screamed, 
 the troops recovered, and nothing was to be seen on either side, as 
 far as the eye could reach, but a long perspective of red coats and 
 white trousers, fixed and motionless. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had been so fully occupied in falling about, and 
 disentangling himself, miraculously, from between the legs of horses, 
 that he had not enjoyed sufficient leisure to observe the scene 
 before him, until it assumed the appearance we have just described. 
 When he was at last enabled to stand firmly on his legs, his gratifi- 
 cation and delight were unbounded. 
 
 ' Can anything be finer or more delightful ? ' he inquired of 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Nothing,' replied that gentleman, who had had a short man 
 standing on each of his feet for the quarter of an hour immediately 
 preceding. 
 
 ' It is indeed a noble and a brilliant sight,' said Mr. Snodgrass, 
 in whose bosom a blaze of poetry was rapidly bursting forth, ' to see 
 the gallant defenders of their country drawn up in brilliant array 
 before its peaceful citizens ; their faces beaming — not with warlike 
 ferocity, but with civilised gentleness ; their eyes flashing — not with 
 the rude fire of rapine or revenge, but with the soft light of humanity 
 and intelligence.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirit of this eulogium, but 
 he could not exactly re-echo its terms ; for the soft light of intelli- 
 gence burnt rather feebly in the eyes of the warriors, inasmuch as 
 the command ' eyes front ' had been given, and all the spectator 
 saw before him was several thousand pairs of optics, staring straight 
 forward, wholly divested of any expression whatever. 
 
 ' We are in a capital situation now,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking 
 round him. The crowd had gradually dispersed in their immediate 
 vicinity, and they were nearly alone. 
 
 ' Capital ! ' echoed both Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' What are they doing now ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, adjusting 
 his spectacles. 
 
 ' I — I — rather think,' said Mr. Winkle, changing colour — ' I 
 rather think they're going to fire.' 
 
A TRYING SITUATION 41 
 
 • Nonsense,' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. 
 
 ' I — I — really think they are,' urged Mr. Snodgrass, somewhat 
 alarmed. 
 
 ' Impossible,' replied Mr. Pickwick. He had hardly uttered the 
 word, when the whole half-dozen regiments levelled their muskets 
 as if they had but one common object, and that object the Pick- 
 wickians, and burst forth with the most awful and tremendous 
 discharge that ever shook the earth to its centre, or an elderly 
 gentleman off his. 
 
 It was in this trying situation, exposed to a galling fire of blank 
 cartridges, and harassed by the operations of the miUtary, a fresh 
 body of whom had begun to fall in on the opposite side, that Mr. 
 Pickwick displayed that perfect coolness and self-possession, which 
 are the indispensable accompaniments of a great mind. He seized 
 Mr. Winkle by the arm, and placing himself between that gentleman 
 and Mr. Snodgrass, earnestly besought them to remember that 
 beyond the possibility of being rendered deaf by the noise, there 
 was no immediate danger to be apprehended from the firing. 
 
 ' Biit — but — suppose some of the men should happen to have 
 ball cartridges by mistake,' remonstrated Mr. Winkle, pallid at the 
 supposition he was himself conjuring up. ' I heard something 
 whistle through the air just now — so sharp ; close to my ear.' 
 
 ' We had better throw ourselves on our faces, hadn't we ? ' said 
 Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' No, no — it's over now,' said Mr. Pickwick. His lip might 
 quiver, and his cheek might blanch, but no expression of fear or 
 concern escaped the lips of that immortal man. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was right : the firing ceased ; but he had scarcely 
 time to congratulate himself on the accuracy of his opinion, when a 
 quick movement was visible in the line : the hoarse shout of the 
 word of command ran along it, and before either of the party could 
 form a guess at the meaning of this new manoeuvre, the whole of 
 the half-dozen regiments, with fixed bayonets, charged at double 
 quick time down upon the very spot on which Mr. Pickwick and 
 his friends were stationed. 
 
 Man is but mortal : and there is a point beyond which human 
 courage cannot extend. Mr. Pickwick gazed through his spectacles 
 for an instant on the advancing mass, and then fairly turned his 
 back and — ^we will not say fled ; firstly, because it is an ignoble 
 term, and, secondly, because Mr. Pickwick's figure was by no 
 means adapted for that mode of retreat — he trotted away, at as 
 quick a rate as his legs would convey him ; so quickly, indeed, that 
 he did not perceive the awkwardness of his situation, to the full 
 extent, until too late. 
 
 The opposite troops, whose falling-in had perplexed Mr. Pick- 
 wick a few seconds before, were drawn up to repel the mimic 
 
42 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 attack of the sham besiegers of the citadel ; and the consequence 
 was that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions found themselves 
 suddenly inclosed between two lines of great length, the one 
 advancing at a rapid pace, and the other firmly waiting the collision 
 in hostile array. 
 
 ' Hoi ! ' shouted the officers of the advancing line. 
 
 ' Get out of the way,' cried the officers of the stationary one. 
 
 ' Where are we to go to ? ' screamed the agitated Pickwickians. 
 
 ' Hoi — hoi — hoi ! ' was the only reply. There was a moment of 
 intense bewilderment, a heavy tramp of footsteps, a violent con- 
 cussion, a smothered laugh ; the half-dozen regiments were half a 
 thousand yards off, and the soles of Mr. Pickwick's boots were 
 elevated in air. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle had each performed a com- 
 pulsory somerset with remarkable agility, when the first object that 
 met the eyes of the latter as he sat on the ground, staunching with 
 a yellow silk handkerchief the stream of life which issued from his 
 nose, was his venerated leader at some distance off, running after 
 his own hat, which was gamboling playfully away in perspective. 
 
 There are very few moments in a man's existence when he ex- 
 periences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little 
 charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat. 
 A vast deal of coolness, and a peculiar degree of judgment, are 
 requisite in catching a hat. A man must not be precipitate, or he 
 runs over it; he must not rush into the opposite extreme, or he loses 
 it altogether. The best way is, to keep gently up with the object of 
 pursuit, to be wary and cautious, to watch your opportunity well, 
 get gradually before it, then make a rapid dive, seize it by the 
 crown, and stick it firmly on your head : smiling pleasantly all the 
 time, as if you thought it as good a joke as anybody else. 
 
 There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr. Pickwick's hat rolled 
 sportively before it. The wind puffed, and Mr. Pickwick puffed, 
 and the hat rolled over and over as merrily as a lively porpoise in a 
 strong tide ; and on it might have rolled, far beyond Mr. Pickwick's 
 reach, had not its course been providentially stopped, just as that 
 gentleman was on the point of resigning it to its fate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, we say, was completely exhausted, and about to 
 give up the chase, when the hat was blown with some violence 
 against the wheel of a carriage, which was drawn up in a line with 
 half-a-dozen other vehicles on the spot to which his steps had been 
 directed. Mr. Pickwick, perceiving his advantage, darted briskly 
 forward, secured his property, planted it on his head, and paused to 
 take breath. He had not been stationary half a minute, when he 
 heard his own name eagerly pronounced by a voice, which he at 
 once recognised as Mr. Tupman's, and, looking upwards, he beheld 
 a sight which filled him with surprise and pleasure. 
 
~.^^M^' 
 
THE FAT BOY 43 
 
 In an open barouche, the horses of which had been taken out, the 
 better to accommodate it to the crowded place, stood a stout old 
 gentleman, in a blue coat and bright buttons, corduroy breeches 
 and top boots, two young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a young 
 gentleman apparently enamoured of one of the young ladies in scarfs 
 and feathers, a lady of doubtful age, probably the aunt of the aforesaid, 
 and Mr. Tupman, as easy and unconcerned as if he had belonged to 
 the family from the first moments of his infancy. Fastened up behind 
 the barouche was a hamper of spacious dimensions — one of those 
 hampers which always awakens in a contemplative mind associations 
 connected with cold fowls, tongues, and bottles of wine — and on the 
 box sat a fat and red-faced boy, in a state of somnolency, whom no 
 speculative observer could have regarded for an instant without setting 
 down as the official dispenser of the contents of the before-mentioned 
 hamper, when the proper time for their consumption should arrive. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had bestowed -a hasty glance on these interesting 
 objects, when he was again greeted by his faithful disciple. 
 
 ' Pickwick — Pickwick,' said Mr. Tupman : ' come up here. Make 
 haste.' 
 
 'Come along, sir. Pray, come up,' said the stout gentleman. 
 ' Joe ! — damn that boy, he's gone to sleep again. — Joe, let down the 
 steps.' The fat boy rolled slowly off the box, let down the steps, 
 and held the carriage door invitingly open. Mr. Snodgrass and 
 Mr. Winkle came up at the moment. 
 
 ' Room for you all, gentlemen,' said the stout man. ' Two inside, 
 and one out. J oe, make room for one of these gentlemen on the 
 box. Now, sir, come along ; ' and the stout gentleman extended 
 his arm, and pulled first Mr. Pickwick, and then Mr. Snodgrass, into 
 the barouche by main force. Mr. Winkle mounted to the box, the 
 fat boy waddled to the same perch, and fell fast asleep instantly. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen,' said the stout man, ' very glad to see you. 
 Know you very well, gentlemen, though you mayn't remember me. I 
 spent some ev'nins at your club last winter-^picked up my friend Mr. 
 Tupman here this morning, and very glad I was to see him. Well, 
 sir, and how are you? You do look uncommon well, to be sure.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment, and cordially shook 
 hands with the stout gentleman in the top boots. 
 
 ' Well, and how are you, sir ? ' said the stout gentleman, addressing 
 Mr. Snodgrass with paternal anxiety. ' Charming, eh ? Well, that's 
 right — ^that's right. And how are you, sir (to Mr. Winkle) ? Well, 
 I am glad to hear you say you are well ; very glad I am, to be sure. 
 My daughters, gentlemen — my gals these are ; and that's my sister, 
 Miss Rachael Wardle. She's a Miss, she is; and yet she an't a 
 Miss — eh, sir, eh ? ' And the stout gentleman playfully inserted his 
 elbow between the ribs of Mr. Pickwick, and laughed very heartily. 
 
 ' Lor, brother ? ' said Miss Wardle, with ai deprecating smile. 
 
44 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'True, true,' said the stout gentleman; 'no one can deny it. 
 Gentlemen, I beg your pardon; this is my friend Mr. Trundle. 
 And now you all know each other, let's be comfortable and happy, 
 and see what's going forward ; that's what I say.' So the stout 
 gentleman put on his spectacles, and Mr. Pickwick pulled out his 
 glass, and everybody stood up in the carriage, and looked over 
 somebody else's shoulder at the evolutions of the military. 
 
 Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing over the heads 
 of another rank, and then running away ; and then the other rank 
 firing over the heads of another rank, and running away in their 
 turn ; and then forming squares, with officers in the centre ; and 
 then descending the trench on one side with scaling ladders, and 
 ascending it on the other again by the same means ; and knocking 
 down barricades of baskets, and behaving in the most gallant 
 manner possible. Then there was such a ramming down of the 
 contents of enormous guns on the .battery, with instruments like 
 magnified mops ; such a preparation before they were let off, and 
 such an awful noise when they did go, that the air resounded with 
 the screams of ladies. The young Miss Wardles were so frightened, 
 that Mr. Trundle was actually obliged to hold one of them up in the 
 carriage, while Mr. Snodgrass supported the other, and Mr. Wardle's 
 sister suffered under such a dreadful state of nervous alarm, that Mr. 
 Tupman found it indispensably necessary to put his arm round her 
 waist, to keep her up at all. Everybody was excited, except the 
 fat boy, and he slept as soundly as if the roaring of cannon were his 
 ordinary lullaby. 
 
 ' Joe, Joe ! ' said the stout gentleman, when the citadel was taken, 
 and the besiegers and besieged sat down to dinner. ' Damn that 
 boy, he's gone to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him, sir — 
 in the leg, if you please ; nothing else wakes him — thank you. 
 Undo the hamper, Joe.' 
 
 The fat boy, who had been effectually roused by the compression 
 of a portion of his leg between the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, 
 rolled off the box once again, and proceeded to unpack the hamper, 
 with more expedition than could have been expected from his 
 previous inactivity. 
 
 ' Now, we must sit close,' said the stout gentleman. After a great 
 many jokes about squeezing the ladies' sleeves, and a vast quantity 
 of blushing at sundry jocose proposals, that the ladies should sit 
 in the gentlemen's laps, the whole party were stowed down in the 
 barouche ; and the stout gentleman proceeded to hand the things 
 from the fat boy (who had mounted up behind for the purpose) into 
 the carriage. 
 
 ' Now, Joe, knives and forks.' The knives and forks were handed 
 in, and the ladies and gentlemen inside, and Mr. Winkle on the box, 
 were each furnished with those useful instruments. 
 
THE FAT BOY WAITS AT DINNER 45 
 
 ' Plates, Joe, plates.' A similar process employed in the distri- 
 bution of the crockery. 
 
 ' Now, Joe, the fowls. Damn that boy ; he's gone to sleep again. 
 Joe ! Joe ! ' (Sundry taps on the head with a stick, and the fat boy, 
 with some difficulty, roused from his lethargy.) ' Come, hand in the 
 eatables.' 
 
 There was something in the sound of the last word which roused 
 the unctuous boy. He jumped up : and the leaden eyes, which 
 twinkled behind his mountainous cheeks, leered horribly upon the 
 food as he unpacked it from the basket. 
 
 ' Now make haste,' said Mr. Wardle ; for the fat boy was hanging 
 fondly over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. 
 The boy sighed deeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze upon its 
 plumpness, unwillingly consigned it to his master. 
 
 ' That's right — look sharp. Now the tongue — ^now the pigeon- 
 pie. Take care of that veal and ham — mind the lobsters — take the 
 salad out of the cloth — give me the dressing.' Such were the 
 hurried orders which issued from the lips of Mr. Wardle, as he 
 handed in the different articles described, and placed dishes in 
 everybody's hands, and on everybody's knees, in endless number. 
 
 ' Now, an't this capital ? ' inquired that jolly personage, when 
 the work of destruction had commenced. 
 
 ' Capital ! ' said Mr. Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box. 
 
 ' Glass of wine ? ' 
 
 ' With the greatest pleasure.' 
 
 ' You'd better have a bottle to yourself, up there, hadn't you ? ' 
 
 ' You're very good.' 
 
 ' Joe ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' (He wasn't asleep this time, having just succeeded in 
 abstracting a veal patty.) 
 
 ' Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, 
 sir.' 
 
 ' Thankee.' Mr. Winkle emptied his glass, and placed the bottle 
 on the coach-box, by his side. 
 
 ' Will you permit me to have the pleasure, sir ? ' said Mr. Trundle 
 to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' With great pleasure,' replied Mr. Winkle to Mr. Trundle : and 
 then the two gentlemen took wine, after which they took a glass of 
 wine round, ladies and all. 
 
 'How dear Emily is flirting with the stranger gentleman,' 
 whispered the spinster aunt, with true spinster-aunt-like envy, to her 
 brother Mr. Wardle. 
 
 ' Oh ! I don't know,' said the jolly old gentleman ; ' all very 
 natural, I dare say-r-nothing unusual. Mr. Pickwick, some wine, 
 sir ? ' Mr. Pickwick, who had been deeply investigating the 
 interior of the pigeon-pie, readily assented. 
 
46 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Emily, my dear,' said the spinster aunt, with a patronising air, 
 ' don't talk so loud, love.' 
 
 ' Lor, aunt ! ' 
 
 Aunt and the little old gentleman want to have it all to them- 
 selves, I think,' whispered Miss Isabella Wardle to her sister Emily. 
 The young ladies laughed very heartily, and the old one tried to 
 look amiable, but couldn't manage it. 
 
 ' Young girls have such spirits,' said Miss Wardle to Mr. Tupman, 
 with an air of gentle commiseration, as if animal spirits were contra- 
 band, and their possession without a permit, a high crime and 
 misdemeanour. , 
 
 ' Oh, they have,' replied Mr. Tupman, not exactly making the 
 sort of reply that was expected from him. ' It's quite delightful.' 
 
 ' Hem ! ' said Miss Wardle, rather dubiously. 
 
 ' Will you permit me,' said Mr. Tupman, in his blandest manner, 
 touching the enchanting Rachael's wrist with one hand, and gently 
 elevating the bottle with the other. ' Will you permit me ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, sir ! ' Mr. Tupman looked most impressive ; and Rachael 
 expressed her fear that more guns were going off, in which case, of 
 course, she would have required support again. 
 
 'Do you think my dear nieces pretty?' whispered their affec- 
 tionate aunt to Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' I should, if their aunt wasn't here,' replied the ready Pickwickian, 
 with a passionate glance. 
 
 ' Oh, you naughty man — but really, if their complexions were a 
 little little better, don't you think they would be nice-looking girls 
 — ^by candle-light ? ' 
 
 'Yes; I think they would;' said Mr. Tupman, with an air of 
 indifference. 
 
 ' Oh, you quiz — I know what you were going to say.' 
 
 'What?' inquired Mr. Tupman, who had not precisely made up 
 his mind to say anything at all. 
 
 ' You were going to say, that Isabel stoops— I know you were— 
 you men are such observers. Well, so she does; it dan't be 
 denied ; and, certainly, if there is one thing more than another that 
 makes a girl look ugly, it is stooping. I often tell her, that when 
 she gets a little older, she'll be quite frightful. Well, you are a quiz ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman had no objection to earning the reputation at so 
 cheap a rate : so he looked very knowing, and smiled mysteriously. 
 
 ' What a sarcastic smile,' said the admiring Rachael ; ' I declare 
 I'm quite afraid of you.' 
 
 ' Afraid of me ! ' 
 
 'Oh, you can't disguise anything from me— I know what that 
 smile means, very well.' 
 
 'What?' said Mr. Tupman, who had not the slightest notion 
 himself. 
 
THE AMIABLE AUNT 47 
 
 ' You mean,' said the amiable aunt, sinking her voice still lower — 
 ' You mean, that you don't think Isabella's stooping is as bad as 
 Emily's boldness. Well, she is bold ! You cannot think how 
 wretched it makes me sometimes. I'm sure I cry about it for hours 
 together — my dear brother is so good, and so unsuspicious, that he 
 never sees it ; if he did, I'm quite certain it would break his heart. 
 I wish I could think it was only manner — I hope it may be — ' 
 (here the affectionate relative heaved a deep sigh, and shook her 
 head despondingly.) 
 
 ' I'm sure aunt's talking about us,' whispered Miss Emily Wardle 
 to her sister — ' I'm quite certain of it — she looks so malicious.' 
 
 ' Is she ? ' replied Isabella — ' Hem ! aunt dear ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear love ! ' 
 
 ' I'm so afraid you'll catch cold, aunt — have a silk handkerchief 
 to tie round your dear old head — you really should take care of 
 yourself — consider your age ! ' 
 
 However well deserved this piece of retaliation might have been, 
 it was as vindictive a one as could well have been resorted to. 
 There is no guessing in what form of reply the aunt's indignation 
 would have vented itself, had not Mr. Wardle unconsciously changed 
 the subject, by calling emphatically for Joe. 
 
 ' Damn that boy,' said the old gentleman, ' he's gone to sleep 
 again.' 
 
 ' Very extraordinary boy, that,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' does he 
 always sleep in this way ! ' 
 
 ' Sleep ! ' said the old gentleman, ' he's always asleep. Goes on 
 errands fast asleep, and snores as he waits at table.' 
 
 ' How very odd ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah ! odd indeed,' returned the old gentleman ; ' I'm proud of 
 that boy — wouldn't part with him on any account — he's a natural 
 curiosity ! Here, Joe — Joe — take these things away, and open 
 another bottle — d'ye hear ? ' 
 
 The fat boy rose, opened his eyes, swallowed the huge piece of 
 pie he had been in the act of masticating when he last fell asleep, 
 and slowly obeyed his master's orders — gloating languidly over the 
 remains of the feast, as he removed the plates, and deposited them 
 in the hamper. The fresh bottle was produced, and speedily 
 emptied : the hamper was made fast in its old place — the fat boy 
 once more mounted the box — the spectacles and pocket-glass were 
 again adjusted and the evolutions of the military recommenced. 
 There was a great fizzing and banging of guns, and starting of ladies 
 ^— and then a mine was sprung, to the gratification of everybody — 
 and when the mine had gone off, the military and the company 
 followed its example, and went off too. 
 
 ' Now, mind,' said the old gentleman, as he shook hands with 
 Mr. Pickwick at the conclusion of a conversation which had been 
 
48 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 carried on at intervals, during the conclusion of the proceedings — 
 ' we shall see you all to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Most certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' You have got the address.' 
 
 ' Manor Farm, Dingley Dell,' said Mr. Pickwick, consulting his 
 pocket-book. 
 
 ' That's it,' said the old gentleman. ' I don't let you off, mind, 
 under a week ; and undertake that you shall see everything worth 
 seeing. If you've come down for a country life, come to me, and 
 I'll give you plenty of it. Joe— damn that boy, he's gone to sleep 
 again — Joe, help Tom put in the horses.' 
 
 The horses were put in — the driver mounted — the fat boy 
 clambered up by his side — farewells were exchanged — and the 
 carriage rattled off. As the Pickwickians turned round to take a 
 last glimpse of it, the setting sun cast a rich glow on the faces of 
 their entertainers, and fell upon the form of the fat boy. His head 
 was sunk upon his bosom ; and he slumbered again. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A SHORT ONE. SHOWING, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, HOW MR. 
 PICKWICK UNDERTOOK TO DRIVE, AND MR. WINKLE TO RIDE; 
 AND HOW THEY BOTH DID IT 
 
 Bright and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air, and beautiful the 
 appearance of every object around, as Mr. Pickwick leant over the 
 balustrades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and waiting 
 for breakfast. The scene was indeed one which might well have 
 charmed a far less reflective mind, than that to which it was 
 presented. 
 
 On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, broken in many 
 places, and in some, overhanging the narrow beach below in rude 
 and heavy masses. Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged 
 and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind ] and the 
 green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. 
 Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive 
 walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its own might and 
 strength, as When, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash 
 of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. On 
 either side, the banks of the Medway, covered with corn-fields and 
 pastures, with here and there a windmill, or a distant church, 
 stretched away as far as the eye could see, presenting a rich and 
 varied landscape, rendered more beautiful by the changing shadows 
 which passed swiftly across it, as the thin and half-formed clouds. 
 
THE DISMAL MAN 49 
 
 skimmed away in the light of the morning sun. The river, 
 reflecting the clear blue of the sky, glistened and sparkled as it 
 flowed noiselessly on ; and the oars of the fishermen dipped into 
 the water with a clear and liquid sound, as the heavy but picturesque 
 boats glided slowly down the stream. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was roused from the agreeable reverie into which 
 he had been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a 
 touch on his shoulder. He turned round : and the dismal man 
 was at his side. 
 
 ' Contemplating the scene ? ' inquired the dismal man. 
 
 ' I was,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'And congratulating yourself on being up so soon?' Mr. 
 Pickwick nodded assent. 
 
 ' Ah ! people need to rise early, to see the sun in all his 
 splendour, for his brightness seldom lasts the day through. The 
 morning of day and the morning of hfe are but too much ahke.' 
 
 ' You speak truly, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' How common the saying,' continued the dismal man, ' " The 
 morning's too fine to last." How well might it be applied to our 
 every-day existence. God ! what would I forfeit to have the days 
 of my childhood restored, or to be able to forget them for ever ! ' 
 
 'You have seen much trouble, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 compassionately. 
 
 ' I have,' said the dismal man, hurriedly ; ' I have. More than 
 those who see me now would believe possible.' He paused for an 
 instant, and then said, abruptly^ — 
 
 ' Did it ever strike you, on such a morning as this, that drowning 
 would be happiness and peace ? ' 
 
 ' God bless me, no ! ' replied Mr. Pickwick, edging a httle from 
 the balustrade, as the possibility of the dismal man's tipping him 
 over, by way of experiment, occurred to him rather forcibly. 
 
 ' / have thought so, often,' said the dismal man, without noticing 
 the action. ' The calm, cool water seems to me to murmur an 
 invitation to repose and rest. A bound, a splash, a brief struggle ; 
 there is an eddy for an instant, it gradually subsides into a gentle 
 ripple ; the waters have closed above your head, and the world has 
 closed upon your miseries and misfortunes for ever.' The sunken 
 eye of the dismal man flashed brightly as he spoke, but the 
 momentary excitement quickly subsided; and he turned calmly 
 away, as he said — 
 
 ' There — enough of that. I wish to see you on another subject. 
 Vou invited me to read that paper, the night before last, and 
 listened attentively while I did so.' 
 
 ' I did,' replied Mr. Pickwick j ' and I certainly thought ' 
 
 'I asked for no opinion,' said the dismal man, interrupting 
 him, ' and I want none. You are travelling for amusement and 
 
50 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 instruction. Suppose I forwarded you a curious manuscript- 
 observe, not curious because wild or improbable, but curious as a 
 leaf from the romance of real life. Would you communicate it 
 to the club, of which you have spoken so frequently ? ' 
 
 'Certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 'if you wished it; and it 
 would be entered on their transactions.' 
 
 'You shall have it,' replied the dismal man. 'Your address;' 
 and, Mr. Pickwick having communicated their probable route, the 
 dismal man carefully noted it down in a greasy pocket-book, and, 
 resisting Mr. Pickwick's pressing invitation to breakfast, left that 
 gentleman at his inn, and walked slowly away. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick found that his three companions had risen, and 
 were waiting his arrival to commence breakfast, which was ready 
 laid in tempting display. They sat down to the meal ; and broiled 
 ham, eggs, tea, coffee, and sundries, began to disappear with a 
 rapidity which at once bore testimony to the excellence of the fare, 
 and the appetites of its consumers. 
 
 ' Now, about Manor Farm,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' How shall 
 we go ? ' 
 
 ' We had better consult the waiter, perhaps,' said Mr. Tupman, 
 and the waiter was summoned accordingly. 
 
 ' Dingley Dell, gentlemen — fifteen miles, gentlemen — cross road 
 — post-chaise, sir?' 
 
 ' Post-chaise won't hold more than two,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' True, sir — beg your pardon, sir. — ^Very nice four-wheeled chaise, 
 sir — seat for two behind — one in front for the gentleman that drives 
 — oh ! beg your pardon, sir — that'll only hold three.' 
 
 ' What's to be done ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Perhaps one of the gentlemen would like to ride, sir ? ' suggested 
 the waiter, looking towards Mr. Winkle ; ' very good saddle horses, 
 sir — any of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester bring 'em 
 back, sir.' 
 
 ' The very thing,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Winkle, will you go on 
 horseback?' 
 
 Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings in the very 
 lowest recesses of his own heart, relative to his equestrian skiU ; but, 
 as he would not have them even suspected on any account, he at 
 once replied with great hardihood, ' Certainly. I should enjoy it, 
 of all things.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle had rushed upon his fate; there was no resource. 
 ' Let them be at the door by eleven,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Very well, sir,' replied the waiter. 
 
 The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; and the travellers 
 ascended to their respective bed-rooms, to prepare a change of 
 clothing, to take with them on their approaching expedition. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrangements, and was 
 
EQUINE PECULIARITIES 51 
 
 looking over the coffee-room blinds at the passengers in the street, 
 when the waiter entered, and announced that the chaise was ready 
 —an announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed, by forth- 
 with appearing before the coffee-room blinds aforesaid. 
 
 It was a curious httle green box on four wheels, with a low place 
 like a wine-bin for two behind, and an elevated perch for one in 
 front, drawn by an immense brown horse, displaying great symmetry 
 of bone. An hostler stood near, holding by the bridle another 
 immense horse — apparently a near relative of the animal in the 
 chaise — ready saddled for Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Bless my soul ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon the 
 pavement while the coats were being put in. ' Bless my soul ! 
 who's to drive ? I never thought of that.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you, of course,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Of course,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' I ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not the slightest fear, sir,' interposed the hostler. ' Warrant 
 him quiet, sir ; a hinfant in arms might drive him.' 
 
 ' He don't shy, does he ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Shy, sir ? — He wouldn't shy if he was to meet a vaggin-load of 
 monkeys with their tails burnt off.' 
 
 The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman and 
 Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his 
 perch, and deposited his feet on a floor-clothed shelf, erected 
 beneath it for that purpose. 
 
 ' Now, shiny Villiam,' said the hostler to the deputy hostler, 
 ' give the gen'lm'n the ribbins.' ' Shiny ViUiam ' — so called, 
 probably, from his sleek hair and oily countenance — placed the 
 reins in Mr. Pickwick's left hand ; and the upper hostler thrust a 
 whip into his right. 
 
 ' Wo — o ! ' cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a 
 decided inclination to back into the coffee-room window. 
 
 ' Wo^ — o ! ' echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass, from the bin. 
 
 ' Only his playfulness, gen'lm'n,' said the head hostler encourag- 
 ingly; 'jist kitch hold on him, Villiam.' The deputy restrained 
 the animal's impetuosity, and the principal ran to assist Mr. Winkle 
 in mounting. 
 
 ' T'other side, sir, if you please.' 
 
 ' Blowed if the gen'lm'n worn't a gettin' up on the wrong side,' 
 whispered a grinning post-boy to the inexpressibly gratified waiter. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle, with about 
 OS much difficulty as he would have experienced in getting up the 
 Bide of a first-rate man-of-war. 
 
 ' All right ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentivoent 
 that it was all wrong. 
 
 ' All right,' replied Mr. Winkle faintly. 
 
Sz. THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Let 'em go,' cried the hostler,—' Hold him in, sir,' and away 
 went the chaise, and the saddle-horse, with Mr. Pickwick on the 
 box of the one, and Mr. Winkle on the back of the other, to the 
 delight and gratification of the whole inn yard. 
 
 ' What makes him go sideways ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass in the bin, 
 to Mr. Winkle in the saddle. 
 
 ' I can't imagine,' replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was drifting up 
 the street in the most mysterious manner — side first, with his head 
 towards one side of the way, and his tail towards the other. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either this or any other 
 particular, the whole of his faculties being concentrated in the 
 management of the animal attached to the chaise, who displayed 
 various pecuUarities, highly interesting to a bystander, but by no 
 means equally amusing to any one seated behind him. Besides 
 constantly jerking his head up, in a very unpleasant and uncomfort- 
 able manner, and tugging at the reins to an extent which rendered 
 it a matter of great difficulty for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had 
 a singular propensity for darting suddenly every now and then to 
 the side of the road, then stopping short, and then rushing forward 
 for some minutes, at a speed which it was wholly impossible to 
 control. 
 
 ' What cati he mean by this ? ' said Mr. Snodgrass, when the horse 
 had executed this manoeuvre for the twentieth time. 
 
 ' I don't know,' replied Mr. Tupman ; ' it looks very like shying, 
 don't it ? ' Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when he was interrupted 
 by a shout from Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Woo ! ' said that gentlenian ; ' I have dropped my whip.' 
 
 ' Winkle,' said Mr. Snodgrass, as the equestrian came trotting up 
 on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears, and shaking all over, 
 as if he would shake to pieces, with the violence of the exercise, 
 ' pick up the whip, there's a good fellow.' Mr. Winkle pulled at 
 the bridle of the tall horse till he was black in the face ; and having 
 at length succeeded in stopping him, dismounted, handed the whip 
 to Mr. Pickwick, and grasping the reins, prepared to remount. 
 
 Now whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness of his dis- 
 position, was desirous of having a little innocent recreation with Mr. 
 Winkle, or whether it occurred to him that he could perform the 
 journey as much to his own satisfaction without a rider as with one, 
 are points upon which, of course, we can arrive at no definite and 
 distinct conclusion. By whatever motives the animal was actuated, 
 certain it is that Mr. Winkle had no sooner touched the reins, than 
 he slipped them over his head, and darted backwards to their full 
 length. 
 
 ' Poor fellow,' said Mr. Winkle, soothingly, — ' poor fellow good 
 
 old horse.' The ' poor fellow ' was proof against flattery : the more 
 Mr. Winkle tried to get nearer him, the more he sidled away ; and, 
 
■■y^f^eea/y: 
 
THE HORSES RUN AWAY 53 
 
 notwithstanding all kinds of coaxing and wheedling, there were Mr. 
 Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten 
 minutes, at the end of which time each was at precisely the same 
 distance from the other as when they first commenced — an unsatis- 
 factory sort of thing under any circumstances, but particularly so in 
 a lonely road, where no assistance can be procured. 
 
 ' What am I to do ? ' shouted Mr. Winkle, after the dodging had 
 been prolonged for a considerable time. ' What am I to do ? I 
 can't get on him.' 
 
 ' You had better lead him till we come to a turnpike,' replied Mr. 
 Pickwick from the chaise. 
 
 ' But he won't come .! ' roared Mr. Winkle. ' Do come, and 
 hold him.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindness and humanity : 
 he threw the reins on the horse's back, and having descended from 
 his seat, carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest anything 
 should come along the road, and stepped back to the assistance of 
 his distressed companion, leaving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass 
 in the vehicle. 
 
 The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick advancing towards 
 him with the chaise whip in his hand, than he exchanged the 
 rotatory motion in which he had previously indulged, for a retro- 
 grade movement of so very determined a character, that it at once 
 drew Mr. Winkle, who was still at the end of the bridle, at a rather 
 quicker rate than fast walking, in the direction from which they had 
 just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his assistance, but the faster Mr. 
 Pickwick ran forward, the faster the horse ran backward. There 
 was a great scraping of feet, and kicking up of the dust ; and at 
 last Mr. Winkle, his arms being nearly pulled out of their sockets, 
 fairly let go his hold. The horse paused, stared, shook his head, 
 turned round, and quietly trotted home to Rochester, leaving Mr. 
 Winkle and Mr. Pickwick gazing on each other with countenances 
 of blank dismay. A rattling noise at a little distance attracted their 
 attention. They looked up. 
 
 ' Bless my soul ! ' exclaimed the agonized Mr. Pickwick, ' there's 
 the other horse running away ! ' 
 
 It was but too true. The animal was startled by the noise, and 
 the reins were on his back. The result may be guessed. He tore 
 off with the four-wheeled chaise behind him, and Mr. Tupman and 
 Mr. Snodgrass in the four-wheeled chaise. The hpat was a short 
 one. Mr. Tupman threw himself into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass 
 followed his example, the horse dashed the four-wheeled chaise 
 against a wooden bridge, separated the wheels from the body, and 
 the bin from the perch : and finally stood stock still to gaze upon 
 the ruin he had made. 
 
 The first care of the two unspilt friends was to extricate their 
 
54 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset — a process 
 which gave them the unspeakable satisfaction of discovering that 
 they had sustained no injury, beyond sundry rents in their garments, 
 and various lacerations from the brambles. The next thing to be 
 done was, to unharness the horse. This complicated process having 
 been effected, the party walked slowly forward, leading the horse 
 among them, and abandoning the chaise to its fate. 
 
 An hour's walking brought the travellers to a little road-side 
 public-house, with two elm trees, a horse trough, and a sign-post, in 
 front ; one or two deformed hay-ricks behind, a kitchen garden at 
 the side, and rotten sheds and mouldering out-houses jumbled in 
 strange confusion all about it. A red-headed man was working in 
 the garden ; and to him Mr. Pickwick called lustily — ' Hallo there ! ' 
 
 The red-headed man raised his body, shaded his eyes with his 
 hand, and stared, long and coolly, at Mr. Pickwick and his com- 
 panions. 
 
 ' Hallo there ! ' repeated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' was the red-headed man's reply. 
 
 ' How far is it to Dingley Dell ? ' 
 
 ' Better er seven mile.' 
 
 ' Is it a good road ? ' 
 
 ' No, t'ant.' Having uttered this brief reply, and apparently satis- 
 fied himself with another scrutiny, the red-headed man resumed 
 his work. 
 
 ' We want to put this horse up here,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' I 
 suppose we can, can't we ? ' 
 
 * Want to put that ere horse up, do ee ? ' repeated the red-headed 
 man, leaning on his spade. 
 
 ' Of course,' replied Mr. Pickwick, who had by this time advanced, 
 horse in hand, to the garden rails. 
 
 ' Missus ' — roared the man with the red head, emerging from the 
 garden, and looking very hard at the horse — ' Missus ! ' 
 
 A tall bony woman — straight all the way down — in a coarse blue 
 pelisse, with the waist an inch or two below her arm-pits, responded 
 to the call. 
 
 ' Can we put this horse up here, my good woman ? ' said Mr. 
 Tupman, advancing, and speaking in his most seductive tones. 
 The woman looked very hard at the whole party; and the red- 
 headed man whispered something in her ear. 
 
 ' No,' replied the woman, after a little consideration, ' I'm afeerd 
 on it' 
 
 ' Afraid ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, ' what's the woman afraid of? ' 
 
 ' It got us in trouble last time,' said the woman, turning into the 
 house ; ' I woant have nothin' to say to 'un.' 
 
 ' Most extraordinary thing I ever met with in my life,' said the 
 astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
ARRIVAL AT MANOR FARM 55 
 
 ' I — I — really believe,' whispered Mr. Winkle, as his friends 
 gathered round him, ' that they think we have come by this horse 
 in some dishonest manner.' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in a storm of indignation. 
 Mr. Winkle modestly repeated his suggestion. 
 
 ' Hallo, you fellow ! ' said the angry Mr. Pickwick, ' do you think 
 we stole this horse ? ' 
 
 ' I'm sure ye did,' replied the red-headed man, with a grin which 
 agitated his countenance from one auricular organ to the other. 
 Saying which, he turned into the house, and banged the door after 
 him. 
 
 ' It's like a dream,' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, ' a hideous dream. 
 The idea of a man's walking about, all day, with a dreadful horse 
 that he can't get rid of!' The depressed Pickwickians turned 
 moodily away, with the tall quadruped, for which they all felt the 
 most unmitigated disgust, following slowly at their heels. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the four friends and their four- 
 footed companion turned into the lane leading to Manor Farm : 
 and even when they were so near their place of destination, the 
 pleasure they would otherwise have experienced was materially 
 damped as they reflected on the singularity of their appearance, and 
 the absurdity of their situation. Torn clothes, lacerated faces, 
 dusty shoes, exhausted looks, and, above all, the horse. Oh, how 
 Mr. Pickwick cursed that horse : he had eyed the noble animal 
 from time to time with looks expressive of hatred and revenge ; 
 more than once he had calculated the probable amount of the 
 expense he would incur by cutting his throat j and now the temp- 
 tation to destroy him, or to cast him loose upon the world, rushed 
 upon his mind with tenfold force. He was roused from a medi- 
 tation on these dire imaginings, by the sudden appearance of two 
 figures at a turn of the lane. It was Mr. Wardle, and his faithful 
 attendant, the fat boy. 
 
 ' Why, where have you been ? ' said the hospitable old gentleman ; 
 ' I've been waiting for you all day. Well, you do look tired. What ! 
 Scratches ! Not hurt, I hope — eh ? Well, I am glad to hear that — 
 very. So you've been spilt, eh ? Never mind. Common accident 
 in- these parts. Joe — ^he's asleep again I — Joe, take that horse from 
 the gentleman, and lead it into the stable.' 
 
 The fat boy sauntered heavily behind them with the animal ; and 
 the old gentleman, condoling with his guests in homely phrase on 
 so much of the day's adventures as they thought proper to com- 
 municate, led the way to the kitchen. 
 
 ' We'll have you put to rights here,' said the old gentleman, ' and 
 then I'll introduce you to the people in the parlour. Emma, bring 
 out the cherry brandy ; now, Jane, a needle and thread here ; 
 towels and water, Mary. Come, girls, bustle about.' 
 
56 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Three or four buxom girls speedily dispersed in search of the. 
 different articles in requisition, while a couple of large-headed, 
 circular-visaged males rose from their seats in the chimney-corner 
 (for although it was a May evening, their attachment to the wood 
 fire appeared as cordial as if it were Christmas), and dived into 
 some obscure recesses, from which they speedily produced a bottle 
 of blacking, and some half-dozen brushes. 
 
 ' Bustle ! ' said the old gentleman again, but the admonition was 
 quite unnecessary, for one of the girls poured out the cherry brandy, 
 and another brought in the towels, and one of the men suddenly 
 seizing Mr. Pickwick by the leg, at imminent hazard of throwing 
 him off his balance, brushed away at his boot, till his corns were 
 red-hot; while the other shampoo'd Mr. Winkle with a heavy 
 clothes-brush, indulging, during the operation, in that hissing sound 
 which hostlers are wont to produce when engaged in rubbing down 
 a horse. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass, having concluded his ablutions, took a survey of 
 the room, while standing with his back to the fire, sipping his 
 cherry brandy with heartfelt satisfaction. He describes it as a 
 large apartment, with a red brick floor and a capacious chimney ; 
 the ceiling garnished with hams, sides of bacon, and ropes of 
 onions. The walls were decorated with several hunting-whips, two 
 or three bridles, a saddle and an old rusty blunderbuss, with an 
 inscription below it, intimating that it was ' Loaded ' — ^as it had 
 been, on the same authority, for half a century at least. An old 
 eight-day clock, of solemn and sedate demeanour, ticked gravely in 
 one corner ; and a silver watch, of equal antiquity, dangled from 
 one of the many hooks which ornamented the dresser. 
 
 ' Ready ? ' said the old gentleman inquiringly, when his guests 
 had been washed, mended, brushed, and brandied. 
 
 ' Quite,' repKed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Come along, then,' and the party having traversed several dark 
 passages, and being joined by Mr. Tupman, who had lingered 
 behind to snatch a kiss from Emma, for which he had been duly 
 rewarded with sundry pushings and scratchings, arrived at the 
 parlour door. 
 
 'Welcome,' said their hospitable host, throwing it open and 
 stepping forward to announce them, 'Welcome, gentlemen, to 
 Manor Farm.' 
 
AN ALARMING OLD LADY 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AN OLD-FASHIONED CARD-PARTY. THE CLERGYMAN'S VERSES. 
 THE STORY OF THE CONVICT'S RETURN 
 
 Several guests who were assembled in the old parlour rose to 
 greet Mr. Pickwick and his friends upon their entrance ; and during 
 the performance of the ceremony of introduction, with all due 
 formalities, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to observe the appearance, 
 and speculate upon the characters and pursiiits, of the persons by 
 whom he was surrounded — a habit in which he in common with 
 many other great men delighted to indulge. 
 
 A very old lady, in a lofty cap and faded silk gown — no less a 
 personage than Mr. Wardle's mother — occupied the post of honour 
 on the right-hand corner of the chimney-piece ; and various certifi- 
 cates of her having been brought up in the way she should go when 
 young, and of her not having departed from it when old, ornamented 
 the walls, in the form of samplers of ancient date, worsted land- 
 scapes of equal antiquity, and crimson silk tea-kettle holders of a 
 more modern period. The aunt, the two young ladies, and Mr. 
 Wardle, each vying with the other in paying zealous and unremit- 
 ting attentions to the old lady, crowded round her easy-chair, one 
 holding her ear-trumpet, another an orange, and a third a smelling- 
 bottle, while a fourth was busily engaged in patting and punching 
 the pillows which were arranged for her support. On the opposite 
 side sat a bald-headed old gentleman, with a good-humoured 
 benevolent face — the clergyman of Dingley Dell ; and next him 
 sat his wife, a stout blooming old lady, who looked as if she were 
 well skilled, not only in the art and mystery of manufacturing home- 
 made cordials- greatly to other people's satisfaction, but of tasting 
 them occasionally very much to her own. A little hard-headed, 
 Ribston-pippin-faced man, was conversing with a fat old gentleman 
 in one corner ; and two or three more old gentlemen, and two or 
 three more old ladies, sat bolt upright and- motionless on their 
 chairs, staring very hard at Mr. Pickwick and his fellow-voyagers. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick, mother,' said Mr. Wardle, at the very top of his 
 voice. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the old lady, shaking her head ; ' I can't hear you.' 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick, grandma ! ' screamed both the young ladies 
 together. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed the old lady. ' Well ; it don't much matter. 
 He don't care for an old 'ooman like me, I dare say.' 
 
 ' I assure you, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, grasping the old lady's 
 
58 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 hand, and speaking so loud that the exertion imparted a crimson 
 hue to his benevolent countenance, ' I assure you, ma'am, that 
 nothing delights me more than to see a lady of your time of life 
 heading so fine a family, and looking so young and well' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the old lady, after a short pause ; ' it's all very fine, 
 I dare say ; but I can't hear him.' 
 
 ' Grandma's rather put out now,' said Miss Isabella Wardle, in a 
 low tone ; ' but she'll talk to you presently.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded his readiness to humour the infirmities of 
 age, and entered into a general conversation with the other members 
 of the circle. 
 
 ' Delightful situation this,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Delightful ! ' echoed Messrs. Snodgrass, Tupman, and Winkle. 
 
 ' Well, I think it is,' said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 'There an't a better spot o' ground in all Kent, sir,' said the 
 hard-headed man with the pippin-face; 'there an't indeed, sir— 
 I'm sure there an't, sir.' The hard-headed man looked triumphantly 
 round, as if he had been very much contradicted by somebody, but 
 had got the better of him at last. 
 
 ' There an't a better spot o' ground in all Kent,' said the hard- 
 headed man again, after a pause. 
 
 ' 'Cept Mullins's Meadows,' observed the fat man solemnly. 
 
 ' Mullins's Meadows ! ' ejaculated the other, with profound 
 contempt. 
 
 ' Ah, Mullins's Meadows,' repeated the fat man. 
 
 ' Reg'lar good land that,' interposed another fat man. 
 
 ' And so it is, sure-ly,' said a third fat man. 
 
 ' Everybody knows that,' said the corpulent host. 
 
 The hard-headed man looked dubiously round, but finding him- 
 self in a minority, assumed a compassionate air, and said no more. 
 
 ' What are they talking about ? ' inquired the old lady of one of 
 her grand-daughters, in a very audible voice ; for, like many deaf 
 people, she never seemed to calculate on the possibility of other 
 persons hearing what she said herself. 
 
 ' About the land, grandma.' 
 
 ' What about the land ? — Nothing the matter, is there ? ' 
 
 'No, no. Mr. Miller was saying our land was better than 
 Mullins's Meadows.' 
 
 ' How should he know anything about it ? ' inquired the old lady 
 indignantly. ' Miller's a conceited coxcomb, and you may tell him 
 I said so.' Saying which, the old lady, quite unconscious that she 
 had spoken above a whisper, drew herself up, and looked carving- 
 knives at the hard-headed delinquent. 
 
 'Come, come,' said the bustling host, with a natural anxiety 
 to change the conversation, — 'What say you to a rubber, Mr, 
 Pickwick ? ' 
 
A CARD-PARTY 59 
 
 ' I should like it of all things,' replied that gentleman ; ' but pray 
 don't make up one on my account.' 
 
 'Oh, I assure you, mother's very fond of a rubber,' said Mr. 
 Wardle ; ' an't you, mother ? ' 
 
 The old lady, who was much less deaf on this subject than on 
 any other, replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Joe, Joe ! ' said the old gentleman ; ' Joe — damn that — oh, here 
 he is ; put out the card-tables.' 
 
 The lethargic youth contrived without any additional rousing to 
 set out two card-tables ; the one for Pope Joan, and the other for 
 whist. The whist-players were Mr. Pickwick and the old lady; 
 Mr. Miller and the fat gentleman. The round game comprised 
 the rest of the company. 
 
 The rubber was conducted with all that gravity of deportment 
 and sedateness of demeanour which befit the pursuit entitled ' whist ' 
 —a solemn observance, to which, as it appears to us, the title of 
 ' game ' has been very irreverently and ignominiously applied. The 
 round-game table, on the other hand, was so boisterously merry as 
 materially to interrupt the contemplations of Mr. Miller, who, not 
 being quite so much absorbed as he ought to have been, contrived 
 to commit various high crimes and misdemeanours, which excited 
 the wrath of the fat gentleman to a very great extent, and 
 called forth the good-humour of the old lady in a proportionate 
 degree. 
 
 ' There 1 ' said the criminal Miller triumphantly, as he took up 
 the odd trick at the conclusion of a hand ; ' that could not have 
 been played better, I flatter myself; — impossible to have made 
 another trick ! ' 
 
 ' Miller ought to have trumped the diamond, oughtn't he, sir ? • 
 said the old lady. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded assent. 
 
 ' Ought I, though ? ' said the unfortunate, with a doubtful appeal 
 to his partner. 
 
 'You ought, sir,' said the fat gentleman, in an awful voice. 
 
 ' Very sorry,' said the crest-fallen Miller. 
 
 ' Much use that,' growled the fat gentleman. 
 
 ' Two by honours makes us eight,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Another hand. ' Can you one ? ' inquired the old lady, 
 
 ' I can,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Double, single, and the rub.' 
 
 ' Never was such luck,' said Mr. Miller. 
 . ' Never was such cards,' said the fat gentleman. 
 
 A solemn silence : Mr. Pickwick humorous, the old lady serious, 
 the fat gentleman captious, and Mr. Miller timorous. 
 
 ' Another double,' said the old lady : triumphantly making a 
 memorandum of the circumstance, by placing one sixpence and 
 i battered halfpenny under the candlestick. 
 
6o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' A double, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Quite aware of the fact, sir,' replied the fat gentleman, sharply. 
 
 Another game, with a similar result, was followed by a revoke 
 from the unlucky Miller ; on which the fat gentleman burst mto a 
 state of high personal excitement which lasted until the conclusion 
 of the game, when he retired into a comer, and remained perfectly 
 mute for one hour and twenty-seven minutes; at the end of which 
 time he emerged from his retirement, and offered Mr. Pickwick a 
 pinch of snuff with the air of a man who had made up his mind to 
 a Christian forgiveness of injuries sustained. The old lady's heanng 
 decidedly improved, and the unlucky Miller felt as much out of his 
 element as a dolphin in a sentry-box. 
 
 Meanwhile the round game proceeded right merrily. Isabdla- 
 Wardle and Mr. Trundle ' went partners,' and Emily Wardle and 
 Mr. Snodgrass did the same; and even Mr. Tupman and the 
 spinster aunt established a joint-stock company of fish and flattery. 
 Old Mr. Wardle was in the very height of his jolKty ; and he was 
 so funny in his management of the board, and the old ladies were 
 so sharp after their winnings, that the whole tabic was in a perpetual 
 roar of merriment and laughter. There was one old lady who 
 always had about half a dozen cards to pay for, at which everybody 
 laughed, regularly every round ; and when the old lady looked cross 
 at having to pay, they laughed louder than ever ; on which the old 
 lady's face gradually brightened up, till at last she laughed louder 
 than any of them. Then, when the spinster aunt got ' matrimony,' 
 the young ladies laughed afresh, and the spinster aunt seemed 
 disposed to be pettish ; till, feeling Mr. Tupman squeezing her hand 
 under the table, she brightened up too, and looked rather knowing, 
 as if matrimony in reality were not quite so far off as some people 
 thought for; whereupon everybody laughed again, and especially 
 old Mr. Wardle, who enjoyed a joke as much as the youngest. Jsa 
 to Mr. Snodgrass, he did nothing but whisper poetical sentiments 
 into his partner's ear, which made one old gentleman facetiously 
 sly, about partnerships at cards and partnerships for life, and caused 
 the aforesaid old gentleman to make some remarks thereupon, 
 accompanied with divers winks and chuckles, which made the com- 
 pany very merry and the old gentleman's wife especially so. And 
 Mr. Winkle came out with jokes which are very well known in town, 
 but are not at all known in the country : and as everybody laughed 
 at them very heartily, and said they were very capital, Mr. Winkle 
 was in a state of great honour and glory. And the benevolent 
 clergyman looked pleasantly on ; for the happy faces which sur- 
 rounded the table- made the good old man feel happy too ; and 
 though the merriment was rather boisterous, still it came from the 
 heart and not from the lips : and this is the right sort of merriment, 
 after all. 
 
A SOCIAL CIRCLE 6i 
 
 The evening glided swiftly away, in these cheerful recreations ; 
 and when the substantial though homely supper had been despatched, 
 and the little pafty formed a social circle round the fire, Mr. Pick- 
 wick thought he had never felt so happy in his life, and at no time 
 so much disposed to enjoy, and make the most of, the passing 
 moment. ^ 
 
 ' Now this,' said the hospitable host, who was sitting in great state 
 next the old lady's arm-chair, with her hand fast clasped in his — 
 ' This is just what I like — the happiest moments of my life have 
 b^n passed at this old fire-side : and I am so attached to it, that I 
 keep up a blazing fire here every evening, until it actually grows too 
 hot to bear it. Why, my poor old mother, here, used to sit before 
 tMfc fire-place upon that little stool when she was a girl ; didn't you, 
 mother ? ' 
 
 The tear which starts unbidden to the eye when the recollection 
 of old times and the happiness of many years ago is suddenly 
 recalled, stole down the old lady's face as she shook her head with 
 a melancholy smile. 
 
 ' You must excuse my talking about this old place, Mr. Pickwick,' 
 resumed the host, after a short pause, ' for I love it dearly, and 
 know no other — the old houses and fields seem like living friends 
 to me : and so does our little church with the ivy, — about which, 
 by-the-bye, our excellent friend there made a song when he first 
 came amongst us. Mr. Snodgrass, have you anything in your 
 glass ? ' 
 
 ' Plenty, thank you,' replied that gentleman, whose poetic curiosity • 
 had been greatly excited by the last observations of his enter- 
 tainer. ' I beg your pardon, but you were talking about the song of 
 the Ivy.' 
 
 ' You must ask our friend opposite about that,' said the host 
 knowingly : indicating the clergyman by a nod of his head. 
 
 ' May I say that I, should hke to hear you repeat it, sir ? ' said 
 Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Why really,' replied the clergyman, ' it's a very slight affair ; and 
 the only excuse I have for having ever perpetrated it is, that I was 
 a young man at the time. Such as it is, however, you shall hear it 
 if you wish.' 
 
 A murmur of curiosity was of course the reply ; and the old 
 gentleman proceeded to recite, with the aid of sundry promptings 
 from his wife, the lines in question. ' I call them,' said he, 
 
 THE IVY GREEN. 
 
 Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green, 
 That creepeth o'er ruins old ! 
 Of right choice food are his meals I ween. 
 In his cell so lone and cold. 
 
62 THE PIQKWICK CLUB 
 
 The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, 
 To pleasure his dainty whim : 
 And the mouldering dust that years have made 
 Is a merry meal for him. 
 
 Creeping where no life is seen, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Fast he stealeth on, thojigh he wears no wings, 
 
 And a staunch old heart has he. 
 
 How closely he twineth, how tight he clings 
 
 To his friend the huge Oak Tree ! 
 
 And slily he traileth along the ground, 
 
 And his leaves he gently waves, 
 
 As he joyously hugs and crawleth round 
 
 The rich mould of dead men's graves. 
 
 Creeping where grim death has been, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Whole ages have fled and their works decayed, 
 
 And nations have scattered been ; 
 
 But the stout old Ivy shall never fade, 
 
 From its hale and hearty green. 
 
 The brave old plant in its lonely days, 
 
 Shall fatten upon the past : 
 
 For the stateliest building man can raise, 
 
 Is the Ivy's food at last. 
 
 Creeping on, where time has been, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 While the old gentleman repeated these lines a second time, to 
 enable Mr. Snodgrass to note them down, Mr. Pickwick perused 
 the lineaments of his face with an expression of great interest. The 
 old gentleman having concluded his dictation, and Mr. Snodgrass 
 having returned his note-book to his pocket, Mr. Pickwick said : 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir, for making the remark on so short an acquaint- 
 ance ; but a gentleman like yourself cannot fail, I should think, to 
 have observed many scenes and incidents worth recording, in the 
 course of your experience as a minister of the Gospel.' 
 
 ' I have witnessed some certainly,' replied the old gentleman ; 
 ' but the incidents and characters have been of a homely and ordi- 
 nary nature, my sphere of action being so very limited.' 
 
 'You did make some notes, I think, about John Edmunds, did 
 you not ? ' inquired Mr. Wardle, who appeared very desirous to draw 
 his friend out, for the edification of his new visitors. 
 
 The old gentleman slightly nodded his head in token of assent, 
 and was proceeding to change the subject, when Mr. Pickwick 
 said — 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir ; but pray, if I may venture to inquire, 
 who was John Edmunds ? ' 
 
 ' The very thing I was about to ask,' said Mr. Snodgrass, eagerly. 
 
 'You are fairly in for it,' said the jolly host. 'You must satisfy 
 the curiosity of these gentlemen, sooner or later ; so you had better 
 
THE OLD GENTLEMAN'S TALE 63 
 
 take advantage of this favourable opportunity, and do so at 
 once.' 
 
 The old gentleman smiled good-humouredly as he drew his chair 
 forward ; — the remainder of the party drew their chairs closer to- 
 gether, especially Mr. Tupman and the spinster aunt, who were 
 possibly rather hard of hearing; and the old lady's ear trumpet 
 having been duly adjusted, and Mr. Miller (who had fallen asleep 
 during the recital of the verses) roused from his slumbers by an 
 admoiiitory pinch, administered beneath the table by his ex-partner 
 the solemn fat man, the old gentleman, without farther preface, 
 commenced the following tale, to which we have taken the liberty 
 of prefixing the title of 
 
 THE CONVICT'S RETURN 
 
 *When I first settled in this village,' said the old gentleman, 
 'which is now just five-and-twenty years ago, the most notorious 
 person among my parishioners was a man of the name of Edmunds, 
 who leased a small farm near this spot. He was a morose, savage- 
 hearted, bad man : idle and dissolute in his habits ; cruel and 
 ferocious in his disposition. Beyond the few lazy and reckless 
 vagabonds with whom he sauntered away his time in the fields, or 
 sotted in the ale-house, he had not a single friend or acquaintance ; 
 no one cared to spealc to the man whom many feared, and every 
 one detested — and Edmunds was shunned by all. 
 
 ' This man had a wife and one son, who, when 1 first came here, 
 was about twelve years old. Of the acuteness of that woman's 
 sufferings, of the gentle and enduring manner in which she bore 
 them, of the agony of solicitude with which she reared that boy, no 
 one can form an adequate conception. Heaven forgive me the 
 supposition, if it be an uncharitable one, but I do firmly and in my 
 soul believe, that the man systematically tried for many years to 
 break her heart ; but she bore it all for her child's sake, and, how- 
 ever strange it may seem to many, for his father's too ; for brute as 
 he was and cruelly as he had treated her, she had loved him once ; 
 and the recollection of what he had been to her, awakened feelings 
 of forbearance and meekness under suffering in her bosom, to which 
 all God's creatures, but women, are strangers. 
 
 ' They were poor — they could not be otherwise when the man 
 pursued such courses ; but the woman's unceasing and unwearied 
 exertions, early and late, morning, noon, and night, kept them 
 above actual want. Those exertions were but ill repaid. People 
 who passed the spot in the evening — sometimes at a late hour of 
 the night — reported that they had heard the moans and sobs of a 
 woman in distress, and the sound of blows : and more than once, 
 when it was past midnight, the boy knocked softly at the door of a 
 
64 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 neighbour's house, whither he had been sent, to escape the drunken 
 fury of his unnatural father. 
 
 ' During the whole of this time, and when the poor creature often 
 bore about her marks of ill-usage and violence which she could not 
 wholly conceal, she was a constant attendant at our little church. 
 Regularly every Sunday, morning and afternoon, she occupied the 
 same seat with the boy at her side; and though they were both 
 poorly dressed — much more so than many of their neighbours who 
 were in a lower station — they were always neat and clean. Every 
 one had a friendly nod and a kind word for " poor Mrs. Edmunds ; " 
 and sometimes, when she stopped to exchange a few words with a 
 neighbour at the conclusion of the service in the little row of elm 
 trees which leads to the church porch, or lingered behind to gaze 
 with a mother's pride and fondness upon her healthy boy, as he 
 sported before her with some little companions, her care-worn face 
 would lighten up with an expression of heartfelt gratitude ; and 
 she would look, if not cheerful and happy, at least tranquil and 
 contented. 
 
 ' Five or six years passed away ; the boy had become a robust 
 and well-grown youth. The time that had strengthened the child's 
 slight frame and knit his weak limbs into the strength of manhood 
 had bowed his mother's form, and enfeebled her steps ; but the arm 
 that should have supported her was no longer locked in hers ; the 
 face that should have cheered her, no more looked upon her own. 
 She occupied her old seat, but there was a vacant one beside her. 
 The Bible was kept as carefully as ever, the places were found and 
 folded down as they used to be : but there was no one to read it 
 with her ; and the tears fell thick and fast upon the book, and 
 blotted the words from her eyes. Neighbours were as kind as they 
 were wont to be of old, but she shunned their greetings with averted 
 head. There was no lingering among the old elm trees now — no 
 cheering anticipations of happiness yet in store. The desolate 
 woman drew her bonnet closer over her face, and walked hurriedly 
 away. 
 
 ' Shall I tell you, that the young man, who, looking back to the 
 earliest of his childhood's days to which memory and consciousness 
 extended, and carrying his recollection down to that moment, could 
 remember nothing which was not in some way connected with a long 
 series of voluntary privations suffered by his mother for his sake, 
 with ill-usage, and insult, and violence, and all endured for him ;— 
 shall I tell you, that he, with a reckless disregard of her breakin<f 
 heart, and a sullen wilful forgetfulness of all she had done and borne 
 for him, had linked himself with depraved and abandoned men, and 
 was madly pursuing a headlong career, which must bring death to 
 him, and shame to her ? Alas for human nature ! You have 
 anticipated it long since. 
 
A FELON'S SENTENCE 65 
 
 ' The measure of the unhappy woman's misery and misfortune 
 was about to be completed. Numerous offences had been com- 
 mitted in the neighbourhood; the perpetrators remained undis- 
 covered, and their boldness increased. A robbery of a daring and 
 aggravated nature occasioned a vigilance of pursuit, and a strict- 
 ness of search, they had not calculated on. Young Edmunds was 
 suspected with three companions. He was apprehended — com- 
 mitted — tried — condemned — to die. 
 
 'The wild and piercing shriek from a woman's voice, which 
 resounded through the court when the solemn sentence was pro- 
 nounced, rings in my ears at this moment. That cry struck a 
 terror to the culprit's heart, which trial, condemnation • — the 
 approach of death itself, had failed to awaken. The lips which 
 had been compressed in dogged suUenness throughout, quivered 
 and parted involuntarily; the face turned ashy pale as the cold 
 perspiration broke forth from every pore ; the sturdy limbs of the 
 felon trembled, and he staggered in the dock. 
 
 ' In the first transports of her mental anguish, the suffering 
 mother threw herself upon her knees at my feet, and fervently 
 besought the Almighty Being who had hitherto supported her in 
 all her troubles, to release her from a world of woe and misery, 
 and to spare the life of her only child. A burst of grief, and a 
 violent struggle, such as I hope I may never have to witness again, 
 succeeded. I knew that her heart was breaking from that hour ; 
 but I never once heard complaint or murmur escape her lips. 
 
 ' It was a piteous spectacle to see that woman in the prison yard 
 from day to day, eagerly and fervently attempting, by affection and 
 entreaty, to soften the hard heart of her obdurate son. It was in 
 vain. He remained moody, obstinate, and unmoved. Not even 
 the unlooked-for commutation of his sentence to transportation 
 for fourteen years, softened for an instant the sullen hardihood of 
 his demeanour. 
 
 ' But the spirit of resignation and endurance that had so long 
 upheld her, was unable to contend against bodily weakness and 
 infirmity. She fell sick. She dragged her tottering hmbs from the 
 bed to visit her son once more, but her strength failed her, and she 
 sunk powerless on the ground. 
 
 'And now the boasted coldness and indifference of the young 
 man were tested indeed ; and the retribution that fell heavily upon 
 him, nearly drove him mad. A day passed away and his mother 
 was not there ; another flew by, and she came not near him ; 
 a third evening arrived, and yet he had not seen her; and in 
 four-and- twenty hours he was to be separated from her — perhaps for 
 ever. Oh ! how the long-forgotten thoughts of former days rushed 
 upon his mind, as he almost ran up and down the narrow yard — 
 as if intelligence would arrive the sooner for his hurrying — an(3 
 
 F 
 
66 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 how bitterly a sense of his helplessness and desolation rushed upon 
 him, when he heard the truth ! His mother, the only parent he 
 had ever known, lay ill— it might be, dying— within one mile of the 
 ground he stood on ; were he free and unfettered, a few mmutes 
 would place him by her side. He rushed to the gate, and graspmg 
 the iron rails with the energy of desperation, shook it till it rang 
 again, and threw himself against the thick wall as if to force a 
 passage through the stone ; but the strong building mocked his 
 feeble efforts, and he beat his hands together and wept like a 
 child. 
 
 'I bore the mother's forgiveness and blessing to her son in 
 prison ; and I carried his solemn assurance of repentance, and his 
 fervent suppUcation for pardon, to her sick bed. I heard, with 
 pity and compassion, the repentant man devise a thousand little 
 plans for her comfort and support when he returned ; but I knew 
 that many months before he could reach his place of destination, 
 his mother would be no longer of this world. 
 
 ' He was removed by night. A few weeks afterwards the poor 
 woman's soul took its flight, I confidendy hope, and solemnly 
 believe, to a place of eternal happiness and rest. I performed the 
 burial service over her remains. She lies in our little churchyard. 
 There is no stone at her grave's head. Her sorrows were known 
 to man ; her virtues to God. 
 
 ' It had been arranged previously to the convict's departure, that 
 he should write to his mother as soon as he could obtain per- 
 mission, and that the letter should be addressed to me. The 
 father had positively refused to see his son from the moment of 
 his apprehension ; and it was a matter of indifference to him 
 whether he lived or died. Many years passed over without any 
 intelligence of him ; and when more than half his term of trans- 
 portation had expired, and I had received no letter, I concluded 
 him to be dead, as indeed, I almost hoped he might be. 
 
 ' Edmunds, however, had been sent a considerable distance up 
 the country on his arrival at the settlement ; and to this cir- 
 cumstance, perhaps, may be attributed the fact, that though several 
 letters were despatched, none of them ever reached my hands. He 
 remained in the same place during the whole fourteen years. At 
 the expiration of the term, steadily adhering to his old resolution 
 and the pledge he gave his mother, he made his way back to 
 England amidst innumerable difficulties, and returned, on foot, to 
 his native place. 
 
 'On a fine Sunday evening, in the month of August, Johii 
 Edmunds set foot in the village he had left \\ith shame and 
 disgrace seventeen years before. His nearest way lay through the 
 churchyard. The man's heart swelled as he crossed the stile. . 
 The tall old elms, through whose branches the declining sun casi 
 
THE CONVICT'S RETURN 67 
 
 here and there a rich ray of light upon the shady path, awakened 
 the associations of his earUest days. He pictured himself as he 
 was then, clinging to his mother's hand, and walking peacefully to 
 church. He remembered how he used to look up into her pale 
 face; and how her eyes would sometimes fill with tears as she 
 gazed upon his features — tears which fell hot upon his forehead as 
 she stooped to kiss him, and made him weep too, although he 
 little knew then what bitter tears hers were. He thought how 
 often he had run merrily down that path with some childish play- 
 fellow, looking back, ever and again, to catch his mother's smile, 
 or hear her gentle voice ; and then a veil seemed lifted from his 
 memory, and words of kindness unrequited, and warnings despised, 
 and promises broken, thronged upon his recollection till his heart 
 failed him, and he could bear it no longer. 
 
 ' He entered the church. The evening service was concluded 
 and the congregation had dispersed, but it was not yet closed. 
 His steps echoed through the low building with a hoUow sound, 
 and he almost feared to be alone, it was so still and quiet. He 
 looked round him. Nothing was changed. The place seemeii 
 smaller than it used to be, but there were the old monuments on 
 which he had gazed with childish awe a thousand times ; the little 
 pulpit with its faded cushion; the Communion-table before which 
 he had so often repeated the Commandments he had reverenced as 
 a child, and forgotten as a man. He approached the old seat ; it 
 looked cold and desolate. The cushion had been removed, and 
 the Bible was not there. Perhaps his mother now occupied a 
 poorer seat, or possibly she had grown infirm and could not reach 
 the church alone. He dared not think of what he feared. A 
 cold feeling crept over him, and he trembled violently as he 
 turned away. 
 
 ' An old man entered the porch just as he reached it. , Edmunds 
 started back, for he knew him well ; many a time he had watched 
 him digging graves in the churchyard. What would he say to the 
 returned convict ? 
 
 ' The old man raised his eyes to the stranger's face, bid him 
 "good evening," and walked slowly on. He had forgotten him. 
 
 ' He walked down the hill, and through the village. The 
 weather was warm, and the people were sitting at their doors, or 
 strolling in their httle gardens as he passed, enjoying the serenity 
 of the evening, and their rest from labour. Many a look was 
 turned towards him, and many a doubtful gknce he cast on either 
 side to see whether any knew and shunned him. There were 
 strange faces in almost every house; in some he recognised the 
 burly form of some old schoolfellow — a boy when he last, saw him 
 — surrounded by a troop of merry children ; in others he saw, 
 seated in an easy-chair at a cottage door, a feeble and infirm old 
 
68 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 man, whom he only remembered as a hale and hearty labourer ; 
 
 but they had all forgotten him, and he passed on unknown. 
 
 ' The last soft light of the setting sun had fallen on the earth, 
 casting a rich glow on the yellow corn sheaves, and lengthening 
 the shadows of the orchard trees, as he stood before the old 
 house — the home of his infancy— to which his heart had yearned 
 with an intensity of laffection not to be described, through long 
 and weary years of captivity and sorrow. The paling was low, 
 though he well remembered the time when it had seemed a high 
 wall to him: and he looked over into the old garden. There 
 were more seeds and gayer flowers than there used to be, but there 
 were the old trees still — the very tree, under which he had lain 
 a thousand times when tired of playing in the sun, and felt the soft 
 mild sleep of happy boyhood steal gently upon him. There were 
 voices within the house. He Hstened, but they fell strangely upon 
 his ear ; he knew them not. They were merry too ; and he well 
 knew that his poor old mother could not be cheerful, and he away. 
 The door opened, and a group of little children bounded out, 
 shouting and romping. The father, with a little boy in his arms, 
 appeared at the door, and they crowded round him, clapping their 
 tiny hands, and dragging him out, to join their joyous sports. The 
 convict thought on the many times he had shrunk from his father's 
 sight in that very place. He remembered how often he had buried 
 his trembling head beneath the bed-clothes, and heard the harsh 
 word, and the hard stripe, and his mother's wailing ; and though 
 the man sobbed aloud with agony of mind as he left the spot, his 
 fist was clenched, and his teeth were set, in fierce and deadly 
 passion. 
 
 ' And such was the return to which he had looked through the 
 weary perspective of many years, and for which he had undergone 
 so much suffering ! No face of welcome, no look of forgiveness, 
 no house to receive, no hand to help him — and this too in the old 
 village. What was his loneliness in the wild thick woods, where 
 man was never seen, to this ! 
 
 ' He felt that in the distant land of his bondage and infamy, 
 he had thought of his native place as it was when he left it ; not 
 as it would be when he returned. The sad reality struck coldly 
 at his heart, and his spirit sank within him. He had not courage 
 to make inquiries, or to present himself to the only person who 
 was likely to receive him with kindness and compassion. He 
 walked slowly on ; and shunning the road-side like a guilty man, 
 turned into a meadow he well remembered ; and covering his face 
 with his hands, threw himself upon the grass. 
 
 ' He had not observed that a man was lying on the bank beside 
 him; his garments rustled as he turned round to Steal a look at 
 ine new-comer ; and Edmunds raised his head. 
 
THE TALE CONCLUDED 69 
 
 •The man had moved into a sitting posture. His body was 
 much bent, and his face was Wrinkled and yellow. His dress 
 denoted him an inmate of the workhouse : he had the appearance 
 of being very old, but it looked more the effect of dissipation or 
 disease, than length of years. He was staring hard at the stranger, 
 and though his eyes were lustreless and heavy at first, they appeared 
 to glow with an. unnatural and alarmed expression after they had 
 been fixed upon him for a short time, until they seemed to be 
 starting from their sockets. Edmunds gradually raised himself to 
 his knees, and looked more and more earnestly upon the old man's 
 face. They gazed upon each other in silence. 
 
 'The old man was ghastly pale. He shuddered and tottered 
 to his feet. Edmunds sprang to his. He stepped back a pace 
 or two. Edmunds advanced. 
 
 ' " Let me hear you speak," said the convict, in a thick broken 
 voice. 
 
 '"Stand off!" cried the old man, with a dreadful oath. The 
 convict drew closer to him. 
 
 ' " Stand off ! " shrieked the old man. Furious with terror he 
 raised his stick, and struck Edmunds a heavy blow across the face. 
 
 ' " Father — devil ! " murmured the convict, between his set teeth. 
 He rushed wildly forward, and clenched the old man by the throat 
 — but he was his father; and his arm fell powerless by his side. 
 
 'The old man uttered a loud yell which rang through the 
 lonely fields like the howl of an evil spirit. His face turned 
 black : the gore rushed from his mouth and nose, and dyed the 
 grass a deep dark red, as he staggered and fell. He had ruptured 
 a blood-vessel : and he was a dead man before his son could 
 raise him. 
 
 Tf^ t(c ^ 9fr yf T^ 
 
 ' In that corner of the churchyard,' said the old gentleman, after 
 a silence of a few moments, ' in that corner of the churchyard 
 of which I have before spoken, there lies buried a man, who was 
 in my employment for three years after this event : and who was 
 truly contrite, penitent, and humbled, if ever man was. No one 
 save myself knew in that man's lifetime who he was, or -Thence he 
 came :— it was John Edmunds the returned convict.' 
 
?o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 HOW MR. WINKLE, INSTEAD OF SHOOTING AT THE PIGEON AND 
 KILLING THE CROW, SHOT AT THE CROW AND WOUNDED THE 
 PIGEON ; HOW THE DINGLEY DELL CRICKET CLUB PLAYED 
 ALL-MUGGLETON, AND HOW ALL-MUGGLETON DINED AT THE 
 DINGLEY DELL EXPENSE : WITH OTHER INTERESTING AND 
 INSTRUCTIVE MATTERS 
 
 The fatiguing adventures of the day or the somniferous influejce 
 of the clergyman's tale operated so strongly on the drowsy 
 tendencies of Mr. Pickwick, that in less than five minutes after 
 he had been shown to his comfortable bed-room, he fell into 
 a sound and dreamless sleep, from which he was only awakened 
 by the morning sun darting his bright beams reproachfully into 
 the apartment. Mr. Pickwick was no sluggard; and he sprang 
 like an ardent warrior from his tent — bedstead. 
 
 ' Pleasant, pleasant country,' sighed the enthusiastic gentleman, 
 as he opened his lattice window. 'Who could live to gaze from 
 day to day on bricks and slates, who had once felt the influence 
 of a scene like this? Who could continue to exist, where there 
 are no cows but the cows on the chimney-pots ; nothing redolent 
 of Pan but pan-tiles ; no crop but stone crop ? Who could bear 
 to drag out a life in such a spot ? Who I ask could endure it ? ' 
 and, having cross-examined solitude after the most approved 
 precedents, at considerable length, Mr. Pickwick thrust his head 
 out of the lattice, and looked around him. 
 
 The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window ; 
 the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the 
 air around; the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew 
 that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air ; and the 
 birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to 
 them. Mr. Pickwick fell into an enchanting and delicious reverie. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' was the sound that roused him. 
 
 He looked to the right, but he saw nobody ; his eyes wandered 
 to the left, and pierced the prospect ; he stared into the sky, but 
 he wasn't wanted there; and then he did what a common minc^ 
 would have done at once — looked into the garden, and there saw 
 Mr. Wardle. 
 
 'How are you?' said that good-humoured individual, out of 
 breath with his own anticipations of pleasure. ' Beautiful morning, 
 an't it? Glad to see you up so early. Make haste down, and 
 come out. I'll wait for you here.' 
 
PREPARATIONS FOR ROOK-SHOOTING 71 
 
 Mr. Pickwick needed no second invitation. Ten minutes sufficed 
 for the completion of his toilet, and at the expiration of that time 
 he was by the old gentleman's side. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said Mr. Pickwick in his turn : seeing that his com- 
 panion was armed with a gun, and that another lay ready on the 
 grass. ' What's going forward ? ' 
 
 ' Why, your friend and I,' replied the host, ' are going out rook- 
 shooting before breakfast. He's a very good shot, an't he ? ' 
 
 ' I've heard him say he's a capital one,' rephed Mr. Pickwick ; 
 ' but I never saw him aim at anything.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the host, ' I wish he'd come. Joe — Joe ! ' 
 
 The fat boy, who under the exciting influence of the morning 
 did not appear to be more than three parts and a fraction asleep, 
 emerged from the house. 
 
 'Go up, and call the gentleman, and tell him he'll find me and 
 Mr. Pickwick in the rookery. Show the gentleman the way there ; 
 d'ye hear ? ' 
 
 The boy departed to execute his commission ; and the host, 
 carrying both guns like a second Robinson Crusoe, led the way 
 from the garden. 
 
 ' This is the place,' said the old gentleman, pausing after a few 
 minutes' walking, in an avenue of trees. The information was 
 unnecessary ; for the incessant cawing of the unconscious rooks 
 sufficiently indicated their whereabout. 
 
 The old gentleman laid one gun on the ground, and loaded the 
 other. 
 
 ' Here they are,' said Mr. Pickwick ; and as he spoke, the forms 
 of Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle appeared in the 
 distance. The fat boy, not being quite certain which gentleman he 
 was directed to call, had with peculiar sagacity, and to prevent the 
 possibility of any mistake, called them all. 
 
 ' Come along,' shouted the old gentleman, addressing Mr. Winkle; 
 'a keen hand like you ought to have been up long ago, even to 
 such poor work as this.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle responded with a forced smile, and took up the spare 
 gun with an expression of countenance which a metaphysical rook, 
 impressed with a foreboding of his approaching death by violence, 
 may be supposed to assume. It might have been keenness, but it 
 looked remarkably like misery. 
 
 The old gentleman nodded ; and two ragged boys who had been 
 marshalled to the spot under the direction of the infant Lambert, 
 forthwith commenced cUmbing up two of the trees. 
 
 ' What are those lads for ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly. He 
 was rather alarmed ; for he was not quite certain but that the distress 
 of the agricultural interest, about which he had often heard a great 
 deal, might have compelled the small boys attached to the soil to 
 
72 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 earn a precarious and hazardous subsistence by making marks of 
 themselves for inexperienced sportsmen. 
 
 ' Only to start the game,' replied Mr. Wardle, laughing. 
 
 ' To what ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why, in plain English to frighten the rooks.' 
 
 'Oh! is that all?' 
 
 ' You are satisiied ? ' 
 
 ' Quite.' 
 
 'Very well. Shall I begin ? ' 
 
 ' If you please,' said Mr. Winkle, glad of any respite. 
 
 ' Stand aside, then. Now for it' 
 
 The boy shouted, and shook a branch with a nest on it. Half 
 a dozen young rooks in violent conversation, flew out to ask what 
 the matter was. The old gentleman fired by way of reply. Down 
 fell one bird, and off iiew the others. 
 
 ' Take him up, Joe.' said the old gentleman. 
 
 There was a smile upon the youth's face as he advanced. In- 
 distinct visions of rook-pie floated through his imagination. He 
 laughed as he retired with the bird — it was a plump one. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Winkle,' said the host, reloading his own gun. ' Fire 
 away.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle advanced, and levelled his gun. Mr. Pickwick and 
 his friends cowered involuntarily to escape damage from the heavy 
 fall of rooks, which they felt quite certain would be occasioned by 
 the devastating barrel of their friend. There was a solemn pause 
 ■ — a shout — a. flapping of wings — a faint click. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said the old gentleman. 
 
 ' Won't it go ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Missed fire,' said Mr. Winkle, who was very pale: probably 
 from disappointment. 
 
 ' Odd,' said the old gentleman, taking the gun. ' Never knew 
 one of them miss fire before. Why, I don't see anything of the 
 cap.' 
 
 ' Bless my soul,' said Mr. Winkle. ' I declare I forgot the cap !' 
 
 The slight omission was rectified. Mr. Pickwick crouched again. 
 Mr. Winkle stepped forward with an air of determination and reso- 
 lution ; and Mr. Tupman looked out from behind a tree. The boy 
 shouted; four birds flew out. Mr. Winkle fired. There was a 
 screap as of an individual — not a rook — in corporeal anguish. 
 Mr. Tupman had saved the lives of innumerable unoffending birds 
 by receiving a portion of the charge in his left arm. 
 
 To describe the confusion that ensued would be impossible. To 
 tell how Mr. Pickwick in the first transports of his emotion called 
 Mr. Winkle 'Wretch!' how Mr. Tupman lay prostrate on the 
 ground; and how Mr. Winkle knelt horror-stricken beside him; 
 how Mr. Tupman called distractedly upon some feminine Christian 
 
ACCIDENT TO MR. TUPMAN 73 
 
 name, and then opened first one. eye, and then the other, and then 
 fell back and shut them both; — all this would be as difficult to 
 describe in detail, as it would be to depict the gradual recovering 
 of the unfortunate individual, the binding up of his arm with pocket- 
 handkerchiefs, and the conveying him back by slow degrees sup. 
 ported by the arms of his anxious friends. 
 
 They drew near the house. The ladies were at the garden-gate, 
 waiting for their arrival and their breakfast. The spinster aunt 
 appeared ; she smiled, and beckoned them to walk quicker. 'Twas 
 evident she knew not of the disaster. Poor thing ! there are times 
 when ignorance is bliss indeed. 
 
 They approached nearer. 
 
 ' Why, what is the matter with the little old gentleman ? ' said 
 Isabella Wardle. The spinster aunt heeded not the remark; she 
 thought it applied to Mr. Pickwick. In her eyes Tracy Tupman 
 was a youth ; she viewed his years through a diminishing glass. 
 
 ' Don't be frightened,' called out the old host, fearful of alarming 
 his daughters. The little party had crowded so completely round 
 Mr. Tupman, that they could not yet clearly discern the nature of 
 the accident. 
 
 ' Don't be frightened,' said the host. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' screamed the ladies. 
 
 ' Mr. Tupman has met with a Uttle accident ; that's all.' 
 
 The spinster aunt uttered a piercing scream, burst into an hysteric 
 laugh, and fell backwards in the arms of her nieces. 
 
 ' Throw some cold water over her,' said the old gentleman. 
 
 ' No, no,' murmured the spinster aunt ; ' I am better now. Bella, 
 
 Emily — a surgeon ! Is he wounded ? — Is he dead 7- — Is he ha, 
 
 ha, ha ! ' Here the spinster aunt burst into fit number two, of 
 hysteric laughter interspersed with screams. 
 
 ' Calm yourself,' said Mr. Tupman, affected almost to tears by 
 this expression of sympathy with his sufferings. ' Dear, dear 
 madam, calm yourself.' 
 
 ' It is his voice ! ' exclaimed the spinster aunt ; and strong 
 symptoms of fit number three developed themselves forthwith. 
 
 ' Do not agitate yourself, I entreat you, dearest madam,' said 
 Mr. Tupman soothingly. ' I am very little hurt, I assure you.' 
 
 ' Then you are not dead ! ' ejaculated the hysterical lady. ' Oh, 
 say you are not dead ! ' 
 
 ' Don't be a fool, Rachael,' interposed Mr. Wardle, rather more 
 roughly than was quite consistent with the poetic nature of the 
 scene. ' What the devil's the use of his saying he isn't dead ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, I am not,' said Mr. Tupman. ' I require no assistance 
 but yours. Let me lean on your arm.' He added, in a whisper, 
 ' Oh, Miss Rachael ! ' The agitated female advanced, and offered 
 her arm. They turned into the breakfast parlour. Mr. Tracy 
 
74 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Tupman gently pressed her hand to his lips, and sank upon the 
 sofa. 
 
 ' Are you faint ? ' inquired the anxious Rachael. 
 
 'No,' said Mr. Tupman. 'It is nothing. I shall be better 
 presently.' He closed his eyes. 
 
 ' He sleeps,' murmured the spinster aunt. (His organs of vision 
 had been closed nearly twenty seconds). ' Dear — dear — Mr. 
 Tupman ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman jumped up — ' Oh, say those words again ! ' he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The lady started. 'Surely you did not hear them!' she said, 
 bashfully. 
 
 ' Oh yes, I did ! ' replied Mr. Tupman ; ' repeat them. If you 
 would have me recover, repeat them.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said the lady. ' My brother.' 
 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman resumed his former position; and Mr. 
 Wardle, accompEmied by a surgeon, entered the room. 
 
 The arm was examined, the wound dressed, and pronounced to 
 be a very slight one ; and the minds of the company having been 
 thus satisfied, they proceeded to satisfy their appetites with counte- 
 nances to which an expression of cheerfulness was again restored. 
 Mr. Pickwick alone was silent and reserved. Doubt and distrust 
 were exhibited in his countenance. His confidence in Mr. Winkle 
 had been shaken — greatly shaken — by the proceedings of the 
 morning. 
 
 ' Are you a cricketer ? ' inquired Mr. Wardle of the' marksman. 
 
 At any other time, Mr. Winkle would have replied in the affirmative. 
 He felt the delicacy of his situation, and modestly replied, ' No.' 
 
 ' Are you ? ' inquired Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' I was once upon a time,' replied the host ; ' but I have given it 
 up now. I subscribe to the club here, but I don't play.' 
 
 ' The grand match is played to-day, I believe,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It is,' replied the host. ' Of course you would like to see it.' 
 
 ' 1, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' am delighted to view any sports 
 which may be safely indulged in, and in which the impotent effects 
 of unskilful people do not endanger human life.' Mr. Pickwick 
 paused, and looked steadily on Mr. Winkle, who quailed beneath 
 his leader's searching glance. The great man withdrew his eyes 
 after a few minutes, and added : ' Shall we be justified in leaving 
 our wounded friend to the care of the ladies ? ' 
 
 'You cannot leave me in better hands,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 * Quite impossible,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 It was therefore settled that Mr. Tupman should be left at home 
 in charge of the females ; and that the remainder of the guests, 
 under the guidance of Mr. Wardle, should proceed to the spot 
 where was to be held that trial of skill, which had roused all 
 
THE ILLUSTRIOUS TOWN OF MUGGLETON 75 
 
 Muggleton from its torpor, and inoculated Dingley Dell with a 
 fever of excitement. 
 
 As their walk, which was not above two miles long, lay through 
 shady lanes, and sequestered footpaths, and as their conversation 
 turned upon the delightful scenery by which they were on every 
 side surrounded, Mr. Pickwick was almost incUned to regret the 
 expedition they had used, when he found himself in the main street 
 of the town of Muggleton. 
 
 Everybody whose genius has a topographical bent knows perfectly 
 well that Muggleton is a corporate town, with a mayor, burgesses, 
 and freemen ; and anybody who has consulted the addresses of the 
 mayot to the freemen, or the freemen to the mayor, or both to the 
 corporation, or all three to Parliament, will learn from thence what 
 they ought to have known before, that Muggleton is an ancient and 
 loyal borough, mingling a zealous advocacy of Christian principles 
 with a devoted attachment to commercial rights ; in demonstration 
 whereof, the mayor, corporation, and other inhabitants, have pre- 
 sented at divers times, no fewer than one thousand four hundred and 
 twenty petitions against the continuance of negro slavery abroad, 
 and an equal number against any interference with the factory 
 system at home ; sixty-eight in favour of the sale of livings in the 
 Church, and eighty-six for abolishing Sunday trading in the street. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stood in the principal street of this illustrious town, 
 and gazed with an air of curiosity, not unmixed with interest, on 
 the objects around him. There was an open square for the market- 
 place ; and in the centre of it, a large inn with a sign-post in front, 
 displaying an object very common in art, but rarely met with in 
 nature — to wit, a blue lion, with three bow legs in the air, balancing 
 himself on the extreme point of the centre claw of his fourth foot. 
 There were, within sight, an auctioneer's and fire-agency office, a 
 corn-factor's, a linen-draper's, a saddler's, a distiller's, a grocer's, 
 and a shoe-shop — the last-mentioned warehouse being also appro- 
 priated to the diffusion of hats, bonnets, wearing apparel, cotton 
 umbrellas, and useful knowledge. There was a red brick house 
 with a small paved court-yard in front, which anybody might have 
 known belonged to the attorney ; and there was, moreover, another 
 red brick house with Venetian blinds, and a large brass door-plate, 
 with a very legible announcement that it belonged to the surgeon. 
 A few boys were making their way to the cricket-field ; and two or 
 three shop-keepers who were standing at their doors, looked as if 
 they should like to be making their way to the same spot, as indeed 
 to all appearance they might have done, without losing any great 
 amount of custom thereby. Mr. Pickwick having paused to make 
 these observations, to be noted down at a more convenient period, 
 hastened to rejoin his friends, who had turned out of the main 
 street, and were already within sight of the field of battle. 
 
76 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The wickets were pitched, and so were a couple of marquees foi 
 the rest and refreshment of the contending parties. The game had 
 not yet commenced. Two or three Dingley Dellers, and All- 
 Muggletonians, were amusing themselves with a majestic air by 
 throwing the ball carelessly from hand to hand ; and several other 
 gentlemen dressed like them, in straw hats, flannel jackets, a.nd 
 white trousers — a costume in which they looked very much like 
 amateur stone-masons — were sprinkled about the tents, towards 
 one of which Mr. Wardle conducted the party. 
 
 Several dozen of ' How-are-you's ? ' hailed the old gentleman's 
 arrival; and a general raising of the straw hats, and bendirig 
 forward of the flannel jackets, followed his introduction of his 
 guests as gentlemen from London, who were extremely anxious to 
 witness the proceedings of the day, with which,' he had no doubt, 
 they would be greatly delighted. 
 
 ' You had better step into the marquee, I think, sir,' said one 
 very stout gentleman, whose body and legs looked like half a 
 gigantic roll of flannel, elevated on a couple of inflated pillow-cases. 
 
 'You'll .find it much pleasanter, sir,' urged, another stout gentle- 
 man, who strongly resembled the other half of the roll of flannel 
 aforesaid. 
 
 ' You're very good,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' This way,' said the first speaker ; ' they notch in here — it's the 
 best place in the whole field ; ' and the cricketer, panting on before, 
 preceded them to the tent. 
 
 ' Capital game — smart sport — fine exercise — very,' were the words 
 which fell upon Mr. Pickwick's ear as he entered the tent ; and the 
 first object that met his eyes was his green-coated friend of the 
 Rochester coach, holding forth, to the no small delight and edifica- 
 tion of a select circle of the chosen of All-Muggleton. His dress 
 was slightly improved, and he wore boots ; but there was no mis- 
 taking him. 
 
 The stranger recognised his friends immediately : and, darting 
 forward and seizing Mr. Pickwick by the hand, dragged him to a' 
 seat with his usual impetuosity, talking all the while as if the whole 
 of the arrangements were under his especial patronage and direction. 
 
 ' This way — this way — capital fun — lots of beer — hogsheads ; 
 rounds of beef — ^bullocks ; mustard — cart loads ; glorious day — 
 down with you — make yourself at home — glad to see you — very.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick sat down as he was bid, and Mr. Winkle and 
 Mr. Snodgrass also complied with the directions of their mysterious 
 friend. Mr. Wardle looked on, in silent wonder. 
 
 ' Mr. Wardle — a friend of mine,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Friend of yours ! — My dear sir, how are you ? — Friend of my 
 friend's — give me your hand, sir' — and the stranger grasped 
 Mr. Wardle's hand with all the fervour of a close intimacy of many 
 
ASSISTING AT THE MATCH 77 
 
 years, and then stepped back a pace or two as if to take a full 
 survey of his face and figure, and then shook hands with him again, 
 if possible, more warmly than before. 
 
 ' Well ; and how came you here ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile 
 in which benevolence struggled with surprise. 
 
 ' Come,' replied the stranger — ' stoppiijg at Crown— Crown at 
 Muggleton — met a party — flannel jackets — white trousers — anchovy 
 sandwiches — devilled kidneys — splendid fellows — glorious.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was sufficiently versed in the stranger's system of 
 stenography to infer from this rapid and disjointed communication 
 that he had, somehow or other, contracted an acquaintance with 
 the All-Muggletons, which he had converted, by a process peculiar 
 to himself, into that extent of good fellowship on which a general 
 invitation may be easily founded. His curiosity was therefore 
 satisfied, and putting on his spectacles he prepared himself to watch 
 the play which was just commencing. 
 
 AU-Muggleton had the first innings j and the interest became 
 intense when Mr. Dumkins and Mr. Podder, two of the most 
 renowned members of that most distinguished club, walked, bat in 
 hand, to their respective wickets. Mr. Luffey, the highest ornament 
 of Dingley Dell, was pitched to bowl against the redoubtable 
 Dumkins, and Mr. Struggles was selected to do the same kind 
 office for the hitherto unconquered Podder. Several players were 
 stationed, to ' look out,' in different parts of the field, and each fixed 
 himself into the proper attitude by placing one hand on each knee, 
 and stooping very much as if he were ' making a back ' for some 
 beginner at leap-frog. All the regulaf players do this sort of thing ; 
 ■ — indeed it's generally supposed that it is quite impossible to look 
 out properly in any other position. 
 
 The umpires were stationed behind the wickets ; the scorers were 
 prepared to notch the runs ; a breathless silence ensued. Mr. Luffey 
 retired a few paces behind the wicket of the passive Podder, and 
 applied the ball to his right eye for several seconds. Dumkins 
 confidently awaited its coming with his eyes fixed on the motions 
 of Luffey. 
 
 ' Play ! ' suddenly cried the bowler. The ball flew from his hand 
 straight and swift towards the centre stump of the wicket. The 
 wary Dumkins was on the alert ; it fell upon the tip of the bat, and 
 bounded far away over the heads of the scouts, who had just 
 stooped low enough to let it fly over them. 
 
 ' Run — run — another. — Now, then, throw her up — up with her — 
 stop there— ano'ther — ^no — yes — no — throw her up, throw her up I ' 
 — Such were the shouts which followed the stroke ; and, at the 
 conclusion of which AU-Muggleton had scored two. Nor was 
 Podder behindhand in earning laurels wherewith to garnish himself 
 and Muggleton, He blocked the doubtful balls, missed the bad 
 
78 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ones, took the good ones, and sent them flying to all parts of the 
 field. The scouts were hot and tired ; the bowlers were changed 
 and bowled till their arms ached; but Dumkins and Fodder 
 remained unconquered. Did an elderly gentleman essay to stop 
 the progress of the iDall, it rolled between his legs or slipped between 
 his fingers. Did a slim gentleman try to catch it, it struck him on 
 the nose, and bounded pleasantly off with redoubled violence, while 
 the slim gentleman's eyes filled with water, and his form writhed 
 with anguish. Was it thrown straight up to the wicket, Dumkins 
 had reached it before the ball. In short, when Dumkins was caught 
 out, and Fodder stumped out, All-Muggleton had notched some 
 fifty-four, while the score of the Dingley Dellers was as blank as 
 their faces. The advantage was too great to be recovered. In 
 vain did the eager Lufifey, and the enthusiastic Struggles, do all that 
 skill and experience could suggest, to regain the ground Dingley 
 Dell had lost in the contest ; — it was of no avail ; and in an early 
 period of the winning game Dingley Dell gave in, and allowed the 
 superior prowess of All-Muggleton. 
 
 The stranger, meanwhile, had been eating, drinking, and talkirig, 
 without cessation. At every good stroke he expressed his satis- 
 faction and approval of the player in a most condescending and 
 patronising manner, which could not fail to have been highly 
 gratifying to the party concerned ; while at every bad attempt at a 
 catch, and every failure to stop the ball, he launched his personal 
 displeasure at the head of the devoted individual in such denun- 
 ciations — as ' Ah, ah ! — stupid ' — ' Now, butter-fingers' — ' Muff' — 
 ' Humbug ' — and so forth — ejaculations which seemed to establish 
 him in the opinion of all around, as a most excellent and undeniable 
 judge of the whole art and mystery of the noble game of cricket. 
 
 ' Capital game — well played — some strokes admirable,' said the 
 stranger, as both sides crowded into the tent, at the conclusion of 
 the game. 
 
 ' You have played it, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Wardle, who had been 
 much amused by his loquacity. 
 
 ' Played it ! Think I have — thousands of times — not here — 
 West Indies — exciting thing — hot work — very.' 
 
 ' It must be rather a warm pursuit in such a climate,' observed 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Warm !^red hot — scorching — glowing. Played a match once — | 
 single wicket — friend the Colonel — Sir Thomas Blazo — who should j 
 get the greatest number of runs. — Won the toss— first innings — 
 seven o'clock a.m.- — six natives to look out — weat in ; kept in — ■ 
 heat intense — natives all fainted — taken away — fresh half-dozen 
 ordered — fainted also — Blazo bowling — supported by two natives— | 
 couldn't bowl me out — fainted too — cleared away the Colonel — 
 wouldn't give in — faithful attendant — Quanko Samba — last man left 
 
THE ANGLO-SAXON PROPENSITY 79 
 
 • — sun so hot, bat in blisters, ball scorched brown — five hundred and 
 seventy runs — rather exhausted — Quanko mustered up last remain- 
 ing strength — bowled me out— had a bath, and went out to dinner,' 
 
 'And what became of what's-his-name, sir?' inquired an old 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' Blazo ? ' 
 
 ' No — the other gentleman.' 
 
 ' Quanko Samba ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Poor Quanko — never recovered it — ^bowled on, on my account 
 ■ — bowled off, on his own — died, sir.' Here the stranger buried his 
 countenance in a brown jug, but whether to hide his emotion or 
 imbibe its contents, we cannot distinctly affirm. We only know 
 that he paused suddenly, drew a long and deep breath, and looked 
 anxiously on, as two of the principal members of the Dingley Dell 
 club approached Mr. Pickwick, and said — • 
 
 ' We are about to partake of a plain dinner at the Blue Lion, sir ; 
 we hope you and your friends will join us.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Mr. Wardle, ' among our friends we include 
 Mr. — — ; ' and he looked towards the stranger. 
 
 ' Jingle,' said that versatile gentleman, taking the hint at once. 
 ' Jingle — Alfred Jingle, Esq., of No Hall, Nowhere.' 
 
 ' I shall be very happy, I am sure,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' So shall I,' said Mr. Alfred Jingle, drawing, one arm through 
 Mr. Pickwick's, and another through Mr. Wardle's, as he whispered 
 confidentially in the ear of .the former gentleman : — 
 
 ' Devilish good dinner — cold, but capital^ — peeped into the room 
 this morning — fowls and pies, and all that sort of thing — pleasant 
 fellows these — well behaved, top — very.' 
 
 There being no further preliminaries to arrange, the company 
 straggled into the town in little knots of twos and threes ; and 
 within a quarter of an hour were all seated in the great room of the 
 Blue Lion Inn, Muggleton — Mr. Dumkins acting as chairman, and 
 Mr. Luflfey officiating as vice. 
 
 There was a vast deal of talking and rattling of knives and forks, 
 and plates : a great running about of three ponderous headed 
 waiters, and a rapid disappearance of the substantial viands on the 
 table ; to each and every of which item of confusion, the facetious 
 Mr. Jingle lent the aid of half-a,-dozen ordinary men at least. When 
 everybody had eaten as much as possible, the cloth was removed, 
 bottles, glasses, and dessert were placed on the table; and the 
 waiters withdrew to ' clear away,' or in other words, to appropriate 
 to their own private use and emolument whatever remnants of 
 the eatables and drinkables they could contrive to lay their 
 hands on. 
 
 Amidst the general hum of mirth and conversation that ensued, 
 
8o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 there was a little man with a puffy Say-nothing-to-me,-or-ril-contra- 
 dict-you sort of countenance, who remained very quiet; occasionally 
 looking round him when the conversation slackened, as if he con- 
 templated putting in something very weighty ; and now and then 
 bursting into a short cough of inexpressible grandeur. At length, 
 during a moment of comparative silence, the little man called out 
 in a very loud, solemn voice — 
 
 ' Mr. Luffey ! ' 
 
 Everybody was hushed into a profound stillness as the individual 
 addressed, replied — 
 
 ' Sir ! ' 
 
 ' I wish to address a few words to you, sir, if you will entreat 
 the gentlemen to fill their glasses.' 
 
 Mr. Jingle uttered a patronismg ' hear, hear,' which was responded 
 to by the remainder of the company : and the glasses having been 
 filled the Vice-President assumed an air of wisdom in a state of 
 profound attention ; and said — 
 
 ' Mr. Staple.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said the little man, rising, ' I wish to address what I have 
 to say to you and not to our worthy chairman, because our worthy 
 chairman is in some measure — I may say in a great degree — the 
 subject of what I have to say, or I may say^ — to — ' 
 
 ' State,' suggested Mr. Jingle. 
 
 ■ — ^ Yes, to state,' said the little man. ' I thank my honourable 
 friend, if he will allow me to call him so — (four " hears," and one 
 certainly from Mr. Jingle) — for the suggestion. Sir, I am a Deller 
 — a Dingley Deller (cheers). I cannot lay claim to the honour of 
 forming an item in the population of Muggleton; nor, sir, I will 
 frankly admit, do I covet that honour : and I will tell you why, sir 
 — (hear) ; to Muggleton I will readily concede all those honours 
 and distinctions to which it can fairly lay claim — they are too 
 numerous and too well known to require aid or recapitulation from 
 me. But, sir, while we remember that Muggleton has given birth 
 to a Dumkins and a Podder, let us never forget that Dingley Dell 
 can boast a Luffey and a Struggles. (Vociferous cheering.) Let 
 me not be considered as wishing to detract from the merits of the 
 former gentlemen. Sir, I envy them the luxury of their own feel- 
 ings on this occasion. (Cheers.) Every gentleman who hears me, 
 is probably acquainted with the reply made by an individual, who 
 — to use an ordinary figure of speech — " hung out " in a tub, to the 
 emperor Alexander :— " If I were not Diogenes," said he, " I would 
 be Alexander." I can well imagine these gentlemen to say, " If I 
 were not Dumkins I would be Luffey; if I were not Podder I 
 would be Struggles." (Enthusiasm.) But, gentlemen of Muggleton, 
 is it in cricket alone that your fellow-townsmen stand pre-eminent ? 
 Have you never heard of Dumkins and determination ? Have you 
 
THE ANGLO-SAXON PROPENSITY 8i 
 
 never been taught to associate Podder with property ? (Great 
 applause.) Have you never, when struggling for your rights, your 
 liberties, and your privileges, been reduced, if only for an instant, 
 to misgiving and despair? And when you have been thus 
 depressed, has not the name of Dumkins laid afresh within your 
 breast the fire which had just gone out ; and has not a word from 
 that man, lighted it again as brightly as if it had never expired ? 
 (Great cheering.) Gentlemen, I beg to surround with a rich halo of 
 enthusiastic cheering the united names of " Dumkins and Podder." ' 
 
 Here the little man ceased, and here the company com- 
 menced a raising of voices, and thumping of tables, which lasted 
 with little intermission during the remainder of the evening. 
 Other toasts were drunk. Mr, Luffey and Mr. Struggles, Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Jingle, were, each in his turn, the subject of 
 unqualified eulogium ; and each in due course returned thanks for 
 the honour. 
 
 Enthusiastic as we are in the noble cause to which we have 
 devoted ourselves, we should have felt a sensation of pride which 
 we cannot express, and a consciousness of having done something 
 to merit immortality of which we are now deprived, could we have 
 laid the faintest outUne of these addresses before our ardent readers. 
 Mr. Snodgrass, as usual, took a great mass of notes, which would 
 no doubt have afforded most useful and valuable information, had 
 not the burning eloquence of the words or the feverish influence of 
 the wine made that gentleman's hand so extremely unsteady, as to 
 render his writing nearly unintelligible, and his style wholly so. By 
 dint of patient investigation, we have been enabled to trace some 
 characters bearing a faint resemblance to the names of the speakers ; 
 and we can also discern an entry of a song (supposed to have been 
 sung by Mr. Jingle), in which the words ' bowl ' ' sparkUng ' ' ruby ' 
 ' bright,' and ' wine ' are frequently repeated at short intervals. We 
 fancy too, that we can discern at the very end of the notes, some 
 indistinct reference to ' broiled bones ; ' and then the words ' cold ' 
 ' without ' occur : but as any hypothesis we could found upon 
 them must necessarily rest upon mere conjecture, we are not 
 disposed to indulge in any of the speculations to which they may 
 give rise. 
 
 We will therefore return to Mr. Tupman; merely adding that 
 within some few minutes before twelve o'clock that night, the con- 
 vocation of worthies of Dingley Dell and Muggleton were heard to 
 sing, with great feeling and emphasis, the beautiful and pathetic 
 national air of 
 
 , We won't go home 'till morning, 
 
 fk- We won't go home 'till morning, 
 
 ij«ii , , V/'e won't go home 'till morning, 
 
 ^''' 'Till daylight doth appear. 
 
82 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 STRONGLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE POSITION, THAT. THE COURSE OF 
 TRUE LOVE IS NOT A RAILWAY 
 
 The quiet seclusion of Dingley Dell, the presence of so many of 
 the gentler sex, and the solicitude and anxiety they evinced in his 
 behalf, were all favourable to the growth and development of those 
 softer feelings which nature had implanted deep in the bosom of 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman, and which now appeared destined to centre in 
 one lovely object. The young ladies were pretty, their manners 
 winning, their dispositions unexceptionable; but there was a 
 dignity in the air, a touch-me-not-ishness in the walk, a majesty 
 in the eye of the spinster aunt, to which, at their time of life, they 
 could lay no claim, which distinguished her from any female on 
 whom Mr. Tupman had ever gazed. That there was something 
 kindred in their nature, something congenial in their souls, some- 
 thing mysteriously sympathetic in their bosoms, was evident Her 
 name was the first that rose to Mr. Tupman's lips as he lay woimded 
 on the grass ; and her hysteric laughter was the first sound that fell 
 upon his ear when he was supported to the house. But had her 
 agitation arisen from an amiable and feminine sensibility which 
 would have been equally irrepressible in any case ; or had it been 
 called forth by a more ardent and passionate feeling, which he, of 
 all men living, could alone awaken ? These were the doubts which 
 racked his brain as he lay extended on the sofa : these were the 
 doubts which he determined should be at once and for ever resolved. 
 
 It was evening. Isabella and Emily had strolled out with Mr. 
 Trundle ; the deaf old lady had fallen asleep in her chair ; the 
 snoriflg of the fat boy, penetrated in a low and monotonous sound 
 from the distant kitchen ; the buxom servants were lounging at the 
 side-door, enjoying the pleasantness of the hour, and the delights of 
 a flirtation, on first principles, with certain unwieldy animals attached 
 to the farm ; and there sat the interesting pair, uncared for by all, 
 caring for none, and dreaming only of themselves ; there they sat, 
 in short, like a pair of carefully-folded kid-gloves — bound up in each 
 other. 
 
 ' I have forgotten my flowers,' said the spinster aunt. 
 
 ' Water them now,' said Mr. Tupman in accents of persuasion. 
 
 ' You will take cold in the evening air,' ' urged the spinster aunt, 
 affectionately. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Mr. Tupman rising ; it will do me good. Let me 
 accompany you.' 
 
MR. TUPMAN DECLARES 83 
 
 ■ The lady paused to adjust the sling in which the left arm of the 
 youth was placed, and taking his right arm led him to the garden. 
 
 There was a bower at the further end, with honeysuckle, jessamine, 
 and creeping plants — one of those sweet retreats which humane men 
 erect for the accommodation of spiders. 
 
 The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot which lay in one 
 corner, and was about to leave the arbour. Mr. Tupman detained 
 her, and drew her to a seat beside him. 
 
 ' Miss Wardle ! ' said he. 
 
 The spinster aunt trembled, till some pebbles which had 
 accidentally found their way into the large watering-pot shook like 
 an infant's rattle. 
 
 ' Miss Wardle,' said Mr. Tupman, ' you are an angel.' 
 
 ' Mr. Tupman ! ' exclaimed Rachael, blushing as red as the 
 watering-pot itself. 
 
 ' Nay,' said, the eloquent Pickwickian^ — ' I know it but too well.' 
 
 ' All women are angels, they say,' murmured the lady, playfully. 
 
 ' Then what can yoti be ; or to what, without presumption, can I 
 compare you ? ' replied Mr. Tupman. ' Where was the woman ever 
 seen who resembled you ? Where else could I hope to find so rare 
 a combination of excellence and beauty ? Where else could I seek 
 to — • — Oh ! ' Here Mr. Tupman paused, and pressed the hand 
 which clasped the handle of the happy watering-pot. 
 
 The lady turned aside her head. ' Men are such deceivers,' she 
 softly whispered. 
 
 ' They are, they are,' ejaculated Mr. Tupman ; ' but not all men. 
 There lives at least one being who can never change — one being 
 who would be content to devote his whole existence to your 
 happiness — who lives but in your eyes — who breathes but in your 
 smiles — who bears the heavy burden of life itself only for you.' 
 
 ' Could such an individual be found,' said the lady 
 
 ' But he can be found,' said the ardent Mr. Tupman, interposing. 
 " He is found. He is here. Miss Wardle.' And ere the lady was 
 aware of his intention, Mr. Tupman had sunk upon his knees at 
 her feet. 
 
 ' Mr. Tupman, rise,' said Rachael. 
 
 ' Never ! ' was the valorous reply. ' Oh, Rachael ! ' — He seized 
 her passive hand, and the watering-pot fell to the ground as he 
 pressed it to his lips. — ' Oh, Rachael ! say you love me.' 
 
 ' Mr. Tupman,' said the spinster aunt, with averted head — ' I can 
 hardly speak the words ; but — ^but — ^you are not wholly indifferent 
 to me.' 
 
 , Mr. Tupman no sooner heard this avowal, than he proceeded to 
 do what his enthusiastic emotions prompted, and what,, for aught we 
 know (for we are but little acquainted with such matters), people so 
 circumstanced always do. He jumped up, and, throwing his arm 
 
84 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 round the neck of the spinster aunt, imprinted upon her lips 
 numerous kisses, which after a due show of struggling and 
 resistance, she received so passively, that there is no telling how 
 many more Mr. Tupman might have bestowed, if the lady had not 
 given a very unaffected start and exclaimed in an affrighted tone — 
 
 ' Mr. Tupman, we are observed ! — we are discovered ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked round. There was the fat boy, perfectly 
 motionless, with his large circular eyes staring into the arbour, but 
 without the slightest expression on his face that the most expert 
 physiognomist could have referred to astonishment, curiosity, or 
 any other known passion that agitates the human breast. Mr. 
 Tupman gazed on the fat boy, and the fat boy stared at him ; and 
 the longer Mr. Tupman observed the utter vacancy of the fat boy's 
 countenance, the more convinced he became that he either did not 
 know, or did not understand, anything that had been going forward. 
 Under this impression, he said with great firmness — , 
 
 ' What do you want here, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Supper's ready, sir,' was the prompt reply. 
 
 'Have you just come here, sir?' inquired Mr. Tupman, with a 
 piercing look. 
 
 ' Just,' replied the fat boy. 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard again ; but there was not a 
 wink in his eye, or a curve in his face. 
 
 Mr. Tupman took the arm of the spinster aunt, and walked;,' 
 towards the house : the fat boy followed behind. 
 
 ' He knows nothing of what has happened,' he whispered. 
 
 ' Nothing,' said the spinster aunt. 
 
 There was a sound behind them, as of an imperfectly suppressed 
 chuckle. Mr. Tupman turned sharply round. No; it could not 
 have been the fat boy ; there was not a gleam of mirth, or anything 
 but feeding in his whole visage. 
 
 ' He must have been fast asleep,' whispered Mr. Tupman. ■ 
 
 ' I have not the least doubt of it,' replied the spinster aunt. - 
 
 They both laughed heartily. 
 
 Mr. Tupman was wrong. The fat boy, for once, had not been 
 fast asleep. He was awake — wide awake — to what had been going 
 forward. 
 
 The supper passed off without any attempt at a general conversaj 
 tion. The old lady had gone to bed; Isabella Wardle devoted 
 herself exclusively to Mr. Trundle ; the spinster's attentions were 
 reserved for Mr. Tupman ; and Emily's thoughts appeared to be 
 engrossed by some distant object — possibly they were with the 
 absent Snodgrass. 
 
 Eleven — twelve — one o'clock had struck, and the gentlemen had 
 not arrived. Consternation sat on every face. Could they liave 
 been waylaid and robbed? Should they send men and lanterns in 
 
,^./ue',.Ja^y^^cr2^yaya>€iK.e^,^^ 
 
 ^yOC<:<:tJt<rri.y<:-'n.i 
 
 /u-. 
 
THE GENTLEMEN RETURN 85 
 
 every direction by which they could be supposed likely to have 
 
 travelled home ? or should they -Hark ! there they were. What 
 
 could have made them so late ? A strange voice, too ! To whom 
 could it belong ? They rushed into the kitchen whither the truants 
 had repaired, and at once obtained rather more than a glimmering 
 of the real state of the case. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, with his hands in his pockets and his hat cocked 
 completely over his left eye, was leaning against the dresser, 
 shaking his head from side to side, and producing a constant 
 succession of the blandest and most benevolent smiles without being 
 moved thereunto by any discernible cause or pretence whatsoever ; 
 old Mr. Wardle, with a highly-inflamed countenance, was grasping 
 the hand of a strange gentleman muttering protestations of eternal 
 friendship ; Mr. Winkle, supporting himself by the eight-day clock, 
 was feebly invoking destruction upon the head of any member of 
 the family who should suggest the propriety of his retiring for the 
 night ; and Mr. Snodgrass had sunk into a chair, with an expression 
 of the most abject and hopeless misery that the human mind can 
 imagine, portrayed in every lineament of his expressive face. 
 ' Is anything the matter ? " inquired the three ladies. 
 ' Nothing the matter,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' We — we're — all 
 right.- — I say, Wardle, we're all right, an't we ? ' 
 
 ' I should think so,' replied the jolly host. — ' My dears, here's my 
 friend, Mr. Jingle — Mr. Pickwick's friend, Mr. Jingle, come 'pon— 
 littie visit.' 
 
 ' Is anything the matter with Mr. Snodgrass, sir ? ' inquired 
 Emily, with great anxiety. 
 
 ' Nothing the matter, ma'am,' replied the stranger. ' Cricket 
 dinner — glorious party — capital songs— old port — claret— good — 
 very good — wine, ma'am — wine.' 
 
 ' It wasn't the wine,' murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken voice. 
 ' It was the salmon.' (Somehow or other, it never is the wine, in 
 these cases.) 
 
 ' Hadn't they better go to bed, ma'am ? ' inquired Emma. ' Two 
 of the boys will carry the gentlemen up stairs.' 
 ' I won't go to bed,' said Mr. Winkle, firmly. 
 ' No living boy shall carry me,' said Mr. Pickwick, stoutly ; — and 
 he went on smiling as before. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' gasped Mr. Winkle, faintly. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking oif his hat and dashing 
 it on the floor, and insanely casting his spectacles into the middle 
 of the kitchen. — At this humorous feat he laughed outright. 
 
 ' Lef s — ^have — 'nother — ^bottle,' cried Mr. Winkle, commencing 
 in a very loud key, and ending in a very faint one. His head 
 dropped upon his breast ; and, muttering his invincible determina- 
 tion not to go to his bed, and a sanguinary regret that he had 
 
86 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 not 'done for old Tupman' in the morning, he fell fast asleep; in 
 which condition he was borne to his apartment by two young giants 
 under the personal superintendence of the fat boy, to whose 
 protecting care Mr. Snodgrass shortly afterwards confided his own 
 person. Mr. Pickwick accepted the proffered arm of Mr. Tupman 
 and quietly disappeared, smiling more than ever ; and Mr. Wardle, 
 after taking as affectionate a leave of the whole family as if he were 
 ordered for immediate execution, consigned to Mr. Trundle the 
 honour of conveying him up-stairs, and retired, with a very futile 
 attempt to look impressively solemn and dignified. 
 
 ' What a shocking scene ! ' said the spinster aunt. 
 
 ' Dis — gusting ! ' ejaculated both the young ladies. 
 
 ' Dreadful — dreadful ! ' said Jingle, looking very grave : he was 
 about a bottle and a half ahead of any of his companions. ' Horrid 
 spectacle — very ! ' 
 
 ' What a nice man ! ' whispered the spinster aunt to Mr. 
 Tupman. 
 
 ' Good-looking, too ! ' whispered Emily Wardle. 
 
 ' Oh, decidedly,' observed the spinster aunt. 
 
 Mr. Tupman thought of the widow at Rochester : and his mind 
 was troubled. The succeeding half-hour's conversation was not of 
 a nature to calm his perturbed spirit. The new visitor was very 
 talkative, and the number of his anecdotes was only to be exceeded 
 by the extent of his politeness. Mr. Tupman felt that as Jingle's 
 popularity increased, he (Tupman) retired further into the shade. 
 His laughter was forced — his merriment feigned ; and when at last he 
 laid his aching temples between the sheets, he thought, with horrid 
 delight, on the satisfaction it would afford him to have Jingle's head 
 at that moment between the feather bed and the mattress. 
 
 The indefatigable stranger rose betimes next morning, and, 
 although his companions remained in bed overpowered with the 
 dissipation of the previous night, exerted himself most successfully 
 to promote the hilarity of the breakfast-table. So successful were 
 his efforts, that even the deaf old lady insisted on having one or 
 two of his best jokes retailed through the trumpet ; and even she 
 condescended to observe to the spinster aunt, that ' he ' (meaning 
 Jingle) ' was an impudent young fellow : ' a sentiment in which all 
 her relations then and there present thoroughly coincided. 
 
 It was the old lady's habit on the fine summer mornings to repair 
 to the arbour in which Mr. Tupman had already signalised himself, 
 in form and manner following : first, the fat boy fetched from a peg 
 behind the old lady's bed-room door, a close black satin bonnet, a 
 warm cotton shawl, and a thick stick with a capacious handle ; and 
 the old lady having put on the bonnet and shawl at her leisure, 
 would lean one hand on the stick and the other on the fat boy's 
 shoulder, and walk leisurely to the arbour, where the fat boy would 
 
A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 87 
 
 leave her to enjoy the fresh air for the space of half an hour ; at the 
 expiration of which time he would return and reconduct her to the 
 house. 
 
 The old lady was very precise and very particular ; and as this 
 ceremony had been observed for three successive summers without 
 the slightest deviation from the accustomed form, she was not a 
 littie surprised on this particular morning, to see the fat boy, instead 
 of leaving the arbour, walk a few paces out of it, look carefully 
 round him in every direction, and return towards her with great 
 stealth and an air of the most profound mystery. 
 
 The old lady was timorous — most old ladies are — and her first 
 impression was that the bloated lad was about to do her some 
 grievous bodily harm with the view of possessing himself of her 
 loose coin. She would have cried for assistance, but age and 
 infirmity had long ago deprived her of the power of screaming ; she, 
 therefore, watched his motions with feelings of intense terror, which 
 were in no degree diminished by his coming close up to her, and 
 shouting in her ear in an agitated, and as it seemed to her, a 
 threatening tone — 
 
 ' Missus ! ' 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Jingle was walking in the garden 
 close to the arbour at this moment. He too heard the shout of 
 ' Missus,' and stopped to hear more. There were three reasons for 
 his doing so. In the first place, he was idle and curious ; secondly, 
 he was by no means scrupulous ; thirdly, and lastly, he was con- 
 cealed from view by some flowering shnibs. So there he stood, 
 and there he listened. 
 
 ' Missus ! ' shouted the fat boy. 
 
 ' Well, Joe,' said the trembling old lady. ' I'm sure I have been 
 a good mistress to you, Joe. You have invariably been treated 
 very kindly. You have never had too much to do ; and you have 
 always had enough to eat.' 
 
 This last was an appeal to the fat boy's most sensitive feelings. 
 He seemed touched, as he replied, emphatically — 
 
 ' I knows I has.' 
 
 ' Then what can you want to do now ? ' said the old lady, gaining 
 courage. 
 
 ' I wants to make your flesh creep,' replied the boy^ 
 
 This sounded like a very bloodthirsty mode of showing one's 
 gratitude; and as the old lady did not precisely understand the 
 process by which such a result was to be attained, all her former 
 horrors returned. 
 
 'What do you think I see in this very arbour last night?' in- 
 quired the boy. 
 
 ' Bless us ! What ? ' exclaimed the old lady, alarmed at the 
 solemn manner of the corpulent youth. 
 
88 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'The strange gentleman— him as had his arm hurt --a kissin' and 
 huggin' ' 
 
 ' Who, Joe ? None of the servants, I hope.' 
 
 ' Worser than that,' roared the fat boy, in the old lady's ear. 
 
 ' Not one of my grand-da'aters ? ' 
 
 ' Worser than that.' 
 
 ' Worse than that, Joe ! ' said the old lady, who had thought .this 
 the extreme limit of human atrocity. ' Who was it, Joe ? I insist 
 upon knowing.' 
 
 The fat boy looked cautiously round, and having concluded his 
 survey, shouted in the old lady's ear : 
 
 ' Miss Rachael.' 
 
 ' What ! ' said the old lady, in a shrill tone. ' Speak louder.' 
 
 ' Miss Rachael,' roared the fat boy. 
 
 ' My da'ater ! ' 
 
 The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way of assent, com- 
 municated a blanc-mange like motion to his fat cheeks. 
 
 ' And she suffered him ! ' exclaimed the old lady. 
 
 A grin stole over the fat boy's features as he said : 
 
 ' I see her a kissin' of him agin.' 
 
 If Mr. Jingle, from his place of concealment, could have beheld 
 the expression which the old lady's face assumed at this communica- 
 tion, the probability is that a sudden burst of laughter would have 
 betrayed his close vicinity to the summer-house. He listened 
 a,ttentively. Fragments of angry sentences such as, 'Without my 
 permission ! ' — ' At her time of life '■ — ' Miserable old 'ooman like 
 me ' — ' Might have waited till I was dead,' and so forth, reached his 
 ears ; and then he heard the heels of the fat boy's boots crunching 
 the gravel, as he retired and left the old lady alone. 
 
 It was a remarkable coincidence perhaps, but it was nevertheless 
 a fact, that Mr. Jingle within five minutes after his arrival at Manor 
 Farm on the preceding night, had inwardly resolved to lay siege to 
 the heart of the spinster aunt, without delay. He had observation 
 enough to see, that his off-hand manner was by no means disagree- 
 able to the fair object of his attack ; and he had more than a strong 
 suspicion that she possessed that most desirable of all requisites, a 
 small independence. The imperative necessity of ousting his rival 
 by some means or other, flashed quickly upon him, and he immedi- 
 ately resolved to adopt certain proceedings tending to that end and 
 object, without a moment's delay. Fielding tells us that man is fire, 
 and woman tow, and the Prince of Darkness sets a light to 'em. 
 Mr. Jingle knew that young men, to spinster aunts, are as lighted 
 gas to gunpowder, and he determined to essay the effect of an 
 explosion without loss of time. 
 
 Full of reflections upon this important decision, he crept from 
 his place of concealment, and, under cover of the shrubs before 
 
THE SNAKE IN ACTION 89 
 
 mentioned, approached the house. Fortune seemed determined to 
 favour his design. Mr. Tupman and the rest of the gentlemen left 
 the garden by the side gate just as he obtained a view of it ; and 
 the young ladies, he knew, had walked out alone, soon after break- 
 fast. The coast was clear. 
 
 The breakfast-parlour door was partially open. He peeped in. 
 The spinster aunt was knitting. He coughed ; she looked up and 
 smiled. Hesitation formed no part of Mr. Alfred Jingle's character. 
 He laid his finger on his lips mysteriously, walked in, and closed 
 the door. 
 
 ' Miss Wardle,' said Mr. Jingle, with affected earnestness, ' forgive 
 intrasion — short acquaintance — no time for ceremony — all dis- 
 covered.' 
 
 ' Sir ! ' said the spinster aunt, rather astonished by the unexpected 
 apparition and somewhat doubtful of Mr. Jingle's sanity. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Mr. Jingle, in a stage whisper ; — ' large boy — 
 dumpling face — round eyes — rascal ! ' Here he shook his head 
 expressively, and the spinster aunt trembled with agitation. 
 
 ' I presume you allude to Joseph, sir ? ' said the lady, making an 
 effort to appear composed. 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am — damn that Joe ! — treacherous dog, Joe — told the 
 old lady — old lady furious^ — wild — raving — arbour — Tupman — kiss- 
 ing and hugging — all that sort of thing — eh, ma'am — eh ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Jingle,' said the spinster aunt, ' if you come here, sir, to 
 insult me ' 
 
 ' Not at all — by no means," replied the unabashed Mr. Jingle ; — 
 'overheard the tale^ — came to warn you of your danger — tender my ser- 
 vices — prevent the hubbub. Never mind — think it an insult — leave 
 the room ' — and he turned, as if to carry the threat into execution. 
 
 ' What shall I do ! ' said the poor spinster, bursting into tears. 
 ' My brother will be furious.' 
 
 ' Of course he will,' said Mr. Jingle, pausing — ' outrageous.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Jingle, what can I say ! ' exclaimed the spinster aunt, 
 in another flood of despair. 
 
 ' Say he dreamt it,' replied Mr. Jingle, coolly. 
 
 A ray of comfort darted across the mind of the spinster aunt at 
 this suggestion. Mr. Jingle perceived it, and followed up his 
 advantage. 
 
 'Pooh, pooh! — nothing more easy — blackguard boy — lovely 
 woman — fat boy horsewhipped — you believed — end of the matter — 
 all comfortable.' 
 
 Whether the probability of escaping from the consequences of 
 this ill-timed discovery was delightful to the spinster's feelings, or 
 whether the hearing herself described as a ' lovely woman ' softened 
 the asperity of her grief, we know not. She blushed slightly, and 
 cast a grateful look on Mr. Jingle. 
 
90 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 That insinuating gentleman sighed deeply, fixed his eyes on the 
 spinster aunt's face for a couple of minutes, started melo-dramatically, 
 and suddenly withdrew them. 
 
 'You seem unhappy, Mr. Jingle,' said the lady, in a plaintive 
 voice. ' May I show my gratitude for your kind interference, by 
 inquiring into the cause, with a view, if possible, to its removal ? ' 
 
 'Ha!' exclaimed Mr. Jingle, with another start — 'removal! 
 remove my unhappiness, and your love bestowed upon a man who 
 is insensible to the blessing — who even now contemplates a design 
 upon the affections of the niece of the creature who — but no ; he is 
 my friend ; I will not expose his vices. Miss Wardle — farewell ! ' 
 At the conclusion of this address, the most consecutive he was ever 
 known to utter, Mr. Jingle applied to his eyes the remnant of a 
 handkerchief before noticed, and turned towards the door. 
 
 ' Stay, Mr. Jingle ! ' said the spinster aunt emphatically. ' You 
 have made an allusion to Mr. Tupman — explain it.' 
 
 ' Never ! ' exclaimed Jingle, with a professional {i.e. theatrical) air. 
 ' Never ! ' and, by way of showing that he had no desire to be 
 questioned further, he drew a chair close to that of the spinster aunt 
 and sat down. 
 
 ' Mr. Jingle,' said the aunt, ' I entreat — I implore you, if there is 
 any dreadful mystery connected with Mr. Tupman, reveal it.' 
 
 ' Can I,' said Mr. Jingle, fixing his eyes on the aunt's face — ' can 
 I see — lovely creature — sacrificed at the shrine — heartless avarice ! ' 
 He appeared to be struggling with various conflicting emotions for 
 a few seconds, and then said in a low deep voice — 
 
 ' Tupman only wants your money.' 
 
 ' The wretch ! ' exclaimed the spinster, with energetic indignation. 
 (Mr. Jingle's doubts were resolved. She had ftioney). 
 
 ' More than that,' said Jingle — ' loves another.' 
 
 ' Another ! ' ejaculated the spinster. ' Who ? ' 
 
 ' Short girl — ^black eyes — ^niece Emily.' 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 Now, if there were one individual in the whole world, of whom 
 the spinster aunt entertained a mortal and deeply-rooted jealousy, 
 it was this identical niece. The colour rushed over her face and 
 neck, and she tossed her head in silence with an air of ineffable 
 contempt. At last, biting her thin lips, and bridling up, she said — 
 
 ' It can't be. I won't believe it.' 
 
 ' Watch 'em,' said Jingle. 
 
 ' I will,' said the aunt. 
 
 ' Watch his looks.' 
 
 ' I will.' 
 
 ' His whispers.' 
 
 ' I will' 
 
 •He'll sit next her at table.' 
 
THE SNAKE VICTORIOUS pr 
 
 ' Let him.' 
 
 ' He'll flatter her.' 
 
 ' Let him." 
 
 ' He'll pay her every possible attention.' 
 
 ' Let him.' 
 
 ' And he'll cut you.' 
 
 ' Cut me ! ' screamed the spinster aunt. ' He cut me ; — ivill he ! ' 
 and she trembled with rage and disappointment. 
 
 'You will convince yourself?' said Jingle. 
 
 ' I will.' 
 
 ' You'll show your spirit ? ' 
 
 ' I will.' 
 
 ' You'll not have him afterwards ? ' 
 
 ' Never.' 
 
 ' You'll take somebody else ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 'You shall.' 
 
 Mr. Jingle fell on his knees, remained thereupon for five minutes 
 thereafter : and rose the accepted lover of the spinster aunt : con- 
 ditionally upon Mr. Tupman's perjury being made clear and manifest. 
 
 The burden of proof lay with Mr. Alfred Jingle; and he pro- 
 duced his evidence that very day at dinner. The spinster aunt 
 could hardly believe her eyes. Mr. Tracy Tupman was established 
 at Emily's side, ogling, whispering, and smiling, in opposition to 
 Mr. Snodgrass. Not a word, not a look, not a glance, did he 
 bestow upon his heart's pride of the evening before. 
 
 ' Damn that boy ! ' thought old Mr. Wardle to himself. — He had 
 heard the story from his mother. ' Damn that boy ! He must 
 have been asleep. It's all imagination.' 
 
 ' Traitor ! ' thought the spinster aunt. ' Dear Mr. Jingle was not 
 deceiving me. Ugh ! how I hate the wretch ! ' 
 
 The following conversation may serve to explain to our readers 
 this apparently unaccountable alteration of deportment on the part 
 of Mr. Tracy Tupman. 
 
 The time was evening ; the scene the garden. There were two 
 figures walking in a side path; one was rather short and stout; 
 the other rather tall and slim. They were Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Jingle. The stout figure commenced the dialogue. 
 
 ' How did I do it ?' he inquired. 
 
 ' Splendid^ — capital — couldn't act better myself — ^you must repeat 
 the part to-morrow — every evening, till further notice.' 
 
 ' Does Rachael still wish it ? ' 
 
 ' Of course — she don't like it — ^but must be done — avert suspicion 
 — afraid of her brother — says there's no help for it — only a few 
 days more — when old folks blinded — crown your happiness.' 
 
 ' Any message ? ' 
 
92 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Love — best love — kindest regards — unalterable affection. Can 
 I say anything for you ? ' 
 
 ' My dear fellow,' replied the unsuspicious Mr. Tupman, fervently 
 grasping his ' friend's ' hand — ' carry my best love — say how hard 
 I find it to dissemble — say anything that's kind; but add how 
 sensible I am of the necessity of the suggestion she made to me, 
 through you, this morning. Say I applaud her wisdom and admire 
 her discretion.' 
 
 ' I will. Anything more ? ' 
 
 'Nothing; only add how ardently I long for the time when I 
 may call her mine, and all dissimulation may be unnecessary.' 
 
 ' Certainly, certainly. Anything more ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, my friend ! ' said poor Mr. Tupman, again grasping the 
 hand of his companion, ' receive my warmest thanks for your dis- 
 interested kindness ; and forgive me if I have ever, even in thought, 
 done you the injustice of supposing that you could stand in my way. 
 My dear friend, can I ever repay you ? ' 
 
 ' Don't talk of it,' replied Mr. Jingle. He stopped short, as if 
 suddenly recollecting something, and said — 'By-the-bye — can't 
 spare ten pounds, can you ? — very particular purpose — pay you in 
 three days.' 
 
 ' I dare say I can,' replied Mr. Tupman, in the fulness of his 
 heart. ' Three days, you say ? ' 
 
 ' Only three days — all over then — no more difficulties.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman counted the money into his companion's hand, and 
 he dropped it piece by. piece into his pocket, as they walked towards 
 the house. 
 
 ' Be careful,' said Mr. Jingle — ' not a look.' 
 
 ' Not a wink,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Not a syllable.' 
 
 ' Not a whisper.' 
 
 'All your attentions to the niece — rather rude, than otherwise, 
 to the aunt — only way of deceiving the old ones.' 
 
 ' I'll take care,' said Mr. Tupman aloud. 
 
 ' And /'ll take care,' said Mr. Jingle internally ; and they entered 
 the house. 
 
 The scene of that afternoon was repeated that evening, and on 
 the three afternoons and evenings next ensuing. On the fourth, 
 the host was in high spirits, for he had satisfied himself that there 
 was no ground for the charge against Mr. Tupman. So was Mr. 
 Tupman, for Mr. Jingle had told him that his affair would soon be 
 brought to a crisis. So was Mr. Pickwick, for he was seldom other- 
 wise. So was not Mr. Snodgrass, for he had grown jealous of Mr. 
 Tupman. So was the old lady, for she had been winning at whist 
 So were Mr. Jingle and Miss Wardle, for reasons of sufficient im- 
 portance in this eventful history to be narrated in another chapter. 
 
ALARMING NEWS 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A DISCOVERY AND A CHASE 
 
 The supper was ready laid, the chairs were drawn round the table, 
 bottles, jugs, and glasses were arranged upon the sideboard, and 
 everything betokened the approach of the most convivial period in 
 the whole four-and-twenty hours. 
 
 'Where's Rachael?' said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 ' Ay, and Jingle ? ' added Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Dear me,' said the host, ' I wonder I haven't missed him before. 
 Why, I don't think I've heard his voice for two hours at least. 
 Emily, my dear, ring the bell.' 
 
 The bell was rung, and the fat boy appeared. 
 
 'Where's Miss Rachael?' He couldn't say. 
 
 ' Where's Mr. Jingle, then ? ' He didn't know. 
 
 Everybody looked surprised. It was late — past eleven o'clock. 
 Mr. Tupman laughed in his sleeve. They were loitering some- 
 where, talking about him. Ha, ha ! capital notion that — funny. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Wardle, after a short pause, ' they'll turn up 
 presently, I dare say. I never wait supper for anybody.' 
 
 ' Excellent rule, that,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' admirable.' 
 
 ' Pray, sit down,' said the host. 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick : and down they sat. 
 
 There was a gigantic round of cold beef on the table, and 
 Mr. Pickwick was supplied with a plentiful portion of it. He had 
 raised his fork to his lips, and was on the very point of opening 
 his mouth for the reception of a piece of beef, when the hum of 
 many voices suddenly arose in the kitchen. He paused, and laid 
 down his fork. Mr. Wardle paused too, and insensibly released 
 his hold of the carving-knife, which remained inserted in the 
 beef. He looked at Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick looked at him. 
 
 Heavy footsteps were heard in the passage ; the parlour dooi 
 was suddenly burst open ; and the man who had cleaned Mr. Pick- 
 wick's boots on his first arrival, rushed into the room, followed by 
 the fat boy, and all the domestics. 
 
 ' What the devil's the meaning of this ? ' exclaimed the host. 
 
 'The kitchen chimney ain't a-fire, is it, Emma?' inquired the 
 old lady. 
 
 ' Lor grandma ! No,' screamed both the young ladies. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' roared the master of the house. 
 
 The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejaculated — 
 
 ' They ba' gone, Mas'r ! - gone right clean off, sir ! ' (At this 
 
94 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 juncture Mr. Tupman was observed to lay down his knife and fork, 
 and to turn very pale.) 
 
 ' Who's gone ? ' said Mr. Wardle, fiercely. 
 
 ' Mus'r Jingle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, from Blue Lion, 
 Muggleton. I was there; but I couldn't stop 'em; so I run off 
 to tell'ee.' 
 
 ' I paid his expenses ! ' said Mr. Tupman, jumping up frantically. 
 ' He's got ten pounds of mine ! — stop him ! — he's swindled me ! — 
 I won't bear it ! — I'll have justice, Pickwick ! — I won't stand it ! ' . 
 and with sundry incoherent exclamations of the like nature, the 
 unhappy gentleman spun round and round the apartment, in a 
 transport of frenzy. 
 
 ' Lord preserve us ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, eyeing the extra- 
 ordinary gestures of his friend with terrified surprise. ' He's gone 
 mad ! What shall we do ! ' 
 
 ' Do ! ' said the stout old host, who regarded only the last words 
 of the sentence. ' Put the horse in the gig ! I'll get a chaise at the 
 Lion, and follow 'em instantly. Where ' — he exclaimed, as the 
 man ran out to execute the commission — 'Where's that villain, 
 Joe?' 
 
 ' Here I am ; but I han't a willin,' replied a voice. It was the 
 fat boy's. 
 
 ' Let me get at him, Pickwick,' cried Wardle, as he rushed at the 
 ill-starred youth. ' He was bribed by that scoundrel. Jingle, to put 
 me on a wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-a-bull story of my sister 
 and your friend Tupman ! ' (Here Mr. Tupman sunk into a chair.) 
 ' Let me get at him ! ' 
 
 ' Don't let him ! ' screamed all the women, above whose ex- 
 clamations the blubbering of the fat boy was distinctly audible. 
 
 ' I won't be held ! ' cried the old man. ' Mr. Winkle, take your 
 hands off. Mr. Pickwick, let me go, sir ! ' 
 
 It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of turmoil and confusion, 
 to behold the placid and philosophical expression of Mr. Pickwick's 
 face, albeit somewhat flushed with exertion, as he stood with his 
 arms firmly clasped round the extensive waist of their corpulent 
 host, thus restraining the impetuosity of his passion, while the fat 
 boy was scratched, and pulled, and pushed from the room by all 
 the females congregated therein. He had no sooner released his 
 hold, than the man entered to announce that the gig was ready. 
 
 ' Don't let him go alone ! ' screamed the females. ' He'll kiD 
 somebody ! ' 
 
 ' I'll go with him,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'You're a good fellow, Pickwick,' said the host, grasping his 
 hand. ' Emma, give Mr. Pickwick a shawl to tie round his neck- 
 make haste. Look after your grandmother, girls ; she has fainted 
 away. Now then, are you ready ? ' 
 
-.£. PURSUIT 95 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's mouth and chin having been hastily enveloped in 
 a large shawl : his hat having been put on his head, and his great 
 coat thrown over his arm, he replied in the affirmative. 
 
 They jumped into the gig, ' Give her her head, Tom,' cried the 
 host; and away they went, down the narrow lanes : jolting in and 
 out of the cart-ruts, and bumping up against the hedges on either 
 side, as if they would go to pieces every moment. 
 
 ' How much are they a-head ? ' shouted Wardle, as they drove up 
 to the door of the Blue Lion, round which a little crowd had 
 collected, late as it was. 
 
 ' Not above three-quarters of an hour,' was everybody's reply. 
 
 ' Chaise and four directly ! — out with 'em ! Put up the gig 
 afterwards.' 
 
 ' Now, boys ! ' cried the landlord — ' chaise and four out — make 
 haste — look alive there ! ' 
 
 Away ran the hostlers, and the boys. The lanterns glimmered, 
 as the men ran to and fro ; the horses' hoofs clattered on the 
 uneven paving of the yard ; the chaise rumbled as it was drawn out 
 of the coach-house ; and all was noise and bustle. 
 
 ' Now then ! — is that chaise coming out to-night ? ' cried Wardle. 
 
 ' Coming down the yard now, sir,' replied the hostler. 
 
 Out came the chaise — in went the horses — on sprung the boys — 
 in got the travellers. 
 
 ' Mind — the seven-mile stage is less than half an hour ! ' shouted 
 Wardle. 
 
 'Off with you!' 
 
 The boys applied whip and spur, the waiters shouted, the 
 hostlers cheered, and away they went, fast and furiously. 
 
 ' Pretty situation,' thought Mr. Pickwick, when he had had a 
 moment's time for reflection. ' Pretty situation for the General 
 Chairman of the Pickwick Club. Damp chaise — strange horses — 
 fifteen miles an hour- — and twelve o'clock at night ! ' 
 
 For the first three or four miles, not a word was spoken by either 
 of the gentlemen, each being too much immersed in his own 
 reflections to address any observations to his companion. When 
 they had gone over that much ground, however, and the horses 
 getting thoroughly warmed began to do their work in really good 
 style, Mr. Pickwick became too much exhilarated with the rapidity 
 of the motion, to remain any longer perfectly mute. 
 
 ' We're sure to catch them, I think,' said he. 
 
 ' Hope so,' replied his companion. 
 
 ' Fine night,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at the moon, which 
 was shining brightly. 
 
 ' So much the worse,' returned Wardle ; ' for they'll have had all 
 the advantage of the moonlight to get the start of us, and we shall 
 lose it. It will have gone down in another hour.' 
 
96 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the dark, won't 
 it ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I dare say it will,' replied his friend drily. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's temporary excitement began to sober down a 
 little, as he reflected upon the inconveniences and dangers of the 
 expedition in which he had so thoughtlessly embarked. He was 
 roused by a loud shouting of the post-boy on the leader. 
 
 ' Yo — yo — yo — yo — yoe,' went the first boy. 
 
 ' Yo — yo — yo — yoe ! ' went the second. 
 
 ' Yo — yo — yo — yoe ! ' chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, 
 with his head and half his body out of the coach window. 
 
 ' Yo— yo — yo — yoe ! ' shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking up the 
 burden of the cry, though he had not the slightest notion of its 
 meaning or object. And amidst the yo — yoing of the whole four, 
 the chaise stopped. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' There's a gate here,' replied old Wardle. ' We shall hear some- 
 thing of the fugitives.' 
 
 After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knocking 
 and shouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged from 
 the turnpike-house, and opened the gate. 
 
 ' How long is it since a post-chaise went through here ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Wardle. 
 
 ' How long ? ' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 ' Why, I don't rightly know. It worn't a long time ago, nor 
 it worn't a short time ago — ^just between the two, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Has any chaise been by at all ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, there's been a shay by.' 
 
 ' How long ago, my friend,' interposed Mr. Pickwick, ' an 
 hour ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, I daresay it might be,' replied the man. 
 
 ' Or two hours ? ' inquired the post-boy on the wheeler. 
 
 'Well, I shouldn't wonder if it was,' returned the old man 
 doubtfully. 
 
 ' Drive on, boys,' cried the testy old gentleman ; ' don't waste 
 any more time with that old idiot ! ' 
 
 ' Idiot ! ' exclaimed the old man with a grin, as he stood in the 
 middle of the road with the gate half-closed, watching the chaise 
 which rapidly diminished in the increasing distance. ' No — not 
 much o' that either ; you've lost ten minutes here, and gone away 
 as wise as you came, arter all. If every man on the line as has 
 a guinea give him, earns it half as well, you won't catch t'other 
 shay this side Mich'lmas, old short-and-fat.' And with another 
 prolonged grin, the old man closed the gate, re-entered his houses 
 and bolted the door after him. 
 
A CHASE 97 
 
 Meanwhile the chaise proceeded, without any slackening of pace, 
 towards the conclusion of the stage. The moon, as Wardle had 
 foretold, was rapidly on the wane ; large tiers of dark heavy clouds, 
 which had been gradually overspreading the sky for some time 
 past, now formed one black mass over head ; and large drops of 
 rain which pattered every now and then against the windows of 
 the chaise, seemed to warn the travellers of the rapid approach 
 of a stormy night. The wind, too, which was directly against them, 
 swept in furious gusts down the narrow road, and howled dismally 
 through the trees which skirted the pathway. Mr. Pickwick drew 
 his coat closer about him, coiled himself more snugly up into the 
 corner of the chaise, and fell into a sound sleep, from which he 
 was only awakened by the stopping of the vehicle, the sound of the 
 hostler's bell, and a loud cry of ' Horses on directly ! ' 
 
 But here another delay occurred. The boys were sleeping with 
 such mysterious soundness, that it took five minutes a-piece to 
 wake them. The hostler had somehow or other mislaid the key 
 of the stable, and even when that was found, two sleepy helpers 
 put the wrong harness on the wrong horses, and the whole process 
 of harnessing had to be gone through afresh. Had Mr. Pickwick 
 been alone, these multiplied obstacles would have completely put 
 an end to the pursuit at once, but old Wardle was not to be so easily 
 daunted ; and he laid about him with such hearty good-will, cuffing 
 this man, and pushing that ; strapping a buckle here, and taking in 
 a link there, that the chaise was ready in a much shorter time than 
 could reasonably have been expected, under so many difficylties. 
 
 They resumed their journey j and certainly the prospect before 
 them was by no means encouraging. The stage was fifteen miles 
 long, the night was dark, the wind high, and the rain pouring in 
 torrents. It was impossible to make any great way against such 
 obstacles united : it was hard upon one o'clock already ; and nearly 
 two hours were consumed in getting to the end of the stage. Here? 
 however, an object presented itself, which rekindled their hopes, 
 and re-animated their drooping spirits. 
 
 ' When did this chaise come in ? ' cried old Wardle, leaping out of 
 his own vehicle, and pointing to one covered with wet mud, which 
 was standing in the yard. 
 
 ' Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir ; ' replied the hostler, to whom 
 the question was addressed. 
 
 ' Lady and gentleman ? ' inquired Wardle, almost breathless with 
 impatience. 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Tall gentleman — dress coat — long legs — thin body ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Elderly lady — thin face- — rather skinny — eh ? ' 
 
 * Yes, sir.' 
 
 H 
 
98 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'By heavens, it's the couple, Pickwick,' exclaimed the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 'Would have been here before,' said the hostler, ' but they broke 
 a trace.' 
 
 ' It is ! ' said Wardle, ' it is by Jove ! Chaise and four instantly ! 
 We shall catch them yet, before they reach the next stage. A 
 guinea a-piece, boys — be alive there — bustle about — there's good 
 fellows.' 
 
 And with such admonitions as these, the old gentleman ran up 
 and down the yard, and bustled to and fro, in a state of excitement 
 which communicated itself to Mr. Pickwick also ; and under the 
 influence of which, that gentleman got himself into compUcated 
 entanglements with harness, and mixed up with horses and wheels 
 of chaises, in the most surprising manner, firmly believing that by 
 so doing he was materially forwarding the preparations for their 
 resuming their journey. 
 
 ' Jump in — jump in ! ' cried old Wardle, climbing into the chaise, 
 pulling up the steps, and slamming the door after him. ' Come 
 along ! Make haste ! ' And before Mr. Pickwick knew precisely 
 what he was about, he felt himself forced in at the other door, by 
 one pull from the old gentleman, and one push from the hostler ; 
 and off they were again. 
 
 ' Ah ! we are moving now,' said the old gentleman exultingly. 
 They were indeed, as was sufficiently testified to Mr. Pickwick, by 
 his constant collisions either with the hard wood-work of the chaise, 
 or the body of his companion. 
 
 ' Hold up ! ' said the stout old Mr. Wardle, as Mr. Pickwick 
 dived head foremost into his capacious waistcoat. 
 
 ' I never did feel such a jolting in my life,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Never mind,' replied his companion, ' it will soon be over. 
 Steady, steady.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his own comer, as firmly as 
 he could ; and on whirled the chaise faster than ever. 
 
 They had travelled in this way about three miles, when Mr. 
 Wardle, who had been looking out of the window for two or three 
 minutes, suddenly drew m his face, covered with splashes, and 
 exclaimed in breathless eagerness — 
 
 ' Here they are ! ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of his window. Yes : there 
 was a chaise and four, a short distance before them, dashing along 
 at full gallop. 
 
 ' Go on, go on,' almost shrieked the old gentleman. ' Two 
 guineas a-piece, boys — don't let 'em gain on us — keep it up — keep 
 it up.' 
 
 The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed ; 
 ■and those in Mr. Wardle's galloped furiously behind them. 
 
A CRASH 99 
 
 • I see his head,' exclaimed the choleric old man. ' Damme, I 
 see his head.' 
 
 ' So do I,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that's he.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle, 
 completely coated with the mud thrown up by the wheels, was 
 plainly discernible at the window of his chaise ; and the motion of 
 his arm, which he was waving violently towards the postilions, 
 denoted that he was encouraging them to increased exertion. 
 
 The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges, seemed to 
 rush past them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was the 
 pace at which they tore along. They were close by the side of the 
 first chaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly heard, even above 
 the din of the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed 
 with rage and excitement. He roared out scoundrels and villains 
 by the dozen, clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the 
 object of his indignation; but Mr. Jingle only answered with a 
 contemptuous smile, and replied to his menaces by a shout of 
 triumph, as his horses, answering the increased application of 
 whip and spur, broke into a faster gallop, and left the pursuers 
 behind. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had just drawn in his head, and Mr., Wardle, 
 exhausted with shouting, had done the same, when a tremendous 
 jolt threw them forward against the front of the vehicle. There 
 was a sudden bump — a lond crash — away rolled a wheel, and over 
 went the chaise. 
 
 After a very few seconds of bewilderment and confusion, in 
 which nothing but the plunging of horses and breaking of glass 
 could be made out, Mr. Pickwick felt himself violently pulled out 
 from among the ruins of the chaise ; and as soon as he had gained 
 his feet, and extricated his head from the skirts of his great, coat, 
 which materially impeded the usefulness of his spectacles, the full 
 disaster of the case met his view. : ,; 
 
 Old Mr. Wardle without a hat, and his clothes torn in^ several 
 places, stood by his side, and the fragments of the chaise lay 
 scattered at their feet. The post-boys, who had succeeded in 
 cutting the traces, were standing, disfigured with mud and disordered 
 by hard riding, by the horses' heads. About a hundred yards in 
 advance was the other chaise, which had pulled up on hearing the 
 crash. The postilions, each with a broad grin convulsing his 
 countenance, were viewing the adverse party from their saddles, and 
 Mr. Jingle was contemplating the wreck from the coach-window, 
 with evident satisfaction. The day was just breaking, and the 
 whole scene was rendered perfectly visible by the grey light of the 
 morning. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' shouted the shameless Jingle, ' anybody damaged ?^- 
 elderly gentlemen — no light weights — dangerous work — very.' 
 
xoo THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You're a rascal ! ' roared Wardle. 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ' replied Jingle ; and then he added, with a knowing 
 wink, and a jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise — 
 ' I say — she's very well — desires her compliments — begs you won't 
 trouble yourself — love to Tuppy — won't you get up behind ? — drive 
 on, boys.' 
 
 The postilions resumed their proper attitudes, and away rattled 
 the chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a white handkerchief 
 from the coach-window. 
 
 Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the upset, had 
 disturbed the calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwick's temper. 
 The villany, however, which could first borrow money of his 
 faithful follower, and then abbreviate his name to " Tuppy," was 
 more than he could patiently bear. He drew his breath hard, 
 and coloured up to the very tips of his spectacles, as he said, slowly 
 and emphatically — 
 
 ' If ever I meet that man again, I'll ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' interrupted Wardle, ' that's all very well : but while 
 we stand talking here, they'll get their licence, and be married in 
 London.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked it 
 down. 
 
 ' How far is it to the next stage ? ' inquired Mr. Wardle, of one of 
 the boys. 
 
 ' Six mile, an't it, Tom ? ' 
 
 ' Rayther better.' 
 
 ' Rayther better nor six mile, sir.' 
 
 ' Can't be helped,' said Wardle, ' we must walk it, Pickwick.' 
 
 ' No help for it,' rephed that truly great man. 
 
 So sending forward one of the boys on horseback, to procure a 
 fresh chaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take care 
 of the broken one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfully 
 forward on the walk, first tying their shawls round their necks, and 
 slouching down their hats to escape as much as possible from the 
 deluge of rain, which after a slight cessation had again begun to 
 pour heavily down. 
 
,.,y^/iey u^y^A-ea^-aupu^ny 
 
AT THE WHITE HART loi 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CLEARING UP ALL DOUBTS (iF ANY EXISTED) OF THE DIS- 
 INTERESTEDNESS OF MR. jingle's CHARACTER 
 
 There are in London several old inns, once the head-quarters oi 
 celebrated coaches in the days when coaches performed their 
 journeys in a graver and more solemn manner than they do in these 
 times ; but which have now degenerated into little more than the 
 abiding and booking places of country waggons. The reader would 
 look in vain for any of these ancient hostelries, among the Golden 
 Crosses and Bull and Mouths, which rear their stately fronts in the 
 improved streets of London. If he would light upon any of these 
 old places, he must direct his steps to the obscurer quarters of the 
 town ; and there in some secluded nooks he will find several, still 
 standing with a kind of gloomy sturdiness, amidst the modem 
 innovations which surround them. 
 
 In the Borough especially, there still remain some half dozen old 
 inns, which have preserved their external features unchanged, and 
 which have escaped alike the rage for public improvement, and the 
 encroachments of private speculation. Great, rambling, queer, old 
 places they are, with galleries, and passages, and staircases, wide 
 enough and antiquated enough to furnish materials for a hundred 
 ghost stories, supposing we should ever be reduced to the lament- 
 able necessity of inventing any, and that the world should exist long 
 enough to exhaust the innumerable veracious legends connected 
 with old London Bridge, and its adjacent neighbourhood on the 
 Surrey side. 
 
 It was in the yard of one of these inns — of no less celebrated 
 a one than the White Hart — that a man was busily employed in 
 brushing the dirt off a pair of boots, early on the morning succeed- 
 ing the events narrated in the last chapter. He was habited in 
 a coarse-striped waistcoat, with black calico sleeves, and blue glass 
 buttons; drab breeches and leggings. A bright red handkerchief 
 was wound in a very loose and unstudied style round his neck, and 
 an old white hat was carelessly thrown on one side of his head. 
 There were two rows of boots before him, one cleaned and the 
 other dirty, and at every addition he made to the clean row, he 
 paused from his work, and contemplated its results with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 The yard presented none of that bustle and activity which are 
 the usual characteristics of a large coach inn. Three or four 
 lumbering waggons, each with a pile of goods beneath its ample 
 
I02 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 canopy, about the height of the second-floor window of an ordinary 
 house, were stowed away beneath a lofty roof which extended over 
 one end of the yard ; and another, which was probably to com- 
 mence its journey that morning, was drawn out into the open space. 
 A double tier of bed-room galleries, with old clumsy balustrades, 
 ran round two sides of the straggling area, and a double row of 
 bells to correspond, sheltered from the weather by a litde sloping 
 roof, hung over the door leading to the bar and coffee-room. Two 
 or three gigs and chaise-carts were wheeled up under different little 
 sheds and pent-houses ; and the occasional heavy tread of a cart- 
 horse, or ratding of a chain at the further end of the yard, an- 
 nounced to anybody who cared about the matter, that the stable 
 lay in that direction. When we add that a few boys in smock frocks 
 were lying asleep on heavy packages, woolpacks, and other articles 
 that were scattered about on heaps of straw, we have described as 
 fully as need be the general appearance of the yard of the White Hart 
 Inn, High Street, Borough, on the particular morning in question. 
 
 A loud ringing of one of the bells, was followed by the appear- 
 ance of a smart chambermaid in the upper sleeping gallery, who, 
 after tapping at one of the doors, and receiving a request from 
 within, called over the balustrades — 
 
 'Sam!' 
 
 ' Hallo,' replied the man with the white hat. 
 
 ' Number twenty-two wants his boots.' 
 
 ' Ask number twenty-two, wether he'll have 'em now, or wait till 
 he gets 'em,' was the reply. 
 
 'Come, don't be a fool, Sam,' said the girl, coaxingly, 'the 
 gentleman wants his boots directly.' 
 
 'Well, you are a nice young 'ooman for a musical party, you 
 are,' said the boot-cleaner. ' Look at these here boots — eleven 
 pair o' boots; and one shoe as b'longs to number six, with the 
 wooden leg. The eleven boots is to be called at half-past eight 
 and the shoe at nine. Who's number twenty-two, that's to put all 
 the others out ? No, no ; reg'lar rotation, as Jack Ketch said, 
 wen he tied the men up. Sorry to keep you a waitin', sir, but I'll 
 attend to you directly.' 
 
 Saying which, the man in the white hat set to work upon a top- 
 boot with increased assiduity. 
 
 There was another loud ring ; and the bustling old landlady of 
 the White Hart made her appearance in the opposite gallery. 
 
 ' Sam,' cried the landlady, ' where's that lazy, idle — why, Sam — 
 oh, there you are ; why don't you answer ? ' 
 
 ' Wouldn't be gen-teel to answer, 'till you'd done talking,' replied 
 Sam, gruffly. 
 
 ' Here, clean them shoes for number seventeen directly, and take 
 'em tn private sitting-room, number five, first floor.' 
 
AT THE WHITE HART 103 
 
 The landlady flung a pair of lady's shoes into the yard, and 
 bustled away. 
 
 ' Number 5,' said Sam, as he picked up the shoes, and taking 
 a piece of chalk from his pocket, made a memorandum of their 
 destination on the soles — ' Lady's shoes and private sittin' room ! 
 I. suppose she didn't come in the waggin.' 
 
 'She came in early this morning,' cried the girl, who was still 
 leaning over the railing of the gallery, ' with a gentleman in a 
 hackney-coach, and it's him as wants his boots, ^nd you'd better do 
 'em, that's all about it.' 
 
 • Vy didn't you say so before ? ' said Sam, with great indignation, 
 singling out the boots in question from the heap before him. ' For 
 all I know'd he vas one o' the regular three-pennies. Private 
 room ! and a lady too ! If he's anything of a gen'lm'n, he's vorth 
 a shillin' a day, let alone the arrands.' 
 
 Stimulated by this inspiring reflection, Mr. Samuel bmshed way 
 with such hearty good will, that in a few minutes the boots and 
 shoes, with a polish which would have struck envy to the soul of 
 the amiable Mr. Warren (for they used Day and Martin at the White 
 Hart), had arrived at the door of number five. 
 
 ' Come in,' said a man's voice, in reply to Sam's rap at the door. 
 
 Sam made his best bow, and stepped into the presence of a lady 
 and gentleman seated at breakfast. Having officiously deposited the 
 gentleman's boots right and left at his feet, and the lady's shoes 
 right and left at hers, he backed towards the door. 
 
 ' Boots,' said the gentleman. 
 
 ' Sir,' sai-d Sam, closing the door, and keeping his hand on the 
 knob of the lock. 
 
 ' Do you know — what's a-name — Doctors' Commons ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Where is it ? ' 
 
 ' Paul's' Church-yard, sir ; low archway on the carriage-side, book- 
 . seller's at one corner, hot-el on the other, and two porters in the 
 middle as touts for licences.' 
 
 ' Touts for licences ! ' said the gentleman. 
 
 ' Touts for licences,' replied Sam. ' Two coves in vhite aprons 
 ■ — touches their hats wen you walk in — " Licence, sir, licence ? " 
 Queer sort, them, and their mas'rs too, sir — Old Baily Proctors — 
 and no mistake.' 
 
 ' What do they do ? ' inquired the gentleman. 
 
 ' Do ! You, sir ! That a'nt the wost on it, neither. They puts 
 things into old gen'lm'n's heads as they never dreamed of. My 
 father, sir, wog a coachman. A widower he wos, and fat enough 
 for anything — uncommon fat, to be sure. His missus dies, and 
 leaves him four hundred pound. Down he goes to the Commons, 
 to see the lawyer and draw the blunt — wery smart — top boots on — 
 
J04 THE PICltWiCK: CLUB 
 
 nosegay in his button-hole — broad-brimmed tile — green shawl- 
 quite the gen'lm'n. Goes through the archvay, thinking how he 
 should inwest the money — up comes the touter, touches his hat — 
 " Licence, sir, licence ? " — " What's that ? " says my father. — 
 " Licence, sir," says he. — " What licence ? " says my father.— 
 " Marriage licence," says the touter. — " Dash my veskit," says my 
 father, " I never thought o' that." — " I think you wants one, sir," 
 says the touter. My father pulls up, and thinks abit — " No," says 
 he, " damme, I'm too old, b'sides I'm a many sizes too large," says 
 he. — " Not a bit on it, sir," says the touter. — " Think not ? " 
 says my father. — " I'm sure not," says he ; " we married a gen'lm'n 
 twice your size, last Monday." — " Did you, though," said my father. 
 — " To be sure we did," says the touter, " you're a babby to him — 
 this way, sir — this way ! " — and sure enough my father walks arter 
 him, like a tame monkey behind a horgan, into a little back office, 
 vere a feller sat among dirty papers and tin boxes, making believe 
 he was busy. " Pray take a seat, vile I makes out the affidavit, sir," 
 says the lawyer. — " Thankee, sir," says my father, and down he sat, 
 and stared with all his eyes, and his mouth vide open, at the names 
 on the boxes. " What's your name, sir ? " says the lawyer. — " Tony 
 Weller," says my father. — " Parish ? " says the lawyer. — " Belle 
 Savage," says my father ; for he stopped there wen he drove up, 
 and he know'd nothing about parishes, he didn't. — " And what's the 
 lady's name ? " says the lawyer. My father was struck all of a 
 heap. " Blessed if I know," says he. — " Not know ! " says the 
 lawyer. — " No more nor you do," says my father, " can't I put that 
 in arterwards ? " — " Impossible ! " says the lawyer. — " Wery well," 
 says my father, after he'd thought a moment, "put down Mrs. 
 Clarke." — "What Clarke?" says the lawyer, dipping his pen 
 in the ink. — "Susan Clarke, Markis o' Granby, Dorking," says 
 my father; "she'll have me, if I ask, I des-say— I never said 
 nothing to her, but she'll have me, I know." The litence was 
 made out, and she did have him, and what's more she's got 
 him now; and T never had any of the four hundred pound, 
 worse luck. Beg your pardon, sir,' said Sam, when he had con- 
 cluded, 'but wen I gets on this here grievance, I runs on like 
 a new barrow vith the wheel greased.' Having said which, and 
 having paused for an instant to see whether he was wanted for 
 anything more, Sam left the room. 
 
 ' Half-past nine— just the time— off at once ; ' said the gentleman, 
 whom we need hardly introduce as Mr. Jingle. 
 
 'Time — for what?' said the spinster aunt, coquettishly. 
 
 ' Licence, dearest of angels— give notice at the church— call you 
 mine, to-morrow '—said Mr. Jingle, and he squeezed the spinster 
 aunt's hand. 
 
 ' The licence ! ' said Rachael, blushing. 
 
ON THE WAY TO DOCTORS' COMMONS 105 
 
 ' The licence,' repeated Mr. Jingle — 
 
 ' In hurry, post-haste for a licence, 
 In hurry, ding dong I come back.' 
 
 ' How you run on,' said Raphael. 
 
 'Run on — nothing to the hours, days, weeks, months, years, 
 when we're united — run on — they'll fly on — bolt — mizzle — steam- 
 engine — thousand-horse power — nothing to it.' 
 
 ' Can't — can't we be married before to-morrow morning ? ' 
 inquired Rachael. 
 
 ' Impossible — can't be — notice at the church — leave the licence 
 to-day — ceremony come off to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I am so terrified, lest my brother should discover us ! ' said 
 Rachael. 
 
 'Discover — nonsense — too much shaken by the break-down— 
 besides — extreme caution — gave up the post-chaise — walked on — 
 took a hackney coach — came to the Borough — last place in the 
 world that he'd look in — ha ! ha ! — capital notion that — very.' 
 
 ' Don't be long,' said the spinster, affectionately, as Mr. Jingle 
 stuck the pinched-up hat on his head. 
 
 ' I^ong away from you 7 — Cruel charmer,' and Mr. Jingle skipped 
 playfully up to the spinster aunt, imprinted a chaste kiss upon her 
 lips, and danced out of the room. 
 
 ' Dear man ! ' said the spinster as the door closed after him. 
 
 ' Rum old girl,' said Mr. Jingle, as he walked down the passage. 
 
 It is painful to reflect upon the perfidy of our species ; and we 
 will not, therefore, pursue the thread of Mr. Jingle's meditations, as 
 he wended his way to Doctors' Commons. It will be sufficient for 
 our purpose to relate, that escaping the snares of the dragons in 
 white aprons, who guard the entrance to that enchanted region, he 
 reached the Vicar General's oflfice in safety, and having procured 
 a highly flattering address on parchment, from the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, to his ' trusty and well-beloved Alfred Jingle and 
 Rachael Wardle, greeting,' he carefully deposited the mystic docu- 
 ment in his pocket, and retraced his steps in triumph to the 
 Borough. 
 
 He was yet on his way to the White Hart, when two plump 
 gentlemen and one thin one entered the yard, and looked round 
 in search of some authorised person of whom they could make a 
 few inquiries. Mr, Samuel Weller happened to be at that moment 
 engaged in burnishing a pair of painted tops, the personal property 
 of a farmer who was refreshing himself with a slight lunch of two 
 or three pounds of cold beef and a pot or two of porter, after the 
 fatigues of the Borough market; and to him the thin gentleman 
 straightway advanced. 
 
 ' My friend,' said the thin gentleman. 
 
io6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'You're one o' the adwice gratis order,' thought Sam, • or you 
 wouldn't be so werry fond o' me all at once.' But he only said — 
 ' Well, sir.' 
 
 ' My friend,' said the thin gentleman, with a conciliatory hem — 
 ' Have you got many people stopping here, now ? Pretty busy. 
 Eh?' 
 
 Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a little high-dried 
 man, with a dark squeezed-up face, and small restless black eyes, 
 that kept winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive 
 nose, as if they were playing a perpetual game of peep-bo with 
 that feature. He was dressed all in black, with boots as shiny as 
 his eyes, a low white neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. 
 A gold watch-chain, and seals, depended from his fob. He carried 
 his black kid gloves i7i his hands, not on them ; and as he spoke, 
 thrust his wrists beneath his coat-tails, with the air of a man who 
 was in the habit of propounding some regular posers. 
 
 ' Pretty busy, eh ? ' said the little man. 
 
 ' Oh, werry well, sir,' replied Sam, ' we shan't be bankrupts, and 
 we shan't make our fort'ns. We eats our biled mutton without 
 capers, and don't care for horse-radish wen ve can get beef.' 
 
 'Ah,' said the little man, 'you're a wag, a'nt you?' 
 
 ' My eldest brother was troubled with that complaint,' said Sam ; 
 ' it may be catching — I used to sleep with him.' 
 
 ' This is a curious old house of yours,' said the little man, looking 
 round him. 
 
 ' If you'd sent word you was a coming, we'd ha' had it repaired ; ' 
 replied the imperturbable Sam. 
 
 The little man seemed rather baffled by these several re'pulses, 
 and a short consultation took place between him and the two plump 
 gentlemen. At its conclusion, the little man took a pinch of snuff 
 from an oblong silver box, and was apparently on the point of 
 renewing the conversation, when one of the plump gentlemen, who 
 in addition to a benevolent countenance, possessed a pair of spec- 
 tacles, and a pair of black gaiters, interfered — 
 
 ' The fact of the matter is,' said the benevolent gentleman, ' that 
 my friend here (pointing to the other plump gentleman) will give 
 you half a guinea, if you'll answer one or two — ' ' 
 
 'Now, my dea;r sir— my dear sir,' said the little man, 'pray, 
 allow me— my dear sir, the very first principle to be observed in 
 these cases, is this : if you place a matter m the hands of a pro- 
 fessional man, you must in no way interfere in the progress of the 
 business; you must repose implicit confidence in him. Really, 
 Mr. (he turned to the other plump gentleman, and said)— I forget 
 your friend's name.' 
 
 ' Pickwick,' said Mr. Wardle, for it was no other than that jolly 
 fjersoiiage. 
 
^iJ^e, 
 
DIPLOMACY WITH MR. WELLER 107 
 
 ' Ah, Pickwick — really Mr. Pickwick, my dear sir, excuse me — 
 I shall be happy to receive any private suggestions of yours, as 
 amicus curia, but you must see the impropriety of your interfering 
 with my conduct in this case, with such an ad captandum argument 
 as the offer of half a guinea. Really, my dear sir, really ; ' and 
 the little man took an argumentative pinch of snuff, and looked 
 very profound. 
 
 ' My only wish, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' was to bring this very 
 unpleasant matter to as speedy a close as possible.' 
 
 ' Quite right — quite right,' said the little man. 
 
 ' With which view,' continued Mr. Pickwick, ' I made use of the 
 argument which my experience of men has taught me is the most 
 likely to succeed in any case.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay,' said the little man, ' very good, very good, indeed ; 
 but you should have suggested it to me. My dear sir, I'm quite 
 certain 'you cannot be ignorant of the extent of confidence which 
 must be placed in professional men. If any authority can be 
 necessary on such a point, my dear sir, let me refer you to the well- 
 known case in Barnwell and — ' 
 
 ' Never mind George Barnwell,' interrupted Sam, who had 
 remained a wondering listener during this short colloquy ; ' every 
 body knows vhat sort of a case his was, tho' it's always been my 
 opinion, mind you, that the young 'ooman deserved scragging a 
 precious sight more than he did. Hows'ever, that's neither here 
 nor there. You want me to except of half a guinea. Werry well, 
 I'm agreeable : I can't say no fairer than that, can I, sir ? (Mr. 
 Pickwick smiled.) Then the next question is, what the devil do 
 you want with me, as the man said wen he see the ghost ? ' 
 
 ' We want to know — ' said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 ' Now, my dear sir — my dear sir,' interposed the busy little man. 
 
 Mr. Wardle shrugged his shoulders, and was silent. 
 
 ' We want to know,' said the little man, solemnly ; ' and we ask 
 the question of you, in order that we may not awaken apprehensions 
 inside — ^we want to know who you've got in this house, at present ? ' 
 
 ' Who there is in the house ! ' said Sam, in whose mind the in- 
 mates were always represented by that particular article of their 
 costume, which came under his immediate superintendence. 
 ' There's a wooden leg in number six ; there's a pair of Hessians 
 in thirteen ; there's two pair of halves in the commercial ; there's 
 these here painted tops in the snuggery inside the bar; and five 
 more tops in the coffee-room.' 
 
 ' Nothing more ? ' said the little man. 
 
 ' Stop a bit,' replied Sam, suddenly recollecting himself. ' Yes ; 
 there's a pair of Wellingtons a good deal worn, and a pair o' lady's 
 shoes, in number five.' 
 
 ' What sort of shoes ? ' hastily inquired Wardle, who, together 
 
io8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 with Mr. Pickwick, had been lost in bewilderment at the singular 
 
 catalogue of visitors. 
 
 ' Country make,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Any maker's name ? ' 
 
 ' Brown.' 
 
 'Whereof?' 
 
 ' Muggleton.' 
 
 'It is them,' exclaimed Wardle. 'By Heavens, we've found 
 them.' 
 
 'Hush!' said Sam. 'The Wellingtons has gone to Doctors 
 Commons.' 
 
 ' No,' said the little man. 
 
 ' Yes, for a licence.' 
 
 ' We're in time,' exclaimed Wardle. ' Show us the room ; not a 
 moment is to be lost.' 
 
 ' Pray, my dear sir— pray,' said the little man ; ' caution, caution.' 
 He drew from his pocket a red silk purse, and looked very hard at 
 Sam as he drew out a sovereign. 
 
 Sam grinned expressively. 
 
 ' Show us into the room at once, without announcing us,' said the 
 little man, ' and it's yours.' 
 
 Sam threw the painted tops into a corner, and led the way 
 through a dark passage, and up a wide staircase. He paused at the 
 end of a second passage, and held out his hand. 
 
 ' Here it is,' whispered the attorney, as he deposited the money 
 in the hand of their guide. 
 
 The man stepped forward for a few paces, followed by the two 
 friends and their legal adviser. He stopped at a door. 
 
 ' Is this the room ? ' murmured the little gentleman. 
 
 Sam nodded assent. 
 
 Old Wardle opened the door ; and the whole three walked into 
 the room just as Mr. Jingle, who had that moment returned, had 
 produced the licence to the spinster aunt. 
 
 The spinster uttered a loud shriek, and, throwing herself in a 
 chair, covered her face with her hands. Mr. Jingle crumpled up 
 the licence, and thrust it into his coat-pocket. The unwelcome 
 visitors advanced into the middle of the room. 
 
 'You — ^you are a nice rascal, arn't you?' exclaimed Wardle, 
 breathless with passion. 
 
 ' My dear sir, my dear sir,' said the little man, laying his hat on 
 the table. ' Pray, consider — pray. Defamation of character : action 
 for damages. Calm yourself,, my dear sir, pray — ' 
 
 ' How dare you drag my sister from my house ? ' said the old 
 man. 
 
 'Ay — ay — very good,' said the little gentleman, 'you may ask 
 that. How dare you, sir ? — eh, sir ? ' 
 
MR. WARDLE AND THE FUGITIVES 109 
 
 ' Who the devil are you ? ' inquired Mr. Jingle, in so fierce a tone, 
 that the little gentleman involuntarily fell back a step or two. 
 
 'Who is he, you scoundrel,' interposed Wardle. 'He's my 
 lawyer, Mr. Perker, of Gray's Inn. Perker, I'll have this fellow 
 prosecuted — indicted — I'll — I'll— I'll ruin him. And you,' con- 
 tinued Mr. Wardle, turning abruptly round to his sister, 'you, 
 Rachael, at a time of life when you ought to know better, what do 
 you mean by running away with a vagabond, disgracing your family, 
 and making yourself miserable. Get on your bonnet, and come 
 back. Call a hackney-coach there, directly, and bring this lady's 
 bill, d'ye hear — d'ye hear ? ' 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir,' replied Sam, who had answered Wardle's violent 
 ringing of the bell with a degree of celerity which must have 
 appeared marvellous to anybody who didn't know that his eye had 
 been applied to the outside of the keyhole during the whole 
 interview. 
 
 ' Get on your bonnet,' repeated Wardle. 
 
 ' Do nothing of the kind,' said Jingle. ' Leave the room, sir — 
 no business here — lady's free to act as she pleases — more than 
 one-and-twenty.' 
 
 ' More than one-and-twenty ! ' ejaculated Wardle, contemptuously: 
 ' More thanone-and-forty ! ' 
 
 ' I a'nt,' said the spinster aunt, her indignation getting the better 
 of her determination to faint. 
 
 ' You are,' replied Wardle, ' you're fifty if you're an hour.' 
 
 Here the spinster aunt uttered a loud shriek, and became 
 senseless. 
 
 ' A glass of water,' said the humane Mr. Pickwick, summoning 
 the landlady. 
 
 ' A glass of water ! ' said the passionate Wardle. ' Bring a 
 bucket, and throw it all over her ; it'll do her good, and she richly 
 deserves it.' 
 
 ' Ugh, you brute ! ' ejaculated the kind-hearted landlady. ' Poor 
 dear.' And with sundry ejaculations, of ' Come now, there's a dear 
 — drink a little of this — it'll do you good — don't give way so— 
 there's a love,' &c., &c., the landlady, assisted by a chamber-maid, 
 proceeded to vinegar the forehead, ^jeat the hands, titillate the nose, 
 and unlace the stays of the spinster aunt, and to administer such 
 other restoratives as are usually applied by compassionate females 
 to ladies who are endeavouring to ferment themselves into hysterics. 
 
 ' Coach is ready, sir,' said Sam, appearing at the door. 
 
 ' Come along,' cried Wardle. ' I'll carry her down stairs.' 
 
 At this proposition, the hysterics came on with redoubled 
 violence. 
 
 The landlady was about to enter a very violent protest against 
 this proceeding, and had already given vent to an indignaiit inquiry 
 
no THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 whether Mr. Wardle considered himself a lord of the creation, 
 when Mr. Jingle interposed — 
 
 ' Boots,' said he, ' get me an officer.' 
 
 ' Stay, stay,' said little Mr. Perker. ' Consider, sir, consider.' 
 
 ' I'll not consider,' replied Jingle. ' She's her own mistress— see 
 who dares to take her away — unless she wishes it.' 
 
 ' I wofit be taken away,' murmured the spinster aunt. ' I dorit 
 wish it.' (Here there was a frightful relapse.) 
 
 'My dear sir,' said the little man, in a low tone, taking Mr. 
 Wardle and Mr. Pickwick apart : ' My dear sir, we're in a very 
 awkward situation. It's a distressing case— very ; I never knew one 
 more so ; but really, my dear sir, really we have no power to control 
 this lady's actions. I warned you before we came, my dear sir, 
 that there was nothing to loot to but a compromise.' 
 
 There was a short pause. 
 
 ' What kind of compromise would you recommend ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why, my dear sir, our friend's in an unpleasant position — very 
 much so. We must be content to suffer some pecuniary loss.' 
 
 ' I'll suffer any, rather than submit to this disgrace, and let her, 
 fool as she is, be made miserable for life,' said Wardle. 
 
 ' I rather think it can be done,' said the bustling little man. 
 ' Mr. Jingle, will you step with us into the next room for a 
 moment ? ' 
 
 Mr. Jingle assented, and the quartette walked into an empty 
 apartment. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' said the little man, as he carefully closed the door, 
 ' is there no way of accommodating this matter — step this way, sir, 
 for a moment — into this window, sir, where we can be alone — 
 there, sir, there, pray sit down, sir. Now, my dear sir, between you 
 and I, we know very well, my dear sir, that you have run off with 
 this lady for the sake of her money. Don't frown, sir, don't frown ; 
 I say, hetween you and I, we know it. We are both men of the 
 world, and we know very well that our friends here, are not — eh ? ' 
 
 Mr. Jingle's face gradually relaxed ; and something distantly 
 reserhbling a wink quivered for an instant in his left eye. 
 
 ' Very good, very good,' said the little man, observing the 
 impression he had made. ' N(5w the fact is, that beyond a few 
 hundreds, the lady has little or nothing till the death of her mother 
 — fine old lady, my dear sir.' 
 
 ' Old^ said Mr. Jingle, briefly but emphatically. 
 
 ' Why, yes,' said the attorney with a slight cough. ' You are 
 right, my dear sir, she is rathe?- old. She comes of an old family 
 though, my dear sir ; old in every sense of the word. The founder 
 of that family came into Kent, when Julius Caesar invaded Britain ; 
 — qnly one member of it, since, who hasn't lived to eighty-five, and 
 
COMPROMISED iii 
 
 he was beheaded by one of the Henrys. The old lady is not 
 seventy-three now, my dear sir.' The little man paused, and took 
 a pinch of snuff. 
 
 ' Well,' cried Mr. Jingle. 
 
 'Well, my dear sir — you don't take snufF! — ah! so much the 
 better — expensive habit — well, my dear sir, you're a fine young 
 man, man of the wprld — able to push your fortune, if you had 
 capital, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Jingle again, 
 
 ' Do you comprehend me ? ' 
 
 ' Not quite.' 
 
 ' Don't you think — now, my dear sir, I put it to you, dotit you 
 think — that fifty pounds and liberty, would be better than Miss . 
 Wardle and expectation ? ' 
 
 ' Won't do — not half enough ! ' said Mr. Jingle risiijg. 
 
 ' Nay, nay, my dear sir,' remonstrated the little attorney, seizing 
 him by the button. ' Good round sum. — a man like you could 
 treble it in no time — great deal to be done with fifty pounds, my, 
 dear sir.' 
 
 ' More to be done with a hundred and fifty,' replied Mr. Jingle, 
 coolly. 
 
 ' Well, my dear sir, we won't waste time in splitting straws,' 
 resumed the little man, ' say — say— seventy.' 
 
 ' Won't do,' said Mr. Jingle. 
 
 ' Don't go away, my dear sir — pray don't hurry,' said the little 
 man. ' Eighty ; come : I'll write you a cheque at once.' 
 
 ' Won't do,' said Mr. Jingle. 
 
 ' Well, my dear sir, well,' said the little man, still detaining him ; 
 ' just tell me what will do.' 
 
 ' Expensive affair,' said Mr. Jingle. ' Money out of pocket — 
 posting, nine pounds ; licence, three — that's twelve — compensation, 
 a hundred — ^hundred and twelve — Breach of honour — ^^and loss of, 
 the lady — ' . 
 
 ' Yes, my dear sir, yes,' said the little man, with a knowing look, 
 • never mind the last two items. That's a hundred and twelve — 
 say a hundred — come.' 
 
 ' And twenty,' said Mr. Jingle. 
 
 ' Come, come, I'll write you a cheque,' said the little man ; and 
 down he sat at the table for that purpose. 
 
 ' I'll make it payable the day after to-morrow,' said the little 
 man, with a look towards Mr. Wardle ; ' and we can get the lady 
 away, meanwhile.' Mr. Wardle sullenly nodded assent. 
 
 ' A hundred,' said the little man. 
 
 ' And twenty,' said Mr. Jingle, 
 
 ' My dear sir,' remonstrated the little man. 
 
 .' Give it him,' interposed Mr. Wardle, '.and let him go.' 
 
ii« THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The cheque was written by the little gentleman, and pocketed 
 by Mr. Jingle. 
 
 ' Now, leave this house instantly ! ' said Wardle, starting up. 
 
 ' My dear sir,' urged the little man. 
 
 ' And mind,' said Mr. Wardle, ' that nothing should have induced 
 me to make this compromise— not even a regard for my family — if 
 I had not known that the moment you got any money in that pocket 
 of yours, you'd go to the devil faster, if possible, than you would 
 without it — ' 
 
 ' My dear sir,' urged the little man again. 
 
 ' Be quiet, Perker,' resumed Wardle. ' Leave the room, sir.' 
 
 ' Off directly,' said the unabashed Jingle. ' Bye bye, Pickwick.' 
 
 If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld the countenance 
 of the illustrious man, whose name forms the leading feature of the 
 title of this work, during the latter part of this conversation, he 
 would have been almost induced to wonder that the indignant fire 
 which flashed from his eyes, did not melt the glasses of his spectacles 
 — so majestic was his wrath. His nostrils dilated, and his fists 
 clenched involuntarily, as he heard himself addressed by the villain. 
 But he restrained himself again — he did not pulverise him. 
 
 ' Here,' continued the hardened traitor, tossing the licence at Mr. 
 Pickwick's feet ; ' get the name altered— take home the lady — do 
 for Tuppy.' 
 
 ■ Mr. Pickwick was a philosopher, but philosophers are only men 
 in armour, after all. The shaft had reached him, penetrated 
 through his philosophical harness, to his very heart. In the frenzy 
 of his rage he hurled the inkstand madly forward, and followed it 
 up himself. But Mr. Jingle had disappeared, and he found himself 
 caught in the arms of Sam. 
 
 ' Hallo,' said that eccentric functionary, ' furniter's cheap where 
 you come from, sir. Self-acting ink, that 'ere ; if s wrote your mark 
 upon the wall, old gen'lm'n. Hold still, sir; wot's the use o' 
 runnin' arter a man as has made his lucky, and got to t' other end 
 of the Borough by this time.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's mind, like those of all truly great men, was open 
 to conviction. He was a quick and powerful reasoner ; and a 
 moment's reflection sufficed to remind him of the impotency of his 
 rage. It subsided as quickly as it had been roused. He panted 
 for breath, and looked benignantly round upon his friends. 
 
 Shall we tell the lamentations that ensued, when Miss Wardle 
 found herself deserted by the faithless Jingle? Shall we extract 
 Mr. Pickwick's masterly description of that heart-rending scene? 
 His note-book, blotted with the tears of sympathising humanity, 
 lies open before us ; one word, and it is in the printer's hands. 
 But, no ! we will be resolute ! We will not wring the public, bosom, 
 with the delineation of such suflering I 
 
MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. TUPMAN 113 
 
 Slowly and sadly did the two friends and the deserted lady, 
 return next day in the Mugglelon heavy coach. Dimly and darkly 
 had the sombre shadows of a summer's night fallen upon all around, 
 when they again reached Dingley Dell, and stood within the 
 entrance to Manor Farm. 
 
 CFIAPTER XI 
 
 INVOLVING ANOTHER JOURNEY, AND AN ANTIQUARIAN DISCOVERY. 
 RECORDING MR. PICKWICk's DETERMINATION TO BE PRESENT 
 AT AN election; AND CONTAINING A MANUSCRIPT OF THE 
 OLD clergyman's 
 
 A NIGHT of quiet and repose in the profound silence of Dingley 
 Dell, and an hour's breathing of its fresh and fragrant air on the 
 ensuing morning, completely recovered Mr. Pickwick from the 
 eifects of his late fatigue of body and anxiety of mind. That 
 illustrious man had been separated from his friends and followers, 
 for two whole days ; and it was with a degree of pleasure and 
 delight, which no common imagination can adequately conceive, 
 that he stepped forward to greet Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass, 
 as he encountered those gentlemen on his return from his early 
 walk. The pleasure was mutual ; for who could ever gaze on Mr. 
 Pickwick's beaming face without experiencing the sensation ? But 
 still a cloud seemed to hang over his companions which that great 
 man could not but be sensible of, and was wholly at a loss to 
 account for. There was a mysterious air about them both, as 
 unusual as it was alarming. 
 
 ' And how,' said Mr. Pickwick, when he had grasped his followers 
 by the hand, and exchanged warm salutations of welcome ; ' how is 
 Tupman ? ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle, to whom the question was more peculiarly addressed, 
 made no reply. He turned away his head, and appeared absorbed 
 in melancholy reflections. 
 
 ' Snodgrass,' said Mr. Pickwick, earnestly, ' How is our friend — 
 he is not ill ? ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Mr. Snodgrass ; and a tear trembled on his senti- 
 mental eye-lid, like a rain-drop on a window-frame. 'Noj he is 
 not ill.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stopped, and gazed on each of his friends in turn. 
 
 ' Winkle — Snodgrass,' said Mr. Pickwick : ' what does this mean ? 
 Where is pur friend ? What has happened ? Speak— I conjure, i 
 en1:re?it — nay, I coinn}and you, speak.' 
 
114 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 There was a solemnity — a dignity — in Mr, Pickwick's manner, 
 not to be withstood. 
 
 ' He is gone,' said Mr. Shodgrass. 
 
 ' Gone ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. ' Gone ! ' 
 
 ' Gone,' repeated Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Where ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' We can only guess, from that communication,' replied Mr. 
 Snodgrass, taking a letter from his pocket, and placing it in his 
 friend's hand. 'Yesterday morning, when a letter was received 
 from Mr. Wardle, stating that you would be home with his sister at 
 night, the melancholy which had hung over our friend during the 
 whole of the previous day, was observed to increase. He shortly 
 afterwards disappeared : he was missing during the whole day, and 
 in the evening this letter was brought by the hostler from the 
 Crown, at Muggleton. It had been left in his charge in the 
 morning, with a strict injunction that it should not be delivered until 
 night.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick opened the epistle. It was in his friend's hand- 
 writing, and these were its contents : — 
 
 ' My dear Pickwick, 
 
 ' You, my dear friend, are placed far beyond the reach of many 
 mortal frailties and weaknesses which ordinary people cannot over- 
 come. You do not know what it is, at one blow, to be deserted 
 by a lovely and fascinating creature, and to fall a victim to the 
 artifices of a villain, who hid the grin of cunning, beneath the mask 
 of friendship. I hope you never may. 
 
 ' Any letter, addressed to me at the Leather Bottle, Cobham, 
 Kent, will be forwarded — supposing I still exist. I hasten from 
 the sight of that world, which has become odious to me. Should 
 I hasten from it altogether, pity — forgive me. Life, my dear Pick- 
 wick, has become insupportable to me. The spirit which burns 
 within us, is a porter's knot, on which to rest the heavy load of 
 worldly cares and troubles j and when that spirit fails us, the 
 burden is too heavy to be borrie. We sink beneath it. You may 
 tell Rachael^ — Ah, that name ! — 
 
 'Tracy Tupman.' 
 
 We must leave this place, directly,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he 
 refolded the note. ' It would not have been decent for us to remain 
 here, under any circumstances, after what has happened ; and now 
 we are bound to follow in search of our friend. And so saying, he 
 led the way to the house. 
 
 His intention was rapidly communicated. The entreaties to 
 remain were pressing, but Mr. Pickwick was inflexible. Business, 
 he said, required his immediate attendance. 
 
THE PICKWICKIANS LEAVE MANOR FARM 115 
 
 The old clergyman was present. 
 
 ' You are not really going ? ' said he, taking Mr. Pickwick aside. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick reiterated his former determination. 
 
 'Then here,' said the old gentleman, 'is a little manuscript, 
 which I had hoped to have the pleasure of reading to you myself. 
 I found it on the death of a friend of mine^a medical man, 
 engaged in our County Lunatic Asylum — among a variety of papers, 
 which I had the option of destroying or preserving, as I thought 
 proper. I can hardly believe that the manuscript is genuine, 
 though it certainly is not in my friend's hand. However, whether 
 it be the genuine production of a maniac, or founded upon the 
 ravings of some unhappy being (which I think more probable), read 
 it, and judge for yourself.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick received the manuscript, and parted from the 
 benevolent old gentleman with many expressions of good-will and 
 esteem. 
 
 It was a more difficult task to take leave of the inmates of Manor 
 Farm, from whom they had received so much hospitaUty and kind- 
 ness. Mr. Pickwick kissed the young ladies — we were going to 
 say, as if they were his own daughters, only as he might possibly 
 have infused a little more warmth into the salutation, the com- 
 parison would not be quite appropriate — Chugged the old lady with 
 filial cordiality : and patted the rosy cheeks of the female servants 
 in a most patriarchal manner, as he slipped into the hands of each, 
 some more substantial expression of his approval. The exchange 
 of cordialities with their fine old host and Mr. Trundle, were even 
 more hearty and prolonged ; and it was not until Mr. Snodgrass 
 had been several times called for, and at last emerged from a dark 
 passage followed soon after by Emily (whose bright eyes looked 
 unusually dim), that the three friends were enabled to tear them- 
 selves from their friendly entertainers. Many a backward look 
 they gave at the Farm, as they walked slowly away : and many a 
 kiss did Mr. Snodgrass waft in the air, in acknowledgment of some- 
 thing very like a lady's handkerchief, which was waved from one of 
 the upper windows, until a turn of the lane hid the old house from 
 their sight. 
 
 At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester. By 
 the time they reached the last-named place, the violence of their 
 grief had sufficiently abated to admit of their making a very excellent 
 early dinner ; and having procured the necessary information rela- 
 tive to the road, the three friends set forward again in the afternoon 
 to walk to Cobham. 
 
 A delightful walk it was : for it was a pleasant afternoon in June, 
 and their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the 
 light wind which gently rustled the thick foliage, and enlivened by 
 the songs of the birds that perched upon the boughs. The ivy and 
 
ii6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the moss crept in thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft 
 green turf overspread the ground like a silken mat. They emerged 
 upon an open park, with an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and 
 picturesque architecture of Elizabeth's time. Long vistas of stately 
 oaks and elm trees appeared on every side : large herds of deer 
 were cropping the fresh grass; and occasionally a startled hare 
 scoured along the ground, with the speed of the shadows thrown by 
 the light clouds which swept across a sunny landscape like a passing 
 breath of summer. 
 
 ' If this,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking about him, ' if this were the 
 place to which all who are troubled with our friend's complaint 
 came, I fancy their old attachment to this world would very soon 
 return.' 
 
 ' I think so too,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' And really,' added Mr. Pickwick, after half an hour's walking 
 had brought them to the village, ' really, for a misanthrope's choice, 
 this is one of the prettiest and most desirable places of residence I 
 ever met with.' 
 
 In this opinion also, both Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass ex- 
 pressed their concurrence ; and having been directed to the Leathern 
 Bottle, a clean and commodious village ale-house, the three travellers 
 entered, and at once inquired for a gentleman of the name of 
 Tupman. 
 
 ' Show the gentlemen into the parlour, Tom,' said the landlady. 
 
 A stout country lad opened a door at the end of the passage, and 
 the three friends entered a long, low-roofed room, furnished with a 
 large number of high-backed leather-cushioned chairs of fantastic 
 shapes, and embellished with a great variety of old portraits and 
 roughly-coloured prints of some antiquity. At the upper end of 
 the room was a table, with a white cloth upon it, well covered with 
 a roast fowl, bacon, ale, and et ceteras ; and at the table sat Mr. 
 Tupman, looking as unlike a man who had taken his leave of the 
 world, as possible. 
 
 On the entrance of his friends, that gentleman laid down his 
 knife and fork, and with a mournful air advanced to meet them. 
 
 ' I did not expect to see you here,' he said, as he grasped Mr. 
 Pickwick's hand. ' It's very kind.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, sitting down, and wiping from his 
 forehead the perspiration which the walk had engendered. ' Finish 
 your dinner, and walk out with me. I wish to speak to you 
 alone.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman did as he was desired ; and Mr. Pickwick having 
 .efreshed himself with a copious draught of ale, waited his friend's 
 leisure. The dinner was quickly despatched, and they walked out 
 together. 
 
 For half an hour, their forms might have been seen pacing the 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S DISCOVERY 117 
 
 churchyard to and fro, while Mr. Pickwick was engaged in com- 
 batting his companion's resolution. Any repetition of his arguments 
 would be useless; for what language could convey to them that 
 energy and force which their great originator's manner communi- 
 cated ? Whether Mr. Tupman was already tired of retirement, or 
 whether he was wholly unable to resist the eloquent appeal which 
 was made to him, matters not, he did not resist it at last. 
 
 ' It mattered little to him,' he said, ' where he dragged out the 
 miserable remainder of his days : and since his friend laid so much 
 stress upon his humble companionship, he was willing to share his 
 adventures.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick smiled ; they shook hands ; and walked back to 
 re-join their companions. 
 
 It was at this moment that Mr. Pickwick made that immortal 
 discovery, which has been the pride and boast of his friends, and 
 the envy of every antiquarian in this or any other country. They 
 had passed the door of their inn, and walked a little way down the 
 village, before they recollected the precise spot in which it stood. 
 As they turned back, Mr. Pickwick's eye fell upon a small broken 
 stone, partially buried in the ground, in front of a cottage door. 
 , He paused. 
 
 ' This is very strange,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'What is strange?' inquired Mr. Tupman, staring eagerly at 
 every object near him, but the right one. ' God bless me, what's 
 the matter ? ' 
 
 This last was an ejaculation of irrepressible astonishment, occa- 
 sioned by seeing Mr. Pickwick, in his enthusiasm for discovery, fall 
 on his knees before the little stone, and commence wiping the dust 
 off it with his pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 ' There is an inscription here,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Is it possible ? ' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' I can discern,' continued Mr. Pickwick, rubbing away with all 
 his might, and gazing intently through his spectacles : ' I can discern 
 a cross, and a B., and then a T. This is important,' continued Mr. 
 Pickwick, starting up. ' This is some very old inscription, existing 
 perhaps long before the ancient alms-houses in this place. It must 
 not be lost.' 
 
 He tapped at the cottage door. A labouring man opened it. 
 
 ' Do you know how this stone came here, my friend ? ' inquired 
 the benevolent Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No, I doan't sir,' replied the man civilly. ' It was here long 
 afore I war born, or any on us.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick glanced triumphantly at his companion. 
 
 ' You — ^you — are not particularly attached to it, I dare say,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick, trembling with anxiety. ' You wouldn't mind selling 
 it, now ? ' 
 
ii8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Ah ! but who'd buy it ? ' inquired the man, with an expression 
 of face which he probably meant to be very cunnmg. 
 
 ' I'll give you ten shillings for it, at once,' said Mr. Pickwick, if 
 you would take it up for me.' . . . , , 
 
 The astonishment of the village may be easily imagined, when 
 (the little stone having been raised with one wrench of a spade), 
 Mr. Pickwick, by dint of great personal exertion, bore it with his 
 own hands to the inn, and after having carefully washed it, deposited 
 
 it on the table. , j t. 
 
 The exultation and joy of the Pickwickians knew no bounds, when 
 their patience and assiduity, their washing and scrapmg, were 
 crowned with success. The stone was uneven and broken, and the 
 letters were straggling and irregular, but the following fragment of 
 an inscription was clearly to be deciphered : 
 
 + 
 
 B I L S T 
 
 U M 
 
 P S H I 
 
 S. M. 
 
 ARK 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's eyes sparkled with delight, as he sat and gloated 
 over the treasure he had discovered. He had attained one of the 
 greatest objects of his ambition. In a county known to abound in 
 remains of the early ages ; in a village in which there still existed 
 some memorials of the olden time, he — he, the Chairman of the 
 Pickwick Club — had discovered a strange and curious inscription of 
 unquestionable antiquity, which had wholly escaped the observation 
 of the many learned men who had preceded him. He could hardly 
 trust the evidence of his senses. 
 
 ' This — this,' said he, ' determines me. We return to town, 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 ' To-morrow ! ' exclaimed his admiring followers. 
 
 ' To-morrow,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' This treasure must be at 
 once deposited where it can be thoroughly investigated, and properly 
 understood. I have another reason for this step. In a few days, 
 an election is to take place for the borough of Eatanswill, at which 
 Mr. Perker, a gentleman whom I lately met, is the agent of one of 
 the candidates. We will behold, and minutely examine, a scene 
 So interesting to every Englishman.' 
 
 ' We will,' was the animated cry of three voices. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick looked round him. The attachment and fervour 
 of his followers, lighted up a glow of enthusiasm within him. He 
 was their leader, and he felt it. 
 
THE DAY MARKED BY A STONE 119 
 
 'Let us celebrate this happy meeting with a convivial glass,' 
 said he. This proposition, like the other, was received with 
 unanimous applause. Having himself deposited the important 
 stone in a small deal box, purchased from the landlady for the 
 purpose, he placed himself in an arm-chair at the head of the 
 table; and the evening was devoted to festivity and con- 
 versation. 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock— a late hour for the little village of 
 Cobham — when Mr. Pickwick retired to the bed-room which had 
 been prepared for his reception. He threw open the lattice-window, 
 and setting his light upon the table, fell into a train of meditation 
 on the hurried events of the two preceding days. 
 
 The hour and the place were both favourable to contemplation ; 
 Mr. Pickwick was roused by the church-clock striking twelve. The 
 first stroke of the hour sounded solemnly in his ear, but when the 
 bell ceased the stillness seemed insupportable; — he almost felt as 
 if he had lost a companion. He was nervous and excited; and 
 hastily undressing himself and placing his light in the chimney, 
 got into bed. 
 
 Every one has experienced that disagreeable state of mind, in 
 which a sensation of bodily weariness in vain contends against 
 an inabihty to sleep. It was Mr. Pickwick's condition at this 
 moment : he tossed first on one side and then on the other ; and 
 perseveringly closed his eyes as if to coax himself to slumber. It 
 was of no use. Whether it was the unwonted exertion he had 
 undergone, or the heat, or the brandy and water, or the strange 
 bed — whatever it was, his thoughts kept reverting very uncom- 
 fortably to the grim pictures down stairs, and the old stories to 
 which they had given rise in the course of the evening. After 
 half an hour's tumbling about, he came to the unsatisfactory con- 
 clusion, that it was of no use trying to sleep ; so he got up, and 
 partially dressed himself. Anything, he thought, was better than 
 lying there fancying all kinds of horrors. He looked out of the 
 window — it was very dark. He walked about the room — it was 
 very lonely. 
 
 He had taken a few turns from the door to the window, and 
 from the window to the door, when the clergyman's manuscript 
 for the first time entered his head. It was a good thought. If it 
 failed to interest him, it might send him to sleep. He took it from 
 his coat-pocket, and drawing a small table towards his bedside, 
 trimmed the light, put on his spectacles, and composed himself 
 to read. It was a strange hand-writing, and the paper was much 
 soiled and blotted. The title gave him a sudden start, too; and 
 he could not avoid casting a wistful glance round the room. 
 Reflecting on the absurdity of giving way to such feelings, however, 
 he trimmed the light again, and read as follows ; 
 
120 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 A MADMAN'S MANUSCRIPT 
 
 '■ Yes ! — a madman's ! How that word would have struck to my 
 neart, many years ago ! How it would have roused the terror 
 that used to come upon me sometimes ; sending the blood hissing 
 and tingling through my veins, till the cold dew of fear stood in 
 large drops upon my skin, and my knees knocked together with 
 fright! I like it now though. It's a fine name. Shew me the 
 monarch whose angry frown was ever feared like the glare of a 
 madman's eye — whose cord and, axe were ever half so sure as 
 a madman's grip. Ho ! ho ! It's a grand thing to be mad ! to 
 be peeped at like a wild lion through the iron bars — to gnash one's 
 teeth and howl, through the long still night, to the merry ring of a 
 heavy chain — and to roll and twine among the straw, transported with 
 such brave music. Hurrah for the madhouse ! Oh, if s a rare place ! 
 
 ' I remember days when I was afraid of being mad ; when I 
 used to start from my sleep, and fall upon my knees, and pray 
 to be spared from the curse of my race ; when I rushed from the 
 sight of merriment or happiness, to hide myself in some lonely 
 place, and spend the weary hours in watching the progress of the 
 fever that was to consume my brain. I knew that madness was 
 mixed up with my very blood, and the marrow of my bones ; that 
 one generation had passed away without the pestilence appearing 
 among them, and that I was the first in whom it would revive. 
 I knew it must be so : that so it always had been, and so it ever 
 would be : and when I cowered in some obscure comer of a 
 crowded room, and saw men whisper, and point, and turn their 
 eyes towards me, I knew they were telling each other of the 
 doomed madman ; and I slunk away again to mope in solitude. 
 
 ' I did this for years ; long, long years they were. The nights 
 here are long sometimes — very long ; but they are nothing to the 
 restless nights, and dreadful dreams I had at that time. It makes 
 me cold to remember them. Large dusky forms with sly and 
 jeering faces crouched in the corners of the room, and bent over 
 my bed at night, tempting me to madness. They told me in low 
 whispers, that the floor of the old house in which my father's father 
 died, was stained with his own blood, shed by his own hand in 
 raging madness. I drove my fingers into my ears, but they 
 screamed into my head till the room rang with it, that in one 
 generation before him the madness slumbered, but that his grand- 
 father had lived for years with his hands fettered to the ground, 
 to prevent his tearing himself to pieces. I knew they told the 
 truth— I knew it well. I had found it out years before, though 
 they had tried to keep it from me. Ha ! ha ! I was too cunning 
 for them, madman as diey thought me. 
 
GOLDEN LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION izi 
 
 ' At last it came upon me', and I wondered how I could ever 
 have feared it. I could go into the world now, and laugh and 
 shout with the best among them. I knew, I was mad, but they 
 did not even suspect it. How I used to hug myself with delight, 
 when I thought of the fine trick I was playing them after their old 
 pointing and leering, when I was not mad, but only dreading that 
 I might one day become so ! And how I used to laugh for joy, 
 when I was alone, and thought how well I kept my secret, and 
 how quickly my kind friends would have fallen from me, if they 
 had known the truth. I could have screamed with ecstasy when 
 I dined alone with some fine roaring fellow, to think how pale he 
 would have turned, and how fast he would have run, if he had 
 known that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharpening a 
 bright glittering knife, was a madman with all the power, and half 
 the will, to plunge it in his heart. Oh, it was a merry life ! 
 
 ' Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon me, and I rioted 
 in pleasures enhanced a thousandfold to me by the consciousness 
 of my well-kept secret. I inherited an estate. The law — the eagle- 
 eyed law itself — had been deceived, and had handed over disputed 
 thousands to a madman's hands. Where was the wit of the sharp- 
 sighted men of sound mind ? Where the dexterity of the lawyers, 
 eager to discover a flaw ? The madman's cunning had over-reached 
 them aU. 
 
 ' I had money. How I was courted ! I spent it profusely. How 
 I was praised ! How those three proud overbearing brothers 
 humbled themselves before me ! The old white-headed father, 
 too — such deference — such respect— such devoted friendship — he 
 worshipped me ! The old man had a daughter, and the young 
 men a sister ; and all the five were poor. I was rich ; and when 
 I married the girl, I saw a smile of triumph play upon the faces 
 of her needy relatives, as they thought of their well-planned scheme, 
 and their fine prize. It was for me to smile. To smile ! To 
 laugh outright, and tear my hair, and roll upon the ground with 
 shrieks of merriment. They little thought they had married her 
 to a madman. 
 
 ' Stay. If they had known it, would they have saved her ? A 
 sister's happiness against her husband's gold. The lightest feather 
 I blow into the air, against the gay chain that ornaments my 
 body! 
 
 'In one thing I was deceived with all my cunning. If I had 
 not been mad — for though we madmen are sharp-witted enough, 
 we get bewildered sometimes — I should have known that the girl 
 would rather have been placed, stiff and cold in a dull leaden 
 coffin, than borne an envied bride to my rich, ghttering house. 
 I should have known that her heart was with the dark-eyed boy 
 whose name I once heard her breathe in her troubled sleep ; and 
 
122 _ THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 that she had been sacrificed to me, to relieve the poverty of the old 
 white-headed man, and the haughty brothers. 
 
 ' I don't remember forms or faces now, but I know the girl was 
 beautiful. I know she was ; for in the bright moonlight nights, when 
 I start up from my sleep, and all is quiet about me, I see, standing 
 still and motionless in one comer of this cell, a slight and wasted 
 figure with long black hair, which streaming down her back, stirs 
 with no earthly wind, and eyes that fix their gaze on me, and never 
 wink or close. Hush ! the blood chills at my heart as I write it 
 down — that form is net's ; the face is very pale, and the eyes are 
 glassy bright ; but I know them well. That figure never moves ; it 
 never frowns and mouths as others do, that fill this place sometimes ; 
 but it is much more dreadful to me, even than the spirits that 
 tempted me many years ago — it comes fresh from the grave ; and 
 is so very death-Hke. 
 
 ' For nearly a year I saw that face grow paler ; for nearly a year 
 I saw the tears steal down the mournful cheeks, and never knew the 
 cause. I found it out at last though. They could not keep it from 
 me long. She had never hked me ; I had never thought she did : 
 she despised my wealth, and hated the splendour in which she lived ' 
 — I had not expected that. She loved another. This I had never 
 thought of. Strange feelings came over me, and thoughts, forced 
 upon me by some secret power, whirled round and round my brain. 
 I did not hate her, though I hated the boy she still wept for. I 
 pitied— yes, I pitied— the wretched life to which her cold and 
 selfish relations had doomed her. I knew that she could not live 
 long, but the thought that before her death she might give birth to 
 some ill-fated being, destined to hand down madness to its offspring, 
 determined me. I resolved to kill her. 
 
 ' For many weeks I thought of poison, and then of drowning, and 
 then of fire. A fine sight the grand house in flames, and the 
 madman's wife smouldering away to cinders. Think of the jest of 
 a large reward, too, and of some sane man swinging in the wind for 
 a deed he never did, and all through a madman's cunning! I 
 thought often of this, but I gave it up at last. Oh ! the pleasure of 
 stroppmg the razor day after day, feeling the sharp edge, and 
 thmkmg of the gash one stroke of its thin bright edge would 
 make ! 
 
 'At last the old spirits who had been with me so often before 
 whispered m my ear that the time was come, and thrust the open 
 razor mto my hand. I grasped it firmly, rose softly from the bed, 
 and leaned over my sleeping wife. Her face was buried in her 
 hands. I withdrew them softly, and they fell listlessly on her 
 bosom. She had been weeping ; for the traces of the tears were 
 still wet upon her cheek. Her face was calm and placid : and even 
 as I looked upon it, a tranquil smile lighted up her pale features. 
 
CONSULTATION OF DOCTORS 123 
 
 I laid my hand softly on her shoulder. She started — it was only a 
 passing dream. I leant forward again. She screamed, and woke. 
 
 ' One motion of my hand, and she would never again have uttered 
 cry or sound. But I was startled, and drew back. Her eyes were 
 fixed on mine. I know not how it was, but they cowed and 
 frightened me; and I quailed beneath them. She rose from the 
 bed, still gazing fixedly and steadily on me. I trembled ; the razor 
 was in my hand, but I could not move. She made towards the 
 door. As she neared it, she turned, and withdrew her eyes from 
 my face. The spell was broken. I bounded forward, and clutched 
 her by the arm. Uttering shriek upon shriek, she sunk upon the 
 ground. 
 
 ' Now I could have killed her without a struggle ; but the house 
 was alarmed. I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs. I 
 replaced the razor in its usual drawer, unfastened the door, and 
 called loudly for assistance. 
 
 ' They came, and raised her, and placed her on the bed. ' She lay 
 bereft of animation for hours ; and when life, look, and speech 
 returned, her senses had deserted her, and she raved wildly and 
 furiously. 
 
 ' Doctors were called in — great men who rolled up to my door in 
 easy carriages, with fine horses and gaudy servants. They were at 
 her bedside for weeks. They had a great meeting, and consulted 
 together in low and solemn voices in another room. One, the 
 cleverest and most celebrated among them, took me aside, and 
 bidding me prepare for the worst, told me — me, the madman ! — 
 that my wife was mad. He stood close beside me at an open 
 window, his eyes looking in my face, and his hand laid upon my 
 arm. With one effort, I could have hurled him into the street 
 beneath. It would have been rare sport to have done it ; but my 
 secret was at stake, and I let him go. A few days after, they told 
 me I must place her under some restraint : I must provide a keeper 
 for her. // I went into the open fields where none could hear me, 
 and laughed till the air resounded with my shouts ! 
 
 ' She died next day ! The white-headed old man followed her 
 to the grave, and the proud brothers dropped a tear over the 
 insensible corpse of her whose sufferings they had regarded in her 
 lifetime with muscles of iron. All this was food for my secret 
 mirth, and I laughed behind the white handkerchief which I held 
 up to my face, as we rode home, 'till the tears came into my eyes. 
 
 ' But though I had carried my object and killed her, I was 
 restless and disturbed, and I felt that before long my secret must 
 be known. I could not hide the wild mirth and joy which boiled 
 within me, and made me when I was alone, at home, jump up and 
 beat my hands together, and dance round and round, and roar 
 aloud. When I went out, and saw the busy crowds hurrying about 
 
124 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the streets ; or to the theatre, and heard the sound of music, and 
 beheld the people dancing, I felt such glee, that I could have 
 rushed among them, and torn them to pieces limb from limb, and 
 howled in transport. But I ground my teeth, and struck my feet 
 upon the floor, and drove my sharp nails into my hands. I kept it 
 down ; and no one knew I was a madman yet. 
 
 ' I remember— though it's one of the last things I can remember : 
 for now I mix up realities with my dreams, and having so much to 
 do, and being always hurried here, have no time to separate the 
 two, from some strange confusion in which they get involved — I 
 remember how I let it out at last. Ha ! ha ! I think I see their 
 frightened looks now, and feel the ease with which I flung them 
 from me, and dashed my clenched fist into their white faces, and 
 then flew like the wind, and left them screaming and shouting far 
 behind. The strength of a giant comes upon me when I think of 
 it. There — see how this iron bar bends beneath my furious wrench. 
 I could fnap it like a twig, only there are long galleries here with 
 many doors — I don't think I could find my way along them ; and 
 even if I could, I know there are iron gates below which they keep 
 locked and barred. They know what a clever madman I have 
 been, and they are proud to have me here, to show. 
 
 ' Let me see ; — yes, I had been out. It was late at night when I 
 reached home, and found the proudest of the three proud brothers 
 waiting to see me — urgent business he said : I recollect it well. I 
 hated that man with all a madman's hate. Many and many a time 
 had my fingers longed to tear him. They told me he was there. I 
 ran swiftly up-stairs. He had a word to say to me. I dismissed the 
 servants. It was late, and we were alone together—^;- the first 
 time. 
 
 ' I kept my eyes carefully from him at first, for I knew what he 
 little thought — and I gloried in the knowledge— that the light of 
 madness gleamed from them like fire. We sat in silence for a few 
 minutes. He spoke at last. My recent dissipation, and strange 
 remarks, made so soon after his sister's death, were an insult to her 
 memory. Coupling together many circumstances which had at first 
 escaped his observation, he thought I had not treated her well. He 
 wished to know whether he was right in inferring that I meant to 
 cast a reproach upon her memory, and a disrespect upon her 
 family. It was due to the uniform he wore, to demand this 
 explanation. 
 
 'This man had a commission in the army — a commission, 
 purchased with my money, and his sister's misery ! This was the 
 man who had been foremost in the plot to ensnare me, and grasp 
 my wealth. This was the man who had been the main instrument 
 in forcing his sister to wed me ; well knowing that her heart was 
 given to that puling boy. Due to his uniform ! The livery of his 
 
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE 125 
 
 degradation ! I turned my eyes upon him — I could not help it — 
 but I spoke not a word, 
 
 ' I saw the sudden change that came upon him beneath my gaze. 
 He was a bold man, but the colour faded from his face, and he 
 drew back his chair. I dragged mine nearer to him ; and as 1 
 laughed — I was very merry then — I saw him shudder. I felt the 
 madness rising within me. He was afraid of me. 
 
 ' " You were very fond of your sister when she was alive " — I 
 said—" Very." 
 
 ' He looked uneasily round him, and I saw his hand grasp the 
 back of his chair : but he said nothing. 
 
 ' " You villain," said I, " I found you out ; I discovered your 
 hellish plots against me ; I know her heart was fixed on some one 
 else before you compelled her to marry me. I know it— I know it." 
 
 ' He jumped suddenly from his chair, brandished it aloft, and 
 bid me stand back — for I took care to be getting closer to him all 
 the time I spoke. 
 
 ' I screamed rather than talked, for I felt tumultuous passions 
 eddying through my veins, and the old spirits whispering and 
 taunting me to tear his heart out. 
 
 ' " Damn you," said I, starting up, and rushing upon him ; " I 
 killed her. I am a madman. Down with you. Blood, blood ! 
 I will have it ! " 
 
 ' I turned aside with one blow the chair he hurled at me in his 
 terror, and closed with him; and with a heavy crash we rolled 
 upon the floor together. 
 
 ' It was a fine struggle that ; for he was a tall strong man, fighting 
 for his life ; and I, a powerful madman, thirsting to destroy him. 
 I knew no strength could equal mine, and I was right. Right 
 again, though a madman ! His struggles grew fainter. I knelt 
 upon his chest, and clasped his brawny throat firmly with both 
 hands. His face grew purple • his eyes were starting from his head, 
 and with protruded tongue, he seemed to mock me. I squeezed 
 the tighter. 
 
 ' The door was suddenly burst open with a loud noise, and a 
 crowd of people rushed forward, crying aloud to each other to 
 secure the madman. 
 
 ' My secret was out ; and my only struggle now was for liberty 
 and freedom. I gained my feet before a hand was on me, threw 
 myself among my assailants, and cleared my way with my strong 
 arm, as if I bore a hatchet in my hand, and hewed them down 
 before me. I gained the door, dropped over the banisters, and in 
 an instant was in the street. 
 
 ' Straight and swift I ran, and no one dared to stop me. I heard 
 the noise of feet behind, and redoubled my speed. It grew fainter 
 and fainter in the distance, and at length died away altogether : but 
 
126 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 on I bounded, through marsh and rivulet, over fence and wall, with 
 a wild shout which was taken up by the strange beings that flocked 
 around me on every side, and swelled the sound, till it pierced the 
 air. I was borne upon the arms of demons who swept along upon 
 the wind, and bore down bank and hedge before them, and spun 
 me round and round with a rustle and a speed that made my head 
 swim, until at last they threw me from them with a violent shock, 
 and I fell heavily upon the earth. When I woke I found myself 
 here — here in this gay cell where the sun-light seldom comes, and 
 the moon steals in, in rays which only serve to show the dark 
 shadows about me, and that silent figure in its old corner. When 
 I lie awake, I can sometimes hear strange shrieks and cries from 
 distant parts of this large place. What they are, I know not ; but 
 they neither come from that pale form, nor does it regard them. 
 For from the first shades of dusk 'till the earliest light Of morning, 
 it still stands motionless in the same place, listening to the music of 
 my iron chain, and watching my gambols on my straw bed.' 
 
 At the end of the manuscript was written, in another hand, 
 this note : 
 
 [The unhappy man whose ravings are recorded above, was a 
 melancholy instance of the baneful results of energies misdirected 
 in early life, and excesses prolonged until their consequences could 
 never be repaired. The thoughtless riot, dissipation, and debauchery 
 of his younger days, produced fever and delirium. The first effects 
 of the latter was the strange delusion, founded upon a well-known 
 medical theory, strongly contended for by some, and as strongly 
 contested by others, that an hereditary madness existed in his family. 
 This produced a settled gloom, which in time developed a morbid 
 insanity, and finally terminated in raving madness. There is every 
 reason to believe that the events he detailed, though distorted in 
 the description by his diseased imagination, really happened. It 
 is only niatter of wonder to those who were acquainted with the 
 vices of his early career, that his passions, when no longer controlled 
 by reason, did not lead him to the commission of still more frightful 
 deeds.] 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's candle was just expiring in the socket, as he con- 
 cluded the perusal of the old clergyman's manuscript; and when 
 the light went suddenly out, without any previous flicker by way of 
 warning, it communicated a very considerable start to his excited 
 frame. Hastily throwing off such articles of clothing as he had put 
 on when he rose from his uneasy bed, and casting a fearful glance 
 around, he once more scrambled hastily between the sheets, and 
 soon fell fast asleep. 
 
 The sun was shining brilliantly into his chamber when he 
 awoke, and the morning was far advanced. The gloom which had 
 
HISTORY OF THE STONE 137 
 
 oppressed him on the previous night, had disappeared with the 
 dark shadows which shrouded the landscape, and his thoughts and 
 feehngs were as light and gay as the morning itself. After a hearty 
 breakfast, the four gentlemen sallied forth to walk to Gravesend, 
 followed by a man bearing the stone in its deal box. They reached 
 that town about one o'clock (their luggage they had directed to be 
 forwarded to the City, from Rochester), and being fortunate enough 
 to secure places on the outside of a coach, arrived in London in 
 sound health and spirits, on that same afternoon. 
 
 The next three or four days were occupied with the preparations 
 which were necessary for their journey to the borough of Eatanswill. 
 As any reference to that most important undertaking demands a 
 separate chapter, we may devote the few lines which remain at 
 the close of this, to riarrate, with great brevity, the history of the 
 antiquarian discovery. 
 
 It appears from the Transactions of the Club, then, that Mr. 
 Pickwick lectured upon the discovery at a General Club Meeting, 
 convened on the night succeeding their return, and entered into a 
 variety of ingenious and erudite speculations on the meaning of the 
 inscription. It also appears that a skilful artist executed a faithful 
 delineation of the curiosity, which was engraven on stone, and 
 presented to the Royal Antiquarian Society, and other learned 
 bodies— that heart-burnings and jealousies without number, were 
 created by rival controversies which were penned upon the subject 
 ■ — and that Mr. Pickwick himself wrote a Pamphlet, containing 
 ninety-six pages of very small print, and twenty-seven dififerent 
 readings of the inscription. That three old gentlemen cut oflf their 
 eldest sons with a shilling a-piece for presuming to doubt the 
 antiquity of the fragment — and that one enthusiastic individual cut 
 himself off prematurely, in despair at being unable to fathom its 
 meaning. That Mr. Pickwick was elected an honorary member of 
 seventeen native and foreign societies, for making the discovery ; 
 that none of the seventeen could make anything of it ; but that all 
 the seventeen agreed it was very extraordinary. 
 
 Mr. Blotton, indeed — and the name will be doomed to the 
 undying contempt of those who cultivate the mysterious and the 
 sublime — Mr. Blotton, we say, with the doubt and cavilling peculiar 
 to vulgar minds, presumed to state a view of the case, as degrading 
 as ridiculous. Mr. Blotton, with a mean desire to tarnish the lustre 
 of the immortal name of Pickwick, actually undertook a journey to 
 Cobham in person, and on his return, sarcastically observed in an 
 oration at the club, that he had seen the man from whom the stone 
 was purchased; that the man presumed the stone to be ancient, 
 but solemnly denied the antiquity of the inscription — inasmuch as 
 he represented it to have been rudely carved by himself in an idle 
 mood, and to display letters intended to bear neither more nor less 
 
128 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 than the simple construction of— 'BILL STUMPS, HIS MARKj' 
 and that Mr. Stumps, being little in the habit of original com- 
 position, and more accustomed to be guided by the sound of words 
 than by the strict rules of orthography, had omitted the concluding 
 ' L ' of his christian name. 
 
 The Pickwick Club (as might have been expected from so 
 enlightened an Institution) received this statement with the con- 
 tempt it deserved, expelled the presumptuous and ill-conditioned 
 Blotton, and voted Mr. Pickwick a pair of gold spectacles, in token 
 of their confidence and approbation; in return for which, Mr. 
 Pickwick caused a portrait of himself to be painted, and hung up in 
 the club room. 
 
 Mr. Blotton though ejected was not conquered. He also wrote 
 a pamphlet, addressed to the seventeen learned societies, native 
 and foreign, containing a repetition of the statement he had already 
 made, and rather more than half intimating his opinion that the 
 seventeen learned societies were so many 'humbugs.' Hereupon 
 the virtuous indignation of the seventeen learned societies, native 
 and foreign, being roused, several fresh pamphlets appeared; the 
 foreign learned societies corresponded with the native learned 
 societies ; the native learned societies translated the pamphlets of 
 the foreign learned societies into English; the foreign learned 
 societies translated the pamphlets of the native learned societies 
 into all sorts of languages ; and thus commenced that celebrated 
 scientific discussion so well known to all men, as the Pickwick 
 controversy. 
 
 But this base attempt to injure Mr. Pickwick, recoiled upon the 
 head of its calumnious author. The seventeen learned societies 
 unanimously voted the presumptuous Blotton an ignorant meddler, 
 and forthwith set to work upon more treatises than ever. And to 
 this day the stone remains, an illegible monument of Mr. Pickwick's 
 greatness, and a lasting trophy to the littleness of his enemies. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF A VERY IMPORTANT PROCEEDING ON THE PART 
 OF MR. PICKWICK; NO LESS AN EPOCH IN HIS LIFE, THAN 
 IN THIS HISTORY 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's apartments in Goswell Street, although on a 
 limited scale, were not only of a very neat and comfortable descrip- 
 tion, but peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius 
 and observation. His sitting-room was the first floor front, \^i^ 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S LANDLADY ng 
 
 bed-room the second floor front ; and thus, whether he were sitting 
 at his desk in his parlour, or standing before the dressing-glass in 
 his dormitory, he had an equal opportunity of contemplating human 
 nature in all the numerous phases it exhibits, in that not more 
 populous than popular thoroughfare. His landlady, Mrs. Bardell— 
 the relict and sole executrix of a deceased custom-house officer 
 — was a comely woman of bustling manners and agreeable appear- 
 ance, with a natural genius for cooking, improved by study and 
 long practice, into an exquisite talent. There were no children, no 
 servants, no fowls. The only other inmates of the house were a 
 large man and a small boy ; the first a lodger, the second a pro- 
 duction of Mrs. Bardell's. The large man was always home 
 precisely at ten o'clock at night, at which hour he regularly con- 
 densed himself into the limits of a dwarfish French bedstead in the 
 back parlour ; and the infantine sports and gymnastic exercises of 
 Master Bardell were exclusively confined to the neighbouring pave- 
 ments and gutters. Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the 
 house ; and in it Mr. Pickwick's will was law. 
 
 To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic 
 economy of the establishment, and conversant with the admirable 
 regulation of Mr. Pickwick's rnind, his appearance and behaviour 
 on the morning previous to that which had been fixed upon for the 
 journey to Eatanswill, would have been most mysterious and un- 
 accountable. He paced the room to and fro with hurried steps, 
 popped his head out of the window at intervals of about three 
 minutes each, constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many 
 other manifestations of impatience very unusual with him. It was 
 evident that something of great importance was in contemplation, 
 but what that something was, not even Mrs. Bardell herself had 
 been enabled to discover. 
 
 ' Mrs. Bardell,' said Mr. Pickwick, at last, as that amiable female 
 approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Your little boy is a very long time gone.' 
 
 'Why it's a good long way to the Borough, sir,' remonstrated 
 Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' very true ; so it is.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed 
 her dusting. 
 
 ' Mrs. Bardell,' said Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few 
 minutes. 
 
 'Sir,' said Mrs. Bardell again. 
 
 ' Do you thiiik it a much greater expense to keep two people, 
 than to keep one ? ' 
 
 ' La, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs, Bardell, colouring up to the very 
 
 K 
 
130 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matri- 
 monial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger ; ' La, Mr. Pickwick, what 
 a question ! ' 
 
 ' Well, but do you ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' That depends — ' said Mrs. Bardell, approaching the duster very 
 near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table — 
 ' that depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. 
 Pickwick ; and whether it's a saving and careful person, sir.' 
 
 ' That's very true,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' but the person I have in 
 my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses 
 these qualities ; and has, moreover, a considerable knowledge of the 
 world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell ; which may be 
 of material use to me.' 
 
 ' La, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Bardell ; the crimson rising to her 
 cap-border again. 
 
 ' I do,' said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic, as was his wont in 
 speaking of a subject which interested him, ' I do, indeed ; and to 
 tell you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind.' 
 
 ' Dear me, sir,' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' You'll think it very strange now,' said the amiable Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a good-humoured glance at his companion, ' that I never con- 
 sulted you about this matter, and never even mentioned it, till I 
 sent your little boy out this morning — eh?' 
 
 Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long wor- 
 shipped Mr. Pickwick at a distance, but here she was, all at once, 
 raised to a pinnacle to which her wildest and most extravagant 
 hopes had never dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was going to pro- 
 pose — a deliberate plan, too — sent her little boy to the Borough, to 
 get him out of the way — how thoughtful — how considerate ! 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' what do you think ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agitation, 
 ' you're very kind, sir.' 
 
 ' It'll save you a good deal of trouble, won't it ? ' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, I never thought anything of the trouble, sir,' replied Mrs. 
 Bardell ; ' and, of course, I should take more trouble to please you 
 then, than ever ; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pickwick, to have so 
 much consideration for my loneliness.' 
 
 'Ah, to be sure,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'I never thought of that. 
 When I am in town, you'll always have somebody to sit vrith you. 
 To be sure, so you will.' 
 
 'I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman,' said Mrs. 
 Bardell. 
 
 ' And your little boy — ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Bless his heart ! ' interposed Mrs. Bardell, with a maternal sob. 
 
 'He, too, will have a companion,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, 'a 
 
INNOCENCE IN DANGER 131 
 
 lively one, who'll teach him, I'll be hjound, more tricks in a week 
 than he would ever learn in a year.' And Mr. Pickwick smiled 
 placidly. 
 
 ' Oh you dear — ' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick started. 
 
 ' Oh you kind, good, playful dear,' said Mrs. Bardell ; and with- 
 out more ado, she rose from her chair, and flung her arms round 
 Mr. Pickwick's neck, with a cataract of tears and a chorus of sobs. 
 
 ' Bless my soul,' cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick ; — ' Mrs. 
 Bardell my good woman — dear me, what a situation — pray con- 
 sider. — Mrs. Bardell, don't — if anybody should come — ' 
 
 ' Oh, let them come,' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, frantically ; ' I'll 
 never leave you — .dear, kind, good, soul ; ' and, with these words, 
 Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter. 
 
 ' Mercy upon me,' said Mr. Pickwick, struggling violently, ' I hear 
 somebody coming up the stairs. Don't, don't, there's a good 
 creature, don't.' But entreaty and remonstrance were alike un- 
 availing : for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pickwick's arms ; and 
 before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair. Master Bardell 
 entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. 
 Snodgrass. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless and speechless. He stood 
 with his lovely burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the counte- 
 nances of his friends, without the slightest attempt at recognition or 
 explanation. They, in their turn, stared at him ; and Master 
 Bardell, in his turn, stared at everybody. 
 
 The astonishment of the Pickwickians was so absorbing, and the 
 perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might have 
 remained in exactly the same relative situations until the suspended 
 animation of the lady was restored, had it not been for a most 
 beautiful and touching expression of fihal affection on the part of 
 her youthful son. Clad in a tight suit of corderoy, spangled with 
 brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first stood at the 
 door astounded and uncertain ; but by degrees, the impression that 
 his mother must have suffered some personal damage, pervaded his 
 partially developed mind, and considering Mr. Pickwick as the 
 aggressor, he set up an appalling and semi-earthly kind of howling, 
 and butting forward with his head, commenced assaihng that 
 immortal gentleman about the back and legs, with such blows and 
 pinches as the strength of his arm, and the violence of his excite- 
 ment, allowed. 
 
 ' Take this little villain away,' said the agonised Mr. Pickwick, 
 ' he's mad.' 
 
 ' What is the matter ? ' said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians. 
 
 ' I don't know,' replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. ' Take away the 
 boy ' (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and 
 
132 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 struggling, to the further end of the apartment). ' Now, help me, 
 lead this woman down stairs.' 
 
 ' Oh, I am better now,' said Mrs. Bardell, faintly. 
 
 'Let me lead you down stairs,' said the ever gallant Mr. 
 Tupman. 
 
 ' Thank you, sir — thank you ; ' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, hysteri- 
 cally. And down stairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by 
 her affectionate son. 
 
 ' I cannot conceive — ' said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend 
 returned — ' I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that 
 woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping 
 a man servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in 
 which you found her. Very extraordinary thing.' 
 
 ' Very,' said his three friends. 
 
 ' Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation,' continued 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Very,' was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, 
 and looked dubiously at each other. 
 
 This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked 
 their incredulity. They evidently suspected him. 
 
 ' There is a man in the passage now,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' It's the man I spoke to you about,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I sent 
 for him to the Borough this morning. Have the goodness to call 
 him up, Snodgrass.' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired; and Mr. Samuel Weller 
 forthwith presented himself. 
 
 ' Oh — you remember me, I suppose ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I should think so,' replied Sam, with a patronising wink. 
 ' Queer start that 'ere, but he was one too many for you, wam't he ? 
 Up to snuff and a pinch or two over — eh ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind that matter now,' said Mr. Pickwick hastily, ' I want 
 to speak to you about something else. Sit down.' 
 
 'Thank'ee, sir,' said Sam. And down he sat without farther 
 bidding, having previously deposited his old white hat on the land- 
 ing outside the door. ' Ta'nt a werry good 'un to look at,' said 
 Sam, ' but it's an astonishin' 'un to wear ; and afore the brim went, 
 it was a werry handsome tile. Hows'ever it's lighter without it, 
 that's one thing, and every hole lets in some air, that's another — ■ 
 wentilation gossamer I calls it.' On the delivery of this senti- 
 ment, Mr. Weller smiled agreeably upon the assembled Pick- 
 wickians. 
 
 ' Now with regard to the matter on which I, with the concurrence 
 of these gentlemen, sent for you,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' That's the pint, sir,' interposed Sam ; ' out vith it, as the father 
 said to the child, wen he swallowed a farden.' 
 
 'We want to know, in the first place,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 
t.Mi/^ 
 
 efA/>n^. 
 
ENGAGEMENT OF MR. WELLER 133 
 
 ' whether you have any reason to be discontented with your present 
 situation.' 
 
 'Afore I answers that 'ere question, gen'lm'm,' replied Mr. 
 Weller, ' / should like to know, in the first place, whether you're a 
 goin' to purwide me with a better.' 
 
 A sunbeam of placid benevolence played on Mr. Pickwick's 
 features as he said, ' I have half made up my mind to engage you 
 myself.' 
 
 ' Have you, though ? ' said Sam. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Wages ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Twelve pounds a year,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Clothes ? ' 
 
 'Two suits.' 
 
 ' Work ? ' 
 
 ' To attend upon me ; and travel about with me and these 
 gentlemen here.' 
 
 ' Take the bill down,' said Sam, emphatically. ' I'm let to a 
 single gentleman, and the terms is agreed upon.' 
 
 ' You accept the situation ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Certn'ly,' replied Sam. ' If the clothes fits me half as well as: 
 the place, they'll do.' 
 
 ' You can get a character of course ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ask the landlady o' the White Hart about that, sir,' jeplied 
 Sam. 
 
 ' Can you come this evening ? ' 
 
 ' I'll get into the clothes this minute, if they're here,' said Sam 
 with great alacrity. 
 
 ' Gall at eight this evening,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' and if the 
 inquiries are satisfactory, they shall be provided.' 
 
 With the single exception of one amiable indiscretion, in which 
 an assistant housemaid had equally participated, the history of Mr. 
 Weller's conduct was so very blameless, that Mr. Pickwick felt fully 
 justified in closing the engagement that very evening. With the 
 promptness and energy which characterised not only the public 
 proceedings, but all the private actions of this extraordinary man, 
 he at once led his new attendant to one of those convenient 
 emporiums where gentlemen's new and second-hand clothes are 
 provided, and the troublesome and inconvenient formality of 
 measurement dispensed with ; and before night had closed in, Mr. 
 Weller was furnished with a grey coat with the P. C. button, a black 
 hat with a cockade to it, a pink striped waistcoat, light breeches 
 and gaiters, and a variety of other necessaries, too numerous to 
 recapitulate. 
 
 ' Well,' said that suddenly-transformed individual, as he took his 
 seat on the outside of the Eatanswill coach next morning ; ' I wonder 
 
134 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 whether I'm meant to be a footman, or a groom, or a gamekeeper, 
 or a seedsman. I looks like a sort of compo of every one on 'em. 
 Never mind ; there 's change of air, plenty to see, and little to do ; 
 and all this suits my complaint uncommon; so long life to the 
 Pickvicks, says I ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF EATANSWILL ; OF THE STATE OF PARTIES 
 therein; and of the election of a member to SERVE 
 IN PARLIAMENT FOR THAT ANCIENT, LOYAL, AND PATRIOTIC 
 BOROUGH 
 
 We will frankly acknowledge, that up to the period of our being 
 first immersed in the voluminous papers of the Pickwick Club, we 
 had never heard of Eatanswill ; we will with equal candour admit, 
 that we have in vain searched for proof of the actual existence of 
 such a place at the present day. Knowing the deep reliance to be 
 placed on every note and statement of Mr. Pickwick's, and not pre- 
 suming to set up our recollection against the recorded declarations 
 of that great man, we have consulted every authority, bearing upon 
 the subject, to which we could possibly refer. We have traced every 
 name in schedules A and B, without meeting with that of Eatan- 
 swill; we have minutely examined every comer of the Pocket County 
 Maps issued for the benefit of society by our distinguished publishers, 
 and the same result has attended our investigation. We are there- 
 fore led to believe, that Mr. Pickwick, with that anxious desire to 
 abstain from giving offence to any, and with those delicate feelings 
 for which all who knew him well know he was so eminently remark- 
 able, purposely substituted a fictitious designation, for the real name 
 of the place in which his observations were made. We are confirmed 
 in this belief by a little circumstance, apparently slight and trivial 
 in itself, but when considered in this point of view, not undeserving 
 of notice. In Mr. Pickwick's note-book, we can just trace an entry 
 of the fact, that the places of himself and followers were booked by 
 the Norwich coach ; but this entry was afterwards lined through, as 
 if for the purpose of concealing even the direction in which the 
 borough is situated. We will not, therefore, hazard a guess upon 
 the subject, but will at once proceed with this history ; content with 
 the materials which its characters have provided for us. 
 
 It appears, then, that the Eatanswill people, like the people of 
 many other small towns, considered themselves of the utmost and 
 most mighty importance, and that every man in Eatanswill, conscious 
 
THE BLUES AND THE BUFFS 135 
 
 of the weight that attached to his example, felt himself bound to 
 unite, heart and soul, with one of the two great parties that divided 
 the town — the Blues and the Buifs. Now the Blues lost no oppor- 
 tunity of opposing the Buffs, and the Buffs lost no opportunity of 
 opposing the Blues ; and the consequence was, that whenever the 
 Buffs and Blues met together at public meeting, Town-Hall, fair, or 
 market, disputes and high words arose between them. With these 
 dissensions it is almost superfluous to say that everything in Eatans- 
 will was made a party question. If the Buffs proposed to new 
 skylight the market-place, the Blues got up public meetings, and 
 denounced the proceeding ; if the Blues proposed the erection of 
 an additional pump in the High Street, the Buffs rose as one man 
 and stood aghast at the enormity. There were Blue shops and 
 BuflF shops, Blue inns, and Buff inns ; — there was a Blue aisle and 
 a Buff aisle, in the very church itself. 
 
 Of course it was essentially and indispensably necessary that each 
 of these powerful parties should have its chosen organ and repre- 
 sentative : and, accordingly, there were two newspapers in the town 
 — the Eatanswill Gazette and the Eatanswill Independent; the 
 former advocating- Blue principles, and the latter conducted on 
 grounds decidedly Buff. Fine newspapers they were. Such leading 
 articles, and such spirited attacks !— ' Our worthless contemporary, 
 the Gazette ' — ' That disgraceful and dastardly journal, the Inde- 
 pendent ' — ' That false and scurrilous print, the Independent ' — 
 ' That vile and slanderous calumniator, the Gazette ; ' these, and 
 other spirit-stirring denunciations were strewn plentifully over the 
 columns of each, in every number, and excited feelings of the most 
 intense delight and indignation in the bosoms of the townspeople. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosen 
 a peculiarly desirable moment for his visit to the borough. Never 
 was such a contest known. The Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of 
 Slumkey Hall, was the Blue candidate ; and Horatio Fizkin, Esq., 
 of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill, had been prevailed upon by his 
 friends to stand forward on the Buff interest. The Gazette warned 
 the electors of Eatanswill that the eyes not oiily of England, but of 
 the whole civilised world, were upon them ; and the Independent 
 imperatively demanded to know, whether the constituency of 
 Eatanswill were the grand fellows they had always taken them for, 
 or base and servile tools, undeserving alike the name of English- 
 men and the blessings of freedom. Never had such a commotion 
 agitated the town before. 
 
 It was late in the evening, when Mr. Pickwick and his com- 
 panions, assisted by Sam, dismounted from the roof of the Eatans- 
 will coach. Large blue siUc flags were flying from the windows of 
 the Town Arms Inn, and bills were posted in every sash, intimating, 
 in gigantic letters, that the honourable Samuel Slumkey's Committee 
 
136 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 sat there daily. A crowd of idlers were assembled in the road, 
 looking at a hoarse man in the balcony, who was apparently talking 
 himself very red in the face in Mr. Slumkey's behalf; but the 
 force and point of whose arguments were somewhat impaired by 
 the perpetual beating of four large drums which Mr. Fizkin's 
 committee had stationed at the street corner. There was a busy 
 little man beside him, though, who took off his hat at intervals and 
 motioned to the people to cheer, which they regularly did, most 
 enthusiastically ; and as the red-faced gentleman went on talking 
 till he was redder in the face than ever, it seemed to answer his 
 purpose quite as well as if anybody had heard him. 
 
 The Pickwickians had no sooner dismounted, than they were 
 surrounded by a branch mob of the honest and independent, who 
 forthwith set up three deafening cheers, which being responded to 
 by the main body (for it's not at all necessary for a crowd to know 
 what they are cheering about) sSvelled into a tremendous roar of 
 triumph, which stopped even the red-faced man in the balcony. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' shouted the mob in conclusion. 
 
 ' One cheer more,' screamed the little fugleman in the balcony, 
 and out shouted the mob again, as if lungs were cast iron, with 
 steel works. 
 
 ' Slumkey for ever ! ' roared the honest and independent. 
 
 ' Slumkey for ever ! ' echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his 
 hat. 
 
 ' No Fizkin ! ' roared the crowd. 
 
 ' Certainly not ! ' shouted Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' And then there was another roaring, like that o. 
 a whole menagerie when the elephant has rung the bell for the 
 cold meat. 
 
 ' Who is Slumkey ? ' whispered Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' I don't know,' replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone. ' Hush. 
 Don't ask any questions. It's always best on these occasions to 
 do what the mob do.' 
 
 'But suppose there are two mobs?' suggested Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Shout with the largest,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Volumes could not have said more. 
 
 They entered the house, the crowd opening right and left to let 
 them pass, and cheering vociferously. The first object of con- 
 sideration was to secure quarters for the night. 
 
 ' Can we have beds here ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, summoning 
 the waiter. 
 
 ' Don't know, sir,' replied the man ; ' afraid we're full, sir— I'll 
 mquire, sir.' Away he went for that purpose, and presently returned, 
 to ask whether the gendemen were ' Blue.' 
 
 As neither Mr. Pickwick nor his companions took any vital 
 interest m the cause of either candidate, the question was rather 
 
HOW TO WORK AN ELECTION 137 
 
 a difficult one to answer. In this dilemma Mr. Pickwick bethought 
 himself of his new friend, Mr. Perker. 
 
 ' Do you know a gentleman of the name of Perker ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Certainly, sir; honourable Mr. Samuel Slumkey's agent.' 
 
 'He is Blue, I think?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Then we are Blue,' said Mr. Pickwick ; but observing that the 
 man looked rather doubtful at this accommodating announcement, 
 he gave him his card, and desired him to present it to Mr. Perker 
 forthwith, if he should happen to be in the house. The waiter 
 retired ; and re-appearing almost immediately with a request that 
 Mr. Pickwick would follow him, led the way to a large room on the 
 first floor, where, seated at a long table covered with books and 
 papers, was Mr. Perker. 
 
 ' Ah — ah, my dear sir,' said the little man, advancing to meet 
 him ; ' very happy to see you, my dear sir, very. Pray sit down. 
 So you have carried your intention into eifect. You have come 
 down here to see an election — eh ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Spirited contest, my dear sir,' said the little man. 
 
 .' I am delighted to hear it,' said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands. 
 ' I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth ; 
 — and so it's a spirited contest ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' said the little man, ' very much so indeed. We have 
 opened all the public-houses in the place, and left our adversary 
 nothing but the beer-shops — masterly stroke of policy that, my dear 
 sir, eh?' — the little man smiled complacently, and took a large 
 pinch of snuff. 
 
 ' And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why doubtful, my dear sir ; rather doubtful as yet,' replied the 
 little man. ' Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the 
 lock-up coach-house at the White Hart.' 
 
 ' In the coach-house ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, considerably astonished 
 by this second stroke of policy. 
 
 'They keep 'em locked up there till they want 'em,' resumed 
 the little man. ' The effect of that is, you see, to prevent, our 
 getting at them ; and even if we could, it would be of no use, for 
 they keep them very drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin's 
 agent — very smart fellow indeed.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing. 
 
 ' We are pretty confident, though,' said Mr. Perker, sinking his 
 voice almost to a whisper. ' We had a little tea-party here, last 
 night — five-and-forty women, my dear sir — and gave every one of 
 'em a green parasol when she went away.' 
 
138 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' A parasol ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Fact, my dear sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols, at seven 
 and sixpence a-piece. All women like finery, — extraordinary the 
 effects of those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half 
 their brothers — beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of 
 thing hollow. My idea, my dear sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or 
 sunshine, you can't walk half a dozen yards up the street, without 
 encountering half a dozen green parasols.' 
 
 Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which 
 was Only checked by the entrance of a third party. 
 
 This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined to 
 baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended with 
 a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a long 
 brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. A 
 double eye-glass dangled at his waistcoat : and on his head he wore 
 a very low-crowned hat with a broad brim. The new-comer was 
 introduced to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott, the editor of the Eatan- 
 swill Gazette. After a few preliminary remarks, Mr. Pott turned 
 round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with solemnity^ — 
 
 ' This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I believe it does,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' To which I have reason to know,' said Pott, looking towards 
 Mr. Perker for corroboration, — ' to which I have reason to know 
 that my article of last Saturday in some degree contributed.' 
 
 ' Not the least doubt of it,' said the little man. 
 
 ' The press is a mighty engine, sir,' said Pott. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick yielded his fullest assent to the proposition. 
 
 ' But I trust, sir,' said Pott, ' that I have never abused the 
 enormous power I wield. I trust, sir, that I have never pointed 
 the noble instrument which is placed in my hands, against the 
 sacred bosom of private life, or the tender breast of individual 
 reputation ; — I trust, sir, that I have devoted my energies to — to 
 endeavours — humble they may be, humble I know they are — to 
 instil those principles of — which — are — ' 
 
 Here the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, appearing to ramble, 
 Mr. Pickwick came to his relief, and said — 
 
 ' Certainly.' 
 
 ' And what, sir ' — said Pott — ' what, sir, let me ask you as an 
 impartial man, is the state of the public mind in London, with 
 reference to my contest with the Independent ? ' 
 
 ' Greatly excited, no doubt,' interposed Mr. Perker, with a look 
 of slyness which was very likely accidental. 
 
 ' The contest,' said Pott, ' shall be prolonged so long as I have 
 health and strength, and that portion of talent with which I am 
 gifted. From that contest, sir, although it may unsettle men's 
 minds and excite their feelings, and render them incapable for the 
 
A KIND INVITATION 139 
 
 discharge of the every-day duties of ordinary life ; from that contest, 
 sir, I will never shrink, till I have set my heel upon the Eatanswill 
 Independent. I wish the people of London, and the people of 
 this country to know, sir, that they may rely upon me ; — that I will 
 not desert them, that I am resolved to stand by them, sir, to the 
 last.' 
 
 ' Your conduct is most noble, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick ; and he 
 grasped the hand of the magnanimous Pott. 
 
 'You are, sir, I perceive, a man of sense and talent,' said 
 Mr. Pott, almost breathless with the vehemence of his patriotic 
 declaration. ' I am most happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of 
 such a man.' 
 
 'And I,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'feel deeply honoured by this 
 expression of your opinion. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my 
 fellow-travellers, the other corresponding members of the club I am 
 proud to have founded.' 
 
 ' I shall be delighted,' said Mr. Pott. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick withdrew, and returning with his friends, presented 
 them in due form to the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 ' Now, my dear Pott,' said little Mr. Perker, ' the question is, what 
 are we to do with our friends here ? ' 
 
 ' We can stop in this house, I suppose,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not a spare bed in the house, my dear sir — not a single bed.' 
 
 ' Extremely awkward,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Very ; ' said his fellow-voyagers. 
 
 ' I have an idea upon this subject,' said Mr. Pott^ 'which I think 
 may be very successfully adopted. They have two beds at the 
 Peacock, and I can boldly say, on behalf of Mrs. Pott, that she will 
 be delighted to accommodate Mr. Pickwick and any of his friends, if 
 the other two gentlemen and their servant do not object to shifting, 
 as they best can, at the Peacock.' 
 
 After repeated pressings on the part of Mr. Pott, and repeated 
 protestations on that of Mr. Pickwick that he could not think of 
 incommoding or troubling his amiable wife, it was decided that 
 it was the only feasible arrangement that could be made. So it 
 was made ; and after dining together at the Town Arms, the friends 
 separated, Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass repairing to the Peacock, 
 and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle proceeding to\the mansion of 
 Mr. Pott ; it having been previously arranged that they should all 
 re-assemble at the Town Arms in the morning, and accompany the 
 honourable Samuel Slumkey's procession to the place of nomination. 
 
 Mr. Pott's domestic circle was limited to himself and his wife. 
 All men whom mighty genius has raised to a proud eminence in 
 the world, have usually some little weakness which appears the 
 more conspicuous from the contrast it, presents to their general 
 character. If Mr. Pott had a weakness, it was, perhaps, that he 
 
140 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 was ratJier too submissive to the somewhat contemptuous control 
 and sway of his wife. We do not feel justified in laying any 
 particular stress upon the fact, because on the present occasion all 
 Mrs. Pott's most winning ways were brought into requisition to 
 receive the two gentlemen. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Mr. Pott, ' Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Pickwick of 
 London.' 
 
 Mrs. Pott received Mr. Pickwick's paternal grasp of the hand 
 with enchanting sweetness : and Mr. Winkle, who had not been 
 announced at all, slided and bowed, unnoticed, in an obscure 
 corner. 
 
 ' P. my dear — ' said Mrs. Pott. 
 
 ' My life,' said Mr. Pott. 
 
 ' Pray introduce the other gentleman.' 
 
 ' I beg a thousand pardons,' said Mr. Pott. ' Permit me, Mrs. 
 Pott, Mr.— ' 
 
 ' Winkle,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Winkle,' echoed Mr. Pott ; and the ceremony of introduction 
 was complete. 
 
 ' We owe you many apologies, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' for 
 disturbing your domestic arrangements at so short a notice.' 
 
 ' I beg you won't mention it, sir,' replied the feminine Pott, with 
 vivacity. ' It is a high treat to me, I assure you, to see any new 
 faces ; living as I do, from day to day, and week to week, in this 
 dull place, and seeing nobody.' 
 
 ' Nobody, my dear ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pott, archly. 
 
 ' Nobody but you^ retorted Mrs.- Pott, with asperity. 
 
 ' You see, Mr. Pickwick,' said the host in explanation of his 
 wife's lament, 'that we are in some measure cut off from many 
 enjoyments and pleasures of which we might otherwise partake. 
 My public station, as editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, the position 
 which that paper holds in the country, my constant immersion in 
 the vortex of politics — ' 
 
 ' P. my dear — ' interposed Mrs. Pott. 
 
 ' My life — ' said the editor. 
 
 ' I wish, my dear, you would endeavour to find some topic of con- 
 versation in which these gentlemen might take some rational interest.' 
 
 ' But my love,' said Mr. Pott, with great humiUty, ' Mr. Pickwick 
 does take an interest in it.' 
 
 ' It's well for him if he can,' said Mrs. Pott, emphatically ; ' I am 
 wearied out of my life with your politics, and quarrels with the 
 Independent, and nonsense. I am quite astonished P. at your 
 making such an exhibition of your absurdity.' 
 
 ' But my dear — ' said Mr. Pott. 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense, don't talk to me ; ' said Mrs. Pott. ' Do you 
 play ecarti, sir ? ' 
 
'A DELIGHTFUL OLD DEAR' 141 
 
 ' I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition,' replied 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let me 
 get out of hearing of those prosy politics.' 
 
 ' Jarie,' said Mr. Pott, to the servant who brought in candles, ' go 
 down into the office, and bring me up the file of the Gazette for 
 Eighteen Hundred and Twenty Eight. I'll read you — ' added the 
 editor, turning to Mr. Pickwick, ' I'll just read you a few of the 
 leaders I wrote at that time upon the Buff job of appointing a new 
 tollman to the turnpike here ; I rather think they'll amuse you.' 
 
 ' I should like to hear them very much, indeed,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 Up came the file, and down sat the editor, with Mr. Pickwick at 
 his side. 
 
 We have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr. Pickwick's note- 
 book, in the hope of meeting with a general summary of these 
 beautiful compositions. We have every reason to believe that he 
 was perfectly enraptured with the vigour and freshness of the style ; 
 indeed Mr. Winkle has recorded the fact that his eyes were closed, 
 as if with excess of pleasure, during the whole time of their perusal. 
 
 The announcement of supper put a stop to the game at ecarib, 
 and the recapitulation of the beauties of the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 Mrs. Pott Avas in the highest spirits and the most agreeable humour. 
 Mr. Winkle had already made considerable progress in her good 
 opinion, and she did not hesitate to inform him, confidentially, 
 that Mr. Pickwick was ' a delightful old dear.' These terms 
 convey a familiarity of expression, in which few of those who 
 were intimately acquainted with that colossal-minded man, would 
 have presumed to indulge. We have preserved them, nevertheless, 
 as affording at once a touching and a convincing proof of the 
 estimation in which he was held by every class of society, and the 
 ease with which he made his way to their hearts and feelings. 
 
 It was a late hour of the night — long after Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the Peacock — 
 when the two friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fell upon the 
 senses of Mr. Winkle, but his feelings had been excited, and his 
 admiration roused; and for many hours after sleep had rendered 
 him insensible to earthly objects, the face and figure of the agree- 
 able Mrs. Pott presented themselves again and again to his wandering 
 imagination. 
 
 The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning, were 
 sufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in 
 existence, any associations but those which were immediately 
 connected with the rapidly-approaching election. The beating of 
 drums, the blowing of horns and trumpets, the shouting of men, 
 and tramping of horses, echoed and re-echoed through the streets 
 
142 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 from the earliest dawn of day ; and an occasional fight between the 
 light skirmishers of either party at once enlivened the preparations 
 and agreeably diversified their character. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bed- 
 room door, just as he was concluding his toilet ; ' all alive to-day, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Reg'lar game, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' our people's a col- 
 lecting down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves 
 hoarse already.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' do they seem devoted to their party, 
 Sam?' 
 
 ' Never see such dewotion in my life, sir.' 
 ' Energetic, eh ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Uncommon,' replied Sam ; ' I never see men eat and drink so 
 much afore. I wonder they a'nt afeer'd o' bustin.' 
 
 'That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wery likely,' replied Sam, briefly. 
 
 Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem,' said Mr. Pickwick, glanc- 
 ing from the window. 
 
 'Wery fresh,' replied Sam; 'me, and the two waiters at the 
 Peacock, has been a pumpin' over the independent woters as supped 
 there last night.' 
 
 ' Pumping over independent voters ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' Yes,' said his attendant, ' every man slept vere he fell down ; we 
 dragged 'em put, one by one, this mornin', and put 'em under the 
 pump, and they're in reg'lar fine order, now. Shillin' a head the 
 committee paid for that 'ere job.' 
 
 ' Can such things be ! ' exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' Lord bless your heart, sir,' said Sam, ' why where was you half 
 baptized ? — that's nothin', that a'nt.' 
 ' Nothing ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Nothin' at all, sir,' replied his attendant. ' The night afore the 
 last day o' the last election here, the opposite party bribed the bar- 
 maid at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen 
 unpolled electors as was a stoppin' in the house.' 
 
 'What do you mean by " hocussing " brandy and water?' 
 inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Puttin' laud'num in it,' repHed Sam. 'Blessed if she didn't 
 send 'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. 
 They took one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way 
 of experiment, but it was no go— they wouldn't poll him ; so they 
 brought him back, and put him to bed again.' 
 
 ' Strange practices, these,' said Mr. Pickwick ; half speaking to 
 himselfrfind half addressing Sam. 
 
 ' Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened 
 
THE CONVEYANCE OF VOTERS 14.^ 
 
 to my own father, at an election time, in this werry place, sir,' 
 replied Sam. 
 
 ' What was that ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why he drove a coach down here once,' said Sam ; ' 'lection 
 time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down 
 woters from London. Night afore he was a going to drive up, 
 committee on t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes 
 vith the messenger, who shows him in ; — large room- — lots of 
 gen'l'm'n — heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. " Ah, 
 Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, " glad to see you, sir ; 
 how are you ? " — " Werry well, thank'ee, sir," says my father ; " I 
 hope yotire pretty middlin," says he — " Pretty well, thank'ee, sir," 
 says the gen'l'm'n ; " sit down, Mr. Weller — pray sit down, sir." So 
 my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks werry hard at 
 each other. " You don't remember me ? " says the gen'l'm'n. — 
 "Can't say I do," says my father^ — "Oh, I know you," says the 
 gen'l'm'n ; " know'd you when you was a boy," says he. — •" Well, I 
 don't remember you," says my father — " That's very odd," says the 
 gen'l'm'n — "Werry," says my father — "You must have a bad 
 mem'ry, Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n — "Well, it is a wery bad 
 'un," says my father — " I thought so," says the gen'l'm'n. , So then 
 they pours him out a glass of wine, and gammons him about his 
 driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humour, and at last shoves 
 a twenty pound note in his hand. " It's a werry bad road between 
 this and London," says the gen'l'm'n. — " Here and there it is a 
 heavy road," says my father — " 'Specially near the canal, I think," 
 says the gen'l'm'n — " Nasty bit that 'ere," says my father — " Well, 
 Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n, "you're a wery good whip, and 
 can do what you like with your horses, we know. We're all wery 
 fond o' you, Mr. Weller, so in case you should have an accident 
 when you're a bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em 
 over into the canal vithout hurtin' of 'em, this is for yourself," says 
 he — " Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind," says my father, " and I'll drink 
 your health in another glass of wine," says he ; which he did, and 
 then buttons up the money, and bows himself out. You wouldn't 
 believe, sir,' continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence 
 at his master, ' that on the wery day as he came down with them 
 woters, his coach was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man 
 on 'em was turned into the canal.' 
 
 ' And got out again ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily. 
 
 ' Why,' replied Sam, very slowly, ' I rather think one old gen'l'm'n 
 was missin' ; 1 know his hat was found, but I a'n't quite certain 
 whether his head was in it or not. But what I look at, is the 
 hex-traordinary, and wonderful coincidence, that arter what that 
 gen'l'm'n said, my father's coach should be upset in that werjj place, 
 and on that wery day ! ' 
 
144 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. ' But brush my hat, Sam, for I hear Mr. Winkle 
 calling me to breakfast.' 
 
 With these words Mr. Pickwick descended to the parlour, where 
 he found breakfast laid, and the family already assembled. The 
 meal was hastily despatched ; each of the gentlemen's hats was 
 decorated with an enormous blue favour, made up by the fair hands 
 of Mrs. Pott herself; and as Mr. Winkle had undertaken to escort 
 that lady to a house-top, in the immediate vicinity of the hustings, 
 Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Pott repaired alone to the Town Arms, from 
 the back window of which, one of Mr. Slumkey's committee was 
 addressing six small boys, and one girl, whom he dignified, at every 
 second sentence, with the imposing title of ' men of Eatanswill,' 
 whereat the six small boys aforesaid cheered prodigiously. 
 
 The stable-yard exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the glory 
 and strength of the Eatanswill Blues. There was a regular army of 
 blue flags, some with one handle, and some with two, exhibiting 
 appropriate devices, in golden characters four feet high, and stout 
 in proportion. There was a grand band of trumpets, bassoons and 
 drums, marshalled four abreast, and earning their money, if ever 
 men did, especially the drum beaters, who were very muscular. 
 There were bodies of constables with blue staves, twenty committee- 
 men with blue scarfs, and a mob of voters with blue cockades. 
 There were electors on horseback, and electors a-foot. There was 
 an open carriage and four, for the honourable Samuel Slumkey; 
 and there were four carriages and pair, for his friends and sup- 
 porters ; and the flags were rustling, and the band was playing, and 
 the constables were swearing, and the twenty committee-men were 
 squabbling, and the mob were shouting, and the horses were back- 
 ing, and the post-boys perspiring ; and everybody, and everything, 
 then and there assembled, was for the special use, behoof, honour, 
 and renown, of the honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hal), 
 one of the candidates for the representation of the Borough of 
 Eatanswill, in the Commons House of Parliament of the United 
 Kingdom. 
 
 Loud and long were the cheers, and mighty was the rustling of 
 one of the blue flags, with ' Liberty of the Press ' inscribed thereon, 
 when the sandy head of Mr. Pott was discerned in one of the 
 windows, by the mob beneath; and tremendous was the enthusiasm 
 when the honourable Samuel Slumkey himself, in top-boots, and a 
 blue neckerchief, advanced and seized the hand of the said Pott, 
 and melodramatically testified by gestures to the crowd, his in- 
 effaceable obligations to the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 ' Is everything ready ? ' said the honourable Samuel Slumkey to 
 Mr. P^ker. 
 
 ' Everything, my dear sir,' was the little man's reply. 
 
ELECTIONEERING PROCESSIONS 145 
 
 ' Nothing has been omitted, I hope ? ' said the honourable 
 Samuel Slumkey. 
 
 ' Nothing has been left undone, my dear sir — nothing whatever. 
 There are twenty washed men at the street door for you to shake 
 hands with; and six children in arms that you're to pat on the 
 head, and inquire the age of; be particular about the children, 
 my dear sir, — it has always a great effect, that sort of thing.' 
 
 ' I'll take care,' said the honourable Samuel Slumkey. 
 
 ' And, perhaps, my dear sir — ' said the cautious little man, ' per- 
 haps if you could — I don't mean to say it's indispensable — but if 
 you could manage to kiss one of 'em, it would produce a very great 
 impression on the crowd.' 
 
 ' Wouldn't it have as good an effect if the proposer or seconder 
 did that ? ' said the honourable Samuel Slumkey. 
 
 ' Why, I am afraid it wouldn't,' replied the agent ; ' if it were 
 done by yourself, my dear sir, I think it would make you very 
 popular.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said the honourable Samuel Slumkey, with a resigned 
 air, ' then it must be done. That's all.' 
 
 ' Arrange the procession,' cried the twenty committee-men. 
 
 Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the 
 constables, and the committee-men, and the voters, and the horse- 
 men, and the carriages, took their places — each of the two-horse 
 vehicles being closely packed with as many gentlemen as could 
 manage to stand upright in it; and that assigned to Mr. Perker, 
 containing Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and about 
 half a dozen of the committee beside. 
 
 There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession waited 
 for the honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his carriage. 
 Suddenly the crowd set up a great cheering. 
 
 ' He has come out,' said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited ; the 
 more so as their position did not enable them to see what was 
 going forward. 
 
 Another cheer, much louder. 
 
 ' He has shaken hands with the men,' cried the little agent. 
 
 Another cheer, far more vehement. 
 
 'He has patted the babies on the head,' said Mr. Perker, 
 trembUng with anxiety. 
 
 A roar of applause that rent the air. 
 
 ' He has kissed one of 'em ! ' exclaimed the delighted Uttle man. 
 
 A second roar. 
 
 ' He has kissed another,' gasped the excited manager. 
 
 A third roar. 
 
 ' He's kissing 'em all ! ' screamed the enthusiastic little gentleman. 
 And hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude, the procession 
 Bjoyed on, 
 
 I- 
 
T46 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 How or by what means it became mixed up with the other 
 procession, and how it was ever extricated from the confusion con- 
 sequent thereupon, is more than we can undertake to describe, 
 inasmuch as Mr. Pickwick's hat was knocked over his eyes, nose, 
 and mouth, by one poke of a Buff flag-staff, very early in the 
 proceedings. He describes himself as being surrounded on every 
 side, when he could catch a glimpse of the scene, by angry and 
 ferocious countenances, by a vast cloud of dust, and by a dense 
 crowd of combatants. He represents himself as being forced from 
 the carriage by some unseen power, and being personally engaged 
 in a pugiUstic encounter ; but with whom, or how, or why, he is 
 wholly unable to state. He then felt himself forced up some wooden 
 steps by the persons from behind ; and on removing his hat, found 
 himself surrounded by his friends, in the very front of the left hand 
 side of the hustings. The right was reserved for the Buff party, and 
 the centre for the Mayor and his officers ; one of whom — the fat 
 crier of Eatanswill — was ringing an enormous bell, by way of com- 
 manding silence, while Mr. Horatio Fizkin, and the honourable 
 Samuel Slumkey, with their hands upon their hearts, were bowing 
 with the utmost affability to the troubled sea of heads that inun- 
 dated the open space in front ; and from whence arose a storm of 
 groans, and shouts, and yells, and hootings, that would have done 
 honour to an earthquake. 
 
 'There's Winkle,' said Mr. Tupman, pulling his friend by the 
 sleeve. 
 
 'Where?' said Mr. Pickwick, putting on his spectacles, which 
 he had fortunately kept in his pocket hitherto. 
 
 ' There,' said Mr. Tupman, ' on the top of that house.' And 
 there, sure enough, in the leaden gutter of a tiled roof, were Mr. 
 Winkle and Mrs. Pott, comfortably seated in a couple of chairs, 
 waving their handkerchiefs in token of recognition — a compUment 
 which Mr. Pickwick returned by kissing his hand to the lady. 
 
 The proceedings had not yet commenced j and as an inactive 
 crowd is generally disposed to be jocose, this very innocent action 
 was sufficient to awaken their facetiousness. 
 
 ' Oh you wicked old rascal,' cried one voice, ' looking arter the 
 girls, are you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh you wenerable sinner,' cried another. 
 
 ' Putting on his spectacles to look at a married 'ooman ! ' said a 
 third. 
 
 ' I see him a winkin' at her, with his wicked old eye,' shouted a 
 fourth. 
 
 ' Look arter your wife. Pott,' bellowed a fifth j— and then there 
 was a roar of laughter. 
 
 As these taunts were accompanied with invidious comparisons 
 between Mr. Pickwick and an aged ram, and several witticisms of 
 
.!^($/erJim^ 'Z^Sa^!^wJ<^- 
 
NOMINATING A CANDIDATE 147 
 
 the like nature ; and as they moreover rather tended to convey 
 reflections upon the honour of an innocent lady, Mr. Pickwick's 
 indignation was excessive; but as silence was proclaimed at the 
 moment, he contented himself by scorching the mob with a look of 
 pity for their misguided minds, at which they laughed more boister- 
 ously than ever. 
 
 ' Silence ! ' roared the mayor's attendants. 
 
 ' Whiffin, proclaim silence,' said the may6r, with an air of pomp 
 befitting his lofty station. In obedience to this command the crier 
 performed aiiother concerto on the bell, whereupon a gentleman in 
 the crowd called out ' muffins ; ' which occasioned another laugh. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said the Mayor, at as loud a pitch as he could 
 possibly force his voice to, ' Gentlemen. Brother electors of the 
 Borough of Eatanswill. We are met here to-day for the purpose of 
 choosing a representative in the room of our late — ' 
 
 Here the Mayor was interrupted by a voice in the crowd. 
 
 ' Suc-cess to the Mayor ! ' cried the voice, ' and may he never 
 desert the nail and sarspan business, as he got his money by.' 
 
 This allusion to the professional pursuits of the orator was received 
 with a storm of delight, which, with a bell-accompaniment, rendered 
 the remainder of his speech inaudible, with the exception 6f the 
 concluding sentence, in which he thanked the meeting for the 
 patient attention with which they had heard him throughout, — an 
 expression of gratitude which elicited another bu-rst of mirth, of 
 about a quarter of an hour's duration. 
 
 Next, a tall thin gentleman, in a very stiff white neckerchief, after 
 being repeatedly desired by the crowd to ' send a boy home, to ask 
 whether he hadn't left his woice under the pillow,' begged to 
 nominate a fit and proper person to represent them in Parliament. 
 And when he said it was Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, 
 near Eatanswill, the Fizkinites applauded, and the Slumkeyites 
 groaned, so long, and so loudly, that both he and the seconder 
 might have sung comic songs in lieu of speaking, without anybody's 
 being a bit the wiser. 
 
 The friends of Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, having had their innings, 
 a little choleric, pink-faced man stood forward to propose another 
 fit and proper person to represent the electors of Eatanswill in 
 Parliament ; and very swimmingly the pink-faced gentleman would 
 have gone on, if he had not been rather too choleric to entertain a 
 sufficient perception of the fun of the crowd. But after a very few 
 sentences of figurative eloquence, the pink-faced gentleman got 
 from denouncing those who interrupted him in the mob, to ex- 
 changing defiances with the gentlemen on the hustings ; whereupon 
 arose an uproar which reduced him to the necessity of expressing 
 his feelings by serious pantomime, which he did, and then left the 
 stage to his seconder, who delivered a written speech of half an 
 
148 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 hour's length, and wouldn't be stopped, because he had sent it all 
 to the Eatanswill Gazette, and the Eatanswill Gazette had already 
 printed it, every word. 
 
 Then Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill, 
 presented himself for the purpose of addressing the electors ; which 
 he no sooner did, than the band employed by the honourable 
 Samuel Slumkey, commenced performing with a power to which 
 their strength in the morning was a trifle ; in return for which, the 
 Buff" crowd belaboured the heads and shoulders of the Blue crowd ; 
 on which the Blue crowd endeavoured to dispossess themselves of 
 their very unpleasant neighbours the Buff crowd ; and a scene of 
 struggling, and pushing, and fighting, succeeded, to which we can 
 no more do justice than the Mayor could, although he issued 
 imperative orders to twelve constables to seize the ringleaders, who 
 might amount in number. to two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts. 
 At all these encounters, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, 
 and his friends, waxed fierce and furious ; until at last Horatio 
 Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, begged to ask his opponent the 
 honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, whether that band 
 played by his consent; which question the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey declining to answer, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin 
 Lodge, shook his fist in the countenance of the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall; upon which the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey, his blood being up, defied Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, to 
 mortal combat. At this violation of all known rules and precedents 
 of order, the Mayor commanded another fantasia on the bell, 
 and declared that he would bring before himself, both Horatio 
 Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, and the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, and bind them over to keep the peace. 
 Upon this terrific denunciation, the supporters of the two candidates 
 interfered, and after the friends of each party had quarrelled in 
 pairs, for three-quarters of an hour, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, touched 
 his hat to the honourable Samuel Slumkey : the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey touched his to Horatio Fizkin, Esquire : the band was 
 stopped : the crowd were partially quieted : and Horatio Fizkin, 
 Esquire, was permitted to proceed. 
 
 The speeches of the two candidates, though differing in every 
 other respect, afforded a beautiful tribute to the merit and high 
 worth of the electors of Eatanswill. Both expressed their opinion 
 that a more independent, a more enlightened, a more public-spirited, 
 a more noble-minded, a more disinterested set of men than those 
 who had promised to vote for him, never existed on earth ; each 
 darkly huited his suspicions that the electors in the opposite interest 
 had certain swinish and besotted infirmities which rendered them 
 unfit for the exercise of the important duties they were called upon 
 tQ dischg-rge. Fizkin expressed his jre^diriess to do anything; h§ 
 
TRIUMPH OF THE SLUMKEY PARTY 149 
 
 was wanted; Slumkey, his determination to do nothing that was 
 asked of him. Both said that the trade, the manufactures, the 
 commerce, the prosperity of Eatanswill, would ever be dearer to 
 their hearts than any earthly object; and each had it in his power 
 to state, with the utmost confidence, that he was the man who would 
 eventually be returned. 
 
 There was a show of hands ; the Mayor decided in favour of the 
 honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall. Horatio Fizkin, 
 Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, demanded a poll, and a poll was fixed 
 accordingly. Then a vote of thanks was moved to the Mayor for 
 his able conduct in the chair; and the Mayor devoutly wishing that 
 he had had a chair to display his able conduct in (for he had been 
 standing during the whole proceedings), returned thanks. The 
 processions re-formed, the carriages rolled slowly through the crowd, 
 and its members screeched and shouted after them as their feelings 
 or caprice dictated. 
 
 During the whole time of the polling, the town was in a perpetual 
 fever of excitement. Everything was conducted on the most liberal 
 and delightful scale. Exciseable articles were remarkably cheap at 
 all the public-houses ; and spring vans paraded the streets for the 
 accommodation of voters who were seized with any temporary 
 dizziness in the head — an epidemic which prevailed among the 
 electors, during the contest, to a most alarming extent, and under 
 the influence of which they might frequently be seen lying on the 
 pavements in a state of utter insensibility. A small body of electors 
 remained unpolled on the very last day. They were calculating 
 and reflecting persons, who had not yet been convinced by the 
 arguments of either party, although they had had frequent conferences 
 with each. One hour before the close of the poll, Mr. Perker 
 solicited the honour of a private interview with these intelligent, 
 these noble, these patriotic men. It was granted. His arguments 
 were brief, but satisfactory. They went in a body to the poll ; and 
 when they returned, the honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey 
 Hall, was returned also. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 COMPRISING A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THE COMPANY AT THE 
 PEACOCK ASSEMBLED; AND A TALE TOLD BY A BAGMAN 
 
 It is pleasant to turn from contemplating the strife and turmoil of 
 political existence, to the peaceful repose of private life. Although 
 in reality no great partisan of either side, Mr. Pickwick was 
 sufficiently fired with Mr. Pott's enthusiasm, to apply his whole 
 
ISO THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 time and attention to the proceedings, of which the last chapter 
 affords a description compiled from his own memoranda. Nor 
 while he was thus occupied was Mr. Winkle idle, his whole time 
 being devoted to pleasant walks and short country excursions with 
 Mrs. Pott, who never failed, when such an opportunity presented 
 itself, to seek some relief from the tedious monotony she so con- 
 stantly complained of. The two gentlemen being thus completely 
 domesticated in the Editor's house, Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snod- 
 grass were in a great measure cast upon their own resources. 
 Taking but little interest in public affairs, they beguiled their time 
 chiefly with such amusements as the Peacock afforded, which were 
 limited to a bagatelle-board in the first floor, and a sequestered 
 skittle-ground in the back yard. In the science and nicety of 
 both these recreations, which are far more abstruse than ordinary 
 men suppose, they were gradually initiated by Mr. Weller, who 
 possessed a perfect knowledge of such pastimes. Thus, notwith- 
 standing that they were in a great measure deprived of the comfort 
 and advantage of Mr. Pickwick's society, they were still enabled 
 to beguile the time, and to prevent its hanging heavily on their 
 hands. 
 
 It was in the evening, however, that the Peacock presented 
 attractions which enabled the two friends to resist even the in- 
 vitations of the gifted, though prosy. Pott. It was in the evening 
 that the ' commercial room ' was filled with a social circle, whose 
 characters and manners it was the delight of Mr. Tupman to 
 observe ; whose sayings and doings it was the habit of Mr. Snod- 
 grass to note down. 
 
 Most people know what sort of places commercial rooms usually 
 are. That of the Peacock differed in no material respect from the 
 generality of such apartments ; that is to say, it was a large bare- 
 looking room, the furniture of which had no doubt been better 
 when it was newer, with a spacious table in the centre, and a 
 variety of smaller dittos in the comers : an extensive assortment of 
 variously shaped chairs, and an old Turkey carpet, bearing about 
 the same relative proportion to the size of the room, as a lady's 
 pocket-handkerchief might to the floor of a watch-box. The walls 
 were garnished with one or two large maps ; and several weather- 
 beaten rough great coats, with complicated capes, dangled from 
 a long row of pegs in one corner. The mantelshelf was orna- 
 mented with a wooden inkstand, containing one stump of a pen 
 and half a wafer: a road-book and directory: a county history 
 minus the cover : and the mortal remains of a trout in a glass 
 coffin. The atmosphere was redolent of tobacco-smoke, the fumes 
 of which had communicated a rather dingy hue to the whole room, 
 and more especially to the dusty red curtains which shaded the 
 windows. On the sideboard a variety of miscellaneous articles 
 
THE COMPANY AT THK/ PEACOCK 151 
 
 were huddled together, the most conspi<;uous of which were some 
 very cloudy fish-sauce cruets, a couple of driving-boxes, two or 
 three whips, and as many travelling shawls, a tray of knives and ■ 
 forks, and the mustard. 
 
 Here it was that Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were seated on 
 the evening after the conclusion of the election, with several other 
 temporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking. 
 
 'Well, gents,' said a stout, hale personage of about forty, with 
 only one eye — a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a 
 roguish expression of fun and good humour, ' our noble selves, 
 gents. I always propose that toast to thfe company, arid drink 
 Mary to myself. Eh, Mary ! ' 
 
 ' Get along with you, you wretch,' said the harid-maideri, obviously 
 not ill pleased with the compliment, however. 
 
 ' Don't go away, Mary,' said the black-eyed man. 
 
 ' Let me alone, imperence,' said the young lady. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said the one-eyed man, calUng after the girl as she 
 left the room. ' I'll step out by and by, Mary. Keep your spirits 
 up, dear.' Here he went through the not very difficult process of 
 winking upon the company with his solitary eye, to the enthusiastic 
 delight of an elderly personage with a dirty face and a clay pipe. 
 
 ' Rum creeters is women,' said the dirty-faced man, after a pause. 
 
 ' Ah ! no mistake about that,' said a very red-faced man, behind 
 a cigar. 
 
 After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause. 
 
 ' There's rummer things than women in this world though, mind 
 you,' said the man with the black eye, slowly filling a large Dutch 
 pipe, with a most capacious bowl. 
 
 ' Are you married ? ' inquired the dirty-faced man. 
 
 ' Can't say I am.' 
 
 ' I thought not.' Here the dirty-faced man fell into fits of mirth 
 at his own retort, in which he was joined by a man of bland voice 
 and placid countenance, who always made it a point to agree with 
 everybody. 
 
 'Women, after all, gentlemen,' said the enthusiastic Mr. Snod- 
 grass, ' are the great props and comforts of our existence.' 
 
 ' So ttiey are,' said the placid gentleman. 
 
 'When they're in a good humour,' interposed the dirty-faced 
 man. 
 
 ' And that's very true,' said the placid one. 
 
 ' I repudiate that qualification,' said Mr. Snodgraiss, whose 
 thoughts were fast reverting to Emily Wardle, ' I' repudiate it with 
 disdain — with indignation. Show me the man who says anything 
 against women, as women, and I boldly declare he is not a man.' 
 And Mr. Snodgrass took his cigiar from his mouth, and struck the 
 table violently with his clenched fist. 
 
1^2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' That's good sound argument,' said the placid man. 
 
 ' Containing a position which I deny,' interrupted he of the dirty 
 countenance. 
 
 'And there's certainly a very great deal of truth in what you 
 observe too, sir,' said the placid gentleman. 
 
 ' Your health, sir,' said the bagman with the lonely eye, bestowing 
 an approving nod on Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment. 
 
 ' I always like to hear a good argument,' continued the bagman, 
 ' a sharp one, like this ; it's very improving ; but this little argument 
 about women brought to my mind a story I have heard an old 
 uncle of mine tell, the recollection of which, just now, made 
 me say there were rummer things than women to be met with, 
 sometimes.' 
 
 ' I should like to hear that same story,' said the red-faced man 
 with the cigar. 
 
 ' Should you ? ' was the only reply of the bagman, who continued 
 to smoke with great vehemence. 
 
 ' So should I,' said Mr. Tupman, speaking for the first time. He 
 was always anxious to increase his stock of experience. 
 
 ' Should yoti i Well then, I'll tell it. No I won't. I know you 
 won't believe it,' said the man with the roguish eye, making that 
 organ look more roguish than ever. 
 
 'If you say it's true, of course I shall,' said. Mr. Tupman. 
 
 'Well, upon that understanding I'll tell you,' replied the traveller. 
 ' Did you ever hear of the great commercial house of Bilson and 
 Slum? But it doesn't matter though, whether you did or not, 
 because they retired from business long since. It's eighty years 
 ago, since the circumstance happened to a traveller for that house, 
 but he was a particular friend of my uncle's ; and my uncle told the 
 story to me. It's a queer name ; but he used to call it 
 
 THE BAGMAN'S STORY, 
 
 and he used to tell it, something in this way. 
 
 ' One winter's, evening, about five o'clock, just as it began to 
 grow dusk, a man in a gig might have been seen urging his tired 
 horse along the road which leads across Marlborough Downs, in 
 the direction of Bristol. I say he might have been seen, and I 
 have no doubt he would have been, if anybody but a blind man 
 had happened to pass that way ; but the weather was so bad, and 
 the night so cold and wet, that nothing was out but the water, and 
 so the traveller jogged along in the middle of the road, lonesome 
 and dreary enough. If any bagman of that day could have caught 
 sight of the httle neck-or-nothing sort of gig, with a clay-coloured 
 body and red wheels, and the vixenish ill-tempered, fast-going bay 
 
THE BAGMAN'S STORY 153 
 
 mare, that looked like a cross between a butcher's horse and a two- 
 penny post-office pony, he would have known at once, that this 
 traveller could have been no other than Tom Smart, of the great 
 house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, City. However, as 
 there was no bagman to look on, nobody knew anything at all about 
 the matter ; and so Tom Smart and his clay-coloured gig with the 
 red wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, went on together, 
 keeping the secret among them : and nobody was a bit the wiser. 
 
 'There are many pleasanter places even in this dreary world, 
 than Marlborough Downs when it blows hard; and if you throw 
 in beside, a gloomy winter's evening, a miry and sloppy road, and 
 a pelting fall of heavy rain, and try the effect, by way of experiment, 
 in your own proper person, you will experience the full force of 
 this observation. 
 
 ' The wind blew — not up the road or down it, though that's bad 
 enough, but sheer across it, sending the rain slanting down like the 
 lines they used to rule in the copy-books at school, to make the 
 boys slope well. For a moment it would die away, and the traveller 
 would begin to delude himself into the belief that, exhausted with 
 its previous fury, it had quietly lain itself down to rest, when, whoo ! 
 he would hear it growUng and whistling in the distance, and on it 
 would come rushing over the hill-tops, and sweeping along the 
 plain, gathering sound and strength as it drew nearer, until it dashed 
 with a heavy gust against horse and man, driving the sharp rain 
 into their ears, and its cold damp breath into their very bones ; and 
 past them it would scour, far, far away, with a stunning roar, as if 
 in ridicule of their weakness, and triumphant in the consciousness 
 of its own strength and power. 
 
 ' The bay mare splashed away, through the mud and water, with 
 drooping ears ; now and then tossing her head as if to express her 
 disgust at this very ungentlemanly behaviour of the elements, but 
 keeping a good pace notwithstanding, until a gust of wind, more 
 furious than any that had yet assailed them, caused her to stop 
 suddenly and plant her four feet firmly against the ground, to pre- 
 vent her being blown over. It's a special mercy that she did this, 
 for if she had been blown over, the vixenish mare was so Ught, and 
 the gig was so light, and Tom Smart such a light weight into the 
 bargain, that they must infallibly have all gone rolling over and 
 over together, until they reached the confines of earth, or until the 
 wind fell ; and in either case the probability is, that neither the 
 vixenish mare, noir the clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, nor 
 Tom Smart, would ever have been fit for service again. 
 
 ' " Well, damn my straps and whiskers," says Tom Smart, (Tom 
 sometimes had an unpleasant knack of swearing), " Damn my straps 
 and whiskers," says Tom, " if this ain't pleasant, blow me ' " 
 
 ' You'll very likely ask me why, as Tom Smart had been pretty 
 
154 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 well blown already, he expressed this wish to be submitted to the 
 same process again. I can't say — all I know is, that Tom Smart 
 said so — or at least he always told my uncle he said so, and it's 
 just the same thing. 
 
 ' " Blow me," says Tom Smart ; and the mare neighed as if she 
 were precisely of the same opinion. 
 
 ' " Cheer up, old girl," said Tom, patting the bay mare on the 
 neck with the end of his whip. " It won't do pushing on, such a 
 night as this; the first house we come to we'll put up at, so the 
 faster you go the sooner it's over. Soho, old girl — gently — gently." 
 
 ' Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well acquainted with 
 the tones of Tom's voice to comprehend his meaning, or whether 
 she found it colder standing still than moving on, of course I can't 
 say. But I can say that Tom had no sooner finished speaking, than 
 she pricked up her ears, and started forward at a speed which made 
 the clay-coloured gig rattle till you would have supposed every one 
 of the red spokes were going to fly out on the turf of Marlborough 
 Downs ; and even Tom, whip as he was, couldn't stop or check her 
 pace, urltil she drew up, of her own accord, before a road-side inn 
 on the right-hand side of the way, about half a quarter of a mile 
 from the end of the Downs. 
 
 ' Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the house as he 
 threw the reins to the hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It 
 was a strange old place, built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, 
 with cross-beams, with gabled-topped windows projecting completely 
 over the pathway, and a low door with a dark porch, and a couple 
 of steep steps leading down into the house, instead of the modem 
 fashion of half a dozen shallow ones leading up to it. It was a 
 comfortable-looking place though, for there was a strong cheerful 
 light in the bar-window, which shed a bright ray across the road, 
 and even lighted up the hedge on the other side ; and there was a 
 red flickering light in the opposite window, one moment but faindy 
 discernible, and the next gleaming strongly through the drawn 
 curtains, which intimated that a rousing fire was blazing within. 
 Marking these litde evidences with the eye of an experienced 
 traveller, Tom dismounted with as much agihty as his half-frozen 
 limbs would permit, and entered the house. 
 
 ' In less than five minutes' time, Tom was ensconced in the room 
 opposite the bar — the very room where he had imagined the fire 
 blazing — before a substantial matter-of-fact roaring fire, composed 
 of something short of a bushel of coals, and wood enough to make 
 Half a dozen decent gooseberry bushes, piled half way up the 
 chimney, and roaring and crackling with a sound that of itself 
 would have warmed the heart of any reasonable man. This was 
 comfortable, but this was not all, for a smartly dressed girl, with a 
 bright eye and a neat ancle, was laying a very clean white cloth on 
 
HOT PUNCH 155 
 
 the table; and as Tom sat with his slippered feet on the fender, 
 and his back to the open door, he saw a charming prospect of the 
 bar reflected in the glass over the chimney-piece, with delightful 
 rows of green bottles and gold labels, together with jars of pickles 
 and preserves, and cheeseS and boiled haras, and rounds of beef, 
 arranged on shelves in. the most tempting and delicious array. 
 Well, this was comfortable too ; but even this was not all— for in 
 the bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little table, drawn close 
 up before the brightest possible httle fire, was a buxom widow of 
 somewhere about eight and forty or thereabouts, with a face as 
 comfortable as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the house, 
 and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable possessions. There 
 was only one drawback to the beauty of the wTiole picture, and that 
 was a tall man — a very tall man — in a brown coat and bright basket 
 buttons, and black whiskers, and wavy black hair, who was seated 
 at tea with the widow, and who it required no great penetration to 
 discover was in a fair way of persua,ding her to be a widow no 
 longer, but to confer upon him the privilege of sitting down in 
 that bar, for and during the whole remainder of the terrn 'of his 
 natural life. 
 
 ' Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or erivious disposi- 
 tion, but somehow or other the tall man with the brqwn coat and 
 the bright basket buttons did rouse what little gall he had in his 
 composition, and did make him feel extremely indignant : the more 
 especially as he could now and then observe, from his seat before the 
 glass, certain little affectionate familiarities passing betweeji the 
 tall man and the widow, which sufficiently denoted that the tall 
 man was as high in favour as he was in size. Tom was fond of 
 hot punch — I may venture to say he was very fond of hot punch — 
 and after he had seen the vixenish mare well fed and well littered 
 down, and had eaten every bit of the nice little hot dinner which 
 the widow tossed up for him with her own hands, he just ordered a 
 tumbler of it, by way of experirhent. Now, if there was one thing 
 in the whole range of domestic art, which the widow could manu- 
 facture better than another, it was this identical article ; and the 
 first tumbler was adapted to Tom Smart's taste with such peculiar 
 nicety, that he ordered a second with the least possible delay. 
 Hot punch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen — an extremely pleasant 
 filing under any circumstances — but in that snug old parlour, before 
 the roaring fire, with the wind blowing outside till every timber in 
 the old house creaked again, Tom Smart found it perfectly delightful. 
 He ordered another turribler, and then another — I am not quite 
 certain whether he didn't order another after that — but the more he 
 drank of the hot punch, the more he thought of the tall man. 
 
 ' " Confound his impudence ! " said Tom to himself, " what 
 business has he in that snug bar ? Such an ugly villain too ! " said 
 
156 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Tom. " If the widow had any taste, she might surely pick up some 
 better fellow than that." Here Tom's eye wandered from the glass 
 on the chimney-piece, to the. glass on the table ; and as he felt 
 himself become gradually sentimental, he emptied the fourth tumbler 
 of punch and ordered a fifth. 
 
 ' Tom Smart, gentlemen, had always been very much attached to 
 the public line. It had long been his ambition to stand in a bar 
 of his own, in a green coat, knee-cords, and tops. He had a great 
 notion of taking the chair at convivial dinners, and he had often 
 thought how well he could preside in a room of his own in the 
 talking way, and what a capital example he could set to his 
 customers in the drinking department. All these things passed 
 rapidly through Tom's mind as he sat drinking the hot punch by 
 the roaring fire, and he felt very justly and properly indignant that 
 the tall man should be in a fair way of keeping such an excellent 
 house, while he, Tom Smart, was as far from it as ever. So, after 
 deliberating over the last two tumblers, whether he hadn't a perfect 
 right to pick a quarrel with the tall man for having contrived to 
 get into the good graces of the buxom widow, Tom Smart at last 
 arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was a very ill-used 
 and persecuted individual, and had better go to bed. 
 
 ' Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl preceded Tom, 
 shading the chamber candle with her hand, to protect it from the 
 currents of air which in such a rambling old place might have found 
 plenty of room to disport themselves in, without blowing the candle 
 out, but which did blow it out nevertheless ; thus affording Tom's 
 enemies an opportunity of asserting that it was he, and not the 
 wind, who extinguished the candle, and that while he pretended to 
 be blowing it alight again, he was in fact kissing the girl. Be this 
 as it may, another light was obtained, and Tom was conducted 
 through a maze of rooms, and a labyrinth of passages, to the apart- 
 ment which had been prepared for his reception, where the girl 
 bade him good night, and left him alone. 
 
 ' It was a good large room with big closets, and a bed which 
 might have served for a whole boarding-school, to say nothing of a 
 couple of oaken presses that would have held the baggage of a 
 small army ; but what struck Tom's fancy most was a strange, grim- 
 looking high-backed chair, carved in the most fantastic manner, 
 with a flowered damask cushion, and the round knobs at the bottom 
 of the legs carefully tied up in red cloth, as if it had got the gout in 
 its toes. Of any other queer chair, Tom would only have thought 
 it was a queer chair, and there would have been an end of the 
 matter ; but there was something about this particular chair, and 
 yet he couldn't tell what it was, so odd and so unlike any other 
 piece of furniture he had ever seen 'that it seemed to fascinate him. 
 He sat down before the fire, and stared at the old chair for half an 
 
A REMARKABLE CHAIR 157 
 
 hour ; — Deuce take the chair, it was such a strange old thing, he 
 couldn't take his eyes off it. 
 
 ' " Well," said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and staring at the 
 old chair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by the 
 bedside, " I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. 
 Very odd," said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch, 
 " Very odd." Tom shook his head with an air of profound wisdom, 
 and looked at the chair again. He couldn't make anything of it 
 though, so he got into bed, covered himself up warm, and fell asleep. 
 
 ' In about half an hour, Tom woke up, with a start, from a con- 
 fused dream of tall men and tumblers of punch : and the first object 
 that presented itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair. 
 
 ' " I won't look at it any more," said Tom to himself, and he 
 squeezed his eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was 
 going to sleep again. No use ; nothing but queer chairs danced 
 before his eyes, kicking up their legs, jumping over each other's 
 backs, and playing all kinds of antics. 
 
 ' " I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete sets 
 of false ones," said Tom, bringing out his head from under the bed- 
 clothes. There it was, plainly discernible by the light of the fire, 
 looking as provoking as ever. 
 
 ' Tom gazed at the chair ; and, suddenly as he looked at it, a 
 most extraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving 
 of the back gradually assumed the hneaments and expression of an 
 old shrivelled human face ; the damask cushion became an antique, 
 flapped waistcoat; the round knobs grew into a couple of feet, 
 encased in red cloth slippers ; and the old chair looked like a very 
 ugly old man, of the previous century, with his arms a-kimbo. Tom 
 sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes to dispel the illusion. No. The 
 chair was an ugly old gentleman; and what was more, he was 
 winking at Tom Smart. 
 
 ' Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had 
 had five tumblers of hot punch into the bargain ; so, although he was 
 a little startled at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he 
 saw the old gentleman winking and leering at him with such an 
 impudent air. At length he resolved that he wouldn't stand it ; and 
 as the old face still kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in 
 a very angry tone : 
 
 ' " What the devil are you winking at me for ? " 
 
 ' " Because I like it, Tom Smart," said the chair ; or the old 
 gentleman, whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking 
 though, when Tom spoke, and began grinning like a superannuated 
 monkey. 
 
 ' " How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face ! " inquired 
 Tom Smart, rather staggered ;— :hough he pretended to c^iry it pff 
 so vyfll, 
 
158 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' " Come, come, Tom," said the old gentleman, " that's not the 
 way to address solid Spanish Mahogany. Dam'me, you couldn't 
 treat me with less respect if I was veneered." When the old 
 gentleman said this, he looked so fierce that Tom began to be 
 frightened. 
 
 ' " I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, sir," said Tom ; 
 in a much humbler tone than he had spoken in at first. 
 
 ' "Well, well," said the old fellow, "perhaps not— perhaps not. 
 Tom—." 
 
 ' " Sir— " 
 
 ' " I know everything about you, Tom ; everythmg. You're very 
 poor, Tom." 
 
 ' " I certainly am," said Tom Smart. " But how came you to 
 know that ? " 
 
 ' " Never mind that," said the old gentleman ; " you're much too 
 fond of punch, Tom." 
 
 ' Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadn't 
 tasted a drop since his last birth-day, but when his eye encountered 
 that of the old gentleman, he looked so knowing that Tom blushed, 
 and was silent. 
 
 ' " Tom," said the old gentleman, " the widow's a fine woman— 
 remarkably fine woman— eh, Tom ? " Here the old fellow screwed 
 up his eyes, cocked up one of his wasted little legs, and looked 
 altogether so unpleasantly amorous, that Tom was quite disgusted 
 with the levity of his behaviour ; — at his time of life, too ! 
 
 ' " I am her guardian, Tom," said the old gentleman. 
 
 -' " Are you? " inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 ,' " I knew her mother, Tom," said the old fellow ; " and her grand- 
 mother. She was very fond of me — made me this waistcoat, Tom." 
 
 ' " Did she ? " said Tom Smart. 
 
 ' " And these shoes," said the old fellow, lifting up one of the 
 red-cloth mufflers ; " but don't mention it, Tom. I shouldn't like 
 to have it known that she was so much attached to me. It might 
 occasion some unpleasantness in the family." When the old rascal 
 said this, he looked so extremely impertinent, that, as Tom Smart 
 afterwards declared, he could have sat upon him without remorse. 
 
 ' " I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, 
 Tom," said the profligate old debauchee ; " hundreds of fine women 
 have sat in my lap for hours together. What do you think of that, 
 you dog, eh ! " The old gentleman was proceeding to recount 
 some other exploits of his youth, when he was seized with such a 
 violent fit of creaking that he was unable to proceed. 
 
 ' " Just serves you right, old boy," thought Tom Smart ; but he 
 didn't say anything. 
 
 ' " Ah ! " said the old fellow, " I am a good deal troubled with 
 this now. I am getting old, Tom, and have lost nearly all my rails. 
 
A REMARKABLE PIECE OF FURNITURE 159 
 
 I have had an operation performed, too — a small piece let into my 
 back^ — and I found it a severe trial, Tom." 
 
 ' " I dare say you did, sir," said Tom Smart. 
 
 '"However," said the old gentleman, "that's not the point. 
 Tom ! I want you to marry the widow." 
 
 ' " Me, sir ! " said Tom. 
 
 ' " You ; " said the old gendeman. 
 
 ' " Bless your reverend locks," said Tom— (he had a few 
 scattered horse-hairs left), " bless your reverend locks, she wouldn't 
 have me." And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of 
 the bar. 
 
 ' " Wouldn't she ? " said the old gentleman, firmly. 
 
 ' " No, no," said Tom ; " there's somebody else in the wind. A 
 tall man — a confoundedly tall man — with black whiskers." 
 
 ' " Tom," said the old gentleman ; " she will never have him." 
 
 '"Won't she?" said Tom. "If you stood in the bar, old 
 gentleman, you'd tell another story." 
 
 ' " Pooh, pooh," said the old gentleman. " I know all about that." 
 
 ' " About what ? " said Tom. 
 
 ' "The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom," 
 said the old gentleman. And here he gave another impudent look, 
 which made Tom very wroth, because as you all know, gentlemen, 
 to hear an old fellow, who ought to know better, talking about 
 these things, is very unpleasant — nothing more so. 
 
 ' " I know all about that, Tom," said the old gentleman. " I 
 have seen it done very often in my time, Tom, between more 
 people than I should like to mention to you ; but it never came to 
 anything after all." 
 
 ' " You must have seen some queer things," said Tom, with an 
 inquisitive look. 
 
 ' " You may say that, now," replied the old fellow, with a very 
 complicated wink. " I am the last of my family, Tom," said the 
 old gentleman, with a melancholy sigh. 
 
 ' " Was it a large one ? " inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 ' " There were twelve of us, Tom," said the old gentleman ; " fine 
 straight-backed, handsome fellows as you'd wish to see. None of 
 your modern abortions — all with arms, and with a degree of polish, 
 though I say it that should not, which would have done your heart 
 good to behold." 
 
 ' " And what's become of the others, sir ? " asked Tom Smart. 
 
 ' The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied, 
 " Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn't 
 all my constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, 
 and went into kitchens and other hospitals ; and one of 'em, with 
 long service and hard usage, positively lost his senses : — he got so 
 crazy that he was obliged to be burnt. Shocking thing, that, Tom." 
 
i6o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' " Dreadful ! " said Tom Smart. 
 
 ' The old fellow paused for a few moments, apparently struggling 
 with his feelings of emotion, and then said : 
 
 ' " However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall 
 man, Tom, is a rascally adventurer. The moment he married the 
 widow, he would sell off all the furniture, and nm away. What 
 would be the consequence ? She would be deserted and reduced 
 to ruin, and I should catch my death of cold in some broker's 
 shop." 
 
 ' " Yes, but— " 
 
 ' " Don't interrupt me," said the old gentleman. " Of you, Tom, 
 I entertain a very different opinion ; for I well know that if you 
 once settled yourself in a public house, you would never leave it, 
 as long as there was anything to drink within its walls." 
 
 ' " 1 am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir," 
 said Tom Smart. 
 
 ' " Therefore," resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone ; 
 " you shall have her, and he shall not/' 
 
 ' " What is to prevent it ? " said Tom Smart, eagerly. 
 
 ' " This disclosure," replied the old gentleman ; " he is already 
 married." 
 
 ' " How can I prove it ? " said Tom, starting half out of bed. 
 
 ' The old gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and having 
 pointed to one of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it in its 
 old position. 
 
 ' " He little thinks," said the old gentleman, " that in the right 
 hand pocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter, 
 entreating him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six — mark 
 me, Tom — six babes, and all of then*! small ones." 
 
 ' As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his features 
 grew less and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film 
 came over Tom Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually 
 blending into the chair, the damask waistcoat to resolve into a 
 cushion, the red slippers to shrink into little red cloth bags. The 
 light faded gently away, and Tom Smart fell back on his pillow, 
 and dropped asleep. 
 
 ' Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber, into which 
 he had fallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in 
 bed, and for some minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events 
 of the preceding night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He 
 looked at the chair ; it was a fantastic and grim-looking piece of 
 furniture, certainly, but it must have been a remarkably ingenious 
 and lively imagination, that could have discovered any resemblance 
 between it and an old man. 
 
 '"How are you, old boy?" said Tom. He was bolder in the 
 daylight — ino^t men are, 
 
TOM SMART AND THE WIDOW i6i 
 
 ' The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word. 
 
 ' " Miserable morning," said Tom. No. The chair would not 
 be drawn into conversation. 
 
 '"Which press did you point to? — you can 'tell me that," said 
 Tom. Devil a word, gentlemen, the chair would say. 
 
 ' " It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow," said Tom, getting 
 out of bed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the presses. 
 The key was in the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. 
 There was a pair of trousers there. He put his hand into the 
 pocket, and drew forth the identical letter the old gentleman had 
 described ! 
 
 '"Queer sort of thing, this, "said Tom Smart; looking first at 
 the chair and then at the press, and then at the letter, and then 
 at the chair again. " Very queer," said Tom. But, as there was 
 nothing in either, to lessen the queerness, he thought he might as 
 well dress himself, and settle the tall man's business at once — just 
 to put him out of his misery. 
 
 ' Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on his way down 
 stairs, with the scrutinising eye of a landlord ; thinking it not im- 
 possible, that before long, they and their contents would be his 
 property. The tall man was standing in the snug little bar, with 
 his hands behind him, quite at home. He grinned vacantly at Tom. 
 A casual observer might have supposed he did it, only to show 
 his white teeth; but Tom Smart thought that a consciousness of 
 triumph was passing through the place where the tall man's mind 
 would have been, if he had had any. Tom laughed in his face ; 
 and summoned the landlady. 
 
 ' " Good morning, ma'am," said Tom Smart, closing the door of 
 the little parlour as the widow entered. 
 
 '"Good morning, sir," said the widow^. "What will you take 
 for breakfast, sir ? " 
 
 ' Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so he made 
 no answer. 
 
 ' " There's a very nice ham," said the widow, " and a beautiful 
 cold larded fowl. Shall I send 'em in, sir ? " 
 
 ' These words roused Tom from his reflections. His admiration 
 of the widow increased as she spoke. Thoughtful creature ! Com- 
 fortable provider ! 
 
 ' " Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am ? " inquired Tom. 
 
 ' " His name is Jinkins, sir," said the widow, slightly blushing. 
 
 ' " He's a tall man," said Tom. 
 
 ' " He is a very fine man, sir," replied the widow, " and a very 
 nice gentleman." 
 
 '"Ah!" said Tom. 
 
 ' " Is there anything more you want, sir ? " inquired the widow, 
 rather puzzled by Tom's manner. 
 
 ' ■ ' . M 
 
1 62 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' " Why, yes," said Tom. " My dear ma'am, will you have the 
 kindness to sit down for one moment ? " 
 
 ' The widow looked much amazed, but she sat down, and Tom 
 sat down too, close beside her. I don't know how it happened, 
 gentlemen — indeed my uncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said 
 he didn't know how it happened either — but somehow or other the 
 palm of Tom's hand fell upon the back of the widow's hand, and 
 remained there while he spoke. 
 
 ' " My dear ma'am," said Tom Smart — he had always a great 
 notion of committing the amiable — " My dear ma'am, you deserve 
 a very excellent husband ; — you do indeed." 
 
 ' " Lor, sir ! " said the widow — as well she might : Tom's mode 
 of commencing the conversation being rathsr unusual, not to 
 say startling; the fact of his never having set eyes upon her 
 befo»e the previous night, being taken into consideration. "Lor, 
 sir ! " 
 
 '"I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am," said Tom Smart. "You 
 deserve a very admirable husband, and whoever he is, he'll be a 
 very lucky man." As Tom said this his eye involuntarily wandered 
 from the widow's face, to the comforts around him. 
 
 ' The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and made an effort 
 to rise. Tom gently pressed her hand, as if to detain her, and she 
 kept her seat. Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as 
 my uncle used to say. 
 
 ' " I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, for your good 
 opinion," said the buxom landlady, half laughing ; " and if ever I 
 marry again " — 
 
 '"^," said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly out of the right- 
 hand corner of his left eye. " If " — 
 
 ' " Well," said the widow, laughing outright this time. " When 
 I do, I hope I shall have as good a husband as you describe." 
 
 ' " Jinkins to wit," said Tom. 
 
 ' " Lor, sir ! " exclaimed the widow. 
 
 ' " Oh, don't tell me," said Tom, " I know him.'' 
 
 ' " I am sure nobody who knows him, knows anything bad of 
 him," said the widow, bridling up at the mysterious air with which 
 Tom had spoken. 
 
 ' " Hem ! " said Tom Smart. 
 
 ' The widow began to think it was high time to cry, so she took 
 out her handkerchief, and inquired whether Tom wished to insult 
 her: whether he thought it like a gentleman to take away the 
 character of another gentleman behind his back : why, if he had 
 got anything to say, he didn't say it to the man, like a man, instead 
 of terrifying a poor weak woman in that way ; and so forth. 
 
 ' " I'll say it to him fast enough," said Tom, " only I want you 
 to hear it first." ^ ' "' 
 
THE WIDOW ASTONISHED 163 
 
 ' " What is it ? " inquired the widow, looking intently in Tom's 
 countenance. 
 
 ' " I'll astonish you," said Tom, putting his hand in his 
 pocket. 
 
 ' " If it is, that he wants money," said the widow, " I know that 
 already, and you needn't trouble yourself." 
 
 ' " Pooh, nonsense, that's nothing," said Tom Smart. " / want 
 money. 'Tan't that." 
 
 ' " Oh, dear, what can it be ? " exclaimed the poor widow. 
 
 ' " Don't be frightened," said Tom Smart. He slowly drew forth 
 the letter, and unfolded it. "You won't scream?" said Tom, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 ' " No, no," replied the widow ; " let me see it." 
 
 ' " You won't go fainting away, or any of that nonsense ? " said 
 Tom. 
 
 ' " No, no," returned the '(vidow, hastily. 
 
 ' " And don't run out, and blow him up," said Tom, " because 
 rU do all that for you ; you had better not exert yourself." 
 
 ' " Well, well," said the widow, " let me see it." 
 
 ' " I will," replied Tom Smart ; and, with these words, he placed 
 the letter in the widow's hand. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, I have heard my uncle say, that Tom Smart said 
 the widow's lamentations when she heard the disclosure would have 
 pierced a heart of stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, 
 but they pierced his, to the very core. The widow rocked herself 
 to and fro, and wrung her hands. 
 
 ' " Oh, the deception and villainy of man ! " said the widow. 
 
 ' " Frightful, my dear ma'am ; but compose yourself," said Tom 
 Smart. 
 
 ' " Oh, I can't compose myself," shrieked the widow. " I shall 
 never find any one else I can love so much ! " 
 
 ' " Oh yes, you will, my dear soul," said Tom Smart, letting fall 
 a shower of the largest sized tears, in pity for the widow's mis- 
 fortunes. Tom Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put 
 his arm round the widow's waist ; and the widow, in a passion of 
 grief, had clasped Tom's hand. She looked up in Tom's face, and 
 smiled through her tears. Tom looked down in hers, and smiled 
 through his. 
 
 ' I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not 
 kiss the widow at that particular moment. He used to tell my 
 uncle he didn't, but I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, 
 gentlemen, I rather think he did. 
 
 ' At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out at the front 
 door half an hour after, and married the widow a month after. 
 And he used to drive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig 
 with red wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he 
 
i64 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 gave up business many years afterwards, and went to France with 
 his wife ; and then the old house was pulled down. ' 
 
 ' Will you allow me to ask you,' said the inquisitive old gentle- 
 man, ' what became of the chair ? ' 
 
 ' Why,' replied the one-eyed bagman, ' it was observed to creak 
 very much on the day of the wedding ; but Tom Smart couldn't 
 say for certain whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. 
 He rather thought it was the latter, though, for it never spoke 
 afterwards.' 
 
 ' Everybody believed the story, didn't they ? ' said the dirty-faced 
 man, re-filling his pipe. 
 
 ' Except Tom's enemies,' replied the bagman. ' Some of 'em 
 said Tom invented it altogether; and others said he was drunk, 
 and fancied it, and got hold of the wrong trousers by mistake before 
 he went to bed. But nobody ever minded what they said.' 
 
 ' Tom said it was all true ? ' 
 
 ' Every word.' 
 
 ' And your uncle ? ' 
 
 ' Every letter.' 
 
 ' They must have been very nice men, both of 'em ; ' said the 
 dirty-faced man. 
 
 ' Yes, they were,' replied the bagman ; ' very nice men indeed! ' 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 IN WHICH IS GIVEN A FAITHFUL PORTRAITURE OF TWO DISTIN- 
 GUISHED PERSONS : AND AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF A 
 PUBLIC BREAKFAST IN THEIR HOUSE AND GROUNDS; WHICH 
 PUBLIC BREAKFAST LEADS TO THE RECOGNITION OF AN OLD 
 ACQUAINTANCE, AND THE COMMENCEMENT OF ANOTHER 
 CHAPTER 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's conscience had been somewhat reproaching him for 
 his recent neglect of his friends at the Peacock ; and he was just on 
 the point of walking forth in quest of them, on the third morning 
 after the election had terminated, when his faithful valet put into 
 his hand a card, on which was engraved the following inscription :— 
 
 Jftrs. |Cco Inntcr. 
 The Den. Eatanswill. 
 
 ' Person's a waitin',' said Sam, epigrammatically. 
 
 ' Does the person want me, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
MR. LEO HUNTER CALLS 165 
 
 ' He wants you particklar ; and no one else'll do, as the Devil's 
 private secretary said ven he fetched avay Doctor Faustus,' replied 
 Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' He. Is it a gentleman ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A wery good imitation o' one, if it an't,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' But this is a lady's card,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Given me by a gen'l'm'n, hows' ever,' replied Sam, ' and he's a 
 waitin' in the drawing-room — said he'd rather wait all day, than not 
 see you.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, on hearing this determination, descended to the 
 drawing-room, where sat a grave man, who started up on his 
 entrance, and said, with an air of profound respect : 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick, I presume ? ' 
 
 ' The same.' 
 
 ' Allow me, sir, the honour of grasping your hand. Permit me, 
 sir, to shake it,' said the grave man. 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 The stranger shook the extended hand, and then continued. 
 
 ' We have heard of your fame, sir. The noise of your antiquarian 
 discussion has reached the ears of Mrs. Leo Hunter — my wife, sir ; 
 / am Mr. Leo Hunter ' — the stranger paused, as if he expected that 
 Mr. Pickwick would be overcome by the disclosure ; but seeing that 
 he remained perfectly calm, proceeded. 
 
 ' My wife, sir — Mrs. Leo Hunter — is proud to number among her 
 acquaintance all those who have rendered themselves celebrated by 
 their works and talents. Permit me, sir, to place in a conspicuous 
 part of the list the name of Mr. Pickwick, and his brother members 
 of the cliib that derives its name from him.' 
 
 ' I shall be extremely happy to make the acquaintance of such a 
 lady, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' You shall rffake it, sir,' said the grave man. ' To-morrow morn- 
 ing, sir, we give a public breakfast — a file champetre — to a great 
 number of those who have rendered themselves celebrated by their 
 works and talents. Permit Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir, to have the grati- 
 fication of seeing you at the Den.' 
 
 ' With great pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Mrs. Leo Hunter has many of these breakfasts, sir,' resumed the 
 new acquaintance — ' " feasts of reason, sir, and flows of soul," as 
 somebody who wrote a sonnet to Mrs. Leo Hunter on her break- 
 fasts, feelingly and originally observed.' 
 
 ' Was he celebrated for his works and talents ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' He was, sir,' replied the grave man, ' all Mrs. Leo Hunter's 
 acquaintance are ; it is her ambition, sir, to have no other ac- 
 quaintance.' 
 
 ' It is a very noble ambition,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
1 66 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' When I inform Mrs. Leo Hunter, that that remark fell from your 
 lips, sir, she will indeed be proud,' said the grave man. ' You" have 
 a gentleman in your train, who has produced some beautiful little 
 poems, I think, sir.' 
 
 'My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a great taste for. poetry,' replied 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'So has Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir. She doats on poetry, sir. She 
 adores it ; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, 
 and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, 
 herself, sir. You may have met with her " Ode to an Expiring 
 Frog," sir.' 
 
 ' I don't think I have,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' You astonish me, sir,' said Mr. Leo Hunter. ' It created an 
 immense sensation. It was signed with an " L " and eight stars, 
 and appeared originally in a Lady's Magazine. It commenced 
 
 " Can I view thee panting, lying 
 On thy stomach, without sighing ; 
 Can I unmoved see thee dying 
 
 On a log, 
 Expiring frog ! " ' 
 
 ' Beautiful ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Fine,' said Mr. Leo Hunter, ' so simple.' 
 
 ' Very,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' The next verse is still more touching. Shall I repeat it ? ' 
 
 ' If you please,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It runs thus,' said the grave man, still more gravely. 
 
 " Say, have fiends in shape of boys, 
 
 With wild halloo, and brutal noise, 
 
 Hunted thee from marshy joys. 
 
 With a dog. 
 Expiring frog ! " ' 
 
 ' Finely expressed,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'AH point, sir,' said Mr. Leo Hunter, 'but you shall hear Mrs. 
 Leo Hunter repeat it. She can do justice to it, sir. She ^vill 
 repeat it, in character, sir, to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' In character ! ' 
 
 'As Minerva. But I forgot — it's a fancy-dress breakfast.' 
 
 'Dear me,' said Mr. Pickwick, glancing at his own figure— 'I 
 can't possibly — ' 
 
 'Can't, sir; can't!' exclaimed Mr. Leo Hunter. 'Solomon 
 Lucas, the Jew in the High Street, has thousands of fancy dresses. 
 Consider, sir, how many appropriate characters are open for your 
 selection. Plato, Zeno, Epicurus, Pythagoras — all founders of 
 clubs.' 
 
 ' I know that,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' but as I cannot put myself 
 
THE INVITATION ACCEPTED 167 
 
 in competition with those great men, I cannot presume to wear 
 their dresses.' 
 
 The grave man considered deeply, for a few seconds, and then said, 
 
 'On reflection, sir, I don't know whether it would not afford 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter greater pleasure, if her guests saw a gentleman 
 of your celebrity in his own costume, rather than in an assumed 
 one. I may venture to promise an exception in your case, sir — 
 yes, I am quite certain that on behalf of Mrs. Leo Hunter, I may 
 venture to do so.' 
 
 ' In that case,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I shall have great pleasure 
 in coming.' 
 
 ' But I waste your time, sir,' said the grave man, as if suddenly 
 recollecting himself. ' I know its value, sir. I will not detain you. 
 I may tell Mrs. Leo Hunter, then, that she may confidently expect 
 you and your distinguished friends ? Good morning, sir, I am 
 proud to have beheld so eminent a personage — not a step, sir ; not 
 a word.' And without giving Mr. Pickwick time to offer remon- 
 strance or denial, Mr. Leo Hunter stalked gravely away. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took up his hat, and repaired to the Peacock, but 
 Mr. Winkle had conveyed the intelligence of the fancy ball there, 
 before him. 
 
 ' Mrs. Pott's going,' were the first words with which he saluted 
 his leader. 
 
 ' Is she ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'As Apollo,' replied Mr. Winkle. 'Only Pott objects to the 
 tunic' 
 
 ' He is right. He is quite right,' said Mr. Pickwick emphatically. 
 
 ' Yes ; — so she's going to wear a white satin gown with gold 
 spangles.' 
 
 ' They'll hardly know what she's meant for ; will they ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Of course they will,' replied Mr. Winkle indignantly. ' They'll 
 see her lyre, won't they ? ' 
 
 ' True ; I forgot that,' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' I shall go as a Bandit,' interrupted Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' What ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, with a sudden start. 
 
 ' As a bandit,' repeated Mr. Tupman, mildly. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say,' said Mr. Pickwick, gazing with solemn 
 sternness at his friend, ' You don't mean to say, Mr. Tupman, that 
 it is your intention to put yourself into a green velvet jacket, with 
 a two-inch tail ? ' 
 
 ' Such is my intention, sir,' replied Mr. Tupman warmly. ' And 
 why not, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Because, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, considerably excited. ' Because 
 you are too old, sir.' 
 
 ' Too old ! ' exclaimed Mr. Tupman. 
 
i68 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' And if any further ground of objection be wanting,' continued 
 Mr. Pickwick, ' you are too fat, sir.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Tupman, his face suffused with a crimson glow. 
 ' This is an insult.' 
 
 ' Sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone, ' It is not half the 
 insult to you, that your appearance in my presence in a green velvet 
 Jacket, with a two-inch tail, would be to me.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Tupman, ' you're a fellow.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' you're another ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman advanced a step or two, and glared at Mr. Pickwick. 
 Mr. Pickwick returned the glare, concentrated into a focus by 
 means of his spectacles, and breathed a bold defiance. Mr. Snod- 
 grass and Mr. Winkle looked on, petrified at beholding such a 
 scene between two such men. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Tupman, after a short pause, speaking in a low, 
 deep voice, ' you have called me old.' 
 
 ' I have,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And fat.' 
 
 ' I reiterate the charge.' 
 
 ' And a fellow.' 
 
 ' So you are ! ' 
 
 There was a fearful pause. 
 
 ' My attachment to your person, sir,' said Mr. Tupman, speaking 
 in a voice tremulous with emotion, and tucking up his wristbands 
 meanwhile, ' is great — very great — but upon that person, I must 
 take summary vengeance.' 
 
 ' Come on, sir ! ' replied Mr. Pickwick. Stimulated by the 
 exciting nature of the dialogue, the heroic man actually threw 
 himself into a paralytic attitude, confidently supposed by the two 
 by-standers to have been intended as a posture of defence. 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, suddenly recovering the 
 power of speech, of which intense astonishment had previously 
 bereft him, and rushing between the two, at the imminent hazard 
 of receiving an application on the temple from each, ' What ! Mr. 
 Pickwick, with the eyes of the world upon you ! Mr. Tupman ! 
 Who, in common with us all, derives a lustre from his undying 
 name ! For shame, gentlemen ; for shame.' 
 
 The unwonted lines which momentary passion had ruled in Mr. 
 Pickwick's clear and open brow, gradually melted away, as his 
 young friend spoke, like the mark? of a black-lead pencil beneath 
 the softening influence of India rubber. His countenance had 
 resumed its usual benign expression, ere he concluded. 
 
 'I have been hasty,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'very hasty, Tupman; 
 your hand.' 
 
 The dark shadow passed from Mr. Tupman's face, as he warmly 
 grasped the hand of his friend. 
 
FANCY COSTUMES 169 
 
 ' I have been hasty, too,' said he. 
 
 ' No, no,' interrupted Mr. Pickwick, ' the fault was mine. You 
 will wear the green velvet jacket ? ' 
 
 ' No, no,' replied Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' To oblige me, you will,' resumed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well, well, I will,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 It was accordingly settled that Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and 
 Mr. Snodgrass, should all wear fancy dresses. Thus Mr. Pickwick 
 was led by the very warmth of his own good feelings to give his 
 consent to a proceeding from which his better judgment would have 
 recoiled — a more striking illustration of his amiable character could 
 hardly have been conceived, even if the events recorded in these 
 pages had been wholly imaginary. 
 
 Mr. Leo Hunter had not exaggerated the resources of Mr. 
 Solomon Lucas. His wardrobe was extensive — very extensive — 
 not strictly classical perhaps, nor quite new, nor did it contain any 
 one garment made precisely after the fashion of any age or time, 
 but everything was more or less spangled ; and what can be prettier 
 than spangles ! It may be objected that they are not adapted to 
 the daylight, but everybody knows that they would glitter if there 
 were lamps ; and nothing can be clearer than that if people give 
 fancy balls in the day-time, and the dresses do not show quite as 
 well as they would by night, the fault lies solely with the people 
 who give the fancy balls, and is in no wise chargeable on the 
 spangles. Such was the convincing reasoning of Mr. Solomon 
 Lucas ; and influenced by such arguments did Mr. Tupman, Mr. 
 Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, engage to array themselves in costumes 
 which his taste and experience induced him to recommend as 
 admirably suited to the occasion. 
 
 A carriage was hired from the Town Arms, for the accommoda- 
 tion of the Pickwickians, and a chariot was ordered from the same 
 repository, for the purpose of conveying Mr. and Mrs. Pott to Mrs. 
 Leo Hunter's grounds, which Mr. Pott, as a delicate acknowledg- 
 ment of having received an invitation, had already confidently 
 predicted in the Eata.nswill Gazette 'would present a scene of 
 varied and delicious enchantment — a bewildering coruscation of 
 beauty and talent — a lavish and prodigal display of hospitality — 
 above all, a degree of splendour softened by the most exquisite 
 taste ; and adornment refined with perfect harmony and the chastest 
 good keeping — compared with which, the fabled gorgeousness of 
 Eastern Fairy-land itself, would appear to be clothed in as many 
 dark and murky colours, as must be the mind of the splenetic and 
 unmanly being who could presume to taint with the venom of his 
 envy, the preparations making by the virtuous and highly distin- 
 guished lady, at whose shrine this humble tribute of admiration 
 was oifered.' This last was a piece of biting sarcasm against the 
 
I70 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Independent, who in consequence of not having been invited at all, 
 had been through four numbers affecting to sneer at the whole aifair, 
 in his very largest type, with all the adjectives in capital letters. 
 
 The morning came : it was a pleasant sight to behold Mr. 
 Tupman in full Brigand's costume, with a very tight jacket, sitting 
 like a pincushion over his back and shoulders : the upper portion 
 of his legs encased in the velvet shorts, and the lower part thereof 
 swathed in the complicated bandages to which all Brigands are 
 peculiarly attached. It was pleasing to see his open and ingenuous 
 countenance, well mustachioed and corked, looking out from an 
 open shirt collar ; and to contemplate the sugar-loaf hat, decorated 
 with ribbons of all colours, which he was compelled to carry on his 
 knee, inasmuch as no known conveyance with a top to it would 
 admit of any man's carrying it between his head and the roof. 
 Equally humorous and agreeable was the appearance of Mr. 
 Snodgrass in blue satin trunks and cloak, white silk tights and 
 shoes, and Grecian helmet : which everybody knows (and if they 
 do not, Mr. Solomon Lucas did) to have been the regular, authentic, 
 every-day costume of a Troubadour, from the earliest ages down to 
 the time of their final disappearance from the face of the earth. 
 All this was pleasant, but this was as nothing compared with the 
 shouting of the populace when the carriage drew up, behind Mr. 
 Pott's chariot, which cfiariot itself drew up at Mr. Pott's door, 
 which door itself opened, and displayed the great Pott accoutred 
 as a Russian officer of justice, with a tremendous knout in his hand 
 — tastefully typical of the stern and mighty power of the Eatanswill 
 Gazette, and the fearful lashings it bestowed on public offenders. 
 
 'Bravo!' shouted Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass from the 
 passage, when they beheld the walking allegory. 
 
 ' Bravo ! ' Mr. Pickwick was heard to exclaim, from the passage. 
 
 'Hoo— roar Pott!' shouted the populace. Amid these saluta- 
 tions, Mr. Pott, smiling, with that kind of bland dignity which 
 sufficiently testified that he felt his power, and knew how to exert 
 it, got into the chariot. 
 
 Then there emerged from the house, Mrs.' Pott, who would have 
 looked very like Apollo if she hadn't had a gown on : conducted 
 by Mr. Wmkle, who in his light-red coat, could not possibly have 
 been mistaken for anything but a sportsman, if he had not borne 
 ail equal resemblance to a general postman. Last of all came Mr. 
 Pickwick, whom the boys applauded as loud as anybody, probably 
 under the impression that his tights and gaiters were some remnants 
 of the dark ages ; and then the two vehicles proceeded towards 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter's : Mr. Weller (who was to assist in waiting) 
 being stationed on the box of that in which his master was seated. 
 
 Every one of the men, women, boys, girls, and babies, who were 
 assembled to see the visitors in their fancy dresses, screamed with 
 
'S^^^^^yu^ ^^-^i^ ('^^^^^^ 
 
HOSTS OF GENIUSES 171 
 
 delight and ecstasy, when Mr. Pickwick, with the Brigand on one 
 arm, and the Troubadour on the other, walked solemnly up the 
 entrance. Never were such shouts heard, as those which greeted 
 Mr. Tupman's efforts to fix the sugar-loaf hat on his head, by way 
 of entering the garden in style. 
 
 The preparations were on the most delightful scale ; fully realising 
 the prophetic Pott's anticipations about the gorgeousness of Eastern 
 Fairy -land, and at once affording a sufficient contradiction to the 
 xnalignant statements of the reptile Independent. The grounds 
 were more than an acre and a quarter in extent, and they were 
 filled with people ! Never was such a blaze of beauty, and fashion, 
 and literature. There was the young lady who ' did ' the poetry in 
 the Eatanswill Gazette, in the garb of a sultana, leaning upon the 
 arm of the young gentleman who ' did ' the review department, and 
 who was appropriately habited in a field marshal's uniform — the 
 boots excepted. There were hosts of these geniuses, and any 
 reasonable person would have thought it honour enough to meet 
 them. But more than these, there were half a dozen lions from 
 London — authors, real authors, who had written whole books, and 
 printed them afterwards — and here you might see 'em, walking 
 about, like ordinary men, smiling, and talking — aye, and talking 
 pretty considerable nonsense too, no doubt with the benign inten- 
 tion of rendering themselves intelligible to the common people 
 about them. Moreover, there was a band of music in pasteboard 
 caps ; four something-ean singers in the costume of their country, 
 and a dozen hired waiters in the costume of their country — and 
 very dirty costume too. And above all, there was Mrs. Leo 
 Hunter in the character of Minerva, receiving the company, and 
 overflowing with pride and gratification at the notion of having 
 called such distinguished individuals together. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick, ma'am,' said a servant, as that gentleman ap- 
 proached the presiding goddess, with his hat in his hand, and the 
 Brigand and Troubadour on either arm'. 
 
 ' What ! Where ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Leo Hunter, starting up, in 
 an affected rapture of surprise. 
 
 ' Here,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Is it possible that I have really the gratification of beholding 
 Mr. Pickwick himself ! ' ejaculated Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 ' No other, ma'am,' replied Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low. 
 ' Permit me to introduce my friends — Mr. Tupman — Mr. Winkle — 
 Mr. Snodgrass — to the authoress of " The Expiring Frog." ' 
 
 Very few people but those who have tried it, know what a 
 difficult process it is, to bow in green velvet smalls, and a tight 
 jacket, and high-crowned hat : or in blue satin trunks and white 
 silks : or knee-cords and top-boots that were never made for the 
 wearer, and have been fixed upon him without the remotest 
 
172 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 reference to the comparative dimensions of himself and the suit. 
 Never were such distortions as Mr. Tupman's frame underwent 
 in his efforts to appear easy and graceful — never was such 
 ingenious posturing, as his fancy-dressed friends exhibited. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter, ' I must make you 
 promise not to stir from my side the whole day. There are 
 hundreds of people here, that I must positively introduce you to.' 
 
 ' You are very kind, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' In the first place, here are my little girls ; I had almost for- 
 gotten them,' said Minerva, carelessly pointing towards a couple of 
 full-grown young ladies, of whom one might be about twenty, and 
 the other a year or two older, and who were dressed in very juvenile 
 costumes — whether to make them look young, or their mamma 
 younger, Mr. Pickwick does not distinctly inform us. 
 
 ' They are very beautiful,' said Mr. Pickwick, as the juveniles 
 turned away, after being presented. 
 
 ' They are very like their mamma, sir,' said Mr. Pott, majestically. 
 
 ' Oh you naughty man,' exclaimed Mrs. Leo Hunter, playfully 
 tapping the Editor's arm with her fan (Minerva with a fan !) 
 
 'Why now, my dear Mrs. Hunter,' said Mr. Pott, who was 
 trumpeter in ordinary at the Den, ' you know that when your 
 picture was in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, last year, 
 everybody inquired whether it was intended for you, or your 
 youngest daughter ; for you were so much aUke that there was no 
 telling the difference between you.' 
 
 ' Well, and if they did, why need you repeat it, before strangers ? ' 
 said Mrs. Leo Hunter, bestowing another tap on the slumbering 
 lion of the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 'Count, Count,' screamed Mrs. Leo Hunter to a well-whiskered 
 individual in a foreign uniform, who was passing by. 
 
 ' Ah ! you want me ? ' said the Count, turning back. 
 
 ' I want to introduce two very clever people to each other,' said 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter. ' Mr. Pickwick, I have great pleasure in intro- 
 ducing you to Count Smorltork.' She added in a hurried whisper 
 to Mr. Pickwick— ' the famous foreigner— gathering materials 
 for his great work on England— hem ! — Count Smorltork, Mr. 
 Pickwick.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick saluted the Count with all the reverence due to so 
 great a man, and the Count drew forth a set of tablets. 
 
 'What you say, Mrs. Hunt?' inquired the Count, smiling 
 graciously on the gratified Mrs. Leo Hunter, ' Pig Vig or Big Vig 
 —what you call — Lawyer— eh? I see — that is it. Big Vig'— 
 and the Count was proceeding to enter Mr. Pickwick in his tablets, 
 as a gentleman of the long robe, who derived his name from 
 the profession to which he belonged, when Mrs. Leo Hunter 
 interposed. 
 
A DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNER 173 
 
 ' No, no, Count,' said the lady, ' Pick-wick.' 
 
 ' Ah, ah, I see,' replied the Count. ' Peek— christian name ; 
 Weeks^surname ; good, ver good. Peek Weeks. How you do, 
 Weeks?' 
 
 ' Quite well, I thank you,' replied Mr. Pickwick, with all his 
 usual affability. ' Have you been long in England ? ' 
 
 ' Long — ver long time — fortnight — more.' 
 
 ' Do you stay here long ? ' 
 
 ' One week.' 
 
 ' You will have enough to do,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling, ' to 
 gather all the materials you want, in that time.' 
 
 ' Eh, they are gathered,' said the Count. 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' They are here,' added the Count, tapping his forehead signifi- 
 cantly. ' Large book at home — full of notes — ^music, picture, science, 
 poetry, poltic ; all tings.' 
 
 ' The word politics, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' comprises, in itself, 
 a difficult study of no inconsiderable magnitude.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the Count, drawing out the tablets again, ' ver good — 
 fine words to begin a chapter. Chapter forty-seven. Poltics. The 
 word poltic surprises by himself — ' And down went Mr. Pick- 
 wick's remark, in Count Smorltork's tablets, with such variations 
 and additions as the Count's exuberant fancy suggested, or his 
 imperfect knowledge of the language, occasioned. 
 
 ' Count,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 ' Mrs. Hunt,' replied the Count. 
 
 'This is Mr. Snodgrass, a friend ot Mr. Pickwick's, and a 
 poet.' 
 
 ' Stop,' exclaimed the Count, bringing out the tablets once more. 
 ' Head, potry^ — chapter, literary friends — ^name, Snowgrass ; ver 
 good. Introduced to Snowgrass — great poet, friend of Peek Weeks 
 ■ — by Mrs. Hunt, which wrote other sweet poem — ^what is that 
 name ? — Fog — Perspiring Fog — ver good — ver good indeed.' And 
 the Count put up his tablets, and with sundry bows and acknow- 
 ledgments walked away, thoroughly satisfied that he had made the 
 most important and valuable additions to his stock of information. 
 
 ' Wonderful man. Count Smorltork,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 ' Sound philosopher,' said Mr. Pott. 
 
 'Clear-headed, strong-minded person,' added Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 A chorus of by-standers took up the shout of Count Smorltork's 
 praise, shook their heads sagely, and unanimously cried ' Very ! ' 
 
 As the enthusiasm in Count Smorltork's favour ran very high, 
 his praises might have been sung until the end of the festivities, 
 if the four something-ean singers had not ranged themselves in 
 front of a small apple-tree, to look picturesque, and commenced 
 singing their national songs, which appeared by no means difficult 
 
174 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 of execution, inasmuch as the grand secret seemed to be, that 
 three of the something-ean singers should grunt, while the fourth 
 howled. This interesting performance having concluded amidst 
 the loud plaudits of the whole company, a boy forthwith proceeded 
 to entangle himself with the rails of a chair, and to jump over it, 
 and crawl under it, and fall down with it, and do everything but 
 sit upon it, and then to make a cravat of his legs, and tie them 
 round his neck, and then to illustrate the ease with which a human 
 being can be made to look like a magnified toad — all which feats 
 yielded delight and satisfaction to the assembled spectators. After 
 which, the voice of Mrs. Pott was heard to chirp faintly forth, 
 something which courtesy interpreted into a song, which was all 
 very classical, and strictly in character, because Apollo was himself 
 a composer, and composers can very seldom sing their own music 
 or anybody else's, either. This was succeeded by Mrs. Leo Hunter's 
 recitation of her far-famed Ode to an Expiring Frog, which was 
 encored once, and would have been encored twice, if the major 
 part of the guests, who thought it was high time to get something 
 to eat, had not said that it was perfectly shameful to take advantage 
 of Mrs. Hunter's good nature. So although Mrs. Leo Hunter pro- 
 fessed her perfect willingness to recite the ode again, her kind and 
 considerate friends wouldn't hear of it on any account ; and the 
 refreshment room being thrown open, all the people who had ever 
 been there before, scrambled in with all possible despatch : Mrs. 
 Leo Hunter's usual course of proceeding, being, to issue cards 
 for a hundred, and breakfast for fifty, or in other words to feed 
 only the very particular lions, and let the smaller animals take care 
 of themselves. 
 
 ' Where is Mr. Pott ? ' said Mrs. Leo Hunter, as she placed the 
 aforesaid lions around her. 
 
 'Here I am,' said the editor, from the remotest end of the 
 room; far beyond all hope of food, unless something was done 
 for him by the hostess. 
 
 ' Won't you come up here ? ' 
 
 ' Oh pray don't mind him,' said Mrs. Pott, in the most obliging 
 voice — ' you give yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble, Mrs. 
 Hunter. You'll do very well there, won't you — dear.' 
 
 ' Certainly — love,' repHed the unhappy Pott, with a grim smile. 
 Alas for the knout ! The nervous arm that wielded it, with such 
 gigantic force, on public characters, was paralysed beneath the 
 glance of the imperious Mrs. Pott. 
 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter looked round her in triumph. Count Smorl- 
 tork was busily engaged in taking notes of the contents of the 
 dishes ; Mr. Tupman was doing the honours of the lobster salad 
 to several lionesses, with a degree of grace which no Brigand ever 
 exhibited before; Mr. Snodgrass having cut out the young gentleman 
 
MR. JINGLE AGAIN 175 
 
 who cut up the books for the Eatanswill Gazette, was engaged 
 in an impassioned argument with the young lady who did the 
 poetry : and Mr. Pickwick was making himself universally agree- 
 able. Nothing seemed wanting to render the select circle complete, 
 when Mr. Leo Hunter — whose department on these occasions, was 
 to stand about in doorways, and talk to the less important people — 
 suddenly called out — 
 
 ' My dear ; here's Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall.' 
 
 ' Oh dear,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter, ' how anxiously I have been 
 expecting him. Pray make room, to let Mr. Fitz-Marshall pass. 
 Tell Mr. Fitz-Marshall, my dear, to come up to me directly, to be 
 scolded for coming so late.' 
 
 ' Coming, my dear ma'am,' cried a voice, ' as quick as I can — 
 crowds of people — full room — hard work — very.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's knife and fork fell from his hand. He stared 
 across the table at Mr. Tupman, who had dropped his knife and 
 fork, and was looking as if he were about to sink into the ground 
 without further notice. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' cried the voice, as its owner pushed his way among the 
 last five and twenty Turks, ofiScers, cavaliers, and Charles the 
 Seconds, that remained between him and the table, ' Regular 
 mangle — Baker's patent — not a crease in my coat, after all this 
 squeezing — ^might have " got up my linen " as I came along — ha ! 
 ha ! not a bad idea, that — queer thing to have it mangled when it's 
 upon one, though — trying process — very.' 
 
 With these broken words, a young man dressed as a naval officer 
 made his way up to the table, and presented to the astonished 
 Pickwickians, the identical form and features of Mr. Alfred Jingle. 
 
 The offender had barely time to take Mrs. Leo Hunter's proffered 
 hand, when his eyes encountered the indignant orbs of Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said Jingle. ' Quite forgot — no directions to postilion 
 — give 'em at once^ — back in a minute.' 
 
 ' The servant, or Mr. Hunter will do it in a moment, Mr. Fitz- 
 Marshall,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 ' No, no — I'll do it— shan't be long — back in no time,' replied 
 Jingle. With these words he disappeared among the crowd. 
 
 'Will you allow me to ask you, ma'am,' said the excited Mr. 
 Pickwick, rising from his seat, ' who that young man is, and where 
 he resides ! ' 
 
 ' He is a gentleman of fortune, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Leo 
 Hunter, ' to whom I very much want to introduce you. The Count 
 will be delighted with him.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. ' His residence — ' 
 
 ' Is at present at the Angel at Bury.' 
 
 'At Bury?' 
 
176 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'At Bury St. Edmunds, not man)' miles from here. But dear 
 me, Mr. Pickwick, you are not going to leave us : surely, Mr. 
 Pickwick, you cannot think of going so soon.' 
 
 But long before Mrs. Leo Hunter had finished speaking, Mr. 
 Pickwick had plunged through the throng, and reached the garden, 
 whither he was shortly afterwards joined by Mr. Tupman, who had 
 followed his friend- closely. 
 
 ' It's of no use,' said Mr. Tuptnan. ' He has gone.' 
 
 ' I know it,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' and I will follow him.' 
 
 ' Follow him ! Where ? ' inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' To the Angel at Bury,' replied Mr. Pickwick, speaking very 
 quickly. ' How do we know whom he is deceiving there ? He 
 deceived a worthy man once, and we were the innocent cause. He 
 shall not do it again, if I can help it ; I'll expose him ! Where's 
 my servant ? ' 
 
 ' Here you are, sir,' said Mr. Weller, emerging from a sequestered 
 spot, where he had been engaged in discussing a bottle of Madeira, 
 which he had abstracted from the breakfast-table, an hour or two 
 before. ' Here's your servant, sir. Proud o' the title, as the 
 Living Skellinton said, ven they show'd him.' 
 
 ' Follow me instantly,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Tupman, if I stay at 
 Bury, you can join me there, when I write. Till then, good-bye ! ' 
 
 Remonstrances were useless. Mr. Pickwick was roused, and 
 his mind was made up. Mr. Tupman returned to his companions ; 
 and in another hour had drowned all present recollection of Mr. 
 Alfred Jingle, or Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall, in an exhilarating 
 quadrille and a bottie of champagne. By that time, Mr. Pickwick 
 and Sam Weller, perched on the outside of a stage coach, were 
 every succeeding minute placing a less and less distance between 
 themselves and the good old town of Bury St. Edmunds. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 TOO FULL OF ADVENTURE TO BE BRIEFLY DESCRIBED 
 
 There is no month in the whole year, in which nature wears a 
 more beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring 
 has many beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but 
 the charms of this time of year are enhanced by their contrast 
 with the winter season. August has no such advantage. It comes 
 when we remember nothing but clear skies, green fields and sweet- 
 smelling ilowers— when the recollection of snow, and ice, and 
 bleak winds, has faded from our minds as completely as they have 
 
A SUMMER SCENE 177 
 
 disappeared from the earth, — and yet what a pleasant time it is ! 
 Orchards and corn-fields ring with the hum of labour ; trees bend 
 beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to 
 the ground ; and the com, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in 
 every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed the sickle, 
 tinges the landscape with a golden hue. A mellow softness appears 
 to hang over the whole earth ; the influence of the season seems 
 to extend itself to the very waggon, whose slow motion across the 
 well-reaped field, is perceptible only to the eye, but strikes with no 
 harsh sound upon the ear. 
 
 As the coach rolls swiftly past the fields and orchards which skirt 
 the road, groups of women and children, piling the fruit in sieves, 
 or gathering the scattered ears of corn, pause for an instant from 
 their labour, and shading the sun-burnt face with a still browner 
 hand, gaze upon the passengers with curious eyes, while some stout 
 urchin, too small to work, but too mischievous to be left at home, 
 scrambles over the side of the basket in which he has been deposited 
 for security, and kicks and screams with delight. The reaper stops 
 in his work, and stands with folded arms, looking at the vehicle 
 as it whirls past ; and the rough cart horses bestow a sleepy glance 
 upon the smart coach team, which says, as plainly as a horse's 
 glance can, ' It's all very fine to look at, but slow going, over a 
 heavy field, is better than warm work like that, upon a dusty road, 
 after all." You cast a look behind you, as you turn a comer of the 
 road. The women and children have resumed their labour : the 
 reaper once more stoops to his work : the cart-horses have moved 
 on : and. all are again in motion. 
 
 The influence of a scene like this, was not lost upon the well- 
 regulated mind of Mr. Pickwick. Intent upon the resolution he 
 had formed, of exposing the real character of the nefarious Jingle, 
 in any quarter in which he might be pursuing his fraudulent designs, 
 he sat at first taciturn and contemplative, brooding over the means 
 by which his purpose could be best attained. By degrees his 
 attention grew more and more attracted by the objects around him ; 
 and at last he derived as much enjoyment from the ride, as if it 
 had been undertaken for the pleasantest reason in the world. 
 
 ' Delightful prospect, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Beats the chimley pots, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, touching 
 his hat. 
 
 ' I suppose you have hardly seen anything but chimney-pots and 
 bricks and mortar all your life, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. 
 
 ' I worn't always a boots, sir,' said Mr. Weller, with a shake cf 
 the head. ' I wos a wagginer's boy, once.' 
 
 ' When was that ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' When I wos first pitched neck a,nd crop into the world, to play 
 at leap-frog with its troubles,' replied Sam. ' I wos a carrier's boy 
 
 N 
 
178 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 at startin' : then a vagginer's, then a helper, then a boots. Now 
 I'm a gen'l'm'n's servant. I shall be a gen'l'm'n myself one of 
 these days, perhaps, with a pipe in my mouth, and a summer-house 
 in the back garden. Who knows? / shouldn't be surprised, 
 for one.' 
 
 ' You are quite a philosopher, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It runs in the family, I b'lieve, sir,' replied Mr. Waller. ' My 
 father's wery much in that line, now. If my mother-in-law blows 
 him up, he whistles. She flies in a passion, and breaks his pipe ; 
 he steps out, and gets another. Then she screams wery loud, and 
 falls into 'sterics ; and he smokes wery comfortably 'till she comes 
 to agin. That's philosophy, sir, an't it ? ' 
 
 ' A very good substitute for it, at all events,' replied Mr. Pick- 
 wick, laughing. ' It must have been of great service to you, in the 
 course of your rambling life, Sam.' 
 
 ' Service, sir,' exclaimed Sam. ' You may say that. Arter I run 
 away from the carrier, and afore I took up with the wagginer, I had 
 unfurnished lodgin's for a fortnight.' 
 
 ' Unfurnished lodgings ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes — the dry arches of Waterloo Bridge. Fine sleeping-place 
 — within ten minutes' walk of all the public offices — only if there 
 is any objection to it, it is that the sitivation's rayther too airy. I 
 see some queer sights there.' 
 
 ' Ah, I suppose you did,' said Mr. Pickwick, with an air of con- 
 siderable interest. 
 
 ' Sights, sir,' resumed Mr. Weller, ' as 'ud penetrate your benevo- 
 lent heart, and come out on the other side. You don't see the 
 reg'lar wagrants there ; trust 'em, they knows better than that. 
 Young beggars, male and female, as hasn't made a rise in their pro- 
 fession, takes up their quarters there sometimes ; but it's generally 
 the worn-out, starving, houseless creeturs as rolls themselves in the 
 dark corners o' them lonesome places — ^poor creeturs as an't up to 
 the twopenny rope.' 
 
 ' And, pray, Sam, what is the twopenny rope ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' The twopenny rope, sir,' rephed Mr. Weller, ' is just a cheap 
 lodgin' house, where the beds is twopence a night.' 
 
 ' What do they call a bed a rope for ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Bless your innocence, sir, that a'nt it,' replied Sam. ' Wen the 
 lady and gen'l'm'n as keeps the Hot-el first begun business they 
 used to make the beds on the floor; but this wouldn't do at no 
 price, 'cos instead o' taking a moderate twopenn'orth o 'sleep, the 
 lodgers used to lie there half the day. So now they has two ropes, 
 'bout six foot apart, and three from the floor, which goes right down 
 the room; and the beds are made of slips of coarse sackinj}. 
 stretched across 'em.' 
 
AT THE ANGEL AT BURY 179 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Waller, ' the adwantage o' the plan's hobvious. 
 At six o'clock every momin' they lets go the ropes at one end, and 
 down falls all the lodgers. 'Consequence is, that being thoroughly 
 waked, they get up wery quietly, and walk away ! Beg your pardon, 
 sir,' said Sam, suddenly breaking off in his loquacious discourse. 
 ' Is this Bury St. Edmunds ? ' 
 
 ' It is,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' The coach rattled through the well-paved streets of a handsome 
 little town, of thriving and cleanly appearance, and stopped before 
 a large inn situated in a wide open street, nearly facing the old 
 abbey. 
 
 ' And this,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking up, ' is the Angel ! We 
 alight here, Sam. But some caution is necessary. Order a private 
 room, and do not mention my name. You understand.' 
 
 ' Right as a trivet, sir,' repUed Mr. Weller, with a wink of intel- 
 ligence ; and having dragged Mr. Pickwick's portmanteau from the 
 hind boot, into which it had been hastily thrown when they joined 
 the coach at Eatanswill, Mr. Weller disappeared on his errand. A 
 private room was speedily engaged ; and into it Mr. Pickwick was 
 ushered without delay. 
 
 ' Now, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' the first thing to be done is 
 10—' 
 
 ' Order dinner, sir,' interposed Mr. Weller. ' It's wery late, 
 sir.' 
 
 ' Ah, so it is,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch. ' You 
 are right, Sam.' 
 
 ' And if I might adwise, sir,' added Mr. Weller, ' I'd just have a 
 good night's rest arterwards, and not begin inquiring arter this here 
 deep 'un 'till the momin'. There's nothin' so refreshin' as sleep, 
 sir, as the servant-girl said afore she drank the egg-cupful o' 
 laudanum.' 
 
 ' I think you are right, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' But I must 
 first ascertain that he is in the house, and not likely to go away.' 
 
 ' Leave that to me, sir,' said Sam. ' Let me order you a snug 
 little dinner, and make any inquiries below .while it's a getting 
 ready; I could worm ev'ry secret out o' the boots's heart, in five 
 minutes, sir.' 
 
 ' Do so,' said Mr. Pickwick : and Mr. Weller at once retired. 
 
 In half an hour, Mr. Pickwick was seated at a very satisfactory 
 dinner; and in three-quarters Mr. Weller returned with the intel- 
 ligence that Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall had ordered his private room 
 to be retained for him, until further notice. He was going to 
 spend the evening at some private house in the neighbourhood, had 
 ordered the boots to sit up until his return, and had taken his 
 servant with him. 
 
i8o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Now, sir,' argued Mr. Weller, when he had concluded his report, 
 ' if I can get a talk with this here servant in the mornin', he'il tell 
 me all his master's concerns.' 
 
 ' How do you know that ? ' interposed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Bless your heart, sir, servants always do,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Oh, ah, I forgot that,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Well.' 
 
 ' Then you can arrange what's best to be done, sir, and we can 
 act according.' 
 
 As it appeared that this was the best arrangement that could be 
 made, it was finally agreed upon. Mr. Weller, by his master's per- 
 mission, retired to spend the evening in his own way; and was 
 shortly afterwards elected, by the unanimous voice of the assembled 
 company, into the tap-room chair, in which honourable post he 
 acquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of the gentlemen- 
 frequenters, that their roars of laughter and approbation penetrated 
 to Mr. Pickwick's bedroom, and shortened the term of his natural 
 rest by at least three hours. 
 
 Early on the ensuing morning, Mr. Weller was dispelling all the 
 feverish remains of the previous evening's conviviality, through the 
 instrumentality of a halfpenny shower-bath (having induced a young 
 gentleman attached to the stable-department, by the offer of that 
 coin, to pump over his head and face, until he was perfectly restored), 
 when he was attracted by the appearance of a young fellow in 
 mulberry-coloured livery, who was sitting on a bench in the yard, 
 reading what appeared to be a hymn-book, with an air of deep 
 abstraction, but who occasionally stole a glance at the individual 
 under the pump, as if he took some interest in his proceedings, 
 nevertheless. 
 
 ' You're a rum 'un to look at, you are ! ' thought Mr. Weller, the 
 first time his eyes encountered the glance of the stranger in the 
 mulberry suit: who had a large, sallow, ugly face, very sunken 
 eyes, and a gigantic head, from which depended a quantity of lank 
 black hair. ' You're a rum 'un ! ' thought Mr. Weller ; and thinking 
 this, he went on washing himself, and thought no more about him. 
 
 Still the man kept glancing from his hymn-book to Sam, and from 
 Sam to his hymn-book, as if he wanted to open a conversation. 
 So at last, Sam, by way of giving him an opportunity, said with a 
 familiar nod — 
 
 ' How are you, governor ? ' 
 
 ' I am happy to say, I am pretty well, sir,' said the man, speaking 
 with great deliberation, and closing the book. ' I hope you are the 
 same, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why, if I felt less like a walking brandy-bottle, I shouldn't be 
 quite so staggery this momin',' replied Sam. ' Are you stoppin' in 
 this house, old 'un ? ' ^'^ 
 
 The mulberry man replied in the affirmative. 
 
MR. JOB TROTTER TREATED i8i 
 
 ' How was it, you wom't one of us, last night ? ' inquired Sam, 
 scrubbing his face with the towel. ' You seem one of the jolly sort 
 — looks as conwivial as a live trout in a lime basket,' added Mr. 
 Weller, in an under tone. 
 
 ' I was out last night, with my master,' replied the stranger. 
 
 ' What's his name ? ' inquired Mr. Weller, colouring up very red 
 with sudden excitement, and the friction of the towel combined. 
 
 ' Fitz-Marshall,' said the mulberry man. 
 
 ' Give us your hand,' said Mr. Weller, advancing ; ' I should like 
 to know you. I like your appearance, old fellow.' 
 
 ' Well, that is very strange,' said the mulberry man, with great 
 simplicity of manner. ' I like your's so much, that I wanted to 
 speak to you, from the very first moment I saw you under the 
 pump.' 
 
 ' Did you though ? ' 
 
 ' Upon my word. Now, isn't that curious ? ' 
 
 ' Wery sing'ler,' said Sam, inwardly congratulating himself upon 
 the softness of the stranger. 'What's your name, my patriarch ? ' 
 
 ' Job.' 
 
 ' And a wery good name it is — only one I know, that ain't got a 
 nickname to it. What's the other name ? ' 
 
 ' Trotter,' said the stranger. ' What is yours ! ' 
 
 Sam bore in mind his master's caution, and replied, 
 
 ' My name's Walker ; my master's name's Wilkins. Will you 
 take a drop o' somethin' this mornin', Mr. Trotter ? ' 
 
 Mr. Trotter acquiesced in this agreeable proposal : and having 
 deposited his book in his coat-pocket, accompanied Mr. Weller to 
 the tap, where they were soon occupied in discussing an exhilarating 
 compound, formed by mixing together, in a pewter vessel, certain 
 quantities of British Hollands, and the fragrant essence of the clove. 
 
 ' And what sort of a place have you got ? ' inquired Sam, as he 
 filled his companion's glass, for the second time. 
 
 ' Bad,' said Job, smacking his lips, ' very bad.' 
 
 ' You don't mean that ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' I do, indeed. Worse than that, my master's gomg to be married.' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Yes ; and worse than that, too, he's going to run away with an 
 immense rich heiress, from boarding-school.' 
 
 ' What a dragon ! ' said Sam, refilling his companion's glass. ' It's 
 some boarding-school in this town, I suppose, a'nt it ? ' 
 
 Now, although this question was put in the most careless tone 
 imaginable, Mr. Job Trotter plainly showed by gestures, that he 
 perceived his new friend's anxiety to draw forth an answer to it. 
 He emptied his glass, looked mysteriously at his companion, 
 winked both of his small eyes, one after the other, and finally made 
 a motion with his arm, as if he were working an imaginary 
 
i82 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 pump-handle : thereby intimating that he (Mr. Trotter) considered 
 himself as undergoing the process of being pumped, by Mr. Samuel 
 Waller. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Mr. Trotter, in conclusion, ' that's not to be told 
 to everybody. That is a secret — a great secret, Mr. Walker.' 
 
 As the mulberry man said this, he turned his glass upside down, 
 as a means of reminding his companion that he had nothing left 
 wherewith to slake his thirst. Sam observed the hint ; and feeling 
 the delicate manner in which it was conveyed, ordered the pewter 
 vessel to-be refilled, whereat the small eyes of the mulberry man 
 glistened. 
 
 ' And so it's a secret ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' I should rather suspect it was,' said the mulberry, man, sipping 
 his liquor, with a complacent face. 
 
 ' I suppose your mas'r 's wery rich ? ' said Sam. 
 
 Mr. Trotter smiled, and holding his glass in his left hand, gave 
 four distinct slaps on the pocket of his mulberry indescribables with 
 his right, as if to intimate that his master might have done the same 
 without alarming anybody much by the chinking of coin. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' that's the game, is it ? ' 
 
 The mulberry man nodded significantly. 
 
 ' Well, and don't you think, old feller,' remonstrated Mr. Weller, 
 ' that if you let your master take in this here young lady, you're a 
 precious rascal ? ' 
 
 ' I know that,' said Job Trotter, turning upon his companion a 
 countenance of deep contrition, and groaning slightly. ' I know 
 that, and that's what it is that preys upon my mind. But what am 
 I to do ? ' 
 
 ' Do ! ' said Sam ; ' di-wulge to the missis, and give up your 
 master.' 
 
 ' Who'd believe me ? ' replied Job Trotter. ' The young lady's 
 considered the very picture of innocence and discretion. She'd 
 deny it, and so would my master. Who'd believe me ? I should 
 lose my place, and get indicted for a conspiracy, or some such 
 thing ; that's all I should take by my motion.' 
 
 ' There's somethin' in that,' said Sam, ruminating ; " there's some- 
 thin' in that.' 
 
 ' If I knew any respectable gentleman who would take the matter 
 up,' continued Mr. Trotter, ' I might have some hope of preventing 
 the elopement ; but there's the same diflSculty, Mr. Walker, just the 
 same. I know no gentleman in this strange place, and ten to one 
 if I did, whether he would believe my story.' 
 
 ' Come this way,' said Sam, suddenly jumping up, and grasping 
 the mulberry man by the arm. ' My nias'r 's the man you want, I 
 see.' And after a slight resistance on the part of Job Trotter, Sam 
 led his newly-foynd friend to the apartment of Mr. Pickwick, to 
 
MR. TROTTER PENITENT 183 
 
 vvhom he presented him, together with a brief summary of the 
 dialogue we have just repeated. 
 
 ' I am very sorry to betray my master, sir,' said Job Trotter, 
 applying to his eyes a pink checked pocket handkerchief about six 
 inches square. 
 
 'The feeling does you a great deal of honour,' replied Mr. 
 Pickwick j ' but it is your duty, nevertheless.' 
 
 ' I know it is my duty, sir,' replied Job, with great emotion. 
 'We should all try to discharge our duty, sir, and I humbly 
 endeavour to discharge mine, sir ; but it is a hard trial to betray a 
 master, sir, whose clothes you wear, and whose bread you eat, even 
 though he is a scoundrel, sir.' 
 
 ' You are a very good fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, much aifected, 
 ' an honest fellow.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' interposed Sam, who had witnessed Mr. Trotter's 
 tears with considerable impatience, 'blow this here water-cart 
 bis'ness. It won't do no good, this won't.' 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, reproachfully, ' I am sorry to find that 
 you have so little respect for this young man's feelings.' 
 
 ' His feelins is all wery well, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' and as 
 they're so wery fine, and it's a pity he should lose 'em, I think he'd 
 better keep 'em in his own buzzum, than let 'em ewaporate in hot 
 water, 'specially as they do no good. Tears never yet wound up a 
 clock, or worked a steam ingen'. The next time you go out to a 
 smoking party, young fellow, fill your pipe with that 'ere reflection ; 
 and for the present just put that bit of pink gingham into your 
 pocket. 'T'an't so handsome that you need keep waving it about, 
 as if you was a tight-rope dancer.' ^ 
 
 ' My man is in the right,' said Mr. Pickwick, accosting Job, 
 ' although his mode of expressing his opinion is somewhat homely, 
 and occasionally incomprehensible.' 
 
 ' He is, sir, very right,' said Mr. Trotter, ' and I will give way no 
 longer.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Now, where is this boarding- 
 school ? ' 
 
 ' It is a large, old, red-brick house, just outside the town, sir,' 
 replied Job Trotter. 
 
 ' And when,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' when is this villainous design 
 to be carried into execution — when is this elopement to take 
 place ? ' 
 
 ' To-night, sir,' replied Job. 
 
 ' To-night ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' This very night, sir,' replied Job Trotter. ' That is what alarms 
 me so much.' 
 
 ' Instant measures must be taken,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I will 
 see the lady who keeps the establishment immediately.' 
 
t84 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said Job, ' but that course of proceeding 
 will never do.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' My master, sir, is a very artful man.' 
 
 ' I know he is,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And he has so wound himself round the old lady's heart, sir,' 
 resumed Job, ' that she would believe nothing to his prejudice, if 
 you went down on your bare knees, and swore it ; especially as you 
 have no proof but the word of a servant, who, for anything she 
 knows (and my master would be sure to say so), was discharged for 
 some fault, and does this in revenge.' 
 
 ' What had better be done, then ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Nothing but taking him in the very fact of eloping, will convince 
 the old lady, sir,' replied Job. 
 
 ' All them old cats will run their heads agin mile-stones,' 
 observed Mr. Weller in a parenthesis. 
 
 ' But this taking him in the very act of elopement, would be a 
 very ditScult thing to accomplish, I fear,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I don't know, sir,' said Mr. Trotter, after a few moments' 
 reflection. ' I think it might be very easily done.' 
 
 ' How ? ' was Mr. Pickwick's inquiry. 
 
 ' Why,' replied Mr. Trotter, ' my master and I, being in the 
 confidence of the two servants, will be secreted in the kitchen at 
 ten o'clock. When the family have retired to rest, we shall come 
 out of the kitchen, and the young lady out of her bed-room. A 
 post-chaise will be waiting, and away we go.' 
 
 'Well?' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were in waiting in 
 the garden behind, alone — ' 
 
 ' Alone,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Why alone ? ' 
 
 ' I thought it very natural,' replied Job, ' that the old lady 
 wouldn't like such an unpleasant discovery to be made before more 
 persons than can possibly be helped. The young lady too, sir — 
 consider her feelings.' 
 
 ' You are very right,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' The consideration 
 evinces your deUcacy of feeling. Go on ; you are very right.' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were waiting in the 
 back garden alone, and I was to let you in, at the door which opens 
 into it, from the end of the passage, at exactly half-past eleven 
 o'clock, you would be just in the very moment of time to assist 
 me in frustrating the designs of this bad man, by whom I 
 have been unfortunately ensnared.' Here Mr. Trotter sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 ' Don't distress yourself on that account,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' if 
 he had one grain of the delicacy of feeling which distinguishes you, 
 humble as your station is, I should have some hopes of him.' 
 
A COUNTERPLOT 185 
 
 Job Trotter bowed low; and in spite of Mr. Weller's previous 
 remonstrance, the tears again rose to his eyes. 
 
 ' I never see such a feller,' said Sam. ' Blessed if I don't think 
 he's got a main in his head as is always turned on.' 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great severity. ' Hold your 
 tongue.' 
 
 ' Werry well, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I don't like this plan,' said Mr. Pickwick, after deep meditation. 
 ' Why carmot I communicate with the young lady's friends ? ' 
 
 ' Because they live one hundred miles from here, sir,' responded 
 Job Trotter. 
 
 ' That's a clincher,' said Mr. Weller, aside. 
 
 ' Then this garden,' resumed Mr. Pickwick. ' How am I to get 
 into it ? ' 
 
 ' The wall is very low, sir, and your servant will give you a leg up.' 
 
 ' My servant will give me a leg up,' repeated Mr. Pickwick, 
 mechanically. 'You will be sure to be near this door that you 
 speak of? ' 
 
 ' You cannot mistake it, sir ; it's the only one that opens into the 
 garden. Tap at it when you hear the clock strike, and I will open 
 it instantly.' 
 
 ' I don't like the plan,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' but as I see no 
 other, and as the happiness of this young lady's whole life is at 
 stake, I adopt it. I shall be sure to be there.' 
 
 Thus, for the second time, did Mr. Pickwick's innate good-feeling 
 involve him in an enterprise from which he would most willingly 
 have stood aloof. 
 
 ' What is the name of the house ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Westgate House, sir. You turn a little to the right when you 
 get to the end of the town ; it stands by itself, some little distance 
 oflf the high road, with the name on a brass plate on the gate.' 
 
 'I know it,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I observed it once before, 
 when I was in this town. You may depend upon me.' 
 
 Mr. Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when Mr. 
 Pickwick thrust a guinea into his hand. 
 
 'You're a fine fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'and I admire your 
 goodness of heart. No thanks. Remember — eleven o'clock.' 
 
 ' There is no fear of my forgetting it, sir,' replied Job Trotter. 
 With these words he left the room, followed by Sam. 
 
 ' I say,' said the latter, ' not a bad notion that 'ere crying. I'd 
 cry like a rain-water spout in a shower on such good terms. How 
 do you do it ? ' 
 
 ' It comes from the heart, Mr. Walker,' replied Job, solemnly. 
 ' Good morning, sir.' 
 
 ' You're a soft customer, you are ; — we've got it all out o' you, 
 any how,' thought Mr. Weller, as Job walked away. 
 
i86 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 We cannot state the precise nature of the thoughts which passed 
 through Mr. Trotter's mind, because we don't know what they were. 
 
 The day wore on, evening came, and a little before ten o'clock 
 Sam Weller reported that Mr. Jingle and Job had gone out together, 
 that their luggage was packed up, and that they had ordered a 
 chaise. The plot was evidently in execution, as Mr. Trotter had 
 foretold. 
 
 Half-past ten o'clock arrived, and it was time for Mr. Pickwick 
 to issue forth on his delicate errand. Resisting Sam's tender of his 
 great-coat, in order that he might have no incumbrance in scaling 
 the wall, he set forth, followed by his attendant. 
 
 There was a bright moon, but it was behind the clouds. It was 
 a fine dry night, but it was most uncommonly dark. Paths, hedges, 
 fields, houses, and trees, were enveloped in one deep shade. The 
 atmosphere was hot and sultry, the summer lightning quivered 
 faintly on the verge of the horizon, and was the only sight that 
 varied the dull gloom in which everything was wrapped — sound 
 there was none, except the distant barking of some restless 
 house-dog. 
 
 They found the house, read the brass-plate, walked round the 
 wall, and stopped at that portion of it which divided them from the 
 bottom of the garden. 
 
 'You will return to the inn, Sam, when you have assisted me 
 over,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Very well, sir.' 
 
 ' And you will sit up, 'till I return.' 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir.' 
 
 ' Take hold of my leg ; and, when I say " Over," raise me 
 gently.' 
 
 ' All right, sir.' 
 
 Having settled these preliminaries, Mr. Pickwick grasped the top 
 of the wall, and gave the word ' Over,' which was very literally 
 obeyed. Whether his body partook in some degree of the elasticity 
 of his mind, or whether Mr. Weller's notions of a gentle push were 
 of a somewhat rougher description than Mr. Pickwick's, the imme- 
 diate effect of his assistance was to jerk that immortal gentleman 
 completely over the wall on to the bed beneath, where, after 
 crushing three gooseberry-bushes and a rose-tree, he finally alighted 
 at full length. 
 
 'You ha'n't hurt yourself, I hope, sir?' said Sam, in a loud 
 whisper, as soon as he recovered from the surprise consequent upon 
 the mysterious disappearance of his master. 
 
 ' I have not hurt myself, Sam, certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 from the other side of the wall, ' but I rather think that you have 
 hurt me.' 
 
 '■ I hope not, sir,' said Sam, 
 
MR. PICKWICK IN AMBUSH 187 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Mr. Pickwick, rising, ' it's nothing but a few 
 scratches. Go away, or we shall be overheard.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, sir.' 
 
 ' Good-bye.' 
 
 With stealthy steps Sam Weller departed, leaving Mr. Pickwick 
 alone in the garden. 
 
 Lights occasionally appeared in the different windows of the 
 house, or glanced from the staircases, as if the inmates were retiring 
 to rest. Not caring to go too near the door, until the appointed 
 time, Mr. Pickwick crouched into an angle of the wall, and awaited 
 its arrival. 
 
 It was a situation which might well have depressed the spirits of 
 many a man. Mr. Pickwick, however, felt neither depression nor 
 misgiving. He knew that his purpose was in the main a good one, 
 and he placed implicit reliance on the high-minded Job. It was 
 dull, certainly ; not to say, dreary ; but a contemplative man can 
 always employ himself in meditation. Mr. Pickwick had meditated 
 himself into a doze, when he was roused by the chimes of the 
 neighbouring church ringing out the hour — half-past eleven. 
 
 ' That is the time,' thought Mr. Pickwick, getting cautiously on 
 his feet. He looked up at the house. The lights had disappeared, 
 and the shutters were closed — all in bed, no doubt. He walked on 
 tip-toe to the door, and gave a gentle tap. Two or three minutes 
 passing without any reply, he gave another tap rather louder, and 
 then another rather louder than that. 
 
 At length the sound of feet was audible upon the stairs, and then 
 the light of a candle shone through the key-hole of the door. There 
 was a good deal of unchaining and unbolting, and the door was 
 slowly opened. 
 
 Now the door opened outwards : and as the door opened wider 
 and wider, Mr. Pickwick receded behind it, more and more. What 
 was his astonishment when he just peeped out, by way of caution, to 
 see that the person who had opened it was — not Job Trotter, but a 
 servant-girl with a candle in her hand ! Mr. Pickwick drew in his 
 head again, with the swiftness displayed by that admirable melo- 
 dramatic performer. Punch, when he lies in wait for the flat-headed 
 comedian with the tin box of music. 
 
 ' It must have been the cat, Sarah,' said the girl, addressing her- 
 self to some one in the house. ' Puss, puss, puss, — tit, tit, tit.' 
 
 But no animal being decoyed by these blandishments, the girl 
 slowly closed the door, and re-fastened it; leaving Mr. Pickwick 
 drawn up straight against the wall. 
 
 ' This is very curious,' thought Mr. Pickwick. ' They are sitting 
 up beyond their usual hour, I suppose. Extremely unfortunate, 
 that they should have chosen this night, of all others, for such a 
 purpose — exceedingly.' And with these thoughts, Mr. Pickwick 
 
i88 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 cautiously retired to the angle of the wall in which he had been 
 before ensconced ; waiting imtil such time as he might deem it safe 
 to repeat the signal. 
 
 He had not been here five minutes, when a vivid flash of light- 
 ning was followed by a loud peal of thunder that crashed and rolled 
 away in the distance with a terrific noise — then came another flash 
 of lightning, brighter than the other, and a second peal of thunder 
 louder than the first ; and then down came the rain, with a force and 
 fury that swept everything before it. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was perfectly aware that a tree is a very dangerous 
 neighbour in a thunder-storm. He had a tree on his right, a tree 
 on his left, a third before him, and a fourth behind. If he remained 
 where he was, he might fall the victim of an accident ; if he showed 
 himself in the centre of the garden, he might be consigned to a 
 constable ; — once or twice he tried to scale the wall, but having no 
 other legs this time, than those with which Nature had furnished him, 
 the only effect of his struggles was to inflict a variety of very un- 
 pleasant gratings on his knees and shins, and to throw him into a 
 state of the most profuse perspiration. 
 
 ' What a dreadful situation,' said Mr. Pickwick, pausing to wipe 
 his brow after this exercise. He looked up at the house — all was 
 dark. They must be gone to bed now. He would try the signal 
 again. 
 
 He walked on tip-toe across the moist gravel, and tapped at the 
 door. He held his breath, and listened at the key-hole. No reply : 
 very odd. Another knock. He listened again. There was a low 
 whispering inside, and then a voice cried — 
 
 'Who's there?' 
 
 ' That's not Job,' thought Mr. Pickwick, hastily drawing himself 
 straight up against the wall again. ' It's a woman.' 
 
 He had scarcely had time to form this conclusion, when a window 
 above stairs was thrown up, and three or four female voices repeated 
 the query — ' Who's there ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick dared not move hand or foot. It was clear that the 
 whole establishment was roused. He made up his mind to remain 
 where he was, until the alarm had subsided : and then by a super- 
 natural efifort, to get over the wall, or perish in the attempt. 
 
 Like all Mr. Pickwick's determinations, this was the best that 
 could be made under the circumstances ; but, unfortunately, it was 
 founded upon the assumption that they would not venture to open 
 the door again. What was his discomfiture, when he heard the 
 cham and bolts withdrawn, and saw the door slowly opening, wider 
 and wider ! He retreated into the corner, step by step ; but do 
 what he would, the interposition of his own person, prevented its 
 being opened to its utmost width. 
 
 ' Who's there ? ' screamed a numerous chorus of treble voices from 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE DOOR 189 
 
 the staircase inside, consisting of the spinster lady of the establish- 
 ment, three teachers, five female servants, and thirty boarders, all 
 half-dressed, and in a forest of curl-papers. 
 
 Of course Mr. Pickwick didn't say who was there ; and then the 
 burden of the chorus changed into — ' Lor" ! I am so frightened.' 
 
 ' Cook,' said- the lady abbess, who took care to be on the top 
 stair, the very last of the group—' Cook, why don't you go a little 
 way into the garden ? ' 
 
 ' Please, ma'am, I don't like,' responded the cook. 
 
 ' Lor', what a stupid thing that cook is ! ' said the thirty boarders. 
 
 ' Cook,' said the lady abbess, with great dignity ; ' don't answer 
 me, if you please. I insist upon your looking into the garden 
 immediately.' 
 
 Here the cook began to cry, and the house-maid said it was ' a 
 shame ! ' for which partisanship she received a month's warning on 
 the spot. 
 
 ' Do you hear, cook ? ' said the lady abbess, stamping her foot 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' Don't you hear your missis, cook ? ' said the three teachers. 
 
 ' What an impudent thing, that cook is ! ' said the thirty boarders. 
 
 The unfortunate cook, thus strongly urged, advanced a step or 
 two, and holding her candle just where it prevented her from seeing 
 anything at all, declared there was nothing there, and it must have 
 been the wind. The door was just going to be closed in conse- 
 quence, when an inquisitive boarder, who had been peeping between 
 the hinges, set up a fearful screaming, which called back the 
 cook and the housemaid, and all the more adventurous, in no 
 time. 
 
 ' What is the matter with Miss Smithers ? ' said the lady abbess, 
 as the aforesaid Miss Smithers proceeded to go into hysterics of 
 four young lady power. 
 
 ' Lor", Miss Smithers dear,' said the other nine-and-twenty 
 boarders. 
 
 'Oh, the man — the man — behind the door!' screamed Miss 
 Smithers. 
 
 The lady abbess no sooner heard this appalling cry, than she 
 retreated to her own bed-room, double-locked the door, and fainted 
 away comfortably. The boarders, and the teachers, and the 
 servants, fell back upon the stairs, and upon each other; and 
 never was such a screaming, and fainting, and struggling, beheld. 
 In the midst of the tumult Mr. Pickwick emerged from his con- 
 cealment, and presented himself amongst them. 
 
 ' Ladies — dear ladies,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, he says we're dear,' cried the oldest and ugliest teacher. 
 ' Oh, the wretch ! ' 
 
 ' Ladies,' roared Mr. Pickwick, rendered desperate by the danger 
 
I go THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 of his situation. ' Hear me. I am no robber. I want the lady 
 of the house.' 
 
 ' Oh, what a ferocious monster ! ' screamed another teacher. 
 ' He wants Miss Tomkins.' 
 
 Here there was a general scream. 
 
 ' Ring the alarm bell, somebody ! ' cried a dozen Voices. 
 
 'Don't — don't,' shouted Mr. Pickwick. 'Look at me. Do I 
 look like a robber ! My dear ladies — you may bind me hand and 
 leg, or lock me up in a closet, if you hke. Only hear what I 
 have got to say — only hear me.' 
 
 ' How did you come in our garden ? ' faltered the housemaid. 
 
 ' Call the lady of the house, and I'll tell her everything— -every- 
 thing : ' said Mr. Pickwick, exerting his lungs to the utmost pitch. 
 ' Call her — only be quiet, and call her, and you shall hear every- 
 thing.' 
 
 It might have been Mr. Pickwick's appearance, or it might have 
 been his manner, or it might have been the temptaticMi-^irresistible 
 to a female mind — of hearing something at present enveloped: -in 
 mystery, that reduced the more reasonable portion of the establish- 
 ment (some four individuals) to a state of comparative quiet. By 
 them it was proposed, as a test of Mr. Pickwick's sincerity, that 
 he should immediately submit to personal restraint; and that 
 gentleman having consented to hold a conference with Miss 
 Tomkins, from the interior of a closet in which the day boarders 
 hung their bonnets and sandwich-bags, he at once stepped into it 
 of his own accord, and was securely locked in. This revived the 
 others; and Miss Tomkins having been brought to, and brought 
 down, the conference began. 
 
 ' What did you do in my garden, Man ? ' said Miss Tomkins, in 
 a faint voice. 
 
 ' I came to warn you, that one of your young ladies was going 
 to elope to-night,' replied Mr. Pickwick, from the interior of the 
 closet. 
 
 ' Elope ! ' exclaimed Miss Tomkins, the three teachers, the thirty 
 boarders, and the five servants. ' Who with ? ' 
 
 ' Your friend, Mr. Charles Fitz-MarshalL' 
 
 ' My friend ! I don't know any such person.' 
 
 ' Well ; Mr. Jingle, then.' 
 
 ' I never heard the name in my life.' 
 
 ' Then, I have been deceived, and deluded,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' I have been the victim of a conspiracy — a foul and base con- 
 spiracy. Send to the Angel, my dear ma'am, if you don't believe 
 me. Send to the Angel for Mr. Pickwick's man-servant, I implore 
 you, ma'am.' 
 
 ' He must be respectable — ^he keeps a man-servant,' said Miss 
 Tomkins to the writing and ciphering governess, 
 

 ■>^- 
 
 ?J. 
 
RELEASE OF MR. PICKWICK 191 
 
 ' It's my opinion, Miss Tomkins,' said the writing and ciphering 
 governess, ' that his man-servant keeps him. / think he's a mad- 
 man, Miss Tomkins, and the other's his keeper.' 
 
 ' I think you are very right, Miss G^^ynn,' responded Miss 
 Tomkins. ' Let two of the servants repair to the Angel, and let 
 the others remain here, to protect us.' 
 
 So two of the servants were despatched to the Angel in search 
 of Mr. Samuel Weller : and the remaining three stopped behind 
 to protect Miss Tomkins, and the three teachers, and the thirty 
 boarders. And Mr. Pickwick sat down in the closet, beneath 
 a grove of sandwich bags, and awaited the return of the messengers, 
 with all the philosophy and fortitude he could summon to his aid. 
 
 An hour and a half elapsed before they came back, and when 
 they did come, Mr. Pickwick recognised, in addition to the voice 
 of Mr. Samuel Weller, two other voices, the tones of which struck 
 familiarly on his ear ; but whose they were, he could not for the 
 life of him call to mind. 
 
 A very brief conversation ensued. The door was unlocked. 
 Mr. Pickwick stepped out of the closet, and found himself in the 
 presence of the whole establishment of Westgate House, Mr. 
 Samuel Weller, and — old Wardle, and his destined son-in-law, Mr. 
 Trundle ! 
 
 ' My dear friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, running forward and 
 grasping Wardle's hand, 'my dear friend, pray, for. Heaven's 
 sake, explain to this lady the unfortunate and dreadful situation in 
 which I am placed. You must have heard it from my servant ; 
 say, at all events, my dear fellow, that I am neither a robber nor a 
 madman.' 
 
 ' I have said so, my dear friend. I have said so already,' replied 
 Mr. Wardle, shaking the right hand of his friend, while Mr. Trundle 
 shook the left. 
 
 ' And whoever says, or has said, he is,' interposed Mr. Weller, 
 stepping forward, ' says that which is not the truth, but so far from 
 it, on the contrary, quite the rewerse. And if there's any number 
 o' men on these here premises as has said so, I shall be wery 
 happy to give 'em all a wery convincing proof o' their being 
 mistaken, in this here wery room, if these wery respectable ladies 
 '11 have the goodness to retire, and order 'em up, one at a time.' 
 Having delivered this defiance with great volubility, Mr. Weller 
 struck his open palm emphatically with his clenched fist, and 
 winked pleasantly on Miss Tomkins : the intensity of whose horror 
 at his supposing it within the bounds of possibility that there could 
 be any men on the premises of Westgate . House Establishment for 
 Young Ladies, it is impossible to describe. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's explanation having already been partially made, 
 was soon concluded. But neither in the course of his walk home 
 
192 THE PICKWICK^ CLUB 
 
 with his friends, nor afterwards when seated before a blazing fire 
 at the supper he so much needed, could a single observation be 
 drawn from him. He seemed bewildered and amazed. Once, and 
 only once, he turned round to Mr. M'^ardle, and said 
 
 ' How did you come here ? ' 
 
 ' Trundle and I came down here, for some good shooting on 
 the first,' replied Wardle. ' We arrived to-night, and were 
 astonished to hear from your servant that you were here too. But 
 I am glad you are,' said the old fellow, slapping him on the back. 
 ' I am glad you are. We shall have a jovial party on the first, and 
 we'll give Winkle another chance — eh, old boy ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick made no reply ; he did not even ask after his 
 friends at Dingley Dell, and shortly afterwards retired for the night, 
 desiring Sam to fetch his candle when he rung. 
 
 The bell did ring in due course, and Mr. Weller presented 
 himself. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking out from under the bed-clothes. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, and Mr. Weller snuffed the candle. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick again, as if with a desperate effort. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Weller, once more. 
 
 ' Where is that Trotter ? ' 
 
 ' Job, sir ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Gone, sir.' 
 
 ' With his master, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Friend or master, or whatever he is, he's gone with him,' replied 
 Mr. Weller. ' There's a pair on 'em, sir.' 
 
 ' Jingle suspected my design, and set that fellow on you, with this 
 story, I suppose ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, half choking. 
 
 ' Just that, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' It was all false, of course ? ' 
 
 'All, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Reg'lar do, sir; artful dodge.' 
 
 ' I don't think he'll escape us quite so easily the next time, Sam?' 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I don't think he will, sir.' 
 
 'Whenever I meet that Jingle again, wherever it is,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, raising himself in bed, and indenting his pillow with a 
 tremendous blow, ' I'll inflict personal chastisement on him, in 
 addition to the exposure he so richly merits. I will, or my name 
 is not Pickwick.' 
 
 'And wenever I catches hold o' that there melan-cholly chap 
 with the black hair,' said Sam, ' if I don't bring some real water 
 into his eyes, for once in a way, my name a'nt Weller. Good 
 night, sir ! ' 
 
NATHANIEL PIPKIN 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SHOWING THAT AN ATTACK OF RHEUMATISM, IN SOME CASES, ACTS 
 AS A QUICKENER TO INVENTIVE GENIUS 
 
 The constitution of Mr. Pickwick, though able to sustain a very 
 considerable amount of exertion and fatigue, was not proof against 
 such a combination of attacks as he had undergone on the memorable 
 night, recorded in the last chapter. The process of being washed 
 in the night air, and rough-dried in a closet, is as dangerous as it is 
 peculiar. Mr. Pickwick was laid up with an attack of rheumatism. 
 But although the bodily powers of the great man were thus 
 impaired, his mental energies retained their pristine vigour. His 
 spirits were elastic ; his good humour was restored. Even the 
 vexation consequent upon his recent adventure had vanished from 
 his mind ; and he could join in the hearty laughter which any 
 allusion to it excited in Mr. Wardle, without anger and without 
 embarrassment. Nay, more. During the two days Mr. Pickwick 
 was confined to his bed, Sam was his constant attendant. On the 
 first, he endeavoured to amuse his master by anecdote and 
 conversation ; on the second, Mr. Pickwick demanded his writing- 
 desk, and pen and ink, and was deeply engaged during the whole 
 day. On the third, being able to sit up in his bed-chamber, he 
 despatched his valet with a message, to Mr. Wardle and Mr. Trundle, 
 intimating that if they would take their wine there, that evening, they 
 would greatly oblige him. The invitation was most willingly 
 accepted ; and when they were seated over their wine, Mr. Pickwick 
 with sundry blushes, produced the following little tale, as having 
 been ' edited ' by himself, during his recent indisposition, from his 
 notes of Mr. Weller's unsophisticated recital. 
 
 THE PARISH CLERK 
 
 A TALE OF TRUE LOVE 
 
 ' Once upon a time in a very small country town, at a considerable 
 distance from London, there lived a little man named Nathaniel 
 Pipkin, who was the parish clerk of the litde town, and lived in a 
 little house in the little High Street, within ten minutes' walk of the 
 little church ; and who was to be found every day from nine till 
 four, teaching a litde learning to the litde boys. Nathaniel Pipkin 
 was a harmless, inoffensive, good-natured being, with a turned-up 
 nose, and rather turned-in legs : a cast in his eye, and a halt in his 
 
 o 
 
194 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 gait ; and he divided his time between the church and his school, 
 verily believing that there existed not, on the face of the earth, so 
 clever a man as the curate, so imposing an apartment as the vestry- 
 room, or so well-ordered a seminary as his own. Once, and only 
 once, in his life, Nathaniel Pipkin had seen a bishop — a real bishop, 
 with his arms in lawn sleeves, and his head in a wig. He had seen 
 him walk, and heard him talk, at a confirmation, on which 
 momentous, occasion Nathaniel Pipkin was so overcome with 
 reverence and awe, when the aforesaid bishop laid his hand on his 
 head, that he fainted right clean away, and was borne out of church 
 in the arms of the beadle. 
 
 ' This was a great event, a tremendous era, in Nathaniel Pipkin's 
 life, and it was the only one that had ever occurred to ruffle the 
 smooth current of his quiet existence, when happening one fine 
 afternoon, in a fit of mental abstraction, to raise his eyes from the 
 slate on which he was devising some tremendous problem in com- 
 pound addition for an offending urchin to solve, they suddenly rested 
 on the blooming countenance of Maria Lobbs, the only daughter of 
 old Lobbs, the great saddler over the way. Now, the eyes of 
 Mr. Pipkin had rested on the pretty face of Maria Lobbs many a 
 time and oft before, at church and elsewhere ; but the eyes of 
 Maria Lobbs had never looked so bright, the cheeks of Maria 
 Lobbs had never looked so ruddy, as upon this particular occasion. 
 No wonder then, that Nathaniel Pipkin was unable to take his eyes 
 from the countenance of Miss Lobbs ; no wonder that Miss Lobbs, 
 finding herself stared at by a young man, withdrew her head from 
 the window out of which she had been peeping, and shut the case- 
 ment and pulled down the blind ; no wonder that Nathaniel Pipkin, 
 immediately thereafter, fell upon the young urchin who had previously 
 offended, and cuffed and knocked him about, to his heart's content. 
 All this was very natural, and there's nothing at all to wonder at 
 about it. 
 
 ' It is matter of wonder, though, that any one of Mr. Nathaniel 
 Pipkin's retiring disposition, nervous temperament, and most 
 particularly diminutive income, should from this day forth, have 
 dared to aspire to the hand and heart of the only daughter of the 
 fiery old Lobbs — of old Lobbs the great saddler, who could have 
 bought up the whole village at one stroke of his pen, and never 
 felt the outlay — old Lobbs, who was well known to have heaps of 
 money, invested in the bank at the nearest market town— old Lobbs, 
 who was, reported to have countless and inexhaustible treasures, 
 hoarded up in the little iron safe with the big key-hole, over the 
 chimney-piece in the back parlour— old Lobbs, who it was well 
 known, on festive occasions garnished his board with a real silver 
 tea-pot, cream ewer, and sugar-basin, which he was wont, in the 
 pride of his heart, to boast should be his daughter's property when 
 
A KISSING OF HANDS 195 
 
 she found a man to her mind. I repeat it, to be matter of profound 
 astonishment and intense wonder, that Nathaniel Pipkin shpuld 
 have had the temerity to cast his eyes in this direction. But love 
 is blind : and Nathaniel had a cast in his eye : and perhaps these 
 two circumstances, taken together, prevented his seeing th^ matter 
 in its, proper light. 
 
 ' Now, if old Lobbs had entertained the most remote or distant 
 idea of the state of the affections of Nathaniel Pipkin, he would 
 just have razed the school-room to the ground, or exterminated its 
 master from the surface of the earthj or committed some other out- 
 rage and atrocity of an equally ferocious and violent description ; 
 for he was a terrible old fellow, was Lobbs, when his pride was 
 injured, or his blood was up. Swear ! Such trains of oaths would 
 come rolling and pealing over the way, sometimes, when he was 
 denouncing the idleness of the bony apprentice with the thin legs, 
 that Nathaniel Pipkin would shake in his shoes with horror, and the 
 hair of the pupils' heads would stand on end with fright. 
 
 ' Well ! Day after day, when school was over, and the pupils 
 gone, did Nathaniel Pipkin sit himself down at the front window, 
 and while he feigned to be reading a book, throw sidelong glances 
 over the way in search of the bright eyes of Maria Lobbs ; and he 
 hadn't sat there many days, before the bright eyes appeared at an 
 upper window, apparently deeply engaged in reading too. This 
 was delightful, and gladdening to the heart of Nathaniel Pipkin. 
 It was something to sit there for hours together, and look upon that 
 pretty face when the eyes were cast down ; but when Maria Lobbs 
 began to raise her eyes from her book, and dart their rays in the 
 direction of Nathaniel Pipkin, his delight and admiration were 
 perfectly boundless. At last, one day when he knew old Lobbs 
 was out, Nathaniel Pipkin had the temerity to kiss his hand to 
 Maria Lobbs ; and Maria Lobbs, instead of shutting the window, 
 and pulling down the blind, kissed hers to him, and smiled. Upon 
 which, Nathaniel Pipkin determined, that, come what might, he 
 would develop the state of his feelings, without further delay. 
 
 ' A prettier foot, a gayer heart, a more dimpled face, or a smarter 
 form, never bounded so lightly over the earth they graced, as did 
 those of Maria Lobbs, the old saddler's daughter. There was a 
 roguish twinkle in her sparkling eyes, that would have made its way 
 to far less susceptible bosoms than that of Nathaniel Pipkin ; and 
 there was such a joyous sound in her merry laugh, that the sternest 
 misanthrope must have smiled to hear it. Even old Lobbs himself, 
 in the very height of his ferocity, couldn't resist the coaxing of his 
 pretty daughter; and when she, and her cousin Kate — an arch, 
 impudent-looking, bewitching little person — made a dead set upon 
 the old man together, as, to say the tmth, they very often did, he 
 could have refused them nothing, even had they asked for a portion 
 
196 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 of the countless and inexhaustible treasures, which were hidden 
 from the light, in the iron safe. 
 
 ' Nathaniel Pipkin's heart beat high within him, when he saw this 
 enticing little couple some hundred yards before him one summer's 
 evening, in the very field in which he had many a time strolled 
 about till night-time, and pondered on the beauty of Maria Lobbs. 
 But though he had often thought then, how briskly he would walk 
 up to Maria Lobbs and tell her of his passion if he could only meet 
 her, he felt now that she was unexpectedly before him,^all the blood 
 in his body mounting to his face, manifestly to the great detriment 
 of his legs, which, deprived of their usual portion, trembled beneath 
 him. When they stopped to gather a hedge-flower, or Usten to a 
 bird, Nathaniel Pipkin stopped too, and pretended to be absorbed 
 in meditation, as indeed he really was ; for he was thinking what on 
 earth he should ever do, when they turned back, as they inevitably 
 must in time, and meet him face to face. But though he was afraid 
 to make up to them, he couldn't bear to lose sight of them ; so 
 when they walked faster, he walked faster, when they lingered he 
 lingered, and when they stopped he stopped; and so they might 
 have gone on, until the darkness prevented them, if Kate had not 
 looked slyly back, and encouragingly beckoned Nathaniel to advance. 
 There was something in Kate's manner that was not to be resisted, 
 and so Nathaniel Pipkin complied with the invitation; and after 
 a great deal of blushing on his part, and immoderate laughter on 
 that of the wicked little cousin, Nathaniel Pipkin went down on his 
 knees on the dewy grass, and declared his resolution to remain 
 there for ever, unless he were permitted to rise the accepted lover 
 of Maria Lobbs. Upon this, the merry laughter of Maria Lobbs 
 rang through the calm evening air — without seeming to disturb it, 
 though ; it had such a pleasant sound — and the wicked little cousin 
 laughed more immoderately than before, and Nathaniel Pipkin 
 blushed deeper than ever. At length, Maria Lobbs being more 
 strenuously urged by the love-worn little man, turned away her 
 head, and whispered her cousin to say, or at all events Kate did 
 say, that she felt much honoured by Mr. Pipkin's addresses ; that 
 her hand and heart were at her father's disposal ; but that nobody 
 could be insensible to Mr. Pipkin's merits. As all this was said 
 with much gravity, and as Nathaniel Pipkin walked home with 
 Maria Lobbs, and struggled for a kiss at parting, he went to bed a 
 happy man, and dreamed all night long, of softening old Lobbs, 
 opening the strong box, and marrying Maria. 
 
 ' The next day, Nathaniel Pipkin saw old Lobbs go out upon his 
 old grey pony, and after a great many signs at the window from the 
 wicked little cousin, the object and meaning of. which he could by 
 no means understand, the bony apprentice with the thin legs came 
 over to say that his master wasn't coming home all night, and that 
 
INVITED TO TEA 19V 
 
 the ladies expected Mr. Pipkin to tea, at six o'clock precisely. 
 How the lessons were got through that day, neither Nathaniel 
 Pipkin nor his pupils knew ^ny more than you do ; but they were 
 got through somehow, and, after the boys had gone, Nathaniel 
 Pipkin took till full six o'clock to dress himself to his satisfaction. 
 Not that it took long to select the garments he should wear, inas- 
 much as he had no choice about the matter; but the putting of 
 them on to the best advantage, and the touching of them up pre- 
 viously, was a task of no inconsiderable difficulty or importance. 
 
 ' There was a very snug little party, consisting of Maria Lobbs 
 and her cousin Kate, and three or four romping, good-humoured, 
 rosy-cheeked girls. Nathaniel Pipkin had ocular demonstration of 
 the fact, that the rumours of old Lobbs's treasures were not exag- 
 gerated. There were the real solid silver tea-pot, cream-ewer, and 
 sugar-basin, on the table, and real silver spoons to stir the tea with, 
 and real china cups to drink it out of, and plates of the same, to 
 hold the cakes and toast in. The only eye-sore in the whole place, 
 was another cousin of Maria Lobbs's, and a brother of Kate, whom 
 Maria Lobbs called " Henry," and who seemed to keep Maria 
 Lobbs all to himself, up in one corner of the table. It's a delightful 
 thing to see affection in families, but it may be carried rather too 
 far, and Nathaniel Pipkin could not help thinking that Maria Lobbs 
 must be very particularly fond of her relations, if she paid as much 
 attention to all of them as to this individual cousin. After tea, too, 
 when the wicked little cousin proposed a game at blind man's buff, 
 it somehow or other happened that Nathaniel Pipkin was nearly 
 always blind, and whenever he laid his hand upon the male cousin, 
 he was sure to find that Maria Lobbs was not far off. And though 
 the wicked little cousin and the other girls pinched him, and pulled 
 his hair, and pushed chairs in his way, and all sorts of things, Maria 
 Lobbs never seemed to come near him at all ; and once — once — 
 Nathaniel Pipkin could have sworn he heard the sound of a kiss, 
 followed by a faint remonstrance from Maria Lobbs, and a half- 
 suppressed laugh from her female friends. All this was odd — very 
 odd — and there is no saying what Nathaniel Pipkin might or might 
 not have done, in consequence, if his thoughts had not been sud- 
 denly directed into a new channel. 
 
 ' The circumstance which directed his thoughts into a new 
 channel was a loud knocking at the street-door, and the person who 
 made this loud knocking at the street-door, was no other than old 
 Lobbs himself, who had unexpectedly returned, and was hammering 
 away like a coffin-maker : for he wanted his supper. The alarming 
 intelligence was no sooner communicated by the bony apprentice 
 with the thin legs, than the girls tripped up-stairs to Maria Lobbs's 
 bed-room, and the male cousin and Nathaniel Pipkin were thrust 
 into a couple of closets in the sitting-room, for want of any better 
 
rgS ■ THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 places of concealment ; and when Maria Lobbs and the wicked little 
 cousin had stowed them away, and put the room to rights, they 
 opened the street door to old Lobbs, who had never left off knock- 
 ing since he first began. 
 
 'Now it did unfortunately happen that old Lobbs being very 
 hungry was monstrous cross. Nathaniel Pipkin could hear him 
 growling away like an old mastiff with a sore throat ; and whenever 
 the unfortunate apprentice with the thin legs came into the room, 
 so surely did old Lobbs commence swearing at him in a most 
 Saracenic and ferocious manner, though apparently with no other 
 end or object than that of easing his bosom by the discharge of a 
 few superfluous oaths. At length some supper, which had been 
 warming up, was placed on the table, and then old Lobbs fell to, 
 in regular style ; and having made clear work of it in no time, kissed 
 his daughter, and demanded his pipe. 
 
 ' Nature had placed Nathaniel Pipkin's knees in very close juxta- 
 position, but when he heard old Lobbs demand his pipe, they 
 knocked together, as if they were going to reduce each other to 
 powder ; for, depending from a couple of hooks, in the very closet 
 in which he stood, was a large brown-stemmed, silver-bowled pipe, 
 which pipe he himself had seen in the mouth of old Lobbs, regularly 
 every afternoon and evening, for the last five years. The two girls 
 went down-stairs for the pipe, and up-stairs for the pipe, and every- 
 where but where they knew the pipe was, and old Lobbs stormed 
 away meanwhile, in the most wonderful manner. At last he thought 
 of the closet, and walked up to it. It was of no use a little man 
 like Nathaniel Pipkin pulling the door inwards when a great strong 
 fellow like old Lobbs was pulling it outwards. Old Lobbs gave it 
 one tug and open it flew, disclosing Nathaniel Pipkin standing bolt 
 upright inside, and shaking with apprehension from head to foot. 
 Bless us ! what an appalling look old Lobbs gave him, as he dragged 
 him out by the collar, and held him at arm's length. 
 
 ' " Why, what the devil do you want here ? " said old Lobbs, in 
 a fearfiil voice. 
 
 ' Nathaniel Pipkin could make no reply, so old Lobbs shook 
 him backwards and forwards, for two or three minutes, by way of 
 arranging his ideas for him. 
 
 ' " What do you want here ? " roared Lobbs, " I suppose you have 
 come after my daughter, now ? " 
 
 ' Old Lobbs merely said this as a sneer : for he did not believe 
 that mortal presumption could have carried Nathaniel Pipkin so 
 far. What was his indignation, when that poor man replied : 
 
 ' " Yes, I did, Mr. Lobbs. I did come after your daughter. 1 
 love her, Mr. Lobbs." 
 
 • "Why, you snivelling, wry-faced, puny villain," gasped old 
 Lobbs, paralysed by the atrocious confession ; " what do you 
 
TERRIBLE OLD LOBBS 199 
 
 mean by that ? Say this to my face ! Damme, I'll throttle 
 you ! " 
 
 ' It is by no means improbable that old Lobbs would have carried 
 this threat into execution, in the excess of his rage, if his arm had 
 not been stayed by a very unexpected apparition, to wit, the male 
 cousin, who, stepping out of his closet, and walking up to old Lobbs, 
 said: 
 
 ' " I cannot allow this harmless person, sir, who has been asked 
 here in some girlish frolic, to take upon himself, in a very noble 
 manner, the fault (if fault it is) which I am guilty of, and am ready 
 to avow. / love your daughter, sir ; and / am here for the purpose 
 of meeting her." 
 
 ' Old Lobbs opened his eyes very wide at this, but not wider than 
 Nathaniel Pipkin. 
 
 ' " You did ? " said Lobbs : at last finding breath to speak. 
 
 ' « I did." 
 
 ' " And I forbade you this house, long ago." 
 
 ' " You did, or I should not have been here, clandestinely, 
 to-night." 
 
 ' I am sorry to record it, of old Lobbs, but I think he would 
 have struck the cousin, if his pretty daughter, with her bright eyes 
 swimming in tears, had not clung to his arm. 
 
 ' " Don't stop him, Maria," said the young man : " if he has the 
 will to strike me, let him. I would not hiut a hair of his grey head, 
 for the riches of the world." 
 
 ' The old man cast down his eyes at this reproof, and they met 
 those of his daughter. I have hinted once or twice before, that 
 they were very bright eyes, and, though they were tearful now, their 
 influence was by no means lessened. Old Lobbs turned his head 
 away, as if to avoid being persuaded by them, when, as fortune 
 would have it, he encountered the face of the wicked little cousin, 
 who, half afraid for her brother, and half laughing at Nathaniel 
 Pipkin, presented as bewitching an expression of countenance, with 
 a touch of shyness in it too, as any man, old or young, need look 
 upon. She drew her arm coaxingly through the old man's, and 
 whispered something in his ear ; and do what he would, old Lobbs 
 couldn't help breaking out into a smile, while a tear stole down his 
 cheek at the same time. 
 
 ' Five minutes after this, the girls were brought down from the 
 bed-room with a great deal of giggling and modesty ; and while the 
 young people were making themselves perfectly happy, old Lobbs 
 got down the pipe, and smoked it : and it was a remarkable circum- 
 stance about that particular pipe of tobacco, that it was the most 
 soothing and delightful one he ever smoked. 
 
 ■' Nathaniel Pipkin thought it best to keep his own counsel, and 
 by so doing gradually rose into high favour with old Lobbs, who 
 
200 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 taught him to smoke in time ; and aiey used to sit out in the garden 
 on the fine evenings, for many years afterwards, smoking and drink- 
 ing in great state. He soon recovered the effects of his attachment, 
 for we find his name in the parish register, as a witness to the 
 marriage of Maria Lobbs to her cousin; and it also appears, by 
 reference to other documents, that on the night of the wedding he 
 was incarcerated in the village cage, for having, in a state of extreme 
 intoxication, committed sundry excesses in the streets, in all of 
 which he was aided and abetted by the bony apprentice with the 
 thin legs.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 BRIEFLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF TWO POINTS ; FIRST, THE POWER OF 
 
 HYSTERICS, AND, SECONDLY, THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES 
 
 For two days after the breakfast at Mrs. Hunter's the Pickwickians 
 remained at Eatanswill, anxiously awaiting the arrival of some 
 intelligence from their revered leader. Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Snodgrass were once again left to their own means of amusement ; 
 for Mr. Winkle, in compliance with a most pressing invitation, 
 continued to reside at Mr. Pott's house, and to devote his time 
 to the companionship of his amiable lady. Nor was the occasional 
 society of Mr. Pott himself, wanting to complete their felicity. 
 Deeply immersed in the intensity of his speculations for the public 
 weal and the destruction of the Independent, it was not the habit 
 of that great man to descend from his mental pinnacle to the 
 'humble level of ordinary minds. On this occasion, however, and 
 as if expressly in compliment to any follower of Mr. Pickwick's, 
 he unbent, relaxed, stepped down from his pedestal, and walked 
 upon the ground : benignly adapting his remarks to the com- 
 prehension of the herd, and seeming in outward form, if not in 
 spirit, to be one of them. 
 
 Such having been the demeanour of this celebrated public 
 character towards Mr. Winkle, it will be readily imagined that 
 considerable surprise was depicted on the countenance of the 
 latter gentleman, when, as he was sitting alone in the breakfast- 
 room, the door was hastily thrown open, and as hastily closed, 
 on the entrance of Mr. Pott, who, stalking majestically towards 
 him, and thrusting aside his proffered hand, ground his teeth, as 
 if to put a sharper edge on what he was about to utter, and 
 exclaimed, in a saw-like voice, — 
 
 ' Serpent ! ' 
 
 ' Sir ! ' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, starting from his chair. 
 
DOMESTIC UNHAPPINESS 201 
 
 'Serpent, sir,' repeated Mr. Pott, raising his voice, and then 
 suddenly depressing it ; ' I said. Serpent, sir — make the most of it.' 
 
 When you have parted with a man, at two o'clock in the morning, 
 on terms of the utmost good fellowship, and he meets you again, 
 at half-past nine, and greets you as a serpent, it is not unreasonable 
 to conclude that something of an unpleasant nature has occurred 
 meanwhile. So Mr. Winkle thought. He returned Mr. Pott's 
 gaze of stone, and in compliance with that gentleman's request, 
 proceeded to make the most he could of the ' serpent.' The most, 
 however, was nothing at all; so,. after a profound silence of some 
 minutes' duration, he said, — 
 
 ' Serpent, sir ! Serpent, Mr. Pott ! What can you mean, sir ? — 
 this is pleasantry.' 
 
 ' Pleasantry, sir ! ' exclaimed Pott, with a motion of the hand, 
 indicative of a strong desire to hurl the Britannia metal tea-pot 
 
 at the head of his visitor. ' Pleasantry, sir ! but no, I will be 
 
 calm ; I will be calm, sir ; ' in proof of his calmness, Mr. Pott flung 
 himself into a chair, and foamed at the mouth. 
 
 ' My dear sir,' interposed Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Dear sir ! ' replied Pott. ' How dare you address me, as dear 
 sir, sir ? How dare you look me in the face and do it, sir ? ' 
 
 'Well, sir, if you come to that,' responded Mr. Winkle, 'how 
 dare you look me in the face, and call me a serpent, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Because you are one,' replied Mr. Pott. 
 
 ' Prove it, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, warmly. ' Prove it.' 
 
 A malignant scowl passed over the profound face of the editor, 
 as he drew from his pocket, the Independent of that morning ; and 
 laying his finger on a particular paragraph, threw the journal across 
 the table to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 That gentleman took it up, and read as follows : — 
 
 ' Our obscure and filthy contemporary, in some disgusting obser- ' 
 vations on the recent election for this borough, has presumed to 
 violate the hallowed sanctity of private life, and to refer, in a 
 manner not to be misunderetood, to the personal affairs of our 
 late candidate — aye, and notwithstanding his base defeat, we will 
 add, our future member, Mr. Fizkin. What does our dastardly 
 contemporary mean? What would the ruffian say, if we, setting 
 at naught, like him, the decencies of social intercourse, were to 
 taise the curtain which happily conceals his private life from 
 general ridicule, not to say from general execration ? What, if we 
 were even to point out, and comment on, facts and circumstances, 
 which are publicly notorious, and beheld by every one, but our 
 mole-eyed contemporary — what if we were to print the following 
 effusion, which we received while we were writing the com- 
 mencement of this article, from a talented fellow-townsman and 
 correspondent ! 
 
202 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 '"LINES TO A BRASS POT 
 
 ' " Oh Pott ! if you'd known 
 How false she'd have grown, 
 When you heard the marriage bells tinkle ; 
 You'd have done then, I vOw, 
 What you cannot help now, 
 And handed her over to W ***** " ' 
 
 'What,' said Mr. Pott, solemnly: 'what rhymes to "tinkle," 
 villain ? ' 
 
 ' What rhymes to tinkle ? ' said Mrs. Pott, whose entrance at the 
 moment forestalled the reply. 'What rhymes to tinkle? Why 
 Winkle, I should conceive : ' saying this, Mrs. Pott smiled sweetly 
 on the disturbed Pickwickian, and extended her hand towards him. 
 The agitated young man would have accepted it, in his confusion, 
 had not Pott indignantly interposed. 
 
 ' Back, ma'am — back ! ' said the editor. ' Take his hand before 
 my very face ! ' 
 
 ' Mr. P. ! ' said his astonished lady. 
 
 ' Wretched woman, look here,' exclaimed the husband. ' Look 
 here, ma'am — " Lines to a brass Pot." " Brass pot ; " — that" s me, 
 ma'am. "False i'^if'd have grown;" — that's you, ma'am — you.' With 
 this ebullition of rage, which was not unaccompanied with something 
 like a tremble, at the expression of his wife's face, Mr. Pott 
 dashed the current number of the Eatanswill Independent at her feet. 
 
 ' Upon my word, sir,' said the astonished Mrs. Pott, stooping to 
 pick up the paper. ' Upon my word, sir ! ' 
 
 Mr. Pott winced beneath the contemptuous gaze of his wife. 
 He had made a desperate struggle to screw up his courage, but it 
 was fast coming unscrewed again. 
 
 There appears nothing very tremendous in this little sentence, 
 ' Upon my word, sir,' when it comes to be read ; but the tone of 
 voice in which it was delivered, and the look that accompanied 
 it, both seeming to bear reference to some revenge to be thereafter 
 visited upon the head of Pott, produced their full effect upon him. 
 The most unskilful observer could have detected in his troubled 
 countenance, a readiness to resign his Wellington boots to any 
 efficient substitute who would have consented to stand in them 
 at that moment. 
 
 Mrs. Pott read the paragraph, uttered a loud shriek, and threw 
 herself at full length on the hearth-rug, screaming, and tapping 
 it with the heels of her shoes, in a manner which could leave no 
 doubt of the propriety of her feelings on the occasion. 
 
 'My dear,' said the petrified Pott, — 'I didn't say I believed 
 
 it; — I ' but the unfortunate man's voice was drowned in the 
 
 screaming of his partner. 
 
ALARMING CONDITION OF MRS. POTT 203 
 
 'Mrs. Pott, let me entreat you, my dear ma'am, to compose 
 yourself,' said Mr. Winkle; but the shrieks and tappings were 
 louder, and more frequent than ever. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Mr. Pott, ' I'm very sorry. If you won't consider 
 your own health, consider me, my dear. We shall have a crowd 
 round the house.' But the more strenuously Mr. Pott entreated, 
 the more vehemently the screams poured forth. 
 
 Very fortunately, however, attached to Mrs. Pott's person was a^ 
 body-guard of one, a young lady whose ostensible employment was 
 to preside over her toilet, but who rendered herself useful in a 
 variety of ways, and in none more so than in the particular depart- 
 ment of constantly aiding and abetting her miistress in every wish 
 and inclination opposed to the desires of the unhappy Pott. The 
 screams reached this young lady's ears in due course, and brought 
 her into the room with a speed which threatened to derange, 
 materially, the very exquisite arrangetheht of her cap and ringlets. 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, dear mistress ! ' exclaimed the body-guard, kneel- 
 ing frantically by the side of the prostrate Mrs. Pott. ' Oh, my 
 dear mistress, what is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' Your master — your brutal master,' murmured the patient. 
 
 Pott was evidently giving way. 
 
 ' It's a shame,' said the body-guard, reproachfully. ' I know be'll 
 be the death of you, ma'am. Poor dear thiilg ! ' 
 
 He gave way more. The opposite party followed up the attack. 
 
 ' Oh don't leave me — don't leave me, Goodwin,' murmured Mrs. 
 Pott, clutching at the wrist of the said Goodwin with an hysteric jerk. 
 ' You're the only person that's kind to me, Goodwin.' 
 
 At this affecting appeal, Goodwin got up a little domestic tragedy 
 of her own, and shed tears copiously. 
 
 ' Never, ma'am — ^never,' said Goodwin. ' Oh, sir, you should be 
 careful — you should indeed ; you don't know what harm you may 
 do missis; you'll be sorry for it one day, I know — I've always 
 said so.' 
 
 The unlucky Pott looked timidly on, but said nothing. 
 
 ' Goodwin,' said Mrs. Pott, in a soft voice. 
 
 ' Ma'am,' said Goodwin. 
 
 ' If you only knew how I have loved that man ' 
 
 ' Don't distress yourself by recollecting it, ma'am,' said the 
 body-guard. 
 
 Pott looked very frightened. It was time to finish him. 
 
 ' And now,' sobbed Mrs. Pott, ' now, after all, to be treated in 
 this way ; to be reproached and insulted in the presence of a third 
 party, and that party almost a stranger. But I will ndt submit to 
 it ! Goodwin,' continued Mrs. Pott, raising herself in the arms of 
 her attendant, ' my brother, the Lieutenant, shall interfere. I'll be 
 separated, Goodwin ! ' 
 
204 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It would certainly serve him right, ma'am,' said Goodwin. 
 
 Whatever thoughts the threat of a separation might have awakened 
 in Mr. Pott's mind, he forebore to give utterance to them, and 
 contented himself by saying, with great humility : 
 
 ' My dear, will you hear me ? ' 
 
 A fresh train of sobs was the only reply, as Mrs. Pott grew more 
 hysterical, requested to be informed why she was ever born, and 
 required sundry other pieces of information of a similar description. 
 
 ' My dear,' remonstrated Mr. Pott, ' do not give way to these 
 sensitive feelings. I never beUeved that the paragraph had any 
 foundation, my dear — impossible. I was only angry, my dear— I 
 may say outrageous — with the Independent people for daring to 
 insert it ; that's all : ' Mr. Pott cast an imploring look at the innocent 
 cause of the mischief, as if to entreat him to say nothing about the 
 serpent. 
 
 ' And what steps, sir, do you mean to take to obtain redress ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Winkle, gaining courage as he saw Pott losing it. 
 
 ' Oh, Goodwin,' observed Mrs. Pott, ' does he mean to horsewhip 
 the editor of the Independent — does he, Goodwin ? ' 
 
 'Hush, hush, ma'am; pray keep yourself quiet,' replied the 
 body-guard. ' I dare say he will, if you wish it, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Pott, as his wife evinced decided symptoms of 
 going off again. ' Of course I shall.' 
 
 ' When, Goodwin — ^when ? ' said Mrs. Pott, still undecided about 
 the going off. 
 
 ' Immediately, of course,' said Mr. Pott ; ' before the day is out' 
 
 ' Oh, Goodwin,' resumed Mrs. Pott, ' it's the only way of meeting 
 the slander, and setting me right with the world.' 
 
 ' Certainly, ma'am,' replied Goodwin. ' No man as is a man, 
 ma'am, could refuse to do it.' 
 
 So, as the hysterics were still hovering about, Mr. Pott said once 
 more that he would do it ; but Mrs. Pott was so overcome at the 
 bare idea of having ever been suspected, that she was half-a-dozen 
 times on the very verge of a relapse, and most unquestionably would 
 have gone off, had it not been for the indefatigable efforts of the 
 assiduous Goodwin, and repeated entreaties for pardon from the 
 conquered Pott ; and finally, when that unhappy individual had 
 been frightened and snubbed down to his proper level, Mrs. Pott 
 recovered, and they went to breakfast 
 
 ' You will not allow this base newspaper slander to shorten your 
 stay here, Mr. Winkle ? ' said Mrs. Pott, smiling through the traces 
 of her tears. 
 
 ' I hope not,' said Mr. Pott, actuated, as he spoke, by a wish that 
 his visitor would choke himself with the morsel of dry toast which 
 he was raising to his lips at the moment : and so terminate his 
 stay effectually. 
 
PICKWICKIAN CONFIDENCES 205 
 
 ' I hope not.' 
 
 ' You are very good,' said Mr. Winkle ; ' but a letter has been 
 received from Mr. Pickwick — so I learn by a note from Mr. 
 Tupman, which was brought up to my bed-room door, this morning 
 — in which he requests us to join him at Bury to-day ; and we are 
 to leave by the coach at noon.' 
 
 ' But you will come back ? ' said Mrs. Pott. 
 
 ' Oh, certainly,' replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' You are quite sure ? ' said Mrs. Pott, stealing a tender look at 
 her visitor. 
 
 ' Quite,' responded Mr. Winkle. 
 
 The breakfast passed off in silence, for each member of the party 
 was brooding over his, or her, own personal grievances. Mrs. Pott 
 was regretting the loss of a beau ; Mr. Pott his rash pledge to 
 horsewhip the Independent; Mr. Winkle his having innocently 
 placed himself in so awkward a situation. Noon approached, and 
 after many adieux and promises to return, he tore himself away. 
 
 ' If he ever comes back, I'll poison him,' thought Mr. Pott, as he 
 turned into the httle back office where he prepared his thunderbolts. 
 
 ' If I ever do come back, and mix myself up with these people 
 again,' thought Mr. Winkle, as he wended his way to the Peacock, 
 ' I shall deserve to be horsewhipped myself — that's all.' 
 
 His friends were ready, the coach was nearly so, and in half-an- 
 hour they were proceeding on their journey, along the road over 
 which Mr. Pickwick and Sam had so recently travelled, and of 
 which, as we have already said something, we do not feel called 
 upon to extract Mr. Snodgrass's poetical and beautiful description. 
 
 Mr. Weller was standing at the door of the Angel, ready to 
 receive them, and by that gentleman they were ushered to the 
 apartment of Mr. Pickwick, where, to the no small surprise of Mr. 
 Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass, and the no small embarrassment of 
 Mr. Tupman, they found old Wardle and Trundle. 
 
 ' How are you ? ' said the old man, grasping Mr. Tupman's hand. 
 ' Don't hang back, or look sentimental about it ; it can't be helped, 
 old fellow. For her sake, I wish you'd had her ; for your own, I'm 
 very glad you have not. A young fellow Uke you will do better one 
 of these days — eh ? ' With this consolation, Wardle slapped Mr. 
 Tupman on the back, and laughed heartily. 
 
 ' Well, and how are you, my fine fellows ? ' said the old gentle- 
 man, shaking hands with Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass at the 
 same time. ' I have just been telling Pickwick that we must have 
 you all down at Christmas. We're going to have a wedding — a 
 real wedding this time.' 
 
 ' A wedding ! ' exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, turning very pale. 
 
 'Yes, a wedding. But don't be frightened,' said the good- 
 humoured old man ; ' it's only Trundle there, and Bella,' 
 
2o6 THE PICKWICK CLUE 
 
 ' Oh, is that all ! ' said Mr. Snodgrass, relieved from a painful 
 doubt which had fallen heavily on his breast. ' Give you joy, sir. 
 How is Joe ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' replied the old gentleman. ' Sleepy as ever.' 
 
 ' And your niother, and the clergyman, and all of 'em ? ' 
 
 ' Quite well.' 
 
 'Where,' said Mr. Tupman, with an effort--' where xs—she, sir?' 
 and he turned away his head, and covered his eyes with his liand. 
 
 ' She I ' said the old gentleman, with a knowing shake of the 
 head. ' Do you mean my single relative — eh ? ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman, by a nod, intimated that his question applied to 
 the disappointed Rachael. 
 
 ' Oh, she's gone away,' said the old geintleman. ' She's livinjg at 
 a relation's, far enough off. She couldn't bear to see the girls, so I 
 let her go. But come ! Here's the dinner. You must be hungry 
 after your ride. / am, without any ride at all ; so let us fall to.' 
 
 Ample justice was done to the meal ; and when they were seated 
 round the table, after it had been disposed of, Mr. Pickwick, to the 
 intense horror and indignation of his followers, related the adven- 
 ture he had undergone, and the success which had attended the 
 base artifices of the diabolical Jingle. 
 
 ' And the attack of rheumatism which I caught in that garden,' 
 said Mr. Pickwick, in conclusion, 'renders me lame at this 
 moment.' 
 
 ' I, too, have had something of an adventure,' said Mr. Winkle, 
 with a smile ; and at the request of Mr. Pickwick he detailed the 
 malicious libel of the Eatanswill Independent, and the consequent 
 excitement of their friend, the editor. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's brow darkened during the recital. His friends 
 observed it, and, when Mr. Winkle had concluded, maintained a 
 profound silence. Mr. Pickwick struck the table emphatically with 
 his clenched fist, and spoke as follows : 
 
 ' Is it not a wonderful circumstance,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that we 
 seem destined to enter no man's house without involving him in 
 some degree of trouble ? Does it not, I ask, bespeak the indiscre- 
 tion, or, worse than that, the blackness of heart — that I should say 
 so ! — of my followers, that, beneath whatever roof they locate, they 
 disturb the peace of mind and happiness of some confiding female ? 
 Is it not, I say- ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick would in all probability have gone on for some 
 time, had not the entrance of Sam, with a letter, caused him to 
 break off in his eloquent discourse. He passed his handkerchief 
 across his forehead, took off his spectacles, wiped them, and put 
 them on again : and his voice had recovered its wonted softness q£ 
 tone when he said : 
 
 ' What have you there, Sam ? 
 
MR. PICKWICK RECEIVES NOTICE OF WRIT 207 
 
 ' Called at the Post-office just now, and found this here letter, as 
 has laid there for two days,' replied Mr. Weller. ' It's sealed with 
 a vafer, and directed in round hand.' 
 
 ' I don't know this hand,' said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. 
 ' Mercy on us ! what's this ? It must be a jest ; it — it — can't be 
 true.' 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' was the general inquiry. 
 
 ' Nobody dead, is there ? ' said Wairdle, alarmed at the horror in 
 Mr. Pickwick's couritenance. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but, pushing the letter across the 
 table, and desiring Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his 
 chair with a look of vacant astonishment quite alarming to behold. 
 
 Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of whicli 
 the following is a copy : — • 
 
 Freematis Courts Cornhill, August 28th, 1830, 
 
 Bar dell against Pickwick. 
 Sir, 
 
 Having been instructed by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence 
 an action against you for a breach of promise of marriage, for which 
 the plaintiff lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to 
 inform you that a writ has been issued against you in this suit in the 
 Court of Common Pleas ; and request to know, by return of post, the 
 name of your attorney in London, who will accept set-vice thereof. 
 
 We are. Sir, 
 
 Your obedient servants, 
 \ Dodson and Fogg. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Pickwick. 
 
 There was something so impressive ih the mute astonishment 
 with which each man regarded his neighbour, and every man 
 regarded Mr. Pickwick, that all seemed afraid to speak. The silence 
 was at length broken by Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Dodson and Fogg,' he repeated mechanically. 
 
 ' Bardell and Pickwick,' said Mr. Snodgrass, musing. 
 
 ' Peace of mind and happiness of confiding females,' murmured 
 Mr. Winkle, with an air of abstraction. 
 
 ' It's a conspiracy,' said Mr. Pickwick, at length recovering the 
 power of speech ; ' a base conspiracy betweien these two 'grasping 
 attorneys, Dodson and Fogg. Mrs. Bardell would never do it ; — ^ 
 she hasn't the heart to do it ; — she hasn't the case to do it. Ridicu- 
 lous — ridiculous.' 
 
 ' Of her heart,' said Wardle, with a smile, ' you should certainly 
 be the best judge. I don't wish to discourage you, but I should 
 certainly say that, of her case, Dodson and Fogg are far better 
 judges than any of us can be.' 
 
2o8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It's a vile attempt to extort money,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' I hope it is,' said Wardle, with a short, dry cough. 
 ' Who ever heard me address her in any way but that in which a 
 lodger would address his landlady ? ' continued Mr. Pickwick, with 
 great vehemence. 'Who ever saw me with her? Not even my 
 
 friends here ' 
 
 ' Except on one occasion,' said Mr. Tupman. 
 Mr. Pickwick changed colour. 
 
 'Ah,' said Mr. Wardle. 'Well, that's important. There was 
 nothing suspicious then, I suppose ? ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman glanced timidly at his leader. 'Why,' said he, 
 ' there was nothing suspicious ; but — I don't know how it happened, 
 mind — she certainly was reclining in his arms.' 
 
 ' Gracious powers ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, as the recollection 
 of the scene in question struck forcibly upon him ; ' what a dreadful 
 instance of the force of circumstances ! So she was — so she was.' 
 
 ' And our friend was soothing her anguish,' said Mr. Winkle, 
 rather maliciously. 
 
 ' So I was,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I won't deny it. So I was.' 
 ' Hallo ! ' said Wardle ; ' for a case in which there's nothing 
 suspicious, this looks rather queer — eh, Pickwick ? Ah, sly dog — 
 sly dog ! ' and he laughed till the glasses on the sideboard rang 
 again. 
 
 ' What a dreadful conjunction of appearances ! ' exclaimed Mr. 
 Pickwick, resting his chin upon his hands. ' Winkle — Tupman — 
 I beg your pardon for the observations I made just now. We are 
 all the victims of circumstances, and I the greatest.' With this 
 apology Mr. Pickwick buried his head in his hands, and ruminated ; 
 while Wardle measured out a regular circle of nods and winks, 
 addressed to the other members of the company. 
 
 ' I'll have it explained, though,' said Mr. Pickwick, raising his 
 head and hammering the table. ' I'll see this Dodson and Fogg ! 
 I'll go to London to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Not to-morrow,' said Wardle ; ' you're too lame.' 
 ' Well, then, next day.' 
 
 ' Next day is the first of September, and you're pledged to ride 
 out with us, as far as Sir Geoffrey Manning's grounds, at all events, 
 and to meet us at lunch, if you don't take the field.' 
 
 ' Well, then, the day after,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' Thursday. — 
 Sam!' 
 
 ' Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Take two places outside to London, on Thursday morning, for 
 yourself and me.' 
 ' Wery well, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Weller left the room, and departed slowly on his «rrand, with 
 his hands in his pocket, and his eyes fixed on the grouhd. 
 
THE SHOOTING PARTY 209 
 
 ' Rum feller, the hemperor,' said Mr. Weller, as he walked slowly up 
 the street. ' Think o' his making up to that ere Mrs. Bardell — vith 
 a little boy, too ! Always the vay vith these here old 'uns hows'ever, 
 as is such steady goers to look at. I didn't thinlc he'd ha' done it, 
 though — I didn't think he'd ha' done it ! ' Moralising in this 
 strain, Mr. Samuel Weller bent his steps towards the booking-office. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A PLEASANT DAY, WITH AN UNPLEASANT TERMINATION 
 
 The birds, who, happily for their own peace of mind and personal 
 comfort, were in blissful ignorance of the preparations which had 
 been making to astonish them, on the first of September, hailed it 
 no doubt, as one of the pleasantest mornings they had seen that 
 season. Many a young partridge who strutted complacently among 
 the stubble, with all the finicking coxcombry of youth, and many an 
 older one who watched his levity out of his little round eye, with 
 the contemptuous air of a bird of wisdom and experience, alike 
 unconscious of their approaching doom, basked in the fresh morning 
 air with lively and blithesome feelings, and a few hours afterwards 
 were laid low upon the earth. But we grow affecting : let us 
 proceed. 
 
 In plain common-place matter-of-fact, then, it was a fine morning 
 — so fine that you would scarcely have believed that the few months 
 of an English summer had yet flown by. Hedges, fields, and trees, 
 hill and moorland, presented to the eye their ever-varying shades of 
 deep rich green ; scarce a leaf had fallen, scarce a sprinkle of 
 yellow mingled with the hues of summer, warned you that autumn 
 had begun. The sky was cloudless, the sun shone out bright and 
 warm ; the songs of birds, and hum of myriads of summer insects, 
 filled the air ; and the cottage gardens, crowded with flowers of 
 every rich and beautiful tint, sparkled, in the heavy dew, like beds 
 of glittering jewels. Everything bore the stamp of summer, and 
 none of its beautiful colours had yet faded from the die. 
 
 Such was the morning, when an open carriage, in which were 
 three Pickwickians, (Mr. Snodgrass having preferred to remain at 
 home,) Mr. Wardle, and Mr. Trundle, with Sam Weller on the box 
 beside the driver, pulled up by a gate at the road-side, before which 
 stood a tall, raw-boned gamekeeper, and a half-booted, leather- 
 leggined boy : each bearing a bag of capacious dimensions, and 
 accompanied by a brace of pointers. 
 
 ' I say,' whispered Mr. Winkle to Wardle, as the man let down 
 
2IO THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the steps, ' they don't suppose we're going to kill game enough to 
 fill those bags, do they ? ' 
 
 ' Fill them ! ' exclaimed old Wardle. ' Bless you, yes ! You 
 shall fill one, and I the other ; and when we've done with them, the 
 pockets of our shooting-jackets will hold as much more.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle dismounted without saying anything in reply to 
 this observation ; but he thought within himself, that if the party 
 remained in the open air, until he had filled one of the bags, 
 they stood a considerable chance of catching colds in their heads. 
 
 ' Hi, Juno, lass — hi, old girl ; down, Daph, down,' said Wardle, 
 caressing the dogs. ' Sir Geoffrey still in Scotland, of course, 
 Martin ? ' 
 
 The tall gamekeeper replied in the affirmative, and looked with 
 some surprise from Mr. Winkle, who was holding his gun as if he 
 wished his coat pocket to save him the trouble of pulling the 
 trigger, to Mr. Tupman, who was holding his as if he were afraid of 
 it — as there is no earthly reason to doubt he really was. 
 
 ' My friends are not much in the way of this sort of thing yet, 
 Martin,' said Wardle, noticing the look. ' Live and learn, you 
 know. They'll be good shots one of these days. I beg my friend 
 Winkle's pardon, though ; he has had some practice.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle smiled feebly over his blue neckerchief in acknow- 
 ledgment of the compliment, and got himself so mysteriously 
 entangled with his gun, in his modest confusion, that if the piece 
 had been loaded, he must inevitably have shot himself dead upon 
 the spot. 
 
 ' You mustn't handle your piece in that ere way, when you come 
 to have the charge in it, sir,' said the tall gamekeeper, gruffly, ' or 
 I'm damned if you won't make cold meat of some on us.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle, thus admonished, abruptly altered its position, and 
 in so doing, contrived to bring the barrel into pretty sharp contact 
 with Mr. Weller's head. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said Sam, picking up his hat, which had been knocked 
 off, and rubbing his temple. ' Hallo, sir ! if you comes it this 
 vay, you'll fill one o' them bags, and something to spare, at one 
 fire.' 
 
 Here the leather-leggined boy laughed very heartily, and then 
 tried to look as if it was somebody else, whereat Mr. Winkle 
 frowned majestically. 
 
 ' Where did you tell the boy to meet us with the snack, Martin ? ' 
 inquired Wardle. 
 
 ' Side of One-tree Hill, at twelve o'clock, sir.' 
 
 ' That's not Sir Geoffrey's land, is it ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir ; but it's close by it. It's Captain Boldwig's land ; but 
 there'll be nobody to interrupt us, and there's a fine bit of turf 
 there.' 
 
MR. PICKWICK IN A BARROW 211 
 
 ' Very well,' said old Wardle. ' Now the sooner we're off the 
 better. Will you join us at twelve, then, Pickwick?' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was particularly desirous to view the sport, the 
 more especially as he was rather anxious in respect of Mr. Winkle's 
 life and Umbs. On so inviting a morning, too, it was very 
 tantalising to turn back, and leave his friends to enjoy themselves. 
 It was, therefore, with a very rueful air that he replied, 
 
 'Why, I suppose I must.' 
 
 ' An't the gentleman a shot, sir ? ' inquired the long gamekeeper. 
 
 ' No,' replied Wardle ; ' and he's lame besides.' 
 
 'I should very much like to go,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'very 
 much.' 
 
 There was a short pause of commiseration. 
 
 'There's a barrow t'other side the hedge,' said the boy. 'If 
 the gentleman's servant would wheel along the paths, he could keep 
 nigh us, and we could lift it over the stiles, and that.' 
 
 ' The wery thing,' said Mr. Weller, who was a party interested, 
 inasmuch as he ardently longed to see the sport. 'The wery 
 thing. Well said, Smallcheck ; I'll have it out in a minute.' 
 
 But here a difficulty arose. The long gamekeeper resolutely 
 protested against the introduction into a shooting party, of a 
 gentleman in a barrow, as a gross violation of all established rules 
 and precedents. 
 
 It was a great objection, but not an insurmountable one. The 
 gamekeeper having been coaxed and fed, and having, moreover, 
 eased his mind by ' punching ' the head of the inventive youth who 
 had first suggested the use of the machine, Mr. Pickwick was placed 
 in it, and off the party set; Wardle and the long gamekeeper 
 leading the way, and Mr. Pickwick in the barrow, propelled by 
 Sam, bringing up the rear. 
 
 ' Stop, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, when they had got half across 
 the first field. 
 
 ' What's the matter now ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 'I won't suffer this barrow to be moved another step,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick, resolutely, 'unless Winkle carries that gun of his, 
 in a different manner.' 
 
 ' How am I to carry it ? ' said the wretched Winkle. 
 
 ' Carry it with the muzzle to the ground,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It's so unsportsman-like,' reasoned Winkle. 
 
 ' I don't care whether it's unsportsman-like or not,' replied 
 Mr. Pickwick ; ' I'm not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, for the 
 sake of appearances, to please anybody.' 
 
 ' I know the gentleman '11 put that ere charge into somebody 
 afore he's done,' growled the long man. 
 
 ' Well, well — I don't mind,' said poor Winkle, turning his gun- 
 stock uppermost \ — ' there.' 
 
212 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Anythin' for a quiet life,' said Mr. Weller ; and on they went 
 again. 
 
 ' Stop ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, after they had gone a few yards 
 further. 
 
 ' What now ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 'That gun of Tupman's is not safe: I know it isn't,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Eh? What ! not safe?' said Mr. Tupman, in a tone of great 
 alarm. 
 
 ' Not as you are carrying it,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I am very 
 sorry to make any further objection, but I cannot consent to go on, 
 unless you carry it as Winkle does his.' 
 
 ' I think you had better, sir,' said the long gamekeeper, ' or you're 
 quite as likely to lodge the charge in yourself as in anything else.' 
 
 Mr. Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece 
 in the position required, and the party moved on agaui ; the two 
 amateurs marching with reversed arms, like a couple of privates at 
 a royal funeral. 
 
 The dogs suddenly came to a dead stop, and the party advancing 
 stealthily a single pace, stopped too. 
 
 ' What's the matter with the dogs' legs ? ' whispered Mr. Winkle. 
 ' How queer they're standing.' 
 
 ' Hush, can't you ? ' replied Wardle, softly. ' Don't you see, 
 they're making a point ? ' 
 
 ' Making a point ! ' said Mr. Winkle, staring about him, as a 
 he expected to discover some particular beauty in the landscape, 
 which the sagacious animals were calling special attention to. 
 ' Making a point ! What are they pointing at ? ' 
 
 ' Keep your eyes open,' said Wardle, not heeding the question 
 in the excitement of the moment. ' Now then.' 
 
 There was a sharp whirring-noise, that made Mr. Winkle start 
 back as if he had been shot himself Bang, bang, went a couple of 
 guns ; — the smoke swept quickly away over the field, and curled 
 into the air. 
 
 ' Where are they ? ' said Mr. ^^'inkle, in a state of the highest 
 excitement, turning round and round in all directions. ' Where are 
 they ? Tell me when to fire. Where are they — where are they ? ' 
 
 ' Where are they ? ' said Wardle, taking up a brace of birds which 
 the dogs had deposited at his feet. ' Why, here they are.' 
 
 ' No, no ; I mean the others,' said the bewildered Winkle. 
 
 ' Fsy: enough off, by this time,' replied Wardle, coolly reloadinj 
 his gun. 
 
 ' We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes,' 
 said the long gamekeeper. ' If the gentleman begins to fire now, 
 [;erhapi he'll just get the shot out of the barrel by the time 
 they rise.' 
 
MR. WINKLE IS EXCITED 213 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' roared Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's con- 
 fusion and embarrassment. 
 
 ' Sir.' 
 
 ' Don't laugh.' 
 
 ' Certainly not, sir.' So, by way of indemnification, Mr. Weller 
 contorted his features from behind the wheelbarrow, for the ex- 
 clusive amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon 
 burst into a boisterous laugh, and was summarily cuffed by the long 
 gamekeeper, who wanted a pretext for turning round, to hide his 
 own merriment. 
 
 ' Bravo, old fellow ! ' said Wardle to Mr. Tupman ; ' you fired 
 that time, at all events.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, replied Mr. Tupman, with conscious pride. ' I let it off.' 
 
 'Well done. You'll hit something next time, if you look sharp. 
 Very easy, ain't it ? ' 
 
 'Yes, it's very easy,' said Mr. Tupman. 'How it hurts one's 
 shoulder, though. It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no 
 idea these small fire-arms kicked so.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said the old gentleman, smiling ; ' you'll get used to it in 
 time. Now then — all ready — all right with the barrow there ? ' 
 
 ' All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Come along then.' 
 
 ' Hold hard, sir,' said Sam, raising the barrow. 
 
 ' Aye, aye,' replied Mr. Pickwick ; and on they went, as briskly 
 as need be. 
 
 ' Keep that barrow back now,' cried Wardle when it had been 
 hoisted over a stile into another field, and Mr. Pickwick had been 
 deposited in it once more. 
 
 ' All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, pausing. 
 
 'Now, Winkle,' said the old gentleman, 'follow me softly, and 
 don't be too late this lime.' 
 
 ' Never fear,' said Mr. Winkle. ' Are they pointing ? ' 
 
 ' No, no ; not now. Quietly now, quietly.' On they crept, and 
 very quietly they would have advanced, if Mr. Winkle, in the 
 performance of some very intricate evolutions with his gun, had not 
 accidently fired, at the most critical moment, over the boy's head, 
 exactly in the very spot where the tall man's brain v/ould have 
 been, had he been there instead. 
 
 ' Why, what on earth did you do that for ? ' said old Wardle, as 
 the birds flew unharmed away. 
 
 ' I never saw such a gun in my hfe,' replied poor Mr. Winkle, 
 looking at the lock, as if that would do any good. ' It goes off 
 of its own accord. It will do it.' 
 
 ' Will do it ! ' echoed Wardle, with something of irritation in his 
 manner. ' I wish it would kill something of its own accord.' 
 
214 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It'll do that afore long, sir,' observed the tall man, in a low, 
 prophetic -voice. . ,- 
 
 'What do you mean by that observation, sir?' inquired Mr. 
 Winkle, angrily. 
 
 'Never mind, sir, never mind,' replied the long gamekeeper; 
 ' I've no family myself, sir ; and this here boy's mother will get 
 something handsome from Sir Geoffrey, if he's killed on his land. 
 Load again, sir, load again.' ^ 
 
 'Take away his gun,' cried Mr. Pickwick from the barrow, 
 horror-stricken at the long man's dark insinuations. ' Take away 
 his gun, do you hear, somebody ? ' 
 
 Nobody, however, volunteered to obey the command ; and Mr. 
 Winkle, after darting a rebellious glance at Mr. Pickwick, reloaded 
 his gun, and proceeded onwards with the rest. 
 
 We are bound, on the authority of Mr. Pickwick, to state, that 
 Mr. Tupman's mode of proceeding evinced far more of prudence 
 and deliberation, than that adopted by Mr. Winkle. Still, this by 
 no means detracts from the great authority of the latter gentleman, 
 on all matters connected with the field ; because, as Mr. Pickwick 
 beautifully observes, it has somehow or other happened, from time 
 immemorial, that many of the best and ablest philosophers, who 
 have been perfect Ughts of science in matters of theory, have been 
 wholly unable to reduce them to practice. 
 
 Mr. Tupman's process, like many of our most sublime dis- 
 coveries, was extremely simple. With the quickness and penetra- 
 tion of a man of genius, he had at once observed that the two great 
 points to be attained were — first, to discharge his piece without 
 injury to himself, and, secondly, to do so, without danger to the 
 by-standers ; — obviously, the best thing to do, after surmounting the 
 difficulty of firing at all, was to shut his eyes firmly, and fire into 
 the air. 
 
 On one occasion, after performing this feat, Mr. Tupman, on 
 opening his eyes, beheld a plump partridge in the act of falling 
 wounded to the ground. He was on the point of congratulating 
 Mr. Wardle on his invariable success, when that gentleman advanced 
 towards him, and grasped him warmly by the hand. 
 
 ' Tupman,' said the old gentleman, ' you singled out that 
 particular bird ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Mr. Tupman — ' no.' 
 
 ' You did,' said Wardle. ' I saw you do it — I observed you pick 
 him out — I noticed you, as you raised your piece to take aim ; and 
 I will say this, that the best shot in existence could not have done 
 it more beautifully. You are an older hand at this, than I thought 
 you, Tupman ; you have been out before.' 
 
 It was in vain for Mr. Tuprhan to protest, with a smile of self- 
 denial that he never had. The very smile was taken as evidence 
 
A CLEVER PIEMAN 215 
 
 to the contrary ; and from that time forth, his reputation was 
 estabhshed.. It is not the only reputation that has been acquired 
 as easily, nor are such fortunate circumstances confined to partridge- 
 shooting. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Winkle flashed, and blazed, and smoked away, 
 without. producing any material results worthy of being noted down ; 
 sometimes expending his charge in mid-air, aijd at others pending 
 it skimming along so near the surface of the ground as to place the 
 lives of the two dogs on a rather uncertain and precarious tenure. 
 As a display of fancy shooting, it was extremely varied and curious ; 
 as an exhibition of firing with any precise object, it was, upon the 
 whole, perhaps a failure. It is an established axiom, that ' every 
 bullet has its billet.' If it apply in an equal degree to shot, those 
 of Mr. Winkle were unfortunate foundlings, deprived of their 
 natural rights, cast loose upon the world, and billeted nowhere. 
 
 ' Well,' said Wardle, waUsing up to the side of the barrow, and 
 wiping the streams of perspiration from his jolly red face ; ' smoking 
 day, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' It is, indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' The sun is tremendously 
 hot, even to me. I don't know how you must feel it.' 
 
 'Why,' said the old gentleman, 'pretty hot. It's past twelve, 
 though. You see that green hill there ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly.' 
 
 ' That's the place where we are to lunch ; and, by Jove, there's 
 the boy with the basket, punctual as clockwork ! ' 
 
 ' So he is,' said Mr. Pickwick, brightening up. ' Good boy, 
 that. I'll give him a shilling, presently. Now, then, Sam, wheel 
 away.' 
 
 ' Hold on, sir,' said Mr. Weller, invigorated with the prospect of 
 refreshments. ' Out of the vay, young leathers. If you walley my 
 precious life don't upset me, as the gen'l'm'n said to the driver when 
 they was a carryin' him to Tyburn.' And quickening his pace to a 
 sharp run, Mr. Weller wheeled his master nimbly to the green hill, 
 shot him dexterously out by the very side of the basket, and 
 proceeded to unpack it with the utmost dispatch. 
 
 ' Weal pie,' said Mr. Weller, sohloquising, as he arranged the 
 eatables on the grass. ' Wery good thing is weal pie, when you know 
 the lady as made it, and is quite sure it an't kittens ; and arter all 
 though, Where's the odds, when they're so like weal that the wery 
 piemen themselves don't know the difference ? ' 
 
 ' Don't they, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not they, sir,' repUed Mr. Weller, touching his hat. ' I lodged 
 in the same house vith a pieman once, sir, and a wery nice man he 
 was — reg'lar clever chap, too — ^make pies out o' anything, he could. 
 " What a number o' cats you keep, Mr. Brooks," says I, when I'd 
 got intimate with him. " Ah," says he, " I do— a good many," says 
 
2i6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 he. " You must be wary fond o' cats," says I. " Other people is," 
 says he, a winkin' at me; "they an't in season till the winter 
 though," says he. "Not in season!" says I. "No," says he, 
 "fruits is in, cats is out." "Why, what do you mean?" says I. 
 " Mean ?" says he. " That I'll never be a party to the combination 
 o' the butchers, to keep up the prices o' meat," says he. _" Mr. 
 Weller," says he, a squeezing my hand wery hard, and vispering in 
 my ear — "don't mention this here agin — but it's the seasonin' as 
 does it. They're all made o' them noble animals," says he, a 
 pointin' to a wery nice little tabby kitten, " and I seasons 'em for 
 beefsteak, weal, or kidney, 'cordin to the demand. And more than 
 that," says he, " I can make a weal a beef-steak, or a beef-steak a 
 kidney, or any one on 'em a mutton, at a minute's notice, just as the 
 market changes, and appetites wary ! " ' 
 
 ' He must have been a very ingenious young man, that, Sam,' 
 said Mr. Pickwick, with a slight shudder. 
 
 ' Just was, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, continuing his occupation of 
 emptying the basket, ' and the pies was beautiful. Tongue ; well 
 that's a wery good thing when it an't a woman's. Bread — knuckle 
 o' ham, reg'lar picter — cold beef in slices, wery good. What's in 
 them stone jars, young touch-and-go ? ' 
 
 ' Beer in this one,' replied the boy, taking from his shoulder a 
 couple of large stone bottles, fastened together by a leathern strap 
 — ' cold punch in t'other.' 
 
 ' And a wery good notion of a lunch it is, take it altogether,' said 
 Mr. Weller, surveying his arrangement of the repast with great 
 satisfaction. ' Now, gen'l'm'n, "fall on," as the English said to the 
 French when they fixed bagginets.' 
 
 It needed no second invitation to induce the party to yield full 
 justice to the meal ; and as little pressing did it require to induce 
 Mr. Weller, the long garriekeeper, and the two boys, to station 
 themselves on the grass, at a little distance, and do good execution 
 upon a decent proportion of the viands. An old oak afforded a 
 pleasant shelter to the group, and a rich prospect of arable and 
 meadow land, intersected with luxuriant hedges, and richly orna- 
 mented with wood, lay spread out below them. 
 
 ' This is delightful — thoroughly delightful ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 the skin of whose expressive countenance was rapidly peeling off, 
 with exposure to the sun. 
 
 ' So it is : so it is, old fellow," replied Wardle. ' Come ; a glass 
 of punch ! ' 
 
 'With great pleasure,' said Mr. Pickwick; the satisfaction of 
 whose countenance, after drinking it, bore testimony to the sincerity 
 of the reply. 
 
 ' Good,' said Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips. ' Very good. I'll 
 take another. Cool; very cool. Come, gentlemen,' continued 
 
CAPITAL COLD PUNCH 217 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, still retaining his hold upon the jar, ' a toast. Our 
 friends at Dingley Dell.' 
 
 The toast was drunk with loud acclamations. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what I shall do, to get up my shooting again,' said 
 Mr. Winkle, who was eating bread and ham with a pocket-knife. 
 ' I'll put a stuffed partridge on the top of a post, and practise at it, 
 beginning at a short distance, and lengthening it by degrees. I 
 understand it's capital practice.' 
 
 ' I know a gen'l'man, sir,' said Mr. Weller, ' as did that, and 
 begun at two yards ; but he never tried it on agin ; for he blowed 
 the bird right clean away at the first fire, and nobody ever seed a 
 feather on him arterwards.' 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Have the goodness to reserve your anecdotes till they are called 
 for.' 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir.' 
 
 Here Mr. Weller winked the eye which was not concealed by the 
 beer-can he was raising to his lips with such exquisiteness, that the 
 two boys went into spontaneous convulsions, and even the long 
 man condescended to smile. 
 
 ' Well that certainly is most capital cold punch,' said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, looking earnestly at the stone bottle ; ' and the day is ex- 
 tremely warm, and — Tupman, my dear friend, a glass of punch ? ' 
 
 ' With the greatest delight,' replied Mr. Tupman ; and having 
 drank that glass, Mr. Pickwick took another, just to see whether 
 there was any orange peel in the punch, because orange peel always 
 disagreed with him; and finding that there was not, Mr. Pickwick 
 took another glass to the health of their absent friend, and then felt 
 himself imperatively called upon to propose another in honour of 
 the punch-compounder, unknown. 
 
 This constant succession of glasses produced considerable effect 
 upon Mr. Pickwick ; his countenance beamed with the most sunny 
 smiles, laughter played around his lips, and good-humoured merri- 
 ment twinkled in his eye. Yielding by degrees to the influence 
 of the exciting liquid, rendered more so by tlie heat, Mr. Pickwick 
 expressed a strong desire to recollect a song which he had heard in 
 his infancy, and the attempt proving abortive, sought to stimulate 
 his memory with more glasses of punch, which appeared to have 
 quite a contrary effect ; for, from forgetting the words of the song, 
 he began to forget how to articulate any words at all ; and finally, 
 after rising to his legs to address the company in an eloquent speech, 
 he fell into the barrow, and fast asleep, simultaneously. 
 
 The basket having been repacked, and it being found perfectly 
 impossible to awaken Mr. Pickwick from his torpor, some discussion 
 took place whether it would be better for Mr. Weller to wheel his 
 
2i8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 master back again, or to leave him where he was, until they should 
 all be ready to return. The latter course was at length decided on ; 
 and as the further expedition was not to exceed an hour's duration, 
 and as Mr. Weller begged very hard to be one of the party, it was 
 determined to leave Mr. Pickwick asleep in the barrow, and to call 
 for him on their return. So away they went, leaving Mr. Pickwick 
 snoring most comfortably in the shade. 
 
 That Mr. Pickwick would have continued to snore in the shade 
 until his friends came back, or, in default thereof, until the shades 
 of evening had fallen on the landscape, there appears no reasonable 
 cause to doubt ; always supposing that he had been suffered to remain 
 there in peace. But he was not suffered to remain there in peace. 
 And this was what prevented him. 
 
 Captain Boldwig was a little fierce man in a stiff black necker- 
 chief and blue surtout, who, when he did condescend to walk about 
 his property, did it in company with a thick rattan stick with a 
 brass ferrule, and a gardener and sub-gardener with meek faces, 
 to whom (the gardeners, not the stick) Captain Boldwig gave his 
 orders with all due grandeur and ferocity : for Captain Boldwig's 
 wife's sister had married a Marquis, and the Captain's house was a 
 villa, and his land ' grounds,' and it was all very high, and mighty, 
 and great. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had not been asleep half an hour when little Captain 
 Boldwig, followed by the two gardeners, came striding along as fast 
 as his size and importance would let him ; and when he came near 
 the oak tree. Captain Boldwig paused, and drew a long breath, and 
 looked at the prospect as if he thought the prospect ought to be 
 highly gratified at having him to take notice of it ; and then he 
 struck the ground emphatically with his stick, and summoned the 
 head-gardener. 
 
 ' Hunt,' said Captain Boldwig. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said the gardener. 
 
 ' Roll this place to-morrow morning — do you hear, Hunt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' And take care that you keep me this place in good order — do 
 you hear. Hunt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 'And remind me to have a board done about trespassers, and 
 spring guns, and all that sort of thing, to keep the common people 
 out. Do you hear. Hunt ; do you hear ? ' 
 
 ' I'll not forget it, sir.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said the other man, advancing, with his 
 hand to his hat. 
 
 ' Well, Wilkins, what's the matter ■^\'Cs\you ! ' said Captain Boldwig. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir — but I think there have been trespassers 
 here to-day.' 
 
SIGNS OF TRESPASSERS 219 
 
 ' Ha ! ' said the Captain, scowling around him. 
 
 ' Yes, sir — they have been dining here, I think, sir.' 
 
 ' Why, confound their audacity, so they have,' said Captain Bold- 
 wig, as the crumbs and fragments that were strewn upon the grass 
 met his eye. ' They have actually been devouring their food here. 
 I wish I had the vagabonds here ! ' said the Captain, clenching the 
 thick stick. 
 
 ' I wish I had the vagabonds here,' said the Captain, wrathfully. 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' said Wilkins, ' but — ' 
 
 ' But what ? Eh ? ' roared the Captain ; and following the timid 
 glance of Wilkins, his eyes encountered the wheelbarrow and Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 'Who are you, you rascal?' said the Captain, administering 
 several pokes to Mr. Pickwick's body with the thick stick. ' What's 
 your name ? ' 
 
 ' Cold punch,' murmured Mr. Pickwick, as he sunk to sleep again. 
 
 'What?' demanded Captain Boldwig. 
 
 No reply. 
 
 ' What did he say his name was ? ' asked the Captain. 
 
 ' Punch, I think, sir,' replied Wilkins. 
 
 ' That's his impudence, that's his confounded impudence,' said 
 Captain Boldwig. ' He's only feigning to be asleep now,' said the 
 , Captain, in a high passion. ' He's drunk ; he's a drunken plebeian. 
 Wheel him away, Wilkins, wheel him away directly.' 
 
 ' Where shall I wheel him to, sir ? ' inquired Wilkins, with great 
 timidity. 
 
 ' Wheel him to the Devil,' repHed Captain Boldwig. 
 
 ' Very well, sir,' said Wilkins. 
 
 ' Stay,' said the Captain. 
 
 Wilkins stopped accordingly. 
 
 ' Wheel him,' said the Captain, ' wheel him to the pound ; and let 
 us see whether he calls himself Punch when he comes to himself. 
 He shall not bully me, he shall not bully me. Wheel him away.' 
 
 Away Mr. Pickwick was wheeled in compUance with this impe- 
 rious mandate ; and the great Captain Boldwig, swelling with indig- 
 nation, proceeded on his walk. 
 
 Inexpressible was the astonishment of the little party when they 
 returned, lo find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the 
 wheelbarrow with him. It was the most mysterious and unaccount- 
 able thing that was ever heard of. For a lame man to have got 
 upon his legs without any previous notice, and walked off, would 
 have been most extraordinary ; but when it came to his wheeling a 
 heavy barrow before him, by way of amusement, it grew positively 
 miraculous. They searched every nook and comer round, together 
 and separately; they shouted, whistled, laughed, called — and all 
 with the same result. Mr. Pickwick was not to be found. After 
 
220 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 some hours of fruitless search, they arrived at the unwelcome con- 
 elusion that they must go home without him. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Pickwick had been wheeled to the Pound, and 
 safely deposited therein, fast asleep in the wheelbarrow, to the 
 immeasurable delight and satisfaction, not only of all the boys in 
 the village, but three-fourths of the whole population, who had 
 gathered round, in expectation of his waking. If their most intense 
 gratification had been excited by seeing him wheeled in, how many 
 hundredfold was their joy increased when, after a few indistinct 
 cries of ' Sam ! ' he sat up in the barrow, and gazed with inde- 
 scribable astonishment on the faces before him. 
 
 A general shout was of course the signal of his having woke up ; 
 and his involuntary inquiry of 'What's the matter?' occasioned 
 another, louder than the first, if possible. 
 
 ' Here's a game ! ' roared the populace. 
 
 ' Where am I ? ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' In the Pound,' replied the mob. 
 
 ' How came I here? What was I doing ? Where was I brought 
 from ? ' 
 
 ' Boldwig ! Captain Boldwig ! ' was the only reply. 
 
 'Let me out,' cried Mr. Pickwick. 'Where's my servant? 
 Where are my friends ? ' 
 
 ' You an't got no friends. Hurrah ! ' Then there came a turnip, 
 then a potato, and then an egg : with a few other little tokens of 
 the playful disposition of the many-headed. 
 
 How long this scene might have lasted, or how much Mr. Pick- 
 wick might have suffered, no one can tell, had not a carriage, which 
 was driving swiftly by, . suddenly pulled up, from whence there 
 descended old Wardle and Sam Weller, the former of whom, in far 
 less time than it takes to write it, if not to read it, had made his 
 way to Mr. Pickwick's side, and placed him in the vehicle, just as 
 the latter had concluded the third and last round ot a single 
 combat with the town-beadle. 
 
 ' Run to the Justice's ! ' cried a dozen voices. 
 
 'Ah, run away,' said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. 'Give 
 my compliments — Mr. Veller's compliments — to the Justice, and 
 tell him I've spiled his beadle, and that, if he'll svear in a new 
 'un, I'll come back agin to-morrow and spile him. Drive on, old 
 feller.' 
 
 ' I'll give directions for the commencement of an action for 
 false imprisonment against this Captain Boldwig, directly I get to 
 London,' said Mr. Pickwick, as soon as the carriage turned out of 
 the town. 
 
 ' We were trespassing, it seems,' said Wardle. 
 
 ' I don't care,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I'll bring the action.' 
 
 ' No, you won't,' said Wardle. 
 
<-^'^'^#i^3'a</«^34j,K>^.^c^:,^%a^ 
 
A VISIT TO MESSRS. DODSON AND FOGG 221 
 
 I will, by — ' but as there was a humorous expression in Wardle's 
 face, Mr. Pickwick checked himself, and said : ' Why not ? ' 
 
 ' Because,' said old Wardle, half-bursting with laughter, ' because 
 they might turn round on some of us, and say we had taken too 
 much cold punch.' 
 
 Do what he would, a smile would come into Mr. Pickwick's face ; 
 the smile extended into a laugh ; the laugh into a roar ; the roar 
 became general. So, to keep up their good humour, they stopped 
 at the first roadside tavern they came to, and ordered a glass of 
 brandy and water all round, with a magnum of extra strength for 
 Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SHOWING HOW DODSON AND FOGG WERE MEN OF BUSINESS, AND 
 THEIR CLERKS MEN OF PLEASURE; AND HOW AN AFFECTING 
 INTERVIEW TOOK PLACE BETWEEN MR. WELLER AND HIS 
 LONG-LOST PARENT; SHOWING ALSO WHAT CHOICE SPIRITS 
 ASSEMBLED AT THE MAGPIE AND STUMP, AND WHAT A 
 CAPITAL CHAPTER THE NEXT ONE WILL BE 
 
 In the ground-floor front of a dingy house, at the very furthest 
 end of Freeman's Court, Comhill, sat the four clerks of Messrs. 
 Dodson- and Fogg, two of his Majesty's Attorneys of the Courts 
 of King's Bench and Common Pleas at Westminster, and solicitors 
 of the High Court of Chancery : the aforesaid clerks catching as 
 favourable glimpses of Heaven's light and Heaven's sun, in the 
 course of their daily labours, as a man might hope to do, were he 
 placed at the bottom of a reasonably deep well ; and without the 
 opportunity of perceiving the stars in the day-time, which the latter 
 secluded situation affords. 
 
 The clerks' office of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg was a dark, 
 mouldy, earthy-smelling room, with a high wainscotted partition 
 to screen the clerks from the vulgar gaze : a couple of old wooden 
 chairs : a very loud-ticking clock : an almanack, an umbrella-stand, 
 a row of hat-pegs, and a few shelves, on which were deposited 
 several ticketed bundles of dirty papers, some old deal boxes with 
 paper labels, and sundry decayed stone ink bottles of various shapes 
 and sizes. There was a glass door leading into the passage which 
 formed the entrance to the court, and on the outer side of this glass 
 door, Mr. Pickwick, closely followed by Sam Weller, presented 
 himself on the Friday morning succeeding the occurrence, of which 
 a faithful narration is given in the last chapter. 
 
222 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Come in, can't you ! ' cried a voice from behind the partition, 
 in reply to Mr. Pickwick's gentle tap at the door. And Mr. Pick- 
 wick and Sam entered accordingly. 
 
 ' Mr. Dodson or Mr. Fogg at home, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, 
 gently, advancing, hat in hand, towards the partition. 
 
 ' Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged,' 
 replied the voice ; and at the same time the head to which the 
 voice belonged, with a pen behind its ear, looked over the partition, 
 and at Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 It was a ragged head, the sandy hair of which, scrupulously 
 parted on one side, and flattened down with pomatum, was twisted 
 into little semi-circular tails round a flat face ornamented with a 
 pair of small eyes, and garnished with a very dirty shirt collar, and 
 a rusty black stock. 
 
 ' Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged,' 
 said the man to whom the head belonged. 
 
 ' When will Mr. Dodson be back, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Can't say.' 
 
 ' Will it be long before Mr. Fogg is disengaged, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Don't know.' 
 
 Here the man proceeded to mend his pen with great deliberation, 
 while another clerk, who was mixing a Seidlitz powder, xmder cover 
 of the lid of his desk, laughed approvingly. 
 
 ' I think I'll wait,' said Mr. Pickwick. There was no reply ; so 
 Mr. Pickwick sat down unbidden, and listened to the loud ticking 
 of the clock and the murmured conversation of the clerks. 
 
 ' That was a game, wasn't it ? ' said one of the gentlemen, in a 
 brown coat and brass buttons, inky drabs, and bluchers, at the 
 conclusion of some inaudible relation of his previous evening's 
 adventures. 
 
 ' Devilish good — devilish good,' said the Seidlitz-powder man. 
 
 ' Tom Cummins was in the chair,' said the man with the brown 
 coat ; ' It was half-past four when I got to Somers Town, and then 
 I was so uncommon lushey, that I couldn't find the place where the 
 latch-key went in, and was obliged to knock up the old 'ooman. I 
 say, I wonder what old Fogg 'ud say, if he knew it. I should get 
 the sack, I s'pose — eh ? ' 
 
 At this humorous notion, all the clerks laughed in concert. 
 
 ' There was such a game with Fogg here, this mornin',' said the 
 man in the brown coat, ' while Jack was up stairs sorting the papers, 
 and you two were gone to the stamp-office. Fogg was down here, 
 opening the letters, when that chap as we issued the writ against at 
 Camberwell, you know, came in — what's his name, again ? ' 
 
 ' Ramsey,' said the clerk who had spoken to Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah, Ramsey— a precious seedy-looking customer. " Well, sir,' 
 says old Fogg, looking at him very fierce— you know his way— 
 
THE LAM'YERS' CLERKS 223 
 
 "well, sir, have you come to settle?" "Yes, I have, sir," said 
 Ramsey, putting his hand in his pocket, and bringing out the money, 
 " the debt's two pound ten, and the costs three pound five, and here 
 it is, sir ; " and he sighed like bricks, as he lugged out the money, 
 done up in a bit of blotting-paper. Old Fogg looked first at the 
 money, and then at him, and then he coughed in his rum way, so 
 that I knew something was, coming. "You don't know there's a 
 declaration filed, which increases the costs materially, I suppose ? " 
 said Fogg. " You don't say that, sir," said Ramsey, starting back ; 
 " the time was only out last night, sir." " I do say it, though," said 
 Fogg, " my clerk's just gone to file it. Hasn't Mr. Jackson gone to 
 file that declaration in Bullman and Ramsey, Mr. Wicks ? " Of 
 course I said yes, and then Fogg coughed again, and looked at 
 Ramsey. " My God ! " said Ramsey ; " and here have I nearly 
 driven myself mad, scraping this money together, and all to no 
 purpose." " None at all," said Fogg, coolly ; " so you had better 
 go back and scrape some more together, and bring it here in time." 
 " I can't get it, by God ! " said Ramsey, striking the desk with his 
 fist. " Don't bully me, sir," said Fogg, getting into a passion on 
 purpose. " I am not bullying you, sir," said Ramsey. " You are," 
 said Fogg ; " get out, sir ; get out of this office, sir, and come back, 
 sir, when you know how to behave yourself." Well, Ramsey tried 
 to speak, but Fogg wouldn't let him, so he put the money in his 
 pocket, and sneaked out. The door was scarcely shut, when old 
 Fogg turned round to me, with a sweet smile on his face, and drew 
 the declaration out of his coat pocket. " Here, Wicks," says Fogg, 
 " take a cab, and go down to the Temple as quick as you can, and 
 file that. The costs are quite safe, for he's a steady man with a 
 large family, at a salary of five-and-twenty shillings a week, and if 
 he gives us a warrant of attorney, as he must in the end, I know his 
 employers will see it paid ; so we may as well get all we can out of 
 him, Mr. Wicks ; it's a Christian act to do it, Mr. Wicks, for with 
 his large family and small income, he'll be all the better for a good 
 lesson against getting into debt,^ — won't he, Mr. Wicks, won't he ? " 
 — and he smiled so good-naturedly as he went away, that it was 
 delightful to see him. He is a capital man of business,' said 
 Wicks, in a tone of the deepest admiration, ' capital, isn't he ? ' 
 
 The other three cordially subscribed to this opinion, and the 
 anecdote afforded the most unlimited satisfaction. 
 
 ' Nice men these here, sir,' whispered Mr. Weller to his master ; 
 ' wery nice notion of fun they has, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded assent, and coughed to attract the attention 
 of the young gentlemen behind the partition, who, having now 
 relaxed their minds by a little conversation among themselves, 
 condescended to take some notice of the stranger. 
 
 ' I wonder whether Fogg's disengaged now ? ' said Jackson. 
 
224 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I'll see,' said Wicks, dismounting leisurely from his stool. ' What 
 name shall I tell Mr. Fogg ? ' 
 
 ' Pickwick,' replied the illustrious subject of these memoirs. 
 
 Mr. Jackson darted up stairs on his errand, and immediately 
 returned with a message that Mr. Fogg would see Mr. Pickwick in 
 five minutes ; and having delivered it, returned again to his desk. 
 
 ' What did he say his name was ? ' whispered Wicks. 
 
 ' Pickwick,' replied Jackson ; ' it's the defendant in Bardell and 
 Pickwick.' 
 
 A sudden scraping of feet, mingled with the sound of suppressed 
 laughter, was heard from behind the partition. 
 
 ' They're a twiggin' of you, sir,' whispered Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Twigging of me, Sam ! ' replied Mr. Pickwick ; ' what do you 
 mean by twigging me ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller replied by pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, 
 and Mr. Pickwick, on looking up, became sensible of the pleasing fact, 
 that all the four clerks, with countenances expressive of the utmost 
 amusement, and with their heads thrust over the wooden screen, 
 were minutely inspecting the figure and general appearance of the 
 supposed trifler with female hearts, and disturber of female hap- 
 piness. On his looking up, the row of heads suddenly disappeared, 
 and the sound of pens travelling at a furious rate over paper, 
 immediately succeeded. 
 
 A sudden ring at the bell which hung in the office, summoned 
 Mr. Jackson to the apartment of Fogg, from whence he came back 
 to say that he (Fogg) was ready to see Mr. Pickwick if he would 
 step up stairs. 
 
 Up stairs Mr. Pickwick did step accordingly, leaving Sam Weller 
 below. The room door of the one-pair back, bore inscribed in 
 legible characters the imposing words ' Mr. Fogg ; ' and, having 
 tapped thereat, and been desired to come in, Jackson ushered 
 Mr. Pickwick into the presence. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Dodson in ? ' inquired Mr. Fogg. 
 
 ' Just come in, sir,' replied Jackson. 
 
 • Ask him to step here.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' Exit Jackson. 
 
 .'Take a seat, sir,' said Fogg; 'there is the paper, sir; my 
 partner will be here directly, and we can converse about this 
 matter, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took a seat and the paper, but instead of reading 
 the latter, peeped over the top of it, and took a survey of the man 
 of business, who was an elderly, pimply-faced, vegetable-diet sort of 
 man, in a black coat, dark mixture trousers, and small black gaiters ; 
 a kind of being who seemed to be an essential part of the desk at 
 which he was writing, and to have as much thought or sentiment. 
 
 After a few minutes' silence, Mr. Dodson, a plump, portly, 
 
^^J^J'^^(cftciC'2^^myymy,^iey cd&t^n^^ c^z^e^: 
 
MORAL (AND LEGAL) ELEVATION 225 
 
 stern-looking man, with a loud voice, appeared ; and the conversation 
 commenced. 
 
 ' This is Mr. Pickwick,' said Fogg. 
 
 ' Ah ! You are the defendant, sir, in Bardell and Pickwick ? ' 
 said Dodson. 
 
 ' I am, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well, sir,' said Dodson, ' and what do you propose ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Fogg, thrusting his hands into his trousers' pockets, 
 and throwing himself back in his chair, 'what do you propose, 
 Mr. Pickwick?' 
 
 ' Hush, Fogg,' said Dodson, ' let me hear what Mr. Pickwick has 
 to say.' 
 
 ' I came, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick, gazing placidly on the 
 two partners, ' I came here, gentlemen, to express the surprise with 
 which I received your letter of the other day, and to inquire what 
 grounds of action you can have against me.' 
 
 'Grounds of — ' Fogg had ejaculated this much, when he was 
 stopped by Dodson. 
 
 ' Mr. Fogg,' said Dodson, ' I am going to speak.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Dodson,' said P'ogg. 
 
 ' For the grounds of action, sir,' continued Dodson, with moral 
 elevation in his air, ' you will consult your own conscience and your 
 own feelings. We, sir, we, are guided entirely by the statement of our 
 client. That statement, sir, may be true, or it may be false ; it may 
 be credible, or it may be incredible ; but, if it be true, and if it be 
 credible, I do not hesitate to say, sir, that our grounds of action, 
 sir, are strong, and not to be shaken. You may be an unfortunate 
 man, sir, or you may be a designing one ; but if I were called upon, 
 as a juryman upon my oath, sir, to express an opinion of your 
 conduct, sir, I do not hesitate to assert that I should have but one 
 opinion about it.' Here Dodson drew himself up, with an air of 
 offended virtue, and looked at Fogg, who thrust his hands further 
 in his pockets, and, nodding his head sagely, said, in a tone of the 
 fullest concurrence, ' Most certainly.' 
 
 ' Well, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable pain depicted in 
 his countenance, ' you will permit me to assure you, that I am a 
 most unfortunate man, so far as this case is concerned.' 
 
 ' I hope you are, sir,' replied Dodson ; ' I trust you may be, sir. 
 If you are really innocent of what is laid to your charge, you are 
 more unfortunate than I had believed any man could possibly be. 
 What do you say, Mr. Fogg ? ' 
 
 ' I say precisely what you say,' replied Fogg, with a smile of 
 incredulity. 
 
 ' The writ, sir, which commences the action,' continued Dod- 
 son, ' was issued regularly. Mr. Fogg, where is the pracipe 
 book?' 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'Here it is,' said Fogg, handing over a square book, with a 
 parchment cover. 
 
 ' Here is the entry,' resumed Dodson. ' " Middlesex, Capias 
 Martha Bar dell, widow, v. Samuel Pickwick. Damages, ;^i5oo. 
 Dodson and Fogg for the plaintiff, Aug. 28, 1830." All regular, 
 sir; perfectly.' Dodson coughed and looked at Fogg, who said 
 ' Perfectly,' also. And then they both looked at Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I am to understand, then,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that it really is 
 your intention to proceed with this action ? ' 
 
 'Understand, sir? That you certainly may,' replied Dodson, 
 with something as near a smile as his importance would allow. 
 
 ' And that the damages are actually laid at fifteen hundred 
 pounds ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' To which understanding you may add my assurance, that if we 
 could have prevailed upon our client, they would have been laid at 
 treble the amount, sir : ' replied Dodson. 
 
 ' I believe Mrs. Bardell specially said, however,' observed Fogg, 
 glancing at Dodson, ' that she would not compromise for a farthing 
 less.' 
 
 ' Unquestionably,' replied Dodson, sternly. For the action was 
 only just begun; and it wouldn't have done to let Mr. Pickwick 
 compromise it then, even if he had been so disposed. 
 
 'As you offer no terms, sir,' said Dodson, displaying a slip of 
 parchment in his right hand, and affectionately pressing a paper 
 copy of it, on Mr. Pickwick with his left, ' I had better serve you 
 with a copy of this writ, sir. Here is the original, sir.' 
 
 ' Very well, gentlemen, very well,' said Mr. Pickwick, rising in 
 person and wrath at the same time : " you shall hear from my 
 solicitor, gentlemen.' 
 
 ' We shall be very happy to do so,' said Fogg, rubbing his hands. 
 
 ' Very,' said Dodson, opening the door. 
 
 'And before I go, gentlemen,' said the excited Mr. Pickwick, 
 turning round on the landing, ' permit me to say, that of all the 
 disgraceful and rascally proceedings — • ' 
 
 ' Stay, sir, stay,' interposed Dodson, with great politeness. ' Mr. 
 Jackson ! Mr. Wicks ! ' 
 
 'Sir,' said the two clerks, appearing at the bottom of the 
 stairs. 
 
 ' I merely want you to hear what this gentleman says,' replied 
 Dodson. ' Pray, go on, sir— disgraceful and rascally proceedings, 
 I think you said ? ' 
 
 ' I did,' said Mr. Pickwick, thoroughly roused. ' I said, sir, that 
 of all the disgraceful and rascally proceedings that ever were 
 attempted, this is the most so. I repeat it, sir.' 
 
 ' You hear that,' Mr. Wicks ? ' said Dodson. 
 
 ' You won't forget these expressions, Mr. Jackson ? ' said Fogg. 
 
BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK 227 
 
 * Perhaps you would like to call us swindlers, sir,' ?aid Dodson. 
 ' Pray do, sir, if you feel disposed ; now pray do, sir.' 
 
 ' I do,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' You are swindlers." 
 
 ' Very good,' said Dodson. ' You can hear down there, I hope, 
 Mr. Wicks?' 
 
 ' Oh yes,, sir,' said Wicks. 
 
 ' You had better come up a step or two, higher, if you can't,' 
 added Mr. Fogg, ' Go on, sir ; do go on. You had better call us 
 thieves, sir; or perhaps you would like to assault one of us. Pray 
 do it, sir,. if you would; we will not make the smallest resistance. 
 Pray do it, sir.' 
 
 As Fogg put himself very teihptingly within the reach of Mr. 
 Pickwick's clenched fist, there is little doubt that that gentleman 
 would have complied with his earnest entreaty, but for the inter- 
 position of Sam, who, hearing the dispute, emerged from the office, 
 mounted t^e stairs,, and, seized his master by the zxvs\. 
 
 ' You just come avay,' said Mr. VVeller. ' Battledore and, shuttle- 
 cock's a wery good game, vhen you an't the shuttlecock and two 
 lawyers the battledores, in which case it gets too excitin',, to be 
 pleasant. Come avay, sir. If you want to ease your mind ,by 
 blowing up somebody, come out into the court and hlqvf up me ; 
 but it's rayther too expensive work to be carried on here.' 
 
 And without the slightest ceremony, Mr. Well^r hauled his 
 master doyi^n the stairs, . and dqwn the court, and having safely 
 deposited him in Cornhill, fell behind, prepared to follow whither- 
 soever he should lead. . , 
 
 Mr. Pickwick walked on abstractedly, crossed opposite the 
 Mansion House, and bent his steps up Cheapside. Sam began to 
 wonder where they were going, when his master turned round, and 
 said : , 
 
 ' Sam, I will go irnmediately to Mr. Perker's.' . . i' 
 
 ' That's just exactly the wery place vere you ought to have gone 
 last night, sir,', replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I think it is, Sam,' said Mr. Pic|^wdpk. 
 
 ' I know it is,' said Mr. Weller. . 
 
 'Well, well, Sani,' , replied Mr. Pickwick, 'we will go, there at 
 once, but first, as I have been rather ruffled, I should like a glass 
 of brandy and water warm, Sam. Where can I have it, S^m ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller's knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar. 
 He replied,, without the slightest consideration : 
 
 ' Second court on the right hand side — last house but vun on the 
 sanie side the vay — take the box as stands in the first fire-place, 
 'cos there an't no leg in the middle o' the table, wich all , the .others 
 has, and it's wery inconwenient.'' . , , 
 
 Mr. Pickwick observed , his valet's directions implicitly, and 
 bidding Sam follow him, entered the tavern he had pointed out, 
 
228 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 where the hot brandy and water was speedily placed before him ; 
 while Mr. Weller, seated at a respectful distance, though at the same 
 table with his master, was accommodated with a pint of porter. 
 
 The room was one of a very homely description, and was 
 apparently under the especial patronage of stage coachmen : for 
 several gentlemen, who had all the appearance of belonging to that 
 learned profession, were drinking and smoking in the different 
 boxes. Among the number was one stout, red-faced, elderly man 
 in particular, seated in an opposite box, who attracted Mr. Pick- 
 wick's attention. The stout man was smoking with great vehemence, 
 but between every half-dozen pufifs, he took his pipe from his mouth, 
 and looked first at Mr. Weller and then at Mr. Pickwick. Then, 
 he would bury in a quart pot, as much of his countenance as the 
 dimensions of the quart pot admitted of its receiving, and take 
 another look at Sam and Mr. Pickwick. Then he would take 
 another half-dozen puifs with an air of profound meditation and 
 look at them again. At last the stout man, putting up his legs on 
 the seat, and leaning his back against the wall, began to puff at his 
 pipe without leaving off at all, and to stare through the smoke at 
 the new comers, as if he had made up his mind to see the most he 
 could of them. 
 
 At first the evolutions of the stout man had escaped Mr. Weller's 
 observation, but by degrees, as he saw Mr. Pickwick's eyes every 
 now and then turning towards him, he began to gaze in the same 
 direction, at the same time shading his eyes with his hand, as if he 
 partially recognised the object before him, and wished to make 
 quite sure of its identity. His doubts were speedily dispelled, how- 
 ever ; for the stout man having blown a thick cloud from his pipe, a 
 hoarse voice, like some strange effort of ventriloquism, emerged 
 from beneath the capacious shawls which muffled his throat and 
 chest, and slowly uttered these sounds — ' Wy, Sammy ! ' 
 
 ' Who's that, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Why, I wouldn't ha' believed it, sir,' replied Mr. Weller with 
 astonished eyes. ' It's the old 'un.' 
 
 ' Old one,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' What old one ? ' 
 
 ' My father, sir,' rephed Mr. Weller. ' How are you, my ancient?' 
 With which beautiful ebullition of filial affection, Mr. Weller made 
 room on the seat beside him, for the stout man, who advanced pipe 
 in mouth and pot in hand, to greet him. 
 
 ' Wy, Sammy,' said the father, ' I han't seen you, for two year 
 and better.' 
 
 'Nor more you have, old codger,' replied the son. 'How's 
 mother in law ? ' 
 
 'Wy, I'll tell you what, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, senior, with 
 much solemnity in his manner ; ' there never was a nicer woman as 
 a widder, than that 'ere second wentur o' mine — a sweet creetur she 
 
TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES 22$ 
 
 was, Sammy ; all I can say on her now, is, that as she was such an 
 uncommon pleasant widder, it's a great pity she ever changed her 
 con-dition. She don't act as a vife, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Don't she, though ? ' inquired Mr. Waller junior. 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller shook his head, as he replied with a sigh, 
 ' I've done it once too often, Sammy ; I've done it once too often. 
 Take example by your father, my boy, and be wery careful o' 
 widders all your hfe, specially if they've kept a public-house, Sammy.' 
 Having delivered this parental advice with great pathos, Mr. Weller 
 senior re-filled his pipe from a tin box he carried in his pocket, and, 
 lighting his fresh pipe from the ashes of the old one, commenced 
 smoking at a great rate. 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' he said, renewing the subject, and address- 
 ing Mr. Pickwick, after a considerable pause, 'nothin' personal, I 
 hope, sir ; I hope you han't got a widder, sir.' 
 
 ' Not I,' replied Mr. Pickwick, laughing ; and while Mr. Pickwick 
 laughed, Sam Weller informed his parent in a whisper, of the relation 
 in which he stood towards that gentleman. 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' said Mr. Weller, senior, taking off his hat, 
 ' I hope you've no fault to find with Sammy, sir ? ' 
 
 ' None whatever,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wery glad to hear it, sir,' repUed the old man ; ' I took a good 
 deal o' pains with his eddication, sir; let him run in the streets 
 when he was wery young, and shift for his-self. It's the only way 
 to make a boy sharp, sir.' 
 
 ' Rather a dangerous process, I should imagine,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' And not a wery sure one, neither,' added Mr. Weller ; ' I got 
 reg'larly done the other day.' 
 
 ' N8 ! ' said his father. 
 
 ' I did,' said the son ; and he proceeded to relate, in as few 
 words as possible, how he had fallen a ready dupe to the stratagems 
 of Job Trotter. 
 
 Mr. Weller senior listened to the tale with the most profound 
 attention, and, at its termination, said : 
 
 ' Worn't one o' these chaps slim and tall, with long hair, and the 
 gift o' the gab wery gallopin' ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick did not quite understand the last item of description, 
 but, comprehending the first, said ' Yes ' at a venture. 
 
 'T'other's a black-haired chap in mulberry livery, with a wery 
 large head ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, he is,' said Mr. Pickwick and Sam, with great earnestness. 
 
 'Then I know where they are, and that's all about it,' said 
 Mr. Weller ; ' they're at Ipswich, safe enough, them two.' 
 
 ' No ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Fact,' said Mr. Weller, 'and I'll tell you how I know it. I 
 
2 30 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 work an Ipswich coach now and then for a friend o' mine. 
 I worked down the wery day arter the night as you caught the 
 rheumatiz, and at the Black Boy at Chelmsford — the wery place 
 they'd come to — I took 'em up, right through to Ipswich, where the 
 man servant — him in the mulberries — told me they was a goin' to 
 put up for a long time.' 
 
 ' I'll follow him,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' we may as well see Ipswich 
 as any other place. I'll follow him.' 
 
 'You're quite certain it was them, governor?' inquired Mr. 
 Weller, junior. 
 
 ' Quite, Sammy, quite,' replied his father, ' for their appearance is 
 wery sing^ler ; besides that 'ere, I wondered to see the gen'lm'n so 
 formiliar with his servant ; and, more than that, as they sat in front, 
 right behind the box, I heard 'em laughing, and saying how they'd 
 done old Fireworks.' 
 
 ' Old who ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' OM Fireworks, sir ; by which, I've no doubt, they meant you, sir.' 
 
 There is nothing positively vile or atrocious in the a:ppellation of 
 ' old Fireworks,' but still it is by no means a respectful or flattering 
 designation. The recollection of all the wrongs he had sustained at 
 Jingle's hands had crowded on Mt. Pickwick's mind, the moment 
 Mr. Weller began to speak: it wanted but; a feather to turn the 
 scale, and ' old i Fireworks ' did it. 
 
 ' I'll follow him,' said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on 
 the table. 
 
 ' I shall work down to Ipswich the day arter to-morrow, sir,' said 
 Mr. Weller the elder, 'from the Bull in ^Vhitechapel ; and if you 
 really mean to go, you'd better go with me.' 
 
 ' So we had,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' very true ; I can write to Bury, 
 and tell them to meet me at Ipswich. We will go with you. But 
 don't hurry away, Mr. Weller ; won't you take anything ? ' 
 
 ' You're wery good, sir,' replied Mr. W., stopping short ; ' perhaps 
 a small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to Sammy, 
 sir, wouldn't be amiss.' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' A glass of brandy here ! ' 
 The brandy was brought : and Mr. Weller, after pulling his hair to 
 Mr. Pickwick, and nodding to Sam, jerked it down lus capacious 
 throat as if it had been a small thimble-full. 
 
 'Well done, father,' said Sam, 'take care, old fellow, or you'll 
 have a touch of your old complaint, the gout.' 
 
 ' I've found a sov'rin' cure for that, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, 
 setting down the glass. 
 
 ' A sovereign cure for the gout,' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily pro- 
 ducing his note-book-^- what is it ? ' 
 
 'The gout, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, 'the gout is a complaint as 
 arises from too much ease and comfort. If ever you're attacked 
 
MR. PERKER'S PEOPLE 231 
 
 with the gout, sir, jist you marry a widder as has got a good loud 
 woice, with a decent notion of usin' it, and you'll never have the 
 gout agin. It's a capital prescription, sir. I takes it reg'lar, and I 
 can warrant it to drive away any illness as is caused by too much 
 jolUty.' Having imparted this valuable secret, Mr. Weller drained 
 his glass once more, produced a laboured wink, sighed deeply, and 
 slowly retired. 
 
 ' Well, what do you think of what your father says, Sam ? ' in- 
 quired Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 
 
 ' Think, sir ! ' rephed Mr. Weller ; ' why, I think he's the wictim 
 o' connubiality, as Blue Beard's domestic chaplain said, with a tear 
 of pity, ven he buried him.' 
 
 There was no replying to this very apposite conclusion, and, 
 therefore, Mr. Pickwick, after settling the reckoning, resumed his 
 walk to Gray's Inn. By the time he reached its secluded groves, 
 however, eight o'clock had Struck, and the unbroken stream of 
 gentlemen in muddy high-lows, soiled white hats, and rusty apparel, 
 who were pouring towards the different avenues of egress, warned 
 him that the majority of the offices had closed for that day. 
 
 After climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs, he found his 
 anticipations were realised. Mr. Perker's ' outer door ' was closed ; 
 and the dead silence which followed Mr. Weller's repeated kicks 
 thereat, announced that the officials had retired from business for 
 the night. 
 
 ' This is pleasant, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' I shouldn't lose an 
 hour in seeing him ; I shall not be able to get one wink of sleep 
 to-night, I know, unless I have the satisfaction of reflecting that I 
 have confided this matter to a professional man.' 
 • 'Here's an old 'ooman comin' up-stairs, sir,' replied Mr. Weller; 
 ' p'raps she knows where we can find somebody. Hallo, old lady, 
 vere's Mr. Perker's people ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Perker's people,' said a thin, miserable-lookiilg old woman, 
 stopping to recover breath after the ascent of the staircase, ' Mr. 
 Perker's people's gone, and I'm a goin' to do the office out.' 
 
 ' Are you Mr. Perker's servant ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I am Mr. Perker's laundress;' replied the old woman. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Sam, ' it's a curious circum- 
 stance, Sam, that they call the old women in these inns, laundresses. 
 I wonder what's that for.' 
 
 ' 'Cos they has a mortal awersion to washing anythin', I suppose, 
 sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 'I shouldn't wonder,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the old 
 woman, whose appearance, as well as the condition of the office, 
 which she had by this time opened, indicated a rooted antipathy 
 to the application of soap and water; 'do you know where I can 
 find Mr. Perker, my good woman ? ' 
 
2^2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'No, I don't,' replied the old woman, gruffly; 'he's out o' 
 town now.' 
 
 'That's unfortunate,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'where's his clerk? 
 Do you know ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I know where he is, but he won't thank me for teUing you,' 
 replied the laundress. 
 
 'I have very particular business with him,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Won't it do in the morning ? ' said the woman. 
 
 ' Not so well,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well,' said the old woman, ' if it was anything very particular, I 
 was to say where he was, so I suppose there's no harm in telling. 
 If you just go to the Magpie and Stump, and ask at the bar for Mr. 
 Lowten, they'll show you in to him, and he's Mr. Parker's clerk.' 
 
 With this direction, and having been furthermore informed that 
 the hostelry in question was situated in a court, happy in the double 
 advantage of being in the vicinity of Clare Market, and closely 
 approximating to the back of New Inn, Mr. Pickwick and Sam 
 descended the ricketty staircase in safety, and issued forth in quest 
 of the Magpie and Stump. 
 
 This favoured tavern, sacred to the evening orgies of Mr. Lowten 
 and his companions, was what ordinary people would designate a 
 pubUc-house. That the landlord was a man of a money-making 
 turn, was sufficiently testified by the fact of a small bulk-head 
 beneath the tap-room window, in size and shape not unlike a sedan- 
 chair, being underlet to a mender of shoes : and that he was a being 
 of a philanthropic mind, was evident from the protection he afforded 
 to a pieman, who vepded his delicacies without fear of interruption 
 on the very door-step. In the lower windows, which were decorated 
 with curtains of a saffron hue, dangled two or three printed cards, 
 bearing reference to Devonshire cyder and Dantzic spruce, while a 
 large black board, announcing in white letters to an enlightened 
 public that there were 500,000 barrels of double stout in the cellars 
 of the establishment, left the mind in a state of not unpleasing 
 dcubt and uncertainty as to the precise direction in the bowels of 
 the earth, in which this mighty cavern might be supposed to extend. 
 When we add, that the weather-beaten sign-board bore the half- 
 obliterated semblance of a magpie intently eyeing a crooked streak 
 of brown paint, which the neighbours had been taught from infancy 
 to consider as the ' stump,' we have said all that need be said of the 
 exterior of the edifice. 
 
 On Mr. Pickwick's presenting himself at the bar, an elderly 
 female emerged from behind a screen therein, and presented her- 
 self before him. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Lowten here, ma'am ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' Yes he is, sir,' replied the landlady. ' Here, Charley, show the 
 gentleman in, to Mr. Lowten.' 
 
A CONVIVIAL ASSEMBLAGE 233 
 
 ' The gen'lm'n can't go in just now,' said a shambling pot-boy, 
 with a red head, ' 'cos Mr. Lowten's a singin' a comic song, and 
 he'll put him out. He'll be done d'rectly, sir.' 
 
 The red-headed pot-boy had scarcely finished speaking, when 
 a most unanimous hammering of tables, and jingling of glasses, 
 announced that the song had that instant terminated; and Mr. 
 Pickwick, after desiring Sam to solace himself in the tap, suffered 
 himself to be conducted into the presence of Mr. Lowten. 
 
 At the announcement of ' gentleman to speak to you, sir,' a puify- 
 faced young man, who filled the chair at the head of the table, 
 looked with some surprise in the direction from whence the voice 
 proceeded : and the surprise seemed to be by no means diminished, 
 when his eyes rested on an individual whom he had never seen 
 before. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' and I am very sorry 
 to disturb the other gentlemen, too, but I come on very particular 
 business ; and if you will suffer me to detain you at this end of the 
 room for five minutes, I shall be very much obliged to you.' 
 
 The puify-faced young man rose, and drawing a chair close to 
 Mr. Pickwick in an obscure corner of the room, listened attentively 
 to his tale of woe. 
 
 ' Ah,' he said, when Mr. Pickwick had concluded, ' Dodson and 
 Fogg — sharp practice theirs — capital men of business, Dodson and 
 Fogg, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick admitted the sharp practice of Dodson and Fogg, 
 and Lowten resumed. 
 
 ' Perker ain't in town, and he won't be, neither, before the 
 end of next week ; but if you want the action defended, and will 
 leave the copy with me, I can do all that's needful till he comes 
 back.' 
 
 ' That's exactly what I came here for,' said Mr. Pickwick, hand- 
 ing over the document. ' If anything particular occurs, you can 
 write to me at the post-ofBce, Ipswich.' 
 
 'That's all right,' rephed Mr. Parker's clerk; and then seeing 
 Mr. Pickwick's eye wandering curiously towards the table, he added, 
 ' Will you join us, for half-an-hour or so ? We are capital company 
 here to-night. There's Samkin and Green's managing-clerk, and 
 Smithers and Price's chancery, and Pimkin and Thomas's out o' 
 door — sings a capital song, he does — and Jack Bamber, and ever 
 so many more. You're come out of the country, I suppose. Would 
 you like to join us ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick could not resist so tempting an opportunity of 
 studying human nature. He suffered himself to be led to the table, 
 where, after having been introduced to the company in due form, 
 he was accommodated with a seat near the chairman, and called 
 for a glass of his favourite beverage. 
 
234 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 A profound silence, quite contrary to Mr. Pickwick's expectation, 
 succeeded. 
 
 ' You don't find this sort of thing disagreeable, I hope, sir ? ' said 
 his right hand neighbour; a gentleman in a checked shirt, and 
 Mosaic studs, with a cigar in his mouth. 
 
 ' Not in the least,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' I like it very much, 
 although I am no smoker myself.' 
 
 ' I should be very sorry to say I wasn't,' interposed another 
 gentleman on the opposite side of the table. ' It's board and 
 lodging to me, is smoke.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick glanced at the speaker, and thought that if it were 
 washing too, it would be all the better. 
 
 Here there was another pause. Mr. Pickwick was a stranger, 
 and his coming had evidently cast a damp upon the party. 
 
 ' Mr. Grundy's going to oblige the company with a song,' said 
 the chairman. 
 
 ' No he ain't,' said Mr. Grundy. 
 
 ' Why not ? ' said the chairman. 
 
 ' Because he can't,' said Mr. Grundy. 
 • 'You had better say he won't,' replied the chairman. 
 
 ' Well, then, he won't,' retorted Mr. Grundy. Mr. Grundy's posi- 
 tive refusal to gratify the company occasioned another silence. 
 
 'Won't anybody enliven us?' said the chairman, despondingly. 
 
 ' Why don't you enliven us yourself, Mr. Chairman ? ' said a young 
 man with a whisker, a squint, and an open shirt collar (dirty); from 
 the bottom of the table. 
 
 ' Hear ! hear ! ' said the smoking gentleman in the Mosaic jewellery. 
 
 ' Because I only know one song, and I have surig it already, and 
 it's a fine of "glasses round" to sing the same song twice in a 
 night,' replied the chairman. 
 
 This was an imanswerable reply, and silence prevailed again. 
 
 ' Ihave been to-night, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick, hoping to 
 start a subject which all the company could take a part in dis' 
 cussing, ' I have been to-night in a place which you all know very 
 well, doubtless, but which I have not been in before for some years, 
 and know very Uttle of ; I mean Gray's Inn, gentlemen. Curious 
 little nooks in a great place, like London, these old Inns are.' 
 
 ' By Jove,' said the chairman, whispering across the table to Mr. 
 Pickwick, ' you have hit upon something that one of us, at least, 
 would talk upon for ever. You'll draw old Jack Bamber out; he 
 was never heard to talk about anything else but the Inns, and he 
 has lived alone in them till he's half crazy.' 
 
 The individual to whom Lowten alluded, was a little yellow high- 
 shouldered man, whose countenance, from his habit of stooping 
 forward when silent, Mr. Pickwick had not observed before. He 
 wondered though, when the old man raised his shrivelled face, 
 
INNS OF COURT 235 
 
 and bent his grey eye upon him, with a keen inquiring look, that 
 such remarkable features could have escaped his attention for a 
 moment. There was a fixed grim smile perpetually on his counte- 
 nance; he leant his chin on a long skinny hand, with nails of 
 extraordinary length ; and as he inclined his head to one side, and 
 looked keenly out from beneath his ragged grey eyebrows, there was 
 a strange, *ild slyness in his leer, quite repulsive to behold. 
 
 This was the figure that now started forivard, and burst into dn 
 animated torrent of words. As this chapter has been a long one;, 
 however, and as the old man was a remarkable personage, it will be 
 more respectful to him, and more convenient to us, to let him speak 
 for himself in a fresh one. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IN WHICH THE OLD MAN LAUNCHtS FORTH INTO HIS FAyOyRlTE 
 THEME, AND RELATES A STORY ABOUT A QUEER CLIENT 
 
 ' Aha ! ' said the old man, a brief description of whose manner and 
 appearance concluded the last chapter, ' Aha ! who was talking 
 about the Inns ? ' 
 
 ' I was, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick ; ' I was observing what 
 singular old places they are.' 
 
 ■ ' You!' said the old man, contemptuously, ' What do J'^w know 
 of the time when young men shut themselves up in those lonely 
 rooms, and read and read, hour after hour, and night after night, 
 till their reason wandered beneath their midnight studies ; till their 
 mental powers were exhausted ; till morning's light brought no 
 freshfiess or health to them ; and they sank beneath the unnatural 
 devotion of their youthful energies to their diy old books ? Coming 
 down to a later tirne, and a very different day, what do you know of 
 the gradual sinking beneath consumption, or the quick wasting of 
 fever — the grand results of " life" and dissipation^— which men have 
 undergone in these same rooms? How many vain pleaders for 
 mercy, do you think have turned ' away heart-sick from the lawyer's 
 oflSce, to find a resting-place in the Thames, or a refuge in the gaol? 
 They are no ordinary houses, those. Thereis not a panel in the 
 old waihscotting, but what, if it were endowed with the powers of 
 speech arid memory, could start from the wall, and tell its tale of 
 horror — the romance of life;- sir, the romance of • life ! Common- 
 place as they may seem now, I tell you they are strange old placeis, 
 and I- would • rathef hear many a legend with a terrific sounding 
 name, than the true history of one old set of chambers.' 
 
236 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 There was something so odd in the old man's sudden energy, 
 and the subject which had called it forth, that Mr. Pickwick was 
 prepared with no observation in reply ; and the old man checking 
 his impetuosity, and resuming the leer, which had disappeared 
 during his previous excitement, said : 
 
 ' Look at them in another light : their most common-place and 
 least romantic. What fine places of slow torture they are ! Think 
 of the needy man who has spent his all, beggared himself, and 
 pinched his friends, to enter the profession, which will never yield 
 him a morsel of bread. The waiting — the hope — the disappomt- 
 ment — the fear — the misery — ^the poverty — the blight on his hopes, 
 and end to his career — the suicide perhaps, or the shabby, slipshod 
 drunkard. Am I not right about them ? ' And the old man rubbed 
 his hands, and leered as if in delight at having found another point 
 of view in which to place his favourite subject. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick eyed the old man with great curiosity, and the 
 remainder of the company smiled, and looked on in silence. 
 
 'Talk of your German universities,' said the little old man. 
 ' Pooh, pooh ! there's romance enough at home without going half 
 a mile for it ; only people never think of it.' 
 
 ' I never thought of the romance of this particular subject before, 
 certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick, laughing. 
 
 ' To be sure you didn't,' said the little old man, ' of course not. 
 As a friend of mine used to say to me, " What is there in chambers, 
 in particular ? " " Queer old places," said I. " Not at all," said he. 
 " Lonely," said I. " Not a bit of it," said he. He died one morning 
 of apoplexy, as he was going to open his outer door. Fell with his 
 head in his own letter-box, and there he lay for eighteen months. 
 Every body thought he'd gone out of town.' 
 
 ' And how was he found at last ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' The benchers determined to have his door broken open, as he 
 hadn't paid any rent for two years. So they -did. Forced the 
 lock ; and a very dusty skeleton in a blue coat, black knee-shorts, 
 and silks, fell forward in the arms of the porter who opened the 
 door. Queer, that. Rather, perhaps?' The little old man 
 put his head more on one side, and rubbed his hands with 
 unspeakable glee. 
 
 ' I know another case,' said the little old man, when his chuckles 
 had in some degree subsided. ' It occurred in Clifford's Inn. 
 Tenant of a top set — ^bad character — shut himself up in his bed- 
 room closet, and took a dose of arsenic. The steward thought he 
 had run away ; opened the door, and put a bill up. Another man 
 came, took the chambers, furnished them, and went to live there. 
 Somehow or other he couldn't sleep — always restless and uncom- 
 fortable. " Odd," says he. " I'll make the other room my bed- 
 chamber, and this my sitting-room." He made the change, and 
 
THE ROMANCE OF LIFE 237 
 
 slept very well at night, but suddenly found that, somehow, he 
 couldn't read in the evening : he got nervous and uncomfortable, 
 and used to be always snuffing his candles and staring about him. 
 " I can't make this out," said he, when he came home from the 
 play one night, and was drinking a glass of cold grog, with his 
 back to the wall, in order that he mightn't be able to fancy there 
 was any one behind him — " I can't make it out,' said he ; and just 
 then his eyes rested on the little closet that had been always locked 
 up, and a shudder ran through his whole frame from top to toe. 
 " I have felt this strange feeling before," said he, " I cannot help 
 thinking there's something wrong about that closet." He made a 
 strong effort, plucked up his courage, shivered the lock with a blow 
 or two of the poker, opened the door, and there, sure enough, 
 standing bolt upright in the corner, was the last tenant, with a little 
 bottle clasped firmly in his hand, and his face — well ! ' As the 
 little old man concluded, he looked round on the attentive faces of 
 his wondering auditory with a smile of grim delight. 
 
 ' What strange things these are you tell us of, sir,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, minutely scanning the old man's countenance, by the 
 aid of his glasses. 
 
 ' Strange ! ' said the little old man. ' Nonsense ; you think them 
 strange, because you know nothing about it. They are funny, but 
 not uncommon.' 
 
 ' Funny ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, involuntarily. 
 
 ' Yes, funny, are they not ? ' replied the little old man, with 
 a diabolical leer ; and then, without pausing for an answer, he 
 continued : 
 
 ' I knew another man — let me see — forty years ago now — who 
 took an old, damp, rotten set of chambers, in one of the most 
 ancient Inns, that had been shut up and empty for years and years 
 before. There were lots of old women's stories about the place, 
 and it certainly was very far from being a cheerful one ; but he 
 was poor, and the rooms were cheap, and that would have been 
 quite a sufficient reason for him, if they had been ten times worse 
 than they really were. He was obliged to take some mouldering 
 fixtures that were on the place, and, among the rest, was a great 
 lumbering wooden press for papers, with large glass doors, and a 
 green curtain inside ; a pretty useless thing for him, for he had 
 no papers to put in it ; and as to his clothes, he carried them 
 about with him, and that wasn't very hard work, either. Well, he 
 had moved in all his furniture — it wasn't quite a truck-full — and had 
 sprinkled it about the room, so as to make the four chairs look as 
 much like a dozen as possible, and was sitting down before the fire 
 at night, drinking the first glass of two gallons of whiskey he had 
 ordered on credit, wondering whether it would ever be paid for, 
 and if so, in how many years' time, when his eyes encountered the 
 
238 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 glass doors of the wooden press. " Ah," says he. " If I hadn't 
 been obliged to take that ugjy article at the old broker's valuation, 
 I might have got something comfortahle for the money. iJ'll- tell 
 you what it is, old fellow," he said, speaking alpud tq the press, 
 having nothing else to speak to : " If it wouldn?t cost inore to break 
 up your old carcase, than it would ever he worth afterwards, I'd 
 have a fire out of you in less than no time." He had hardly spoken 
 the words, when a sound resembling a faint groan, appeared to 
 issue from the interior oiF the case. It startled him at first, but 
 thinking, on a moment's reflection, that it must be some young 
 fellow in the next chamber, who had been dining out, he put his 
 feet on the fender, and raised the poker to stir the fire. At thajt 
 moment, the sound was repeated : and one of the glass doors 
 slowly opening, disclosed a pale and emaciated figure in soiled 
 and worn appa,rel, standing erect in the press. The figure was tall 
 and thiri, and the countenance expressive of care and anxiety ; but 
 there was something in the; hue of fhe skin, and gaunt and unearthly 
 appearance of the whole form, which no being of this world was 
 ever seen to wear. "Who are you?" said the new tenant, turning 
 very pale : poising the poker in his hand, however, and taking a 
 very decent aim at the countenance of the figure. "Who are you?" 
 " Pon't throw that poker at me," replied the fprm; "If you hurled 
 it with ever so sure an aim, it would pass through me, without 
 resistance, and expend it^ force on the wood behind. I am a 
 spirit." " And, pray, what do you want here ? " faltered the tenant. 
 " In this room," replied the appa,ritipn, " my worldly ruin was 
 worked, and I and my children beggared. In this press, the papers 
 in a long, long suit, which accumulated for years, were deposited. 
 In this room, when I had died of grief, and long-deferred hope, 
 two wily harpies divided the wealth for whiqh I had -contested 
 during a wretched existence, and of which, at last, not one farthing 
 was left for my unhappy descendants. I terrified them from the 
 spot, and since that day liave prowled by night— the only perip,d 
 at which I can re-visit the earth — about the scenes of my long- 
 protracted misery. This apartment is mine : leave it to me." " If 
 you insist upon making your appearaiice here," said the tenant, 
 who had had time to collect his presence of.mind during this prosy 
 statement of the: ghost's, " I shall gi\p. up possession with the 
 greatest pleasure; but 1 should like to ask you one question, if 
 you will allow me." , '^' Say on," said the apparition, sternly. "Well," 
 said the tenant, " I don't. apply the observation personally to you, 
 because it is equally applicable to most of the ghosts I ever heard 
 of; but it does appear to me somewhat inconsistent, .that when 
 you have an opportunity of visiting the faUest spots of eartiti — for 
 I suppose space is iiothing to you — you should always return 
 exactly to the very places where you have been most miserable." 
 
THE OLD MAN'S TALE 239 
 
 "Egad, that's very true 5. 1 never thought of that before," said the 
 ghost. "You see, sir," pursued the tenant, " this is a very uncom- 
 fortable room. From the appearance of that press, I should be 
 disposed to say that it is not wholly free from bugs; and I really 
 think you. might find much more comfortable quarters: to say 
 nothing of the climate of London, which is extremely disagreeable." 
 " You are very right, sir," said the ghost, politely, " it never struck 
 me till now; I'll try, change of air directly." In fact^_he began to 
 vanish as he spoke : his legs, indeed, had quite disappeared. 
 "And if, sir," said the tenant, calling after him, "if "you pouM 
 have, the goodness to suggest to the other ladies and gentlemen who 
 are now engaged in haunting old, empty houses, that they might 
 be much more comfortable elsewhere, jou will confer a very great 
 benefit on society." "I will," replied the, ghost; "we must be 
 dull fellows, very dull fellows, indeed; I can't imagine how we can 
 have been so stupid." With these words, the .spirit disappeared ; 
 and what is rather remarkable,' added the old rnan, with a shrewd 
 look round the table, ' he never came back again,' . , 
 
 'That ain't bad, if it's true,' SEiid the man in the Mosaic studs, 
 lighting a fresh cigar. , 
 
 ' If! ' exclaimed the old man, with a look of excessive contempt 
 ' I suppose,' he added, turning to Lowten, ' he'll say next, that my 
 story, about the queer client we had, when I was in an attorney's 
 office, is not true, either — ;I shouldn't wonder.' 
 
 'I shan't venture to say anything at all about it, seeing that 
 I never heard the story,' observed the owner of the Mosaic 
 decorations. 
 
 ' I wish you would repeat it, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah, do,' said Lowten, ' nobody has heard it but me, and I have 
 nearly forgotten it.' . 
 
 The old man looked round the table, and leered more horribly 
 than ever, as if in triumph, at the attention which was depicted in 
 every face. Then rubbing his chin with his hand, and looking up 
 to the ceiling as if to recall' the circumstances to his memory, he 
 began as follows : 
 
 THE OLD man's TALE ABOUT THE QUEER CLIENT 
 
 'It matters little,' said the old man, 'where, or how, I picked 
 up this brief history. If I were to relate it in the order in which it 
 reached me, I should commence in the middle, and when I had 
 arrived at the conclusion, go back for a beginning. It is enough 
 for me to say that some of its circumstances passed before my own 
 eyes. For the remainder I know them to have happened, and 
 there are some persons y6t living, who will remember them but 
 fop well. 
 
240 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' In the Borough High Street, near Saint George's Church, and 
 on the same side of the way, stands, as most people know, the 
 smallest of our debtors' prisons, the Marshalsea. Although in later 
 times it has been a very different place from the sink of filth and 
 dirt it once was, even its improved condition holds out but little 
 temptation to the extravagant, or consolation to the improvident. 
 The condemned felon has as good a yard for air and exercise in 
 Newgate, as the insolvent debtor in the Marshalsea Prison.* 
 
 ' It may be my fancy, or it may be that I cannot separate the 
 place from the old recollections associated with it, but this part of 
 London I cannot bear. The street is broad, the shops are spacious, 
 the noise of passing vehicles, the footsteps of a perpetual stream of 
 people — all the busy sounds of traffic, resound in it from mom to 
 liiidnight, but the streets around are mean and close ; poverty and 
 debauchery lie festering in the crowded alleys ; want and mis- 
 fortune are pent up in the narrow prison; an air of gloom and 
 dreariness seems, in my eyes at least, to hang about the scene, and 
 to impart to it a squalid and sickly hue. 
 
 ' Many eyes, that have long since been closed in the grave, have 
 looked round upon that scene lightly enough, when entering the 
 gate of the old Marshalsea Prison for the first time : for despair 
 seldom comes with the first severe shock of misfortune. A man 
 has confidence in untried friends, he remembers the many offers of 
 service so freely made by his boon companions when he wanted 
 them not ; he has hope — the hope of happy inexperience — and 
 however he may bend beneath the first shock, it springs up in his 
 bosom, and flourishes there for a brief space, until it droops beneath 
 the blight of disappointment and neglect. How soon have those 
 same eyes, deeply sunken in the head, glared from faces wasted 
 with famine, and sallow from confinement, in days when it was no 
 figure of speech to say that debtors rotted in prison, with no hope 
 of release, and no prospect of liberty ! The atrocity in its full 
 extent no longer exists, but there is enough of it left to give rise to 
 occurrences that make the heart bleed. 
 
 ' Twenty years ago, that pavement was worn with the footsteps 
 of a mother and child, who, day by day, so surely as the morning 
 came, presented themselves at the prison gate ; often after a night 
 of restless misery and anxious thoughts, were they there, a full hour 
 too soon, and then the young mother turning meekly away, would 
 lead the child to the old bridge, and raising him in her arms to 
 show him the glistening water, tinted with the light of the morning's 
 sun, and stirring with all the bustling preparations for business and 
 pleasure that the river presented at that early hour, endeavour to 
 interest his thoughts in the objects before him. But she would 
 quickly set him down, and hiding her face in her shawl, give vent 
 
 * Better. But this is past, in a better age, and the prison exists no longer. 
 
BEREAVEMENTS 241 
 
 to the tears that bhnded her; for no expression of interest or 
 amusement lighted up his thin and sickly face. His recollections 
 were few enough, but they were all of one kind : all connected with 
 the poverty and misery of his parents. Hour after hour had he 
 sat on his mother's knee, and with childish sympathy watched the 
 tears that stole down her face, and then crept quietly away into 
 some dark comer, and sobbed himself to sleep. The hard reahties 
 of the world, with many of its worst privations — hunger and thirst, 
 and cold and want — had all come home to him, from the first 
 dawnmgs of reason ; and though the form of childhood was there, 
 its Ught heart, its merry laugh, and sparkling eyes, were wanting. 
 
 'The father and mother looked on upon this, and upon each 
 other, with thoughts of agony they dared not breathe in words. 
 The healthy, strong-made man, who could have borne almost any 
 fatigue of active exertion, was wasting beneath the close confine- 
 ment and unhealthy atmosphere of a crowded prison. The slight 
 and delicate woman was sinking beneath the combined effects of 
 bodily and mental illness. The child's young heart was breaking. 
 
 ' Winter came, and with it weeks of cold and heavy rain. The 
 poor girl had removed to a wretched apartment close to the spot of 
 her husband's imprisonment; and though the change had been 
 rendered necessary by their increasing poverty, she was happier 
 now, for she was nearer him. For two months, she and her little 
 companion watched the opening of the gate as usual. One day 
 she failed to come, for the first time. Another morning arrived, 
 and she came alone. The child was dead. 
 
 ' They little know, who coldly talk of the poor man's bereave- 
 ments, as a happy release from pain to the departed, and a merciful 
 relief from expense to the survivor — they little know, I say, what 
 the agony of those bereavements is. A silent look of affection and 
 regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away — the conscious- 
 ness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when 
 all others have deserted us — is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the 
 deepest afHiction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow. 
 The child had sat at his parents' feet for hours together, with his 
 little hands patiently folded in each other, and his thin wan face 
 raised towards them. They had seen him pine away, from day to 
 day ; and though his brief existence had been a joyless one, and he 
 was now removed to that peace and rest which, child as he was, he 
 had never known in this world, they were his parents, and his loss 
 sunk deep into their souls. 
 
 ' It was plain to those who looked upon the mother's altered face, 
 that death must soon close the scene of her adversity and trial. 
 Her husband's fellow-prisoners shrunk from obtruding on his grief 
 and misery, and left to himself alone the small room he had 
 previously occupied in common with two companions. She shared 
 
 R 
 
242 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 it with him : and hngering on without pain, but without hope, her 
 life ebbed slowly away. 
 
 ' She had fainted one evening in her husband's arms, and he had 
 borne her to the open window, to revive her with the air, when the 
 light of the moon falling full upon her face, shewed him a change 
 upon her features, which made him stagger beneath her weight, like 
 a helpless infant. 
 
 ' " Set me down, George," she said faintly. He did so, and 
 seating himself beside her, covered his face with his hands, and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 ' " It is very hard to leave you, George," she said, " but it is 
 God's will, and you must bear it for my sake. Oh ! how I thank 
 Him for having taken our boy ! He is happy, and in Heaven now. 
 What would he have done here, without his mother ! " 
 
 ' " You shall not die, Mary, you shall not die ! " said the husband, 
 starting up. He paced hurriedly to and fro, striking his head with 
 his clenched fists ; then reseating himself beside her, and support- 
 ing her in his arms, added more calmly, " Rouse yourself, my dear 
 girl. Pray, pray do. You will revive yet." 
 
 ' " Never again, George ; never again," said the dying woman. 
 " Let them lay me by my poor boy now, but promise me, that if 
 ever you leave this dreadful place, and should grow rich, you will 
 have us removed to some quiet country churchyard, a long, long 
 way off — very far from here — where we can rest in peace. Dear 
 George, promise me you will." 
 
 '"I do, I do," said the man, throwing himself passionately on 
 his knees before her. "Speak to me, Mary, another word; one 
 look — but one ! " 
 
 ' He ceased to speak : for the arm that clasped his neck, grew 
 stiff and heavy. A deep sigh escaped from the wasted form before 
 him ; the Ups moved, and a smile played upon the face ; but the 
 lips were pallid, and the smile faded into a rigid and ghastly stare. 
 He was alone in the world. 
 
 ' That night, in the silence and desolation of his .miserable room, 
 the wretched man knelt down by the dead body of his wife, and 
 called on God to witness a terrible oath, that from that hour, he 
 devoted himself to revenge her death and that of his child ; that 
 thenceforth to the last moment of his life, his whole energies should 
 be directed to this one object ; that his revenge should be protracted 
 and terrible ; that his hatred should be undying and inextinguish- 
 able ; and should hunt its object through the world. 
 
 '■ The deepest despair, and passion scarcely human, had made 
 such fierce ravages on his face and form, in that one night, that his 
 companions in misfortune shmnk affrighted from him as he passed 
 by. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy, his face a deadly white, 
 and his body bent ag if with age. He had bitten his under lip 
 
FEVERED VISIONS 243 
 
 nearly through in the violence of his mental suffering, and the blood 
 which had flowed from the wound had trickled down his chin, and 
 stained his shirt and neckerchief. No teat. Or sound of comfilain't 
 escaped him : but the unsettled look, and disordered haste with 
 which he pkced up and down the yard, dehOted the fever whicfi was 
 burning within. • ,! ^ . 
 
 'It was necessary that his wife's body shotiM be removed from 
 the prison, without delay. He received' the communication with 
 perfect calmness, and acquiesced in its propriety. Nearly all the 
 inmates of the prison had assembled to witness its 'rfeinoval ; they 
 fell back ott either 'side "(vhen the widower appeared;- he walked 
 hurriedly fdrward, arid stationed himself, alone, in a little railed 
 area close to the lodge gate, frOm whence the crowd, with an 
 instinetivd feeling of delicacy, had retired. The rude coffin was 
 borne slowly forward oh men's shoulders. A dead silence pervaded 
 the throng, broken only by the audible lamentations of the woinen, 
 arid the shuffling steps of the bearers on the stone pavement. They 
 reached the Spot where the bereaved husbland stood': arid stopped: 
 He laid his hand upon the coffin, and mechanically adjusting the 
 pall with 'which it was covered, motioned ' them' Onward. The turn- 
 keys in the prison lobby took Off their hats as it passed through^ 
 arid in another rtibment the heavy gite closed behind it. He looked 
 vacantly upon the' crowd, and fell heavily to the ground. 
 
 'Although for riiari'y Weeks' after this, he was watched, riighfand 
 day, in the wildest raving's of fever, neithei- the' coriscibusness of his 
 loss, nor the recollection of the vow he had made, ever left him for 
 a moment. Scenes changed before his eyes, place succeeded place, 
 and event followed event, in all the hurry of delirium ;, but they 
 were all connected in sorrie way with' the 'great object of his mind; 
 He was sailing pver a boiindlbss expanse of sea, with a ' blood-red 
 sky above, and the angry waters, lashed into fury beneath, boiling 
 and Mdyirig up, on every side. ' There wa^ another 'vessel before 
 them, toiling and labouring in the hbwlirig storm : het canvas 
 fluttering in ribbons from the mast, arid her deck th'roftged with 
 figures who were lashed to the sides, o'ver which huge waves every 
 instant burst, sweeping away some devoted' ^reatures into the 
 foaming sea. Ohwaird they bore, amidst the roaring mass of water, 
 with a speed and force which nothirig co'uld 'resist ; and striking the 
 stem of the foremost vessel, crushed her, beneath their keel. ' From 
 the huge whirlpool which the sinkirig wreck occasioned, arose at 
 shriek so loud and shrill — the death-cry ' of a hundred drowning 
 creatures, blended into one fierce yell^--that it rung far above the 
 war-cry Of the elements, and echoed, and re-echoed till it seemed 
 to pierce air, sky, and ocean. But what was that— that old grey- 
 head that rose above the water's sttfface, and with looks of agony, 
 and screams for aid, buffeted with the waves ! One look, and he 
 
244 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 had sprung from the vessel's side, and with vigorous strokes was 
 swimming towards it. He reached it ; he was close upon it. They 
 were his features. The old man saw him coming, and vainly strove 
 to elude his grasp. But he clasped him tight, and dragged him 
 beneath the water. Down, down with him, fifty fathoms down; 
 his struggles grew fainter and fainter, until they wholly ceased. He 
 was dead ; he had killed him, and had kept his oath. 
 
 'He was traversing the scorching sands of a mighty desert, 
 barefoot and alone. The sand choked and blinded him ; its fine 
 thin grains entered the very pores of his skin, and irritated him 
 almost to madness. Gigantic masses of the same material, carried 
 forward by the wind, and shone through, by the burning sun, 
 stalked in the distance like pillars of living fire. The bones of 
 men, who had perished in the dreary waste, lay scattered at his 
 feet ; a fearful light fell on everything around ; so far as the eye 
 could reach, nothing but objects of dread and horror presented 
 themselves. Vainly striving to utter a cry of terror,, with iiis 
 tongue cleaving to his mouth, he rushed madly forward. Armed 
 with supernatural strength, he waded through the sand, until ex- 
 hausted with fatigue and thirst, he fell senseless on the earth. What 
 fragrant coolness revived him; what gushing sound was that? 
 Water ! It was indeed a well ; and the clear fresh stream was 
 running at his feet. He drank deeply of it, and throwing his 
 aching limbs upon the bank, sunk into a delicious trance. The 
 sound of approaching footsteps roused him. An old grey-headed 
 man tottered forward to slake his burning thirst. It was he again ! 
 He wound his arms round the old man's body, and held him back. 
 He struggled, and shrieked for water, for but one drop of water to 
 save his life ! But he held the old man firmly, and watched his 
 agonies with greedy eyes ; and when his lifeless head fell forward 
 on his bosom, he rolled the corpse from him with his feet. 
 
 ' When the fever left him, and consciousness returned, he awoke 
 to find himself rich and free : to hear that the parent who would 
 have let him die in gaol — would.' who had let those who were far 
 dearer to him than his own existence, die of want and sickness of 
 heart that medicine cannot cure — ^had been found dead on his bed 
 of down. He had had all the heart to leave his son a beggar, but 
 proud even of his health and strength, had put off the act tUl it was 
 too late, and now might gnash his teeth in the other world, at the 
 thought of the wealth his remissness had left him. He awoke to 
 this, and he awoke to more. To recollect the purpose for which 
 he lived, and to remember that his enemy was his wife's own father 
 —the man who had cast him into prison, and who, when his 
 daughter and her child sued at his feet for mercy, had spumed 
 them from his door. Oh, how he cursed the weakness that pre- 
 vented him from being up, and active, in his scheme of vengeance ! 
 
REVENGE 24s 
 
 ' He caused himself to be carried from the scene of his loss and 
 misery, and conveyed to a quiet residence on the sea-coast ; not in 
 the hope of recovering his peace of mind or happiness, for both 
 were fled for ever ; but to restore his prostrate energies, and medi- 
 tate on his darling object. And here, some evil spirit cast in his 
 way the opportunity for his first, most horrible revenge. 
 
 ' It was summer time ; and wrapped in his gloomy thoughts, he 
 would issue from his solitary lodgings early in the evening, and 
 wandering along a narrow path beneath the cliffs, to a wild and 
 lonely spot that had struck his fancy in his ramblings, seat himself 
 on some fallen fragment of the rock, and burying his face in his 
 hands, remain there for hours — sometimes until night had com- 
 pletely closed in, and the long shadows of the frowning chffs above 
 his head cast a thick black darkness on every object near him. 
 
 ' He was seated here, one calm evening in his old position, now 
 and then raising his head to watch the flight of a sea-gull, or carry 
 his eye along the glorious crimson path, which, commencing in the 
 middle of the ocean, seemed to lead to its very verge where the sun 
 was settingj when the profound stillness of the spot was broken by 
 a loud cry for help ; he Ustened, doubtful of his having heard aright, 
 when the cry was repeated with even greater vehemence than before, 
 and starting to his feet, he hastened in the direction whence it 
 proceeded. 
 
 ' The tale told itself at once : some scattered garments lay on the 
 beach ; a human head was just visible above the waves at a little 
 distance from the shore ; and an old man, wringing his hands in 
 agony, was running to and fro, shrieking for assistance. The invahd, 
 whose strength was now sufficiently restored, threw off his coat, and 
 rushed towards the sea, with the intention of plunging in, and 
 dragging the drowning man a-shore. 
 
 ' " Hasten here, sir, in God's name ; help, help, sir, for the love 
 of Heaven. He is my son, sir, my only son ! " said the old man, 
 frantically, as he advanced to meet him. " My only son, sir, and 
 he is dying before his father's eyes ! " 
 
 'At the first word the old man uttered, the stranger checked 
 himself in his career, and, folding his arms, stood perfectly 
 motionless. 
 
 ' " Great God ! " exclaimed the old man, recoiling. " Heyling ! " 
 
 ' The stranger smiled, and was silent. 
 
 ' " Heyling ! " said the old man, wildly : " My boy, Heyling, my 
 dear boy, look, look ! " gasping for breath, the miserable father 
 pointed to the spot where the young man was struggling for life. 
 
 ' " Hark ! " said the old man. " He cries once more. He is 
 alive yet. HeyHng, save him, save him ! " 
 
 'The stranger smiled again, and remained immovable as a 
 statue. 
 
246 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 I << ' 
 
 'I have wronged you," shrieked the old man, falling on his 
 knees, and clasping his hands together. "Be revenged; take my 
 all, my life; cast me into the water at your feet, and, if human 
 nature can repress a struggle, I will die, without stirring hand or 
 foot. Do it, Heyling, do it, but save my boy, he is so young, 
 Heyling, so young to die ! " 
 
 '"Listen," said the stranger, grasping the old man fiercely by 
 the wrist: "I will have life for life, and here is one. Mjr child 
 died, before his father's eyeSj a far more agonising and painful 
 death than that young slanderer of his sister's worth is meeting 
 while I speak. You laughed — laughed in your daughter's face, 
 where death had already set his hand— at our sufferings, then. 
 What think you of them now ? See there, see there ! " 
 
 ' As the stranger spoke, he pointed to the sea. A faint cry died 
 away upon its surface : the last powerful struggle of the dying man 
 agitated the rippling waves for a few seconds : and the; spot where 
 he had gone down into his early grave, was undistinguishable from 
 the surrounding water. 
 
 'Three years had elapsed, when a gentleman alighted from a 
 private carriage at the door of a London attorney, then well known 
 as a man of no great nicety in his professional dealings: and 
 requested a private interview on business of importance. Although 
 evidently not past the prime of lifCj his face was pale, haggard, and 
 dejected,; and it did not require the acute perception of the man of 
 business, to discern at a glance, that disease or suffering had done 
 more to work a change in his appearance, than th6 mere hand of 
 time could have accomplished in twice the period of his whole Ufe. 
 
 '"I wish you to undertake some legal business for me," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 'The attorney bowed obsequiously, and glanced at a large packet 
 which the gendeman carried in his hand. His visitor observed the 
 look, and proceeded. 
 
 ' " It is no common business," said he ; " nor have these papers 
 reached my hands without long trouble and great expense." 
 
 ' The attorney cast a still more anxious look at the packet : and 
 his visitor, untying the string that bound it, disclosed a quantity of 
 promissory notes, with copies of deeds, and other documents. 
 
 ' " Upon these papers," said the client, " the^ man whose name 
 they bear, has raised, as you will see, large sums of money, for some 
 years past. There was a tacit understanding between him and the 
 men into whose hands, they originally went— and from whom I have 
 by degrees purchased the whole, for treble and quadruple their 
 nominal value — that these loans should be from time to time 
 renewed, until a given period had elapsed. Such an understanding 
 is nowhere expressed. He has sustained many losses of late; and 
 
,J^y^a^a/tJt^o^c^&u^i^>y^/o^^^ ovd^^m^z^x 
 
REVENGE 247 
 
 these obligations accumulating upon him at once, would crush him 
 to the earth," 
 
 ' " The whole amount is many thousands of pounds," said the 
 attorney, looking over the papers. 
 
 ' " It is," said the client. 
 
 ' " What are we to do ? " inquired the man of business. 
 
 ' " Do ! " rephed the client, with sudden vehemence. " Put every 
 engine of the law in force, every trick that ingenuity can devise and 
 rascality execute ; fair means and foul ; the open oppression of the 
 law, aided by all the craft of its most ingenious practitioners. I 
 would have him die a harassing and lingering death. Ruin him, 
 seize and sell his lands and goods, drive him from house and home, 
 and drag him forth a beggar in his old age, to die in a common 
 grave." 
 
 ' " But the costs, my dear sir, the costs of all this," reasoned the 
 attorney, when he had recovered from his momentary surprise. 
 " If the defendant be a man of straw, who is to pay the costs, sir ? " 
 
 ' " Name any sum," said the stranger, his hand trembling so 
 violently with excitement, that he , could scarcely hold the pen he 
 seized as he spoke ; " Any sum, and it is yours. Don't be afraid 
 to name it, man. I shall not think it dear, if you gain my object." 
 
 ' The attorney named a large sum, at hazard, as the advance he 
 should require to secure himself against the possibility of loss ; but 
 more with the view of ascertaining how far his client was really 
 disposed to go, than with any idea that he would comply with the 
 demand. The stranger wrote a cheque upon his banker, for the 
 whole amount, and left him. 
 
 ' The draft was duly honoured, and the attorney, finding that his 
 strange client might be safely relied upon, commenced his work in 
 earnest. For more than two years afterwards, Mr. Heyling would 
 sit whole days together, in the office, poring over the papers as they 
 accumulated, and reading again and again, his eyes gleaming with 
 joy, the letters of remonstrance, the prayers for a little delay, the 
 representations of the certain ruin in which the opposite party must 
 be involved, which poured in, as suit after suit, and process after 
 process, was commenced. To all applications for a brief indulgence, 
 there was but one reply^ — the money must be paid. Land, house, 
 furniture, each in its turn, was taken under some one of the numerous 
 executions which were issued ; and the old man himself would have 
 been immured in prison had he not escaped the vigilance of the 
 officers, and fled. 
 
 ' The implacable animosity of Heyling, so far from being satiated 
 by the success of his persecution, increased a hundredfold with the 
 ruin he inflicted. On being informed of the old man's flight, his 
 fury was unbounded. He gnashed his teeth with rage, tore the hair 
 from his head, and assailed with horrid imprecations the men who 
 
248 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 had been entrusted with the writ. He was only restored to com. 
 parative calmness by repeated assurances of the certainty of 
 discovering the fugitive. Agents were sent in quest of him, in all 
 directions ; every stratagem that could be invented was resorted to, 
 for the purpose of discovering his place of retreat ; but it was all in 
 vain. Half a year had passed over, and he was still undiscovered. 
 
 ' At length, late one night, Heyling, of whom nothing had been 
 seen for many weeks before, appeared at his attorney's private 
 residence, and sent up word that a gentleman wished to see him 
 instantly. Before the attorney, who had recognised his voice from 
 above stairs, could order the servant to admit him, he had rushed 
 up the staircase, and entered the drawing-room pale and breathless. 
 Having closed the door, to prevent being overheard, he sunk into 
 a chair, and said, in a low voice : 
 
 ' " Hush ! I have found him at last." 
 
 ' " No ! " said the attorney. " Well done, my dear sir ; well done." 
 
 ' " He lies concealed in a wretched lodging in Camden Town," 
 said Heyling. " Perhaps it is as well, we did lose sight of him, 
 for he has been living alone there, in the most abject misery, all 
 the time, and he is poor — very poor." 
 
 ' " Very good," said the attorney. " You will have the caption 
 made to-morrow, of course ? " 
 
 ' " Yes," replied Heyling. " Stay ! No ! The next day. You 
 are surprised at my wishing to postpone it," he added, with a 
 ghastly smile j " but I had forgotten. The next day is an anniversary 
 in his life : let it be done then." 
 
 '"Very good," said the attorney. "Will you write down in- 
 structions for the officer ? " 
 
 ' " No ; let him meet me here, at eight in the evening, and I will 
 accompany him, myself." 
 
 ' They met on the appointed night, and, hiring a hackney coach, 
 directed the driver to stop at that corner of the old Pancras Road, 
 at which stands the parish workhouse. By the time they alighted 
 there, it was quite dark ; and, proceeding by the dead wall in front 
 of the Veterinary Hospital, they entered a small by-street, which is, 
 or was at that time, called Little College Street, and which, what- 
 ever it may be now, was in those days a desolate place enough, 
 surrounded by littie else than fields and ditches. 
 
 ' Having drawn the travelling cap he had on half over his face, 
 and muffled himself in his cloak, Heyling stopped before the 
 meanest-looking house in the street, and knocked gently at the 
 door. It was at once opened by a woman, who dropped a curtesy 
 of recognition, and Heyling, whispering the officer to remain below, 
 crept gently upstairs, and, opening the door of the front room, 
 entered at once. 
 
 ' The object of his search and his unrelenting animosity, nOw a 
 
THE OLD MAN'S TALE CONCLUDED 249 
 
 decrepit old man, was seated at a bare deal table, on which stood 
 a miserable candle. He started on the entrance of the stranger, 
 and rose feebly to his feet. 
 
 ' " What now, what now ? " said the old man. "What fresh 
 misery is this ? What do you want here ? " 
 
 ' " A word with you" replied Heyling. As he spoke, he seated 
 himself at the other end of the table, and, throwing off his cloak 
 and cap, disclosed his features. 
 
 ' The old man seemed instantly depirived of the power of speech. 
 He fell backward in his chair, and, clasping his hands together, 
 gazed on the apparition with a mingled look of abhorrence and 
 fear. 
 
 ' " This day six years," said Heyling, " I claimed the life you 
 owed me for my child's. Beside the lifeless form of your daughter, 
 old man, I swore to live a life of revenge. I have never swerved 
 from my purpose for a moment's space ; but if I had, one thought 
 of her uncomplaining, suffering look, as she drooped away, or of 
 the starving face of our irmocent child, would have nerved me to 
 my task. My first act of requital you well remember : this is my 
 last." 
 
 ' The old man shivered, and his hands dropped powerless by his 
 side. 
 
 ' " I leave England to-morrow," said Heyling, after a moment's 
 pause. " To-night I consign you to the living death to which you 
 devoted her — a hopeless prison — " 
 
 ' He raised his eyes to the old man's countenance, and paused. 
 He lifted the light to his face, set it gently down, and left the 
 apartment. 
 
 ' " You had better see to the old man," he said to the woman, as 
 he opened the door, and motioned the oflficer to follow him into 
 the street. " I think he is ill." The woman closed the door, ran 
 hastily up stairs, and found him lifeless. 
 
 « * # « * 
 
 ' Beneath a plain grave-stone, in one of the most peaceful and 
 secluded churchyards in Kent, where wild flowers mingle with the 
 grass, and the soft landscape around forms the fairest spot in the 
 garden of England, lie the bones of the young mother and her 
 gentle child. But the ashes of the father do not mingle with theirs ; 
 nor, from that night forward, did the attorney ever gain the remotest 
 clue to the subsequent history of his queer client.' 
 
 As the old man concluded his tale, he advanced to a peg in one 
 comer, and taking down his hat and coat, put them on with great 
 deliberation ; and, without saying another word, walked slowly 
 away. As the gentleman with the Mosaic studs had fallen asleep, 
 and the major part of the company were deeply occupied in the 
 
250 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 humorous process of dropping melted tallow-grease into his brandy 
 and water, Mr. Pickwick departed unnoticed, and having settled 
 his own score, and that of Mr. Weller, issued forth, in company 
 with that gentleman, from beneath the portal of the Magpie and 
 Stump. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 MR. PICKWICK JOURNEYS TO IPSWICH, AND MEETS WITH A ROMANTIC 
 ADVENTURE WITH A MIDDLE-AGED LADY IN YELLOW CURL 
 PAPERS 
 
 ' That 'ere your governor's luggage, Sammy ? ' inquired Mr. Weller 
 of his affectionate son, us he entered the yard of the Bull inn, 
 Whitechapel, with a travelling bag and a small portmanteau. 
 
 ' You might ha' made a worser guess than that, old feller,' replied 
 Mr. Weller the younger, setting down his burden in the yard, and 
 sitting himself down upon it afterwards. ' The Governor hisself 11 
 be down here presently.' 
 
 ' He's a cabbin' it, I suppose ? ' said the father. 
 
 ' Yes, he's a havin' two mile o' danger at eight-pence,' responded 
 the son. ' How's mother-in-law this momin' ? ' 
 
 ' Queer, Sammy, queer,' replied the elder Mr. Weller, with im- 
 pressive gravity. ' She's been gettin' rayther in the Methodistical 
 order lately, Sammy ; and she is uncommon pious, to be sure. 
 She's too good a creetur for me, Sammy. I feel I don't deserve her.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. Samuel, ' that's wery self-denyin' o' you.' 
 
 ' Wery,' replied his parent, with a sigh. ' She's got hold o' some 
 inwention for grown-up people being bom again, Sammy ; the new 
 birth, I thinks they calls it. I should wery much like to see that 
 system in haction, Sammy. I should very much like to see your 
 mother-in-law born again. Wouldn't I put her out to nurse ! ' 
 
 ' What do you think them women does t'other day,' continued 
 Mr. Weller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly 
 struck the side of his nose with his fore-finger some half-dozen 
 times. 'What do you think they does, t'other day, Sammy?' 
 
 .' Don't know,' replied Sammy, ' what ?' 
 
 ' Goes and gets up a grand tea drinkin' for a feller they calls 
 their shepherd,' said Mr. Weller. ' I was a standing starin' in at the 
 pictur shop down at our place, when I sees a little bill about it ; 
 "tickets half-a-crown. All applications to be made to the com- 
 mittee. Secretary, Mrs, Weller ; " and when I got home there wa-' 
 the committee a sittin' in our back, parlour. Fourteen women ; I 
 wish you could ha' heard 'em, Sammy. There they was, a passin' 
 
A FRESH DEPARTURE 251 
 
 resolutions, and wotin' supplies, and all sorts o' games. Well, what 
 with your mother-in-law a worrying me to go, and what with my 
 looking for'ard to seein' some queer starts if I did, I put my name 
 down for a ticket; at six o'clqck on the Friday evenin' I dresses 
 myself out wery smart, and off I goes, with the, old 'ooman, and 
 up we walks into a fust floor where;there was tea things for thirty, 
 and a whole lot o' women as begins whisperin' at one another, and 
 lookin' at me, as if they'd never seen a rayther ^tout gen'lm'n of 
 eight-and-fifty afore. By and bye, tb,ere copies a great bustle dpwn 
 stairs, and a lanky chap with a red nose and a wliite neckcloth 
 TUshes, up, arid sings, out, " Here's the shepher4 a coming to wisit 
 his faijtbful flock; " and in comes a fat chap in ^ black, yith a great 
 white face, a smilin' avay, like clockwork. Such goin's, on, Samrny ! 
 " The kiss of peace," says the shepherd ; and then he kissed the 
 women all round,, and yen he'd doiie, the man vith the red nose 
 began.. J was. just a, thinkin' whether ,t hadn't better begjn too — 
 'specially as there was a wery nice lady r, sittin' next me — ven in 
 comes the ,tea, and your mother-in-layj as had been makin' the 
 kettle bile down stairs. At it they went, tooth and nail. Such a 
 precious loud, hymn, Sammy,, while the tea was a brewing ; such a 
 grace, such eatin'and drinkin',! I wish you could ha' seen the 
 shepherd walkin' into the ham and muffins.,., I never see such a 
 chap to eat and drink ; never. The red-nosed man warn't by no 
 means the sort of person you'd likp to griib by contract,, but he was 
 nothin' to the shepherd. Well; arter the tea was over, they sang 
 another hymn, and then the qhepherd began to preach : and wery 
 well he 4id it, coiisiderin' how heavy them muffins must have lied 
 on his chest. Preseritly he pulls up, all pf a sudden, and hollers 
 out " Wh^re is the sinner; where is the mis'rable sinner?" Upon 
 which, aU , the women looked at me, and began to groan as if they 
 was a dying. I thought it was rather sing'Jer, but bpws'ever, J says 
 nothing. Presently he pulls up again, and Ipokin' wery hard at me, 
 ^ys, "Wherp is the sinner; where is the mis'rable sinner?" and 
 ail the, women^ groans again, te;n times louder than afore. I got 
 rather wild at this, so I takes a step or two for'ard and says, " My 
 friend," .says, I, "did ,you apply that 'ere obserwation to me?" 
 'Stead of begging my pardon as, any, gen'lm'n would ha' done, he 
 got more abusive than ever : called me a wessel, Sammy — a wessel 
 of wrathrrr-and all sorts o' names. Sp my blood being reg'larly up, 
 I first giAfe, him two or three for himself, and then two or three 
 moretQ hand over to the, man, with, the red nose, and wal^ced off, 
 I wish., you. CQulfi ha', heard hpvy.the VYonien screamed, Sammy, ven 
 
 they picked up the shepherd from under the table HaUo ! here's 
 
 the goyernpr,, the size of life.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller spoke, Mr. Pickwick dismounted from, a cab, and 
 entered the, yard. 
 
252 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Fine momin', sir,' said Mr. Weller senior. 
 
 ' Beautiful indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Beautiful indeed,' echoed a red-haired man with an inquisitive 
 nose and blue spectacles, who had unpacked himself from a cab 
 at the same moment as Mr. Pickwick. ' Going to Ipswich, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I am,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Extraordinary coincidence. So am I.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bowed. 
 
 ' Going outside ? ' said the red-haired man. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bowed again. 
 
 ' Bless my soul, how remarkable — I am going outside, too,' said 
 the red-haired man : ' we are positively going together.' And the 
 red-haired man, who was an important - looking, sharp -nosed, 
 mysterious-spoken personage, with a bird-Uke habit of giving his 
 head a jerk every time he said anything, smiled as if he had made 
 one of the strangest discoveries that ever fell to the lot of human 
 wisdom. 
 
 ' I am happy in the prospect of your company, sir,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah,' said the new-comer, ' it's a good thing for both of us, isn't 
 it ? Company, you see ■ — company is — is — it's a very different 
 thing from solitude — ain't it ? ' 
 
 ' There's no denying that 'ere,' said Mr. Weller, joining in the 
 conversation, with an affable smile. 'That's what I call a self- 
 evident proposition, as the dog's-meat man said, when the house- 
 maid told him he warn't a gentleman.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said the red-haired man, surveying Mr. Weller from head 
 to foot with a supercilious look. ' Friend of yours, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Not exactly a friend,' replied Mr. Pickwick in a low tone. ' The 
 fact is, he is my servant, but I allow him to take a good many 
 liberties ; for, between ourselves, I flatter myself he is an original, 
 and I am rather proud of him.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said the red-haired man, ' that, you see, is a matter of taste. 
 I am not fond of anything original ; I don't like it j don't see the 
 necessity for it. What's your name, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Here is my card, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, much amused by 
 the abruptness of the question, and the singular manner of the 
 stranger. 
 
 ' Ah,' said the red-haired man, placing the card in his pocket- 
 book, ' Pickwick ; very good. I like to know a man's name, it 
 saves so much trouble. That's my card, sir, Magnus, you will 
 perceive, sir— Magnus is my name. It's rather a good name, I 
 think, sir ? ' 
 
 ' A very good name, indeed,' said Mr. Pickwick, wholly unable 
 to repress a smile. 
 
 'Yes, I think it is,' resumed Mr. Magnus. 'There's a good 
 
THE START 253 
 
 name before it, too, you will observe. Permit me, sir: — if you hold 
 the card a little slanting, this way, you catch the light upon the 
 up-stroke. There — Peter Magnus — sounds well, I think, sir.' 
 
 ' Very,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Curious circumstance about those initials, sir,' said Mr. Magnus. 
 ' You will observe — P.M. — post meridian. In hasty notes to in- 
 timate acquaintance, I sometimes sign myself " Afternoon." It 
 amuses my friends very much, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' It is calculated to afford them the highest gratification, I should 
 conceive,' said Mr. Pickwick, rather envying the ease with which 
 Mr. Magnus's friends were entertained. 
 
 ' Now, gen'lm'n,' said the hostler, ' coach is ready, if you please.' 
 
 ' Is all my luggage in ? ' inquired Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ' All right, sir.' 
 
 ' Is the red bag in ? ' 
 
 ' All right, sir.' 
 
 ' And Sie striped bag ? ' 
 
 ' Fore boot, sir.' 
 
 ' And the brown-paper parcel ? ' 
 
 ' Under the seat, sir.' 
 
 ' And the leather hat-box ? ' 
 
 ' They're all in, sir." 
 
 ' Now, will you get up ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Excuse me,' replied Magnus, standing on the wheel. ' Excuse 
 me, Mr. Pickwick. I cannot consent to get up, in this state of 
 uncertainty. I am quite satisfied from that man's manner, that 
 that leather hat-box is not in.' 
 
 The solemn protestations of the hostler being wholly unavailing, 
 the leather hat-box was obliged to be raked up from the lowest 
 depth of the boot, to satisfy him that it had been safely packed ; 
 and after he had been assured on this head, he felt a solemn pre- 
 sentiment, first, that the red bag was mislaid, and next that the 
 striped bag had been stolen, and then that the brown-paper parcel 
 ' had come untied.' At length when he had received ocular 
 demonstration of the groundless nature of each and every of these 
 suspicions, he consented to climb up to the roof of the coach, 
 observing that now he had taken every thing off his mind, he felt 
 quite comfortable and happy. 
 
 ' You're given to nervousness, an't you, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Weller 
 senior, eyeing the stranger askance, as he mounted to his place. 
 
 ' Yes J I always am rather, about these little matters,' said the 
 stranger, ' but I am all right now— quite right.' 
 
 ' Well, that's a blessin',' said Mr. Weller. ' Sammy, help your 
 master up to the box : f other leg, sir, that's it ; give us your hand, 
 sir. Up with you. You was a lighter weight when you was a boy, 
 sir.' 
 
354 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'True enough, that, Mr. Weller,' said the breathless Mr. Pick- 
 wick, good humouredly, as he took his seat on the box beside 
 him. ' , 
 
 ' Jump up in front, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. ' Now Villami run 
 'em out. Take care o' the archvay, gen'lm'ii. " Heads," as the 
 piema,n says. That'll do, Villam. ' Let 'em' alone.' ' And away 
 went the coach up Whifechapel, to the admiration of the whole 
 population of that pretty-densely populated quarter. 
 
 ' Not a wery nice neighbourhood this, sir,' said Sam, with a touch 
 of the hat, which always preceded his entering into conversation 
 with his master. 
 
 'It is not indeed, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwiclc, surveying the 
 crowded and filthy street through which they were passing. 
 
 ' It's a wery remarkable circumstance, sir,' said Sam, ' that 
 poverty and oysters always seems to go together.' 
 
 ' I don't understand you, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' What I mean, sir,' said Sam, ' is, that the poorer a place is, tht 
 greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look' here, sir; here's 
 a oyster stall to every half-dozen houses. The street's lined vith 
 'em. Blessed if I don't think that ven a mail's wery poor, he 
 rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters in reg'lar desperation.' 
 
 ' To be sure he does,' said Mr. Weller senior; 'and it's just the 
 same vith pickled salmon ! ' 
 
 ' Those are two very-remarkable facts, which never occurred to 
 me before,' said Mr. ]?ickwick. 'The very first place we stop at, 
 I'll make a note of them.' 
 
 By this time they had reached the turnpike at Mile End; a pro- 
 found silence prevailed until they had got two or three miles further 
 on, when Mr. Weller senior, turning suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, 
 said : 
 
 ' Wery queer life is a pike-keeper's, sir.' 
 
 ' A what ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A pike-keeper ? ' 
 
 'What do yon mean by a pike-keeper?' inquired Mr. Peter 
 Magnus. 
 
 ' The old 'un means a turnpike keeper, gen'lm'n,' observed Mr. 
 Samuel Weller, in explanation. 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I see. Yes ; very curious life. Very 
 uncomfortable.' 
 
 ' They're all on 'em men as has met vith some disappointment in 
 life,' said Mr. Weller senior. 
 
 ' Ay, ay ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes. Consequence of vich, they retires from the world, and 
 shuts themselves up in pikes ;. partly vith the view of being 
 solitary, and partly to rewenge themselves on mankind, by takin' 
 tolls.' 
 
AT THE JOURNEY'S END 255 
 
 ' Dear me,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I never knew that before.' 
 ' Fact, sir,' said Mr. Weller ; ' if they was gen'lm'n you'd call 'em 
 misanthropes, but as it is, they only takes to pikB-keepin'.' 
 
 With such conversation, possessing the inestimable charm of 
 blending amusement with instruction, did Mr. Weller beguile the 
 tediousness of the journey, during the greater part of the day. 
 Topics of conversation were never wanting, for even when any 
 pause occurred in Mr. Weller's loquacity, it was abundantly supplied 
 by the desire evinced by Mr. Magnus to make himself acquainted 
 with the whole of the personal history of his fellow-travellers, and 
 his loudly-expressed anxiety at every stage, respecting the safety 
 and well-being of the two bags, the leather hat-box, and the brown- 
 paper parcel. 
 
 In the main street of Ipswich, on the left-hand side of the way, 
 a short distance after you have passed through the open space 
 frontiiig the Town Hall, stands an inn known far and wide by the 
 appellation of The Great White Horse, rendered the more con- 
 spicuous by a stone statue of some rampacious animal with flowing 
 mane and tail, distantly resembling an insane cart-horse, which is 
 elevated abbve the principal door. The Great White Horse is 
 famous in the neighbourhood, in the same degree as a prize ox, or 
 county paper-chronicled turnip, or unwieldy pig — for its enormous 
 size. Never were such labyrinths of Uncarpeted passages, such 
 clusters of mouldy, ill-lighted rooms, such huge numbers of small 
 dens for eating or sleeping in, beneath any one roof, as are collected 
 together between the four walls of ' the Great White Horse at 
 Ipswich. 
 
 It was at the door of this overgrown tavern that the London 
 coach stopped, at the same hour every evening ; and it was from 
 this same London coach, that Mr. Pickwick, Sam Weller, and Mr. 
 Peter Magnus dismounted, on the particular evening to which this 
 chapter of our history bears reference. 
 
 ' Do you stop here, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Peter Magnus, when the 
 striped bag, and the red bag, and the brown-paper parcel, and the 
 leather hat-box, had all been deposited in the passage. ' Do you 
 stop here, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I do,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Dear me,' said Mr. Magnus, ^ I never knew anything like these 
 extraordinary coincidences. Why, I stop here too. I hope we 
 dine together ? ' 
 
 ' With pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' I am not quite certain 
 whether I have any friends here or not, though. Is there any 
 gentleman of the name of Tupman here, waiter ? ' 
 
 A corpulent man, with a fortnight's napkin under his arm, and 
 coeval stockings on his legs, slowly desisted from his occupation of 
 staring down the street, on this question being put to him by Mr. 
 
2S6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Pickwick ; and, after minutely inspecting that gentleman's appear- 
 ance, from. the crown of his hat to the lowest button of his gaiters, 
 replied emphatically : 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Nor any gentleman of the name of Snodgrass ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 'No!' 
 
 ' Nor Winkle ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' My friends have not arrived to-day, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 ' We will dine alone, then. Shew us a private room, waiter.' 
 
 On this request being preferred, the corpulent man condescended 
 to order the boots to bring in the gentleman's luggage ; and pre- 
 ceding them down a long dark passage, ushered them into a large 
 badly-furnished apartment, with a dirty grate, in which a small fire 
 was making a wretched attempt to be cheerful, but was fast sinking 
 beneath the dispiriting influence of the place. After the lapse of an 
 hour, a bit of fish and a steak were served up to the travellers, and 
 when the dirmer was cleared away, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Peter 
 Magnus drew their chairs up to the fire, and having ordered a bottle 
 of the worst possible port wine, at the highest possible price, for the 
 good of the house, drank brandy and water for their own. 
 
 Mr. Peter Magnus was naturally of a very communicative dispo- 
 sition, and the brandy and water operated with wonderful effect in 
 warming into life the deepest hidden secrets of his bosom. After 
 sundry accounts of himself, his family, his connexions, his friends, 
 his jokes, his business, and his brothers (most talkative men have a 
 great deal to say about their brothers), Mr. Peter Magnus took a 
 blue view of Mr. Pickwick through his coloured spectacles for 
 several minutes, and then said, with an air of modesty : 
 
 ' And what do you think — what do you think, Mr. Pickwick — I 
 have come down here for ? ' 
 
 ' Upon my word,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' it is wholly impossible for 
 me to guess ; on business, perhaps.' 
 
 ' Partly right, sir,' replied Mr. Peter Magnus, ' but partly wrong, 
 at the same time : try again, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' Really,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I must throw myself on your mercy, 
 to tell me or not, as you may think best ; for I should never guess, 
 if I were to try all night.' 
 
 ' Why, then, he— he— he ! ' said Mr. Peter Magnus, with a bashful 
 titter, ' what should you think, Mr. Pickwick, if I had come down 
 here, to make a proposal, sir, eh ? He — he— he ! ' 
 
 ' Think ! That you are very likely to succeed,' replied Mr. 
 Pickwick, with one of his beaming smiles. 
 
 'Ah!' said Mr. Magnus. 'But do you really think so, Mr. 
 Pickwick ? Do you, though ? ' 
 
MR. MAGNUS'S SECRET 25; 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No ; but you're joking, though.' 
 
 ' I am not, indeed.' 
 
 ' Why, then,' said Mr. Magnus,^ ' to let you intcj a little secret, f 
 think so too. I don't mind telang you, Mr. Pickwick, althougn 
 I'm dreadful jealous by nature — horrid— that the lady is in this 
 house.' Here Mr. Magnus took off his spectacles, on purpose to 
 wink, and then put them on again. 
 
 ' That's what you were running out of the room for, before dinner, 
 then, so often,' said Mr. Pickwick, archly. 
 
 ' Hush ! Yes, you're right, that was it; not such a fool as to see 
 her, though.' 
 
 'No!' 
 
 ' No ; wouldn't do, you know, after having just come off a journey. 
 Wait till to-morrow, sir; double the chance then. Mr. Pickwick, 
 sir, there is a suit of clothes in that bag, and a hat in that box, 
 which I expect, in the effect they will produce, will be invaluable 
 to me, sir.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes ; you must have observed my anxiety about them to-day. 
 I do not believe that such another suit of clothes, and such a hat, 
 could be bought for money, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick congratulated the fortunate owner of the irresistible 
 garments, on their acquisition; and Mr. Peter Magnus remained 
 for a few moments apparently absorbed in contemplation. 
 
 ' She's a fine creature,' said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ' Is she ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Very,' said Mr. Magnus, ' very. She lives about twenty miles 
 from here, Mr. Pickwick. I heard she would be here to-night and 
 all to-morrow forenoon, and came down to seize the opportunity. I 
 think an inn is a good sort of a place to propose to a single woman 
 in, Mr. Pickwick. She is more likely to feel the loneliness of her 
 situation in travelling, perhaps, than she would be at home. What 
 do you think, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' I think it very probable,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mr. Peter Magnus, ' but I 
 am naturally rather curious ; what may you have come down here 
 for?' 
 
 ' On a far less pleasant errand, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, the 
 colour mounting to his face at l.he recollection. ' I have come down 
 here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual, 
 upon whose truth and honour I placed implicit reliance.' 
 
 ' Dear me,' said Mr. Peter Magnus, ' that's very unpleasant. It 
 is a lady, I presume ? Eh ? ah ! Sly, Mr. Pickwick, sly. Well, Mr. 
 Pickwick, sir, I wouldn't probe your feelings for the world. Painful 
 subjects, these, sir, very painful. Don't mind me, Mr. Pickwick, if 
 
258 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 you wish to give vent to your feelings. I know what it is to be 
 jilted, sir ; I have endured that sort of thing three or four times.' 
 
 ' I am much obliged to you, for your condolence on what you 
 presume to be my melancholy case,' said Mr. Pickwick, winding up 
 his watch, and laying it on the table, ' but — ' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Mr. Peter Magnus, ' not a word more : it's a painful 
 subject. I see, I see. What's the time, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' Past twelve.' 
 
 ' Dear me, it's time to go to bed. It will never do, sitting here. 
 I shall be pale to-morrow, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 At the bare notion of such a calamity, Mr. Peter Magnus rang 
 the bell for the chamber-maid j and the striped bag, the red bag, 
 the leathern hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, having been 
 conveyed to his bed-room, he retired in company with a japanned 
 candlestick, to one side of the house, while Mr. Pickwick, and 
 another japanned candlestick, were conducted through a multitude 
 of tortuous windings, to another. 
 
 ' This is your room, sir,' said the chamber-maid. 
 
 ' Very well,' replied Mr. Pickwick, looking round him." It was 
 a tolerably large double-bedded room, with a fire ; upon the whole, 
 a more comfortable-looking apartment than Mr. Pickwick's short 
 experience of the accommodations of the Great White Horse had 
 led him to expect. 
 
 ' Nobody sleeps in the other bed, of course,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, no, sir.' 
 
 ' Very good. Tell my servant to bring me up some hot water at 
 half-past eight in the morning, and that I shall not want him any 
 more to-night.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' And bidding Mr. Pickwick good night, the chamber- 
 maid retired, and left him alone. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick sat himself down in a chair before the fire, and fell 
 into a train of rambling meditations. First he thought of his friends, 
 and wondered when they would join him ; then his mind reverted to 
 Mrs. Martha Bardell ; and from that lady it wandered, by a natural pro- 
 cess, to the dingy counting-house of Dodsonand Fogg. From Dodson 
 and Fogg's it flew off at a tangent, to the very centre of the history of 
 the queer cUent; and then it came back to the Great White Horse 
 at Ipswich, with sufficient clearness to convince Mr. Pickwick that 
 he was falling asleep. So he roused himself, and began to undress, 
 when he recollected he had left his watch on the table do\TO stairs. 
 
 Now, this watch was a special favourite with, Mr. Pickwick, having 
 been carried about, beneath the shadow of his waistcoat, for a greater 
 number of years than we feel called upon to state at present. The 
 possibility of going to sleep, unless it were ticking gently beneath 
 his pillow, or in the watch-pocket over his head, had never entered 
 Mr. Pickwick's brain. So as it was pretty late now, and he was 
 
MR. PICKWICK LAUGHS HEARTILY 259 
 
 unwilling to ring his bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his 
 coat, of which he had just divested himself, and taking the japanned 
 candlestick in his hand, walked quietly down stairs. 
 
 The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs there 
 seemed to be to descend, and again and again, when Mr. Pickwick 
 got into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself 
 on having gained the ground-floor, did another flight of stairs 
 appear before his astonished eyes. At last he reached a stone hall, 
 which he remembered to have seen when he entered the house. 
 Passage after passage did he explore ; room after room did he peep 
 into ; at length, as he was on the point of giving up the search in 
 despair, he opened the door of the identical room in which he had 
 spent the evening, and beheld his missing property on the table. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick seized the watch in triumph, and proceeded to re- 
 trace his steps to his bed-chamber. If his progress downward had 
 been attended with difficulties and uncertainty, his journey back was 
 infinitely more perplexing. Rows of doors, garnished with boots 
 of every shape, make, and size, branched off" in every possible 
 direction. A dozen times did he softly turn the handle of some 
 bed-room door which resembled his own, when a gruff cry from 
 within of ' Who the devil's that ? ' or ' What do you want here ? ' 
 caused him to steal away, on tiptoe, with a perfectly marvellous 
 celerity. He was reduced to the verge of despair, when an open 
 door attracted his attention. He peeped in. Right at last ! There 
 were the two beds, whose situation he perfectly remembered, and 
 the. fire still burning. His candle, not a long one when he first 
 received it, had flickered away in the drafts of air through which he 
 had passed, and sank into the socket as he closed the door after 
 him. ' No matter,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I can undress myself just 
 as well by the light of the fire.' 
 
 The bedsteads stood one on each side of the door ; and on the 
 i-nner side of each was a little path, terminating in a rush-bottomed 
 chair, just wide enough to admit of a person's getting into, or out 
 of bed, on that side, if he or she thought proper. Having carefully 
 drawn the curtains of his bed on the outside, Mr. Pickwick sat 
 down on the rush-bottomed chair, and leisurely divested himself of 
 his shoes and gaiters. He then took off and folded up his coat, 
 waistcoat, and neckcloth, and slowly drawing on his tasseled 
 night-cap, secured it firmly on his head, by tying beneath his chin 
 the strings which he always had attached to that article of dress. 
 It was at this moment that the absurdity of his recent bewilderment 
 struck upon his mind. Throwing himself back in the rush-bottomed 
 chair, Mr. Pickwick laughed to himself so heartily, that it would 
 have been quite delightful to any man of well-constituted mind to 
 have watched the smiles that expanded his amiable features as they 
 shone forth from beneath the night-cap. 
 
26o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It is the best idea,' said Mr. Pickwick to himself, smiling till he 
 almost cracked the night-cap strings : ' It is the best idea, my 
 losing myself in this place, and wandering about those staircases, 
 that I ever heard of. Droll, droll, very droll.' Here Mr. Pickwick 
 smiled again, a broader smile than before, and was about to 
 continue the process of undressing, in the best possible humour, 
 when he was suddenly stopped by a most unexpected interruption ; 
 to wit, the entrance into the room of some person with a candle, 
 who, after locking the door, advanced to the dressing table, and set 
 down the light upon it. 
 
 The smile that played on Mr. Pickwick's features was instan- 
 taneously lost in a look of the most unbounded and wonder-stricken 
 surprise. The person, whoever it was, had come in so suddenly 
 and with so little noise, that Mr. Pickwick had had no time to call 
 out, or oppose their entrance. Who could it be? A robber? 
 Some evil-minded person who had seen him come up stairs with a 
 handsome watch in his hand, perhaps. What was he to do ! 
 
 The only way in which Mr. Pickwick could catch a glimpse of 
 his mysterious visitor with the least danger of being seen himself, 
 was by creeping on to the bed, and peeping out from between the 
 curtains on the opposite side. To this manoeuvre he accordingly 
 resorted. Keeping the curtains carefully closed with his hand, so 
 that nothing more of him could be seen than his face and night- 
 cap, and putting on his spectacles, he mustered up courage, and 
 looked out. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick almost fainted with horror and dismay. Standing 
 before the dressing-glass was a middle-aged lady, in yellow curl- 
 papers, busily engaged in brushing what ladies call their ' back-hair.' 
 However the unconscious middle-aged lady came into that room, 
 it was quite clear that she contemplated remaining there for the 
 night ; for she had brought a rushlight and shade with her, which, 
 with praiseworthy precaution against fire, she had stationed in a 
 basin on the floor, where it was ghmmering away, like a gigantic 
 lighthouse in a particularly small piece of water. 
 
 ' Bless my soul,' thought Mr. Pickwick, ' what a dreadful thing ! ' 
 
 ' Hem ! ' said the lady ; and in went Mr. Pickwick's head with 
 automaton-like rapidity. 
 
 ' I never met with anything so awful as this," thought poor Mr. 
 Pickwick, the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his night-cap. 
 ' Never. This is fearful.' 
 
 It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was 
 going forward. So out went Mr. Pickwick's head again. The pros- 
 pect was worse than before. The middle-aged lady had finished 
 arranging her hair ; had carefully enveloped it in a muslin night-cap 
 with a small plaited border; and was gazing pensively on the fire. 
 
 ' This matter is growing alarming,' reasoned Mr. Pickwick with 
 
•Jne ■m'<eMU^ ctae^/Ccu^//n-y^e- cwi^ieyya-etyUZ&a^yi^OTny. 
 
AN AWKWARD SITUATION 261 
 
 himself. ' I can't allow things to go on in this way. By the 
 self-possession of that lady it is clear to me that I must have come 
 into the wrong room. If I call out she'll alarm the house ; but if I 
 remain here the consequences will be still more frightful.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, it is quite unnecessary to say, was one of the most 
 modest and delicate-minded of mortals. The very idea of exhibiting 
 his night-cap to a lady overpowered him, but he had tied those 
 confounded strings in a knot, and, do what he would, he couldn't 
 get it off. The disclosure must be made. There was only one 
 other way of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and called 
 out very loudly : 
 ' Ha— hum ! ' 
 
 That the lady started at this unexpected sound was evident, by 
 her falling up against the rushlight shade ; that she persuaded 
 herself it must have been the effect of imagination was equally 
 clear, for when Mr. Pickwick, under the impression that she had 
 fainted away stone-dead from fright, ventured to peep out again, 
 she was gazing pensively on the fire as before. 
 
 ' Most extraordinary female this,' thought Mr. Pickwick, popping 
 in again. ' Ha — hum ! ' 
 
 These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, 
 the ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his 
 opinion that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible 
 to be again mistaken for the workings of fancy. 
 
 ' Gracious Heaven ! ' said the middle-aged lady, ' what's that ? ' 
 ' It's — it's — only a gentleman. Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick from 
 behind the curtains. 
 
 ' A gentleman ! ' said the lady with a terrific scream. 
 ' It's all over ! ' thought Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A strange man ! ' shrieked the lady. Another instant and the 
 house would be alarmed. Her garments rustled as she rushed 
 towards the door. 
 
 ' Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, thrusting out his head, in the 
 extremity of his desperation, ' Ma'am ! ' 
 
 Now, although Mr. Pickwick was not actuated by any definite 
 object in putting out. his head, it was instantaneously productive of 
 a good effect. The lady, as we have already stated, was near the 
 door. She must pass it, to reach the staircase, and she would most 
 undoubtedly have done so by this time, had not the sudden appaii- 
 tion of Mr. Pickwick's night-cap driven her back into the remotest 
 corner of the apartment, where she stood staring wildly at Mr. 
 Pickwick, while Mr. Pickwick in his turn stared wildly at her. 
 
 ' Wretch,' said the lady, covering her eyes with her hands, ' what 
 do you want here ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, Ma'am ; nothing, whatever, Ma'am ; ' said Mr. 
 Pickwick earnestly. 
 
262 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Nothing ! ' said the lady, looking up. 
 
 ' Nothing, Ma'am, upon ray honour,' said Mr. Pickwick, nodding 
 his head so energetically that the tassel of his night-cap danced 
 again. ' I am almost ready to sink. Ma'am, beneath the confusion 
 of addressing a lady in my night-cap (here the lady hastily snatched 
 off hers), but I can't get it off. Ma'am (here Mr. Pickwick gave it a 
 tremendous tug, in proof of the statement). It is evident to me, 
 Ma'am, now, that I have mistaken this bed-room for my own. I 
 had not been here five minutes, Ma'am, when you suddenly 
 entered it.' 
 
 ' If this improbable story be really true, sir,' said the lady, 
 sobbing violently, ' you will leave it instantly.' 
 
 ' I will. Ma'am, with the greatest pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Instantly, sir,' said the lady. 
 
 ' Certainly, Ma'am,' interposed Mr. Pickwick very quickly. ' Cer- 
 tainly, Ma'am. I — I — am very sorry, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 making his appearance at the bottom of the bed, ' to have been the 
 innocent occasion of this alarm and emotion ; deeply sorry, Ma'am.' 
 
 The lady pointed to the door. One excellent quality of Mr. 
 Pickwick's character was beautifully displayed at this moment, 
 under the most trying circumstances. Although he had hastily put 
 on his hat over his night-cap, after the manner of the old patrol ; 
 although he carried his shoes and gaiters in his hand, and his coat 
 and waistcoat over his arm ; nothing could subdue his native 
 politeness. 
 
 ' I am exceedingly sorry. Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, bowing 
 very low. 
 
 ' If you are, sir, you will at once leave the room,' said the lady. 
 
 ' Immediately, Ma'am ; this instant. Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 opening the door, and dropping both his shoes with a crash in so 
 doing. 
 
 ' I trust. Ma'am,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, gathering up his shoes, 
 and turning round to bow again : ' I trust, Ma'am, that my un- 
 blemished character, and the devoted respect I entertain for your 
 sex, will plead as some slight "excuse for this' — But before Mr. 
 Pickwick could conclude the sentence the lady had thrust him into 
 the passage, and locked and bolted the door behind him. 
 
 Whatever grounds of self-congratulation Mr. Pickwick might have 
 for having escaped so quietly from his late awkward situation, his 
 present position was by no means enviable. He was alone, in an 
 open passage, in a strange house, in the middle of the night, half 
 dressed ; it was not to be supposed that he could find his way in 
 perfect darkness to a room which he had been wholly unable to 
 discover with a light, and if he made the slightest noise in his 
 fruidess attempts to do so, he stood every chance of being shot at, 
 and perhaps killed, by some wakeful traveller. He had no resource 
 
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 263 
 
 but to remain where he was until daylight appeared. So after 
 groping his way a few paces down the passage, and, to his infinite 
 alarm, stumbling over several pairs of boots in so doing, Mr. 
 Pickwick crouched into a little recess in the wall, to wait for morning 
 as philosophically as he might. 
 
 He was not destined, however, to undergo this additional trial of 
 patience : for he had not been long ensconced in his present 
 concealment when, to his unspeakable horror, a man, bearing a 
 light, appeared at the end of the passage. His horror was suddenly 
 converted into joy, however, when he recognised the form of his 
 faithful attendant. It was indeed Mr. Samuel Weller, who after 
 sitting up thus late, in conversation with the Boots, who was sitting 
 up for the mail, was now about to retire to rest. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing before him, ' where's 
 my bed-room ? ' 
 
 , Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise ; 
 and it was not until the question had been repeated three several 
 times, that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought 
 apartment. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick as he got into bed, ' I have made one 
 of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night, that ever were heard of.' 
 
 ' Wery likely, sir,' replied Mr. Weller drily. 
 
 ' But of this I am determined, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick : ' that if 
 I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust 
 myself about it, alone, again.' 
 
 ' That's the wery prudentest resolution as you could come to, 
 sir,' replied Mr. Weller. ' You rayther want somebody to look arter 
 you, sir, wen your judgment goes out a wisitin'.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by that, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. He 
 raised himself in bed, and extended his hand, as if he were about to 
 say something more ; but suddenly checking himself, turned round, 
 and bade his valet ' Good night.' 
 
 ' Good night, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got 
 outside the door — shook his head — walked on^stopped — snuffed 
 the candle — ^shook his head again — and finally proceeded slowly to 
 his chamber, apparently buried in the profoundest meditation. 
 
264 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 IN WHICH MR. SAMUEL WELLER BEGINS TO DEVOTE HIS ENERGIES 
 TO THE RETURN MATCH BETWEEN HIMSELF AND MR. TROTTER 
 
 In a small room in the vicinity of the stable-yard, betimes in the 
 morning, which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick's adventure with 
 the middle-aged lady in the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr. Weller 
 senior, preparing himself for his journey to London. He was sitting 
 in an excellent attitude for having his portrait taken. 
 
 It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, 
 Mr. Weller's profile might have presented a bold and determined 
 outline. His face, however, had expanded under the influence of 
 good living, and a disposition remarkable for resignation ; and its 
 bold fleshy curves had so far extended beyond the limits originally 
 assigned them, that unless you took a full view of his countenance 
 in front, it was difficult to distinguish more than the extreme tip of 
 a very rubicund nose. His chin, from the same cause, had acquired 
 the grave and imposing form which is generally described by 
 prefixing the word ' double ' to that expressive feature ; and his 
 complexion exhibited that peculiarly mottled combination of colours 
 which is only to be seen in gentlemen of his profession, and in 
 underdone roast beef. Round his neck he wore a crimson travelhng 
 shawl, which merged into his chin by such imperceptible gradations, 
 that it was difficult to distinguish the folds of the one, from the folds 
 of the other. Over this, he mounted a long waistcoat of a broad 
 pink-striped pattern, and over that again, a wide-skirted green coat, 
 ornamented with large brass buttons,whereof the two which garnished 
 the waist, were so far apart, that no man had ever beheld them both, 
 at the same time. His hair, which was short, sleek, and black, 
 was just visible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crowned brown 
 hat. His legs were encased in knee-cord breeches, and painted top- 
 boots : and a copper watch-chain, terminating in one seal, and 
 a key of the same material, dangled loosely from his capacious 
 waistband. 
 
 We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for his 
 journey to London — he was taking sustenance, in fact. On the 
 table before him, stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and a 
 very respectable-looking loaf, to each of which he distributed his 
 favours in turn, with the most rigid impartiality. He had just cut 
 a mighty slice from the latter, when the footsteps of somebody 
 entering the room, caused him to raise his head ; and he beheld 
 
TOUCHING THE MULBERRY MAN 265 
 
 ' Momin', Sammy ! ' said the father. 
 
 The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly 
 to his parent, took a long draught by way of reply. 
 
 'Werry good power o' suction, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller the 
 elder, looking into the pot, when his first-bom had set it down half 
 empty. ' You'd ha' made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if 
 you'd been bom in that station o' life.' 
 
 ' Yes, I des-say I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable 
 livin',' replied Sam, applying himself to the cold beef, with con- 
 siderable vigour. 
 
 ' I'm wery sorry, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, shaking up 
 the ale, by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to 
 drinking. ' I'm wery sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as you 
 let yourself be gammoned by that 'ere mulberry man. I always 
 thought, up to three days ago, that the names of Veller and gammon 
 could never come into contract, Sammy, never.' 
 
 ' Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course,' said Sam. 
 
 'Widders, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour. 
 'Widders are 'ceptions to eVry mle. I have heerd how many 
 ord'nary women, one widder's equal to, in pint o' comin' over you. 
 I think it's five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it an't 
 more.' 
 
 ' Well ; that's pretty well,' said Sam. 
 
 Besides,' continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, 
 ' that's a wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, 
 Sammy, as defended the gen'lem'n as beat his wife with the poker, 
 venever he got jolly. " And arter all, my Lord," says he, " it's a 
 amable weakness." So I says respectin' widders, Sammy, and so 
 you'll say, ven you gets as old as me.' 
 
 ' I ought to ha' know'd better, I know,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Ought to ha' know'd better ! ' repeated Mr. Weller, striking the 
 table with his fist. ' Ought to ha' know'd better ! why, I know a 
 young 'un as hasn't had half nor quarter your eddication — as hasn't 
 slept about the markets, no, not six months — who'd ha' scorned to 
 be let in, in such a vay ; scorned it, Sammy.' In the excitement 
 of feeling produced by this agonising reflection, Mr. Weller rang 
 the bell, and ordered an additional pint of ale. 
 
 'Well, it's no use talking. about it now,' said Sam. 'It's over, 
 and can't be helped, and that's one consolation, as they always says 
 in Turkey, ven they cuts the wrong man's head off. It's my innings 
 now, gov'rnor, and as soon as I catches hold o' this ere Trotter, 
 I'll have a good 'un.' 
 
 ' I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will,' returned Mr. 
 Weller. ' Here's your health, Sammy, and may you speedily vipe 
 off the disgrace as you've inflicted on the family name.' In honour 
 of this toast Mr. Weller imbibed at a draught, at least two-thirds of 
 
266 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the newly-arrived pint, and iianded it over to his son, to dispose ' 
 of the remainder, which he instantaneously did. 
 
 ' And now, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, consulting the large double- 
 faced silver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. ' Now 
 it's time I was up at the office to get my vay-bill, and see the coach 
 loaded; for coaches, Sammy, is like guns — they requires to be 
 loaded with wery great care, afore they go off.' 
 
 At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller junior smiled 
 a filial smile. His revered parent continued in a solemn tone : 
 
 ' I'm a goin' to leave you, Samivel my boy, and there's no telling 
 ven I shall see you again. Your mother-in-law may ha' been too 
 much for me, or a thousand things may have happened by the time 
 you next hears any news o' the celebrated Mr. Veller o' the Bell 
 Savage. The family name depends wery much upon you, Samivel, 
 and I hope you'll do wot's right by it. Upon all little pints o' 
 breedin', I know I may trust you as veil as ■ if it was my own self 
 So I've only this here one little bit of adwice to give you. If ever 
 you gets to up'ards o' fifty, and feels disposed to go a marryin' any- 
 body — no matter who — jist you shut yourself up in your own room, 
 if you've got one, and pison yourself off hand. Hangin's -wulgar, so 
 don't you have nothin' to say to that. Pison yourself, Samivel, my 
 boy, pison yourself, and you'll be glad on it arterwards.' With 
 these aifecting words, Mr. Weller looked stedfastly on his son, and 
 turning slowly upon his heel, disappeared from his sight. 
 
 In the contemplative mood which these words had awakened, 
 Mr. Samuel Weller walked forth from the Great White Horse when 
 his father had left him ; and bending his steps towards St. Clement's 
 Church,^ endeavoured to dissipate his melancholy, by strolling 
 among its ancient precincts. He had loitered about, for some time, 
 when he found himself in a retired spot — a kind of court-yard of 
 venerable appearance — which he discovered had no other outlet 
 than the turning by which he had entered. He was about retracing 
 his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to the spot by a sudden 
 appearance ; and the mode and manner of this appearance, we now 
 proceed to relate. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up, at the old brick houses 
 now and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon some 
 healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threw open 
 a bed-room window, when the green gate of a garden at the bottom 
 of the yard opened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed 
 the green gate very carefully after him, and walked briskly towards 
 the very spot where Mr. Weller was standing. 
 
 Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any 
 attendant circumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in 
 it; because in many parts of the world, men do come out of 
 gardens, close green gates after them, and even walk briskly away, 
 
MR. JOB TROTTER AGAIN 267 
 
 without attracting any particular share of public observation. It is 
 clear, therefore, that there must have been something in the man, 
 or in his manner, or both, to attract Mr. Waller's particular notice. 
 Whether there was, or not, we must leave the reader to determine, 
 when we have faithfully recorded the behaviour of the individual 
 in question. 
 
 When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, as 
 we have said twice already, with a brisk pace up the court-yard ; 
 but he no sooner caught sight of Mr. AVeller, than he faltered, and 
 stopped, as if uncertain, for the moment, what course to adopt. As 
 the green gate was closed behind him, and there was no other outlet 
 but the one in front, however, he was not long in perceiving that 
 he must pass Mr. Samuel 'Weller to get away. He therefore 
 resumed his brisk pace, and advanced, staring straight before him. 
 The most extraordinary thing about the man was, that he was con- 
 torting his face into the most fearful and astonishing grimaces that 
 ever were beheld. Nature's handywork never was disguised with 
 such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had overlaid his 
 countenance with in one moment. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. 
 ' This is wery odd. I could ha' swore it was him.' 
 
 Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted 
 than ever, as he drew nearer. 
 
 ' I could take my oath to that 'ere black hair, and mulberry suit,' 
 said Mr. Weller ; ' only I never see such a face as that, afore.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly 
 twinge, perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, 
 however, and the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him 
 to detect, under all these appalling twists of feature, something too 
 like the small eyes of Mr. Job Trotter, to be easily mistaken. 
 
 ' Hallo, you sir ! ' shouted Sam, fiercely. 
 
 The stranger stopped. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' repeated Sam, still more gruffly. 
 
 The man with the horrible face, looked, with the greatest surprise, 
 up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the 
 houses — everywhere but at Sam Weller — and took another step 
 forward, when he was brought to again, by another shout. 
 
 ' Hallo, you sir ! ' said Sam, for the third time. 
 
 There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from 
 now, so the stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam 
 Weller full in the face. 
 
 ' It won't do. Job Trotter,' said Sam. ' Come ! None ' that 'ere 
 nonsense. You ain't so wery 'andsome that you can afford to throw 
 avay many o' your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' your'n 
 back into their proper places, or I'll knock 'em out of your head. 
 D'ye hear?' 
 
268 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the spirit of 
 this address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its 
 natural expression ; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, ' What 
 do I see ? Mr. Walker ! ' 
 
 ' Ah,' replied Sam. ' You're wery glad to see me, ain't you ? ' 
 
 ' Glad ! ' exclaimed Job Trotter ; ' oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but 
 known how I have looked forward to this meeting ! It is too much. 
 Mr. Walker ; I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot.' And with these 
 words, Mr. Trotter burst into a regular inundation of tears, and, 
 flinging his arms around those of Mr. Weller, embraced him closely, 
 in an ecstasy of joy. 
 
 'Get off!' cried Sam, indignant at this process, and vainly 
 endeavouring to extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiastic 
 acquaintance. ' Get off, I tell you. What are you crying over me 
 for, you portable ingine ? ' 
 
 ' Because I am so glad to see you,' replied Job Trotter, gradually 
 releasing Mr. Weller, as the first symptoms of his pugnacity dis- 
 appeared. ' Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much.' 
 
 ' Too much ! ' echoed Sam, ' I think it is too much — rayther ! 
 Now what have you got to say to me, eh ? ' 
 
 Mr. Trotter made no reply ; for the little pink pocket handkerchief 
 was in full force. 
 
 ' What have you got to say to me, afore I knock your head off? ' 
 repeated Mr. Weller, in a threatening manner. 
 
 ' Eh ! ' said Mr. Trotter, with a look of virtuous surprise. 
 
 ' What have you got to say to me ? ' 
 
 ' I, Mr. Walker ! ' 
 
 ' Don't call me Valker ; my name's Veller ; you know that veil 
 enough. What have you got to say to me ? ' 
 
 ' Bless you, Mr. Walker — Weller I mean — a great many things, 
 if you will come away somewhere, where we can talk comfortably. 
 If you knew how I have looked for you, Mr Weller — ' 
 
 ' Wery hard, indeed, I s'pose ? ' said Sam, drily. 
 
 ' Very, very, sir,' replied Mr. Trotter, without moving a muscle 
 of his face. ' But shake hands, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 Sam eyed his ' companion for a few seconds, and then, as if 
 actuated by a sudden impulse, compUed with his request. 
 
 ' How,' said Job Trotter, as they walked away, ' How is your 
 dear, good master ? Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller ! 
 I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night, sir.' 
 
 There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's 
 eye, as he said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched 
 fist as he burnt with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs. 
 Sam constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was 
 extremely well. 
 
 ' Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter, ' is he here r ' 
 
A TALK WITH THE MULBERRY MAN 269 
 
 ■ Is your'n ? ' asked Sam, by way of reply. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going 
 on, worse than ever.' 
 
 ' Ah, ah ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Oh, shocking — terrible ! ' 
 
 ' At a boarding-school ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the 
 same sly look which Sam had noticed before ; ' Not at a boarding- 
 school.' 
 
 'At the house with the green gate?' said Sam, eyeing his com- 
 panion closely. 
 
 'No, no — oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very 
 unusual to him, ' not there.' 
 
 ' What was you a doin' there ? ' asked Sam, with a sharp glance. 
 ' Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps ? ' 
 
 ' Why, Mr. Weller,' replied Job, ' I don't mind telling you my 
 little secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each 
 other when we first met. You recollect how pleasant we were that 
 morning ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' said Sam, impatiently. ' I remember. Well.' 
 
 ' Well,' replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the low 
 tone of a man who communicates an important secret ; ' in that 
 house with the green gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good many 
 servants.' 
 
 'So I should think, from the look on it,' interposed Sam. 
 
 ' Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter, ' and one of them is a cook, who 
 has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can 
 establish herself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery way, 
 you see.' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to ; 
 a very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing 
 the number four collection of hymns, which I generally carry about 
 with me, in a little book, which you may perhaps have seen in my 
 hand — and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from 
 that, an acquaintance sprung up between us, and I may venture to 
 say, Mr. Weller, that I am to be the chandler.' 
 
 ' Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam, 
 eyeing Job with a side look of intense dislike. 
 
 'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, his 
 eyes filling with tears as he spoke, ' will be, that I shall be able to 
 leave my present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to 
 devote myself to a better and more virtuous life ; more like the 
 way in which I was brought up, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 'You must ha' been wery nicely brought up,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Oh, very, Mr, Weller, very,' replied Job. At the recollection of 
 
270 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink 
 handkerchief, and wept copiously. 
 
 ' You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith,' 
 said Sam. 
 
 ' I was, sir,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh. ' I was the idol of 
 the place.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you 
 must ha' been to your blessed mother.' 
 
 At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink 
 handkerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and 
 began to weep copiously. 
 
 ' Wot's the matter vith the man,' said Sam, indignantly. ' Chelsea 
 water-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now? 
 The consciousness o' willainy ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, after a 
 short pause. ' To think that my master should have suspected the 
 conversation I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a post- 
 chaise, and after persuading the sweet young lady to say she knew 
 nothing of him, and bribing the school-mistress to do the same, 
 deserted her for a better speculation ! Oh ! Mr. Weller, it makes 
 me shudder.' 
 
 ' Oh, that was the vay, was it ? ' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' To be sure it was,' replied Job. 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the Hotel, ' I vant 
 to have a little bit o' talk with you. Job ; so if you're not partickler 
 engaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse to-night, 
 somewheres about eight o'clock.' 
 
 ' I shall be sure to come,' said Job. 
 
 ' Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look, ' or 
 else I shall perhaps be asking arter you, at the other side of the 
 green gate, and then I might cut you out, you know.' 
 
 ' I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter ; and 
 wringing Sam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away. 
 
 ' Take care. Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, looking after him, 
 ' or I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall, indeed.' 
 Having uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be 
 seen no more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's 
 bed-room. 
 
 ' It's all in training, sir,' said Sam. 
 
 ' What's in training, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I have found 'em out, sir,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Found out who ? ' 
 
 ' That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-choUy chap with the 
 black hair.' 
 
 ' Impossible, Sam ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy, 
 "■ Where are they, Sam j where are they ? ' ~ ' 
 
A TRYING POSITION 271 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' replied Mr. Waller ; and as he assisted Mr. 
 Pickwick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he 
 proposed to enter. 
 
 ' But when is this to be done, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' All in good time, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 WHEREIN MR. PETER MAGNUS GROWS JEALOUS, AND THE MIDDLE- 
 AGED LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE PICKWICKIANS 
 WITHIN THE GRASP OF THE LAW 
 
 When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and 
 Mr. Peter M3;gnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that 
 gentleman with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the 
 leathern hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, displayed to all 
 possible advantage on his person, while he himself was pacing up 
 and down the room in a state of the utmost excitement and 
 agitation. 
 
 ' Good morning, sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. ' What do you 
 think of this, sir ? ' 
 
 'Very effective indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the 
 garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile. 
 
 ' Yes, I think it'll do,' said Mr. Magnus. ' Mr. Pickwick, sir, I 
 have sent up my card.' 
 
 ' Have you ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me at 
 eleven — at eleven, sir ; it only wants a quarter now.' 
 
 ' Very near the time,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes, it is rather near,' replied Mr. Magnus, ' rather too near to 
 be pleasant — eh ! Mr. Pickwick, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Confidence is a great thing in these cases,' observed Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' I believe it is, sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. ' I am very confident, 
 sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any 
 fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, sir ? There's nothing to 
 be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing 
 more. Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view 
 of the matter, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 'It is a very philosophical one,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' But 
 breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come.' 
 
 Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding 
 
272 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very 
 considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a 
 propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, 
 and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock, every other second, 
 were among the principal symptoms. 
 
 ' He — he — he,' tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness, and 
 gasping with agitation. ' It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. 
 Am I pale, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Not very,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 There was a brief pause. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick ; but have you ever done this 
 sort of thing in your time ? ' said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ' You mean proposing ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Never,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy, ' never.' 
 
 'You have no idea, then, how it's best to begin?' said Mr. 
 Magnus. 
 
 ' Why,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I may have formed some ideas upon 
 the subject, but, as I have never submitted them to the test of 
 experience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your 
 proceedings by them.' 
 
 ' I should feel very much obliged to you, for any advice, sir,' said 
 Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock : the hand of which 
 was verging on the five minutes past. 
 
 ' Well, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity Avith 
 which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so 
 deeply impressive : ' I should commence, sir, with a tribute to the 
 lady's beauty and excellent qualities; from them, sir, I should 
 diverge to my own unworthiness.' 
 
 ' Very good,' said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ' Unworthiness for her only, mind, sir,' resumed Mr. Pickwick ; 
 ' for to shew that I was not wholly unworth)', sir, I should take a 
 brief review of my past life, and present condition. I should argue, 
 by analogy, that to anybody else, I must be a very desirable object. 
 I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth of 
 my devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand.' 
 
 'Yes, I see,' said Mr. Magnus; 'that would be a very great 
 point.' 
 
 ' I should then, sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as 
 the subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him : 
 ' I should then, sir, come to the plain and simple question, " Will 
 you have me ? " I think I am justified in assuming that upon this, 
 she would turn away her head.' 
 
 ' You think that may be taken for granted ? ' said Mr. Magnus ; 
 'because if she did not do that at the right place, it would be 
 embarrassing,' 
 
THE APPARITION RE-APPEARS 273 
 
 ' I think she would,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Upon this, sir, I should 
 squeeze her hand, and I think— I think, Mr. Magnus— that after I 
 had done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw 
 away the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge of human nature 
 leads me to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the 
 moment, and steal a respectful kiss. I think I should kiss her, 
 Mr. Magnus ; and at this particular point, I am decidedly of 
 opinion that if the lady were going to take me at all, she would 
 murmur into my ears a bashful acceptance.' 
 
 Mr. Magnus started; gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intelligent face, 
 for a short time in silence ; and then (the dial pointing to the ten 
 minutes past) shook him warmly by the hand, and rushed desperately 
 from the room. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had taken a few strides to and fro ; and the small 
 hand of the clock following the latter part of his example, had 
 arrived at the figure which indicates the half hour, when the door 
 suddenly opened. He turned round to meet Mr. Peter Magnus, 
 and encountered, in his stead, the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, the 
 serene countenance of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments of 
 Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus 
 tripped into the room. 
 
 ' My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of — Mr, Magnus,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Your servant, gentlemen,' said Mr. Magnus, evidently in a high 
 state of excitement ; ' Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you, one 
 moment, sir.' 
 
 As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. 
 Pickwick's button-hole, and, drawing him to a window recess, said : 
 
 ' Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick ; I followed your advice to the 
 very letter.' 
 
 ' And it was all correct, was it ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It was, sir. Could not possibly have been better,' replied Mr. 
 Magnus. ' Mr. Pickwick, she is mine.' 
 
 ' I congratulate you with all my heart,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 warmly shaking his new friend by the hand. 
 
 ' You must see her, sir,' said Mr. Magnus ; ' this way, if you 
 please. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen.' Hurrying on in 
 this way, Mr. Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. 
 He paused at the next door in the passage, and tapped gently thereat. 
 
 ' Come in,' said a female voice. And in they went. 
 Miss Witherfield,' said Mr. Magnus, ' Allow me to introduce my 
 very particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make 
 you known to Miss Witherfield.' 
 
 The lady was at the upper end of the room. As Mr. Pickwick 
 bowed, he took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, and put 
 them on \ a process which he had no sooner gone through, than, 
 
 X 
 
274 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 uttering an exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several 
 paces, and the lady, with a half-suppressed scream, hid her face in 
 her hands, and dropped into a chair ; whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus 
 was stricken motionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the 
 other, with a countenance expressive of the extremities of horror 
 and surprise. 
 
 This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable beha- 
 viour; but the fact is, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his 
 spectacles, than he at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus 
 the lady into whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the 
 previous night; and the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. 
 Pickwick's nose, than the lady at once identified the countenance 
 which she had seen surrounded by all the horrors of a night-cap. 
 So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pickwick started. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick ! ' exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment, 
 ' What is the meaning of this, sir ? What is the meaning of it, sir?' 
 added Mr. Magnus, in a threatening, and a louder tone. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden 
 manner in, which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into 
 the imperative mood, ' I decline answering that question.' 
 
 ' You decline it, sir ? ' said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ' I do, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick : ' I object to saying anything 
 which may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollec- 
 tions in her breast, without her consent and permission.' 
 
 ' Miss Witherfield, said Mr. Peter Magnus, ' do you know this 
 person ? ' 
 
 ' Know him ! ' repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating. 
 
 ' Yes, know him, ma'am. I said know him,' replied Mr. Magnus, 
 with ferocity. 
 
 ' I have seen him,' replied the middle-aged lady. 
 
 ' Where ? ' inquired Mr. Magnus, ' where ? ' 
 
 ' That,' said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and 
 averting her head, ' that I would not reveal for worlds.' 
 
 ' I understand you, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' and respect your 
 delicacy ; it shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it.' 
 
 ' Upon my word, ma'am,' said Mr. Magnus, ' considering the 
 situation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you 
 carry this matter off with tolerable coolness — tolerable coolness, 
 ma'am.' 
 
 ' Cruel Mr. Magnus ! ' said the middle-aged lady ; here she wept 
 very copiously indeed. 
 
 ' Address your obsei-vations to me, sir,' interposed Mr. Pickwick; 
 ' I alone am to blame, if anybody be.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you alone are to blame, are you, sir ? ' said Mr. Magnus ; 
 ' I — I — see through this, sir. You repent of your determination 
 now, do you ? ' 
 
A FIT OF JEALOUSY 375 
 
 ' My determination ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Your determination, sir. Oh ! don't stare at me, sir,' said Mr. 
 Magnus ; ' I recollect your words last night, sir. You came down 
 here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on 
 whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance — eh ? ' 
 Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer ; and taking 
 off his green spectacles — which he probably found superfluous in his 
 fit of jealousy — rolled his litde eyes about, in a manner frightful to 
 behold. 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said Mr. Magnus ; and then he repeated the sneer with 
 increased effect. ' But you shall answer it, sir.' 
 
 ' Answer what ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Never mind, sir,' replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the 
 room. ' Never mind.' 
 
 There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of 
 ' Never mind,' for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a 
 quarrel in the street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in 
 which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. 
 ' Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir ? ' — ' Never mind, sir.' 
 ' Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir ? ' — ' Never 
 mind, sir.' ' Do you want your head knocked up against that wall, 
 sir ? ' — Never mind, sir.' It is observable, too, that there would 
 appear to be some hidden taunt in this universal ' Never mind,' 
 which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individual 
 addressed, than the most lavish abuse could possibly awaken. 
 
 We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to 
 himself, struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul, 
 which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We 
 merely record the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door, 
 and abruptly called out, ' Tupman, come here ! ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of very 
 considerable surprise. 
 
 ' Tupman,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' a secret of some delicacy, in which 
 that lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference which has just 
 arisen between this gentleman and myself. When I assure him, in 
 your presence, that it has no relation to himself, and is not in any 
 way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice 
 that if he continue to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my 
 veracity, which I shall consider extremely insulting.' As Mr. Pick- 
 wick said this, he looked encyclopaedias at Mr. Peter Magnus. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's upright and honourable bearing, coupled with 
 that force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished 
 him, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind ; but 
 unfortunately at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter 
 Magnus was in anything but reasonable order. Consequently, 
 instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have 
 
876 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a red-hot, scorch- 
 ing, consuming, passion, and to talk about what was due to his own 
 feelings, and all that sort of thing : adding force to his declamation' 
 by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair — ^amusements which he 
 would vary occasionally, by shaking his fist in Mr. Pickwick's 
 philanthropic countenance. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and 
 rectitude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved the middle- 
 aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly disposed 
 as was his wont. The consequence was, that words ran high, and 
 voices higher; and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he 
 should hear from him ; to which Mr. Pickwick rephed, with 
 laudable politeness, that the sooner he heard from him the better; 
 whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror from the room, 
 out of which Mr. Tupman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. 
 Peter Magnus to himself and meditation. 
 
 If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, 
 or had profited at all by the manners and customs of those who 
 make the laws and set the fashions, she would have known that 
 this sort of ferocity is the most harmless thing in nature ; but as 
 she had lived for the most part in the country, and never read the 
 parliamentary debates, she was little versed in these particular 
 refinements of civilised life. Accordingly, when she had gained 
 her bed-chamber, bolted herself in, and begun to meditate on the 
 scene she had just witnessed, the most terrific pictures of slaughter 
 and destruction presented themselves to her imagination; among 
 which, a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus borne home by 
 four men, with the embellishment of a whole barrel-full of bullets 
 in his left side, was among the very least. The more the middle- 
 aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became ; and at length 
 she determined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate 
 of the town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwick 
 and Mr. Tupman without delay. 
 
 To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a variety 
 of considerations, the chief of which, was the incontestable proof 
 it would afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus, and her 
 anxiety for his safety. She was too well acquainted with his 
 jealous temperament to venture the sUghtest allusion to the real 
 cause of her agitation on beholding Mr. Pickwick ; and she trusted 
 to her own influence and power of persuasion with the little man, 
 to quell his boisterous jealousy, supposing that Mr. Pickwick were 
 removed, and no fresh quarrel could arise. Filled with these 
 reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed herself in her bonnet and 
 shawl, and repaired to the Mayor's dwelling straightway. 
 
 Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, 
 was as grand a personage as the fastest walker would find, out, 
 
• THE DIGNITY OF THE BENCH 277 
 
 between sunrise and sunset, on the twenty-first of June, which 
 being, according to the almanacs, the longest day in the whole 
 year, would naturally afford him the longest period for his search. 
 On this particular morning, Mr. Nupkins was in a state of the 
 utmost excitement and irritation, for there had been a rebellion in 
 the town ; all the day-seholars at the largest day-school had con- 
 spired to break the windows of an obnoxious apple-seller, and had 
 hooted the beadle, and pelted the constabulary — an elderly gentle- 
 man in top-boots, who had been called out to repress the tiimult, 
 and who had been a peace-officer, man and boy, for half a century 
 at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his easy chair, frowning 
 with majesty, and boiling with rage, when a lady was announced 
 on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr. Nupkins looked 
 calmly terrible, and commanded that the lady should be shown in : 
 which command, like all the mandates of emperors, and magistrates, 
 and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith obeyed ; and 
 Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in accordingly. 
 
 ' Muzzle ! ' said the magistrate. 
 
 Muzzle was an undersized footman, with a long body and 
 short legs. 
 
 ' Muzzle ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Place a chair, and leave the room.' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Now, ma'am, will you state your business ? ' said the magistrate. 
 
 ' It is of a very painful kind, sir,' said Miss Witherfield. 
 
 ' Very likely, ma'am,' said the magistrate. ' Compose your feel- 
 ings, ma'am.' Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. ' And then 
 tell me what legal business brings you here, ma'am.' Here the 
 magistrate triumphed over the man ; and he looked stern again. 
 
 ' It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information,' said 
 Miss Witherfield, ' but I fear a duel is going to be fought here.' 
 
 ' Here, ma'am ? ' said the magistrate. ' Where, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' In Ipswich.' 
 
 ' In Ipswich, ma'am ! A duel in Ipswich ! ' said the magistrate, 
 perfectly aghast at the notion. ' Impossible, ma'am ; nothing of 
 the kind can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless 
 my soul, ma'am, are you aware of the activity of our local 
 magistracy ? • Do you happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed 
 into a prize-ring on the fourth of May last, attended by only sixty 
 special constables ; and, at the hazard of falling a sacrifice to the 
 angry passions of an infuriated multitude, prohibited a pugilistic 
 contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam ? 
 A duel in Ipswich, ma'am ! I don't think — I do not think,' said 
 the magistrate, reasoning with himself, ' that any two men can have 
 had the hardihood to plan such a breach of the peace, in this town.' 
 
278 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' My information is unfortunately but too correct,' said the 
 middle-aged lady, ' I was present at the quarrel.' 
 
 ' It's a most extraordinary thing,' said the astounded magistrate. 
 ' Muzzle ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Send Mr. Jinks here, directly ! Instantly.' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 Muzzle retired; and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad 
 clerk, of middle age, entered the room. 
 
 ' Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate. ' Mr. Jinks.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Jinks. 
 
 ' This lady, Mr. Jinks, has come here, to give information of an 
 intended duel in this town.' 
 
 Mr. Jinks not knowing exactly what to do, smiled a dependent's 
 smile. 
 
 ' What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinks ? ' said the magistrate. 
 
 Mr. Jinks looked serious, instantly. 
 
 ' Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate, ' you're a fool.' 
 
 Mr. Jinks looked humbly at the great man, and bit the top of his pen. 
 
 ' You may see something very comical in this information, sir ; 
 but I can tell you this, Mr. Jinks ; that you have very little to laugh 
 at,' said the magistrate. 
 
 The hungry-looking Jinks sighed, as if he were quite aware of 
 the fact of his having very little indeed, to be merry about; and, 
 being ordered to take the lady's information, shambled to a seat, 
 and proceeded to write it down. 
 
 ' This man, Pickwick, is the principal, I understand,' said the 
 magistrate, when the statement was finished.- 
 
 ' He is,' said the middle-aged lady. 
 
 ' And the other rioter — what's his name, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Tupman, sir.' 
 
 ' Tupman is the second ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' The other principal you say, has absconded, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Miss Witherfield, with a short cough. 
 
 'Very well,' said the magistrate. 'These are two cut-throats 
 from London, who have come down here to destroy his Majesty's 
 population : thinking that at this distance from the capital, the arm 
 of the law is weak and paralysed. They shall be made an example 
 of. Draw up the warrants, Mr. Jinks. Muzzle ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Is Grummer down stairs ? ' • 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Send him up.' 
 
 The obsequious Muzzle retired, and presentiy returned, intro- 
 ducing the elderly gentleman in the top-boots, who was chiefly 
 
WARRANTS GRANTED 279 
 
 remarkable for a bottle-nose, a hoarse voice, a snuff-coloured surtout, 
 and a wandering eye. 
 
 ' Grummer,' said the magistrate. 
 
 ' Your wash-up.' 
 
 ' Is the town quiet now ? ' 
 
 ' Pretty well, your wash-up,' replied Grummer. ' Pop'lar feeling 
 has in a measure subsided, consekens o' the boys having dispersed 
 to cricket.' 
 
 ' Nothing but vigorous measures will do in these times, Grummer,' 
 said the magistrate, in a determined manner. ' If the authority of 
 the king's officers is set at nought, we must have the riot act read. 
 If the civil power cannot protect these windows, Grummer, the 
 military must protect the civil power, and the windows too. I 
 believe that is a maxim of the constitution, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir,' said Jinks. 
 
 ' Very good,' said the magistrate, signing the warrants. ' Grummer, 
 you will bring these persons before me, this afternoon. You will 
 find them at the Great White Horse. You recollect the case 
 of the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam, Grummer ? ' 
 
 Mr. Grummer intimated, by a retrospective shake of the head, 
 that he should never forget it — as indeed it was not likely he would, 
 so long as it continued to be cited daily. 
 
 ' This is even more unconstitutional,' said the magistrate ; ' this is 
 even a greater breach of the peace, and a grosser infringement of his 
 Majest/s prerogative. I believe duelling is one of his Majesty's 
 most undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Expressly stipulated in Magna Charta, sir,' said Mr. Jinks. 
 
 ' One of the brightest jewfels in the British crown, wrung from 
 his Majesty by the Barons, I believe, Mr. Jinks ? ' said the 
 magistrate. 
 
 ' Just so, sir,' replied Mr. Jinks. 
 
 ' Very well,'» said the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly, ' it 
 shall not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grummer, 
 procure assistance, and execute these warrants with as little delay as 
 possible. Muzzle ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Show the lady out.' 
 
 Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrate's 
 learning and research; Mr. Nupkins retired to lunch; Mr. Jinks 
 retired within himself — that being the only retirement he had, except 
 the sofa-bedstead in the small parlour which was occupied by his 
 landlady's family in the daytime — and Mr. Grummer retired, to 
 wipe out, by his mode of discharging his present commission, the 
 insult which had been fastened upon himself, and the other 
 representative of his Majesty — the beadle — in the course of the 
 morning. 
 
28o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 While these resolute and determined preparations for the conser- 
 vation of the King's peace, were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his 
 friends, wholly unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had 
 sat quietly down to dinner ; and very talkative and companionable 
 they all were. Mr. Pickwick was in the very act of relating his 
 adventure of the preceding night, to the great amusement- of his 
 followers, Mr. Tupman especially, when the. door opened, and a 
 somewhat forbidding countenance peeped into the room. The eyes 
 in the forbidding countenance looked very earnestly at Mr. Pick- 
 wick, for several seconds, and were to all appearance satisfied with 
 their investigation ; for the body to which the forbidding coun- 
 tenance belonged, slowly brought itself into the apartment, and 
 presented the form of an elderly individual in top-boots — not to 
 keep the reader any longer in suspense, in short, the eyes were the 
 wandering eyes of Mr. Grummer, and the body was the body of the 
 same gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Grummer's mode of proceeding was professional, but peculiar. 
 His first act was to bolt the door on the- inside ; his second, to 
 polish his head and countenance very carefully with a cotton 
 handkerchief; his third, to place his hat, with the cotton handker- 
 chief in it, on the nearest chair ; and his fourth, to produce from the 
 breast-pocket of his coat a short truncheon, surmounted by a brazen 
 crown, with which he beckoned to Mr. Pickwick with a grave and 
 ghost-like air. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass was the first to break the astonished silence. He 
 looked steadily at Mr. Grummer for a brief space, and then said 
 emphatically : ' This is a private room, sir. A private room.' 
 
 Mr. Grummer shook his head, and replied, ' No room's private to 
 his Majesty when the street door's once passed. That's law. 
 Some people maintains that an Englishman's house is his castle. 
 That's gammon.' 
 
 The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes. 
 
 ' Which is Mr. Tupman ? ' inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an 
 intuitive perception of Mr. Pickwick ; he knew him at once. 
 
 ' My name's Tupman,' said that gentleman. 
 
 ' My name's Law,' said Mr. Grummer. 
 
 ' What ? ' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Law,' replied Mr. Grummer, ' law, civil power, and exekative ; 
 them's my titles; here's my authority. Blank Tupman, blank 
 Pickvick — against the peace of our sufferin Lord the King — stattit 
 in that case made and purwided — and all regular. I apprehend 
 you Pickvick ! Tupman — the aforesaid.' 
 
 'What do you mean by this insolence?' said Mr. Tupman, 
 starting up : ' Leave the room ! ' 
 
 ' Halloo,' said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to the 
 door, and opening it an inch or two, ' Dubbley.' 
 
THE STRONG ARM OF THE LAW 281 
 
 ' Well,' said a deep voice from the passage. 
 
 ' Come for'ard, Dubbley.' 
 
 At the word of command, a dirty-faced man, something over six 
 feet high, and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through the half- 
 open door (making his face very red in the process), and entered 
 the room. 
 
 ' Is the other specials outside, Dubbley ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Grummer. 
 
 Mr. Dubbley, who was a man of few words, nodded assent. 
 
 'Order in the diwision under your charge, Dubbley,' said M 
 Grummer. 
 
 Mr. Dubbley did as he was desired ; and half a dozen men, each 
 with a short truncheon and a brass crown, flocked into the room, 
 Mr. Grammar pocketed his staff, and looked at Mr. Dubbley ; Mr. 
 Dubbley pocketed Ms staff and looked at the division ; the division 
 pocketed tAeir staves and looked at Messrs. Tupman and Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and his followers rose as one man. 
 
 ' What is the meaning of this atrocious intrusion upon my 
 privacy ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Who dares apprehend me ? ' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' What do you want here, scoundrels ? ' ^id Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 Mr. Winkle said nothing, but he fixed his eyes on Gmmmer, and 
 bestowed a look upon him, which, if he had had any feeling, must 
 have pierced his brain. As it was, however, it had no visible effect 
 upon him whatever. 
 
 When the executive perceived that Mr. Pickwick and his friends 
 were disposed to resist the authority of the law, they very signifi- 
 cantly turned up their coat sleeves, as if knocking them down in the 
 first instance, and taking' them up afterwards, were a mere pro- 
 fesssional act which had only to be thought of, to be done, as a 
 matter of course. This demonstration was not lost upon Mr. 
 Pickwick. He conferred a few moments with Mr. Tupman apart, 
 and then signified his readiness to proceed to the Mayor's residence, 
 merely begging the parties then and there assembled, to take notice, 
 that it was his firm intention to resent this monstrous invasion of his 
 privileges as an Englishman, the instant he was at liberty ; whereat 
 the parties then and there assembled laughed very heartily, with the 
 single exception of Mr. Grammer, who seemed to consider that any 
 slight cast upon the divine right of magistrates, was a species of 
 blasphemy, not to be tolerated. 
 
 But when Mr. Pickwick had signified his readiness to bow to the 
 laws of his country ; and just when the waiters, and hostlers, and 
 chamber-maids, and post-boys, who had anticipated a delightful 
 commotion from his threatened obstinacy, began to turn away, dis- 
 appointed and disgusted, a difficulty arose which had not been fore- 
 seen. With every sentiment of veneration for the constituted 
 
282 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 authorities, Mr. Pickwick resolutely protested against making his 
 appearance in the public streets, surrounded and guarded by the 
 officers of justice, like a common criminal. Mr. Grummer, in the 
 then disturbed state of public feeling (for it was half-holiday, and 
 the boys had not yet gone home), as resolutely protested against 
 walking on the opposite side of the way, and taking Mr. Pickwick's 
 parole that he would go straight to the magistrate's ; and both Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Tupman as strenuously objected to the expense 
 of a post-coach, which was the only respectable conveyance that 
 could be obtained. The dispute ran high, and the dilemma lasted 
 long ; and just as the executive were on the point of overcoming 
 Mr. Pickwick's objection to walking to the magistrate's, by the trite 
 expedient of carrying him thither, it was recollected that there stood 
 in the inn yard, an old sedan chair, which having been originally 
 built for a gouty gentleman with funded property, would hold Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Tupman, at least as conveniently as a modern 
 post-chaise. The chair was hired, and brought into the haU ; Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Tupman squeezed themselves inside, and pulled 
 down the blinds ; a couple of chairmen were speedily found ; and 
 the procession started in grand order. The specials surrounded the 
 body of the vehicle; Mr. Grummer and Mr. Dubbley marched 
 triumphantly in front ; Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle walked arm- 
 in-arm behind ; and the unsoaped of Ipswich brought up the rear. 
 
 The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very indistinct 
 notion of the nature of the offence, could not but be much edified 
 and gratified by this spectacle. Here was the strong arm of the 
 law, coming down with twenty gold-beater force, upon two offenders 
 from the metropolis itself j the mighty engine was directed by their 
 own magistrate, and worked by their own officers ; and both the 
 criminals by their united efforts, were securely shut up, in the 
 narrow compass of one sedan-chair. Many were the expressions of 
 approval and admiration which greeted Mr. Grummer, as he headed 
 the cavalcade, staff in hand ; loud and long were the shouts raised 
 by the unsoaped ; and amidst these united testimonials of public 
 approbation, the procession moved slowly and majestically along. 
 
 Mr. Weller, habited in his morning jacket with the black calico 
 sleeves, was returning in a rather desponding state from an unsuc- 
 cessful survey of the mysterious house with the green gate, when, 
 raising his eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the street, 
 surrounding an object which had very much the appearance of a 
 sedan-chair. Willing to divert his thoughts from the failure of his 
 enterprise, he stepped aside to see the crowd pass ; and finding that 
 they were cheering away, very much to their own satisfaction, forth- 
 with began (by way of raising his spirits) to cheer too, with all his 
 might and main. 
 
 Mr. Grummer passed, and Mr. Dubbley passed, and the sedan 
 
MR. GRUMMER OUTRAGED 283 
 
 passed, and the body-guard of specials passed, and Sam was still re- 
 sponding to the enthusiastic cheers of the mob, and waving his hat 
 about as if he were in the very last extreme of the wildest joy 
 (though, of course, he had not the faintest idea of the matter in 
 hand), when he was suddenly stopped by the unexpected appearance 
 of Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' What's the row, gen'l'm'n ? ' cried Sam. ' Who have they got in 
 tliis here watch-box in mournin' ? ' 
 
 Both gentlemen replied together but their words were lost in the 
 tumult. 
 
 ' Who ? ' cried Sam again. 
 
 Once more was a joint reply returned ; and, though the words 
 were inaudible, Sam saw by the motion of the two pairs of lips that 
 they had uttered the magic word ' Pickwick.' 
 
 This was enough. In another minute Mr. Weller had made his 
 way through the crowd, stopped the chairmen, and confronted the 
 portly Grummer. 
 
 ' Hallo, old gen'l'm'n ! ' said Sam. ' Who have you got in this 
 here conwayance ? ' 
 
 ' Stand back,' said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the dignity 
 of a great majjy other men, had been wondrously augmented by a 
 little popularity. 
 
 ' Knock him down, if he don't,' said Mr. Dubbley. 
 
 ' I'm wery much obliged to you, old gen'l'm'n,' replied Sam, ' for 
 consulting my conwenience, and I'm still more obHged to the other 
 gen'l'm'n, who looks as if he'd just escaped from a giant's carrywan, 
 for his wery 'ansome suggestion ; but I should perfer your givin' me 
 a answer to my question, if it's all the same to you. — How are you, 
 sir?' This last observation was addressed with a patronising air to 
 Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window. 
 
 Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged the 
 truncheon with the brass crown from its particular pocket, and 
 flourished it before Sam's eyes. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' it's wery pretty, 'specially the crown, which is 
 uncommon like the real one.' 
 
 ' Stand back ! ' said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of 
 adding force to the command, he thrust the brass emblem of royalty 
 into Sam's neckcloth with one hand, and seized Sam's collar with 
 the other : a compliment which Mr. Weller returned by knocking 
 him down out of hand : having previously, with the utmost con- 
 sideration, knocked down a chairman for him to lie upon. 
 
 Whether Mr. Winkle was seized with a temporary attack of that 
 species of insanity which originates in a sense of injury, or animated 
 by this display of Mr. Wellefs valour, is uncertain ; but certain it is, 
 that he no sooner saw Mr. Grummer fall than he made a terrific 
 onslaught on a small boy who stood next him; whereupon Mr, 
 
s84 THE PICKWICK: CLUB 
 
 Snodgrass, in a truly christian spirit, and in order that he might take 
 no one unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going 
 to begin, and proceeded to take off his coat with the utmost delibera- 
 tion. He was immediately surrounded and secured; and it is but 
 common justice both to him and Mr. Winkle to say, that they did 
 not make the slightest attempt to rescue either themselves or Mr. 
 Weller : who, after a most vigorous resistance, was overpowered by 
 numbers and taken prisoner. The procession then re-formed ; the 
 chairmen resumed their stations ; and the march was re-com- 
 menced. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceeding 
 was beyond all bounds. He could just see Sam upsetting the 
 specials, and flying about in every direction ; and that was all he 
 could see, for the sedan doors wouldn't open, and the blinds 
 wouldn't pull up. At length, with the assistance of Mr. Tupman, 
 he managed to push open the roof; and mounting on the seat, and 
 steadying himself as well as he could, by placing his hand on that 
 gentleman's shoulder, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to address the multi- 
 tude ; to dwell upon the unjustifiable manner in which he had been 
 treated ; and "to call upon them to take notice that his servant had 
 been first assaulted. In this order they reached the magistrate's 
 house ; the chairmen trotting, the prisoners following, Mr. Pickwick 
 oratorising, and the crowd shouting. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 SHOWING, AMONG A VARIETY OF PLEASANT MATTERS, HOW 
 MAJESTIC AND IMPARTIAL' MR. NUPRINS WAS; AND HOW 
 MR. WELLER RETURNED MR. JOB TROTTER'S SHUTTLECOCK 
 AS HEAVILY AS IT CAME. WITH ANOTHER MATTER, WHICH 
 WILL BE FOUND IN ITS PLACE 
 
 Violent was Mr. Weller's indignation as he was borne along; 
 numerous were the allusions to the personal appearance and 
 demeanour of Mr. Grummer and his companion : and valorous 
 were the defiances to any six of the gentlemen present : in which 
 he vented his dissatisfaction. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle 
 listened with gloomy respect to the torrent of eloquence which their 
 leader poured forth from the sedan-chair, and the rapid course of 
 which not all Mr. Tupman's earnest entreaties to have the lid of the 
 vehicle closed, were able to check for an instant. But Mr. Weller's 
 anger quickly gave way to curiosity when the procession turned 
 down the identical court-yard in which he had met with the runaway 
 
,.yM^/f^'Ue^ a^tci,c^y^^yexce€>u/c^i^^<^,J§^^^ 
 
IN THE AWFUL PRESENCE 285 
 
 Job Trotter : and curiosity was exchanged for a feeling of the most 
 gleeful astonishment, when the all-important Mr. Grummer, com- 
 manding the sedan-bearers to halt, advanced with dignified and 
 portentous steps to the very green gate from which Job Trotter had 
 emerged, and gave a mighty pull at the bell-handle which hung at 
 the side thereof. The ring was answered by a very smart and 
 pretty-faced servant-girl, who, after holding up her hands in astonish- 
 ment at the rebellious appearance of the prisoners, and the impas- 
 sioned language of Mr. Pickwick, summoned Mr. Muzzle. Mr. 
 Muzzle opened one half of the carriage gate, to admit the sedan, 
 the captured ones, and the specials ; and immediately slammed it 
 in the faces of the mob, who, indignant at being excluded, and 
 anxious to see what- followed, relieved their feelings by kicking at 
 the gate and ringing the bell, for an hour or two afterwards. In 
 this amusement they all took part by turns, except three or four 
 fortunate individuals, who, having discovered a grating in the gate 
 which commanded a view of nothing, stared through it with the 
 indefatigable perseverance with which people will flatten their noses 
 against the front windows of a chemist's shop, when a drunken man, 
 who has been run over by a dog-cart in the street, is undergoing a 
 surgical inspection in the back-parlour. 
 
 At the foot of a flight of steps, leading to the house door, which 
 was guarded on either side by an American aloe in a green tub, the 
 sedan-chair stopped. Mr. Pickwick and his friends were conducted 
 into the hall, whence, having been previously announced by Muzzle, 
 and ordered in by Mr. Nupkin.s, they were ushered into the 
 worshipful presence of that public-spirited officer. 
 
 The scene was an impressive one, well calculated to strike terror 
 to the hearts of culprits, and to impress them -with an adequate idea 
 of the stem majesty of the law. In front of a big book-case, in a 
 big chair, behind a big table, and before a big volume, sat Mr. 
 Nupkins, looking a full size larger than any one of them, big as 
 they were. The table was adorned with piles of papers : and above 
 the further end of it, appeared the head and shoulders of Mr. Jinks, 
 who was busily engaged in looking as busy as possible. The party 
 having all entered. Muzzle carefully closed the door, and placed 
 himself behind his master's chair to await his orders. Mr. Nupkins 
 threw himself back, with thrilling solemnity, and scrutinised the 
 faces of his unwilling visitors. 
 
 ' Now, Grummer, who is that person ? ' said Mr. Nupkins, point- 
 ing to Mr. Pickwick, who, as the spokesman of his friends, stood 
 hat in hand, bowing with the utmost politeness and respect. 
 
 ' This here's Pickvick, your wash-up,' said Grummer. 
 
 ' Come, none o' that 'ere, old Strike-a-light,' interposed Mr. 
 Weller, elbowing himself into the front rank. ' Beg your pardon, 
 sir, but this here officer 0' youm jn the gambooge tops, 'uH never 
 
286 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 earn a decent livin' as a master o' the ceremonies any vere. This 
 here, sir,' continued Mr. Weller, thrusting Grummer aside, and 
 addressing the magistrate with pleasant familiarity, ' This here is 
 S. Pickvick, Esquire ; this here's Mr. Tupman ; that 'ere's Mr. Snod- 
 grass ; and furder on, next him on the t'other side, Mr. Winkle — all 
 wery nice gen'l'm'n, sir, as you'll be wery happy to have the 
 acquaintance on ; so the sooner you commits these here officers o' 
 yourn to the tread-mill for a month or two, the sooner we shall 
 begin to be on a pleasant understanding. Business first, pleasure 
 arterwards, as King Richard the Third said wen he stabbed the 
 t'other king in the Tower, afore he smothered the babbies.' 
 
 At the conclusion of this address, Mr. Weller brushed his hat 
 with his right elbow, and nodded benignly to Jinks, who had heard 
 him throughout, with unspeakable awe. 
 
 ' Who is this man, Grummer,' said the magistrate. 
 
 ' Wery desp'rate ch'racter, your wash-up,' replied Grummer. ' He 
 attempted to rescue the prisoners, and assaulted the officers ; so we 
 took him into custody, and brought him here.' 
 
 ' You did quite right,' replied the magistrate. ' He is evidently 
 a desperate ruffian.' 
 
 ' He is my servant, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, angrily. 
 
 ' Oh ! he is your servant, is he ? ' said Mr. Nupkins. ' A con- 
 spiracy to defeat the ends of justice, and murder its officers. 
 Pickwick's servant. Put that down, Mr. Jinks.' 
 
 Mr. Jinks did so. 
 
 ' What's your name, fellow ? ' thundered Mr. Nupkins. 
 
 ' Veller,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' A very gobd name for the Newgate Calendar,' said Mr. Nupkins. 
 
 This was a joke ; sb Jinks, Grummer, Dubbley, all the specials, 
 and Muzzle, went into fits of laughter of five minutes' duration. 
 
 ' Put down his name, Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate. 
 
 ' Two L's, old feller,' said Sam. 
 
 Here an unfortunate special laughed again, whereupon the magis- 
 trate threatened to commit him, instantly. It is a dangerous thing 
 to laugh at the wrong man, in these cases. 
 
 ' Where do you live ? ' said the magistrate. 
 
 'Vare-ever I can,' replied Sam. 
 
 'Put down that, Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate, who was fast 
 rising into a rage. 
 
 ' Score it under,' said Sam. 
 
 ' He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate. 'He is a 
 vagabond on his own statement ; is he not, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir.' 
 
 ' Then I'll commit him. I'll commit him as such,' said Mr. 
 Nupkins. 
 
 ' This is a wery impartial country for justice,' said Sam. ' There 
 
THE WORTHY MAGISTRATE 287 
 
 ain't a magistrate goin' as don't commit himself, twice as often as 
 he commits other people.' 
 
 At this sally another special laughed, and then tried to look so 
 supematurally solemn, that the magistrate detected him immediately. 
 
 'Grummer,' said Mr. Nupkins, reddening with passion, 'how 
 dare you select such an inefficient and disreputable person for a 
 special constable, as that man ? How dare you do it, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, your wash-up,' stammered Grummer. 
 
 ' Very sorry ! ' said the furious magistrate. ' You shall repent of 
 this neglect of duty, Mr. Grummer ; you shall be made an example 
 of. Take that fellow's staff away. He's drunk. You're drunk, 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' I am not drunk, your worship,' said the man. 
 
 ' You are drank,' returned the magistrate. ' How dare you say 
 you are not drunk, sir, when I say you are? Doesn't he smell 
 of spirits, Grummer ? ' 
 
 ' Horrid, your wash-up,' replied Grummer,' who had a vague 
 impression that there was a smell of rum somewhere. 
 
 ' I knew he did,' said Mr. Nupkins. ' I saw he was drunk when 
 he first came into the room, by his excited eye. Did you observe 
 his excited eye, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir.' 
 
 ' I haven't touched a drop of spirits this mornipg,' said the man, 
 who was as sober a fellow as need be. 
 
 ' How dare you tell me a falsehood ? ' said Mr. Nupkins. * ' Isn't 
 he drunk at this moment, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir,' replied Jinks. 
 
 ' Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate, ' I shall commit that man, for 
 contempt. Make out his committal, Mr. Jinks.' 
 
 And committed the special would have been, only Jinks, who 
 was the magistrate's adviser (having had a legal education of three 
 years in a country attorney's office), whispered the magistrate that 
 he thought it wouldn't do ; so the magistrate made a speech, and 
 said, that in consideration of the special's family, he would merely 
 reprimand and discharge him. Accordingly, the special was 
 abused, vehemently, for a quarter of an hour, and sent about his 
 business : and Gmmmer, Dubbley, Muzzle, and all the other specials 
 murmured their admiration of the magnanimity of Mr. Nupkins. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate, ' swear Grummer.' 
 
 Grummer was ^wom directly ; but as Grummer wandered, and 
 Mr. Nupkins' dinner was nearly ready, Mr. Nupkins cut the matter 
 short, by putting leading questions to Grammer, which Grummer 
 answered as nearly in the affirmative as he could. So the ex- 
 amination went off, all very smooth and comfortable, and two 
 assaults were proved against Mr. Weller, and a threat against 
 Mr. Winkle, and a push against Mr. Snodgrass. When all this was 
 
288 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 done to the magistrate's satisfaction, the magistrate and Mr. Jinks 
 consulted in whispers. 
 
 The consultation having lasted about ten minutes, Mr. Jinks re- 
 tired to his end of the table ; and the magistrate, with a preparatory 
 cough, drew himself up in his chair, and was proceeding to com- 
 mence his address, when Mr. Pickwick interposed. 
 
 'I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting you,' said Mr. Pickwick; 
 ' but before you proceed to express, and act upon, any opinion you 
 may have formed on the statements which have been made here, 
 I must claim my right to be heard, so far as I am personally 
 concerned.' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue, sir,' said the magistrate, peremptorily. 
 
 ' I must submit to you, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Hold your tongue, sir,' interposed the magistrate, 'or I shall 
 order an oflScer to remove you.' 
 
 ' You may order your officers to do whatever you please, sir,' 
 said Mr. Pickwick ; ' and I have no doubt, from the specimen 
 I have had of the subordination preserved amongst them, that 
 whatever you order, they will execute, sir; but I shall take the 
 liberty, sir, of claiming my right to be heard, until I am removed 
 by force.' 
 
 ' Pickvick and principle ! ' exclaimed Mr. Weller, in a very 
 audible voice. 
 
 ' Sam, be quiet,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Dumb as a drum vith a hole in it, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 Mr. Nupkins looked at Mr. Pickwick with a gaze of intense 
 astonishment, at his displaying such unwonted temerity ; and was 
 apparently about to return a very angry reply, when Mr. Jinks 
 pulled him by the sleeve, and whispered something in his ear. To 
 this, the magistrate returned a half-audible answer, and then the 
 whispering was renewed. Jinks was evidently remonstrating. 
 
 At length the magistrate, gulping down, with a very bad grace, 
 his disinclination to hear anything more, turned to Mr. Pickwick, 
 and said sharply : ' What do you want to say ? ' 
 
 ' First,' said Mr. Pickwick, sending a look through his spectacles, 
 under which even Nupkins quailed. ' First, I wish to know what 
 I and my friend have been brought here for ? ' 
 
 ' Must I tell him ? ' whispered the magistrate to Jinks. 
 
 ' I think you had better, sir,' whispered Jinks to the magistrate. 
 
 ' An information has been sworn before me,' said the magistrate, 
 ' that it is apprehended you are going to fight a duel, and that the 
 other man, Tupman, is your aider and abettor in it. Therefore— 
 eh, Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir.' 
 
 ' Therefore, I call upon you both, to— I think that's the course. 
 Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
TWO SURETIES REQUIRED 289 
 
 ' Certainly, sir.' 
 
 ' To — to— what, Mr. Jinks ? ' said the magistrate, pettishly. 
 
 ' To find bail, sir.' 
 
 ' Yes. Therefore, I call upon you both — as I was about to say, 
 when I was interrupted by my clerk — to find bail.' 
 
 ' Good bail,' whispered Mr. Jinks. 
 
 ' I shall require good bail,' said the magistrate. 
 
 ' Town's-people,' whispered Jinks. 
 
 ' They must be town's-people,' said the magistrate. 
 
 'Fifty pounds each,' whispered Jinks, 'and householders, of 
 course.' 
 
 ' I shall require two sureties of fifty pounds each,' said the 
 magistrate aloud, with great dignity, 'and they must be house- 
 holders, of course.' 
 
 ' But, bless my heart, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, who, together with 
 Mr. Tupman, was all amazement and indignation ; ' we are perfect 
 strangers in this town. I have as little knowledge of any house- 
 holders here, as I have intention of fighting a duel with anybody.' 
 
 ' I dare say,' replied the magistrate, ' I dare say — don't you, 
 Mr. Jinks ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir.' 
 
 ' Have you anything more to say ? ' inquired the magistrate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had a great deal more to say, which he would no 
 doubt have said, very little to his own advantage, or the magis- 
 trate's satisfaction, if he had not, the moment he ceased speaking, 
 been pulled by the sleeve by Mr. Weller, with whom he was 
 immediately engaged in so earnest a conversation, that he suffered 
 the magistrate's inquiry to pass wholly unnoticed. Mr. Nupkins 
 was not the man to ask a question of the kind twice over ; and so, 
 with another preparatory cough, he proceeded, amidst the reveren- 
 tial and admiring silence of the constables, to pronounce his 
 decision. 
 
 He should fine Weller two pounds for the first assault, and three 
 pounds for the second. He should fine Winkle two pounds, and 
 Snodgrass one pound, besides requiring them to enter into their 
 own recognizances to keep the peace towards all his Majesty's 
 subjects, and especially towards his liege servant, Daniel Grummer. 
 Pickwick and Tupman he had already held to bail. 
 
 Immediately on the magistrate ceasing to speak, Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a smile mantling on his again good-humoured countenance, 
 stepped forward, and said : 
 
 ' I beg the magistrate's pardon, but may I request a few minutes' 
 private conversation with him, on a matter of deep importance to 
 himself?' 
 
 ' What ? ' said the magistrate. 
 
 Mr, Pickwick repeated his request. 
 
 U 
 
2 go THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' This is a most extraordinary request,' said the m^istrate. ' A 
 private interview ? ' 
 
 'A private interview,' replied Mr. Pickwick, firmly; 'only, as 
 a part of the information which I wish to communicate is derived 
 from my servant, I should wish him to be present.' 
 
 The magistrate looked at Mr. Jinks ; Mr. Jinks looked at the 
 magistrate ; the officers looked at each other in amazement. 
 Mr. Nupkins turned suddenly pale. Could the man Weller, in a 
 moment of remorse, have divulged some secret conspiracy for his 
 assassination? It was a dreadful thought. He was a public 
 man: and he turned paler, as he thought of Julius Caesar and 
 Mr. Perceval. 
 
 The magistrate looked at Mr. Pickwick again, and beckoned 
 Mr. Jinks. 
 
 'What do you think of this request, Mr. Jinks?' murmured 
 Mr. Nupkins. 
 
 Mr. Jinks, who didn't exactly know what to think of it, and was 
 afraid he might offend, smiled feebly, after a dubious fashion, and, 
 screwing up the corners of his mouth, shook his head slowly from 
 side to side. 
 
 ' Mr. Jinks,' said the magistrate, gravely, ' you are an ass.' 
 
 At this little expression of opinion, Mr. Jinks smiled again — rather 
 more feebly than before — and edged himself by degrees, back into 
 his own corner. 
 
 Mr. Nupkins debated the matter within himself for a few seconds, 
 and then, rising from his chair, and requesting Mr. Pickwick and 
 Sam to follow him, led the way into a small room which opened 
 into the justice parlour. Desiring Mr. Pickwick to walk to the 
 upper end of the little apartment, and holding his hand upon the 
 half-closed door, that he might be able to effect an immediate 
 escape, in case there was the least tendency to a display of hos- 
 tilities, Mr. Nupkins expressed his readiness to hear the com- 
 munication, whatever it might be. 
 
 'I will come to the point at once, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'it 
 affects yourself, and your credit, materially. I have every reason 
 to believe, sir, that you are harbouring in your house, a gross 
 impostor ! ' 
 
 ' Two,' interrupted Sam. ' Mulberry agin all natur, for tears and 
 willainny ! ' 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, •' if I am to render myself intelligible 
 to this gentleman, I must beg you to control your feelings.' 
 
 ' Wery sorry, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' but when I think o' that 
 ere Job, I can't help opening the waive a inch or two.' 
 
 ' In one word, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' is my servant right in 
 suspecting that a certain Captain Fitz-Marshall is in the habit of 
 visiting here ? Because,' added Mr, Pickwick, as he saw that 
 
ADJOURNMENT TO THE PRIVATE ROOM 291 
 
 Mr. Nupkins was about to offer a very indignant interruption, 
 ' because, if he be, I know that person to be a— ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush,' said Mr. Nupkins, closing the door. ' Know him- 
 to be what, sir ? ' 
 
 ' An unprincipled adventurer — a dishonourable character — a man 
 who preys upon society, and makes easily-deceived people his 
 dupes, sir ; his absurd, his foolish, his wretched dupes, sir,' said the 
 excited Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Dear me,' said Mr. Nupkins, turning very red, and altering his 
 whole manner directly. ' Dear me, Mr. — ' 
 
 ' Pickvick,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Pickwick,' said the magistrate, ' dear me, Mr. Pickwick — pray 
 take a seat — you cannot mean this ? Captain Fitz-Marshall ? ' 
 
 ' Don't call him a cap' en,' said Sam, ' nor Fitz-Marshall neither ; 
 he ain't neither one nor t'other. He's a strolling actor, he is, and 
 his name's Jingle ; and if ever there was a wolf in a mulberry suit, 
 that ere Job Trotter 's him.' 
 
 ' It is very true, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, replying to the magis- 
 trate's look of amazement; 'my only business in this town, is to 
 expose the person of whom we now speak.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick proceeded to pour into the horror-stricken ear of 
 Mr. Nupkins, an abridged account of Mr. Jingle's atrocities. He 
 related how he had first met him ; how he had eloped with Miss 
 Wardle ; how he had cheerfully resigned the lady for a pecuniary 
 consideration ; how he had entrapped himself into a lady's boarding- 
 school at midnight ; and how he (Mr. Pickwick) now felt it his duty 
 to expose his assumption of his present name and rank. 
 
 As the narrative proceeded, all the warm blood in the body of 
 Mr. Nupkins tingled up into the very tips of his ears. He had 
 picked up the captain at a neighbouring race-course. Charmed 
 with his long list of aristocratic acquaintance, his extensive travel, 
 and his fashionable demeanour, Mrs. Nupkins and Miss Nupkins 
 had exhibited Captain Fitz-Marshall, and quoted Captain Fitz- 
 Marshall, and hurled Captain Fitz-Marshall at the devoted heads of 
 their select circle of acquaintance, until their bosom friends, Mrs. 
 Porkenham and the Miss Porkenhams, and Mr. Sidney Porkenham, 
 were ready to burst with jealousy and despair. And now, to hear, 
 after all, that he was a needy adventurer, a strolling player, and if 
 not a swindler, something so very like it, that it was hard to tell 
 the difference ! Heavens ! What would the Porkenhams say ! 
 What would be the triumph of Mr. Sidney Porkenham when he 
 found that his addresses had been slighted for such a rival .' How 
 should he, Nupkins, meet the eye of old Porkenham at the next 
 Quarter Sessions ! And what a handle would it be for the opposition 
 magisterial party, if the story got abroad ! 
 
 ' But after all,' said Mr. Nupkins, brightening for a moment, after 
 
2g2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a long pause ; ' after all, this is a mere statement. Captain Fitz- 
 Marshall is a man of very engaging manners, and, I dare say, has 
 many enemies. What proof have you of the truth of these repre- 
 sentations ? ' 
 
 ' Confront me with him,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that is all I ask, 
 and all I require. Confront him with me and my friends here ; you 
 will want no further proof 
 
 ' Why,' said Mr. Nupkins, ' that might be very easily done, for he 
 will be here to-night, and then there would be no occasion to make 
 the matter public, just — ^just — for the young man's own sake, you know. 
 !■ — I — should like to consult Mrs. Nupkins on the propriety of the 
 step, in the first instance, though. At all events, Mr. Pickwick, we 
 must despatch this legal business before we can do anything else. 
 Pray step into the next room.' 
 
 Into the next room they went. 
 
 ' Grummer,' said the magistrate, in an awful voice. 
 
 ' Your wash-up,' replied Grummer, with the smile of a favourite. 
 
 ' Come, come, sir,' said the magistrate, sternly, ' don't let me see 
 any of this levity here. It is very unbecoming, and I can assure 
 you that you have very little to smile at. Was the account you 
 gave me just now strictly true ? Now be careful, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Your wash-up,' stammered Grummer, ' I — ' 
 
 ' Oh, you are confused, are you ? ' said the magistrate. ' Mr. 
 Jinks, you observe this confusion ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, sir,' replied Jinks. 
 
 ' Now,' said the magistrate, ' repeat your statement, Grummer, 
 and again I warn you to be careful. Mr. Jinks, take his words 
 down.' 
 
 The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to re-state his complaint, 
 but, what between Mr. Jinks's taking down his words, and the 
 magistrate's taking them up ; his natural tendency to rambling, and 
 his extreme confusion ; he managed to get involved, in something 
 under three minutes, in such a mass of entanglement and contra- 
 diction, that Mr. Nupkins at once declared he didn't believe him. 
 So the fines were remitted, and Mr. Jinks found a couple of bail in 
 no time. And all these solemn proceedings having been satis- 
 factorily concluded, Mr. Grummer was ignominiously ordered out — 
 an awful instance of the instability of human greatness, and the 
 uncertain tenure of great men's favour. 
 
 Mrs. Nupkins was a majestic female in a pink gauze turban and a 
 light brown wig. . Miss Nupkins possessed all her mamma's haughti- 
 ness without the turban, and all her ill-nature without the wig ; and 
 whenever the exercise of these two amiable qualities involved 
 mother and daughter in some unpleasant dilemma, as they not 
 unfrequently did, they both concurred in laying the blame on the 
 shoulders of Mr, Nupkins. Accordingly, when Mr. Nupkms sought 
 
CLEARLY MR. NUPKINS'S FAULT 293 
 
 Mrs. Nupkins, and detailed the communication which had been 
 made by Mr. Pickwick, Mrs. Nupkins suddenly recollected that she 
 had always expected something of the kind ; that she had always 
 said it would be so ; that her advice was never taken ; that she 
 really did not know what Mr. Nupkins supposed she was ; and so 
 forth. 
 
 ' The idea ! ' said Miss Nupkins, forcing a tear of very scanty 
 proportions into the comer of each eye ; ' the idea of my being 
 made such a fool of ! ' 
 
 ' Ah ! you may thank your papa, my dear,' said Mrs. ■ Nupkins ; 
 ' how have I implored and begged that man to inquire into the 
 Captain's family connections ; how have I urged and entreated him 
 to take some decisive step ! I am quite certain nobody would 
 believe it — quite.' 
 
 ' But, my dear,' said Mr. Nupkins. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me, you aggravating thing, don't ! ' said Mrs. 
 Nupkins. 
 
 ' My love,' said Mr. Nupkins, ' you professed yourself very fond 
 of Captain Fitz-Marshall. You have constantly asked him here, 
 my dear, and you have lost no opportunity of introducing him else- 
 where.' 
 
 ' Didn't I say so, Henrietta ? ' cried Mrs. Nupkins, appealing to 
 her daughter, with the air of a much-injured female. ' Didn't I say 
 that your papa would turn round and lay all this at my door ? 
 Didn't I say so ? ' Here Mrs. Nupkins sobbed. 
 
 ' Oh pa ! ' remonstrated Miss Nupkins. ■ And here she sobbed 
 too. 
 
 ' Isn't it too much, when he has brought all this disgrace and 
 ridicule upon us, to taunt me with being the cause of it ? ' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Nupkins. 
 
 ' How can we ever show ourselves in society ! ' said Miss 
 Nupkins. 
 
 ' How can we face the Porkenhams ! ' cried Mrs. Nupkins. 
 
 ' Or the Griggs's ! ' cried Miss Nupkins. 
 
 ' Or the Slummintowkens ! ' cried Mrs. Nupkins. ' But what 
 does your papa care ! What is it to him ! ' At this dreadful 
 reflection, Mrs. Nupkins wept with mental anguish, and Miss 
 Nupkins followed on the same side. 
 
 Mrs. Nupkins's tears continued to gush forth, with great velocity, 
 until she had gained a little time to think the matter over : when 
 she decided, in her own mind, that the best thing to do would be 
 to ask Mr. Pickwick and his friends to remain until the Captain's 
 arrival, and then to give Mr. Pickwick the opportunity he sought. 
 If it appeared that he had spoken truly, the Captain could be 
 turned out of the house without noising the matter abroad, and 
 they could easily account to the Porkenhams for his disappearance, 
 
294 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 by saying that he had been appointed, through the Court influence 
 of his family, to the Governor-Generalship of Sierra Leone, or 
 Saugur Point, or any other of those salubrious climates which enchant 
 Europeans so much that, when they once get there, they can hardly 
 ever prevail upon themselves to come back again. 
 
 When Mrs. Nupkins dried up her tears. Miss Nupkins dried up 
 hers, and Mr. Nupkins was very glad to settle the matter as Mrs. 
 Nupkins had proposed. So Mr. Pickwick and his friends, having 
 washed off all marks of their late encounter, were introduced to the 
 ladies, and soon afterwards to their dinner ; and Mr. Weller, whom 
 the magistrate with his peculiar sagacity had discovered in half an 
 hour to be one of the finest fellows alive, was consigned to the care 
 and guardianship of Mr. Muzzle, who was specially enjoined to 
 take him below, and make much of him. 
 
 ' How de do, sir ? ' said Mr. Muzzle, as he conducted Mr. WeUer 
 down the kitchen stairs. 
 
 ' Why, no con-siderable change has taken place in the state of 
 my system, since I see you cocked up behind your governor's chair 
 in the parlour, a little vile ago,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' You will excuse my not taking more notice of you then,' said 
 Mr. Muzzle. ' You see, master hadn't introduced us, then. Lord, 
 how fond he is of you, Mr. Weller, to be sure ! ' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' what a pleasant chap he is ! ' 
 
 ' Ain't he ? ' replied Mr. Muzzle. 
 
 ' So much humour,' said Sam. 
 
 ' And such a man to speak,' said Mr. Muzzle. ' How his ideas 
 flow, don't they ? ' 
 
 ' Wonderful,' replied Sam ; ' they come's a pouring out, knocking 
 each other's heads so fast, that they seems to stun one another ; you 
 hardly know what he's arter, do you ? ' 
 
 ' That's the great merit of his style of speaking,' rejoined Mr. 
 Muzzle. ' Take care of the last step, Mr. Weller. Would you like 
 to wash your hands, sir, before we join the ladies ? Here's a sink, 
 with the water laid on, sir, and a clean jack towel behind the door.' 
 
 ' Ah ! perhaps I may as well have a rinse,' repUed Mr. Weller, 
 applying plenty of yellow soap to the towel, and rubbing away, till 
 his face shone again. ' How many ladies are there ? ' 
 
 ' Only two in our kitchen,' said Mr. Muzzle, ' cook and 'ousemaid. 
 We keep a boy to do the dirty work, and a gal besides, but they 
 dine in the washus.' 
 
 ' Oh, they dines in the washus, do they ? ' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Mr. Muzzle, ' we tried 'em at our table when they 
 first come, but we couldn't keep 'em. The gal's manners is dreadful 
 vulgar ; and the boy breathes so very hard while he's eating, that 
 we found it impossible to sit at table with him.' 
 
 ' Young grampus ! ' said Mr. Weller. 
 
MR. WELLER BELOW STAIRS 295 
 
 ' Oh, dreadful,' rejoined Mr. Muzzle ; ' but that is the worst of 
 country service, Mr. Weller ; the juniors is always so very savage. 
 This way, sir, if you please ; this way.' 
 
 Preceding Mr. Weller, with the utmost politeness, Mr. Muzzle 
 conducted him into the kitchen. 
 
 ' Mary,' said Mr. Muzzle to the pretty servant-girl, ' this is Mr. 
 Weller : a gentleman as master has sent down, to be made as com- 
 fortable as possible.' 
 
 ' And your master 's a knowin' hand, and has just sent me to the 
 right place,' said Mr. Weller, with a glance of admiration at Mary. 
 ' If I wos master o' this here house, I should alvays find the 
 materials for comfort vere Mary wos.' 
 
 ' Lor, Mr. Weller ! ' said Mary, blushing. 
 
 ' Well, I never ! ' ejaculated the cook. 
 
 ' Bless me, cook, I forgot you,' said Mr. Muzzle. ' Mr. Weller, 
 let me introduce you.' 
 
 ' How are you, ma'am,' said Mr. Weller. ' Werry glad to see 
 you, indeed, and hope our acquaintance may be a long 'un, as the 
 gen'lm'n said to the fi' pun' note.' 
 
 When this ceremony of introduction had been gone through, the 
 cook and Mary retired into the back kitchen to titter, for ten 
 minutes ; then returning, all giggles and blushes, they sat down to 
 dinner. 
 
 Mr. Weller's easy manners and conversational powers had such 
 irresistible influence with his new friends, that before the dinner was 
 half over, they were on footing of perfect intimacy, and in pos- 
 session of a full account of the delinquency of Job Trotter. 
 
 ' I never could a-bear that Job,' said Mary. 
 
 ' No more you never ought to, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Why not ? ' inquired Mary. 
 
 ' Cos ugliness and svindlin' never ought to be formiliar vith 
 elegance and wirtew,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Ought they, Mr. 
 Muzzle ? ' 
 
 ' Not by no means,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 Here Mary laughed, and said the cook had made her ; and the 
 cook laughed, and said she hadn't. 
 
 ' I han't got a glass,' said Mary. 
 
 ' Drink with me, my dear,' said Mr. Weller. ' Put your lips to 
 this here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy.' 
 
 ' For shame, Mr. Weller ! ' said Mary. 
 
 ' What's a shame, my dear? ' 
 
 ' Talkin' in that way.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ; it ain't no harm. It*s natur • ain't it, cook ? ' 
 
 ' Don't ask me imperence,' replied the cook in a high state of 
 delight : and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again, till what 
 between the beer, and the cold meat, and the laughter combined. 
 
296 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the latter young lady was brought to the verge of choking — an 
 alarming crisis from which she was only recovered by sundry pats 
 on the back, and other necessary attentions, most delicately 
 administered by Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was 
 heard at the garden-gate : to which the young gentleman who took 
 his meals in the wash-house, immediately responded. Mr. Weller 
 was in the height of his attentions to the pretty house-maid; Mr. 
 Muzzle was busy doing the honours of the table; and the cook 
 had just paused to laugh, in the very act of raising a huge morsel 
 to her lips ; when the kitchen-door opened, and in walked Mr. Job 
 Trotter. 
 
 We have said in walked Mr. Job Trotter, but the statement is 
 not distinguished by our usual scrupulous adherence to fact. The 
 door opened and Mr. Trotter appeared. He would have walked 
 in, and was in the very act of doing so, indeed, when catching sight 
 of Mr. Weller, he involuntarily shrank back a . pace or two, and 
 stood gazing on the unexpected scene before him, perfectly motion- 
 less with amazement and terror. 
 
 ' Here he is ! ' said Sam, rising with great glee. ' Why we were 
 that wery moment a speaking o' you. How are you ? Where have 
 you been ? Come in.' 
 
 Laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, 
 Mr. Weller dragged him into the kitchen; and, locking the door, 
 handed the key to Mr. Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in 
 a side-pocket. 
 
 ' Well, here's a game ! ' cried Sam. ' Only think o' my master 
 havin' the pleasure o' meeting your'n, up stairs, and me havin' the 
 joy o' meetin' you doWn here. How are you gettin' on, and how is 
 the chandlery bis'ness likely to do? Well, I. am so glad to see 
 you. How happy you look. It's quite a treat to see you ; ain't it, 
 Mr. Muzzle ? ' 
 
 ' Quite,' said Mr. Muzzle. 
 
 ' So cheerful he is ! ' said Sam, 
 
 ' In such good spirits ! ' said Muzzle. 
 
 ' And so glad to see us — that makes it so much more comfortable,' 
 said Sam. ' Sit down ; sit down.' 
 
 Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the 
 fireside. He cast his small eyes, first on Mr. Weller, and then on 
 Mr. Muzzle, but said nothing. 
 
 ' Well, now,' said Sam, ' afore these here ladies, I should jest like 
 to ask you, as a sort of curiosity, wether you don't con-sider yourseli" 
 as nice and well-behaved a young gen'lm'n as ever used a pinJc 
 check pocket-handkerchief, and the number four collection?' 
 
 ' And as was ever a-going to be married to a cook,' said that 
 lady, indignantly. ' The willin ! ' 
 
'-^c>6^,.^'^^-(^^e^tyye'nco^^/f2.^^C7a^^ 
 
JOB TROTTER ROUGHLY HANDLED 297 
 
 ' And leave off his evil ways, and set up in the chandlery iinea 
 arterwards," said the house-maid. 
 
 ' Now, I'll tell you what it is, young man,' said Mr. Muzzle, 
 solemnly, enraged at the last two allusions, ' this here lady (iiointing 
 to the cook) keeps company with me ; and when you presume, sir, 
 to talk of keeping chandlers' shops with her, you injure me in one 
 of the most delicatest points in which one man can injure another. 
 Do you understand me, sir ? ' 
 
 Here Mr. Muzzle, who had a great notion of his eloquence, in 
 which he imitated his master, paused for a reply. 
 
 But Mr. Trotter made no reply. So Mr. Muzzle proceeded in a 
 solemn manner : 
 
 ' It's very probable, sir, that you won't be wanted up stairs for 
 several minutes, sir, because my master is at this moment particularly 
 engaged in settling the hash of yow- master, sir ; and therefore 
 you'll have leisure, sir, for a little private talk with me, sir. Do 
 you understand me, sir ? ' 
 
 Mr. Muzzle again paused for a reply; and again Mr. Trotter 
 disappointed him. 
 
 ' Well, then,' said Mr. Muzzle, ' I'm very sorry to have to explain 
 myself before ladies, but the urgency of the case will be my excuse. 
 The back kitchen's empty, sir. If you will step in there, sir, Mr. 
 Weller will see fair, and we can have mutual satisfaction 'till the 
 bell rings. Follow me, sir ! ' 
 
 As Mr. Muzzle uttered these words, he took a step or two 
 towards the door ; and by way of saving time, began to pull off his 
 coat as he walked along. 
 
 Now, the cook ■ no sooner heard the concluding words of this 
 desperate challenge, and saw Mr. Muzzle about to put it into 
 execution, than she uttered a loud and piercing shriek, and rushing 
 on Mr. Job Trotter, who rose from his chair on the instant, tore 
 and buffeted his large flat face, with an energy peculiar to excited 
 females, and twining her hands in his long black hair, tore therefrom 
 about enough to make five or six dozen of the very largest-sized 
 mourning-rings. Having accomplished this feat with all the ardour 
 which her devoted love for Mr. Muzzle inspired, she staggered 
 back ; and being a lady of very excitable and delicate feelings, she 
 instantly fell under the dresser, and fainted away. 
 
 At this moment, the bell rang. 
 
 ' That's for you. Job Trotter,' said Sam ; and before Mr. Trotter 
 could offer remonstrance or reply — even before he had time to 
 stanch the wounds inflicted by the insensible lady^ — Sam seized one 
 arm and Mr. Muzzle the other; and one pulling before, and the 
 other pushing behind, they conveyed him up stairs, and into the 
 parlour. 
 
 It was an impressive tableau. Alfred Jingle, Esquire, alias 
 
298 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Captain Fitz-Marshall, was standing near the door with his hat in 
 his hand, and a smile on his face, wholly unmoved by his very 
 unpleasant situation. Confronting him, stood Mr. Pickwick, who 
 had evidently been inculcating some high moral lesson ; for his left 
 hand was beneath his coat tail, and his right extended in air, 
 as was his wont when delivering himself of an impressive address. 
 At a little distance, stood Mr. Tupman with indignant countenance, 
 carefully held back by his two younger friends ; at the further end 
 of the room were Mr. Nupkins, Mrs. Nupkins, and Miss Nupkins, 
 gloomily grand, and savagely vexed. 
 
 ' What prevents me,' said Mr. Nupkins, with magisterial dignity, 
 as Job was brought in : ' what prevents me from detaining these 
 men as rogues and impostors? It is fooUsh mercy. What 
 prevents me ? ' 
 
 ' Pride, old fellow, pride,' replied Jingle, quite at his ease. 
 ' Wouldn't do — no go — caught a captain, eh ? — ha ! ha ! very good 
 — husband for daughter — biter bit — make it pubUc — not for worlds 
 — look stupid — ^very ! ' 
 
 ' Wretch,' said Mrs. Nupkins, ' we scorn your base insinuations.' 
 
 ' I always hated him,' added Henrietta. 
 
 ' Oh, of course,' said Jingle. ' Tall young man — old lover- 
 Sidney Porkenham — rich — fine fellow — not so rich as captain, 
 though ? — turn him away — off with him — anything for captain — 
 nothing like captain anywhere — all the girls — raving ifiad — eh. 
 Job?' 
 
 Here Mr. Jingle laughed very heartily ; and Job, rubbing his 
 hands with delight, uttered the first sound he had given vent to, 
 since he entered the house — a low noiseless chuckle, which seemed 
 to intimate that he enjoyed his laugh too much, to let any of it 
 escape in sound. 
 
 ' Mr. Nupkins,' said the elder lady, ' this is not a fit conversation 
 for the servants to overhear. Let these wretches be removed.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear,' said Mr. Nupkins. . ' Muzzle ! ' 
 
 ' Your worship.' 
 
 ' Open the front door.' 
 
 ' Yes, your worship.' 
 
 ' Leave the house ! ' said Mr. Nupkins, waving his hand em- 
 phatically. 
 
 Jingle smiled, and moved towards the door. 
 
 'Stay !' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Jingle stopped. 
 
 ' I might,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' have taken a much greater revenge 
 for the treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of 
 your hypocritical friend there.' 
 
 Job Trotter bowed with great poUteness, and laid his hand upon 
 his heart. 
 
AN AIRY LEAVE-TAKING 299 
 
 * I say,' said Mr. Pickwick, growing gradually angry, ' that I 
 might have taken a greater revenge, but I content myself with 
 exposing you, which I consider a duty I owe to society. This is 
 a leniency, sir, which I hope you will remember.' 
 
 When Mr. Pickwick arrived at this point, Job Trotter, with 
 facetious gravity applied his hand to his ear, as if desirous not to 
 lose a syllable he uttered. 
 
 ' And I have only to add, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, now thoroughly 
 angry, 'that I consider you a rascal, and a — a ruffian — and — and 
 worse than any man I ever saw, or heard of, except that pious and 
 sanctified vagabond in the mulberry livery.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ' said Jingle, ' good fellow, Pickwick — fine heart — 
 stout old boy — ^but must not be passionate — bad thing, very — bye, 
 bye — see you again some day — keep up your spirits — now, Job — 
 trot ! ' 
 
 With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in the old fashion, 
 and strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked round, 
 smiled, and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick, 
 and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which baffles all 
 description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following. 
 
 'Sir.' 
 
 ' Stay here.' 
 
 Mr. Weller seemed uncertain. 
 
 ' Stay here,' repeated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Mayn't I polish that ere Job off, in the front garden?' said 
 Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' rephed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Mayn't I kick him out o' the gate, sir ? ' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Not on any account,' replied his master. 
 
 For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked, for a 
 moment, discontented and unhappy. But his countenance immedi- 
 ately cleared up ; for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself 
 behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the right instant, 
 contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his 
 attendant, down the flight of steps, into the American aloe tubs that 
 stood beneath. 
 
 'Having discharged my duty, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. 
 Nupkins, ' I will, with my friends, bid you farewell. While we 
 thank you for such hospitality as we have received, permit me to 
 assure you, in our joint names, that we should not have accepted it, 
 or have consented to extricate ourselves in this way, from our 
 previous dilemma, had we not been impelled by a strong sense 
 of duty. We return to London to-morrow. Your secret is safe 
 with us.' 
 
 Having thus entered his protest against their treatment of the 
 
300 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 morning, Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies, and notwithstanding 
 the solicitations of the family, left the room with his friends. 
 
 ' Get your hat, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It's below stairs, sir,' said Sam, and he ran down after it. 
 
 Now, there was nobody in the kitchen, but the pretty house-maid ; 
 and as Sam's hat was mislaid, he had to look for it ; and the pretty 
 house-maid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for 
 the hat. The pretty house-maid, in her anxiety to find it, went 
 down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped 
 together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. 
 You couldn't get at it without shutting the door first. 
 
 ' Here it is,' said the pretty house-maid. ' This is it, ain't it ? ' 
 
 ' Let me look,' said Sam. 
 
 The pretty house-maid had stood the candle on the floor ; as it 
 gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on Ms knees 
 before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It 
 was a remarkably small corner, and so — it was nobody's fault but 
 the man's who built the house — Sam and the pretty house-maid 
 were necessarily very close together. 
 
 ' Yes, this is it,' said Sam. ' Good bye ! ' 
 
 ' Good bye ! ' said the pretty house-maid. 
 
 ' Good bye ! ' said Sam ; and as he said it, he dropped the hat 
 that had cost so much trouble in looking for. 
 
 ' How awkward you are,' said the pretty house-maid. ' You'll 
 lose it again, if you don't take care.' 
 
 So, just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him. 
 
 Whether it was that the pretty house-maid's face looked prettier 
 still, when it was raised towards Sam's, or whether it was the acci- 
 dental consequence of their being so near to each other, is matter 
 of uncertainty to this day ; but Sam kissed her. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you did that on purpose,' said the pretty 
 house-maid, blushing. 
 
 ' No, I didn't then,' said Sam ; ' but I will now.' 
 
 So he kissed her again. 
 
 ' Sam ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters. 
 
 ' Coming, sir,' replied Sam, running up stairs. 
 
 ' How long you have been ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' There was something behind the door, sir, which perwented our 
 getting it open, for ever so long, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 And this was the first passage of Mr. Weller's first love. 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S ARRANGEMENTS 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE 
 ACTION OF BARBELL AGAINST PICKWICK 
 
 Having accomplished the main end and object of his journey, by 
 the exposure of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately 
 returning to London, with the view of becoming acquainted with 
 the proceedings which had been taken against him, in the mean 
 time, by Messrs. Dodson and Fogg. Acting upon this resolution 
 with all the energy and decision of his character, he mounted to the 
 back seat of the first coach which left Ipswich on the morning after 
 the memorable occurrences detailed at length in the two preceding 
 chapters ; and accompanied by his three friends, and Mr. Samuel 
 Weller, arrived in the metropolis, in perfect health and safety, the 
 same evening. 
 
 Here, the friends, for a short time, separated. Messrs. Tupman, 
 Winkle, and Snodgrass repaired to their several homes to make 
 such preparations as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit 
 to Dingley Dell ; and Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present 
 abode in very good, old-fashioned, and comfortable quarters : to 
 wit, the George and Vulture Tavern and Hotel, George Yard, 
 Lombard Street. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular 
 port, pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the 
 fender, and thrown himself back in an easy chair, when the entrance 
 of Mr. Weller with his carpet bag, aroused him from his tranquil 
 meditations. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I have just been thinking, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that having 
 left a good many things at Mrs. Bardell's, in Goswell Street, I ought 
 to arrange for taking them away, before I leave town again.' 
 
 ' Wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I could send them to Mr. Tupman's, for the present, Sam,' 
 continued Mr. Pickwick, ' but before we take them away, it is 
 necessary that they should be looked up, and put together. I 
 wish you would step up to Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange 
 about it.' 
 
 ' At once, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' At once,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' And stay, Sam,' added Mr. 
 Pickwick, pulling out his purse, ' There is some rent to pay. The 
 quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done 
 
302 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 with it. A month's notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, 
 written out. Give it, and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, 
 as soon as she likes.' 
 
 'Wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller; ' anythin' more, sir?' 
 
 ' Nothing more, Sam.' 
 
 Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected some- 
 thing more ; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly 
 closed it within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out, 
 
 ' Sam.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the 
 door behind him. 
 
 'I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain 
 how Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether 
 it is really probable that this vile and groundless action is to be 
 carried to extremity. I say I do not object to your doing this, if 
 you wish it, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Sam gave a short nod of intelligence, and left the room. Mr. 
 Pickwick drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head, and 
 composed himself for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked forth, to 
 execute his commission. 
 
 It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A 
 couple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a 
 couple of caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell 
 had got company. 
 
 Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval 
 — occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the 
 party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to 
 be lighted — a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and 
 Master Bardell presented himself. 
 
 ' Well, young townskip,' said Sam, ' how's mother ? ' 
 
 ' She's pretty well,' replied Master Bardell, ' so am I.' 
 
 ' Well, that's a mercy,' said Sam ; ' tell her I want to speak to 
 her, will you, my hinfant femomenon ? ' 
 
 Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle 
 on the bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his 
 message. 
 
 The two caps, reflected on the window-blind, were the respective 
 head-dresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular acquaint- 
 ance, who had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea, and a 
 little warm supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted 
 cheese. The cheese was simmering and browning away, most 
 delightfully, in a little Dutch oven bejore the fire; the pettitoes 
 were getting on deliciously in a little tin saucepan on the hob ; and 
 Mrs. Bardell and her two friends were getting on very well, also, 
 in a little quiet conversation about and concerning all their particular 
 friends and acquaintance; when Master Bardell came back from 
 
MR. WELLER VISITS MRS. BARBELL 303 
 
 answering the door, and delivered the message intrusted to him by 
 Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick's servant ! ' said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale. 
 
 ' Bless my soul ! ' said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' Well, I raly would not ha' believed it, unless I had ha' happened 
 to ha' been here ! ' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 Mrs. Cluppins was a little brisk, busy-looking woman; Mrs. 
 Sanders was a big, fat, heavy-faced personage ; and the two were 
 the company. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated; and as none of the 
 three exactly knew whether, under existing circumstances, any 
 communication, otherwise than through Dodson and Fogg, ought 
 to be held with Mr. Pickwick's servant, they were all rather taken 
 by surprise. In this state of indecision, obviously the first thing to 
 be done, was to thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. 
 So his mother thumped him, and he cried melodiously. 
 
 ' Hold your noise — do — you naughty creetur ! ' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Yes ; don't worrit your poor mother,' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 'She's quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you, Tommy,' 
 said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathising resignation. 
 
 ' Ah ! worse luck, poor lamb ! ' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 At all which moral reflections. Master Bardell howled the louder. 
 
 ' Now, what shall I do ? ' said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' / think you ought to see him,' replied Mrs. Cluppins. ' But on 
 no account without a witness.' 
 
 ' / think two witnesses would be more lawful,' said Mrs. Sanders, 
 who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity. 
 
 ' Perhaps he'd better come in here,' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' To be sure,' replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea ; 
 'Walk in, young man; and shut the street door first, please.' 
 
 Mr. Weller immediately took the hint ; and presenting himself in 
 the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus : 
 
 ' Werry sorry to 'casion any personal inconwenience, ma'am, as 
 the house-breaker said to the old lady when he put her on the fire ; 
 but as me and my governor's only jest come to town, and is jest 
 goiBg away agin, it can't be helped, you see.' 
 
 ' Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his master,' 
 said Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and 
 conversation. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful 
 glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental 
 calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of 
 Sam's being asked to stop supper. 
 
 ' So all I've come about, is jest this here,' said Sam, disregarding 
 the interruption ; ' First, to give my governor's notice — there it is. 
 Secondly, to pay the rent — ^here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his 
 
334 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 things is to be put together, and give to anybody as we sends for 
 'em. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like— 
 and that's all." 
 
 ' Whatever has happened,' said Mrs. Bardell, ' I always have said, 
 and always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick 
 has always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money 
 always was as good as the bank : always.' 
 
 As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her 
 eyes, and went out of the room to get the receipt. 
 
 Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women 
 were sure to talk ; so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the 
 toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence, 
 
 ' Poor dear ! ' said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' Ah, poor thing ! ' replied Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject. 
 
 ' I rally cannot contain myself,' said Mrs. Cluppins, ' when I 
 think of such perjury. I don't wish to say anything to make you 
 uncomfortable, young man, but your master's an old brute, and I 
 wish I had him here to tell him so.' 
 
 ' I wish you had,' said Sam. 
 
 ' To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and 
 taking no pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, 
 out of charity, to sit with her, and make her comfortable,' resumed 
 Mrs. Cluppins, glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, 
 ' it's shocking ! ' 
 
 ' Barbareous,' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' And your master, young man ! A gentleman with money, as 
 could never feel the expense of a wife, no more than nothing,' con- 
 tinued Mrs. Cluppins, with great volubihty ; ' why there ain't the 
 faintest shade of an excuse for his behaviour ! Why don't he 
 marry her ? ' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' to be sure ; that's the question.' 
 
 ' Question, indeed,' retorted Mrs. Cluppins ; ' she'd question him, 
 if she'd my spirit. Hows' ever, there is law for us women, mis'rable 
 creeturs as they'd make us, if they could ; and that your master will 
 find out, young man, to his cost, afore he's six months older.' 
 
 At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up, and 
 smiled at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again. 
 
 ' The action's going on, and no mistake,' thought Sam, as Mrs. 
 Bardell re-entered with the receipt. 
 
 ' Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell, ' and here's 
 the change, and I hope you'll take a little drop of something to 
 keep the cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance' sake, Mr. 
 Weller.' 
 
 Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced ; 
 whereupon Mrs. Bardell produced, froni a small closet, a black 
 
MR. WELLER RECONNOITRING 305 
 
 bottle and a wine glass ; and so great was her abstraction, in her 
 deep mental affliction, that, alter filling Mr. Weller's glass, she 
 brought out three more wine glasses, and filled them too. 
 
 ' Lauk, Mrs. Bardell,' said Mrs. Cluppins, ' see what you've been 
 and done ! ' 
 
 ' Well, that is a good one ! ' ejaculated Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' Ah, my poor head ! ' said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile. 
 
 Sam understood all this, of course, so he said at once, that he 
 never could drink before supper, unless a lady drank with him. 
 A great deal of laughing ensued, and Mrs. Sanders volunteered to 
 humour him, so she took a slight sip out of her glass. Then, Sam 
 said it must go all round, so they all took a slight sip. Then, little 
 Mrs. Cluppins proposed as a toast, ' Success to Bardell agin Pick- 
 wick ; ' and then the ladies emptied their glasses in honour of the 
 sentiment, and got very talkative directly. 
 
 ' I suppose you've heard what's going forward, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' I've heerd somethin' on it,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' It's a terrible thing to be dragged before the public, in that way, 
 Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell ; ' but I see now, that it's the only 
 thing I ought to do, and my lawyers, Mr. Dodson and Fogg, tell 
 me, that with the evidence as we shall call, we must succeed. 
 I don't know what I should do, Mr. Weller, if I didn't.' 
 
 The mere idea of Mrs. Bardell's faiUng in her action, affected 
 Mrs. Sanders so deeply, that she was under the necessity of re-filling 
 and re-emptying her glass immediately ; feeling, as she said after- 
 wards, that if she hadn't had the presence of mind to do so, she 
 must have dropped. 
 
 ' Ven is it expected to come on ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Either in February or March,' replied Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' What a number of witnesses there'll be, won't there ? ' said Mrs. 
 Cluppins. 
 
 ' Ah, won't there ! ' replied Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 'And won't Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiff 
 shouldn't get it ? ' added Mrs. Cluppins, ' when they do it all on 
 speculation ! ' 
 
 ' Ah ! won't they ! ' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' But the plaintiff must get it,' resumed Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' I hope so,' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Oh, there can't be any doubt about it,' rejoined Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam, rising and setting down his glass, ' All I can say 
 is, that I wish you may get it.' 
 
 ' Thank'ee, Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell fervently. 
 
 ' And of them Dodson and Foggs, as does these sort o' things on 
 spec,' continued Mr. Weller, 'as well as for the other kind and 
 gen'rous people o' the same purfession, as sets people by the ears, 
 
 y. 
 
3o6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 free gratis for nothin', and sets their clerks to Avork to find out little 
 disputes among their neighbours and acquaintances as vants settlin' 
 by means o' law-suits — all I can say o' them is, that I vish they had 
 the revard I'd give 'em.' 
 
 ' Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous 
 heart would be inclined to bestow upon them ! ' said the gratified 
 Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Amen to that,' replied Sam, ' and a fat and happy livin' they'd 
 get out of it ! Wish you good night, ladies.' 
 
 To the great relief of Mrs. Sanders, Sam was allowed to depart 
 without any reference, on the part of the hostess, to the pettitoes and 
 toasted cheese : to which the ladies, with such juvenile assistance as 
 Master Bardell could afford, soon afterwards rendered the amplest 
 justice — indeed they wholly vanished before their strenuous exertions. 
 
 Mr. Weller went his way back to the George and Vulture, and 
 faithfully recounted to his master, such indications of the sharp 
 practice of Dodson and Fogg, as he had contrived to pick up in his 
 visit to Mrs. Bardell's. An interview with Mr. Perker, next day, 
 more than confirmed Mr. Weller's statement ; and Mr. Pickwick 
 was fain to prepare for his Christmas visit to Dingley Dell, with the 
 pleasant anticipation that some two or three months aftenvards, an 
 action brought against him for damages sustained by reason of a 
 breach of promise of marriage, would be publicly tried in the Court 
 of Common Pleas : the plaintiff having all the advantages derivable, 
 not only from the force of circumstances, but from the sharp 
 practice of Dodson and Fogg to boot. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 SAMUEL WELLER MAKES A PILGRIMAGE TO DORKING, AND BEHOLDS 
 HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW 
 
 There still remaining an interval of two days before the time 
 agreed upon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley Dell, 
 Mr. Weller sat himself down in a back room at the George and 
 Vulture, after eating an early dinner, to muse on the best way of 
 disposing of his time. It was a remarkably fine day ; and he had 
 not turned the matter over in his mind ten minutes, when he was 
 suddenly stricken fihal and affectionate ; and it occurred to him so 
 strongly that he ought to go down and see his father, and pay his 
 duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lost in astonishment at his 
 own remissness in never thinking of this moral obligation before. 
 Anxious to atone for his past neglect without another hour's delay. 
 
PILGRIMAGE TO DORKING 307 
 
 he straightway walked up stairs to Mr. Pickwick, and requested 
 leave of absence for this laudable purpose. 
 
 ' Certainly, Sam, certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glistening 
 with delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on the part of his 
 attendant ; ' certainly, Sam.' 
 
 Mr. Weller made a grateful bow. 
 
 ' I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your 
 duties as a son, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I always had, sir,' replied Mr.-A\'ener. 
 
 'That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 approvingly. 
 
 ' Wery, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' if ever I wanted anythin' o' 
 my father, I always asked for it in a wery 'spectful and obligin' 
 manner. If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led 
 to do anythin' wrong, through not havin' it. I saved him a world 
 o' trouble in this vay, sir.' 
 
 ' That's not precisely what I meant, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 shaking his head, with a slight smile. 
 
 ' All good feelin', sir — the wery best intentions, as the gen'lm'n 
 said ven he run away from his wife 'cos she seemed unhappy with 
 him,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' You may go, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Thank'ee, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; and having made his best 
 bow, and put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top 
 of the Arundel coach, and journeyed on to Dorking. 
 
 The Marquis of Granby in Mrs. Weller's time was quite a model 
 of a road-side public-house of the better class — ^just large enough 
 to be convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite 
 side of the road was a large sign-board on a high post, representing 
 the head and shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic counte- 
 nance, in a red coat with deep blue facings, and a touch of the 
 same blue over his three-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again 
 were a pair of flags ; beneath the last button of his coat were a 
 couple of cannon ; and the whole formed an expressive and un- 
 doubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of glorious memory. 
 
 The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium 
 plants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shutters 
 bore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and 
 neat wines ; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers 
 lounging about the stable-door and horse-trough, afforded pre- 
 sumptive proof of the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which 
 were sold within. Sam Weller paused, when he dismounted from 
 the coach, to note all these little indications of a thriving business, 
 with the eye of an experienced traveller; and having done so, 
 stepped in at once, highly satisfied with everything he had 
 observed. 
 
3o8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Now, then ! ' said a shrill female voice the instant Sam thrust his 
 head in at the door, ' what do you want, young man ? ' 
 
 Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. 
 It came from a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who 
 was seated beside the fire-place in the bar, blowing the fire to make 
 the kettle boil for tea. She was not alone ; for on the other side 
 of the fire-place, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was 
 a man in thread-bare black clothes, with a back almost as long 
 and stiff as that of the chair itself, who caught Sam's most particular 
 and especial attention at once. 
 
 He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin counte- 
 nance, and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye — rather sharp, but 
 decidedly bad. He wore very short trousers, and black-cotton 
 stockings, which, like the rest of his apparel, were particularly 
 rusty. His looks were starched, but his white neckerchief was 
 not, and its long limp ends straggled over his closely-buttoned waist- 
 coat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion. A pair of old, 
 worn beaver gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a faded green 
 umbrella, with plenty of whalebone sticking through the bottom, 
 as if to counterbalance the want of a handle at the top, lay on a 
 chair beside him, and, being disposed in a very tidy and careful 
 manner, seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever he was, 
 had no intention of going away in a hurry. 
 
 To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very far 
 from wise if he had entertained any such intention ; for, to judge 
 from all appearances, he must have been possessed of a most 
 desirable circle of acquaintance, if he could have reasonably 
 expected to be more comfortable anywhere else. The fire was 
 blazing brightiy under the influence of the bellows, and the kettle 
 was singing gaily under the influence of both. A small tray of 
 tea-things was arranged on the table, a plate of hot buttered toast 
 was gently simmering before the fire, and the red-nosed man 
 himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice of bread 
 into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentality of a 
 long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hot 
 pine-apple rum and water, with a slice of lemon in it ; and every 
 time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his 
 eye, with the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop 
 or two of the hot pine-apple rum and water, and smiled upon the 
 lather stout lady, as she blew the fire. 
 
 Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene, 
 that he suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass 
 unheeded. It was not until it had been twice repeated, each 
 time in a shriller tone, that he became conscious of the impropriety 
 of his behaviour. 
 
 ' Governor in ? ' inquired Sam, in reply to the question. 
 
THE DEPUTY SHEPHERD 309 
 
 'No, he isn't,' replied Mrs. Weller; for the rather stout lady- 
 was no other than the quondam relict and sole executrix of 
 the dead-and-gone Mr. Clarke ; ' No, he isn't, and I don't expect 
 him, either.' 
 
 ' I suppose he's a drivin' up to-day ? ' said Sam. 
 
 'He may be, or he may not,' replied Mrs. Weller, buttering 
 the round of toast which the red-nosed man had just finished, 
 ' I don't know, and, what's more, I don't care. Ask a blessin', 
 Mr. Stiggins.' 
 
 The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly com- 
 menced on the toast with fierce voracity. 
 
 The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at first 
 sight, to more than half suspect that he was the deputy shepherd 
 of whom his estimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw 
 him eat, all doubt on the subject was removed, and he perceived 
 at once that if he purposed to take up his temporary quarters where 
 he was, he must make his footing good without delay. He therefore 
 commenced proceedings by putting his arm over the half-door of 
 the bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurely walking in. 
 
 ' Mother-in-law,' said Sam, ' how are you ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I do believe he is a Weller ! ' said Mrs. W;, raising 
 her eyes to Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of 
 countenance. 
 
 ' I rayther think he is,' said the imperturbable Sam ; ' and I hope 
 this here reverend gen'lm'n '11 excuse me saying that I wish I was 
 the Weller as owns you, mother-in-law.' 
 
 This was a double-barrelled compliment. It implied that Mrs. 
 Weller was a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins 
 had a clerical appearance. It made a visible impression at once ; 
 and Sam followed up his advantage by kissing his mother-in-law. 
 
 ' Get along with you ! ' said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. 
 
 ' For shame, young man ! ' said the gentleman with the red 
 nose. 
 
 ' No offence, sir, no offence,' replied Sam ; ' you're wery right, 
 though; it ain't the right sort o' thing, wen mothers-in-law is 
 young and good looking, is it, sir ? ' 
 
 ' It's all vanity,' said Mr. Stiggins. 
 
 ' Ah, so it is,' said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights. 
 
 Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace. 
 
 The deputy shepherd seemed by no means best pleased with 
 Sam's arrival ; and when the first effervescence of the compliment 
 had subsided, even Mrs. Weller looked as if she could have spared 
 him without the smallest inconvenience. However, there he was ; 
 and as he couldn't be decently turned out, they all three sat down 
 to tea. 
 
 ' And how's father ? ' said Sam. 
 
3IO THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 At this inquiry, Mrs. Weller raised her hands, and' turned up her 
 eyes, as if the subject were too painful to be alluded to. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins groaned. 
 
 ' What's the matter with that 'ere gen'Im'n ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' He's shocked at the way your father goes on in,' replied 
 Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Oh, he is, is he ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' And with too good reason,' added Mrs. Weller, gravely. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily. 
 
 ' He is a dreadful reprobate,' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' A man of wrath 1 ' exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large 
 semi-circular bite out of the toast, and groaned again. 
 
 Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr. Stiggins 
 something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination, and merely 
 asked, ' What's the old 'un up to, now ? ' 
 
 ' Up to, indeed ! ' said Mrs. Weller. ' Oh, he has a hard heart. 
 Night after night does this excellent man — don't frown, Mr. Stiggins : 
 I will say you are an excellent man — come and sit here, for hours 
 together, and it has not the least effect upon him.' 
 
 ' Well, that is odd,' said Sam ; ' it 'ud have a wery considerable 
 effect upon me, if I wos in his place ; I know that.' 
 
 ' The fact is, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins, solemnly, ' he 
 has an obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could 
 have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and 
 withstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for 
 providing the infant negroes in the West Indies with flannel waist- 
 coats and moral pocket handkerchiefs ? ' 
 
 ' What's a moral pocket ankercher ? ' said Sam ; " I never see 
 one o' them articles o' furniter.' 
 
 'Those which combine amusement with instruction, my young 
 friend,' replied Mr. Stiggins : ' blending select tales with wood- 
 cuts.' 
 
 ' Oh, I know,' said Sam ; ' them as hangs up in the linen-drapers' 
 shops, with beggars' petitions and all that 'ere upon 'em ? ' 
 
 Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nodded assent. 
 
 ' And he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't he ? ' said 
 Sam. 
 
 'Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant negroes were — 
 what did he say the infant negroes were ? ' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 'Little humbugs,' replied Mr. Stiggins,. deeply affected. 
 
 'Said the infant negroes were little humbugs,' repeated Mrs. 
 Weller. And they both groaned at the atrocious conduct of the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have been 
 disclosed, only the toast being all eaten, the tea having got very 
 weak, and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, Mr, 
 
ARITHMETICAL POWERS 311 
 
 Stiggins suddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appoint- 
 ment with the shepherd, and took himself off accordingly. 
 
 The tea-things had been scarcely put away, and the hearth swept 
 up, when the London coach deposited Mr. Weller senior at the 
 door ; his legs deposited him in the bar ; and his eyes showed him 
 his son. 
 
 ' What, Sammy ! ' exclaimed the father. 
 
 ' What, old Nobs ! ' ejaculated the son. And they shook hands 
 heartily. 
 
 'Werry glad to see you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 
 ' though how you've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a 
 mystery to me. I only vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's 
 all.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Sam, ' she's at home, old feller.' 
 
 ' She ain't vithin hearin',' replied Mr. Weller ; ' she always goes 
 and blows up, down stairs, for a couple of hours arter tea ; so we '11 
 just give ourselves a damp, Sammy.' 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits and water, 
 and produced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down 
 opposite each other : Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed 
 chair, and Mr. Weller senior on the other, in an easy ditto : they 
 proceeded to enjoy themselves with all due gravity. 
 
 ' Anybody been here, Sammy ? ' asked Mr. Weller senior, drily, 
 after a long silence. 
 
 Sam nodded an expressive assent, 
 
 ' Red-nosed chap ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 Sam nodded again. 
 
 'Amiable man that 'ere, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, smoking 
 violently. 
 
 ' Seems so,' observed Sam. 
 
 ' Good hand at accounts,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Is he ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Borrows eighteenpence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for 
 a shillin' to make it up half a crown ; calls again on Vensday for 
 another half crown to make it five shillin's ; and goes on, doubling, 
 till he gets it up to a five pund note in no time, like them sums in 
 the 'rithmetic book 'bout the nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy.' 
 
 Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded 
 to by his parent. 
 
 ' So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel yeskits ? ' said Sam, after 
 another interval of smoking. 
 
 ' Cert'nly not,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' what's the good o' flannel 
 veskits to the young niggers abroad ? But I'll tell you what it is, 
 Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across 
 the fire-place; 'I'd come down wery handsome towards strait 
 veskits for some people at home.' 
 
312 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position, 
 and winked at his first-born, in a profound manner. 
 
 ' It cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket ankerchers to 
 people as don't know the use on 'em,' observed Sam. 
 
 'They're alvays a doin' some gammon of that sort, Sammy,' 
 replied his father. ' T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road, wen 
 who should I see, a standin' at a chapel-door, with a blue soup-plate 
 in her hand, but your mother-in-law ! I werily believe there was 
 change for a couple o' suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all in ha'pence ; 
 and as the people come out, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd 
 ha' thought that no mortal plate as ever was baked, could ha' stood 
 the wear and tear. What d'ye think it was all for ? ' 
 
 ' For another tea-drinkin', perhaps,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Not a bit on it,' replied the father ; ' for the shepherd's water- 
 rate, Sammy.' 
 
 ' The shepherd's water-rate ! ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Ay,' replied Mr. Weller, ' there was three quarters owin', and the 
 shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he — perhaps it might be on 
 account that the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's wery little 
 o' that tap he drinks, Sammy, wery ; he knows a trick worth a good 
 half dozen of that, he does. Hows' ever, it warn't paid, and so they 
 cuts the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as 
 he's a persecuted saint, and says he hopes the heart of the turncock 
 as cut the water off, '11 be softened, and turned in the right vay : 
 but he rayther thinks he's booked for somethin' uncomfortable. 
 Upon this, the women calls a meetin', sings a hymn, wotes your 
 mother-in-law into the chair, wolunteers a collection next Sunday, 
 and hands it all over to the shepherd. And if he ain't got enough 
 out on 'em, Sammy, to make him free of the water company for life,' 
 said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, ' I'm one ^ Dutchman, and you're 
 another, and that's all about it.' 
 
 Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed : 
 
 ' The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy, that they reg'larly 
 turns the heads of all the young ladies, about here. Lord bless 
 their little hearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better; 
 but they're the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims 
 o' gammon.' 
 
 ' I s'pose they are,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Nothin' else,' said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely ; ' and 
 wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see 'em a wastin' all their time 
 and labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't 
 want 'em, and taking no notice of flesh-coloured Christians as do. 
 If I'd my vay, Samivel, I'd just stick some o' tliese here lazy 
 shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down 
 a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day. That 'ud shake the nonsense 
 out of 'em, if anythin' vould.' 
 
INDICATIONS OF HIDDEN EMOTIONS 3^3 
 
 Mr. U'eller having delivered this gentle recipe with strong 
 emphasis, eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, 
 emptied his glass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his 
 pipe, with native dignity. 
 
 He was engaged in this operation, when a shrill voice was heard 
 in the passage. 
 
 ' Here's your dear relation, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller ; and Mrs. 
 W. hurried into the room. 
 
 ' Oh, you've come back, have you ! ' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Yes, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe. 
 
 ' Has Mr. Stiggins been back ? ' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' No, my dear, he hasn't,' replied Mr. Weller, lighting the pipe 
 by the ingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof, between 
 the tongs, a red-hot coal from the adjacent fire ; ' and what's more, 
 my dear, I shall manage to sunvive it, if he don't come back at all.' 
 
 ' Ugh, you wretch ! ' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Thank'ee, my love,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Come, come, father,' said Sam, ' none o' these little lovins 
 afore strangers. Here's the reverend gen'lm'n a comin' in 
 now.' 
 
 At this announcement, Mrs. Weller hastily wiped off the tears 
 which she had just begun to force on ; and Mr. W. drew his chair 
 sullenly into the chimney corner. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins was easily prevailed on, to take another glass of the 
 hot pine-apple rum and water, and a second, and a third, and then 
 to refresh himself with a slight supper, previous to beginning again. 
 He sat on the same side as Mr. Weller senior ; and every time he 
 could contrive to do so, unseen by his wife, that gentleman indicated 
 to his son the hidden emotions of his bosom, by shaking his fist 
 over the deputy shepherd's head : a process which afibrded his son 
 the most unmingled delight and satisfaction, the more especially as 
 Mr. Stiggins went on, quietly drinking the hot pine-apple rum and 
 water, wholly unconscious of what was going on. 
 
 The major part of the conversation was confined to Mrs. Weller 
 and the reverend Mr. Stiggins j and the topics principally descanted 
 on, were the virtues of the shepherd, the worthiness of his flock, and 
 the high crimes and misdemeanours of everybody beside ; disserta- 
 tions which the elder Mr. Weller occasionally interrupted by half- 
 suppressed references to a gentleman of the name of Walker, and 
 other running commentaries of the same kind. 
 
 At length Mr. Stiggins, with several most indubitable symptoms 
 of having quite as much pine-apple rum and water about him, as he 
 could comfortably accommodate, took his hat, and his leave : and 
 Sam was, immediately afterwards, shown to bed by his father. The 
 respectable old gentleman wrung his hand fervently, and seemed 
 disposed to address some observation to his son; but on Mrs, 
 
314 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Weller advancing towards him, he appeared to reUnquish that 
 intention, and abruptly bade him good night. 
 
 Sam was up betimes next day, and having^ partaken of a hasty 
 breakfast, prepared to return to London. He had scarcely set foot 
 without the house, when his father stood before him. 
 
 ' Goin', Sammy ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Off at once,' replied Sam. 
 
 ■ I vish you could muffle that 'ere Stiggins, and take him with 
 you,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I am ashamed on you ! ' said Sam, reproachfully ; ' what do you 
 let him show his red nose in the Markis o' Granby at all, for ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller the elder fixed on his son an earnest look, and 
 replied, ' 'Cause I'm a married man, Samivel, 'cause I'm a married 
 man. Wen you're a married man, Samivel, you'll understand a 
 good many things as you don't understand now ; but vether it's 
 worth while goin' through so much, to leam so little, as the charity- 
 boy said ven he got to the end of the alphabet, is a matter o' taste. 
 / rayther think it isn't.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, ' good bye.' « 
 
 ' Tar, tar, Sammy,' repHed his father. 
 
 ' I've only got to' say this here,' said Sam, stopping short, ' that if 
 / was the properiator o' the Markis o' Granby, and that 'ere Stiggins 
 came and made toast in my bar, I'd — ' 
 
 ' What ? ' interposed Mr. Weller, with great anxiety. ' What? ' 
 
 ' — Pison his rum and Water,' said Sam. 
 
 ' No ! ' said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand, 
 ' would you raly, Sammy ; would you, though ? ' 
 
 'I would,' said Sam. ' I wouldn't be too hard upon him at first. 
 I'd drop him in the water-butt, and put the lid on ; and if I found 
 he was insensible to kindness, I'd try the other persvasion.' 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller bestowed a look of deep, unspeakable 
 admiration on his son : and, having once more grasped his hand, 
 walked slowly away, revolving in his mind the numerous reflections 
 to which his advice had given rise. 
 
 Sam looked after him, until he turned a corner of the road : and 
 then set forward on his walk to London. He meditated, at first, on 
 the probable consequences of his own advice, and the likelihood 
 and unlikelihood of his father's adopting it. He dismissed the 
 subject from his mind, however, with the consolatory reflection that 
 time alone would show ; and this is the reflection we would impress 
 upon the reader. 
 
CHRISTMAS REFLECTIONS 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A GOOD-HUMOURED CHRISTMAS CHAPTER, CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT 
 OF A WEDDING, AND SOME OTHER SPORTS BESIDE : WHICH 
 ALTHOUGH IN THEIR WAY, EVEN AS GOOD CUSTOMS AS MAR- 
 RIAGE ITSELF, ARE NOT QUITE SO RELIGIOUSLY KEPT UP, IN 
 THESE DEGENERATE TIMES 
 
 As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light a? fairies; did the four 
 Pickwickians assemble on the morning of the twenty-second day 
 of December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully- 
 recorded adventures, were undertaken and accomplished. Christmas 
 was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty ; it was the 
 season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness ; the old year 
 was preparing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his friends around 
 him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and 
 calmly away. Gay and merry was the time, and gay and merry were 
 at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming. 
 
 And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings 
 a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. , How many families, 
 whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in 
 the restless struggles of life, are then re-united, and meet once again 
 in that happy state of companionship and mutual good-will, which 
 is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight, and one so incom- 
 patible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious 
 belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the 
 roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future 
 condition of existence, provided for the blest and happy ! How 
 many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does 
 Christmas time awaken ! 
 
 We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at 
 which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous 
 circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased 
 to beat ; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased 
 to glow ; the hands we grasped have grown cold ; the eyes we 
 sought have hid their lustre in the grave ; and yet the old house, 
 the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, 
 the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those 
 happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the 
 season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday 1. Happy, 
 happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our 
 childish days ; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his 
 youth j that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of 
 miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home ! 
 
3t6 , THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 But we are so taken up and occupied with the good qualities of 
 this ' saint Christmas, that we are keeping Mr. Pickwick and his 
 friends waiting in the cold on the outside of the Muggleton coach, 
 which they have just attained, well wrapped up in great-coats, 
 shawls, and comforters. The portmanteaus and carpet-bags have 
 been stowed away, and Mr. Weller and the guard are endeavouring 
 to insinuate into the fore-boot a huge cod-fish several sizes too 
 large for it — which is snugly packed up, in a long brown basket, 
 with a layer of straw over the top, and which has been \eft to the 
 last, in order that he may repose in safety on the half-dozen barrels 
 of real native oysters, all the property of Mr. Pickwick, which have 
 been arranged in regular order at the bottom, of the receptacle. 
 The interest displayed in Mr. Pickwick's countenance is most 
 intense, as Mr. Weller and the guard try to squeeze the cod-fish 
 into the boot, first head first, and then tail first, and then top 
 upward, and then bottom upward, and then side-ways, and then 
 long-ways, ali of which artifices the implacable cod-fish sturdily 
 resists, until the guard accidentally hits him in the very middle of 
 the basket, whereupon he suddenly disappears into the boot, and 
 with him, the head and shoulders of the guard himself, who, not 
 calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of 
 the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected shock, to the unsmother- 
 able delight of all the porters and bystanders. Upon this, Mr. 
 Pickwick smiles with great good-humour, and drawing a shilling 
 from his waistcoat pocket, begs the guard, as he picks himself out 
 of the boot, to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy and water ; 
 at which the guard smiles too, and Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and 
 Tupman, all smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller 
 disappear for five minutes : most probably to get the hot brandy 
 and water, for they smell very strongly of it, when they return, the 
 coachman mounts to the box, Mr. Weller jumps up behind, the 
 Pickwickians pull their coats round their legs and their shawls over 
 their noses, the helpers pull the horse-cloths off, the coachman 
 shouts out a cheery ' All right,' and away they go. 
 
 They have rumbled through the streets, and jolted over the 
 stones, and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels 
 skim over the hard and frosty ground : and the horses, bursting 
 into a canter at a smart crack of the whip, step along the road as if 
 the load behind them : coach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster barrels, 
 and all : were but a feather at their heels. They have descended 
 a gentle slope, and enter upon a level, as compact and dry as a 
 solid block of marble, two miles long. Another crack of the whip, 
 and on they speed, at a smart gallop : the horses tossing their heads 
 and rattling the harness, as if in exhilaration at the rapidity of the 
 motion : whil^ the coachman, holding whip and reins in one hand, 
 takes off his hat with the other, and resting it on his knees, pulls 
 
QUITE AN OLD-FASHIONED RIDE 317 
 
 out his handkerchief, and wipes his forehead : partly because he has 
 a habit of doing it, and partly because it's as well to show the 
 passengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to drive 
 four-in-hand, when you have had as much practice as he has. 
 Having done this very leisurely (otherwise the effect would be 
 materially impaired), he replaces his handkerchief, pulls on his hat, 
 adjusts his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and 
 on they speed, more merrily than before. 
 
 A few small houses, scattered on either side of the road, betoken 
 the entrance to some town or village. The lively notes of the 
 guard's key-bugle vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up the old 
 gentleman inside, who, carefully letting down the window-sash 
 half-way, and standing sentry over the air, takes a short peep out, 
 and then carefully pulling it up again, informs the other inside that 
 they're going to change directly ; on which the other inside wakes 
 himself up, and determines to postpone his next nap until after the 
 stoppage. Again the bugle sounds lustily forth, and rouses the 
 cottager's wife and children, who peep out at the house-door, and 
 watch the coach till it turns the corner, when they once more crouch 
 round the blazing fire, and throw on another log of wood against 
 father comes home ; while father himself, a full mile off, has just 
 exchanged a friendly nod with the coachman, and turned round to 
 take a good long stare at the vehicle as it whirls away. 
 
 And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles through 
 the ill-paved streets of a country-town ; and the coachman, undoing 
 the buckle which keeps his ribands together, prepares to throw 
 them off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his 
 coat collar, and looks about him witli great curiosity ; perceiving 
 which, the coachman informs Mr. Pickwick of the name of the 
 town, and tells him it was market-day yesterday, both of which 
 pieces of information Mr. Pickwick retails to his fellow-passengers ; 
 whereupon they emerge from their coat collars too, and look about 
 them also. Mr. Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one leg 
 dangling in the air, is nearly precipitated into the street, as the 
 coach twists round the sharp comer by the cheesemonger's shop, 
 and turns into the market-place ; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who 
 sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up at the 
 inn yard, where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting. 
 The coachman throws down the reins and gets down himself, and 
 the other outside passengers drop down also : except those who 
 have no great confidence in their ability to get up again : and they 
 remain where they are, and stamp their feet against the coach to 
 warm them — looking, with longing eyes and red noses, at the bright 
 fire Ln the inn bar, and the sprigs of holly with red berries which 
 ornament the window. 
 
 But the guard has delivered at the corn-dealer's shop the brown 
 
3i8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 paper packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his 
 shoulder by a leathern strap ; and has seen the horses carefully put 
 to ; and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought 
 from London on the coach-roof; and has assisted in the conference 
 between the coachman and the hostler about the grey mare that 
 hurt her ofif-fore-leg last Tuesday; and he and Mr. Weller are all 
 right behind, and the coachman is all right in front, and the old 
 gentleman inside, who has kept the window down full two inches 
 all this time, has pulled it up again, and the cloths are off, and they 
 are all ready for starting, except the ' two stout gentlemen,' whom 
 the coachman inquires after with some impatience. Hereupon the 
 coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and 
 Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers, 
 who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for 
 the missing gentlemen as loud as they can bawl. A distant response 
 is heard from the yard, anci Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come 
 running down it, quite out of breath, for they have been having a 
 glass of ale a-piece, and Mr. Pickwick's fingers are so cold that he 
 has been full five minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay 
 for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory ' Now then, gen'lm'n ! ' 
 the guard re-echoes it ; the old gentleman inside thinks it a very 
 extraordinary thing that people will get down when they know 
 there isn't time for it; Mr. Pickwick struggles up on one side, 
 Mr. Tupman on the other ; Mr. Winkle cries ' All right ; ' and off 
 they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are re-adjusted, the 
 pavement ceases, the houses disappear, and they are once again 
 dashing along the open road, with the fresh clear air blowing in 
 thdir faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them. 
 
 Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the 
 Muggleton Telegraph, on their way to Dingley Dell ; and at three 
 o'clock that afternoon they all stood, high and dry, safe and sound, 
 hale and hearty, upon the steps of the Blue Lion, having taken on 
 the road quite enough of ale and brandy to enable them to bid 
 defiance to the frost that was binding up the earth in its iron fetters, 
 and weaving its beautiful net-work upon the trees and hedges. Mr. 
 Pickwick was busily engaged in counting the barrels of oysters and 
 superintending the disinterment of the cod-fish, when he felt himself 
 gently pulled by the skirts of the coat. Looking round, he dis- 
 covered that the individual who resorted to this mode of catching 
 his attention was no other than Mr. Wardle's favourite page, better 
 known to the readers of this unvarnished history, by the dis- 
 tinguishing appellation of the fat boy. 
 
 ' Aha ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Aha ! ' said the fat boy. 
 
 As he said it, he glanced from the cod-fish to the oyster-barrels, 
 and chuckled joyously. He was fatter than ever. 
 
MR. WELLER AND THE FAT BOY 319 
 
 ' Well, you look rosy enough, my young friend,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' I've been asleep, right in front of the tap-room fire,' replied the 
 fat boy, who had heated himself to, the colour of a new chimney- 
 pot in the course of an hour's nap. ' Master sent me over with the 
 shay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house. He'd ha' sent 
 some saddle-horses, but he thought you'd rather walk, being a 
 cold day.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily, for he remembered how 
 they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous 
 occasion. ' Yes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam ! ' 
 
 'Sir,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Help Mr. Wardle's servant to put the packages into the cart, 
 and then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once.' 
 
 Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr. 
 Pickwick and his three friends struck into the footpath across the 
 fields, and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller and the fat boy 
 confronted together for the first time. Sam looked at the fat boy 
 with great astonishment, but without saying a word ; and began to 
 stow the luggage rapidly away in the cart, while the fat boy stood 
 quietly by, and seemed to think it a very interesting sort of thing to 
 see Mr. Weller working by himself. 
 
 'There,' said Sam, throwing in the last carpet-bag. 'There 
 they are ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the fat boy, in a very satisfied tone, ' there they are.' 
 
 ' Veil, young twenty stun,' said Sim, ' you're a nice specimen of 
 a prize boy, you are ! ' 
 
 ' Thank'ee,' said the fat boy. 
 
 ' You ain't got nothin' on your mind as makes you fret yourself, 
 have you ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Not as I knows on,' replied the fat boy. 
 
 ' I should rayther ha' thought, to look at you, that you was A 
 labourin' under an unrequited attachment to some young 'ooman,' 
 said Sam. 
 
 The fat boy shook his head. 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam, ' I'm glad to hear it. Do you ever drink 
 anythin' ? ' 
 
 ' I likes eating, better,' replied the boy. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Sam, ' I should ha' s'posed that ; but what I mean is, 
 should you like a drop of anythin' as 'd warm you ? but I s'pose 
 you never was cold, with all them elastic fixtures, was you ? ' 
 
 ' Sometimes,' replied the boy ; ' and I likes a drop of something, 
 when it's good.' 
 
 ' Oh, you do, do you ? ' said Sam, ' come this way, then ! ' 
 
 The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed 
 a glass of liquor without so much as winking; a feat which 
 
320 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 considerably advanced him in Mr. Weller's good opinion. Mr. 
 Weller having transacted a similar piece of business on his own 
 account, they got into the cart. 
 
 ' Can you drive ? ' said the fat boy. 
 
 ' I should rayther think so,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' There, then,' said the fat boy, putting the reins in his hand, and 
 pointing up a lane, ' it's as straight as you can go ; you can't 
 miss it.' 
 
 With these words, the fat boy laid himself affectionately down by 
 the side of the cod-fish : and placing an oyster-barrel tinder his 
 head for a pillow, fell asleep instantaneously. 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, 'of all the cool boys ever I set my eyes on, this 
 here young gen'l'mln is the coolest. Come, wake up, young dropsy ! ' 
 
 But as young dropsy evinced no symptoms of returning animation, 
 Sam Weller sat himself down in front of the cart, and starting the 
 old horse with a jerk of the rein, jogged steadily on, towards 
 Manor Farm. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends having walked their 
 blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on. The paths 
 were hard ; the grass was crisp and frosty ; the air had a fine, dry, 
 bracing coldness; and the rapid approach of the grey twilight 
 (slate-coloured is a better term in frosty weather) made them look 
 forward with pleasant anticipation to the comforts which awaited 
 them at their hospitable entertainer's. It was the sort of afternoon 
 that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, 
 to take off their great-coats and. play at leap-frog in pure lightness 
 of heart and gaiety ; and we firmly believe that had Mr. Tupman 
 at that moment proffered ' a back,' Mr. Pickwick would have 
 accepted his offer with the utmost avidity. 
 
 However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any such accommoda- 
 tion, and the friends walked on, conversing merrily. As they 
 turned into a lane they had to cross, the sound of many voices 
 burst upon their ears ; and before they had even had time to form 
 a guess to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of 
 the party who were expecting their arrival — a fact which was first 
 notified to the Pickwickians, by the loud ' Hurrah,' which burst 
 from old Wardle's lips, when they appeared in sight. 
 
 First, there was Wardle himself, looking, if possible, more jolly 
 than ever ; then there were Bella and her faithful Trundle ; and, 
 lastly, there were Emily and some eight or ten young ladies, who 
 had all come down to the wedding, which was to take place next 
 day, and who were in as happy and important a state as young 
 ladies usually are, on such momentous occasions ; and they were, 
 one and all, startling the fields and lanes, far and wide, with their 
 frolic and laughter. 
 
 The ceremony of introduction, under such circumstances, was 
 
A SOCIAL AND HAPPY PARTY 321 
 
 very soon performed, or we should rather say that the introduction 
 was soon over, without any ceremony at all. In two minutes 
 thereafter, Mr. Pickwick was joking with the young ladies who 
 wouldn't come over the stile while he looked — or who, having 
 pretty feet and unexceptionable ankles, preferred standing on the 
 top-rail for five minutes or so, declaring that they were too 
 frightened to move — with as much ease and absence of reserve or 
 constraint, as if he had known them for life. It is worthy of 
 remark, too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far more assistance 
 than the absolute terrors of the stile (although it was full three feet 
 high, and had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem to 
 require ; while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair 
 of boots with fur round the top, was observed to scream very 
 loudly, when Mr. Winkle offered to help her over. 
 
 All this was very snug and pleasant. And when the difficulties 
 of the stile were at last surmounted, and they once more entered 
 on the open field, old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they 
 had all been down in a body to inspect the furniture and fittings- 
 up of the house, which the young couple were to tenant, after the 
 Christmas holidays; at which communication Bella and Trundle 
 both coloufed up, as red as the fat boy after the tap-room fire^ 
 and the young lady with the black eyes and the fur round the 
 boots, whispered something in Emily's ear, and then glanced 
 archly at Mr. Snodgrass : to which Emily responded that she was 
 a foolish girl, but turned very red, notwithstanding ; and Mr. 
 Snodgrass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, 
 felt the crimson rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly 
 wished in the inmost recesses of his own heart that the young lady 
 aforesaid, with her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots 
 with the fur round the top, were all comfortably deposited in the 
 adjacent county. 
 
 But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was 
 the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached 
 the farm ! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of 
 Mr. Pickwick; and Emma bestowed a half-demure, half-impudent, 
 and all pretty, look of recognition, on Mr. Tupman, which was 
 enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the passage, unfold his 
 arms, and clasp her within them. 
 
 The old lady was seated in customary state in the front parlour, 
 but she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most particularly 
 deaf. She never went out herself, and like a great many other old 
 ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of 
 domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of doing what 
 she couldn't. So, bless her old soul, she sat as upright as she 
 could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might be — and 
 that was benevolent after all. 
 
 Y 
 
32 2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Mother,' said Wardle, ' Mr. Pickwick. You recollect him ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind,' replied the old lady with great dignity. ' Don't 
 trouble Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares 
 about me now, and it's very nat'ral they shouldn't' Here the old 
 lady tossed her head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured 
 silk dress, with trembling hands. 
 
 ' Come, come, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I can't let you cut 
 an old friend in this way. I have come down expressly to have 
 a long talk, and another rubber with you; and we'll show these 
 boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before they're eight-and- 
 forty hours older.' 
 
 The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do 
 it all at once ; so she only said, ' Ah ! I can't hear him ! ' 
 
 ' Nonsense, mother,' said Wardle. ' Come, come, don't be cross, 
 there's a good soul. Recollect Bella; come, you must keep her 
 spirits up, poor girl.' 
 
 The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son 
 said it. But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was 
 not quite brought round yet. So, she smoothed down the lavender- 
 coloured dress again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick said, ' Ah, Mr. 
 Pickwick, young people was very different, when I was B, girl' 
 
 ' No doubt of that, ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' and that's the 
 reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of 
 the old stock,' — and saying this, Mr. Pickwick gendy pulled Bella 
 towards him, and bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit 
 down on the little stool at her grandmother's feet. Whether the 
 expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old 
 lady's face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old 
 lady was touched by Mr. Pickwick's affectionate good nature, or 
 whatever was the cause, she was fairly melted ; so she threw herself 
 on her grand-daughter's neck, and all the little ill-humour evaporated 
 in a gush of silent tears. 
 
 A happy party they were, that night. Sedate and solemn were 
 the score of rubbers in which Mr. Pickwick and the old lady 
 played together ; uproarious was the mirth of the round table. 
 Long after the ladies had retired, did the hot elder wine, well 
 qualified with brandy and spice, go round, and round, and round 
 again ; and sound was the sleep and pleasant were the dreams that 
 followed. It is a remarkable fact that those of Mr. Snodgrass bore 
 constant reference to Emily Wardle ; and that the principal figure 
 in Mr. Winkle's visions was a young lady with black eyes, an arch 
 smile, and a pair of remarkably nice boots with fur round the tops. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was awakened, early in the morning, by a hum of 
 voices and a pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy 
 from his heavy slumbers. He sat up in bed and listened. The 
 female servants and female visitors were running constantly to and 
 
THE WEDDING MORNING 323 
 
 fro; and there were such multitudinous demands for hot water, such 
 repeated outcries for needles and thread, and so many half-suppressed 
 entreaties of ' Oh, do come and tie me, there's a dear ! ' that Mr. 
 Pickwick in his innocence began to imagine that something dreadful 
 must have occurred : when he grew more awake, and remembered 
 the wedding. , The occasion being an important one he dressed 
 himself with peculiar care, and descended to the breakfast room. 
 
 There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of 
 pink muslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about 
 the house in a state of excitement and agitation which it would be 
 impossible to describe. The old lady was dressed out in a brocaded 
 gown which had not seen the light for twenty years, saving and 
 excepting such truant rays as had stolen through the chinks in the 
 box in which it had been lain by, during the whole time. Mr. 
 Trundle was in high feather and spirits, but a little nervous withal. 
 The hearty old landlord was trying to look very cheerful and un- 
 concerned, but failing signally in the attempt. All the girls were in 
 tears and white muslin, except a select two or three who were being 
 honoured with a private view of the bride and bridesmaids, up 
 stairs. All the Pickwickians were in most blooming array; and 
 there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front of the house, 
 occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobbledehoys attached to 
 the farm, each of whom had. got a white bow in his button-hole, 
 and all of whom were cheering with might and main : being incited 
 thereunto, and stimulated therein, by the precept and example of 
 Mr.. Samuel Weller, who had managed to become mighty popular 
 already, and was as much at home as if he had been born on the 
 land. 
 
 A wedding is a licensed subject to joke upon, but there really 
 is no great joke in the matter after all; — we speak merely of the 
 ceremony, and beg it to be distinctly understood that we indulge 
 in no hidden sarcasm upon a married life. Mixed up with the 
 pleasure and joy of the occasion, are the many regrets at quitting 
 home, the tears of parting between parent and child, the conscious- 
 ness of leaving the dearest and kindest friends of the happiest 
 portion of human life, to encounter its cares and troubles with 
 others still untried and little known : natural feelings which we 
 would not render this chapter mournful by describing, and which 
 we should be still more unwilling to be supposed to ridicule. 
 
 Let us briefly' say, then, that the ceremony was performed by the 
 old clergyman, in the parish church of Dingley Dell, and that Mr. 
 Pickwick's name is attached to the register, still preserved in the 
 vestry thereof; that the young lady with the black eyes signed her 
 name in a very unsteady and tremulous manner; that Emily's 
 signature, as the other bridesmaid, is nearly illegible; that it all 
 went off in very admirable style ; that the young ladies generally 
 
324 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 thought it far less shocking than they had expected; and that 
 although the owner of the black eyes and the arch smile informed 
 Mr. Winkle that she was sure she could never submit to anything 
 so dreadful, we have the very best reasons for thinking she was 
 mistaken. To all this, we may add, that Mr. Pickwick was the 
 first who saluted the bride, and that in so doing, he threw over 
 her neck a rich gold watch and chain, which no mortal eyes but 
 the jeweller's had ever beheld before. Then, the old church bell 
 rang as gaily as it could, and they all returned to breakfast. 
 
 ' Vere does the mince pies go, young opium eater ? ' said Mr. 
 Weller to the fat boy, as he assisted in laying out such articles of 
 consumption as had not been duly arranged on the previous night. 
 
 The fat boy pointed to the destination of the pies. 
 
 ' Wery good,' said Sam, ' stick a bit o' Christmas in 'em. T'other 
 dish opposite. There ; now we look compact and comfortable, as 
 the father said ven he cut his little boy's head off, to cure him o' 
 squintin'.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller made the comparison, he fell back a step or two, 
 to give full effect to it, and surveyed the preparations with the 
 utmost satisfaction. 
 
 'Wardle,' said Mr. Pickwick, almost as soon as they were all 
 seated, ' a glass of wine, in honour of this happy occasion ! ' 
 
 ' I shall be delighted, my boy,' said Wardle. ' Joe — damn that 
 boy, he's gone to sleep.' 
 
 ' No, I ain't, sir,' replied the fat boy, starting up from a remote 
 comer, where, like the patron saint of fat boys — the immortal 
 Horner — he had been devouring a Christmas pie : though not with 
 the coolness and deliberation which characterised that young 
 gentleman's proceedings. 
 
 ' Fill Mr. Pickwick's glass,' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 The fat boy filled Mr. Pickwick's glass, and then retired behind 
 his master's chair, from whence he watched the play of the knives 
 and forks, and the progress of the choice morsels from the dishes 
 to the mouths of the company, with a kind of dark and gloomy joy 
 that was most impressive. 
 
 ' God bless you, old fellow ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Same to you, my boy,' replied Wardle ; and they pledged each 
 other, heartily. 
 
 ' Mrs. Wardle,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' we old folks must have a 
 glass of wine together, in honour of this joyful event.' 
 
 The old lady was in a state of great grandeur just then, for she 
 was sitting at the top of the table in the brocaded gown, with her 
 newly-married granddaughter on one side and Mr. Pickwick on the 
 other, to do the carving. Mr. Pickwick had not spoken in a very 
 loud tone, but she understood him at once, and drank ofi' a full 
 
THE TOAST OF THE DAY 325 
 
 glass of wine to his long life and happiness ; after which the worthy 
 old soul launched forth into a minute and particular account of her 
 own wedding, with a dissertation on the fashion of wearing high- 
 heeled shoes, and some particulars concerning the life and 
 adventures of the beautiful Lady Tollimglower, deceased : at 
 all of which the old lady herself laughed very heartily indeed, and 
 so did the young ladies too, for they were wondering among 
 themselves what on earth grandma was talking about. When they 
 laughed, the old lady laughed ten times more heartily, and said that 
 these always had been considered capital stories : which caused 
 them all to laugh again, and put the old lady into the very best of 
 humours. Then, the cake was cut, and passed through the ring ; 
 the young ladies saved pieces to put under their pillows to dream of 
 their future husbands on ; and a great deal of blushing and merriment 
 was thereby occasioned. 
 
 ' Mr. Miller,' said Mr. Pickwick to his old acquaintance the 
 hard-headed gentleman, ' a glass of wine ? ' 
 
 ' With great satisfaction, Mr. Pickwick,' replied the hard-headed 
 gentleman, solemnly. 
 
 ' You'll take me in ? ' said the benevolent old clergyman. 
 
 ' And me,' interposed his wife. 
 
 ' And me, and me,' said a couple of poor relations at the bottom 
 of the table, who had eaten and drank very heartily, and laughed at 
 everything. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick expressed his heartfelt delight at every additional 
 suggestion ; and his eyes beamed with hilarity and cheerfulness. 
 
 ' Ladies and gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly rising. 
 
 ' Hear, hear ! Hear, hear ! Hear, hear ! ' cried Mr. Weller, in 
 the excitement of his feelings. 
 
 ' Call in all the servants,' cried old Wardle, interposing to prevent 
 the public rebuke which Mr. Weller would otherwise most indubitably 
 have received from his master. ' Give them a glass of wine each, 
 to drink the toast in. Now, Pickwick.' 
 
 Amidst the silence of the company, the whispering of the women 
 servants, and the awkward embarrassment of the men, Mr. Pickwick 
 proceeded. 
 
 ' Ladies and gentlemen — no, I won't say ladies and gentlemen, 
 I'll call you my friends, my dear friends, if the ladies will allow me 
 to take so great a liberty ' ■ 
 
 Here Mr. Pickwick was interrupted by immense applause from 
 the ladies, echoed by the gentlemen, during which the owner of the 
 eyes was distinctly heard to state that she could kiss that dear Mr. 
 Pickwick. Whereupon Mr. Winkle gallantly inquired if it couldn't 
 be done by deputy : to which the young lady with the black eyes 
 replied, ' Go away ' — and accompanied the request with a look 
 which said as plainly as a look could do ' if you can.' 
 
326 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' My dear friends,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, ' I am going to propose 
 the health of the bride and bridegroom — God bless 'em (cheers and 
 tears). My young friend, Trundle, I believe to be a very excellent 
 and manly fellow ; and his wife I know to be a very amiable and 
 lovely girl, well qualified to transfer to another sphere of action the 
 happiness which for twenty years she has diffused around her, in her 
 father's house. (Here, the fat boy burst forth into stentorian 
 blubberings, and was led forth by the coat collar, by Mr. Weller.) 
 I wish,' added Mr. Pickwick, ' I wish I was young enough to be her 
 sister's husband (cheers), but, failing that, I am happy to be old 
 enough to be her father ; for, being so, I shall not be suspected of 
 any latent designs when I say, that I admire, esteem, and love them 
 both (cheers and sobs). The bride's father, our good friend there, 
 is a noble person, and I am proud to know him (great uproar). 
 He is a kind, excellent, independent-spirited, fine-hearted, hospitable, 
 liberal man (enthusiastic shouts from the poor relations, at all the 
 adjectives ; and especially at the two last). That his daughter may 
 enjoy all the happiness, even he can desire ; and that he may 
 derive from the contemplation of her felicity all the gratification of 
 heart and peace of mind which he so well deserves, is, I am 
 persuaded, our united wish. So, let us drink their healths, and 
 wish them prolonged life, and every blessing ! ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick concluded amidst a whirlwind of applause ; and 
 once more were the lungs of the supernumeraries, under Mr. 
 Weller's command, brought into active and efficient operation. 
 Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick proposed the 
 old lady. Mr. Snodgrass proposed Mr. Wardle; Mr. Wardle 
 proposed Mr. Snodgrass. One of the poor relations proposed Mr. 
 Tupman, and the other poor relation proposed Mr. Winkle; all 
 was happiness and festivity, until the mysterious disappearance of 
 both the poor relations beneath the table, warned the party that it 
 was time to adjourn. 
 
 At dinner they met again, after a five-and-twenty mile walk, 
 undertaken by the males at Wardle's recommendation, to get rid 
 of the effects of the wine at breakfast. The poor relations had 
 kept in bed all day, with the view of attaining the same happy 
 consummation, but, as they had been unsuccessful, they stopped 
 there. Mr. Weller kept the domestics in a state of perpetual 
 hilarity; and the fat boy divided his time into small alternate 
 allotments of eating and sleeping. 
 
 The dinner was as hearty an affair as the breakfast, and was quite 
 as nQisy, without the tears. Then came the dessert and some mor« 
 loasts. Then came the tea and coffee ; and then, the ball. 
 
 The best sitting, room at Manor Farm was a good, long, dark- 
 panelled room with a high chimney-piece, and a -capacious 
 chimney, up which you could have driven one of the new patent 
 
MR. PICKWICK MEANS TO DANCE 327 
 
 cabs, wheels and all. At the upper end of the room, seated in a 
 shady bower of holly and evergreens, were the two best fiddlers, 
 and the only harp, in all Muggleton. In all sorts of recesses, and 
 on all kinds of brackets, stood massive old silver candlesticks with 
 four branches each. The carpet was up, the candles burnt bright, 
 the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth, and merry voices and 
 light-hearted laughter rang through the room. If any of the old 
 English yeomen had turned into fairies when they died, it was just 
 the place in which they would have held their revels. 
 
 If anything could have added to the interest of this agreeable 
 scene, it would have been the remarkable fact of Mr. Pickwick's 
 appearing without his gaiters, for the first time within the memory 
 of his oldest friends. 
 
 ' You mean to dance ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 ' Of course I do,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Don't you see I am 
 dressed for the purpose ? ' Mr. Pickwick called attention to his 
 speckled silk stockings, and smartly tied pumps. 
 
 ' You in silk stockings ! ' exclaimed Mr. Tupman, jocosely. 
 
 'And why not, sir — why not?' said Mr. Pickwick, turning 
 warmly upon him. 
 
 ' Oh, of course there is no reason why you shouldn't wear them,' 
 responded Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' I imagine not, sir, I imagine not,' said Mr. Pickwick in a very 
 peremptory tone. 
 
 Mr. Tupman had contemplated a laugh, but he found it was a 
 serious matter; so he looked grave, and said they were a pretty 
 pattern. 
 
 'I hope they are,' said Mr. Pickwick fixing his eyes upon his 
 friend. ' You see nothing extraordinary in the stockings, as stock- 
 ings, I trust, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. Oh, certainly not,' replied Mr. Tupman. He 
 walked away; and Mr. Pickwick's countenance resumed its 
 customary benign expression. 
 
 'We are all ready, I believe,' said Mr. Pickwick, who was 
 stationed with the old lady at the top of the dance, and had already 
 made four false starts, in his excessive anxiety to commence. 
 
 ' Then begin at once,' said Wardle. ' Now ! ' 
 
 Up struck the two fiddles and the one harp, and off went Mr. 
 Pickwick into hands across, when there was a general clapping of 
 hands, and a cry of ' Stop, stop ! ' 
 
 ' What's the matter ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, who was only brought 
 to, by the fiddles and harp desisting, and could have been stopped 
 by no other earthly power, if the house had been on fire. 
 
 ' Where's Arabella Allen ? ' cried a dozen voices. 
 
 ' And Winkle ? ' added Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ' Here we are ! ' exclaimed that gentleman, emerging with his 
 
328 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 pretty companion from the corner ; as he did so, it would have 
 been hard to tell which was the redder in the face, he or the young 
 lady with the black eyes. 
 
 ' What an extraordinary thing it is, Winkle,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 rather pettishly, 'that you couldn't have taken your place before.' 
 
 ' Not at all extraordinary,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a very expressive smile, as his 
 eyes rested on Arabella, 'well, I don't know that it was extra- 
 ordinary, either, after all.' 
 
 However, there was no time to think more about the matter, for 
 the fiddles and harp began in real earnest. Away went Mr. Pick- 
 wick — hands across — down the middle to the very end of the room, 
 and half-way up the chimney, back again to the door — poussette 
 eveiywhere — loud stamp on the ground — ready for the next couple 
 — off again — all the figure over once more — another stamp to beat 
 out the time — next couple, and the next, and the next again — 
 never was such going ! At last, after they had reached the bottom 
 of the dance, and full fourteen couple after the old lady had retired 
 in an exhausted state, and the clergyman's wife had been substituted 
 in her stead, did that gentleman, where there was no demand what- 
 ever on his exertions, keep perpetually dancing in his place, to 
 keep time to the music : smiling on his partner all the while with 
 a blandness of demeanour which baffles aU description. 
 
 Long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of dancing, the newly- 
 married couple had retired from the scene. There was a glorious 
 supper down-stairs, notwithstanding, and a good long sitting, after 
 it ; and when Mr. Pickwick awoke, late the next morning, he had 
 a confused recollection of having, severally and confidentially, 
 invited somewhere about five-and-forty people to dine with him at 
 the George and Vulture, the very first time they came to London ; 
 which Mr. Pickwick rightly considered a pretty certain indication 
 of his having taken something besides exercise, on the previous 
 night. 
 
 ' And so your family has games in the kitchen to-night, my dear, 
 has they ? ' inquired Sam of Emma. 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Weller,' repHed Emma ; ' we always have on Christmas 
 eve. Master wouldn't neglect to keep it up on any account.' 
 
 ' Your master's a wery pretty notion of keepin' anythin' up, my 
 dear,' said Mr. Weller ; ' I never see such a sensible sort of man as 
 he is, or such a reg'lar gen'l'm'n.' 
 
 ' Oh, that he is ! ' said the fat boy, joining in the conversation ; 
 ' don't he breed nice pork ! ' The fat youth gave a semi-cannibalic 
 leer at Mr. Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and gravy. 
 
 ' Oh, you've woke up, at last, have you ? ' said Sam. 
 
 The fat bepy nodded. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what it is, young boa constructer,' said Mr, Weller, 
 
SAM'S ADVICE TO THE FAT BOY 329 
 
 impressively ; " if you don't sleep a little less, and exercise a little 
 more, wen you comes to be a man you'll lay yourself open to the 
 same sort of personal inconwenience as was inflicted on the old 
 genTm'n as wore the pigtail.' 
 
 ' WTiat did they do to him ? ' inquired the fat boy, in a faltering 
 voice. 
 
 ' I'm a-goin' to tell you,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' he was one 0' the 
 largest patterns as was ever turned out — reg'lar fat man, as hadn't 
 caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty year.' 
 
 ' Lor ! ' exclaimed Emma. 
 
 ' No, that he hadn't, my dear,' said Mr. Weller ; ' and if you'd 
 put an exact model of his own legs on the dinin' table afore him, 
 he wouldn't ha' known 'em. Well, he always walks to his office 
 with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging out, about a foot 
 and a quarter, and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was worth — • 
 I'm afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can be — a 
 large, heavy, round manafacter, as stout for a watch, as he was for 
 a man, and with a big face in proportion. " You'd better not carry 
 that 'ere watch," says the old gen'l'm'n's friends, " you'll be robbed 
 on it," says they. " Shall I ? " says he. " Yes, you will," says 
 they. " Veil," says he, " I should like to see the thief as could get 
 this here watch out, for I'm blest if / ever can, it's such a tight fit," 
 says he ; " and venever I wants to know what's o'clock, I'm obliged 
 to stare into the bakers' shops," he says. Well, then he laughs as 
 hearty as if he was a goin' to pieces, and out he walks agin' with 
 his powdered head and pigtail, and rolls down the Strand vith the 
 chain hangin' out furder than ever, and the great round watch 
 almost bustin' through his grey kersey smalls. There warn't a pick- 
 pocket in all London as didn't take a pull at that chain, but the 
 chain 'ud never break, and the watch 'ud never come out, so they 
 soon got tired o' dragging such a heavy old gen'l'm'n along the 
 pavement, and he'd go home and laugh till the pigtail wibrated 
 like the penderlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old 
 gen'l'm'n was a roUin' along, and he sees a pickpocket as he know'd 
 by sight, a-comin' up, arm in arm vith a little boy vith a wery large 
 head. " Here's a game," says the old gen'l'm'n to himself, " they're 
 a-goin' to have another try, but it won't do ! " So he begins a- 
 chucklin' wery hearty, wen, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves 
 hold of the pickpocket's arm, and rushes headforemost straight into 
 the old gen'l'm'n's stomach, and for a moment doubles him right 
 up vith the pain. " Murder ! " says the old gen'l'm'n. " All right, 
 sir," says the pickpocket, a wisperin' in his ear. And wen he 
 come straight agin, the watch and chain was gone, and what's worse 
 than that, the old gen'l'm'n's digestion was all wrong ever arter- 
 vards, to the wery last day of his life; so just you look about you, 
 young feller, and take care you don't get too fat.' 
 
330 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with which the fat boy 
 appeared much affected, they all three repaired to the large kitchen, 
 in which the family were by this time assembled, according to 
 annual custom on Christmas eve, observed by old Wardle's fore- 
 fathers from time immemorial. 
 
 From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had 
 just suspended, with his own hands, a huge branch of mistletoe, 
 and this same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a 
 scene of general and delightful straggHng and confusion ; in the 
 midst of which, Mr. Pickwick, with a gallantry that would have 
 done honour to a descendant of Lady Tollimglower herself, took 
 the old lady by the hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and 
 saluted her in all courtesy and decorum. The old lady submitted 
 to this piece of practical politeness with all the dignity which 
 befitted so important and serious a solemnity, but the younger 
 ladies, not being so thoroughly imbued with a superstitious venera- 
 tion for the custom : or imagining that the value of a salute is 
 very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble to obtain it : screamed 
 and struggled, and ran into corners, and threatened and re- 
 monstrated, and did everything but leave the room, untQ some of 
 the less adventurous gentlemen were on the point of desisting, 
 when they all at once found it useless to resist any longer, and 
 submitted to be kissed with a good grace. Mr. Winkle kissed the 
 young lady with the black eyes, and Mr. Snodgrass kissed Emily, 
 and Mr. Weller, not being particular about the form of being under 
 the mistletoe, kissed Emma and the other female servants, just as 
 he caught them. As to the poor relations, they kissed everybody, 
 not even excepting the plainer portions of the young-lady visitors, 
 who, in their excessive confusion, ran right under the mistletoe, as 
 soon as it was hung up, without knowing it ! Wardle stood with 
 his back to the fire, surveying the whole scene, with the utmost 
 satisfaction ; and the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating 
 to his own use, and summarily devouring, a particularly fine mince- 
 pie, that had been carefully put by for somebody else. 
 
 Now, the screaming had subsided, and faces were in a glow, and 
 curls in a tangle, and Mr. Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as 
 before mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, looking with 
 a very pleased countenance on all that was passing around him, 
 when the young lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering 
 with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart forward, and, 
 putting her arm round Mr. Pickwick's neck, saluted him affection- 
 ately on the left cheek ; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew 
 what was the matter, he was surrounded by the whole body, and 
 kissed by every one of them. 
 
 It was a pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick in the centre of the 
 group, now pulled this way, and then that, and first kissed on the 
 
-c5 " 
 
 7^Xl€J^^i>zaJ S'l^a/^^^H^ Ma^Me^. 
 
A CHRISTMAS CAROL 331 
 
 chin, and then on the nose, and then on the spectacles : and to 
 hear the peals of laughter which were raised on every side ; but it 
 was a still more pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick, blinded shortly 
 afterwards with a silk handkerchief, falling up against the wall, and 
 scrambling into corners, and going througli all the mysteries of 
 blind-man's buff, with the utmost relish for the game, until at last 
 he caught one of the poor relations, and then had to evade the 
 blind-man himself, which he did with a nimbleness and agility that 
 elicited the admiration and applause of all beholders. The poor 
 relations caught the people who they thought would like it, and, 
 when the game flagged, got caught themselves. When they were 
 all tired of blind-man's buff, there was a great game at snap-dragon, 
 and when fingers enough were burned with that, and all the raisins 
 were gone, they sat down by the huge fire of blazing logs to a 
 substantial supper, and a mighty bowl of wassail, something smaller 
 than an ordinary wash-house copper, in which the hot apples were 
 hissing and bubbling with a rich look, and a jolly sound, that were 
 perfectly irresistible. 
 
 ' This,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, ' this is, indeed, 
 comfort.' 
 
 ' Our invariable custom,' replied Mr. Wardle. ' Everybody sits 
 down with us on Christmas eve, as you see them now — servants 
 and all ; and here we wait, until the clock strikes twelve, to usher 
 Christmas in, and beguile the time with forfeits and old stories. 
 Trundle, my boy, rake up the fire.' 
 
 Up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the logs were stirred. 
 The deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow, that penetrated into the 
 furthest comer of the room, and cast' its cheerful tint on every 
 face. 
 
 ' Come,' said Wardle, ' a song — a Christmas song ! I'll give you 
 one, in default of a better.' 
 
 ' Bravo ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Fill up,' cried Wardle. ' It will be two hours, good, before you 
 see the bottom of the bowl through the deep rich colour of the 
 wassail ; fill up all round, and now for the song.' 
 
 Thus saying, the merry old gentleman, in a good, round, sturdy 
 voice, commenced without more ado : 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL 
 
 I CAKE not for, Spring ; on his fickle wing 
 
 Let the blossoms and buds be borne : 
 
 He woes them amain with his treacherous rain, 
 
 And he scatters them ere the morn. 
 
 An inconstant elf,, he. -knows not himself, 
 
 Nor his own changing mind an hour, 
 
 He'll smile in your face, and, with wry grimace. 
 
 He'll wither your youngest dower. 
 
332 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Let the Summer sun to his bright home run, 
 
 He shall never be sought by me ; 
 
 When he's dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud. 
 
 And care not how sulky he be ! 
 
 For his darling child is the madness wild 
 
 That sports in fierce fever's train ; 
 
 And when love is too strong, it don't last long, 
 
 As many have found to their pain. 
 
 A mild harvest night, by the tranquil light 
 
 Of the modest and gentle moon. 
 
 Has a far sweeter sheen, for me, I ween, 
 
 Than the broad and unblushing noon. 
 
 But every leaf awakens my grief, 
 
 As it lieth beneath the tree ; 
 
 So let Autumn air be never so fair, 
 
 It by no means agree with me. 
 
 But my song I troll out, for Christmas stout. 
 
 The hearty, the true, and the bold ; 
 
 A bumper I drain, and with might and main 
 
 Give three cheers for this Christmas old ! 
 
 We'll usher him in with a merry din 
 
 That shall gladden his joyous heart. 
 
 And we'll keep him up, while there's bite or sup, 
 
 And in fellowship good, we'll part. 
 
 In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide. 
 
 One jot of his hard-weather scars ; 
 
 They're no disgrace, for there's much the same trace 
 
 On the cheeks of our bravest tars. 
 
 Then again I sing 'till the roof doth ring. 
 
 And it echoes from wall to wall — 
 
 To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night. 
 
 As the King of the Seasons all ! 
 
 This song was tumultuously applauded — for friends and de- 
 pendents make a capital audience' — and the poor relations, 
 especially, were in perfect ecstasies of rapture. Again was the fire 
 replenished, and again went the wassail round. 
 
 ' How it snows ! ' said one of the men, in a low tone. 
 
 ' Snows, does it ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 ' Rough, cold night, sir,' replied the man ; ' and there's a wind 
 got up, that drifts it across the fields, in a thick white cloud.' 
 
 ' What does Jem say ? ' inquired the old lady. ' There ain't 
 anything the matter, is there ? ' 
 
 ' No, no, mother,' replied Wardle ; ' he says there's a snow-drift, 
 and a wind that's piercing cold. I should know that, by the way 
 it rumbles in the chimney.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the old lady, ' there was just such a wind, and just 
 such a fall of snow, a good many years back, I recollect — ^just five 
 years before your poor father died. It was a Christmas eve, too ; 
 
LARCENOUS GOBLINS 333 
 
 and I remember that on that very night he told us the story about 
 the goblins that carried away old Gabriel Grub.' 
 
 ' The story about what ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, nothing, nothing,' replied Wardle. ' About an old sexton, 
 that the good people down here suppose to have been carried away 
 by goblins.' 
 
 ' Suppose ! ' ejaculated the old lady. ' Is there any body hardy 
 enough to disbelieve it ? Suppose ! Haven't you heard ever since 
 you were a child, that he was carried away by the goblins, and don't 
 you know he was ? ' 
 
 ' Very well, mother, he was, if you like,' said Wardle, laughing. 
 ' He was carried away by gobUns, Pickwick ; and there's an end of 
 the matter.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' not an end of it, I assure you j for 
 I must hear how, and why, and all about it.' 
 
 Wardle smiled, as every head was bent forward to hear; and 
 filling out the wassail with no stinted hand, nodded a health to 
 Mr. Pickwick, and began as follows : 
 
 But bless our editorial heart, what a long chapter we have been 
 betrayed into ! We had quite forgotten all such petty restrictions 
 as chapters, we solemnly declare. So here goes, to give the goblin 
 a fair start in a new one ! A clear stage and no favour for the 
 goblins, ladies and gentlemen, if you please. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE STORY OF THE GOBLINS WHO STOLE A SEXTON 
 
 ' In an old abbey town, down in this part of the country, a long, 
 long while ago — so long, that the story must be a true one, because 
 our great grandfathers implicitly believed it — there officiated as 
 sexton and grave-digger in the churchyard, one Gabriel Grub. It 
 by no means follows that because a man is a sexton, and constantly 
 surrounded by the emblems of mortality, therefore he should be a 
 morose and melancholy man; your undertakers are the merriest 
 fellows in the world ; and I once had the honour of being on 
 intimate terms with a mute, who in private life, and off duty, was as 
 comical and jocose a little fellow as ever chirped out a devil-may- 
 care song, without a hitch in his memory, or drained off the contents 
 of a good stiff glass without stopping for breath. But, notwithstand- 
 ing these precedents to the contrary, Gabriel Grub was an ill- 
 conditioned, cross-grained, surly fellow — a morose and lonely man, 
 who consorted with nobody but himself, and an old wicker bottle 
 
334 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 which fitted into his large deep waistcoat pocket — and who eyed 
 each merry face, as it passed him by, with such a deep scowl of 
 mahce and ill-humour, as it was difficult to meet, without feeling 
 something the worse for. 
 
 ' A little before twilight, one Christmas Eve, Gabriel shouldered 
 his spade, lighted his lantern, and betook himself towards the old 
 churchyard ; for he had got a grave to finish by next morning, and, 
 feeling very low, he thought it might raise his spirits, perhaps, if he 
 went on with his work at once. As he went his way, up the ancient 
 street, he saw the cheerful light of the blazing fires gleam through 
 the old casements, and heard the loud laugh and the cheerful shouts 
 of those who were assembled around them ; he marked the bustling 
 preparations for next day's cheer, and smelt the numerous savoury 
 odours consequent thereupon, as they steamed up from the kitchen 
 windows in clouds. All this was gall and wormwood to the heart 
 of Gabriel Grub ; and when groups of children bounded out of the 
 houses, tripped across the road, and were met, before they could 
 knock at the opposite door, by half a dozen curly-headed littie 
 rascals who crowded round them as they flocked up-stairs to spend 
 the evening in their Christmas games, Gabriel smiled grimly, and 
 clutched the handle of his spade with a firmer grasp, as he thought 
 of measles, scarlet-fever, thrush, hooping-cough, and a good many 
 other sources of consolation besides. 
 
 ' In this happy frame of mind, Gabriel strode along : returning a 
 short, sullen growl to the good-humoured greetings of such of his 
 neighbours as now and then passed him : until he turned into the 
 dark lane which led to the churchyard. Now, Gabriel had been 
 looking forward to reaching the dark lane, because it was, generally 
 speaking, a nice, gloomy, mournful place, into which the towns- 
 people did not much care to go, except in broad day-light, and when 
 the sun was shining ; consequently, he was not a little indignant to 
 hear a young urchin roaring out some jolly song about a merry 
 Christmas, in this very sanctuary, which had been called Coffin Lane 
 ever since the days of the old abbey, and the time of the shaven- 
 headed monks. As Gabriel walked on, and the voice drew nearer, 
 he found it proceeded from a small boy, who was hurrying along, to 
 join one of the little parties in the old street, and who, partly to keep 
 himself company, and partly to prepare himself for the occasion, was 
 shouting out the song at the highest pitch of his lungs. So Gabriel 
 waited until the boy came up, and then dodged him into a comer, 
 and rapped him over the head with his lantern five or six times, to 
 teach him to modulate his voice. And as the boy hurried away with 
 his hand to- his head, singing quite a different sort of tune, Gabriel 
 Grub chuckled very heartily to himself, and entered the churchyard: 
 locking the gate behind him. 
 
 ' He took off his coat, put down his lantern, and getting into the 
 
A STRANGE UNEARTHLY FIGURE 335 
 
 unfinished grave, worked at it for an hour or so, with right good will. 
 But the earth was hardened with the frost, and it was no very easy 
 matter to break it up, and shovel it out ; and although there was a 
 moon, it was a very young one, and shed litfle light upon the grave, 
 which was in the shadow of the church. At any other time, these 
 obstacles would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and miserable, 
 but he was so well pleased with having stopped the small boy's 
 singing, that he took little heed of the scanty progress he had made, 
 and looked down into the grave, when he had finished work for the 
 night, with grim satisfaction : murmuring as he gathered up his 
 things : 
 
 Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, 
 A few feet of cold earth, when life is done ; 
 A stone at the head, a stone at the feet, 
 A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat ; 
 Rank grass over head, and damp clay around, 
 Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground ! 
 
 '" Ho ! ho ! " laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself down on a 
 flat tombstone which was a favourite resting-place of his ; and drew 
 forth his wicker bottle. " A coffin at Christmas ! A Christmas 
 Box. Ho ! ho ! ho ! " 
 
 ' " Ho ! ho ! ho ! " repeated a voice which sounded close behind 
 him. 
 
 ' Gabriel paused, in some alarm, in the act of raising the wicker 
 bottle to his lips : and looked round. The bottom of the oldest 
 grave about him, was not more still and quiet, than the churchyard 
 in the pale moonlight. The cold hoar-frost glistened on the tomb- 
 stones, and sparkled like rows of gems, among the stone carvings of 
 the old church. The snow lay hard and crisp upon the ground ; 
 and spread over the thickly-strewn mounds of earth so white and 
 smooth a cover that it seemed as if corpses lay there, hidden only by 
 their winding sheets. Not the faintest rustle broke the profound 
 tranquillity of the solemn scene. Sound itself appeared to be 
 frozen up, all was so cold and still. 
 
 ' " It was the echoes," said Gabriel Grub, raising the bottle to his 
 lips again. 
 
 ' " It was nof," said a deep voice. 
 
 ' Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with astonish- 
 ment and terror ; for his eyes rested on a form that made his blood 
 run cold. 
 
 'Seated on an upright tombstone, close to him, was a strange 
 unearthly figure, whom Gabriel felt at once, was no being of this 
 world. His long fantastic legs which might have reached the 
 ground, were cocked up, and crossed after a quaint, fantastic 
 fashion ; his sinewy arms were bare ; and his hands rested on 
 his knees. On his short roimd body, he wore a close covering. 
 
336 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ornamented with small slashes ; a short cloak dangled at his back ; 
 the collar was cut into curious peaks, which served the goblin in 
 lieu of ruff or neckerchief ; and his shoes curled up at his toes into 
 long points. On his head, he wore a broad-brimmed sugar-loaf hat, 
 garnished with a single feather. The hat was covered with the 
 white frost ; and the goblin looked as if he had sat on the same 
 tombstone very comfortably, for two or three hundred years. He 
 was sitting perfectly still ; his tongue was put out, as if in derision ; 
 and he was grinning at Gabriel Grub with such a grin as only a 
 goblin could call up. 
 
 ' " It was not the echoes," said the goblin. 
 
 ' Gabriel Grub was paralysed, and could make no reply. 
 
 ' " What do you do here on Christmas Eve ? " said the goblin 
 sternly. 
 
 ' " I came to dig a grave, sir," stammered Gabriel Grub. 
 
 ' " What man wanders among graves and churchyards on such a 
 night as this ? " cried the goblin. 
 
 ' " Gabriel Grub ! Gabriel Grub ! " screamed a wild chorus of 
 voices that seemed to fill the churchyard. Gabriel looked fearfully 
 round — ^nothing was to be seen. 
 
 ' " What have you got in that bottle ? " said the goblin. 
 
 ' "Hollands, sir," replied the sexton, trembling more than ever, 
 for he had bought it of the smugglers, and he thought that perhaps 
 his questioner might be in the excise department of the goblins. 
 
 ' " Who drinks Hollands alone, and in a churchyard, on such a 
 night as this ? " said the goblin. 
 
 ' " Gabriel Grub ! Gabriel Grub ! " exclaimed the wild voices 
 again. 
 
 ' The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified sexton, and then 
 raising his voice, exclaimed : 
 
 ' " And who, then, is our fair and lawful prize ? " 
 
 'To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, in a strain that 
 sounded like the voices of many choristers singing to the mighty 
 swell of the old church organ — a strain that seemed borne to the 
 sexton's ears upon a wild wind, and to die away as it passed 
 onward ; but the burden of the reply was still the same, " Gabriel 
 Grub ! Gabriel Grub ! " 
 
 'The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, as he said, 
 " Well, Gabriel, what do you say to this ? " 
 
 ' The sexton gasped for breath. 
 
 ' " "What do you think of this, Gabriel ? " said the goblin, kicking 
 up his feet in the air on either side of the tombstone, and looking 
 at the turned-up points with as much complacency as if he had been 
 contemplating the most fashionable pair of Wellingtons in all Bond 
 Street. 
 
 " It's— it's— very curious, sir," replied the sexton, half dead with 
 
O^e- .-^'^^^ ^X.^^,^^ ^^;,^^^^ 
 
GABRIEL GRUB WANTED 337 
 
 fright ; " very curious, and very pretty, but I think I'll go back and 
 finish my work, sir, if you please." 
 
 ' " Work ! " said the goblin, " what work ? " 
 
 ' " The grave, sir ; making the grave," stammered the sexton. 
 
 ' " Oh, the grave, eh?" said the goblin ; "who makes graves at a 
 time when all other men are merry, and takes a pleasure in it ? " 
 
 ' Again the mysterious voices replied, " Gabriel Grub ! Gabriel 
 Grub ! " 
 
 ' " I'm afraid my friends want you, Gabriel," said the goblin, 
 thrusting his tongue further into his cheek than ever — and a most 
 astonishing tongue it was — " I'm afraid my friends want you, 
 Gabriel," said the goblin. 
 
 ' " Under favour, sir," replied the horror-stricken sexton, " I don't 
 think they can, sir ; they don't know me, sir ; I don't think the 
 gentlemen have ever seen me, sir." 
 
 ' " Oh yes they have," replied the goblin ; " we know the man 
 with the sulky face and grim scowl, that rame down the street 
 to-night, throwing his evil looks at the children, and grasping his 
 burying spade the tighter. We know the man who struck the boy 
 in the envious malice of his heart, because the boy could be merry, 
 and he could not. We know him, we know him." 
 
 ' Here, the goblin gave a loud shrill laugh, which the echoes 
 returned twenty-fold : and throwing his legs up in the air, stood 
 upon his head, or rather upon the very point of his sugar-loaf hat, 
 on the narrow edge of the tomb-stone : whence he threw a somerset 
 with extraordinary agility, right to the sexton's feet, at which he 
 planted himself in the attitude in which tailors generally sit upon 
 the shop-board. 
 
 ' " I — I — am afraid I must leave you, sir," said the sexton, 
 making an effort to move. 
 
 ' " Leave us ! " said the goblin, " Gabriel Grub going to leave us. 
 Ho ! ho ! ho ! " 
 
 ' As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed, for one instant, a 
 brilliant illumination within the windows of the church, as if the 
 whole building were lighted up ; it disappeared, the organ pealed 
 forth a lively air, and whole troops of goblins, the very counterpart 
 of the first one, poured into the church-yard, and began playing at 
 leap-frog with the tomb-stones : never stopping for an instant to take 
 breath, but " overing " the highest among them, one after the other, 
 with the utmost marvellous dexterity. The first goblin was a most 
 astonishing leaper, and none of the others could come near him ; 
 even in the extremity of his terror the sexton could not help observ- 
 ing, that while his friends were content to leap over the common- 
 sized gravestones, the first one took the family vaults, iron railings 
 and all, with as much ease as if they had been so many street posts. 
 
 * At last the game reached to a most exciting pitch ; the organ 
 
 z 
 
338 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 played quicker and quicker ; and the goblins leaped faster and 
 faster : coiling themselves up, rolling head over heels upon the 
 ground, and bounding over the tombstones like foot-balls. The 
 sexton's brain whirled round with the rapidity of the motion he beheld, 
 and his legs reeled beneath him, as the spirits flew before his eyes : 
 when the goblin king, suddenly darting towards him, laid his hand 
 upon his collar, and sank with him through the earth. 
 
 ' When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his breath, which the 
 rapidity of his descent had for the moment taken away, he found 
 himself in what appeared to be a large cavern, surrounded on all 
 sides by crowds of goblins, ugly and grimj in the centre of the 
 room, on an elevated seat, was stationed his friend of the church- 
 yard; and close beside him stood Gabriel Grub himself, without 
 power of motion. 
 
 ' " Cold to-night," said the king of the goblins, " very cold. A 
 glass of something warm, here ! " 
 
 ' At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, with a perpetual 
 smile upon their faces, whom Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers, 
 on that account, hastily disappeared, and presently returned with a 
 goblet of liquid fire, which they presented to the king. 
 
 ' " Ah ! " cried the goblin, whose cheeks and throat were trans- 
 parent, as he tossed down the flame, " This warms one, indeed ! 
 Bring a bumper of the same, for Mr. Grub." 
 
 ' It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest that he was 
 not in the habit of taking anything warm at night; one of the 
 goblins held him while another poured the blazing liquid down his 
 throat ; the whole assembly screeched with laughter as he coughed 
 and choked, and wiped away the tears which gushed plentifully 
 from his eyes, after swallowing the burning draught. 
 
 ' " And now," said the king, fantastically poking the taper comer 
 of his sugar-loaf hat into the sexton's eye, and thereby occasioning 
 him the most exquisite pain : ' And now, show the man of misery 
 and gloom, a few of the pictures from our own great storehouse ! " 
 
 'As the gobHn said this, a thick cloud which obscured the 
 remoter end of the cavern, rolled gradually away, and disclosed, 
 apparently at a great distance, a small and scantily furnished, but 
 neat and clean apartment. A crowd of little children were gathered 
 round a bright fire, clinging to their mother's gown, and gambolling 
 around her chair. The mother occasionally rose, and drew aside 
 the window-curtain, as if to look for some expected object : a frugal 
 meal was ready spread upon the table; and an elbow chair was 
 placed near the fire. A knock was heard at the door : the mother 
 opened it, and the children crowded round her, and clapped their 
 hands for joy, as their father entered. He was wet and weary, and 
 shook the snow from his garments, as the children crowded round 
 tlim, and seizing his cloak, hat, stick, and gloves, with busy zeal, ran 
 
AN EXHIBITION OF PICTURES 339 
 
 with them from the room. Then, as he sat down to his meal before 
 the fire, the children climbed about his knee, and the mother sat 
 by his side, and all seemed happiness and comfort. 
 
 ' But a change came upon the view, almost imperceptibly. 
 The scene was altered to a small bed-room, where the fairest and 
 youngest child lay dying ; the roses had fled from his cheek, and 
 the light from his eye ; and even as the sexton looked upon him 
 with an interest he had never felt or known before, he died. His 
 young brothers and sisters crowded round his little bed, and seized 
 his tiny hand, so cold and heavy ; but they shrunk back from its 
 touch, and looked with awe on his infant face; for calm and 
 tranquil as it was, and sleeping in rest and peace as the beautiful 
 child seemed to be, they saw that he was dead, and they knew that 
 he was an Angel looking down upon, and blessing them, from a 
 bright and happy Heaven. 
 
 'Again the light cloud passed across the picture, and again the 
 subject changed. The father and mother were old and helpless 
 now, and the number of those about them was diminished more 
 than half; but content and cheerfulness sat on every face, and 
 beamed in every eye, as they crowded round the fireside, and told 
 and listened to old stories of earlier and bygone days. Slowly and 
 peacefully, the father sank into the grave, and, soon after, the 
 sharer of all his cares and troubles followed him to a place of rest. 
 The few, who yet survived them, knelt by their tomb, and watered 
 the green turf which covered it, with their tears; then rose, and 
 turned away : sadly and mournfully, but not with bitter cries, or 
 despairing lamentations, for they knew that they should one day 
 meet again ; and once more they mixed with the busy world, and 
 their content and cheerfulness were restored. The cloud settled 
 upon the picture, and concealed it from the sexton's view. 
 
 ' " What do you think of that?" said the goblin, turning his large 
 face towards Gabriel Grub. 
 
 'Gabriel murmured out something about its being very pretty, 
 and looked somewhat ashamed, as the goblin bent his fiery eyes 
 upon him. 
 
 ' " You a miserable man ! " said the goblin, in a tone of excessive 
 contempt. " You ! " He appeared disposed to add more, but 
 indignation choked his utterance, so he lifted up one of his very 
 pliable legs, and flourishing it above his head a little, to insure his 
 aim, administered a good sound kick to Gabriel Grub ; immediately 
 after which, all the goblins in waiting, crowded round the wretched 
 sexton, and kicked him without mercy : according to the established 
 and invariable custom of courtiers upon earth, who kick whom 
 royalty kicks, and hug whom royalty hugs. 
 
 ' " Show him some more ! " said the king of the goblins. 
 
 ' At these words, the cloud was dispelled, and a rich and beautiful 
 
340 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 landscape was disclosed to view — there is just such another, to 
 this day, within half a mile of the old abbey town. The sun shone 
 from out the clear blue sky, the water sparkled beneath his rays, 
 and the trees looked greener, and the flowers more gay, beneath 
 his cheering influence. The water rippled on, with a pleasant 
 sound ; the trees rustled in the light wind that murmured among 
 their leaves ; the birds sang upon the boughs ; and the lark carolled 
 on high her welcome to the morning. Yes, it was morning; the 
 bright, balmy morning of summer ; the minutest leaf, the smallest 
 blade of grass, was instinct with life. The ant crept forth to her 
 daily toil, the butterfly fluttered and basked in the warm rays of 
 the sun; myriads of insects spread their transparent wings, and 
 revelled in their brief but happy existence. Man walked forth, 
 elated with the scene ; and all was brightness and splendour. 
 
 ' " You a miserable man ! " said the king of the goblins, in a 
 more contemptuous tone than before. And again the king of the 
 goblins gave his leg a flourish ; again it descended on the shoulders 
 of the sexton ; and again the attendant goblins imitated the example 
 of their chief. 
 
 ' Many a time the cloud went and came, and many a lesson it 
 taught to Gabriel Grub, who, although his shoulders smarted with 
 pain from the frequent applications of the goblin's feet, looked on 
 with an interest that nothing could diminish. He saw that men 
 who worked hard, and earned their scanty bread with lives of 
 labour, were cheerful and happy ; and that to the most ignorant, 
 the sweet face of nature was a never-failing source of cheerfulness 
 and joy. He saw those who had been delicately nurtured, and 
 tenderly brought up, cheerful under privations, and superior to 
 suffering that would have crushed many of a rougher grain, because 
 they bore within their own bosoms the materials of happiness, 
 contentment, and peace. He saw that women, the tenderest and 
 most fragile of all God's creatures, were the qftenest superior to 
 sorrow, adversity, and distress; and he saw that it was because 
 they bore, in their own hearts, an inexhaustible well-spring of 
 affection and devotion. Above all, he saw. that men like himself, 
 who snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness of others, were the 
 foulest weeds on the fair surface of the earth ; and setting all the 
 good of the world against the evil, he came to the conclusion that 
 it was a very decent and respectable sort of world after all. No 
 sooner had he formed it, than the cloud which closed over the 
 last picture, seemed to settle on his senses, and lull him to repose. 
 One by one, the goblins faded from his sight ; and as the last one 
 disappeared, he sunk to sleep. 
 
 'The day had broken when Gabriel Grub awoke, and found 
 himself lying, at full length on the flat grave-stone in the churchyard, 
 with the wicker bottle lying empty by his side, and his coat, spade, 
 
LIVE AND LEARN 341 
 
 and lantern, all well whitened by the last night's frost, scattered 
 on the ground. The stone on which he had first seen the goblin 
 seated, stood bolt npright before him, and the grave at which he 
 had worked, the night before, was not far off. At first, he began 
 to doubt the reality of his adventures, but the acute pain in his 
 shoulders when he attempted to rise, assured him that the kicking 
 of the goblins was certainly not ideal. He was staggered again, 
 by observing no traces of footsteps in the snow on which the 
 goblins had played at leap-frog with the grave-stones, but he 
 speedily accounted for this circumstance when he remembered 
 that, being spirits, they would leave no visible impression behind 
 them. So, -Gabriel Grub got on his feet as well as he could, for 
 the pain in his back ; and brushing the frost off his coat, put it on, 
 and turned his face towards the town. 
 
 ' But he was an altered man, and he could not bear the thought 
 of returning to a place where his repentance would be scoifed at, 
 and his reformation disbelieved. He hesitated for a few moments ; 
 and then turned away to wander where he might, and seek his 
 bread elsewhere. 
 
 ' The lantern, the spade, and the wicker bottle, were found, that 
 day, in the churchyard. There were a great many speculations 
 about the sexton's fate, at first, but it was speedily determined that 
 he had been carried away by the goblins; and there were not 
 wanting some very credible witnesses who had distinctly seen him 
 whisked through the air on the back of a chestnut horse blind of 
 one eye, with the hindquarters of a lion, and the tail of a bear. At 
 length all this was devoutly believed ; and the new sexton used to 
 exhibit to the curious, for a trifling emolument, a good-sized piece 
 of the church weathercock which had been accidentally kicked off 
 by the aforesaid horse in his aerial flight, and picked up by himself 
 in the churchyard, a year or two afterwards; 
 
 ' Unfortunately, these stories were somewhat disturbed by the 
 unlooked-for re-appearance of Gabriel Grub himself, some ten years 
 afterwards, a ragged, contented, rheumatic old man. He told his 
 story to the clergyman, and also to the mayor ; and in course of 
 time it began to be received, as a matter of history, in which form 
 it has continued down to this very day. The believers in the 
 weathercock tale, having misplaced their confidence once, were not 
 easily prevailed upon to part with it again, so they looked as wise 
 as they could, shrugged their shoulders, touched their foreheads, 
 and murmured something about Gabriel Grub having drunk all the 
 Hollands, and then fallen asleep on the flat tombstone ; and they 
 affected to explain what he supposed he had witnessed in the 
 goblin's cavern, by saying that he had seen the world, and grown 
 wiser. But this opinion, which was by no means a popular one at 
 any time, gradually died off; and be the matter how it may, as 
 
342 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Gabriel Grub was afflicted with rheumatism to the end of his days, 
 this story has at least one moral, if it teach no better one — and that 
 is, that if a man turn sulky and drink by himself at Christmas time, 
 he may make up his mind to be not a bit the better for it : let the 
 spirits be never so good, or let them be even as many degrees 
 beyond proof, as those which Gabriel Grub saw in the goblin's 
 cavern.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 HOW THE PICKWICKIANS MADE AND CULTIVATED THE ACQUAINT- 
 ANCE OF A COUPLE OF NICE YOUNG MEN BELONGING TO ONE 
 OF THE LIBERAL PROFESSIONS; HOW THEY DISPORTED THEM- 
 SELVES ON THE ice; and HOW THEIR FIRST VISIT CAME TO 
 A CONCLUSION 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick as that favoured servitor entered 
 his bed-chamber with his warm water, on the morning of Christmas 
 Day, ' Still frosty ? ' 
 
 ' Water in the wash-hand basin's a mask o' ice, sir,' responded 
 Sam. 
 
 ' Severe weather, Sam,' observed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as the Polar Bear 
 said to himself, ven he was practising his skating,' replied Mr. 
 Weller. 
 
 ' I shall be down in a quarter of an hour, Sam,' said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, untying his nightcap. 
 
 ' Wery good, sir,' replied Sam. ' There's a couple o' Sawbones 
 down stairs.' 
 
 ' A couple of what ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sitting up in bed. 
 
 ' A couple o' Sawbones,' said Sam. 
 
 ' What's a Sawbones ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, not quite certain 
 whether it was a live animal, or something to eat. 
 
 ' What ! Don't you know what a Sawbones is, sir ? ' inquired 
 Mr. Weller. ' I thought everybody know'd as a Sawbones was a 
 Surgeon.' 
 
 ' Oh, a Surgeon, eh ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 
 
 ' Just that, sir,' replied Sam. ' These here ones as is below, 
 though, aint reg'lar thorough-bred -Sawbones; they're only in 
 trainin'.' 
 
 ' In other words they're Medical Students, I suppose ? ' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 Sam Weller nodded assent. 
 
 •I am glad of it,' said Mr. Pickwick, castmg his nightcap 
 
MR. BOB SAWYER 343 
 
 energetically on the counterpane, ' They are fine fellows ; very 
 fine fellows ; with judgments matured by observation and reflec- 
 tion ; tastes refined by reading and study. I am very glad of it.' 
 
 ' They're a smokin' cigars by the kitchen fire,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' observed Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands, ' overflowing 
 with kindly feelings and animal spirits. Just what I like to see.' 
 
 ' And one on 'em,' said Sam, not noticing his master's interruption, 
 ' one on 'em's got his legs on the table, and is a drinkin' brandy 
 neat, vile the t'other one — him in the barnacles — has got a barrel o' 
 oysters atween his knees, wich he's a openin' like steam, and as fast 
 as he eats 'em, he takes a aim vith the shells at young dropsy, who's 
 a sittin' down fast asleep, in the chimbley corner.' 
 
 ' Eccentricities of genius, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' You may 
 retire.' 
 
 Sam did retire accordingly ; Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of 
 the quarter of an hour, went down to breakfast. 
 
 ' Here he is at last ! ' said old Mr. Wardle. ' Pickwick, this is 
 Miss Allen's brother, Mr. Benjamin Allen. Ben we call him, and 
 so may you if you like. This gentleman is his very particular 
 friend, Mr. ' 
 
 ' Mr. Bob Sawyer,' interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen ; whereupon 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen laughed in concert. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bowed to Bob Sawyer, and Bob Sawyer bowed to 
 Mr. Pickwick ; Bob and his very particular friend then applied 
 themselves most assiduously to the eatables before them ; and Mr. 
 Pickwick had an opportunity of glancing at them both. 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen was a coarse, stout, thick-set young man, 
 
 with black hair cut rather short, and a white face cut rather long. 
 
 He was embellished with spectacles, and wore a white neckerchief. 
 
 Below his single-breasted black surtout, which was buttoned up to 
 
 his chin, appeared the usual number of pepper-and-salt coloured 
 
 legs, terminating in a pair of imperfectly polished boots. Although 
 
 his coat was short in the sleeves, it disclosed no vestage of a linen 
 
 wristband ; and although there was quite enough of his face to 
 
 admit of the encroachment of a shirt collar, it was not graced by 
 
 the smallest approach to that appendage. He presented, altogether, 
 
 rather a mildewy appearance, and emitted a fragrant odour of 
 
 full-flavoured Cubas. 
 
 f Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was habited in a coarse blue coat, which, 
 
 without being either a great-coat or a surtout, partook of the nature 
 
 and qualities of both, had about him that sort of slovenly smartness, 
 
 and swaggering gait, which is peculiar to young gentlemen who 
 
 I smoke in the streets by day, shout and scream in the same by night, 
 
 'call waiters by their Christian names, and do various other acts and 
 
 / deeds of an equally facetious description. He wore a pair of plaid 
 
 trousers, and a large rough double-breasted waistcoat ; out of doors, 
 
344 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 he carried a thick stick with a big top. He eschewed gloves, and 
 looked, upon the whole, something like a dissipated Robinson 
 Crusoe. 
 
 Such were the two worthies to whom Mr. Pickwick was introduced, 
 as he took his seat at the breakfast table on Christmas morning. 
 
 ' Splendid morning, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer slightly nodded his assent to the proposition, 
 and asked Mr. Benjamin Allen for the mustard. 
 
 ' Have you come far this morning, gentlemen ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Blue Lion at Muggleton,' briefly responded Mr. Allen. 
 
 ' You should have joined us last night,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' So we should,' replied Bob Sawyer, ' but the brandy was too 
 good to leave in a hurry : wasn't it, Ben ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen ; ' and the cigars were not 
 bad, or the pork chops either : were they, Bob ? ' 
 
 ' Decidedly not,' said Bob. The particular friends resumed 
 their attack upon the breakfast, more freely than before, as if the 
 recollection of last night's supper had imparted a new relish to 
 the meal. 
 
 ' Peg away, Bob,' said Mr. Allen to his companion, encouragingly. 
 
 'So I do,' replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do him justice, 
 he did. 
 
 ' Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appetite,' said Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer, looking round the table. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick slightly shuddered. 
 
 ' By the bye, Bob,' said Mr. Allen, 'have you finished that leg 
 yet?' 
 
 ' Nearly,' replied Sawyer, helping himself to half a fowl as he 
 spoke. ' It's a very muscular one for a child's.' - 
 
 ' Is it ? ' inquired Mr. Allen, carelessly. 
 
 ' Very,' said Bob Sawyer, with his mouth full. 
 
 ' I've put my name down for an arm, at our place,' said Mr. 
 Allen. ' We're clubbing for a subject, and the list is nearly fuD, 
 only we can't get hold of any fellow that wants a head. I wish 
 you'd take it.' 
 
 ' No,' replied Bob Sawyer ; ' can't afford expensive luxuries.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! ' said Allen. 
 
 ' Can't indeed,' rejoined Bob Sawyer. ' I wouldn't mind a brain 
 but I couldn't stand a whole head.' 
 
 'Hush, hush, gentlemen, pray,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I hear the 
 ladies.' 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick spoke, the ladies, gallantly escorted by Messrs. 
 Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, returned from an early walk. 
 
 ' Why, Ben ! ' said Arabella, in a tone which expressed more 
 surprise than pleasure at the sight of her brother. 
 
ARABELLA AND HER BROTHER 345 
 
 " Come to take you home to-morrow,' replied Benjamin. 
 
 Mr. Winkle turned pale. 
 
 ' Don't you see Bob Sawyer, Arabella ? ' inquired Mr. Benjamin 
 
 Allen, somewhat reproachfully. Arabella gracefully held out her 
 
 hand, in acknowledgement of Bob Sawyer's presence. A thrill of 
 
 hatred struck to Mr. Winkle's heart, as Bob Sawyer inflicted on the 
 
 . proffered hand a perceptible squeeze. 
 
 ' Ben, dear ! ' said Arabella, blushing ; ' have^ — have — you been 
 introduced to Mr. Winkle ? ' 
 
 ' I have not been, but I shall be very happy to be, Arabella,' 
 replied her brother gravely. Here Mr. Allen bowed grimly to Mr. 
 Winkle, while Mr. Winkle and Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced mutual 
 distrust out of the comers of their eyes. 
 
 The arrival of the two new visitors, and the consequent check 
 upon Mr. Winkle and the young lady with the fur round her boots, 
 would in all probability have proved a very unpleasant interruption 
 to the hilarity of the party, had not the cheerfulness of Mr. Pick- 
 wick, and the good humour of the host, been exerted to the very 
 utmost for the common weal. Mr. Winkle gradually insinuated 
 himself into the good graces of Mr. Benjamin Allen, and eveni 
 joined in a friendly conversation with Mr. Bob Sawyer; who, 
 enlivened with the brandy, and the breakfast, and the talking, 1 
 gradually ripened into a state of extreme facetiousness, and related 1 
 with much glee an agreeable anecdote, about the removal of a 
 tumour on some gentleman's head : which he illustrated by means 
 of an oyster-knife and a half-quartern loaf, to the great edification of 
 the assembled company. Then, the whole train went to church, 
 where Mr. Benjamin Allen fell fast asleep : while Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 abstracted his thoughts from worldly matters, by the ingenious 
 process of carving his name on the seat of the pew, in corpulent \ 
 letters of four inches long. 
 
 ' Now,' said Wardle, after a substantial lunch, with the agreeable 
 items of strong-beer and cherry-brandy, had been done ample 
 justice to j ' what say you to an hour on the ice ? We shall have 
 plenty of time.' 
 
 ' Capital ! ' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Prime ! ' ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' You skate, of course, Winkle ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 ' Ye-yes j oh, yes,' replied Mr. Winkle. ' I — I — am rather out of 
 practice.' 
 
 ' Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle,' said Arabella. ' I like to see it so much.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is so graceful,' said another young lady. 
 
 A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed 
 her opinion that it was ' swan-like.' 
 
 ' I should be very happy, I'm sure,' said Mr. Winkle, reddening 3 
 ' but I have no skates.' 
 
346 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of 
 pair, and the fat boy announced that there were half-a-dozen more 
 down stairs : whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and 
 looked exquisitely uncomfortable. 
 
 Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice ; and the 
 fat boy and Mr. Weller, having shovelled and swept away the snow 
 which had fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted 
 his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly 
 marvellous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of 
 eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, 
 a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive 
 satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies : which 
 reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm, when old Wardle and 
 Benjamin Allen, assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed 
 some mystic evolutions, which they called a reel. 
 
 All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the 
 cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting 
 his skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a 
 very complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. 
 Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At 
 length, however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate 
 skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was 
 raised to his feet. 
 
 ' Now, then, sir,' said Sam, in an encouraging tone ; ' off vith 
 you, and show 'em how to do it' 
 
 ' Stop, Sam, stop ! ' said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and 
 clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. 
 ' How slippery it is, Sam ! ' 
 
 'Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 ' Hold up, sir ! ' 
 
 This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a demon- 
 stration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to 
 throw his feet in the air, and dash the back of his head on the ice. 
 
 ' These — these — are very awkward skates ; ain't they, Sam ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. 
 
 ' I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Now, Winkle,' cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there 
 was anything the matter. ' Come ; the ladies are all anxiety.' 
 
 'Yes, yes,' replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. 'I'm 
 coming.' 
 
 ' Just a goin' to begin,' said Sam, endeavouring to disengage 
 himself. ' Now, sir, start off ! ' 
 
 ' Stop an instant, Sam,' gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most affec- 
 tionately to Mr. Weller. ' I find I've got a couple of coats at home 
 that I don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam.' 
 
 ' Thank'ee, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
MR. WINKLE ON SKATES 347 
 
 ' Never mind touching your hat, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle, hastily. 
 ' You needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have 
 given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll 
 give it you this afternoon, Sam.' 
 
 ' You're wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 'Just hold me at first, Sam; will you?' said Mr. Winkle. 
 ' There — that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not 
 too fast, Sam ; not too fast.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was 
 being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and 
 un-swan-like manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted 
 from the opposite bank : 
 
 ' Sam ! ' 
 
 'Sir?' 
 
 ' Here. I want you.' 
 
 ' Let go, sir,' said Sam, ' Don't you hear the governor a callin' ? 
 Let go, sir.' 
 
 With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the 
 grasp of the agonised Pickwickian, and, in so doing, administered a 
 considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy 
 which no degree of dexterity or practice could have insured, that 
 unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, 
 at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish 
 of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and 
 with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to 
 the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far 
 too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He was seated on 
 the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; but anguish was depicted 
 on every lineament of his countenance. 
 
 ' Are you hurt ? ' inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great 
 anxiety. 
 
 ' Not much,' said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard. 
 
 ' I wish you'd let me bleed you,' said Mr. Benjamin, with great 
 eagerness. 
 
 ' No, thank you,' replied Mr. Winkle hurriedly. 
 
 ' I really think you had better,' said Allen. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Mr. Winkle ; ' I'd rather not.' 
 
 ' What do you think, Mr. Pickwick ? ' inquired Bob Sawyer. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. 
 Weller, and said in a stern voice, ' Take his skates off.' 
 
 ' No ; but really I had scarcely begun,' remonstrated Mr. Winkle, 
 
 ' Take his skates off,' repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly. 
 
 The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam 
 to obey it in silence. 
 
 ' Lift him up,' said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise. 
 
 Mr, Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the by-standers ; 
 
348 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon 
 him, and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these 
 remarkable words : 
 
 ' You're a humbug, sir.' 
 
 ' A what ? ' said Mr. Winkle, starting. 
 
 'A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An 
 impostor, sir.' 
 
 With those words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and 
 rejoined his friends. 
 
 While Mr. Pickwick was delivering hiniself of the sentiment just 
 recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by their joint 
 endeavours cut out a slide, were exercising themselves thereupon, 
 in a very masterly and brilliant manner. Sam Weller, in particular, 
 was displaying that beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently 
 denominated ' knocking at the cobbler's door,' and which is achieved 
 by skimming over the ice on one foot, and occasionally giving a 
 postman's knock upon it with the other. It was a good long slide, 
 and there was something in the motion which Mr. Pickwick, who 
 was very cold with standing still, could not help envying. 
 
 ' It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it ? ' he inquired of 
 Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly out of breath, by 
 reason of the indefatigable manner in which he had converted his 
 legs into a pair of compasses, and drawn complicated problems on 
 the ice. 
 
 ' Ah, it does indeed,' replied Wardle. ' Do you slide ? ' 
 
 ' I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy,' replied Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' Try it now,' said Wardle. 
 
 ' Oh do please, Mr. Pickwick ! ' cried all the ladies. 
 
 ' I should be very happy to afford you any amusement,' replied 
 Mr. Pickwick, ' but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years.' 
 
 ' Pooh ! pooh ! Nonsense ! ' said Wardle, dragging off his skates 
 with the impetuosity which characterised all his proceedings. 
 ' Here ; I'll keep you company ; come along ! ' And away went 
 the good tempered old fellow down the slide, with a rapidity which 
 came very close upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to 
 nothing. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled ofif his gloves and put 
 them in his hat : took two or three short runs, baulked himself as 
 often, and at last took another run, and went slowly and gravely 
 down the slide, with his feet about a yard and a quarter apart, 
 amidst the gratified shouts of all the spectators. 
 
 ' Keep the pot a bilin', sir ! ' said Sam ; and down went Wardle 
 again, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, 
 and then Mr. Bob Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. 
 Snodgrass, following closely upon each other's heels, and running 
 

A CATASTROPHE 349 
 
 after each other with as much eagerness as if all their future 
 prospects in life depended on their expedition. 
 
 It was the most intensely interesting thing, to observe the manner 
 in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in the ceremony; to 
 watch the torture of anxiety with which he viewed the person 
 behind, gaining upon him at the imminent hazard of tripping him 
 up ; to see him gradually expend the painful force he had put on at 
 first, and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face towards the 
 point from which he had started ; to contemplate the playful smile 
 which mantled on his face when he had accomplished the distance, 
 and the eagerness with which he turned round when he had done 
 so, and ran after his predecessor : his black gaiters tripping 
 pleasantly through the snow, and his eyes beaming cheerfulness and 
 gladness through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down 
 (which happened upon the average every third round), it was the 
 most invigorating sight that can possibly be imagined, to behold 
 him gather up his hat, gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing 
 countenance, and resume his station in the rank, with an ardour 
 and enthusiasm that nothing could abate. 
 
 The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest, the 
 laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp smart crack was heard. 
 There was a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream from the 
 ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disap)- 
 peared ; the water bubbled up over it ; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, 
 and handkerchief were floating on the surface ; and this was all of 
 Mr. Pickwick that anybody could see. 
 
 Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance, the 
 males turned pale, and the females fainted, Mr.* Snodgrass and Mr. 
 Winkle grasped each other by the hand, and gazed at the spot 
 where their leader had gone down, with frenzied eagerness : while 
 Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering the promptest assistance, and at 
 the same time conveying to any persons who might be within hear- 
 ing, the clearest possible notion of the catastrophe, ran off across the 
 country at his utmost speed, screaming ' Fire ! ' with all his might. 
 
 It was at this moment, when old Wardle and Sam Weller were ^ 
 approaching the hole with cautious steps, and Mr. Benjamin Allen 
 was holding a hurried consultation with Mr. Bob Sawyer, on the 
 advisability of bleeding the company generally, as an improving 
 little bit of professional practice — ^it was at this very moment, that a \ 
 face, head, and shoulders, emerged from beneath the water, and 
 disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Keep yourself tip for an instant — for only one instant ! ' bawled 
 Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Yes, do ; let me implore you — for my sake ! ' roared Mr. 
 Winkle, deeply affected. The adjuration was rather unnecessary ; 
 the probability being, that if Mr. Pickwick had declined to keep 
 
35° THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 himself up for anybody else's sake, it would have occurred to him 
 that he might as well do so, for his own. 
 
 ' Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 'Yes, certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the water from 
 his head and face, and gasping for breath. ' I fell upon my back. 
 I couldn't get on my feet at first.' 
 
 The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet visible, 
 bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement ; and as the fears 
 of the spectators were still further relieved by the fat boy's suddenly 
 recollecting that the water was nowhere more than five feet deep, 
 prodigies of valour were performed to get him out. After a vast 
 quantity of splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick 
 was at length fairly extricated from his unpleasant position, and 
 once more stood on dry land. 
 
 ' Oh, he'll catch his death of cold,' said Emily. 
 
 ' Dear old thing ! ' said Arabella. ' Let me wrap this shawl round 
 you, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' Ah, that's the best thing you can do,' said Wardle ; ' and when 
 you've got it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and 
 jump into bed directly.' 
 
 A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of the 
 thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and 
 started off, under the guidance of Mr. Waller : presenting the 
 singular phenomenon of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and 
 without a hat, with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming 
 over the ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the rate of 
 six good English miles an hour. 
 
 But Mr. Pickwickr cared not for appearances in such an extreme 
 case, and urged on by Sam Weller, he kept at the very top .of his 
 speed until he reached the door of Manor Farm, where Mr. Tupman 
 had arrived some five minutes before, and had frightened the old 
 lady into palpitations of the heart by impressing her with the un- 
 alterable conviction that the kitchen chimney was on fire— a 
 calamity which always presented itself in glowing colours to the 
 old lady's mind, when anybody about her evinced the smallest 
 agitation. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he was snug in bed. 
 Sam Weller lighted a blazing fire in the room, and took up his 
 dinner ; a bowl of punch was carried up afterwards, and a grand 
 carouse held in honour of his safety. Old Wardle would not hear 
 of his rising, so they made the bed the chair, and Mr. Pickwick 
 presided. A second and a third bowl were ordered in ; and when 
 Mr. Pickwick awoke next morning, there was not a symptom of 
 rheumatism about him : which proves, as Mr. Bob Sawyer very 
 justly observed, that there is nothing like hot punch in such cases : 
 and that if ever hot punch did fail to act as a preventive, it was 
 
THE JOVIAL PARTY BREAKS UP 351 
 
 merely because the patient fell into the vulgar error of not taking 
 enough of it. 
 
 The jovial party broke up next morning. Breakings up are 
 capital things in our school days, but in after life they are painful 
 enough. Death, self-interest, and fortune's changes, are every day 
 breaking up many a happy group, and scattering them far and wide ; 
 and the boys and girls never come back again. We do not mean 
 to say that it was exactly the case in this particular instance ; all we 
 wish to inform the reader is, that the different members of the party 
 dispersed to their several homes ; that Mr. Pickwick and his friends 
 once more took their seats on the top of the Muggleton coach ; and 
 that Arabella Allen repaired to her place of destination, wherever 
 it might have been — we dare say Mr. Winkle knew, but we con- 
 fess we don't — under the care and guardianship of her brother 
 Benjamin, and his most intimate and particular friend, Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer. 
 
 Before they separated, however, that gentleman and Mr. Benja- ] 
 min Allen drew Mr. Pickwick aside with an air of some mystery : 
 and Mr. Bob Sawyer thrusting his forefinger between two of Mr. 
 Pickwick's ribs, and thereby displaying his native drollery, and his 
 knowledge of the anatomy of the human frame, at one and the 
 same time, inquired : 
 
 ' I say, old boy, where do you hang out ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick replied that he was at present suspended at the 
 George and Vulture. 
 
 ' I wish you'd come and see me,' said Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Nothing would give me greater pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' There's my lodgings,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, producing a card. 
 ' Lant Street, Borough ; it's near Guy's, and handy for me, you 
 know. Little distance after you've passed Saint George's Church — 
 turns out of the High Street on the right hand side the way.' 
 
 ' I shall find it,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Come on Thursday fortnight, and bring the other chaps with 
 you,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, ' I'm going to have a few medical 
 fellows that night.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick expressed the pleasure it would afford him to meet 
 the medical fellows ; and after Mr. Bob Sawyer had informed him 
 that he meant to be very cosey, and that his friend Ben was to be 
 one of the party, they shook hands and separated. 
 
 We feel that in this place we lay ourself open to the inquiry 
 whether Mr. Winkle was whispering, during this brief conversation, 
 to Arabella Allen ; and if so, what he said ; and furthermore, 
 whether Mr. Snodgrass was conversing apart with Emily Wardle ; 
 and if so, what Ae said. To this, we reply, that whatever they 
 might have said to the ladies, they said nothing at all to Mr. Pick- 
 wick or Mr. Tupman for eight-and-twenty miles, and that they 
 
352 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 sighed very often, refused ale and brandy, and looked gloomy. If 
 our observant lady readers can deduce any satisfactory inferences 
 from these facts, we beg them by all means to do so. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 WHICH IS ALL ABOUT THE LAW, AND SUNDRY GREAT AUTHORITIES 
 LEARNED THEREIN 
 
 Scattered about, in various holes and corners of the Temple, are 
 certain dark and dirty chambers, in and out of which, all the 
 morning in Vacation, and half the evening too in Term time, there 
 may be seen constantly hurrying with bundles of papers under their 
 arms, and protruding from their pockets, an almost uninterrupted 
 succession of Lawyers' Clerks. There are several grades of Lawyers' 
 Clerks. There is the Articled Clerk, who has paid a premium, and 
 is an attorney in perspective, who runs a tailor's bill, receives invita- 
 tions to parties, knows a family in Gower Street, and another in 
 Tavistock Square : who goes out of town every Long Vacation to 
 see his father, who keeps live horses innumerable ; and who is, in 
 short, the very aristocrat of clerks. There is the salaried clerk — 
 out of door, or in door, as the case may be — who devotes the major 
 part of his thirty shillings a week to his personal pleasure and 
 adornment, repairs half-price to the Adelphi Theatre at least three 
 times a week, dissipates majestically at the cider cellars afterwards, 
 and is a dirty caricature of the fashion which expired six months 
 ago. There is the middle-aged copying clerk, with a large family, 
 who is always shabby, and often drunk. And there are the office 
 lads in their first surtouts, who feel a befitting contempt for boys at 
 day-schools : club as they go home at night, for saveloys and porter : 
 and think there's nothing like ' life.' There are varieties of the 
 genus, too numerous to recapitulate, but however numerous they 
 may be, they are all to be seen, at certain regulated business hours, 
 hurrying to and from the places we have just mentioned. 
 
 These sequestered nooks are the public offices of the legal pro- 
 fession, where writs are issued, judgments signed, declarations filed, 
 and numerous other ingenious machines put in motion for the 
 torture and torment of His Majesty's liege subjects, and the comfort 
 and emolument of the practitioners of the law. They are, for the 
 most part, low-roofed, mouldy rooms, where innumerable rolls of 
 parchment, which have been perspiring in secret for the last century, 
 send forth an agreeable odour, which is mingled by day with the 
 scent of the dry rot, and by night with the various exhalations 
 
MR. JACKSON ON BUSINESS 353 
 
 which arise from damp cloaks, festering umbrellas, and the coarsest 
 tallow candles. 
 
 About half-past seven o'clock in the evening, some ten days or 
 a fortnight after Mr. Pickwick and his friends returned to London, 
 there hurried into one of these ofifices, an individual in a brown 
 coat and brass buttons, whose Jong hair was scrupulously twisted 
 round the rim of his napless hat, and whose soiled drab trousers 
 were so tightly strapped over his Blucher boots, that his knees 
 threatened every moment to start from their concealment. He 
 produced from his coat pockets a long and narrow strip of parch- 
 ment, on which the presiding functionary impressed an illegible 
 black stamp. He then drew forth four scraps of paper, of similar 
 dimensions, each containing a printed copy of the strip of parch- 
 ment with blanks for a name ; and having filled up the blanks, put 
 all the five documents in his pocket, and hurried away. 
 
 The man in the brown coat, with the cabalistic documents in his 
 pocket, was no other than our old acquaintance Mr. Jackson, of the 
 house of Dodson and Fogg, Freeman's Court, Cornhill. Instead of 
 returning to the office from whence he came, however, he bent his 
 steps direct to Sun Court, and walking straight into the George and 
 Vulture, demanded to know whether one Mr. Pickwick was within. 
 
 ' Call Mr. Pickwick's servant, Tom,' said the barmaid of the 
 George and Vulture. 
 
 ' Don't trouble yourself,' said Mr. Jackson, ' I've come on business. 
 If you'll show me Mr. Pickwick's room I'll step up myself.' 
 
 ' What name, sir ? ' said the waiter. 
 
 ' Jackson,' replied the clerk. 
 
 The waiter stepped up stairs to announce Mr. Jackson ; but Mr. 
 Jackson saved him the trouble by following close at his heels, and 
 walking into the apartment before he could articulate a syllable. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had, that day, invited his three friends to dinner ; 
 they were all seated round the fire, drinking their wine, when Mr. 
 Jackson presented himself, as above described. 
 
 ' How de do, sir ? ' said Mr. Jackson, nodding to Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 That gentleman bowed, and looked somewhat surprised, for the 
 physiognomy of Mr. Jackson dwelt not in his recollection. 
 
 ' I have called from Dodson and Fogg's,' said Mr. Jackson, in 
 an explanatory tone. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick roused at the name. ' I refer jou to my attorney, 
 sir: Mr. Perker, of Gray's Inn,' said he. 'Waiter, show this 
 gentleman out.' 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick,' said Jackson, deliberately 
 depositing his hat on the floor, and drawing from his pocket the 
 strip of parchment. ' But personal service, by clerk or agent, in 
 these cases, you know, Mr. Pickwick — nothing like caution, sir, in 
 all legal forms ? ' 
 
 2 A 
 
354 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Here Mr. Jackson cast his eye on the parchment ; and, resting 
 his hands on the table, and looking round with a winning and per- 
 suasive smile, said : ' Now, come ; don't let's have no words about 
 such a little matter as this. Which of you gentlemen's name's 
 Snodgrass ? ' 
 
 At this inquiry Mr. Snodgrass gave such a very undisguised and 
 palpable start, that no further reply was needed. 
 
 ' Ah ! I thought so,' said Mr. Jackson, more affably than before. 
 ' I've got a little something to trouble you with, sir.' 
 
 ' Me ! ' exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' It's only a subpcena in Bardell and Pickwick on behalf of the 
 plaintiff,' replied Jackson, singling out one of the slips of paper, and 
 producing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket. ' It'll come on, in 
 the settens after Term ; fourteenth of Febooary, we expect ; we've 
 marked it a special jury cause, and it's only ten down the paper. 
 That's yours, Mr. Snodgrass.' As Jackson said this he presented 
 the parchment before the eyes of Mr. Snodgrass, and slipped the 
 paper and the shilling into his hand. 
 
 Mr. Tupman had witnessed this process in silent astonishment, 
 when Jackson, turning sharply upon him, said : 
 
 ' I think I ain't mistaken when I say your name's Tupman, am I ? ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked at Mr. Pickwick ; but, perceiving no 
 encouragement in that gentleman's widely-opened eyes to deny his 
 name, said : 
 
 ' Yes, my name is Tupman, sir.' 
 
 ' And that other gentleman's Mr. Winkle, I think ? ' said Jackson. 
 
 Mr. Winkle faltered out a reply in the afiSrmative; and both 
 gentlemen were forthwith invested with a slip of paper, and a 
 shilling each, by the dexterous Mr. Jackson. 
 
 ' Now,' said Jackson, ' I'm afraid you'll think me rather trouble- 
 some, but I want somebody else, if it ain't inconvenient. I have 
 Samuel Weller's name here, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' Send my servant here, waiter,' said Mr . Pickwick. The waiter 
 retired, considerably astonished, and Mr. Pickwick motioned 
 Jackson to a seat. 
 
 There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by the 
 innocent defendant. 
 
 ' I suppose, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, his indignation rising while 
 he spoke ; ' I suppose, sir, that it is the intention of your employers 
 to seek to criminate me upon the testimony of my own friends ? ' 
 
 Mr. Jackson struck his forefinger several times against the left 
 side of his nose, to intimate that he was not there to disclose the 
 secrets of the prison-house, and playfully rejoined : 
 
 ' Not knowin', can't say.' 
 
 ' For what other reason, sir,' pursued Mr. Pickwick, ' are these 
 subpoenas served upon them, if not for this ? ' 
 
LEGAL SERVICE 355 
 
 ' Very good plant, Mr. Pickwick,' replied Jackson, slowly shaking 
 his head. ' But it won't do. No harm in trying, but there's little 
 to be got out of me.' 
 
 Here Mr. Jackson smiled once more upon the company, and, 
 applying his left thumb to the tip of his nose, worked a visionary 
 coffee-mill with his right hand : thereby performing a very graceful 
 piece of pantomime (then much in vogue, but now, unhappily, 
 almost obsolete) which was familiarly denominated ' taking a 
 grinder.' 
 
 ' No, no, Mr. Pickwick,' said Jackson, in conclusion ; ' Perker's 
 people must guess what we've served these subpoenas for. If they 
 can't, they must wait till the action comes on, and then they'll find 
 out.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bestowed a look of excessive disgust on his un- 
 welcome visitor, and would probably have hurled some tremendous 
 anathema at the heads of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, had not Sam's 
 entrance at the instant interrupted him. 
 
 ' Samuel Weller ? ' said Mr. Jackson, inquiringly. 
 
 ' Vun o' the truest things as you've said for many a long year,' 
 replied Sam, in a most composed manner. 
 
 ' Here's a subpoena for you, Mr. Weller,' said Jackson. 
 
 ' What's that in English ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Here's the original,' said Jackson, declining the required expla- 
 nation. 
 
 ' Which ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' This,' replied Jackson, shaking the parchment. 
 
 ' Oh, that's the 'rig'nal, is it ? ' said Sam. ' Well, I'm wery glad 
 I've seen the 'rig'nal, cos it's a gratifyin' sort 0' thing, and eases 
 vun's mind so much.' 
 
 ' And here's the shilling,' said Jackson. ' It's from Dodson and 
 Fogg's.' 
 
 ' And it's uncommon handsome o' Dodson and Fogg, as knows 
 so little of me, to come down vith a present,' said Sam. ' I feel it 
 as a wery high compliment, sir ; it's a wery hon'rable thing to them, 
 as they knows how to reward merit werever they meets it. Besides 
 wich, it's affectin' to one's feelin's.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller said this, he inflicted a httle friction on his right 
 eye-lid, with the sleeve of his coat, after the most approved manner 
 of actors when they are in domestic pathetics. 
 
 Mr. Jackson seemed rather puzzled by Sam's proceedings ; but, 
 as he had served the subpoenas, and had nothing more to say, he 
 made a feint of putting on the one glove which he usually carried 
 in his hand, for the sai;e of appearances ; and returned to the office 
 to report progress. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick slept litde that night ; his memory had received a 
 very disagreeable refresher on the subject of Mrs. Bardell's action. 
 
356 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 He breakfasted betimes next morning, and, desiring Sam to accom- 
 pany him, set forth towards Gray's Inn Square. 
 
 ' Sam ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking round, when they got to the 
 end of Clieapside. 
 
 ' Sir ? ' said Sam, stepping up to his master. 
 
 ' Which way ? ' 
 
 ' Up Newgate Street.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick did not turn round immediately, but looked 
 vacantly in Sam's face for a few seconds, and heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 ' What's the matter, sir ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' This action, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' is expected to come on, 
 on the fourteenth of next month.' 
 
 ' Remarkable coin^dence that 'ere, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Why remarkable, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Walentine's day, sir,' responded Sam ; ' reg'lar good day for a 
 breach o' promise trial.' 
 
 Mr. Weller's smile awakened no gleam of mirth in his master's 
 countenance. Mr. Pickwick turned abruptly round, and led the 
 way in silence. 
 
 They had walked some distance : Mr. Pickwick trotting on before, 
 plunged in profound meditation, and Sam following behind, with a 
 countenance expressive of the most enviable and easy defiance of 
 everything and everybody : when the latter, who was always espe- 
 cially anxious to impart to his master any exclusive information he 
 possessed, quickened his pace until he was close at Mr. Pickwick's 
 heels ; and, pointing up at a house they were passing, said ; 
 
 ' Wery nice pork-shop that 'ere, sir.' 
 
 ' Yes, it seems so,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Celebrated Sassage factory,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Is it ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Is it ! ' reiterated Sam, with some indignation ; ' I should 
 rayther think it was. Why, sir, bless your irmocent eyebrows, 
 that's where the mysterious disappearance of a 'spectable tradesman 
 took place four year ago.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to say he was burked, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pick- 
 Avick, looking hastily round. 
 
 ' No, I don't indeed, sir,' replied Mr. Weller, ' I wish I did ; far 
 worse than that. He was the master o' that 'ere shop, sir, and the 
 inwenter o' the patent-never-leavin'-ofF sassage steam ingine, as ud 
 swaller up a pavin' stone if you put it too near, and grind it into 
 sassages as easy as if it was a tender young babby. Wery proud o' 
 that machine he was, as it was nat'ral he should be, and he'd, stand 
 down in the celler a lookin' at it wen it was in full play, till he got 
 quite melancholy with joy. A wery happy man he'd ha' been, sir, 
 in the procession o' that 'ere ingine and two more lovely hinfants 
 besides, if it hadn't been for his wife, who was a most ow-dacious 
 
AN AFFECTING INCIDENT 357 
 
 wixin. She was always a follerin' him about, and dinnin' in his 
 ears, 'till at last he couldn't stand it no longer. " I'll tell you what 
 it is, my dear," he says one day ; " if you persewere in this here 
 sort of amusement," he says, " I'm blessed if I don't go away to 
 'Merriker ; and that's all about it." " You're a idle willin," says 
 she, " and I wish the 'Merrikins joy of their bargain." Arter wich 
 she keeps on abusin' of him for half an hour, and then runs into the 
 little parlour behind the shop, sets to a screamin', says he'll be the 
 death on her, and falls in a fit, which lasts for three good hours — 
 one o' them fits wich is all screamin' and kickin'. Well, next 
 momin', the husband was missin'. He hadn't taken nothin' from 
 the till, — hadn't even put on his great-coat — so it was quite clear 
 he warn't gone to 'Merriker. Didn't come back next day ; didn't 
 come back next week ; Missis had bills printed, sayin' that, if he'd 
 come back, he should be forgiven everythin' (which was very liberal, 
 seein' that he hadn't done nothin' at all) ; the canals was dragged, 
 and for two months artervards, wenever a body turned up, it was 
 carried, as a reg'lar thing, straight off" to the sassage shop. How- 
 s'ever, none on 'em answered ; so they gave out that he'd run avay, 
 and she kep on the bis'ness. One Saturday night, a little thin old 
 gen'l'm'n comes into the shop in a great passion and says, " Are 
 you the missis o' this here shop ? " " Yes, I am," says she. " Well, 
 ma'am," says he, " then I've just looked in to say that me and my 
 family ain't a goin' to be choked for nothin' ; and more than that, 
 ma'am," he says, " you'll allow me to observe, that as you don't 
 use the primest parts of the meat in the manafacter o' sassages, I 
 think you'd find beef come nearly as cheap as buttons." " As buttons, 
 sir ! " says she. " Buttons, ma'am," says the little old gentleman, 
 unfolding a bit of paper, and shewin' twenty or thirty halves o' 
 buttons. " Nice seasonin' for sassages, is trousers' buttons, ma'am." 
 " They're my husband's buttons ! " says the widder, beginnin' to faint. 
 " What ! " screams the little old gen'l'm'n, turnin' wery pale. " I 
 see it all," says the widder ; " in a fit of temporary insanity he 
 rashly converted his-self into sassages ! " And so he had, sir,' said 
 Mr. Weller, looking steadily into Mr. Pickwick's horror-stricken 
 countenance, ' or else he'd been draw'd into the ingine ; but how- 
 ever that might ha' been, the little old gen'l'm'n, who had been 
 remarkably partial to sassages all his life, rushed out o' the shop in 
 a wild state, and was never heerd on artervards ! ' 
 
 The relation of this affecting incident of private life brought 
 master and man to Mr. Perker's chambers. Lowten, holding the 
 door half open, was in conversation with a rustily-clad, miserable- 
 looking man, in boots without toes and gloves without fingers. 
 There were traces of privation and suffering — almost of despair — • 
 in his lank and care-worn countenance ; he felt his poverty, for he 
 shrunk to the dark side of the staircase as Mr. Pickwick approached. 
 
358 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' It's very unfortunate,' said the stranger, with a sigh. 
 
 ' Very,' said Lowten, scribbling his name on the doorrpost with 
 his pen, and rubbing it out again with the feather. ' Will you leave 
 a message for him ? ' 
 
 ' When do you think he'll be back ? ' inquired the stranger. 
 
 ' Quite uncertain,' replied Lowten, winking at Mr. Pickwick, as 
 the stranger cast his eyes towards the ground. 
 
 ' You don't think it would be of any use my waiting for him ? ' 
 said the stranger, looking wistfully into the office. 
 
 ' Oh no, I'm sure it wouldn't,' replied the clerk, moving a little 
 more into the centre of the door-way. ' He's certain not to be 
 back this week, and it's a chance whether he will be next; for 
 when Perker once gets out of town, he's never in a hurry to come 
 back again.' 
 
 ' Out of town V <«aid Mr. Pickwick ; ' dear me, how unfor- 
 tunate ! ' 
 
 ' Don't go away, Mr. Pickwick,' said Lowten, ' I've got a letter 
 for you.' The stranger seeming to hesitate, once more looked 
 towards the ground, and the clerk winked slyly at Mr. Pickwick, as 
 if to intimate that some exquisite piece of humour v/as going 
 forward, though what it was Mr. Pickwick could not for the life of 
 him divine. 
 
 ' Step in, Mr. Pickwick,' said Lowten. ' Well, will you leave a 
 message, Mr. Watty, or will you call again ? ' 
 
 ' Ask him to be so kind as to leave out word what has been 
 done in my business,' said the man ; ' for God's sake don't neglect 
 it, Mr. Lowten.' 
 
 ' No, no ; I won't forget it,' replied the clerk. ' Walk in, Mr. 
 Pickwick. Good morning, Mr. Watty ; it's a fine day for walking, 
 isn't it ? ' Seeing that the stranger still lingered, he beckoned Sam 
 Waller to follow his master in, and shut the door in his face. 
 
 'There never was such a pestering bankrupt as that since the 
 world began, I do believe ! ' said Lowten, throwing down his pen 
 with the air of an injured man. ' His affairs haven't been in Chan- 
 cery quite four years yet, and I'm d — d if he don't come worrying 
 here twice a week. .Step this way, Mr. Pickwick. Perker is in, 
 and he'll see you, I know. Devilish cold,' he added, pettjshly, 
 ' standing at that door, wasting one's time with such seedy vaga- 
 bonds ! ' Having very vehemently stirred a particularly large fire 
 with a particularly small poker, the clerk led the way to his prin- 
 cipal's private room, and announced Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah, my dear sir,' said litde Mr. Perker, bustling up from his 
 chair. ' Well, my dear sir, and what's the news about your matter, 
 eh? Anything more about our friends in Freeman's Court? 
 They've not been sleeping, / know that. Ah, they're very smart 
 fellows ; very smart, indeed.' 
 
CONFERENCE WITH MR. PERKER 359 
 
 As the little man concluded, he took an emphatic pinch of snuff, 
 as a tribute to the smartness of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg. 
 
 ' They are great scoundrels,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Aye, aye,' said the litfle man ; ' that's a matter of opinion, you 
 know, and we won't dispute about terms ; because of course you 
 can't be expected to view these subjects with a professional eye. 
 Well, we've done everything that's necessary. I have retained 
 Serjeant Snubbin.' 
 
 ' Is he a good man ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Good man ! ' replied Perker ; ' bless your heart and soul, my 
 dear sir, Serjeant Snubbin is at the very top of his profession. Gets 
 treble the business of any man in court — engaged in every case. 
 You needn't mention it abroad ; but we say — we of the profession^ — 
 that Serjeant Snubbin leads the court by the nose.' 
 
 The' little man took another pinch of snuff as he made this com- 
 munication, and nodded mysteriously to Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' They have subpoena'd my three friends,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah ! of course they would,' replied Perker. ' Important wit- 
 nesses ; saw you in a delicate situation.' 
 
 ' But she fkinted of her own accord,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' She 
 threw herself into my arms.' 
 
 ' Very likely, my dear sir,' replied Perker ; ' very likely and very 
 natural. Nothing more so, my dear sir, nothing. But who's to 
 prove it ? ' 
 
 -They have subpoena'd my servant too,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 quitting the other point ; for there Mr. Perker's question had some- 
 what staggered him. 
 
 ' Sam ? ' said Perker. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Of course, my dear sir ; of course. I knew they would. I 
 could have told you that, a month ago. You know, my dear sir, if 
 you will take the management of your affairs into your own hands 
 after intrusting them to your solicitor, you must also take the con- 
 sequences.' Here Mr. Perker drew himself up with conscious 
 digliity, and brushed some stray grains of snuff from his shirt 
 frill. 
 
 ' And what do they want him to prove ? ' asked Mr. Pickwick, 
 after two or three minutes' silence. 
 
 ' That you sent him up to the plaintiff's to make some offer of a 
 compromise, I suppose,' replied Perker. ' It don't matter much, 
 though ; I don't think many counsel could get a great deal out of 
 him' 
 
 ' I don't think they could,' said Mr. Pickwick ; smiling, despite 
 his vexation, at the idea of Sam's appearance as a witness. ' What 
 course do we pursue ? ' 
 
 'We have only one to adopt, my dear sir,' replied Perker; 
 
$60 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' cross-examine the witnesses ; trust to Snubbin's eloquence ; throw 
 dust in the eyes of the judge ; throw ourselves on the jury.' 
 
 ' And suppose the verdict is against me ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Perker smiled, took a very long pinch of snuff, stirred the 
 fire, shrugged his shoulders, and remained expressively silent. 
 
 ' You mean that in that case I must pay the damages ? ' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, who had watched this telegraphic answer with consider- 
 able sternness. 
 
 Perker gave the fire another very unnecessary poke, and said ' I 
 am afraid so.' 
 
 ' Then I beg to announce to you, my unalterable determination 
 to pay no damages whatever,' said Mr. Pickwick, most emphati- 
 cally. ' None, Perker. Not a pound, not a penny, of my money, 
 shall find its way into the pockets of Dodson and Fogg. That is 
 my deliberate and irrevocable determination.' Mr. Pickwick gave 
 a heavy blow on the table before him, in confirmation of the 
 irrevocability of his intention. 
 
 ' Very well, my dear sir, very well,' said Perker. ' You know 
 best, of course.' 
 
 ' Of course,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. ' Where does Serjeant 
 Snubbin live ? ' 
 
 ' In Lincoln's Inn Old Square,' replied Perker. 
 
 ' I should like to see him,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' See Serjeant Snubbin, my dear sir ! ' rejoined Perker, in utter 
 amazement. ' Pooh, pooh, my dear sir, impossible. See Serjeant 
 Snubbin ! Bless you, my dear sir, such a thing was never heard of, 
 without a consultation fee being previously paid, and a consultation 
 fixed. It couldn't be done, my dear sir ; it couldn't be done.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, however, had made up his mind not only that it 
 could be done, jjut that it should be done ; and the consequence 
 was, that within ten minutes after he had received the assurance 
 that the thing was impossible, he was conducted by his solicitor 
 into the outer office of the great Serjeant Snubbin himself. 
 
 It was an uncarpeted room of tolerable dimensions, with a large 
 writing-table drawn up near the fire : the baize top of which had 
 long since lost all claim to its original hue of green, and had 
 gradually grown grey with dust and age, except where all traces of 
 its natural colour were obliterated by ink-stains. Upon the table 
 were numerous little bundles of papers tied with red tape ; and 
 behind it, sat an elderly clerk, whose sleek appearance, and heavy 
 gold watch-chain, presented imposing indications of the extensive 
 and lucrative practice of Mr. Serjeant Snubbin. 
 
 'Is the Serjeant in his room, Mr. Mallard?' inquired Perker, 
 offering his box with all imaginable courtesy. 
 
 ' Yes, he is,' was the reply, ' but he's very busy. Look here ; not 
 an opinion given yet, on any one of these cases ; and an expedition 
 
WITH THE SERJEANT'S CLERK 361 
 
 fee paid with all of 'em.' The clerk smiled as he said this, and 
 inhaled the pinch of snuff with a zest which seemed to be com- 
 pounded of a fondness for snuff and a relish for fees. 
 
 ' Something like practice that,' said Perker. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the barrister's clerk, producing his own box, and 
 offering it with the greatest cordiality ; ' and the best of it is, that 
 as nobody alive except myself can read the Serjeant's writing, they 
 are obliged to wait for the opinions, when he has given them, till I 
 have copied 'em, ha — ha — ha ! ' 
 
 ' Which makes good for we know who, besides the Serjeant, and 
 draws a little more out of the clients, eh ? ' said Perker ; ' Ha, ha, 
 ha ! ' At this the Serjeant's clerk laughed again ; not a noisy 
 boisterous laugh, but a silent, internal chuckle, which Mr. Pickwick 
 disliked to hear. When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous 
 thing for himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes" no good 
 to other people. 
 
 ' You haven't made me out that little Ust of the fees that I'm in 
 your debt, have you ? ' said Perker. 
 
 ' No, I have not,' replied the clerk. 
 
 ' I wish you would,' said Perker. ' Let me have them, and I'll 
 send you a cheque. But I suppose you're too busy pocketing the 
 ready money, to think of the debtors, eh ? ha, ha, ha ! ' This sally 
 seemed to tickle the clerk amazingly, and he once more enjoyed a 
 little quiet laugh to himself. 
 
 ' But, Mr. Mallard, my dear friend,' said Perker, suddenly re- 
 covering his gravity, and drawing the great man's great man into a 
 comer, by the lappel of his coat; ' you must persuade the Serjeant 
 to see me, and my client here.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' said the clerk, ' that's not bad either. See the 
 Serjeant ! come, that's too absurd.' Notwithstanding the absurdity 
 of the proposal, however, the clerk allowed himself to be gently 
 drawn beyond the hearing of Mr. Pickwick; and after a short 
 conversation conducted in whispers, walked softly down a little 
 dark passage, and disappeared into the legal luminary's sanctum : 
 whence he shortly returned on tiptoe, and informed Mr. Perker 
 and Mr. Pickwick that the Serjeant had been prevailed upon, in 
 violation of all established rules and customs, to admit them at once. 
 
 Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was a lantern-faced, sallow-complexioned 
 man, of about five-and-forty, or — as the novels say — he might be 
 fifty. He had that dull-looking boiled eye which is often to be 
 seen in the heads of people who have appUed themselves during 
 many years to a weary and laborious course of study ; and which 
 would have been sufficient, without the additional eye-glass which 
 dangled from a broad black riband round his neck, to warn a 
 stranger that he was very near-sighted. His hair was thin and 
 weak, which was partly attributable to his having never devoted 
 
362 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 much time to its arrangement, and partly to his having worn for 
 five-and-twenty years the forensic wig which hung on a block beside 
 him. The marks of hair-powder on his coat-collar, and the ill- 
 washed and worse tied white handkerchief round his throat, showed 
 that he had not found leisure since he left the court to make any 
 alteration in his dress : while the slovenly style of the remainder of 
 his costume warranted the inference that his personal appearance 
 would not have been very much improved if he had. Books of 
 practice, heaps of papers, and opened letters, were scattered over 
 the table, without any attempt at order or arrangement ; the furniture 
 of the room was old and ricketty ; the doors of the book-case were 
 rotting on their hinges ; the dust flew out from the carpet in little 
 clouds at every step ; the blinds were yellow with age and dirt ; 
 the state of everything in the room showed, with a clearness not to 
 be mistaken, that Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was far too much occupied 
 with his professional pursuits to take any great heed or regard of 
 his personal comforts. 
 
 The Serjeant was writing when his clients entered ; he bowed 
 abstractedly when Mr. Pickwick was introduced by his solicitor ; 
 and then, motioning them to a seat, put his pen carefully in the 
 inkstand, nursed his left leg, and waited to be spoken to. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick is the defendant in Bardell and Pickwick, Serjeant 
 Snubbin,' said Perker. 
 
 ' I am retained in that, am I ? ' said the Serjeant. 
 
 ' You are, sir,' replied Perker. 
 
 The Serjeant nodded his head, and waited for something else. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick was anxious to call upon you, Serjeant Snubbin,' 
 said Perker, ' to state to you, before you entered upon the case, 
 that he denies there being any ground or pretence whatever for the 
 action against him ; and that unless he came into court with clean 
 hands, and without the most conscientious conviction that he was 
 right in resisting the plaintifTs demand, he would not be there at 
 all. I believe I state your views correctly ; do I not, my dear sir ? ' 
 said the little man, turning to Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Quite so,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Serjeant Snubbin unfolded his glasses, raised them to his 
 eyes ; and, after looking at Mr. Pickwick for a few seconds with 
 great curiosity, turned to Mr. Perker, and said, smiling slightly 
 as he spoke : 
 
 ' Has Mr. Pickwick a strong case ? ' 
 
 The attorney shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' Do you purpose calling witnesses ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 The smile on the Serjeant's countenance became more defined ; 
 he rocked his leg with increased violence; and, throwing himself 
 back in his easy-chair, coughed dubiously. 
 
iz?^;?s,i 
 
 
 'cecc^yUti^,yH^J^M^i^s<zn^ Cy^7^'My^^ 
 
WITH THE SERJEANT 363 
 
 These tokens of the Serjeant's presentiments on the subject, 
 slight as they were, were not lost on Mr. Pickwick. He settled the 
 spectacles, through which he had attentively regarded such demon- 
 strations of the barrister's feelings as he had permitted himself to 
 exhibit, more firmly on his nose ; and said with great energy, and 
 in utter disregard of all Mr. Perker's admonitory winkings and 
 frownings : 
 
 ' My wishing to wait upon you, for such a purpose as this, sir, 
 appears, I have no doubt, to a gentleman who sees so much of 
 these matters as you must necessarily do, a very extraordinary 
 circumstance.' 
 
 The Serjeant tried to look gravely at the fire, but the smile came 
 back again. 
 
 ' Gentlemen of your profession, sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick, ' see 
 the worst side of human nature. All its disputes, all its ill-will 
 and bad blood, rise up before you. You know from your experience 
 of juries (I mean no disparagement to you, or them) how much 
 depends upon effect : and .you are apt to attribute to others, a desire 
 to use, for purposes of deception and self-interest, the very instru- 
 ments which you, in pure honesty and honour of purpose, and with 
 a laudable desire to do your utmost for your client, know the temper 
 and worth of so well, from constantly employing them yourselves. 
 I really believe that to this circumstance may be attributed the 
 vulgar but very general notion of your being, as a body, suspicious, 
 distrustful, and over-cautious. Conscious as I am, sir, of the disad- 
 vantage of making such a declaration to you, under such circumstances, 
 I have come here, because I wish you distinctly to understand, as 
 my friend Mr. Perker has said, that I am innocent of the falsehood 
 laid to my charge ; and although I am very well aware of the 
 inestimable value of your assistance, sir, I must beg to. add, that 
 unless you sincerely believe this, I would rather be deprived of the 
 aid of your talents than have the advantage of them.' 
 
 Long before the close of this address, which we are bound to say 
 was of a very prosy character for Mr. Pickwick, the Serjearit had 
 relapsed into a state of abstraction. After some minutes, however, 
 during which he had reassumed his pen, he appeared to be again 
 aware of the presence of his clients ; raising his head from the 
 paper, he said, rather snappishly,' 
 
 ' Who is with me in this case ? ' 
 
 'Mr. Phunky, Serjeant Snubbin,' replied the attorney. 
 
 ' Phunky, Phunky,' said the Serjeant, ' I never heard the name 
 before. He must be a very young man.' 
 
 ' Yes, he is a very young man,' replied the attorney. ' He was 
 only called the other day. Let me see — he has not been at the 
 Bar eight years yet.' 
 
 ' Ah, I thought not,' said the Serjeant, in that sort of pitying tone 
 
364 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 in which ordinary folks would speak of a very helpless little child. 
 ' Mr. Mallard, send round to Mr. — Mr. — .' 
 
 ' Phunky's — Holborn Court, Gray's Inn,' interposed Perker. 
 (Holbom Court, by the bye, is South Square now). ' Mr. Phunky, 
 and say I should be glad if he'd step here, a moment.' 
 
 Mr. Mallard departed to execute his commission ; and Serjeant 
 Snubbin relapsed into abstraction until Mr. Phunky himself was 
 introduced. 
 
 Although an infant barrister, he was a full-grown man. He had 
 a very nervous manner, and a painful hesitation in his speech ; it 
 did not appear to be a natural defect, but seemed rather the result 
 of timidity, arising from the consciousness of being ' kept down ' by 
 want of means, or interest, or connexion, or impudence, as the case 
 might be. He was overawed by the Serjeant, and profoundly 
 courteous to the attorney. 
 
 ' I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before, Mr. Phunky.' 
 said Serjeant Snubbin, with haughty condescension. 
 
 Mr. Phunky bowed. He had had the pleasure of seeing the 
 Serjeant, and of envying him too, with all a poor man's envy, for 
 eight years and a quarter. 
 
 ' You are with me in this case, I understand ? ' said the Serjeant. 
 
 If Mr. Phunky had been a rich man, he would have instantly sent 
 for his clerk to remind him ; if he had been a wise one, he would 
 have applied his fore-finger to his forehead, and endeavoured to 
 recollect, whether, in the multiplicity of his engagements he had 
 undertaken this one, or not ; but as he was neither rich nor wise 
 (in this sense at all events) he turned red, and bowed. 
 
 ' Have you read the papers, Mr. Phunky ? ' inquired the Serjeant. 
 
 Here again, Mr. Phunky should have professed to have forgotten 
 all about the merits of the case ; but as he had read such papers as 
 had been laid before him in the course of the action, and had 
 thought of nothing else, waking or sleeping, throughout the two 
 months during which he had been retained as Mr. Serjeant Snubbin's 
 junior, he turned a deeper redj and bowed again. 
 
 'This is Mr. Pickwick,' said the Serjeant, waving his pen in the 
 direction in which that gentleman was standing. 
 
 Mr. Phunky bowed to Mr. Pickwick with a reverence which a 
 first client must ever awaken ; and again inclined his head towards 
 his leader. 
 
 'Perhaps you will take Mr. Pickwick away,' said the Serjeant, 
 ' and— and — and — hear anything Mr. Pickwick may wish to com- 
 niunicate. We shall have a consultation, of course.' With this 
 hint that he had been interrupted quite long enough, Mr. Serjeant 
 Snubbin, who had been gradually growing more and more abstracted, 
 applied his glass to his eyes for an instant, bowed slightly round, 
 and was once more deeply immersed in the case before him : which 
 
LANT STREET 365 
 
 arose out of an interminable lawsuit, originating in the act of an 
 individual, deceased a century or so ago, who had stopped up a 
 pathway leading from some place which nobody ever came from, to 
 some other place which nobody ever went to. 
 
 Mr. Phunky would not hear of passing through any door until 
 Mr. Pickwick and his solicitor had passed through before him, so it 
 was some time before they got into the Square j and when they did 
 reach it, they walked up and down, and held a long conference, the 
 result of which was, that it was a very difficult matter to say how 
 the verdict would go ; that nobody could presume to calculate on 
 the issue of an action ; that it was very lucky they had prevented the 
 other party from getting Serjeant Snubbin; and other topics of 
 doubt and consolation, common in such a position of affairs. 
 
 Mr. Weller was then roused by his master from a sweet sleep of 
 an hour's duration ; and, bidding adieu to Lowten, they returned to 
 the City. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 DESCRIBES, FAR MORE FULLY THAN THE COURT NEWSMAN EVER 
 DID, A bachelor's PARTY, GIVEN BY MR. BOB SAWYER AT 
 HIS LODGINGS IN THE BOROUGH 
 
 There is a repose about Lant Street, in the Borough, which sheds 
 a gentle melancholy upon the soul. There are always a good many 
 houses to let in the street : it is a bye-street too, and its dulness is 
 soothing. A house in Lant Street would not come within the 
 denomination of a first-rate residence, in the strict acceptation of 
 the term i but it is a most desirable spot nevertheless. If a man 
 wished to abstract himself from the world — to remove himself from 
 within the reach of temptation — to place himself beyond the possi- 
 bility of any inducement to look out of the window — he should by 
 all means go to Lant Street. 
 
 In this happy retreat are colonised a few clear-starchers, a 
 sprinkling of journeymen bookbinders, one or two prison agents for 
 the Insolvent Court, several small housekeepers who are employed 
 in the Docks, a handful of mantua-makers, and a seasoning of 
 jobbing tailors. The majority of the inhabitants either direct their 
 energies to the letting of furnished apartments, or devote themselves 
 to the healthful and invigorating pursuit of mangling. The chief 
 features in the still life of the street are green shutters, lodging-bills, 
 brass door-plates, and bell-handles; the pi-incipal specimens of 
 animated nature, the pot-boy, the muffin youth, and the baked- 
 potato man. The population is migratory, usually disappearing on 
 
366 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the verge of quarter-day, and generally by night. His Majesty's 
 revenues are seldom collected in this happy valley ; the rents are 
 dubious ; and the water communication is very frequently cut off. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer embellished one side of the fire, in his first-floor 
 front, early on the evening for which he had invited Mr. Pickwick ; 
 and Mr. Ben Allen the other. The preparations for the reception 
 of visitors appeared to be completed. The umbrellas in the 
 passage had been heaped into the little corner outside the back- 
 parlour door ; the bonnet and shawl of the landlady's servant had 
 been removed from the bannisters ; there were not more than two 
 pairs of pattens on the street-door mat, and a kitchen candle, with 
 a very long snuff, burnt cheerfully on the ledge of the staircase 
 window. Mr. Bob Sawyer had himself purchased the spirits at a 
 wine vaults in High Street, and had returned home preceding the 
 bearer thereof, to preclude the possibility of their delivery at the 
 wrong house. The punch was ready-made in a red pan in the bed- 
 room; a little table, covered with a green baize cloth, had been 
 borrowed from the parlour, to play at cards on ; and the glasses of 
 the establishment, together with those which had been borrowed for 
 the occasion from the public-house, were all drawn up in a tray, 
 which was deposited on the landing outside the door. 
 
 Notwithstanding the highly satisfactory nature of all these 
 arrangements, there was a cloud on the countenance of Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer, as he sat by the fireside. There was a sympathising 
 expression, too, in the features of Mr. Ben Allen, as he gazed 
 intently on the coals ; and a tone of melancholy in his voice, as he 
 said, after a long silence : 
 
 ' Well, it is unlucky she should have taken it in her head to turn 
 sour, just on this occasion. She might at least have waited till 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 'That's her malevolence, that's her malevolence,' returned Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer, vehemently. ' She says that if I can afford to give a 
 party I ought to be able to pay her confounded " little bill." ' 
 
 ' How long has it been running ? ' inquired Mr. Ben Allen. A 
 bill, by the bye, is the most extraordinary locomotive engine that 
 the genius of man ever produced. It would keep on running 
 during the longest lifetime, without ever once stopping of its own 
 accord. 
 
 ♦ Only a quarter, and a month or so,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 Ben Allen coughed hopelessly, and directed a searching look 
 between the two top bars of the stove. 
 
 ' It'll be a deuced unpleasant thing if she takes it into her head 
 to let out, when those fellows are here, won't it?' said Mr. Ben 
 Allen at length. 
 
 ' Horrible,' replied Bob Sawyer, ' horrible.' 
 
 A low tap was heard at the room door. Mr. Bob Sawyer looked 
 
MRS. RADDLE APPLIES FOR RENT 367 
 
 expressively at his friend, and bade the tapper come in; where- 
 upon a dirty slipshod girl in black cotton stockings, who might 
 have passed for the neglected daughter of a superannuated dustman 
 in very reduced circumstances, thrust in her head, and said, 
 
 ' Please, Mister Sawyer, Missis Raddle wants to speak to you! 
 
 Before Mr. Bob Sawyer could return any answer, the girl sud- 
 denly disappeared with a jerk, as if somebody had given her a 
 violent puU , behind ; this mysterious exit was no sooner accom- 
 plished, than there was another tap at the door — a smart pointed 
 tap, which seemed to say, ' Here I am, and in I'm coming.' 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced at his friend with a look of abject 
 apprehension, and once more cried ' Come in.' 
 
 The permission was not at all necessary, for, before Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer had uttered the words, a little fierce woman bounced into 
 the room, all in a tremble with passion, and pale with rage. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Sawyer,' said the little fierce woman, trying to appear 
 very calm, ' if you'll have the kindness to settle that little bill of 
 mine I'll thank you, because I've got my rent to pay this afternoon, 
 and my landlord's a waiting below now.' Here the little woman 
 rubbed her hands, and looked steadily over Mr. Bob Sawyer's head, 
 at the wall behind him. 
 
 ' I am very sorry to put ypu to any inconvenience, Mrs. Raddle,' 
 said Bob Sawyer, deferentially, ' but ' 
 
 ' Oh, it isn't any inconvenience,' replied the little woman, with a 
 shrill titter. 'I didn't want it particular before to-day; leastways, 
 as it has to go to my landlord directly, it was as well for you to 
 keep it as me. You promised me this afternoon, Mr. Sawyer, and 
 every gentleman as has ever lived here, has kept his word, sir, as 
 of course anybody as calls himself a gentleman, does.' Mrs. Raddle 
 tossed her head, bit her lips, rubbed her hands harder, and looked 
 at the wall more steadily than ever. It was plain to see, as Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer remarked in a style of eastern allegory on a subsequent 
 occasion, that she was ' getting the steam up.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob Sawyer with all 
 imaginable humility, ' but the fact is, that I have been disappointed 
 in the City to-day.' — Extraordinary place that City. An astonish- 
 ing number of men always are getting disappointed there. 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Sawyer,' said Mrs. Raddle, planting herself firmly on 
 a purple cauliflower in the Kidderminster carpet, ' and what's that 
 to me, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I — I — have no doubt, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob Sawyer, blinking 
 this last question, ' that before the middle of next week we shall be 
 able to set ourselves quite square, and go on, on a better system, 
 afterwards.' 
 
 This was all Mrs. Raddle wanted. She had bustled up to the 
 apartment of the unlucky Bob Sawyer, so bent upon going into a 
 
368 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 passion, that, in all probability, payment would have rather dis- 
 appointed her than otherwise. She was in excellent order for a 
 little relaxation of the kind : having just exchanged a few intro- 
 ductory compliments with Mr. R. in the front kitchen. 
 
 ' Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer,' said Mrs. Raddle, elevating her 
 voice for the information of the neighbours, ' do you suppose that 
 I'm a-going day after day to let a fellar occupy my lodgings as 
 never thinks of paying his rent, nor even the very money laid out 
 for the fresh butter and lump sugar that's bought for his breakfast, 
 and the very milk that's took in, at the street door? Do you 
 suppose a hard-working and industrious woman as has lived in this 
 street for twenty year (ten year over the way, and nine year and 
 three quarter in this very house) has nothing else to do but to work 
 herself to death after a parcel of lazy idle fellars, that are always 
 smoking and drinking, and lounging, when they ought to be glad to 
 turn their hands to anything that would help 'em to pay their bills ? 
 Do you ' 
 
 ' My good soul,' interposed Mr. Benjamin Allen, soothingly. 
 
 ' Have the goodness to keep your observashuns to yourself, sir, 
 I beg,' said Mrs. Raddle, suddenly arresting the rapid torrent of 
 her speech, and addressing the third party with impressive slowness 
 and solemnity. ' I am not aweer, sir, that you have any right to 
 address your conversation to me. I don't think I let these apart- 
 ments to you, sir.' 
 
 ' No, you certainly did not,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Very good, sir,' responded Mrs. Raddle, with lofty politeness. 
 ' Then p'raps, sir, you'll confine yourself to breaking the arms and 
 legs of the poor people in the hospitals, and keep yourself to your- 
 self, sir, or there may be some persons here as will make you, sir.' 
 
 ' But you are such an unreasonable woman,' remonstrated Mr, 
 Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' I beg your parding, young man,' said Mrs. Raddle, in a cold 
 perspiration of anger. ' But will you have the goodness just to call 
 me that again, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't make use of the word in any invidious sense, ma'am,' 
 replied Mr. Benjamin Allen, growing somewhat uneasy on his own 
 account. 
 
 ' I beg your parding, young man,' demanded Mrs. Raddle in a 
 louder and more imperative tone. ' But who do you call a woman ? 
 Did you make that remark to me, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why, bless my heart ! ' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Did you apply that name to me, I ask of you, sir ? ' interrupted 
 Mrs. Raddle, with intense fierceness, throwing the door wide open. 
 
 ' Why, of course I did,' replied Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Yes, of course you did,' said Mrs. Raddle, backing gradually to 
 the door, and raising her voice to its loudest pitch, for the special 
 
MRS. RADDLE RELIEVES HER MIND 369 
 
 behoof of Mr. Raddle in the kitchen. ' Yes, of course you did ! 
 And everybody knows that they may safely insult me in my own 
 'ouse while my husband sits sleeping down stairs, and taking no 
 more notice than if I was a dog in the streets. He ought to be 
 ashamed of himself (here Mrs. Raddle sobbed) to allow his wife to 
 be treated in this way by a parcel of young cutters and carvers of 
 live people's bodies, that disgraces the lodgings (another sob), and 
 leaving her exposed to all manner of abuse ; a base, faint-hearted, 
 timorous wretch, that's afraid to come up stairs, and face the ruffinly 
 creatures — that's afraid — that's afraid to come ! ' Mrs. Raddle 
 paused to listen whether the repetition of the taunt had roused her 
 better half ; and, finding that it had not been successful, proceeded 
 to descend the stairs with sobs innumerable : when there came a 
 loud double knock at the street door : whereupon she burst into an 
 hysterical fit of weeping, accompanied with dismal moans, which 
 was prolonged until the knock had been repeated six times, when, 
 in an uncontrollable burst of mental agony, she threw down all the 
 umbrellas, and disappeared into the back parlour, closing the door 
 after her with an awful crash. 
 
 ' Does Mr, Sawyer live here ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, when the door 
 was opened. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the girl, ' first floor. It's the door straight afore you, 
 when you gets to the top of the stairs.' Having given this instruc- 
 tion, the handmaid, who had been brought up among the aboriginal ■ 
 inhabitants of Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her 
 hand, down the kitchen stairs : perfectly satisfied that she had 
 done everything that could possibly be required of her under 
 the circumstances. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, afteir 
 several ineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain ; and the friends 
 stumbled up stairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, 
 who had been afraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. 
 Raddle. 
 
 ' How are you ? ' said the discomfited student. ' Glad to see you, 
 — take care of the glasses.' This caution was addressed to Mr. 
 Pickwick, who had put his hat in the tray. 
 
 ' Dear me,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I beg your pardon.' 
 
 ' Don't mention it, don't mention it,' said Bob Sawyer. ' I'm 
 rather confined for room here, but you must put up with all that, 
 when you come to see a young bachelor. Walk in. You've seen 
 this gentleman before, I think ? ' Mr. Pickwick shook hands with 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen, and his friends followed his example. They 
 had scarcely taken their seats when there was another double knock. 
 
 ' I hope that's Jack Hopkins ! ' said Mr. Bob Sawyer. ' Hush. 
 Yes, it is. Come up, Jack ; come up.' 
 
 A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins 
 
 2 « 
 
370 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 presented himself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder- 
 and-lightning buttons ; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false 
 collar. 
 
 ' You're late, Jack ? ' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Been detained at Bartholomew's,' replied Hopkins. 
 
 ' Anything new ? ' 
 
 ' No, nothing particular. Rather a good accident brought into 
 the casualty ward.' 
 
 ' What was that, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Only a man fallen out .of a four pair of stairs' window ; — but it's 
 a very fair case — very fair case indeed.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that the patient is in a fair way to recover ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No,' replied Hopkins, carelessly. ' No, I should rather say he 
 wouldn't. There must be a splendid operation though, to-morrow 
 — magnificent sight if Slasher does it.' 
 
 ' You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Best alive,' replied Hopkins. ' Took a boy's leg out of the 
 socket last week — boy ate five apples and a gingerbread cake — 
 exactly two minutes after it was all over, boy said he wouldn't lie 
 there to be made game of, and he'd tell his mother if they didn't 
 begin.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, astonished. 
 
 ' Pooh ! That's nothing, that ain't,' said Jack Hopkins. ' Is it, 
 Bob?' 
 
 ' Nothing at all,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' By the bye. Bob,' said Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible 
 glance at Mr. Pickwick's attentive face, ' we had a curious accident 
 last night. A child was brought in, who had swallowed a necklace.' 
 
 ' Swallowed what, sir ? ' interrupted Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A necklace,' replied Jack Hopkins. ' Not all at once, you know, 
 that would be too much — ymi, couldn't swallow that, if the child did 
 — eh, Mr. Pickwick, ha ! ha ! ' Mr. Hopkins appeared highly 
 gratified with his own pleasantry ; and continued. ' No, the way 
 was this. Child's parents were poor people who lived in a court. 
 Child's eldest sister bought a necklace ; common necklace, made of 
 large black wooden beads. Child, being fond of toys, cribbed the 
 necklace, hid it, played with it, cut the string, and swallowed a bead. 
 Child thought it capital fun, went back next day, and swallowed 
 another bead.' 
 
 ' Bless my heart,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' what a dreadful thing ! 1 
 beg your pardon, sir. Go on.' 
 
 'Next day, child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he 
 treated himself to three, and so on, till in a week's time he had got 
 through the necklace — five-and-twenty beads in all. The sister, 
 who was an industrious girl, and seldom treated herself to a bit of 
 
ANECDOTE OF A NECKLACE 371 
 
 finery, cried her eyes out, at the loss of the necklace ; looked high 
 and loW for it ; but, I needn't say, didn't find it. A few days after- 
 wards, the family were at dinner — baked shoulder of mutton, and 
 potatoes under it — the child, who wasn't hungry, was playing about 
 the room, when suddenly there was heard a devil of a noise, like a 
 small hail storm. " Don't do that, my boy," said the father. " I 
 ain't a doin' nothing," said the child. " Well, don't do it again," said 
 the father. There was a short silence, and then the noise began 
 again, worse than ever. " If you don't mind what I say, my boy," 
 said the father, " you'll find yourself in bed, in something less than 
 a pig's whisper." He gave the child a shake to make him obedient, 
 and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heard before. " Why, 
 damme, it's in the child ! " said the father, " he's got the croup in 
 the wrong place ! " " No I haven't, father," said the child, beginning 
 to cry, " it's the necklace ; I swallowed it, father." — The father 
 caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital : the beads in 
 the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and the 
 people looking up in the air, and down in the cellars, to see where 
 the unusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now,' said Jack 
 Hopkins, ' and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks 
 about, that they're obliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for 
 fear he should wake the patients ! ' 
 
 ' That's the most extraordinary case I ever heard of,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the table. 
 
 ' Oh, that's nothing,' said Jack Hopkins ; ' is it. Bob ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, 
 sir,' said Hopkins. 
 
 ' So I should be disposed to imagine,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Another knock at the door, announced a large-headed young man 
 in a black wig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long 
 stock. The next comer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned 
 with pink anchors, who was closely followed by a pale youth with a 
 plated watchguard. The arrival of a prim personage in clean linen 
 and cloth "boots rendered the party complete. The little table with 
 the green baize cover was wheeled out ; the first instalment of punch 
 was brought in, in a white jug ; and the succeeding three hours were 
 devoted to vitigt-et-uu at sixpence a dozen, which was only once 
 interrupted by a slight dispute between the scorbutic youth and the 
 gentleman with the pink anchors ; in the course of which, the 
 scorbutic youth intimated a burning desire to pull the nose of 
 the gentleman with the emblems of hope : in reply to which, that 
 individual expressed his decided unwillingiiess to accept of any 
 ' sauce ' on gratuitous terms, either from the irascible young gentle- 
 man with the scorbutic countenance, or any other person who was 
 ornamented with a head. 
 
372 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 When the last ' natural ' had been declared, and the profit and 
 loss account of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of all 
 parties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezed 
 themselves into corners while it was getting ready. 
 
 It was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. 
 First of all, it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen 
 asleep with her face on the kitchen table ; this took a little time, 
 and, even when she did answer the bell, another quarter of an hour 
 was consumed in fruitless endeavours to impart to her a faint and 
 distant glimmering of reason. The man to whom the order for the 
 oysters had been sent, had not been told to open them ; it is a very 
 difficult thing to open an oyster with a Ump knife or a two-pronged 
 fork j and very little was done in this way. Very little of the beef 
 was done either ; and the ham (which was also from the German- 
 sausage shop round the corner) was in a similai: predicament. 
 However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can ; and the cheese 
 went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon the whole, 
 perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters usually are. 
 
 After supper, another jug of punch was put upon the table, 
 together with a paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. 
 Then, there was an awful pause ; and this awful pause was occa- 
 sioned by a very common occurrence in this sort of places, but a 
 very embarrassing one notwithstanding. 
 
 The fact is, the girl was washing the glasses. The establishment 
 boasted four ; we do not record the circumstance as at all dero- 
 gatory to Mrs. Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet, 
 that was not short of glasses. The landlady's glasses were little 
 thin blown glass tumblers, and those which had been borrowed 
 from the public-house were great, dropsical, bloated articles, each 
 supported on a huge gouty leg. This would have been in itself 
 sufficient to have possessed the company with the real state of 
 affairs ; but the young woman of all work had prevented the pos- 
 sibility of any misconception arising in the mind of any gentleman 
 upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every man's glass away, long 
 before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating, despite the 
 winks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was to be 
 conveyed down stairs, and washed forthwith. 
 
 It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim 
 man in the cloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to 
 make a joke during the whole time the round game lasted, saw his 
 opportunity, and availed himself of it. The instant the glasses 
 disappeared, he commenced a long story about a great public 
 character, whose name he had forgotten, making a particularly 
 happy reply to another eminent and illustrious individual whom he 
 had never been able to identify. He enlarged at some length and 
 with great minuteness upon divers collateral circumstances, distantly 
 
DEMAND FOR WARM ^^^ATER 373 
 
 connected with the anecdote in hand, but for the life of him he 
 couldn't recollect at that precise moment what the anecdote was, 
 ilthough he had been in the habit of telling the story with great 
 applause for the last ten years. 
 
 ' Dear me,' said the prim man in the cloth boots, ' it is a very 
 extraordinary circumstance.' 
 
 ' I am sorry you have forgotten it,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancing 
 eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses 
 jingling ; ' very sorry.' 
 
 ' So am I,' responded the prim man, ' because I know it would 
 have afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I 
 shall manage to recollect it, in the course of half-an-hour or so.' 
 
 The prim man arrived at this point, just as the glasses came 
 back, when Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention 
 during the whole time, said he should very much like to hear the 
 end of it, for, so far as it went, it was, without exception, the very 
 best story he had ever heard. 
 
 The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of 
 equanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with 
 his landlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite 
 convivial. 
 
 'Now, Betsy,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and 
 dispersing, at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses 
 the girl had collected in the centre of the table : ' now, Betsy, the 
 warm water ; be brisk, there's a good girl.' 
 
 ' You can't have no warm water,' replied Betsy. 
 
 ' No warm water ! ' exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' No,' said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a 
 more decided negative than the most copious language could have 
 conveyed. ' Missis Raddle said you wam't to have none.' 
 
 The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted 
 new courage to the host. 
 
 ' Bring up the warm water instantly — instantly ! ' said Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer, with desperate sternness. 
 
 ' No. L can't,' replied the girl ; ' Missis Raddle raked out the 
 kitchen fire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle.' 
 
 'Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don't disturb yourself 
 about such a trifle,' said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of 
 Bob Sawyer's passions, as depicted in his countenance, ' cold water 
 will do very well.' 
 
 ' Oh, admirably,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derange- 
 ment,' remarked Bob Sawyer with a ghastly smile ; ' And I fear 
 J must give her warning.' 
 
 ' No, don't,' said Ben Allen. 
 
 ' I fear I must,' said Bob with heroic firmness- ' I'll pay her 
 
374 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 what I owe her, and jive her warning to-morrow morning.' Poor 
 fellow ! how devoutly he wished he could ! 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this 
 last blow, communicated a dispiriting influence to the company, 
 the greater part of whom, with the view of raising their spirits, 
 attached themselves with extra cordiality to the cold brandy and 
 water, the first perceptible effects of which were displayed in a 
 renewal of hostilities between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman 
 in the shirt. The belligerents vented their feelings of mutual con- 
 tempt, for some time, in a variety of frownings and snortings, until 
 at last the scorbutic youth felt it necessary to come to a more 
 explicit understanding on the matter; when the following clear 
 understanding took place. 
 
 ' Sawyer,' said the scorbutic youth, in a loud voice. 
 
 ' Well, Noddy,' replied Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' I should be very sorry. Sawyer,' said Mr. Noddy, ' to create 
 any unpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours. 
 Sawyer — very ; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. 
 Gunter that he is no gentleman.' 
 
 ' And / should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance 
 in the street in which you reside,' said Mr. Gunter, ' but I'm afraid 
 I shall be under the necessity of alarming the neighbours by 
 throwing the person who has just spoken, out o' window.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by that, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Noddy. 
 
 ' What I say, sir,' replied M-r. Gunter. 
 
 ' I should like to see you do it, sir,' said Mr. Noddy. 
 
 ' You shall /^^/ me do it in half a minute, sir,' replied Mr. Gunter. 
 
 'I request that you'll favour me with your card, sir,' said Mr. 
 Noddy. 
 
 ' I'll do nothing of the kind, sir,' replied Mr. Gunter. 
 
 'Why not, sir?' inquired Mr. Noddy. 
 
 ' Because you'll stidc it up over your chimney-piece, and delude 
 your visitors into the false belief that a gendeman has been to see 
 you, sir,' replied Mr. Gunter. 
 
 ' Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning,' said Mr. 
 Noddy. 
 
 ' Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leave 
 particular directions with the servant to lock up the spoons,'' replied 
 Mr. Gunter. 
 
 At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remon- 
 strated with both parties on the impropriety of their conduct ; on 
 which Mr. Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as 
 respectable as Mr. Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied 
 that his father was to the full as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, 
 and that his father's son was as good a man as Mr. Noddy, any 
 day in the week. As this announcement seemed the prelude to a 
 
BREAK UP OF THE PARTY 375 
 
 recommencement of the dispute, there was another interference on 
 the part of the company ; and a vast quantity of talking and clamour- 
 ing ensued, in the course of which Mr. Noddy gradually allowed his 
 feelings to overpower him, and professed that he had ever entertained 
 a devoted personal attachment towards Mr. Gunter. To this Mr. 
 Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he rather preferred Mr. Noddy 
 to his own brother ; on hearing which admission, Mr. Noddy mag- 
 nanimously rose from his seat, and proffered his hand to Mr. Gunter. 
 Mr. Gunter grasped it with aifecting fervour; and everybody said 
 that the whole dispute had been conducted in a manner which was 
 highly honourable to both parties concerned. 
 
 ' Now,' said Jack Hopkins, ' just to set us going again. Bob, I don't 
 mind singing a song.' And Hopkins, incited thereto, by tumultuous 
 applause, plunged himself at once into ' The King, God bless him,' 
 which he sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of 
 the ' Bay of Biscay,' and ' A Frog he would.' The chorus was the 
 essence of the song ; and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he 
 knew best, the effect was very striking indeed. 
 
 It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pick- 
 wick held up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as 
 silence was restored : 
 
 ' Hush ! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody caUing 
 from up stairs.' 
 
 A profound silence immediately ensued ; and Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 was observed to turn pale. 
 
 ' I think I hear it now,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Have the goodness 
 to open the door.' 
 
 The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject 
 was removed, 
 
 ' Mr. Sawyer ! Mr. Sawyer ! ' screamed a voice from the two- 
 pair landing. 
 
 ' It's my landlady,' said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with 
 great dismay. ' Yes, Mrs. Raddle.' 
 
 ' What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer ? ' replied the voice, 
 with great shrillness and rapidity of utterance. ' Ain't it enough to 
 be swindled out of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, 
 and abused and insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves 
 men : without having the house turned out of window, and noise 
 enough made to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the 
 morning ? — Turn them wretches away.' 
 
 ' You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' said the voice of Mr. 
 Raddle, which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant 
 bed-clothes. 
 
 ' Ashamed of themselves ! ' said Mrs. Raddle. ' Why don't you 
 go down and knock 'em every one down stairs ? You would if you 
 was a man.' 
 
SI 6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I should if I was a dozen men, my dear,' replied Mr. Raddle, 
 pacifically, ' but they've the advantage of me in numbers, my dear.' 
 
 ' Ugh, you coward ! ' replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. 
 ' Do you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer ? ' 
 
 ' They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going,' said the miserable 
 Bob. ' I am afraid you'd better go,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his 
 friends. ' I thought you were making too much noise.' 
 
 ' It's a very unfortunate thing,' said the prim man. ' Just as we 
 were getting so comfortable too ! ' The prim man was just beginning 
 to have a dawning recollection of the story he had forgotten. 
 
 'It's hardly to be borne,' said the prim man, looking round. 
 ' Hardly to be borne, is it ? ' 
 
 ' Not to be endured,' replied Jack Hopkins ; ' let's have the other 
 verse, Bob. Come, here goes ! ' 
 
 'No, no. Jack, don't,' interposed Bob Sawyer; 'it's a capital 
 song, but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. 
 They are very violent people, the people of the house.' 
 
 ' Shall I step up stairs, and pitch into the landlord ? ' inquired 
 Hopkins, ' or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the 
 staircase ? You may command me. Bob.' 
 
 ' I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good 
 nature, Hopkins,' said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, ' but I think 
 the best plan to avoid any further dispute is for us to break up 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Sawyer ! ' screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, 
 ' are them brutes going ? ' 
 
 'They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle,' said Bob] 
 ' they are going directly.' 
 
 'Going!' said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her night-cap over the 
 banisters just as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged 
 from the sitting-room. ' Going ! what did they ever come for ? ' 
 
 ' My dear ma'am,' remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, looking up. 
 
 ' Get along with you, you old wretch ! ' replied Mrs. Raddle, 
 hastily withdrawing the night-cap. ' Old enough to be his grand- 
 father, you willin ! You're worse than any of 'em.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurried 
 down stairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr. 
 Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Ben Allen, who 
 was dismally depressed with spirits and agitation, accompanied 
 them as far as London Bridge, and in the course of the walk 
 confided to Mr. Winkle, as an especially ehgible person to intrust 
 the secret to, that he was resolved to cut the throat of any gentle- 
 man except Mr. Bob Sawyer who should aspire to the affections of 
 his sister Arabella. Having expressed his determination to perform 
 this painful duty of a brother with proper firmness, he burst into 
 tears, knocked his hat over his eyes, and, making the best of his 
 
MRS. BARDELL'S ACTION 377 
 
 way back, knocked double knocks at the door of the Borough 
 Market office, and took short naps on the steps alternately, until 
 daybreak, under the firm impression that he lived there, and had 
 forgotten the key. 
 
 The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the rather 
 pressing request of Mrs. Raddle, the luckless Mr. Bob Sawyer was 
 left alone, to meditate on the probable events of to-morrow, and 
 the pleasures of the evening. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 MR. WELLER THE ELDER DELIVERS SOME CRITICAL SENTIMENTS 
 RESPECTING LITERARY COMPOSITION ; AND, ASSISTED BY HIS 
 SON SAMUEL, PAYS A SMALL INSTALMENT OF RETALIATION 
 TO THE ACCOUNT OF THE REVEREND GENTLEMAN WITH THE 
 RED NOSE 
 
 The morning of the thirteenth of February, which the readers of 
 this authentic narrative know, as well as we do, to have been the 
 day immediately preceding that which was appointed for the trial 
 of Mrs. Bardell's action, was a busy time for Mr. Samuel Weller, 
 who was perpetually engaged in travelling from the George and 
 Vulture to Mr. Perker's chambers and back again, from and between 
 the hours of nine o'clock in the morning and two in the afternoon, 
 both inclusive. Not that there was anything whatever to be done, 
 for the consultation had taken place, and the course of proceeding 
 to be adopted, had been finally determined on ; but Mr. Pickwick 
 being in a most extreme state of excitement, persevered in con- 
 stantly sending small notes to his attorney, merely containing the 
 inquiry, ' Dear Perker. Is all going on well ? ' to which Mr. Perker 
 invariably forwarded the reply, ' Dear Pickwick. As well as pos- 
 sible ; ' the fact being, as we have already hinted, that there was 
 nothing whatever to go on, either well or ill, until the sitting of the 
 court on the following morning. 
 
 But people who go voluntarily to law, or are taken forcibly there, 
 for the first time, may be allowed to labour under some temporary 
 irritation and anxiety : and Sam, with a due allowance for the 
 frailties of human nature, obeyed all his master's behests with that 
 imperturbable good humour and unruffable composure which formed 
 one of his most striking and amiable characteristics. 
 
 Sam had solaced himself with a most agreeable little dinner, and 
 was waiting at the bar for the glass of warm mixture in which 
 Mr. Pickwick had requested him to drown the fatigues of his 
 
378 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 morning's walks, when a young boy of about three feet high, or 
 thereabouts, in a hairy cap and fustian over-alls, whose garb 
 bespoke a laudable ambition to attain in time the elevation of an 
 hostler, entered the passage of the George and Vulture, and looked 
 first up the stairs, and then along the passage, and then into the 
 bar, as if in search of somebody to whom he bore a commission ; 
 whereupon the barmaid, conceiving it not improbable that the said 
 commission might be directed to the tea or table spoons of the 
 establishment, accosted the boy with 
 
 ' Now, young man, what do you want ? ' 
 
 ' Is there anybody here, named Sam ? ' inquired the youth, in a 
 loud voice, of treble quality. 
 
 ' What's the t'other name ? ' said Sam Weller, looking round. 
 
 ' How should I know ? ' briskly replied the young gentleman 
 below the hairy cap. 
 
 ' You're a sharp boy, you are,' said Mr. Weller ; ' only I wouldn't 
 show that wary fine edge too much, if I was you, in case anybody 
 took it off. What do you mean by comin' to a hot-el, and asking 
 arter Sam, vith as much politeness as a vild Indian 1 ' 
 
 ' 'Cos an old gen'l'm'n told me to,' replied the boy. 
 
 '"What old gen'l'm'n ? ' inquired Sam, with deep disdain. 
 
 ' Him as drives a Ipswich coach, and uses our parlour,' rejoined 
 the boy. ' He told me yesterday mornin' to come to the George 
 and Wultur this arternoon, and ask for Sam.' 
 
 ' It's my father, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, turning with an 
 explanatory air to the young lady in the bar ; ' blessed if I think 
 he hardly knows wot my other name is. Veil, young brockiley 
 sprout, wot then ? ' 
 
 ' Why, then,' said the boy, ' you was to come to him at six o'clock 
 to our 'ouse, 'cos he wants to see you — Blue Boar, I^aden'all 
 Markit. Shall I say you're comin' ? ' 
 
 ' You may wenture on that 'ere statement, sir,' replied Sam. And 
 thus empowered, the young gentleman walked away, awakening all 
 the echoes in George Yard as he did so, with several chaste and 
 extremely correct imitations of a drover's whistle, delivered in a 
 tone of peculiar richness and volume. 
 
 Mr. Weller. having obtained leavtf of absence from Mr. Pickwick, 
 who, in his then state of excitement and worry was by no means 
 displeased at being left alone, set forth, long before the appointed 
 hour, and having plenty of time at his disposal, sauntered down 
 as far as the Mansion House, where he paused and contemplated, 
 with a face of great calmness and philosophy, the numerous cads 
 and drivers of short stages who assemble near that famous place 
 of resort, to the great terror and confusion of the old-lady popu- 
 lation of these realms. Having loitered here, for half an houi 
 or so, Mr. Weller turned, and began wending his way towards 
 
A SUDDEN REMINDER 379 
 
 Leadenhall Market, through a variety of bye streets and courts. 
 As he was sauntering away his spare time, and stopped to look at 
 almost every object that met his gaze, it is by no means surprising 
 that Mr. Weller should have paused before a small stationer's and 
 print-seller's window ; but without further explanation it does 
 appear surprising that his eyes should have no sooner rested on 
 certain pictures which were exposed for sale therein, than he gave 
 a sudden start, smote his right leg with great vehemence, and 
 exclaimed with energy, ' If it hadn't been for this, I should ha' 
 forgot all about it, till it was too late ! ' 
 
 The particular pictvu-e on which Sam Weller's eyes were fixed, as 
 he said this, was a highly coloured representation of a couple of 
 human hearts skewered together with an arrow, cooking before a 
 cheerful fire, while a male and female cannibal in modern attire : 
 the gentleman being clad in a blue coat and white trousers, and 
 the lady in a deep red pelisse with a parasol of the same : were 
 approaching the meal with hungry eyes, up a serpentine gravel 
 path leading thereunto. A decidedly indelicate young gentleman, 
 in a pair of wings and nothing else, was depicted as superintending 
 the cooking ; a representation of the spire of the church in Langham 
 Place, London, appeared in the distance ; and the whole formed 
 a 'valentine,' of which, as a written inscription in the window 
 testified, there was a large assortment within, which the shopkeeper 
 pledged himself to dispose of, to his countrymen generally, at the 
 reduced rate of one and sixpence each. 
 
 ' I should ha' forgot it ; I should certainly ha' forgot it ! ' said 
 Sam ; so saying, he at once stepped into the stationer's shop, and 
 requested to be served with a sheet of the best gilt-edged letter- 
 paper, and a hard-nibbed pen which could be warranted not to 
 splutter. These articles having been promptly supplied, he walked 
 on direct towards Leadenhall Market at a good round pace, very 
 different from his recent lingering one. Looking round him, he 
 there beheld a sign-board on which the painter's art had delineated 
 something remotely resembling a cerulean elephant with an 
 aquiline nose in lieu of trunk. Rightly conjecturing that this was 
 the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into the house, and inquired 
 concerning his parent. 
 
 ' He won't be here this three quarters of an hour or more,' said 
 the young lady who superirttended the domestic arrangements of 
 the Blue Boar. 
 
 ' Wery good, my dear,' replied Sam. ' Let me have nine 
 penn'orth o' brandy and water luke, and the inkstand, will you, 
 miss ? ' 
 
 The brandy and water luke, and the inkstand, having been 
 carried irlto the little parlour, and the young lady having carefully 
 flattened down the coals to prevent their blazing, and carried away 
 
380 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the poker to preclude the possibility of the fire being stirred, with- 
 out the full privity and concurrence of the Blue Boar being first 
 had and obtained, Sam Weller sat himself down in a box near the 
 stove, and pulled out the sheet of gilt-edged letter-paper, and the 
 hard-nibbed pen. Then looking carefully at the pen to see that 
 there were no hairs in it, and dusting down the table, so that there 
 might be no crumbs of bread under the paper, Sam tucked up 
 the cuffs of his coat, squared his elbows, and composed himself 
 to write. 
 
 To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting 
 themselves practically to the science of penmanship, writing a letter 
 is no very easy task ; it being always considered necessary in such 
 cases for the writer to recline his head on his left arm, so as to 
 place his eyes as nearly as possible on a level with the paper, while 
 glancing sideways at the letters he is constructing, to form with 
 his tongue imaginary characters to correspond. These motions, 
 aldiough unquestionably of the greatest assistance to original com- 
 position, retard in some degree tlie progress of the writer ; and Sam 
 had unconsciously been a full hour and a half writing words in 
 small text, smearing out wrong letters with his little finger, and 
 putting in new ones which required going over very often to render 
 them visible through the old blots, when he was roused by the 
 opening of the door and the entrance of his parent. 
 
 ' Veil, Sammy,' said the father. 
 
 ' Veil, my Prooshan Blue,' responded the son, laying down his 
 pen. ' What's the latest bulletin about mother-in-law ? ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Veller passed a very good night, but is uncommon perwerse, 
 and unpleasant this mornin'. Signed upon oath, S. Veller, Esquire, 
 Senior. That's the last vun as was issued, Sammy,' replied Mr. 
 Weller, untying his shawl. 
 
 ' No better yet ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' All the symptoms aggerawated,' replied Mr. Weller, shaking his 
 head. ' But wot's that, you're a doin' of ? Pursuit of knowledge 
 under difficulties, Sammy ? ' 
 
 ' I've done now,' said Sam with slight embarrassment ; ' I've been 
 a writin'.' 
 
 ' So I see,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Not to any young 'ooman, I 
 hope, Sammy ? ' 
 
 ' Why it's no use a sayin' it ain't,' replied Sam, ' It's a walentine.' 
 
 ' A what ! ' exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by 
 the word. 
 
 ' A walentine,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Samivel, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, in reproachful accents, ' I 
 didn't think you'd ha' done it. Arter the warnin' you've had 0' 
 your father's wicious propensities ; arter all I've said to you upon 
 this here wery subject; arter actiwally seein'- and bein' in the 
 
cS? 
 
 ,^^/i^ ]la/sm^i>n^- 
 
SAM READS THE VALENTINE 381 
 
 company o' your own mother-in-law, vich I should ha' thought wos 
 a moral lesson as no man could never ha' forgotten to his dyin' 
 day ! I didn't think you'd ha' done it, Sammy, I didn't think you'd 
 ha' done it ! ' These reflections were too much for the good old 
 man. He raised Sam's tumbler to his lips and drank off its 
 contents. 
 
 ' Wot's the matter now ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Nev'r mind, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, ' it'll be a wery 
 agonizin' trial to me at my time of life, but I'm pretty tough, that's 
 vun consolation, as the wery old turkey remarked wen the farmer 
 said he wos afeerd he should be obliged to kill him for the London 
 market.' 
 
 ' Wot'll be a trial ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' To see you married, Sanuny — to see you a dilluded wictim, and 
 thinkin' in your innocence that's it's all wery capital,' replied Mr. 
 Weller. ' It's a dreadful trial to a father's feelin's, that 'ere, 
 Sammy.' 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said Sam. ' I ain't a goin' to get married, don't you 
 fret yourself about that; I know you're a judge of these things. 
 Order in your pipe, and I'll read you the letter. There ! ' 
 
 We cannot distinctly say whether it was the prospect of the pipe, 
 or the consolatory reflection that a fatal disposition to get married 
 ran in the family and couldn't be helped, which calmed Mr. 
 Weller's feelings, and caused his grief to subside. We should be 
 rather disposed to say that the result was attained by combining the 
 two sources of consolation, for he repeated the second in a low 
 tone, very frequently ; ringing the bell meanwhile, to order in the 
 first. He then divested himself of his upper coat ; and lighting the 
 pipe and placing himself in front of the fire with his back towards 
 it, so that he could feel its full heat, and recline against the mantel- 
 piece at the same time, turned towards Sam, and, with a countenance 
 greatly mollified by the softening influence of tobacco, requested 
 him to ' fire away.' 
 
 Sam dipped his pen into the ink to be ready for any corrections, 
 and began with a very theatrical air : 
 
 ' « Lovely ." ' 
 
 ' Stop,' said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. ' A double glass o' the 
 inwariable, my dear.' 
 
 'Very well, sir,' replied the girl; who with great quickness 
 appeared, vanished, returned, and disappeared. 
 
 ' They seem to know your ways here,' observed Sam. 
 
 'Yes,' replied his father, 'I've been here before, in my time. 
 Go on, Sammy.' 
 
 ' " Lovely creetur," ' repeated Sam. 
 
 ' 'Tain't in poetry, is it ? ' interposed his father, 
 
 ' No, no,' replied Sam. 
 
382 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Werry glad to hear it,' said Mr. Weller. ' Poetry's unnat'ral ; no 
 man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day, or Warren's 
 blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fellows ; never you 
 let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy. Begin agin, Sammy.' 
 
 Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity, and Sam 
 once more commenced, and read as follows : 
 
 ' " Lovely creetur i feel myself a dammed " — .' 
 
 ' That ain't proper,' said Mr. Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth. 
 
 ' No ; it ain't " dammed ",' observed Sam, holding the letter up 
 to the light, ' it's " shamed," there's a blot there — " I feel myself 
 ashamed." ' 
 
 ' Werry good,' said Mr. Weller. ' Go on.' 
 
 '"Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir — " I forget what 
 this here word is,' said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in 
 vain attempts to remember. 
 
 ' Why don't you look at it, then ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 'So 1 am a. lookin' at it,' replied Sam, ' but there's another blot 
 Here's a " c," and a " i," and a " d." ' 
 
 ' Circumwented, p'haps,' suggested Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' No, it ain't that,' said Sam, ' circumscribed ; that's it.' 
 
 ' That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy,' said Mr. 
 Weller, gravely. 
 
 ' Think not ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Nothin' like it,' replied his father. 
 
 ' But don't you think it means more ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Veil p'raps it is a more tenderer word,' said Mr. Weller, after a 
 a few moments' reflection. ' Go on, Sammy.' 
 
 '"Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in a 
 dressin' of you, for you are a nice gal and nothin' but it." ' 
 
 'That's a werry pretty sentiment,' said the elder Mr. WeUer, 
 removing his pipe to make way for the remark. 
 
 ' Yes, I think it is rayther good,' observed Sam, highly flattered. 
 
 ' Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin',' said the elder Mr. Weller, 
 ' is, that there ain't no callin' names in it, — no Wenuses, nor nothin' 
 o' that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus 
 or a angel, Sammy ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! what, indeed ? ' replied Sam. 
 
 ' You might jist as well call her a griflSn, or a unicorn, or a king's 
 arms at once, which is werry well known to be a col-lection o' 
 fabulous animals,' added Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Just as well,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Drive on, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows; his 
 father continuing to smoke, widi a mixed expression of wisdom and 
 complacency, which was particularly edifying. 
 
 ' " Afore I see you, I thought all women was alike." ' 
 
MR. WELLER THE ELDER APPROVES 383 
 
 ' So they are,' observed the elder Mr. Waller, parenthetically. 
 
 ' " But now," ' continued Sam, ' " now I find what a reg'lar soft- 
 headed, inkxed'lous turnip I must ha' been ; for there ain't nobody 
 like you, though / like you better than nothin' at all." I thought it 
 best to make that rayther strong,' said Sam, looking up. 
 
 Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed. 
 
 ' " So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary, my dear — as the 
 gen'l'm'n in difficulties did, van he valked out of a Sunday, — to tell 
 you that the first and only time I see you, your likeness was took 
 on my hart in much quicker time and brighter colours than ever a 
 likeness was took by the profeel macheen (wich p'raps you may 
 have heerd on Mary my dear) altho it does finish a portrait and put 
 the frame and glass on complete, with a hook at the end to hang it 
 up by, and all in two minutes and a quarter." ' 
 
 ' I am afeerd that werges on the poetical, Sammy,' said Mr. 
 Weller, dubiously. 
 
 ' No it don't,' replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to avoid con- 
 testing the point : 
 
 ' " Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over 
 what I've said. — My dear Mary I will now conclude." That's all,' 
 said Sam. 
 
 ' That's rather a sudden pull up, ain't it, Sammy ? ' inquired Mr. 
 WeUer. 
 
 'Not a bit on it,' said Sam; 'she'll vish there wos more, and 
 that's the great art o' letter writin'.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Weller, ' there's somethin' in that ; and I wish 
 your mother-in-law 'ud only conduct her conwersation on the same 
 gen-teel principle. Ain't you a goin' to sign it ? ' 
 
 ' That's the difficulty,' said Sam ; ' I don't know what to sign it.' 
 
 ' Sign it, Veller,' said the oldest surviving proprietor of that name. 
 
 ' Won't do,' said Sam. ' Never sign a walentine with your own 
 name.' 
 
 ' Sign it " Pickvick," then,' said Mr. Weller ; ' it's a werry 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 re- 
 spectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin' 
 copy o' werses the night afore he wos 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 down-hili 
 
3S4 THE TICKWICK CLUB 
 
 direction in one corner : ' To Mary, Housenjaid, 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* 
 
 'Veil,' said Mr. Weller, 'Now I s'pose he'll want to call some 
 witnesses to speak to his character, or p'haps 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 con-sideration, Sammy,' replied 
 Mr. Weller. ' Verever he's a goin' to be tried, my boy, a alleybi's 
 the thing to get him oiF. Ve got Tom Vildspark off that 'ere man- 
 slaughter, 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 con- 
 viction 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 con- 
 stancy 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. 
 
MR. WELLER DISCLOSES A PLOT 385 
 
 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 Qie pine-apple rum afore he goes avay.' 
 
 ' And empties it afore he comes back, I s'pose ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Clean 1 ' 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. Weller communicated this secret 
 with great glee, and winked so indefatigably after doing so, that 
 Sam began to think he must have got the tic doloureux in his right 
 eye-lid. 
 
 ' Well ? ' said that young gentleman. 
 
 'Well,' continued his progenitor, looking round him very cauti- 
 ously, ' you and I'll go, punctiwal to the time. The deputy shepherd 
 won't, Sammy ; the deputy shepherd won't.' Here Mr. Weller was 
 seized with a paroxysm of chuckles, which gradually terminated 
 in as near an approach to a choke as an elderly gentleman can, 
 with safety, sustain. 
 
 ' Well, I never see sitch an old ghost in all my born days,' 
 exclaimed Sam, rubbing the old gentleman's back, hard enough to 
 set him on fire with the friction. 'What are you a laughin' at, 
 corpilence ? ' 
 
 ' Hush ! Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, looking round him with in- 
 creased caution, and speaking in a whisper: 'Two friends o' mine, 
 as works the Oxford Road, and is up to all kinds o' games, has got 
 the deputy shepherd safe in tow, Sammy ; and ven he does come 
 to the Ebenezer Junction, (vich he's sure to do : for they'll see him to 
 the door, and shove him in if necessary) he'll be as far gone in rum 
 and water as ever he wos at the Markis o' Granby, Dorkin', and 
 that's not sayin' a little neither.' And with this, Mr. Weller once 
 more laughed immoderately, and once more relapsed into a state of 
 partial suffocation, in consequence. 
 
 Nothing could have been more in accordance with Sam Weller's 
 feelings, than the projected exposure of the real propensities and 
 qualities of the red-nosed man ; and it being very near the ap- 
 pointed hour of meeting, the father and son took their way at once 
 to Brick Lane : Sam not forgetting to drop his letter into a general 
 post-ofiEce as they walked along. 
 
 The monthly meetings of the Brick Lane Branch of the United 
 Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association, were held in 
 a large room, pleasantly and airily situated at the top of a safe 
 and commodious ladder. The president was the straight-walking 
 Mr. Anthony Humm, a converted fireman, now a schoolmaster, and 
 
 2 c 
 
386 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 occasionally an itinerant preacher ; and the Secretary was Mr. Jonas 
 Mudge, chandler's shop-keeper, an enthusiastic and disinterested 
 vessel, who sold tea to the members. Previous to the commence- 
 ment of business, the ladies sat upon formS; and drank tea, till 
 such time as they considered it expedient to leave off; and a large 
 wooden money-box was conspicuously placed upon the green baize 
 cloth of the business table, behind which the secretary stood, and 
 acknowledged, with a gracious smile, every addition to the rich 
 vein of copper which lay concealed within. 
 
 On this particular occasion the women drank tea to a most 
 alarming extent ; greatly to the horror of Mr. Weller senior, who, 
 utterly regardless of all Sam's admonitory nudgings, stared about 
 him in every direction with the most imdisguised astonishment. 
 
 ' Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, ' if some o' these here people 
 don't want tappin' to-morrow momin', I ain't your father, and 
 that's wot it is. Why, this here old lady next me is a drowndin' 
 herself in tea.' 
 
 ' Be quiet, can't you,' murmured Sam. 
 
 'Sam,' whispered Mr. Weller, a moment afterwards, in a tone 
 of deep agitation, ' mark my vords, my boy. If that 'ere secretary 
 fellow keeps on for only five minutes more, he'll blow hisself up 
 with toast and water.' 
 
 ' Well, let him, if he likes,' replied Sam ; ' it ain't no bis'ness o' 
 youm.' 
 
 ' If this here lasts much longer, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, in 
 the same low voice, ' I shall feel it my duty, as a human bein', to 
 rise and address the cheer. There's a young 'ooman on the next 
 form but two, as has drunk nine breakfast cups and a half; and 
 she's a swellin' wisibly before my wery eyes.' 
 
 There is little doubt that Mr. Weller would have carried his 
 benevolent intention into immediate execution, if a great noise, 
 occasioned by putting up the cups and saucers, had not very 
 fortunately announced that the tea-drinking was over. The 
 crockery having been removed, the table with the green baize 
 cover was carried out into the centre of the room, and the business 
 of the evening was commenced by a little emphatic man, with a 
 bald head, and drab shorts, who suddenly rushed up the ladder, at 
 the imminent peril of snapping the two little legs encased in the 
 drab shorts, and said : 
 
 'Ladies and gentlemen, I move our excellent brother, Mr. 
 Anthony Humm, into the chair.' 
 
 The ladies waved a choice collection of pocket handkerchiefs 
 at this proposition : and the impetuous little man literally moved 
 Mr. Humm into the chair, by taking him by the shoulders and 
 thrusting him into a mahogany-frame which had once repre- 
 isented that article of furniture. The waving of handkerchiefs ^vas 
 
COMMITTEE'S REPORT 387 
 
 rene;wed ; and Mr. Humm, who was a sleek, white-faced man, in a 
 perpettial perspiiration, bowed meekly, to the great admiration of 
 the females, and formally took his seat. Silence was then pro- 
 claimed by the Httle man in the drab shorts, and Mr. Humm rose 
 and said — That, with the permission of his Brick Lane Branch 
 brothers and sisters, then and there present, the secretary would 
 read the report of the Brick Lane Branch committee ; a proposition 
 which was again received with a demonstration of pocket-handker- 
 chiefs. 
 
 The secretary having sneezed in a very impressive manner, and 
 the cough which always seizes an assembly, when anything par- 
 ticular is going to be done, having been duly performed, the 
 following document was read : 
 
 'REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE BRICK LANE BRANCH OF 
 THE UNITED GRAND JUNCTION EBENEZER TEMPERANCE ASSO- 
 CIATION. 
 
 ' Your committee have pursued their grateful labours during the 
 past month, and have the unsp^kable pleasure of reporting the 
 following additional cases of converts to Temperance. 
 
 ' H. Walker, tailor, wife, and two children. When in better 
 circumstances, owns to having been in the constant habit of drink- 
 ing ale and beer; says he is not certain whether he did not twice 
 a week, for twenty years, taste " dog's nose," which your committee 
 find upon inquiry, to be compounded of warm porter, moist sugar, 
 gin, and nutmeg (a groan, and " So it is ! " from an elderly female). 
 Is now out of work and pennyless ; thinks it must be the porter 
 (cheers) or the loss of the use of his right hand; is not certain 
 which, but thinks it very likely that, if he had drank nothing but 
 water all his life, his fellow work-man would never have stuck a 
 rusty needle in him, and thereby occasioned his accident (tremendous 
 cheering). -Has nothing but cold water to drink, and never feels 
 thirsty (great applause). 
 
 ' Betsy Martin, widow, one child, and one eye. Goes out charing 
 and washing, "by the day ; never had more than one eye, but knows 
 her mother drank bottled stout, and shouldn't wonder if that caused 
 it (immense cheering). Thinks it not impossible that if she had 
 always abstained from spirits, she might have had two eyes by this 
 time (tremendous applause). Used, at every place she went to, 
 to have eighteen pence a day, a pint of porter, and a glass of 
 spirits ; but since she became a member of the Brick Lane Branch, 
 has always demanded three and sixpence instead (the announce- 
 ment of this most interesting fact was received with deafening 
 enthusiasm). 
 
 ' Henry Seller was for many years toast-master at various 
 
388 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 corporation dinners, during which time he drank a great deal of 
 foreign wine ; may sometimes have carried a bottle or two home 
 with him ; is not quite certain of that, but is sure if he did, that 
 he drank the contents. Feels very low and melancholy, is very 
 feverish, and has a constant thirst upon him ; thinks it must be the 
 wine he used to drink (cheers). Is out of employ now : and never 
 touches a drop of foreign wine by any chance (tremendous plaudits). 
 
 ' Thomas Burton is purveyor of cat's meat to the Lord Mayor 
 and Sheriffs, and several members of the Common Council (the 
 announcement of this gentleman's name was received with breathless 
 interest). Has a wooden leg ; finds a wooden leg expensive, going 
 over the stones ; used to wear second-hand wooden legs, and drink 
 a glass of hot gin and water regularly every night — sometimes two 
 (deep sighs). Found the second-hand wooden legs split and rot very 
 quickly ; is firmly persuaded that their constitution was undermined 
 by the gin and water (prolonged cheering). Buys new wooden 
 legs now, and drinks nothing but water and weak tea. The new 
 legs last twice as long as the others used to do, and he attributes 
 this solely to his temperate habits (triumphant cheers).' 
 
 Anthony Humm now moved that the assembly do regale itself 
 with a song. With a view to their rational and moral enjoyment, 
 brother Mordlin had adapted the beautiful words of ' Who hasn't 
 heard of a Jolly Young Waterman?' to the tune of the Old 
 Hundredth, which he would request them to join him in singing 
 (great applause). He might take that opportunity of expressing his 
 firm persuasion that the late Mr. Dibdin, seeing the errors of his 
 former life, had written that song to show the advantages of 
 abstinence. It was a temperance song (whirlwinds of cheers). 
 The neatness of the young man's attire, the dexterity of his feather- 
 ing, the enviable state of mind which enabled him in the beautiful 
 words of the poet, to 
 
 ' Row along, thinking of nothing at all,' 
 all combined to prove that he must have been a water-drinker 
 (cheers). Oh, what a state of virtuous jollity ! (rapturous cheering). 
 And what was the young man's reward ? Let all young men present 
 mark this : 
 
 ' The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily.' 
 (Loud cheers, in which the ladies joined.) What a bright example ! 
 The sisterhood, the maidens, flocking round the young waterman, 
 and urging him along the stream of duty and of temperance. But, 
 was it the maidens of humble life only, who soothed, consoled, and 
 supported him ? No ! 
 
 ' He was always first oars with the fine city ladies.' 
 
 (Immense cheering.) The soft sex to a man — he begged pardon, 
 to a female — rallied round the young waterman, and turned with 
 
THE SOFT SEX 389 
 
 disgust from the drinker of spirits (cheers). The Brick Lane 
 Branch brothers were watermen (cheers and laughter). That room 
 was their boat ; that audience were the maidens ; and he (Mr. 
 Anthony Humm), however unworthily, was ' first oars ' (unbounded 
 applause). 
 
 'Wot does he mean by the soft sex, Sammy?' inquired Mr. 
 Weller, in a whisper. 
 
 ' The womin,' said Sam, in the same tone. 
 
 ' He ain't far out there, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller ■ ' they must 
 be a soft sex, — a wery soft sex, indeed — if they let themselves be 
 gammoned by such fellers as him.' 
 
 Any further observations from the indignant old gentleman were 
 cut short by the announcement of the song, which Mr. Anthony 
 Humm gave out, two lines at a time, for the information of such of 
 his hearers as were unacquainted with the legend. While it was 
 being sung, the little man with the drab shorts disappeared; he 
 returned immediately on its conclusion, and whispered Mr. Anthony 
 Humm, with a face of the deepest importance. 
 
 ' My friends,' said Mr. Humm, holding up his hand in a depre- 
 catory manner, to bespeak the silence of such of the stout old ladies 
 as were yet a line or two behind ; ' my friends, a delegate from the 
 Dorking branch of our society. Brother Stiggins, attends below.' 
 
 Out came the pocket-handkerchiefs again, in greater force than 
 ever ; for Mr. Stiggins was excessively popular among the female 
 constituency of Brick Lane. 
 
 'He may approach, I think," said Mr. Humm, looking round 
 him, with a fat smile. ' Brother Tadger, let him come forth and 
 greet us.' 
 
 The little man in the drab shorts who answered to the name of 
 Brother Tadger, bustled down the ladder with great speed, and was 
 immediately afterwards heard tumbling up with the reverend Mr. 
 Stiggins. 
 
 'He's a comin', Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, purple in the 
 countenance with suppressed laughter. 
 
 ' Don't say nothin' to me,' replied Sam, ' for I can't bear it. 
 He's close to the door. I heard him a-knockin' his head again 
 the lath and plaster now.' 
 
 As Sam Weller spoke, the little door flew open, and brother 
 Tadger appeared, closely followed by the reverend Mr. Stiggins, 
 who no sooner entered, than there was a great clapping of hands, 
 and stamping of feet, and flourishing of handkerchiefs; to all of 
 which manifestations of delight, Brother Stiggins returned no other 
 acknowledgment than staring with a wild eye, and a fixed smile, at 
 the extreme top of the wick of the candle on the table : swaying 
 his body to and fro, meanwhile, in a very unsteady and uncertaii\ 
 manner. 
 
390 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'Are you unwell, brother Stiggins?' whispered Mr. Anthony 
 Humm. 
 
 ' I am all right, sir,' replied Mr. Stiggins, in a tone in which 
 ferocity was blended with an extreme thickness of utterance ; ' I am 
 all right, sir.' 
 
 'Oh, very well,' rejoined Mr. Anthony Humm, retreating a 
 few paces. 
 
 ' I believe no man here, has ventured to say that I am not all 
 right, sir ? ' said Mr. Stiggins. 
 , ' Oh, certainly not,' said Mr. Humm. 
 
 ' I should advise him not to, sir ; I should advise him not,' said 
 Mr. Stiggins. 
 
 By this time the audience were perfectly silent, and waited with 
 some anxiety for the resumption of business. 
 
 ' Will you address the meeting, brother ? ' said Mr. Humm, with 
 a smile of invitation. 
 
 ' No, sir,' rejoined Mr. Stiggins ; ' No, sir. I will not, sir.' 
 
 The meeting looked at each other with raised eye-lids; and a 
 murmur of astonishment ran through the room. 
 
 ' It's my opinion, sir,' said Mr. Stiggins, unbuttoning his coat, and 
 speaking very loudly: 'it's my bpiniop, sir, that this, meeting is 
 drunk, sir. Brother Tadger, sir ! ' said Mr. Stiggins, suddenly 
 increasing in ferocity, and turning sharp round on the little man in 
 the drab shorts, "■ you are drunk, 'sir ! ' With this, Mr. Stiggins, 
 entertaining a praiseworthy desire to promote the sobriety of the 
 meeting, and to exclude therefrom all improper characters, hit 
 brother Tadger on the summit of the nose with Such unerring aim, 
 that the drab shorts disappeared like a flash of lightning. Brother 
 Tadger had been knocked, head first, down the ladder. 
 
 Upon this, the women set up a loud and dismal screaming; and 
 rushing in small parties before their favourite brothers, flung their 
 arms around them to preserve them from danger. An instance of 
 affection, which had nearly proved fatal to Humm, who, being 
 extremely popular, was all but suffocated, by Jthe crowd of female 
 devotees th^-t hung about his neck, and heaped caresses upon him. 
 The greater part of the lights were quickly put out, and nothing but 
 noise and confusion resounded on all sides. 
 
 ' Now, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, takmg off his great coat with 
 much deliberation, ' just you step out, and fetch in a watchman.' 
 
 ' And wot are you a goin' to do, the while ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Never you mind me, Sammy,' replied the old gentleman ; ' I shall 
 ockipy myself in havin' a small settlement with that 'ere Stiggins.' 
 Before Sam could interfere to prevent it, his heroic parent had 
 penetrated into a remote corner of the room, and attacked the 
 reverend Mr. Stiggins with manual dexterity. 
 
 ' Come off ! 'said Sam. 
 
THE MORNING OF THE TRIAL 391 
 
 ' Come on ! ' cried Mr. Weller ; and without further invitation he 
 gave the reverend Mr. Stiggins a preliminary tap on the head, and 
 began dancing round him in a buoyant and cork-like manner, 
 which in a gentleman at his time of life was a perfect marvel to 
 behold. 
 
 Finding all remonstrance unavailing, Sam pulled his hat firmly 
 on, threw his father's coat over his arm, and taking the old man 
 round the waist, forcibly dragged him down the ladder, and into the 
 street ; never releasing his hold, or permitting him to stop, until 
 they reached the corner. As they gained it, they could hear the 
 shouts of the populace, who were witnessing the removal of the 
 reverend Mr. Stiggins to strong lodgings for the night : and could 
 hear the noise occasioned by the dispersion in various directions 
 of the members of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand 
 Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 IS WHOLLY DEVOTED TO A FULL AND FAITHFUL REPORT OF THE 
 MEMORABLE TRIAL OF BARDELL AGAINST PICKWICK 
 
 ' I WONDER what the foreman of the jury, whoever he'll be, has got 
 for breakfast,' said Mr. Snodgrass, by way of keeping up a conversa- 
 tion on the eventful morning of the fourteenth of February. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mr. Perker, ' I hope he's got a good one.' 
 
 ' Why so ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Highly important ; very important, my dear sir,' replied Perker. 
 ' A good, contented, well-breakfasted juryman, is a capital thing to 
 get hold of. Discontented or hungry jurymen, my dear sir, always 
 find for the plaintiff.' 
 
 ' Bless my heart,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking very blank ; ' what 
 do they do that for ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I don't know,' replied the little man, coolly ; ' saves time, 
 I suppose. If it's near dinner-time, the foreman takes out his 
 watch when the jury has, retired, and says, " Dear me; gentlemen, 
 ten minutes to five, I declare ! I dine at five, gentlemen." " So do 
 I," says every body else, except two men who ought to have dined 
 at three, and seem more than half disposed to stand out in con- 
 sequence. The foreman smiles, and puts up his watch: — "Well, 
 gentlemen, what do we say, plaintiff or defendant, gentlemen ? I 
 rather think, so far as I am concerned, gentlemen, — I say, I rather 
 think, — ^but don't let that influence you — I rather ikyak. the plaintifPs 
 the man." Upon this, two or three other men are sure to say tb.at 
 
392 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 they think so too — as of course they do ; and then they get on very 
 unanimously and comfortably. Ten minutes past nine ! ' said the 
 little man, looking at his watch. ' Time we were off, my dear sir ; 
 breach of promise trial — court is generally full in such cases. You 
 had better ring for a coach, my dear sir, or we shall be rather 
 iate.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick immediately rang the bell ; and a coach having 
 been procured, the four Pickwickians and Mr. Parker ensconced 
 themselves therein, and drove to Guildhall ; Sam Weller, Mr. 
 Lowten, and the blue bag, following in a cab. 
 
 ' Lowten,' said Perker, when they reached the outer hall of the 
 court, ' put Mr. Pickwick's friends in the students' box ; Mr. Pick- 
 wick himself had better sit by me. This way, my dear sir, this 
 way.' Taking Mr. Pickwick by the coat-sleeve, the little man led 
 him to the low seat just beneath the desks of the King's Counsel, 
 which is constructed for the convenience of attorneys, who from 
 that spot can whisper into the ear of the leading counsel in the 
 case, any instructions that may be necessary during the progress of 
 the trial. The occupants of this seat are invisible to the great body 
 of spectators, inasmuch as they sit on a much lower level than 
 either the barristers or the audience, whose seats are raised above 
 the floor. Of course they have their backs to both, and their faces 
 towards the judge. 
 
 ' That's the witness-box, I suppose ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, pointing 
 to a kind of pulpit, with a brass rail, on his left hand. 
 
 ' That's the witness-box, my dear sir,' replied Perker, disinterring 
 a quantity of papers from the blue bag, which Lowten had just 
 deposited at his feet. 
 
 ' And that,' said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a couple of enclosed 
 seats on his right, ' that's where the jurymen sit, is it not ? ' 
 
 ' The identical place, my dear sir,' replied Perker, tapping the 
 lid of his snuff-box. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stood up in a state of great agitation, and took a 
 glance at the court. There were already a pretty large sprinkling 
 of spectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen in 
 wigs, in the barristers' seats : who presented, as a body, all that 
 pleasing and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which the 
 bar of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as 
 had a brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner as 
 possible, and occasionally scratched their noses therewith, to 
 impress the fact more strongly on the observation of the spectators. 
 Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carried under their 
 arms goodly octavos, with a red label behind, and that underdone- 
 pie-crust-coloured cover, which is technically known as ' law calf.' 
 Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust their hands into 
 their pockets, and looked as wise as they conveniently could ; 
 
IN COURT 393 
 
 others, again, moved here and there with great restlessness and 
 earnestness of manner, content to awaken thereby the admiration 
 and astonishment of the uninitiated strangers. The whole, to the 
 great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided into little groups, 
 who were chatting and discussing the news of the day in the 
 most unfeeling manner possible, — ^just as if no trial at all were 
 coming on. ' 
 
 A bow from Mr. Phunky, as he entered, and took his seat behind 
 the row appropriated to the King's Counsel, attracted Mr. Pick- 
 wick's attentionj and he had scarcely returned it, when Mr. 
 Serjeant Snubbin appeared, followed by Mr. Mallard, who half hid 
 the Serjeant behind a large crimson bag, which he placed on his 
 table, and, after shaking hands with Perker, withdrew. Then there 
 entered two or three more Serjeants ; and among them, one with a 
 fat body and a red face, who nodded in a friendly manner to Mr. 
 Serjeant Snubbin, and said it was a fine morning. 
 
 ' Who's that red-faced man, who said it was a fine morning, and 
 nodded to our counsel ? ' whispered Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz,' replied Perker. 'He's opposed to us; 
 he leads on the other side. That gentleman behind him is Mr. 
 Skimpin, his junior.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was on the point of inquiring, with great abhor- 
 rence of the man's cold-blooded villany, how Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 who was counsel for the opposite party, dared to presume to tell 
 Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, who was counsel for him, that it was a fine 
 morning, when he was interrupted by a general rising of the bar- 
 risters, and a loud cry of ' Silence ! ' from the officers of the court. 
 Looking round, he found that this was caused by the entrance of 
 the judge. 
 
 Mr. Justice Stareleigh (who sat in the absence of the Chief 
 Justice, occasioned by indisposition), was a most particularly short 
 man, and so fat, that he seemed all face and waistcoat. He rolled 
 in, upon two little turned legs, and having bobbed gravely to the 
 bar, who bobbed gravely to him, put his little legs underneath his 
 table, and his little three-cornered hat upon it; and when Mr. 
 Justice Stareleigh had done this, all you could see of him was two 
 queer little eyes, one broad pink face, and somewhere about half of 
 a big and very comical-looking wig. 
 
 The judge had no sooner taken his seat, than the officer on the 
 floor of the court called out ' Silence ! ' in a commanding tone, upon 
 which another officer in the gallery cried ' Silence ! ' in an angry 
 manner, whereupon three or four more ushers shouted ' Silence ! ' in 
 a voice of indignant remonstrance. This being done, a gentleman 
 in black, who sat below the judge, proceeded to call over the names 
 of the jury ; and after a great deal of bawling, it was discovered 
 that only ten special jurymen were present. Upon this, Mr. 
 
394 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Serjeant Buzfuz prayed a tales ; the gentleman in black then pro- 
 ceeded to press into the special jury, two of the common jurymen ; 
 and a green-grocer and a chemist were caught directly. 
 
 ' Answer to your names, gentlemen, that you may be sworn,' said 
 the gentleman in black. ' Richard Upwitch.' 
 
 ' Here,' said the green-grocer. 
 
 ' Thomas Groffin.' 
 
 ' Here,' said the chemist. 
 
 ' Take the book, gentlemen. You shall well and truly try — ' 
 
 ' I beg this court's pardon,' said the chemist, who was a tall, thin, 
 yellow-visaged man, ' but I hope this court will excuse my 
 attendance.' 
 
 ' On what grounds, sir ? ' said Mr. Justice Stareleigh. 
 
 ' I have no assistant, my Lord,' said the chemist. 
 
 ' I can't help that, sir,' replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. ' You 
 should hire one.' 
 
 ' I can't afford it, my Lord,' rejoined the chemist. 
 
 ' Then you ought to be able to afford it, sir,' said the judge, 
 reddening ; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh's temper bordered on the 
 irritable, and brooked not contradiction. 
 
 ' I know I ougM to do, if I got on as well as I deserved, but I 
 don't, my Lord,' answered the chemist. 
 
 ' Swear the gentleman,' said the judge, peremptorily. 
 
 The officer had got no further than the ' You shall well and truly 
 try,' when he was again interrupted by the chemist. 
 
 ' I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I ? ' said the chemist. 
 
 ' Certainly, sir,' replied the testy little judge. 
 
 ' Very well, my Lord,' replied the chemist, in a resigned manner. 
 ' Then there'll be murder before this trial's over ; that's all. Swear 
 me, if you please, sir ; ' and sworn the chemist was, before the judge 
 could find words to utter. 
 
 ' I merely wanted to observe, my Lord,' said the chemist, taking 
 his seat with great deliberation, ' that I've left nobody but an errand- 
 boy in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my Lord, but he is not 
 acquainted with drugs ; and I know that the prevailing impression 
 on his mind is, that Epsom salts means oxalic acid ; and syrup of 
 senna, laudanum. That's all, my Lord.' With this, the tall chemist 
 composed himself into a comfortable attitude, and, assuming a 
 pleasant expression of countenance, appeared to have prepared 
 himself for the worst. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of the 
 deepest horror, when a slight sensation was perceptible in the body 
 of the court; and immediately afterwards Mrs. Bardell, supported 
 by Mrs. Cluppins, was led in, and placed, in a drooping state, at 
 the other end of the seat on which Mr. Pickwick sat. An extra 
 sized umbrella was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and a pair of 
 
MRS. BARDELL IN COURT 395 
 
 pattens by Mr. Fogg, each of whom had prepared a most sympathising 
 and melancholy face for the occasion. Mrs. Sanders then appeared, 
 leading in Master Bardell. At sight of her child, Mrs. Bardell 
 started; suddenly recollecting herself, she kissed him in a frantic 
 manner; then relapsing into a state of hysterical imbecihty, the 
 good lady requested to be informed where she was. In reply to 
 this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned their heads away and 
 wept, while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg intreated the plaintiff to 
 compose herself. Serjeant Buzfuz rubbed his eyes very hard with 
 a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealing look towards 
 the jury, while the judge was visibly affected, and several of the 
 beholders tried to cough down their emotions. 
 
 'Very good notion that, indeed,' whispered Perker to Mr. 
 Pickwick. ' Capital fellows those Dodson and Fogg ; excellent 
 ideas of effect, my dear sir, excellent.' 
 
 , As Perker spoke, Mrs. Bardell beg^n to recover by slow degrees, 
 while Mrs. Cluppins, after a careful survey of Master Bardell's 
 buttons and the button-holes to, which they severally belonged, 
 placed him on the floor of the cpurt in front of his mother, — a 
 commanding position in which he could not fail to awaken the full 
 commiseration and sympathy pf both judge and jury. This was not 
 done without considerable opposition, arid many tears, on the part 
 of the young gentleman himself, who .had certain inward misgivings 
 that the placing him within the fujl glare of the judge's eye was only 
 a formal prelude to his being immediately ordered away for instant 
 execution, or for transportation beyond the seas, during the whole 
 term of his natural life, at the very least. 
 
 ' Bardell and Pickwick,' cried the gentleman in black, calling on 
 the case, which stood first on the Hst. . 
 
 ' I am for the plaintiff, my Lord,' said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. 
 
 ' Who is with you, brother Buzfuz ?' said the judge. Mr.Skimpin 
 bowed, to intimate that he was. 
 
 'I appear for the defendant, my Lord,' said Mr. Serjeant Snubbin. 
 
 'Anybody with you, brother, Snubbin ? ' inquired the court. 
 
 ' Mr. Phunky, my Lord,' replied Serjeant Snubbin. 
 
 ,! Serjeant Euzfuz and Mr. Skimpin for the plaintiff,' said the judge, 
 writing down the names in his note-book, and reading as he wrote ; 
 ' for the defendant, Serjeant Snubbin and Mr. Monkey.' 
 
 ' Beg your Lordship's pardon, Phunky.' . . 
 
 ' Oh, very good,' said the judge ; ' I never had the pleasure of 
 hearing the gentleman's name before.' Here Mr. Phunky bO|wed 
 and smiled, and the judge bowed and smiled too, and then Mr. 
 Phunky, blushing into the very whites of his eyes,, tried to lop}t; as 
 if he didn't know that everybody was gazing at him, : a thing which 
 no man ever succeedjed in doing yet, or in all reasonable, probability, 
 ever will. 
 
396 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Go on,' said the judge. 
 
 The ushers again called silence, and Mr. Skimpin proceeded to 
 ' open the case ; ' and the case appeared to have very little inside it 
 when he had opened it, for he kept such particulars as he knew, 
 completely to himself, and sat down, after a lapse of three minutes, 
 leaving the jury in precisely the same advanced stage of wisdom as 
 they were in before. 
 
 Serjeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignity which 
 the grave nature of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered 
 to Dodson, and conferred briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over 
 his shoulders, settled his wig, and addressed the jury. 
 
 Serjeant Buzfuz began by saying, that never, in the whole course 
 of his professional experience — never, from the very first moment 
 of his applying himself to the study and practice of the law — had he 
 approached a case with feelings of such deep emotion, or with such 
 a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him — a responsibility, 
 he would say, which he could never have supported, were he not 
 buoyed up and sustained by a conviction so strong, that it amounted 
 to positive certainty that the cause of truth and justice, or, in other 
 words, the cause of his much-injured and most oppressed client, 
 must prevail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men 
 whom he now saw in that box before him. 
 
 Counsel usually begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the 
 very best terms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp 
 fellows they must be. A visible effect was produced immediately ; 
 several jurymen beginning to take voluminous notes with the utmost 
 eagerness. 
 
 ' You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen,' continued 
 Serjeant Buzfuz, well knowing that, from the learned friend alluded 
 to, the gentlemen of the jury had heard just nothing at all — ' you 
 have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen, that this is an action 
 for a breach of promise of marriage, in which the damages are laid 
 at ;£i,5oo. But you have not heard from my learned friend, 
 inasmuch as it did not come within my learned friend's province to 
 tell you, what are the facts and circumstances of the case. Those 
 facts and circumstances, gentlemen, you shall hear detailed by me, 
 and proved by the unimpeachable female whom I will place in that 
 box before you.' 
 
 Here Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, with a tremendous emphasis on the 
 word ' box,' smote his table with a mighty sound, and glanced at 
 Dodson and Fogg, who nodded admiration of the serjeant, and 
 indignant defiance of the defendant. 
 
 ' The plaintiff, gendemen,' continued Serjeant Buzfuz, in a soft and 
 melancholy voice, ' the plaintiff is a widow ; yes, gentlemen, a widow. 
 The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and 
 confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royai 
 
THE PLAINTIFFS CASE OPENED 397 
 
 revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek else-, 
 where for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never 
 afford.' 
 
 At.this pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had 
 been knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar, 
 the learned Serjeant's voice faltered, and he proceeded with emotion : 
 
 ' Some time before his death, he had stamped his likeness upon a 
 litde boy. With this litde boy, the only pledge of her departed 
 exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the 
 retirement and tranquillity of Goswell Street ; and here she placed 
 in her front parlour-window a written placard, bearing this inscrip- 
 tion — "Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire 
 within." ' Here Serjeant Buzfuz paused, while several gentlemen 
 of the jury took a note of the document. 
 
 ' There is no date to that, is there, sir ? ' inquired a juror. 
 
 ' There is no date, gentlemen,' replied Serjeant Buzfuz ; '-but I 
 am instructed to say that it was put in the plaintiffs parlour-window 
 just this time three years. I intreat the attention of the jury to 
 the wording of this document. " Apartments furnished for a single 
 gentleman " ! Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentle- 
 men, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable 
 qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear, she had no 
 distrust, she had no suspicion, all was confidence and reliance. 
 " Mr. Bardell," said the widow ; " Mr. Bardell was a man of 
 honour, Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, Mr. Bardell was no 
 deceiver, Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to 
 single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, 
 and for consolation ; in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see 
 something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first 
 won my young and untried affections ; to a single gentleman, then, 
 shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this beautiful and touching 
 impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentle- 
 men,) the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her 
 first floor, caught the innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put 
 the bill up in her parlour-window. Did it remain there long ? No. 
 The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was 
 preparing, the sapper and miner was at work. Before the bill had 
 been in the parlour-window three days — three days — gentlemen^ — a 
 Being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance 
 of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. 
 Bardell's house. He inquired within ; he took the lodgings ; and 
 on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This 
 man was Pickwick — Pickwick, the defendant.' 
 
 Serjeant Buzfuz, who had proceeded with such volubility that his 
 face was perfectly crimson, here paused for breath. The silence 
 g,vyoke Mr, Justice Stareleigh, who immediately wrote down 
 
398 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 something with a pen without any ink in it, and looked unusually 
 profound, to impress the jury with the belief that he always thought 
 most deeply with his eyes shut. Serjeant Buzfuz proceeded. 
 
 'Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents but 
 few attractions ; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, 
 gentlemen, the' men, to deUght in the contemplation of revolting 
 heartlessness, and of systematic villany'.'' 
 
 Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence for some 
 time, gave a violent start, as if some vague idea of assaulting 
 Serjeant Buzfuz, in the august presence of justice and law, suggested 
 itself to his mind. An admonitory gesture from Perker restramed 
 him, and he listened to the learned gentleman's continuation with 
 a look of indignation, which contrasted forcibly with the admiring 
 faces of Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs.' Sanders. 
 
 'I say systematic villany, gentlemen,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 looking through Mr. Pickwick, and talking at him ; ' and when I 
 say systematic villany, let me tell the defendant Pickwick, if he be 
 in court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more 
 decent in him, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better 
 taste, if he' had stopped away. Let me tellhim, gentlemen, that 
 any gestures of dissent or disapprobation in which he may indulge 
 in this court will not go down ^vith you ; that you will know how 
 to value and how to appreciate them ; and let me tell him further, 
 as my lord will tell you, gentlemen, that a counsel, in the discha.fge 
 of his duty to his client, is neither to be intimidated nor bullied, 
 nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the 
 other, or the first, or the last, will recoil on the head of the 
 attempter, be he plaintiff or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, 
 or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.' 
 
 This Uttle divergence from the subject in hand, had of course, 
 tTie intended effect of turning all eyes to Mr. Pickwick. Serjeant 
 Buzfuz, having partially recovered from the state of moral elevation 
 into which he had lashed himself, resumed : 
 
 ' I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick con- 
 tinued "to reside constaiitly, and without interruption or intermission, 
 at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, 
 during the whole of that time waited on him, attended to his 
 comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washer- 
 woman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for 
 wear, when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust 
 and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, he 
 gave halfpence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to her little 
 boy ; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it will 
 be impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, that 
 on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and, after inquiring 
 whether -he had won any alky tors ox commmieys lately (both of 
 
•-^^ ^^Ja/y. 
 
SERJEANT BUZFUZ CONTINUES 399 
 
 which I understand to be a particular species of marbles much prized 
 by the youth of this town), made use of this remarkable expression : 
 " How should you like to have another father ? " I shall prove to 
 you, gentlemen, that about a year ago, Pickwick suddenly began to 
 absent himself from home, during long intervals, as if with the 
 intention of gradually breaking off from my client; but I shall 
 show you also, that his resolution was not at that time sufficiently 
 strong, or that his better feelings conquered, if better feelings he 
 has, or that the charms and accomplishments of my client prevailed 
 against his unmanly intentions; by proving to you, that on one 
 occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in 
 terms, offered her marriage : previously however, taking special 
 care that there should be no witness to their solemn contract ; and 
 I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of 
 his own friends, — most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen — most im- 
 willing witnesses — that on that morning he was discovered by them 
 holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his 
 caresses and endearments.' 
 
 A visible impression was produced upon the auditors by this part 
 of the learned Serjeant's address. Drawing forth two very small 
 scraps of paper, he proceeded : 
 
 ' And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have 
 passed between these parties, letters which are admitted to be in 
 the hand-writing of the defendant, and which speak volumes 
 indeed. These letters, too, bespeak the character of the man. 
 They are not open, fervent, eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but 
 the language of affectionate attachment. They are covert, sly, 
 underhanded communications, but, fortunately, far more conclusive 
 than if couched in the most glowing language and the most poetic 
 imagery — letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious 
 eye — letters that were evidently intended at the time, by Pickwick, 
 to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they 
 might fall. Let me read the first : — " Garraway's, twelve o'clock. 
 Dear Mrs. B. — Chops and Tomata sauce. Yours, Pickwick." 
 Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and Tomata sauce. 
 Yours, Pickwick ! Chops ! Gracious heavens ! and Tomata 
 sauce ! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding 
 female to be trifled away, by such shallow artifices as these ? The 
 next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. " Dear 
 Mrs. B., I shall not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach." And 
 then follows this very remarkable expression. " Don't trouble 
 yourself about the warming-pan." The warming pan ! Why, 
 gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan ? When 
 was the peace of mind of man or woman broken or disturbed by 
 a warming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will 
 add, gentlemen, a comforting article of domestic furniture ? Why 
 
400 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about 
 this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere 
 cover for hidden fire — a mere substitute for some endearing word 
 or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, 
 artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated 
 desertion, and which I am not in a condition to explain? And 
 what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I 
 know, it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most 
 unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole oi 
 this transaction, but whose speed will now be very unexpectedly 
 accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to his 
 cost, will very soon be greased by you ! ' 
 
 Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz paused in this place, to see whether the jury 
 smiled at his joke; but as nobody took it but the green-grocer, 
 whose sensitiveness on the subject was very probably occasioned 
 by his having subjected a chaise-cart to the process in question on 
 that identical morning, the learned Serjeant considered it advisable 
 to undergo a slight relapse into the dismals before he concluded. 
 
 ' But enough of this, gentlemen,' said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, ' it is 
 difficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when our 
 deepest sympathies are awakened. My cUent's hopes and prospects 
 are ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation 
 is gone indeed. The bill is down — ^but there is no tenant. Eligible 
 single gentlemen pass and repass — ^but there is no invitation for 
 them to inquire within or without. All is gloom and silence in the 
 house ; even the voice of the child is hushed ; his infant sports are 
 disregarded when his mother weeps ; his " alley tors " and his 
 " comijioneys " are alike neglected ; he forgets the long familiar cry 
 of " knuckle down," and at tip-cheese, or odd and even, his hand is 
 out. But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of 
 this domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell Street — Pickwick, who 
 has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the sward — Pickwick, 
 who comes before you to-day with his heartless Tomata sauce and 
 warming-pans — Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing effron- 
 tery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made. Damages, 
 gentlemen — heavy damages — is the only punishment with which 
 you can visit him ; the only recompence you can award to my 
 client. And for those damages she now appeals to an enlightened, 
 a high-minded, a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a 
 sympathising, a conterjiplative jury of her civilised countrymen.' 
 With this beautiful peroration, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz sat down, and 
 Mr. Justice Stareleigh woke up. 
 
 ' Call Elizabeth Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, rising a minute 
 afterwards, with renewed vigour. 
 
 The nearest usher called for Elizabeth Tuppins; another one, 
 at a little distance off, demanded Elizabeth Jupkins ; and a third 
 
MRS. CLUPPINS IN THE BOX 401 
 
 rushed in a breathless state into King Street, and screamed for 
 Elizabeth Muffins till he was hoarse. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Cluppins, with the combined assistance of Mrs. 
 Bardell, Mrs. Sanders, Mr. Dodson, and Mr. Fogg, was hoisted into 
 the witness-box ; and when she was safely perched on the top step, 
 Mrs. Bardell stood on the bottom one, with the pocket-handkerchief 
 and pattens in one hand, and a glass bottle that might hold about 
 a quarter of a pint of smelling salts in the other, ready for any 
 emergency. Mrs. Sanders, whose eyes were intently fixed on the 
 judge's face, planted herself close by, with the large umbrella : 
 keeping her right thumb pressed on the spring with an earnest 
 countenance, as if she were fully prepared to put it up at a moment's 
 notice. 
 
 ' Mrs. Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, ' pray compose yourself, 
 ma'am.' Of course, directly Mrs. Cluppins was desired to compose 
 herself she sobbed with increased vehemence, and gave divers 
 alarming manifestations of an approaching fainting fit, or, as she 
 afterwards said, of her feelings being too many for her. 
 
 ' Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins ? ' said Serjeant Buzfuz, after a 
 few unimportant questions, ' do you recollect being in Mrs. Bardell's 
 back one pair of stairs, on one particular morning in July last, when 
 she was dusting Pickwick's apartment ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, my Lord and Jury, I do,' replied Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick's sitting-room was the first-floor front, I believe ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, it were, sir,' replied Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' What were you doing in the back room, ma'am ? ' inquired the 
 little judge. 
 
 ' My Lord and Jury,' said Mrs. Cluppins, with interesting agitation, 
 ' I will not deceive you.' 
 
 ' You had better not, ma'am,' said the Uttle judge. 
 
 ' I was there,' resumed Mrs. Cluppins, ' unbeknown to Mrs. 
 Bardell; I had been out with a little basket, gentlemen, to buy 
 three pound of red kidney purtaties, which was three pound tuppense 
 ha'penny, when I see Mrs. Bardell's street door on the jar.' 
 
 ' On the what ? ' exclaimed the little judge. 
 
 ' Partly open, my Lord,' said Serjeant Snubbin. 
 
 ' She said on the jar,' said the little judge, with a cunning look. 
 
 ' It's all the same, my Lord,' said Serjeant Snubbin. The little 
 judge looked doubtful, and said he'd make a note of it. Mrs. 
 Cluppins then resumed : 
 
 ' I walked in, gentlemen, just to say good mornin', and went, in a 
 permiscuous manner, up stairs, and into the back room. Gentle- 
 men, there was the sound of voices in the front room, and ' 
 
 'And you listened, I believe, Mrs. Cluppins?' said Serjeant 
 Buzfuz. 
 
 ' Beggin' your pardon, sir,' replied Mrs. Cluppins, in a majestic 
 
 2 D 
 
402 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 manner, ' I would scorn the haction. The voices was very loud, 
 sir, and forced themselves upon my ear.' 
 
 ' Well, Mrs. Cluppins, you were not listening, but you heard the 
 voices. Was one of those voices, Pickwick's ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, it were, sir.' 
 
 And Mrs. Cluppins, after distinctly stating that Mr. Pickwick 
 addressed himself to Mrs. Bardell, repeated, by slow degrees, and 
 by dint of many questions, the conversation with which our readers 
 are already acquainted. 
 
 The jury looked suspicious, and Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz smiled and 
 sat down. They looked positively awful when Serjeant Snubbin 
 intimated that he should not cross-examine the witness, for Mr. 
 Pickwick wished it to be distinctly stated that it was due to her to 
 say, that her account was in substance correct. 
 
 Mrs. Cluppins having once broken the ice, thought it a favourable 
 opportunity for entering into a short dissertation on her own 
 domestic affairs ; so, she straightway proceeded to inform the court 
 that she was the mother of eight children at that present speaking, 
 and that she entertained confident expectations of presenting Mr. 
 Cluppins with a ninth, somewhere about that day six months. At 
 this interesting point, the little judge interposed most irascibly ; and 
 the effect of the interposition was, that both the worthy lady and 
 Mrs. Sanders were politely taken out of court, under the escort of 
 Mr. Jackson, without further parley. 
 
 ' Nathaniel Winkle ! ' said Mr. Skimpin. 
 
 ' Here !' replied a feeble voice. Mr. Winkle entered the witness 
 box, and having been duly sworn, bowed to the judge with con- 
 siderable deference. 
 
 ' Don't look at me, sir,' said the judge, sharply, in acknowledg- 
 ment of the salute ; ' look at the jury.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle obeyed the mandate, and looked at the place where 
 he thought it most probable the jury might be ; for seeing anything 
 in his then state of intellectual complication was wholly out of the 
 question. 
 
 Mr. Winkle was then examined by Mr. Skimpin, who, being 
 a promising young man of two or three and forty, was of course 
 anxious to confuse a witness who was notoriously predisposed in 
 favour of the other side, as much as he could. 
 
 'Now, sir,' said Mr. Skimpin, 'have the goodness to let his 
 Lordship and the jury know what your name is, will you ? ' and 
 Mr. Skimpin inclined his head on one side to listen with great 
 sharpness to the answer, and glanced at the jury meanwhile, as if 
 to imply that he rather expected Mr. Winkle's natural taste for 
 perjury would induce him to give some name which did not belong 
 10 him. 
 
 - Winkle,' replied the witness. 
 
MR. WINKLE IN THE BOX 403 
 
 'What's your Christian name, sir?' angrily inquired the little 
 judge. 
 
 ' Nathaniel, sir.' 
 
 ' Daniel, — any other name ? ' 
 
 ' Nathaniel, sir — my Lord, I mean.' 
 
 ' Nathaniel Daniel, or Daniel Nathaniel ? ' 
 
 ' No, my Lord, only Nathaniel ; not Daniel at all.' 
 
 'What did you tell me it was Daniel for, then, sir?' inquired the 
 judge. 
 
 ' I didn't, my Lord,' replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' You did, sir,' replied the judge, with a severe frown. ' How 
 could I have got Daniel on my notes, unless you told me so, sir ? ' 
 
 This argument was, of course, unanswerable. 
 
 ' Mr. Winkle has rather a short memory, my Lord,' interposed 
 Mr. Skimpin, with another glance at the jury. ' We shall find 
 means to refresh it before we have quite done with him, I dare say.' 
 
 'You had better be careful, sir,' said the little judge, with a 
 sinister look at the witness. 
 
 Poor Mr. Winkle bowed, and endeavoured to feign an easiness 
 of manner, which, in his then state of confusion, gave him rather 
 the air of a disconcerted pickpocket. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Winkle,' said Mr. Skimpin, ' attend to me, if you 
 please, sir ; and let me recommend you, for your own sake, to bear 
 in mind his Lordship's injunction to be careful. I believe you are 
 a particular friend of Pickwick, the defendant, are you not ? ' 
 
 ' I have known Mr. Pickwick now, as well as I recollect at this 
 moment, nearly ' 
 
 ' Pray, Mr. Winkle, do not evade the question. Are you, or are 
 you not, a particular friend of the defendant's ? ' 
 
 ' I was just about to say, that ' 
 
 ' Will you, or will you not, answer my question, sir ? ' 
 
 'If you don't answer the question you'll be committed, sir,' 
 interposed the little judge, looking over his note-book. 
 
 ' Come, sir,' said Mr. Skimpin, ' yes or no, if you please.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am,' replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Yes, you are. And why couldn't you say that at once, sir ? 
 Perhaps you know the plaintiff, too ? Eh, Mr. Winkle ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know her ; I've seen her.' 
 
 ' Oh, you don't know her, but you've seen her ? Now, have the 
 goodness to tell the gentlemen of the jury what you mean by that, 
 Mr. Winkle.' 
 
 ' I mean that I am not intimate with her, but I have seen her 
 when I went to call on Mr. Pickwick in Goswell Street.' 
 
 ' How often have you seen her, sir ? ' 
 
 ' How often ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Winkle, how often ? I'll repeat the question for you 
 
404 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a dozen times, if you require it, sir.' And the learned gentleman, 
 with a firm and steady frown, placed his hands on his hips, and 
 smiled suspiciously at the jury. 
 
 On this question there arose the edifying brow-beating, customary 
 on such points. First of all, Mr. Winkle said it was quite impossible 
 for him to say how many times he had seen Mrs. Bardell. Then 
 he was asked if he had seen her twenty times, to which he replied, 
 ' Certainly, — more than that.' Then he was asked whether he 
 hadn't seen her a hundred times — ^whether he couldn't swear that 
 he had seen her more than fifty times — ^whether he didn't know that 
 he had seen her at least seventy-five times — and so forth; the 
 satisfactory conclusion which was arrived at, at last, being, that he 
 had better take care of himself, and mind what he was about. The 
 witness having been by these means reduced to the requisite ebb of 
 nervous perplexity, the examination was continued as follows : 
 
 ' Pray, Mr. Winkle, do you remember calling on the defendant 
 Pickwick at these apartments in the plaintiffs house in Goswell 
 Street, on one particular morning, in the month of July last ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I do.' 
 
 ' Were you accompanied on that occasion by a friend of the name 
 of Tupman, and another of the name of Snodgrass ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I was.' 
 
 ' Are they here ? ' 
 
 'Yes, they are,' replied Mr. Winkle, looking very earnestly 
 towards the spot where his friends were stationed. 
 
 ' Pray attend to me, Mr. Winkle, and never mind your friends,' 
 said Mr. Skimpin, with another expressive look at the jury. ' They 
 must tell their stories without any previous consultation with you, 
 if none has yet taken place (another look at the jury). Now, sir, 
 tell the gentlemen of the jury what you saw on entering the 
 defendant's room, on this particular morning. Come ; out with 
 it, sir ; we must have it, sooner or later.' 
 
 ' The defendant, Mr. Pickwick, was holding the plaintiff in his 
 arms, with his hands clasping her waist,' replied Mr. Winkle with 
 natural hesitation, 'and the plaintiff appeared to have fainted 
 away.' 
 
 ' Did you hear the defendant say anything ? ' 
 
 ' I heard him call Mrs. Bardell a good creature, and I heard him 
 ask her to compose herself, for what a situation it was, if any body 
 should come, or words to that effect.' 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Winkle, I have only one more question to ask you, 
 and I beg you to bear in mind his lordship's caution. Will you 
 undertake to swear that Pickwick, the defendant, did not say on 
 the occasion in question, " My dear Mrs. Bardell, you're a good 
 creature ; compose yourself to this situation, for to this situation 
 you must come," or words to that effect ? ' 
 
DAMAGING EVIDENCE OF MR. WINKLE 405 
 
 •I— I didn't understand him so, certainly,' said Mr. Winkle, 
 astounded at this ingenious dove-tailing of the few words he had 
 heard. ' I was on the staircase, and couldn't hear distinctly ; the 
 impression on my mind is — ' 
 
 'The gentlemen of the jury want none of the impressions on 
 your mind, Mr. Winkle, which I fear would be of little service to 
 honest, straightforward men,' interposed Mr. Skimpin. ' You were 
 on the staircase, and didn't distincdy hear ; but you will not swear 
 that Pickwick did not make use of the expressions I have quoted ? 
 Do I understand that ? ' 
 
 ' No, I will not,' repUed Mr. Winkle ; and down sat Mr. Skimpin 
 with a triumphant countenance. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's case had not gone off in so particularly happy 
 a manner, up to this point, that it could very well afford to have 
 any additional suspicion cast upon it. But as it could afford to be 
 placed in a rather better light, if possible, Mr. Phunky rose for the 
 purpose of getting something important out of Mr. Winkle in cross- 
 examination. Whether he did get anything important out of him, 
 will immediately appear. 
 
 ' I believe, Mr. Winkle,' said Mr. Phunky, ' that Mr. Pickwick is 
 not a young man ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no,' replied Mr. Winkle, ' old enough to be my father.' 
 
 'You have told my learned friend that you have known Mr. 
 Pickwick a long time. Had you ever any reason to suppose or 
 believe that he was about to be married ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ; certainly not ; ' replied Mr. Winkle with so much 
 eagerness, that Mr. Phunky ought to have got him out of the box 
 with all possible dispatch. Lawyers hold that there are two kinds 
 of particularly bad witnesses : a reluctant witness, and a too-willing 
 witness ; it was Mr. Winkle's fate to figure in both characters. 
 
 ' I will even go further than this, Mr. Winkle,' continued Mr. 
 Phunky in a most smooth and complacent manner. ' Did you ever 
 see anything in Mr. Pickwick's manner and conduct towards the 
 opposite sex, to induce you to believe that he ever contemplated 
 matrimony of late years, in any case ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no ; certainly not,' replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Has his behaviour, when females have been in the case, always 
 been that of a man, who, having attained a pretty advanced period 
 of life, content with his own occupations and amusements, treats 
 them only as a father might his daughters ? ' 
 
 ' Not the least doubt of it,' replied Mr. Winkle, in the fulness of 
 his heart. ' That is — yes — oh yes — certainly.' 
 
 ' You have never known anything in his behaviour towards Mrs. 
 Bardell, or any other female, in the least degree suspicious ? ' said 
 Mr. Phunky, preparing to sit down; for Serjeant Snubbin was 
 winking at him. 
 
4o6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' N — n — no,' replied Mr. Winkle, ' except on one trifling occasion, 
 which, I have no doubt, might be easily explained.' 
 
 Now, if the unfortunate Mr. Phunky had sat down when Serjeant 
 Snubbin winked at him, or if Serjeant Buzfuz had stopped this 
 irregular cross-examination at the outset (which he knew better 
 than to do ; observing Mr. Winkle's anxiety, and well knowing it 
 would, in all probability, lead to something serviceable to him), this 
 unfortunate admission would not have been elicited. The moment 
 the words fell from Mr. Winkle's lips, Mr. Phunky sat down, and 
 Serjeant Snubbin rather hastily told him he might leave the box, 
 which Mr. Winkle prepared to do with great readiness, when 
 Serjeant Buzfuz stopped him. 
 
 ' Stay, Mr. Winkle, stay ! ' said Serjeant Buzfuz, ' will your lord- 
 ship have the goodness to ask him, what this one instance of 
 suspicious behaviour towards females on the part of this gentleman, 
 who is old enough to be his father, was ? ' 
 
 ' You hear what the learned counsel says, sir,' observed the judge, 
 turning to the miserable and agonized Mr. Winkle. ' Describe the 
 occasion to which you refer.' 
 
 ' My lord,' said Mr. Winkle, trembling with anxiety, ' I — I'd 
 rather not.' 
 
 ' Perhaps so,' said the Uttle judge ; ' but you must.' 
 
 Amid the profound silence of the whole court, Mr. Winkle 
 faltered out, that the trifling circumstance of suspicion was Mr. 
 Pickwick's being found in a lady's sleeping apartment at midnight ; 
 which had terminated, he believed, in the breaking off of the pro- 
 jected marriage of the lady in question, and had led, he knew, to 
 the whole party being forcilsly carried before George Nupkins, Esq., 
 magistrate and justice of the peace, for the borough of Ipswich ! 
 
 ' You may leave the box, sir,' said Serjeant Snubbin. Mr. Winkle 
 did leave the box, and rushed with delirious haste to the George 
 and Vulture, where he was discovered some hours after, by the 
 waiter, groaning in a hollow and dismal manner, with his head 
 buried beneath the sofa cushions. 
 
 Tracy Tupman, and Augustus Snodgrass, were severally called 
 into the box ; both corroborated the testimony of their unhappy 
 friend ; and each was driven to the verge of desperation by excessive 
 badgering. 
 
 Susannah Sanders was then called, and examined by Serjeant 
 Buzfuz, and cross-examined by Serjeant Snubbin. Had always said 
 and believed that Pickwick would marry Mrs. Bardell ; knew that 
 Mrs. Bardell's being engaged to Pickwick was the current topic of 
 conversation in the neighbourhood, after the fainting in July ; had 
 been told it herself by Mrs. Mudberry which kept a mangle, and 
 Mrs. Bunkin which clear-starched, but did not see either Mrs. 
 Mudberry or Mrs. Bunkin in court. Had heard Pickwick ask the 
 
SAMUEL WELLER IN THE BOX 407 
 
 little boy how he should like to have another father. Did not know 
 that Mrs. Bardell was at that time keeping company with the baker, 
 but did know that the baker was then a single man and is now 
 married. Couldn't swear that Mrs. Bardell was not very fond of 
 the baker, but should think that the baker was not very fond of 
 Mrs. Bardell, or he wouldn't have married somebody else. Thought 
 Mrs. Bardell fainted away on the morning in July, because Pickwick 
 asked her to name the day ; knew that she (witness) fainted away 
 stone dead when Mr. Sanders asked her to name the day, and 
 believed that everybody as called herself a lady would do the same, 
 under similar circumstances. Heard Pickwick ask the boy the 
 question about the marbles, but upon her oath did not know the 
 difference between an alley tor and a commoney. 
 
 By the Court. — During the period of her keeping company with 
 Mr. Sanders, had received love letters, like other ladies. In the 
 course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a 
 ' duck,' but never ' chops,' nor yet ' tomata sauce.' He was particu- 
 larly fond of ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and 
 tomata sauce, he might have called her that, as a term of affection. 
 
 Serjeant Buzfuz now rose with more importance than he had yet 
 exhibited, if that were possible, and vociferated : ' Call Samuel 
 Weller.' 
 
 It was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller j for Samuel 
 Weller stepped briskly into the box the instant his name was pro- 
 nounced ; and placing his hat on the floor, and his arms on the rail, 
 took a bird's-eye view of the bar, and a comprehensive survey of the 
 bench, with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect. 
 
 ' What's your name, sir ? ' inquired the judge. 
 
 ' Sam Weller, my lord,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 ' Do you spell it with a " V " or a " W ? " ' inquired the judge. 
 
 ' That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord,' 
 replied Sam ; ' I never had occasion to spell it more than once or 
 twice in my life, but I spells it with a " V." ' 
 
 Here a voice in the gallery exclaimed aloud, ' Quite right too, 
 Samivel, quite right. Put it down a we, my lord, put it down 
 a we.' 
 
 ' Who is that, Who dares to address the court ? ' said the little 
 judge, looking up. ' Usher.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord.' 
 
 ' Bring that person here instantly.' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord.' 
 
 But as the usher didn't find the person, he didn't bring him ; and, 
 after a great commotion, all the people who had got up to look for 
 the culprit, sat down again. The little judge turned to the witness 
 as; soon as his indignation would allow him to speak, and said, 
 
 ' Do you know who that was, sir ? ' 
 
4o8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I rayther suspect it was my father, my lord,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Do you see him here now ? ' said the judge. 
 
 ' No, I don't, my lord,' replied Sam, staring right up into the 
 lantern in the roof of the court. 
 
 ' If you could have pointed him out, I would have committed 
 him instantly,' said the judge. , 
 
 Sam bowed his acknowledgments and turned, with unimpaired 
 cheerfulness of countenance, towards Serjeant Buzfuz. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Waller,' said Serjeant Buzfuz. 
 
 ' Now, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant 
 in this case. Speak up, if you please, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' I mean to speak up, sir,' replied Sam ; ' I am in the service o' 
 that 'ere gen'l'man, and a wery good service it is.' 
 
 ' Little to do, and plenty to get, I suppose ? ' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 with jocularity. 
 
 ' Oh, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered 
 him three hundred and fifty lashes,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' You must not tell us what the soldier, or any other man, said, 
 sir,' interposed the judge ; ' it's not evidence.' 
 
 ' Wery good, my lord,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Do you recollect anything particular happening on the morning 
 when you were first engaged by the defendant ; eh, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 said Serjeant Buzfuz. 
 
 ' Yes I do, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Have the goodness to tell the jury what it was.' 
 
 ' I had a reg'lar new fit out o' clothes that mornin', gen'l'men of 
 the jury,' said Sam, ' and that was a wery partickler and uncommon 
 circumstance vith me in those days.' 
 
 Hereupon there was a general laugh ; and the little judge, look- 
 ing with an angry countenance over his desk, said, ' You had better 
 be careful, sir.' 
 
 'So Mr. Pickwick said at the time, my lord,' replied Sam ; ' and 
 I was wery careful o' that 'ere suit o' clothes ; wery careful indeed, 
 my lord.' 
 
 The judge looked sternly at Sam for full two minutes, but Sam's 
 features were so perfectly calm and serene that the judge said nothing, 
 and motioned Serjeant Buzfuz to proceed. 
 
 ' Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 folding his arms emphatically, and turning half-round to the jury, 
 as if in mute assurance that he would bother the witness yet : ' Do 
 you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller, that you saw nothing of this faint- 
 ing on the part of the plaintiff in the arms of the defendant, which 
 you have heard described by the witnesses ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' replied Sam, ' I was in the passage 'till they 
 called me up, and then the old lady was not there.' 
 
ATTEMPT TO FRIGHTEN SAM 409 
 
 ' Now, attend, Mr. Weller,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, dipping a large 
 pen into the inkstand before him, for the purpose of frightening 
 Sam with a show of taking down his answer. ' You were in the 
 passage, and yet saw nothing of what was going forward. Have 
 you a pair of eyes, Mr. Weller? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I have a pair of eyes,' replied Sam, ' and that's just it. If 
 they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes 
 of hextra power, p'raps I might be able to see through a flight o' 
 stairs and a deal door ; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision 's 
 limited.' 
 
 At this answer, which was delivered without the slightest appear- 
 ance of irritation, and with the most complete simplicity and equa- 
 nimity of manner, the spectators tittered, the little judge smiled, 
 and Serjeant Buzfuz looked particularly foolish. After a short con- 
 sultation with Dodson and Fogg, the learned Serjeant again turned 
 towards Sam, and said, with a painful effort to conceal his vexation, 
 ' Now, Mr. Weller, I'll ask you a question on another point, if you 
 please.' 
 
 ' If you please, sir,' rejoined Sam, with the utmost good-humour. 
 
 ' Do you remember going up to Mrs. Bardell's house, one night 
 in November last ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, wery well.' 
 
 ' Oh, you do remember that, Mr. Weller,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 recovering his spirits ; ' I thought we should get at something at 
 last.' 
 
 ' I rayther thought that, too, sir,' replied Sam ; and at this the 
 spectators tittered again. 
 
 ' Well ; I suppose you went up to have a little talk about this 
 trial — eh, Mr. Weller ? ' said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking knowingly at 
 the jury. 
 
 ' I went up to pay the rent ; but we did get a talkin' about the 
 trial,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Oh, you did get a talking about the trial,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 brightening up with the anticipation of some important discovery. 
 ' Now what passed about the trial ; will you have the goodness to 
 tell us, Mr. Weller?' 
 
 ' Vith all the pleasure in life, sir,' replied Sam. ' Arter a few un- 
 important obserwations from the two wirtuous females as has been 
 examined here to-day, the ladies gets into a very great state o' 
 admiration at the honourable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Fogg — ■ 
 them two genTmen as is settin' near you now.' This, of course, 
 drew general attention to Dodson and Fogg, who looked as virtuous 
 as possible. 
 
 ' The attorneys for the plaintiff,' said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. 
 * Well ! They spoke in high praise of the honourable conduct of 
 Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff, did they ? ' 
 
410 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Yes,' said Sam, ' they said what a wery gen'rous thing it was o' 
 them to have taken up the case on spec, and to charge nothing at 
 all for costs, unless they got 'em out of Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 At this very unexpected reply, the spectators tittered again, and 
 Dodson and Fogg, turning very red, leant over to Serjeant Buzfuz, 
 and in a hurried manner whispered something in his ear. 
 
 ' You are quite right,' said Serjeant Buzfuz aloud, with affected 
 composure. ' It's perfectly useless, my lord, attempting to get at 
 any evidence through the impenetrable stupidity of this witness. I 
 will not trouble the court by asking him any more questions. Stand 
 down, sir.' 
 
 'Would any other gen'l'man like to ask me anythin'?' inquired 
 Sam, taking up his hat, and looking round most deliberately. 
 
 ' Not I, Mr. Weller, thank you,' said Serjeant Snubbin, laughing. 
 
 ' You may go down, sir,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, waving his hand 
 impatiently. Sam went down accordingly, after doing Messrs. 
 Dodson and Fogg's case as much harm as he conveniently could, 
 and saying just as little respecting Mr. Pickwick as might be, which 
 was precisely the object he had had in view all along. 
 
 ' I have no objection to admit, my lord,' said Serjeant Snubbin, 
 ■ if it will save the examination of another witness, that Mr. Pick- 
 wick has retired from business, and is a gentleman of considerable 
 independent property.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, putting in the two letters to be 
 read, ' Then that's my case, my lord.' 
 
 Serjeant Snubbin then addressed the jury on behalf of the defen- 
 dant ; and a very long and a very emphatic address he delivered, 
 in which he bestowed the highest possible eulogiums on the conduct 
 and character of Mr. Pickwick ; but inasmuch as our readers are 
 far better able to form a correct estimate of that gentleman's merits 
 and deserts, than Serjeant Snubbin could possibly be, we do not 
 feel called upon to enter at any length into the learned gentleman's 
 observations. He attempted to show that the letters which had 
 been exhibited, merely related to Mr. Pickwick's dinner, or to the 
 preparations for receiving him in his apartments on his return from 
 some country excursion. It is sufficient to add in general terms, 
 that he did the best he could for Mr. Pickwick ; and the best, as 
 every body knows, on the infallible authority ' of the old adage, 
 could do no more. 
 
 Mr.; Justice Stareleigh summed up, in the old-established and 
 most approved form. He read as much of his notes to the jury as 
 he could decipher on so short a notice, and made running com- 
 ments on the evidence as he went along. If Mrs. Bardell were 
 right, it was perfectly clear that Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and if 
 they thought the evidence of Mrs. Cluppins worthy of credence they 
 would believe it, and, if they didn't, why they vvouldn't. If they 
 
THE VERDICT 411 
 
 were satisfied that a breach of promise of marriage had been com- 
 mitted, they would find for the plaintiff with such damages as they 
 thought proper ; and if, on the other hand, it appeared to them that 
 no promise of marriage had ever been given, they would find for 
 the defendant with no damages at all. The jury then retired to 
 their private room to talk the matter over, and the judge retired to 
 his private room, to refresh himself with a mutton chop and a glass 
 of sherry. 
 
 An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed ; the jury came back ; the 
 judge was fetched in. Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, and 
 gazed at the foreman with an agitated countenance and a quickly 
 beating heart. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said the individual in black, ' are you all agreed 
 upon your verdict ? ' 
 
 ' We are,' replied the foreman. 
 
 ' Do you find for the plaintiff, gentlemen, or for the defendant ? ' 
 
 ' For the plaintiff.' 
 
 ' With what damages, gentlemen ? ' 
 
 ' Seven hundred and fifty pounds.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took off his spectacles, carefully wiped the glasses, 
 folded them into their case, and put them in his pocket ; then 
 having drawn on his gloves with great nicety, and stared at the 
 foreman all the while, he mechanically followed Mr. Perker and 
 the blue bag out of court. 
 
 They stopped in a side room while Perker paid the court fees ; 
 and here, Mr. Pickwick was joined by his friends. 'Here, too, he 
 encountered Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, rubbing their hands with 
 every token of outward satisfaction. 
 
 'Well, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well, sir,' said Dodson : for self and partner. 
 
 ' You imagine you'll get your costs, don't you, gentlemen ? ' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Fogg said they thought it rather probable. Dodson smiled, and 
 said they'd try. 
 
 ' You may try, and try, and try again, Messrs. Dodson and Fogg,' 
 said Mr. Pickwick vehemently, ' but not one farthing of costs or 
 damages do you ever get from me, if I spend the rest of my exist- 
 ence in a debtor's prison.' 
 
 ' Ha, ha ! ' laughed Dodson. ' You'll think better of that, before 
 next term, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' He, he, he ! We'll soon see about that, Mn Pickwick,' grinned 
 Fogg. 
 
 Speechless with indignation, Mr. Pickwick allowed himself to be 
 led by his solicitor and friends to the door, and there assisted into 
 a hackney-coach, which had been fetched for the purpose, by the 
 ever watchful S^m \\'eller. 
 
412 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Sam had put up the steps, and was preparing to jump upon the 
 box, when he felt himself gently touched on the shoulder; and 
 looking round, his father stood before him. The old gentleman's 
 countenance wore a mournful expression, as he shook his head 
 gravely, and said, in warning accents : 
 
 ' I know'd what 'ud come o' this here mode o' doin' bisness. Oh 
 Sammy, Sammy, vy worn't there a alleybi ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 IN WHICH MR. PICKWICK THINKS HE HAD BETTER GO TO BATH ; 
 AND GOES ACCORDINGLY 
 
 ' But surely, my dear sir,' said little Perker, as he stood in Mr. 
 Pickwick's apartment on the morning after the trial : ' Surely you 
 don't really mean — really and seriously now, and irritation apart — 
 that you won't pay these costs and damages ? ' 
 
 ' Not one halfpenny,' said Mr. Pickwick, firmly ; ' not one half- 
 penny.' 
 
 ' Hooroar for the principle, as the money-lender said ven he 
 vouldn't renew the bill,' observed Mr. Weller, who was clearing 
 away the breakfast things. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' have the goodness to step down 
 stairs. 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir,' replied Mr. Weller ; and acting on Mr. Pickwick's 
 gentle hint, Sam retired. 
 
 ' No, Parker,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great seriousness of manner, 
 ' my friends here, have endeavoured to dissuade me from this deter- 
 miriation, but without avail. I shall employ myself as usual, until 
 the opposite party have the power of issuing a legal process of 
 execution against me ; and if they are vile enough to avail them- 
 selves of it, and to arrest my person, I shall yield myself up with 
 perfect cheerfulness and content of heart. When can they do 
 this?' 
 
 ' They can issue execution, my dear sir, for the amount of the 
 damages and taxed costs, next term,' replied Perker, 'just two 
 months hence, my dear sir.' 
 
 ' Very good,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Until that time, my dear 
 fellow, let me hear no more of the matter. And now,' continued 
 Mr. Pickwick, looking round on his friends with a good-humoured 
 smile, and a sparkle in the eye which no spectacles could dim or 
 conceal, ' the only question is, Where shall we go next ? ' 
 
 Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were too much affected by their 
 
PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY 413 
 
 friend's heroism to offer any reply. Mr. Winkle had not yet 
 sufficiently recovered the recollection of his evidence at the trial, to 
 make any observation on any subject, so Mr. Pickwick paused in 
 vain. 
 
 ' Well,' said that gentleman, ' if you leave me to suggest our 
 destination, I say Bath. I think none of us have ever been there.' 
 
 Nobody had ; and as the proposition was warmly seconded by 
 Perker, who considered it extremely probable that if Mr. Pickwick 
 saw a little change and gaiety he would be inclined to think better 
 of his determination, and worse of a debtor's prison, it was carried 
 unanimously : and Sam was at once dispatched to the White Horse 
 Cellar, to take five places by the half-past seven o'clock coach, next 
 morning. 
 
 There were just two places to be had inside, and just three to be 
 had out ; so Sam Weller booked for them all, and having exchanged 
 a few compliments with the booking-office clerk on the subject of 
 a pewter half-crown which was tendered him as a portion of his 
 ' change,' walked back to the George and Vulture, where he was 
 pretty busily employed until bed-time in reducing clothes and linen 
 into the smallest possible compass, and exerting his mechanical 
 genius in constructing a variety of ingenious devices for keeping the 
 lids on boxes which had neither locks nor hinges. 
 
 The next was a very unpropitious morning for a journey — muggy, 
 damp, and drizzly. The horses in the stages that were going out, 
 and had come through the city, were smoking so, that the outside 
 passengers were invisible. The newspaper-sellers looked moist, and 
 smelt mouldy; the wet ran off the hats of the orange-venders as 
 they thrust their heads into the coach windows, and diluted the 
 insides in a refreshing manner. The Jews with the fifty-bladed 
 penknives shut them up in despair ; the men with the pocket-books 
 made pocket-books of them. Watch-guards and toasting-forks were 
 alike at a discount, and pencil-cases and sponge were a drug in the 
 market. 
 
 Leaving Sam Weller to rescue the luggage from the seven or 
 eight porters who flung themselves savagely upon it, the moment 
 the coach stopped : and finding that they were about twenty minutes 
 too early, Mr. Pickwick and his friends went for shelter into the 
 travellers' room — the last resource of human dejection. 
 
 The travellers' room at the White Horse Cellar is of course un- 
 comfortable ; it would be no travellers' room if it were not. It is 
 the right-hand parlour, into which an aspiring kitchen fire-place 
 appears to have walked, accompanied by a rebellious poker, tongs, 
 and shovel. It is divided into boxes, for the solitary confinement 
 of travellers, and is furnished with a clock, a looking-glass, and a 
 live waiter : which latter article is kept in a small kennel for washing 
 glasses, in a corner of the apartment. 
 
4T4 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 One of these boxes was occupied, on this particular occasion, by 
 a stem-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had a bald and glossy 
 forehead, with a good deal of black hair at the sides and back of his 
 head, and large black whiskers. He was buttoned up to the chin 
 in a brown coat ; and had a large seal-skin traveUing cap, and a 
 great-coat and cloak, lying on the seat beside him. He looked up 
 from his breakfast as Mr. Pickwick entered, with a fierce and 
 peremptory air, which was very dignified ; and having scrutinised 
 that gentleman and his companions to his entire satisfaction, 
 hummed a tune, in a manner which seemed to say that he rather 
 suspected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, but it 
 wouldn't do. 
 
 ' Waiter,' said the gentleman with the whiskers. 
 
 'Sir?' replied a man with a dirty complexion, and a towel of 
 the same, emerging from the kennel before mentioned. 
 
 ' Some more toast.' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Buttered toast, mind,' said the gentleman, fiercely. 
 
 ' D'rectly, sir,' replied the waiter. 
 
 The gentleman with the whiskers hummed a tune in the same 
 manner as before, and pending the arrival of the toast, advanced to 
 the front of the fire, and, taking his coat tails under his arms, looked 
 at his boots, and ruminated. 
 
 ' I wonder whereabouts in Bath this coach puts up,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, mildly addressing Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Hum — eh — what's that ? ' said the strange man. 
 
 ' I made an observation to my friend, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 always ready to enter into conversation. ' I wondered at what 
 house the Bath coach put up. Perhaps you can inform me.' 
 
 ' Are you going to Bath ? ' said the strange man. 
 
 ' I am, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And those other gentlemen ? ' 
 
 ' They are going also,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not inside^ni be damned if you're going inside,' said the 
 strange man. 
 
 ' Not all of us,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No, not all of you,' said the strange man emphatically. ' I've 
 taken two places. If they try to squeeze six people into an infernal 
 box that only holds four, I'll take a post-chaise and bring an action. 
 I've paid my fare. It won't do ; I told the clerk when I took my 
 places that it wouldn't do. I know these things have been done. 
 I know they are done every day ; but / never was done, and I 
 never will be. Those who know me best, best know it ; crush me ! ' 
 Here the fierce gentleman rang the bell with great violence, and 
 told the waiter he'd better bring the toast in five seconds, or he'd 
 know the reason why. 
 
AN EXCITED INDIVIDUAL 415 
 
 ' My good sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' you will allow me to observe 
 that this is a very unnecessary display of excitement. I have only 
 taken places inside for two.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it,' said the fierce man. ' I withdraw my 
 expressions. I tender an apology. There's my card. Give me 
 your acquaintance.' 
 
 'With great pleasure, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'We are to 
 be fellow travellers, and I hope we shall find each other's society 
 mutually agreeable.' 
 
 ' I hope we shall,' said the fierce gentleman. ' I know we shall. 
 I like your looks ; they please me. Gentlemen, your hands and 
 names. Know me.' 
 
 Of course, an interchange of friendly salutations followed this 
 gracious speech ; and the fierce gentleman immediately proceeded 
 to inform the friends, in the same short, abrupt, jerking sentences, 
 that his name was Dowler ; that he was going to Bath on pleasure ; 
 that he was formerly in the army ; that he had now set up in 
 business as a gentleman ; that he lived upon the profits ; and that 
 the individual for whom the second place was taken, was a personage 
 no less illustrious than Mrs. Dowler his lady wife. 
 
 ' She's a fine woman,' said Mr. Dowler. ' I am proud of her. I 
 have reason.' 
 
 ' I hope I shall have the pleasure of judging,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' You shall,' replied Dowler. ' She shall know you. She shall 
 esteem you. I courted her under singular circumstances. I won 
 ■ her through a rash vow. Thus. I saw her ; I loved her ; I pro- 
 posed; she refused me.^ — "You love another?" — "Spare my blushes." 
 — " I know him." — " You do." — " Very good ; if he remains here, 
 I'll skin him." ' 
 
 ' Lord bless me ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, involuntarily. 
 
 ' Did you skin the gentleman, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle, with 
 a very pale face. 
 
 ' I wrote him a ;iote. I said it was a painful thing. And so 
 it was.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' interposed Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I said I had pledged my word as a gentleman to skin him. My 
 character was at stake. I had no alternative. As an officer of His 
 Majesty's service, I was bound to skin him. I regretted the neces- 
 sity, but it must be done. He was open to conviction. He saw 
 that the rules of the service were imperative. He fled. I married 
 her. Here's the coach. That's her head.' 
 
 As Mr. Dowler concluded, he pointed to a stage which had just 
 driven up, from the open window of which a rather pretty face in 
 a bright blue bonnet was looking among the crowd on the pave- 
 ment : most probably for the rash man himself. Mr. Dowler paid 
 
41 6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 his bill and hurried out with his travelling-cap, coat, and cloak; 
 and Mr. Pickwick and his friends followed to secure their places. 
 
 Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had seated themselves at the 
 back part of the coach ; Mr. Winkle had got inside ; and Mr. Pick 
 wick was preparing to follow him, when Sam Weller came up to 
 his master, and whispering in his ear, begged to speak to him, with 
 an air of the deepest mystery. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' what's the matter now ? ' 
 
 ' Here's rayther a rum go, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 'What?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' This here, sir,' rejoined Sam. ' I'm wery much afeerd, sir, that 
 the proprieator o' this here coach is a playin' some imperence 
 vith us.' 
 
 ' How is that, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' aren't the names 
 down on the way-bill ? ' 
 
 ' The names is not only down on the vay-bill, sir,' replied Sam, 
 ' but they've painted vun on 'em up, on the door o' the coach.' As 
 Sam epoke, he pointed to that part of the coach door on which the 
 proprietor's name usually appears ; and there, sure enough, in gilt 
 letters of a goodly size, was the magic name of Pickwick ! 
 
 ' Dear me,' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, quite staggered by the 
 coincidence ; ' what a very extraordinary thing ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, but that ain't all,' said Sam, again directing his master's 
 attention to the coach door ; ' not content vith writin' up Pickwick, 
 they puts "Moses" afore it, vich I call addin' insult to injury, as 
 the parrot said ven they not only took him from his native land, 
 but made him talk the English langwidge arterwards.' 
 
 ' It's odd enough certainly, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' but if we 
 stand talking here, we shall lose our places.' 
 
 ' Wot, ain't nothin' to be done in consequence, sir ? ' exclaimed 
 Sam, perfectly aghast at the coolness with which Mr. Pickwick 
 appeared to ensconce himself inside. 
 
 ' Done ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' What should be done ? ' 
 
 ' Ain't nobody to be whopped for takin' this here liberty, sir ? ' 
 said Mr. Weller, who had expected that at least he would have 
 been commissioned to challenge the guard and coachman to a 
 pugilistic encounter on the spot. 
 
 'Certainly not,' rephed Mr. Pickwick eagerly; 'not on any 
 account. Jump up to your seat directly.' 
 
 ' I'm wery much afeerd,' muttered Sam to himself, as he turned 
 away, ' that somethin' queer's come over the governor, or he'c 
 never ha' stood this so quiet. I hope that 'ere trial hasn't broke 
 his spirit, but it looks bad, wery bad.' Mr. Weller shook his heac 
 gravely ; and it is worthy of remark, as an illustration of the mannei 
 in which he took this circumstance to heart, that he did not speal 
 another word until the coach reached the Kensington turnpike 
 
INCIDENTS OF THE JOURNEY 417 
 
 Which was so long a time for him to remain taciturn, that the fact 
 may be considered wholly unprecedented. 
 
 Nothing worthy of special mention occurred during the journey. 
 Mr. Dowler related a variety of anecdotes, all illustrative of his own 
 personal prowess and desperation, and appealed to Mrs. Dowler in 
 corroboration thereof : when Mrs. Dowler invariably brought in, in 
 the form of an appendix, some remarkable fact or circumstance 
 which Mr. Dowler had forgotten, or had perhaps through modesty 
 omitted : for the addenda in every instance went to show that Mr. 
 Dowler was even a more wonderful fellow than he made himself 
 out to be. Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle listened with great 
 admiration, and at intervals conversed with Mrs. Dowler, who was 
 a very agreeable and fascinating person. So, what between Mr. 
 Dowler's stories, and Mrs. Dowler's charms, and Mr. Pickwick's 
 good humour, and Mr. Winkle's good listening, the insides contrived 
 to be very companionable all the way. 
 
 The outsides did as outsides always do. They were very cheerful 
 and talkative at the beginning of every stage, and very dismal and 
 sleepy in the middle, and very bright and wakeful again towards 
 the end. There was one young gentleman in an India-rubber 
 cloak, who smoked cigars all day ; and there was another young 
 gentleman in a parody upon a great coat, who lighted a good many, 
 and feeling obviously unsettled after the second whiff", threw them 
 away when he thought nobody was looking at him. There was a 
 third young man on the box who wished to be learned in cattle ; 
 and an old one behind, who was familiar with farming. There was 
 a constant succession of Christian names in smock frocks and white 
 coats, who were invited to have a ' lift ' by the guard, and who 
 knew every horse and hostler on the road and off it ; and there was 
 a dinner which would have been cheap at half-a-crown a mouth, if 
 any moderate number of mouths could have eaten it in the time. 
 And at seven o'clock p.m., Mr. Pickwick and his friends, and 
 Mr. Dowler and his wife, respectively retired to their private sitting- 
 rooms at the White Hart hotel, opposite the Great Pump Room, 
 Bath, where the waiters, from their costume, might be mistaken for 
 Westminster boys, only they destroy the illusion by behaving 
 themselves much better. 
 
 Breakfast had scarcely been cleared away on the succeeding 
 morning, when a waiter brought in Mr. Dowler's card, with a request 
 to be allowed permission to introduce a friend. Mr. Dowler at 
 once followed up the delivery of the card, by bringing himself and 
 the friend also. 
 
 The friend was a charming young man of not much more than 
 fifty, dressed in a very bright blue coat with resplendent buttons, 
 black trousers, and the thinnest possible pair of highly-polished 
 boots. A gold eye-glass was suspended from his neck by a short 
 
 2 E 
 
4i8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 broad black ribbon ; a gold snufRbox was lightly clasped in his left 
 hand ; gold rings innumerable, glittered on his fingers ; and a large 
 diamond pin set in gold glistened in his shirt frill. He had a gold 
 watch, and a gold curb chain with large gold seals ; and he carried 
 a pliant ebony cane with a heavy gold top. His linen was of the 
 very whitest, finest, and stiffest ; his wig of the glossiest, blackest, 
 and curUest. His snuff was princes' mixture ; his spent bouquet du 
 rot. His features were contracted into a perpetual smile ; and his 
 teeth were in such perfect order that it was difficult at a small 
 distance to tell the real from the false. ■ 
 
 'Mr. Pickwick,' said Mr. Dowler ; 'my, friend, Angelo Cyrus 
 Bantam, Esquire, M.C. Bantam ; Mr. Pickwick. Know each other.' 
 
 ' Welcome to Ba— ath, sir. This is indeed an acquisition. Most 
 welcome to Ba— ath, sir. It is long— very long, Mr. Pickwick, 
 since you drank the waters. It appears an age, Mr. Pickwick. 
 Re — markable ! ' i,; 
 
 Such were the expressions with which Angelo Cyrus Bantam, 
 Esquire, M.C, took M;r. Pickwick's hand; retaining it in his, -mean- 
 time, and shrugging up his shoulders with a constant succession of 
 bows, as if he really could not make up his mind to .the trial of 
 letting it go again. 
 
 ' It is a very long time since I drank the waters, certainly,' repUed 
 Mr. Pickwick ; ' for to the best of my knowledge, I was never here 
 before.' 
 
 ' Never in Ba — ath, Mr. Pickwick ! ' exclaimed the Grand Master, 
 letting the hand fall in astonishment. ' Never in Ba- — ath ! He ! 
 he ! Mr. Pickwick, you are a wag. Not bad, not bad. Good, 
 good. He ! he ! he ! Re — markable ! ' 
 
 'To my shame, I must say that I am perfectly serious,' rejoined 
 Mr. Pickwick. ' I really never was here before.' 
 
 ' Oh, I see,' exclaimed the Grand Master, looking extremely 
 pleased ; ' Yes, yes — good, good — better and better. You are the 
 gentleman of whom we have heard. Yes ; we know you, Mr. 
 Pickwick ; we know you.' 
 
 ' The reports of the trial in those confounded papers,' thought 
 Mr. Pickwick. ' They have heard all about me.' 
 
 ' You are the gentleman residing on Clapham Green,' resumed 
 Bantam, ' who lost the use of his limbs from imprudently taking 
 cold after port wine ; who could not be moved in consequence of 
 acute suffering, and who had the water from the King's Bath bottled 
 at one hundred and three degrees, and sent by waggon to his bed- 
 room in town, where he bathed, sneezed, and same day recovered. 
 Very re-markable ! ' 
 
 Mrc Pickwick acknowledged the compliment which the supposition 
 implied, but had the self-denial to repudiate it, notwithstanding ; 
 and taking advantage of a moment's silence on the part of the ]\I.C., 
 
MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES 419 
 
 begged to introduce his friends, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle,, and 
 Mr. Snodgrass. An introduction which overwhelmed the M.C. 
 with delight and honour. 
 
 ' Bantam,' said Mr. Dowler, ' Mr. Pickwick and his friends are 
 strangers. They must put their names down. Where's the book ? ' 
 
 ' The register of the distinguished visitors in Ba^ — ath will be at 
 the Pump Room this morning at two o'clock,' replied the M.C. 
 ' Will you guide our friends to that splendid building, and enable 
 me to procure their autographs ? ' 
 
 ' I will,' rejoined Dowler. ' This is a long call. It's time to go. 
 I shall be here again in an hour. Come.' 
 
 ' This is a ball night,' said the M.C, again taking Mr. Pickwick's 
 hand, as he rose to go. ' The ball-nights in Ba — ath are moments 
 snatched from Paradise ; rendered bewitching by music, beauty, 
 elegance, fashion, etiquette, and — and — above all, by the absence 
 of tradespeople, who are quite inconsistent with Paradise ; and who 
 have an amalgamation of themselves at the Guildhall every fort- 
 night, which is, to say the least, remarkable. Good bye, good 
 bye ! ' and protesting all the way down stairs that he was most 
 satisfied, and most delighted, and most overpowered, and most 
 flattered, Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, M.C, stepped into a very 
 elegant chariot that waited at the door, and rattled off. 
 
 At the appointed hour, Mn Pickwick and his friends, escorted 
 by Dowler, repaired to the Assembly Rooms, and wrote their 
 names down in a book. An instance of condescension at which 
 Angelo Bantam was even more overpowered than before. Tickets 
 of admission to that evening's assembly were to have been prepared 
 for the whole party, but as they were not ready, Mr. Pickwick 
 undertook, despite all the protestations . to the contrary of Angelo 
 Bantam, to send Sam for them at four o'clock in the afternoon, to 
 the M.C.'s house in Queen Square. . Having taken a short walk 
 through ; the city, and arrived at the .unanimous conclusion that 
 Park Street was very much like the perpendicular street a man sees 
 in a dream, which he cannot get up for the life of him, they returned 
 to the White ,Hart,^ and despatched Sam on the errand to which his 
 master had pledged him. 
 
 Sam Weller put on his hat in a very easy and graceful manner, 
 and thrusting his hands in his waistcoat pockets, walked with great 
 deliberation to Queen Square, whistling as he went along, several 
 of the most popular airs of the day, as arranged with entirely new 
 movements for that noble instrument the organ, either mouth or 
 barrel. Arriving at the number in Queen Square to which ;he had 
 been , directed, he left off whistling, and gave a cheerful knock, 
 which was instantaneously answered by a. powdered-headed footman 
 in gorgeous livery, and of symmetrical stature. 
 
 'Is this here Mr. Bantam's, old. feller?' inquired Sam Weller. 
 
420 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 nothing abashed by the blaze of spendour which burst upon hii 
 sight, in the person of the powdered-headed footman with the gor 
 geous livery. 
 
 ' Why, young man ? ' was the haughty inquiry of the powdered 
 headed footman. 
 
 ' 'Cos if it is, jist you step into him with that 'ere card, and- sai 
 Mr. Veller's a waitin', will you ? ' said Sam. And saying it, he verj 
 coolly walked into the hall, and sat down. 
 
 The powdered-headed footman slammed the door very hard, anc 
 scowled very grandly ; but both the slam and the scowl were losi 
 upon Sam, who was regarding a mahogany umbrella stand witt 
 every outward token of critical approval. 
 
 Apparently, his master's reception of the card had impressed the 
 powdered-headed footman in Sam's favour, for when he came baci 
 from delivering it, he smiled in a friendly manner, and said that the 
 answer would be ready directly. 
 
 'Werry good,' said Sam. 'Tell the old gen'lm'n not to pu( 
 himself in a perspiration. No hurry, six-foot. I've had my 
 dinner.' 
 
 ' You dine early, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman. 
 
 ' I find I gets on better at supper when I does,' repUed Sam. 
 
 ' Have you been long in Bath, sir ? ' inquired the powdered- 
 headed footman. ' I have not had the pleasure of hearing of you 
 before.' 
 
 ' I haven't created any wery surprisin' sensation here, as yet,' 
 rejoined Sam, 'for me and the other fash'nables only come last 
 night.' 
 
 ' Nice place, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman. 
 
 ' Seems so,' observed Sam. 
 
 ' Pleasant society, sir,' remarked the powdered-headed footman. 
 ' Very agreeable servants, sir.' 
 
 ' I should think they wos,' replied Sam. ' Affable, unaffected, 
 say-nothin'-to-nobody sort o' fellers.' 
 
 ' Oh, very much so, indeed, sir,' said the powdered-headed foot- 
 man, taking Sam's remark as a high compUment. ' Very much so 
 indeed. Do you do anything in this way, sir ? ' inquired the tall 
 footman, producing a small snuff-box with a fox's head on the top 
 of it. ^ 
 
 ' Not without sneezing,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Why, it is difficult, sir, I confess,' said the tall footman. ' It 
 may be done by degrees, sir. Coffee is the best practice. I carried 
 coffee, sir, for a long time. It looks very like rappee, sir.' 
 
 Here, a sharp pull at the bell, reduced the powdered-headed 
 footman to the ignominious necessity of putting the fox's head in 
 his pocket, and hastening with a humble countenance to Mr. 
 Bantam's ' study.' By the by, who ever knew a man who never 
 
GAIETY, GLITTER AND SHOW 421 
 
 read or wrote either, who hadn't got some small back parlour which 
 he would call a study ! 
 
 'There is the answer, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman. 
 ' I am afraid you'll find it inconveniently large.' 
 
 ' Don't mention it,' said Sam, taking a letter with a small 
 enclosure. ' It's just possible as exhausted nature may manage to 
 surwive it.' 
 
 'I hope we shall meet again, sir,' said the powdered-headed 
 footman, rubbing his hands, and following Sam out to the door- 
 step. 
 
 'You are wery obligin', sir,' replied Sam. 'Now, don't allow 
 yourself to be fatigued beyond your powers ; there's a amiable bein'. 
 Consider what you owe to society, and don't let yourself be injured 
 by too much work. For the sake o' your feller creeturs, keep your 
 self as quiet as you can ; only think what a loss you would be ! ' 
 with these pathetic words, Sam Weller departed. 
 
 ' A very singular young man that,' said the powdered-headed 
 footman, looking after Mr. Weller, with a countenance which 
 clearly showed he could make nothing of him. 
 
 Sam said nothing at all. He winked, shook his head, smiled, 
 winked again ; and with an expression of countenance which seemed 
 to denote that he was greatly amused with something or other, 
 walked merrily away. 
 
 At precisely twenty minutes before eight o'clock that night, 
 Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esq., the Master of the Ceremonies, emerged 
 from his chariot at the door of the Assembly Rooms in the same 
 wig, the same teeth, the same eye-glass, the same watch and seals, 
 the same rings, the same shirt-pin, and the same cane. The only 
 observable alterations in his appearance were, that he wore a 
 brighter blue coat, with a white silk lining : black tights, black silk 
 stockings, and pumps, and a white waistcoat, and was, if possible, 
 just a thought more scented. 
 
 Thus attired, the Master of the Ceremonies, in strict discharge 
 of the important duties of his all-important office, planted himself 
 in the rooms to receive the company. 
 
 Bath being full, the company and the sixpences for tea, poured 
 in, in shoals. In the ball-room, the long card-room, the octagonal 
 card-room, the staircases, and the passages, the hum of many voices, 
 and the sound of many feet, were perfectly bewildering. Dresses 
 rustled, feathers waved, lights shone, and jewels sparkled. There 
 was the music- — not of the quadrille band, for it had not yet com- 
 menced ; but the music of soft tiny footsteps, with now and then a 
 clear merry laugh — low and gentle, but very pleasant to hear in a 
 female voice, whether in Bath or elsewhere. Brilliant eyes, lighted 
 up with pleasurable expectation, gleamed from every side ; and 
 look where you would, some exquisite form glided gracefully 
 
42 2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 through the throng, and was no sooner lost, than it was replaced by 
 another as dainty and bewitching. 
 
 In the tea-room, and hovering round the card-tables, were a vast 
 number of queer old ladies and decrepit old gentlemen, discussing 
 all the small talk and scandal of the day, with a relish and gusto 
 which sufficiently bespoke the intensity of the pleasure they derived 
 from the occupation. Mingled with these groups, were three or 
 four matchmaking mammas, appearing to be wholly absorbed by 
 the conversation in which they were taking part, but failing not 
 from time to time to cast an anxious sidelong glance upon their 
 daughters, who, remembering the maternal injunction to' make the 
 best use of their youth, had already commenced incipient flirtatioris 
 in the mislaying of scarves, putting on gloves, setting down cups, 
 and so forth ; slight matters apparently, but which may be turned 
 to surprisingly good account by expert practitioners. 
 
 Lounging near the doors, and in remote comers, were various 
 knots of silly young men, displaying various varieties of puppyism 
 and stupidity; amusing all sensible people near them with their 
 folly and conceit ; and happily thinking themselves the objects of 
 general admiration. A wise and merciful dispensation which no 
 good man will quarrel with. 
 
 And lastly, seated on some of the back benches, where they had 
 already taken up their positions for the evening, were divers 
 unmarried ladies past their grand climacteric, who, not dancing 
 because there were no partners for them, and not playing cards 
 lest they should be set down as irretrievably single, were in the 
 favourable situation of being able to abuse everybody without 
 reflecting on themselves. In short, they could abuse everybody, 
 because everybody was there. It was a scene of gaiety, glitter, 
 and show ; of richly-dressed people, handsome mirrors, chalked 
 floors, girandoles, and wax-candles ; and in all parts of the scene, 
 ghding from spot to spot in silent softness, bowing obsequiously to 
 this party, nodding familiarly to that, and smiling complacently on 
 all, was the sprucely attired person of Angelo Cyrus Bantam, 
 Esquire, Master of the Ceremonies. 
 
 ' Stop in' the tea-room. Take your sixpenn'orth. They lay on 
 hot water, and call it tea. Drink it,' said Mr. Dowler, in a loud 
 voice, directing Mr. Pickwick, who advanced at the head of the 
 little party, with Mrfe. Dowler on his arm. Into the tea-room 
 Mr. Pickwick turned ; and catching sight of him, Mr. Bantam 
 corkscrewed his way through the crowd, and welcomed him with 
 ecstasy. 
 
 'My dear sir, I am highly honoured. Ba— ath is favoured. 
 Mrs. Dowler, you embellish the rooms. I congratulate you on 
 your feathers. Re — markable ! ' 
 
 ' Any body here ? ' inquired Dowler, suspiciously. 
 
FASHIONABLE SOCIETY 423 
 
 ' Any body ! The Uite of Ba— ath. Mr. Pickwick, do you see 
 the lady in the gauze turban ? ' 
 
 ' The fat old lady ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, innocently. 
 
 ' Hush, my dear sir— nobody's fat or old in Ba— ath. That's the 
 Dowager Lady Snuphanuph.' 
 
 ' Is it indeed ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No less a person, I assure you,' said the Master of the Cere- 
 monies. 'Hush. Draw a little nearer, Mr. Pickwick. You see 
 the splendidly dressed young man coming this way ? ' 
 
 ' The one with the long hair, and the particularly small forehead ?° 
 inquired Mr. Pickwick. ^ 
 
 ' The same. The richest young man in Ba — ath at this moment 
 Young Lord Mutanhed.' 
 
 ' You don't say so ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes. You'll hear his voice in a moment, Mr. Pickwick. He'll 
 sp^ak to me. The other gentleman with him, in the red under 
 waistcoat and dark moustache, is the Honourable Mr. Crushton, 
 his bosom friend. How do you do, my lord ? ' 
 
 ' Veway hot, Bantam,' said his lordship. 
 
 ' It is very warm, my lord,' replied the M.C. 
 
 ' Confounded,' Assented the Honourable Mr. Crushton. 
 
 ' Have you seen his lordship's mail cart, Bantam ? ' inquired the 
 Honourable Mr. Crusliton, after a short pause, during which young 
 Lord Mutanhed had been endeavouring to stare Mr. Pickwick out 
 of countenance, and Mr. Crushton had been reflecting what subject 
 his lordship could talk about best. 
 
 'Dear me, no,' replied the M.C. 'A mail cart! What an 
 excellent idea. Re— inarkable ! ' 
 
 ' Gwacious heavens ! ' said his lordship, ' I thought evewebody 
 had seen the new mail cart ; it's the neatest, pwettiest, gwacefuUest 
 thing that ever wan upon wheels. Painted wed, with a cweam 
 piebald.' 
 
 'With a real box for the letters, and all complete,' said the 
 Honourable Mr. Crushton. 
 
 ' And a little seat in fwont, with an iwon wail, for the dwiver,' 
 added his lordship. ' I dwove it over to Bwistol the other morning, 
 in a cwimson coat, with two servants widing a quarter of a mile 
 behind ; and confound me if the people didn't wush out of their 
 cottages^ and awest my pwogwess, to know if I wasn't the post. 
 Glorwious, glorwibus ! ' 
 
 "At this anecdote his lordship laughed very heartily, as did the 
 listeners, of course. Then, drawing his arm through that of the 
 obsequious Mr. Crushton, Lord Mutanhed walked away. 
 
 ' DelightfiiL young man, his lordship,' said the Master of the 
 Ceremonies. 
 
 'So I should think,' rejoined Mr, Pickwick, drily. 
 
424 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The dancing having commenced, the necessary introductions 
 having been made, and all preliminaries arranged, Angelo Bantam 
 rejoined Mr. Pickwick, and led him into the card-room. 
 
 Just at the very moment of their entrance, the Dowager Lady 
 Snuphanuph and two other ladies of an ancient and whist-like ap 
 pearance, were hovering over an unoccupied card-table ; and they 
 no sooner set eyes upon Mr. Pickwick under the convoy of Angelo 
 Bantam, than they exchanged glances with each other, seeing that 
 he was precisely the very person they wanted, to make up the 
 rubber. 
 
 ' My dear Bantam,' said the Dowager Lady Snuphanuph, coax- 
 ingly, ' find us some nice creature to make up this table ; there's a 
 good soul.' Mr. Pickwick happened to be looking another way at 
 the moment, so her ladyship nodded her head towards him, and 
 frowned expressively. 
 
 ' My friend Mr. Pickwick, my lady, will be most happy, I am 
 sure, re — markably so,' said the M.C., taking the hint. ' Mr. Pick- 
 wick, Lady Snuphanuph — Mrs. Colonel Wugsby — Miss Bolo.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bowed to each of the ladies, and, finding escape 
 impossible, cut. Mr. Pickwick and Miss Bolo against Lady 
 Snuphanuph and Mrs. Colonel Wugsby. 
 
 As the trump card was turned up, at the commencement of the 
 second deal, two young ladies hurried into the room, and took their 
 stations on either side of Mrs. Colonel Wugsby's chair, where they 
 waited patiently until the hand was over. 
 
 ' Now, Jane,' said Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, turning to one of the 
 girls, ' what is it ? ' 
 
 ' I came to ask, ma, whether I might dance with the youngest 
 Mr. Crawley,' whispered the prettier and younger of the two. 
 
 ' Good God, Jane, how can you think of such things ? ' replied 
 the mamma, indignantly. ' Haven't you repeatedly heard that his 
 father has eight hundred a-year, which dies with him ? I am 
 ashamed of you. Not on any account.' 
 
 ' Ma,' whispered the other, who was much older than her sister, 
 and very insipid and artificial, ' Lord Mutanhed has been introduced 
 to me. I said I thought I wasn't engaged, ma.' 
 
 'You're a sweet pet, my love,' replied Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, 
 tapping her daughter's cheek with her fan, ' and are always to be 
 trusted. He's immensely rich, my dear. Bless you ! ' With these 
 words Mrs. Colonel Wugsby kissed her eldest daughter most affec- 
 tionately, and frowning in a warning manner upon the other, sorted 
 her cards. 
 
 Poor Mr. Pickwick ! he had never played with three thorough- 
 paced female card-players before. They were so desperately sharp, 
 that they quite frightened him. If he played a wrong card. Miss 
 Bolo looked a small armoury of daggers ; if he stopped to consider 
 
MR. PICKWICK PLAYS WHIST 425 
 
 which was the right one, Lady Snuphanuph would throw herself 
 back in her chair, and smile with a mingled glance of impatience 
 and pity to Mrs. Colonel Wugsby ; at which Mrs. Colonel Wugsby 
 would shrug up her shoulders, and cough, as much as to say she 
 wondered whether he ever would begin. Then, at the end of every 
 hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance and re- 
 proachful sigh, why Mr. Pickwick had not returned that diamond, 
 or led the club, or roughed the spade, or finessed the heart, or led 
 through the honour, or brought out the ace, or played up to the 
 king, or some such thing ; and in reply to all these grave charges, 
 Mr. Pickwick would be wholly unable to plead any justification 
 whatever, having by this time forgotten all about the game. People 
 came and looked on, too, which made Mr. Pickwick nervous. 
 Besides all this, there was a great deal of distracting conversation 
 near the table, between Angelo Bantam and the two Miss Matinters, 
 who, being single and singular, paid great court to the Master of 
 the Ceremonies, in the hope of getting a stray partner now and 
 then. All these things, combined with the noises and interruptions 
 of constant comings in and goings out, made Mr. Pickwick play 
 rather badly; the cards were against him, also; and when they 
 left off at ten minutes past eleven. Miss Bolo rose from the table 
 considerably agitated, and went straight home, in a flood of tears, 
 and a sedan-chair. 
 
 Being joined by his friends, who one and all protested that they 
 had scarcely ever spent a more pleasant evening, Mr. Pickwick 
 accompanied them to the White Hart, and having soothed his 
 feelings with something hot, went to bed, and to sleep, almost 
 simultaneously. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE CHIEF FEATURES OF WHICH, WILL BE FOUND TO BE AN 
 AUTHENTIC VERSION OF THE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD, 
 AND A MOST EXTRAORDINARY CALAMITY THAT BEFEL MR. 
 WINKLE 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick contemplated a stay of at least two months in 
 Bath, he deemed it advisable to take private lodgings for himself 
 and friends for that period ; and as a favourable opportunity offered 
 for their securing, on moderate terms, the upper portion of a hou^e 
 in the Royal Crescent, which was larger than they required, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Dowler offered to relieve them of a bed-room and sitting- 
 room. This proposition was at once accepted, and in three days' 
 
426 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 time they were all located in their new abode, when Mr. Pickwick 
 began to drink the waters with the utmost assiduity. Mr. Pickwick 
 took them systematically. He drank a quarter of a pint before 
 breakfast, and then walked up a hill ; and another quarter of a pint 
 after breakfast, and then walked down a hill ; and after every fresh 
 quarter of a pint, Mr. Pickwick declared, in the most solemn and 
 emphatic terms, that he felt a great deal better : whereat his friends 
 were very much delighted, though they had not been previously 
 aware that there was anything the matter with him. 
 
 The great pump-room is a spacious saloon, ornamented with 
 Corinthian pillars, and a music gallery, and a Tompion clock, and 
 a statue of Nash, and a golden inscription, to which all the water- 
 drinkers should attend, for it appeals to them in the cause of a 
 deserving charity. There is a large bar with a marble vase, out of 
 which the pumper gets the water ; and there are a numbisr of yellow- 
 looking tumblers, out of which the company get it ; and it is a most 
 edifying and satisfactory sight to behold the perseverance and 
 gravity with which they swallow it. There are baths near at hand, 
 in which a part of the company wash themselves ; and a band plays 
 afterwards, to congratulate the rerhainder on their having done so. 
 There is another pump-room, into which infirm ladies and gentlemen 
 are wheeled, in such an astonishing variety of chairs and chaises, 
 that any adventurous individual who goes in with the regular 
 number of toes, is in imminent danger of coming out without them; 
 and there is a third, into which the quiet people go, for it is less 
 noisy than either. Tha-e is an immensity of promenaditig, ' on 
 crutches and off, with sticks and without, and a great deal of con- 
 versation, and liveliness, and pleasantry. 
 
 Every morning, the regular water-drinkers, Mr. Pickwick among 
 the number, met each other in the pump-room, took their quarter of 
 a pint, and walked constitutionally. At the afternoon's promenade, 
 Lord Mutanhed, and the Honourable Mr. Crushton, the Dowager 
 Lady Snuphanuph, Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, and all the great people, 
 and all the morning water-drinkers, met in grand assemblage. 
 After this, they walked out, or drove out, or were pushed out in 
 bath chairs, and met one another again. After this, the gentlemen 
 went to the reading-rooms and met divisions of the mass. After 
 this, they went home. If it were theatre night, perhaps they met at 
 the theatre ; if it were assembly nig] it, they met at the rooms ; and 
 if it were neither, they met the next daly^ A very'^leasant routine, 
 with perhaps a slight titige of sameness. 
 
 . Mr. Pickwick was sitting up by himself, after a day spent in this 
 manner, making entries ih his journal : his friends having retired to 
 bed :'when he was roused by a gentle tap at the room door. ' 
 
 'Beg your pardon, sir,' said Mrs. Craddock, the landlady, peeping 
 in _;' but (//i^ you want anything more, sir ? ' ' 
 
THE TRUE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD 427 
 
 ' Nothing more, ma'am,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' My young girl is gone to bed, sir,' said Mrs. Craddock ; ' and 
 Mr. Dowler is good enough to say that he'll sit up for Mrs. 
 Dowler, as the party isn't expected to be over till late; so I 
 was thinking if you wanted nothing more, Mr. Pickwick, I would go 
 to bed.' 
 
 ' By all means, ma'am,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wish you good night, sir,' said Mrs. Craddock. 
 
 ' Good night, ma'am,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Mrs. Craddock closed the door, and Mr. Pickwick resumed his 
 writing. 
 
 In half an hour's time the entries were concluded. Mr. Pickwick 
 carefully rubbed the last page on the blotting-paper, shut up the 
 book, wiped his pen on the bottom of the inside of his coat tail, 
 and opened the drawer of the inkstand to put it carefully away. 
 There were a couple of sheets of writing-paper, pretty closely 
 written over, in the inkstand drawer, and they were folded so, that 
 the title, which was in a good round hand, was fully disclosed to 
 him. Seeing from this, that it was no private document : and as it 
 seemed to relate to Bath, and was very short : Mr. Pickwick unfolded 
 it, lighted his bed-room candle that it might bum up well by the 
 time he finished ; and drawing his chair nearer the fire, read as 
 follows : 
 
 THE TRUE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADUD 
 
 ' Less than two himdred years agone, on one of the public baths 
 in this city, there appeared an inscription in honour of its mighty 
 founder, the renowned Prince Bladud. That inscription is now 
 erased. 
 
 ' For many hundred years before that time, there had been 
 handed down, from age to age, an old legend, that the illustrious 
 Prince being afflicted with leprosy, on his return from reaping a 
 rich harvest of knowledge in Athens, shunned the court of his royal 
 father, and consorted moodily with husbandmen and pigs. Among 
 the herd (so said the legend) was a pig of grave and solemn 
 countenance, with whom the Prince had a fellow feeling — for he 
 too was wise — a pig of thoughtful and reserved demeanour; an 
 animal superior to his fellows, whose grunt was terrible, and whose 
 bite was sharp. The young Prince sighed deeply as he looked upon 
 the countenance of the majestic swine ; he thought of his royal 
 father, and his eyes were bedewed with tears. 
 
 ' This sagacious pig was fond of bathing in rich, moist mud. 
 Not in summer, as common pigs do, now, to cool themselves, and 
 did even in those distant ages (which is a proof that the light of 
 civilisation had already begun to dawn, though feebly), but in the 
 
428 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 cold sharp days of winter. His coat was ever so sleek, and his 
 complexion so clear, that the Prince resolved to essay the purifying 
 quaUties of the same water that his friend resorted to. He made 
 the trial. Beneath that black mud, bubbled the hot springs of 
 Bath. He washed, and was cured. Hastening to his father's court, 
 he paid his best respects, and returning quickly hither, founded this 
 city, and its famous baths. 
 
 ' He sought the pig with all the ardour of their early friendship — 
 but, alas ! the waters had been his death. He had imprudently 
 taken a bath at too high a temperature, and the natural philosopher 
 was no more ! He was succeeded by Pliny, who also fell a victim 
 to his thirst for knowledge. 
 
 ' This was the legend. Listen to the true one. 
 
 ' A great many centuries since, there flourished, in great state, the 
 famous and renowned Lud Hudibras, king of Britain. He was a 
 mighty monarch. The earth shook when he walked; he was so 
 very stout. His people basked in the light of his countenance : it 
 was so red and glowing. He was, indeed, every inch a king. And 
 there were a good many inches of him too, for although he was not 
 very tall, he was a remarkable size round, and the inches that he 
 wanted in height, he made up in circumference. If any degenerate 
 monarch of modem times could be in any way compared with him, 
 I should say the venerable King Cole would be that illustrious 
 potentate. 
 
 ' This good king had a queen, who eighteen years before, had 
 had a son, who was called Bladud. He was sent to a preparatory 
 seminary in his father's dominions until he was ten years old, and 
 was then dispatched, in charge of a trusty messenger, to a finishing 
 school at Athens ; and as there was no extra charge for remaining 
 during the holidays, and no notice required previous to the removal 
 of a pupil, there he remained for eight long years, at the expiration 
 of which time, the king his father sent the lord chamberlain over, 
 to settle the bill, and to bring him home ; which, the lord chamber- 
 lain doing, was received with shouts, and pensioned immediately. 
 
 ' When King Lud saw the Prince his son, and found he had 
 grown up such a fine young man, he perceived at once what a 
 grand thing it would be to have him married without delay, so that 
 his children might be the means of perpetuating the glorious race of 
 Lud, down to the very latest ages of the world. With this view, he 
 sent a special embassy, composed of great noblemen who had 
 nothing particular to do, and wanted lucrative employment, to a 
 neighbouring king, and demanded his fair daughter in marriage for 
 his son ; stating at the same time that he was anxious to be on the 
 most affectionate terms with his brother and friend, but that if they 
 couldn't agree in arranging this marriage, he should be under the 
 unpleasant necessity of invading his kingdom, and putting his eyes 
 
THE MIGHTY FAMILY OF LUD 429 
 
 out. To this, the other king (who was the weaker of the two) 
 replied, that he was very much obliged to his friend and brother for 
 all his goodness and magnanimity, and that his daughter was quite 
 ready to be. married, whenever Prince Bladud liked to come and 
 fetch her. 
 
 ' This answer no sooner reached Britain, than the whole nation 
 were transported with joy. Nothing was heard, on all sides, but 
 the sounds of feasting and revelry, — except the chinking of money 
 as it was paid in by the people to the collector of the Royal 
 Treasures, to defray the expenses of the happy ceremony. It was 
 upon this occasion that King Lud, seated on the top of his throne 
 in full council, rose, in the exuberance of his feelings, and com- 
 manded the lord chief justice to order in the richest wines and the 
 court minstrels : an act of graciousness which has been, through the 
 ignorance of traditionary historians, attributed to King Cole, in 
 those celebrated lines in which his majesty is represented as 
 
 Calling for his pipe, and calling for his pot, 
 And calling for his fiddlers three. 
 
 Which is an obvious injustice to the memory of King Lud, and a 
 dishonest exaltation of the virtues of King Cole. 
 
 ' But, in the midst of all this festivity and rejoicing, there was one 
 individual present, who tasted not when the sparkling wines were 
 poured forth, and who danced not, when the minstrels played. 
 This was no other than Prince Bladud himself, in honour of whose 
 happiness a whole people were at that very moment, straining alike 
 their throats and purse-strings. The truth was, that the Prince, 
 forgetting the undoubted right of the minister for foreign affairs to 
 fall in love on his behalf, had, contrary to every precedent of policy 
 and diplomacy, already fallen in love on his own account, and 
 privately contracted himself unto the fair daughter of a noble 
 Athenian. 
 
 ' Here we have a striking example of one of the manifold ad- 
 vantages pf civilisation and refinement. If the Prince had lived in 
 later days, he might at once have married the object of his father's 
 choice, and then set himself seriously to work, to relieve himself of 
 the burden which rested heavily upon him. He might have 
 endeavoured to break her heart by a systematic course of insult and 
 neglect ; or, if the spirit of her sex, and a proud consciousness of 
 her many wrongs had upheld her under this ill treatment, he might 
 have sought to take her life, and so get rid of her effectually. But 
 heither mode of relief suggested itself to Prince Bladud,; so he 
 solicited a private audience, and told his father. 
 
 ' It is an old prerogative of kings to govern everything but their 
 passions. King Lud flew into a frightful rage, tossed his crown up 
 to the ceiling, and caught it again— for in those days kings kept 
 
430 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 their crowns on their heads, and not in the Tower — stamped the 
 ground, rapped his forehead, wondered why his own flesh and blood 
 rebelled against him, and, finally, calling in his guards, ordered the 
 Prince away to instant confinement in a lofty turret ; a course of 
 treatment which the kings of old very generally pursued towards 
 their sons, when their matrimonial inclinations did not happen to 
 point to the same quarter as their own. 
 
 ' When Prince Bladud had been shut up in the lofty turret for 
 the greater part of a year, with no better prospect before his bodily 
 eyes than a stone wall, or before his mental vision than prolonged 
 imprisonment, he naturally began to ruminate on a plan of 
 escape, which, after months of preparation, he managed to ac- 
 complish ; considerately leaving his dinner knife in the heart of his 
 gaoler, lest the poor fellow (who had a family) should be considered 
 privy to his flight, and punished accordingly by the infuriated king. 
 
 ' The monarch was frantic at the loss of his son. He knew not 
 on whom to vent his grief and wrath, until fortunately bethinking 
 himself of the Lord Chamberlain who had brought him home, he 
 struck off his pension and his head together. 
 
 ' Meanwhile, the young Prince, effectually disguised, wandered 
 on foot through his father's dominions, cheered and supported in 
 all his hardships by sweet thoughts of the Athenian maid, who was 
 the innocent cause of his weary trials. One day he stopped to rest 
 in a country village; and seeing that there were gay dances going 
 forward on the green, and gay faces passing to and fro, ventured to 
 inquire of a reveller who stood near him, the reason for this 
 rejoicing. 
 
 ' " Know you not, O stranger," was the reply, " of the recent 
 proclamation of our gracious king ? " 
 
 ' " Proclamation ! No. What proclamation ? " rejoined the 
 Prince— for he had travelled along the bye and little-frequented 
 ways, and knew nothing of what had passed upon the public roads, 
 such as they were. 
 
 '" Why," replied the peasant, "the foreign lady that our Prince 
 wished to wed, is married to a foreign noble of her own country ; 
 and the king' proclaims the fact, and a great public festival besides; 
 for now, of course. Prince Bladud will come back and marry the 
 lady his father chose, who they say is as beautiful as the noonday 
 sun. Your health, sir. God save the King ! " 
 
 ' The Prince remained to hear no more. He fled from the spot, 
 and plunged into the thickest recesses of a neighbouring wood. 
 On, on, he wandered, night and day : beneath the blazing sun, and 
 the cold pale moon : through the dry heat of noon, and the damp 
 cold of night : in the grey light of mom, and the red glare of eve. 
 So heedless was he of time or object, that being bomid for Athens, 
 he wandered as far out of his way as Bath. 
 
A COPIOUS FLOOD OF TEARS 431 
 
 .'There was no city where Bath stands, then. There was no 
 vestige of; human habitatiop,. or sign of nan's resort, to bear the 
 name; but there was the same noble coimtry, the same broad 
 expanse of, hill and dale, ■ the same beautiful channel stealing on, 
 far away : the same lofty mountains which, like the troubles of life, 
 viewed at a distance, and partially obscured by the bright mist of 
 its mornbgi'lo^ewtheir ruggedness and asperity, and, seem all. ease 
 and softness. Moved by the gentle beauty of the scene, the Prince 
 sank upon ,the green turf,, arid bathed his swollen feet in his tears. 
 
 '"Oh!" said the unhappy Bladud, clasping; his hands, and 
 mournfully raising his eyes towards the .sky, "would that my 
 wanderings might end here ! Would that these grateful, tears with 
 which I now mourn hope misplaced, and love despised, might iow 
 in peace for ever!" > 
 
 ; 'The wish was beard. It was in the time of the heathen .deities^ 
 who used occasionally to take people , at their words,; with a prompt- 
 ness, in some cases extremely awkward. The , ground opened 
 beneatibi the Prince's feet ; he sunk into the chasm ; arid instantane- 
 ously it closed upon his head for ever, save where his hot tears 
 welled up, through the earth, and where they haye continued fo 
 gush forth ever since. 
 
 ' It is observable that, to this day, large numbers of elderly ladies 
 and gentlemen who have been disappointed in procuijing partners, 
 and, almost as many young ones who are anxious to obtain them, 
 repair, annually, to Bath to drink the waters, from -yvhich they derive 
 much strength -and comfort. This is most pomplimentary to the 
 virtue of Prince Bladud's tears, and strongly corroborative of. the 
 veracity of this legend.' 
 
 •Mr. Pickwick yawned several times, when he had arrived at the 
 end of this little manuscript: carefully refolded, and replaced it in 
 the inkstand drawer : and then, with a countenance expressive of 
 the utmost weariness, lighted his chamber candle, and went up 
 stairs to bed. 
 
 He stopped at Mr. Dowler's door, according to cuotom, and 
 knocked to say good night. 
 
 'Ah!' said Dowler, 'going to bed? I wish I was. Dismal 
 night. Windy ; isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Very,' said Mr. Pickvyick. ' Good night.' 
 
 ' Good night.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick went to his bed-chamber, and Mr. Dowler resumed 
 his seat before the fire, in fulfilment of his rash promise to sit up till 
 his wife came home. 
 
 There are few things more worrying than sitting up for somebody, 
 especially if that somebody be at a party. You cannot help thinking 
 how quickly ,thg4ime passes with them, which drags so heavily with 
 
432 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 you ; and the more you think of this, the more your hopes of their 
 speedy arrival decline. Clocks tick so loud, too, when you are 
 sitting up alone, and you seem as if you had an under garment of 
 cobwebs on. First, something tickles your right knee, and then the 
 same sensation irritates your left. You have no sooner changed 
 your position, than it comes again in the arms; when you have 
 fidgeted your limbs into all sorts of odd shapes, you have a sudden 
 relapse in the nose, which you rub as if to rub it off^as there is no 
 doubt you would, if you could. Eyes, too, are mere personal in- 
 conveniences ; and the wick of one candle gets an inch and a half 
 long, while you are snuffing the other. These, and various other 
 little nervous annoyances, render sitting up for a length of time after 
 everybody else has gone to bed, anything but a cheerful amusement. 
 This was just Mr. Dowler's opinion, as he sat before the fire, and 
 felt honestly indignant with all the inhuman people at the party who 
 were keeping him up. He was not put into better humour either, 
 by the reflection that he had taken it into his head, early in the 
 evening, to think he had got an ache there, and so stopped at 
 home. At length, after several droppings asleep, and fallings 
 forward towards the bars, and catchings backward soon enough to 
 prevent being branded in the face, Mr. Dowler made up his mind 
 that he would throw himself on the bed in the back-room and think 
 — not sleep, of course. 
 
 ' I'm a heavy sleeper,' said Mr. Dowler, as he flung himself on 
 the bed. 'I must keep awake. I suppose I shall hear a knock 
 here. Yes. I thought so. I can hear the watchman. , There he 
 goes. Fainter now though. A little fainter. He's turning the 
 corner. Ah ! ' When Mr. Dowler arrived at this point, he turned 
 the corner at which he had been long hesitating, and fell fast asleep. 
 
 Just as the clock struck three, there was blown into the crescent 
 a sedan-chair with Mrs. Dowler inside, borne by one short fat 
 chairman, and one long thin one, who had had much ado to keep 
 their bodies perpendicular: to say nothing of the chair. But on 
 that high ground, and in the crescent, which the wind swept round 
 and round as if it were going to tear the paving stones up, its fury 
 was tremendous. They were very glad to set the chair down, and 
 give a good round loud double-knock at the street door. 
 
 They waited some time, but nobody came. 
 
 ' Servants is in the arms o' Porpus, I think,' said the short chair- 
 man, warming his hands at the attendant link-boy's torch. 
 
 ' I wish he'd give 'em a squeeze and wake 'em,' observed the long 
 one. 
 
 ' Knock again, will you, if you please,' cried Mrs. Dowler from 
 the chair. ' Knock two or three times, if you please.' 
 
 The short man was quite willing to get the job over, as soon as 
 possible; so he stood on the step", and gave four or five most 
 
MR. WINKLE BEGINS TO DREAM 433 
 
 startling double knocks, of eight or ten knocks a piece : while the 
 long man went into the road, and looked up at the mndows for a 
 light. 
 
 Nobody came. It was all as silent and dark as ever. 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Mrs. Dowler. ' You must knock again, if you 
 please.' 
 
 ' There ain't a bell, is there, ma'am ? ' said the short chairman. 
 
 ' Yes, there is,' interposed the link-boy, ' I've been a ringing at it 
 ever so long.' 
 
 ' It's only a handle,' said Mrs. Dowler, ' the wire's broken.' 
 
 ' I wish the servants' heads wos,' growled the long man. 
 
 ' I must trouble you to knock again, if you please,' said Mrs. 
 Dowler with the utmost politeness. 
 
 The short man did knock again several times, without producing 
 the smallest effect. The tall man, growing very impatient, then 
 relieved him, and kept on perpetually knocking double-knocks of 
 two loud knocks each, like an insane postman. 
 
 At length Mr. Winkle began to dream that he was at a club, and 
 that the members being very refractory, the chairman was obliged 
 to hammer the table a good deal to preserve order ; then, he had a 
 confused notion of an auction room where there were no bidders, 
 and the auctioneer was buying everything in ; and ultimately he 
 began to think it just within the bounds of possibility that somebody 
 might be knocking at the street door. To make quite certain, how- 
 ever, he remained quiet in bed for ten minutes or so, and listened ; 
 and when he had counted two or three and thirty knocks, he felt 
 quite satisfied, and gave himself a great deal of credit for being so 
 wakeful. 
 
 ' Rap rap — rap rap — rap rap — ra, ra, ra, ra, ra, rap ! ' went the 
 knocker. 
 
 Mr. Winkle jumped out of bed, wondering very much what could 
 possibly be the matter, and hastily putting on his stockings and 
 slippers, folded his dressing gown round him, lighted a flat candle 
 from the rush-light that was burning in the fire-place, and hurried 
 down stairs. 
 
 ' Here's somebody comin' at last, ma'am,' said the short chairman. 
 
 ' I wish I wos behind him vith a bradawl,' muttered the long one. 
 
 ' Who's there ? ' cried Mr. Winkle, undoing the chain. 
 
 'Don't stop to ask questions, cast-iron head,' replied the long 
 man, with great disgust, taking it for granted that the inquirer was a 
 footman ; ' but open the door.' 
 
 ' Come, look sharp, timber eye-lids,' added the other encouragingly. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, being half asleep, obeyed the command mechanically, 
 opened the door a little, and peeped out. The first thing he saw, 
 was the red glare of the link-boy's torch. Startled by the sudden 
 fear that the house might be on fire, he hastily threw the door wide 
 
 3 V 
 
434 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 open, and holding the candle above his head, stared eagerly before 
 him, not quite certain whether what he saw wa,s a sedan-chair or a 
 fire engine. At this instant there came a violent gust of wind ; the 
 light was blown out; Mr. Winkle felt himself irresistibly impelled 
 on to the steps ; and the door blew to, with a loud crash. 
 
 ' Well, young man, now you have done it ! ' said the short 
 chairman. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, catching sight of a lady's face at the window of the 
 sedan, turned hastily round, plied the knocker with all his might 
 and main, and called frantically upon the chairman to take the chair 
 away again. 
 
 ' Take it away, take it away,' cried Mr. Winkle. ' Here's some- 
 body coming out of another house; put me into the chair. Hide 
 me ! Do something with me ! ' 
 
 All this time he was shivering with cold; and every time he 
 raised his hand to the knocker, the wind took the dressing gown in 
 a most unpleasant manner. 
 
 'The people are coming down the Crescent now. There are 
 ladies with 'em ; cover me up with something. Stand before me ! ' 
 roared Mr. Winkle. But the chairmen were too much exhausted 
 with laughing to afford him the slightest assistance, and the ladies 
 were every moment approaching nearer and nearer. 
 
 Mr. Winkle gave a last hopeless knock ; the ladies were only a 
 few doors off. He threw away the extinguished candle, which, all 
 this time, he had held above his head, and fairly bolted into the 
 sedan-chair where Mrs. Dowler was. 
 
 Now, Mrs. Craddock had heard the knocking and the voices at 
 last ; and, only waiting to put something smarter on her head than 
 her night-cap, ran down into the front drawing-room to make sure 
 that it was the right party. Throwing up the window-sash as Mr. 
 Winkle was rushing into the chair, she no sooner caught sight of 
 what was going forward below, than she raised a vehement and 
 dismal shriek, and implored Mr. Dowler to get up directly, for his 
 wife was running away with another gendeman. 
 
 Upon this Mr. Dowler bounced off the bed as abruptly as an 
 India-rubber ball, and rushing into the front room, arrived at one 
 window just as Mr. Pickwick threw up the other : when the first 
 object that met the gaze of both, was Mr. Winkle bolting into the 
 sedan-chair. 
 
 ' Watchman,' shouted Dowler fiiriously ; ' stop him — hold him — • 
 keep him tight— shut him in, till I come down. I'll cut his throat 
 — give me a knife — from ear to ear, Mrs. Craddock — I will ! ' And 
 breaking from the shrieking landlady, and from Mr. Pickwick, the 
 indignant husband seized a small supper-knife, and tore into the 
 street. 
 
 But Mr. Winkle didn't wait for him. He no sooner heard the 
 
•■ne'nyytA& £U><>t^/6€ect^y^:: 
 
SAM WELLER RECEIVES A LETTER 435 
 
 horrible threat of the valorous Dowler, than he bounced out of 
 the sedan, quite as quickly as he had bounced in, and throwing off 
 his slippers into the road, took to his heels and tore roimd the 
 Crescent, hotly pursued by Dowler and the watchman. He kept 
 ahead ; the door was open as he came round the second time ; he 
 rushed in, slammed it in Dowler's face, mounted to his bed-room, 
 locked the door, piled a washhand-stand, chest of drawers, and table 
 against it, and packed up a few necessaries ready for flight with the 
 first ray of morning. 
 
 Dowler came up to the outside of the door ; avowed, through the 
 key-hole, his stedfast determination of cutting Mr. Winkle's throat 
 next day; and, after a great confusion of voices in the drawing- 
 room, amidst which that of Mr. Pickwick was distinctly heard 
 endeavouring to make peace, the inmates dispersed to, their several 
 bed-chambers, and all was quiet once more. 
 
 It is not unlikely that the inquiry may be made, where Mr. 
 Weller was, all this time ? We will state where he was, in the next 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 HONORABLY ACCOUNTS FOR MR. WELLER's ABSENCE, BY DE- 
 SCRIBING A SOIREE TO WHICH HE WAS INVITED AND WENT J 
 ALSO RELATES HOW HE WAS ENTRUSTED BY MR. PICKWICK 
 WITH A PRIVATE MISSION OF DELICACY AND IMPORTANCE 
 
 ' Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Craddock, upon the morning of this very 
 eventful day, ' here's a letter for you.' 
 
 ' Wery odd that,' said Sam, ' I'm afeerd there must be somethin' 
 the matter, for I don't recollect any gen'lm'n in my circle of 
 acquaintance as is capable o' writin' one.' 
 
 ' Perhaps something uncommon has taken place,' observed Mrs. 
 Craddock. 
 
 ' It must be somethin' wery uncommon indeed, as could produce 
 a letter out o' any friend o' mine,' replied Sam, shaking his head 
 dubiously ; ' nothin' less than a nat'ral conwulsion, as the young 
 gen'lm'n observed ven he wos took with fits. It can't be from the 
 gov'ner,' said Sam, looking at the direction. ' He always prints, I 
 know, 'cos he learnt writin' from the large bills in the bookin' 
 offices. It's a wery strange thing now, where this here letter can 
 ha' come from.' 
 
 As Sam said this, he did what a great many people do when they 
 are uncertain about the writer of a note,- — looked at the seal, and 
 then at the front, and then at the back, and then at the sides, and 
 
436 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 then at the superscription ; and, as a last resource, thought perhaps 
 he might as well look at the inside, and try to find out, from that. 
 . ' It's wrote on gilt-edged paper,' said Sam, as he unfolded it, 
 ' and sealed in bronze vax with the top of a door-key. Now for it' 
 And, with a very grave face, Mr. Weller slowly read as follows : 
 
 ' A select company of the Bath footmen presents their compli- 
 ments to Mr. Weller, and requests the pleasure of his company this 
 evening, to a friendly swarry, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton 
 with the usual trimmings. The swarry to be on table at half-past 
 vine o'clock punctually.' 
 
 This was inclosed in another note, which ran thus — 
 
 ' Mr. John Smauker, the gentleman who had the pleasure of 
 meeting Mr. Weller at the house of their mutual acquaintance, Mr. 
 Bantam, a few days since, begs to enclose Mr. WeUer the herewith 
 invitation. If Mr. Weller will call on Mr. John Smauker at nine 
 o'clock, Mr. John Smauker will have the pleasure of introducing 
 Mr. Weller. 
 
 (Signed) ' John Smauker.' 
 
 The envelope was directed to blank Weller, Esq., at Mr. Pick- 
 wick's ; and in a parenthesis, in the left-hand comer, were the 
 words ' airy bell,' as an instruction to the bearer. 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam, ' this is comin' it rayther powerful, this is. I 
 never heerd a biled leg o' mutton called a swarry afore. I wonder 
 wot they'd call a roast one.' 
 
 However, without waiting to debate the point, Sam at once be- 
 took himself into the presence of Mr. Pickwick, and requested leave 
 of absence for that evening, which was readily granted. With this 
 permission, and the street-door key, Sam Weller issued forth a little 
 before the appointed time, and strolled leisurely towards Queen 
 Square, which he no sooner gained than he had the satisfaction of 
 beholding Mr. John Smauker leaning his powdered head against a 
 lamp post at a short distance off, smoking a cigar through an amber 
 tube. 
 
 ' How do you do, Mr. Weller ? ' said Mr. John Smauker, raising 
 his hat gracefully with one hand,"while he gently waved the other in 
 a condescending manner. ' How do you do, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why, reasonably conwalessent,' replied Sam. ' How do you 
 find yourself, my dear feller ? ' 
 
 ' Only so so,' said Mr. John Smauker. 
 
 ' Ah, you've been a workin' too hard,' observed Sam. ' I was 
 fearful you would ; it won't do, you know ; you must not give way 
 to that 'ere uncompromisin' spirit o' your'n.' 
 
 ' It's not so much that, Mr. Weller,' replied Mr. John Smauker, 
 • as bad wine ; I'm afraid I've been dissipating.' 
 
TEMPTATIONS OF PUBLIC LIFE 437 ' 
 
 ' Oh ! that's it, is it ? ' said Sam ; ' that's a wery bad complaint, that.' 
 
 'And yet the temptation, you see, Mr. Weller,' observed Mr. 
 John Smauker. 
 
 ' Ah, to be sure,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Plunged into the very vortex of society, you know, Mr. Weller,' 
 said Mr. John Smauker with a sigh. 
 
 ' Dreadful indeed ! ' rejoined Sam. 
 
 ' But it's always the way,' said Mr. John Smauker ; ' if your 
 destiny leads you into public life, and public station, you must 
 expect to be subjected to temptations which other people is free 
 from, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' Precisely what my uncle said, ven Ae vent into the public line,' 
 remarked Sam, ' and wery right the old gen'lm'n wos, for he drank 
 hisself to death in somethin' less than a quarter.' 
 
 Mr. John Smauker looked deeply indignant at any parallel being 
 drawn between himself and the deceased gentleman in question ; 
 but as Sam's face was in the most immoveable state of calmness, he 
 thought better of it, and looked affable again. 
 
 ' Perhaps we had better be walking,' said Mr. Smauker, consulting 
 a copper time-piece which dwelt at the bottom of a deep watch- 
 pocket, and was raised to the surface by means of a black string, 
 with a copper key at the other end. 
 
 ' P'raps we had,' replied Sam, ' or they'll overdo the swarry, and 
 that'll spile it.' 
 
 ' Have you drank the waters, Mr. Weller ? ' inquired his com- 
 panion, as they walked towards High Street. 
 
 ' Once,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' What did you think of 'em, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I thought they wos particklery unpleasant,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. John Smauker, ' you disliked the killibeate taste, 
 perhaps ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know much about that 'ere,' said Sam. ' I thought 
 they'd a wery strong flavour o' warm flat irons.' 
 
 ' That is the killibeate, Mr. Weller,' observed Mr. John Smauker, 
 contemptuously. 
 
 ' Well, if it is, it's a wery inexpressive word, that's all,' said Sam. 
 ' It may be, but I ain't much in the chimical line myself, so I can't 
 say.' And here, to the great horror of Mr. John Smauker, Sam 
 Weller began to whistle. 
 
 'I beg your pardon, Mr. Weller,' said Mr, John Smauker, 
 agonized at the exceedingly ungenteel sound, 'Will you take 
 my arm ? ' 
 
 ' Thankee, you're wery good, but I won't deprive you of it,' 
 replied Sam. ' I've rayther a way o' puttin' my hands in my pockets, 
 if it's all the same to you.' As Sam sSaid this, he suited the action 
 to the word, and whistled far louder than before. 
 
438 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' This way,' said his new friend, apparently much relieved as they 
 turned down a bye street ; ' we shall soon be there.' 
 
 ' Shall we ? ' said Sam, quite unmoved by the announcement of 
 his close vicinity to the select footmen of Bath. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mr. John Smauker. ' Don't be alarmed, Mr. Waller.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Sam. 
 
 ' You'll see some very handsome uniforms, Mr. Weller,' continued 
 Mr. John Smauker ; ' and perhaps you'll find some of the gentlemen 
 rather high at first, you know, but they'll soon come round.' 
 
 ' That's wery kind on 'em,' replied Sam. 
 
 'And you know,' resumed Mr. John Smauker, with an air of 
 sublime protection ; ' you know, as you're a stranger, perhaps they'll 
 be rather hard upon you at first.' 
 
 ' They won't be wery cruel, though, will they ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' No, no,' replied Mr. John Smauker, pulling forth the fox's head, 
 and taking a gentlemanly pinch. 'There are some funny dogs 
 among us, and they will have their joke, you know ; but you mustn't 
 mind 'em, you mustn't mind 'em.' 
 
 ' I'll try and bear up agin such a reg'lar knock down o' talent,' 
 replied Sam. 
 
 ' That's right,' said Mr. John Smauker, putting up the fox's head, 
 and elevating his own ; ' I'll stand by you.' 
 
 By this time they had reached a small greengrocer's shop, which 
 Mr. John Smauker entered, followed by Sam : who, the moment he 
 got behind him, relapsed into a series of the very broadest and most 
 unmitigated grins, and manifested other demonstrations of being in 
 a highly enviable state of inward merriment. 
 
 Crossing the greengrocer's shop, and putting their hats on the 
 stairs in the little passage behind it, they walked into a small parlour ; 
 and here the full splendour of the scene burst upon Mr. Weller's view. 
 
 A couple of tables were put together in the middle of the parlour, 
 covered with three or four cloths of different ages and dates of 
 washing, arranged to look as much like one as the circumstances of 
 the case would allow. Upon these were laid knives and forks for 
 six or eight people. Some of the knife handles were green, others 
 red, and a few yellow j and as all the forks were black, the 
 combination of colours was exceedingly striking. Plates for a 
 corresponding number of guests were warming behind the fender ; 
 and the guests themselves were warming before it : the chief and 
 most important of whom appeared to be a stoutish gentleman in a 
 bright crimson coat with long tails, vividly red breeches, and a 
 cocked hat, who was standing with his back to the fire, and had 
 apparently just entered, for besides retaining his cocked hat on his 
 head, he carried in his hand a high stick, such as gentlemen of his 
 profession usually elevate in a/ sloping position over the roofs of 
 carriages. 
 
MR. TUCKLE PRESIDES AT THE SWARRY 439 
 
 'Smauker, my lad, your fin,' said the gentleman with the 
 cocked hat. 
 
 Mr. Smauker dovetailed the top joint of his right hand little 
 finger into that of the gentleman with the cocked hat, and said he 
 was charmed to see him looking so well. 
 
 ' Well, they tell me I am looking pretty blooming,' said the man 
 with the cocked hat, ' and it's a wonder, too. I've been following 
 our old woman about, two hours a-day, for the last fortnight ; and 
 if a constant contemplation of the manner in which she hooks-arid- 
 eyes that infernal lavender coloured old gown of hers behind, isn't 
 enough to throw any body into a low state of despondency for life, 
 stop my quarter's salary.' 
 
 At this, the assembled selections laughed very heartily ; and one 
 gentleman in a yellow waistcoat, with a coach trimming border, 
 whispered a neighbour in green foil smalls, that Tuckle was in 
 spirits to-night. 
 
 'By the bye,' said Mr. Tuckle, 'Smauker, my boy, you ' 
 
 The remainder of the sentence was forwarded into Mr. John 
 Smauker's ear, by whisper. 
 
 ' Oh, dear me, I quite forgot,' said Mr. John Smauker. ' Gentle- 
 men, my friend Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' Sorry to keep the fire off you, Weller,' said Mr. Tuckle, with a 
 familiar nod. ' Hope you're not cold, Weller.' 
 
 'Not by no means. Blazes,' replied Sam. ' It 'ud be a wery 
 chilly subject as felt cold wen you stood opposit. You'd save coals 
 if they put you behind the fender in the waitin' room at a public 
 office, you would.' 
 
 As this retort appeared to convey rather a personal allusion to 
 Mr. Tuckle's crimson livery, that gentleman looked majestic for a 
 few seconds, but gradually edging away from the fire, broke into a 
 forced smile, and said it wasn't bad. 
 
 'Wery much obliged for your good opinion, sir,' replied Sam. 
 ' We shall get on by degrees, I des-say. ' We'll try a better one, 
 bye-and-bye.' 
 
 At this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a 
 gentleman in orange-coloured plush, accompanied by another 
 selection in purple cloth, with a great extent of stocking. The new 
 comers having been welcomed by the old ones, Mr. Tuckle put the 
 question that supper be ordered in, which was carried unanimously. 
 
 The greengrocer and his wife then arranged upon the table a 
 boiled leg of mutton, hot, with caper sauce, turnips, and potatoes. 
 Mr. Tuckle took the chair, and was supported at the other end of 
 the board by the gentleman in orange plush. The greengrocer put 
 on a pair of wash-leather gloves to hand the plates with, and stationed 
 himself behind Mr. Tuckle's chair. 
 
 ' Harris,' said Mr. Tuckle, in a commanding tone. 
 
44° THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Sir,' said the greengrocer. 
 
 ' Have you got your gloves on ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Then take the kiver off.' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 The greengrocer did as he was told, with a show of great humility, 
 and obsequiously handed Mr. Tuckle the carving knife ; in doing 
 which, he accidentally gaped. 
 
 ' What do you mean by that, sir ? ' said Mr. Tuckle, with great 
 asperity. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' replied the crest-fallen greengrocer, ' I 
 didn't mean to do it, sir ; I was up very late last night, sir.' 
 
 ' I tell you what my opinion of you is, Harris,' said Mr. Tuckle 
 with a most impressive air, ' you're a wulgar beast.' 
 
 ' I hope, gentlemen,' said Harris, ' that you won't be severe with 
 me, gentlemen. I'm very much obliged to you indeed, gentlemen, 
 for your patronage, and also for your recommendations, gentlemen, 
 whenever additional assistance in waiting is required. I hope, 
 gentlemen, I give satisfaction.' 
 
 ' No, you don't sir,' said Mr. Tuckle. ' Very far from it, 
 sir.' 
 
 ' We consider you an inattentive reskel,' said the gentleman in 
 the orange plush. 
 
 ' And a low thief,' added the gentleman in the green-foil smalls. 
 
 ' And an unreclaimable blaygaird,' added the gentleman in 
 purple. 
 
 The poor greengrocer bowed very humbly while these little 
 epithets were bestowed upon him, in the true spirit of the very 
 smallest tyranny ; and when every body had said something to show 
 his superiority, Mr. Tuckle proceeded to carve the leg of mutton, 
 and to help the company. 
 
 This important business of the evening had hardly commenced, 
 when the door was thrown briskly open, and another gentleman in a 
 light-blue suit, and leaden buttons, made his appearance. 
 
 ' Against the rules,' said Mr. Tuckle. ' Too late, too late.' 
 
 ' No, no ; positively I couldn't help it,' said the gentleman in blue. 
 ' I appeal to the company. An affair of gallantry now, an appoint- 
 ment at the theayter.' 
 
 ' Oh, that indeed,' said the gentleman in the orange plush. 
 
 ' Yes ; raly now, honour bright,' said the man in blue. ' I made 
 a promese to fetch our youngest daughter at half-past ten, and she 
 is such an uncauminly fine gal, that I raly hadn't the art to disappint 
 her. No offence to the present company, sir, but a petticut, sir, a 
 petticut, sir, is irrevokeable.' 
 
 ' I begin to suspect there's something in that quarter,' said Tuclcle, 
 as the new comer took his seat next Sam. ' I've remarked, once or 
 
THE GENTLEMAN IN BLUE 441 
 
 twice, that she leans very heavy on your shoulder when she gets in 
 and out of the carriage.' 
 
 ' Oh raly, raly, Tuckle, you shouldn't,' said the man in blue. ' It's 
 not fair. I may have said to one or two friends that she was a 
 very divine creechure, and had refused one or two offers without 
 any hobvus cause, but — no, no, no, 'indeed, Tuckle — before strangers, 
 too — it's not right — ^you shouldn't. Delicacy, my dear friend, 
 delicacy ! ' And the man in blue, pulling up his neckerchief, and 
 adjusting his coat cufifs, nodded and frowned as if there were more 
 behind, which he could say if he liked, but was bound in honour tc 
 suppress. 
 
 The man in blue being a light-haired, stiff-necked, free and easy 
 sort of footman, with a swaggering air and pert face, had attracted 
 Mr. Wellefs especial attention at first, but when he began to come 
 out in this way, Sam felt more than ever disposed to cultivate his 
 acquaintance ; so he launched himself into the conversation at once, 
 with characteristic independence. 
 
 ' Your health, sir,' said Sam. ' I like your conwersation much. 
 I think it's wery pretty.' 
 
 At this the man in blue smiled, as if it were a compliment he was 
 well used to ; but looked approvingly on Sam at the same time, and 
 said he hoped he should be better acquainted with him, for without 
 any flattery at all he seemed to have the makings of a very nice 
 fellow about him, and to be just the man after his own heart. 
 
 'You're wery good, sir,' said Sam. 'What a lucky feller you 
 are!' 
 
 ' How do you mean ? ' inquired the gentleman in blue. 
 
 ' That 'ere young lady,' replied Sam. ' She knows wot's wot, she 
 does. Ah ! I see.' Mr. Weller closed one eye, and shook his head 
 from side to side, in a manner which was highly gratifying to the 
 personal vanity of the gentleman in blue. 
 
 ' I'm afraid you're a cunning fellow, Mr. Weller,' said that 
 individual. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Sam. ' I leave all that 'ere to you. It's a great 
 deal more in your way than mine, as the gen'lm'n on the right side 
 o' the garden vail said to the man on the wrong 'un, ven the mad 
 bull wos a comin' up the lane.' 
 
 ' Well, well, Mr. Weller,' said the gentleman in blue, ' I think she 
 has remarked my air and manner, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' I should think she couldn't wery well be off o' that,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Have you any little thing of that kind in hand, sir ? ' inquired 
 the favoured gentleman in blue, drawing a toothpick from his 
 waistcoat pocket. 
 
 ' Not exactly,' said Sam. ' There's no daughters at my place, 
 else o' course I should ha' made up to vun on 'em. As it is, I 
 don't think I can do with any thin' under a female markis. I might 
 
442 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 take up with a young ooman o' large property as hadn't a title, if 
 she made wery fierce love to me. Not else.' 
 
 ' Of course not, Mr. Waller,' said the gentleman in blue, ' one 
 can't be troubled, you know ; and we know, Mr. Waller — we, who 
 are men of the world — that a good uniform must work its way with 
 the women, sooner or later. In fact, that's the only thing, between 
 you and me, that makes the service worth entering into.' 
 
 ' Just so,' said Sam. ' That's it, o' course.' 
 
 When this confidential dialogue had gone thus far, glasses were 
 placed round, and every gentleman ordered what he liked best, 
 before the public-house shut up. The gentleman in blue, and the 
 man in orange, who were the chief exquisites of the party, ordered 
 ' cold srub and water,' but with the others, gin and water, sweet, 
 appeared to be the favourite beverage. Sam called the greengrocer 
 a 'desp'rate willin,' and ordered a large bowl of punch; two 
 circumstances which seemed to raise him very much in the opinion 
 of the selections. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said the man in blue, with an air of the most 
 consummate dandyism, ' I'll give you the ladies ; come.' 
 
 ' Hear, hear ! ' said Sam, ' The young mississes.' 
 
 Here there was a loud cry of ' Order,' and Mr. John Smauker, as 
 the gentleman who had introduced Mr. Waller into that company, 
 begged to inform him that the word he had just made use of, was 
 unparliamentary. 
 
 ' Which word was that 'ere, sir ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Mississes, sir,' replied Mr. John Smauker, with an alarming 
 frown. ' We don't recognise such distinctions here.' 
 
 ' Oh, wery good,' said Sam ; ' then I'll amend the obserwation, 
 and call 'em the dear creeturs, if Blazes vill allow me.' 
 
 Some doubt appeared to exist in the mind of the gentleman in 
 the green-foil smalls, whether the chairman could be legally 
 appealed to, as 'Blazes,' but as the company seemed more dis- 
 posed to stand upon their own rights than his, the question was 
 not raised. The man with the cocked hat, breathed short, and 
 looked long at Sam, but apparently thought it as well to say 
 nothing, in case he should get the worst of it. 
 
 After a short silence, a gentleman in an embroidered coat 
 reaching down to his heels, and a waistcoat of the same which 
 kept one half of his legs warm, stirred his gin and water with great 
 energy, and putting himself upon his feet, all at once, by a violent 
 effort, said he was desirous of offering a few remarks to the 
 company : whereupon the person in the cocked hat, had no doubt 
 that the company would be very happy to hear any remarks that 
 the man in the long coat might wish to offer. 
 
 'I feel a great delicacy, gentlemen, in coming for'ard,' said the 
 man in the long coat, ' having the misforchune to be a coachman, 
 
AN AFFLICTING CIRCUMSTANCE 443 
 
 and being only admitted as a honorary member of these agreeable 
 swarrys, but I do feel myself bound, gentlemen — drove into a 
 comer, if I may use the expression — to make known an afflicting 
 circumstance which has come to my knowledge; which has 
 happened I may say within the soap of my every day contempla- 
 tion. Gentlemen, our friend Mr. Whiffers (everybody looked at 
 the individual in orange), our friend Mr. Whiffers has .resigned.' 
 
 Universal astonishment fell upon the hearers. Each gentleman 
 looked in his neighbour's face, and then transferred his glance to 
 the upstanding coachman. 
 
 'You may well be sapparised, gentlemen,' said the coachman. 
 ' I will not wenchure to state the reasons of this irrepairabel loss to 
 the service, but I will beg Mr. Whiffers to state them himself, for 
 the improvement and imitation of his admiring friends.' 
 
 The suggestion being loudly approved of, Mr. Whiffers explained. 
 He said he certainly could have wished to have continued to hold 
 the appointment he had just resigned. The uniform was extremely 
 rich and expensive, the females of the family was most agreeable, 
 and the duties of the situation was not, he was bound to say, too 
 heavy ; the principal service that was required of him, being, that 
 he should look out . of the hall window as much as possible, in 
 company with another gentleman, who had also resigned. He 
 could have wished to have spared that company the painful and 
 disgusting detail on which he was about to enter, but as the ex- 
 planation had been demanded of him, he had no alternative but to 
 state, boldly and distinctly, that he had been required to eat cold 
 meat. 
 
 It is impossible to conceive the disgust which this avowal 
 awakened in the bosoms of the hearers. Loud cries of ' Shame ! ' 
 mingled with groans and hisses, prevailed for a quarter of an 
 hour. 
 
 Mr. Whiffers then added that he feared a portion of this outrage 
 might be traced to his own forbearing and accommodating dis- 
 position. He had a distinct recollection of having once consented 
 to eat salt butter, and he had, moreover, on an occasion of sudden 
 sickness in the house, so far forgotten himself as to carry a coal 
 scuttle up to the second floor. He trusted he had not lowered 
 himself in the good opinion of his friends by this frank confession 
 of his faults ; and he hoped the promptness with which he had 
 resented the last unmanly outrage on his feelings, to which he had 
 referred, would reinstate him in their good opinion, if he had. 
 
 Mr. Whiffers' address was responded to, with a shout of admira- 
 tion, and the health of the interesting martyr was drunk in a most 
 enthusiastic manner ; for this, the martyr returned thanks, and 
 proposed their visitor, Mr. Weller ; a gentleman whom he had not 
 the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with, but who was the 
 
444 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 friend of Mr. John Smauker, which was a sufficient letter of re- 
 commendation to any society of gentlemen whatever, or wherever. 
 On this account, he should have been disposed to have given Mr. 
 VVeller's health with all the honours, if his friends had been 
 drinking wine ; but as they were taking spirits by way of a change, 
 and as it might be inconvenient to empty a tumbler at every toast, 
 he should propose that the honours be understood. 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, everybody took a sip in honour 
 of Sam ; and Sam having ladled out, and drunk, two full glasses of 
 punch in honour of himself, returned thanks in a neat speech. 
 
 ' Wery much obliged to you, old fellers,' said Sam, ladling away 
 at the punch in the most unembarrassed manner possible, ' for this 
 here compliment ; wich, comin' from sich a quarter, is wery over- 
 velmin'. I've heerd a good deal on you as a body, but I will say, 
 that I never thought you was sich uncommon nice men as I find 
 you air. I only hope you'll take care o' yourselves, and not 
 compromise nothin' o' your dignity, which is a wery charmin' thing 
 to see, when one's out a walkin', and has always made me wery happy 
 to look at, ever since I was a boy about half as high as the brass- 
 headed stick o' my wery respectable friend. Blazes, there. As to 
 the wictim of oppression in the suit o' brimstone, all I can say of 
 him, is, that I hope he'll get jist as good a berth as he deserves : 
 in vich case it's wery little cold swarry as ever he'll be troubled 
 with agin.' 
 
 Here Sam sat down with a pleasant smile, and his speech having 
 been vociferously applauded, the company broke up. 
 
 'Why, you don't mean to say you're a goin', old feller?' said 
 Sam Weller to his friend Mr. John Smauker. 
 
 ' I must indeed,' said Mr. Smauker ; ' I promised Bantam.' 
 
 ' Oh, wery well,' said Sam ; ' that's another thing. P'raps lu^d 
 resign if you disappinted him. You ain't a goin'. Blazes ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am,' said the man with the cocked hat. 
 
 ' Wot, and leave three quarters of a bowl of punch behind you ! 
 said Sam ; ' nonsense, set down agin.' 
 
 Mr. Tuckle was not proof against this invitation. He laid aside 
 the cocked hat and stick which he had just taken up, and said he 
 would have one glass, for good fellowship's sake. 
 
 As the gentleman in blue went home the same way as Mr. 
 Tuckle, he was prevailed upon to stop too. When the punch was 
 about half gone, Sam ordered in some oysters from the green- 
 grocer's shop ; and the effect of both was so extremely exhilaratbg. 
 that Mr. Tuckle, dressed out with the cocked hat and stick, danced 
 the frog hornpipe among the shells on the table : while the gende- 
 man in blue played an accompaniment upon an ingenious musical 
 instrument formed of a hair comb and a curl-paper. At last, when 
 the punch was all gone, and the night nearly so, they sallied forth 
 
A DELICATE MISSION 445 
 
 to see each other home. Mr. Tuckle no sooner got into the open 
 air, than he was seized with a sudden desire to lie on the curb- 
 stone ; Sam thought it would be a pity to contradict him, and so 
 let him have his own way. As the cocked hat would have been 
 spoilt if left there, Sam very considerately flattened it down on the 
 head of the gentleman in blue, and putting the big stick in his 
 hand, propped him up against his own street-door, rang the bell, 
 and walked quietly home. 
 
 At a much earlier hour next morning than his usual time of 
 rising, Mr. Pickwick walked down stairs completely dressed, and 
 rang the bell. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller appeared in reply to 
 the summons, ' shut the door.' 
 
 Mr. Weller did so. 
 
 'There was an unfortunate occurrence here, last night, Sam,' 
 said Mr. Pickwick, ' which gave Mr. Winkle some cause to appre- 
 hend violence from Mr. Dowler.' 
 
 ' So I've heerd from the old lady down stairs, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 'And I'm sorry to say, Sam,' continued Mr. Pickwick, with a 
 most perplexed countenance, 'that in dread of this violence, Mr. 
 Winkle has gone away.' 
 
 ' Gone away ! ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Left the house early this morning, without the slightest previous 
 communication with me,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' And is gone, I 
 know not where.' 
 
 'He should ha' stopped and fought it out, sir,' replied Sam, 
 contemptuously. ' It wouldn't take much to settle that 'ere 
 Dowler, sir.' 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I may have my doubts of his 
 great bravery and determination, also. But however that may be, 
 Mr. Winkle is gone. He must be found, Sam. Found and brought 
 back to me.' 
 
 ' And s'pose he won't come back, sir ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' He must be made, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Who's to do it, sir ? ' inquired Sam with a smile. 
 
 'You,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wery good, sir.' 
 
 With these words Mr. Weller left the room, and immediately 
 afterwards was heard to shut the street door. In two hours' time 
 he returned with as much coolness as if he had been despatched 
 on the most ordinary message possible, and brought the informa- 
 tion that an individual, in every respect answering Mr. Winkle's 
 description, had gone over to Bristol that morning, by the branch 
 coach from the Royal Hotel. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, grasping his hand, ' you're a capital 
 fellow ; an invaluable fellow. You must follow him, Sam.' 
 
446 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 'The instant you discover him, write, to me immediately, Sam,' 
 saW Mr. Pickwick. ' If he attempts to run away from you, 
 kn-ock him down, or lock him up. You have my full authority, 
 Sam.' 
 
 ' I'll be wery careful, sir,' rejoined Sam. 
 
 ' You'll tell him,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that I am highly excited, 
 highly displeased, and naturally indignant, at the very extraordinary 
 course he has thought proper to pursue.' 
 
 ' I will, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' You'll tell him,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that if he does not come 
 back to this very house, with you, he will come back with me, for 
 I will come and fetch him.' 
 
 ' I'll mention that 'ere, sir,' rejoined Sam. 
 
 ' You think you can find him, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking 
 earnestly in his face. 
 
 ' Oh, I'll find him if he's any vere,' rejoined Sam, with great 
 confidence. 
 
 'Very well,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Then the sooner you go 
 the better.' 
 
 With these instructions, Mr. Pickwick placed a sum of money 
 in the hands of his faithful servitor, and ordered him to start for 
 Bristol immediately, in pursuit of the fugitive. 
 
 Sam put a few necessaries in a carpet bag, and was ready for 
 starting. He stopped when he had got to the end of the 
 passage, and walking quietly back, thrust his head in at the 
 parlour door. 
 
 ' Sir,' whispered Sam. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I fully understands my instructions, do I, sir ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' I hope so,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'It's reg'larly understood about the knockin' down, is it, sir?' 
 inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Perfectly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Thoroughly. Do what you 
 think necessary. You have my orders.' 
 
 Sam gave a nod of intelligence, and withdrawing his head from 
 the door, set forth on his pilgrimage with a light heart. 
 
MR. WINKLE GOES TO BRISTOL 447 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 HOW MR. WINKLE, WHEN HE STEPPED OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN, 
 WALKED GENTLY AND COMFORTABLY INTO THE FIRE 
 
 The ill-starred gentleman i^ho had been the unfortunate cause of 
 the unusual n ise and disturb?.nce which alarmed the inhabitants 
 of the Royal Crescent in manner and form already described, after 
 passing a night of great confusion and anxiety, left the roof beneath 
 which his friends stiR slumbered, bound he knew not whither. 
 The excellent and considerate feelings which prompted Mr. Winkle 
 to take this step can never be too highly appreciated or too warmly 
 extolled. ' If,' reasoned Mr. Winkle with himself, ' if thi Dowler 
 attempts (as I have no doubt he will) to carry into exe :tion his 
 threat of personal violence against myself, it will be incumbent on 
 me to call him out. He has a wife ; that wife is attached to, and 
 dependent on him. Heavens ! If I should kill him in the blind- 
 ness of my wrath, what would be my feelings ever afterwards ! ' 
 This painful consideration operated so powerfully on the feelings 
 of the humane young man, as to cause his knees to knock together, 
 and his countenance to exhibit alarming manifestations of inward 
 emotion. Impelled by such reflections, he grasped his carpet-bag, 
 and creeping stealthily down stairs, shut the detestable street-door 
 with as little noise as possible, and walked off. Bending his steps 
 towards the Royal Hotel, he found a coach on the point of starting 
 for Bristol, and, thinking Bristol as good a place for his purpose as 
 any other he could go to, he momited the box, and reached his 
 place of destination in such time as the pair of horses, who went 
 the whole stage and back again twice a day or more, could be 
 reasonably supposed to arrive there. 
 
 He took up his quarters at The Bush, and, designing to postpone 
 any commimication by letter with Mr. Pickwick imtil it was probable 
 that Mr. Bowler's wrath might have in some degree evaporated, 
 walked forth to view the city, which struck him as being a shade 
 more dirty than any place he had ever seen. Having inspected 
 the docks and shipping, and viewed the cathedral, he inquired his 
 way to Clifton, and being directed thither, took the route which 
 was pointed out to him. But, as the pavements of Bristol are not 
 the widest or cleanest upon earth, se its streets are not altogether 
 the straightest or least intricate ; Mr. Winkle being greatly puzzled 
 by their manifold windings and twistings, looked about him for 
 a decent shop in which he could apply afresh, for counsel and 
 instruction. 
 
448 THE PICKVi^ICK CLUB 
 
 His eye fell upon a newly-painted tenement which had been 
 recently converted into something between a shop and a private- 
 house, and which a red lamp, projecting over the fan-light of the 
 street-door, would have suffic'ently announced as the residence of 
 a medical practitioner, even if the word ' Surgery ' had hot been 
 inscribed in golden characters on a wainscot ground, above the 
 window of what, in times bygone, had been the front parlour. 
 Thinking this an eligible place wherein to make his inquiries, Mr. 
 Winkle stepped into the little shop where the gilt-labelled drawers 
 and bottles were ; and finding nobody there, knocked with a half- 
 crown on the counter, to attract the attention of anybody who might 
 happen to be in the back parlour, which he judged to be the inner- 
 most and peculiar sanctum of the establishment, from the repetition 
 of the word surgery on the door — painted in white letters this time, 
 by way of taking off the monotony. 
 
 At the first knock, a sound, as of persons fencing with fireirons, 
 which had until now been very audible, suddenly ceased ; at the 
 second, a studious-looking young gentleman in green spectacles, 
 with a very large book in his hand, glided quietly into the shop, 
 and stepping behind the counter, requested to know the visitor's 
 pleasure. 
 
 ' I am sorry to trouble you, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, ' but will you 
 have the goodness to direct me to ' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' roared the studious young gentleman, throwing 
 the large book up into the air, and catching it with great dexterity 
 at the very moment when it threatened to smash to atoms all the 
 bottles on the counter. ' Here's a start ! ' 
 
 There was, without doubt; for Mr. Winkle was so very much 
 astonished at the extraordinary behaviour of the medical gentle- 
 man, that he involuntarily retreated towards the door, and looked 
 very much disturbed at his strange reception. 
 
 ' What, don't you know me ? ' said the medical gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Winkle murmured, in reply, that he had not that pleasure. 
 
 ' Why, then,' said the medical gentleman, ' there are hopes for 
 me yet ; I may attend half the old women in Bristol if I've decent 
 luck. Get out, you mouldy old villain, get out ! ' With this 
 adjuration, which was addressed to the large book, the medical 
 gentleman kicked the volume with remarkable agility to the further 
 end of the shop, and, pulling off his green spectacles, grinned the 
 identical grin of Robert Sawyer, formerly of Guy's Hospital in the 
 Borough, with a private residence in Lant Street. 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you weren't down upon me ! ' said Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer, shaking Mr. Winkle's hand with friendly warmth. 
 
 ' Upon my word I was not,' replied Mr. Winkle, returning the 
 pressure. 
 
 ' I wonder you didn't see the name,' said Bob Sawyer, calling 
 
MEDICAL MYSTERIES 449 
 
 his friend's attention to the outer door, on which, in the same white 
 paint, were traced the words ' Sawyer, late Nockemorf.' 
 
 ' It never caught my eye,' returned Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Lord, if I had known who you were, I should have rushed out, 
 and caught you in my arms,' said Bob Sawyer ; ' but upon my life, 
 I thought you were the King's-taxes.' 
 
 ' No ! ' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I did, indeed,' responded Bob Sawyer, ' and I was just going 
 to say that I wasn't at home, but if you'd leave a message I'd be 
 sure to give it to myself; for he don't know me ; no more does the 
 Lighting and Paving. I think the Church-rates guesses who I am, 
 and I know the Water-works does, because I drew a tooth of his 
 when I first came down here. But come in, come in ! ' Chatter- 
 ing in this way, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed Mr. Winkle into the back 
 room, where, amusing himself by boring little circular, caverns in 
 the chimney-piece with a red-hot poker, sat no less a person than 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Mr. Winkle. ' This is indeed a pleasure I did not 
 expect. What a very nice place you have here ! ' 
 
 ' Pretty well, pretty well,' replied Bob Sawyer. ' I passed, soon 
 ■ after that precious party, and my friends came down with the need- 
 ful for this business ; so I put on a black suit of clothes, and a pair 
 of spectacles, and came here to look as solemn as I could.' 
 
 ' And a very snug little business you have, no doubt ? ' said Mr. 
 Winkle, knowingly. 
 
 ' Very,' replied Bob Sawyer. ' So snug, that at the end of a few 
 years you might put all the profits in a wine glass, and cover 'em 
 over with a gooseberry leaf.' 
 
 ' You cannot surely mean that ? ' said Mr. Winkle. ' The stock 
 itself— ' 
 
 ' Dummies, my dear boy,' said Bob Sawyer ; ' half the drawers 
 have nothing in 'em, and the other half don't open.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! ' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Fact — honor ! ' returned Bob Sawyer, stepping out into the 
 shop, and demonstrating the veracity of the assertion by divers 
 hard pulls at the little gilt knobs on the counterfeit drawers. 
 'Hardly anything real in the shop but the leeches, and they are 
 second-hand.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't have thought it ! ' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, much 
 surprised. 
 
 ' I hope not,' replied Bob Sawyer, ' else where's the use . of 
 appearances, eh ? But what will you take ? Do as we do ? That's 
 right. Ben, my fine fellow, put your hand into the cupboard, and 
 bring out the patent digester.' 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen smiled his readiness, and produced from the 
 closet at his elbow a black bottle half full of brandy. 
 
 2 G 
 
450 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You don't take water, of course ? ' said Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Thank you,' replied Mr. Winkle. ' It's ratfier early. I should 
 like to qualify it, if you have no objection.' 
 
 ' None in the least, if you can reconcile it to your conscience,' 
 replied Bob Sawyer ; tossing off, as he spoke, a glass of the liquor 
 with great relish. ' Ben, the pipkin ! ' 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen drew forth, from the same hiding-place, a 
 small brass pipkin, which Bob Sawyer observed he prided himself 
 upon, particularly because it looked so business-like. The water in 
 the professional pipkin having been made to boil, in course of time, 
 by various little shovelsfull of coal, which Mr. Bob Sawyer took out 
 of a practicable window-seat, labelled ' Soda Water,' Mr. Winkle 
 adulterated his brandy ; and the conversation was becoming general, 
 when it was interrupted by the entrance into the shop of a boy, in 
 a sober grey livery and a gold-laced hat, with a small covered basket 
 under his arm : whom Mr. Bob Sawyer immediately hailed with, 
 ' Tom, you vagabond, come here.' 
 
 The boy presented himself accordingly. 
 
 ' You've been stopping to over all the posts in Bristol, you idle 
 young scamp ! ' said Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' No, sir, I haven't,' replied the boy. 
 
 ' You had better not ! ' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with a threatening 
 aspect. ' Who do you suppose will ever employ a professional 
 man, when they see his boy playing at marbles in the gutter, or 
 flying the garter in the horse-road ? Have you no feeling for your 
 profession, you groveller ? Did you leave all the medicine .? ' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 'The powders for the child, at the large house with the new 
 family, and the pills to be taken four times a day at the ill-tempered 
 old gentleman's with the gouty leg ? ' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Then shut the door, and mind the shop.' 
 
 'Come,' said Mr. Winkle, as the boy retired, 'things are not 
 quite so bad as you would have me beUeve, either. There is some 
 medicine to be sent out.' 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer peeped into the shop to see that no stranger 
 was within hearing, and leaning forward to Mr. Winkle, said, in' a 
 low tone : 
 
 ' He leaves it all at the wrong houses.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle looked perplexed, and Bob Sawyer and his friend 
 laughed. 
 
 ' Don't you see ? ' said Bob. ' He goes up to a house, rings the 
 area bell, pokes a packet of medicine without a direction into the 
 servant's hand, and walks off. Servant takes it into the dining- 
 parlour ; master opens it, and reads the label : " Draught to be 
 taken at bed-time — pills as before — lotion as usual — the powder. 
 
MR. BENJAMIN ALLEN 451 
 
 From Sawyer's, late Nockemorf's. Physicians' prescriptions care- 
 fully prepared," and all the rest of it. Shows it to his wife — she 
 reads the label ; it goes down to the servants — they read the label. 
 Next day, boy calls : " Very sorry — his mistake — ^immense business 
 — great many parcels to deliver — Mr. Sawyer's compliments — late 
 Nockemorf." The name gets known, and that's the thing, my boy, 
 in the medical way. Bless your heart, old fellow, it's better than 
 all the advertising in the world. We have got one four-ounce 
 bottle that's been to half the houses in Bristol, and hasn't done yet.' 
 
 ' Dear me, I see,' observed Mr. Winkle ; ' what an excellent 
 plan ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Ben and I have hit upon a dozen such,' repUed Bob Sawyer, 
 with great glee. ' The lamplighter has eighteenpence a week to 
 pull the night-bell for ten minutes every time he comes round ; and 
 my boy always rushes into church, just before the psalms, when the 
 people have got nothing to do but look about 'em, and calls me out, 
 with horror and dismay depicted on his countenance. " Bless my 
 soul," everybody says, " somebody taken suddenly ill ! Sawyer, late 
 Nockemorf, sent for. What a business that young man has ! " ' 
 
 At the termination of this disclosure of some of the mysteries of 
 medicine, Mr. Bob Sawyer and his friend, Ben Allen, threw them- 
 selves back in their respective chairs, and laughed boisterously. 
 When they had enjoyed the joke to their hearts' content, the dis- 
 course changed to topics in which Mr. Winkle was more immediately 
 interested. 
 
 We think we have hinted elsewhere, that Mr. Benjamin Allen had 
 a way of becoming sentimental after brandy. The case is not a 
 peculiar one, as we ourselves can testify : having, on a few occasions, 
 had to deal with patients who have been afflicted in a similar manner. 
 At this precise period of his existence, Mr. Benjamin Allen had 
 perhaps a greater predisposition to maudlinism than he had ever 
 known before ; the cause of which malady was briefly this. He had 
 been staying nearly three weeks with Mr. Bob Sawyer; Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer was not remarkable for temperance, nor was Mr. Benjamin 
 Allen for the ownership of a very strong head; the consequence 
 was, that, during the whole space of time just mentioned, Mr. 
 Benjamin Allen had been wavering between intoxication partial, 
 and intoxication complete. 
 
 ' My dear friend,' said Mr. Ben Allen, taking advantage of Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer's temporary absence behind the counter, whither he 
 had retired to dispense some of the second-hand leeches, previously 
 referred to : ' my dear friend, I am very miserable.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle professed his heartfelt regret to hear it, and begged 
 to know whether he could do anything to alleviate the sorrows of 
 the suffering student. 
 
 ' Nothing, my dear boy, nothing,' said Ben. ' You recollect 
 
452 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Arabella, Winkle ? My sister Arabella — a little girl, Winkle, with 
 black eyes — ^when we were down at Wardle's ? I don't know whether 
 you happened to notice her, a nice little girl. Winkle. Perhaps my 
 features may recal her countenance to your recollection ? ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle required nothing to recal the charming Arabella to 
 his mind ; and it was rather fortunate he did not, for the features of 
 her brother Benjamin would unquestionably have proved but an 
 indifferent refresher to his memory. He answered, with as much 
 calmness as he could assume, that he perfectly remembered the 
 young lady referred to, and sincerely trusted she was in good health. 
 
 ' Our friend Bob is a delightful fellow. Winkle,' was the only reply 
 of Mr. Ben Allen. 
 
 ' Very,' said Mr. Winkle ; not much relishing this close connexion 
 of the two names. 
 
 ' I designed 'em for each other ; they were made for each other, 
 sent into the world for each other, born for each other. Winkle,' 
 said Mr. Ben Allen, setting down his glass with emphasis. ' There's 
 a special destiny in the matter, my dear sir ; there's only five years' 
 difference between 'em, and both their birthdays are in August.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle was too anxious to hear what was to follow, to express 
 much wonderment at this extraordinary coincidence, marvellous as 
 it was ; so Mr. Ben Allen, after a tear or two, went on to say, that, 
 notwithstanding all his esteem and respect and veneration for his 
 friend, Arabella had unaccountably and undutifully evinced the most 
 determined antipathy to his person. 
 
 ' And I think,' said Mr. Ben Allen, in conclusion, ' /"think there's 
 a prior attachment.' 
 
 ' Have you any idea who the object of it might be ? ' asked Mr. 
 Winkle, with great trepidation. 
 
 Mr. Ben Allen seized the poker, flourished it in a warlike manner 
 above his head, inflicted a savage blow on an imaginary skull, and 
 wound up by saying, in a very expressive manner, that he only 
 wished he could guess ; that was all. 
 
 ' I'd show him what I thought of him,' said Mr. Ben Allen. And 
 round went the poker again, more fiercely than before. 
 
 All this was, of course, very soothing to the feelings of Mr. Winkle, 
 who remained silent for a few minutes ; but at length mustered up 
 1-esolution to inquire whether Miss Allen was in Kent. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Mr. Ben Allen, laying aside the poker, and look- 
 ing very cunning; ' I didn't thinlc Wardle's exactly the place for a 
 headstrong girl ; so, as I am her natural protector and guardian, our 
 parents being dead, I have brought her down into this part of the 
 country to spend a few months at an old aunt's, in a nice dull close 
 place. I think that will cure her, my boy. If it doesn't, I'll Uke 
 her abroad for a little while, and see what that'll do.' 
 
 ' Oh, the aunt's is in Bristol, is it ? ' faltered Mr. Winkle. 
 
. PROFESSIONAL CONVIVIALITY 453 
 
 ' No, no, not in Bristol,' replied Mr. Ben Allen, jerking his thumb 
 over his right shoulder : ' over that way ; down there. But, hush, 
 here's Bob. Not a word, my dear friend, not a- word.' 
 
 Short as this conversation was, it roused in Mr. Winkle the highest 
 degree of excitement and anxiety. The suspected prior attachment 
 rankled in his heart. Could he be the object of it ? Could it be 
 for him that the fair Arabella had looked scornfully on the sprightly 
 Bob Sawyer, or had he a successful rival? He determined to see 
 her, cost what it might ; but here an insurmountable objection 
 presented itself, for whether the explanatory ' over that way,' and 
 ' down there,' of Mr. Ben Allen, meant three miles off, or thirty, or 
 three hundred, he could in no wise guess. 
 
 But he had no opportunity of pondering over his love just then, 
 for Bob Sawyer's return was the immediate precursor of the arrival 
 of a meat pie from the baker's, of which that gentleman insisted on 
 his staying to partake. The cloth was laid by an occasional char- 
 woman, who officiated in the capacity of Mr. Bob Sawyer's house- 
 keeper ; and a third knife and fork having been borrowed from the 
 mother of the boy in the grey livery (for Mr. Sawyer's domestic 
 arrangements were as yet conducted on a limited scale), they sat 
 down to dinner ; the beer being served up, as Mr. Sawyer remarked, 
 ' in its native pewter.' 
 
 After dinner, Mr. Bob Sawyer ordered in the largest mortar in 
 the shop, and proceeded to brew a reeking jorum of rum-punch 
 therein : stirring up and amalgamating the materials with a pestle in 
 a very creditable and apothecary-like manner. Mr. Sawyer, being 
 a bachelor, had only one tumbler in the house, which was assigned 
 to Mr. Winkle as a compliment to the visitor : Mr. Ben Allen being 
 accommodated with a funnel with a cork in the narrow end : and 
 Bob Sawyer contented himself with one of those wide-lipped crystal 
 vessels inscribed with a variety of cabalistic characters, in which 
 chemists are wont to measure out their liquid drugs in compounding 
 prescriptions. These preliminaries adjusted, the punch was tasted, 
 and pronounced excellent ; and it having been arranged that Bob 
 Sawyer and Ben Allen should be considered at liberty to fill twice 
 to Mr. Winkle's once, they started fair, with great satisfaction and 
 good-fellowship. 
 
 There was no singing, because Mr. Bob Sawyer said it wouldn't 
 look professional ; but to make amends for this deprivation there 
 was so much talking and laughing that it might have been heard, 
 and very likely was, at the end of the street. Which conversation 
 materially lightened the hours and improved the mind of Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer's boy, who, instead of devoting the evening to his ordinary 
 occupation of writing his name on the counter, and rubbing it out 
 again, peeped through the glass door, and thus listened and looked 
 on at the same time. 
 
454 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The mirth of Mr. Bob Sawyer was rapidly ripening into the 
 furious ; Mr. Ben Allen was fast relapsing into the sentimental, and 
 the punch had well-nigh disappeared altogether, when the boy 
 hastily running in, announced that a young woman had just come 
 over, to say that Sawyer late Nockemorf was wanted directly, a 
 couple of streets off. This broke up the party. Mr. Bob Sawyer, 
 understanding the message, after some twenty repetitions, tied a 
 wet cloth round his head to sober himself, and, having partially 
 succeeded, put on his green spectacles and issued forth. Resisting 
 all entreaties to stay till he came back, and finding it quite im- 
 possible to engage Mr. Ben Allen in any intelligible conversation 
 on the subject nearest his heart, or indeed on any other, Mr. Winkle 
 took his departure, and returned to the Bush. 
 
 The anxiety of his mind, and the numerous meditations which 
 Arabella had awakened, prevented his share of the mortar of punch 
 producing that eifect upon him which it would have had, under 
 other circumstances. So, after taking a glass of soda-water and 
 brandy at the bar, he turned into the' coffee-room, dispirited rather 
 than elevated by the occurrences of the evening. 
 
 Sitting in the front of the fire, with his back towards him, was a. 
 tallish gentleman in a great-coat : the only other occupant of the 
 room. It was rather a cool evening for the season of the year, and 
 the gentleman drew his chair aside to afford the new comer a sight 
 of the fire. What were Mr. Winkle's feelings when, in doing so, 
 he disclosed to view the face and figure of the vindictive and 
 sanguinary Dowler ! 
 
 Mr. Winkle's first impulse was to give a violent pull at the 
 nearest bell-handle, but that unfortunately happened to be im- 
 mediately behind Mr. Dowler's head. He had made one step 
 towards it, before he checked himself. As he did so, Mr. Dowler 
 very hastily drew back. 
 
 ' Mr. Winkle, sir. Be calm. Don't strike me. I won't bear it. 
 A blow ! Never ! ' said Mr. Dowler, looking meeker than Mr. 
 Winkle had expected in a gentleman of his ferocity. 
 
 ' A blow, sir ? ' stammered Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' A blow, sir,' repUed Dowler. ' Compose your feelings. Sit 
 down. Hear me.' 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Winkle, trembling from head to foot, ' before 1 
 consent to sit down beside, or opposite you, without the presence 
 of a waiter, I must be secured by some further understanding. 
 You used a threat against me last night, sir, a dreadful threat, sir.' 
 Here Mr. Winkle turned very pale indeed, and stopped short. 
 
 ' I did,' said Dowler, with a countenance almost as white as 
 Mr. Winkle's. ' Circumstances were suspicious. They have been 
 explained. I respect your bravery. Your feeling is upright. 
 Conscious innocence. There's my hand. Grasp it.' 
 
Cari/uikMyo/o^y^ UjO' ^dav-',yci-uru,e^. 
 
MAGNANIMITY 455 
 
 'Really, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, hesitating whether to give his 
 hand or not, and almost fearing that it was demanded in order that 
 he might be taken at an advantage, ' really, sir, I ' 
 
 ' I know what you mean,' interposed Dewier. ' You feel aggrieved. 
 Very natural. So should I. I was wrong. I beg your pardon. 
 Be friendly. Forgive me.' With this, Dowler fairly forced his 
 hand upon Mr. Winkle, and shaking it with the utmost vehemence, 
 declared he was a fellow of extreme spirit, and he had a higher 
 opinion of him than ever. 
 
 ' Now,' said Dowler, ' sit down. Relate it all. How did you 
 find me ? When did you follow ? Be frank. Tell me.' 
 
 ' It's quite accidental,' replied Mr. Winkle, greatly perplexed by 
 the curious and unexpected nature of the interview, ' Quite.' 
 
 ' Glad of it,' said Dowler. ' I woke this morning. I had forgotten 
 my threat. I laughed at the accident. I felt friendly. I said so.' 
 
 ' To whom ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' To Mrs. Dowler. " You made a vow," said she. " I did," 
 said I. " It was a rash one," said she. " It was," said I. " I'll 
 apologise. Where is he ? " ' 
 
 ' Who ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' You,' rephed Dowler. ' I went down stairs. You were not to 
 be foimd. Pickwick looked gloomy. Shook his head. Hoped no 
 violence would be committed. I saw it all. You felt yourself in- 
 sulted. You had gone, for a friend perhaps. Possibly for pistols. 
 ■' High spirit," said I. " I admire him." ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle coughed, and beginning to see how the land lay, 
 assumed a look of importance. 
 
 ' I left a note for you,' resumed Dowler. ' I said I was sorry. 
 So I was. Pressing business called me here. You were not satisfied. 
 You followed. You required a verbal explanation. You were right. 
 It's all over now. My business is finished. I go back to-morrow. 
 Join me.' 
 
 As Dowler progressed in his explanation, Mr. Winkle's counte- 
 nance grew more and more dignified. The mysterious nature of the 
 commencement of their conversation was explained; Mr. Dowler 
 had as great an objection to duelling as himself; in short, this 
 blustering and awful personage was one of the most egregious 
 cowards in existence, and interpreting Mr. Winkle's absence 
 through the medium of his own fears, had taken the same step 
 as himself, and prudently retired until all excitement of feeling 
 should have subsided. 
 
 As the real state of the case dawned upon Mr. Winkle's mind, 
 he looked very terrible, and said he was perfectly satisfied; but 
 at the same time, said so, with an air that left Mr. Dowler no 
 alternative but to infer that if he had not been, something most 
 horrible and destructive must inevitably have occurred. Mr. 
 
4s6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Dowler appeared to be impressed with a becoming sense of Mr. 
 Winkle's magnanimity and condescension ; and the two belligerents 
 parted for the night, with many protestations of eternal friendship. 
 
 About half-past twelve o'clock, when Mr. Winkle had been 
 revelling some twenty minutes in the full luxury of his first sleep, 
 he was suddenly awakened by a loud knocking at his chamber- 
 door, which, being repeated with increased vehemence, caused 
 him to start up in bed, and inquire who was there, and what the 
 matter was. 
 
 ' Please, sir, here's a young man which says he must see you 
 directly,' responded the voice of the chambermaid. 
 
 ' A young man ! ' exclaimed Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' No mistake about that 'ere, sir,' replied another voice through 
 the keyhole ; ' and if that wery same interestin' young creetur ain't 
 let in vithout delay, it's wery possible as his legs vill enter afore his 
 countenance.' The young man gave a gentle kick at one of the 
 lower panels of the door, after he had given utterance to this hint, 
 as if to add force and point to the remark. 
 
 'Is that you, Sam?' inquired Mr. Winkle, springing out of bed. 
 
 ' Quite unpossible to identify any gen'l'm'n vith any degree o' 
 mental satisfaction, vithout lookin' at him, sir,' replied the voice, 
 dogmatically. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, not much doubting who the young man was, un- 
 locked the door ; which he had no sooner done, than Mr. Samuel 
 Weller entered with great precipitation, and carefully re-locking it 
 on the inside, deliberately put the key in his waistcoat pocket : and, 
 after surveying Mr. Winkle from head to foot, said : 
 
 ' You're a wery humorous young gen'l'm'n, you air, sir ! ' 
 
 ' What do you mean by this conduct, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle, 
 indignantly. ' Get out, sir, this instant. What do you mean, sir ? ' 
 
 'What do /mean,' retorted Sam; ' conxe, sir, this is rayther too 
 rich, as the young lady said, wen she remonstrated with the pastry- 
 cook, arter he'd sold her a pork-pie as had got nothin' but fat inside. 
 What do / mean ! Well, that ain't a bad 'un, that ain't.' 
 
 ' Unlock that door, and leave this room immediately, sir,' said 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I shall leave this here room, sir, just precisely at the wery same 
 moment as you leaves it,' responded Sam, speaking in a forcible 
 manner, and seating himself with perfect gravity. ' If I find it 
 necessary to carry you away, pick-a-back, o' course I shall leave 
 it the least bit o' time possible afore you ; but allow me to express 
 a hope as you won't reduce me to ex-tremities ; in saying wich, I 
 merely quote wot the nobleman said to the fractious pennywinkle, 
 ven he vouldn't come out of his shell by means of a pin, and he 
 conseqvently began to be afeered that he should be obliged to 
 crack him in the parlour-door.' At the end of this address, which 
 
MR. WELLER REPROVES MR. WINKLE 457 
 
 was unusually lengthy for him, Mr. Weller planted his hands on his 
 knees, and looked full in Mr. Winkle's face, with an expression of 
 countenance which showed that he had not the remotest intention 
 of being trifled with. 
 
 ' You're a amiably-disposed young man, sir, I don't think,' resumed 
 Mr. Weller, in a tone of moral reproof, ' to go inwolving our precious 
 governor in all sorts o' fanteegs, wen he's made up his mind to go 
 through every think for principle. You're far worse nor Dodson, 
 sir ; and as for Fogg, I consider him a bom angel to you ! ' Mr. 
 Weller having accompanied this last sentiment with an emphatic 
 slap on each knee, folded his arms with a look of great disgust, and 
 threw himself back in his chair, as if awaiting the criminal's defence. 
 
 ' My good fellow,' said Mr. Winkle, extending his hand ; his 
 teeth chattering all the time he spoke, for he had been standing, 
 during the whole of Mr. Weller's lecture, in his night-gear ; ' My 
 good fellow, I respect your attachment to my excellent friend, and 
 I am very sorry indeed, to have added to his causes for disquiet. 
 There, Sam, there ! ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, rather sulkily, but giving the proifered hand a 
 respectful shake at the same time : ' Well, so you ought to be, and 
 I am very glad to find you air ; for, if I can help it, I won't have 
 him put upon by nobody, and that's all about it.' 
 
 'Certainly not, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle. 'There! Now go to 
 bed, Sam, and we'll talk further about this, in the morning.' 
 
 ' I'm wery sorry,' said Sam, ' but I can't go to bed.' 
 
 ' Not go to bed ! ' repeated Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' No,' said Sam, shaking his head. ' Can't be done.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to say you're going back to-night, Sam } ' urged 
 Mr. Winkle, greatly surprised. 
 
 ' Not unless you particklerly wish it,' replied Sam ; ' but 1 musn't 
 leave this here room. The governor's orders wos peremptory.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle, ' I must stop here two or three 
 days ; and more than that, Sam, you must stop here too, to assist 
 me in gaining an interview with a young lady — Miss Allen, Sam ; 
 you remember her — whom I must and will see before I leave 
 Bristol.' 
 
 But in reply to each of these positions, Sam shook his head with 
 great firmness, and energetically replied, ' It can't be done.' 
 
 After a great deal of argument and representation on the part of 
 Mr. Winkle, however, and a full disclosure of what had passed in 
 the interview with Dowler, Sam began to waver ; and at length a 
 compromise was effected, of which the following were the main and 
 principal conditions : 
 
 That Sam should retire, and leave Mr. Winkle in the undisturbed 
 possession of his apartment, on the condition that he had permission 
 to lock the door on the outside, and carry off the key ; provided 
 
458 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 always, that in the event of an alarm of fire, or other dangerous 
 contingency, the door should be instantly unlocked. That a letter 
 should be written to Mr. Pickwick early next morning, and for- 
 warded per Dowler, requesting his consent to Sam and Mr. Winkle's 
 remaining at Bristol, for the purpose, and with the object, already 
 assigned, and begging an answer by the next coach ; if favourable, 
 the aforesaid parties to remain accordingly, and if not, to return to 
 Bath immediately on the receipt thereof. And, lastly, that Mr. 
 Winkle,.should be understood as distinctly pledging himself not to 
 resort to the window, fire-place, or other surreptitious mode of 
 escape, in the meanwhile. These stipulations having been con- 
 cluded, Sam locked the door and departed. 
 
 He had nearly got down stairs, when he stopped, and drew the 
 key from his pocket. 
 
 ' I quite forgot about the knockin' down,' said Sam, half turning 
 back. ' The governor distinctly said it was to be done. Amazin' 
 stupid o' me, that 'ere ! Never mind,' said Sam, brightening up, 
 ' it's easily done to-morrow, anyvays.' 
 
 Apparently much consoled by this reflection, Mr. Weller once 
 more deposited' the key in his pocket, and descending the re- 
 mainder of the stairs without any fresh visitations of conscience, 
 was soon, in common with the other inmates of the house, buried 
 in profound repose. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 MR. SAMUEL WELLER, BEING ENTRUSTED WITH A MISSION OF LOVE, 
 PROCEEDS TO EXECUTE IT; WITH Vi^HAT SUCCESS WILL HERE- 
 INAFTER APPEAR 
 
 During the whole of next day, Sam kept Mr. Winkle steadily in 
 sight, fully determined not to take his eye off him for one instant, 
 until he should receive express instructions from the fountain-head. 
 However disagreeable Sam's very close watch and great vigilance 
 were to Mr. Winkle, he thought it better to bear with them, than, 
 by any act of violent opposition, to hazard being carried away by 
 force, which Mr. Weller more than once strongly hinted was the 
 line of conduct that a strict sense of duty prompted him to pursue. 
 There is little reason to doubt that Sam would very speedily have 
 quieted his scruples, by bearing Mr. Winkle back to Bath, bound 
 hand and foot, had not Mr. Pickwick's prompt attention to the note, 
 which Dowler had undertaken to deliver, forestalled any such pro- 
 ceeding. In short, at eight o'clock in the evening, Mr. Pickwick 
 
STATE OF MR. WINKLE'S AFFECTIONS 459 
 
 himself walked into the coffee-room of the Bush tavern, and told 
 Sam with a smile, to his very great relief, that he had done quite 
 right, and it was unnecessary for him to mount guard any longer. 
 
 ' I thought it better to come myself,' said Mr. Pickwick, address- 
 ing Mr. Winkle, as Sam disencumbered him of his great-coat and 
 travelling shawl, ' to ascertain, before I gave my consent to Sam's 
 employment in this matter, that you are quite in earnest and serious, 
 with respect to this young lady.' 
 
 ' Serious, from my heart — from my soul ! ' returned Mr. Winkle, 
 with great energy. 
 
 'Remember,' said Mr. Pickwick, with beaming eyes, 'we met 
 her at our excellent and hospitable friend's. Winkle. It would 
 be an ill return to tamper lightly, and without due consideration 
 with this young lady's affections. I'll not allow that, sir. I'll not 
 allow it.' 
 
 ' I have no such intention, indeed,' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, 
 warmly. ' I have considered the matter well, for a long time, and 
 I feel that my happiness is bound up in her.' 
 
 ' That's wot we call tying it up in a small parcel, sir,' interposed 
 Mr. Weller, with an agreeable smile. 
 
 Mr. Winkle looked somewhat stem at this interruption, and 
 Mr. Pickwick angrily requested his attendant not to jest with one 
 of the best feelings of our nature ; to which Sam replied, ' That 
 he wouldn't, if he was aware on it ; but there were so many on 
 'em, that he hardly know'd which was the best ones wen he heerd 
 'em mentioned.' 
 
 Mr. Winkle then recounted what had passed between himself 
 and Mr. Ben Allen, relative to Arabella; stated that his object 
 was to gain an interview with the young lady, and make a formal 
 disclosure of his passion ; and declared his conviction, founded on 
 certain dark hints and mutterings of the aforesaid Ben, that, 
 wherever she was at present immured, it was somewhere near the 
 Downs. And this was his whole stock of knowledge or suspicion 
 on the subject. 
 
 With this very slight clue to guide him, it was determined that 
 Mr. Weller should start next morning on an expedition of dis- 
 covery; it was also arranged that Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle, 
 who were less confident of their powers, should parade the town 
 meanwhile, and accidentally drop in upon Mr. Bob Sawyer in the 
 course of the day, in the hope of seeing or hearing something of 
 the young lady's whereabout. 
 
 Accordingly, next morning, Sam Weller issued forth upon his 
 quest, in no way daunted by the very discouraging prospect before 
 him ; and away he walked, up one street and down another — we 
 were going to say, up one hill and down another, only it's all uphill 
 at Clifton — without meeting with anything or anybody that tended 
 
46o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 to throw the faintest light on the matter in hand. Many were the 
 colloquies into which Sam entered with grooms who were airing 
 horses on roads, and nursemaids who were airing children in lanes ; 
 but nothing could Sam elicit from either the first-mentioned or the 
 last, which bore the slightest reference to the object of his artfully- 
 prosecuted inquiries. There were a great many young ladies in a 
 great many houses, the greater part whereof were shrewdly sus- 
 pected by the male and female domestics to be deeply attached to 
 somebody, or perfectly ready to become so, if opportunity offered. 
 But as none among these young ladies was Miss Arabella Allen, 
 the information left Sam at exactly the old point of wisdom at 
 which he had stood before. 
 
 Sam struggled across the Downs against a good high wind, 
 wondering whether it was always necessary to hold your hat on 
 with both hands in that part of the country, and came to a shady 
 by-place about which were sprinkled several little villas of quiet 
 and secluded appearance. Outside a stable- door at the bottom of 
 a long back lane without a thoroughfare, a groom in undress was 
 idling about, apparently persuading himself that he was doing 
 something with a spade and a wheelbarrow. We may remark, in 
 this place, that we have scarcely ever seen a groom near a stable, 
 in his lazy moments, who has not been, to a greater or less extent, 
 the victim of this singular delusion. 
 
 Sam thought he might as well talk to this groom as to any one 
 else, especially as he was very tired with walking, and there was a 
 good large stone just opposite the wheelbarrow; so he strolled 
 down the lane, and, seating himself on the stone, opened a con- 
 versation with the ease and freedom for which he was remarkable. 
 
 ' Momin', old friend,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Arternoon, you mean,' replied the groom, casting a surly look 
 at Sam. 
 
 ' You're wery right, old friend,' said Sam ; '1 do mean arternoon. 
 Hov/ are you ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I don't find myself much the better for seeing of you,' 
 replied the ill-tempered groom. 
 
 ' That's wery odd — that is,' said Sam, ' for you look so un- 
 common cheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it does vun's 
 heart good to see you.' 
 
 The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficiently 
 so to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately inquired, 
 with a countenance of great anxiety, whether his master's name 
 was not Walker. 
 
 ' No, it ain't,' said the groom. 
 
 ' Nor Brown, I s'pose ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' No, it ain't.' 
 
 ' Nor Vilson ? ' 
 
MR. WELLER MAKES A FEW INQUIRIES 461 
 
 ' No ; nor that neither,' said the groom. 
 
 ' Veil,' replied Sam, ' then I'm mistaken, and he hasn't got the 
 honor o' my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don't wait 
 here out o' compUment to me,' said Sam, as the groom wheeled in 
 the barrow, and prepared to shut the gate. ' Ease afore ceremony, 
 old boy ; I'll excuse you.' 
 
 ' I'd knock your head off for half-a-crown,' said the surly groom, 
 bolting one half of the gate. 
 
 ' Couldn't afford to have it done on those terms,' rejoined Sam. 
 ' It 'ud be worth a life's board vages at least, to you, and 'ud be 
 cheap at that. Make my compHments in doors. Tell 'em not to 
 vait dinner for me, and say they needn't mind puttin' any by, for 
 it'll be cold afore I come in.' 
 
 In reply to this, the groom waxing very wrath, muttered a desire 
 to damage somebody's person ; but disappeared without carrying 
 it into execution, slamming the door angrily after him, and wholly 
 unheeding Sam's affectionate request, that he would leave him a 
 lock of his hair before he went. 
 
 Sam continued to sit on the large stone, meditating upon what 
 was best to be done, and revolving in his mind a plan for knocking 
 at all the doors within five miles of Bristol, taking them at a 
 hundred and fifty or two hundred a day, and endeavouring to find 
 Miss Arabella by that expedient, when accident all of a sudden 
 threw in his way what he might have sat there for a twelvemonth 
 and yet not found without it. 
 
 Into the lane where he sat, there opened three or four garden- 
 gates, belonging to as many houses, which though detached from 
 each other, were only separated by their gardens. As these were 
 large and long, and well planted with trees, the houses were not 
 only at some distance off, but the greater part of them were nearly 
 concealed from view. Sam was sitting with his eyes fixed upon 
 the dust-heap outside the next gate to that by which the groom 
 had disappeared, profoundly turning over in his mind the diffi- 
 culties of his present undertaking, when the gate opened, and a 
 female servant came out into the lane to shake some bed-side 
 carpets. 
 
 Sam was so very busy with his own thoughts, that it is probable 
 he would have taken no more notice of the young woman than just 
 raising his head and remarking that she had a very neat and pretty 
 figure, if his feelings of gallantry had not been most strongly 
 roused by observing that she had no one to help her, and that the 
 carpets seemed too heavy for her single strength. Mr. Weller was 
 a gentleman of great gallantry in his own way, and he no sooner 
 remarked this circumstance than he hastily rose from the large 
 Stone, and advanced towards her. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Sam, sliding up with an air of great respect, 
 
462 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You'll spile that wery pretty figure out o' all perportion if you 
 shake them carpets by yourself. Let me help you.' 
 
 The young lady, who had been coyly affecting not to know that 
 a gentleman was so near, turned round as Sam spoke — no doubt 
 (indeed she said so, afterwards) to decline this offer from a perfect 
 stranger — when instead of speaking, she started back, and uttered 
 a half-suppressed scream. Sam was scarcely less stupefied, for in 
 the countenance of the well-shaped female servant, he beheld the 
 very eyes of his Valentine, the pretty housemaid from Mr. 
 Nupkins's. 
 
 ' Wy, Mary my dear ! ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Lauk, Mr. Weller,' said Mary, ' how you do frighten one ! ' 
 
 Sam made no verbal answer to this complaint, nor can we pre- 
 cisely say what reply he did make. We merely know that after a 
 short pause Mary said, ' Lor, do adun, Mr. Weller ! ' and that his 
 hat had fallen off a few moments before — from both of which tokens 
 we should be disposed to infer that one kiss or more, had passed 
 between the parties. 
 
 ' Why, how did you come here ? ' said Mary, when the conversa- 
 tion to which this interruption had been offered, was resumed. 
 
 ' O' course I came to look arter you, my darlin,' replied Mr. 
 Weller; for once permitting his passion to get the better of his 
 veracity. 
 
 ' And how did you know I was here ? ' inquired Mary. ' Who 
 could have told you that I took another service at Ipswich, and 
 that they afterwards moved all the way here ? Who cotdd have told 
 you that, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 
 ' Ah to be sure,' said Sam with a cunning look, ' that's the pint. 
 Who could ha' told me ? ' 
 
 ' It wasn't Mr. Muzzle, was it ? ' inquired Mary. 
 
 ' Oh, no,' replied Sam, with a solemn shake of the head, ' it 
 warn't him.' 
 
 ' It must have been the cook,' said Mary. 
 
 ' O' course it must,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Well, I never heard the like of that ! ' exclaimed Mary. 
 
 ' No more did I,' said Sam. ' But Mary, my dear : ' here Sam's 
 manner grew extremely affectionate: 'Mary, my dear, I've got 
 another affair in hand as is wery pressin'. There's one o' my 
 governor's friends— Mr. Winkle, you remember him.' 
 
 ' Him in the green coat ? ' said Mary. ' Oh, yes, I remember 
 him.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, ' he's in a horrid state o' love ; reg'larly com- 
 foozled, and done over with it.' 
 
 ' Lor ! ' interposed Mary. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Sam : ' but that's nothin' if we could find out the 
 young 'ooman ; ' and here Sam, with inany digressions upon the 
 
A LUCKY ACCIDENT 463 
 
 personal beauty of Mary, and the unspeakable tortures he had 
 experienced since he last saw her, gave a faithful account of Mr. 
 Winkle's present predicament. 
 ' Well,' said Mary, ' I never did ! ' 
 
 ' 0' course not,' said Sam, ' and nobody. never did, nor never vill 
 neither ; and here am I a walkin' about like the wandering Jew' — a 
 sportin' character you have perhaps heerd on, Mary, my dear, as 
 wos alvays doin' a match agin' time, and never vent to sleep — 
 looking arter this here Miss Arabella Allen.' 
 ' Miss who ? ' said Mary, in great astonishment. 
 ' Miss Arabella Allen,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Goodness gracious ! ' said Mary, pointing to the garden door 
 which the sulky groom had locked after him. ' Why, it's that very 
 house ; she's been living there these six weeks. Their upper house- 
 maid, which is lady's maid too, told me all about it over the wash- 
 house palin's before the family was out of bed, one mornin'.' 
 ' Wot, the wery next door to you ? ' said Sam. 
 ' The very next,' replied Mary. 
 
 Mr. Weller was so deeply overcome on receiving this intelligence 
 that he found it absolutely necessary to chng to his fair informant 
 for support; and divers little love passages had passed between 
 them, before he was sufificiently collected to return to the subject. 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam at length, ' if this don't beat cock-fightin', nothin' 
 never vill, as the Lord Mayor said, ven the chief secretary o' state 
 proposed his missis's health arter dinner. That wery next house ! 
 Wy, I've got a message to her as I've been a tryin' all day to 
 deliver.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mary, ' but you can't deliver it now, because she only 
 walks in the garden in the evening, and then only for a very httle 
 time ; she never goes out, without the old lady.' 
 
 Sam ruminated for a few moments, and finally hit upon the fol- 
 lowing plan of operations ; that he should return just at dusk — the 
 time at which Arabella invariably took her walk^ — and, being 
 admitted by Mary into the garden of the house to which she 
 belonged, would contrive to scramble up the wall, beneath the over- 
 hanging boughs of a large pear-tree, which would effectually screen 
 him from observation ; would there deliver his message, and arrange, 
 if possible, an interview on behalf of Mr. Winkle for the ensuing 
 evening at the same hour. Having made this arrangement with 
 great dispatch, he assisted Mary in the long-deferred occupation of 
 shaking the carpets. 
 
 It is not half as innocent a thing as it looks, that shaking little 
 pieces of carpet — at least, there may be no great harm in the 
 shaking, but the folding is a very insidious process. So long as the 
 shaking lasts, and the two parties are kept the carpet's length apart, 
 it is as innocent an amusement as can well be devised ; but when 
 
464 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the folding begins, and the distance between them gets gradually 
 lessened from one half its former length to a quarter, and then to 
 an eighth, and then to a sixteenth, and then to a thirty-second, if 
 the carpet be long enough : it becomes dangerous. We do not 
 know, to a nicety, how many pieces of carpet were folded in this 
 instance, but we can venture to state that as many pieces as there 
 were, so many times did Sam kiss the pretty housemaid. 
 
 Mr. Weller regaled himself with moderation at the nearest tavern 
 until it was nearly dusk, and then returned to the lane without the 
 thoroughfare. Having been admitted into the garden by Mary, 
 and having received froin that lady sundry admonitions concerning 
 the safety of his limbs and neck, Sam mounted into the pear-tree, to 
 wait until Arabella should come in sight. 
 
 He waited so long without this anxiously expected event occur- 
 ring, that he began to think it was not going to take place at all, 
 when he heard light footsteps upon the gravel, and immediately 
 afterwards beheld Arabella walking pensively down the garden. As 
 soon as she came nearly below the tree, Sam began, by way of 
 gently indicating his presence, to make sundry diabolical noises 
 similar to those which would probably be natural to a person of 
 middle age who had been afflicted with a combination of inflamma- 
 tory sore throat, croup, and hooping-cough, from his earliest infancy. 
 
 Upon this, the young lady cast a hurried glance towards the spot 
 from whence the dreadful sounds proceeded; and her previous 
 alarm being not at all diminished when she saw a man among the 
 branches, she would most certainly have decamped, and alarmed 
 the house, had not fear fortunately deprived her of the power of 
 moving, and caused her to sink down on a garden seat; which 
 happened by good luck to be near at hand. 
 
 ' She's a goin' off,' soliloquised Sam in great perplexity. ' Wot a 
 thing it is, as these here young creeturs will go a faintin' avay just 
 wen they oughtn't to. Here, young 'ooman. Miss Sawbones, Mrs. 
 Vinkle, don't ! ' 
 
 Whether it was the magic of Mr. Winkle's name, or the coolness 
 of the open air, or some recollection of Mr. Weller's voice, that 
 revived Arabella, matters not. She raised her head and languidly 
 inquired, ' Who's that, and what do you want ? ' 
 
 ' Hush,' said Sam, swinging himself on to the wall, and crouching 
 there in as small a compass as he could reduce himself to, ' only 
 me, miss, only me.' 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick's servant ; ' said Arabella, earnestly. 
 
 ' The wery same, miss,' replied Sam. ' Here's Mr. Vinkle reg - 
 larly sewed up vith desperation, miss.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Arabella, drawing nearer the wall. 
 
 ' Ah indeed,' said Sam. ' Ve thought ve should ha' been obliged 
 to straightveskit him last night ; he's been a ravin' all day ; and he 
 
MR, WELLER BECOMES CHIVALROUS 465 
 
 says if he can't see you afore to-morrow night's over, he vishes he 
 may be somethin'-unpleasanted if he don't drownd hisself.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no, Mr. Weller ! ' said Arabella, clasping her hands. 
 
 ' That's wot he says, miss,' replied Sam. ' He's a man of his 
 word, and it's my opinion he'll do it, miss. He's heerd all about 
 you from the Sawbones in barnacles.' 
 
 ' From my brother ; ' said Arabella, having some faint recognition 
 of Sam's description. 
 
 ' I don't rightly know which is your brother, miss,' replied Sam. 
 ' Is it- the dirtiest vun o' the two ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, Mr. Weller,' returned Arabella, ' go on. Make haste, 
 pray.' 
 
 ' Well, miss,' said Sam, ' he's heerd all about it from him ; and 
 it's the gov'nor's opinion that if you don't see him wery quick, the 
 Sawbones as we've been a speaking on, 'uU get as much extra lead 
 in his head as'll damage the dewelopment o' the orgins if they ever 
 put it in spirits artervards.' 
 
 ' Oh, what can I do to prevent these dreadful quarrels ! ' ex- 
 claimed Arabella. 
 
 ' It's the suspicion of a priory 'tachment as is the cause of it all,' 
 replied Sam. ' You'd better see him, miss.' 
 
 ' But how ? — where ? ' cried Arabella. ' I dare not leave the 
 house alone. My brother is so unkind, so unreasonable ! I know 
 how strange my talking thus to you must appear, Mr. Weller, but I 
 am very, very unhappy — ' and here poor Arabella wept so bitterly, 
 that Sam grew chivalrous. 
 
 ' It may seem very strange talkin' to me about these here affairs, 
 miss,' said Sam with great vehemence : ' but all I can say is, that 
 I'in not only ready but villin' to do anythin' as'll make matters 
 agreeable ; and if chuckin' either o' them Sawboneses out o' winder 
 'uU do it, I'm the man.' As Sam Weller said this, he tucked up 
 his wristbands, at the imminent hazard of falling off the wall in so 
 doing, to intimate his readiness to set to work immediately. 
 
 Flattering as these professions of good feeling were, Arabella 
 resolutely declined (most unaccountably as Sam thought,) to avail 
 herself of them. For some time she strenuously refused to grant 
 Mr. Winkle the interview Sam had so pathetically requested ; but 
 at length, when the conversation threatened to be interrupted by 
 the unwelcome arrival of a third party, she hurriedly gave him to 
 understand, with many professions of gratitude, that it was barely 
 possible she might be in the garden an hour later, next evening. 
 Sam understood this perfectly well ; and Arabella bestowing upon 
 him one of her sweetest smiles, tripped gracefully away, leaving Mr. 
 Weller in a state of very great admiration of her charms, both 
 personal and mental. 
 
 Having descended in safety from the wall, and not forgotten to 
 
466 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 devote a few moments to his own particular business in the same 
 department, Mr. Weller then made the best of his way back to the 
 Bush, where his prolonged absence had occasioned much specula- 
 tion and some alarm. 
 
 ' We must be careful,' said Mr. Pickwick, after Ustening at- 
 tentively to Sam's tale, ' not for our own sakes, but for that of the 
 young lady. We must be very cautious.' 
 
 ' We ! ' said Mr. Winkle, with marked emphasis. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's momentary look of indignation at the tone of this 
 remark, subsided into his characteristic expression of benevolence, 
 as he replied : 
 
 ' We, sir ! I shall accompany you.' 
 
 'Your said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 'I,' replied Mr. Pickwick, mildly. 'In affording you this 
 interview, the young lady has taken a natural, perhaps, but still 
 a very imprudent step. If I am present at the meeting, a mutual 
 friend, who is old enough to be the father of both parties, the voice 
 of calumny can never be raised against her hereafter.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's eyes lightened with honest exultation at his own 
 foresight, as he spoke thus. Mr. Winkle was touched by this little 
 trait of his delicate respect for the young protigk of his friend, and 
 took his hand with a feeling of regard, akin to veneration. 
 
 ' You shall go,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' I will,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Sam, have my great-coat and 
 shawl ready, and order a conveyance to be at the door to-morrow 
 evening, rather earlier than is absolutely necessary, in order that we 
 may be in good time.' 
 
 Mr. Weller touched his hat, as an earnest of his obedience, and 
 withdrew to make all needful preparations for the expedition. 
 
 The coach was punctual to the time appointed ; and Mr. Weller, 
 after duly installing Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle inside, took his 
 seat on the box by the driver. They alighted, as had been agreed 
 on, about a quarter of a mile from the place of rendezvous, and 
 desiring the coachman to await their return, proceeded the remain- 
 ing distance on foot. 
 
 It was at this stage of the undertaking that Mr. Pickwick, with 
 many smiles and various other indications of great self satisfaction, 
 produced from one of his coat pockets a dark lantern, with which 
 he had specially provided himself for the occasion, and the great 
 mechanical beauty of which, he proceeded to explain to Mr. Winkle 
 as they walked along, to the no small surprise of the few stragglers 
 they met. 
 
 ' I should have been the better for something of this kind, in my 
 last garden expedition, at night ; eh, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 looking good-humouredly round at his follower, who was trudging 
 behind. 
 
ARMED WITH A DARK LANTERN 467 
 
 ' Wery nice things, if they're managed properly, sir,' replied Mr. 
 Weller ; ' but when you don't want to be seen, I think they're more 
 useful arter the candle's gone out, than wen it's alight.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick appeared struck by Sam's remarks, for he put the 
 lantern into his pocket again, and they walked on in silence. 
 
 ' Down here, sir,' said Sam. ' Let me lead the way. This is the 
 lane, sir.' 
 
 Down the lane they went, and dark enough it was. Mr. Pickwick 
 brought out the lantern, once or twice, as they groped their way 
 along, and threw a very brilUant little tunnel of light before them 
 about a foot in diameter. It was very pretty to look at, but seemed 
 to have the effect of rendering surrounding objects rather darker 
 than before. 
 
 At length they arrived at the large stone. Here Sam recom- 
 mended his master and Mr. Winkle to seat themselves, while he 
 reconnoitred, and ascertained whether Mary was yet in waiting. 
 
 After an absence of five or ten minutes, Sam returned, to say 
 that the gate was opened, and all quiet. Following him with 
 stealthy tread, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle soon found themselves 
 in the garden. Here everybody said ' Hush ! ' a good many times ; 
 and that being done, no one seemed to have any very distinct 
 apprehension of what was to be done next. 
 
 ' Is Miss Allen in the garden yet, Mary ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle, 
 much agitated. 
 
 ' I don't know, sir,' replied the pretty housemaid. ' The best 
 thing to be done, sir, will be for Mr. Weller to give you a hoist up 
 into the tree, and perhaps Mr. Pickwick will have the goodness to 
 see that nobody comes up the lane, while I watch at the other end 
 of the garden. Goodness gracious, what's that ! ' 
 
 ' That 'ere blessed lantern 'ull be the death on us all,' exclaimed 
 Sam, peevishly. ' Take care wot you're a doin' on, sir ; you're a 
 sendin' a blaze o' light, right into the back parlor winder.' 
 
 'Dear me!' said Mr. Pickwick, turning hastily aside, 'I didn't 
 mean to do that.' 
 
 ' Now, it's in the next house, sir,' remonstrated Sam. 
 
 ' Bless my heart ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning round again. 
 
 ' Now, it's in the stable, and they'll think the place is a' fire,' 
 said Sam. ' Shut it up, sir, can't you ? ' 
 
 ' It's the most extraordinary lantern I ever met with, in all my 
 life ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, greatly bewildered by the effects he 
 had so unintentionally produced. , 'I never, saw such a powerful 
 reflector.' 
 
 ' It'll be vun too powerful for us, if you keep blazin' avay in that 
 manner, sir,' replied Sam, as Mr. Pickwick, after various unsuccessful 
 efforts, managed to close the slide. ' There's the young lady's foot- 
 steps. Now, Mr. Vinkle, sir, up vith you.' 
 
468 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Stop, stop ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I must speak to her first. Help 
 me up, Sam.' 
 
 ' Gently, sir,' said Sam, planting his head against the wall, and 
 making a platform of his back. ' Step a top o' that 'ere flower-pot, 
 sir. Now then, up vith you.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid I shall hurt you, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Never mind me, sir,' replied Sam. ' Lend him a hand, Mr. 
 Vinkle, sir. Steady, sir, steady ! That's the time o' day ! ' 
 
 As Sam spoke, Mr. Pickwick, by exertions almost supernatural 
 in a gentleman of his years and weight, contrived to get upon Sam's 
 back ; and Sam gently raising himself up, and Mr. Pickwick holding 
 on fast by the top of the wall, while Mr. Winkle clasped him tight 
 by the legs, they contrived by these means to bring his spectacles 
 just above the level of the coping. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking over the wall, and catching 
 sight of Arabella, on the other side, ' Don't be frightened, my dear, 
 it's only me.' 
 
 ' Oh pray go away, Mr. Pickwick,' said Arabella. ' Tell them 
 all to go away. I am so dreadfully frightened. Dear, dear Mr. 
 Pickwick, don't stop there. You'll fall down and kill yourself, I 
 know you will.' 
 
 ' Now, pray don't alarm yourself, my dear,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 soothingly. ' There is not the least cause for fear, I assure you. 
 Stand firm, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking down. 
 
 ' All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Don't be longer than you 
 can conweniently help, sir. You're rayther heavy.' 
 
 ' Only another moment, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' I merely 
 wished you to know, my dear, that I should not have allowed my 
 young friend to see you in this clandestine way, if the situation in 
 which you are placed, had left him any alternative ; and lest the 
 impropriety of this step should cause you any uneasiness, my love, 
 it may be a satisfaction to you, to know that I am present. That's 
 all, my dear.' 
 
 ' Indeed, Mr. Pickwick, I am very much obliged to you for your 
 kindness and consideration,' replied Arabella, drying her tears with 
 her handkerchief. She would probably have said much more, had 
 not Mr. Pickwick's head disappeared with great swiftness, in conse- 
 quence of a false step on Sam's shoulder, which brought him suddenly 
 to the ground. He was up again in an instant, however, and 
 bidding Mr. Winkle make haste and get the interview over, ran out 
 into the lane to keep watch, with all the courage and ardour of 
 youth. Mr. Winkle himself, inspired by the occasion, was on the 
 wall in a moment, merely pausing to request Sam to be careful of 
 his master. 
 
 'I'll take care on him, sir,' replied Sam. 'Leave hiip to 
 me.' 
 
SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS 469 
 
 ' Where is he ? What's he doing, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Bless his old gaiters,' rejoined Sam, looking out at the garden- 
 . door. ' He's a keepin' guard in the lane vith that 'ere dark lantern, 
 like a amiable Guy Fawkes ! I never see such a fine creetur in my 
 days. Blessed if I don't think his heart must ha' been born five- 
 and-twenty year arter his body, at least ! ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle stayed not to hear the encomium upon his friend. 
 He had dropped from the wall ; thrown himself at Arabella's feet ; 
 and by this time was pleading the sincerity of his passion with an 
 eloquence worthy even of Mr. Pickwick himself. 
 
 While these things were going on in the open air, an elderly 
 gentleman of scientific attainments was seated in his library, two or 
 three houses oif, writing a philosophical treatise, and ever and anon 
 moistening his clay and his labours with a glass of claret from a 
 venerable-looking bottle which stood by his side. In the agonies 
 of composition, the elderly gentleman looked sometimes at the 
 carpet, sometimes at the ceiling, and sometimes at the wall ; and 
 when neither carpet, ceiling, nor wall, afforded the requisite degree 
 of inspiration, he looked out of the window. 
 
 In one of these pauses of invention, the scientific gentleman was 
 gazing abstractedly on the thick darkness outside, when he was very 
 much surprised by observing a most brilliant light glide through the 
 air, at a short distance above the ground, and almost instantaneously 
 vanish. After a short time the phenomenon was repeated, not once 
 or twice, but several times : at last the scientific gentleman, laying 
 down his pen, began to consider to what natural causes these 
 appearances were to be assigned. 
 
 They were not meteors; they were too low. They were not 
 glow-worms ; they were too high. They were not will-o'-the-wisps ; 
 they were not fire-flies ; they were not fire-works. What could they 
 be? Some extraordinary and wonderful phenomenon of nature, 
 which no philosopher had ever seen before ; something which it 
 had been reserved for him alone to discover, and which he should 
 immortalise his name by chronicling for the benefit 'of posterity. 
 Full of this idea, the scientific gentleman seized his pen again, and 
 committed to paper sundry notes of these unparalleled appearances, 
 with the date, day, hour, minute, and precise second at which they 
 were visible : all of which were to form the data of a voluminous 
 treatise of great research and deep learning, which should astonish 
 all the atmospherical sages that ever drew breath in any part of the 
 civilised globe. 
 
 He threw himself back in his easy chair, wrapped in contempla- 
 tions of his future greatness. The mysterious light appeared more 
 brilliantly than before : dancing, to all appearance, up and down 
 the lane, crossing from side to side, and moving in an orbit as 
 eccentric as comets themselves. 
 
470 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The scientific gentleman was a bachelor. He had no wife to call 
 in and astonish, so he rang the bell for his servant. 
 
 ' Pruffle,' said the scientific gentleman, ' there is something very 
 extraordinary in the air to-night. Did you see that?' said the 
 scientific gentleman, pointing out of the window, as the light again 
 became visible. 
 
 ' Yes, I did, sir.' 
 
 ' What do you think of it, Pruffle ? ' 
 
 ' Think of it, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. You have been bred up in this country. What should 
 you say was the cause of those lights, now ? ' 
 
 The scientific gentleman smilingly anticipated Pruffle's reply that 
 he could assign no cause for them at all. Pruffle meditated. 
 
 ' I should say it was thieves, sir,' said Pruffle at length. 
 
 ' You're a fool, and may go down stairs,' said the scientific 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' said Pruffle. And down he went. 
 
 But the scientific gentleman could not rest under the idea of the 
 ingenious treatise he had projected being lost to the world, which 
 must inevitably be the case if the speculation of the ingenious Mr. 
 Pruffle were not stifled in its birth. He put on his hat and walked 
 quickly down the garden, determined to investigate the matter to 
 the very bottom. 
 
 Now, shortly before the scientific gentleman walked out into the 
 garden, Mr. Pickwick had run down the lane as fast as he could, to 
 convey a false alarm that somebody was coming that way ; occasion- 
 ally drawing back' the slide of the dark lantern to keep himself from 
 the ditch. The alarm was no sooner given, than Mr. Winkle 
 scrambled back over the wall, and Arabella ran into the house ; 
 the garden-gate was shut, and the three adventurers were making the 
 best of their way down the lane, when they were startled by the 
 scientific gentleman unlocking his garden-gate. 
 
 ' Hold hard,' whispered Sam, who was, of course, the first of the 
 party. ' Show a light for just vun second, sir.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick did as he was desired, and Sam, seeing a man's 
 head peeping out very cautiously within half-a-yarji of his own, 
 gave it a gentle tap with his clenched fist, which knocked it, with 
 a hollow sound, against the gate. Having performed this feat 
 with great suddentness and dexterity, Mr. Weller caught Mr. 
 Pickwick up on his back, and followed Mr. Winkle down the lane 
 at a pace which, considering the burden he carried, was perfectly 
 astonishing. 
 
 ' Have you got your vind back agin, sir,' inquired Sam, when 
 they had reached the end. 
 
 ' Quite. Quite, now,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Then come along, sir,' said Sam. setting his master on his feet 
 
MR. PICKWICK RETURNS TO LONDON 471 
 
 again. ' Come betveen us, sir. Not half a mile to run. Think 
 you're vinnin a cup, sir. Now for it.' 
 
 Thus encouraged, Mr. Pickwick made the very best use of his 
 legs. It may be confidently stated that a pair of black gaiters 
 never got over the ground in better style than did those of Mr. 
 Pickwick on this memorable occasion. 
 
 The coach was waiting, the horses were fresh, the roads were 
 good, and the driver was willing. The whole party arrived in safety 
 at the Bush before Mr. Pickwick recovered his breath. 
 
 ' In with you at once, sir,' said Sam, as he helped his master out. 
 'Don't stop a second in the street, arter that 'ere exercise. Beg 
 your pardon, sir,' continued Sam, touching his hat as Mr. Winkle 
 descended. ' Hope there wam't a priory 'tachment, sir ? ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle grasped his humble friend by the hand, and 
 whispered in his ear, ' It's all right, Sam ; quite right.' Upon 
 which Mr. Weller struck three distinct blows upon his nose in 
 token of intelligence, smiled, winked, and proceeded to put the 
 steps up, with a countenance expressive of lively satisfaction. 
 
 As to the scientific gentleman, he demonstrated, in a masterly 
 treatise, that these wonderful lights were the effect of electricity ; 
 and clearly proved the same by detailing how a flash of fire danced 
 before his eyes when he put his head out of the gate, and how he 
 received a shock which stunned him for a quarter of an hour after- 
 wards ; which demonstration delighted all the Scientific Associations 
 beyond measure, and caused him to be considered a light of science 
 ever afterwards. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 INTRODUCES MR. PICKWICK TO A NEW AND NOT UNINTERESTING 
 SCENE IN THE GREAT DRAMA OF LIFE 
 
 The remainder of the period wbich Mr. Pickwick had assigned as 
 the duration of the stay at Bath, passed over without the occurrence 
 of anything material. Trinity Term commenced. , On the expira- 
 tion of its first week, Mr. Pickwick and his friends returned to 
 London ; and the former gentleman, attended of course by Sam, 
 straightway repaired to his old quarters at the George and 
 Vulture. 
 
 On the third morning after their arrival, just as all the clocks in 
 the city were striking nine individually, and somewhere about nine 
 hundred and ninety-nine collectively, Sam was taking the air in 
 George Yard, when a queer sort of fresh painted vehicle drove up, 
 out of which there jumped with great agility, throwing the reins W 
 
472 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a stout man who sat beside him, a queer sort of gentleman, who 
 seemed made for the vehicle, and the vehicle for him. 
 
 The vehicle was not exactly a gig, neither was it a stanhope. It 
 was not what is currently denominated a dog-cart, neither was it 
 a taxed-cart, nor a chaise-cart, nor a guillotined cabriolet ; and yet 
 it had something of the character of each and every of these 
 machines. It was painted a bright yellow, with the shafts and 
 wheels picked out in black ; and the driver sat, in the orthodox 
 sporting style, on cushions piled about two feet above the rail. 
 The horse was a bay, a well-looking animal enough ; but with some- 
 thing of a flash and dog-fighting air about him, nevertheless, which 
 accorded both with the vehicle and his master. 
 
 The master himself was a man of about forty, with black hair, 
 and carefully combed whiskers. He was dressed in a particularly 
 gorgeous manner, with plenty of articles of jewellery about him — 
 all about three sizes larger than those which are usually worn by 
 gentlemen — and a rough great-coat to crown the whole. Into one 
 pocket of this great-coat, he thrust his left hand the moment he 
 dismounted, while from the other he drew forth, with his right, a 
 very bright and glaring silk handkerchief, with which he whisked 
 a speck or two of dust from his boots, and then, crumbling it in his 
 hand, swaggered up the court. 
 
 It had not escaped Sam's attention that, when this person 
 dismounted, a shabby-looking man in a brown great-coat shorn of 
 divers buttons, who had been previously slinking about, on the 
 opposite side of the way, crossed over, and remained stationary 
 close by. Having something more than a suspicion of the object 
 of the gentleman's visit, Sam preceded him to the George and 
 Vulture, and, turning sharp round, planted himself in the centre 
 of the doorway. 
 
 ' Now, my fine fellow ! ' said the man in the rough coat, in an 
 imperious tone, attempting at the same time to push his way past. 
 
 ' Now, sir, wot's the matter ! ' replied Sam, returning the push with 
 compound interest. 
 
 ' Come, none of this, my man ; this won't do with me,' said 
 the owner of the rough coat, raising his voice, and turning white. 
 ' Here, Smouch ! ' 
 
 ' Well, wot's amiss here ? ' growled the man in the brown coat, 
 who had been gradually sneaking up the court during this short 
 dialogue. 
 
 ' Only some insolence of this young man's,' said the principal, 
 giving Sam another push. 
 
 ' Come, none o' this gammon,' growled Smouch, giving him 
 another, and a harder one. 
 
 This last push had the effect which it was intended by the 
 experienced Mr, Smouch to produce; for while Sam, anxious to 
 
AN EARLY VISITOR 473 
 
 rehim the compliment, was grinding that gentleman's body against 
 the doorpost, the principal crept past, and made his way to the bar : 
 whither Sam, after bandying a few epithetical remarks with Mr. 
 Smouch, followed at once. 
 
 ' Good morning, my dear,' said the principal, addressing the 
 young lady at the bar, with Botany Bay ease, and New South Wales 
 gentility ; ' which is Mr. Pickwick's room, my dear ? ' 
 
 ' Show him up,' said the bar-maid to a waiter, without deigning 
 another look at the exquisite, in reply to his inquiry. 
 
 The waiter led the way up stairs as he was desired, and the man 
 in the rough coat followed, with Sam behind him : who, in his 
 progress up the staircase, indulged in sundry gestures indicative 
 of supreme contempt and defiance : to the unspeakable gratification 
 of the servants and other lookers-on. Mr. Smouch, who was 
 troubled with a hoarse cough, remained below, and expectorated in 
 the passage. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was fast asleep in bed, when his early visitor, 
 followed by Sam, entered the room. The noise they made in so 
 doing, awoke him. 
 
 'Shaving water, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, from within the 
 curtains. 
 
 ' Shave you directly, Mr. Pickwick,' said the visitor, drawing one 
 of them back from the bed's head. ' I've got an execution against 
 you, at the suit of Bardell. — Here's the warrant. — Common Pleas. 
 Here's my card. I suppose you'll come over to my house.' 
 Giving Mr. Pickwick a friendly tap on the shoulder, the sheriffs 
 officer (for such he was) threw his card on the counterpane, and 
 pulled a gold toothpick from his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 ' Namby's the name,' said the sheriff's deputy, as Mr. Pickwick 
 took his spectacles from under the pillow, and put them on, to read 
 the card. ' Namby, Bell Alley, Coleman Street.' 
 
 ' At this point, Sam Weller, who had had his eyes fixed hitherto 
 on Mr. Namby's shining beaver, interfered : 
 
 ' Are you a Quaker ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' I'll let you know who I am, before I've done with you,' replied 
 the indignant officer. ' I'll teach you manners, my fine fellow, one 
 of these fine mornings.' 
 
 ' Thankee,' said Sam. ' I'll do the same to you. Take your hat 
 off.' With this, Mr. Weller, in the most dexterous manner, knocked 
 Mr. Namby's hat to the other side of the room with such violence, 
 that he had very nearly caused him to swallow the gold tooth-pick 
 into the bargain. 
 
 'Observe this, Mr. Pickwick,' said the disconcerted officer, 
 gasping for breath. ' I've been assaulted in the execution of my 
 dooty by your servant in your chamber. I'm in bodily fear. I call 
 you to witness this.' 
 
474 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Don't witness nothin', sir,' interposed Sam. ' Shut your eyes up 
 tight, sir. I'd pitch him out o' winder, only he couldn't fall far 
 enough, 'cause o' the leads outside.' 
 
 'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick in an angry voice, as his attendant 
 made various demonstrations of hostilities, ' if you say another 
 word, or offer the slightest interference with this person, I discharge 
 you that instant.' 
 
 ' But, sir ! ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Hold your tongue,' interposed Mr. Pickwick. ' Take that hat 
 up again.' 
 
 But this Sam flatly and positively refused to do ; and, after he 
 had been severely reprimanded by his master, the officer, being in 
 a hurry, condescended to pick it up himself : venting a great variety 
 of threats against Sam meanwhile, which that gentleman received 
 with perfect composure : merely observing that if Mr. Namby 
 would have the goodness to put his hat on again, he would knock it 
 into the latter end of next week. Mr. Namby, perhaps thinking 
 that such a process might be productive of inconvenience to himself, 
 declined to offer the temptation, and, soon after, called up Smouch. 
 Having informed him that the capture was made, and that he was 
 to wait for the prisoner until he should have finished dressing, 
 Namby then swaggered out, and drove away. Smouch, requesting 
 Mr. Pickwick in a surly manner ' to be as alive as he could, for it 
 was a busy time,' drew up a chair by the door, and sat there, until 
 he had finished dressing. Sam was then dispatched for a hackney 
 coach, and in it the triumvirate proceeded to Coleman Street. It 
 was fortunate the distance was short, for Mr. Smouch, besides 
 possessing no very enchanting conversational powers, was rendered 
 a decidedly unpleasant companion in a limited space, by the 
 physical weakness to which we have elsewhere adverted. 
 
 The coach having turned into a very narrow and dark street, 
 stopped before a house with iron bars to all the windows; the 
 door-posts of which were graced by the name and title of ' Namby, 
 Officer to the Sheriffs of London : ' the inner gate having been 
 opened by a gentleman who might have passed for a" neglected 
 twin brother of Mr. Smouch, and who was endowed with a large 
 key for the purpose, Mr. Pickwick was shown into the 'coffee- 
 room.' 
 
 This coffee-room was a front parlour : the principal features of 
 which were fresh sand and stale tobacco smoke. Mr. Pickwick 
 bowed to the three persons who were seated in it when he entered ; 
 and having dispatched Sam for Perker, withdrew into an obscure 
 corner, and from thence looked with some curiosity upon his new 
 companions. 
 
 One of these was a mere boy of nineteen or twenty, who, though 
 it was yet barely ten o'clock, was drinking gin and water, and 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S FELLOW GUESTS 475 
 
 smoking a cigar : amusements to which, judging from his inflamed 
 countenance, he had devoted himself pretty constantly for the last 
 year or two of his life. Opposite him, engaged in stirring the fire 
 with the toe of his right boot, was a coarse vulgar young man 
 of about thirty, with a sallow face and harsh voice : evidently 
 possessed of that knowledge of the world, and captivating freedom 
 of manner, which is to be acquired in public-house parlours, and at 
 low billiard-tables. The third tenant of the apartment was a 
 middle-aged man in a very old suit of black, who looked pale and 
 haggard, and paced up and down the room incessantly ; stopping, 
 now and then, to look with great anxiety out of the window as if he 
 expected somebody, and then resuming his walk. 
 
 'You'd better have the loan of my razor this morning, Mr. 
 Ayresleigh,' said the man who was stirring the fire, tipping the wink 
 to his friend the boy. 
 
 ' Thank you, no, I shan't want it ; I expect I shall be out, in the 
 course of an hour or so,' replied the other in a hurried manner. 
 Then, walking again up to the window, and once more returning 
 disappointed, he sighed deeply, and left the room ; upon which the 
 other two burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 ' Well, I never saw such a game as that,' said the gentleman who 
 had offered the razor, whose name appeared to be Price. ' Never ! ' 
 Mr. Price confirmed the assertion with an oath, and then laughed 
 again, when of course the boy (who thought his companion one of 
 the most dashing fellows alive) laughed also. 
 
 ' You'd hardly think, would you now,' said Price, turning towards 
 Mr. Pickwick, ' that that chap's been here a week yesterday, and 
 never once shaved himself yet, because he feels so certain he's 
 going out in half an hour's time, that he thinks he may as well put 
 it off till he gets home ? ' 
 
 ' Poor man 1 ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Are his chances of getting 
 out of his difficulties really so great ? ' 
 
 ' Chances be d — d,' replied Price ; ' he hasn't half the ghost of 
 one. I wouldn't give fAaf for his chance of walking about the 
 streets this time ten years.' With this Mr. Price snapped his fingers 
 contemptuously, and rang the bell. 
 
 'Give me a sheet of paper, Crookey,' said Mr. Price to the 
 attendant, who in dress and general appearance, looked some- 
 thing between a bankrupt grazier, and a drover in a state of 
 insolvency : ' and a glass of brandy and water, Crookey, d'ye hear ? 
 I'm going to write to my father, and I must have a stimulant, or I 
 shan't be able to pitch it strong enough into the old boy.' At this 
 facetious, speech, the young boy, it is almost needless to say, was 
 fairly convulsed. 
 
 ' Irhat's right,' said Mr. Price. ' Never say die. All fun, 
 ain't it?' 
 
476 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Prime ! ' said the young gentleman. 
 
 ' You've some spirit about you, you have,' said Price. ' You've 
 seen something of life.' 
 
 ' I rather think I have ! ' replied the boy. He had looked at it 
 through the dirty panes of glass in a bar door. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick feeling not a little disgusted with this dialogue, as 
 well as with the air and manner of the two beings by whom it had 
 been carried on, was about to inquire whether he could not be 
 accommodated with a private sitting-room, when two or three 
 strangers of genteel appearance entered, at sight of whom the boy 
 threw his cigar into the fire, and whispering to Mr. Price that they 
 had come to ' make it all right ' for him, joined them at a table in 
 the further end of the room. 
 
 It would appear, however, that matters were not going to be 
 made all right quite so speedily as the young gentleman anticipated ; 
 for a very long conversation ensued, of which Mr. Pickwick could 
 not avoid hearing certain angry fragments regarding dissolute con- 
 duct, and repeated forgiveness. At last, there were very distinct 
 allusions made by the oldest gentleman of the party to one White- 
 cross Street, at which the young gentleman, notwithstanding his 
 primeness and his spirit and his knowledge of life into the bargain, 
 reclined his head upon the table, and howled dismally. 
 
 Very much satisfied with this sudden bringing down of the youth's 
 valour, and this effectual lowering of his tone, Mr. Pickwick rang 
 the bell, and was shown, at his own request, into a private room 
 furnished with a carpet, table, chairs, sideboard and sofa, and 
 ornamented with a looking-glass, and various old prints. Here, he 
 had the advantage of hearing Mrs. Namby's performance on a 
 square piano over head, while the breakfast was getting ready j 
 when it came, Mr. Perker came too. 
 
 'Aha, my dear sir,' said the little man, 'nailed at last, eh? 
 Come, come, I'm not sorry for it either, because now you'll see 
 the absurdity of this conduct. I've noted down the amount of the 
 taxed costs and damages for which the ca-sa was issued, and we 
 had better settle at once and lose no time. Namby is come home 
 by this time, I dare say. What say you, my dear sir ? Shall I 
 draw a cheque, or will you ? ' The little man rubbed his hands 
 with affected cheerfulness as he said this, but glancing at Mr. Pick- 
 wick's countenance, could not forbear at the same time casting a 
 desponding look towards Sam Weller. 
 
 ' Perker,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' let me hear no more of this, I beg, 
 I see no advantage in staying here, so I shall go to prison to-night, 
 
 ' You can't go to Whitecross Street, my dear sir,' said Perker, 
 ' Impossible 1 There are sixty beds in a ward ; and the bolt's on, 
 sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty.' 
 
 ' I would rather go to some other place of confinement if I cai> 
 
MYSTERIOUS STRANGERS 477 
 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 'If not, I must make the best I can of 
 that.' 
 
 ' You can go to the Fleet, my dear sir, if you're determined to 
 go somewhere,' said Perker. 
 
 ' That'll do,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I'll go there directly I have 
 finished my breakfast.' 
 
 'Stop, stop, my dear sir; not the least occasion for being in such 
 a violent hurry to get into a place that most other men are as eager 
 to get out of,' said the good-natured little attorney. 'We must 
 have a habeas corpus. There'll be no judge at chambers till four 
 o'clock this afternoon. You must wait till then.' 
 
 ' Very good,' said Mr. Pickwick, with unmoved patience. ' Then 
 we will have a chop, here, at two. See about it, Sam, and tell them 
 to be punctual.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick remaining firm, despite all the remonstrances and 
 arguments of Perker, the chops appeared and disappeared in due 
 course ; he was then put into another hackney-coach, and carried 
 off to Chancery Lane, after waiting half an hour or so for Mr. 
 Namby, who had a select dinner-party and could on no account be 
 disturbed before. 
 
 There were two judges in attendance at Sergeant's Inn — one 
 King's Bench, and one Common Pleas — and a great deal of busi- 
 ness appeared to be transacting before them, if the number of 
 lawyer's clerks who were hurrying in and out with bundles of papers, 
 afforded any test. When they reached the low archway which 
 forms the entrance to the Inn, Perker was detained a few moments 
 parleying with the coachman about the fare and the change; and 
 Mr. Pickwick, stepping to one side to be out of the way of the 
 stream of people that were pouring in and out, looked about him 
 with some curiosity. 
 
 The people that attracted his attention most, were three or four 
 men of shabby-genteel appearance, who touched their hats to many 
 of the attorneys who passed, and seemed to have some business 
 there, the nature of which Mr. Pickwick could not divine. They 
 were curious-looking fellows. One, was a slim and rather lame 
 man in rusty black, and a white neckerchief; another, was a stout 
 burly person, dressed in the same apparel, with a great reddish- 
 black cloth round his neck ; a third, was a little weazen drunken- 
 looking body, with a pimply face. They were loitering about, with 
 their hands behind them, and now and then with an anxious coun- 
 tenance whispered something in the ear of some of the gentlemen 
 with papers, as they hurried by. Mr. Pickwick remembered to 
 have very often observed them lounging under the archway when 
 he had been walking past ; and his curiosity was quite excited to 
 know to what branch of the profession these dingy-looking loungers 
 could possibly belong. 
 
478 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 He was about to propound the question to Namby, who kept 
 close beside him, sucking a large gold ring on his little finger, when 
 Perker bustled up, and observing that there was no time to lose, 
 led the way into the Inn. As Mr. Pickwick followed, the lame 
 man stepped up to him, and civilly touching his hat, held out a 
 written card, which Mr. Pickwick, not wishing to hurt the man's 
 feelings by refusing, courteously accepted and deposited in his 
 waiscoat-pocket. 
 
 ' Now,' said Perker, turning round before he entered one of the 
 offices, to see that his companions were close behind him. ' In 
 here, my dear sir. Hallo, what do yoti- want ? ' 
 
 The last question was addressed to the lame man, who, un- 
 observed by Mr. Pickwick, made one of the party. In reply to it, 
 the lame man touched his hat again, with all imaginable politeness, 
 and motioned towards Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No, no,' said Perker with a smile. ' We don't want you, my 
 dear friend, we don't want you.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' said the lame man. ' The gentleman 
 took my card. I hope you will employ me, sir. The gentleman 
 nodded to me. I'll be judged by the gentleman himself. You 
 nodded to me, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Pooh, pooh, nonsense. You didn't nod to any body, Pickwick ? 
 A mistake, a mistake,' said Perker. 
 
 ' The gentleman handed me his card,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 producing it from his waistcoat-pocket. ' I accepted it, as the 
 gentleman seemed to wish it — in fact I had some curiosity to look 
 at it when I should be at leisure. I ' 
 
 The little attorney burst into a loud laugh, and returning the card 
 to the lame man, informing him it was all a mistake, whispered to 
 Mr. Pickwick as the man turned away in dudgeon, that he was only 
 a bail. 
 
 ' A what ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A bail ! ' replied Perker. 
 
 'A bail!' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear sir — half a dozen of 'em here. Bail you to any 
 amount, and only charge half-a-crown. Curious trade, isn't it ? ' 
 said Perker, regaling himself with ^ pinch of snuff. 
 
 ' What ! Am I to understand that these men earn a livelihood 
 by waiting about here, to perjure themselves before the judges of 
 the land, at the rate of half-a-crown a crime ! ' exclaimed Mr. 
 Pickwick, quite aghast at the disclosure. 
 
 ' Why, I don't exactiy know about perjury, my dear sir,' replied 
 the little gentleman. ' Harsh word, my dear sir, very harsh word 
 indeed. It's a legal fiction, my dear sir, nothing more.' Saying 
 which, the attorney shrugged his shoulders, smiled, took a second 
 pinch of snuff, and led the way into the office of the judge's clerk. 
 
A BUSY SCENE 479 
 
 This was a room of specially dirty appearance, with a very low 
 ceiling and old panelled walls ; and so badly lighted, that although 
 it was broad day outside, great tallow candles were burning on the 
 desks. At one end, was a door leading to the judge's private 
 apartment, round which were congregated a crowd of attorneys and 
 managing clerks, who were called in, in the order in which their 
 respective appointments stood upon the file. Every time this door 
 was opened to let a party out, the next party made a violent rush to 
 get in ; and, as in addition to the numerous dialogues which passed 
 between the gentlemen who were waiting to see the judge, a variety 
 of personal squabbles ensued between the greater part of those who 
 had seen him, there was as much noise as could well be raised in an 
 apartment of such confined dimensions. 
 
 Nor were the conversations of these gentlemen the only sounds 
 that broke upon the ear. Standing on a box behind a wooden bar 
 at another end of the room, was a clerk in spectacles, who was 
 ' taking the affidavits : ' large batches of which were, from time to 
 time, carried into the private room by another clerk for the judge's 
 signature. There were a large number of attorneys' clerks to be 
 sworn, and it being a moral impossibility to swear them all at once, 
 the struggles of these gentlemen to reach the clerk in spectacles, 
 were like those of a crowd to get in at the pit door of a theatre 
 when Gracious Majesty honours it with its presence. Another 
 functionary, from time to time, exercised his lungs in calUng over 
 the names of those who had been sworn, for the purpose of restoring 
 to them their affidavits after they had been signed by the judge : 
 which gave rise to a few more scuffles ; and all these things going 
 on at the same time, occasioned as much bustle as the most active 
 and excitable person could desire to behold. There Were yet 
 another class of persons — those who were waiting to attend sum- 
 monses their employers had taken out, which it was optional to the 
 attorney on the opposite side to attend or not — and whose business 
 it was, from time to time, to cry out the opposite attorney's name, 
 to make certain that he was' not in attendance without their know- 
 ledge. 
 
 For example. Leaning against the wall, close behind the seat 
 Mr. Pickwick had taken, was an office-lad of fourteen, with a tenor 
 voice ; near him, a common-law clerk with a bass one. 
 
 A clerk hurried in with a bundle of papers, and stared about 
 him. 
 
 ' Sniggle and Blink,' cried the tenor. 
 
 ' Porkin and Snob,' growled the bass. 
 
 'Stumpy and Deacon,' said the new comer. 
 
 Nobody answered ; the next man who came in, was hailed by the 
 whole three ; and he in his turn shouted for another firm ; and then 
 somebody else roared in a loud voice for another ; and so forth. 
 
48o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 All this time, the man in the spectacles was hard at work, swear- 
 ing the clerks : the oath being invariably administered, without any 
 effort at punctuation, and usually in the following terms : 
 
 ' Take the book in your right hand this is your name and hand- 
 writing you swear that the contents of this your affidavit are true so 
 help you God a shilling you must get change I haven't got it.' 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' I suppose they are getting the 
 habeas corpus ready.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Sam, ' and I vish they'd bring out the have-his-carcase. 
 It's wery unpleasant keepin' us vaitin' here. I'd ha' got half a 
 dozen have-his-carcases ready, pack'd up and all, by this time.' 
 
 What sort of cumbrous and unmanageable machine, Sam Weller 
 imagined a habeas corpus to be, does not appear ; for Perker, at 
 that moment, walked up, and took Mr. Pickwick away. 
 
 The usual forms having been gone through, the body of Samuel 
 Pickwick was soon afterwards confided to the custody of the tip- 
 staff, to be by him taken to the Warden of the Fleet Prison, and 
 there detained until the amount of the damages and costs in the 
 action of Bardell against Pickwick was fully paid and satisfied. 
 
 ' And that,' said Mr. Pickwick, laughing, ' will be a very long 
 time. Sam, call another hackney-coach. Perker, my dear friend, 
 good bye.' 
 
 ' I shall go with you, and see you safe there,' said Perker. 
 
 ' Indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' I would rather go without any 
 other attendant than Sam. As soon as I get settled, I will write 
 and let you know, and I shall expect you immediately. Until then, 
 good bye.' 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick said this, he got into the coach which had by 
 this time arrived : followed by the tipstaff. Sam having stationed 
 himself on the box, it rolled away. 
 
 ' A most extraordinary man that ! ' said Perker, as he stopped to 
 pull on his gloves. 
 
 ' What a bankrupt he'd make, sir,' observed Mr. Lowten, who was 
 standing near. ' How he would bother the commissioners ! He'd 
 set 'em at defiance if they talked of committing him, sir.' 
 
 The attorney did not appear very much delighted with his clerk's 
 professional estimate of Mr. Pickwick's character, for he walked 
 away without deigning any reply. 
 
 The hackney-coach jolted along Fleet Street, as hackney-coaches 
 usually do. The horses ' went better,' the driver said, when they 
 had anything before them, (they must have gone at a most extraor- 
 dinary pace when there was nothing,) and so the vehicle kept 
 behind a cart ; when the cart stopped, it stopped ; and when the 
 cart went on again, it did the same. Mr.- Pickwick sat opposite the 
 tipstaff; and the tipstaff sat with his hat between his knees, whistling 
 a tune, and looking out of the coaqh window, 
 
MR. PICKWICK'S LIKENESS IS TAKEN 481 
 
 Time performs wonders. By the powerful old gentleman's aid, 
 even a hackney-coach gets over half a mile of ground. They 
 stopped at length, and Mr. Pickwick alighted at the gate of the 
 Fleet. 
 
 The tipstaff, looking over his shoulder to see that his charge was 
 following close at his heels, preceded Mr. Pickwick into the prison ; 
 turning to the left, after they had entered, they passed through an 
 open door into a lobby, from which a heavy gate : opposite to that 
 by which they had entered, and which was guarded by a stout turn- 
 key with the key in his hand : led at once into the interior of the 
 prison. 
 
 Here they stopped, while the tipstaff delivered his papers ; and 
 here Mr. Pickwick was apprised that he would remain, until he had 
 undergone the ceremony, known to the initiated as ' sitting for youi 
 portrait.' 
 
 ' Sitting for my portrait ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Having your likeness taken, sir,' replied the stout turnkey. 
 ' We're capital hands at likenesses here. Take 'em in no time, and 
 always exact. Walk in, sir, and make yourself at home.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick complied with the invitation, and sat himself down : 
 when Mr. Weller, who stationed himself at the back of the chair, 
 whispered that the sitting was merely another term for undergoing 
 an inspection by the different turnkeys, in order that they might 
 know prisoners from visitors. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' then I wish the artists would 
 come. This is rather a public place.' 
 
 'They vont be long, sir, I des-say,' replied Sam. 'There's a 
 Dutch clock, sir.' 
 
 ' So I see,' observed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' And a bird-cage, sir,' says Sam. ' Veels vithin veels, a prison in 
 a prison. Ain't it, sir ? ' 
 
 As Mr. Weller made this philosophical remark, Mr. Pickwick was 
 aware that his sitting had commenced. The stout turnkey having 
 been relieved from the lock, sat down, and looked at him carelessly, 
 from time to time, while a long thin man who had relieved him, 
 thrust his hands beneath his coat-tails, and planting himself opposite, 
 took a good long view of him. A third rather surly-looking gentle- 
 man : who- had apparently been disturbed at his tea, for he was dis- 
 posing of the last remnant of a crust and butter when he came in : 
 stationed himself close to Mr. Pickwick ; and, resting his hands on 
 his hips, inspected him narrowly ; while two others mixed with the 
 group, and studied his features with most intent and thoughtful 
 faces. Mr. Pickwick winced a good deal under the operation, and 
 appeared to sit very imeasily in his chair ; but he made no remark 
 to anybody while it was being performed, not even to Sam, who re- 
 clined upon the back of the chair, reflecting, partly on the situation 
 
 2 ! 
 
48z THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 of his master, and partly on the great satisfaction it would have 
 afforded him to make a fierce assault upon all the turnkeys there 
 assembled, one after the other, if it were lawful and peaceable so 
 to do. 
 
 At length the likeness was completed, and Mr. Pickwick was 
 informed, that he might now proceed into the prison. 
 
 ' Where am I to sleep to-night?' inquired, Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why I don't rightly know about to-night,' replied the stout turn, 
 key. ' You'll be chummed on somebody to-morrow, and then you'll 
 be all snug and comfortable. The first night's generally rather 
 unsettled, but you'll be set all squares to-morrow.' 
 
 After some discussion, it was discovered that one of the turnkeys 
 had a bed to let, which Mr. Pickwick could have for that night. 
 He gladly agreed to hire it. 
 
 ' If you'll come with me, I'll show it you at once,' said the man. 
 ' It ain't a large 'un j but it's an out-and-outer to sleep in. This 
 way, sir.' 
 
 They passed through the inner gate, and descended a short flight 
 of steps. The key was turned after them; and Mr. Pickwick found 
 himself, for the first time in his life, within the walls of a debtor's 
 prison. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 WHAT BEFEL MR. PICKWICK WHEN HE GOT INTO THE FLEET; 
 WHAT PRISONERS HE SAW THERE; AND HOW HE PASSED 
 THE NIGHT 
 
 Mr. Tom Roker, the gentleman who had accompanied Mr. Pick- 
 wick into the prison, turned sharp round to the right when he got 
 to the bottom of the little flight of steps, and led the way, through 
 an iron gate which stood open, and up another short flight of steps, 
 into a long narrow gallery, dirty and low, paved with. stone, and 
 very dimly lighted by a window at each remote end. 
 
 ' This,' said the gendeman, thrusting his hands into his pockets, 
 and looking carelessly over his shoulder to Mr. Pickwick, ' This 
 here is the hall flight.' 
 
 'Oh,' replied Mr. Pickwick, looking down a dark and filthy 
 Staircase, which appeared to lead to a range of damp and gloomy 
 stone vaults, beneath the ground, 'and those, I suppose, are the 
 Htfle cellars where the prisoners keep their small quantities of coals. 
 Unpleasant places to have to go down to ; but very convenient, I 
 dare say.' 
 
 ' Yes, I shouldn't wonder if they \yas convenient,' replied the. 
 
THE WAYS OF THE PLACE 483 
 
 gentleman, ' seeing that a few people live there, pretty snug. That's 
 the Fair, that is.' 
 
 ' My friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' you don't really mean to say 
 that human beings live down in those wretched dungeons ? ' 
 
 'Don't I?' replied Mr. Roker, with indignant astonishment; 
 ' why shouldn't I ? ' 
 
 ' Live ! Live down there ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Live down there ! Yes, and die down there, too, wery often ! ' 
 replied Mr. Roker ; ' and what of that ? Who's got to say anything 
 agin it ? Live down there ! Yes, and a wery good place it is to 
 live in, ain't it ? ' 
 
 As Roker turned somewhat fiercely upon Mr. Pickwick in saying 
 this, and, moreover muttered in an excited fashion certain un- 
 pleasant invocations concerning his own eyes, Umbs, and circulating 
 fluids, the latter gentleman deemed it advisable to pursue the dis- 
 course no further. Mr. Roker then proceeded to mount another 
 staircase, as dirty as that which led to the place which had just 
 been the subject of discussion, in which ascent he was closely 
 followed by Mr. Pickwick and Sam. 
 
 ' There,' said Mr. Roker, pausing for breath when they reached 
 another gallery of the same dimensions as the one below, ' this is 
 the coffee-room flight ; the one above's the third, and the one above 
 that's the top ; and the room where you're a-going to sleep to-night 
 is the warden's room, and it's this way — come on.' Having said all 
 this in a breath, Mr. Roker mounted another flight of stairs, with 
 Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller following at his heels. 
 
 These staircases received light from sundry windows placed at 
 some httle distance above the floor, and looking into a gravelled 
 area bounded by a high brick wall, with iron chevaux-de-frise at the 
 top. This area, it appeared from Mr. Roker's statement, was the 
 racket-ground ; and it further appeared, on the testimony of 
 the same . gientleman, that there was a smaller area in that portion 
 of the prison which was nearest Farringdon Street, denominated 
 and called ' the Painted Ground,' from the fact of its walls having 
 once displayed the semblances of various men-of-war in full sail, 
 and other artistical effects achieved in bygone times by some 
 imprisoned draughtsman in his leisure hours. 
 
 Having communicated this piece of information, apparently more 
 for the purpose of discharging his bosom of an important fact, than 
 with any specific view of enlightening Mr. Pickwick, the guide, 
 having at length reached another gallery, led the way into a small 
 passage at the extreme end : opened a door : and disclosed an 
 apartment of an appearance by no means inviting, containing eight 
 or nine iron bedsteads. 
 
 'There,' said Mr. Roker, holding the door open, and looking 
 triumphantly round at Mr. Pickwick, ' there's a room ! ' 
 
484 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's face, however, betokened such a very trifling 
 portion of satisfaction at the appearance of his lodging, that Mr. 
 Roker looked for a reciprocity of feehng into the countenance of 
 Samuel Weller, who, until now, had observed a dignified silence. 
 
 ' There's a room, young man,' observed Mr. Roker. 
 
 ' I see it,' replied Sam, with a placid nod of the head. 
 
 ' You wouldn't think to find such a room as this in the Earringdon 
 Hotel, would you ? ' said Mr. Roker, with a complacent smile. 
 
 To this Mr. Weller replied with an easy and imstudied closing of 
 one eye ; which might be considered to mean, either that he would 
 have thought it, or that he would not have thought it, or that he 
 had never thought anything at all about it : as the observer's imagi- 
 nation suggested. Having executed this feat, and re-opened his 
 eye, Mr. Weller proceeded to inquire which was the individual bed- 
 stead that Mr. Roker had so flatteringly described as an out-and-outer 
 to sleep in. 
 
 ' That's it,' replied Mr. Roker, pointing to a very rusty one in a 
 corner. ' It would make any one go to sleep, that bedstead would, 
 whether they wanted to or not.' 
 
 ' I should think,' said Sam, eyeing the piece of fumitCre in 
 question with a look of excessive disgust, ' I should think poppies 
 was nothing to it.' 
 
 ' Nothing at all,' said Mr. Roker. 
 
 ' And I s'pose,' said Sam, with a sidelong glance at his master, 
 as if to see whether there were any symptoms of his determination 
 being shaken by what passed, ' I s'pose the other gen'l'men as 
 sleeps here, are gen'l'men.' 
 
 ' Nothing but it,' said Mr. Roker. ' One of 'em takes his twelve 
 pints of ale a-day, and never leaves oif smoking even at his meals.' 
 
 ' He must be a first-rater,' said Sam. 
 
 'A, I,' replied Mr. Roker. 
 
 Nothing dauijted, even by this intelligence, Mr. Pickwick smilingly 
 announced his determination to test the powers of the narcotic 
 bedstead for that night ; and Mr. Roker, after informing him that 
 he could retire to rest at whatever hour he thought proper, without 
 any further notice or formality, walked off", leaving him standing 
 with Sam in the gallery. 
 
 It was getting dark ; that is to say, a few gas jets were kindled 
 in this place which was never light, by way of compliment to the 
 evening, which had set in outside. As it was rather warm, some 
 of the tenants of the numerous little rooms which opened into the 
 gallery on either hand, had set their doors ajar. Mr. Pickwick 
 peeped into them as he passed along, with great curiosity and 
 interest. Here four or five great hulking fellows, just visible 
 through a cloud of tobacco-smoke, were engaged in noisy and 
 riotous conversation over half-emptied pots of beer, or playing at 
 
THE POPULATION OF THE PLACE 485 
 
 all-fours with a very greasy pack of cards. In the adjoining room, 
 some solitary teiiant might be seen, poring, by the light of a feeble 
 tallow candle, over a bundle of soiled and tattered papers, yellow 
 with dust and dropping to pieces from age : writing, for the 
 hundredth time, some lengthened statement of his grievances, for 
 the perusal of some great man whose eyes it would never reach, or 
 whose heart it would never touch. In a third, a man, with his wife 
 and a whole crowd of children, might be seen making up a scanty 
 bed on the ground, or upon a few chairs, for the younger ones to 
 pass the night in. And in a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, and a 
 seventh, the noise, and the beer, and the tobacco-smoke, and the 
 cards, all came over again in greater force than before. 
 
 In the galleries themselves, and more especially on the staircases, 
 there lingered a great number of people, who came there, some 
 because their rooms were empty and lonesome, others because 
 their rooms were full and hot : the greater part because they were 
 restless and uncomfortable, and not possessed of the secret of 
 exactly knowing what to do with themselves. There were many 
 classes of people here, from the labouring man in his fustian jacket, 
 to the broken-down spendthrift in his shawl dressing-gown, most 
 appropriately out at elbows; but there was the same air about 
 them all — a listless jail-bird careless swagger, a vagabondish who's- 
 afraid sort of bearing, which is wholly indescribable in words, but 
 which any man can understand in one moment if he wish, by 
 setting foot in the nearest debtor's prison, and looking at the 
 very first group of people he sees there, with the same interest as 
 Mr. Pickwick did. 
 
 'It strikes me, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, leaning over the iron- 
 rail at the stairhead, ' It strikes me, Sam, that imprisonment for 
 debt is scarcely any punishment at all.' 
 
 ' Think not, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 'You see how these fellows drink, and smoke, and roar,' re- 
 plied Mr. Pickwick. ' It's quite impossible that they can mind it 
 much.' 
 
 'Ah, that's just the wery thing, sir,' rejoined Sam, '■they don't 
 mind it; it's a regular holiday to them-^all porter and skittles. 
 It's the t'other vuns as gets done over, vith this sort o' thing: 
 them down-hearted fellers as can't svig avay at the beer, nor play 
 at skittles neither ; them as vould pay if they could, and gets low 
 by being boxed up. I'll tell you wot it is, sir ; them as is always 
 a idlin' in public houses it don't damage at all, and them as is 
 alvays a workin' wen they can, it damages too much. " It's unekal," 
 as my father used to say wen his grog wom't niade half-and-half: 
 " It's unekal, and that's the fault on it." ' 
 
 'I think you're right, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, after a few 
 moments' reflection, ' quite right.' 
 
486 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' P'raps, now and then, there's some honest people as likes it,' 
 observed Mr. Weller, in a ruminative tone, ' but I never heerd o' 
 one as I can call to mind, 'cept the little dirty-faced man in the 
 brown coat ; and that was force of habit.' 
 
 ' And who was he ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wj, that's just the wary point as nobody never know'd,' replied 
 Sam. 
 
 ' But what did he do ? ' 
 
 ' Wy he did wot many men as has been much better know'd has 
 done in their time, sir,' replied Sam, 'he run a match agin the 
 constable, and vun it.' 
 
 ' In other words, I suppose,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' he got into 
 debt.' 
 
 'Just that, sir,' replied Sam, 'and in course o' time he come 
 here in consekens. It wam't much — execution for nine pound 
 nothin', multiplied by five for costs ; but hows'ever here he stopped 
 for seventeen year. If he got any wrinkles in his face, they was 
 stopped up vith the dirt, for both the dirty face and the brown coat 
 wos just the same at the end o' that time as they wos at the be- 
 ginnin'. He wos a wery peaceful inoffendin' little creetur, and wos 
 alvays a bustlin' about for somebody, or playin' rackets and never 
 vinnin' ; till at last the turnkeys they got quite fond on him, "and he 
 wos in the lodge ev'ry night, a chattering vith 'em, and tellin' stories, 
 and all that 'ere. Vun night he wos in there as usual, along vith 
 a wery old friend of his, as wos on the lock, ven he says all of a 
 sudden, " I ain't seen the market outside. Bill," he says (Fleet 
 Market wos there at that time) — " I ain't seen the market outside, 
 Bill," he says, " for seventeen year." " I know you ain't," says the 
 turnkey, smoking his pipe. " I should like to see it for a minit, 
 Bill," he says. "Wery probable," says the turnkey, smoking his 
 pipe wery fierce, and making believe he wam't up to wot the little 
 man wanted. " Bill," says the little irian, more abrupt than afore, 
 "I've got the fancy in my head. Let me see the public streets 
 once more afore I die ; and if I ain't struck with apoplexy, I'll be 
 back in five minits by the clock." "And wot 'ud become o' me if 
 you wos struck with apoplexy ? " said the turnkey. " Wy," says the 
 little creetur, " whoever found me, 'ud bring me home, for I've got 
 my card in my pocket. Bill," he says, " No. 20, Coffee-room Flight : " 
 and that wos true, sure enough, for wen he wanted to make the 
 acquaintance of any new comer, he used to pull out a little limp 
 card vith them words on it and nothin' else ; in consideration of 
 yicK, he wos alvays called Number Tventy. The turnkey takes a 
 fixed look at him, and at last he says in a solemn manner, " Tventy," 
 he says, " I'll trust you ; you won't get your old friend iiito trouble." 
 "No, my boy; I hope I've somethin' better behind here," says the 
 *2tt!e man ; and as he said it he hit his little veskit wery hard, and 
 
MR. PICKWICK IN THE PAINTED GROUND 487 
 
 then a tear started out o' each eye, which wos wery extraordinary, 
 for it wos supposed as water never touched his face. He shook 
 the turnkey by the hand ; out he vent ' 
 
 • And never came back again,' said Mr. Pickwick., 
 
 'Wrong for vunce, sir,' rephed Mr. Weller, 'for back he come, 
 two minits afore the time, a bilin' with rage : sayin' how he'd been 
 nearly run over by a hackney-coach: that he warn't used to it: 
 and he was blowed if he wouldn't write to the Lord Mayor. They 
 got him pacified at last; and for five years arter that, he never 
 even so much as peeped out o' the lodge-gate.' 
 
 'At the expiration of that time he died, I suppose,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' No he didn't, sir,' replied Sam. ' He got a curiosity to go 
 and taste the beer at a new public-house over the way, and it wos 
 such a wery nice parlour, that he took it into his head to go there 
 every night, wich he did for a long time, always comin' back reg'lar 
 about a quarter of an hour afore the gate shut, wich wos all wery 
 snug and comfortable. At last he began to get so precious jolly, 
 that he used to forget how the time vent, or care nothin' at all 
 about it, and he vent on gettin' later and later, till vun night his 
 old friend wos just a shuttin' the gate — had turned the key in fact 
 — wen he come up. " Hold hard, Bill," he says. " Wot, ain't you 
 come home yet, Tventy ? " says the turnkey, " I thought you wos 
 in, long ago." " No I wasn't," says the little man, vith a smile. 
 "Well then, I'll tell you wot it is, my friend," says the turnkey, 
 openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, " it's my 'pinion as you've 
 got into bad company o' late, which I'm wery sorry to see. Now, 
 I don't wish to do nothing harsh," he says, " but if you can't confine 
 yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at reg'lar hours, 
 as sure as you're a standin' there, I'll shut you out altogether ! " 
 The little man was seized vith a wiolent fit o' tremblin', and never 
 vent outside the prison walls artervards ! ' 
 
 As Sam concluded, Mr. Pickwick slowly retraced his steps down 
 stairs. After a few thoughtful turns in the Painted Ground, which, 
 as it was now dark, was nearly deserted, he intimated to Mr. Weller 
 that he thought it high time for him to withdraw for the night ; 
 requesting him to seek a bed in some adjacent public-house, and 
 return early in the morning, to ihake arrangements for the removal 
 of his master's wardrobe from the George and Vulture. This 
 request Mr. Samuel Weller prepared to obey, with as good a grace 
 as he could assume, but with a very considerable show of reluctance 
 nevertheless. He even went so far as to essay sundry ineffectual 
 hints regarding the expediency of stretching himself on the gravel 
 for that night ; but finding Mr. Pickwick obstinately deaf to any 
 such suggestions, fina,lly withdrew. ' 
 There is ho disguising the fact that Mr. Pickwick felt very 
 
488 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 iow-spirited and uncomfortable ; not for lack of society, for the prison 
 was very full, and a bottle of wine would at once have purchased 
 the utmost good-fellowship of a few choice spirits, without any more 
 formal ceremony of introduction ; but he was alone in the coarse 
 vulgar crowd, and felt the depression of spirit and sinking of heart, 
 naturally consequent on the reflection that he was cooped and 
 caged up, without a prospect of liberation. As to the idea of 
 releasing himself by ministering to the sharpness of Dodson and 
 Fogg, it never for an instant entered his thoughts. 
 
 In this frame of mind he turned again into the coffeerroom gallery, 
 and walked slowly to and fro. The place was intolerably dirty, and 
 the smell of tobacco-smoke perfectly suffocating. There was a 
 perpetual slamming and banging of doors as the people went in and 
 out; and the noise of their voices and footsteps echoed and 
 re-echoed through the passages constantly. A young woman, with 
 a child in her arms, who seemed scarcely able to crawl, from 
 emaciation and misery, was walking up and down the passage in 
 conversation with her husband, who had no other place to see her 
 in. As they passed Mr. Pickwick, he could hear the female sob ; 
 and once she burst into such a passion of grief, that she was 
 compelled to lean against the wall for support, while the man took 
 the child in his arms, and tried to soothe her. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's heart was really too full to bear it, and he went 
 up stairs to bed. 
 
 Now, although the warden's room was a very uncomfortable one 
 (being, in every point of decoration and convenience, several hundred 
 degrees inferior to the common infirmary of a county gaol), it had 
 at present the merit of being wholly deserted save by Mr. Pickwick 
 himself. So, he sat down at the foot of his little iron bedstead, and 
 began to wonder how much a year the warden made out of the dirty 
 room. IJaving satisfied himself, by mathematical calculation, that 
 the apartment was about equal in annual value to the freehold of a 
 small street in the suburbs of London, he took to wondering what 
 possible temptation could have induced a dingy-looking fly that was 
 crawling over his pantaloons, to come into a close prison, when he 
 had the choice of so many airy situations — a course of meditation 
 which led him to the irresistible conclusion that the insect was mad. 
 After settling this point, he began to be conscious that he was 
 getting sleepy ; whereupon he took his nightcap out of the pocket in 
 which he had had the precaution to stow it in the morning, and, 
 leisurely undressing himself, got into bed, and fell asleep. 
 
 ' Bravo ! Heel over toe — cut and shuffle — pay away at it. Zephyr ! 
 I'm smothered if the Opera House isn't your proper hemisphere. 
 Keep it up ! Hooray ! ' These expressions, delivered in a most 
 boisterous tone, and accompanied with loud peals of laughter, roused 
 Mr. Pickwick from one of those sound slumbers which, lasting in 
 

 
 '■Ji. 1 
 
 L=:?*-> 
 
 • ■!*£«<» — 
 
 r ,-<ii!-- 
 
 •i-y^iey 
 
 yD 
 
SLEEPING AND WAKING 489 
 
 reality some half hour, seem to the sleeper to have been protracted 
 for three weeks or a month. 
 
 The voice had no sooner ceased than the room was shaken with 
 such violence that the windows rattled in their frames, and the 
 bedsteads trembled again. Mr. Pickwick started up, and remained 
 for some minutes in mute astonishment at the scene before him. 
 
 On the floor of the room, a man in a broad-skirted green coat, 
 with corderoy knee smalls and grey cotton stockings, was performing 
 the most popular steps of a hornpipe, with a slang and burlesque 
 caricature of grace and lightness, which, combined with the very 
 appropriate character of his costume, was inexpressibly absurd. 
 Another man, evidently very drunk, who had probably been tumbled 
 into bed by his companions, was sitting up between the sheets, 
 warbling as much as he could recollect of a comic song, with the 
 most intensely sentimental feeling and expression; while a third, 
 seated on one of the bedsteads, was applauding both performers 
 with the air of a profound connoisseur, and encouraging them by 
 such ebulUtions of feeling as had already roused Mr. Pickwick from 
 his sleep. 
 
 This last man was an admirable specimen of a class of gentry 
 which never can be seen in full perfection but in such places j — they 
 may be met with, in an imperfect state, occasionally about stable- 
 yards and public-houses; but they never attain their full bloom 
 except in these hot-beds, which would almost seem to be considerately 
 provided by the Legislature for the sole purpose of rearing them. 
 
 He was a tall fellow, with an olive complexion, long dark hair, 
 and very thick bushy whiskers meeting under his chin. He wore 
 no neckerchief, as he had been playing rackets all day, and his open 
 shirt collar displayed their full luxuriance. On his head he wore 
 one of the common eighteenpenny French skull-caps, with a gawdy 
 tassel dangling therefrom, very happily in keeping with a common 
 fustian coat. His legs : which, being long, were afflicted with 
 weakness : graced a pair of Oxford-mixture trousers, made to show 
 the full symmetry of those limbs. Being somewhat negligently 
 braced, however, and, moreover, but imperfectly buttoned, they fell 
 in a series of not the most graceful folds over a pair of shoes 
 sufficiently down at heel to display a pair of very soiled white 
 stockings. There was a rakish, vagabond smartness, and a kind 
 of boastful rascality, about the whale man, that was worth a mine 
 of gold. 
 
 This figure was the first to perceive that Mr. Pickwick was looking 
 on ; upon which he winked to the Zephyr, and entreated him, with 
 mock gravity, not to wake the gentleman. 
 
 ' Why, bless the gentleman's honest heart and soul ! ' said the 
 Zephyr, turning round and affecting the extremity of surprise ; ' the 
 gentleman is awake. Hem, Shakespeare ! How do you do, sir ? 
 
490 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 How is Mary and Sarah, sir ? and the dear old lady at home, sir ? 
 Will you have the kindness to put my compliments into the first 
 little parcel you're sending that way, sir, and say that I would have 
 sent 'em before, only I was afraid they might be broken in the 
 waggon, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Don't overwhelm the gentleman with ordinary civilities when you. 
 see he's anxious to have something to drink,' said the gentleman 
 with the whiskers, with a jocose air. ' Why don't you ask the 
 gentleman what he'll take ? ' • 
 
 ' Dear me, I quite forgot,' replied the other. ' What will you 
 take, sir ? Will you take port wine, sir, or sherry wine, sir ? I can 
 recommend the ale, sir ; or perhaps you'd like to taste the porter, 
 sir ? Allow me to have the felicity of hanging up your nightcap, 
 sir.' 
 
 With this, the speaker snatched that article of dress from Mr. 
 Pickwick's head, and fixed it in a twinkling on that of the drunken 
 man, who, firmly impressed with the belief that he was delighting a 
 numerous assembly, continued to hammer away at the comic song 
 in the most melancholy strains imaginable. 
 
 Talking a man's nightcap from his brow by violent means, and 
 adjusting it on the head of an unknown gentleman of dirty exterior, 
 however ingenious a witticism in itself, is unquestionably one of 
 those which come under the denomination of practical jokes. 
 Viewirlg the matter precisely in this light, Mr. Pickwick, without 
 the slightest intimation of his purpose, sprang vigorously out of bed, 
 struck the Zephyr so smart a blow in the chest as to deprive him of 
 a considerable portion of the commodity which sometimes bears his 
 name, and then, recapturing his nightcap, boldly placed himself in 
 an attitude of defence. 
 
 ' Now,' said Mr. Pickwick, gasping no less from excitement than 
 from the expenditure of so much energy, ' come on — ^both of you — 
 both of you ! ' With this liberal invitation the worthy gentleman 
 communicated a revolving motion to his clenched fists, by way of 
 appalhng his antagonists with adisplay of science. 
 
 It might have been Mr. Pickwick's very unexpected gallantrj', or 
 it might have been the complicated manner in which he had got 
 himself out of bed, and fallen all in a mass upon the hornpipe man, 
 that touched his adversaries. Touched they were ; for, instead of 
 then and there making an attempt to commit manslaughter, as Mr. 
 Pickwick implicitly believed they would have done, they paused, 
 stared at each other a short time, arid' finally laughed outright. 
 
 'Well; you're a trump, and I like you all the better for it,' said 
 the Zephyr. ' Now jump into bed again, or you'll catch the rheu- 
 matics. No malice, I hope ? ' said the man, extending a hand the 
 size of the yellow clump of fingers which sometimes swing over a 
 glover's door. 
 
A GOOD UNDERSTANDING EFFECTED 491 
 
 ' Certainly not,' said Mr. Pickwick with great alacrity ; for, now 
 that the excitement was over, he began to feel rather cool about 
 the legs. 
 
 'Allow me the >%onour,' said the gentleman with the whiskers, 
 presenting his dexter hand, and aspirating the h. 
 
 ' With much pleasure, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick ; and having exe- 
 cuted a very long and solemn shake, he got into bed again. 
 
 ' My name is Smangle, sir,' said the man with the whiskers. 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Mine is Mivins,' said the man in the stockings. 
 
 ' I am delighted to hear it, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hem,' coughed Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' Did you speak, sir ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No, I did not, sir,' said Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' I thought you did, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 All this was very genteel and pleasant ; and, to make matters still 
 more comfortable, Mr. Smangle assured Mr. Pickwick a great many 
 times that he entertained a very high respect for the feelings of a 
 gentleman ; which sentiment, indeed, did him infinite credit, as he 
 could be in no wise supposed to understand them. 
 
 ' Are you going through the Court, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' Through the what ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Through the Court — Portugal Street — the Court for the Relief 
 of-^ — you know.' 
 
 ' Oh, no,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' No, I am not.' 
 
 ' Going out, perhaps ? ' suggested Mivins. 
 
 ' I fear not,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' I refuse to pay some 
 damages, and am here in consequence.' 
 
 ' Ah,' said Mr. Smangle, ' paper has been my ruin.' 
 
 ' A stationer, I presume, sir ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, innocently. 
 
 ' Stationer ! No, no ; confound and curse me ! Not so low as 
 that. No trade. When I say paper, I mean bills.' 
 
 ' Oh, you use the word in that sense. I see,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Damme ! A gentleman must expect reverses,' said Smangle. 
 ' What of that ? Here am I in the Fleet Prison. Well ; good. 
 What then ? I'm none the worse for that, am I ? ' 
 
 ' Not a bit,' replied Mr. Mivins. And he was quite right ; for, so 
 far from Mr. Smangle being any the worse for it, he was something 
 the better, inasmuch as to qualify himself for the place, he had 
 attained gratuitous possession of certain articles of jewellery, which, 
 long before that, had found their way to the pawnbroker's. 
 
 ' Well ; but come,' said Mr. Smangle ; ' this is dry work. Let's 
 rinse our mouths with a drop of burnt sherry ; the last comer shall 
 stand it, Mivins shall fetch it, and I'll help to drink it. That's a 
 fair and gentlemanlike division of labour, any how. Curse me ! ' 
 
 Unwilling to hazard another quarrel, Mr, Pickwick gladly assented 
 
492 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 to the proposition, and consigned the money to Mr. Mivins, who, 
 as it was nearly eleven o'clock, lost no time in repairing to the 
 coffee-room on his errand. 
 
 ' I say,' whispered Smangle, the moment his friend had left the 
 room ; ' what did you give him ? ' 
 
 ' Half a sovereign,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' He's a devilish pleasant gentlemanly dog,' said Mr. Smangle ; — 
 
 ' infernal pleasant. I don't know anybody more so ; but ' 
 
 Here Mr. Smangle stopped short, and shook his head dubiously. 
 
 ' You don't think there is any probability of his appropriating the 
 money to his own use ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, no ! Mind, I don't say that ; I expressly say that he's a 
 devilish gentlemanly fellow,' said Mr. Smangle. 'But I think, 
 perhaps, if somebody went down, just to see that he didn't dip his 
 beak into the jug by accident, or make some confoimded mistake 
 in losing the money as he came up stairs, it would be as well. 
 Here, you sir, just run down stairs, and look after that gentleman, 
 will you ? ' 
 
 This request was addressed to a little timid-looking nervous man, 
 whose appearance bespoke great poverty, and who had been crouch- 
 ing on his bedstead all this while, apparently stupified by the novelty 
 of his situation. 
 
 ' You know where the coffee-room is,' said Smangle ; ' just run 
 down, and tell that gentleman you've come to help him up with the 
 jug. Or — stop — I'll tell you what — I'll tell you how we'll do him,' 
 said Smangle, with a cunning look. 
 
 ' How ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Send down word that he's to spend the change in cigars. 
 Capital thought. Run and tell him that ; d'ye hear ? They shan't 
 be wasted,' continued Smangle, turning to Mr. Pickwick. ' /■'// 
 smoke 'em.' 
 
 This manoeuvering was so exceedingly ingenious, and, withal, 
 performed with such immovable composure and coolness, that Mr. 
 Pickwick would have had no wish to disturb it, even if he had had 
 the power. In a short time Mr. Mivins returned, bearing the sherry, 
 which Mr. Smangle dispensed in two Uttle cracked mugs : consider- 
 ately remarking, with reference to himself, that a gentleman must 
 not be particular under such circumstances, and that, for his part, 
 he was not too proud to drink out of the jug. In which, to show 
 his sincerity, he forthwith pledged the company in a draught which 
 half emptied it. 
 
 An excellent understanding having been by these means pro- 
 moted, Mr. Smangle proceeded to entertain his hearers with a 
 relation of divers romantic adventures in which he had been from 
 time to time engaged, involving various interesting anecdotes of a 
 thorough-bred horse, and a magnificent Jewess, both of surpassing 
 
MR. SMANGLE- AND SAM 493 
 
 beauty, and much coveted by the nobility and gentry of these 
 kingdoms. 
 
 Long before these elegant extracts from the biography of a 
 gentleman, were concluded, Mr. Mivins had betaken himself to 
 bed, and had set in snoring for the night : leaving the' timid 
 stranger and Mr. Pickwick to the full benefit of Mr. Smangle's 
 experiences. 
 
 Nor were the two last-named gentlemen as much edified as they 
 might have been, by the moving passages narrated. Mr. Pickwick 
 had been in a state of slumber for some time, when he had a faint 
 perception of the drunken man, bursting out afresh with the comic 
 song, and receiving from Mr. Smangle a gentle intimation, through 
 the medium of the water jug, that his audience were not musically 
 disposed. Mr. Pickwick then once again dropped off to sleep, 
 with a confused consciousness that Mr. Smangle was still engaged 
 in relating a long story, the chief point of which appeared to be, 
 that, on some occasion particularly stated and set forth, he had 
 ' done ' a bill and a gentleman at the same time. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE, LIKE THE PRECEDING ONE, OF THE OLD PROVERB, 
 THAT ADVERSITY BRINGS A MAN ACQUAINTED WITH STRANGE 
 BED-FELLOWS. LIKEWISE CONTAINING MR. PICKWICK's EXTRA- 
 ORDINARY AND STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT TO MR. SAMUEL 
 WELLER. 
 
 When Mr. Pickwick opened his eyes next morning, the first object 
 upon which they rested, was Samuel Weller, seated upon a small 
 black portmanteau, intently regarding, apparently in a condition of 
 profound abstraction, the stately figure of the dashing Mr. Smangle : 
 while Mr. Smangle himself, who was already partially dressed, was 
 seated on his bedstead, occupied in the desperately hopeless attempt 
 of staring Mr. Weller out of countenance. We say desperately 
 hopeless, because Sam, with a comprehensive gaze which took in 
 Mr. Smangle's cap, feet, head, face, legs, and whiskers, ^11 at the 
 same time, continued to look steadily on, with every demonstration 
 of lively satisfaction, but with no more regard to Mr. Smangle's 
 personal sentiments on the subject than he would have displayed 
 had he been inspecting a wooden statue, or a straw-embowelled 
 Guy Faux. 
 
 'Well; will you know me again?' said Mr. Smangle, with a 
 frown. 
 
494 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I'd svear to you anyveres, sir,' replied Sam, cheerfully. 
 
 ' Don't be impertinent to a gentleman, sir,' said Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' Not on no account,' replied Sam. ' If you'll tell me wen he 
 wakes, I'll be upon the wery best extra-super behaviour ! ' This 
 observation, having a remote tendency to imply that Mr. Smangle 
 was no gentleman, kindled his ire. 
 
 ' Mivins ! ' said Mr. Smangle, with a passionate air. 
 
 ' What's the office ? ' replied that gentleman from his couch. 
 
 ' Who the devil is this fellow ? ' 
 
 ' 'Gad,' said Mr. Mivins, looking lazily out from under the bed- 
 clothes, ' I ought to ask you that. Hasn't he any business here ? ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' Then knock him down stairs, and tell him not to presume to 
 get up till I come and kick him,' rejoined Mr. Mivins,- with this 
 prompt advice that excellent gentleman again betook himself to 
 slumber. 
 
 The conversation exhibiting these unequivocal Symptoms of 
 verging on the personal, Mr. Pickwick deemed it a fit point at 
 which to interpose. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Sir,' rejoined that gentleman. 
 
 ' Has anything new occurred since last night ? ' 
 
 ' Nothin' partickler, sir,' replied Sam, glancing at Mr. Smangle's 
 whiskers ; ' the late prewailance of a close and confined atmosphere 
 has been rayther favourable to the growth of veeds, of an alarmin' 
 and sangvinary natur ; but vith that 'ere exception things is quiet 
 enough.' 
 
 ' I shall get up,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' give me some clean 
 things.' 
 
 Whatever hostile intentions Mr. Smangle might have entertained, 
 his thoughts were speedily diverted by the unpacking of the port- 
 manteau ; the contents of which, appeared to irnpress him at once 
 with a most favourable opinion, not only of Mr. Pickwick, but of 
 Sam also, who, he took an early opportunity of declaring in a tone 
 of voice loud enough for that eccentric personage to overhear, was 
 a regular thorough-bred original, and consequently the very man 
 after his own heart. As to Mr. Pickwick, the affection he conceived 
 for him knew no limits. 
 
 'Now is there anything I can do for you, my dear sir?' said 
 Smangle.' 
 
 ' Nothing that I am aware of, I am obliged to you,' rephed Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 ' No linen that you want sent to the washerwoman's ? I know a 
 delightful washerwoman outside, that comes for my things twice a 
 week ; and, by Jove ! — how devilish lucky ! — this is the day she 
 calls. Shall I put any of those little things up with mine ? Don't 
 
LOOKING FOR A LODGING 495 
 
 say anything about the trouble. Confound and curse it ! if one 
 gentleman under a cloud, is not to put himself a little out of the 
 way to assist another gentleman in the same condition, what's 
 human nature ? ' 
 
 Thus spake Mr. Smangle, edging himself meanwhile as near as 
 possible to the portmanteau, and beapiing forth looks of the most 
 fervent and disinterested friendship. 
 
 ' There's nothing you want to give out for the man to brush, my 
 dear creature, is there ? ' resumed Smangle. 
 
 ' Nothin' whatever, my fine feller,' rejoined Sam, taking the reply 
 into his own mouth. ' P'raps if vun of us wos to brush, without 
 troubling the man, it 'ud be more agreeable for all parties, as the 
 schoolmaster said wen the young gentleman objected to being 
 flogged by the butler.' 
 
 'And there's nothing that I can send in my little box to the 
 washerwoman's, is there?' said Smangle, turning from Sam to Mr. 
 Pickwick, with an air of some discomfiture. 
 
 ' Nothin' whatever, sir,' retorted Sam ; ' I'm afeerd the little box 
 must be chock full o' your own as it is.' 
 
 This speech was accompanied, with such a very expressive look 
 at that particular portion of Mr. Smangle's attire, by the appearance 
 of which the skill of laundresses in getting up gentlemen's linen is 
 generally tested, that he was fain to turn upon his heel, and, for the 
 present at any rate, to give up all design on Mr. Pickwick's purse 
 and wardrobe. He a,ccordingly retired in dudgeon to the racket- 
 ground, where he made a light and wholesome breakfast on a couple 
 of the cigars which had been purchased, on the previous night. 
 
 Mr. Mivins, who was no smoker, and whose account for small 
 articles of chandlery had also reached down to the bottom of the 
 slate, and been ' carried over ' to the other side, rernained in bed, 
 and, in his own words, ' took it. out in sleep/. 
 
 After breakfasting in a small closet attached to thp coffee-room, 
 which bore the imposing title of the Snuggery ; the temporary 
 inmate of which, in consideration of a small additional charge, had 
 the unspeakable advantage of overhearing all the conversation in 
 the coffee-room aforesaid ; and after dispatching Mr. Weller on 
 some necessary errands, Mr. Pickwick repaired to the Lodge, to 
 consult Mr. Roker concerning his future accommodation. 
 
 ' Accommodation, eh ? ' said that gentleman, consulting a large 
 book. ' Plenty of that, Mr. Pickvick. Your chummage ticket 
 will be on twenty-seven, in the third.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' My what, did you say ? ' 
 
 ' Your chummage ticket,' replied Mr. Roker ; ' you're up to 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Not quite,' replied Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 
 
 ' Why,' said Mr. Roker, ' it's as plain as Salisbury. You'll have 
 
496 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a chumnTage ticket upon twenty-seven in the third, and them as is 
 in the room will be your chums.' 
 
 ' Are there many of them ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, dubiously. 
 
 ' Three,' replied Mr. Roker. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick coughed. ' 
 
 ' One of 'em's a parson,' said Mr. Roker, filling up a little piece 
 of paper as he spoke ; ' another's a butcher.' 
 
 ' Eh ? ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' A butcher,' repeated Mr. Roker, giving the nib of his pen a tap 
 on the desk to cure it of a disincUnation to mark. ' What a thorough- 
 paced goer he used to be sure-Iy ! You remember Tom Martin, 
 Neddy ? ' said Roker, appealing to another man in the lodge, who 
 was paring the mud off his shoes with a five-and-twenty bladed 
 pocket knife. 
 
 ' / should think so,' replied the party addressed, with a strong 
 emphasis on the personal pronoun. 
 
 ' Bless my dear eyes ! ' said Mr. Roker, shaking his head slowly 
 from side to side, and gazing abstractedly out of the grated windows 
 before him, as if he were fondly recalling some peaceful scene of 
 his early youth ; ' it seems but yesterday that he whopped the coal- 
 heaver down Fox-under-the-Hill by the wharf there. I think I can 
 see him now, a coming up the Strand between the two street- 
 keepers, a little sobered by the bruising, with a patch o' winegar 
 and brown paper over his right eyelid, and that 'ere lovely bulldog, 
 as pinned the little boy arterwards, a following at his heels. What 
 a rum thing Time is, ain't it, Neddy ? ' 
 
 The gentleman to whom these observations were addressed, who 
 appeared of a taciturn and thoughtful cast, merely echoed the 
 inquiry ; Mr. Roker, shaking off the poetical and gloomy train of 
 thought into which he had been betrayed, descended to the common 
 business of life, and resumed his pen. 
 
 ' Do you know what the third gentleman is ? ' inquired Mr. Pick- 
 wick, not very much gratified by this description of his future 
 associates. 
 
 " What is that Simpson, Neddy ? ' said Mr. Roker, turning to his 
 companion. 
 
 ' What Simpson ? ' said Neddy. 
 
 'Why him in twenty-seven in the third, that this gentleman's 
 going to be chummed on.' 
 
 ' Oh, him ! ' replied Neddy : ' he's nothing exactly. He was a 
 horse chaunter : he's a leg now.' 
 
 'Ah, so I thought,' rejoined Mr. Roker, closing the book, and 
 placing the small piece of paper in Mr. Pickwick's hands. ' That's 
 the ticket, sir.' 
 
 Very much perplexed by this summary disposition of his person, 
 Mr. Pickwick walked back into the prison, revolving in his mind 
 
DIRECTED BY A POTBOY 497 
 
 what he had better do. Convinced, however, that before he took 
 any other steps it would be advisable to see, and hold personal 
 converse with, the three gentlemen with whom it was proposed to 
 quarter him, he made the best of his way to the third flight. 
 
 After groping about in the gallery for some time, attempting in 
 the dim light to decipher the numbers on the different doors, he at 
 length appealed to a potboy, who happened to be pursuing his 
 morning occupation of gleaning for pewter. 
 
 ' Which is twenty-seven, my good fellow ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Five doors further on,' replied the potboy. ' There's the like- 
 ness of a man being hung, and smoking a pipe the while, chalked 
 outside the door.' 
 
 Guided by this direction, Mr. Pickwick proceeded slowly along 
 the gallery until he encountered the 'portrait of a gentleman,' 
 above described, upon whose countenance he tapped, with the 
 knuckle of his fore-finger— gently at first, and then audibly. After 
 repeating this process several times without effect, he ventured to 
 open the door and peep in. 
 
 There was only one man in the room, and he was leaning out of 
 window as far as he could without overbalancing himself, endeavour- 
 ing, with great perseverance, to spit upon the crown of the hat of a 
 personal friend on the parade below. As neither speaking, cough- 
 ing, sneezing, knocking, nor any other ordinary mode of attracting 
 attention, made this person aware of the presence of a visitor, 
 Mr. Pickwick, after some delay, stepped up to the window, and 
 pulled him gently by the coat-tail. The individual brought in his 
 head and shoulders with great swiftness, and surveying Mr. Pickwick 
 from head to foot, demanded in a surly tone what the — something 
 beginning with a capital H — he wanted. 
 
 ' I believe,' said Mr. Pickwick, consulting his ticket, ' I believe 
 this is twenty-seven in the third ? ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' replied the gentleman. 
 
 ' I have come here in consequence of receiving this bit of paper,' 
 rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Hand it over,' said the gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick complied. 
 
 ' I think Roker might have chummed you somewhere else,' said 
 Mr. Simpson (for it was the leg), after a very discontented sort of a 
 pause. 
 
 Mri Pickwick thought so also ; but, under all the circumstances, 
 he considered it a matter of sound policy to be silent. 
 
 Mr. Simpson mused for a few moments after this, and then, 
 thrusting his head out of the window, gave a shrill whistle, and 
 pronounced some word aloud, several times. What the word was, 
 Mr. Pickwick could not distinguish ; but be rather inferred that it 
 must be some nickname which distinguished Mr. Martin : from the 
 
 3 K 
 
498 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 fact of a great number of gentlemen on the ground below, imme- 
 diately proceeding to cry ' Butcher ! ' in imitation of the tone in 
 which that useful class of society are wont, diurnally, to make their 
 presence known at area railings. 
 
 Subsequent occurrences confirmed the accuracy of Mr. Pickwick's 
 impression ; for, in a few seconds, a gentleman, prematurely broad 
 for his years : clothed in a professional blue jean frock, and top- 
 boots with circular toes : entered the room nearly out of breath, 
 closely followed by another gentleman in very shabby black, and a 
 seal-skin cap. The latter gentleman, who fastened his coat all the 
 way up to his chin by means of a pin and a button alternately, had 
 a very coarse red face, and looked like a drunken chaplain ; which, 
 indeed, he was. 
 
 These two gentlemen having by turns perused Mr. Pickwick's 
 billet, the one expressed his opinion that it was ' a rig,' and the 
 other his conviction that it was 'a go.' Having recorded their 
 feelings in these very intelligible terms, they looked at Mr. Pickwick 
 and each other in awkward silence. 
 
 ' It's an aggravating thing, just as we got the beds so snug,' said 
 the chaplain, looking at three dirty mattresses, each rolled up in a 
 blanket : which occupied one corner of the room during the day, 
 and formed a kind of slab, on which were placed an old cracked 
 basin, ewer, and soap-dish, of common yellow earthenware, with a 
 blue flower : ' Very aggravating.' 
 
 Mr. Martin expressed the same opinion in rather stronger terms ; 
 Mr. Simpson, after having let a variety of expletive adjectives loose 
 upon society without any substantive to accompany them, tucked up 
 his sleeves, and began to wash the greens for dinner. 
 
 While this was going on, Mr. Pickwick had been eyeing the room, 
 which was filthily dirty, and smelt intolerably close. There was no 
 vestige of either carpet, curtain, or blind. There was not even a 
 closet in it. Unquestionably there were but few things to put away, 
 if there had been one ; but, however few in number, or small in 
 individual amount, still, remnants of loaves and pieces of cheese, 
 and damp towels, and scrags of meat, and articles of wearing 
 apparel, and mutilated crockery, and bellows without nozzles, and 
 toasting-forks without prongs, do present somewhat of an uncomfort- 
 al)le appearance when they are scattered about the floor of a small 
 a])artment, which is the common sitting and sleeping room of three 
 idle men. 
 
 ' I suppose this can be managed somehow,' said the butcher, after 
 a pretty long silence. ' What will you take to go out ? ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' What did you say ? 
 I hardly understand you.' 
 
 ' What will you take to be paid out ? ' said the butcher. ' The 
 regular chummage is two-and-six. Will you take three bob ? ' 
 
LODGING FOUND AT LAST 499 
 
 ' — And a bender,' suggested the clerical gentleman. 
 
 ' Well, I don't mind that ; it's only twopence a-piece more,' said 
 Mr. Martin. 
 
 'What do you say, now? We'll pay you out for three-and- 
 sixpence a week. Come ! ' 
 
 'And stand a gallon of beer down,' chimed in Mr. Simpson. 
 'There ! ' 
 
 ' And drink it on the spot,' said the chaplain. ' Now ! ' 
 
 ' I really am so wholly ignorant of the rules of this place,' returned 
 Mr. Pickwick, ' that I do not yet comprehend you. Caii I live any- 
 where else ? I thought I could not.' 
 
 At this inquiry Mr. Martin looked, with a countenance of exces- 
 sive surprise, at his two friends, and then each gentleman pointed 
 with his right thumb over his left shoulder. This action, imperfectly 
 described in words by the very feeble term of ' over the left,' wh^n 
 performed by any number of ladies or gentlemen who are accustomed 
 to act in unison, has a very graceful and airy effect ; its expression 
 is one of light and playful sarcasm. 
 
 ' Can you ! ' repeated Mr. Martin, with a smile of pity. 
 
 ' Well, if I kfaew as little of life as that, I'd eat my hat and swallow 
 the buckle whole,' said the clerical gentlema,n. 
 
 ' So would I,' added the sporting one, solemnly. 
 
 After this introductory preface, the three chums informed Mr. 
 Pickwick, in a breath, that money was, in the Fleet, just what 
 money was out of it ; that it would instantly procure hirn almost 
 anything he desired; and that, supposing he had it, and had no 
 objection to spend it, if he only signified his wish to have a room 
 to himself, he might take possession of one, furnished and fitted to 
 boot, in half an hour's time. 
 
 With this, the parties separated, very much to their common satis- 
 faction : Mr. Pickwick once niore retracing his steps to the lodge : 
 and the three companions adjourning to the coffee-room, there to 
 spend the five shillings which the clerical gentleman had, with 
 admirable prudence and foresight, borrowed of him for the purpose. 
 
 ' I knowed it ! ' said Mr. Roker, with a chuckle, when Mr. 
 Pickwick stated the object with which he had returned. ' Didn't I 
 say so, Neddy ? ' 
 
 The philosophical owner of the universal penknife, growled an 
 affirmative. 
 
 ' I knowed you'd want a room for yourself, bless you ! ' said 
 Mr. Roker. ' Let me see. You'll want some fumitur. You'll hire 
 that of me, I suppose? That's the rejg'lar thing.' 
 
 ' With great pleasure,' repUed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'There's a capital room up in the coffee-room flight, that belongs 
 to a Chancery prisoner,' said Mr. Roker. 'It'll stand you in a 
 pound a-week. I suppose you don't mind that ? ' 
 
50O THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Just step there with me,' said Roker, taking up his hat with 
 great alacrity ; ' the matter's settled in five minutes. Lord ! why 
 didn't you say at first that you was willing to come down handsome? ' 
 
 The matter was soon arranged, as the turnkey had foretold. The 
 Chancery prisoner had been there long enough to have lost friends, 
 fortune, home, and happiness, and to have acquired the right of 
 having a room to himself. As he laboured, however, under the 
 inconvenience of often wanting a morsel of bread, he eagerly 
 listened to Mr. Pickwick's proposal to rent the apartment, and 
 readily covenanted and agreed to yield him up the sole and undis- 
 turbed possession thereof, in consideration of the weekly payment 
 of twenty shillings ; from which fund he furthermore contracted to 
 pay out any person or persons that might be chummed upon it. 
 
 As they struck the bargain, Mr. Pickwick surveyed him with a 
 painful interest. He was a tall, gaunt, cadaverous man, in an old 
 great-coat and slippers : with sunken cheeks, and a restless, eager 
 eye. His lips were bloodless, and his bones sharp and thin. God 
 help him ! the iron teeth of confinement and privation had been 
 slowly filing him down for twenty years. 
 
 ' Aiid where will you live meanwhile, sir ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, as 
 he laid the amount of the first week's rent, in advance, on the 
 tottering table. * 
 
 The man gathered up the money with a trembling hand, and 
 replied that he didn't know yet ; he must go and see where he could 
 move his bed to. 
 
 'I am afraid, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, laying his hand gently and 
 compassionately on his arm ; ' I am afraid you will have to live in 
 some noisy crowded place. Now, pray, consider this room your 
 own when you want quiet, or when any of your friends come to see 
 you.' 
 
 ' Friends ! ' interposed the man, in a voice which rattled in his 
 throat. ' If I lay dead at the bottom of the deepest mine in the 
 world ; tight screwed down and soldered in my coffin ; rotting in 
 the dark and filthy ditch that drags its slime along, beneath the 
 foundations of this prison; I could not be more forgotten or un- 
 heeded than I am here. I am a dead man; dead to society, 
 without the pity they bestow on those whose souls have passed to 
 judgment. Friends to see meJ My God ! I have sunk, from the 
 prime of life into old age, in this place, and there is not one to raise 
 his hand above my bed when I lie dead upon it, and say, " It is a 
 blessing he is gone ! " ' 
 
 The excitement, which had cast an unwonted light over the man's 
 face, while he spoke, subsided as he concluded ; and, pressing his 
 withered hands together in a hasty and disordered manner, he 
 shuffled from the room. 
 
THE POOR SIDE 501 
 
 ' Rides rather rusty,' said Mr. Roker, with a smile. ' Ah ! they're 
 like the elephants. They feel it now and then, and it makes 'em 
 wild ! ' 
 
 Having made this deeply-sympathising remark, Mr. Roker entered 
 upon his arrangements with such expedition, that in a short time 
 the room was furnished with a carpet, six chairs, a table, a sofa 
 bedstead, a tea-kettle, and various small articles, on hire, at the very 
 reasonable rate of seven-and-twenty shillings and sixpence per 
 week. 
 
 ' Now, is there anything more we can do for you ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Roker, looking round with great satisfaction, and gaily chinking 
 the first week's hire in his closed fist. 
 
 ' Why, yes,' said Mr. Pickwick, who had been musing deeply for 
 some time. ' Are there any people here, who run on errands, and 
 so forth?' 
 
 ' Outside, do you mean ? ' inquired Mr. Roker. 
 
 ' Yes. I mean who are able to go outside. Not prisoners.' 
 
 ' Yes, there is,' said Roker. ' There's an unfortunate devil, who 
 has got a friend on the poor side, that's glad to do anything of that 
 sort. He's been running odd jobs, and that, for the last two 
 months. Shall I send him ? ' 
 
 ' If you please,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ' Stay ; no. The poor 
 side, you say ? I should like to see it. I'll go to him myself.' 
 
 The poor side of a debtor's prison, is, as its name imports, that 
 in which the most miserable and abject class of debtors are con- 
 fined. A prisoner having declared upon the poor side, pays neither 
 rent lior chummage. His fees, upon entering and leaving the gaol, 
 are reduced in amount, and he becomes entitled to a share of some 
 small quantities of food : to provide which, a few charitable persons 
 have, from time to time, left trifling legacies in their wills. Most of 
 our readers will remember, that, until within a very few years past, 
 there was a kind of iron cage in the wall of the Fleet Prison, within 
 which was posted some man of hungry looks, who, from time to 
 time, rattled a money-box, and exclaimed in a mournful voice, 
 ' Pray, remember the poor debtors ; pray, remember the poor 
 debtors.' The receipts of this box, when there were any, were 
 divided among the poor prisoners ; and the men on the poor side 
 relieved each other in this degrading office. 
 
 Although this custom has been abolished, and the cage is now 
 boarded up, the miserable and destitute condition of these unhappy 
 persons remains the same. We no longer suifer them to appeal at 
 the prison gates to the charity and compassion of the passers by ; 
 but we still leave unblotted in the leaves of our statute book, for 
 the reverence and admiration of succeeding ages, the just and 
 wholesome law which declares that the sturdy felon shall be fed 
 and clothed, and that the penniless debtor shall be left to die of 
 
502 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 starvation and nakedness. This is no fiction. Not a week passes 
 over our heads, but, in every one of our prisons for debt, some of 
 these men must inevitably expire in the slow agonies of want, if 
 they were not relieved by their fellow-prisoners. 
 
 Turning these things in his mind, as he mounted the narrow 
 staircase at the foot of which Roker had left him, Mr. Pickwick 
 gradually worked himself to the boiling-over point ; and so excited 
 was he with his reflections on this subject, that he had burst into 
 the room to which he had been directed, before he had any distinct 
 recollection, either of the place in which he was, or of the object 
 of his visit. 
 
 The general aspect of the room recalled him to himself at once ; 
 but he had no sooner cast his eyes on the figure of a man who 
 was brooding over the dusty fire, than, letting his hat fall on 
 the floor, he stood perfectly fixed, and immoveable, with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 Yes; in tattered garments, and without a coat; his common 
 calico shirt, yellow and in rags; his hair hanging over his face; 
 his features changed with suffering, and pinched with famine ; there 
 sat Mr. Alfred Jingle: his head resting on his hand, his eyes 
 fixed upon the fire, and his whole appearance denoting misery 
 and dejection ! 
 
 Near him, leaning listlessly against the wall, stood a strong-built 
 countryman, flicking with a worn-out hunting-whip the top-boot 
 that adorned his right foot: his left being (for he dressed by 
 easy stages) thrust into an old slipper. Horses, dogs, and drink, 
 had brought him there, pell-mell. There was a nisty spur on the 
 solitary boot, which he occasionally jerked into the empty air, at 
 the same time giving the boot a smart blow, and muttering some 
 of the sounds by which a sportsman encourages his horse. He 
 was riding, in imagination, some desperate steeple-chase at that 
 moment. Poor wretch ! He never rode a match on the swiftest 
 animal in his costly stud, with half the speed at which he had torn 
 along the course that ended in the Fleet. 
 
 On the opposite side of the room an old man was seated on a 
 small wooden box, with his eyes rivetted on the floor, and his face 
 settled into an expression of the deepest and most hopeless despair. 
 A young girl — his little grand-daughter — was hanging about him : 
 endeavouring, with a thousand childish devices, to engage his 
 attention ; but the old man neither saw nor heard her. The voice 
 that had been music to him, and the eyes that had been light, fell 
 coldly on his senses. His limbs were shaking with' disease, and 
 the palsy had fastened on his mind. 
 
 There were two or three other men in the room, congregated in 
 a little knot, and noisily talking among themselves. There was a 
 lean and haggard woman, too — a prisoner's wife — who was watering. 
 
V 1 F r If iiliVr - ■■ "^ r*T_ , 1 I ' 
 
 /k V''LiSRlLl.-'.----''J'''- ■ "* 1 ' M .1' 
 
 :£i,;^^,j-cov^^i^ Of 
 
 'y/e/A'f^'yi^^ ^Sfiee/: 
 
MR. PICKWICK AMAZED AND AFFECTED 503 
 
 with great solicitude, the wretched stump of a dried-up, withered 
 plant, which, it was plain to see, could never send forth a green 
 leaf again ; — too true an emblem, perhaps, of the office she had 
 come there to discharge. 
 
 Such were the objects which presented themselves to Mr. Pick- 
 wick's view, as he looked round him in amazement. The noise of 
 some one stumbling hastily into the room, roused him. Turning 
 his eyes towards the door, they encountered the new comer ; and 
 in him, through his rags and dirt, he recognised the familiar 
 features of Mr. Job Trotter. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick ! ' exclaimed Job aloud. 
 
 ' Eh ? ' said Jingle, starting from his seat. ' Mr. ! So it 
 
 is — queer place — strange thing — serves me right — very.' Mr. 
 Jingle thrust his hands into the place where his trousers pockets 
 used to be, and, dropping his chin upon his breast, sank back into 
 his chair. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was affected ; the two men looked so very miserable. 
 The sharp involuntary glance Jingle had cast at a small piece of 
 raw loin of mutton, which Job had brought in with him, said more 
 of their reduced state than two hours' explanation could have done. 
 Mr. Pickwick looked mildly at Jingle, and said : 
 
 ' I should like to speak to you in private. Will you step out for 
 an instant ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Jingle, rising hastily. ' Can't step far — no 
 danger of over-walking yourself here — Spike park — grounds pretty 
 — ^romantic, but not extensive — open for public inspection — family 
 always in town — ^housekeeper desperately careful — ^very.' 
 
 'You have forgotten your coat,' said Mr. Pickwick, as they 
 walked out to the staircase, and closed the door after them. 
 
 'Eh?' said Jingle. 'Spout — dear relation — uncle Tom — 
 couldn't help it — must eat, you know. Wants of nature — and 
 all that.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Gone, my dear sir — last coat — can't help it. Lived on a pair 
 of boots — whole fortnight. Silk umbrella — ivory handle — week — 
 fact — honour — ask Job — knows it.' 
 
 ' Lived for three weeks upon a pair of boots, and a silk umbrella 
 with an ivory handle ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had only 
 heard of such things in shipwrecks, or read of them in Constable's 
 Miscellany. 
 
 ' True,' said Jingle, nodding his head. ' Pawnbroker's shop — 
 duplicates here — small sums — mere nothing — all rascals.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Pickwick, much relieved by this explanation ; ' I 
 understand you. You have pawned your wardrobe.' 
 
 'Everything — Job's too — all shirts gone— never mind — saves 
 washing. Nothing soon — lie in bed — starve — die — Inquest — little 
 
504 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 done-house — poor prisoner — common necessaries — ^hush it up— 
 gentlemen of the jury — ^warden's tradesmen — ^keep it snug— natural 
 death — coroner's order — workhouse funeral — serve him right — all 
 over — drop the curtain.' 
 
 Jingle delivered this singular summary of his prospects in life, 
 with his accustomed volubility, and with various twitches of the 
 countenance to counterfeit smiles. Mr. Pickwick easily perceived 
 that his recklessness was assumed, and looking him full, but not 
 unkindly, in the face, saw that his eyes were moist with tears. 
 
 'Good fellow,' said Jingle, pressing his hand, and turning his 
 head away. ' Ungrateful dog — ^boyish to cry — can't help it — bad 
 fever — weak — ill — hungry. Deserved it all — but suffered much — 
 very.' Wholly unable to keep up appearances any longer, and 
 perhaps rendered worse by the effort he had made, the dejected 
 stroller sat down on the stairs, and, covering his face with his hands, 
 sobbed like a child. 
 
 'Come, come,' said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable emotion, 
 ' we'll see what can be done, when I know all about the matter. 
 Here, Job ; where is that fellow ? ' 
 
 'Here, sir,' replied Job, presenting himself on the staircase. 
 We have described him, by-the-bye, as having deeply-sunken 
 eyes, in the best of times. In his present state of want and 
 distress, he looked as if those features had gone out of town 
 altogether. 
 
 ' Here, sir,' cried Job. 
 
 ' Come here, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, trying to look stem, with 
 four large tears running down his waistcoat. ' Take that, sir.' 
 
 Take what? In the ordinary acceptation of such language, it 
 should have been a blow. As the world runs, it ought to have 
 been a sound, hearty cuff; for Mr. Pickwick had been duped, 
 deceived, and wronged by the destitute outcast who was now 
 wholly in his power. Must we tell the truth ? It was something 
 from Mr. Pickwick's waistcoat-pocket, which chinked as it was 
 given into Job's hand, and the giving of which, somehow or other 
 imparted a sparkle to the eye, and a swelling to the heart, of our 
 excellent old friend, as he hurried away. 
 
 Sam had returned when Mr. Pickwick reached his own room, 
 and was inspecting the arrangements that had been made for his 
 comfort, with a kind of grim satisfaction which was very pleasant 
 to look upon. Having a decided objection to his master's being 
 there at all, Mr. Weller appeared to consider it a high moral duty 
 not to appear too much pleased with anything that was done, said, 
 suggested, or proposed. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Well, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Pretty comfortable now, eh, Sam ? ' 
 
MASTER AND MAN SEPARATED 505 
 
 ' Pretty veil, sir,' responded Sam, looking round him in a dis- 
 paraging manner. 
 
 ' Have you seen Mr. Tupman and our other friends ? ' 
 
 'Yes, I have seen 'em, sir, and they're a comin' to-morrow, and 
 wos wery much surprised to hear they wam't to come to-day,' 
 replied Sam. 
 
 ' You have brought the things I wanted ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller in reply pointed to various packages which he had 
 arranged, as neatly as he could, in a corner of the room. 
 
 ' Very well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, after a little 'hesitation ; 
 ' listen to what I am going to say, Sam.' 
 
 ' Cert'nly, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller, ' fire away, sir.' 
 
 ' I have felt from the first, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, with much 
 solemnity, ' that this is not the place to bring a young man to.' 
 
 ' Nor an old 'un neither, sir,' observed Mr. Weller. 
 
 'You're quite right, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but old men 
 may come here, through their own heedlessness and unsuspicion : 
 and young men may be brought here by the selfishness of those 
 they serve. It is better for those young men, in every point of 
 view, that they should not remain here. Do you understand me, 
 Sam?' 
 
 ' Vy no, sir, I do not,' replied Mr. Weller, doggedly. 
 
 ' Try, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Veil, sir,' rejoined Sam, after a short pause, ' I think I see your 
 drift ; and if I do see your drift, it's my 'pinion that you 're a comin' 
 it a great deal too strong, as the mail-coachman said to the snow- 
 storm, ven it overtook him.' 
 
 ' I see you comprehend me, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' In- 
 dependently of my wish that you should not be idling about a 
 place like this, for years to come, I feel that for a debtor in the 
 Fleet to be attended by his man-servant is a monstrous absurdity. 
 Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' for a time, you must leave me.' 
 
 ' Oh, for a time, eh, sir ? ' rejoined Mr. Weller, rather sar- 
 castically. 
 
 'Yes, for the time that I remain here,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 'Your wages I shall continue to pay. Any one of my three 
 friends will be happy to take you, were it only out of respect to me. 
 And if I ever do leave this place, Sam,' added Mr. Pickwick, with 
 assumed cheerfulness ; ' if I do, I pledge you my word that you 
 shall return to me instantly.' 
 
 ' Now I'll tell you wot it is, sir,' said Mr. Weller, in a grave and 
 solemn voice, ' This here sort o' thing won't do at all, so don't 
 let's hear no more about it.' 
 
 ' I am serious, and resolved, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' You air, air you, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Weller, firmly. ' Wery 
 good, sir. Then so am I.' 
 
5o6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Thus speaking, Mr. Weller fixed his hat on his head with great 
 
 precision, and abruptly left the room. 
 
 ' Sam ! ' cried Mr. Pickwick, calling after him, ' Sam ! Here ! ' 
 But the long gallery ceased to re-echo the sound of footsteps. 
 
 Sam Weller was gone. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 SHOWING HOW MR. SAMUEL WELLER GOT INTO DIFFICULTIES 
 
 In a lofty room, ill-lighted and worse ventilated, situate in Portugal 
 Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, there sit nearly the whole year round, 
 one, two, three, or four gentlemen in wigs, as the case may be, with 
 little writing desks before them, constructed after the fashion of 
 those used by the judges of the land, barring the French polish. 
 There is a box of barristers on their right hand ; there is an 
 inclosure of insolvent debtors on their left ; and there is an inclined 
 plane of most especially dirty faces in their front. These gentle- 
 men are the Commissioners of the Insolvent Court, and the place 
 in which they sit, is the Insolvent Court itself. 
 
 It is, and has been, time out of mind, the remarkable fate of this 
 Court to be, somehow or other, held and understood, by the 
 general consent of all the destitute shabby-genteel people in 
 London, as their common resort, and place of daily refuge. It is 
 always fuUl The steams of beer and spirits perpetually ascend to 
 the ceiling, and, being condensed by the heat, roll down the walls 
 like rain ; there are more old suits of clothes in it at one time, 
 than will be offered for sale in all Houndsditch in a twelvemonth ; 
 more unwashed skins and grizzly beards than all the pumps and 
 shaving - shops between Tyburn and Whitechapel could render 
 decent, between sunrise and sunset. 
 
 It must not be supposed that any of these people have the least 
 shadow of business in, or the remotest connection with, the place 
 they so indefatigably attend. If they had, it would be no matter 
 of surprise, and the singularity of the thing would cease. Some 
 of them sleep during the greater part of the sitting ; others carry 
 small portable dinners wrapped in pocket-handkerchiefs or sticking 
 out of their worri-out pockets, and munch and listen with equal 
 relish; but no one among them was ever known to have the 
 slightest personal interest in any case that was ever brought forward. 
 Whatever they do, there they sit from the first moment to the last. 
 When it is heavy rainy weather, they all come in, wet through ; and 
 at such times the vapours of the Court are like those of a fungus-pit 
 
THE INSOLVENT COURT 507 
 
 A casual visitor might suppose this place to be a Temple dedi- 
 cated to the Genius of Seediness. There is not a messenger or pro- 
 cess-server attached to it, who wears a coat that was made for him ; 
 not a tolerably fresh, or wholesome-looking man in the whole estab- 
 lishment, except a httle white-headed apple-faced tipstaff, and even 
 he, like an ill-conditioned cherry preserved in brandy, seems to 
 have artificially dried and withered up into a state of preservation 
 to which he can lay no natural claim. The very barristers' wigs 
 are ill-powdered, and their curls lack crispness. 
 
 But the attorneys, who sit at a large bare table below the Com- 
 missioners, are, after all, the greatest curiosities. The professional 
 establishment of the more opulent of these gentlemen, consists of a 
 blue bag and a boy : generally a youth of the Jewish persuasion. 
 They have no fixed offices, their legal business being transacted in 
 the parlours of public-houses, or the yards of prisons : whither they 
 repair in crowds, and canvass for customers after the manner of 
 omnibus cads. They are of a greasy and mildewed appearance ; 
 and if they can be said to -have any vices at all, perhaps drinking 
 and cheating are the most conspicuous among them. Their resi- 
 dences are usually on the outskirts of ' the Rules,' chiefly lying 
 within a circle of one mile from the obelisk of St. George's Fields. 
 Their looks are not prepossessing, and their manners are peculiar. 
 
 Mr. Solomon Pell, one of this learned body, was a fat flabby 
 pale man, in a surtout which looked green one minute and brown 
 the next : with a velvet collar of the same cameleon tints. His 
 forehead was narrow, his face wide, his head large, and his nose all 
 on one side, as if Nature, indignant with the propensities she 
 observed in him in his birth, had given it an angry tweak which it 
 had never recovered. Being short-necked and asthmatic, however, 
 he respired principally through this feature; so, perhaps, what it 
 wanted in ornament, it made up in usefulness. 
 
 ' I'm sure to bring him through it,' said Mr. Pell. 
 
 'Are you though?' replied the person to whom the assurance 
 was pledged. 
 
 ' Certain sure,' replied Pell ; ' but if he'd gone to any irregular 
 practitioner, mind you, I wouldn't have answered for the con- 
 sequences.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the other, with open mouth. 
 
 ' No, that I wouldn't,' said Mr. Pell ; and he pursed up his lips, 
 frowned, and shook his head mysteriously. 
 
 Now, the place where this discourse occurred, was the public- 
 house just opposite to the Insolvent Court ; and the person with 
 whom it was held, was no other than the elder Mr. Weller, who had 
 come there, to comfort and console a friend, whose petition to be 
 discharged under the act, was to be that day heard, and whose 
 attorney he was at that moment consulting. 
 
So8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' And vere is George ? ' inquired the old gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Pell jerked his head in the direction of a back parlour : 
 whither Mr. Weller at once repairing, was immediately greeted in 
 the warmest and most flattering manner by some half-dozen of his 
 professional brethren, in token of their gratification at his arrival. 
 The insolvent gentleman, who had contracted a speculative but 
 imprudent passion for horsing long stages, which had led to his 
 present embarrassments, looked extremely well, and was soothing 
 the excitement of his feelings with shrimps and porter. 
 
 The salutation between Mr. Weller and his friends was strictly 
 confined to the freemasonry of the craft ; consisting of a jerking 
 round of the right wrist, and a tossing of the little finger into the 
 air at the same time. We once knew two famous coachmen (they 
 are dead now, poor fellows) who were twins, and between whom 
 an unaffected and devoted attachment existed. They passed each 
 other on the Dover road, every day, for twenty-four years, never 
 exchanging any other greeting than this ; and yet, when one died, 
 the other pined away, and soon afterwards followed him ! 
 
 ' Veil, George,' said Mr. Weller, senior, taking off his upper coat, 
 and seating himself with his accustomed gravity. ' How is it ? All 
 right behind, and full inside ? ' 
 
 ' All right, old feller,' replied the embarrassed gentleman. 
 
 ' Is the grey mare made over to any body ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Weller, anxiously. 
 
 George nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Veil, that's all right,' said Mr. Weller. ' Coach taken care on, 
 also ? ' 
 
 ' Con-signed in a safe quarter,' replied George, wringing the 
 heads off half-a-dozen shrimps, and swallowing them without any 
 more ado. 
 
 ' Wery good, wery good,' said Mr. Weller. 'Alvays see to the 
 drag ven you go down hill. Is the vay-bill all clear and straight 
 for'erd?' 
 
 ' The schedule, sir,' said Pell, guessing at Mr. Weller's meaning, 
 'the schedule is as plain and satisfactory as pen and ink can 
 make it.' 
 
 Mr. Weller nodded in a manner which bespoke his inward 
 approval of these arrangements ; and then, turning to Mr. Pell, 
 said, pointing to his friend George : 
 
 'Ven do you take his cloths off?' 
 
 ' Why,' replied Mr. Pell, ' he stands third on the opposed list, 
 and I should think it would be his turn in about half an hour. I 
 told my clerk to come over and tell us when there was a chance.' 
 
 Mr. Weller surveyed the attorney from head to foot with great 
 admiration, and said emphatically : 
 
 ' And what'U you'll take, sir?' 
 
MR. SOLOMON PELL 509 
 
 ' Why, really, replied Mr. Pell, ' you're very— — . Upon my 
 
 word and honour, I'm not in the habit of . It's so very early 
 
 in the morning, that, actually, I am almost . Well, you may 
 
 bring me three penn'orth of rum, my dear.' 
 
 The officiating damsel, who had anticipated the order before it 
 was given, set the glass of spirits before Pell, and retired. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, looking round upon the company, 
 'Success to your friend ! I don't hke to boast, gentlemen; it's not 
 ray way ; but I can't help saying, that, if your friend hadn't been 
 
 fortunate enough to fall into hands that but I won't say what I 
 
 was going to say. Gentlemen, my service to you.' Having 
 emptied the glass in a twinkling, Mr. Pell smacked his lips, and 
 looked complacently round on the assembled coachmen, who 
 evidently regarded him as a species of divinity. 
 
 ' Let me see,' said the legal authority. ' What was I a-saying, 
 gentlemen ? ' 
 
 ' I think you was remarkin' as you wouldn't have no objection to 
 another o' the same, sir,' said Mr. Weller, with grave facetiousness. 
 
 ' Ha, ha ! ' laughed Mr. Pell. ' Not bad, not bad. A profes- 
 sional man, too ! At this time of the morning, it would be rather 
 
 too good a ^. Well, I don't know, my dear — you may do that 
 
 again, if you please. Hem ! ' 
 
 This last sound was a solemn and dignified cough, in which Mr. 
 Pell observing an indecent tendency to mirth in some of his 
 auditors, considered it due to himself to indulge. 
 
 'The late Lord Chancellorj gentlemen, was very fond of me,' 
 said Mr. Pell. 
 
 ' And wery creditable in him, too,' interposed Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Hear, hear,' assented Mr. Pell's cUent. ' Why shouldn't he be ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! Why, indeed ! ' said a very red-faced man, who had said 
 nothing yet, and who looked extremely unlikely to say anything 
 more. ' Why shouldn't he ? ' 
 
 A murmur of assent ran through the company. 
 
 ' I remember, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, ' dining with him on 
 one occasion ; — ^there was only us two, but every thing as splendid 
 as if twenty people had been expected — the great seal on a dumb- 
 waiter at his right hand, and a man in a bag-wig and suit of armour 
 guarding the mace with a drawn sword and silk stockings — which 
 is perpetually done, gentlemen, night and day ; when he said, 
 " Pell," he said, " no false delicacy. Pell. You're a man of talent ; 
 you can get any body through the Insolvent Court, Pell ; and your 
 country should be proud of you." Those were his very words. 
 " My Lord," I said, "you flatter me."—" Pell," he said, "if I do. 
 I'm damned." ' 
 
 ' Did he say that ? ' inquired Mr, Weller. 
 
 ' He did,' replied Pell. 
 
5IO THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Veil, then,' said Mr. Weller, ' I say Parliament ought to ha' took 
 it up ; and if he'd been a poor man, they would ha' done it.' 
 
 ' But, my dear friend,' argued Mr. Pell, ' it was in confidence.' 
 
 ' In what ? ' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' In confidence.' 
 
 ' Oh ! wery good,' replied Mr. Weller, after a little reflection. 
 ' If he damned his-self in confidence, o' course that was another 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Of course it was,' said Mr. Pell. ' The distinction's obvious, 
 you will perceive.' 
 
 ' Alters the case entirely,' said Mr. Weller. ' Go on, sir.' 
 
 ' No, I will not go on, sir,' said Mr. Pell, in a low and serious 
 tone. ' You have reminded me, sir, that this conversation was 
 private — ^private and confidential, gentlemen. Gentlemen, I am a 
 professional man. It may be that I am a good deal looked up to, 
 in my profession — it may be that I am not. Most people know. 
 I say nothing. Observations have already been made, in this room, 
 injurious to the reputation of my noble friend. You will excuse 
 me, gentlemen ; I was imprudent. I feel that I have no right to 
 mention this matter without his concurrence. Thank you, sir; 
 thank you.' Thus delivering himself, Mr. Pell thrust his hands 
 into his pockets, and, frowning grimly around, rattled three-halfpence 
 with terriljle determination. 
 
 This virtuous resolution had scarcely been forrned, when the boy 
 and the blue bag, who were inseparable companions, rushed 
 violently into the room, and said (at least the boy did, for the blue 
 bag took no part in the announcement) that the case was coming 
 on directly. The intelligence was no sooner received than the 
 whole party hurried across the street, and began to fight their way 
 into Court — a preparatory ceremony, which has been calculated to 
 occupy, in ordinary cases, from twenty-five minutes to thirty. 
 
 Mr. Weller, being stout, cast himself at once into the crowd, with 
 the desperate hope of ultimately turning up in some place which 
 would suit him. His success was not quite equal to his expec- 
 tations ; for having neglected to take his hat off, it was knocked 
 over his eyes by some unseen person, upon whose toes he had 
 alighted with considerable force. Apparently, this individual 
 regretted his impetuosity imrhediately afterwards ; for, muttering 
 an indistinct exclamation of surprise, he dragged the old man out 
 into the hall, and, after a violent struggle, released his head and face. 
 
 ' Samivel ! ' exclaimed Mr. Weller, when he was thus enabled to 
 behold his rescuer. 
 
 Sam nodded. 
 
 ' You're a dutiful and affectionate little boy, you are, ain't you ? ■ 
 said Mr. Weller, 'to come a bonnetin' your father in his old 
 age?' 
 
FATHER AND SON S" 
 
 ' How should I know who you wos ? ' responded the son. ' Do 
 you s'pose I wos to tell you by the weight o' your foot ? ' 
 
 ' Veil, that's wery true, Sammy,' replieci Mr. Weller^ mollified at 
 once; 'but wot are you a dpin' on here? Your gov'nor can't do 
 no good here, Sammy. They won't pass that werdick, they won't 
 pass it, Sammy.' And Mr. Weller shook his head, with legal 
 solemnity. 
 
 ' Wot a perwerse old file it is ! ' exclaimed Sam, ' alvays a goin' 
 on about werdicks and alleybis, and that. Who said anything about 
 the werdick ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller made no reply, but once more shook his head most 
 learnedly. 
 
 ' Leave off rattlin' that 'ere nob o' youm, if you don't want it to 
 come off the springs altogether,' said Sam impatiently, ' and behave 
 reasonable. I vent all the vay down to the Markis o' Granby, arter 
 you, last night.' 
 
 'Did you see the Marchioi^ess o' Granby, Sammy?' inquired 
 Mr. Weller, with a sigh. 
 
 ' Yes, I did,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' How was the dear creetur a lookin' ? ' 
 
 ' Wery queer,' said Sam. ' I think she's a injurin' herself gradi- 
 yally vith too much o' that 'ere pine-apple rum, and other strong 
 medicines o' the same natur.' 
 
 ' You don't mean that, Sammy ? ' said the senior, earnestly. 
 
 ' I do, indeed,' replied the junior. 
 
 Mr.^Weller seized his son's hand, clasped it, and let it fall. There 
 was an expression on his countenance in doing so — not of dismay 
 or apprehension, but partaking more of the sweet and gentle 
 character of hope. A gleam of resignation, and even of cheerful- 
 ness, passed over his face too, as he slowly said, ' I ain't quite 
 certain, Sammy ; I wouldn't like to say I wos altogether positive, in 
 case of any subsekent disappintment, but I rayther think, my boy, 
 I rayther think, that the shepherd's got the liver complaint ! ' 
 
 ' Does he look bad ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' He's uncommon pale,' rephed his father, ' 'cept about the nose, 
 wich is redder than ever. His appetite is wery so-so, but he 
 imbibes wunderful.' 
 
 Some thoughts of the rum appeared to obtrude themselves on 
 Mr. Weller's mind, as he said this; for he looked gloomy and 
 thoughtful; but he very shortly recovered, as was testified by a 
 perfect alphabet of winks, in which he was only wont to indulge 
 when particularly pleased. 
 
 ' Veil, now,' said Sam, ' about my affair. Just open them ears 
 o' yourn, and don't say nothin' till I've done.' With this brief 
 preface, Sam related, as succinctly as he could, the last memorable 
 conversation he had had with Mr. Pickwick. 
 
512 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Stop there by himself, poor creetur ! ' exclaimed the elder Mr, 
 Weller, ' without nobody to take his part ! It can't be done, Samivel, 
 it can't be done.' 
 
 ' O' course it can't,' asserted Sam : ' I know'd that, afore I came.' 
 
 ' Wy, they'll eat him up alive, Sammy,' exclaimed Mr. Weller. 
 
 Sam nodded his concurrence in the opinion. 
 
 ' He goes in rayther raw, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller metaphorically, 
 ' and he'll come out, done so ex-ceedin' brown, that his most familiar 
 friends won't know him. Roast pigeon's nothin' to it, Sammy.' 
 
 Again Sam Weller nodded. 
 
 ' It oughtn't to be, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, gravely. 
 
 ' It mustn't be,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Cert'nly not,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Veil now,' said Sam, ' you've been a prophecyin' away, wery 
 fine, like a red-faced Nixon as the sixpenny books gives picters 
 on.' 
 
 ' Who wos he, Sammy ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Never mind who he was,' retorted Sam ; ' he warn't a coachman; 
 that's enough for you.' 
 
 ' I know'd a ostler o' that name,' said Mr. Weller, musing. 
 
 ' It warn't him,' said Sam. ' This here gen'l'm'n was a prophet' 
 
 'Wot's a prophet?' inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly on 
 his son. 
 
 ' Wy, a man as tells what's a goin' to happen,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' I wish I'd know'd him, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. ' P'raps he 
 might ha' throw'd a small light on that 'ere liver complaint as we 
 wos a speakin' on, just now. Hows' ever, if he's dead, and ain't left 
 the bisness to nobody, there's an end on it. Go on, Sammy,' said 
 Mr. Weller, with a sigh. 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, ' you've been a prophecyin' avay, about wot'U 
 happen to the goVnor if he's left alone. Don't you see any vay o' 
 takin' care on him ? ' 
 
 ' No, I don't, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, with a reflective visage. 
 
 ' No vay at all ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' No vay,' said Mr. Weller, ' unless ' — and a gleam of intelligence 
 lighted up his countenance as he sunk his voice to a whisper, and 
 applied his mouth to the ear of his offspring : ' unless it is getting 
 him out in a turn-up bedstead, unbeknown to the turnkeys, Sammy, 
 or dressin' him up like a old 'ooman vith a green wail.' 
 
 Sam Weller received both of these suggestions with unexpected 
 contempt, and again propounded his question. 
 
 ' No,' said the old gendeman ; ' if he von't let you stop there, I 
 see no vay at all. It's no thoroughfare, Sammy, no thorough- 
 fare.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I'll tell you wot it is,' said Sam, ' I'll trouble you for 
 the loan of five-and-twenty pound,' 
 
MR. WELLER BECOMES A BORROWER 513 
 
 ' Wot good 'ull that do ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 ' Never mind,' replied Sam. ' P'raps you may ask for it, five 
 minits artervards ; p'raps I may say I von't pay, and cut up rough. 
 You von't think o' arrestin' your own son for the money, and sendin' 
 him off to the Fleet, will you, you unnat'ral wagabone ? ' 
 
 At this reply of Sam's, the father and son exchanged a complete 
 code of telegraphic nods and gestures, after which, the elder Mr. 
 Weller sat himself down on a stone step, and laughed till he was 
 purple. 
 
 ' Wot a old image it is ! ' exclaimed Sam, indignant at this loss of 
 time. ' What are you a settin' down there for, con-wertin' your 
 face into a street-door knocker, wen there's so- much to be done. 
 Where's the money ? ' 
 
 ' In the boot, Sammy, in the boot,' replied Mr. Weller, com- 
 posing his features. ' Hold my hat, Sammy.' 
 
 Having divested himself of this incumbrance, Mr. Weller gave 
 his body a sudden wrench to one side, and, by a dexterous twist, 
 contrived to get his right hand into a most capacious pocket, from 
 whence, after a great deal of panting and exertion, he extricated a 
 pocket-book of the large octavo size, fastened by a huge leathern 
 strap. From this ledger he drew forth a couple of whip-lashes, 
 three or four buckles, a little sample-bag of com, and finally a small 
 roll of very dirty bank-notes : from which he selected the required 
 amount, which he handed over to Sam. 
 
 ' And now, Sammy,' said the old gentleman, when the whip-lashes, 
 and the buckles, and the samples, had been all put back, and the 
 book once more deposited at the bottom of the same pocket, ' Now, 
 Sammy, I know a gen'l'm'n here, as'U do the rest o' the bisness for 
 us, in no time — a limb o' the law, Sammy, as has got brains like the 
 frogs, dispersed all over his body, and reachin' to the wery tips of 
 his fingers ; a friend of the Lord Chancellorship's, Sammy, who'd 
 only have to tell him what he wanted, and he'd lock you up for life, 
 if that wos all.' 
 
 ' I say,' said Sam, ' none o' that.' 
 
 ' None o' wot ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Wy, none o' them unconstitootional ways o' doing it,' retorted 
 Sam. ' The have-his-carcase, next to the perpetual motion, is vun 
 of the blessedest things as wos ever made. I've read that 'ere in 
 the newspapers, wery of'en.' 
 
 ' Well, wot's that got to do vith it ? ' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Just this here,' said Sam, ' that I'll patronise the inwention, and 
 go in, that vay. No visperin's to the Chancellorship, I don't like 
 the notion. It mayn't be altogether safe, vith reference to gettin' 
 out agin.' 
 
 Deferring to his son's feeling upon this point, Mr. Weller at 
 once sought the erudite Solomon Pell, and acquainted him with his 
 
 2 1 
 
514 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 desire to issue a writ, instantly, for the sum of twenty-five pounds, 
 and costs of process ; to be executed without delay upon the body 
 of one Samuel Waller ; the charges thereby incurred, to be paid in 
 advance to Solomon Pell. 
 
 The attorney was in high glee, for the embarrassed coach-horser 
 was ordered to be discharged forthwith. He highly approved of 
 Sam's attachment to his master ; declared that it strongly reminded 
 him of his own feelings of devotion to his friend, the Chancellor ; 
 and at once led the elder Mr. Weller down to the Temple, to swear 
 the affidavit of debt, which the boy, with the assistance of the blue 
 bag, had drawn up on the spot. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sam; having been formally introduced to the white- 
 washed gentleman and his friends, as the offspring of Mr. Weller, of 
 the Belle Savage, was treated with marked distinction, and invited 
 to regale himself with them in honour of the occasion : an invitation 
 which he was by no means backward in accepting. 
 
 The mirth of gentlemen of this class is of a grave and quiet cha- 
 racter, usually ; but the present instance was one of peculiar festivity, 
 and they relaxed in proportion. After some rather tumultuous 
 toasting of the Chief Commissioner and Mr. Solomon Pell, who had 
 that day displayed such transcendent abilities, a mottled-faced 
 gentleman in a blue shawl proposed that somebody should sing a 
 song. The obvious suggestion was, that the mottled-faced gentle- 
 man, being anxious for a song, should sing it himself; but this the 
 mottled-faced gentlenian sturdily, and somewhat offensively, declined 
 to do. Upon which, as is not unusual in such cases, a rather angry 
 colloquy ensued. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said the coach-horser, ' rather than disturb the har- 
 mony of this delightful occasion, perhaps Mr. Samuel Weller will 
 oblige the company.' 
 
 ' Raly, gentlemen,' said Sam, ' I'm not wery much in the habit o' 
 singin' without the instrument ; but anythin' for a quiet life, as the 
 man said wen he took the sitivation at the lighthouse.' 
 
 With this prelude, Mr. Samuel Weller burst at once into the fol- 
 lowing wild and beautiful legend, which, under the impression that 
 it is not generally known, we take the liberty of quoting. We would 
 beg to call particular attention to the monosyllable at the end of the 
 second and fourth lines, which not only enables the singer to take 
 breath at those points, but greatly assists the metre. 
 
 ROMANCE 
 
 I. 
 
 Bold Turpin vunce, on Hounslow Heath, 
 His bold mare Bess bestrpde — er ; 
 Ven there he see'd the Bishop's coach 
 A-cOming along the road — er. 
 
AN INEXORABLE CREDITOR 515 
 
 So he gallops close to the 'orse's legs, 
 And he claps his- head vithin ; 
 And the Bishop says, ' Sure as eggs is egg 
 This here's the bold Turpin ! ' 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And the Bishop says, ' Sure as eggs is eggs. 
 This here's the bold Turpin ! ' 
 
 Says Turpin, ' You shall eat your words, 
 
 With a sarse of leaden bul-let ; ' 
 
 So he puts a pistol to his mouth, 
 
 And he fires it down his gul-let. 
 
 The coachman he not likin' the job, 
 
 Set off at a full gal-lop, 
 
 But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, 
 
 And perwailed on him to stop. 
 
 CHORUS (sarcastically). 
 
 But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, 
 And perwailed on him to stop. 
 
 .^ rl„ maintain that that 'ere song's personal to the cloth,' said the 
 mottled-faced gentleman, interrupting it at this point. ' I demand 
 the name o' that coachman.' 
 
 ' Nobody know'd,' repUed Sam. ' He hadn't got his card in his . 
 pocket.' 
 
 ' I object to the introduction o' politics,' said the mottle-faced 
 gentleman. ' I submit that, in the present company, that 'ere 
 song's- political ; and, wot's much the same, that it ain't true. I say 
 that that coachman did not run away; but that he died game — 
 game as pheasants ; and I won't hear nothin' said to the 
 contrairey.' 
 
 As the mottle-faced gentleman spoke with great energy and 
 determination : and as the opinions of the company seemed 
 divided on the subject : it threatened to give rise to fresh alterca- 
 tion, when Mr. Weller and Mr. Pell most opportunely arrived. 
 
 ' All right, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' The officer will be here at four o'clock,' said Mr. Pell. ' I 
 suppose yoil won't run away meanwhile, eh ? Ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 'P'raps my cruel pa 'uU relent afore then,' replied Sam, with 
 a broad grin. ; 
 
 ' Not I,' Said the elder Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Do,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Not on no account,' replied the inexorable creditor. 
 
 ' I'll give bills for the amount, at sixpence a month,' said Sam. 
 
 ' I won't take 'em,' said Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Ha, ha, ha ! very good, very good,' said Mr. Solomon Pell, 
 who was making out his little bill of costs ; ' a very amusing 
 
Si6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 incident indeed! Benjamin, copy that.' And Mr. Pell smiled 
 again, as he called Mr. Weller's attention to the amount. 
 
 ' Thank you, thank you,' said the professional gentleman, taking 
 up another of the greasy notes as Mr. Waller took it from the 
 pocket-book. 'Three ten and one ten is five. Much obliged to 
 you, Mr. Weller. Your son is a most deserving young man, very 
 much so indeed, sir. It's a very pleasant trait in a young man's 
 character, very much so,' added Mr. Pell, smiling smoothly round, 
 as he buttoned up the money. 
 
 ' Wot a game it is ! ' said the elder Mr. Weller, with a chuckle. 
 ' A reg'lar prodigy son ! ' 
 
 ' Prodigal, prodigal son, sir,' suggested Mr. Pell, mildly. 
 
 ' Never mind, sir,' said Mr. Weller, with dignity. ' I know 
 wot's o'clock, sir. Wen I don't, I'll ask you, sir.' 
 
 By the time the officer arrived, Sam had made himself so 
 extremely popular, that the congregated gentlemen determined 
 to see him to prison in a body. So, off they set ; the plaintiff and 
 defendant walking arm-in-arm ; the officer in front ; and eight 
 stout coachmen bringing up the rear. At Serjeant's Inn Coffee- 
 house the whole party halted to refresh, and, the legal arrangements 
 being completed, the procession moved on again. 
 
 Some little commotion was occasioned in Fleet Street, by the 
 pleasantry of the eight gentlemen in the flank, who persevered 
 in walking four abreast ; it was also found necessary to leave the 
 mottled-faced gentleman behind, to fight a ticket-porter, it being 
 arranged that his friends should call for him as they came back. 
 Nothing but these little incidents occurred on the way. When 
 they reached the gate of the Fleet, the cavalcade, taking the time 
 from the plaintiff, gave three tremendous cheers for the defendant, 
 and, after having shaken hands all round, left him. 
 
 Sam, having been formally delivered into the warden's custody, 
 to the intense astonishment of Roker, and to the evident emotion 
 of even the phlegmatic Neddy, passed at once into the prison, 
 walked straight to his master's room, and knocked at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Sam appeared, pulled off his hat, and smiled. 
 
 ' Ah, Sam, my good lad ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, evidently delighted 
 to see his humble friend again ; ' I had no intention of hurting your 
 feelings yesterday, my faithful fellow, by what I said. Put down 
 your hat, Sam, and let me explain my meaning, a little more 
 at length.' 
 
 ' Won't presently do, sir ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick : ' but why not now ? ' 
 
 ' I'd rayther not now, sir,' rejoined Sam. 
 
 ' Why ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' 'Cause — ' said Sam, hesitating. 
 
MR. SAMUEL WELLER A PRISONER 517 
 
 'Because of what?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, alarmed at his 
 follower's manner. ' Speak out, Sam.' 
 
 "Cause,' rejoined Sam; "cause Pve got a little bisness as I 
 want to do.' 
 
 'What business?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, surprised at Sam's 
 confused manner. 
 
 ' Nothin' partickler, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Oh, if it's nothing particular,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile, 
 ' you can speak with me first.' 
 
 '•I think I'd better see arter it at once,' said Sam, still hesitating. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick looked amazed, but said nothing. 
 
 ' The fact is,' said Sam, stopping short. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Speak out, Sam.' 
 
 ' Why, the fact is,' said Sam, with a desperate effort, ' P'raps I'd 
 better see arter my bed afore I do anythin' else.' 
 
 ^ You?- bed/' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in astonishment. 
 
 ' Yes, my bed, sir,' replied Sam. ' I'm a pris'ner. I was 
 arrested, this here wery arternoon, for debt.' 
 
 ' You arrested for debt ! ', exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sinking into 
 a chair. 
 
 ' Yes, for debt, sir,' replied Sam. ' And the man as puts me 
 in, 'ull never let me out, till you go yourself.' 
 
 ' Bless my heart and soul ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. ' What 
 do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Wot I say, sir,' rejoined Sam. ' If it's forty year to come, 
 I shall be a pris'ner, and I'm very glad on it, and if it had been 
 Newgate, it would ha' been just the same. Now the murder's out, 
 and, damme, there's an end on it ! ' 
 
 With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and 
 violence, Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, in a most 
 unusual state of excitement ; and then, folding his arms, looked 
 firmly and fixedly in his master's face. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV • 
 
 TREATS OF DIVERS LITTLE MATTERS WHICH OCCURRED IN THE 
 FLEET, AND OF MR. WINKLE'S MYSTERIOUS BEHAVIOUR; AND 
 SHOWS HOW THE POOR CHANCERY PRISONER OBTAINED HIS 
 RELEASE AT LAST 
 
 Mr, Pickwick felt a great deal too much touched by the warmth 
 of Sam's attachment, to be able to exhibit any manifestation of 
 anger or displeasure at the precipitate course he had adopied, in 
 
Si8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 voluntarily consigning himself to a debtors' prison, for an indefinite 
 period. The only point on which he persevered in demanding any 
 explanation, was, the name of Sam's detaining creditor; but this 
 Mr. Weller as perseveringly withheld. 
 
 ' It ain't o' no use, sir,' said Sam, again and again. ' He's a 
 ma-licious, bad-disposed, vorldly-minded, spiteful, windictive cree- 
 tur, with a hard heart as there ain't no soft'nin'. As the wirtuous 
 clergyman remarked of the old gen'l'm'n with the dropsy, ven 
 he said, that upon the whole he thought he'd rayther leave his 
 property to his vife than build a chapel vith it.' 
 
 ' But consider, Sam,' Mr. Pickwick remonstrated, ' the sum is so 
 small that it can very easily be paid ; and having made up my 
 mind that you shall stop with me, you should recollect how much 
 more useful you would be, if you could go outside the walls.' 
 
 ' Wery much obliged to you, sir,' replied Mr. Weller gravely ; 
 ' but I'd rayther not.' 
 
 ' Rather not do what, Sam ? ' 
 
 ' Wy, I'd rayther not let myself down to ask a favour o' this here 
 unremorseful enemy.' 
 
 ' But it is no favour asking him to take his money, Sam,' reasoned 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Beg your pardon, sir,' rejoined Sam; 'but it 'ud be a wery 
 great favour to pay it, and he don't deserve none ; that's where it 
 is, sir.' 
 
 Here Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his nose with an air of some vexa- 
 tion, Mr. Weller thought it prudent to change the theme of the 
 discourse. 
 
 ' I takes my determination on principle, sir,' remarked Sam, 'and 
 you takes yours on the same ground ; wich puts me in mind o' the 
 man as killed his-self on principle, wich o' course you've heerd on, 
 sir.' Mr. Weller paused when he arrived at this point, and cast a 
 comical look at his master out of the corners of his eyes. , 
 
 ' There is no " of course " in the case, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 gradually breaking into a smile, in spite of the uneasiness which 
 Sam's obstinacy had given him. ' The fame of the gentleman in 
 question, never reached my ears.' 
 
 ' No, sir ! ' exclaimed Mr. Weller. ' You astonish me, sir ; he 
 wos a clerk in a gov'ment office, sir.' 
 
 ' Was he ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes, he wos, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller ; ' and a wery pleasant 
 gen'l'm'n too — ^one o' the precise and tidy sort, as puts their feet 
 in little India-rubber fire-buckets wen it's wet weather, and never 
 has no other bosom friends but hare-skins ; he saved up his money 
 on principle, wore a clean shirt ev'ry day on principle ; never spoke 
 to none of his relations on principle, 'fear they shou'd want to 
 borrow money of him ; and wos altogether, in fact, an uncommon 
 
DONE ON PRINCIPLE 519 
 
 agreeable character. He had his hair cut on principle vunce a 
 fortnight, and contracted for his clothes on the economic principle 
 —three suits a year, and send back the old uns. Being a wery 
 reg'lar gen'l'm'n, he din'd ev'ry day at the same place, where it wos 
 one and nine to cut off the joint, and a wery good one and nine's 
 worth he used to cut, as the landlord often said, with the tears a 
 tricklin' down his face : let alone the way he used to poke the fire 
 in the vinter time, which wos a dead loss o' four-pence ha'penny a 
 day : to say nothin' at all o' the aggrawation o' seein' him do it. 
 So uncommon grand with it too ! " Post arter the next gen'l'm'n," 
 he sings out ev'ry day ven he comes in. " See arter the Times, 
 Thomas ; let me look at the Mornin' Herald, wen it's out o' hand ; 
 don't forget to bespeak the Chronicle ; and just bring the 'Tizer, vill 
 you:" and then he'd set vith his eyes fixed on the clock, and rush 
 out, just a quarter of a minit afore the time, to waylay the boy as 
 wos a comin' in with the evenin' paper, wich he'd read with sich 
 intense interest and persewerance as worked the other customers up 
 to the wery confines o' desperation and insanity, 'specially one 
 i-rascible old gen'l'm'n as the vaiter wos always obliged to keep a 
 sharp eye on, at sich times, fear he should be tempted to commit 
 some rash act with the carving knife. Veil, sir, here he'd stop, 
 occupyin' the best place for three hours, and never takin' nothin' 
 arter his dinner, but sleep, and then he'd go away to a coffee-house 
 a few streets off", and have a small pot o' coffee and four crumpets, 
 arter wich he'd walk home to Kensington and go to bed. One 
 night he wos took very ill ; sends for a doctor ; doctor comes in a 
 green fly, with a kind o' Robinson Crusoe set o' steps, as he could let 
 down wen he got out, and pull up arter him wen he got in, to per- 
 went the necessity o' the coachman's gettin' down, and thereby 
 undeceivin' the public by lettin' 'em see that it wos only a livery 
 coat as he'd got on, and not the trousers to match. " Wot's the 
 matter ? " says the doctor. " Wery ill," says the patient. " Wot 
 have you been a eatin' on ? " says the doctor. " Roast weal," says 
 the patient. " Wot's the last thing you dewoured ? " says the doctor. 
 " Crumpets," says the patient. " That's it ! " says the doctor. " I'll 
 send you a box of pills directly, and don't you never take no more 
 of 'em," he says. " No more o' wot ? " says the- patient — " Pills ? " 
 "No; crumpets," says the doctor. "Wy?" says the patient, 
 starting up in bed ; " I've eat four crumpets, ev'ry night for fifteen 
 year, on principle." " Well, then, you'd better leave 'em off", on 
 principle," says the doctor. " Crumpets is wholesome, sir," says 
 the patient. " Crumpets is not wholesome, sir," says the doctor, 
 *.very fierce. " But they're so cheap," says the patient, comin' down 
 a little, " and so wery fillin' at the price." " They'd be dear to you, 
 at any price ; dear if you wos paid to eat -em," says the doctor. 
 " Four crumpets a night," he says, " vill do your business in six 
 
520 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 months ! " The patient looks him full in the face, and turns it over 
 in his mind for a long time, and at last he says, " Are you sure o' 
 that 'ere, sir ? " " I'll stake my professional reputation on it," says 
 the doctor. " How many crumpets, at a sittin', do you think 'ud 
 kill me off at once ? " says the patient. " I don't know," says the 
 doctor. " Do you think ha,lf a crown's wurth 'ud do it ? " says the 
 patient. " I think it might," says the doctor. " Three shillins' 
 wurth 'ud be sure to do it, I s'pose ? " says the patient. "Certainly," 
 says the doctor. " Wery good," says the patient ; " good night." 
 Next mornin' he gets up, has a fire lit, orders in three shillins' wurth 
 o' crumpets, toasts .'em all, eats 'em all, and blows his brains out' 
 
 ' What did he do that for ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly ; for 
 he was considerably startled by this tragical termination of the 
 narrative. 
 
 ' Wot did he do it for, sir ? ' reiterated Sam. ' Wy in support of 
 his great principle that crumpets wos wholesome, and to show that 
 he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody ! ' 
 
 With such like shiftings and changings of the discourse, did Mr. 
 Weller meet his master's questioning on the nighf of his taking up 
 his residence in the Fleet. Finding all gentle remonstrance useless, 
 Mr. Pickwick at length yielded a reluctant consent to his taking 
 lodgings by the week, of a bald-headed cobbler, who rented a small 
 slip-room in one of the upper galleries. To this humble apartment 
 Mr. Weller moved a mattress and bedding, which he hired of Mr. 
 Roker ; and, by the time he lay down upon it at night, was as much 
 at home as if he had been bred in the prison, and his whole family 
 had vegetated therein for three generations. 
 
 ' Do you always smoke arter you goes to bed, old cock ? ' 
 inquired Mr. Weller of his landlord, when they had both retired for 
 the night. 
 
 ' Yes, I does, young bantam,' replied the cobbler. 
 
 ' Will you allow me to in-quire wy you make up your bed under 
 that 'ere deal table ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' 'Cause I was always used to a four-poster afore I came here, 
 and I find the legs of the table answer just as well,' replied the 
 cobbler. 
 
 ' You're a character, sir,' said Sam. 
 
 ' I haven't got anything of the kind belonging to me,' rejoined the 
 cobbler, shaking his head ; ' and if you want to meet with a good 
 one, I'm afraid you'll find some difficulty in suiting yourself at" this 
 register office.' 
 
 The above short dialogue took place as Mr. Weller lay extended 
 on his mattress at one end of the room, and the cobbler on his, at 
 the other ; the apartment being illumined by the light of a rush 
 candle, and the cobbler's pipe, which was glowing below the table, 
 lik^ a red-hot coal. The conversation, brief as it was, predisporeij 
 
HOW THE COBBLER WAS RUINED 521 
 
 Mr. Weller strongly in his landlord's favour; and raising himself on 
 his elbow he took a more lengthened survey of his appearance than 
 he had yet had either time or inclination to make. 
 
 He was a sallow man — all cobblers are ; and had a strong bristly 
 beard — all cobblers have. His face was a queer, good-tempered, 
 crooked-featured piece of workmanship, ornamented with a couple 
 of eyes that must have worn a very joyous expression at one time, 
 for they sparkled yet. The man was sixty, by years,, and Heaven 
 knows how old by imprisonment, so that his havmg any look 
 approaching to mirth or contentment, was singular enough. He 
 was a little man, and, being half doubled up as he lay in bed, 
 looked about as long as he ought to have been without his legs. 
 He had a great red pipe in his mouth, and was smoking, and staring 
 at the rush-light, in a state of enviable placidity. 
 
 ' Have you been here long ? ' inquired Sam, breaking the silence 
 which had lasted for some time. 
 
 'Twelve year,' replied the cobbler, biting the end of his pipe as 
 he spoke. 
 
 ' Contempt ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 The cobbler nodded. 
 
 'Well, then,' said Sam, with some sternness, 'wot do you per- 
 "ievere in bein' obstinit for, vastin' your precious life away in this 
 here magnified pound? Wy don't you give in, and tell the 
 Chancellorship that you're wery sorry for makin' his court con- 
 temptible, and you won't do so no more ? ' 
 
 The cobbler put his pipe in the comer of his mouth, while he 
 smiled, and then brought it back to its old place again ; but said 
 nothing. 
 
 ' Wy don't you ? ' said Sam, urging his question strenuously. 
 
 ' Ah,' said the cobbler, ' you don't quite understand these matters. 
 What do you suppose ruined me, now ? ' 
 
 ' Wy,' said Sam, trimming the rush-light, ' I s'pose the beginnin' 
 wos, that you got into debt, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Never owed a farden,' Said the cobbler ; ' try again.' 
 
 ' Well, perhaps,' said Sam, ' you bought houses, wich is delicate 
 English for goin' mad : or took to buildin', wich is a medical term 
 for bein' incurable.' 
 
 The cobbler shook his head and said, ' Try again.' 
 
 ' You didn't go to law, I hope ? ' said Sam, suspiciously. 
 
 ' Never in my life,' replied the cobbler. ' The fact is, I was 
 mined by having money left me.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' said Sam, ' that von't do. I wish some rich enemy 
 'lid try to vork my destruction in that 'ere vay. I'd let him.' 
 
 ' Oh, I dare say you don't believe it,' said the cobbler, quietly 
 smoking his pipe. ' I wouldn't if I was you ; but it's true for 
 all that.' 
 
52 2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'How wos it?' inquired Sam, half induced to believe the fact 
 already, by the look the cobbler gave him. 
 
 ' Just this,' replied the cobbler ; ' an old gentleman that I worked 
 for, down in the country, and a humble relation of whose I 
 married — she's dead, God iDless her, and thank Him for it ! — was 
 seized with a fit and went off.' 
 
 ' Where ? ' inquired Sam, who was growing sleepy after the 
 numerous events of the day. 
 
 ' How should I know where he went ? ' said the cobbler, speaking 
 through his nose in an intense enjoyment of his pipe. ' He went 
 off dead.' 
 
 ' Oh, that indeed,' said Sam. ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' Well,' said the cobbler, ' he left five thousand pound behind 
 him.' 
 
 ' And wery gen-teel in him so to do,' said Sam. 
 
 ' One of which,' continued the cobbler, ' he left to me, 'cause I'd 
 married his relation, you see.' 
 
 ' Wery good,' murmured Sam. 
 
 ' And being surrounded by a great number of nieces and nevys, 
 as was always a quarrelling and fighting among themselves for the 
 property, he makes me his executor, and leaves the rest to me : in 
 trust, to divide it among 'em as the will prowided.' 
 
 ' Wot do you mean by leavin' it on trust ? ' inquired Sam, 
 waking up a little. ' If it ain't ready money, where's the use 
 on it ? ' 
 
 ' It's a law term, that's all,' said the cobbler. 
 
 ' I don't think that,' said Sam, shaking his head. ' There's wery 
 little trust at that shop. Hows'ever, go on.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the cobbler : ' when I was going to take out a probate 
 of the will, the nieces and nevys, who was desperately disappointed 
 at not getting all the money, enters a caveat against it.' 
 
 ' What's that ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 'A legal instrument, which is as much as to say, it's no go,' 
 replied the cobbler. 
 
 ' I see,' said Sam, ' a sort of brother-in-law o' the have-his-carcase. 
 Well.' 
 
 'But,' contijiued the cobbler, 'finding that they couldn't agree 
 among themselves, and consequently couldn't get up a case against 
 the will, they withdrew the caveat, and I paid all the legacies. I'd 
 hardly done it, when one nevy brings an action to set the will aside. 
 The case comes on, some months afterwards, afore a deaf old 
 gentleman, in a back room somewhere down by Paul's Churchyard : 
 and arter four counsels had taken a day a-piece to bother him 
 regularly, he takes a week or two to consider, and read the evidence 
 in six voUums, and then gives his judgment that how the testator 
 was not quite right in the head, and I must pay all the money back 
 
THE COBBLER'S STORY 523 
 
 again, and all the costs. I appealed; the case come on before 
 three or four very sleepy gentlemen, who had heard it all before in 
 the other court, where they're lawyers without work; the only 
 difference being, that, there, they're called doctors, and in the other 
 place delegates, if you understand that; and they very dutifully 
 confirmed the decision of the old gentleman below. After that, 
 we went into Chancery, where we are still, and where I shall 
 always be. My lawyers have had all my thousand pound long ago ; 
 and what between the estate, as they call it, and the costs, I'm here 
 for ten thousand, and shall stop here, till I die, mending shoes. 
 Some gentlemen have talked of bringing it afore parliament, and I 
 dare say would have done it, only they hadn't time to come to me, 
 and I hadn't power to go to them, and they got tired of my long 
 letters, and dropped the business. And this is God's truth, without 
 one word of suppression or exaggeration, as fifty people, both in 
 this place and out of it, very well know.' 
 
 The cobbler paused to ascertain what effect his story had 
 produced on Sam ; but finding that he had dropped asleep, knocked 
 the ashes out of his pipe, sighed, put it down, drew the bedclothes 
 over his head, and went to sleep too. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was sitting at breakfast, alone, next morning (Sam 
 being busily engaged in the cobbler's room, polishing his master's 
 shoes and brushing the black gaiters) when there came a knock at 
 the door, which, before Mr. Pickwick could cry ' Come in ! ' was 
 followed by the appearance of a head of hair and a cotton-velvet 
 cap, both of which articles of dress he had no difficulty in recognising 
 as the personal property of Mr. Smangle. 
 
 ' How are you ? ' said that worthy, accompanying the inquiry 
 with a score or two of nods ; ' I say — do you expect anybody this 
 morning? Three men — devilish gentlemanly fellows — have been 
 asking after you down stairs, and knocking at every door on the 
 Hall flight; for which they've been most infernally blown up by 
 the coljegians that had the trouble of opening 'em.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! How very foolish of them,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 rising. 'Yes; I have 'no doubt they are some friends whom I 
 rather expected to see, yesterday.' 
 
 ' Friends of yours ! ' exclaimed Smangle, seizing Mr. Pickwick 
 by the hand. ' Say no more. Curse me, they're friends of mine 
 from this minute, and friends of Mivins's*too. Infernal pleasant, 
 gentlemanly dog, Mivins, isn't he ? ' said Smangle, with great 
 feeling. 
 
 ' I know so little of the gentleman,' said Mr. Pickwick, hesitating, 
 'that I ' 
 
 ' I know you do,' interposed Smangle, clasping Mr. Pickwick 
 by the shoulder. 'You shall know him better. You'll be 
 delighted with him. That man, sir,' said Smangle, with a solemn 
 
524 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 countenance, 'has comic powers tha:t would do honour to Drury 
 Lane Theatre.' 
 
 ' Has he indeed ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Ah, by Jove he has ! ' replied Smangle. ' Hear him come the 
 four cats in the wheelbarrow — ^four distinct cats, sir, I pledge you 
 my honour. Now you know that's infernal clever ! Damme, you 
 can't help liking a man, when you see these traits about him. 
 He's only one fault — that little failing I mentioned to you, you 
 know.' 
 
 As Mr. Smangle shook his head in a confidential and sympathis- 
 ing manner at this juncture, Mr. Pickwick felt that he was 
 expected to say something, so he said ' Ah ! ' and looked restlessly 
 at the door. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' echoed Mr. Smangle, with a long-drawn sigh. ' He's 
 delightful company, that man is, sir. I don't know better company 
 anywhere; but he has that one drawback. If the ghost of his 
 grandfather, sir, was to rise before him this minute, he'd ask him 
 for the loan of his acceptance on an eighteenpenny stamp.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes,' added Mr. Smangle ; ' and if he'd the power of raising him 
 again, he would, in two months and three days from this time, to 
 renew the bill ! ' 
 
 ' Those are very remarkable traits,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' but I'm 
 afraid that while we are talking here, my friends may be in a state 
 of great perplexity at not finding me.' 
 
 ' I'll show 'em the way,' said Smangle, making for the door. 
 ' Good day. I won't disturb you while they're here, you know. 
 By-the-bye ' 
 
 As Smangle pronounced the last three words, he stopped 
 suddenly, re-closed the door which he had opened, and, waUcLag 
 softly back to Mr. Pickwick, stepped close up to him on tip-toe, and 
 said in a very soft whisper : 
 
 ' You -couldn't make it convenient to lend me half-a-crown till the 
 latter end of next week, could you ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick could scarcely forbear smiling, but managing to 
 preserve his gravity, he drew forth the coin, and placed it in Mr. 
 Smangle's palm j upon which, that gentleman, with many nods and 
 winks, implying profound mystery, disappeared in quest of the three 
 strangers, with whom he presently returned ; and having coughed 
 thrice, and nodded as many times, as an assurance to Mr. Pickwick 
 that he would not forget to pay, he shook hands all round, in an 
 engaging manner, and at length took himself off. 
 
 ' My dear friends,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking hands alternately 
 with Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, who were the 
 three visitors in question, ' I am delighted to see you.' 
 
 The triumvirate were much affected. Mr. Tupman shook his 
 
MR. WINKLE DISAPPOINTED 525 
 
 head deplormgly ; Mr. Snodgrass drew forth his handkerchief, with 
 undisguised emotion ; and Mr. Winkle retired to the window, and 
 sniffed aloud. 
 
 ' Momin', gen'l'm'n,' said Sam, entering at the moment with the 
 shoes and gaiters. 'Avay vith melincholly, as the little boy said 
 ven his school-missis died. Velcome to the College, gen'l'm'n.' 
 
 ' This fooHsh fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, tapping Sam on the 
 head as he knelt down to button, up his master's gaiters : ' This 
 foolish fellow has got himself arrested, in order to be near me.' 
 
 ' What ! ' exclaimed the three friends. 
 
 ' Yes, gen'l'm'n,' said Sam, ' I'm a — stand steady, sir, if you please 
 — I'm a pris'ner, gen'l'm'n. Con-fined, as the lady said.' 
 
 ' A prisoner ! ' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, with unaccountable 
 vehemence. 
 
 ' Hallo, sir ! ' responded Sam, looking up. ' Wot's the matter, 
 sir?' 
 
 ' I had hoped, Sam, that nothing, nothing,' said Mr. Winkle, 
 
 precipitately. 
 
 There was something so very abrupt and unsettled in Mr. 
 Winkle's manner, that Mr. Pickwick involuntarily looked at his two 
 friends, for an explanation. 
 
 ' We don't know,' said Mr. Tupman, answering this mute appeal 
 aloud. ' He has been much excited for two days past, and his 
 whole demeanour very unlike what it usually is. We feared there 
 must be something the matter, but he resolutely denies it.' 
 
 'No, no,' said Mr. Winkle, colouring beneath Mr. Pickwick's 
 gaze ; ' there is really nothing. I assure you there is nothing, my 
 dear sir. It will be necessary for me to leave town, for a short 
 time, on private business, and I had hoped to have prevailed upon 
 you to allow Sam to accompany me.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick looked more astonished than before. 
 
 ' I think,' faltered Mr. A^'inkle, ' that Sam would have had no 
 objection to do so ; but, of course, his being a prisoner here, 
 renders it impossible. So I must go alone.' 
 
 As Mr. Winkle said these words, Mr. Pickwick felt, with some 
 astonishment, that Sam's fingers were trembling at the gaiters, as 
 if he were rather surprised or startled. Sam looked up at Mr. 
 Winkle, too, when he had finished speaking; and though the 
 glance they exchanged was instantaneous, they seemed to under- 
 stand each other. 
 
 ' Do you know anything of this, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 sharply. 
 
 ' No, I don't, sir,' repUed Mr. Weller, beginning to button with 
 extraordinary assiduity. 
 
 ' Are you sure, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Why, sir,' responded Mr. Weller ; ' I'm sure so far, that I've 
 
526 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 never heerd anythin' on the subject afore this moment. If I 
 makes any guess about it,' added Sam, looking at Mr. Winkle, 
 ' I haven't got any right to say wot it is, 'fear it should be a 
 wrong 'un.' 
 
 ' I have no right to make any further inquiry into the private 
 affairs of a friend, however intimate a friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 after a short silence ; ' at present let me merely say, that I do not 
 understand this at all. There. We have had quite enough of the 
 subject.' 
 
 Thus expressing himself, Mr. Pickwick led the conversation to 
 different topics, and Mr. Winkle gradually appeared more at ease, 
 though still very far from being completely so. They had all so 
 much to converse about, that the morning very quickly passed 
 away ; and when, at three o'clock, Mr. Weller produced upon the 
 little dining table, a roast leg of mutton and an enormous meat pie, 
 with sundry dishes of vegetables, and pots of porter, which stood 
 upon the chairs or the sofa-bedstead, or where they could, every- 
 body felt disposed to do justice to the meal, notwithstanding that 
 the meat had been purchased, and dressed, and the pie made, and 
 baked, at the prison cookery hard by. 
 
 To these, succeeded a bottle or two of very good wine, for which 
 a messenger was dispatched by Mr. Pickwick to the Horn Coffee- 
 house, in Doctors' Commons. The bottle or two, indeed, might 
 be more properly described as a bottle or six, for by the time 
 it was drunk, and tea over, the bell began to ring for strangers to 
 withdraw. 
 
 But if Mr. Winkle's behaviour had been unaccountable in the 
 morning, it became perfectly unearthly and solemn when, under the 
 influence of his feelings, and his share of the bottle or six, he 
 prepared to take leave of his friend. He lingered behind, until Mr. 
 Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had disappeared, and then fervently 
 clenched Mr. Pickwick's hand, with an expression of face in which 
 deep ana mighty resolve was fearfully blended with the very con- 
 centrated essence of gloom. 
 
 ' Good night, my dear sir ! ' said Mr. Winkle between his set teeth. 
 
 ' Bless you, my dear fellow ! ' replied the warm-hearted Mr. Pick- 
 wick, as he returned the pressure of his young friend's hand. 
 
 ' Now then ! ' cried Mr. Tupman from the gallery. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, directly,' replied Mr. Winkle. ' Good night ! ' 
 
 ' Good night,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 There was another good night, and another, and half-a-dozen 
 more after that, and still Mr. Winkle had fast hold of his friend's 
 hand, and was looking into his face with the same strange 
 expression. 
 
 'Is anything the matter?' said Mr. Pickwiqk ^t last, when his 
 arm was quite sore with shaking. 
 
A PROLONGED 'GOOD NIGHT' 527 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Well then, good night,' said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to disen- 
 gage his hand. 
 
 ' My friend, my benefactor, my honoured companion,' murmured 
 Mr. Winkle, catching at his wrist. ' Do not judge me harshly ; do 
 not, when you hear that, driven to extremity by hopeless obstacles, 
 
 ' Now then,' said Mr. Tupman, re-appearing at the door. ' Are 
 you coming, or are we to be locked in ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I am ready,' rephed Mr. Winkle. And with a violent 
 effort he tore himself away. 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick was gazing down the passage after them in silent 
 astonishment, Sam Weller appeared at the stair-head, and whispered 
 for one moment in Mr. Winkle's ear. 
 
 ' Oh certainly, depend upon me,' said that gentleman aloud. 
 
 'Thankee, sir. You won't forget, sir?' said Sam. 
 
 ' Of course not,' replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 ' Wish you luck, sir,' said Sam, touching his hat. ' I should veiy 
 much like to ha' joined you, sir ; but the gov'ner o' course is paira- 
 mount.' 
 
 ' It is very much to your credit that you remain here,' said Mr. 
 Winkle. With these words they disappeared down the stairs. 
 
 ' Very extraordinary,' said Mr. Pickwick, going back into his 
 room, and seating himself at the table in a musing attitude. ' What 
 cati that young man be going to do ? ' 
 
 He had sat ruminating about the matter for some time, when the 
 voice of Roker, the turnkey, demanded whether he might come in. 
 
 ' By all means,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I've brought you a softer pillow, sir,' said Roker, ' instead of the 
 temporary one you had last night.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Will you take a glass of 
 wine ? ' 
 
 'You're wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Roker, accepting the 
 proffered glass. ' Yours, sir.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I'm sorry to say that your landlord's wery bad to-night, sir/ said 
 Roker, setting down the glass, and inspecting the lining of his hat 
 preparatory to putting it on again. 
 
 ' AVhat ! The Chancery prisoner ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' He won't be a Chancery prisoner wery long, sir,' replied Roker, 
 turning his hat round, so as to get the maker's name right side 
 upwards, as he looked into it. 
 
 ' You make my blood run cold,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' What do 
 you mean ? ' 
 
 ' He's been consumptive for a long time past,' said Mr. Roker, 
 'and he's taken wery bad in the breath to-night. The doctor 
 
528 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 said, six months ago, that nothing but change of air could save 
 him.' 
 
 ' Great Haaven ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick ; ' has this man been 
 slowly murdered by the law for six months ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know about that,' replied Roker, weighing the hat by the 
 brims in both hands. ' I suppose he'd have been took the same, 
 wherever he was. He went into the infirmary, this morning ; the 
 doctor says his strength is to be kept up as much as possible ; and 
 the warden's sent him wine and broth and that, from his own house. 
 It's not the warden's fault, you know, sir.' 
 
 ' Of course not,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. 
 
 ' I'm afraid, however,' said Roker, shaking his head, ' that it's all 
 up with him. I offered Neddy two six penn'orths to one upon it 
 just now, but he wouldn't take it, and quite right. Thankee, sir. 
 Good night, sir.' 
 
 ' Stay,' said Mr. Pickwick earnestly. ' Where is this infirmary ? ' 
 
 ' Just over where you slept, sir,' repHed Roker. ' I'll show you, 
 if you like to come.' Mr. Pickwick snatched up his hat without 
 speaking, and followed at once. 
 
 The turnkey led the way in silence ; and gently raising the latch 
 of the room-door, motioned Mr. Pickwick to enter. It was a large, 
 bare, desolate room, with a number of stump bedsteads made of 
 iron : on one of which lay stretched, the shadow of a man : wan, 
 pale, and ghastly. His breathing was hard and thick, and he 
 moaned painfully as it came and went. At the bedside, sat a short 
 old man in a cobbler's apron, who, by the aid of a pair of horn 
 spectacles, was reading from the Bible aloud. It was the fortunate 
 legatee. 
 
 The sick man laid his hand upon his attendant's arm, and motioned 
 him to stop. He closed the book, and laid it on the bed. 
 
 ' Open the window,' said the sick man. 
 
 He did so. The noise of carriages and carts, the rattle of wheels, 
 the cries of men and boys, all the busy sounds of a mighty multitude 
 instinct with life and occupation, blended into one deep murmur, 
 floated into the room. Above the hoarse loud hum, arose from 
 time to time a boisterous laugh ; or a scrap of some jingling song, 
 shouted forth by one of the giddy crowd, would strike upon the ear 
 for an instant, and then be lost amidst the roar of voices and the 
 tramp of footsteps ; the breaking of the billows of the restless sea of 
 life that rolled heavily on, without. Melancholy sounds to a quiet 
 listener at any time ; how melancholy to the watcher by the bed of 
 death ! 
 
 ' There is no air here,' said the sick man faintly. ' The place 
 pollutes it. It was fresh round about, when I walked there, years 
 ago ; but it grows hot and heavy in passing these walls. I cannot 
 breathe it.' 
 
QUIET ENJOYMENT 529 
 
 ' We have breathed it together, for a long time,' said the old man. 
 ' Come, come.' 
 
 There was a short silence, during which the two spectators 
 approached the bed. The sick man drew a hand of his old fellow 
 prisoner towards him, and pressing it affectionately between both 
 his own, retained it in his grasp. 
 
 ' I hope,' he gasped after a while : so faintly that they bent their 
 ears close over the bed to catch the half-formed sounds his pale lips 
 gave vent to : ' I hope my merciful Judge will bear in mind my 
 heavy punishment on earth. Twenty years, my friend, twenty 
 years in this hideous grave ! My heart broke when my child died, 
 and I could not even kiss him in his Uttle coffin. My loneliness 
 since then, in all this noise and riot, has been very dreadful. May 
 God forgive me ! He has seen my solitary, lingering death.' 
 
 He folded his hands, and murmuring something more they could 
 not hear, fell into a sleep — only a sleep at first, for they saw him 
 smile. 
 
 They whispered together for a little time, and the turnkey, stoop- 
 ing over the pillow, drew hastily back. ' He has got his discharge, 
 by G — ■ ! ' said the man. 
 
 He had. But he had grown so like death in life, that they knew 
 not when he died. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF AN AFFECTING INTERVIEW BETWEEN MR. SAMUEL 
 WELLER AND A FAMILY PARTY. MR. PICKWICK MAKES A TOUR 
 OF THE DIMINUTIVE WORLD HE INHABITS, AND RESOLVES TO 
 MIX WITH IT, IN FUTURE, AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE 
 
 A FEW mornings after his incarceration, Mr. Samuel Weller, having 
 arranged his master's room with all possible care, and seen him 
 comfortably seated over his books and papers, withdrew to employ 
 himself for an hour or two to come, as he best could. It was a fine 
 morning, and it occurred to Sam that a pint of porter in the open 
 air would lighten his next quarter of an hour or so, as well as any 
 little amusement in which he could indulge. 
 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, he betook himself to the tap. 
 Having purchased the beer, and obtained, moreover, the day-but- 
 one-before-yesterday's paper, he repaired to the skittle-ground, and 
 seating himself on a bench, proceeded to enjoy himself in a very 
 sedate and methodical manner. 
 
 First of all, he took a refreshing draught of the beer, and then he 
 looked up at a window, and bestowed a Platonic wink on a young 
 
 2 M 
 
53° THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 lady who was peeling potatoes thereat. Then he opened the paper, 
 and folded it so as to get the police reports outwards ; and this 
 being a vexatious and difficult thing to do, when there is any wind 
 stirring, he took another draught of the beer when he had ac- 
 complished it. Then, he read two lines of the paper, and stopped 
 short, to look at a couple of men who were finishing a game at 
 rackets, which being concluded, he cried out ' wery good ' in an 
 approving manner, and looked round upon the spectators, to 
 ascertain whether their sentiments coincided with his own. This 
 involved the necessity of looking up at the windows also ; and as 
 the young lady was still there, it was an act of common politeness 
 to wink again, and to drink to her good health in dumb show, in 
 another draught of the beer, which Sam did ; and having frowned 
 hideously upon a small boy who had noted this latter proceeding, 
 with open eyes, he threw one leg over the other, and, holding the 
 newspaper in both hands, began to read in real earnest. 
 
 He had hardly composed himself into the needful state of 
 abstraction, when he thought he heard his own name proclaimed in 
 some distant passage. Nor was he mistaken, for it quickly passed 
 from mouth to mouth, and in a few seconds the air teemed with 
 shouts of ' Weller ! ' 
 
 ' Here ! ' roared Sam, in a stentorian voice. ' Wot's the matter ? 
 Who wants him ? Has an express come to say that his country- 
 house is a-fire ? ' 
 
 ' Somebody wants you in the hall,' said a man who was stand- 
 ing by. 
 
 ' Just mind that 'ere paper and the pot, old feller, will you ? ' said 
 Sam. ' I'm a comin'. Blessed, if they was a callin' me to the bar, 
 they couldn't make more noise about it ! ' 
 
 Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the 
 young gentleman before noticed, who, unconscious of his close 
 vicinity to the person in request, was screaming ' Weller ! ' with all 
 his might, Sam hastened across the ground, and ran up the steps 
 into the hall. Here, the first object that met his eyes was his 
 beloved father sitting on a bottom stair, with his hat in his hand, 
 shouting out ' Weller ! ' in his very loudest tone, at half-minute 
 intervals. 
 
 ' Wot are you a roarin' at?' said Sam impetuously, when the old 
 gentleman had discharged himself of another shout ; ' makin' your- 
 self so precious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. 
 Wot's the matter?' 
 
 ' Aha ! ' replied the old gentleman, ' I began to be afeerd that 
 you'd gone for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Come,' said Sam, ' none o' them taunts agin the wictim o' avarice, 
 and come off that 'ere step. Wot are you a settin' down there for? 
 I don't live there.' 
 
SUPPRESSED LAUGHTER 531 
 
 ' I've got such a game for you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. 
 Waller, rising. 
 
 ' Stop a minit,' said Sam, ' you're all vite behind.' 
 
 ' That's right, Sammy, rub it off,' said Mr. Weller, as his son 
 dusted him. 'It might look personal here, if a man walked about 
 with whitevash on his clothes, eh, Sammy ? ' 
 
 As Mr. Weller exhibited in this place unequivocal symptoms of 
 an approaching fit of chuckling, Sam interposed to stop it. 
 
 ' Keep quiet, do,' said Sam, ' there never vos such a old picter- 
 card born. Wot are you bustin' vith, now ? ' 
 
 ' Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead, ' I'm afeerd 
 that vun 0' these days I shall laugh myself into a appleplexy, 
 my boy.' 
 
 ' Veil, then, wot do you do it for ? ' said Sam. ' Now ; wot have 
 you got to say ? ' 
 
 ' Who do you think's come here with me, Samivel ? ' said Mr. 
 Weller, drawing back a pace or two, pursing up his mouth, and 
 extending his eyebrows. 
 
 • Pell ? ' said Sam. 
 
 Mr. Weller shook his head, and his red cheek expanded with the 
 laughter that was endeavouring to find a vent. 
 
 '. Mottled-faced man, p'r'aps ? ' suggested Sam. 
 
 Again Mr. Weller shook his head. . 
 
 ' Who then ? ' asked Sam. 
 
 'Your mother-in-law,' said Mr. Weller; and it was lucky he did 
 say it, or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked, from their most 
 unnatural distension. 
 
 ' Your mother-in-law, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, ' and the red- 
 nosed man, my boy ; and the red-nosed man. Ho ! ho ! ho ! ' 
 
 With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, 
 while Sam regarded him with a broad grin gradually overspreading 
 his whole countenance. 
 
 ' They've come to have a little serious talk with you, Samivel,' 
 said Mr. Weller, wiping his eyes. ' Don't let out nothin' about the 
 unnat'ral creditor, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Wot, don't they know who it is ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Not a bit on it,' repUed his father. 
 
 ' Vere are they ? ' said Sam, reciprocating all the old gentleman's 
 grins. 
 
 ' In the snuggery,' rejoihed Mr. Weller. ' Catch the red-nosed 
 man a goin' any vere but v%re the liquors is ; not he, Samivel, not 
 he. Ve'd a wery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this 
 mornin', Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the 
 task of speaking in an articulate manner. ' I drove the old piebald 
 in that 'ere little shay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-law's first 
 wenter, into vich a harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and 
 
532 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 I'm blest,' said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn : ' I'm blest 
 if they didn't bring a portable flight o' steps out into the road a 
 front o' our door, for him to get up by.' 
 
 ' You don't mean that ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' I do mean that, Sammy,' replied his father, ' and I vish you 
 could ha' seen how tight he held on by the sides wen he did get up, 
 as if he wos afeerd o' being precipitayted down full six foot, and 
 dashed into a million o' hatoms. He tumbled in at last, however, 
 and avay ve vent; and I rayther think, I say I rayther think, Samivel, 
 that he found his-self a little jolted wen ve turned the comers.' 
 
 ' Wot, I s'pose you happened to drive up agin a post or two ? ' 
 said Sam. 
 
 ' I'm afeerd,' replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks, ' I'm 
 afeerd I took vun or two on 'em, Sammy ; he wos a flying* out o' 
 the harm-cheer all the v/ay.' 
 
 Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was 
 seized with a hoarse internal rumbling, accompanied with a violent 
 swelling of the countenance, and a sudden increase in the breadth 
 of all his features ; symptoms which alarmed his son not a little. 
 
 ' Don't be frightened, Sammy, don't be frightened,' said the old 
 gentleman, when, by dint of much struggling, and various convulsive 
 stamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. ' It's only a 
 kind o' quiet laugh as I'm a tryin' to come, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Well, if that's wot it is,' said Sam, ' you'd better not try to come 
 it agin. You'll find it rayther a dangerous inwention.' 
 
 ' Don't you like it, Sammy ? ' inquired the old gentleman. 
 
 ' Not at all,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his 
 cheeks, ' it 'ud ha' been a wery great accommodation to me if I 
 could ha' done it, and 'ud ha' saved a good many vords atween 
 your mother-in-law and me, sometimes ; but I am afeerd you're 
 right, Sammy: it's too much in the appleplexy line — a deal too 
 much, Samivel.' 
 
 This conversation brought them to the door of the snuggery, into 
 which Sam — pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder, and 
 cast a sly leer at his respected progenitor, who was still gigghng 
 behind — at once led the way. 
 
 ' Mother-in-law,' said Sam, politely saluting the lady, ' wery much 
 obliged to you for this here wisit. Shepherd, how air you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Samuel ! ' said Mrs. Weller. ' This is dreadful.' 
 
 ' Not a bit on it, mum,' replied SamHel. ' Is it, shepherd ? ' 
 
 Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, till the 
 whites — or rather the yellows — were alone visible ; but made no 
 reply in words. 
 
 ' Is this here gen'l'm'n troubled vith any painful complaint ? ' said 
 Sam. looking to his mother-in-law for explanation. 
 
APOPLECTIC SYMPTOMS 533 
 
 'The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel,' replied 
 Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Oh, that's it, is it ? ' said Sam. ' I was afeerd, from his manner, 
 that he might ha' forgotten to take pepper vith that 'ere last 
 cowcumber he eat. Set down, sir ; ve make no extra charge for 
 the settin' down, as the king remarked wen he blowed up his 
 ministers.' 
 
 ' Young man,' said Mr. Stiggins, ostentatiously, ' I fear you are 
 not softened by imprisonment.' 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' replied Sam ; ' wot wos you graciously 
 pleased to hobserve ? ' 
 
 ' I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for this 
 chastening,' said Mr. Stiggins, in a loud voice. 
 
 ' Sir,' replied Sam, ' you're wery kind to say so. I hope my natur 
 is not a soft vun, sir. Wery much obliged to you for your good 
 opinion, sir.' 
 
 At this po^nt of the conversation, a sound, indecorously approach- 
 ing to a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the 
 elder Mr. Weller was seated ; upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty 
 consideration of all the circumstances of the case, considered it her 
 bounden duty to become gradually hysterical. 
 
 ' Weller,' said Mrs. W. (the old gentleman was seated in a corner) ; 
 'Weller! Come forth.' 
 
 ' Wery much obleeged to you, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller ; ' but 
 I'm quite comfortable vere I am.' 
 
 Upon this, Mrs. Weller burst into tears. 
 
 ' Wot's gone wrong, mum ? ' said Sam. 
 
 'Ob, Samuel!' replied Mrs. Weller, 'your father makes me 
 wretched. Will nothing do him good ? ' 
 
 ' Do you hear this here ? ' said Sam. ' Lady wants to know 
 vether nothin' 'ull do you good.' 
 
 'Wery much indebted to Mrs. Weller for her po-lite inquiries, 
 Sammy,' replied the old gentleman. ' I think a pipe vould benefit 
 me a good deal. Could I be accommodated, Sammy ? ' 
 
 Here Mrs. Weller let fall some more tears, and Mr. Stiggins 
 groaned. 
 
 ' Hallo ! Here's this unfort'nate gen'l'm'n took ill agin,' said Sam, 
 looking round. ' Were do you feel it now, sir ? ' 
 
 ' In the same place, young man,' rejoined Mr. Stiggins : ' in the 
 same place.' 
 
 'Were may that be, sir?' inquired Sam, with great outward 
 simplicity. 
 
 ' In the buzzim, young man,' replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his 
 umbrella on his waistcoat. 
 
 At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to 
 suppress her feelings, sobbed aloud, and stated her conviction that 
 
534 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 the red-nosed man was a saint; whereupon Mr. Waller, senior, 
 ventured to suggest, in an undertone, that he must be the represen- 
 tative of the united parishes of Saint Simon Without, and Saint 
 Walker Within. 
 
 ' I'm afeerd, mum,' said Sam, ' that this here gen'l'm'n, with the 
 twist in his countenance, feels ra)^her thirsty, with the melancholy 
 spectacle afore him. Is it the case, mum ? ' , 
 
 The worthy lady looked at Mr. Stiggins for a reply ; that gentle- 
 man, with many rollings of the eye, clenched his throat with his 
 right hand, and mimicked the act of swallowing, to intimate that 
 he was athirst. 
 
 ' I am afraid, Samuel, that his feelings have made him so, indeed,' 
 said Mrs. Weller, mournfully. 
 
 ' Wot's your usual tap, sir,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Oh, my dear young friend,' replied Mr. Stiggins, ' all taps is 
 vanities ! ' 
 
 ' Too true, too true, indeed,' said Mrs. Weller, murmuring a groan, 
 and shaking her head assentingly. 
 
 ' Well,' said Sam, ' I des-say they may be, sir ; but which is your 
 partickler wanity. Vich wanity do you like the flavour on best, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear young friend,' replied Mr. Stiggins, ' I despise them 
 all. If,' said Mr. Stiggins, ' if there is any one of them less odious 
 than another, it is the liquor called rum. Warm, my dear young 
 friend, with three lumps of sugar to the tumbler.' 
 
 ' Wery sorry to say, sir,' said Sam, ' that they don't allow that 
 particular wanity to be sold in this here establishment.' 
 
 ' Oh, the hardness of heart of these inveterate men ! ' ejaculated 
 Mr. Stiggins. ' Oh, the accursed cruelty of these inhuman 
 persecutors ! ' 
 
 With these words, Mr. Stiggins again cast up his eyes, and rapped 
 his breast with his umbrella ; and it is but justice to the reverend 
 gentleman to say, that his indignation appeared very real and 
 unfeigned indeed. 
 
 After Mrs. Weller and the red-nosed gentleman had commented 
 on this inhuman usage in a very forcible manner, and had vented a 
 variety of pious and holy execrations against its authors, the latter 
 recommended a bottle of port wine, warmed with a little water, 
 spice, and sugar, as being grateful to the stomach, and savouring 
 less of vanity than many other compounds, It was accordingly 
 ordered to be prepared. Pending its preparation the red-nosed 
 man and Mrs. Weller looked at the elder W. and groaned. 
 
 'Well, Sammy,' said that gentleman, 'I hope you'll fiiid youi 
 spirits rose by this here lively wisit. Wery cheerfpl, and improvin' 
 conwersation, ain't it, Sammy ? ' 
 
 ' You're a reprobate,' replied Sam ; ' and I desire you won't address 
 no more o' them ungraceful remarks to me.' 
 
A DROP OF NEGUS 535 
 
 So far from being edified by this very proper reply, the elder 
 Mr. Weller at once relapsed into a broad grin ; and this inexorable 
 conduct causing the lady and Mr. Stiggins to close their eyes, and 
 rock themselves to and fro on their chairs, in a troubled manner, 
 he furthermore indulged in several acts of pantomime, indicative of a 
 desire to pummel and wring the nose of the aforesaid Stiggins : the 
 performance of which, appeared to afford him great mental relief. 
 The old gentleman very narrowly escaped detection in one instance ; 
 for Mr. -Stiggins happening to give a start on the arrival of the negus, 
 brought his head in smart contact with the clenched fist with which 
 Mr. Weller had been describing imaginary fireworks in the air, within 
 two inches of his ear, for some minutes. 
 
 ' Wot are you a reachin' out your hand for the tumbler in that 
 'ere sawage way for ? ' said Sam, with great promptitude. ' Don't 
 you see you've hit the gen'l'm'n ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't go to do it, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, in some degree 
 abashed by the very unexpected occurrence of the incident. 
 
 ' Try an in'ard application, sir,' said Sam, as the red-nosed gentle- 
 man rubt)ed his head with a rueful visage. ' Wot do you think o' 
 that, for a go o' wanity warm, sir ? ' 
 
 Mr. Stiggins made no verbal answer, but his manner was expres- 
 sive. He tasted the contents of the glass which Sam had placed in 
 his hand j put his umbrella on the floor, and tasted it again : passing 
 his hand placidly across his stomach twice or thrice ; he then drank 
 the whole at a breath, and smacking his lips, held out the tumbler 
 for more. 
 
 Nor was Mrs. Weller behind-hand in doing justice to the com- 
 position. The good lady began by protesting that she couldn't 
 touch a drop — then took a smalL drop — then a large drop — then 
 a great many drops ; and her feelings being of the nature of those 
 substances which are powerfully affected by the application of strong 
 waters, she dropped a tear with every drop of negus, and so got on, 
 melting the feelings down, until at length she had arrived at a very 
 pathetic and decent pitch of misery. 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller observed these signs and tokens with many 
 manifestations of disgust, and when, after a second jug of the same, 
 Mr. Stiggins began to sigh in a dismal manner, he plainly evinced 
 his disapprobation of the whole proceedings, by sundry incoherent 
 ramblings of speech, among which frequent angry repetitions of the 
 word ' gammon ' were alone distinguishable to the ear. 
 
 ' I'll tell you wot it is, Samivel, my boy,' whispered the old gentle- 
 man into his son's ear, after a long and steadfast contemplation of 
 his lady and Mr. Stiggins ; ' I think there must be somethin' wrong 
 in your mother-in-law's inside, as veil as in that o' the red-nosed 
 man.' 
 
 ' Wot do you mean ? ' said Sam. 
 
536 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' I mean this here, Sammy,' repHed the old gentleman, ' that wot 
 they drink, don't seem no nourishment to 'em ; it all turns to warm 
 water, and comes a' pourin' out o' their eyes. 'Pend upon it, Sammy, 
 it's a constitootional infirmity.' 
 
 Mr. Weller delivered this scientific opinion with many confirma- 
 tory frowns and nods ; which, Mrs. Weller remarking, and con- 
 cluding that they bore some disparaging reference either to herself 
 or to Mr. Stiggins, or to both, was on the point of becoming 
 infinitely worse, when Mr. Stiggins, getting on his legs as well as 
 he could, proceeded to deliver an edifying discourse for the benefit 
 of the company, but more especially of Mr. Samuel, whom he 
 adjured in moving terms to be upon his giiard in that sink of 
 iniquity into which he was cast ; to abstain from all hypocrisy and 
 pride of heart; and to take in all things exact pattern and copy by 
 him (Stiggins), in which case he might calculate on arriving, sooner 
 or later at the comfortable conclusion, that, like him, he was a 
 most estimable and blameless character, and that all his acquaint- 
 ance and friends were hopelessly abandoned and profligate wretches. 
 Which consideration, he said, could not but afford him the liveliest 
 satisfaction. 
 
 He furthermore conjured him to avoid, above all things, the vice 
 of intoxication, which he likened unto the filthy habits of swine, 
 and to those poisonous and baleful drugs which being chewed in 
 the mouth, are said to filch away the memory. At this point of his 
 discourse, the reverend and red-nosed gentleman became singularly 
 incoherent, and staggering to and fro in the excitement of his 
 eloquence, was fain to catch at the back of a chair to preserve his 
 perpendicular. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins did not desire his hearers to be upon their guard 
 against those false prophets and wretched mockers of religion, who, 
 without sense to expound its first doctrines, or hearts to feel its first 
 principles, are more dangerous members of society than the common 
 criminal ; imposing, as they necessarily do, upon the weakest and 
 worst informed, casting scorn and contempt on what should be held 
 most sacred, and bringing into partial disrepute large bodies of 
 virtuous and well-conducted persons of many excellent sects and 
 persuasions. But as he leant over the back of the chair for a 
 considerable time, and closing one eye, winked a good deal with 
 the other, it is presumed that he thought all this, but kept it to 
 himself. 
 
 During the delivery of the oration, Mrs. Weller sobbed and wept 
 at the end of the paragraphs : while Sam, sitting cross-legged on a 
 chair and resting his arms on the top-rail, regarded the speaker with 
 great suavity and blandness of demeanour ; occasionally bestowing 
 a look of recognition on the old gentleman, who was delighted at 
 tlie beginning, and went to sleep about half-way. 
 
^,jfney ^iea^-'n£^£CO' ^m-amy auJ€x>uAd0^i4y. 
 
MR. WELLER HAS A DARK DESIGN 537 
 
 ' Brayvo ; wery pretty ! ' said Sam, when the red-nosed man 
 having finished, pulled his worn gloves on: thereby thrusting his 
 fingers through the broken tops till the knuckles were disclosed to 
 view. 'Wery pretty.' 
 
 ' I hope it may do you good, Samuel,' said Mrs. Weller solemnly, 
 
 ' I think it vill, mum,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' I wish I could hope that it would do your father good,' said 
 Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Thankee, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, senior. ' How do you find 
 yourself arter it, my love ? ' 
 
 ' Scoffer ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' Benighted man ! ' said the reverend Mr. Stiggins. 
 
 ' If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o' yourn, 
 my worthy creetur,' said the elder Mr. Weller, ' it's wery likely as 
 I shall continey to be a night coach till I'm took off the road 
 altogether. Now, Mrs. We, if the piebald stands at livery much 
 longer, he'll stand at nothin' as we go back, and p'raps that 'ere 
 harm cheer 'ull be tipped over into some hedge or another, with 
 the shepherd in it.' 
 
 At this supposition, the reverend Mr. Stiggins, in evident con- 
 sternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella, and proposed an 
 immediate departure, to which Mrs. Weller assented. Sam walked 
 with them to the lodge-gate, and took a dutiful leave. 
 
 ' A-do, Samivel,' said the old gentleman. 
 
 ' Wot's a-do ? ' inquired Sammy. 
 
 ' Well, good-bye, then,' said the old gentleman. 
 
 'Oh, that's wot you're a aimin' at, is it?' said Sam. 'Good- 
 bye!' 
 
 ' Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round ; ' my 
 duty to your gov'ner, and tell him if he thinks better o' this here 
 bis'ness, to commoonicate vith me. Me and a cab'net-maker has 
 dewised a plan for gettin' him out. A planner, Samivel, a planner ! ' 
 said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with the back of his 
 hand, and falling back a step or two. 
 
 ' Wot do you mean ? ' said Sam. 
 
 'A planner forty, Samivel,' rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still more 
 mysterious manner, ' as he can have on hire ; vun as von't play, 
 Sammy.' 
 
 ' And wot 'ud be the good o' that ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Let him send to my friend, the cab'net-maker, to fetch it back, 
 Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Are you avake, now ? ' 
 
 ' No,' rejoined Sam. 
 
 ' There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. ' It 'ull hold 
 him easy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs, 
 vich his holler. Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker. The 
 'Merrikin gov'ment will never give him up, ven they find as he's 
 
538 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 got money to spend, Sammy. Let the gov'ner stop there, till Mrs. 
 Bardell's dead, or Mr. Dodson and Fogg's hung (wich last ewent I 
 think is the most likely to happen first, Sammy), and then let him 
 come back and write a book about the 'Merrikins as'll pay all his 
 expenses and more, if he blows 'em up enough.' 
 
 Mr. Weller delivered this hurried abstract of his plot with great 
 vehemence of whisper; then, as if fearful of weakening the efiect 
 of the tremendous communication, by any further dialogue, he gave 
 the coachman's salute, and vanished. 
 
 Sam had scarcely recovered his usual composure of countenance, 
 which had been greatly disturbed by the secret communication of 
 his respected relative, when Mr. Pickwick accosted him. 
 
 ' Sam,' said that gentleman. 
 
 ' Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I am going for a walk round the prison, and I wish you to 
 attend me. I see a prisoner we know coming this way, Sam,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick, smiling. 
 
 ' Wich, sir ? ' inquired Mr. WeUer ; ' the gen'l'm'n vith the head 
 o' hair, or the interestin' captive in the stockin's ? ' 
 
 ' Neither,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ' He is an older friend of 
 yours, Sam.' 
 
 ' O' mine, sir ? ' exclaimed Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' You recollect the gentleman very well, I dare say, Sam,' replied 
 Mr. Pickwick, ' or else you are more unmindful of your old 
 acquaintances than I think you are. Hush ! not a word, Sam ; not 
 a syllable. Here he is.' 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick spoke. Jingle walked up. He looked less 
 miserable than before, being clad in a half-worn suit of clothes, 
 which, with Mr. Pickwick's assistance, had been released from the 
 pawnbroker's. He wore clean linen too, and had had his hair cut. 
 He was very pale and thin, however ; and as he crept slowly up, 
 leaning on a stick, it was easy to see that he had suffered severely 
 from illness and want, and was still very weak. He took off his 
 hat as Mr. Pickwick saluted him, and seemed much humbled and 
 abashed at sight of Sam Weller. 
 
 Following close at his heels, came Mr. Job Trotter, in the cata- 
 logue of whose vices, want of faith and attachment to his companion 
 could at all events find no place. He was still ragged and squalid, 
 but his face was not quite so hollow as on his first meeting with 
 Mr. Pickwick, a few days before. As he took off his hat to our 
 benevolent old friend, he murmured some broken expressions of 
 gratitude, and muttered something about having been saved from 
 starving. 
 
 'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, impatiently interrupting him, 
 ' you can follow with Sam. I want to speak to you, Mr. Jingle. 
 Can you walk without his arm ? ' 
 
A CHANGE FOR THE WORSE 539 
 
 ' Certainly, sir — all ready — not too fast — legs shaky— head queer 
 - -round and round — earthquaky sort of feeling — very.' 
 
 ' Here, give me your arm,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No, no,' replied Jingle ; ' won't indeed— rather not.' 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' lean upon me, I desire, sir.' 
 
 Seeing that he was confused and agitated, and uncertain what to 
 do, Mr. Pickwick cut the matter short by drawing the invalided 
 stroller's arm through his, and leading him away, without saying 
 another word about it. 
 
 During the whole of this time, the countenance of Mr. Samuel 
 Weller had exhibited an expression of the most overwhelming and 
 absorbing astonishment that the imagination can portray. After 
 looking from Job to Jingle, and from Jingle to Job in profound 
 silence, he softly ejaculated the words, ' Well, I am damn'd ! 
 Which he repeated at least a score of times : after which exertion, 
 he appeared wholly bereft of speech, and again cast his eyes, first 
 upon the one and then upon the other, in mute perplexity and 
 bewilderment. 
 
 ' Now, Sam ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking back. 
 
 ' I'm a comin', sir,' repHed Mr. Weller, mechanically following his 
 master ; and still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter, who 
 walked at his side, in silence. 
 
 Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time. Sam, with 
 his glued to Job's countenance, ran up against the people who were 
 walking about, and fell over little children, and stumbled against 
 steps and railings, without appearing at all sensible of it, until Job, 
 looking stealthily up, said : 
 
 ' How do you do, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 
 ' It is him ! ' exclaimed Sam : and having established Job's 
 identity beyond all doubt, he smote his leg, and vented his feelings 
 in a long shrill whistle. 
 
 ' Things has altered with me, sir,' said Job. 
 
 ' I should think they had,' exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying his 
 companion's rags with undisguised wonder. 'That is rayther a 
 change for the worse, Mr. Trotter, as the gen'l'm'n said, wen he got 
 two doubtful shillin's and sixpenn'orth o' pocket pieces for a good 
 half-crown.' 
 
 ' It is, indeed,' replied Job, shaking his head. ' There is no 
 deception now, Mr. Weller. Tears,' said Job, with a look of 
 momentary slyness, ' tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor 
 the best ones.' 
 
 ' No, they ain't,' replied Sam, expressively. 
 
 ' They may be put on, Mr. Weller,' said Job. 
 
 ' I know they may,' said Sam ; ' some people, indeed, has 'em 
 always ready laid on, and can pull out the plug wenever they likes.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Job ; ' but these sort of things are not so easily 
 
540 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 counterfeited, Mr. Waller, and it is a more painful process to get 
 them up.' As he spoke, he pointed to his sallow sunken cheeks, 
 and, drawing up his coat sleeves, disclosed an arm which looked as 
 if the bone could be broken at a touch : so sharp and brittle did it 
 appear, beneath its thin covering of flesh. 
 
 ' Wot have you been a doin' to yourself? ' said Sam, recoiling. 
 
 ' Nothing,' replied Job. 
 
 ' Nothin' ! ' echoed Sam. 
 
 'I have been doin' nothing for many weeks past,' said Job; 
 ' and eating and drinking almost as little.' 
 
 Sam took one comprehensive glance at Mr. Trotter's thin face 
 and wretched apparel ; and then, seizing him by the arm, commenced 
 dragging him away with great violence. 
 
 ' Where are you going, Mr. Weller ? ' said Job, vainly struggling 
 in the powerful grasp of his old enemy. 
 
 ' Come on,' said Sam ; ' come on ! ' He deigned no further 
 explanation until they reached the tap ; and then called for a pot 
 of porter, which was speedily produced. 
 
 ' Now,' said Sam, ' drink that up, ev'ry drop on it, and then turn 
 the pot upside down, to let me see as you've took the med'cine.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Mr. Weller,' remonstrated Job. 
 
 ' Down vith it ! ' said Sam, peremptorily. 
 
 Thus admonished, Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips, and, by 
 gentle and almost imperceptible degrees, tilted it into the air. He 
 paused once, and only once, to draw a long breath, but without 
 raising his face from the vessel, which, in a few moments thereafter, 
 he held out at arm's length, bottom upward. Nothing fell upon the 
 ground but a few particles of froth, which slowly detached themselves 
 from the rim, and trickled lazily down. 
 
 ' Well done ! ' said Sam. ' How do you find yourself arter it ? ' 
 
 ' Better, sir. I think I am better,' responded Job. 
 
 ' O' course you air,' said Sam, argumentatively. ' It's like puttin' 
 gas in a balloon. I can see with the naked eye that you gets 
 stouter under the operation. Wot do you say to another o' the 
 same di-mensions ? ' 
 
 ' I would rather not, I am much obliged to you, sir,' replied Job, 
 ' much rather not.' 
 
 ' Veil, then, wot do you say to some wittles ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Thanks to your worthy governor, sir,' said Mr. Trotter, ' we 
 have half a leg of mutton, baked, at a quarter before three, with the 
 potatoes under it to save boiling.' 
 
 ' Wot ! Has Ae been a purwidin' for you ? ' asked Sam, 
 emphatically. 
 
 ' He has, sir,' replied Job. ' More than that, Mr. Weller ; my 
 master being very ill, he got us a room— we were in a kennel 
 before— and paid for it, sir; and come to look at us, at night, 
 
SAM CONFIDES A SECRET 541 
 
 when nobody should know. Mr. Weller,' said Job, with real tears 
 in his eyes, for once, ' I could serve that gentleman till I fell down 
 dead at his feet.' 
 
 ' I say ! ' said Sam, ' I'll trouble you, my friend ! None o' that ! ' 
 Job Trotter looked amazed. 
 
 ' None o' that, I say, young feller,' repeated Sam, firmly. ' No 
 man serves him but me. And now we're upon it, I'll let you into 
 another secret besides that,' said Sam, as he paid for the beer. 
 ' I never heerd, mind you, nor read of in story-books, nor see in 
 picters, any angel in tights and gaiters — not even in spectacles, as 
 I remember, though that may ha' been done for anythin' I know to 
 the contrairey — but mark my vords. Job Trotter, he's a reg'lar 
 thorough-bred angel for all that; and let me see the man as 
 wenturs to tell me he knows a better vun.' With this defiance, 
 Mr. Weller buttoned up his change in a side pocket, and, with 
 many confirmatory nods and gestures by the way, proceeded in 
 search of the subject of discourse. 
 
 They found Mr. Pickwick, in company with Jingle, talking very 
 earnestly, and not bestowing a look on the groups who were con- 
 gregated on the racket-ground ; they were very motley groups too, 
 and worth the looking at, if it were only in idle curiosity. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Sam and his companion drew nighj 
 'you will see how your health becomes, and think about it mean- 
 while. Make the statement out for me when you feel yourself 
 equal to the task, and I will discuss the subject with you when I 
 have considered it. Now, go to your room. You are tired, and 
 not strong enough to be out long.' 
 
 Mr. Alfred Jingle, without one spark of his old animation — with 
 nothing even of the dismal gaiety which he had assumed when Mr. 
 Pickwick first stumbled on him in his misery — bowed low without 
 speaking, and, motioning to Job not to follow him just yet, crept 
 slowly away. 
 
 ' Curious scene this, is it not, Sam ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking 
 good-humouredly round. 
 
 ' Wery much so, sir,' replied Sam. ' Wonders 'ull never cease,' 
 added Sam, speaking to himself ' I'm wery much mistaken if that 
 'ere Jingle wom't a doin' somethin' in the water-cart way ! ' 
 
 The area formed by the wall in that part of the Fleet in which 
 Mr. Pickwick stood, was just wide enough to make a good racket 
 court ; one side being formed, of course, by the wall itself, and the 
 other by that portion of the prison which looked (or rather would 
 have looked, but for the wall) towards St. Paul's Cathedral. 
 Sauntering or sitting about, in every possible attitude of listless 
 idleness, were a great number of debtors, the major part of whom 
 were waiting in prison until their day of ' going up ' before the 
 Insolvent Court should arrive j while others had been remanded 
 
542 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 for various terms, which they were idhng away, as they best could. 
 Some were shabby, some were smart, many dirty, a few clean; 
 but there they all lounged, and loitered, and slimk about, with as 
 little spirit or purpose as the beasts in a menagerie. 
 
 Lolling from the windows which commanded a view of this 
 promenade, were a number of persons, some in noisy conversation 
 with their acquaintance below, others playing at ball with some 
 adventurous throwers outside, others looking on at the racket- * 
 players, or watching the boys as they cried the game. Dirty 
 slipshod women passed and re-passed, on their way to the cooking- 
 house in one comer of the yard ; children screamed, and fought, 
 and played together, in another ; the tumbling of the skittles, and 
 the shouts of the players, mingled perpetually with these and a 
 hundred other sounds; and all was noise and tumult — save in a 
 little miserable shed a few yards off, where lay, all quiet and 
 ghastly, the body of the Chancery prisoner who had died the night 
 before, awaiting the mockery of an inquest. The body ! It is the 
 lawyer's term for the restless whirling mass of cares and anxieties, 
 affections, hopes, and griefs, that make up the living man. The 
 law Aad his body; and there it lay, clothed in grave clothes, an 
 awful witness to its tender mercy. 
 
 'Would you like to see a whistling-shop, sir?' inquired Job 
 Trotter. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' was Mr. Pickwick's counter inquiry. 
 
 ' A vistlin' shop, sir,' interposed Mr. Weller. 
 
 'What is that, Sam? A bird-fancier's?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Bless your heart, no, sir,' replied Job ; ' a whistling-shop, sir, 
 is where they sell spirits.' Mr. Job Trotter briefly explained here, 
 that all persons, being prohibited under heavy penalties from con- 
 veying spirits into debtors' prisons, and such commodities being 
 highly prized by the ladies and gentlemen confined therein, it had 
 occurred to some speculative turnkey to connive, for certain lucrative 
 considerations, at two or three prisoners retailing the favourite 
 article of gin, for their own profit and advantage. 
 
 ' This plan, you see, sir, has been gradually introduced into all 
 the prisons for debt,' said Mr. Trotter. 
 
 'And it has this wery great advantage,' said Sam, 'that the 
 turnkeys takes wery good care to seize hold o' ev'ry body but them 
 as pays 'em, that attempts the willainy, and wen it gets in the 
 papers they're applauded for their wigilance ; so it cuts two ways 
 — frightens other people from the trade, and elewates their own 
 characters.' 
 
 ' Exactly so, Mr. Weller,' observed Job. 
 
 ' Well, but are these rooms never searched, to ascertain whether 
 any spirits are concealed in them ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Cert'nly they are, sir,' replied Sam; 'but the turnkeys knows 
 
A WHISTLING-SHOP 543 
 
 beforehand, and gives the word to the wistlers, and you may wistle 
 for it when you go to look.' 
 
 By this time, Job had tapped at a door, which was opened by a 
 gentleman with an uncombed head, who bolted it "after them when 
 they had walked in, and grinned; upon which Job grinned, and 
 Sam also ; whereupon Mr. Pickwick, thinking it might be expected 
 of him, kept on smiling to the end of the interview. 
 
 The gentleman with the uncombed head appeared quite satisfied 
 with this mute announcement of their business, and, producing a 
 flat stone bottle, which might hold about a couple of quarts, from 
 beneath his bedstead, filled out three glasses of gin, which Job 
 Trotter and Sam disposed of in a most workmanlike manner. 
 
 ' Any more ? ' said the whistling gentleman. 
 
 ' No more,' replied Job Trotter. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paid, the door was unbolted, and out they came ; 
 the uncombed gentleman bestowing a friendly nod upon Mr. 
 Roker, who happened to be passing at the moment. 
 
 From this spot, Mr. Pickwick wandered along all the galleries, 
 up and down all the staircases, and once again round the whole 
 area of the yard. The great body of the prison population ap- 
 peared to be Mivins, and Smangle, and the parson, and the butcher, 
 and the leg, over and over, and over again. There were the same 
 squalor, the same turmoil and noise, the same general characteristics, 
 in every comer ; in the best and the worst alike. The whole place 
 seemed restless and troubled ; and the people were crowding and 
 flitting to and fro, like the shadows in an uneasy dream. 
 
 ' I have seen enough,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he threw himself 
 into a chair in his little apartment. ' My head aches with these 
 scenes, and my heart too. Henceforth I will be a prisoner in my 
 own room.' 
 
 And Mr. Pickwick steadfastly adhered to this determination. 
 For three long months he remained shut up, all day ; only stealing 
 out at night to breathe the air when the greater part of his fellow 
 prisoners were in bed or carousing in their rooms. His health was 
 beginning to suffer from the closeness of the confinement, but 
 neither the often-repeated entreaties of Perker and his friends, nor 
 the still more frequently-repeated warnings and admonitions of Mr. 
 Samuel Weller, could induce him to alter one jot of his inflexible 
 resolution. 
 
544 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 RECORDS A TOUCHING ACT OF DELICATE FEELING, NOT UNMIXED 
 WITH PLEASANTRY, ACHIEVED AND PERFORMED BT MESSRS. 
 DODSON AND FOGG 
 
 It was within a week of the close of the month of July, that a 
 hackney cabriolet, number unrecorded, was seen to proceed at a 
 rapid pace up Goswell Street ; three people were squeezed into it 
 besides the driver, who sat in his own particular little dickey at the 
 side ; over the apron were hung two shawls, belonging to two small 
 vixenish-looking ladies under the apron ; between whom, com- 
 pressed into a very small compass, was stowed away, a gentleman 
 of heavy and subdued demeanour, who, whenever he ventured to 
 make an observation, was snapped up short by one of the vixenish 
 ladies before-mentioned. Lastly, the two vixenish ladies and the 
 heavy gentleman were giving the driver contradictory directions, all 
 tending to the one point that he should stop at Mrs. Bardell's door ; 
 which the heavy gentleman, in direct opposition to, and defiance of, 
 the vixenish ladies, contended was a green door and not a yellow one. 
 
 ' Stop at the house with the green door, driver,' said the heavy 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' Oh ! You perwerse creetur ! ' exclaimed one of the vixenish 
 ladies. ' Drive to the ouse with the yellow door, cabmin.' 
 
 Upon this, the cabman, who in a sudden effort to pull up at the 
 house with the green door, had pulled the horse up so high that he 
 nearly pulled him backward into the cabriolet, let the animal's fore 
 legs down to the ground again, and paused. 
 
 'Now vere am I to pull up?' inquired the driver. 'Settle it 
 among yourselves. All I ask is, vere ? ' 
 
 Here the contest was renewed with increased violence ; and the 
 horse being troubled with a fly on his nose, the cabman humanely 
 employed his leisure in lashing him about the head, on the counter- 
 irritation principle. 
 
 ' Most wotes carries the day ! ' said one of the vixenish ladies at 
 length. ' The ouse with the yellow door, cabmin.' 
 
 But after the cabriolet had dashed up, in splendid style, to the 
 house with the yellow door : ' making,' as one of the vixenish ladies 
 triumphantly said, ' acterrally more noise than if one had come in 
 , one's own carriage '—and after the driver has dismounted to assist 
 the- ladies in getting out— the small round head of Master Thomas 
 Bardell was thrust out of the one pair wmdo\v of ?. house with 3 rqd 
 door, a f§w numbers off, ' 
 
MRS. CLUPPINS AND MASTER BARDELL 545 
 
 'Aggrawatin' thing!' said the vixenish lady last mentioned, 
 darting a withering glance at the heavy gentleman. 
 
 ' My dear, it's not my fault,' said the gentleman. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me, you creetur, don't,' retorted the lady. ' The 
 house with the red door, cabmin. Oh ! If ever a woman was 
 troubled with a ruffinly creetur, that takes a pride and a pleasure in 
 disgracing his wife on every possible occasion afore strangers, I am 
 that woman ! ' 
 
 ' You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raddle,' said the other 
 little woman, who was no other than Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 'What have I been a doing of?' asked Mr. Raddle. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me, don't, you brute, for fear I should be perwoked 
 to forgit my sect and strike you ! ' said Mrs. Raddle. 
 
 While this dialogue was going on, the driver was most igno- 
 miniously leading the horse, by the bridle, up to the house with the 
 red door, which Master Bardell had already opened. Here was a 
 mean and low way of arriving at a friend's house ! No dashing up, 
 with all the fire and fury of the animal ; no jumping down of the 
 driver ; no loud knocking at the door ; no opening of the apron with 
 a crash at the very last moment, for fear of the ladies sitting in a 
 draught, and then the man handing the shawls out, afterwards, as if 
 he were a private coachman ! The whole edge of the thing had 
 been taken off; it was flatter than walking. 
 
 ' Well, Tommy,' said Mrs. Cluppins, ' How's your poor dear 
 mother ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, she's very well,' replied Master Bardell. ' She's in the front 
 parlour, all ready. I'm ready too, I am.' Here Master Bardell 
 put his hands in his pockets, and jumped off and on the bottom 
 step of the door. 
 
 ' Is anybody else a goin'. Tommy ? ' said Mrs. Cluppins, arranging 
 her pelerine. 
 
 ' Mrs. Sanders is going, she is,' replied Tommy, ' I'm going too, 
 I am.' 
 
 ' Drat the boy,' said little Mrs. Cluppins. ' He thinks of nobody 
 but himself. Here, Tommy, dear.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Master Bardell. 
 
 ' Who else is a goin', lovey ? ' said Mrs. Cluppins in an insinuating 
 manner. 
 
 ' Oh ! Mrs. Rogers is a goin',' replied Master Bardell, opening 
 his eyes very wide as he delivered the intelligence. 
 
 ' What ! The lady as has taken the lodgings ! ' ejaculated Mrs. 
 Cluppins. 
 
 Master Bardell put his hands deeper down into his pockets, and 
 nodded exactly thirty-five times, to imply that it was the lady 
 lodger, and no other. 
 
 ' Bless us ! ' said Mrs. Cluppins. ' It's quite a party ! ' 
 
 2 N 
 
546 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Ah, if you knew what was in the cupboard, you'd say so,' replied 
 Master Bardell. 
 
 ' What is there, Tommy ? ' said Mrs. Cluppins, coaxingly. ' You'll 
 tell me. Tommy, I know.' 
 
 ' No, I won't,' replied Master Bardell, shaking his head, and 
 applying himself to the bottom step again. 
 
 ' Drat the child ! ' muttered Mrs. Cluppins. ' What a prowokin' 
 little wretch it is ! Come, Tommy, tell your dear Cluppy.' 
 
 ' Mother said I wasn't to,' rejoined Master Bardell, ' I'm a goin' 
 to have some, I am.' Cheered by this prospect, the precocious boy 
 applied himself to his infantile treadmill, with increased vigour. 
 
 The above examination of a child of tender years, took place 
 while Mr. and Mrs. Raddle and the cab-driver were having an alter- 
 cation concerning the fare : which, terminating at this point in 
 favour of the cabman, Mrs. Raddle came up tottering. 
 
 ' Lauk, Mary Ann ! what's the matter ? ' said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' It's put me all over in such a tremble, Betsy,' replied Mrs. Raddle. 
 ' Raddle ain't like a man ; he leaves everythink to me.' 
 
 This was scarcely fair upon the unfortunate Mr. Raddle, who had 
 been thrust aside by his good lady in the commencement of the 
 dispute, and peremptorily commanded to hold his tongue. He had 
 no opportunity of defending himself, however, for Mrs. Raddle gave 
 unequivocal signs of fainting; which, being perceived from the 
 parlour window, Mrs. Bardell, Mrs. Sanders, the lodger, and the 
 lodger's servant, darted precipitately out, and conveyed her into 
 the house : all talking at the same time, and giving utterance to 
 various expressions of pity and condolence, and if she were one of 
 the most suffering mortals on earth. Being conveyed into the front 
 parlour, she -was there deposited on a sofa ; and the lady from the 
 first floor running up to the first floor, returned with a bottle of sal 
 volatile, which, holding Mrs. Raddle tight round the neck, she 
 applied in all womanly kindness and pity to her nose, until that 
 lady with many plunges and struggles was fain to declare herself 
 decidedly better. 
 
 ' Ah, poor thing ! ' said Mrs. Rogers, ' I know what her feelin's 
 IS, too well.' 
 
 ' Ah, poor thing ! so do I,' said Mrs. Sanders : and then all the 
 ladies moaned in unison, and said they knew what it was, and they 
 pitied her from their hearts, they did. Even the lodger's little 
 servant, who was thirteen years old, and three feet high, murmured 
 her sympathy. 
 
 ' But what's been the matter ? ' said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Ah, what has decomposed you, ma'am ? ' inquired Mrs. Rogers. 
 
 ' I have been a good deal flurried,' replied Mrs. Raddle, in a 
 reproachful manner. Thereupon the ladies cast indignant looks at 
 Mr. Raddle. 
 
INTRODUCTION OF MRS. ROGERS 547 
 
 ■ Why, the fact is,' said that unhappy gentleman, stepping forward, 
 ' when we alighted at this door, a dispute arose with the driver of 
 
 the cabrioily ' A loud scream from his wife, at the mention of 
 
 this word, rendered all further explanation inaudible. 
 
 ' You'd better leave us to bring her round. Raddle,' said Mrs. 
 Cluppins. ' She'll never get better as long as you're here.' 
 
 All the ladies concurred in this opinion; so Mr. Raddle was 
 pushed out of the room, and requested to give himself an airing in 
 the back yard. Which he did for about a quarter of an hour, when 
 Mrs. Bardell announced to him with a solemn face that he might 
 come in now, but that he must be very careful how he behaved 
 towards his wife. She knew he didn't mean to be unkind ; but 
 Mary Ann was very far from strong, and, if he didn't take care, he 
 might lose her when he least expected it, which would be a very 
 dreadful reflection for him afterwards ; and so on. All this, Mr. 
 Raddle heard with great submission, and presently returned to the 
 parlour in a most lamb-like manner. 
 
 ' Why, Mrs. Rogers, ma'am,' said Mrs. Bardell, ' you've never been 
 introduced, I declare ! Mr. Raddle, ma'am ; Mrs. Cluppins, 
 ma'am ; Mrs. Raddle, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Which is Mrs. Cluppins's sister,' suggested Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' Oh, indeed ! ' said Mrs. Rogers, graciously ; for she was the 
 lodger, and her servant was in waiting, so she was more gracious 
 than intimate, in right of her position. ' Oh, indeed ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Raddle smiled sweetly, Mr. Raddle bowed, and Mrs 
 Cluppins said ' she was sure she was very happy to have a oppor 
 tunity of being known to a lady which she had heerd so much in 
 favour of, as Mrs. Rogers.' A compliment which the last-named 
 lady acknowledged with graceful condescension. 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Raddle,' said Mrs. Bardell ; ' I'm sure you ought to 
 feel very much honoured at you and Tommy being the only gentle- 
 men to escort so many ladies all the way to the Spaniards, at 
 Hampstead. Don't you think he ought, Mrs. Rogers, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly, ma'am,' replied Mrs. Rogers ; after whom all the 
 other ladies responded ' Oh, certainly.' 
 
 ' Of course I feel it, ma'am,' said Mr. Raddle, rubbing his hands, 
 and evincing a slight tendency to brighten up a little. ' Indeed, 
 to tell you the truth, I said, as we was a coming along in the 
 cabrioily ' 
 
 At the recapitulation of the word which awakened so many painful 
 recollections, Mrs. Raddle applied her handkerchief to her eyes 
 again, and uttered a half-suppressed scream; so Mrs. Bardell frowned 
 upon Mr. Raddle, to intimate that he had better not say anything 
 more, and desired Mrs. Rogers's servant, with an air, to ' put the 
 wine on.' 
 
 This was the signal for displaying the hidden treasures of the 
 
548 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 closet, which comprised sundry plates of oranges and biscuits, and 
 a bottle of old crusted port — that at one and nine — with another of 
 the celebrated East India sherry at fourteenpence, which were all 
 produced in honour of the lodger, and afforded unhmited satisfaction 
 to everybody. After great consternation had been excited in the 
 mind of Mrs. Cluppins, by an attempt on the part of Tommy to 
 recount how he had been cross-examined regarding the cupboard 
 then in action, (which was fortunately nipped in the bud by his 
 imbibing half a glass of the old crusted ' the wrong way,' and thereby 
 endangering his life for some seconds,) the party walked forth, in 
 quest of a Hampstead stage. This was soon found, and in a couple 
 of hours they all arrived safely in the Spaniards Tea-gardens, where 
 the luckless Mr. Raddle's very first act nearly occasioned his good 
 lady a relapse ; it being neither more nor less than to order tea for 
 seven, whereas (as the ladies one and all remarked), what could 
 have been easier than for Tommy to have drank out of anybody's cup 
 — or everybody's, if that was all — when the waiter wasn't looking : 
 which would have saved one head of tea, and the tea just as good ! 
 
 However, there was no help for it, and the tea-tray came, with 
 seven cups and saucers, and bread and butter on the same scale. 
 Mrs. Bardell was unanimously voted into the chair, and Mrs. Rogers 
 being stationed on her right hand, and Mrs. Raddle on her left, the 
 meal proceeded with great merriment and success. 
 
 ' How sweet the country is, to-be-sure ! ' sighed Mrs. Rogers ; ' I 
 almost wish I lived in it always.' 
 
 ' Oh, you v,'ouldn't like that, ma'am,' replied Mrs. Bardell, rather 
 hastily ; for it was not at all advisable, with reference to the lodgings, 
 to encourage such notions ; ' you wouldn't like it, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I should think you was a deal too lively and sought-after, 
 to be content with the country, ma'am,' said little Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' Perhaps I am, ma'am. Perhaps I am,' sighed the first-floor 
 lodger. 
 
 ' For lone people as have got nobody to care for them, or take 
 care of them, or as have been hurt in their mind, or that kind of 
 thing,' observed Mr. Raddle, plucking up a little cheerfulness, and 
 looking round, ' the country is all very well. The country for a 
 wounded spirit, they say.' 
 
 Now, of all things in the world that the unfortunate man could 
 have said, any would have been preferable to this. Of course Mrs. 
 Bardell burst into tears, and requested to be led from the table 
 instantly ; upon which the affectionate child began to cry too, most 
 dismally. 
 
 ' Would anybody believe, ma'am,' exclaimed Mrs. Raddle, turning 
 fiercely to the first-floor lodger, ' that a woman could be married to 
 such a unmanly creetur, which can tamper with a woman's feelings 
 as he does, every hour in the day, ma'am ? ' 
 
SPECIAL MESSENGER FOR MRS. BARBELL 549 
 
 ' My dear,' remonstrated Mr. Raddle, ' I didn't mean anything, 
 my dear.' 
 
 ' You didn't mean ! ' repeated Mrs. Raddle, with great scorn and 
 contempt. ' Go away. I can't bear the sight oh you, you brute.' 
 
 'You must not flurry yourself, Mary Ann,' interposed Mrs. 
 Cluppins. ' You really must consider yourself, my dear, which you 
 never do. Now go away. Raddle, there's a good soul, or you'll 
 only aggravate her.' 
 
 ' You had better take your tea by yourself, sir, indeed,' said Mrs. 
 Rogers, again applying the smelling-bottle. 
 
 Mrs. Sanders, who according to custom was very busy with the 
 bread and butter, expressed the same opinion, and Mr. Raddle 
 quietly retired. 
 
 After this, there was a great hoisting up of Master Bardell, who 
 was rather a large size for hugging, into his mother's arms : in which 
 operation he got his boots in the tea-board, and occasioned some 
 confusion among the cups and saucers. But that description of 
 fainting fits, which is contagious among ladies, seldom lasts long ; 
 so when he had been well kissed, and a little cried over, Mrs. 
 Bardell recovered, set him down again, wondered how she could 
 have been so foolish, and poured out some more tea. 
 
 It was at this moment, that the sound of approaching wheels was 
 heard, and that the ladies, looking up, saw a hackney-coach stop at 
 the garden-gate. 
 
 ' More company ! ' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 ' It's a gentleman,' said Mrs. Raddle. 
 
 ' Well, if it ain't Mr. Jackson, the young man from Dodson and 
 Fogg's ! ' cried Mrs. Bardell. ' Why, gracious ! Surely Mr. Pickwick 
 can't have paid the damages.' 
 
 ' Or hoffered marriage ! ' said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ' Dear me, how slow the gentleman is,' exclaimed Mrs. Rogers : 
 ' Why doesn't he make haste ? ' 
 
 As the lady spoke these words, Mr. Jackson turned from the 
 coach where he had been addressing some observations to a shabby 
 man in black leggings, who had just emerged from the vehicle with 
 a thick ash stick in his hand, and made his way to the place where 
 the ladies were seated ; winding his hair round the brim of his hat 
 as he came along. 
 
 ' Is anything the matter ? Has anything taken place, Mr. Jackson ? ' 
 said Mrs. Bardell, eagerly. 
 
 ' Nothing whatever, ma'am,' repHed Mr. Jackson. ' How de do, 
 ladies? I have to ask pardon, ladies, for intruding — but the law, 
 ladies — the law.' With this apology Mr. Jackson smiled, made a 
 comprehensive bow, and gave his hair another wind. Mrs. Rogers 
 whispered Mrs. Raddle that he was really a elegant young man. 
 
 ' I called in Goswell Street,' resumed Jackson, ' and hearing that 
 
550 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 you were here, from the slavey, took a coach and came on. Our 
 people want you down in the city directly, Mrs. Bardell.' 
 
 ' Lor ! ' ejaculated that lady, starting at the sudden nature of the 
 communication. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Jackson, biting his lip. ' It's very important and 
 pressing business, which can't be postponed on any account. Indeed, 
 Dodson expressly said so to me, and so did Fogg. I've kept the 
 coach on purpose for you to go back in.' 
 
 ' How very strange ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 The ladies agreed that it was very strange, but were unanimously 
 of opinion that it must be very important, or Dodson and Fogg 
 would never have sent ; and further, that the business being urgent, 
 she ought to repair to Dodson and Fogg's without any delay. 
 
 There was a certain degree of pride and importance about being 
 wanted by one's lawyers in such a monstrous hurry, that was by no 
 means displeasing to Mrs. Bardell, especially as it might be reason- 
 ably supposed to enhance her consequence in the eyes of the first- 
 floor lodger. She simpered a little, affected extreme vexation and 
 hesitation, and at last arrived at the conclusion that she supposed 
 she must go. 
 
 ' But won't you refresh yourself after your walk, Mr. Jackson ? ' 
 said Mrs. Bardell, persuasively. 
 
 'Why, really there ain't much time to lose,' replied Jackson; 
 ' and I've got a friend here,' he continued, looking towards the man 
 with the ash stick. 
 
 ' Oh, ask your friend to come here, sir,' said Mrs. Bardell. ' Pray 
 ask your friend here, sir.' 
 
 'Why, thankee, I'd rather not,' said Mr. Jackson, with some 
 embarrassment of manner. ' He's not much used to ladies' society, 
 and it makes him bashful. If you'll order the waiter to deliver him 
 anything short, he won't drink it off at once, won't he ! — only try 
 him ! ' Mr. Jackson's fingers wandered playfully round his nose, at 
 this portion of his discourse, to warn his hearers that he was speak- 
 ing ironically. 
 
 The waiter was at once despatched to the bashful gentleman, and 
 the bashful gentleman took something; Mr. Jackson also took 
 something, and the ladies took something, for hospitality's sake. 
 Mr. Jackson then said he was afraid it was time to go ; upon which, 
 Mrs. Sanders, Mrs. Cluppins, and Tommy (who it was arranged 
 should accompany Mrs. Bardell : leaving the others to Mr. Raddle's 
 protection), got into the coach. 
 
 ' Isaac,' said Jackson, as Mrs. Bardell prepared to get in : looking 
 up at the man with the ash stick, who was seated on the box, 
 smoking a cigar. 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' This is Mrs. Bardell.' 
 
MRS. BARDELL AT THE FLEET 551 
 
 ' Oh, I know'd that, long ago,' said the man. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell got in, Mr. Jackson got in after her, and away they 
 drove. Mrs. Bardell could not help ruminating on what Mr. 
 Jackson's friend had said. Shrewd creatures, those lawyers. Lord 
 bless us, how they find people out ! 
 
 ' Sad thing about these costs of our people, ain't it ? ' said Jackson, 
 when Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders had fallen asleep ; ' your bill 
 of costs, I mean.' 
 
 ' I'm very sorry they can't get them,' replied Mrs. Bardell. ' But 
 if you law-gentlemen do these things on speculation, why you must 
 get a loss now and then, you know.' 
 
 ' You gave them a cognovit for the amount of your costs, after the 
 trial, I'm told ? ' said Jackson. 
 
 ' Yes. Just as a matter of form,' replied Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied Jackson, drily. ' Quite a matter of form. 
 Quite.' 
 
 On they drove, and Mrs. Bardell fell asleep. She was awakened, 
 after some time, by the stopping of the coach. 
 
 ' Bless us ! ' said the lady. ' Are we at Freeman's Court ? ' 
 
 ' We're not going quite so far,' replied Jackson. ' Have the good- 
 ness to step out.' 
 
 Mrs. Bardell, not yet thoroughly awake, complied. It was a 
 curious place : a large wall, with a gate in the middle, and a gas- 
 hght burning inside. 
 
 ' Now, ladies,' cried the man with the ash stick, looking into the 
 coach, and shaking Mrs. Sanders to wake her, ' Come ! ' Rousing 
 her friend, Mrs. Sanders alighted. Mrs. Bardell, leaning on 
 Jackson's arm, and leading Tommy by the hand, had already entered 
 the porch. They followed. 
 
 The room they turned into, was even more odd-looking than the 
 porch. Such a number of men standing about ! And they stared 
 so ! 
 
 ' What place is this ? ' inquired Mrs. Bardell, pausing. 
 
 'Only one of our public offices,' replied Jackson, hurrying her 
 through a door, and looking round to see that the other women 
 were following. ' Look sharp, Isaac ! ' 
 
 'Safe and sound,' replied the man with the ash stick. The 
 door swung heavily after them, and they descended a small flight 
 of steps. 
 
 ' Here we are, at last. All right and tight, Mrs. Bardell ! ' said 
 Jackson, looking exultingly round. 
 
 'What do you mean?' said Mrs. Bardell, with a palpitating 
 heart. 
 
 'Just this,' repUed Jackson, drawing her a little on one side; 
 'don't be frightened, Mrs. Bardell. There never was a more 
 delicate man than Dodson, ma'am, or a more humane man than 
 
552 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Fogg. It was their duty, in the way of business, to take you in 
 execution for them costs ; but they were anxious to spare your 
 feelings as much as they could. What a comfort it must be, to 
 you, to think how it's been done ! This is the Fleet, ma'am. Wish 
 you good night, Mrs. Bardell. Good night, Tommy ! ' 
 
 As Jackson hurried away in company with the man with the ash 
 stick, another man with a key in his hand, who had been looking 
 on, led the bewildered female to a second short flight of steps 
 leading to a doorway. Mrs. Bardell screamed violently; Tommy 
 roared; Mrs. Cluppins shrunk within herself; and Mrs. Sanders 
 made off, without more ado. For, there, stood the injured Mr. 
 Pickwick, taking his nightly allowance of air ; and beside him leant 
 Samuel Weller, who, seeing Mrs. Bardell, took his hat off with mock 
 reverence, while his master turned indignantly on his heel. 
 
 ' Don't bother the woman,' said the turnkey to Weller ; ' she's 
 just come in.' 
 
 ' A pris'ner ! ' said Sam, quickly replacing his hat. ' Who's the 
 plaintives ? What for ? Speak up, old feller.' 
 
 ' Dodson and Fogg,' replied the man ; ' execution on cognovit 
 for costs.' 
 
 ' Here, Job, Job ! ' shouted Sam, dashing into the passage. ' Run 
 to Mr. Perker's, Job. / want him directly. I see some good in 
 this. Here's a game. Hooray ! were's the goVnor ? ' 
 
 But there was no reply to these inquiries, for Job had started 
 furiously off, the instant he received his commission, and Mrs. 
 Bardell had fainted in real downright earnest. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 is chiefly devoted to matters of business, anb the tem- 
 poral advantage of dodson and fogg. mr. winkle 
 re-appears under extraordinary circumstances. mr. 
 Pickwick's benevolence proves stronger than his 
 obstinacy 
 
 Job Trotter, abating nothing of his speed, ran up Holborn; 
 sometimes in the middle of the road, sometimes on the pavement, 
 sometimes in the gutter, as the chances of getting along varied 
 with the press of men, women, children, and coaches, in each 
 division of the thoroughfare ; regardless of all obstacles, he stopped 
 not for an instant until he reached the gate of Gray's Inn. Not- 
 withstanding all the expedition he had used, however, the gate had 
 been closed a good half hour when he reached it, and by the time 
 

 Jf,g'.u<. 
 
 •^'T''l^aAa^l^ye^i.cc>t//yi^s4Jiy4z/r^ 
 
 <[yy(/^/ine-Jfyi'iJ<y>^- 
 
MR. PERKER'S PRIVATE RESIDENCE 553 
 
 he had discovered Mr. Perker's laundress, who lived with a married 
 daughter, who had bestowed her hand upon a non-resident waiter, 
 who occupied the one-pair of some number in some street closely- 
 adjoining to some brewery somewhere behind Gray's Inn Lane, 
 it was within fifteen minutes of closing the prison for the night. 
 Mr. Lowten had still to be ferreted out from the back parlour 
 of the Magpie and Stump; and Job had scarcely accomplished 
 this object, and communicated Sam Weller's message, when the 
 clock struck ten. 
 
 ' There,' said Lowten, ' it's too late now. You can't get in to- 
 night ; you've got the key of the street, my friend.' 
 
 'Never mind me,' repUed Job. 'I can sleep anywhere. But 
 won't it be better to see Mr. Perker to-night, so that we may be 
 there, the first thing in the morning ? ' 
 
 ' Why,' responded Lowten, after a little consideration, ' if it was 
 in anybody else's case, Perker wouldn't be best pleased at my going 
 up to his house ; but as it's Mr. Pickwick's, I think I may venture 
 to take a cab and charge it to the office.' Deciding on this line of 
 conduct, Mr. Lowten took up his hat, and begging the assembled 
 company to appoint a deputy- chairman during his temporary 
 absence, led the way to the nearest coach-stand. Summoning the 
 cab of most promising appearance, he directed the driver to repair 
 to Montague Place, Russell Square. 
 
 Mr. Perker had had a dinner party that day, as was testified by 
 the appearance of lights in the drawing-room windows, the sound 
 of an improved grand piano, and an improvable cabinet voice 
 issuing therefrom, and a rather overpowering smell of meat which 
 pervaded the steps and entry. In fact a couple of very good 
 country agencies happening to come up to town, at the same time, 
 an agreeable little party had been got together to meet them : 
 comprising Mr. Snicks the Life Office Secretary, Mr. Prosee the 
 eminent counsel, three solicitors, one commissioner of bankrupts, 
 a special pleader from the Temple, a small-eyed peremptory young 
 gentleman, his pupil, who had written a lively book about the law 
 of demises, with a vast quantity of marginal notes and references ; 
 and several other eminent and distinguished personages. From 
 this society, little Mr. Perker detached himself, on his clerk being 
 announced in a whisper; and repairing to the dining-room, there 
 found Mr. Lowten and Job Trotter looking very dim and shadowy 
 by the light of a kitchen candle, which the gentleman who con- 
 descended to appear in plush shorts and cottons for a quarterly 
 stipend, had, with a becoming contempt for the clerk and all things 
 appertaining to ' the office,' placed upon the table. 
 
 'Now, Lowten,' said little Mr. Perker, shutting the door, 
 ' what's the matter ? No important letter come in a parcel, is 
 there ? ' 
 
554 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Lowten. ' This is a messenger from Mr. Pick- 
 wick, sir.' 
 
 'From Pickwick, eh?' said the little man, turning quickly to 
 Job. ' Well, what is it ? ' 
 
 ' Dodson and Fogg have taken Mrs. Bardell in execution for her 
 costs, sir,' said Job. 
 
 ' No ! ' exclaimed Perker, putting his hands in his pockets, and 
 reclining against the sideboard. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Job. ' It seems they got a cognovit out of her, for 
 the amount of 'em, directly after the trial.' 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' said Perker, taking both hands out of his pockets, 
 and striking the knuckles of his right against the palm of his left, 
 emphatically, ' those are the cleverest scamps I ever had anything 
 to do with ! ' 
 
 ' The sharpest practitioners / ever knew, sir,' observed Lowten. 
 
 ' Sharp ! ' echoed Perker. ' There's no knowing where to have 
 them.' 
 
 ' Very true, sir, there is not,' replied Lowten ; and then, both 
 master and man pondered for a few seconds, with animated counte- 
 nances, as if they were reflecting upon one of the most beautifiil 
 and ingenious discoveries that the intellect of man had ever made. 
 When they had in some measure recovered from their trance of 
 admiration, Job Trotter discharged himself of the rest of his com- 
 mission. Perker nodded his head thoughtfully, and pulled out his 
 watch. 
 
 ' At ten precisely, I will be there,' said the little man. ' Sam is 
 quite right. Tell him so. Will you take a glass of wine, Lowten ? ' 
 
 ' No, thank you, sir.' 
 
 ' You mean yes, I think,' said the little man, turning to the side' 
 beard for a decanter and glasses. 
 
 As Lowten did mean yes, he said no more on the subject, but 
 inquired of Job, in an audible whisper, whether the portrait of 
 Perker, which hung opposite the fire-place, wasn't a wonderful Uke- 
 ness, to which. Job of course replied that it was. The wine being 
 by this time poured out, Lowten drank to Mrs. Perker and the 
 children, and Job to Perker. The gentleman in the plush shorts 
 and cottons considering it no part of his duty to show the people 
 from the office out, consistently declined to answer the bell, and 
 they showed themselves out. The attorney betook himself to his 
 drawing-room, the clerk to the Magpie and Stump, and Job to 
 Covent Garden Market to spend the night in a vegetable basket. 
 
 Punctually at the appointed hour next morning, the good- 
 humoured little attorney tapped at Mr. Pickwick's door, which was 
 opened with great alacrity by Sam Weller. 
 
 ' Mr. Perker, sir.' said Sam, announcing the visitor to Mr. Pick- 
 wick, who was sitting at the window in a thoughtful attitude. 
 
THE OLD STORY 555 
 
 'Wery glad you've looked in accidentally, sir. I rather think the 
 gov'nor wants to have a word and a half with you, sir.' 
 
 Perker bestowed a look of intelligence on Sam, intimating that he 
 understood he was not to say he had been sent for : and beckoning 
 him to approach, whispered briefly in his ear. 
 
 'You don't mean that 'ere, sir?' said Sam, starting back in 
 excessive surprise. 
 
 Perker nodded and smiled. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Weller looked at the littie lawyer, then at Mr. Pick- 
 wick, then at the ceiling, then at Perker again ; grinned, laughed 
 outright, and finally, catching up his hat from the carpet, without 
 further explanation, disappeared. 
 
 ' What does this mean ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at 
 Perker with astonishment. 'What has put Sam into this most 
 extraordinary state ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing, nothing,' replied Perker. ' Come, my dear sir, 
 draw up your chair to the table. I have a good deal to say to 
 you.' 
 
 ' What papers are those ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, as the little 
 man deposited on the table a small bundle of documents tied with 
 red tape. 
 
 ' The papers in Bardell and Pickwick,' replied Perker, undoing 
 the knot with his teeth. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick grated the legs of his chair against the ground ; 
 and throwing himself into it, folded his hands and looked sternly — 
 if Mr. Pickwick ever could look sternly — at his legal friend. 
 
 ' You don't like to hear the name of the cause ? ' said the little 
 man, still busying himself with the knot. 
 
 ' No, I do not indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Sorry for that,' resumed Perker, ' because it will form the subject 
 of our conversation.' 
 
 ' I would rather that the subject should be never mentioned 
 between us, Perker,' interposed Mr. Pickwick, hastily. 
 
 ' Pooh, pooh, my dear sir,' said the little man, untying the bundle, 
 and glancing eagerly at Mr. Pickwick out of the corners of his eyes. 
 ' It must be mentioned. I have come here on purpose. Now, are 
 you ready to hear what I have to say, my dear sir ? No hurry ; if 
 you are not, I can wait. I have this morning's paper here. Your 
 time shall be mine. There ! ' Hereupon, the little man threw one 
 leg over the other, and made a show of beginning to read with 
 great composure and application. 
 
 ' Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, with a sigh, but softening into a 
 smile at the same time. ' Say what you have to say ; it's the old 
 story, I suppose?' 
 
 'With a difference, my dear sir; with a difference,' rejoined 
 Perker, deliberately folding up the paper and putting it into his 
 
556 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 pocket again. ' Mrs. Bardell, the plaintiff in the action, is within 
 
 these walls, sir.' 
 
 . ' I know it,' was Mr. Pickwick's reply. 
 
 ' Very good,' retorted Perker. ' And you know how she comes 
 here, I suppose ; I mean on what grounds, and at whose suit ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; at least I have heard Sam's account of the matter,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick, with affected carelessness. 
 
 ' Sam's account of the matter,' replied Perker, ' is, I will venture 
 to say, a perfectly correct one. Well now, my dear sir, the first 
 question I have to ask, is, whether this woman is to remain here ? ' 
 
 ' To remain here ! ' echoed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' To remain here, my dear sir,' rejoined Perker, leaning back in 
 his chair and looking steadily at his client. 
 
 ' How can you ask me ? ' said that gentleman. ' It rests with 
 Dodson and Fogg ; you know that, very well.' 
 
 ' I know nothing of the kind,' retorted Perker, firmly. ' It does 
 not rest with Dodson and Fogg ; you know the men, my dear sir, as 
 well as I do. It rests solely, wholly, and entirely with you.' 
 
 ' With me ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, rising nervously from his 
 chair, and reseating himself directly afterwards. 
 
 The little man gave a double knock on the lid of his snuff-box, 
 opened it, took a great pinch, shut it up again, and repeated the 
 words, ' With you.' 
 
 ' I say, my dear sir,' resumed the little man, who seemed to 
 gather confidence from the snuff; ' I say, that her speedy liberation 
 or perpetual imprisonment rests with you, and with you alone. 
 Hear me out, my dear sir, if you please, and do not be so very 
 energetic, for it will only put you into a perspiration and do no 
 good whatever. I say,' continued Perker, checking off each position 
 on a different finger, as he laid it down ; ' I say that nobody but you 
 can rescue her from this den of wretchedness ; and that you can 
 only do that, by paying the costs of this suit — both of plaintiff and 
 defendant — into the hands of these Freeman's Court sharks. Now 
 pray be quiet, my dear sir.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, whose face had been undergoing most surprising 
 changes during this speech, and who was evidently on the verge of 
 a strong burst of indignation, calmed his wrath as well as he could. 
 Perker, strengthening his argumentative powers with another- pinch 
 of snuff, proceeded. 
 
 ' I have seen the woman, this morning. By paying the costs, you 
 can obtain a full release and discharge from the damages ; and 
 further — this I know is a far greater object of consideration with 
 you, my dear sir — a voluntary statement, under her hand, in the 
 form of a letter to me, that this business was, from the very first, 
 fomented, and encouraged, and brought about, by these men, 
 Dodson and Fogg ; that she deeply regrets ever having been the 
 
A WAY OUT 557 
 
 instrument of annoyance or injury to you ; and that she entreats 
 me to intercede with you, and implore your pardon.' 
 
 ' If I pay her costs for her,' said Mr. Pickwick, indignantly. ' A 
 valuable document, indeed ! ' 
 
 ' No " if" in the case, my dear sir,' said Perker, triumphantly. 
 'There is the very letter I speak of. Brought to my office by 
 another woman at nine o'clock this morning, before I had set foot 
 in this place, or held any communication with Mrs. Bardell, upon 
 my honour.' Selecting the letter from the bundle, the little lawyer 
 laid it at Mr. Pickwick's elbow, and took snuff for two consecutive 
 minutes, without winking. 
 
 ' Is this all you have to say to me ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, 
 mildly. 
 
 ' Not quite,' replied Perker. ' I cannot undertake to say, at this 
 moment, whether the wording of the cognovit, the nature of the 
 ostensible consideration, and the proof we can get together about 
 the whole conduct of the suit, will be sufficient to justify an indict- 
 ment for conspiracy. I fear not, my dear sir ; they are too clever 
 for that, I doubt. I do mean to say, however, that the whole facts, 
 taken together, will be sufficient to justify you, in the minds of all 
 reasonable men. And now, my dear sir, I put it to you. This 
 one hundred and fifty pounds, or whatever it may be — take it in 
 round numbers — is nothing to you. A jury has decided against 
 you; well, their verdict is wrong, but still they decided as they 
 thought right, and it is against you. You have now an opportunity, 
 on easy terms, of placing yourself in a much higher position than 
 you ever could, by remaining here ; which would only be imputed, 
 by people who didn't know you, to sheer dogged, wrongheaded, 
 brutal obstinacy : nothing else, my dear sir, believe me. Can you 
 hesitate to avail yourself of it, when it restores you to your friends, 
 your old pursuits, your health and amusements ; when it liberates 
 your faithful and attached servant, whom you otherwise doom to 
 imprisonment for the whole of your life ; and above all, when it 
 enables you to take the very magnanimous revenge — which I know, 
 my dear sir, is one after your own heart — of releasing this woman 
 from a scene of misery and debauchery, to which no man should 
 ever be consigned, if I had my will, but the infliction of which on 
 any woman, is even more frightful and barbarous. Now I ask you, 
 my dear sir, not only as your legal adviser, but as your very true 
 friend, will you let slip the occasion of attaining all these objects, 
 and doing all this good, for the paltry consideration of a few pounds 
 finding their way into the pockets of a couple of rascals, to whom 
 it makes no manner of difference, except that the more they gain, 
 the more they'll seek, and so the sooner be led into some piece of 
 knavery that must end in a crash ? I have put these considerations 
 to you, my dear sir, very feebly and imperfectly, but I ask you to 
 
5S8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 think of them. Turn them over in your mind as long as you please. 
 I wait here most patiently for your answer.' 
 
 Before Mr. Pickwick could reply ; before Mr. Perker had taken 
 one twentieth part of the snuff with which so unusually long an 
 address imperatively required to be followed up ; there was a low 
 murmuring of voices outside, and then a hesitating knock at the 
 door. 
 
 ' Dear, dear,' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had been evidently 
 roused by his friend's appeal ; ' what an annoyance that door is ! 
 Who is that ? ' 
 
 ' Me, sir,' replied Sam Weller, putting in his head. 
 
 ' I can't speak to you just now, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I am 
 engaged, at this moment, Sam.' 
 
 ' Beg your pardon, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller. ' But here's a lady 
 here, sir, as says she's somethin' wery partickler to disclose.' 
 
 ' I can't see any lady,' replied Mr. Pickwick, whose mind was 
 filled with visions of Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ' I vouldn't make too sure o' that, sir,' urged Mr. Weller, shaking 
 his head. ' If you know'd who was near, sir, I rayther think you'd 
 change your note. As the. hawk remarked to himself with a cheer^ 
 ful laugh, ven he heerd the robin redbreast a singin' round the 
 corner.' 
 
 ' Who is it ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Will you see her, sir ? ' asked Mr. Weller, holding the door in 
 his hand as if he had some curious live animal on the other side. 
 
 ' I suppose I must,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker. 
 
 ' Well then, all in to begin ! ' cried Sam. ' Sound the gong, 
 draw up the curtain, and enter the two con-spiraytors.' 
 
 As Sam Weller spoke, he threw the door open, and there rushed 
 tumultuously into the room, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle : leading after 
 him by the hand, the identical young lady who at Dingley Dell 
 had worn the boots with the fur round the tops, and who, now a very 
 pleasing compound of blushes and confusion and lilac silk and a 
 smart bonnet and a rich lace veil, looked prettier than ever. 
 
 ' Miss Arabella Allen ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, rising from his 
 chair. 
 
 ' No,' replied Mr. Winkle, dropping on his knees, ' Mrs. Winkle. 
 Pardon, my dear friend, pardon ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses, 
 and perhaps would not have done so, but for the corroborative 
 testimony afforded by the smiling countenance of Perker, and the 
 bodily presence, in the background, of Sam and the pretty house- 
 maid; who appeared to contemplate the proceedings with the 
 liveliest satisfaction. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Pickwick ! ' said Arabella, in a low voice, as if alarmed 
 at the silence. ' Can you forgive my imprudence ? ' 
 
^i^ /fiMA>cey/te^{A'?zJy<^/na^e^yea>^^ c<AO(.MnJ^e/)^c&4 . 
 
EXPLANATIONS 559 
 
 Mr. Pickwick returned no verbal response to this appeal ; but he 
 took off his spectacles in great haste, and seizing both the young 
 lady's hands in his, kissed her a great number of times — perhaps a 
 greater number than was absolutely necessary — and then, still 
 retaining one of her hands, told Mr. Winkle he was an audacious 
 young dog, and bade him get up. This, Mr. Winkle, who had been 
 for some seconds scratching his nose with the brim of his hat, in 
 a penitent manner, did ; whereupon Mr. Pickwick slapped him on 
 the back several times, and then shook hands heartily with Perker, 
 who, not to be behind-hand in the compliments of the occasion, 
 saluted both the bride and the pretty housemaid with right good 
 will, and, having wrung Mr. Winkle's hand most cordially, wound 
 up his demonstrations of joy by taking snuff enough to set any 
 half dozen men with ordinarily constructed noses, a sneezing for 
 life. 
 
 ' Why, my dear girl,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' how has all this come 
 about ? Come ! Sit down, and let me hear it all. How well 
 she looks, doesn't she, Perker?' added Mr. Pickwick, surveying 
 Arabella's face with a look of as much pride and exultation, as if 
 she had been his daughter. 
 
 ' Delightful, my dear sir,' replied the little man. ' If I were not 
 a married man myself, I should be disposed to envy you, you dog.' 
 Thus expressing himself, the little lawyer gave Mr. Winkle a poke 
 in the chest, which that gentleman reciprocated ; after which they 
 both laughed very loudly, but jiot so loudly as Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 Who had just relieved his feelings by kissing the pretty housemaid, 
 under cover of the cupboard-door. 
 
 ' I can never be grateful enough to you, Sam, I am sure,' said 
 Arabella, with the sweetest smile imaginable. ' I shall not forget 
 your exertions in the garden at Clifton.' 
 
 ' Don't say nothin' wotever about it, ma'm,' replied Sam. ' I 
 only assisted natur', ma'm ; as the doctor said to the boy's mother, 
 arter he'd bled him to death.' 
 
 'Mary, my dear, sit down,' said Mr. Pickwick, cutting short 
 these comphments. ' Now then ; how long have you been married, 
 eh?' 
 
 Arabella looked bashfully at her lord and master, who replied, 
 ' Only three days.' 
 
 ' Only three days, eh ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Why, what have 
 you been doing these three months ? ' 
 
 ' Ah, to be sure ! ' interposed Perker ; ' come ! Account for this 
 idleness. You see Pickwick's only astonishment is, that it wasn't 
 all over, months ago.' 
 
 ' Why, the fact is,' replied Mr. Winkle, looking at his blushing 
 young wife, ' that I could not persuade Bella to run away, for a 
 long time, And when I had persuaded her, it was a long time 
 
56o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 more, before we could find an opportunity. Mary had to give a 
 month's warning, too, before she could leave her place next door, 
 and we couldn't possibly have done it without her assistance.' 
 
 ' Upon my word,' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who by this time had 
 resumed his spectacles, and was looking from Arabella to Winkle, 
 and from Winkle to Arabella, with as much delight depicted in his 
 countenance as warm-heartedness and kindly feeling can com- 
 municate to the human face : ' upon my word ! you seem to have 
 been very systematic in your proceedings. And is your brother 
 acquainted with all this, my dear ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, no,' replied Arabella, changing colour. ' Dear Mr. 
 Pickwick, he must only know it from you — from your lips alone. 
 He is so violent, so prejudiced, and has been so — so anxious in 
 behalf of his friend, Mr. Sawyer,' added Arabella, looking down, 
 ' that I fear the consequences dreadfully.' 
 
 ' Ah, to be sure,' said Perker gravely. ' You must take this 
 matter in hand for them, my dear sir. These young men will 
 respect you, when they would listen to nobody else. You must 
 prevent mischief, my dear sir. Hot blood, hot blood.' And the 
 little man took a warning pinch, and shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 ' You forget, my love,' said Mr. Pickwick, gently, ' you forget 
 that I am a prisoner.' 
 
 ' No, indeed I do not, my dear sir,' replied Arabella. ' I never 
 have forgotten it. I have never ceased to think how great your 
 sufferings must have been in this shocking place. But I hoped that 
 what no consideration for yourself would induce you to do, a 
 regard to our happiness, might. If my brother hears of this, first, 
 from you, I feel certain we shall be reconciled. He is my only 
 relation in the world, Mr. Pickwick, and unless you plead for me, 
 I fear I have lost even him. I have done wrong, very, very wrong, 
 I know.' Here poor Arabella hid her face in her handkerchief, 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's nature was a good deal worked upon, by these 
 same tears; but when Mrs. Winkle, drying her eyes, took to 
 coaxing and entreating in the sweetest tones of a very sweet voice, 
 he became particularly restless, and evidently undecided how to 
 act. As was evinced by sundry nervous rubbings of his spectacle- 
 glasses, nose, tights, head, and gaiters. 
 
 Taking advantage of these symptoms of indecision, Mr. Perker 
 (to whom, it appeared, the young couple had driven straight that 
 morning) urged with legal point and shrewdness that Mr. Winkle, 
 senior, was still unacquainted with the important rise in life's flight 
 of steps which his son had taken ; that the future expectations of 
 the said son depended entirely upon the said Winkle, senior, con- 
 tinuing to regard him with undiminished feelings of affection and 
 attachment, which it was very unlikely he would, if this great even!- 
 
A CONCESSION 561 
 
 were long kept a secret from him ; that Mr. Pickwick, repairing to 
 Bristol to seek Mr. Allen, might, with equal reason, repair to 
 Birmingham to seek Mr. Winkle, senior ; lastly, that Mr. Winkle, 
 senior, had good right and title to consider Mr. Pickwick as in 
 some degree the guardian and adviser of his son, and that it con- 
 sequently behoved that gentleman, and was indeed due to his 
 personal character, to acquaint the aforesaid Winkle, senior, 
 personally, and by word of mouth, with the whole circumstances of 
 the case, and with the share he had taken in the transaction. 
 
 Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass arrived, most opportunely, in 
 this stage of the pleadings, and as it was necessary to explain to 
 them all that had occurred, together with the various reasons pro 
 and con, the whole of the arguments were gone over again, after 
 which everybody urged every argument in his own way, and at his own 
 length. And, at last, Mr. Pickwick, fairly argued and remonstrated 
 out of all his resolutions, and being in imminent danger of being 
 argued and remonstrated out of his wits, caught Arabella in his 
 arms, and declaring that she was a very amiable creature, and that 
 he didn't kiiow how it was, but he had always been very fond of 
 her from the first, said he could never find it in his heart to stand 
 in the way of young people's happiness, and they might do with 
 him as they pleased. 
 
 Mr. Weller's first act, on hearing this concession, was to despatch 
 Job Trotter to the illustrious Mr. Pell, with an authority to deliver 
 to the bearer the formal discharge which his prudent parent had 
 had the foresight to leave in the hands of that learned gentleman, 
 in case it should be, at any time, required on an emergency ; his 
 next proceeding was, to invest his whole stock of ready money, in 
 the purchase of five-and-twenty gallons of mild porter : which he 
 himself dispensed on the racket ground to everybody who would 
 partake of it ; this done, he hurra'd in divers parts of the building 
 until he lost his voice, and then quietly relapsed into his usual 
 collected and philosophical condition. 
 
 At three o'clock that afternoon, Mr. Pickwick took a last look at 
 his little room, and made his way, as well as he could, through the 
 throng of debtors who pressed eagerly forward to shake him by 
 the hand, until he reached the lodge steps. He turned here, to 
 look about him, and his eye lightened as he did so. In all the 
 crowd of wan, emaciated faces, he saw not one which was not the 
 happier for his sympathy and charity. 
 
 ' Perker,' said Mr. Pickwick, beckoning one young man towards 
 him, ■' this is Mr. Jingle, whom I spoke to you about.' 
 
 ' Very good, my dear sir,' replied Perker, looking hard at Jingle. 
 ' You will see me again, young man, to-morrow. I hope you 
 may live to remember and feel deeply, what I shall have to com- 
 municate, sir,' 
 
 ? 
 
562 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Jingle bowed respectfully, trembled very much as he took Mr. 
 Pickwick's proffered hand, and withdrew. 
 
 ' Job you know, I think ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, presenting that 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' I know the rascal,' replied Perker, good-humouredly. ' See 
 after your friend, and be in the way to-morrow at one. Do you 
 hear ? Now, is there anything more ? ' 
 
 'Nothing,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 'You have delivered the 
 little parcel I gave you for your old landlord, Sam ? ' 
 
 ' I have, sir,' replied Sam. ' He bust out a cryin', sir, and said 
 you wos wery gen'rous and thoughtful, and he only wished you 
 could have him innokilated for a gallopin' consumption, for his old 
 friend as had lived here so long, wos dead, and he'd noweres to 
 look for another.' 
 
 ' Poor fellow, poor fellow ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' God bless you, 
 my friends ! ' 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick uttered this adieu, the crowd raised a loud 
 shout. Many among them were pressing forward to shake him by 
 the hand, again, when he drew his arm through Porker's, and 
 hurried from the prison : far more sad and melancholy, for the 
 moment, than when he had first entered it. Alas ! how many sad 
 and unhappy beings had he left behind ! 
 
 A happy evening was that, for, at least, one party in the George 
 and Vulture ; and light and cheerful were two of the hearts that 
 emerged from its hospitable door next morning. The owners 
 thereof were Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller, the former of whom 
 was speedily deposited inside a comfortable post coach, with a 
 little dickey behind, in which the latter mounted with great agility. 
 
 ' Sir,' called out Mr. Weller to his master. 
 
 ' Well, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick, thrusting his head out of the 
 window. 
 
 ' I wish them horses had been three months and better in the 
 Fleet, sir.' 
 ' ' Why, Sam ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Wy, sir,' exclaimed Mr. Weller, rubbing his hands, ' how they 
 would go if they had been i ' 
 
MR. BOB SAWYER'S PRACTICE 563 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII 
 
 RELATES HOW MR. PICKWICK, WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF SAMUEL 
 WELLER, ESSAYED TO SOFTEN THE HEART OF MR. BENJAMIN 
 ALLEN, AND TO MOLLIFY THE WRATH OF MR. ROBERT SAWYER 
 
 Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Bob Sawyer sat together in the little 
 surgery behind the shop, discussing minced veal and future pros- 
 pects, when the discourse, not unnaturally, turned upon the practice 
 acquired by Bob the aforesaid, and his present chances of deriving 
 a competent independence from the honourable profession to which 
 he had devoted himself. 
 
 ' — ^Which, I think,' observed Mr. Bob Sawyer, pursuing the 
 thread of the subject, ' which, I think, Ben, are rather dubious.' 
 
 ' What's rather dubious ? ' inquired Mr. Ben Allen, at the same 
 time sharpening his intellects with a draught of beer. ' What's 
 dubious ? ' 
 
 ' Why, the chances,' responded Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' I forgot,' said Mr. Ben Allen. ' The beer has reminded me 
 that I forgot. Bob — yes ; they are dubious.' 
 
 ' It's wonderful how the poor people patronise me,' said Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer, reflectively. ' They knock me up, at all hours of the night ; 
 they take medicine to an extent which I should have conceived im- 
 possible ; they put on blisters and leeches with a perseverance 
 worthy of a better cause ; they make additions to their families, in 
 a manner which is quite awful. Six of those last-named little pro- 
 missory notes, all due on the same day, Ben, and all intrusted to 
 me!' 
 
 ' It's very gratifying, isn't it ? ' said Mr, Ben Allen, holding his 
 plate for some more minced veal. 
 
 ' Oh, very,' replied Bob ; 'only not quite so much so, as the con- 
 fidence of patients with a shilling or two to spare, would be. This 
 business was capitally described in the advertisement, Ben. It is a 
 practice, a very extensive practice — and that's all.' 
 
 ' Bob,' said Mr. Ben Allen, laying down his knife and fork, and 
 fixing his eyes on the visage of his friend : ' Bob, I'll tell you what 
 it is.' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' inquired Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' You must make yourself, with as little delay as possible, master 
 of Arabella's one thousand pounds.' 
 
 ' Three per cent, consolidated Bank annuities, now standing in 
 her name in the book or books of the Governor and Company of 
 the Bank of England,' added Bob Sawyer, in legal phraseology. 
 
5C54 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Exactly so,' said Ben. ' She has it when she comes of age, or 
 marries. She wants a year of coming of age, and if you plucked up 
 1 spirit she needn't want a month of being married.' 
 
 ' She's a very charming and delightful creature,' quoth Mr. Robert 
 Sawyer, in reply ; ' and has only one fault that I know of, Ben. It 
 happens, unfortunately, that that single blemish is a want of taste. 
 She don't like me.' 
 
 ' It's my opinion that she don't know what she does like,' said 
 Mr. Ben Allen, contemptuously. 
 
 ' Perhaps not,' remarked Mr. Bob Sawyer. ' But if s my opinion 
 that she does know what she doesn't like, and that's of more 
 importance.' 
 
 ' I wish,' said Mr. Ben Allen, setting his teeth together, and 
 speaking more like a savage warrior who fed on raw wolf's flesh 
 which he carved with his fingers, than a peaceable young gentleman 
 who ate minced veal with a knife and fork, ' I wish I knew whether 
 any rascal really has been tampering with her, and attempting to 
 engage her affections. I think I should assassinate him, Bob.' 
 
 ' I'd put a bullet in him, if I found him out,' said Mr. Sawyer, 
 stopping in the course of a long draught of beer, and looking malig- 
 nantly out of the porter pot. ' If that didn't do his business, I'd 
 extract it afterwards, and kill him that way.' 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen gazed abstractedly on his friend for some 
 minutes in silence, and then said : 
 
 ' You have never proposed to her, point-blank. Bob ? ' 
 
 ' No. Because I saw it would be of no use,' replied Mr. Robert 
 Sawyer. 
 
 ' You shall do it, before you are twenty-four hours older,' retorted 
 Ben, with desperate calmness. ' She sAa// have you, or I'll know 
 the reason why. I'll exert my authority.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer, ' we shall see.' 
 
 ' We sAa// see, my friend,' replied Mr. Ben Allen, fiercely. He 
 paused for a few seconds, and added in a voice broken by emotion, 
 ' You have loved her from a child, my friend. You loved her when 
 we were boys at school together, and, even then, she was wayward, 
 and slighted your young feelings. Do you recollect, with all the 
 eagerness of a child's love, one day pressing upon her acceptance, 
 two small caraway-seed biscuits and one sweet apple, neatly folded 
 into a circular parcel with the leaf of a copybook ? ' 
 
 ' I do,' replied Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' She slighted that, I think ? ' said Ben Allen. 
 
 ' She did,' rejoined Bob. ' She said I had kept the parcel so long 
 in the pockets of my corduroys, that the apple was unpleasandy 
 warm.' 
 
 ' I remember,' said Mr. Allen, gloomily. ' Upon which we ate it 
 ourselves, in alternate bites.' 
 
ARRIVAL OF A FLY 565 
 
 Bob Sawyer intimated his recollection of the circumstance last 
 alluded to, by a melancholy frown ; and the two friends remained 
 for some time absorbed, each in his own meditations. 
 
 While these observations were being exchanged between Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen ; and while the boy in the 
 grey livery, marvelling at the unwonted prolongation of the dinner, 
 cast an anxious look, from time to time, towards the glass door, 
 distracted by inward misgivings regarding the amount of minced 
 veal which would be ultimately reserved for his individual cravings ; 
 there rolled soberly on through the streets of Bristol, a private fly, 
 painted of a sad green colour, drawn by a chubby sort of brown 
 horse, and driven by a surly-looking man with his legs dressed like 
 the legs of a groom, and his body attired in the coat of a coachman. 
 Such appearances are common to many vehicles belonging to, and 
 maintained by, old ladies of economic habits ; and in this vehicle, 
 sat an old lady who was its mistress and proprietor. 
 
 ' Martin ! ' said the old lady, calling to the surly man, out of the 
 front window. 
 
 ' Well ? ' said the surly man, touching his hat to the old lady. 
 
 ' Mr. Sawyer's,' said the old lady. 
 
 ' I was going there,' said the surly man. 
 
 The old lady nodded the satisfaction which this proof of the 
 surly man's foresight imparted to her feelings ; and the surly man 
 giving a smart lash to the chubby horse, they all repaired to 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer's together. 
 
 ' Martin ! ' said the old lady, when the fly stopped at the door of 
 Mr. Robert Sawyer late Nockemorf. 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Martin. 
 
 ' Ask the lad to step out, and mind the horse.' 
 
 'I'm going to mind the horse myself,' said Martin, laying his 
 whip on the roof of the fly. 
 
 ' I can't permit it, on any account,' said the old lady ; ' your 
 testimony will be very important, and I must take you into the 
 house with me. You must not stir from my side during the whole 
 interview. Do you hear ? ' 
 
 ' I hear,' repUed Martin. 
 
 ' Well ; what are you stopping for ? ' 
 
 'Nothing,' replied Martin. So saying, the surly man leisurely 
 descended from the wheel, on which he had been poising himself 
 on the tops of the toes of his right foot, and having summoned 
 the boy in the grey livery, opened the coach-door, flung down the 
 steps, and thrusting in a hand enveloped in a dark wash-leather 
 glove, pulled out the old lady with as much unconcern in his 
 manner as if she were a bandbox. 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' exclaimed the old lady. ' I am so flurried, now 
 I have got here, Martin, that I'm all in a tremble.' 
 
S66 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Mr. Martin coughed behind the dark wash-leather glove, but 
 expressed no sympathy ; so the old lady, composing herself, trotted 
 up Mr. Bob Sawyer's steps, and Mr. Martin followed. Immediately 
 on the old lady's entering the shop, Mr. Benjamin Allen and Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer, who had been putting the spirits and water out of sight, 
 and upsetting nauseous drugs to take off the smell of the tobacco- 
 smoke, issued hastily forth in a transport of pleasure and affection. 
 
 ' My dear aunt,' exclaimed Mr. Ben Allen, ' how kind of you to 
 look in upon us ! Mr. Sawyer, aunt ; my friend Mr. Bob Sawyei 
 whom I have spoken to you about, regarding — ^you know, aunt.' 
 And here Mr. Ben Allen, who was not at the moment extra- 
 ordinarily sober, added the word 'Arabella,' in what was meant 
 to be a whisper, but which was an especially audible and distinct 
 tone of speech, which nobody could avoid hearing, if anybody were 
 so disposed. 
 
 ' My dear Benjamin,' said the old lady, struggling with a great 
 shortness of breath, and trembling from head to foot : ' don't be 
 alarmed, my dear, but I think I had better speak to Mr. Sawyer, 
 alone, for a moment. Only for a moment.' 
 
 ' Bob,' said Mr. Ben Allen, ' will you take my aunt into the 
 surgery ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' responded Bob, in a most professional voice. ' Step 
 this way, my dear ma'am. Don't be frightened, ma'am. We shall 
 be able to set you to rights in a very short time, I have no doubt, 
 ma'am. Here, my dear ma'am. Now then ! ' With this, Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer having handed the old lady to a chair, shut the door, drew 
 another chair close to her, and waited to hear detailed the 
 symptoms of some disorder from which he saw in perspective a 
 long train of profits and advantages. 
 
 The first thing the old lady did, was to shake her head a great 
 many times, and begin to cry. 
 
 ' Nervous,' said Bob Sawyer complacently. ' Camphor-julep 
 and water three times a-day, and composing draught at night.' 
 
 ' I don't know how to begin, Mr. Sawyer,' said the old lady. ' It 
 is so very painful and distressing.' 
 
 'You need not begin, ma'am,' rejoined Mr. Bob Sawyer. ' I can 
 anticipate all you would say. The head is in fault.' 
 
 ' I should be very sorry to think it was the heart,' said the old 
 lady, with a slight groan. 
 
 ' Not the slightest danger of that, ma'am,' replied Bob Sawyer. 
 ' The stomach is the primary cause.' 
 
 ' Mr. Sawyer ! ' exclaimed the old lady, starting. 
 
 'Not the least doubt of it, ma'am,' rejoined Bob, looking 
 wondrous wise. ' Medicine, in time, my dear ma'am, would have 
 prevented it all.' 
 
 ' Mr. Sawyer,' said the old lady, more flurried than before, ' this 
 
AN ELOPEMENT ANNOUNCED 567 
 
 conduct is either great impertinence to one in my situation, sir, or 
 it arises from your not understanding the object of my visit. If 
 it had been in the power of medicine, or any foresight I could 
 have used, to prevent what has occurred, I should certainly have 
 done so. I had better see my nephew at once,' said the old lady, 
 twirling her reticule indignantly, and rising as she spoke. 
 
 ' Stop a moment, ma'am,' said Bob Sawyer ; ' I'm afraid I have 
 not understood you. What is the matter, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' My niece, Mr. Sawyer,' said the old lady ; ' your friend's sister.' 
 
 'Yes, ma'am,' said Bob, all impatience; for the old lady, 
 although much agitated, spoke with the most tantalising delibera- 
 tion, as old ladies often do. ' Yes, ma'am.' 
 
 'Left my home, Mr. Sawyer, three days ago, on a pretended 
 visit to my sister, another aunt of hers, who keeps the large 
 boarding-school just beyond the third mile-stone where there is 
 a very large laburnum tree and an oak gate,' said the old lady, 
 stopping in this place to dry her eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, devil take the laburnum tree ! ma'am,' said Bob, quite 
 forgetting his professional dignity in his anxiety. ' Get on a httle 
 faster ; put a little more steam on, ma'am, pray.' 
 
 ' This morning,' said the old lady, slowly, ' this morning, she ' 
 
 ' She came back, ma'am, I suppose,' said Bob, with great 
 animation. ' Did she come back ? ' 
 
 ' No, she did not ; she wrote,' replied the old lady. 
 
 ' What did she say ? ' inquired Bob, eagerly. 
 
 'She said, Mr. Sawyer,' replied the old lady — 'and it is this, 
 I want you to prepare Benjamin's mind for, gently and by degrees ; 
 she said that she was — I have got the letter in my pocket, Mr. 
 Sawyer, but my glasses are in the carriage, and I should only waste 
 your time if I attempted to point out the passage to you, without 
 them ; she said, in short, Mr. Sawyer, that she was married.' 
 
 ' What ! ' said,, or rather shouted, Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Married,' repeated the old lady. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer stopped to hear no more ; but darting from the 
 surgery into the outer shop, cried in a stentorian voice, 'Ben, 
 my boy, she's bolted ! ' 
 
 Mr. Ben Allen, who had been slumbering behind the counter, 
 with his head half a foot or so below his knees, no sooner heard 
 this appalling communication, than he made a precipitate rush at 
 Mr. Martin, and, twisting his hand in the neckcloth of that taciturn 
 servitor, expressed an intention of choking him where he stood. 
 This intention, with a promptitude Often the effect of desperation, 
 he at once commenced carrying into execution, with much vigour 
 and surgical skill. 
 
 Mr. Martin, who was a man of few words and possessed but little 
 power of eloquence or persuasion, submitted to this operation with 
 
568 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a very calm and agreeable expression of countenance, for some 
 seconds ; finding, however, that it threatened speedily to lead to a 
 result which would place it beyond his power to claim any wages, 
 board or otherwise, in all time to come, he muttered an inarticulate 
 remonstrance and felled Mr. Benjamin Allen to the ground. As 
 that gentleman had his hands entangled in his cravat, he had no 
 alternative but to follow him to the floor. There they both lay 
 struggling, when the shop door opened, and the party was increased 
 by the arrival of two most unexpected visitors : to wit, Mr. Pickwick, 
 and Mr. Samuel Waller. 
 
 The impression at once produced on Mr. Welter's mind by what 
 he saw, was, that Mr. Martin was hired by the estabhshment of 
 Sawyer late Nockemorf, to take strong medicine, or to go into fits 
 and be experimentalised upon, or to swallow poison now and then 
 with the view of testing the efficacy of some new antidotes, or to 
 do something or other to promote the great science of medicine, 
 and gratify the ardent spirit of inquiry burning in the bosoms of its 
 two young professors. So, without presuming to interfere, Sam 
 stood perfectly still, and looked on, as if he were mightily interested 
 in the result of the then pending experiment. Not so, Mr. Pick- 
 wick. He at once threw himself on the astonished combatants, with 
 his accustomed energy, and loudly called upon the by-standers to 
 interpose. 
 
 This roused Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been hitherto quite 
 paralysed by the frenzy of his companion. With that gentleman's 
 assistance, Mr. Pickwick raised Ben Allen to his feet. Mr. Martin 
 finding himself alone on the floor, got up, and looked about him. 
 
 ' Mr. Allen,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' what is the matter, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind, sir ! ' replied Mr. Allen, with haughty defiance. 
 
 'What is it?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, looking at Bob Sawyer. 
 ' Is he unwell ? ' 
 
 Before Bob could reply, Mr. Ben Allen seized Mr. Pickwick by 
 the hand, and murmured, in sorrowful accents, ' My sister, my dear 
 sir ; my sister.' 
 
 ' Oh, is that all ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' We shall easily arrange 
 that matter, I hope. Your sister is safe and well, and I am here, 
 my dear sir, to ' 
 
 ' Sorry to do anythin' as may cause an interruption to such wery 
 pleasant proceedin's, as the king said wen he dissolved the parlia- 
 ment,' interposed Mr. Weller, who had been peeping through the 
 glass door; 'but there's another experiment here, sir. Here's a 
 wenerable old lady a lyin' on the carpet waitin' for dissection, or 
 galwinism, or some other rewivin' and scientific inwention.' 
 
 ' I forgot,' exclaimed Mr. Ben Allen. ' It is my aunt.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Poor lady ! Gently, Sam, 
 gently.' 
 
A MAGNANIMOUS DENUNCIATION 569 
 
 I Strange sitivation for one o' the family,' observed Sam Weller, 
 hoisting the aunt into a chair. ' Now, depitty Sawbones, bring out 
 the wollatilly ! ' 
 
 The latter observation was addressed to the boy in grey, who, 
 having handed over the fly to the care of the street-keeper, had 
 come back to see what all the noise was about. Between the boy in 
 grey, and Mn Bob Sawyer, and Mr. Benjamin Allen (who having 
 frightened his aunt into a fainting fit, was affectionately solicitous 
 for her recovery) the old lady was, at length, restored to conscious- 
 ness ; then Mr. Ben Allen, turning with a puzzled countenance to 
 Mr. Pickwick, asked him what he was about to say, when he had 
 been so alarmingly interrupted. 
 
 ' We are all friends here, I presume ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, clearing 
 his voice, and looking towards the man of few words with the surly 
 countenance, who drove the fly with the chubby horse. 
 
 This reminded Mr. Bob Sawyer that the boy in g-rey was looking 
 on, with eyes wide open, and greedy ears. The incipient chemist 
 having been lifted up by his coat collar, and dropped outside the 
 door, Bob Sawyer assured Mr. Pickwick that he might speak without 
 reserve. 
 
 ' Your sister, my dear sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, turning to Benjamin 
 Allen, ' is in London ; well and happy.' 
 
 ' Her happiness is no object to me, sir,' said Mr. Benjamin Allen, 
 with a flourish of the hand. 
 
 ' Her husband is a.n object to me, sir,' said Bob Sawyer. ' He shall 
 be an object to me, sir, at twelve paces, and a very pretty object I'll 
 make of him, sir — a mean-spirited scoundrel ! ' This, as it stood, 
 was a very pretty denunciation, and magnanimous withal ; but Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer rather weakened its effect, by winding up with some 
 general observations concerning the punching of heads and knocking 
 out of eyes, which were commonplace by comparison. 
 
 ' Stay, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' before you apply those epithets 
 to the gentleman in question, consider, dispassionately, the exten*- 
 of his fault, and above all remember that he is a friend of mine.' 
 
 ' What ! ' said Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' His name ! ' cried Ben Allen. ' His name ! ' 
 
 ' Mr. Nathaniel Winkle,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen deliberately crushed his spectacles beneath 
 the heel of his boot, and having picked up the pieces, and put them 
 into three separate pockets, folded his arms, bit his lips, and looked 
 in a threatening manner at the bland features of Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Then it's you, is it, sir, who have encouraged and brought about 
 this match ? ' inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen at length. 
 
 ' And it's this gentleman's servant, I suppose,' interrupted the old 
 lady, ' who has been skulking about my house, and endeavouring to 
 entrap my servants to conspire against their mistress. Martin I ' 
 
57° THE PICKWICK' CLUB 
 
 ' Well ? ' said the surly man, coming forward. 
 
 ' Is that the young man you saw in the lane, whom you told me 
 about, this morning ? ' 
 
 Mr. Martin, who, as it has already appeared, was a man of few 
 words, looked at Sam Weller, nodded his head, and growled forth, 
 ' That's the man ! ' Mr. Weller, who was never proud, gave a smile 
 of friendly recognition as his eyes encountered those of the surly 
 groom, and admitted, in courteous terms, that he had ' knowed him 
 afore.' 
 
 ' And this is the faithful creature,' exclaimed Mr. Ben Allen, 
 ' whom I had nearly suffocated ! Mr. Pickwick, how dare you 
 allow your fellow to be employed in the abduction of my sister ? I 
 demand that you explain this matter, sir.' 
 
 ' Explain it, sir ! ' cried Bob Sawyer, fiercely. 
 
 ' It's a conspiracy,' said Ben Allen. 
 
 ' A regular plant,' added Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' A disgraceful imposition,' observed the old lady. 
 
 ' Nothing but a do,' remarked Martin. 
 
 ' Pray hear me,' urged Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Ben Allen fell into a 
 chair that patients were bled in, and gave way to his pocket-hand- 
 kerchief. ' I have rendered no assistance in this matter, beyond 
 that of being present at one interview between the young people, 
 which I could not prevent, and from which I conceived my presence 
 would remove any slight colouring of impropriety that it might 
 otherwise have had ; this is the whole share I have taken in the 
 transaction, and I had no suspicion that an immediate marriage was 
 even contemplated. Though, mind,' added Mr. Pickwick, hastily 
 checking himself, ' mind, I do not say I should have prevented it, 
 if I had known that it was intended.' 
 
 ' You hear that, all of you ; you hear that ? ' said Mr. Benjamin 
 Allen. 
 
 ' I hope they do,' mildly observed Mr. Pickwick, looking round, 
 ' and,' added that gentleman : his colour mounting as he spoke : ' I 
 hope they hear this, sir, also. That from what has been stated to 
 me, sir, I assert that you were by no means justified in attempting 
 to force your sister's inclinations as you did, and that you should 
 rather have endeavoured by your kindness and forbearance to have 
 supplied the place of other nearer relations whom she has never 
 known, from a child. As regards my young friend, I must beg to 
 add, that in every point of worldly advantage, he is, at least, on 
 an equal footing with yourself, if not on a much better one, and 
 that unless I hear this question discussed with becoming temper 
 and moderation, I decline hearijig any more said upon the 
 subject.' 
 
 ' I wish to make a wery few remarks in addition to wot has been 
 put forard by the honorable gen'l'm'n as has jist give over,' said 
 
MR. WELLER EXPLAINS MATTERS 571 
 
 Mr. Weller, stepping forth, ' wich is this here : a indiwidual in 
 company has called me a feller.' 
 
 ' That has nothing whatever to do with the matter, Sam,' inter- 
 posed Mr. Pickwick. ' Pray hold your tongue.' 
 
 ' I ain't a goin' to say nothin' on that ere pint, sir,' replied Sam, 
 ' but merely this here. P'raps that gen'l'm'n may think as there wos 
 a priory 'tachment; but there wom't nothin' o' the sort, for the 
 young lady said, in the wery beginnin' o' the keepin' company, that 
 she couldn't abide him. Nobody's cut him out, and it 'ud ha' been 
 jist the wery same for him if the young lady had never seen Mr. 
 Vinkle. That's wot I wished to say, sir, and I hope I've now made 
 that 'ere gen'l'm'n's mind easy.' 
 
 A short pause followed these consolatory remarks of Mr. Weller. 
 Then Mr. Ben Allen rising from his chair, protested that he would 
 never see Arabella's face again : while Mr. Bob Sawyer, despite 
 Sam's flattering assurance, vowed dreadful vengeance on the happy 
 bridegroom. 
 
 But, just when matters were at their height, and threatening 
 to remain so, Mr. Pickwick found a powerful assistant in the old 
 lady, who, evidently much struck by the mode in which he had 
 advocated her niece's cause, ventured to approach Mr. Benjamin 
 Allen with a few comforting reflections, of which the chief were, 
 that after all, perhaps, it was well it was no worse j the least said 
 the soonest mended, and upon her word she did not know that it 
 was so very bad after all ; what was over couldn't be begun, and 
 what couldn't be cured must be endured : with various other assur- 
 ances of the like novel and strengthening description. To all of 
 these, Mr. Benjamin Allen replied that he meant no disrespect to 
 his aunt, or anybody there, but if it were all the same to them, and 
 they would allow him to have his own way, he would rather have 
 the pleasure of hating his sister till death, and after it. 
 
 At length, when this determination had been announced half a 
 hundred times, the old lady suddenly bridling up and looking very 
 majestic, wished to know what she had done that no respect was to 
 be paid to her years or station, and that she should be obliged to 
 beg and pray, in that way, of her own nephew, whom she remem- 
 bered about five-and-twenty years before he was bom, and whom 
 she had known, personally, when he hadn't a tooth in his head ? 
 To say nothing of her presence on the first occasion of his having 
 his hair cut, and assistance at numerous other times and ceremonies 
 during his babyhood, of sufficient importance to found a claim upon 
 his affection, obedience, and sympathies, for ever. 
 
 While the good lady was bestowing this objurgation on Mr. Ben 
 Allen, Bob Sawyer and Mr. Pickwick had retired in close conversa- 
 tion to the inner room, where Mr. Sawyer was observed to apply 
 himself several times to the mouth of a black bottle, under the 
 
572 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 influence of which, his features gradually assumed a cheerful and 
 even jovial expression. And at last he emerged from the room, 
 bottle in hand, and, remarking that he was very sorry to say he had 
 been making a fool of himself, begged to propose the health and 
 happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Winkle, whose felicity, so far from 
 envying, he would be the first to congratulate them upon. Hearing 
 this, Mr. Ben Allen suddenly arose from his chair, and, seizing the 
 black bottle, drank the toast so heartily, that, the liquor being 
 strong, he became nearly as black in the face as the bottle. Finally, 
 the black bottle went round till it was empty, and there was so much 
 shaking of hands and interchanging of compliments, that even the 
 metal-visaged Mr. Martin condescended to smile, 
 
 'And now,' said Bob Sawyer, rubbing his hands, 'we'll have a 
 jolly night.' 
 
 ' I am sorry,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that I must return to my inn. 
 I have not been accustomed to fatigue lately, and my journey has 
 tired me exceedingly.' 
 
 ' You'll take some tea, Mr. Pickwick ? ' said the old lady, with 
 irresistible sweetness. 
 
 ' Thank you, I would rather not,' replied that gentleman. The 
 truth is, that the old lady's evidently increasing admiration, was 
 Mr. Pickwick's principal inducement for going away. He thought 
 of Mrs. Bardell ; and every glance of the old lady's eyes threw him 
 into a cold perspiration. 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick could by no means be prevailed upon to stay, 
 it was arranged at once, on his own proposition, that Mr. Benjamin 
 Allen should accompany him on his journey to the elder Mr. 
 Winkle's, and that the coach should be at the door, at nine o'clock 
 next morning. He then took his leave, and, followed by Samuel 
 Weller, repaired to the Bush. It is worthy of remark, that Mr. 
 Martin's face was horribly convulsed as he shook hands with Sam 
 at parting, and that he gave vent to a smile and an oath simul- 
 taneously : from which tokens it has been inferred by those who 
 were best acquainted with that gentleman's peculiarities, that he 
 expressed himself much pleased with Mr. Weller's society, and 
 requested the honour of his further acquaintance. 
 
 ' Shall I order a private room, sir ? ' inquired Sam, when they 
 reached the Bush. 
 
 ' Why, no, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick ; ' as I dined in the coffee 
 room, and shall go to bed soon, it is hardly worth while. See who 
 there is in the travellers' room, Sam.' 
 
 Mr. Weller departed on his errand, and presently returned to say, 
 that there was only a gentleman with one eye ; and that he and the 
 landlord were drinking a bowl of bishop together. 
 
 ' I will join them,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' He's a queer customer, the vun-eyed vun, sir,' observed Mr. 
 
THE ONE-EYED BAGMAN 573 
 
 Weller, as he led the way. ' He's a gammonin' that 'ere landlord, 
 he is, sir, till he don't rightly know wether he's a standing on the 
 soles of his boots or the crown of his hat.' 
 
 The individual to whom this observation referred, was sitting at 
 the upper end of the room when Mr. Pickwick entered, and was 
 smoking a large Dutch pipe, with his eye intently fixed on the round 
 face of the landlord : a jolly looking old personage, to whom he 
 had recently been relating some tale of wonder, as was testified by 
 sundry disjointed exclamations of, ' Well, I wouldn't have believed 
 it ! The strangest thing I ever heard ! Couldn't have supposed it 
 possible ! ' and other expressions of astonishment which burst 
 spontaneously from his lips, as he returned the fixed gaze of the 
 one-eyed man. 
 
 ' Servant, sir,' said the one-eyed man to Mr. Pickwick. ' Fine 
 night, sir.' 
 
 ' Very much so indeed,' repUed Mr. Pickwick, as the waiter placed 
 a small decanter of brandy, and some hot water before him. 
 
 While Mr. Pickwick was mixing his brandy and water, the one- 
 eyed man looked round at him earnestly, from time to time, and at 
 length said : 
 
 ' I think I've seen you before.' 
 
 ' I don't recollect you,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I dare say not,' said the one-eyed man. ' You didn't know me, 
 but I knew two friends of yours that were stopping at the Peacock 
 at Eatanswill, at the time of the Election.' 
 
 ' Oh, indeed ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes,' rejoined the one-eyed man. ' I mentioned a little circum- 
 stance to them about a friend of mine of the name of Tom Smart. 
 Perhaps you've heard them speak of it.' 
 
 ' Often,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling. ' He was your uncle, I 
 think?' 
 
 ' No, no ; only a friend of my uncle's,' replied the one-eyed man. 
 
 ' He was a wonderful man, that uncle of yours, though,' remarked 
 the landlord, shaking his head. 
 
 ' Well, I think he was, I think I may say he was,' answered the 
 one-eyed man. ' I could tell you a story about that same uncle, 
 gentlemen, that would rather surprise you.' 
 
 ' Could you ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Let us hear it, by all 
 means.' 
 
 The one-eyed Bagman ladled out a glass of negus from the bowl, 
 and drank it ; smoked a long whiff out of the Dutch pipe ; and 
 then, calling to Sam Weller who was lingering near the door, that 
 he needn't go away unless he wanted to, because the story was no 
 secret, fixed his eye upon the landlord'? and proceeded, io the 
 words of the next gh^pter, 
 
S74 I^HE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 CONTAINING THE STORY OF THE BAGMAN'S UNCLE 
 
 ' My uncle, gentlemen,' said the bagman, ' was one of the merriest, 
 pleasantest, cleverest fellows that ever lived. I wish you had 
 known him, gentlemen. On second thoughts, gentlemen, I dorit 
 wish you had known him, for if you had, you would have been all, 
 by this time, in the ordinary course of nature, if not dead, at all 
 events so near it, as to have taken to stopping at home and giving 
 up company : which would have deprived me of the inestimable 
 pleasure of addressing you at this moment. Gentlemen, I wish 
 your fathers and mothers had known my uncle. They would have 
 been amazingly fond of him, especially your respectable mothers ; I 
 know they would. If any two of his numerous virtues predominated 
 over the many that adorned his character, I should say they were 
 his mixed punch and his after supper song. Excuse my dwelling 
 on these melancholy recollections of departed worth ; you won't see 
 a man like my uncle every day in the week. 
 
 ' I have always considered it a great point in my uncle's character, 
 gentlemen, that he was the intimate friend and companion of Tom 
 Smart, of the great house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, City. 
 My uncle collected for Tiggin and Welps, but for a long time he 
 went pretty near the same journey as Tom ; and the very first night 
 they met, my uncle took a fancy for Tom, and Tom took a fancy 
 for my uncle. They made a bet of a new hat before they had 
 known each other half an hour, who should brew the best quart of 
 punch and drink it the quickest. My uncle was judged to have 
 won the making, but Tom Smart beat him in the drinking by about 
 half a salt-spoon-full. They took another quart a-piece to drink 
 each other's health in, and were staunch friends ever afterwards. 
 There's a destiny in these things, gentlemen ; we can't help it. 
 
 ' In personal appearance, my uncle was a trifle shorter than tlie 
 middle size ; he was a thought stouter too, than the ordinary run of 
 people, and perhaps his face might be a shade redder. He had the 
 j oiliest face you ever saw, gentlemen : something like Punch, with 
 a handsomer nose and chin; his eyes were always twinkUng and 
 sparkling with good humour ; and a smile — not one of your unmean- 
 ing wooden grins, but a real, merry, hearty, good-tempered smile — 
 was perpetually on his countenance. He was pitched out of his gig 
 once, and knocked, head first, against a mile-stone. There he lay, 
 stunned, and so cut about the face with some gravel which had been 
 heaped up alongside it, that, to use my uncle's own strong expression, 
 
THE BAGMAN'S UNCLE 575 
 
 if his mother could have revisited the earth, she wouldn't have 
 known him. Indeed, when I come to think of the matter, gentle- 
 men, I feel pretty sure she wouldn't, for she died when my uncle 
 was two years and seven months old, and I think it's very likely 
 that, even without the gravel, his top-boots would have puzzled the 
 good lady not a little : to say nothing of his jolly red face. How- 
 ever, there he lay, and I have heard my uncle say, many a time, 
 that the man said who picked him up that he was smiling as merrily 
 as if he had tumbled out for a treat, and that after they had bled 
 him, the first faint glimmerings of returning animation, were, his 
 jumping up in bed, bursting out into a loud laugh, kissing the young 
 woman who held the basin, and demanding a mutton chop and a 
 pickled walnut. He was very fond of pickled walnuts, gentlemen. 
 He said he always found that, taken without vinegar, they relished 
 the beer. 
 
 ' My uncle's great journey was in the fall of the leaf, at which 
 time he collected debts, and took orders, in the north : going from 
 London to Edinburgh, from Edinburgh to Glasgow, from Glasgow 
 back to Edinburgh, and thence to London by the smack. You are 
 to xmderstand that his second visit to Edinburgh was for his own 
 pleasure. He used to go back for a week, just to look up his old 
 friends ; and what with breakfasting with this one, lunching with 
 that, dining with a third, and supping with another, a pretty tight 
 week he used to make of it. I don't know whether any of you, 
 gentlemen, ever partook of a real substantial hospitable Scotch 
 breakfast, and then went out to a slight lunch of a bushel of oysters, 
 a dozen or so of bottled ale, and a noggin or two of whiskey to 
 close up with. If you ever did, you will agree with me that 
 it requires a pretty strong head to go out to dinner and supper 
 afterwards. 
 
 ' But, bless your hearts and eye-brows, all this sort of thing was 
 nothing to my uncle ! He was so well seasoned, that it was mere 
 child's play. I have heard him say that he could see the Dundee 
 people out, any day, and walk home afterwards without staggering ; 
 and yet the Dundee people have as strong heads and as strong 
 punch, gentlemen, as you are likely to meet with, between the poles. 
 I have heard of a Glasgow man and a Dundee man drinking against 
 each other for fifteen hours at a sitting. They were both suffocated, 
 as nearly as cquld be ascertained, at the same moment, but with 
 this trifling exception, gentlemen, they were not a bit the worse 
 for it. 
 
 ' One night, within four-and-twenty hours of the time when he had 
 settled to take shipping for London, my uncle supped at the house 
 of a very old friend of his, a Baillie Mac something and four 
 syllables after it, who lived in the old town of Edinburgh. There 
 were the baillie's wife, and the baiUie's three daughters, and the 
 
576 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 baillie's grown-up son, and three or four stout, bushy eye-browed, 
 canny old Scotch fellows, that the baillie had got together to do honour 
 to my uncle, and help to make merry. It was a glorious supper. 
 There were kippered salmon, and Finnan haddocks, and a lamb's 
 head, and a haggis — a celebrated Sqotch dish, gentlemen, which my 
 uncle used to say always looked to him, when it came to table, very 
 much like a cupid's stomach — ^and a great many other things besides, 
 that I forget the names of, but very good things notwithstanding. 
 I'he lassies were pretty and agreeable ; the baillie's wife was one of 
 the best creatures that ever lived ; and my uncle was in thoroughly 
 good cue. The consequence of which was, that the young ladies 
 tittered and giggled, and the old lady laughed out loud, and the 
 baillie and the other old fellows roared tiU they were red in the face, 
 the whole mortal time. I don't quite recollect how many tumblers 
 of whiskey toddy each man drank after supper ; but this I know, 
 that about one o'clock in the morning, the baillie's grown-up son 
 became insensible while attempting the first verse of " Willie brewed 
 a peck o' maut;" and he having been, for half an hour before, the only 
 other man visible above the mahogany, it occurred to my uncle that 
 it was almost time to think about going : especially as drinking had 
 set .in at seven o'clock, in order that he might get home at a decent 
 hour. But, thinking it might not be quite polite to go just then, my 
 uncle voted himself into the chair, mixed another glass, rose to 
 propose his own health, addressed himself in a neat and compli- 
 mentary speech, and drank the toast with great enthusiasm. Still 
 nobody woke ; so my imcle took a little drop more — neat this time, 
 to prevent the toddy from disagreeing with him — and, laying violent 
 hands on his hat, sallied forth into the street. 
 
 ' It was a wild gusty night when my uncle closed the baillie's door, 
 and settling his hat firmly on his head, to prevent the wind from 
 taking it, thrust his hands into his pockets, and looking upward, took 
 a short survey of the state of the weather. The clouds were drifting 
 over the moon at their giddiest speed : at one time whoUy obscuring 
 her : at another, suffering her to burst forth in full splendour and 
 shed her light on all the subjects around : anon, driving over her 
 again, with increased velocity, and shrouding everything in darkness. 
 " Really, this won't do," said my uncle, addressing himself to the 
 weather, as if he felt himself personally offended. " This is not at 
 all the kind of thing for my voyage. It will not do, at any price," 
 said my uncle very impressively. Having repeated this, several 
 times, he recovered his balance with some difficulty — for he was 
 rather giddy with looking up into the sky so long — and walked 
 merrily on. 
 
 'The baillie's house was in the Canongate, and my uncle was 
 going to the other end of Leith Walk, rather better than a mile's 
 JQVrney. On either sid^ of him, there shot pp against the dark sky, 
 
AULD REEKIE 577 
 
 tall gaunt straggling houses, with time-stained fronts, and windows 
 that seemed to have shared the lot of eyes in mortals, and to have 
 grown dim and sunken with age. Six, seven, eight stories high, 
 were the houses ; story piled above story, as children build with 
 cards — throwing their dark shadows over the roughly paved road, 
 and making the dark night darker. A few oil lamps were scattered 
 at long distances, but they only served to mark the dirty entrance 
 to some narrow close, or to show where a common stair com- 
 municated, by steep and intricate windings, with the various flats 
 above. Glancing at all these things with the air of a man who had 
 seen them too often before, to think them worthy of much notice 
 now, my uncle walked up the middle of the street, with a thumb in 
 each waistcoat pocket, indulging from time to time in various 
 snatches of song, chaunted forth with such good will and spirit, that 
 the quiet honest folk started from their first sleep and lay trembling 
 in bed till the sound died away in the distance ; when, satisfying 
 themselves that it was only some drunken ne'er-do-weel finding his 
 way home, they covered themselves up warm and fell asleep again. 
 
 ' I am particular in describing how my uncle walked up the 
 middle of the street, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, 
 gentlemen, because, as he often used to say (and with great reason 
 too) there is nothing at all extraordinary in this story, unless you 
 distinctly understand at the beginning that he was not by any means 
 of a marvellous or romantic turn. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, my uncle walked on with his thumbs in his waistcoat 
 pockets, taking the middle of the street to himself, and singing, now 
 a verse of a love song, and then a verse of a drinking one, and when 
 he was tired of both, whistling melodiously, until he reached the 
 North Bridge, which, at this point, connects the old and new towns 
 of Edinburgh. Here he stopped for a minute, to look at the strange 
 irregular clusters of lights piled one above the other, and twinkling 
 afar off so high, that they looked like stars, gleaming from the 
 castle walls on the one side and the Calton Hill on the other, as if 
 they illuminated veritable castles in the air ; while the old picturesque 
 town slept heavily on, in gloom and darkness below : its palace and 
 chapel of Holyrood, guarded day and night, as a friend of my uncle's 
 used to say, by old Arthur's Seat, towering, surly and dark, like some 
 gruff genius, over the ancient city he has watched so long. I say, 
 gentlemen, my uncle stopped here, for a minute, to look about him ; 
 and then, paying a compliment to the weather which had a little 
 cleared up, though the moon was sinking, walked on again, as 
 royally as before ; keeping the middle of the road with great dignity, 
 and looking as if he would very much like to meet with somebody 
 who would dispute possession of it with him. There was nobody 
 at all disposed to contest the point, as it happened ; and so, on he 
 Went, with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, like a lamb. 
 
 « if 
 
578 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' When my uncle reached the end of Leith Walk, he had to cross 
 a pretty large piece of waste ground which separated him from a 
 short street which he had to turn down, to go direct to his lodging. 
 Now, in this piece of waste ground, there was, at that time, an 
 enclosure belonging to some wheelwright who contracted with the 
 Post-ofifice for the purchase of old worn-out mail coaches ; and my 
 uncle, being very fond of coaches, old, young, or middle-aged, all at 
 once took it into his head to step out of his road for no other 
 purpose than to peep between the palings at these mails — about a 
 dozen of which, he remembered to have seen, crowded together in 
 a very forlorn and dismantled state, inside. My uncle was a very 
 enthusiastic, emphatic sort of person, gentlemen ; so, finding that he 
 could not obtain a good peep between the palings, he got over them, 
 and sitting himself quietly down on an old axletree, began to 
 contemplate the mail coaches with a deal of gravity. 
 
 ' There might be a dozen of them, or there might be more — my 
 uncle was never quite certain on this point, and being a man of very 
 scrupulous veracity about numbers, didn't like to say — but there they 
 stood, all huddled together in the most desolate condition imaginable. 
 The doors had been torn from their hinges and removed ; the 
 linings had been stripped off : only a shred hanging here and there 
 by a rusty nail ; the lamps were gone, the poles had long since 
 vanished, the iron-work was rusty, the paint was worn away; the 
 wind whistled through the chinks in the bare wood work ; and the 
 rain, which had collected on the roofs, fell, drop by drop, into 
 the insides with a hollow and melancholy sound. They were the 
 decaying skeletons of departed mails, and in that lonely place, at 
 that time of night, they looked chill and dismal. 
 
 ' My uncle rested his head upon his hands, and thought of the 
 busy bustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the old 
 coaches, and were now as silent and changed ; he thought of the 
 numbers of people to whom one of those crazy mouldering vehicles 
 had borne, night after night, for many years, and through all weathers, 
 the anxiously expected intelligence, the eagerly looked-for remittance, 
 the promised assurance of health and safety, the sudden announce- 
 ment of sickness and death. The merchant, the lover, the wife, the 
 widow, the mother, the schoolboy, the very child who tottered to 
 the door at the postman's knock — how had they all looked forward 
 to the arrival of the old coach. And where were they all now ! 
 
 ' Gentlemen, my uncle used to say that he thought all this at the 
 time, but I rather suspect he learnt it out of some book afterwards, 
 for he distinctly stated that he fell into a kind of doze, as he sat on 
 th? old axletree looking at the decayed mail coaches, and that he 
 was suddenly awakened by some deep church-bell striking two. 
 Now, my uncle was never a fdst thinker, and if he had thought all 
 these things, I am quite certain it would have taken him till full 
 
OLD MAIL COACHES 579 
 
 half-past two o'clock, at the very least. I am, therefore, decidedly 
 of opinion, gentlemen, that my uncle fell into the kind of doze, 
 without having thought about any thing at all. 
 
 ' Be this, as it may, a church bell struck two. My uncle woke, 
 nibbed his eyes, and jumped up in astonishment. 
 
 ' In one instant after the clock struck two, the whole of this 
 deserted and quiet spot had become a scene of most extraordinary 
 life and animation. The mail coach doors were on their hinges, 
 the lining was replaced, the iron-work was as good as new, the 
 paint was restored, the lamps were alight, cushions and great coats 
 were on every coach box, porters were thrusting parcels into every 
 boot, guards were stowing away letter-bags, hostlers were dashing 
 pails of water against the renovated wheels ; numbers of men were 
 rushing about, fixing poles into every coach ; passengers arrived, 
 portmanteaus were handed up, horses were put to ; in short, it was 
 perfectly clear that every mail there was to be off directly. Gentle- 
 men, my uncle opened his eyes so wide at all this, that, to the very 
 last moment of his life, he used to wonder how it fell out that he 
 had ever been able to shut 'em again. 
 
 ' " Now then ! " said a voice, as my uncle felt a hand on his 
 shoulder, " You're booked for one inside. You'd better get in." 
 
 ' " / booked ! " said my uncle, turning round. 
 
 ' " Yes, certainly." 
 
 ' My uncle, gentlemen, could say nothing ; he was so very much 
 astonished. The queerest thing of all, was, that although there 
 was such a crowd of persons, and although fresh faces were pouring 
 in, every moment, there was no telling where they came from. 
 They seemed to start up, in some strange manner, from the ground, 
 or the air, and disappear in the same way. When a porter had 
 put his luggage in the coach, and received his fare, he turned 
 round and was gone; and before my uncle had well begun to 
 wonder what had become of him, half-a-dozen fresh ones started 
 up, and staggered along under the weight of parcels which seemed 
 big enough to crash them. The passengers were all dressed so 
 oddly too ! Large, broad-skirted laced coats with great cuffs and 
 no collars ; and wigs, gentlemen, — great formal wigs with a tie 
 behind. My uncle could make nothing of it. 
 
 ' " Now, are you going to get in ? " said the person who had 
 addressed my uncle before. He was dressed as a mail guard, with 
 a wig on his head and most enormous cuffs to his coat, and had 
 a lantern in one hand, and a huge blunderbuss in the other, which 
 he was going to stow away in his little arm-chest. " Are you going 
 to get in. Jack Martin ? " said the guard, holding the lantern to my 
 uncle's face. 
 
 ' " Hallo ! " said my uncle, falling back a step or two. " That's 
 familiar ! " 
 
58o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' " It's so on the way-bill," replied the guard. 
 
 '"Isn't there a 'Mister' before it?" said my uncle. For he 
 felt, gentlemen, that for a guard he didn't know, to call him Jack 
 Martin, was a liberty which the Post-office wouldn't have sanctioned 
 if they had known it. 
 
 ' " No, there is not," rejoined the guard coolly. 
 
 ' " Is the fare paid ? " inquired my uncle. 
 
 ' " Of course it is," rejoined the guard. 
 
 ' " It is, is it ? " said my uncle. " Then here goes ! Whicti 
 coach ? " 
 
 ' " This," said the guard, pointing to an old-fashioned Edinburgh 
 and London Mail, which had the steps down, and the door open. 
 " Stop ! Here are the other passengers. Let them get in first." 
 
 ' As the guard spoke, there all at once appeared, right in front 
 of my uncle, a young gentleman in a powdered wig, and a sky-blue 
 coat trimmed with silver, made very full and broad in the skirts, 
 which were lined with buckram. Tiggin and Welps were in the 
 printed calico and waistcoat piece line, gentlemen, so my uncle 
 knew all the materials at once. He wore knee breeches, and a kind 
 of leggings rolled up over his silk stockings, and shoes with buckles; 
 he had ruffles at his wrists, a three-cornered hat on his head, and 
 a long taper sword by his side. The flaps of his waistcoat came 
 half way down his thighs, and the ends of his cravat reached to his 
 waist. He stalked gravely to the coach-door, pulled off his hat, 
 and held it above his head at arm's length : cocking his little finger 
 in the air at the same time, as some affected people do, when they 
 take a cup of tea. Then he drew his feet together, and made a low 
 grave bow, and then put out his left hand. My uncle was just 
 going to step forward, and shake it heartily, when he perceived that 
 these attentions were directed, not towards him, but to a young 
 lady who just then appeared at the foot of the steps, attired in an 
 old-fashioned green velvet dress with a long waist and stomacher. 
 She had no bonnet on her head, gentlemen, which was muffled in 
 a black silk hood, but she looked round for an instant as she 
 prepared to get into the coach, and such a beautiful face as she dis- 
 closed, my uncle had never seen — not even in a picture. She got 
 into the coach, holding up her dress with one hand; and, as my 
 uncle always said with a round oath, when he told the story, he 
 wouldn't have believed it possible that legs and feet could have 
 been brought to such a state" of perfection unless he had seen them 
 with his own eyes. 
 
 ' But, in this one glimpse of the beautiful face, my uncle saw 
 that the young lady cast an imploring look upon him, and that she 
 appeared terrified and distressed. He noticed, too, that the young 
 fellow in the powdered wig, notwithstanding his show of gallantry, 
 which was all very fine and grand, clasped her tight by the wrisl 
 
,■•=5-.. 
 
 f^,' .'-4 '* 'V''''' W- ■ i ' 
 
 
 'yMtyy^%-ey' a>A€>tf^ C>^ Oy O^ZO-i^ 
 
COOLNESS OF THE BAGMAN'S UNCLE 581 
 
 when she got in, and followed himself immediately afterwards. An 
 uncommonly ill-looking fellow, in a close brown wig and a plum- 
 coloured suit, wearing a very large sword, and boots up to his hips, 
 belonged to the party ; and when he sat himself down next to the 
 young lady, who shrunk into a corner at his approach, my uncle 
 was confirmed in his original impression that something dark and 
 mysterious was going forward, or, as he always said himself, that 
 " there was a screw loose somewhere." It's quite surprising how 
 quickly he made up his mind to help the lady at any peril, if she 
 needed help. 
 
 ' " Death and lightning ! " exclaimed the young gentleman, 
 laying his hand upon his sword as my uncle entered the coach. 
 
 ' " Blood and thunder ! " roared the other gentleman. With this, 
 he whipped his sword out, and made a lunge at my uncle without 
 further ceremony. My uncle had no weapon about him, but with 
 great dexterity he snatched the ill-looking gentleman's three- 
 cornered hat from his head, and, receiving the point of his sword 
 right through the crown, squeezed the sides together, and held it 
 tight. 
 
 ' " Pink him behind ! " cried the ill-looking gentleman to his 
 companion, as he struggled to regain his sword. 
 
 '"He had better not," cried my uncle, displaying the heel of 
 one of his shoes, in a threatening manner. " I'll kick his brains 
 out, if he has any, or fracture his skull if he hasn't." Exerting all 
 his strength, at this moment, my uncle wrenched the ill-looking 
 man's sword from his grasp, and flung it clean out of the coach- 
 window : upon which the younger gentleman vociferated " Death 
 and lightning ! " again, and laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, 
 in a very fierce manner, but didn't draw it. Perhaps, gentlemen, 
 as my uncle used to say with a smile, perhaps he was afraid of 
 alarming the lady. 
 
 ' " Now, gentlemen," said my uncle, taking his seat deliberately, 
 " I don't want to have any death, with or without lightning, in 
 a lady's presence, and we have had quite blood and thundering 
 enough for one journey ; so, if you please, we'll sit in our places 
 like quiet insides. Here, guard, pick up that gentleman's carving- 
 knife." 
 
 ' As quickly as my uncle said the words, the guard appeared at 
 the coach-window, with the gentleman's sword in his hand. He 
 held up his lantern, and looked earnestly in my uncle's face, as he 
 handed it in : when, by its light, my uncle saw, to his great surprise, 
 that an immense crowd of mail-coach guards swarmed round the 
 window, every one of whom had his eyes earnestly fixed upon him 
 too. He had never seen such a sea of white faces, red bodies, and 
 earnest eyes, in all his born days. 
 
 ' " This is the strangest sort of thing I ever had anything to 
 
582 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 do with," thought my uncle ; " allow me to return you your hat, 
 sir." 
 
 ' The ill-looking gentleman received his three-cornered hat in 
 silence, looked at the hole in the middle with an inquiring air, and 
 finally stuck it on the top of his wig with a solemnity the effect of 
 which was a trifle impaired by his sneezing violently at the moment, 
 and jerking it off again. 
 
 ' " All right ! " cried the guard with the lantern, mounting into 
 his little seat behind. Away they went. My uncle peeped out of 
 the coach-window as they emerged from the yard, and observed 
 that the other mails, with coachmen, guards, horses, and passengers, 
 complete, were driving round and round in circles, at a slow trot of 
 about five miles an hour. My uncle burnt with indignation, gentle- 
 men. As a commercial man, he felt that the mail bags were not 
 to be trifled with, and he resolved to memorialise the Post-office on 
 the subject, the very instant he reached London. 
 
 ' At present, however, his thoughts were occupied with the young 
 lady who sat in the farthest corner of the coach, with her face 
 muffled closely in her hood ; the gentleman with the sky-blue coat 
 sitting opposite to her ; the other man in the plum-coloured suit, by 
 her side, and both watching her intently. If she so much as rustled 
 the folds of her hood, he could hear the ill-looking man clap his 
 hand upon his sword, and could tell by the other's breathing (it 
 was so dark he couldn't see his face) that- he was looking as big as 
 if he were going to devour her at a mouthful. This roused my 
 uncle more and more, and he resolved, come what come might, to 
 see the end of it. He had a great admiration for bright eyes, and 
 sweet faces, and pretty legs and feet ; in sjiort, he was fond of the 
 whole sex. It runs in our family, gentlemen — so am I. 
 
 ' Many were the devices which my uncle prastised, to attract the 
 lady's attention, or at all events, to engage the mysterious gentlemen 
 in conversation. They were all in vain ; the gentlemen wouldn't 
 talk, and the lady didn't dare. He thrust his head out of the coach- 
 window at intervals, and bawled out to know why they didn't go 
 faster? But he called till he was hoarse; nobody paid the least 
 attention to him. He leant back in the coach, and thought of the 
 beautiful face, and the feet and legs. This answered better ; it 
 whiled away the time, and kept him from wondering where he was 
 going, and how it was that he found himself in such an odd situa- 
 tion. Not that this would have worried him much, any way — he 
 was a mighty free and easy, roving, devil-may-care sort of person, 
 was my uncle, gentlemen. 
 
 ' All of a sudden the coach stopped. " Hallo ! " said my uncle, 
 " What's in the wind now ? " 
 
 ' " Alight here," said the guard, letting down the steps. 
 
 ' " Here ! " cried my uncle. 
 
GHOSTLY TRAVELLING 583 
 
 ' " Here," rejoined the guard. 
 
 ' " I'll do nothing of the sort," said my uncle. 
 
 ' " Very well, then stop where you are," said the guard. 
 
 ' " I will," said my uncle. 
 
 ' " Do," said the guard. 
 
 'The other passengers had regarded this colloquy with great 
 attention, and, finding that my uncle was determined not to alight, 
 the younger man squeezed past him, to hand the lady out. At this 
 moment, the ill-looking man was inspecting the hole in the crown 
 of his three-cornered hat. As the young lady brushed past, she 
 dropped one of her gloves into my uncle's hand, and softly 
 whispered, with her lips so close to his face that he felt her warm 
 breath on his nose, the single word " Help ! " Gentlemen, my 
 uncle leaped out of the coach at once, with such violence that it 
 rocked on the springs again. 
 
 '" Oh ! You've thought better of it, have you ? " said the guard 
 when he saw my uncle standing on the ground. 
 
 ' My uncle looked at the guard for a few seconds, in some doubt 
 whether it wouldn't be better to wrench his blunderbuss from him, 
 fire it in the face of the man with the big sword, knock the rest of 
 the company over the head with the stock, snatch up the young 
 lady, and go off in the smoke. On second thoughts, however, he 
 abandoned this plan, as being a shade too melodramatic in the 
 execution, and followed the two mysterious men, who, keeping the 
 lady between them, were now entering an old house in front of 
 which the coach had stopped. They turned into the passage, and 
 my uncle followed. 
 
 ' Of all the ruinous and desolate places my uncle had ever beheld, 
 this was the most so. It looked as if it had once been a large 
 house of entertainment ; but the roof had fallen in, in many places, 
 and the stairs were steep, ragged, and broken. There was a huge 
 fire-place in the room into which they walked, and the chimney was 
 blackened with smoke ; but no warm blaze lighted it up now. The 
 white fea'thery dust of burnt wood was still strewed over the hearth, 
 but the stove was cold, and all was dark and gloomy. 
 
 '"Well," said my uncle, as he looked about him, "A mail 
 travelling at the rate of six miles and a half an hour, and stopping 
 for an indefinite time at such a hole as this, is rather an irregular 
 sort of proceeding, I fancy. This shall be made known. I'll write 
 to the papers." 
 
 ' My uncle said this in a pretty loud voice, and in an open un- 
 reserved sort of manner, with the view of engaging the two strangers 
 in conversation if he could. But, neither of them took any more 
 notice of him than whispering to each other, and scowling at him as 
 they did so. The lady was at the farther end of the room, and once she 
 ventured to wave her hand, as if beseeching my uncle's assistance. 
 
584 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' At length the two strangers advanced a little, and the conversa- 
 tion began in earnest. 
 
 ' " You don't know this is a private room, I suppose, fellow ? " 
 said the gentleman in sky-blue. 
 
 ' " No, I do not, fellow," rejoined my uncle. " Only if this is a 
 private room specially ordered for the occasion, I should think the 
 public room must be a very comfortable one ; " with this my uncle 
 sat himself down in a high-backed chair, and took such an accurate 
 measure of the gentleman, with his eyes, that Tiggin and Welps 
 could have supplied him with printed calico for a suit, and not an 
 inch too much or too little, from that estimate alone. 
 
 ' "Quit this room," said both the men together, grasping their swords. 
 
 ' " Eh ? " said my uncle, not at all appearing to comprehend their 
 meaning. 
 
 ' " Quit the room, or you are a dead man," said the ill-looking 
 fellow with the large sword, drawing it at the same time and 
 flourishing it in the air. 
 
 ' " Down with him ! " cried the gentleman in sky-blue, drawing 
 his sword also, and falling back two or three yards. " Down with 
 him ! " The lady gave a loud scream. 
 
 ' Now, my uncle wa.s always remarkable for great boldness, and 
 great presence of mind. AH the time that he had appeared so 
 indifferent to what was going on, he had been looking slyly about, 
 for some missile or weapon of defence, and at the very instant 
 when the swords were drawn, he espied, standing in the chimney 
 corner, an old basket-hilted rapier in a rusty scabbard. At one 
 bound, my uncle caught it in his hand, drew it, flotirished it gallantly 
 above his head, called aloud to the lady to keep out of the way, 
 hurled the chair at the man in sky-blue, and the scabbard at the 
 man in plum-colour, and taking advantage of the confusion, fell 
 upon them both, pell-mell. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, there is an old story — none the worse for being true 
 — regarding a fine young Irish gentleman, who being asked if he 
 could play the fiddle, replied he had no doubt he could, but he 
 couldn't exactly say, for certain, because he had never tried. This 
 is not inapplicable to my uncle and his fencing. He had never had 
 a sword in his hand before, except once when he played Richard the 
 Third at a private theatre : upon which occasion it was arranged 
 with Richmond that he was to be run through, from behind, without 
 showing fight at all. But here he was, cutting and slashing with 
 two experienced swordsmen : thrusting and guarding and poking 
 and slicing, and acquitting himself in the most manful and dexterous 
 manner possible, although up to that time he had never been aware 
 that he had the least notion of the science. It only shows how true 
 the old saying is, that a man never knows what he can do, till he 
 tries, gentlemen. 
 
A NOISY COMBAT 585 
 
 ' The noise of the combat was terrific ; each of the three com- 
 batants swearing like troopers, and their swords clashing with as much 
 noise as if all the knives and steels in Newport market were rattling 
 together, at the same time. When it was at its veiy height, the lady 
 (to encourage my uncle most probably) withdrew her hood entirely 
 from her face, and disclosed a countenance of such dazzling beauty, 
 that he would have fought against fifty 'men, to win one smile from 
 it, and die. He had done wonders before, but now he began to 
 powder away like a raving mad giant. 
 
 ' At this very moment, the gentleman in sky-blue turning round, 
 and seeing the young lady with her face uncovered, vented an ex- 
 clamation of rage and jealousy, and, turning his weapon against her 
 beautiful bosom, pointed a thrust at her heart, which caused my 
 uncle to utter a cry of apprehension that made the building ring. 
 The lady stepped lightly aside, and snatching the young man's 
 sword from his hand, before he had recovered his balance, drove 
 him to the wall, and running it through him, and the panelling, up 
 to the very hilt, pinned him there, hard and fast. It was a splendid 
 example. My uncle, with a loud shout of triumph, and a strength 
 that was irresistible, made his adversary retreat in the same direc- 
 tion, and plunging the old rapier into the very centre of a large red 
 flower in the pattern of his waistcoat, nailed him beside his friend ; 
 there they both stood, gentlemen, jerking their arms and legs about, 
 in agony, like the toy-shop figures that are moved by a piece of 
 packthread. My uncle always said, afterwaids, that this was one of 
 the surest means he knew of, for disposing of an enemy ; but it was 
 liable to one objection on the ground of expense, inasmuch as it in- 
 volved the loss of a sword for every man disabled. 
 
 ' " The mail, the mail ! " cried the lady, running up to my uncle and 
 throwing her beautiful arms round his neck ; " we may yet escape." 
 
 ' " May 1 " cried my uncle ; " why, my dear, there's nobody else 
 to kill, is there ? " My uncle was rather disappointed, gentlemen, 
 for he thought a little quiet bit of love-making would be agreeable 
 after the slaughtering, if it were only to change the subject. 
 * '"We have not an instant to lose here," said the young lady. 
 " He (pointing to the young gentleman in sky-blue) is the only son 
 of the powerful Marquess of Filletoville." 
 
 ' " Well, then, my dear, I'm afraid he'll never come to the title," 
 said my uncle, looking coolly at the young gentleman as he stood 
 fixed up against the wall, in the cockchafer fashion I have described. 
 " You have cut off the entail, my love." 
 
 ' " I have been torn from my home and friends by these villains," 
 said the young lady, her features glowing with indignation. " That 
 wretch would have married me by violence in another hour." 
 
 • •• Confound his impudence ! " said my uncle, bestowing a very 
 contemptuous look on the dying heir of Filletoville. 
 
5 86 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' " As you may guess from what you have seen," said the young 
 lady, " the party were prepared to murder me if I appealed to any 
 one for assistance. If their accomplices find us here, we are lost. 
 Two minutes hence may be too late. The mail ! " With these 
 words, overpowered by her feelings, and the exertion of sticking the 
 young Marquess of Filletoville, she sunk into my uncle's arms. 
 My uncle caught her up, and bore her to the house-door. There 
 stood the mail, with four long-tailed, flowing-maned, black horses, 
 ready harnessed ; but no coachman, no guard, no hostler even, at 
 the horses' heads. 
 
 'Gentlemen, I hope I do no injustice to my uncle's memory, 
 when I express my opinion, that although he was a bachelor, he 
 had held some ladies in his arms, before this time; I believe 
 indeed, that he had rather a habit of kissing barmaids ; and I know, 
 that in one or two instances, he had been seen by credible 
 witnesses, to hug a landlady in a very perceptible manner. I 
 mention the circumstance, to show what a very uncommon sort of 
 person this beautiful young lady must have been, to have affected 
 my uncle in the way she did ; he used to say, that as her long dark 
 hair trailed over his arm, and her beautiful dark eyes fixed them- 
 selves upon his face when she recovered, he felt so strange and 
 nervous that his legs trembled beneath him. But, who can look in 
 a sweet soft pair of dark eyes, without feeling queer? T can't, 
 gentlemen. I am afraid to look at some eyes I know, and that's 
 the truth of it. 
 
 ' " You will never leave me," murmured the young lady. 
 
 ' " Never," said my uncle. And he meant it too. 
 
 ' " My dear preserver ! " exclaimed the young lady. " My dear, 
 kind, brave preserver ! " 
 
 ' " Don't," said my uncle, interrupting her. 
 
 ' " Why ? " inquired the young lady. 
 
 ' " Because your mouth looks so beautiful when you speak," 
 rejoined my uncle, " that I'm afraid I shall be rude enough to 
 kiss it." 
 
 ' The young lady put up her hand as if to caution my uncle noj 
 to do so, and said — no, she didn't say anything — she smiled. 
 When you are looking at a pair of the most delicious lips in the 
 world, and see them gently break into a roguish smile — if you are 
 very near them, and nobody else by — ^you cannot better testify your 
 admiration of their beautiful form and colour than by kissing them 
 at once. My uncle did so, and I honour him for it. 
 
 ' " Hark ! " cried the young lady, starting. "The noise of wheels 
 and horses I " 
 
 ' " So it is," said my uncle, listening. He had a good ear for 
 wheels, and the trampling of hoofs ; but there appeared to be so 
 many horses and carriages rattling towards them, from a distance, 
 
MAIL-COACH GHOSTS 587 
 
 that it was impossible to form a guess at their number. The sound 
 was like that of fifty breaks, with six blood cattle in each. 
 
 ' " We are pursued ! " cried the young lady, clasping her hands. 
 " We are pursued. I have no hope but in you ! " 
 
 'There was such an expression of terror in her beautiful face, 
 that my uncle made up his mind at once. He lifted her into the 
 coach, told her not to be frightened, pressed his lips to hers once 
 more, and then advising her to draw up the window to keep the 
 cold air out, mounted to the box. 
 
 ' " Stay, love," cried the young lady. 
 
 ' " What's the matter ? " said my uncle, from the coach-box. 
 
 ' " I want to speak to you," said the young lady ; " only a word. 
 Only one word, dearest." 
 
 ' " Must I get down ? " inquired my uncle. The lady made no 
 answer, but she smiled again. Such a smile, gentlemen ! It beat 
 the' other one, all to nothing. My uncle descended from his perch 
 in a twinkling. 
 
 ' " What is it, my dear ? " said my uncle, looking in at the coach 
 window. The lady happened to bend forward at the same time, 
 and my uncle thought she looked more beautiful than she had done 
 yet. He was very close to her just then, gentlemen, so he really 
 ought to know. 
 
 ^ " What is it, my dear ? " said my uncle. 
 
 ' " Will you never love any one but me ; never marry any one 
 beside ? " said the young lady. 
 
 'My uncle swore a great oath that he never would marry any 
 body else, and the young lady drew in her head, and pulled up the 
 window. He jumped upon the box, squared his elbows, adjusted 
 the ribands, seized the whip which lay on the roof, gave one flick to 
 the off leader, and away went the four long-tailed flowing-maned 
 black horses, at fifteen good English miles an hour, with the old 
 mail coach behind them. Whew ! How they tore along ! 
 
 ' The noise behind grew louder. The faster the old mail went, 
 the faster came the pursuers — men, horses, dogs, were leagued in 
 the pursuit. The noise was frightful, but, above all, rose the voice 
 of the young lady, urging my uncle on, and shrieking, " Faster ! 
 Faster ! " 
 
 'They whirled past the dark trees, as feathers would be swept 
 before a hurricane. Houses, gates, churches, haystacks, objects 
 of every kind they shot by, with a velocity and noise like roaring 
 waters suddenly let loose. Still the noise of pursuit grew louder, 
 and still my uncle could hear the young lady wildly screaming, 
 "Faster! Faster!" 
 
 ' My uncle plied whip and rein, and the horses flew onward till 
 they were white with foam ; and yet the noise behind increased ; 
 and yet the young lady cried " Faster ! Faster ! " My uncle gave 
 
588 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 a loud stamp on the boot in the energy of the moment, and — found 
 that it was grey morning, and he was sitting in the wheelwright's 
 yard, on the box of an old Edinburgh mail, shivering with the cold 
 and wet and stamping his feet to warm them ! He got down, and 
 looked eagerly inside for the beautiful young lady. Alas ! There 
 was neither door nor seat to the coach. It was a mere shell. 
 
 ' Of course, my uncle knew very well that there was some 
 mystery in the matter, and that everything had passed exactly as 
 he used to relate it. He remained staunch to the great oath he 
 had' sworn to the beautiful young lady: refusing several eligible 
 landladies on her account, and dying a bachelor at last. He 
 always said, what a curious thing it was that he should have found 
 out, by such a mere accident as his clambering over the palings, 
 that the ghosts of mail-coaches and horses, guards, coachmen, and 
 passengers, were in the habit of making journeys regularly every 
 night. He used to add, that he believed he was the only living 
 person who had ever been taken as a passenger on one of these 
 excursions. And I think he was right, gentlemen — at least I never 
 heard of any other.' 
 
 ' I wonder what these ghosts of mail-coaches carry in their bags,' 
 said the landlord, who had Hstened to the whole story with profound 
 attention. 
 
 ' The dead letters, of course,' said the Bagman. 
 
 ' Oh, ah ! To be sure,' rejoined the landlord. ' I never thought 
 of that.' 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 HOW MR. PICKWICK SPED UPON HIS MISSION, AND HOW HE WAS 
 REINFORCED IN THE OUTSET BY A MOST UNEXPECTED 
 AUXILIARY 
 I 
 
 The horses were put to, punctually at a quarter before nine next 
 morning, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller having each taken his 
 seat, the one inside and the other out, the postilhon was duly 
 directed to repair in the first instance to Mr. Bob Sawyer's house, 
 for the purpose of taking up Mr. Benjamin Allen. " 
 
 It was with feelings of no small astonishment, when the carriage 
 drew up before the door with the red lamp, and the very legible 
 inscription of ' Sawyer, late Nockemorf,' that Mr. Pickwick saw, on 
 popping his head out of the coach-window, the boy in the grey 
 livery very busily employed in putting up the shutters : the which, 
 being an unusual and an un-business-like proceeding at that hour 
 
A VOLUNTEER 589 
 
 of the morning, at once suggested to his mind, two inferences ; the 
 one, that some good friend and patient of Mr. Bob Sawyer's was 
 dead ; the other, that Mr. Bob Sawyer himself was bankrupt. 
 
 'What is the matter?' said Mr. Pickwick to the boy. 
 
 ' Nothing's the matter, sir,' rephed the boy, expanding his mouth 
 to the whole breadth of his countenance. 
 
 ' All right, all right ! ' cried Bob Sawyer suddenly appearing at 
 the door, with a small leathern knapsack, Ump and dirty, in one 
 hand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm. ' I'm 
 going, old fellow.' 
 
 ' You ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Bob Sawyer, ' and a regular expedition we'll make 
 of it. Here, Sam ! Look out ! ' Thus briefly bespeaking Mr. 
 Weller's attention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack 
 into the dickey, where it was immediately stowed away, under the 
 seat, by Sam, who regarded the proceeding with great admiration. 
 This done, Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the assistance of the boy, forcibly 
 worked himself into the rough coat, which was a few sizes too small 
 for him, and then advancing to the coach window, thrust in his 
 head, and laughed boisterously. 
 
 ' What a start it is, isn't it ! ' cried Bob, wiping the tears out of 
 his eyes, with one of the cuffs of the rough coat. 
 
 ' My dear sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with some embarrassment, ' I 
 had no idea of your accompanying us.' 
 
 ' No, that's just the very thing,' replied Bob, seizing, Mr. Pickwick 
 by the lappel of his coat. ' That's the joke.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's the joke ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Of course,' replied Bob. ' It's the whole point of the thing, 
 you know — that, and leaving the business, to take care of itself, 
 as it seems to have made up its mind not to take care of me.' 
 With this explanation of the phenomenon of the shutters, Mr. Bob 
 Sawyer pointed to the shop, and relapsed into an ecstasy of 
 mirth. 
 
 ' Bless me, you are surely not mad enough to think of leaving 
 your patients without anybody to attend them ! ' remonstrated Mr. 
 Pickwick in a very serious tone. 
 
 ' Why not ? ' asked Bob, in reply. ' I shall save by it, you know. 
 None of them ever pay. Besjdes,' said Bob, lowering his voice to 
 a confidential whisper, ' they will be all the better for it ; for, being 
 nearly out of drugs, and not able to increase my account just now, 
 I should have been obliged to give them calomel all round, and it 
 would have been certain to have disagreed with some of them. So 
 it's all for the best.' 
 
 There was a philosophy, and a strength of reasoning, about this 
 reply, which Mr. Pickwick was not prepared for. He paused a few 
 moments, and added, less firmly than before ; 
 
590 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' But this chaise, my young friend, will only hold two ; and I am 
 pledged to Mr. Allen.' 
 
 ' Don't think of me for a minute,' replied Bob. ' I've arranged 
 it all ; Sam and I will share the dickey between us. Look here. 
 This little bill is to be wafered on the shop door : " Sawyer, late 
 Nockemorf. Enquire of Mrs. Cripps over the way." Mrs. Cripps 
 is my boy's mother. " Mr. Sawyer's very sorry," says Mrs. Cripps, 
 " couldn't help it — fetched away early this morning to a consultation 
 of the very first surgeons in the country — couldn't do without him — 
 would have him at any price — tremendous operation." The fact is,' 
 said Bob in conclusion, ' it'll do me more good than otherwise, I 
 expect. If it gets into one of the local papers, it will be the making 
 of me. Here's Ben ; now then, jump in ! ' 
 
 With these hurried words, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed the post-boy 
 on one side, jerked his friend into the vehicle, slammed tlie door, 
 put up the steps, wafered the bill on the street door, locked it, put 
 the key in his pocket, jumped into the dickey, gave the word for 
 starting, and did the whole with such extraordinary precipitation, 
 that before Mr. Pickwick had well began to consider whether Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer ought to go or not, they were rolling away, with Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer thoroughly established as part and parcel of the equipage. 
 
 So long as their progress was confined to the streets of Bristol, 
 the facetious Bob kept his professional green spectacles on, and 
 conducted himself with becoming steadiness and gravity of de- 
 meanour ; merely giving utterance to divers verbal witticisms for 
 the exclusive behoof and entertainment of Mr. Samuel Waller. But 
 when they emerged on the open road, he threw off his green spectacles 
 and his gravity together, and performed a great variety of practical 
 jokes, which were calculated to attract the attention of the passers- 
 by, and to render the carriage and those it contained, objects of more 
 than ordinary curiosity ; the least conspicuous among these feats, 
 being, a most vociferous imitation of a key-bugle, and the osten- 
 tatious display of a crimson silk pocket-handkerchief attached to a 
 walking-stick, which was occasionally waved in the air with various 
 gestures indicative of supremacy and defiance. 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Mr. Pickwick, stopping in the midst of a most 
 sedate conversation with Ben Allen, bearing reference to the 
 numerous good qualities of Mr. WinMe and his sister : ' I wonder 
 what all the people we pass, can see in us to make them stare so.' 
 
 ' It's a neat turn-out,' replied Ben Allen, with something of pride 
 in his tone. ' They're not used to see this sort of thing, every day, 
 I dare say.' 
 
 ' Possibly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' It may be so. Perhaps it is.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick might very probably have reasoned himself into tlie 
 belief that it really was : had he not, just then happening to look out 
 of the coach window, observed that the looks of the passengers; 
 
DEMONSTRATIONS OUTSIDE 591 
 
 betokened anything but respectful astonishment, and that various 
 telegraphic communications appeared to be passing between them 
 and some persons outside the vehicle : whereupon it occurred to 
 him that these demonstrations might be, in some remote degree, 
 referable to the humorous deportment of Mr. Robert Sawyer. 
 
 ' I hope,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' that our volatile friend is committing 
 no absurdities in that dickey behind.' 
 
 ' Oh dear, no,' replied Ben Allen. ' Except when he's elevated, 
 Bob's the quietest creature breathing.' 
 
 Here a prolonged imitation of a key-bugle broke upon the ear, 
 succeeded by cheers and screams, all of which evidently proceeded 
 from the throat and lungs of the quietest creature breathing, or in 
 plainer designation, of Mr. Bob Sawyer himself. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen looked expressively at each other, 
 and the former gentleman taking off his hat, and leaning out of the 
 coach-window until nearly the whole of his waistcoat was outside it, 
 was at length enabled to catch a glimpse of his facetious friend. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer was seated : not in the dickey, but on the roof 
 of the chaise, with his legs as far asunder as they would conveniently 
 go, wearing Mr. Samuel Weller's hat on one side of his head, and 
 bearing, in one hand, a most enormous sandwich, while, in the other, 
 he supported a goodly-sized case bottle, to both of which he applied 
 himself with intense relish : varying the monotony of the occupation 
 by an occasional howl, or the interchange of some lively badinage 
 with any passing stranger. The crimson flag was carefully tied in 
 an erect position to the rail of the dickey ; and Mr. Samuel Weller, 
 decorated with Bob Sawyer's hat, was seated in the centre thereof, 
 discussing a twin sandwich, with an animated countenance, the 
 expression of which betokened his entire and perfect approval of 
 the whole arrangement. 
 
 This was enough to irritate a gentleman with Mr. Pickwick's sense 
 of propriety, but it was not the whole extent of the aggravation, for 
 a stage-coach full, inside and out, was meeting them at the moment, 
 and the astonishment of the passengers was very palpably evinced. 
 The congratulations of an Irish family, too, who were keeping up 
 with the chaise, and begging all the time, were of rather a boisterous 
 description ; especially those of its male head, who appeared to 
 consider the display as part and parcel of some political, or other 
 procession of triumph. 
 
 ' Mr. Sawyer ! ' cried Mr. Pickwick, in a state of great excitement. 
 ' Mr. Sawyer, sir ! ' 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' responded that gentleman, looking over the side of the 
 chaise with all the coolness in life. 
 
 ' Are you mad, sir ? ' demanded Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not a bit of it,' replied Bob ; ' only cheerful.' 
 
 ' Cheerful, sir ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. ' Take down that 
 
592 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 scandalous red handkerchief, I beg. I insist, sir. Sam, take 1^ 
 down.' 
 
 Before Sam could interpose, Mr. Bob Sawyer gracefully struck 
 his colours, and having put them in his pocket, nodded in a courteous 
 manner to Mr. Pickwick, wiped the mouth of the case-bottle, -and 
 applied it to his own ; thereby informing him, without any unnecessary 
 waste of words, that he devoted that draught to wishing him all 
 manner of happiness and prosperity. Having done this, Bob re- 
 placed the cork with great care, and looking benignantly down on 
 Mr. Pickwick, took a large bite out of the sandwich, and smiled. 
 
 ' Come,' said Mr. Pickwick, whose momentary anger was not 
 quite proof against Bob's immovable self-possession, ' pray let us 
 have no more of this absurdity.' 
 
 'No, no,' replied Bob, once more exchanging hats with Mr. 
 Weller ; ' I didn't mean to do it, only I got so enlivened with the 
 ride that I couldn't helpi it.' 
 
 ' Think of the look of the thing,' expostulated Mr. Pickwick ; 
 ' have some regard to .appearances.' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly,' said Bob, ' it's not the sort of thing at all. All 
 over, governor.' 
 
 Satisfied with this assurance, Mr. Pickwick once more drew his 
 head into the chaise and pulled up the glass ; but he had scarcely 
 resumed the conversation which Mr. Bob Sawyer had interrupted, 
 when he was somewhat startled by the apparition of a small dark 
 body, of an oblong form, on the outside of the window, which gave 
 sundry taps against it, as if impatient of admission. 
 
 ' What's this ? ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' It looks like a case-bottle ; ' remarked Ben Allen, eyeing the 
 object in question through his spectacles with some interest ; ' I 
 rather think it belongs to Bob.' 
 
 The impression was perfectly accurate; for Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 having attached the case-bottle to the end of the walking-stick, was 
 battering the window with it, in token of his wish that his friends 
 inside would partake of its contents, in all good fellowship and 
 harmony. 
 
 ' What's to be done ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the bottle. 
 ' This proceeding, is, more absurd than the other.' 
 
 ' I think it would be best to take it in,' replied Mr. Ben Allen ; 
 ' it would serve him right to take it in and keep it, wouldn't it ? ' 
 
 ' It would,' said Mr. Pickwick : ' shall I ? ' 
 
 'I think it the most proper course we could possibly adopt,' 
 replied Ben. 
 
 This advice quite coinciding with his own opinion, Mr. Pickwick 
 gently let down the window and disengaged the bottle from the 
 stick : upon which the latter was drawn up, and Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 was heard to laugh heartily. 
 
-*%<; 
 
 //cu.cue^ 
 
MILK-PUNCH 593 
 
 ' What a merry dog it is ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking round at 
 his companion with the bottle in his hand. 
 
 ' He is,' said Mr. Allen. 
 
 ' You cannot possibly be angry with him,' remarked Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Quite out of the question,' observed Benjamin Allen. 
 
 During this short interchange of sentiments, Mr. Pickwick had, in 
 an abstracted mood, uncorked the bottle. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' inquired Ben Allen, carelessly. 
 
 'I don't know,' replied Mr. Pickwick, with equal carelessness. 
 ' It smells, I think, like milk-punch.' 
 
 ' Oh, indeed ? ' said Ben. 
 
 ' I think so,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, very properly guarding him- 
 self against the possibility of stating an untruth : ' mind, I could 
 not undertake to say certainly, without tasting it.' 
 
 ' You had better do so,' said Ben ; ' we may as well know what 
 it is.' 
 
 ' Do you think so ? ' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Well ; if you are 
 curious to know, of course I have no objection.' 
 
 Ever willing to sacrifice his own feelings to the wishes of his 
 friend, Mr. Pickwick at once took a pretty long taste. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' inquired Ben Allen, interrupting him with some 
 impatience. 
 
 ' Curious,' said Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips, ' I hardly know, 
 now. Oh, yes ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, after a second taste. ' It is 
 punch.' 
 
 Mr. Ben Allen looked at Mr. Pickwick ; Mr. Pickwick looked at 
 Mr. Ben Allen ; Mr. Ben Allen smiled ; Mr. Pickwick did not. 
 
 ' It would serve him right,' said the last-named gentleman, with 
 some severity, ' it would serve him right to drink it every drop.' 
 
 ' The very thing that occurred to me,' said Ben Allen. 
 
 ' Is it indeed ? ' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ' Then here's his health ! ' 
 With these words, that excellent person took a most energetic pull 
 at the bottle, and handed it to Ben Allen, who was not slow to imi- 
 tate his example. The smiles became mutual, and the milk-punch 
 was gradually and cheerfully disposed of. 
 
 ' After all,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he drained the last drop, ' his 
 pranks are really very amusing ; very entertaining indeed.' 
 
 ' You may say that,' rejoined Mr. Ben Allen. In proof of Bob 
 Sawyer's being one of the funniest fellows alive, he proceeded to 
 entertain Mr. Pickwick with a long and circumstantial account how 
 that gentleman once drank himself into a fever and got his head 
 shaved ; the relation of which pleasant and agreeable history was 
 only stopped by the stoppage of the chaise at the Bell at Berkeley 
 Heath, to change horses. 
 
 ' I say ! We're going to dine here^ aren't we ? ' said Bob, looking 
 in at the window. 
 
 2 Q 
 
594 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Dine ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' Why, we have only come nineteen 
 miles, and have eighty-seven and a half to go.' 
 
 ' Just the reason why we should take something to enable us to 
 bear up against the fatigue,' remonstrated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 
 
 • Oh, it's quite impossible to dine at half-past eleven o'clock in 
 the day,' replied Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch. 
 
 ' So it is,' rejoined Bob, ' lunch is the very thing. Hallo, you sir ! 
 Lunch for three, directly, and keep the horses back for a quarter of 
 an hour. Tell them to put everything they have cold, on the table, 
 and some bottled ale, and let us taste your very best Madeira.' 
 Issuing these orders with monstrous importance and bustle, Mr. 
 Bob Sawyer at once hurried into the house to superintend the 
 arrangements ; in less than five minutes he returned and declared 
 them to be excellent. 
 
 The quality of the lunch fully Justified the eulogium which Bob 
 had pronounced, and very great justice was done to it, not only by 
 that gentleman, but Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Pickwick also. Under 
 the auspices of the three, the bottled ale and the Madeira were 
 promptly disposed of ; and when (the horses being once more put 
 to) they resumed their seats, with the case-bottle full of the best 
 substitute for milk-punch that could be procured on so short a 
 notice, the key-bugle sounded, and the red flag waved, without the 
 slightest opposition on Mr. Pickwick's part. 
 
 At the Hop Pole at Tewkesbury, they stopped to dine ; upon 
 which occasion there was more bottled ale, with some more 
 Madeira, and some Port besides ; and here the case-bottle was 
 replenished for the fourth time. Under the influence of these com- 
 bined stimulants, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen fell fast asleep 
 for thirty miles, while Bob and Mr. Weller sang duets in the dickey. 
 
 It was quite dark when Mr. Pickwick roused himself sufficiently 
 to look out of window. The straggling cottages by the road-side, 
 the dingy hue of every object visible, the murky atmosphere, the 
 paths of cinders and brick-dust, the deep-red glow of furnace fires 
 in the distance, the volumes of dense smoke issuing heavily forth 
 from high toppling chimneys, blackening and obscuring everything 
 around ; the glare of distant lights, the ponderous waggons which 
 toiled along the road, laden with clashing rods of iron, or piled with 
 heavy goods — all betokened their rapid approach to the great work- 
 ing town of Birmingham. 
 
 As they rattled through the narrow thoroughfares leading to the 
 heart of the turmoil, the sights and sounds of earnest occupation 
 struck more forcibly on the senses. The streets were thronged with 
 working-people. The hum of labour resounded from every house, 
 lights gleamed from the long casement windows in the attic stories, 
 and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery shook the trembling 
 walls. The fires, whose lurid sullen light had been visible for miles, 
 
AT THE OLD ROYAL 595 
 
 blazed fiercely up, in the great works and factories of the town. 
 The din of hammers, the rushing of steam, and the dead heavy 
 clanking of engines, was the harsh music which arose from every 
 quarter. 
 
 The postboy was driving briskly through the open streets, and 
 past the handsome and well-lighted shops which intervene between 
 the outskirts of the town and the Old Royal Hotel, before Mr. 
 Pickwick had begun to consider the very difficult and delicate 
 nature of the commission which had carried him thither. 
 
 The delicate nature of this commission, and the difficulty of 
 executing it in a satisfactory manner, were by no means lessened by 
 the voluntary companionship of Mr. Bob Sawyer. Truth to tell, 
 Mr. Pickwick felt that his presence on the occasion, however con- 
 siderate and gratifying, was by no means an honour he would 
 willingly have sought ; in fact, he would cheerfully have given a 
 reasonable sum of money to have had Mr. Bob Sawyer removed to 
 any place at not less than fifty miles' distance, without delay. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had never held any personal communication with 
 Mr. Winkle, senior, although he had once or twice corresponded 
 with him by letter, and returned satisfactory answers to his inquiries 
 concerning the moral character and behaviour of his son ; he felt 
 nervously sensible that to wait upon him, for the first time, attended 
 by Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen, both shghtly fuddled, was not the 
 most ingenious and likely means that could have been hit upon to 
 prepossess him in his favour. 
 
 ' However,' said Mr. Pickwick, endeavouring to re-assure himself, 
 ' I must do the best I can. I must see him to-night, for I faithfully 
 promised to do so. If they persist in accompanying me, I must 
 make the interview as brief as possible, and be content to hope that, 
 for their own sakes, they will not expose themselves.' 
 
 As he comforted himself with these reflections, the chaise stopped 
 at the door of the Old Royal. Ben Allen having been partially 
 awakened from a stupendous sleep, and dragged out by the collar 
 by Mr. Samuel Weller, Mr. Pickwick was enabled to alight. They 
 were shown to a comfortable apartment, and Mr. Pickwick at once 
 propounded a question to the waiter concerning the whereabout 
 of Mr. Winkle's residence. 
 
 'Close by, sir,' said the waiter, 'not above five hundred yards,, 
 sir. Mr. Winkle is a wharfinger, sir, at the canal, sir. Private 
 residence is not — oh dear no, sir, not five hundred yards, sir.' Here 
 the waiter blew a candle out, and made a feint of lighting it again, 
 in order to afford Mr. Pickwick an opportunity of asking any further 
 questions, if he felt so disposed. 
 
 ' Take anything now, sir ? ' said the waiter, lighting the candle 
 in desperation at Mr. Pickwick's silence. ' Tea or coffee, sir ? 
 Dinner, sir ? ' 
 
596 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Nothing now.' 
 
 ' Very good, sir. Like to order supper, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Not just now.' 
 
 ' Very good, sir.' Here, he walked softly to the door, and then 
 stopping short, turned round, and said, with great suavity : 
 
 ' Shall I send the chambermaid, gentlemen ? ' 
 
 'You may if you please ; ' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' li you please, sir.' 
 
 ' And bring some soda water,' said Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Soda water, sir ? Yes, sir.' With his mind apparently relieved 
 from an overwhelming weight, by having at last got an order for 
 something, the waiter imperceptibly melted away. Waiters never 
 walk or run. They have a peculiar and mysterious power of skim- 
 ming out of rooms, which other mortals possess not. 
 
 Some slight symptoms of vitality having been awakened in Mr. 
 Ben Allen by the soda water, he suffered himself to be prevailed 
 upon to wash his face and hands, and to submit to be brushed 
 by Sam. Mr. Pickwick and Bob Sawyer having also repaired 
 the disorder which the journey had made in their apparel, the 
 three started forth, arm in arm, to Mr. Winkle's ; Bob Sawyer 
 impregnating the atmosphere with tobacco smoke as he walked 
 along. 
 
 About a quarter of a mile off, in a quiet, substantial-looking 
 street, stood an old red-brick house with three steps before the 
 door, and a brass plate upon it, bearing, in fat Roman capitals, the 
 words, ' Mr. Winkle.' The steps were very white, and the bricks 
 were very red, and the house was very clean ; and here stood Mr. 
 Pickwick, Mr. Benjamin Allen, and. Mr. Bob Sawyer, as the clock 
 struck ten. 
 
 A smart servant girl answered the knock, and started on behold- 
 ing the three strangers. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Winkle at home, my dear ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' He is just going to supper, sir,' replied the girl. 
 
 ' Give him that card if you please,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ' Say 
 I am sorry to trouble him at so late an hour ; but I am anxious to 
 see him to-night, and have only just arrived.' 
 
 The girl looked timidly at Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was expressing 
 his admiration of her personal charms by a variety of wonderful 
 grimaces ; and casting an eye at the hats and great coats which 
 hung in the passage, called another girl to mind the door while she 
 went up stairs. The sentinel was speedily relieved; for the girl 
 returned immediately, and begging pardon of the gentlemen for 
 leaving them in the street, ushered them into a floor-clothed back 
 parlour, half of55ce and half dressing-room, in which the principal 
 useful and ornamental articles of furniture, were a desk, a wash- 
 hand stand and shaving glass, a boot-rack and boot-jack, a high 
 
THE PATERNAL WINKLE 597 
 
 stool, four chairs, a table, and an old eight-day clock. Over the 
 mantel-piece were the sunken doors of an iron safe, while a couple 
 of hanging shelves for books, an almanack, and several files of dusty 
 papers, decorated the walls. 
 
 ' Very sorry to leave you standing at the door, sir,' said the girl, 
 lighting a lamp, and addressing Mr. Pickwick with a winning smile, 
 'but you was quite strangers to me; and we have such a many 
 trampers that only come to see what they can lay their hands on, 
 that really — ' 
 
 'There is not the least occasion for any apology, my dear,' said 
 Mr. Pickwick good humouredly. 
 
 ' Not the slightest, my love,' said Bob Sawyer, playfully stretching 
 forth his arms, and skipping from side to side, as if to prevent the 
 young lady's leaving the room. 
 
 The young lady was not at all softened by these allurements, for 
 she at once expressed her opinion that Mr. Bob Sawyer was an 
 ' odous creetur ; ' and, on his becoming rather more pressing in his 
 attentions, imprinted her fair fingers upon his face, and bounced out 
 of the room with many expressions of aversion and contempt. 
 
 Deprived of the young lady's society, Mr. Bob Sawyer proceeded 
 to divert himself by peeping into the desk, looking into all the 
 table-drawers, feigning to pick the lock of the iron safe, turning the 
 almanack with its face to the wall, trying on the boots of Mr. 
 Winkle, senior, over his own, and making several other humorous 
 experiments upon the furniture, all of which afforded Mr. Pickwick 
 unspeakable horror and agony, and yielded Mr. Bob Sawyer pro- 
 portionate delight. 
 
 At length the door opened, and a little old gentleman in a snuff- 
 coloured suit, with a head and face the precise counterpart of those 
 belonging to Mr. Winkle, junior, excepting that he was rather bald, 
 trotted into the room with Mr. Pickwick's card in one hand, and a 
 silver candlestick in the other. 
 
 'Mr. Pickwick, sir, how do you do?' said Winkle the elder, 
 putting down the candlestick and proffering his hand. ' Hope I see 
 you well, sir. Glad to see you. Be seated, Mr. Pickwick, I beg, 
 sir. This gentleman is — ' 
 
 ' My friend, Mr. Sawyer,' interposed Mr. Pickwick, • your son's 
 friend.' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Winkle the elder, looking rather grimly at Bob. 
 ' I hope you are well, sir.' 
 
 ' Right as a trivet, sir,' replied Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' This other gentleman,' cried Mr. Pickwick, ' is, as you will see, 
 when you have read the letter with which I am entrusted, a very 
 near relative, or I should rather say a very particular friend of your 
 son's. His name is Allen.' 
 
 ' That gentleman ? ' inquired Mr. Winkle, pointing with tlie card 
 
598 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 towards Ben Allen, who had fallen asleep in an attitude which left 
 nothing of him visible but his spine and his coat collar. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was on the point of replying to the question, and 
 reciting Mr. Benjamin Allen's name and honourable distinctions at 
 full length, when the sprightly Mr. Bob Sawyer, with a view of 
 rousing his friend to a sense of his situation, inflicted a startling 
 pinch upon the fleshy part of his arm, which caused him to jump up 
 with a shriek. Suddenly aware that he was in the presence of a 
 stranger, Mr. Ben Allen advanced, and, shaking Mr. Winkle most 
 affectionately by both hands for about five minutes, murmured, in 
 some half-intelligible fragments of sentences, the great delight he 
 felt in seeing him, and a hospitable inquiry whether he felt disposed 
 to take anything after his walk, or would prefer waiting ' till dinner- 
 time ; ' which done, he sat down and gazed about him with a 
 petrified stare, as if he had not the remotest idea where he was, 
 which indeed he had not. 
 
 All this was most embarrassing to Mr. Pickwick, the more espe- 
 cially as Mr. Winkle, senior, evinced palpable astonishment at the 
 eccentric — not to say extraordinary — behaviour of his two com- 
 panions. To bring the matter to an issue at once, he drew a letter 
 from his pocket, and presenting it to Mr. Winkle, senior, said : 
 
 ' This letter, sir, is from your son. You will see, by its contents, 
 that on your favourable and fatherly consideration of it, depend his 
 future happiness and welfare. Will you oblige me by giving it the 
 calmest and coolest perusal, and by discussing the subject after- 
 wards, with me, in the tone and spirit in which alone it ought to be 
 discussed ? You may judge of the importance of your decision to 
 your son, and his intense anxiety upon the subject, by my waiting 
 upon you, without any previous warning, at so late an hour j and,' 
 added Mr. Pickwick, glancing slightly at his two companions, ' and 
 under such unfavourable circumstances.' 
 
 With this prelude, Mr. Pickwick placed four closely written sides 
 of extra superfine wire-wove penitence in the hands of the astounded 
 Mr. Winkle, senior. Then reseating himself in his chair, he watched 
 his looks and manner : anxiously, it is true, but with the open front 
 of a gentleman who feels he has taken no part which he need excuse 
 or palliate. 
 
 The old wharfinger turned the letter over ; looked at the front, 
 back, and sides ; made a microscopic examination of the fat little 
 boy on the seal; raised his eyes to Mr. Pickwick's face; and then, 
 seating himself on the high stool, and drawing the lamp closer to 
 him, broke the wax, unfolded the epistle, and lifting it to the light, 
 prepared to read. 
 
 Just at this moment, Mr. Bob Sawyer, whose wit had lain dormant 
 for some minutes, 'placed his hands upon his knees, and made a 
 ace after the portraits of the late Mr. Grimaldi, as clown. It so 
 
CONFUSION OF MR. BOB SAWYER 599 
 
 happened that Mr. Winkle, senior, instead of being deeply engaged 
 in reading the letter, as Mr. Bob Sawyer thought, chanced to be 
 looking over the top of it at no less a person than Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 himself; rightly conjecturing that the face aforesaid was made in 
 ridicule and derision of his own person, he fixed his eyes on Bob 
 with such expressive sternness, that the late Mr. Grimaldi's Imea- 
 ments gradually resolved themselves into a very fine expression of 
 humility and confusion. 
 
 'Did you speak, sir?' inquired Mr. Winkle, senior, ' after an 
 awful silence. 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Bob, with no remains of the clown about him, 
 save and except the extreme redness of his cheeks. 
 
 ' You are sure you did not, sir ? ' said Mr. Winkle, senior. 
 
 ' Oh dear, yes, sir, quite,' replied Bob. 
 
 ' I thought you did, sir,' rejoined the old gentleman, with in- 
 dignant emphasis. ' Perhaps you looked at me, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! sir, not at all,' replied Bob, with extreme civility. 
 
 ' I am very glad to hear it, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, senior. Having 
 frowned upon the abashed Bob with great magnificence, the old 
 gentleman again brought the letter to the light, and began to read 
 it seriously. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick eyed him intently as he turned from the bottom 
 line of the first page to the top line of the second, and from the 
 bottom of the second to the top of the third, and from the bottom 
 of the third to the top of the fourth ; but not the slightest alteration 
 of countenance afforded a clue to the feelings with which he received 
 the announcement of his son's marriage, which Mr. Pickwick knew 
 was in the very first half-dozen lines. 
 
 He read the letter to the last word ; folded it again with all the 
 carefulness and precision of a man of business ; and, just when Mr. 
 Pickwick expected some great outbreak of feeling, dipped a pen in 
 the inkstand, and said as quietly as if he were speaking on the most 
 ordinary counting-house topic : 
 
 ' What is Nathaniel's address, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' The George and Vulture, at present,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 ' George and Vulture. Where is that ? 
 
 ' George Yard, Lombard Street.' 
 
 ' In the City ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 The old gentleman methodically indorsed the address on the 
 back of the letter; and then, placing it in the desk, which he 
 locked, said as he got off the stool and put the bunch of keys in 
 his pocket : 
 
 ' I suppose there is nothing else which need detain us, Mr. 
 Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing else, my dear sir ! ' observed that warm-hearted person 
 
6oo THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 in indignant amazement. ' Nothing else ! Have you no opinion 
 to express on this- momentous event in our young friend's Hfe ? 
 No assurance to convey to him, through me, of the continuance of 
 your affection and protection? Nothing to say which will cheer 
 and sustain him, and the anxious girl who looks to him for comfort 
 and support ? My dear sir, consider.' 
 
 ' I will consider,' replied the old gentleman. ' I have nothing to 
 say just now. I am a man of business, Mr. Pickwick. I never 
 commit myself hastily in any affair, and from what I see of this, I 
 by no means like the appearance of it. A thousand pounds is not 
 much, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' You're very right, sir,' interposed Ben Allen, just awake enough 
 to know that he had spent his thousand pounds without the smallest 
 difficulty. ' You're an intelligent man. Bob, he's a very knowing 
 fellow this.' 
 
 ' I am very happy to find that yoii, do me the justice to make the 
 admission, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, senior, looking contemptuously at 
 Ben Allen, who was shaking his head profoundly. ' The fact is, Mr. 
 Pickwick, that when I gave my son a roving license for a year or 
 so, to see something of men and manners (which he has done under 
 your auspices), so that he might not enter into life a mere boarding- 
 school milk-sop to be gulled by everybody, I never bargained for 
 this. He knows that, very well, so if I withdraw my countenance 
 from him on this account, he has no call to be surprised. He shall 
 hear from me, Mr. Pickwick. Good night, sir. Margaret, open 
 the door.' 
 
 All this time, Bob Sawyer had been nudging Mr. Ben Allen to 
 say something on the right side ; Ben accordingly now burst, without 
 the slightest preliminary notice, into a brief but impassioned piece 
 of eloquence. 
 
 ' Sir,' said Mr. Ben Allen, staring at the old gentleman, out of 
 a pair of very dim and languid eyes, and working his right arm 
 vehemently up and down, ' you — you ought to be ashamed of 
 yourself.' 
 
 ' As the lady's brother, of course you are an excellent judge of 
 the question,' retorted Mr. Winkle, senior. ' There ; that's enough. 
 Pray say no more, Mr. Pickwick. Good night, gentlemen ! ' 
 
 \Vith these words the old gentleman took up the candlestick, and 
 opening the room door, politely motioned towards the passage. 
 
 'You will regret this, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, setting his teeth 
 close together to keep down his choler ; for he felt how important 
 the effect might prove to his young friend. 
 
 ' I am at present of a different opinion,' calmly replied Mr. 
 Winkle, senior. ' Once again, gentlemen, I wish you a good night.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick walked, with angry strides, into the street. Mr. Bob 
 jSawyer, completely quelled by the decision of the old gentleman's 
 
A DEPRESSING MORNING 6oi 
 
 manner, took the same course. Mr. Ben Allen's hat rolled 
 do\\Ti the steps immediately afterwards, and Mr. Ben Allen's body 
 followed it directly. The whole party went silent and supperless 
 to bed ; and Mr. Pickwick thought, just before he fell asleep, that 
 if he had known Mr. Winkle, senior, had been quite so much of a 
 man of business, it was extremely probable he might never have 
 waited upon him on such an errand. 
 
 CHAPTER LI 
 
 IN WHICH MR. PICKWICK ENCOUNTERS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 TO WHICH FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE THE READER IS MAINLY 
 INDEBTED FOR MATTER OF THRILLING INTEREST HEREIN SET 
 DOWN, CONCERNING TWO GREAT PUBLIC MEN OF MIGHT AND 
 POWER 
 
 The morning which broke upon Mr. Pickwick's sight, at eight 
 o'clock, was not at all calculated to elevate his spirits, or to lessen 
 the depression which the unlooked-for result of his embassy inspired. 
 The sky was dark and gloomy, the air was damp and raw, the 
 streets were wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the 
 chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came 
 slowly and doggedly down, as if it had not even the spirit to pour. 
 A game-cock in the stable-yard, deprived of every spark of his 
 accustomed animation, balanced himself dismally on one leg in a 
 corner ; a donkey, moping with drooping head under the narrow 
 roof of an outhouse, appeared from his meditative and miserable 
 countenance to be contemplating suicide. In the street, umbrellas 
 were the only things to be seen, and the clicking of pattens and 
 splashing of rain-drops, were the only sounds to be heard. 
 
 The breakfast was interrupted by very little conversation ; even 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer felt the influence of the weather, and the previous 
 day's excitement. In his own expressive language he was ' floored.' 
 So was Mr. Ben Allen. So was Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 In protracted expectation of the weather clearing up, the last 
 evening paper from London was read and re-read with an intensity 
 of interest only known in cases of extreme destitution ; every inch 
 of the carpet was walked over, with similar perseverance ; the 
 windows were looked out of, often enough to justify the imposition 
 of an additional duty upon them ; all kinds of topics of conversation 
 were started, and failed; and at length Mr. Pickwick, when noon 
 had arrived, without a change for the better, rang the bell resolutely 
 and ordered out the chaise. 
 
6o2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Although the roads were miry, and the drizzling rain came down 
 harder than it had done yet, and although the mud and wet splashed 
 in at the open windows of the carriage to such an extent that the 
 discomfort was almost as great to the pair of insides as to the pair 
 of outsides, still there was something in the motion, and the sense 
 of being up and doing, which was so infinitely superior to being 
 pent in a dull room, looking at the dull rain dripping into a dull 
 street, that they all agreed, on starting, that the change was a great 
 improvement, and wondered how they could possibly have delayed 
 making it, as long as they had done. 
 
 When they stopped to change at Coventry, the steam ascended 
 from the horses in such clouds as wholly to obscure the hostler, 
 whose voice was however heard to declare from the mist, that he 
 expected the first Gold Medal from the Humane Society on their 
 next distribution of rewards, for taking the postboy's hat off; the 
 water descending from the brim of which, the invisible gentleman 
 declared must inevitably have drowned him (the postboy), but for 
 his great presence of mind in tearing it promptly from his head, and 
 drying the gasping man's countenance with a wisp of straw. 
 
 ' This is pleasant,' said Bob Sawyer, turning up his coat collar, 
 and pulling the shawl over his mouth to concentrate the fumes of a 
 glass of brandy just swallowed. 
 
 ' Wery,' replied Sam, composedly. 
 
 ' You don't seem to mind it,' observed Bob. 
 
 ' Vy, I don't exactly see no good my mindin' on it 'ud do, sir,' 
 replied Sam. 
 
 ' That's an unanswerable reason, anyhow,' said Bob. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller. ' Wotever is, is right, as the 
 young nobleman sveetly remarked wen they put him down in the 
 pension list 'cos his mother's uncle's vife's grandfather vunce lit 
 the king's pipe vith a portable tinder-box.' 
 
 ' Not a bad notion that, Sam,' said Mr. Bob Sawyer approvingly. 
 
 ' Just wot the young nobleman said ev'ry quarter-day arterwards 
 for the rest of his life,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Wos you ever called in,' inquired Sam, glancing at the driver, 
 after a short silence, and lowering his voice to a' mysterious whisper: 
 ' wos you ever called in, ven you wos 'prentice to a sawbones, to 
 wisit a postboy ? ' 
 
 ' I don't remember that I ever was,' replied Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' You never see a postboy in that 'ere hospital as you walked (as 
 they says o' the ghosts), did you ? ' demanded Sam. 
 
 ' No,' replied Bob Sawyer. ' I don't think I ever did.' 
 
 ' Never know'd a churchyard were there wos a postboy's tomb- 
 stone, or see a dead postboy, did you?' inquired Sam, pursuing 
 his catechism. 
 
 ' No,' rejoined Bob. ' I never did.' 
 
CONCERNING POSTBOYS AND DONKEYS 603 
 
 ' No ! ' rejoined Sam, triumphantly. ' Nor never vill ; and there's 
 another thing that no man never see, and that's a dead donkey. 
 No man never see a dead donkey, 'cept the gen'l'm'n in the black 
 silk smalls as know'd the young 'ooman as kep a goat ; and that 
 wos a French donkey, so wery likely he wam't wun o' the reg'lar 
 breed.' 
 
 ' Well, what has that got to do with the postboys ? ' asked Bob 
 Sawyer. 
 
 ' This here,' replied Sam. ' Without goin' so far as to as-sert, as 
 some wery sensible people do, that postboys and donkeys is both 
 immortal, wot I say is this ; that wenever they feels theirselves 
 gettin' stiff and past their work, they just rides off together, wun 
 postboy to a pair in the usual way ; wot becomes on 'em nobody 
 knows, but it^s wery probable as they starts avay to take their 
 pleasure in some other vorld, for there ain't a man alive as ever see, 
 either a donkey or a postboy, a takin' his pleasure in this ! ' 
 
 Expatiating upon this learned and remarkable theory, and citing 
 many curious statistical and other facts in its support, Sam Weller 
 beguiled the time until they reached Dunchurch, where a dry post- 
 boy and fresh horses were procured ; the next stage was Daventry, 
 and the next Towcester ; and at the end of each stage it rained 
 harder than it had done at the beginning. 
 
 'I say,' remonstrated Bob Sawyer, looking in at the coach 
 window, as they pulled up before the door of the Saracen's Head, 
 Towcester, ' this won't do, you know.' 
 
 ' Bless me ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, just awaking from a nap, ' I'm 
 afraid you're wet.' 
 
 ' Oh you are, are you ? ' returned Bob. ' Yes, I am, a little that 
 way. Uncomfortably damp, perhaps.' 
 
 Bob did look dampish, inasmuch as the rain was streaming from 
 his neck, elbows, cuffs, skirts, and knees ; and his whole apparel 
 shone so with the wet, that it might have been mistaken for a full 
 suit of prepared oilskin. 
 
 ' I avi rather wet,' said Bob, giving himself a shake, and casting 
 a little hydraulic shower around, like a Newfoundland dog just 
 emerged from the water. 
 
 ' I think it's quite impossible to go on to-night,' interposed Ben. 
 ' Out of the question, sir,' remarked Sam Weller, coming to 
 assist in the conference ; ' it's a cruelty to animals, sir, to ask 'em to 
 do it. There's beds here, sir' said Sam, addressing his master, 
 ' everything clean and comfortable. Wery good little dinner, sir, 
 they can get ready in half an hour — pair of fowls, sir, and a weal 
 cutlet ; French beans, 'taturs, tart, and tidiness. You'd better stop 
 vere you are, sir, if I might recommend. Take adwice, sir, as the 
 doctor said.' 
 The host of the Saracen's Head opportunely appeared at this 
 
6o4 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 moment, to confirm Mr. Weller's statement relative to the accom- 
 modations of the establishment, and to back his entreaties with a 
 variety of dismal conjectures regarding the state of the roads, the 
 doubt of fresh horses being to be had at the next stage, the dead 
 certainty of its raining all night, the equally mortal certainty of its 
 clearing up in the morning, and other topics of inducement familiar 
 to innkeepers. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' but I must send a letter to London 
 by some conveyance, so that it may be delivered the very first 
 thing in the morning, or I must go forward at all hazards.' 
 
 The landlord smiled his delight. Nothing could be easier than 
 for the gentleman to enclose a letter in a sheet of brown paper, 
 and send it on, either by the mail or the night coach from Birming- 
 ham. If the gentleman were particularly anxious to have it left 
 as soon as possible, he might write outside, ' To be delivered 
 immediately,' which was sure to be attended to ; or ' pay the bearer 
 half-a-crown extra for instant delivery,' which was surer still. 
 
 ' Very well,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' then we will stop here.' 
 
 ' Lights in the Sun, John ; make up the fire ; the gentlemen are 
 wet ! ' cried the landlord. ' This way, gentlemen ; don't trouble 
 yourselves about the postboy now, sir. I'll send him to you when 
 you ring for him, sir. Now, John, the candles.' 
 
 The candles were brought, the fire was stirred up, and a fresh log 
 of wood thrown on. In ten minutes' time, a waiter was laying the 
 cloth for dinner, the curtains were drawn, the fire was blazing 
 brightly, and everything looked (as everything always does, in all 
 decent English inns) as if the travellers had been expected, and 
 their comforts prepared, for days beforehand. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick sat down at a side table, and hastily indited a 
 note to Mr. Winkle, merely informing him that he was detained 
 by stress of weather, but would certainly be in London next day ; 
 until when he deferred any account of his proceedings. This note 
 was hastily made into a parcel, and despatched to the bar per 
 Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 Sam left it with the landlady, and was returning to puU his 
 master's boots off, after drying himself by the kitchen fire, when, 
 glancing casually through a half-opened door, he was arrested by 
 the sight of a gentleman with a sandy head who had a large bundle 
 of newspapers lying on the table before him, and was perusing 
 the leading article of one with a settled sneer which curled up 
 his nose and all his other features into a majestic expression of 
 haughty contempt. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said Sam, ' I ought to know that 'ere head and them 
 features ; the eye-glass, too, and the broad brimmed tile ! Eatansvill 
 to vit, or I'm a Roman.' 
 
 Sam was taken with a troublesome cough, at once, for the purpose , 
 
MR. POTT IN THE BUFF CAMP 605 
 
 of attracting the gentleman's attention ; the gentleman starting at 
 the sound, raised his head and his eye-glass, and disclosed to view 
 the profound and thoughtful features of Mr. Pott, of the Eatanswill 
 Gazette. 
 
 ' Beggin' your pardon, sir,' said Sam, advancing with a bow, ' my 
 master's here, Mr. Pott.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' cried Pott, drawing Sam into the room, and 
 closing the door, with a countenance of mysterious dread and 
 apprehension. 
 
 ' Wot's the matter, sir ? ' inquired Sam, looking vacantly about 
 him. 
 
 ' Not a whisper of my name,' rephed Pott ; ' this is a buff neigh- 
 bourhood. If the excited and irritable populace knew I was here, 
 I should be torn to pieces.' 
 
 ' No ! Vould you, sir ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' I should be the victim of their fury,' replied Pott. ' Now, young 
 man, what of your master ? ' 
 
 ' He's a stopping here to-night on his vay to town, vith a couple 
 of friends,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Is Mr. Winkle one of them ? ' inquired Pott, with a slight 
 frown. 
 
 ' No, sir. Mr. Vinkle stops at home now,' rejoined Sam. ' He's 
 married.' 
 
 ' Married ! ' exclaimed Pott, with frightful vehemence. He 
 stopped, smiled darkly, and added, in a low, vindictive tone : ' It 
 serves him right ! ' 
 
 Having given vent to this cruel ebullition of deadly malice and 
 cold-blooded triumph over a fallen enemy, Mr. Pott inquired 
 whether Mr. Pickwick's friends were ' blue ? ' Receiving a most 
 satisfactory answer in the affirmative from Sam, who knew as much 
 about the matter as Pott himself, he consented to accompany him 
 to Mr. Pickwick's room, where a hearty welcome awaited him. 
 An agreement to club dinners together was at once made and 
 ratified. 
 
 ' And how are matters going on in Eatanswill ? ' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick, when Pott had taken a seat near the fire, and the whole 
 party had got their wet boots oiF, and dry slippers on. ' Is the 
 Independent still in being ? ' 
 
 'The Independent, sir,' replied Pott, 'is still dragging on a 
 wretched and lingering career. Abhorred and despised by even 
 the few who are cognizant of its miserable and disgraceful 
 existence ; stifled by the very filth it so profusely scatters ; 
 rendered deaf and blind by the exhalations of its own slime ; the 
 obscene journal, happily unconscious of its degraded state, is 
 rapidly sinking beneath that treacherous mud which, while it seems 
 to give it a firm standing with the low and debased classes of 
 
6o6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 society, is nevertheless, rising above its detested head, and will 
 speedily engulf it for ever.' 
 
 Having delivered this manifesto (which formed a portion of his 
 last week's leader) with vehement articulation, the editor paused to 
 take breath, and looked majestically at Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' You are a young man, sir,' said Pott. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer nodded. 
 
 ' So are you, sir,' said Pott, addressing Mr. Ben Allen. 
 
 Ben admitted the soft impeachment. 
 
 ' And are both deeply imbued with those blue principles, which, 
 so long as I live, I have pledged myself to the people of these 
 kingdoms to support and to maintain ? ' suggested Pott. 
 
 'Why, I don't exactly know about that,' replied Bob Sawyer. 
 ' I am—' 
 
 ' Not buff, Mr. Pickwick,' interrupted Pott, drawing back his 
 chair, ' your friend is not buff, sir ? ' 
 
 'No, no,' rejoined Bob, 'I'm a kind of plaid at present; a 
 compound of all sorts of colours.' 
 
 'A waverer,' said Pott, solemnly, 'a waverer. I should like to 
 show you a series of eight articles, sir, that have appeared in the 
 Eatanswill Gazette. I think I may venture to say that you would 
 not be long in establishing your opinions on a firm and solid blue 
 basis, sir.' 
 
 - 1 dare say I should turn very blue, long before I got to the end 
 of them,' responded Bob. 
 
 Mr. Pott looked dubiously at Bob Sawyer for some seconds, and, 
 turning to Mr. Pickwick, said : 
 
 ' You have seen the literary articles which have appeared at 
 intervals in the Eatanswill Gazette in the course of the last three 
 months, and which have excited such general — I may say such 
 universal — attention and admiration ? ' 
 
 'Why,' replied Mr. Pickwick, slightly embarrassed by the 
 question, 'the fact is, I have been so much engaged in other 
 ways, that I really have not had an opportunity of perusing 
 them.' 
 
 ' You should do so, sir,' said Pott, with a severe countenance. 
 
 ' I will,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' They appeared in the form of a copious review of a work on 
 Chinese metaphysics, sir,' said Pott. 
 
 ' Oh,' observed Mr. Pickwick ; ' from your pen, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' From the pen of my critic, sir,' rejoined Pott with dignity. 
 
 'An abstruse subject I should conceive,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Very, sir,' responded Pott, looking, intensely sage. 'He 
 crammed for it, to use a technical but expressive term ; he read 
 up for the subject, at my desire, in the Encyclopcedia Britannica' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' I was not aware that that 
 
A POWERl'^UL ARTICLE 607 
 
 valuable work contained any inlbrmation respecting Chinese meta- 
 physics.' 
 
 ' He read, sir,' rejoined Pott, laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick's 
 knee, and looking round with a smile of intellectual superiority, 
 ' he read for metaphysics under the letter M, and for China under 
 the letter C, and combined his information, sir ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pott's features assumed so much additional grandeur at the 
 recollection of the power and research displayed in the learned 
 effusions in question, that some minutes elapsed before Mr. Pickwick 
 felt emboldened to renew the conversation ; at length, as the Editor's 
 countenance gradually relaxed into its customary expression of 
 moral supremacy, he ventured to resume the discourse by asking : 
 
 ' Is it fair to inquire what great object has brought you so far from 
 home ? ' 
 
 ' That object which actuates and animates me in all my gigantic 
 labours, sir,' replied Pott, with a calm smile ; ' my country's good.' 
 
 ' I supposed it was some public mission,' observed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Yes, sir,' resumed Pott, 'it is.' Here, bending towards Mr. 
 Pickwick, he whispered in a deep hollow voice, ' A buff ball, sir, 
 will take place in Birmingham to-morrow evening.' 
 
 ' God bless me ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, and supper,' added Pott. 
 
 ' You don't say so ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Pott nodded portentously. 
 
 Now, although Mr. Pickwick feigned to stand aghast at this dis- 
 closure, he was so little versed in local politics that he was unable 
 to form an adequate comprehension of the importance of the dire 
 conspiracy it referred to ; observing which, Mr. Pott, drawing forth 
 the last number of the Eatanswill Gazette, and referring to the same, 
 delivered himself of the following paragraph : 
 
 ' HOLE-AND-CORNER BUFFERY. 
 
 'A reptile contemporary has recently sweltered forth his black 
 venom in the vain and hopeless attempt of sullying the fair name 
 of our distinguished and excellent representative, the Honourable 
 Mr. Slumkey — that Slumkey whom we, long before he gained his 
 present noble and exalted position, predicted would one day be, as 
 he now is, at once his country's brightest honour, and her proudest 
 boast : alike her bold defender and her honest pride — our reptile 
 contemporary, we say, has made himself merry, at the expense of a 
 superbly embossed plated coal-scuttle, which has been presented to 
 that glorious man by his enraptured constituents, and towards the 
 purchase of which, the nameless wretch insinuates, the Honourable 
 Mr. Slumkey himself contributed, through a confidential friend of 
 his butler's, more than three-fourths of the whole sum subscribed. 
 
6o8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Why, does not the crawling creature see, that even if this be the 
 fact, the Honourable Mr. Slumkey only appears in a still more 
 amiable and radiant light than before, if that be possible ? Does 
 not even his obtuseness perceive that this amiable and touching 
 desire to carry out the wishes of the constituent- body, must for ever 
 endear him to the hearts and souls of such of his fellow townsmen 
 as are not worse than swine ; or, in other words, who are not as 
 debased as our contemporary himself? But such is the wretched 
 trickery of hole-and-corner Bufifery ! These are not its only artifices. 
 Treason is abroad. We boldly state, now that we are goaded to 
 the disclosure, and we throw ourselves on the country and its 
 constables for protection — we boldly state that secret preparations 
 are at this moment in progress for a Buff ball ; which is to be held 
 in a Buff town, in the very heart and centre of a Buff population ; 
 which is to be conducted by a Buff master of the ceremonies ; which 
 is to be attended by four ultra Buff members of parliament, and the 
 admission to which, is to be by Buff tickets ! Does our fiendish 
 contemporary wince ? Let him writhe, in impotent malice, as we 
 pen the words, We will be there.' 
 
 'There, sir,' said Pott, folding up the paper quite exhausted, 
 ' that is the state of the case ! ' 
 
 The landlord and waiter entering at the moment with dinner, 
 caused Mr. Pott to lay his finger on his lips, in token that he con- 
 sidered his life in Mr. Pickwick's hands, and depended on his 
 secrecy. Messrs. Bob Sawyer and Benjamin Allen, who had 
 irreverently fallen asleep during the reading of the quotation from 
 the Eatanswill Gazette, and the discussion which followed it, were 
 roused by the mere whispering of the talismanic word ' Dinner ' in 
 their ears : and to dinner they went with good digestion waiting or 
 appetite, and health on both, and a waiter on all three. 
 
 In the course of the dinner and the sitting which succeeded it, 
 Mr. Pott descending, for a few moments, to domestic topics, in- 
 formed Mr. Pickwick that the air of Eatanswill not agreeing with 
 his lady, she was then engaged in making a tour of different fashion- 
 able watering-places with a view to the recovery of her wonted 
 health and spirits ; this was a delicate veihng of the fact that Mrs. 
 Pott, acting upon her often repeated threat of separation, had, in 
 virtue of an arrangement negociated by her brother, the Lieutenant, 
 and concluded by Mr. Pott, permanently retired with the faithful 
 body-guard upon one moiety or half-part of the annual income and 
 profits arising from the editorship and Sale of the Eatanswill 
 Gazette. 
 
 While the great Mr. Pott was dwelling upon this and other 
 matters, enlivening the conversation from time to time with various 
 extracts from his own lucubrations, a stem stranger, calling from the 
 window of a stage-coach, outward bound, which hatted at the inn to 
 
• MR. SLURK 609 
 
 deliver packages, requested to know, whether, if he stopped short 
 on his journey and remained there for the night, he could be 
 furnished with the necessary accommodation of a bed and bedstead. 
 
 ' Certainly, sir,' replied the landlord. 
 
 ' I can, can I ? ' inquired the stranger, who seemed habitually 
 suspicious in look and manner. 
 
 ' No doubt of it, sir,' replied the landlord. 
 
 ' Good,' said the stranger. ' Coachman, I get down here. Guard, 
 my carpet-bag ! ' 
 
 Bidding the other passengers good night, in a rather snappish 
 manner, the stranger alighted. He was a shortish gentleman, with 
 very stiff black hair cut in the porcupine or blacking-brush style, 
 and standing stiff and straight all over his head ; his aspect was 
 pompous and threatening ; his manner was peremptory ; his eyes 
 were sharp and restless ; and his whole bearing bespoke a feeling 
 of great confidence in himself, and a consciousness of immeasurable 
 superiority over all other people. 
 
 This gentleman was shown into the room originally assigned to 
 the patriotic Mr. Pott ; and the waiter remarked, in dumb astonish- 
 ment at the singular coincidence, that he had no sooner lighted the 
 candles than the gentleman, diving into his hat, drew forth a news- 
 paper, and began to read it with the very same expression of 
 indignant scorn, which, upon the majestic features of Pott, had 
 paralysed his energies an hour before. The man observed too, 
 that whereas Mr. Pott's scorn had been roused by a newspaper 
 headed The Eatanswill Independent, this gentleman's withering 
 contempt was awakened by a newspaper entitled The Eatanswill 
 Gazette. 
 
 ' Send the landlord,' said the stranger. 
 
 'Yes, sir,' rejoined the waiter. 
 
 The landlord was sent, and came. 
 
 ' Are you the landlord ? ' inquired the gentleman. 
 
 ' I am, sir,' replied the landlord. 
 
 ' Do you know me ? ' demanded the gentleman. 
 
 ' I have not that pleasure, sir,' rejoined the landlord. 
 
 ' My name is Slurk,' said the gentieman. 
 
 The landlord slightly inclined his head. 
 
 ' Slurk, sir,' repeated the gentleman, haughtily. ' Do you know 
 me now, man ? ' 
 
 The landlord scratched his head, looked at the ceiling, and at 
 the stranger, and smiled feebly. 
 
 ' Do you know me, man ? ' inquired the stranger, angrily. 
 
 The landlord made a strong effort, and at length replied ; ' Well, 
 sir, I do not know you.' 
 
 ' Great Heaven ! ' said the stranger, dashing his clenched fist 
 upon ihe tabl^. ' And this is popularity ! ' 
 
 *■ 2 R 
 
6io THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 The landlord took a step or two towards the door ; the stranger 
 fixing his eyes upon him, resumed. 
 
 ' This,' said the stranger, ' this is gratitude for years of labour 
 and study in behalf of the masses. I alight wet and weary; no 
 enthusiastic crowds press forward to greet their champion; the 
 church-bells are silent ; the very name elicits no responsive feeling 
 in their torpid bosoms. It is enough,' said the agitated Mr. Slurk, 
 pacing to and fro, ' to curdle the ink in one's pen, and induce one 
 to abandon their cause for ever.' 
 
 ' Did you say brandy and water, sir ? ' said the landlord, ventur- 
 ing a hint. • 
 
 ' Rum,' said Mr. Slurk, turning fiercely upon him. ' Have you 
 got a fire anywhere ? ' 
 
 ' We can light one directly, sir,' said the landlord. 
 
 ' Which will throw out no heat until it is bed-time,' interrupted 
 Mr. Slurk. ' Is there anybody in the kitchen ? ' 
 
 Not a soul. There was a beautiful fire. Everybody had gone, 
 and the house door was closed for the night. 
 
 ' I will drink my rum and water,' said Mr. Slurk, ' by the kitchen 
 fire.' So, gathering up his hat and newspaper, he stalked solemnly 
 behind the landlord to that humble apartment, and throwing 
 himself on a settle by the fireside, resumed his countenance of 
 scorn, and began to read and drink in silent dignity. 
 
 Now, some demon of discord, flying over the Saracen's Head at 
 that moment, on casting down his eyes in mere idle curiosity, 
 happened to behold Slurk established comfortably by the kitchen 
 fire, and Pott slightly elevated with wine in another room ; upon 
 which the malicious demon, darting down into the last-mentioned 
 apartment with inconceivable rapidity, passed at once into the 
 head of Mr. Bob Sawyer, and prompted him for his (the demon's) 
 own evil purposes to speak as follows : 
 
 ' I say, we've let the fire out. It's uncommonly cold after the 
 rain, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' It really is,' replied Mr. Pickwick, shivering. 
 
 ' It wouldn't be a bad notion to have a cigar by the kitchen 
 fire, would it?' said Bob Sawyer, still prompted by the demon 
 aforesaid. 
 
 'It would be particularly comfortable, / think,' replied Mr. 
 Pickwick. ' Mr. Pott, what do you say ? ' 
 
 Mr. Pott yielded a ready assent; and all four travellers, each 
 with his glass in his hand, at once betook themselves to the kitchen, 
 with Sam Weller heading the procession to show them the way. 
 
 The stranger was still reading ; he looked up and started. Mr. 
 Pott started. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' whispered Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' That reptile ! ' replied Pott. 
 
THE RIVAL EDITORS 6ii 
 
 ' What reptile ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, looking about him for fear 
 he should tread on some overgrown black beetle, or dropsical 
 spider. 
 
 'That reptile,' whispered Pott, catching Mr. Pickwick by the 
 arm, and pointing towards the stranger. ' That reptile Slurk, of the 
 Independent.' 
 
 ' Perhaps we had better retire,' whispered Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Never, sir,' rejoined Pott, pot-valiant in a double sense, ' never.' 
 With these words, Mr. Pott took up his position on an opposite 
 settle, and selecting one from a little bundle of newspapers, began 
 ^o read against his enemy. 
 
 Mr. Pott, of course, read the Independent, and Mr. Slurk, of 
 course, read the Gazette ; and each gentleman audibly expressed 
 his contempt of the other's compositions by bitter laughs and 
 sarcastic sniffs ; whence they proceeded to more open expressions 
 of opinion, such as ' absurd,' ' wretched,' ' atrocity,' ' humbug,' 
 'knavery,' 'dirt,' 'filth,' 'slime.' 'ditch-water,' and other critical 
 remarks of the like nature. 
 
 Both Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Ben Allen had beheld these 
 symptoms of rivalry and hatred, with a degree of delight which 
 imparted great additional relish to the cigars at which they were 
 puffing most vigorously. The moment they began to flag, the 
 mischievous Mr. Bob Sawyer, addressing Slurk with great polite- 
 ness, said : 
 
 ' Will you allow me to look at your paper, sir, when you have 
 quite done with it ! ' 
 
 ' You will find very little to repay you for your trouble in this 
 contemptible thing, sir,' replied Slurk, bestowing a Satanic frown 
 on Pott. 
 
 ' You shall have this presently,' said Pott, looking up, pale with 
 rage, and quivering in his speech, from the same cause. ' Ha ! ha ! 
 you will be amused with \hisfelloiefs audacity.' 
 
 Terrific emphasis was laid upon this ' thing ' and ' fellow ; ' and 
 the faces of both editors began to glow with defiance. 
 
 'The ribaldry of this miserable man is despicably disgusting,' 
 said Pott, pretending to address Bob Sawyer, and scowling upon 
 Slurk. 
 
 Here, Mr. Slurk laughed very heartily, and folding up the paper 
 so as to get at a fresh column conveniently, said, that the blockhead 
 really amused him. 
 
 'What an impudent blunderer this fellow is,' said Pott, turning 
 from pink to crimson. 
 
 ' Did you ever read any of this man's foolery, sir ? ' inquired 
 Slurk, of Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Never,' replied Bob ; ' is it very bad ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, shocking ! shocking ! ' rejoined Slurk. 
 
6i2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Really ! Dear me, this is too atrocious ! ' exclaimed Pott, at 
 this juncture ; still feigning to be absorbed in his reading. 
 
 ' If you can wade through a few sentences of malice, meanness, 
 falsehood, perjury, treachery, and cant,' said Slurk, handing the 
 paper to Bob, ' you will, perhaps, be somewhat repaid by a laugh at 
 the style of this ungrammatical twaddler.' 
 
 ' What's that you said, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Pott, looking up, 
 trembling all over with passion. 
 
 ' What's that to you, sir ? ' replied Slurk. 
 
 ' Ungrammatical twaddler, was it, sir ? ' said Pott. 
 
 'Yes, sir, it was,' replied Slurk; 'and blue bore, sir, if you like' 
 that better ; ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 Mr. Pott retorted not a word to this jocose insult, but deliberately 
 folded up his copy of the Independent, flattened it carefully down, 
 crushed it beneath his boot, spat upon it with great ceremony, and 
 flung it into the fire. 
 
 ' There, sir,' said Pott, retreating from the stove, ' and that's the 
 way I would serve the viper who produces it, if I were not, 
 fortunately for him, restrained by the laws of my country.' 
 
 ' Serve him so, sir ! ' cried Slurk, starting up. ' Those laws shall 
 never be appealed to by him, sir, in such a case. Serve him so, sir ! ' 
 
 ' Hear ! hear ! ' said Bob Sawyer. 
 
 ' Nothing can be fairer,' observed Mr. Ben Allen. 
 
 ' Serve him so, sir ! ' reiterated Slurk, in a loud voice. 
 
 Mr. Pott darted a look of contempt, which might have withered 
 an anchor. 
 
 'Serve him so, sir?' reiterated Slurk, in a louder voice than 
 before. 
 
 ' I will not, sir,' rejoined Pott. 
 
 ' Oh, you won't, won't you, sir ? ' said Mr. Slurk, in a tauntmg 
 manner ; ' you hear this, gentlemen ! He won't ; not that he's 
 afraid ; oh, no ! he worit. Ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' I consider you, sir,' said Mr. Pott, moved by this sarcasm, ' I 
 consider you a viper. I look upon you, sir, as a man who has 
 placed himself beyond the pale of society, by his most audacious, 
 disgraceful, and abominable public conduct. I view you, sir, 
 personally and politically, in no other light than as a most un- 
 paralleled and unmitigated viper.' 
 
 The indignant Independent did not wait to hear the end of this 
 personal denunciation; for, catching up his carpet-bag which was 
 well stuffed with moveables, he swung it in the air as Pott turned 
 away, and, letting it fall with a circular sweep on his head, just at 
 that particular angle of the bag where a good thick hair-brush 
 happened to be packed, caused a sharp crash to be heard through- 
 out the kitchen, and brought him at once to the ground. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' cried Mr. Pickwick, as Pott started up and seized 
 
c^jiyig/ ^"Uvct/^ 0.aU^^^ 
 
ASSAULT AND BATTERY 613 
 
 the fire-shovel, ' gentlemen ! Consider, for Heaven's sake— help- 
 Sam — ^here — pray, gentlemen^ — interfere, somebody.' 
 
 Uttering these incoherent exclamations, Mr. Pickwick rushed 
 between the infuriated combatants just in time to receive the 
 carpet-bag on one side of his body, and the fire-shovel on the other. 
 Whether the representatives of the public feeling of Eatanswill were 
 blinded by animosity, or (being both acute reasoners) saw the 
 advantage of having a third party between them to bear all the 
 blows, certain it is that they paid not the slightest attention to 
 Mr. Pickwick, but defying each other with great spirit plied the 
 carpet-bag and the fire-shovel most fearlessly. Mr. Pickwick would 
 unquestionably have suffered severely for his humane interference, 
 if Mr. Weller, attracted by his master's cries, had nof rushed in 
 at the moment, and, snatching up a meal-sack, effectually stopped 
 the conflict by drawing it over the head and shoulders of the 
 mighty Pott, and clasping him tight round the shoulders. 
 
 'Take avay that 'ere bag from the t'other madman,' said Sam 
 to Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer, who had done nothing but dodge 
 round the group, each with a tortoise-shell lancet in his hand, ready 
 to bleed the first man stunned. ' Give it up, you wretched little 
 creetur, or I'll smother you in it.' 
 
 Awed by these threats, and quite out of breath, the Independent 
 suffered himself to be disarmed; and Mr. Weller, removing the 
 extinguisher from Pott, set him free with a caution. 
 
 ' You take yourselves off" to bed quietly,' said Sam, ' or I'll put 
 you both in it, and let you fight it out vith the mouth tied, as 
 I vould a dozen sich, if they played these games. And you have 
 the goodness to come this here vay, sir, if you please.' 
 
 Thus addressing his master, Sam took him by the arm, and led 
 him off", while the rival editors were severally removed to their 
 beds by the landlord, under the inspection of Mr. Bob Sawyer and 
 Mr. Benjamin Allen; breathing, as they went away, many san- 
 guinary threats, and making vague appointments for mortal combat 
 next day. When they came to think it over, however, it occurred 
 to them that they could do it much better in print, so they re- 
 commenced deadly hostilities without delay; and all Eatanswill 
 rung with their boldness — on paper. 
 
 They had taken themselves off" in separate coaches, early next 
 morning, before the other travellers were stirring; and the weather 
 having now cleared up, the chaise companions once more turnefi 
 their faces to London. 
 
6i4 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CHAPTER LII 
 
 INVOLVING A SERIOUS CHANGE IN THE WELLER FAMILY, AND THf. 
 UNTIMELY DOWNFALL OF THE RED-NOSED MR. STIGGINS 
 
 XToNSiDERiNG it a matter of delicacy to abstain from introducing 
 either Bob Sawyer or Ben Allen to the young couple, until they 
 were fully prepared to expect them, and wishing to spare Arabella's 
 feelings as much as possible, Mr. Pickwick proposed that he and 
 Sam should alight in the neighbourhood of the George and Vulture, 
 and that the two young men should for the present take up their 
 quarters elsewhere. To this, they very readily agreed, and the 
 proposition was accordingly acted upon; Mr. Ben Allen and 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer betaking themselves to a sequestered pot-shop 
 on the remotest confines of the Borough, behind the bar-door of 
 which their names had in other days very often appeared, at the 
 head of long and complex calculations worked in white chalk. 
 
 ' Dear me, Mr. Weller,' said the pretty housemaid, meeting Sam 
 at the door. 
 
 ' Dear me I vish it vos, my dear,' replied Sam, dropping behind, 
 to let his master get out of hearing. ' Wot a sweet lookin' creetur 
 you are, Mary ! ' 
 
 ' Lor, Mr. Weller, what nonsense you do talk ! ' said Mary. 
 ' Oh ! dorit, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' Don't what, my dear ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Why, that,' replied the pretty housemaid. ' Lor, do get along 
 with you.' Thus admonishing him, the pretty housemaid pushed 
 Sam against the wall, declaring that he had tumbled her cap, and 
 put her hair quite out of curl. 
 
 ' And prevented what I was going to say, besides,' added Mary. 
 ' There's a letter been waiting here for you four days ; you hadn't 
 been gone away, half an hour, when it came ; and more than that, 
 it's got, immediate, on the outside.' 
 
 ' Vere is it, my love ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' I took care of it, for you, or I dare say it would have been lost 
 long before this,' replied Mary. 'There, take it; it's more than 
 you deserve.' 
 
 With these words, after many pretty little coquettish doubts and 
 fears, and wishes that she might not have lost it, Mary produced 
 the letter from behind the nicest litde muslin tucker posable, and 
 handed it to Sam, who thereupon kissed it with much gallantry and 
 devotion. 
 
 'My goodness me!' said Mary, adjusting the tucker, and 
 
AN AFFECTING LETTER 615 
 
 feigning unconsciousness, ' you seem to have grown very fond of it 
 all at once.' 
 
 To this Mr. Weller only replied by a wink, the intense meaning 
 of which no description could convey the faintest idea of; and, 
 sitting himself down beside Mary on a window-seat, opened the 
 letter and* glanced at the contents. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' exclaimed Sam, ' wot's all this ? ' 
 
 'Nothing the matter, I hope?' said Mary, peeping over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 ' Bless them eyes o' yourn ! ' said Sam, looking up. 
 
 ' Never mind my eyes ; you had much better read your letter,' 
 said the pretty housemaid ; and as she said so, she made the eyes 
 twinkle with such slyness and beauty that they were perfectly 
 irresistible. 
 
 Sam refreshed himself with a kiss, and read as follows : 
 
 ' Markis Gran 
 
 By do7-ken 
 
 Wensdy- 
 ' My dear Sammle, 
 ' I am wery sorry to have the pleasure of bein a Bear of ill news 
 your Mother in law cort cold consekens of imprudently settin too 
 long on the damp grass in the rain a hearin of a shepherd who 
 wamt able to leave off till late at night owen to his havin vound 
 his-self up vith brandy and vater and not being able to stop hisself 
 till he got a little sober which took a many hours to do the doctor 
 says that if she'd svallo'd varm brandy and vater artervards insted 
 of afore she mightn't have been no vus her veels wos immedetly 
 greased and everythink done to set her agoin as could be inwented 
 your farther had hopes as she vould have vorked round as usual but 
 just as she wos a tumen the comer my boy she took the wrong 
 road and vent down hill vith a welocity you never see and notvith- 
 standin that the drag wos put on drectly by the medikel man it 
 womt of no use at all for she paid the last pike at twenty minutes 
 afore six o'clock yesterday evenin havin done the jouney wery much 
 under the reglar time vich praps was partly owen to her haven 
 taken in wery little luggage by the vay your father says that if you 
 vill come and see me Sammy he vill take it' as a wery great favor 
 for I am wery lonely Samivel n b he vill have it spelt that vay vich 
 I say ant right and as there is sich a many things to settle he is sure 
 your guvner wont object of course he vill not Sammy for I knows 
 him better so he sends his dooty in which I join and am Samivel 
 infernally yours 
 
 'Tony Veller.' 
 
 ' Wot a incomprehensible letter,' said Sam ; ' who's to know wot it 
 
6i6 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 means, vith all this he-ing and I-ing ! It ain't my father's writin', 
 'cept this here signaler in print letters ; that's his.' 
 
 'Perhaps he got somebody to write it for him, and signed it 
 himself afterwards,' said the pretty housemaid. 
 
 ' Stop a minit,' rephed Sam, running over the letter again, and 
 pausing here and there, to reflect, as he did so. ' YoiJ've hit it 
 The gen'l'm'n as wrote it wos a tellin' all about the misfortun' in a 
 j)roper vay, and then my father comes a lookin' over him, ind 
 complicates the whole concern by puttin' his oar in. That's just 
 the wery sort o' thing he'd do. You're right, Mary, my dear.' 
 
 Having satisfied himself on this point, Sam read the letter all 
 over, once more, and, appearing to form a clear notion of its 
 contents for the first time, ejaculated thoughtfully, as he folded 
 it up : 
 
 ' And so the poor creatur's dead ! I'm sorry for it. She wam't a 
 bad-disposed 'ooman, if them shepherds had let her alone. I'm 
 wery sorry for it.' 
 
 Mr. Weller uttered these words in so serious a manner, that the 
 pretty housemaid cast down her eyes and looked very grave. 
 
 ' Hows'ever,' said Sam, putting the letter in his pocket with a 
 gentle sigh, ' it wos to be — and wos, as the old lady said arter she'd 
 married the footman. Can't be helped now, can it, Mary ? ' 
 
 Mary shook her head, and sighed too. 
 
 ' I must apply to the hemperor for leave of absence,' said Sam. 
 
 Mary sighed again. The letter was so very affecting. 
 
 ' Good bye ! ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Good bye,' rejoined the pretty housemaid, turning her head 
 away. 
 
 ' Well, shake hands, won't you ? ' said Sam. 
 
 The pretty housemaid put out a hand which, although it was a 
 housemaid's, was a very small one, and rose to go. 
 
 ' I shan't be wery long avay,' said Sam. 
 
 ' You're always away,' said Mary, giving her head the slightest 
 possible toss in the air. ' You no sooner come, Mr. Weller, than 
 you go again.' 
 
 Mr. Weller drew the household beauty closer to him, and entered 
 upon a whispering conversation, which had not proceeded far, when 
 she turned her face round and condescended to look at him again. 
 When they parted, it was somehow or other indispensably necessary 
 for her to go to her room, and arrange the cap and curls before she 
 could think of presenting herself to her mistress ; which preparatory 
 ceremony she went off to perform, bestowing many nods and smiles 
 on Sam over the banisters as she tripped up stairs. 
 
 ' I shan't be avay more than a day, or two, sir, at the farthest,' 
 said Sam, when he had communicated to Mr. Pickwick the intelli 
 gence of his father's loss. 
 
LEAVE OF ABSENCE GRANTED 617 
 
 ' As long as may be necessary, Sam,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' you 
 have my full permission to remain.' 
 
 Sam bowed. 
 
 ' You will tell your father, Sam, that if I can be of any assistance 
 to him in his present situation, I shall be most willing and ready to 
 lend him any aid in my power,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Thankee, sir,' rejoined Sam. ' I'll mention it, sir.' 
 
 And with some expressions of mutual good-will and interest, 
 master and man separated. 
 
 It was just seven o'clock when Samuel Weller, alighting from the 
 box of a stage-coach which passed through Dorking, stood within a 
 few hundred yards of the Marquis of Granby. It was a cold dull 
 evening ; the little street looked dreary and dismal ; and the 
 mahogany countenance of the noble and gallant Marquis seemed 
 to wear a more sad and melancholy expression than it was wont 
 to do, as it swung to and fro, creaking mournfully in the wind. The 
 blinds were pulled down, and the shutters partly closed; of the 
 knot of loungers that usually collected about the door, not one 
 was to be seen ; the place was silent and desolate. 
 
 Seeing nobody of whom he could ask any preliminary questions, 
 Sam walked softly in. Glancing round, he quickly recognised his 
 parent in the distance. 
 
 The widower was seated at a small round table in the little room 
 behind the bar, smoking a pipe, with his eyes intently fixed upon 
 the fire. The funeral had evidently taken place that day; for 
 attached to his hat, which he still retained on his head, was a hat- 
 band measuring about a yard and a half in length, which hung over 
 the top rail of the chair and streamed negligently down. Mr. Weller 
 was in a very abstracted and contemplative mood. Notwith- 
 standing that Sam called him by name several times, he still con- 
 tinued to smoke with the same fixed and quiet countenance, and 
 was only roused ultimately by his son's placing the palm of his hand 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 ' Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, ' you're welcome.' 
 
 ' I've been a callin' to you half a dozen times,' said Sam, hanging 
 his hat on a peg, ' but you didn't hear me.' 
 
 ' No, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, again looking thoughtfully at 
 the fire. ' I wos in a referee, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Wot about ? ' inquired Sam, drawing his chair up to the fire. 
 
 ' In a referee, Sammy,' replied the elder Mr. Weller, ' regarding 
 her, Samivel.' Here Mr. Weller jerked his head in the direction of 
 Dorking churchyard, in mute explanation that his words referred to 
 the late Mrs. Weller. 
 
 ' I wos a thinkin', Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, eyeing his son, with 
 great earnestness, over his pipe ; as if to assure him that however 
 extraordinary and incredible the declaration might appear, it was 
 
6i8 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 nevertheless calmly and deliberately uttered. ' I wos a thinkin', 
 Sammy, that upon the whole I wos wery sorry she wos gone.' 
 
 ' Veil, and so you ought to be,' replied Sam. 
 
 Mr. Waller nodded his acquiescence in the sentiment, and again 
 fastening his eyes on the fire, shrouded himself in a cloud, and 
 mused deeply. 
 
 ' Those wos wery sensible observations as she made, Sammy,' 
 said Mr. Weller, driving the smoke away with his hand, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 ' Wot observations ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Them as she made, arter she was took ill,' replied the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' Wot was they ? ' 
 
 ' Somethin' to this here effect. " Veller," she says, " I'm afeard 
 I've not done by you quite wot I ought to have done ; you're a 
 wery kind-hearted man, and I might ha' made your home more 
 comfortabler. I begin to see now," she says, " ven it's too late, 
 that if a married 'ooman vishes to be religious, she should begin 
 vith dischargin' her dooties at home, and makin' them as is about 
 her cheerful and happy, and that vile she goes to church, or chapel, 
 or wot not, at all proper times, she should be wery careful not to 
 con-wert this sort o' thing into a excuse for idleness or self- 
 indulgence. I have done this," she says, " and I've vasted time 
 and substance on them as has done it more than me ; but I hope 
 ven I'm gone, Veller, that you'll think on me as I wos afore I 
 know'd them people, and as I raly wos by natur'." " Susan," says 
 I, — I wos took up wery short by this, Samivel ; I von't deny it, my 
 boy — " Susan," I says, " you've been a wery good vife to me, alto- 
 gether ; don't say nothin' at all about it ; keep a good heart my 
 dear ; and you'll live to see me punch that 'ere Stiggins's head yet." 
 She smiled at this, Samivel,' said the old gentleman, stifling a sigh 
 with his pipe, ' but she died arter all ! ' 
 
 ' Veil,' said Sam, venturing to offer a little homely consolation, 
 after the lapse of three or four minutes, consumed by the old gentle- 
 man in slowly shaking his head from side to side, and solemnly 
 smoking; 'veil, gov'ner, ve must all come to it, one day or 
 another.' 
 
 ' So we must, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller the elder. 
 
 ' There's a Providence in it all,' said Sam. 
 
 ' O' course there is,' replied his father with a nod of grave 
 approval. 'Wot 'ud become of the undertakers vithout it, 
 Sammy ? ' 
 
 Lost in the immense field of conjecture opened by this reflection, 
 the elder Mr. Weller laid his pipe on the table, and stirred the fire 
 with a meditative visage. 
 
 While the old gentleman was thus engaged, a very buxom-looking 
 
PERILOUS POSITION OF A WIDOWER 619 
 
 cook, dressed in mourning, who had been bustling about, in the bar, 
 glided into the room, and bestowing many smirks of recognition 
 upon Sam, silently stationed herself at the back of his father's chair, 
 and announced her presence by a slight cough ; the which, being 
 disregarded, was followed by a louder one. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' said the elder Mr. Weller, dropping the poker as he 
 looked round, and hastily drew his chair away. ' Wot's the matter 
 now?' 
 
 ' Have a cup of tea, there's a good soul,' replied the buxom 
 female, coaxingly. 
 
 ' I von't,' replied Mr. Weller, in a somewhat boisterous manner, 
 ' I'll see you — ' Mr. Weller hastily checked himself, and added in 
 a low tone, ' furder fust.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, dear ! How adversity does change people ! ' said the 
 lady, looking upwards. 
 
 ' It's the only think 'twixt this and the doctor as shall change my 
 condition,' muttered Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' I really never saw a man so cross,' said the buxom female. 
 
 ' Never mind. It's all for my own good ; vich is the reflection 
 vith wich the penitent schoolboy comforted his feelin's ven they 
 flogged him,' rejoined the old gentleman. 
 
 The buxom female shook her head with a compassionate and 
 sympathising air ; and, appealing to Sam, inquired whether his 
 father really ought not to make an effort to keep up, and not give 
 way to that lowness of spirits. 
 
 ' You see, Mr. Samuel,' said the buxom female, ' as I was' telling 
 him yesterday, he -will feel lonely, he can't expect but what he 
 should, sir, but he should keep up a good heart, because, dear me, 
 I'm sure we all pity his loss, and are ready to do anything for him ; 
 and there's no situation in life so bad, Mr. Samuel, that it can't be 
 mended. Which is what a very worthy person said to me when my 
 husband died.' Here the speaker, putting her hand before her 
 mouth, coughed again, and looked affectionately at the elder Mr. 
 Weller.- 
 
 ' As I don't rekvire any o' your conversation just now, mum, vill 
 you have the goodness to re-tire ? ' inquired Mr. Weller in a grave 
 and steady voice. 
 
 ' Well, Mr. Weller,' said the buxom female, ' I'm sure I only 
 spoke to you out of kindness.' 
 
 ' Wery likely, mum,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Samivel, show the lady 
 out, and shut the door arter her.' 
 
 This hint was not lost upon the buxom female ; for she at once 
 left the room, and slammed the door behind her, upon which Mr. 
 Weller, senior, falling back in his chair in a violent perspiration, 
 said : 
 
 ' Sammy, if I wos to stop here alone vun veek — only vun week, 
 
620 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 my boy — that 'ere 'ooman 'ud marry me by force and wiolence afore 
 it was over.' 
 
 ' Wot ! Is she so wery fond on you ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Fond ! ' replied his father, ' I can't keep her avay from me. If 
 I was locked up in a fire-proof chest vith a patent Brahmin, she'd 
 find means to get at me, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Wot a thing it is, to be so sought arter ! ' observed Sam, 
 smiling. 
 
 ' I don't take no pride out on it, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, 
 poking the fire vehemently, ' it's a horrid sitiwation. I'm actiwally 
 drove out o' house and home by it. The breath was scarcely out 
 o' your poor mother-in-law's body, ven vun old 'ooman sends me a 
 pot o' jam, and another a pot o' jelly, and another brews a blessed 
 large jug o' camomile-tea, vich she brings in vith her own hands.' 
 Mr. Weller paused with an aspect of intense disgust, and, looking 
 round, added in a whisper : ' They wos all widders, Sammy, all on 
 'em, 'cept the camomile-tea vun, as wos a single young lady o' fifty- 
 three.' 
 
 Sam gave a comical look in reply, and the old gentleman having 
 broken an obstinate lump of coal, with a countenance expressive ot 
 as much earnestness and malice as if it had been the head of one of 
 the widows last-mentioned, said : 
 
 ' In short, Sammy, I feel that I ain't safe any veres but on the box.' 
 
 ' How are you safer there than anyveres else ? ' interrupted Sam. 
 
 ' 'Cos a coachman's a privileged indiwidual,' replied Mr. Weller, 
 looking fixedly at his son. ' 'Cos a coachman may do vithout 
 suspicion wot other men may not ; 'cos a coachman may be on the 
 wery amicablest terms with eighty mile o' females, and yet nobody 
 think that he ever means to marry any vun among 'em. And wor 
 other man can say the same, Sammy ? ' 
 
 ' Veil, there's somethin' in that,' said Sam. 
 
 ' If your gov'ner had been a coachman,' reasoned Mr. Weller, 
 ' do you s'pose as that 'ere jury 'ud ever ha' conwicted him, s'posin' 
 it possible as the matter could ha' gone to that extremity ? They 
 dustn't ha' done it.' 
 
 ' Wy not ? ' said Sam, rather disparagingly. 
 
 ' Wy not !' rejoined Mr. Weller; "cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their 
 consciences. A reg'lar coachman's a sort o' connectin' link betwixt 
 singleness and matrimony, and every practicable man knows it.' 
 
 ' Wot ! You mean, they're gen'ral fav'rites, and nobody takes 
 adwantage on 'em, p'raps ? ' said Sam. 
 
 His father nodded. 
 
 ' How it ever come to that 'ere pass,' resumed the parent Weller, 
 ' I can't say. Wy it is that long-stage coachmen possess such insini- 
 wations, and is alvays looked up to — a-dored I may say — by eVry 
 young 'ooman in ev'ry town he vurks through, I don't know, I only. 
 
INVESTMENTS 627 
 
 know that so it is. It's a reg'lation of natur — a dispensary, as your 
 poor mother-in-law used to say.' 
 
 ' A dispensation,' said Sam, correcting the old gentleman. 
 
 ' Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better,' returned 
 Mr. Weller; ' / call it a dispensary, and it's alvays writ up so, at 
 the places vere they gives you physic for nothin' in your own bottles ; 
 that's all.' 
 
 With these words, Mr. Weller re-filled and re-lighted his pipe, and 
 once more summoning up a meditative expression of countenance, 
 continued as follows : 
 
 ' Therefore, my boy, as I do not see the adwisability o' stoppin' 
 here to be marrid vether I vant to or not, and as at the same time 
 I do not vish to separate myself from them interestin' members o' 
 society altogether, I have come to the determination o' drivin' the 
 Safety, and puttin' up vunce more at the Bell Savage, vich is my 
 nat'ral-born element, Sammy.' 
 
 ' And wot's to become o' the bis'ness ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 'The bis'ness, Samivel,' replied the old gentleman, 'goodvill, 
 stock, and fixters, vill be sold by private contract ; and out o' the 
 money, two hundred pound, agreeable to a rekvest o' your mother- 
 in-law's to me a little afore she died, vill be inwested in your name 
 in — wot do you call them things agin ? ' 
 
 ' Wot things ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Them things as is always a goin' up and down, in the City.' 
 
 ' Omnibuses ? ' suggested Sam. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' replied Mr. Weller. ' Them things as is alvays a 
 fluctooatin', and gettin' theirselves inwolved somehow or another 
 vith the national debt, and the checquers bills, and all that.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the funds,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' rejoined Mr. Weller, ' the funs ; two hundred pounds o' 
 the money is to be inwested for you, Samivel, in the funs ; four and 
 a half per cent, reduced counsels, Sammy.' 
 
 ' Wery kind o' the old lady to think o' me,' said Sam, ' and I'm 
 very much obliged to her.' 
 
 ' The rest will be invested in my name,' continued the elder Mr. 
 Weller ; ' and ven I'm took off the road, it'll come to you, so take 
 care you don't spend it all at vunst, my boy, and mind that no 
 widder gets a inklin' o' your fortun', or you're done.' 
 
 Having delivered this warning, Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with 
 a more serene countenance ; the disclosure of these matters appear- 
 ing to have eased his mind considerably. 
 
 ' Somebody's a tappin' at the door,' said Sam. 
 
 ' Let 'em tap,' replied his father, with dignity. 
 
 Sam acted upon the direction. There was another tap, and 
 another, and then a long row of taps ; upon which Sam inquired 
 why the tapper was not admitted. 
 
62 2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Hush,' whispered Mr. Waller, with apprehensive looks, ' don't 
 lake no notice on 'em, Sammy, it's vun o' the widders, p'raps.' 
 
 No notice being taken of the taps, the unseen visitor, after a 
 short lapse, ventured to open the door and peep in. It was no 
 female head that was thrust in at the partially opened door, but the 
 long black locks and red face of Mr. Stiggins. Mr. Weller's pipe 
 fell from his hands. 
 
 The reverend gentleman gradually opened the door by almost 
 imperceptible degrees, until the aperture was just wide enough to 
 admit of the passage of his lank body, when he glided into the 
 room and closed it after him with great care and gentleness. 
 Turning towards Sam, and raising his hands and eyes in token of 
 the unspeakable sorrow with which he regarded the calamity that 
 had befallen the family, he carried the high-backfd chair to his old 
 corner by the fire, and, seating himself on the very edge, drew forth 
 a brown pocket-handkerchief, and applied the same to his optics. 
 
 While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat back in his 
 chair, with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on his knees, and 
 his whole countenance expressive of absorbing and overwhelming 
 astonishment. Sam sat opposite him in perfect silence, waiting, 
 with eager curiosity, for the termination of the scene. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his eyes 
 for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then, mastering 
 his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket and buttoned it 
 up. After this, he stirred the fire ; after that, he rubbed his hands 
 and looked at Sam. 
 
 ' Oh my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence in 
 a very low voice, ' here's a sorrowful affliction ! ' 
 
 Sam nodded, very slightly. 
 
 ' For the man of wrath, too ! ' added Mr. Stiggins ; ' it makes a 
 vessel's heart bleed ! ' 
 
 Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something rela- 
 tive to making a vessel's nose bleed ; but Mr. Stiggins heard him 
 not. 
 
 ' Do you know, young man,' whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawing 
 his chair closer to Sam, ' whether she has left Emanuel any- 
 thing ? ' 
 
 ' Who's he ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' The chapel,' replied Mr. Stiggins ; ' our chapel ; our fold, Mr. 
 Samuel.' 
 
 ' She hasn't left the fold nothin', nor the shepherd nothin', nor the 
 animals nothin',' said Sam, decisively ; ' nor the dogs neither.' 
 
 Mr. Stiggins looked slyly at Sam ; glanced at the old gentleman, 
 who was sitting with his eyes closed, as if asleep ; and drawing his 
 chair still nearer, said : 
 
 ' Nothing for me, Mr. Samuel ? ' 
 
ANXIOUS INQUIRIES 623 
 
 Sam shook his head. 
 
 ' I think there's something,' said Stiggins, turning as pale as he 
 could turn. ' Consider, Mr. Samuel ; no little token ? ' 
 
 ' Not so much as the vorth o' that 'ere old umberella o' yourn,' 
 replied Sam. 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Mr. Stiggins, hesitatingly, after a few moments' 
 deep thought, ' perhaps she recommended me to the care of the 
 man of wrath, Mr. Samuel ? ' 
 
 ' I think that's wery likely, from what he said,' rejoined Sam ; ' he 
 wos a speakin' about you, jist now.' 
 
 ' Was he, though ? ' exclaimed Stiggins brightening up. ' Ah ! 
 He's changed, I dare say. We might live very comfortably together 
 now, Mr. Samuel, eh ? I could take care of his property when you 
 are away — good care, you see.' 
 
 Heaving a long-drawn sigh, Mr. Stiggins paused for a response. 
 Sam nodded, and Mr. Weller, the elder, gave vent to an extra- 
 ordinary sound, which being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a 
 gasp, nor a growl, seemed to partake in some degree of the character 
 of all four. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins, encouraged by this sound, which he understood to 
 betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him, rubbed his hands, 
 wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walking softly across the room 
 to a well-remembered shelf in one corner, took down a tumbler, 
 and with great deliberation put four lumps of sugar in it. Having 
 got thus far, he looked about him again, and sighed grievously ; 
 with that, he walked softly into the bar, and presently returning 
 with the tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle 
 which was singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped 
 it, sat down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the mm and water, 
 stopped for breath. 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various 
 strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single 
 word during these proceedings ; but when Stiggins stopped for 
 breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his 
 hand, threw the remainder of the rum and water in his face, and the 
 glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman 
 firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most furiously : 
 accompanying every application of his top-boots to Mr. Stiggins's 
 person, with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his 
 limbs, eyes, and body. 
 
 ' Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, ' put my hat on tight for me.' 
 
 Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly 
 on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking 
 with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through 
 the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into 
 the street; the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing 
 
624 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 in vehemence, rather than diminishing, every time the top-boot was 
 hfted. 
 
 It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man 
 writhing in Mr. Weller's grasp, and his whole frame quivering with 
 anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession ; it was a still 
 more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful 
 struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins's head in a horse-trough full of 
 water, and holding it there, until he was half suffocated. 
 
 ' There ! ' said Mr. Weller, throwing all his energy into one most 
 complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. Stiggins to withdraw 
 his head from the trough, ' send any vun o' them lazy shepherds 
 here, and I'll pound him to a jelly first, and drownd him artervards ! 
 Sammy, help me in, and fill me a small glass of brandy. I'm out 
 o' breath, my boy.' 
 
 CHAPTER LIII 
 
 COMPRISING THE FINAL EXIT OF MR. JINGLE AND JOB TROTTER ; 
 WITH A GREAT MORNING OF BUSINESS IN GRAY's INN SQUARE. 
 CONCLUDING WITH A DOUBLE KNOCK AT MR. PERKER'S DOOR 
 
 When Arabella, after some gentle preparation, and many assurances 
 that there was not the least occasion for being low-spirited, was at 
 length made acquainted by Mr. Pickwick with the unsatisfactory 
 result of his visit to Birmingham, she burst into tears, and sobbing 
 aloud, lamented in moving terms that she should have been the 
 unhappy cause of any estrangement between a father and his son. 
 
 ' My dear girl,' said Mr. Pickwick, kindly, ' it is no fault of yours. 
 It was impossible to foresee that the old gentleman would be so 
 strongly prepossessed against his son's marriage, you know. I am 
 sure,' added Mr. Pickwick, glancing at her pretty face, ' he can have 
 very little idea of the pleasure he denies himself.' 
 
 ' Oh my dear Mr. Pickwick,' said Arabella, ' what shall we do, if 
 he continues to be angry with us ? ' 
 
 ' Why, wait patiently, my dear, until he thinks better of it,' replied 
 Mr. Pickwick, cheerfully. 
 
 ' But, dear Mr. Pickwick, what is to become of Nathaniel if his 
 father withdraws his assistance ? ' urged Arabella. 
 
 ' In that case, my love,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, ' I will venture te 
 prophesy that he will find some other friend who will not be back, 
 ward in helping him to start in the world.' 
 
 The significance of this reply was not so well disguised by Mi 
 Pickwick but that Arabella understood it. So, throwing her arn)» 
 
EARLY VISIT TO GRAY'S INN 625 
 
 around his neck, and kissing him affectionately, she sobbed louder 
 than before. 
 
 ' Come, come,' said Mr, Pickwick, taking her hand, ' we will wait 
 here a few days longer, and see whether he writes or takes any 
 other notice of your husband's communication. If not, I have 
 thought of half a dozen plans, any one of which would make you 
 happy at once. There, my dear, there ! ' 
 
 With these words, Mr. Pickwick gently pressed Arabella's hand, 
 and bade her dry her eyes, and not distress her husband. Upon 
 which, Arabella, who was one of the best little creatures alive, put 
 her handkerchief in her reticule, and by the time Mr. Winkle joined 
 them, exhibited in full lustre the same beaming smiles and sparkling 
 eyes that had originally captivated him. 
 
 ' This is a distressing predicament for these young people,' thought 
 Mr. Pickwick, as he dressed himself next morning. ' I'll walk up 
 to Perker's, and consult him about the matter.' 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick was further prompted to betake himself to 
 Gray's Inn Square by an anxious desire to come to a pecuniary 
 settlement with the kind-hearted little attorney without further 
 delay, he made a hurried breakfast, and executed his intention so 
 speedily, that ten o'clock had not struck when he reached Gray's Inn. 
 
 It still wanted ten minutes to the hour when he had ascended the 
 staircase on which Perker's chambers were. The clerks had not 
 arrived yet, and he beguiled the time by looking out of the staircase 
 window. 
 
 The healthy light of a fine October morning made even the 
 dingy old houses brighten up a little : some of the dusty windows 
 actually looking almost cheerful as the sun's rays gleamed upon 
 them. Clerk after clerk hastened into the square by one or other 
 of the entrances, and looking up at the Hall clock, accelerated or 
 decreased his rate of walking according to the time at which his 
 office hours nominally commenced; the half-past nine o'clock 
 people suddenly becoming very brisk, and the ten o'clock gentlemen 
 falling into a pace of most aristocratic slowness. The clock stnick 
 ten, and clerks poured in faster than ever, each one in a greater 
 perspiration than his predecessor. The noise of unlocking and 
 opening doors echoed and re-echoed on every side ; heads appeared 
 as if by magic in every window ; the porters took up their stations 
 for the day; the slipshod laundresses hurried off; the postman ran 
 .from house to house ; and the whole legal hive was in a bustle. 
 
 ' You're early, Mr. Pickwick,' said a voice behind him. 
 
 'Ah, Mr. Lowten,' replied that gentleman, looking round, and 
 recognising his old acquaintance. 
 
 'Precious warm walking, isn't it?' said Lowten, drawing a 
 
 Bramah key from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keep the 
 
 dust out. 
 
 2 s 
 
626 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You appear to feel it so,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at the 
 clerk, who was literally red hot. 
 
 ' I've come along rather, I can tell you,' replied Lowten. ' It 
 went the half hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm here before 
 him, though, so I don't mind.' 
 
 Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extracted the 
 plug from the door-key, and having opened the door, replugged and 
 repocketed his Bramah, and picked up the letters which the postman 
 had dropped through the box. He then ushered Mr. Pickwick 
 into the office. Here, in the twinkling of an eye, he divested him- 
 self of his coat, put on a threadbare gamient which he took out of a 
 desk, hung up his hat, pulled forth a few sheets of cartridge and 
 blotting-paper in alternate layers, and sticking a pen behind his ear, 
 rubbed his hands with an air of great satisfaction. 
 
 'There you see, Mr. Pickwick,' he said, 'now I'm complete. 
 I've got my office coat on, and my pad out, and let him come as 
 soon as he likes. You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you, have 
 you?' 
 
 ' No, I have not,' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 
 ' I'm sorry for it,' said Lowten. ' Never mind. I'll run out 
 presently, and get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queer 
 about the eyes, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 The individual appealed to, surveyed Mr. Lowten's eyes froin a 
 distance, and expressed his opinion that no unusual queerness was 
 perceptible in those features. 
 
 ' I'm glad of it,' said Lowten. ' We were keeping it up pretty 
 tolerably at the Sturtip last night, and I'm rather out of sor,ts this 
 npiorning. Perker's b,een about that business of yours, by, the bye/ 
 
 ' What business ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. ' Mrs. Bardell's 
 costs ? ' 
 
 ' No, I don't mean that,' replied Mr. Lowten. ' About getting 
 that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the biU 
 discounter for, on your account — to get him out of the Fleet, you 
 know — about getting him to Demerara.' 
 
 ' Oh ? Mr. Jingle ? ' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. ' Yes. Well ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it's all arranged,' said Lowten, mending his pen. ' The 
 agent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times 
 when you were in business, and he would be glad to take him on 
 your recommendation.' 
 
 ' That's well,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I am delighted to hear it.' 
 
 ' But I say,' resumed Lowten, scraping the back of the pen 
 preparatory to making a fresh split, 'what a soft chap that other 
 is?' 
 
 'Which other?' 
 
 ' Why, that servant, or friend, or whatever he is ; you know ; 
 Trotter.' 
 
MR. JINGLE AT MR. PERKER'S 62^ 
 
 'Ah? said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile, ' I always thought him 
 the reverse.' 
 
 ' Well, and so did I, from what little I saw of him,' replied 
 Lowten, ' it only shows how one may be deceived. What do you 
 think of Ms going to Demerara, too ? ' 
 
 ' What ! And giving up what was offered him here ! ' exclaimed 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Treating Perker's offer of eighteen bob a-week, and a rise if he 
 behaved himself, like dirt,' replied Lowten. ' He said he must go 
 along with the other one, and so they persuaded Perker to write 
 again, and they've got him something on the same estate; not near 
 so good, Perker says, as a convict would get in New South Wales, 
 if he appeared at his trial in a new suit of clothes.' 
 
 ' Foolish fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, with glistening eyes. ' Foolish 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's worse than foolish ; it's downright sneaking, you know,' 
 repUed Lowten, nibbing the pen with a contemptuous face.' 'He 
 says that he's the only friend he ever had, and he's attached to him, 
 and all that. Friendship's a very good thing in its way : we are all 
 very friendly and comfortable at the Stump, for instance, over our 
 grog, where every man pays for himself ; but damn hurting yourself 
 for anybody else, you know ! No man should have more than two 
 attachments — the first, to number one, and the second to the ladies ; 
 that's what I say — ha ! ha ! ' Mr. Lowten concluded with a loud 
 laugh, half in jocularity, and half in derision, which was prematurely 
 cut short by the sound of Perker's footsteps on the stairs : at the 
 first approach of which, he vaulted on his stool with an agility most 
 remarkable, and wrote intensely. 
 
 The greeting between Mr. Pickwick and his professional adviser 
 was warm and cordial; the client was scarcely ensconced in .the 
 attorney's arm chair, however, when a knock was heard at the door, 
 and a voice inquired whether Mr. Perker was within. 
 
 ' Hark ! ' said Perker, ' that's one of our vagabond friends — Jingle 
 himself, my dear sir. Will you see him ? ' 
 
 ' What do you think ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, hesitating. 
 ,' Yes, I think you had better. Here, you sir, what's your name, 
 walk in, will you ? ' 
 
 In compliance with this unceremonious invitation. Jingle and Job 
 walked into the room, but, seeing Mr. Pickwick, stopped short in 
 some confusion. 
 
 ' Well,' said Perker, ' don't you know that gentleman ? ' 
 
 ' Good reason to,' rephed Mr. Jingle, stepping forward. ' Mr. 
 Pickwick — deepest obligations — life preserver — made a man of me 
 ^you shall never repent it, sir.' 
 
 • I am happy to hear you say so,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' You look 
 much better.' 
 
628 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'Thanks to you, sir— great change— Majesty's Fleet — unwhole- 
 some place — very,' said Jingle, shaking his head. He was deceritly 
 and cleanly dressed, and so was Job, who stood bolt upright behind 
 him, staring at Mr. Pickwick with a visage of iron. 
 
 ' When do they go to Liverpool ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick, half 
 aside to Perker. 
 
 ' This evening, sir, at seven o'clock,' said Job, taking one step 
 forward. ' By the heavy coach from the city, sir.' 
 
 ' Are your places taken ? ' 
 
 ' They are, sir,' replied Job. 
 
 ' You have fully made up your mind to go ? ' 
 
 ' I have, sir,' answered Job. 
 
 ' With regard to such an outfit as was indispensable for Jingle,' 
 said Perker, addressing Mr. Pickwick aloud, ' I have taken upon 
 myself to make an arrangement for the deduction of a small sum 
 from ^is quarterly salary, which, being made only for one year, and 
 regularly remitted, will provide for that expense. I entirely dis- 
 approve of your doing anything for him, my dear sir, which is not 
 dependent on his own exertions and good conduct.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' interposed Jingle, with great firmness. ' Clear head 
 — man of the world — quite right — perfectly.' 
 
 ' By compounding with his creditor, releasing his clothes from 
 the pawnbroker's, relieving him in prison, and paying for his 
 passage,' continued Perker, without noticing Jingle's observation, 
 ' you have already lost upwards of fifty pounds.' 
 
 ' Not lost,' said Jingle, hastily. ' Pay it all — stick to business- 
 cash up— every farthing. Yellow fever, perhaps — can't help that — 
 if not — ' Here Mr. Jingle paused, and striking the crown of his 
 hat with great violence, passed his hand over his eyes, and sat down. 
 
 ' He means to say,' said Job, advancing a few paces, ' that if he 
 is not carried off by the fever, he will pay the money back again. 
 If he lives, he will, Mr. Pickwick. I will see it done. I know 
 he will, sir,' said Job, with energy. ' I could undertake to swear it.' 
 
 ' Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, who had been bestowing a score 
 or two of frowns upon Perker, to stop his summary of benefits con- 
 ferred, which the little attorney obstinately disregarded, ' you must 
 be careful not to play any more desperate cricket matches, Mr. 
 Jingle, or to renew your acquaintance with Sir Thomas Blazo, and 
 I have little doubt of your preserving your health.' 
 
 Mr. Jingle smiled at this sally, but looked rather foolish notwith- 
 standing ; so, Mr. Pickwick changed the subject by saying, 
 
 ' You don't happen to know, do you, what has become of another 
 friend of yours — a more humble one, whom I saw at Rochester ? ' 
 
 ' Dismal Jemmy ? ' inquired Jingle. 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 Jingle shook his head, 
 
A LAST CHANCE 629 
 
 ' Clever rascal — queer fellow, hoaxing genius — Job's brother.' 
 'Job's brother!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 'Well, now I look 
 at him closely, there is a likeness.' 
 
 ' We were always considered like each other, sir,' said Job, with 
 a cunning look just lurking in the comers of his eyes, ' only I was 
 really of a serious nature, and he never was. He emigrated to 
 America, sir, in consequence of being too much sought after here, 
 to be comfortable ; and has never been heard of since.' 
 
 ' That accounts for my not having received the " page from the 
 romance of real life," which he promised me one morning when he 
 appeared to be contemplating suicide on Rochester Bridge, I sup- 
 pose,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. ' I need not inquire whether 
 his dismal behaviour was natural or assumed.' 
 
 ' He could assume anything, sir,' said Job. ' You may consider 
 yourself very fortunate in having escaped him so easily. On inti- 
 mate terms he would have been even a more dangerous acquaint- 
 ance than — ' Job looked at Jingle, hesitated, and finally added, 
 ' than — than — myself even.' 
 
 ' A hopeful family yours, Mr. Trotter,' said Perker, sealing a letter 
 which he had just finished writing. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied Job. ' Very much so.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the little man, laughing ; ' I hope you are going to 
 disgrace it. Deliver this letter to the agent when you reach 
 Liverpool, and let me advise you, gentlemen, not to be too knowing 
 in the West Indies. If you throw away this chance, you will both 
 richly deserve to be hanged, as I sincerely trust you will be. And 
 now you had better leave Mr. Pickwick and me alone, for we have 
 other matters to talk over, and time is precious.' As Perker said 
 this, he looked towards the door, with an evident desire to render 
 the leave-taking as brief as possible. 
 
 It was brief enough on Mr. Jingle's part. He thanked the little 
 attorney in a few hurried words for the kindness and promptitude 
 with which he had rendered his assistance, and, turning to his 
 benefactor, stood for a few seconds as if irresolute what to say or 
 how to act. Job Trotter relieved his perplexity ; for, with a humble 
 and a grateful bow to Mr. Pickwick, he took his friend gently by the 
 arm, and led him away. 
 
 ' A worthy couple ! ' said Perker, as the door closed behind 
 them. 
 
 ' I hope they may become so,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' What do 
 you think ? Is there any chance of their permanent reformation ? ' 
 
 Perker shrugged his shoulders doubtfully, but observing Mr. 
 Pickwick's anxious and disappointed look, rejoined : 
 
 ' Of course there is a chance. I hope it may prove a good one. 
 They are unquestionably penitent now ; but then, you know, they 
 have the recollection of very recent suifering fresh upon them. 
 
630 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 What they may become, when that fades away, is a problem that 
 neither you nor I can solve. However, my dear sir,' added Perker, 
 laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick's shoulder, ' your object is equally 
 honourable, whatever the result is. Whether that species of 
 benevolence which is so very cautious and long-sighted that it is 
 seldom exercised at all, lest its owner should be imposed upon, and 
 so wounded in his self-love, be real charity or a worldly counterfeit, 
 I leave to wiser heads than mine to determine. But if those two 
 fellows were to commit a burglary to-morrow, my opinion of this 
 action would be equally high.' 
 
 With these remarks, which were delivered in a much more 
 animated and earnest manner than is usual in legal gentlemen, 
 Perker drew his chair to his desk, and listened to Mr. Pickwick's 
 recital of old Mr. Winkle's obstinacy. 
 
 ' Give him a week,' said Perker, nodding his head prophetically. 
 
 ' Do you think he will come round ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I think he will,' rejoined Perker. ' If not, we must try the 
 young lady's persuasion ; and that is what anybody but you, would 
 have done at first.' 
 
 Mr. Perker was taking a pinch of snuff with various grotesque 
 contractions of countenance, eulogistic of the persuasive powers 
 appertaining unto young ladies, when the murmur of inquiry and 
 answer was heard in the outer office, and Lowten tapped at 
 the door. 
 
 ' Come in ! ' cried the little man. 
 
 The clerk came in, and shut the door after him, with great 
 mystery. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' inquired Perker. 
 
 ' You're wanted, sir.' 
 
 ' Who wants me ? ' 
 
 Lowten looked at Mr. Pickwick, and coughed. 
 
 ' Who wants me ? Can't you speak, Mr. Lowten ? ' 
 
 ' Why, sir,' replied Lowten, ' it's Dodson ; and Fogg is with 
 him.' 
 
 ' Bless my life ! ' said the little man, looking at his watch, 'I 
 appointed them to be here, at half-past eleven, to settle that matter 
 of yours, Pickwick. I gave them an undertaking on which they 
 sent down your discharge ; it's very awkward, my dear sir ; what 
 will you do ? Would you like to step into the next room ? ' 
 
 The next room being the identical room in which Messrs. Dodson 
 and Fogg were, Mr. Pickwick replied that he would remain where 
 he was : the more especially as Messrs. Dodson and Fogg ought to 
 be ashamed to look him in the face, instead of his being ashamed 
 to see them. Which latter circumstance he begged Mr. Perker 
 to note, with a glowing countenance and many marks of indignation. 
 
 ' Very well, my dear sir, very well,' replied Perker, ' I can only 
 
MESSRS. DODSON AND FOGG 631 
 
 say that if you expect either Dodson or Fogg to exhibit any symptom 
 of shame or confusion at having to look you, or anybody else, in the 
 face, you are the most sanguine man in your expectations that /ever 
 met with. Show them in, Mr. Lowten.' 
 
 Mr. Lowten disappeared with a grin, and immediately returned 
 ushering in the firm, in due form of precedence : Dodson first, and 
 Fogg afterwards. 
 
 ' You have seen Mr. Pickwick, I believe ? ' said Perker to Dodson, 
 inclining his pen in the direction where that gentleman was seated. 
 
 'How do you do, Mr. Pickwick?' said Dodson in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 ' Dear me,' cried Fogg, ' how do you do, Mr. Pickwick ? I hope 
 you are well, sir. I thought I knew the face,' said Fogg, drawing up 
 a chair, and looking round him with a smile. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick bent his head very slightly, in answer to these 
 salutations, and, seeing Fogg pull a bundle of papers from his coat- 
 pocket, rose and walked to the window. 
 
 'There's no occasion for Mr. Pickwick to move, Mr. Perker,' 
 said Fogg, untying the red tape which encircled the little bundle, 
 and smiling again more sweetly than before. ' Mr. Pickwick is 
 pretty well acquainted with these proceedings. There are no secrets 
 between us, I think. He ! he ! he ! ' 
 
 ' Not many, I think,' said Dodson. ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' Then both 
 the partners laughed together — pleasantly and cheerfully, as men 
 who are going to receive money, often do. 
 
 ' We shall make Mr. Pickwick pay for peeping,' said Fogg, with 
 considerable native humour, as he unfolded his papers. ' The 
 amount of the taxed costs is one hundred and thirty three, six, four, 
 Mr. Perker.' 
 
 There was a great comparing of papers, and turning over of 
 leaves, by Fogg and Perker, after this statement of profit and loss. 
 Meanwhile, Dodson said in an affable manner to Mr. Pickwick : 
 
 ' I don't think you are looking quite, so stout as when I had the 
 pleasure of seeing you last, Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 ' Possibly not, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, who had been flashing 
 forth looks of fierce indignation, without producing the smallest 
 effect on either of the sharp practitioners ; ' I believe I am not, sir. 
 I have been persecuted and annoyed by Scoundrels of late, sir.' 
 
 Perker coughed violently, and asked Mr. Pickwick whether he 
 wouldn't like to look at the morning paper? To which inquiry 
 Mr. Pickwick returned a most decided negative. 
 
 ' True,' said Dodson, ' I dare say you have been annoyed in the 
 Fleet ; there are some odd gentry there. Whereabouts were your 
 apartments, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' 'My one room,' replied that much-injured gentleman, 'was on 
 the Cofifee Room flight.' 
 
632 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Oh, indeed ! ' said Dodson. ' I believe that is a very pleasant 
 part of the establishment.' 
 
 ' Very,' replied Mr. Pickwick drily. 
 
 There was a coolness about all this, which, to a gentleman of an 
 excitable temperament, had, under the circumstances, rather an 
 exasperating tendency. Mr. Pickwick restrained his wrath by 
 gigantic efforts ; but when Perker wrote a cheque for the whole 
 amount, and Fogg deposited it in a small pocket-book with a tri- 
 umphant smile playing over his pimply features which communi- 
 cated itself likewise to the stern countenance of Dodson, he felt the 
 blood in his cheeks tingling with indignation. 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Dodson,' said Fogg, putting up the pocket-book and 
 drawing on his gloves, ' I am at your service.' 
 
 ' Very good,' said Dodson, rising, ' I am quite ready.' 
 
 ' I am very happy,' said Fogg, softened by the cheque, ' to have 
 had the pleasure of making Mr. Pickwick's acquaintance. I hope 
 you don't think quite so ill of us, Mr. Pickwick, as when we first 
 Sad the pleasure of seeing you.' 
 
 ' I hope not,' said Dodson, with the high tone of calumniated 
 virtue. ' Mr. Pickwick now knows us better, I trust : whatever 
 /our opinion of gentlemen of our profession may be, I beg to assure 
 you, sir, that I bear no ill-will or vindictive feeling towards you for 
 the sentiments you thought proper to express in our ofifice in Free- 
 man's Court, Comhill, on the occasion to which my partner has 
 referred.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no ; nor I,' said Fogg, in a most forgiving manner. 
 
 ' Our conduct, sir,' said Dodson, ' will speak for itself, and justify 
 itself I hope, upon every occasion. We have been in the profession 
 some years, Mr. Pickwick, and have been honoured with the con- 
 fidence of many excellent clients. I wish you good morning, 
 sir.' 
 
 ' Good morning, Mr. Pickwick,' said Fogg. So saying, he put his 
 umbrella under his arm, drew off his right glove, and extended the 
 hand of reconciliation to that most indignant gentleman : who, 
 thereupori, thrust his hands beneath his coat tails, and eyed the 
 attorney with looks of scornful amazement. 
 
 ' Lowten ! ' cried Perker at this moment. ' Open the door.' 
 
 ' Wait one instant,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' Perker, I will speak.' 
 
 ' My dear sir, pray let the matter rest where it is,' said the little 
 attorney, who had been in a state of nervous apprehension during 
 the whole interview ; ' Mr. Pickwick, I beg ! ' 
 
 ' I will not be put down, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. ' Mr. 
 Dodson, you have addressed some remarks to me.' 
 
 Dodson turned round, bent his head meekly, and smiled. 
 
 ' Some remarks to me,' repeated Mr. Pickwick, almost breathless ; 
 ' and your partner has tendered me his hand, and you have both 
 
A PIECE OF MR. PICKWICK'S MIND 633 
 
 assumed a tone of forgiveness and high-mindedness, which is an 
 extent of impudence that I was not prepared for, even in you.' 
 
 ' What, sir ! ' exclaimed Dodson. 
 
 ' What, sir ! ' reiterated Fogg. 
 
 ' Do you know that I have been the victim of your plots and 
 tonspiracies ? ' continued Mr. Pickwick. ' Do you know that I am 
 the man whom you have been imprisoning and robbing ? Do you 
 know that you were the attorneys for the plaintiff, in Bardell and 
 Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, we do know it,' replied Dodson. 
 
 ' Of course we know it, sir,' rejoined Fogg, slapping his pocket — • 
 perhaps by accident. 
 
 ' I see that you recollect it with satisfaction,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 attempting to call up a sneer for the first time in his life, and failing 
 most signally in so doing. ' Although I have long been anxious to 
 tell you, in plain terms, what my opinion of you is, I should have 
 let even this opportunity pass, in deference to my friend Perker's 
 wishes, but for the unwarrantable tone you have assumed, and your 
 insolent familiarity. ^ I say insolent famiUarity, sir,' said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, turning upon Fogg with a fierceness of gesture which caused 
 that person to retreat towards the door with great expedition. 
 
 ' Take care, sir,' said Dodson, who, though he was the biggest 
 man of the party, had prudently intrenched himself behind Fogg, 
 and was speaking over his head with a very pale face. ' Let him 
 assault you, Mr. Fogg ; don't return it on any account.' 
 
 ' No, no, I won't return it,' said Fogg, falling back a little more 
 as he spoke; to the evident relief of his partner, who by these 
 means was gradually getting into the outer office. 
 
 ' You are,' continued Mr. Pickwick, resuming the thread of his 
 discourse, ' you are a well-matched pair of mean, rascally, pettifog- 
 ging robbers.' 
 
 ' Well,' interposed Perker, ' is that all ? ' 
 
 ' It is all summed up in that,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick; 'they are 
 mean, rascally, pettifogging robbers.' 
 
 ' There ! ' said Perker in a most conciliatory tone. ' My dear 
 sirs, he has said all he has to say. Now pray go. Lowten, is that 
 door open ? ' 
 
 Mr. Lowten, with a distant giggle, replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' There, there — good morning — good morning — now pray, my 
 dear sirs, — Mr. Lowten, the door ! ' cried the little man, pushing 
 Dodson and Fogg, nothing loath, out of the office ; ' this way, my 
 dear sirs, — now pray don't prolong this — dear me — Mr. Lowten — 
 the door, sir — why don't you attend ? ' 
 
 ' If there's law in England, sir,' said Dodson, looking towards 
 Mr. Pickwick, as he put on his hat, '• you shall smart for this." 
 
 ' You are a couple of mean — ' 
 
634 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Remember, sir, you pay dearly for this,' said Fogg. 
 
 ' — Rascally, pettifogging robbers!' continued Mr. Pickwick, 
 taking not the least notice of the threats that were addressed to him. 
 
 ' Robbers ! ' cried Mr. Pickwick, running to the stair-head, as the 
 two attorneys descended. 
 
 ' Robbers ! ' shouted Mr. Pickwick, breaking from Lowten and 
 Perker, and thrusting his head o.'\ of the staircase window. 
 
 When Mr. Pickwick drew in his head again, his countenance was 
 smiling and placid ; and, walking quietly back into the ofHce, he 
 declared that he had now removed a great weight from his mind, 
 and that he felt perfectly comfortable and happy. 
 
 Perker said nothing at all until he had emptied his snuff-box, and 
 sent Lowten out to fill it, when he was seized with a fit of laughing, 
 which lasted five minutes ; at the expiration of which time he said 
 that he supposed he ought to be very angry, but he couldn't think 
 of the business seriously yet — ^when he could, he would be. 
 
 ' Well, now,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' let me have a settlement with 
 you.' 
 
 ' Of the same kind as the last ? ' mquired Perker, with another 
 laugh. 
 
 ' Not exactly,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick, drawing out his pocket- 
 book, and shaking the little man heartily by the hand, ' I only 
 mean a pecuniary settlement. You have done me many acts of 
 kindness that I can never repay, and have no wish to repay, for I 
 prefer continuing the obligation.' 
 
 With this preface, the two friends dived into some very com- 
 plicated accounts and vouchers, which, having been duly displayed 
 and gone through by Perker, were at once discharged by Mr. Pick- 
 wick with many professions of esteem and friendship. 
 
 They had no sooner arrived at this point, than a most violent 
 and startling knocking was heard at the door ; it was not an ordinary 
 double knock, but a constant and uninterrupted succession of the 
 loudest single raps, as if the knocker were endowed with the per- 
 petual motion, or the person outside had forgotten to leave off. 
 
 ' Dear me, what's that ! ' exclaimed Perker, starting. 
 
 ' I think it is a knock at the door,' said Mr. Pickwick, as if there 
 could be the smallest doubt of the fact ! 
 
 The knocker maide a more energetic reply than words could have 
 yielded, for it continued to hammer with surprising force and noise, 
 without a moment's cessation. 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Perker, ringing his bell, ' we shall alarm the 
 Inn. Mr. Lowten, don't you hear a knock ? ' 
 
 ' I'll answer the door in one moment, sir,' replied the clerk. 
 
 The knocker appeared to hear the response, and to assert that it 
 was quite impossible he could wait so long. It made a stupendous 
 uproar. 
 
THE FAT BOY AGAIN 635 
 
 '• It's quite dreadful,' said Mr. Pickwick, stopping his ears. 
 
 ' Make haste, Mr. Lowten,' Perker called out, ' we shall have the 
 panels beaten in.' 
 
 Mr. Lowten, who was washing his hands in a dark closet, hurried 
 to the door, and turning the handle, beheld the appearance which 
 is described in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV 
 
 CONTAINING SOME PARTICULARS RELATIVE TO THE DOUBLE KNOCK, 
 AND OTHER MATTERS : AMONG WHICH CERTAIN INTERESTING 
 DISCLOSURES RELATIVE TO MR. SNODGRASS AND A YOUNG 
 LADY ARE BY NO MEANS IRRELEVANT TO THIS HISTORY 
 
 The object that presented itself to the eyes of the astonished 
 clerk, was a boy — a wonderfully fat boy — habited as a serving lad, 
 standing upright on the mat, with his eyes closed as if in sleep. 
 He had never seen such a fat boy, in or out of a travelhng caravan ; 
 and this, coupled with the calmness and repose of his appearance, 
 so very different from what was reasonably to have been expected 
 of the inflicter of such knocks, smote him with wonder. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' inquired the clerk. 
 
 The extraordinary boy replied not a word ; but he nodded once, 
 and seemed, to the clerk's imagination, to snore feebly. 
 
 ' Where do you come from ? ' inquired the clerk. 
 
 The boy made no sign. He breathed heavily, but in all other 
 respects was motionless. 
 
 The clerk repeated the question thrice, and receiving no answer, 
 prepared to shut the door, when the boy suddenly opened his eyes, 
 winked several times, sneezed once, and raised his hand as if to re- 
 peat the knocking. Finding the door open, he stared about him with 
 astonishment, and at length fixed his eyes on Mr. Lowten's face. 
 
 ' What the devil do you knock in that way for ? ' inquired the 
 clerk, angrily. 
 
 ' Which way ? ' said the boy, in a slow and sleepy voice. 
 
 'Why, like forty hackney-coachmen,' replied the clerk. 
 
 'Because master said, I wasn't to leave off knocking till they 
 opened the door, for fear I should go to sleep,' said the boy. 
 
 ' Well,' said the clerk, ' what message have you brought ? ' 
 
 ' He's down stairs,' rejoined the boy. 
 
 'Who?' 
 
 ' Master. He wants to know whether you're at home.' 
 
 Mr. Lowten bethought himself, at this juncture, of looking out 
 
636 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 of the window. Seeing an open carriage with a hearty old getitle- 
 man in it, looking up very anxiously, he ventured to beckon him ; 
 on which, the old gentleman jumped out directly. 
 
 ' That's your master in the carriage, I suppose ? ' said Lowten. 
 
 The boy nodded. 
 
 All further inquiries were superseded by the appearance of old 
 Wardle, who, running up stairs, and just recognising Lowten, passed 
 at once into Mr. Perker's room. 
 
 ' Pickwick ! ' said the old gentleman. ' Your hand, my boy ! 
 Why have I never heard until the day before yesterday of your 
 suffering yourself to be cooped up in jail ? And why did you let 
 him do it, Perker ? ' 
 
 ' I couldn't help it, my dear sir,' replied Perker, with a smile and 
 a pinch of snufF: ' you know how obstinate he is.' 
 
 ' Of course I do, of course I do,' replied the old gentleman. ' I 
 am heartily glad to see him, notwithstanding. I will not lose sight 
 of him again, in a hurry.' 
 
 With these words, Wardle shook Mr. Pickwick's hand once 
 more, and, having done the same by Perker, threw himself into 
 an arm-chair; his jolly red face shining again with smiles and 
 health. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Wardle. ' Here are pretty goings on — a pinch of 
 your snuff, Perker, my boy — never were such times, eh ? ' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Mean ! ' replied Wardle. ' Why, I think the girls are aU rurming 
 mad ; that's no news, you'll say ? Perhaps it's not ; but it's true, 
 for all that.' 
 
 ' You have not come up to London, of all places in the world, to 
 tell us that, my dear sir, have you ? ' inquired Perker. 
 
 ' No, not altogether,' replied Wardle ; ' though it was the main 
 cause of my coming. How's Arabella ? ' 
 
 ' Very well,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' and will be delighted to see 
 you, I am sure.' 
 
 ' Black-eyed little jilt ! ' replied Wardle, ' I had a great idea of 
 marrying her myself, one of these odd days. But I am glad of it 
 too, very glad.' 
 
 ' How did the intelligence reach you ? ' asked Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, it came to my girls, of course,' replied Wardle. ' Arabella 
 wrote, the day before yesterday, to say she had made a stolen 
 match without her husband's father's consent, and so you had gone 
 down to get it when his refusing it couldn't prevent the match, and 
 all the rest of it. I thought it a very good time to say something 
 serious to my girls; so I said what a dreadful thing it was that 
 children should marry without their parents' consent, and so forth ; 
 but, bless your hearts, I couldn't make the least impression upon 
 them. They thought it such a much more dreadful thing that there 
 
MORE MARRYING 637 
 
 should have been a wedding without bridesmaids, that I might as 
 well have preached to Joe himself.' 
 
 Here the old gentleman stopped to laugh ; and having done so 
 to his heart's content, presently resumed. 
 
 ' But this is not the best of it, it seems. This is only half the 
 love-making and plotting that have been going forward. We 
 have been walking on mines for the last six months, and they're 
 sprung at last.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning pale ; 
 ' no other secret marriage, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' No, no,' replied old Wardle ; ' not so bad as that ; no.' 
 
 ' What then ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick ; ' am I interested in it ? ' 
 
 ' Shall I answer that question, Perker ? ' said Wardle. 
 
 ' If you don't commit yourself by doing so, my dear sir.' 
 
 ' Well then, you are,' said Wardle. 
 
 ' How ? ' asked Mr. Pickwick anxiously. ' In what way ? ' 
 
 ' Really,' replied Wardle, ' you're such a fiery sort of young fellow 
 that I am almost afraid to tell you ; but, however, if Perker will sit 
 between us to prevent mischief, I'll venture.' 
 
 Having closed the room-door, and fortified himself with another 
 application to Perker's snuff-box, the old gentleman proceeded with 
 his great disclosure in these words. 
 
 ' The fact is, that my daughter Bella — Bella, who married young 
 Trundle, you know.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, we know,' said Mr. Pickwick impatiently. 
 
 ' Don't alarm me at the very beginning. My daughter Bella, 
 Emily having gone to bed with a headache after she had read 
 Arabella's letter to me, sat herself down by my side the other even- 
 ing, and began to talk over this marriage affair. " Well, pa," she 
 says, " what do you think of it ? " " Why, my dear," I said, " I 
 suppose it's all very well ; I hope it's for the best." I answered in 
 this way because I was sitting before the fire at the time, drinking 
 my grog rather thoughtfully, and I knew my throwing in an unde- 
 cided word now and then, would induce her to continue talking. 
 Both my girls are pictures of their dear mother, and as I grow old 
 I like to sit with only them by me ; for their voices and looks carry 
 me back to the happiest period of my life, and make me, for the 
 moment, as young as I used to be then, though not quite so light- 
 hearted. " It's quite a marriage of affection, pa," said Bella, after a 
 short silence. " Yes, my dear," said I, " but such marriages do not 
 always turn out the happiest." ' 
 
 ' I question that, mind ! ' interposed Mr. Pickwick, warmly. 
 
 ' Very good,' responded Wardle, ' question anything you like 
 when if s your turn to speak, but don't interrupt me.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Granted,' rephed Wardle. ' " I am sorry to hear you express 
 
638 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 your opinion against marriages of affection, pa," said Bella, colour- 
 ing a little. " I was wrong ; I ought not to have said so, my dear, 
 either," said I, patting her cheek as kindly as a rough old fellow 
 like me could pat it, " for your mother's was one, and so was yours." 
 " It's not that, I meant, pa," said Bella. " The fact is, pa, I wanted 
 to speak to you about Emily." ' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick started. 
 
 ' What's the matter now ? ' inquired Wardle, stopping in his 
 narrative. 
 
 ' Nothing,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Pray go on.' 
 
 ' I never could spin out a story,' said Wardle abruptly. ' It must 
 come out, sooner or later, and it'll save us all a great deal of time 
 if it comes at once. The long and the short of it is, then, that 
 Bella at last mustered up courage to tell me that Emily was very 
 unhappy ; that she and your young friend Snodgrass had been in 
 constant correspondence and communication ever since last Christ- 
 mas ; that she had very dutifully made up her mind to run away 
 with him, in laudable imitation of her old friend and schoolfellow ; 
 but that having some compunctions of conscience on the subject, 
 inasmuch as I had always been rather kindly disposed to both of 
 them, they had thought it better in the first instance to pay me the 
 compliment of asking whether I would have any objection to their 
 being married in the usual matter-of-fact manner. There now, Mr. 
 Pickwick, if you can make it convenient to reduce your eyes to 
 their usual size again, and to let me hear what you think we ought 
 to do, I shall feel rather obliged to you ! ' 
 
 The testy manner in which the hearty old gentleman uttered this 
 last sentence was not wholly unwarranted ; for Mr. Pickwick's face 
 had settled down into an expression of blank amazement and per- 
 plexity, quite curious to behold. 
 
 ' Snodgrass ! Since last Christmas ! ' were the first broken words 
 that issued from the lips of the confounded gentleman. 
 
 ' Since last Christmas,' replied Wardle ; ' that's plain enough, and 
 very bad spectacles we must have worn, not to have discovered it 
 before.' 
 
 ' I don't understand it,' said Mr. Pickwick, ruminating ; ' I really 
 cannot understand it.' 
 
 ' It's easy enough to understand,' replied the choleric old gentle- 
 man. ' If you had been a younger man, you would have been in 
 the secret long ago ; and besides,' added Wardle after a moment's 
 hesitation, ' the truth is, that, knowing nothing of this matter, I have 
 rather pressed Emily for four or five months past, to receive favour- 
 ably (if she could ; I would never attempt to force a girl's incli- 
 nations) the addresses of a young gentleman down in our neighbour- 
 hood. I have no doubt that, girl-like, to enhance her own value 
 and increase the ardour of Mr. Snodgrass, she has represented this 
 
MR. PERKER'S ADVICE 639 
 
 matter in very glowing colours, and that they have both arrived at 
 the conclusion that they are a terribly persecuted pair of unfor- 
 tunates, and have no resource but clandestine matrimony or charcoal. 
 Now the question is, what's to be done ? ' 
 
 ' What have you done ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'I!' 
 
 ' I mean what did you do when your married daughter told you 
 this?' 
 
 ' Oh, I made a fool of myself, of course,' rejoined Wardle. 
 
 ' Just so,' interposed Perker, who had accompanied this dialogue 
 with sundry twitchings of his watch-chain, vindictive rubbings of 
 his nose, and other symptoms of impatience. ' That's very natural ; 
 but how ? ' 
 
 ' I went into a great passion and frightened my mother into a fit,' 
 said Wardle. 
 
 ' That was judicious,' remarked Perker ; ' and what else ? ' 
 
 'I fretted a,nd fumed all next dg.y, and raised a great disturbance,' 
 rejoined the old gentleman. ' At last I got tired of rendering my- 
 self unpleasant and making everybody miserable ; so I hired a 
 carriage at Muggleton, and, putting my own horses in it, came up 
 to town, under pretence of bringing Emily to see Arabella.' 
 
 ' Miss Wardle is with you, then ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' To be sure she is,' replied Wardle. ' She is at Osborne's hotel 
 in the Adelphi at this moment, unless your enterprising friend has 
 run away with her since I came out this morning.' 
 
 'You are reconciled, then ?' said Perker. 
 
 ' Not a bit of it,' answered Wardle ; ' she has been crying and 
 moping ever since, except last night, between tea and supper, when 
 she made a great parade of writing a letter that I pretended'to take 
 no notice of.' 
 
 ' You want my advice in this matter, I suppose ? ' said Perker, 
 looking from the musing face of Mr. Pickwick to the eager coun- 
 tenance of Wardle, and taking several consecutive pinches pf his 
 favourite stimulant. 
 
 ' I suppose so,' said Wardle, looking at Mr.^ Pickwick. 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied that gentleman. 
 
 ' Well then,' said Perker, rising and pushing his chair back, ' my 
 advice is that you both walk away together, or ride away, or get 
 away by some means or other, for I'm tired of you, and just talk 
 this matter over between you. If you have not settled it by the 
 next time I see you, I'll tell you what to do.' 
 
 ' This is satisfactory,' said Wardle, hardly knowing whether to 
 smile or be offended. 
 
 ' Pooh, pooh, my dear sir,' returned Perker. ' I know you both 
 a great deal better than you know yourselves. You have settled it 
 already, to all intents and purposes.' 
 
640 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Thus expressing himself, the little gentleman poked his snuff-box, 
 first into the chest of Mr. Pickwick, and then into the waistcoat of 
 Mr. Wardle, upon which they all three laughed, but especially the 
 two last-named gentlemen, who at once shook hands again, without 
 any obvious or particular reason. 
 
 ' You dine with me to-day,' said Wardle to Perker, as he showed 
 them out. 
 
 ' Can't promise, my dear sir, can't promise,' replied Perker. ' I'll 
 look in, in the evening, at all events.' 
 
 ' I shall expect you at five,' said Wardle. ' Now, Joe ! ' And 
 Joe having been at length awakened, the two friends departed in 
 Mr. Wardle's carriage, which in common humanity had a dickey 
 behind for the fat boy, who, if there had been a foot-board instead, 
 would have rolled off and killed himself in his very first nap. 
 
 Driving to the George and Vulture, they found that Arabella and 
 her maid had sent for a hackney-coach immediately on the receipt 
 of a short note from Emily announcing her arrival in town, and had 
 proceeded straight to the Adelphi. As Wardle had business to 
 transact in the city, they sent the carriage and the fat boy to his 
 hotel, with the information that he and Mr. Pickwick would return 
 together to dinner at five o'clock. 
 
 Charged with this message, the fat boy returned, slumbering as 
 peaceably in his dickey, over the stones, as if it had been a down 
 bed on watch-springs. By some extraordinary miracle he awoke of 
 his own accord, when the coach stopped, and giving himself a good 
 shake to stir up his faculties, went up stairs to execute his com- 
 mission. 
 
 Now, whether the shake had jumbled the fat boy's faculties 
 together, instead of arranging them in proper order, or had roused 
 such a quantity of new ideas within him as to render him oblivious 
 of ordinary forms and ceremonies, or (which is also possible) had 
 proved unsuccessful in preventing his falling asleep as he ascended 
 the stairs, it is an undoubted fact that he walked into the sitting- 
 room without previously knocking at the door ; and so beheld a 
 gentleman with his arms clasping his young mistress's waist, sitting 
 very lovingly by her side on a sofa, while Arabella and her pretty 
 handmaid feigned to be absorbed in looking out of a window at the 
 other end of the room. At sight of this phenomenon, the fat boy 
 uttered an interjection, the ladies a scream, and the gentleman an 
 oath, almost simultaneously. 
 
 ' Wretched creature, what do you want here ? ' said the gentleman, 
 who it is needless to say was Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 To this the fat boy, considerably terrified, briefly responded, 
 ' Missis.' 
 
 ' What do you want me for ? ' inquired Emily, turning her head 
 aside, ' you stupid creature ! ' 
 
MARY DINES ^VITH THE FAT BOY 641 
 
 ' Master and Mr. Pickwick is a going to dine here at five,' replied 
 the fat boy. 
 
 ' Leave the room ! ' said Mr. Snodgrass, glaring upon the 
 bewildered youth. 
 
 ' No, no, no,' added Emily hastily. ' Bella, dear, advise me.' 
 
 Upon this, Emily and Mr. Snodgrass, and Arabella and Mary, 
 crowded into a corner, and conversed earnestly in whispers for 
 some minutes, during which the fat boy dozed. 
 
 ' Joe,' said Arabella, at length, looking round with a most 
 bewitching smile, ' how do you do, Joe ? ' 
 
 ' Joe,' said Emily, ' you're a very good boy ; I won't forget you, 
 Joe.' 
 
 ' Joe,' said Mr. Snodgrass, advancing to the astonished youth, and 
 seizing his hand, ' I didn't know you before. There's five shillings 
 for you, Joe ! ' 
 
 ' I'll owe you five, Joe,' said Arabella, ' for old acquaintance 
 sake, you know ; ' and another most captivating smile was bestowed 
 upon the corpulent intruder. 
 
 The fat boy's perception being slow, he looked rather puzzled at 
 first to account for this sudden prepossession in his favour, and 
 stared about him in a very alarming manner. At length his broad 
 face began to show symptoms of a grin of proportionately broad 
 dimensions ; and then, thrusting half-a-crown ' into each of his 
 pockets, and a hand and wrist after it, he burst into a horse laugli : 
 being for the first and only time in his existence. 
 
 ' He understands us, I see,' said Arabella. 
 
 ' He had better have something to eat, immediately,' remarked 
 Emily. 
 
 The fat boy almost laughed again when he heard this suggestion. 
 Mary, after a little more whispering, tripped forth from the group, 
 and said : 
 
 'I am going to dine with you to-day, sir, if you have no 
 objection.' 
 
 'This way,' said the fat boy, eagerly. 'There is such a jolly 
 meat pie ! ' 
 
 With these words, the fat boy led the way down stairs ; his 
 pretty companion captivating all the waiters and angering all the 
 chambermaids as she followed him to the eating-room. 
 
 There was the meat-pie of which the youth had spoken so 
 feelingly, and there were, moreover, a steak, and a dish of potatoes, 
 and a pot of porter. 
 
 ' Sit down,' said the fat boy. ' Oh, my eye, how prime ! I am 
 so hungry.' 
 
 Having apostrophised his eye, in a species of rapture, five or six 
 times, the youth took the head of the little table, and Mary seated 
 
 herself at the bottom, 
 
 4 T 
 
642 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Will you have some of this ? ' said the fat boy, plunging into the 
 pie up to the very ferules of the kmfe and fork. 
 
 ' A little, if you please,' replied Mary. 
 
 The fat boy assisted Mary to a little, and himself to a great deal, 
 and was just going to begin eating when he suddenly laid down his 
 knife and fork, leant forward in his chair, and letting his hands, with 
 his knife and fork in them, fall on his knees, said, very slowly : 
 
 ' I say ! How nice you look ! ' 
 
 This was said in an admiring manner, and was, so far, gratifying ; 
 but still there was enough of the cannibal in the young gentleman's 
 eyes to render the compliment a double one. 
 
 ' Dear me, Joseph,' said Mary, affecting to blush, ' what do you 
 mean ? ' 
 
 The fat boy gradually recovering his former position, replied with 
 a heavy sigh, and remaining thoughtful for a few moments, drank a 
 long draught of the porter. Having achieved this feat he sighed 
 again, and applied himself assiduously to the pie. 
 
 ' What a nice young lady Miss Emily is ! ' said Mary, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 The fat boy had by this time finished the pie. He fixed his eyes 
 on Mary, and replied : 
 
 ' I knows a nicerer.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mary. 
 
 ' Yes, indeed ! ' replied the fat boy, with unwonted vivacity. 
 
 ' What's her name ? ' inquired Mary. 
 
 ' What's yours ? ' 
 
 'Mary.' ' 
 
 ' So's hers,' said the fat boy. ' You're her.' The boy grinned to 
 add point to the compliment, and put his eyes into something 
 between a squint and a cast, which there is reason to believe he 
 intended for an ogle. 
 
 ' You mustn't talk to me in that way,' said Mary ; ' you don't 
 mean it.' 
 
 ' Don't I, though ? ' replied the fat boy : ' I say ' ' 
 
 ' Well.' 
 
 ' Are you going to come here regular ? ' 
 
 ' No,' rejoined Mary, shaking her head, ' I'm going away again 
 to-night. Why ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said the fat boy in a tone of strong feeling ; ' how we 
 should have enjoyed ourselves at meals, if you had been ! ' 
 
 'I might come here sometimes, perhaps, to see you,' said Mary, 
 plaiting the table-cloth in assumed coyness, ' if you would do me a 
 favour.' 
 
 The fat boy looked from the pie-dish to the steak, as if he thought 
 a favour must be in a manner connected with something to eat ; and 
 then took out one of the half-crowns and glanced at it nervously. 
 
y^/-/- 
 
 7fJ-^_Ul-' 
 
 
 f^y^ a/n^y'^'tey^ 
 
TENDER AS WELL AS FAT 643 
 
 ' Don't you understand me ? ' said Mary, looking slyly in his fat 
 face. 
 
 Again he looked at the half-crown, and said faintly, ' No.' 
 
 ' The ladies want you not to say anything to the old gentleman 
 about the young gentleman having been up stairs; and I want 
 you too.' 
 
 ' Is that all ? ' said the fat boy, evidently very much relieved as 
 he pocketed the half-crown again. ' Of course I ain't a going to.' 
 
 ' You see,' said Mary, ' Mr. Snodgrass is very fond of Miss 
 Emily, and Miss Emily's very fond of him, and if you were to tell 
 about it, the old gentleman would carry you all away miles into the 
 country, where you'd see nobody.' 
 
 ' No, no, I won't tell,' said the fat boy, stoutly. 
 
 ' That's a dear,' said Mary. ' Now it's time I went up stairs, and 
 got my lady ready for dinner. 
 
 ' Don't go yet,' urged the fat boy. 
 
 ' I must,' replied Mary. ' Good bye, for the present' 
 
 The fat boy, with elephantine playfulness, stretched out his arms 
 to ravish a kiss ; but as it required no great agility to elude him, 
 his fair enslaver had vanished before he closed them again : upon 
 which the apathetic youth ate a pound or so of steak with a 
 sentimental countenance, and fell fast asleep. 
 
 There was so much to say up stairs, and there were S(j, many 
 plans to concert for elopement and matrimony in the event of old 
 Wardle continuing to be cruel, that it wanted only half dn hour 
 of dinner when Mr. Snodgrass took his final adieu. The ladies ran 
 to Emily's bedroom to dress, and the lover taking up his hat, 
 walked out of the room. He had scarcely got outside the door, 
 when he heard Wardle's voice talking loudly, and looking over the 
 banisters, beheld him, followed by some other gentlemen, coming 
 straight up stairs. Knowing nothing of the house, Mr. Snodgrass 
 in his confiision stepped hastily back into the room he had just 
 quitted, and passing from thence into an inner apartment (Mr. 
 Wardle's bed-chamber), closed the door softly, just as the persons 
 he had caught a glimpse of, entered the sitting-room. These were 
 Mr. Wardle, Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Nathaniel Winkle, and Mr. 
 Benjamin Allen, whom he had no difficulty in recognising by their 
 voices. 
 
 ' Very lucky I had the presence of mind to avoid them,' thought 
 Mr. Snodgrass with a smile, and walking on tiptoe to another door 
 near the bedside; 'this opens into the same passage, and I can 
 walk, quietly and comfortably, away.' 
 
 There was only one obstacle to his walking quietly and com- 
 fortably away, which was that the door was locked and the key gone. 
 
 ' Let us have some of your best wine to-day, waiter,' said old 
 Wardle, rubbing his hands. 
 
644 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' You shall have some of the very best, sir,' replied the waiter. 
 
 ' Let the ladies know we have come in.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 Devoutly and ardently did Mr. Snodgrass wish that the ladies 
 could- know he had come in. He ventured once to whisper 
 ' Waiter ! ' through the keyhole, but as the probability of the wrong 
 waiter coming to his relief, flashed upon his mind, together with 
 a sense of the strong resemblance between his own situation and 
 that in which another gentleman had been recently found in a 
 neighbouring hotel (an account of whose misfortunes had appeared 
 under the head of ' Police ' in the morning's paper), he sat himself 
 on a portmanteau, and trembled violently. 
 
 'We won't wait a minute for Parker,' said Wardle, looking at 
 his watch ; 'he is always exact. He will be here, in time, if he 
 means to come ; and if he does not, it's of no use waiting. Ha ! 
 Arabella ! ' 
 
 ' My sister ! ' exclaimed Mr. Benjamin Allen, folding her in a most 
 romantic embrace. 
 
 ' Oh, Ben, dear, how you do smell of tobacco,' said Arabella, 
 rather overcome by this mark of affection. 
 
 'Do I ? ' said Mr. Benjamin Allen, ' Do I, Bella ? Well, perhaps 
 I do.' 
 
 Perhaps he did ; having just left a pleasant little smoking party 
 of twelve medical students, in a small back parlour with a large 
 fire. 
 
 ' But I am delighted to see you,' said Mr. Ben Allen. ' Bless 
 you, Bella ! ' 
 
 ' There,' said Arabella, bending forward to kiss her brother ; 
 ' don't take hold of me again, Ben dear, because you tumble 
 me so.' 
 
 At this point of the reconciliation, Mr. Ben Allen allowed his 
 feelings and the cigars and porter to overcome him, and looked 
 round upon the beholders with damp spectacles. 
 
 ' Is nothing to be said to me ? ' cried Wardle with open arms. 
 , 'A great deal,' whispered Arabella, as she received the old 
 gentleman's hearty caress and congratulation. 'You are a hard- 
 hearted, unfeeling, cruel, monster ! ' 
 
 ' You are a littie rebel,' replied Wardle, in the same tone, ' and 
 1 am afraid I shall be obliged to forbid you the house. People 
 like you, who get married in spite of everybody, ought not to be 
 let loose on society. But come ! ' added the old gentleman aloud, 
 'Here's the dinner; you shall sit by me. Joe; why, damn the 
 boy, he's awake ! ' 
 
 To the great distress of his master, the fat boy was indeed in 
 a state of remarkable vigilance; his eyes being wide open, and 
 looking as if they intended to remain so. There was an alacrity 
 
THE FAT BOY'S DEMEANOUR 645 
 
 :n his manner, too, which was equally unaccountable ; every time 
 his eyes met those of Emily or Arabella, he smirked and grinned ; 
 once, Wardle could have sworn he saw him wink. 
 
 This alteration in the fat boy's demeanour, originated in his 
 increased sense of his own importance, and the dignity he acquired 
 from having been taken into the confidence of the young ladies ; 
 and the smirks, and grins, and winks, were so many condescending 
 assurances that they might depend upon his fidelity. As these 
 tokens were rather calculated to awaken suspicion than allay it, 
 and were somewhat embarrassing besides, they were occasionally 
 answered by a frown or shake of the head from Arabella, which 
 the fat boy considering as hints to be on his guard, expressed his 
 perfect understanding of, by smirking, grinning, and winking, with 
 redoubled assiduity. 
 
 'Joe,' said Mr. Wardle, after an unsuccessful search in all his 
 pockets, ' is my snuff-box on the sofa ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied the fat boy. 
 
 'Oh, I recollect; I left it on my dressing-table this morning,' 
 said Wardle. ' Run into the next room and fetch it.' 
 
 The fat boy went into the nex't room ; and having been absent 
 about a minute, returned with the snufif-box, and the palest face 
 that ever a fat boy wore. 
 
 ' What's the matter with the boy ! ' exclaimed Wardle. 
 
 ' Nothen's the matter with me,' replied Joe, nervously. 
 
 ' Have you been seeing any spirits ? ' inquired the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' Or taking any ? ' added Ben Allen. 
 
 ' I think you're right,' whispered Wardle across the table. ' He 
 is intoxicated, I'm sure.' 
 
 Ben Allen replied that he thought he was ; and as that gentleman 
 had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle was con- 
 firmed in an impression which had been hovering about his mind 
 for half an hour, and at once arrived at the conclusion that the fat 
 boy was drunk. 
 
 'Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes,' murmured 
 Wardle. ' We shall soon find out whether he is or not.' 
 
 The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words 
 with Mr. Snodgrass : that gentleman having implored him to make 
 a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed 
 him out with the snuff-box, lest his prolonged absence should lead 
 to a discovery. He ruminated a little with a most disturbed 
 expression of face, and left the room in search of Mary. 
 
 But Mary had gone home after dressing her mistress, and the fat 
 boy came back again more disturbed than before. 
 '\Vardle and Mr. Ben Allen exchanged glances. 
 '' Joe ! ' said Wardle. 
 
646 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' What did you go away for ? ' 
 
 The fat boy looked hopelessly in the face of everybody at table, 
 and stammered out, that he didn't know. 
 
 ' Oh,' said Mr. Wardle, ' you don't know, eh ? Take this cheese 
 to Mr. Pickwick.' 
 
 Now, Mr. Pickwick being in the very best of health and spirits, 
 had been making himself perfectly delightful all dinner-time, and 
 was at this moment engaged in an energetic conversation with 
 Emily and Mr. Winkle : bowing his head, courteously, in the 
 emphasis of his discourse, gently waving his left hand to lend force 
 to his observations, and all glowing with placid smiles. He took 
 a piece of cheese from the plate, and was on the point of turning 
 round to renew the conversation, when the fat boy, stooping so as 
 to bring his head on a level with that of Mr. Pickwick, pointed 
 with his thumb over his shoulder, and made the most horrible and 
 hideous face that was ever seen out of a Christmas pantomime. 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said Mr. Pickwick, starting, ' what a very — eh ? ' 
 He stopped, for the fat boy had drawn himself up, and was, or 
 pretended to be, fast asleep. 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' inquired Wardle. 
 
 ' This is such an extremely singular lad ! ' replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 looking uneasily at the boy. ' It seems an odd thing to say, but 
 upon my word I am afraid that, at times, he is a little deranged.' 
 
 ' Oh ! Mr. Pickwick, pray don't say so,' cried Emily and Arabella, 
 both at once. 
 
 ' I am not certain, of course,' said Mr. Pickwick, amidst profound 
 silence, and looks of general dismay ; ' but his manner to me this 
 moment was really very alarming. Oh ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, 
 suddenly jumping up with a short scream. ' I beg your pardon, 
 ladies, but at that moment he ran some sharp instrument into my 
 leg. Really he is not safe.' 
 
 ' He's drunk,' roared old Wardle, passionately. ' Ring the bell ! 
 Call the waiters ! He's drunk.' 
 
 ' I ain't,' said the fat boy, falling on his knees as his master seized 
 him by the collar. ' I ain't drunk.' 
 
 ' Then you're mad ; that's worse. Call the waiters,' said the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 'I ain't mad; I'm sensible,' rejoined the fat boy, beginning to 
 cry. 
 
 'Then, what the devil do you run sharp instruments into Mr. 
 Pickwick's legs for ? ' inquired Wardle, angrily. 
 
 ' He wouldn't look at me,' replied the boy. ' I wanted to speak 
 to him.' 
 
 'What did you want to say?' asked half a dozen voices at 
 once. 
 
THE CAPTIVE LOVER'S EXPLANATION 647 
 
 The fat boy gasped, looked at the bedroom door, gasped again, 
 and wiped two tears away with the knuckle of each of his fore- 
 fingers. 
 
 ' What did you want to say ? ' demanded Wardle, shaking him. 
 
 ' Stop ! ' said Mr. Pickwick ; ' allow me. What did you wish to 
 communicate to me, my poor boy ? ' 
 
 ' I want to whisper to you,' replied the fat boy. 
 
 ' You want to bite his ear off, I suppose,' said Wardle. ' Don't 
 come near him ; he's vicious ; ring the bell, and let him be taken 
 down stairs.' 
 
 Just as Mr. Winkle caught the bell-rope in his hand, it was 
 arrested by a general expression of astonishment; the captive 
 lover, his face burning with confusion, suddenly walked in from 
 the bedroom, and made a comprehensive bow to the company. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' cried Wardle, releasing the fat boy's collar, and 
 staggering back, ' What's this ! ' 
 
 ' I have been concealed in the next room, sir, since you returned,' 
 explained Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ' Emily, my girl,' said Wardle, reproachfully, ' I detest meanness 
 and deceit ; this is unjustifiable and indelicate in the highest degree. 
 I don't deserve this at your hands, Emily, indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Dear papa,' said Emily, ' Arabella knows — everybody here 
 knows — Joe knows — that I was no party to this concealment. 
 Augustus, for Heaven's sake, explain it ! ' 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass, who had only waited for a hearing, at once re- 
 counted how he had been placed in his then distressing predicament ; 
 how the fear of giving rise to domestic dissensions had alone 
 prompted him to avoid Mr. Wardle on his entrance; how he 
 merely meant to depart by another door, but, finding it locked, 
 had been compelled to stay against his will. It was a painful 
 situation to be placed in ; but he now regretted it the less, inasmuch 
 as it afforded him an opportunity of acknowledging, before their 
 mutual friends, that he loved Mr. Wardle's daughter, deeply and 
 sincerely ; that he was proud to avow that the feeling was mutual ; 
 and that if thousands of miles were placed between them, or oceans 
 rolled their waters, he could never for an instant forget those 
 happy days, when first — and so on. 
 
 Having dehvered himself to this effect, Mr. Snodgrass bowed 
 again, looked into the crown of his hat, and stepped towards the 
 door. 
 
 ' Stop ! ' shouted Wardle. ' Why, in the name of all that's ' 
 
 'Inflammable,' mildly suggested Mr. Pickwick, who thought 
 something worse was coming. 
 
 ' Well^that's inflammable,' said Wardle, adopting the substitute ; 
 ■ couldn't you say all this to me in the first instance ? ' 
 
 ' Or confide in me ? ' added Mr. Pickwick. 
 
648 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Dear, dear,' said Arabella, taking up the defence, ' what is the 
 use of asking all that now, especially when you know you had set 
 your covetous old heart on a richer son-in-law, and are so wild and 
 fierce besides, that everybody is afraid of you, except me. Shake 
 hands with him, and order him some dinner, for goodness gracious 
 sake, for he looks half-starved; and pray have your wine up at 
 once, for you'll not be tolerable until you have taken two bottles 
 at least.' 
 
 The worthy old gentleman pulled Arabella's ear, kissed her 
 without the smallest scruple, kissed his daughter also with great 
 affection, and shook Mr. Snodgrass warmly by the hand. 
 
 ' She is right on one point at all events,' said the old gentleman, 
 cheerfully. ' Ring for the wine ! ' 
 
 The wine came, and Perker came up stairs at the same moment. 
 Mr. Snodgrass had dinner at a side table, and, when he had 
 despatched it, drew his chair next Emily, without the smallest 
 opposition on the old gentleman's part. 
 
 The evening was excellent. Little Mr. Perker came out wonder- 
 fully, told various comic stories, and sang a serious song which 
 was almost as funny as the anecdotes. Arabella was very charming, 
 Mr. Wardle very jovial, Mr. Pickwick very harmonious, Mr. Ben 
 Allen very uproarious, the lovers very silent, Mr. Winkle very 
 talkative, and all of them very happy. 
 
 CHAPTER LV 
 
 MR. SOLOMON PELL, ASSISTED BY A SELECT COMMITTEE OF COACH- 
 MEN, ARRANGES THE AFFAIRS OF THE ELDER MR. WELLER 
 
 ' Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, accosting his son on the morning after 
 the funeral, ' I've found it, Sammy. I thought it wos there.' 
 
 ' Thought wot wos were ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Your mother-in-law's vill, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. ' In 
 wirtue o' vich, them arrangements is to be made as I told you on, 
 last night, respectin' the funs.' 
 
 ' Wot, didn't she tell you were it wos ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' Not a bit on it, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. ' We wos a 
 adjestin' our little differences, and I wos a cheerin' her spirits and 
 bearin' her up, so that I forgot to ask anythin' about it. I don't 
 know as I should ha' done it indeed, if I had remembered it,' 
 said Mr. Weller, ' for it's a rum sort o' thing, Sammy, to go a 
 hankerin' arter anybody's property, ven you're assistin' 'em in illness. 
 It's like helping'an outside passenger up, ven he's been pitched off 
 
WILL OF THE LATE MRS. WELLER 649 
 
 a coach, and puttin' your hand in his pocket, vile you ask him vith 
 a sigh how he finds hisself, Sammy.' 
 
 With this figurative illustration of his meaning, Mr. Weller un- 
 clasped his pocket-book, and drew forth a dirty sheet of letter 
 paper, on which were inscribed various characters crowded together 
 in remarkable confusion. 
 
 ' This here is the dockyment, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. ' I 
 found it in the litfle black teapot, on the top shelf o' the bar closet. 
 She used to keep bank notes there, afore she vos married, Samivel. 
 ' I've seen her take the lid off, to pay a bill, many and many a time. 
 Poor creeter, she might ha' filled all the teapots in the house vith 
 vills, and not have inconwenienced herself neither, for she took wery 
 little of anythin' in that vay lately, 'cept on the Temperance nights, 
 ven they just laid a foundation o' tea to put the spirits a-top on ! ' 
 
 ' What does it say ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 'Jist vot I told you, my boy,' rejoined his parent. ',Two 
 hundred pound vurth o' reduced counsels to my son-in-law, Samivel, 
 and all the rest o' my property, of ev'ry kind and description 
 votsoever to my husband, Mr. Tony Veller, who I appint as my 
 sole eggzekiter.' 
 
 ' That's all, is it ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' That's all,' replied Mr. ^^'eller. ' And I s'pose as it's all right 
 and satisfactory to you and me as is the only parties interested, ve 
 may as veil put this bit o' paper into the fire.' 
 
 ' Wot are you a-doin' on, you lunatic ? ' said Sam, snatching the 
 paper away, as his parent, in all innocence, stirred the fire pre- 
 paratory to suiting the action to the word. ' You're a nice 
 eggzekiter, you are.' 
 
 ' Vy not ? ' inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly round, with the 
 poker in his hand. 
 
 ' Vy not ? ' exclaimed Sam. ' 'Cos it must be proved, and pro- 
 bated, and swore to, and all manner o' formalities.' 
 
 ' You don't mean that ? ' said Mr. Weller, laying down the poker. 
 
 Sam buttoned the will carefully in a side pocket ; intimating by a 
 look, meanwhile, that he did mean it, and very seriously too. 
 
 'Then I'll tell you wot it is,' said Mr. Weller, after a short 
 meditation, ' this- is a case for that 'ere confidential pal o' the 
 Chancellorship's. Pell must look into this, Sammy. He's the man 
 for a difficult question at law. Ve'll have this here, brought afore 
 the Solvent Court directly, Samivel.' 
 
 ' I never did see such a addle-headed old creetur ! ' exclaimed 
 Sam, irritably, ' Old Baileys, and Solvent Courts, and alleybis, arid 
 ev'ry species o' gammon alvays a runnin' through his brain ! You'd 
 better get your out o' door clothes on, and come to town about this 
 bisness, than stand a preachin' there about wot you don't understand 
 nothin' on.' 
 
650 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' Wery good, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, ' I'm quite agreeable 
 to anythin' as vill hexpedite business, Sammy. But mind this here, 
 my boy, nobody but Pell — nobody but Pell as a legal adwiser.' 
 
 ' I don't want anybody else,' replied Sam. ' Now, are you 
 a-comin' ? ' 
 
 ' Vait a minit, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, who, having tied his 
 shawl with the aid of a small glass that hung in the window, was 
 now, by dint of the most wonderful exertions, struggling into his 
 upper garments. ' Vait a minit, Sammy ; ven you grow as old as 
 your father, you von't get into your veskit quite as easy as you do 
 now, my boy.' 
 
 ' If I couldn't get into it easier than that, I'm blessed if I'd vear 
 vun at all,' rejoined his son. 
 
 ' You think so now,' said Mr. Weller, with the gravity of age, 
 ' but you'll find that as you get vider, you'll get viser. Vidth and 
 visdom, Sammy, alvays grows together.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller delivered this infallible maxim — the result of 
 many years' personal experience and observation — he contrived, by 
 a dexterous twist of his body, to get the bottom button of his coat 
 to perform its office. Having paused a few seconds to recover 
 breath, he brushed his hat with his elbow, and declared himself 
 ' ready. 
 
 ' As four heads is better than two, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, as 
 they drove along the London Road in the chaise cart, ' and as all 
 this here property is a wery great temptation to a legal gen'l'm'n, 
 ve'U take a couple o' friends o' mine vith us, as'U be wery soon 
 down upon him if he comes anythin' irreg'lar ; two o' them as saw 
 you to the Fleet that day. They're the weiy best judges,' added 
 Mr. Weller in a half whisper, ' the wery best judges of a horse, you 
 ever know'd.' 
 
 ' And of a lawyer too ? ' inquired Sam. 
 
 ' The man as can form a ackerate judgment of a animal, can form 
 a ackerate judgment of anythin',' replied his father ; so dogmatically, 
 that Sam did not attempt to controvert the position. 
 
 In pursuance of this notable resolution, the services of the 
 mottled-faced gentleman and of two other very fat coachmen — 
 selected by Mr. Weller, probably, with a view to their width and 
 consequent wisdom — were put into requisition ; and this assistance 
 having been secured, the party proceeded to the pubUc-house in 
 Portugal Street, whence a messenger was despatched to the Insol- 
 vent Court over the way, requiring Mr. Solomon Pell's immediate 
 attendance. 
 
 The messenger fortunately found Mr. Solomon Pell in court, 
 regaling himself, business being rather slack, with a cold collation 
 of an Abernethy biscuit and a saveloy. The message was no 
 sooner whispered in his ear than he thrust them in his pocket 
 
FURTHER^ GLIMPSES OF MR. PELL 651 
 
 among various professional documents, and hurried over the way 
 with such alacrity, that he reached the parlour before the mess^ger 
 had even emancipated himself from the court. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, touching his hat, ' my service to you 
 all. I don't say it to flatter you, gentlemen, but there are not five 
 other men in the world, that I'd have come out of that court for, 
 to-day.' 
 
 ' So busy, eh ? ' said Sam. 
 
 ' Busy ! ' replied Pell ; ' I'm completely sewn up, as my friend 
 the late Lord Chancellor many a time used to say to me, gentle- 
 men, when he came out from hearing appeals in the House of 
 Lords. Poor fellow ! he was very susceptible of fatigue ; he used 
 to feel those appeals uncommonly. I actually thought more than 
 once that he'd have sunk under 'em ; I did indeed.' 
 
 Here Mr. Pell shook his head and paused ; on which, the elder 
 Mr. Weller, nudging his neighbour, as begging him to mark the 
 attorney's high connections, asked whether the duties in question 
 produced any permanent ill effects on the constitution of his noble 
 friend. 
 
 ' I don't think he ever quite recovered them,' rephed Pell ; ' in 
 fact I'm sure he never did. " Pell," he used to say to me many a 
 time, " how the blazes you can stand the head-work you do, is a 
 mystery to me." — " Well," I used to answer, " / hardly know how 
 I do it, upon my life." — " Pell," he'd add, sighing, and looking at 
 me with a Uttle envy- — friendly envy, you know, gentlemen, mere 
 friendly envy ; I never minded it — " Pell, you're a wonder ; a 
 wonder." Ah ! you'd have liked him very much if you had known 
 him, gentlemen. Bring me three penn'orth of rum, my dear.' 
 
 Addressing this latter remark to the waitress in a tone of subdued 
 grief, Mr. Pell sighed, looked at his shoes, and the ceiling ; and, 
 the rum having by that time arrived, drunk it up. . 
 
 ' However,' said Pell, drawing a chair to the table, ' a professional 
 man has no right to thin^ of his private friendships when his legal 
 assistance is wanted. By the bye, gentlemen, since I saw you here 
 before, we have had to weep over a very melancholy occurrence.' 
 
 Mr. Pell drew out a pocket-handkerchief, when he came to the 
 word weep, but he made no further use of it than to wipe away a 
 slight tinge of rum which hung upon his upper lip. 
 
 ' I saw it in the Advertiser, Mr. Weller,' continued Pell. ' Bless 
 my soul, not more than fifty-two ! Dear me — only think.' 
 
 These indications of a musing spirit were addressed to the 
 mottled-faced man, whose eyes Mr. Pell had accidentally caught; 
 on which, the mottled-faced man, whose apprehension of matters in 
 general was of a foggy nature, moved uneasily in his seat, and 
 opined that indeed, so far as that went, there was no saying how 
 things was brought about; which observation, involving one of 
 
6s2 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 those subtle propositions which it is difficult to encounter in argu- 
 ment, was controverted by nobody. 
 
 ' I have heard it remarked that she was a very fine woman, Mr. 
 Weller,' said Pell in a sympathising manner. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, she wos,' replied the elder Mr. Weller, not much relish- 
 ing this mode of discussing the subject, and yet thinking that the 
 attorney, from his long intimacy with the late Lord Chancellor, 
 must know best on all matters of polite breeding. ' She wos a wery 
 fine 'ooman, sir, ven I first know'd her. She wos a widder, sir, at 
 that time.' 
 
 ' Now, it's curious,' said Pell, looking round with a sorrowful 
 smile ; ' Mrs. Pell was a widow.' 
 
 ' That's very extraordinary,' said the mottled-faced man. 
 
 ' Well, it is a curious coincidence,' said Pell. 
 
 'Not at all,' gruffly remarked the elder Mr. Weller. 'More 
 widders is married than single wimin.' 
 
 ' Very good, very good,' said Pell, ' you're quite right, Mr. Weller. 
 Mrs. Pell was a very elegant and accomplished woman ; her 
 manners were the theme of universal admiration in our neighbour- 
 hood. I was proud to see that woman dance ; there was something 
 so firm and dignified, and yet natural, in her motion. Her cutting, 
 gentlemen, was simplicity itself. Ah ! well, well ! Excuse my 
 asking the question, Mr. Samuel,' continued the attorney in a lower 
 voice, ' was your motiaer-in-law tall ? ' 
 
 ' Not wery,' repUed Sam. 
 
 ' Mrs. Pell was a t^ll figure,' said Pell, ' a splendid woman, with 
 a noble shape, and a nose, gentlemen, formed to command and be 
 majestic. She was very much attached to me — very much — -highly 
 connected, too. Her mother's brother, gentlemen, failed for eight 
 hundred pounds, as a Law Stationer.' 
 
 ' Veil,' said Mr. Weller, who had grown rather restless during this 
 discussion, ' vith regard to bis'ness.' 
 
 The word was music to Pell's ears. He had been revolving in 
 his mind whether any business was to be transacted, or whether he 
 had been merely invited to partake of a glass of brandy and water, 
 or a bowl of punch, or any similar professional compliment, and 
 now the doubt was set at rest without his appearing at all eager for 
 its solution. His eyes gUstened as he laid his hat on the table, and 
 said : 
 
 ' What is the business upon which — um ? Either of these gentle- 
 men wish to go through the court ? We require an arrest ; a friendly 
 arrest will do, you know ; we are all friends here, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Give me the dockyment, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, taking the 
 will from his son, who appeared to enjoy the interview amazingly, 
 ' Wot we rekvire, sir, is a probe o' this here.' 
 
 ' Probate, my dear sir, probate,' said Pell. 
 
TESTAMENTARY BUSINESS 653 
 
 ' Well, sir; replied Mr. Weller sharply, ' probe and probe it, is 
 wery much the same ; if you don't understand wot I mean, sir, I 
 dessay I can find them as does.' 
 
 ' No offence, I hope, Mr. Weller,' said Pell, meekly. ' You are 
 the executor, I see,' he added, casting his eyes over the paper. 
 
 ' I am, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 'These other gentlemen, I presume, are legatees, are they?' 
 inquired Pell with a congratulatory smile. 
 
 'Sammy is a leg-at-ease,' replied Mr. Weller; 'these other 
 gen'l'm'n is friends o' mine, just come to see fair; a kind of 
 umpires.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Pell, ' very good. I have no objections, I'm sure. 
 I shall want a matter of five pound of you before I begin, ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 It being decided by the committee that the five pound might be 
 advanced, Mr. Weller produced that sum ; after which, a long con- 
 sultation about nothing particular, took place, in the course whereof 
 Mr. Pell demonstrated to the perfect satisfaction of the gentlemen 
 who saw fair, that unless the management of the business had been 
 intrusted to him, it must all have gone wrong, for reasons not clearly 
 made out, but no doubt sufficient. This important point being 
 despatched, Mr. Pell refreshed himself with three chops, and liquids 
 both malt and spirituous, at the expense of the estate ; and then 
 they all went away to Doctors' Commons. 
 
 The next day, there was another visit to Doctors' Commons, and . 
 a great to do with an attesting hostler, who, being inebriated, 
 declined swearing anything but profane oaths, to the great scandal 
 of a proctor and surrogate. Next week, there were more visits to 
 Doctors' Commons, and there was a visit to the Legacy Duty Office 
 besides, and there were treaties entered into, for the disposal of the 
 lease and business, and ratifications of the same, and inventories to 
 be made out, and lunches to be taken, and dinners to be eaten, and 
 so many profitable things to be done, and such a mass of papers 
 accumulated, that Mr. Solomon Pell, and the boy, and the blue bag 
 to boot, all got so stout that scarcely anybody would have known 
 them for the same man, boy, and bag, that had loitered about 
 Portugal Street, a few days before. 
 
 At length all these weighty matters being arranged, a day was 
 fixed for selling out and transferring the stock, and of waiting with 
 that view upon Wilkins Flasher, Esq., stock-broker, of somewhere 
 near the Bank, who had been recommended by Mr. Solomon Pell 
 for the purpose. 
 
 It was a kind of festive occasion, and the parties were attired 
 accordingly. Mr. Weller's tops were newly cleaned, and his dress 
 was arranged with peculiar care ; the mottled-faced gentleman wore 
 at his button-hole a full-sized dahlia with several leaves ; and the 
 
654 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 coats of his two friends were adorned with nosegays of laurel and 
 other evergreens. All three were habited in strict holiday costume ; 
 .that is to say; they were wrapped up to the chins, and wore as rnany 
 clothes as possible, which is, as has been, a stage-coachman's idea 
 of full dress ever since stage coaches were invented. 
 
 Mr. Pell was waiting at the usual place of meeting at the 
 appointed time ; even Mr. Pell wore a pair of gloves and a clean 
 shirt much frayed at the collar and wristbands by frequent 
 washings. 
 
 ' A quarter to two,' said Pell, looking at the parlour clock. ' If 
 we are with Mr. Flasher at a quarter past, we shall just hit the 
 best time.' 
 
 ' What should you say to a drop o' beer, gen'l'm'n ? ' suggested 
 the mottled-faced man. 
 
 ' And a little bit o' cold beef,' said the second coachman. 
 
 ' Or a oyster,' added the third, who was a hoarse gentleman, 
 supported by very round legs. 
 
 ' Hear, hear ! ' said Pell ; ' to congratulate Mr. Weller, on his 
 coming into possession of his property : eh ? ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' I'm quite agreeable, gen'l'm'n,' answered Mr. Weller. ' Sammy, 
 pull the bell.' 
 
 Sam complied; and the porter, cold beef, and oysters being 
 promptly produced, the lunch was done ample justice to. Where 
 everybody took so active a part, it is almost invidious to make 
 a distinction; but if one individual evinced greater powers than 
 another, it was the coachman with the hoarse voice, who took an 
 imperial pint of vinegar with his oysters, without betraying the least 
 emotion. 
 
 ' Mr. Pell, sir,' said the elder Mr. Weller, stirring a glass of 
 brandy and water, of which one was placed before every gentleman 
 when the oyster shells were removed, ' Mr. Pell, sir, it wos my 
 intention to have proposed the funs on this occasion, but Samivel 
 has vispered to me — ' 
 
 Here Mr. Samuel Weller, who had silently eaten his oysters with 
 tranquil smiles, cried ' Hear ! ' in a very loud voice. 
 
 ' — Has vispered to me,' resumed his father, ' that it vould be 
 better to dewote the liquor to vishin' you success and prosperity, 
 and thankin' you for the manner in which you've brought this here 
 business through. Here's your health, sir.' 
 
 ' Hold hard there,' interposed the mottled-faced gentleman, with 
 sudden energy, ' your eyes on me, gen'l'm'n ! ' 
 
 Saying this, the mottled-faced gentleman rose, as did the other 
 gentlemen. The mottled-faced gentleman reviewed the company, 
 and slowly Ufted his hand, upon which every man (including him 
 of the mottled countenance) drew a long breath, and lifted his 
 tumbler to his lips. In one instant the mottled-faced gentleman 
 
. ^^M- 
 
ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE 655 
 
 depressed his hand agam, and every glass was set down empty. 
 It is impossible to describe the thrilling effecl; produced by this 
 striking ceremony. At once dignified, solemn, and impressive, it 
 combined every element of grandeur. 
 
 'Well, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pell, 'all I can say is, that such 
 marks of confidence must be very gratifying to a professional man. 
 I don't wish to say anything that might appear egotistical, gentle- 
 men, but I'm very glad, for your own sakes, that you came to me : 
 that's all. If you had gone to any low member of the profession, 
 it's my firm conviction, and I assure you of it as a fact, that you 
 would have found yourselves in Queer Street before this. I could 
 have wished my noble friend had been alive to have seen my 
 management of this case. I don't say it out of pride, but I think — 
 however, gentlemen, I won't trouble you with that. I'm generally 
 to be fotmd here, gentlemen, but if I'm not here, or over the way, 
 that's my address. You'll find my terms very cheap and reasonable, 
 and no man attends more to his clients than I do, and I hope I 
 know a little of my profession besides. If you have any opportunity 
 of recommending me to any of your friends, gentlerhen, I shall be 
 very much obliged to you, and so will they too, when they come to 
 know me. Your healths, gentlemen.' 
 
 With this expression of his feelings, Mr. Solomon Pell laid three 
 small written cards before Mr. Weller's friends, and, looking at the 
 clock again, feared it was time to be walking. Upon this hint Mr. 
 Weller settled the bill, and, issuing forth, the executor, legatee, 
 attorney, and umpires, directed their steps towards the City. 
 
 The office of Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, of the Stock Exchange, 
 was in a first floor up a court behind the Bank of England ; the 
 house of Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, was at Brixton, Surrey; the 
 horse and stanhope of Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, were at an adjacent 
 livery stable ; the groom of Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, was on his 
 way to the West End to deliver some game ; the clerk of Wilkins 
 Flasher, Esquire, had gone to his dinner ; and so Wilkins Flasher, 
 Esquire, himself, cried, 'Come in,' when Mr. Pell and his com- 
 panions knocked at the counting-house door. 
 
 ' Good morning, sir,' said Pell, bowing obsequiously. ' We want 
 to make a little transfer, if you please.' 
 
 ' Oh, come in, will you ? ' said Mr. Flasher. ' Sit down a minute ; 
 I'll attend to you directly.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' said Pell, ' there's no hurry. Take a chair, Mr. 
 Weller.' 
 
 Mr. Weller took a chair, and Sam took a box, and the umpires 
 took what they could get, and looked at the almanack and one 
 or two papers which were wafered against the wall, with as much 
 open-eyed reverence as if they had been the finest efforts of the old 
 masters. 
 
6so THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 'Well, I'll bet you half a dozen of claret on it; come !' said 
 Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, resuming the conversation to which Mr. 
 Pell's entrance had caused a momentary interruption. 
 
 This was addressed to a very smart young gentleman who wore 
 his hat on his right whisker, and was lounging over the desk, killing 
 flies with a ruler. Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, was balancing himself 
 on two legs of an office stool, spearing a wafer-box with a pen-knife, 
 which he dropped every now and then with great dexterity into the 
 very centre of a small red wafer that was stuck outside. Both 
 gentlemen had very open waistcoats and very rolling collars, and 
 very small boots, and very big rings, and very little watches, and 
 very large guard chains, and symmetrical inexpressibles, and scented 
 pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 
 ' I never bet half a dozen,' said the other gentleman. ' I'll take 
 a dozen.' 
 
 ' Done, Simmery, done ! ' said Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. 
 
 ' P. P., mind,' observed the other. 
 
 ' Of course,' replied Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. Wilkins Flasher, 
 Esquire, entered it in a little book, with a gold pencil-case, and the 
 other gentleman entered it also, in another little book with another 
 gold pencil-case. 
 
 ' I see there's a notice up this morning about Boffer,' observed 
 Mr. Simmery. ' Poor devil, he's expelled the house ! ' 
 
 ' I'll bet you ten guineas to five, he cuts his throat,' said Wilkins 
 Flasher, Esquire. 
 
 ' Done,' replied Mr. Simmery. 
 
 ' Stop ! I bar,' said Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, thoughtfially. 
 ' Perhaps he may hang himself.' 
 
 ' Very good,' rejoined Mr. Simmery, pulling out the gold pencil- 
 case again. ' I've no objection to take you that way. Say, makes 
 away with himself.' 
 
 ' Kills himself, in fact,' said Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. 
 
 ' Just so,' replied Mr. Simmery^ putting it down. ' " Flasher — 
 — ten guineas to five, Boffer kills himself." Within what time shall 
 we say ? ' 
 
 ' A fortnight ? ' suggested Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. 
 
 ' Con-found it, no ; ' rejoined Mr. Simmery, stopping for an 
 instant to smash a fly with the ruler. ' Say a week.' 
 
 ' Split the diiference,' said ^Vilkins Flasher, Esquire. ' Make it 
 ten days.' 
 
 ' Well ; ten days,' rejoined Mr. Simmery. 
 
 So, it was entered down in the little books that Boffer was to kill 
 himself within ten days, or A\'ilkins Flasher, Esquire, was to hand 
 over to Frank Simmery, Esquire, the sum of ten guineas ; and that 
 if Boffer did kill himself within that time, Frank Simmery, Esquire, 
 would pay to Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, five guineas, instead. 
 
AT THE BANK OF ENGLAND 657 
 
 ' I'm very sorry he has failed,' said Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. 
 ' Capital dinners he gave.' 
 
 ' Fine port he had too,' remarked Mr. Simmery. ' We are going 
 to send our butler to the sale to-morrow, to pick up some of that 
 sixty-four.' 
 
 ' The devil you are,' said Wilkins Flasher, Esquire. ' My man's 
 going too. Five guineas my man outbids your man.' 
 
 ' Done.' 
 
 Another entry was made in the little books, with the gold pencil- 
 cases ; and Mr. Simmery having, by this time, killed all the flies 
 and taken all the bets, strolled away to the Stock Exchange to see 
 what was going forward. 
 
 Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, now condescended to receive Mr. 
 Solomon Pell's instructions, and having filled up some printed forms, 
 requested the party to follow him to the Bank : which they did : 
 Mr. Weller and his three friends staring at all they beheld in un- 
 bounded astonishment, and Sam encountering everything with a 
 coolness which nothing could disturb. 
 
 Crossing a court-yard which was all noise and bustle ; and passing 
 a couple of porters who seemed dressed to match the red fire engine 
 which was wheeled away into a comer ; they passed into an office 
 where their business was to be transacted, and where Pell and Mr. 
 Flasher left them standing for a few moments, while they went up 
 stairs into the Will Office. 
 
 ' Wot place is this here ? ' whispered the mottled-faced gentleman 
 to the elder Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' Counsel's Office,' replied the executor in a whisper. 
 
 ' Wot are theiri gen'l'men a settin' behind the counters ? ' asked 
 the hoarse coachman. 
 
 'Reduced counsels, I s'pose,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Ain't they 
 the reduced counsels, Samivel ? ' 
 
 ' Wy, you don't suppose the reduced counsels is alive, do you ? ' 
 inquired Sam, with some disdain. 
 
 ' How should I know ? ' retorted Mr. Weller ; ' I thought they 
 looked wery like it. Wot are they, then ? ' 
 
 ' Clerks,' replied Sam. 
 
 ' Wot are they all a eatin' ham sangwidges for ? ' inquired his father. 
 
 ' 'Cos it's in their dooty, I suppose,' replied Sam, ' it's a part o' the 
 system ; they're alvays a doin' it here, all day long ! ' 
 
 Mr. Weller and his friends had scarcely had a moment to reflect 
 upon this singular regulation as connected with the monetary system 
 of the country, when they were rejoined by Pell and Wilkins Flasher, 
 Esquire, who led them to a part of the counter above which was a 
 round black board with a large ' W.' on it. 
 
 ' Wot's that for, sir ? ' inquired Mr. Weller, directing Pell's attention 
 tp the target in question, 
 
 Z U 
 
658 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' The first letter of the name of the deceased,' repUed Pell. 
 
 ' I say,' said Mr. Waller, turning round to the umpires. ' There's 
 somethin' wrong here. We's our letter — this won't do.' 
 
 The referees at once gave it as their decided opinion that the 
 business could not be legally proceeded with, under the letter W, 
 and in all probability it would have stood over for one day at least, 
 had it not been for the prompt, though, at first sight, undutifiil 
 behaviour of Sam, who, seizing his father by the skirt of the coat, 
 dragged him to the counter, and pinned him there, until he had 
 affixed his signature to a couple of instruments ; which from Mr. 
 Weller's habit of printing, was a work of so much labour and time, 
 that the officiating clerk peeled and ate three Ribston pippins while 
 it was performing. 
 
 As the elder Mr. Weller insisted on selling out his portion forth- 
 with, they proceeded from the Bank to the gate of the Stock 
 Exchange, to which Wilkins Flasher, Esquire, after a short absence, 
 returned with a cheque on Smith, Payne, and Smith, for five himdred 
 and thirty pounds; that being the sum of money to which Mr. 
 Weller at the market price of the day, was entitled, in consideration 
 of the balance of the second Mrs. Weller's funded savings. Sam's . 
 two hundred pounds stood transferred to his name, and Wilkins 
 Flasher, Esquire, having been paid his commission, dropped the 
 money carelessly into his coat pocket, and lounged back to his 
 office. 
 
 Mr. Weller was at first obstinately determined on cashing the 
 cheque in nothing but sovereigns : but it being represented by the 
 umpires that by so doing he must incur the expense of a small sack 
 to carry them home in, he consented to receive the amount in 
 five-pound notes. 
 
 ' My son,' said Mr. Weller as they came out of the banking-house, 
 ' my son and me has a wery particular engagement this artemoon, 
 and I should like to have this here bis'ness settled out of hand, so 
 let's jest go straight avay someveres, vere ve can hordit the 
 accounts.' 
 
 A quiet room was soon found, and the accounts were produced 
 and audited. Mr. Pell's bill was taxed by Sam, and some charges 
 were disallowed by the umpires; but, notwithstanding Mr. Pell's 
 declaration, accompanied with many solemn asseverations that they 
 were really too hard upon him, it was by very many degrees the best 
 professional job he had ever had, and one on which he boarded, 
 lodged, and washed, for six months afterwards. 
 
 The umpires having partaken of a dram, shook hands and departed, 
 as they had to drive out of town that night. Mr. Solomon Pell, 
 finding that nothing more was going forward, either in the eating 
 or drinking way, took a friendly leave, and Sam and his father were 
 left alone. 
 
SAM'S REWARD 659 
 
 ' There ! ' said Mr. Waller, thrusting his pocket-book in his side 
 pocket. 'Vith the bills for the lease, and that, there's eleven 
 hundred and eighty pound here. Now, Samivel, my boy, turn the 
 horses' heads to the George and Wulter ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER LVI ' 
 
 AN IMPORTANT CONFERENCE TAKES PLACE BETWEEN MR. PICK- 
 WICK AND SAMUEL WELLER, AT WHICH HIS PARENT ASSISTS. 
 AN OLD GENTLEMAN IN A SNUFF-COLOURED SUIT ARRIVES 
 UNEXPECTEDLY 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was sitting alone, musing over many things, and 
 thinking among other considerations how he could best provide for 
 the young couple whose present unsettled condition was matter of 
 constant regret and anxiety to him, when Mary stepped lightly into 
 the room, and, advancing to the table, said, rather hastily : 
 
 ' Oh, if you please, sir, Samuel is down stairs, and he says may 
 his father see you ? ' 
 
 ' Surely,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' TharJc you, sir,' said Mary, tripping towards the door again. 
 
 ' Sam has not been here long, has he ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Oh, no, sir,' replied Mary eagerly. ' He has only just come 
 home. He is not going to ask you for any more leave, sir, he says.' 
 
 Mary might have been conscious that she had communicated 
 this- last intelligence with more warmth than seemed actually 
 necessary, or she might have observed the good-humoured smile 
 with which Mr. Pickwick regarded her, when she had finished 
 speaking. She certainly held down her head, and examined the 
 corner of a very smart little apron, with more closeness than there 
 appeared any absolute occasion for. 
 
 ' Tell them they can come up at once, by all means,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 Mary, apparently much relieved, hurried away with her message. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took two or three turns up and down the room ; 
 and rubbing his chin with his left hand as he did so, appeared lost 
 in thought. 
 
 ' Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick at length, in a kind but somewhat 
 melancholy tone, ' it is the best way in which I could reward him for 
 his attachment and fidelity ; let it be so, in Heaven's name. It is 
 the fate of a lonely old man, that those about him should form new 
 and different attachments and leave him. I have no right to expect 
 that it should be otherwise with me. No, no,' added Mr. Pickwick 
 
66o THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 more cheerfully, 'it would be selfish and ungrateful. I' ought to be 
 happy to have an opportunity of providing for him so well. I am. 
 Of course I am.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had been so absorbed in these reflections, that a 
 knock at the door was three or four times repeated before he heard 
 it. Hastily seating himself, and calling up his accustomed pleasant 
 looks, he gave the required permission, and Sam Weller entered, 
 followed by his father. 
 
 ' Glad to see you back again, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. ' How 
 do you do, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 
 ' Wery hearty, thankee, sir,' replied the widower ; ' hope I see 
 you well, sir.' 
 
 ' Quite, I thank you,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' I wanted to have a little bit o' conwersation with you, sir,' said 
 Mr. Weller, ' if you could spare me five minits or so, sir.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Sam, give your father a 
 chair.' 
 
 ' Thankee, Samivel, I've got a cheer here,' said Mr. Weller, bring- 
 ing one forward as he spoke ; ' uncommon fine day it's been, sir,' 
 added the old gentleman, laying his hat on the floor as he sat 
 himself down. 
 
 ' Remarkably so indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick. ' Very season- 
 able.' 
 
 ' Seasonablest veather I ever see, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller. 
 Here, the old gentleman was seized with a violent fit of coughing, 
 which, being terminated, he nodded his head and winked and made 
 several supplicatory and threatening gestures to his son, all of which 
 Sam Weller steadily abstained from seeing. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, perceiving that there was some embarrassment on 
 the old gentleman's part, affected to be engaged in cutting the leaves 
 of a book that lay beside him, and waited patiently until Mr. Weller 
 should arrive at the object of his visit. 
 
 ' I never see sich a aggerawatin' boy as you are, Samivel,' said 
 Mr. Weller, looking indignantly at his son ; ' never in all my bom 
 days.' 
 
 ' What is he doing, Mr. Weller ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' He von't begin, sir,' rejoined Mr. Weller ; ' he knows I ain't 
 ekal to ex-pressin' myself ven there's anythin' partickler to be done, 
 and yet he'll stand and see me a settin' here takin' up your walable 
 time, and makin' a reg'lar spectacle o' myself, rayther than help me 
 out vith a syllable. It ain't filial conduct, Samivel,' said Mr. ^^^eller, 
 wiping his forehead ; ' wery far from it.' 
 
 ' You said you'd speak,' replied Sam ; ' how should I know you 
 wos done up at the wery beginnin' ? ' 
 
 ' You might ha' seen I warn't able to start,' rejoined his father ; 
 'I'm on the wrong side of the road, and backin' into the palins, and 
 
MR. TONY WELLER'S PROPERTY 66i 
 
 all manner of unpleasantness, and yet you von't put out a hand to 
 help me. I'm ashamed on you, Samivel.' 
 
 ' The fact is, sir,' said Sam, with a slight bow, ' the gov'ner's been 
 a drawin' his money.' 
 
 ' Wery good, Samivel, wery good,' said Mr. Weller, nodding his 
 head with a satisfied air, ' I didn't mean to speak harsh to you, 
 Sammy. Wery good. That's the vay to begin. Come to the pint 
 at once. Wery good indeed, Samivel.' 
 
 Mr. Weller nodded his head an extraordinary number of times, 
 in the excess of his gratification, and waited in a listening attitude 
 for Sam to resume his statement. 
 
 ' You may sit down, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, apprehending that 
 the interview was likely to prove rather longer than he had 
 expected. 
 
 Sam bowed again and sat down; his father looking round, he 
 continued, 
 
 ' The gov'ner, sir, has drawn out five hundred and thirty pound.' 
 
 ' Reduced counsels,' interposed Mr. Weller, senior, in an under- 
 lone. 
 
 ' It don't much matter vether it's reduced counsels, or wot not,' 
 said Sam ; ' five hundred and thirty pound is the sum, ain't it ? ' 
 
 ' All right, Samivel,' repUed Mr. Weller. 
 
 ' To vich sum, he has added for the house and bisness — ' 
 
 ' Lease, good-vill, stock, and fixters,' interposed Mr. Weller. 
 
 — ' As much as makes it,' continued Sam, ' altogether, eleven 
 hundred and eighty pound.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' I am delighted to hear it. I 
 congratulate you, Mr. Weller, on having done so well.' 
 
 ' Vait a minit, sir,' said Mr. Weller, raising his hand in a depreca- 
 tory manner. ' Get on, Samivel.' 
 
 'This here money,' said Sam, with a little hesitation, 'he's 
 anxious to put someveres, vere he knows it'll be safe, and I'm wery 
 anxious too, for if he keeps it, he'll go a lendin' it to somebody, or 
 inwestin' property in horses, or droppin' his pocket-book down a 
 airy, or makin' a Egyptian mummy of his-self in some vay or 
 another.' 
 
 ' Wery good, Samivel,' observed Mr. Weller, in as complacent a 
 manner as if Sam had been passing the highest eulogiums on his 
 prudence and foresight. ' Wery good.' 
 
 ' For vich reasons,' continued Sam, plucking nervously at the 
 brim of his hat ; ' for vich reasons, he's drawd it out to-day, and 
 come here vith me to say, leastvays to offer, or in other wordj 
 
 to—' . , 
 
 ' — ^To say this here,' said the elder Mr. Weller, impatiently, 
 ' that it ain't o' no use to me. I'm a goin' to vork a coach reg'lar, 
 and ha'nt got noveres to keep it in, unless I vos to pay the guard 
 
62 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 )r takin' care on it, or to put it in vun o' the coach pockets, vich 
 d be a temptation to the insides. If you'll take care on it for me, 
 r, I shall be wery much obliged to you. P'raps,' said Mr. Waller, 
 alking up to Mr. Pickwick and whispering in his ear, ' p'raps it'll 
 3 a little vay towards the expenses o' that 'ere conwiction. All I 
 ly is, just you keep it till I ask you for it again.' With these words, 
 [r. Weller placed the pocket-book in Mr. Pickwick's hands, caught 
 p his hat, and ran out of the room with a celerity scarcely to be 
 tpected from so corpulent a subject. 
 
 ' Stop him, Sam ! ' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, earnestly. ' Over- 
 -ke him ; bring him back instantly ! Mr. Weller — here — come 
 ick ! ' 
 
 Sam saw that his master's injunctions were not to be disobeyed ; 
 id catching his father by the arm as he was descending the stairs, 
 ragged him back by main force. 
 
 ' My good friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, taking the old man by the 
 md ; ' your honest confidence overpowers me.' 
 
 ' I don't see no occasion for nothin' o' the kind, sir,' replied Mr. 
 ''eller, obstinately. 
 
 ' I assure you, my good friend, I have more money than I can 
 rer need ; far more than a man at my age can ever live to spend,' 
 lid Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' No man knows how much he can spend, till he tries,' observed 
 [r. Weller. 
 
 ' Perhaps not,' replied Mr. Pickwick ; ' but as I have no intention 
 !" trying any such experiments, I am not likely to come to want. I 
 lust beg you to take this back, Mr. Weller.' 
 
 ' Wery well,' said Mr. Weller with a discontented look. ' Mark 
 ly vords, Sammy. I'll do somethin' desperate vith this here 
 roperty ; somethin' desperate ! ' 
 
 ' You'd better not,' replied Sam. 
 
 Mr. Weller reflected for a short time, and then, buttoning up his 
 jat with great determination, said : 
 
 ' I'll keep a pike.' 
 
 ' Wot i ' exclaimed Sam.. 
 
 ' A pike,' rejoined Mr. Weller, through his set teeth ; ' I'll keep a 
 ike. Say good bye to your father, Samivel. I dewote the 
 :mainder o' my days to a pike.' 
 
 This threat was such an awful one, and Mr. Weller besides 
 ppearing fully resolved to carry it into execution, seemed so deeply 
 lortified by Mr. Pickwick's refusal, that that gentleman, after a 
 lort reflection, said : 
 
 ' Well, well, Mr. Weller, I will keep the money. I can do more 
 Dod with it, perhaps, than you can.' 
 
 ' Just the wery thing, to be sure,' said Mr. Weller, brightening 
 p ; ' o' course you can, sir.' 
 
MORE ABOUT SAM'S REWARD 663 
 
 ' Say no more about it,' said Mr. Pickwick, locking the pocket- 
 book in his desk ; ' I am heartily obliged to you, my good friend. 
 Now sit down again, I want to ask your advice.' 
 
 The internal laughter occasioned by the triumphant success of 
 his visit, which had convulsed not only Mr. Weller's face, but his 
 arms, legs, and body also, during the locking up of the pocket-book, 
 suddenly gave place to the most dignified gravity as he heard these 
 words. 
 
 ' Wait outside a few minutes, Sam, will you ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Sam immediately withdrew. 
 
 Mr. Weller looked uncommonly wise and very much amazed, 
 when Mr. Pickwick opened the discourse by saying : 
 
 ' You are not an advocate for matrimony, 1 think, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 
 Mr. Weller shook his head. He was wholly unable to speak ; 
 vague thoughts of some wicked widow having been successful in her 
 designs on Mr. Pickwick, choked his utterance. 
 
 ' Did you happen to see a young girl down stairs when you came 
 in just now with your son ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Yes. I see a young gal,' replied Mr. Weller, shortly. 
 
 ' What did you think of her, now ? Candidly, Mr. Weller, what 
 did you think of her ? ' 
 
 ' I thought she wos wery plump, and veil made,' said Mr. Weller, 
 with a critical air. 
 
 ' So she is,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' so she is. What did you think 
 of her manners, from what you saw of her ? ' 
 
 ' Wery pleasant,' rejoined Mr. Weller. ' Wery pleasant and 
 conformable.' 
 
 The precise meaning which Mr. Weller attached to this last- 
 mentioned adjective, did not appear; but, as it was evident from 
 the tone in which he used it that it was a favourable expression, 
 Mr. Pickwick was as well satisfied as if he had been thoroughly 
 enlightened on the subject. 
 
 ' I take a great interest in her, Mr. Weller,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Weller coughed. 
 
 ' I mean an interest in her doing well,' resumed Mr. Pickwick ; 
 'a desire that she may be comfortable and prosperous. You 
 understand ? ' 
 
 ' Wery clearly,' replied Mr. Weller, who understood nothing yet. 
 
 ' That young person,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' is attached to your 
 son.' 
 
 ' To Samivel Veller ! ' exclaimed the parent. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Pickwick. 
 
 ' It's nat'ral,' said Mr. Weller, after some consideration, ' nat'ral, 
 but rayther alarmin'. Sammy must be careful.' 
 
 ' How do you mean ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'Wery careful that he don't say nothin' to her,' responded Mr. 
 
664 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 VVeller. ' Wery careful that he ain't led avay, in a innocent moment, 
 to say anythink as may lead to a conwiction for breach. You're 
 never safe vith 'em, Mr. Pickwick, ven they vunce has designs on 
 you ; there's no knowin' vera to have 'em ; and vile you're a-con- 
 sidering of it, they have you. I wos married fust, that vay myself, 
 sir, and Sammy wos the consekens o' the manoover.' 
 
 ' You give me no great encouragement to conclude what I have 
 to say,' observed Mr. Pickwick, ' but I had better do so at once. 
 This young person is not only attached to your son, Mr. Weller, but 
 your son is attached to her.' 
 
 ' Veil,' said Mr. Weller, ' this here's a pretty sort o' thing to come 
 to a father's ears, this is ! ' 
 
 ' I have observed them on several occasions,' said Mr. Pickwick, 
 making no comment on Mr. Weller's last remark ; ' and entertain 
 no doubt at all about it. Supposing I were desirous of establishing 
 them comfortably as man and wife in some little business or 
 situation, where they might hope to obtain a decent living, what 
 should you think of it, Mr. Weller ? ' 
 
 At first, Mr. Weller received, with wry faces, a proposition 
 involving the marriage of anybody in whom he took an interest ; 
 but, as Mr. Pickwick argued the point with him, and laid great 
 stress on the fact that Mary was not a widow, he gradually became 
 more tractable. Mr. Pickwick had great influence over him, and he 
 had been much struck with Mary's appearance ; having, in fact, 
 bestowed several very unfatherly winks upon her, already. At 
 length he said that it was not for him to oppose Mr. Pickwick's 
 inclination, and that he would be very happy to yield to his advice ; 
 upon which, Mr. Pickwick joyfully took him at his word, and called 
 Sam back into the room. 
 
 ' Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, clearing his throat, ' your father and I 
 have been having some conversation about you.' 
 
 'About you, Samivel,' said Mr. Weller, in a patronising and 
 impressive voice. 
 
 ' I am not so blind, Sam, as not to have seen, a long time since, 
 that you entertain something more than a friendly feeling towards 
 Mrs. Winkle's maid,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 'You hear this, Samivel?' said Mr. Weller in the same judicial 
 form of speech as before. 
 
 ' I hope, sir,' said Sam, addressing his master : ' I hope there's 
 no harm in a young man takin' notice of a young 'ooman as is 
 undeniably good-looking and well-conducted.' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ' Not by no means,' acquiesced Mr. AVeller, affably but magis- 
 terially. 
 
 ' So far from thinking there is anything wrong, in conduct so 
 natural,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, ' it is my wish to assist and promote 
 
MR. SAMUEL WELLER'S DETERMINATION 665 
 
 your wishes in this respect. With this view, I have had a Httle 
 conversation with your father; and finding that he is of my 
 opinion ' 
 
 ' The lady not bein' a widder,' interposed Mr. Weller in explana- 
 tion. 
 
 ' The lady not being a widow,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. ' I 
 wish to free you from the restraint which your present position 
 imposes upon you, and to mark my sense of your fidelity and many 
 excellent qualities, by enabhng you to marry this girl at once, and 
 to earn an independent livelihood for yourself and family. I shall 
 be proud, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, whose voice had faltered a little 
 hitherto, but now resumed its customary tone, ' proud and happy to 
 make your future prospects in life, my grateful and peculiar care.' 
 
 There was a profound silence for a short time, and then Sam 
 said, in a- low husky sort of voice, but firmly withal : 
 
 ' I'm very much obliged to you for your goodness, sir, as is only 
 like yourself ; but it can't be done.' 
 
 ' Can't be done ! ' ejaculated Mr. Pickwick in astonishment. 
 
 ' Samivel ! ' said Mr. Weller, with dignity. 
 
 ' I say it can't be done,' repeated Sam in a louder key. ' Wot's 
 to become of you, sir ? ' 
 
 ' My good fellow,' replied Mr. Pickwick, ' the recent changes 
 among my friends will alter my mode of life in future, entirely ; 
 besides, I am growing older, and want repose and quiet. My 
 rambles, Sam, are over.' 
 
 'How do I know that 'ere, sir?' argued Sam. 'You think so 
 now ! S'pose you wos to change your mind, vich is not unlikely, 
 for you've the spirit o' five-and-tventy in you still, what 'ud become 
 on you vithout me ? It can't be done, sir, it can't be done.' 
 
 ' Wery good,. Samivel, there's a good deal in that,' said Mr. 
 Weller, encouragingly. 
 
 ' I speak after long deliberation, Sam, and with the certainty that 
 I shall keep my word,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head. ' New 
 scenes have closed upon me ; my rambles are at an end.' 
 
 ' Wery good,' rejoined Sam. ' Then, that's the wery best reason 
 wy you should alvays have somebody by you as understands you, to 
 keep you up and make you comfortable. If you vant a more 
 polished sort o' feller, veil and good, have him ; but vages or no 
 vages, notice or no notice, board or no board, lodgin' or no lodgin', 
 Sam Veller, as you took from the old inn in the Borough, sticks by 
 you, come what come may; and let ev'rythin' and ev'rybody do 
 their wery fiercest, nothin' shall ever perwent it ! ' 
 
 At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with great 
 emotion, the elder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and, forgetting 
 all considerations of time, place, or propriety, waved his hat above 
 his head, and gave three vehement cheers. 
 
666 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 ' My good fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller had sat 
 down again, rather abashed at his own enthusiasm, ' you are bound 
 to consider the young woman also.' 
 
 ' I do consider the young 'ooman, sir,' said Sam. ' I have con- 
 sidered the young 'oomari. I've spoke to her. I've told her how 
 I'm sitivated ; she's ready to vait till I'm ready, and I believe she 
 vill. If she don't, she's not the young 'ooman I take her for, and 
 I give her up vith readiness. You've know'd me afore, sir. My 
 mind's made up, and nothin' can ever alter it.' 
 
 Who could combat this resolution? Not Mr. Pickwick. He 
 derived, at that moment, more pride and luxury of feeling from the 
 disinterested attachment of his humble friends, than ten thousand 
 protestations from the greatest men living could have awakened in 
 his heart. 
 
 While this conversation was passing in Mr. Pickwick's room, a 
 little old gentleman in a suit of snuff-coloured clothes, followed by 
 a porter carrying a small portmanteau, presented himself below; 
 and after securing a bed for the night, inquired of the waiter whether 
 one Mrs. Winkle was staying there, to which question the waiter, of 
 course, responded in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Is she alone ? ' inquired the little old gentleman. 
 
 ' I believe she is, sir,' replied the waiter ; ' I can call her own 
 maid, sir, if you ' 
 
 ' No, I don't want her,' said the old gentleman quickly. ' Show 
 me to her room without announcing me ? ' 
 
 ' Eh, sir ? ' said the waiter. 
 
 ' Are you deaf? ' inquired the little old gentleman. 
 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 ' Then listen, if you please. Can you hear me now ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' That's well. Show me to Mrs. Winkle's room, without announc- 
 ing me.' 
 
 As the little old gentleman uttered this command, he slipped five 
 shillings into the waiter's hand, and looked steadily at him. 
 
 ' Really, sir,' said the waiter, ' I don't know, sir, whether ' 
 
 'Ah! you'll do it, I see,' said the little old gentleman. 'You 
 had better do it at once. It will save time.' 
 
 There was something so very cool and cdlected in the gentleman's 
 manner, that the waiter put the five shillings in his pocket, and led 
 him up stairs without another word. 
 
 'This is the room, is it?' said the gentleman. 'You may 
 go.' 
 
 The waiter complied, wondering much who the gentleman could 
 be, and what he wanted ; the little old gentleman waiting till he was 
 out of sight, tapped at the door. 
 
 ' Come in,' said Arabella. 
 
MRS. WINKLE, I BELIEVE? 667 
 
 ' Um, a pretty voice at any rate,' murmured the little old gentle- 
 man; 'but that's nothing.' As he said this, he opened the door 
 and walked in. Arabella, who was sitting at work, rose on behold- 
 ing a stranger — a little confused — but by no means ungracefully so. 
 
 'Pray don't rise, ma'am,' said the unknown, walking in, and 
 closing the door after him. ' Mrs. Winkle, I believe ? ' 
 
 Arabella inclined her head. 
 
 ' Mrs. Nathaniel Winkle, who married the son of the old man 
 at Birmingham ? ' said the stranger, eyeing Arabella with visible 
 curiosity. 
 
 Again, Arabella incUned her head, and looked uneasily round, as 
 if uncertain whether to call for assistance. 
 
 ' I surprise you, I see, ma'am,' said the old gentleman. 
 
 ' Rather, I confess,' replied Arabella, wondering more and more. 
 
 ' I'll take a chair, if you'll allow me, ma'am,' said the stranger. 
 
 He took one; and drawing a spectacle-case from his pocket, 
 leisurely pulled out a pair of spectacles, which he adjusted on his 
 nose. 
 
 'You don't know me, ma'am?' he said, looking so intently at 
 Arabella that she began to feel alarmed. 
 
 ' No, sir,' she replied timidly. 
 
 ' No,' said the gentleman, nursing his left leg ; ' I don't know how 
 you should. You know my name, though, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Do I ? ' said Arabella, trembling, though she scarcely knew why. 
 ' May I ask what it is ? ' 
 
 'Presently, ma'am, presently,' said the stranger, not having yet 
 removed his eyes from her countenance. ' You have been recently 
 married, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' I have,' replied Arabella, in a scarcely audible tone, laying aside 
 her work, and becoming greatly agitated as a thought, that had 
 occurred to her before, struck more forcibly upon her mind. 
 
 'Without having represented to your husband the propriety dt 
 first consulting his father, on whom he is dependent, I think ? ' said 
 the stranger. 
 
 Arabella applied her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 'Without an endeavour, even, to ascertain, by some indirect 
 appeal, what were the old man's sentiments on a point in which he 
 would naturally feel much interested ? ' said the stranger. 
 
 ' I cannot deny it, sir,' said Arabella. 
 
 ' And without having sufficient property of your own to afford 
 your husband any permanent assistance in exchange for the worldly 
 advantages which you knew he would have gained if he had married 
 agreeably to his father's wishes ? ' said the old gentleman. , ' This 
 is what boys and girls call disinterested affection, till they have boys 
 and girls of their own, and then they see it in a rougher and very 
 different light ! ' 
 
668 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Arabella's tears flowed fast, as she pleaded in extenuation that 
 she was young and inexperienced ; that her attachment had alone 
 induced her to take the step to which she had resorted ; and that 
 she had been deprived of the counsel and guidance of her parents 
 almost from infancy. 
 
 ' It was wrong,' said the old gentleman in a milder tone, ' very 
 wrong. It was foolish, romantic, unbusiness-like.' 
 
 ' It was my fault ; all my fault, sir,' replied poor Arabella, weeping. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' said the old gentleman ; ' it was not your fault that 
 he fell in love with you, I suppose ? Yes it was though,' said the 
 old gentleman, looking rather slyly at Arabella. ' It was your fault. 
 He couldn't help it.' 
 
 This little compliment, or the little gentleman's odd way of paying 
 it, or his altered manner — so much kinder than it was, at first — or 
 all three together, forced a smile from Arabella in the midst of her 
 tears. 
 
 ' Where's your husband ? ' inquired the old gentleman, abruptly ; 
 stopping a smile which was just coming over his own face. 
 
 ' I expect him every instant, sir,' said Arabella. ' I persuaded 
 him to take a walk this morning. He is very low and wretched at 
 not having heard from his father.' 
 
 ' Low, is he ? ' said the old gentleman. ' Serve him right ! ' 
 
 'He feels it on my account, I am afraid,' said Arabella; 'and 
 indeed, sir, I feel it deeply on his. I have been the sole means of 
 bringing him to his present condition.' 
 
 ' Don't mind it on his account, my dear,' said the old gentleman. 
 ' It serves him right. I am glad of it — actually glad of it, as far as 
 he is concerned.' 
 
 The words were scarcely out of the old gentleman's lips, when 
 footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, which he and Arabella 
 seemed both to recognise at the same moment. The little gentle- 
 man turned pale, and making a strong effort to appear composed, 
 stood up, as Mr. Winkle entered the room. 
 
 ' Father ! ' cried Mr. Winkle, recoiling in amazement. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied the little old gentleman. ' Well, sir, what have 
 you got to say to me ? ' 
 
 Mr. Winkle remained silent. 
 
 ' You are ashamed of yourself, I hope, sir ? ' said the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Still Mr. Winkle said nothing. 
 
 ' Are you ashamed of yourself, sir, or are you not ? ' inquired the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 'No, sir,' replied Mr. Winkle, drawing Arabella's arm through 
 his.' ' I am not ashamed of myself, or of my wife either.' 
 
 ' Upon my word ! ' cried the old gentleman, ironically. 
 
 ' I am very sorry to have done anything which has lessened your 
 
A RECONCILIATION 669 
 
 affection for me, sir,' said Mr. Winkle ; ' but I will say, at the same 
 time, that I have no reason to be ashamed of having this lady for 
 my wife, nor you of having her for a daughter.' 
 
 I Give me your hand, Nat,' said the old gentleman in an altered 
 voice. 'Kiss me, my love. You are a very charming little 
 daughter-in-law after all ! ' 
 
 In a few minutes' time Mr. Winkle went in search of Mr. 
 Pickwick, and returning with that gentleman, presented him to his 
 father, whereupon they shook hands for five minutes incessantly. 
 
 ' Mr. Pickwick, I*thank you most heartily for all your kindness 
 to my son,' said old Mr. Winkle, in a bluff straightforward way. 
 ' I am a hasty fellow, and when I saw you last, I was vexed and 
 taken by surprise. I have judged for myself now, and am more 
 than satisfied. Shall I make any more apologies, Mr. Pickwick ? ' 
 
 ' Not one,' replied that gentleman. ' You have done the only 
 thing wanting to complete my happiness.' 
 
 Hereupon, there was another shaking of hands for five minutes 
 longer, accompanied by a great number of complimentary speeches, 
 which, besides being complimentary, had the additional and very 
 novel recommendation of being sincere. 
 
 Sam had dutifully seen his father to the Bell Sauvage, when, on 
 returning, he encountered the fat boy in the court, who had been 
 charged with the delivery of a note from Emily Wardle. 
 
 ' I say,' said Joe, who was unusually loquacious, ' what a pretty 
 girl Mary is, isn't she ? I am so fond of her, I am ! ' 
 
 Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply ; but eyeing the fat 
 boy for a moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led him by 
 the collar to the corner, and dismissed him with a harmless but 
 ■ceremonious kick. After which, he walked home, whistling. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII 
 
 IN WHICH THE PICKWICK CLUB IS FINALLY DISSOLVED, AND 
 EVERYTHING CONCLUDED TO THE SATISFACTION OF EVERYBODY 
 
 For a whole week after the happy arrival of Mr. Winkle from 
 Birnungham, Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller were from home all 
 day long, only returning just in time for dinner, and then wearing 
 an air of mystery and importance quite foreign to their natures. 
 It was evident that very grave and eventful proceedings were on 
 foot; but various surmises were afloat, respecting their precise 
 character. Some (amoiig whom was Mr. Tupman) were disposed 
 to think that Mr, Pickwick contemplated a matrimonial alliance; 
 
670 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 but this idea the ladies most strenuously repudiated. Others, 
 rather inclined to the behef that he had projected some distant 
 tour, and was at present occupied in effecting the preliminary 
 arrangements ; but this again was stoutly denied by Sam himself, 
 who had unequivocally stated when cross-examined by Mary that 
 no new Journeys were to be undertaken. At length, when the 
 brains of the whole party had been racked for six long days, by 
 unavailing speculation, it was unanimously resolved that Mr. Pick- 
 wick should be called upon to explain his conduct, and to state 
 distinctly why he had thus absented himself frofti the society of his 
 admiring friends. 
 
 With this view, Mr. Wardle invited the full circle to dinner at 
 the Adelphi; and, the decanters having been twice sent round, 
 opened the business. 
 
 ' We are all anxious to know,' said the old gentleman, ' what we 
 have done to offend you, and to induce you to desert us and devote 
 yourself to these solitary walks.' 
 
 ' Are you ? ' said Mr. Pickwick. ' It is singular enough that 
 I had intended to volunteer a full explanation this very day ; so, 
 if you will give me another glass of wine, I will satisfy your 
 curiosity.' 
 
 The decanters passed from hand to hand with imwonted briskness, 
 and Mr. Pickwick looking round on the faces of his friends, with a 
 cheerful smile, proceeded : 
 
 ' All the changes that have taken place among us,' said Mr. 
 Pickwick, ' I mean the marriage that has taken place, and the 
 marriage that will take place, with the changes they involve, 
 rendered it necessary for me to think, soberly and at once, upon 
 my future plans. I determined on retiring to some quiet pretty 
 neighbourhood in the vicinity of London ; I saw a house which 
 exactly suited my fancy ; I have taken it and furnished it. It is 
 fully prepared for my reception, and I intend entering upon it at 
 once, trusting that I may yet live to spend many quiet years in 
 peaceful retirement, cheered through life by the society of my 
 friends, and followed in death by their affectionate remembrance.' 
 
 Here Mr. Pickwick paused, and a low murmur ran round the 
 table. 
 
 ' The house I have taken,' said Mr. Pickwick, ' is at Dulwich. 
 It has a large garden, and is situated in one of the most pleasant 
 spots near London. It has been fitted up with every attention to 
 substantial comfort ; perhaps to a little elegance besides ; but of 
 that you shall judge for yourselves. Sam accompanies me there. 
 I have engaged, on Perker's representation, a housekeeper — a very 
 old one — and such other servants as she thinks I shall require. I 
 propose to consecrate this little retreat, by having a ceremony in 
 which I take a great interest, performed there. I wish, if my 
 
SETTLING DOWN 671 
 
 friend Wardle entertains no objection, that his daughter should be 
 married from my new house, on the day I take possession of it. 
 The happiness of young people,' said Mr. Pickwick, a little moved, 
 'has ever been the chief pleasure of my life. It will warm my 
 heart to witness the happiness of those friends who are dearest to 
 me, beneath my own roof.' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused again : Emily and Arabella sobbed audibly. 
 
 ' I have communicated, both personally and by letter, with .the 
 club,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, ' acquainting them with my intention. 
 During our long absence, it had suffered much from internal dis- 
 sensions ; and the withdrawal of ray name, coupled with this and 
 other circumstances, has occasioned its dissolution. The Pickwick 
 Club exists no longer. 
 
 ' I shall never regret,' said Mr. Pickwick in a low voice, ' I shall 
 never regret having devoted the greater part of two years to mixing 
 with different varieties and shades of human character : frivolous 
 as my pursuit of novelty may have appeared to many. Nearly the 
 whole of my previous life having been devoted to business and the 
 pursuit of wealth, numerous scenes of which I had no previous con- 
 ception have dawned upon me — I hope to the enlargement of my 
 mind, and the improvement of my understanding. If I have done 
 but little good, I trust I have done less harm, and that none of my 
 adventures will be other than a source of amusing and pleasant 
 recollection to me in the decline of life. God bless you all ! ' 
 
 With these words, Mr. Pickwick filled and drained a bumper 
 with a trembling hand, and his eyes moistened as his friends rose 
 with one accord, and pledged him from their hearts. 
 , There were very few preparatory arrangements to be made for 
 the marriage of Mr. Snodgrass. As he had neither father nor 
 mother, and had been in his minority a ward of Mr. Pickwick's, 
 that gentleman was perfectly well acquainted with his possessions 
 and prospects. His account of both was quite satisfactory to 
 Wardle — as almost any other account would have been, for the 
 good old gentleman was overflowing with hilarity and kindness — 
 and a handsome portion having been bestowed upon Emily, the 
 marriage was fixed to take place on the fourth day from that time : 
 the suddenness of which preparations reduced three dress-makers 
 and a tailor to the extreme verge of insanity. 
 
 Getting post-horses to the carriage, old Wardle started off, next 
 dayjiJio bring his mother up to town. Communicating his intelli- 
 gence to the old lady with characteristic impetuosity, she instantly 
 fainted away_; but being promptly revived, ordered the brocaded 
 silk gown to be packed up forthwith, and proceeded to relate some 
 circumstances of a similar nature attending the marriage of the 
 eldest daughter of Lady ToUimglower, deceased, which occupied 
 three hours in the recital, and were not half finished at last. 
 
672 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 Mrs. Trundle had to be informed of all the mighty preparations 
 that were making in London, and being in a delicate state of health 
 was informed thereof through Mr. Tnmdle, lest the news should be 
 too much for her ; but it was not too much for her, inasmuch as 
 she at once wrote off to Muggleton, to order a new cap and a black 
 satin gown, and moreover avowed her determination of being 
 present at the ceremony. Hereupon, Mr. Trundle called in the 
 doctor, and the doctor said Mrs. Trundle ought to know best how 
 she felt herself, to which Mrs. Trundle repUed that she felt herself 
 quite equal to it, and that she had made up her mind to go ; upon 
 which the doctor, who was a wise and discreet doctor, and knew 
 what was good for himself as well as for other people, said that 
 perhaps if Mrs. Trundle stopped at home she might hurt herself 
 more by fretting, than by going, so perhaps she had better go. 
 And she did go ; the doctor with great attention sending in half a 
 dozen of medicine, to be drunk upon the road. 
 
 In addition to these points of distraction, Wardle was intrusted 
 with two small letters to two small young ladies who were to act 
 as bridesmaids ; upon the receipt of w^hich, the two young ladies 
 were driven to despair by having no ' things ' ready for so important 
 an occasion, and no time to make them in — a circumstance which 
 appeared to afford the two worthy papas of the two small young 
 ladies rather a feeling of satisfaction than otherwise. However, old 
 frocks were trimmed, and new bonnets made, and the young ladies 
 looked as well as could possibly have been expected of them. And 
 as they cried at the subsequent ceremony in the proper places, and 
 trembled at the right times, they acquitted themselves to the 
 admiration of all beholders. 
 
 How the two poor relations ever reached London — whether they 
 walked, or got behind coaches, or procured lifts in waggons, or 
 carried each other by turns — is uncertain ; but there they were, 
 before Wardle ; and the very first people that knocked at the door 
 of Mr. Pickwick's house, on the bridal morning were the two poor 
 relations, all smiles and shirt collar. 
 
 They were welcomed heartily though, for riches or poverty had 
 no influence on Mr. Pickwick ; the new servants were all alacrity 
 and readiness ; Sam was in a most unrivalled state of high spirits 
 and excitement ; Mary was glowing with beauty and smart ribands. 
 
 The bridegroom, who had been staying at the house for two or 
 three days previous, sallied forth gallantly to Dulwich Chur^i to 
 meet the bride, attended by Mr. Pickwick, Ben Allen, Bob Sawyer, 
 and Mr. Tupman ; with Sam Weller outside, having at his button- 
 hole a white favour, the gift of his lady love, and clad in a new and 
 gorgeous suit of livery invented for the occasion. They were met 
 by the Wardles, and the Winkles, and the bride and bridesmaids, 
 and the Tniridles ; and the ceremony having been perforrried, the 
 
SETTLED DOWN 673 
 
 coaches rattled back to Mr. Pickwick's to breakfast, where little 
 Mr. Perker already awaited them. 
 
 Here, all the light clouds of the more solemn part of the proceed- 
 ings passed away; every face shone forth joyously; nothing was to 
 be heard but congratulations and commendations. Everything was 
 so beautiful ! The lawn in front, the garden behind, the miniature 
 conservatory, the dining-room, the drawing-room, the bed-rooms, 
 the smoking-room, and above all the study with its pictures and 
 easy chairs, and odd cabinets, and queer tables, and books out of 
 number, with a large cheerful window opening upon a pleasant lawn 
 and commanding a pretty landscape, dotted here and there with 
 little houses almost hidden by the trees ; and then the curtains, and 
 the carpets, and the chairs, and the sofas ! Everything was so 
 beautiful, so compact, so rieat, and in such exquisite taste, said 
 everybody, that diere really was no deciding what to admire 
 most. 
 
 And in the midst of all this, stood Mr. Pickwick, his countenance 
 lighted up with smiles, which the heart of no man, woman, or child, 
 could resist : himself the happiest of the group : shaking hands, over 
 and over again with the same people, and when his own hands were 
 not so employed, rubbing them with pleasure : turning round in 
 a different direction at every fresh expression of gratification or 
 curiosity, and inspiring everybody with his looks of gladness and 
 delight. 
 
 Breakfast is announced. Mr. Pickwick leads the old lady (who 
 has been very eloquent on the subject of Lady Tollimglower), to 
 the top of a long table ; Wardle takes the bottom ; the friends 
 arrange themselves on either side; Sam takes his station behind 
 his master's chair ; the laughter and talking cease ; Mr. Pickwick, 
 having said grace, pauses for an instant, and looks round him. As 
 he does so, the tears roll down his cheeks, in the fulness of his joy. 
 
 Let us leave our old friend in one of those moments of unmixed 
 happiness, of which, if we seek them, there are ever some, to cheer 
 our transitory existence here. There are dark shadows on the 
 earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast. Some men, like 
 bats or owls, have better eyes for the darkness than for the light. 
 We, who have no such optical powers, are better pleased to take 
 our last parting look at the visionary companions of many solitary 
 hours, when.the brief sunshine of the world is blazing full upon 
 them. 
 
 It is the fate of most men who mingle with the world, and attain 
 even the prime of life, to make many real friends, and lose them in 
 the course of nature. It is the fate of all authors or chroniclers to 
 create imaginary friends, and lose them in the course of art. Nor is 
 
 2 X 
 
674 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 this the full extent of their 'misfortunes; for they are required to 
 furnish an account of them besides. 
 
 In compliance with this custom — unquestionably a bad one — we 
 subjoin a few biographical words, in relation to the party at 
 Mr. Pickwick's assembled. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Winkle, being fully received into favour by the old 
 gentleman, were shortly afterwards installed in a newly-built house, 
 not half a mile from Mr. Pickwick's. Mr. Winkle, being engaged 
 in the City as agent or town correspondent of his father, exchanged 
 his old costume for the ordinary dress of Englishmen, and presented 
 all the external appearance of a civilised Christian ever afterwards. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass settled at Dingley Dell, where they 
 purchased and cultivated a small farm, more for occupation than 
 profit. Mr. Snodgrass, being occasionally abstracted and melan- 
 choly, is to this day reputed a great poet among his friends and 
 acquaintance, although we do not find that he has ever written 
 anything to encourage the belief. There are many celebrated 
 characters, literary, philosophical, and otherwise, who hold a high 
 reputation on a similar tenure. 
 
 Mr. Tupman, when his friends married, and Mr. Pickwick 
 settled, took lodgings at Richmond, where he has ever since 
 resided. He walks constantly on the Terrace during the summer 
 months, with a youthful and jaunty air which has rendered him the 
 admiration of the numerous elderly ladies of single condition, who 
 reside in the vicinity. He has never proposed again. 
 
 Mr. Bob Sawyer, having previously passed through the Gazette, 
 passed over to Bengal, accompanied by Mr. Benjamin Allen ; both 
 gentlemen having received surgical appointments from the East 
 India Company. They each had the yellow fever fourteen times, 
 and then resolved to try a little abstinence; since which period, 
 they have been doing well. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell let lodgings to many conversable single gentlemen, 
 with great profit, but never brought any more actions for breach 
 of promise of marriage. Her attorneys, Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, 
 continue in business, from which they realise a large income, and 
 in which they are universally considered among the sharpest of 
 the sharp. 
 
 Sam Weller kept his word, and remained unmarried, for two 
 years. The old housekeeper dying at the end of that time, 
 Mr. Pickwick promoted Mary to the situation, on condition of her 
 marrying Mr. Weller at once, which she did without a murmur. 
 From the circumstance of two sturdy little boys having been 
 repeatedly seen at the gate of the back garden, there is reason to 
 suppose that Sam has some family. 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller drove a coach for twelve months, but 
 being afflicted with the gout, was compelled to retire. The 
 
SUMMING UP 675 
 
 contents of the pocket-book had been so well invested for him, 
 however, by Mr. Pickwick, that he had a handsome independence 
 to retire on, upon which he still lives at an excellent public-house 
 near Shooter's Hill, where he is quite reverenced as an oracle : 
 boasting very much of his intimacy with Mr. Pickwick, and 
 retaining a most unconquerable aversion to widows. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick himself continued to reside in his new house, 
 employing his leisure hours in arranging the memoranda which 
 he afterwards presented to the secretary of the once famous club, or 
 in hearing Sam Weller read aloud, with such remarks as suggested 
 themselves to his mind, which never failed to afford Mr. Pickwick 
 great amusement. He was much troubled at first, by the numerous 
 applications made to him by Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Winkle, and 
 Mr. Trundle, to act as godfather to their offspring; but he has 
 become used to it now, and ofiSciates as a matter of course. He 
 never had occasion to regret his bounty to Mr. Jingle ; for both 
 that person and Job Trotter became, in time, worthy members 
 of society, although they have always steadily objected to return 
 to the scenes of their old haunts and temptations. Mr. Pickwick 
 is somewhat infirm now; but he retains all his former juvenility 
 of spirit, and may still be frequently seen, contemplating the 
 pictures in the Dulwich Gallery, or enjoying a walk about the 
 pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day. He is known by all 
 the poor people about, who never fail to take their hats off, as 
 he passes, with great respect. The children idolise him, and so 
 indeed does the whole neighbourhood. Every year, he repairs 
 to a large family merry-making at Mr. Wardle's ; on this, as on all 
 other occasions, he is invariably attended by the faithful Sam, 
 between whom and his master there exists a steady and reciprocal 
 attachment which nothing but death will terminate. 
 
 THE END 
 
 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY 
 WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.