Book^/ dssi ^\)t mickcns Hictionara. " As fbr the oliarities of Mr. Dickens, multiplied kindnesses which he has con* ferrcd upon us all, upon our children, upon people educated and uneducated, upon the myriads who speak our common tongue, have not you, have not I, all of us, reason to be thankful to this kind friend, who soothed and charmed so many hours, brought pleasure and sweet laughter to so many homes, made such multi- tudes of children happy, endowed us with such a sweet store of gracious thoughts, fair fancies, soft sympathies, hearty eiyoyments ? . . . I may quarrel with Mr. Dickens's art a thousand and a thousand times: I delight and wonder at his genius; I recognize in it — I speak with awe and reverence — a commission from that Divine Beneficence, whose blessed task we know it will one day be to wipe every tear from every eye. Thankfully I take my share of the feast of love and kindness which this gentle and generous and charitable soul has contributed to the happiness of the world. I take and enjoy my share, and say a benediction for the meal."— Thackeray. " Were all his books swept by some intellectual catastrophe out of the world, there would still exist in the world some score, at least, of people, with all whose ways and sayings we are more intimately acquainted than with those of our brothers and sisters, who would owe to him their being. While we live, and while our children live, Sam Weller and Dick Swiveller, Mr. Pecksniff and Mrs. Gamp, the Micawbers and the Squeerses, can never die. . . . They are more real than we are ourselves, and will outlive and outlast us as they have outlived their creator. This is the one proof of genius which no critic, not the most carping or dissatisfied, can gainaay.*' — Macbwood's Mag., vol. cix. p. 60S. ii THE Dickens Diction TO THE CHARACTERS AND PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS IN THE TALES OF CHARLES DICKENS BY f" GILBERT a; 'pierce WITH ADDITIONS By WILLIAM A. WHEELER ILLUSTRATED " If he be ignorant, who would not wish to enlarge his knowledge? If he be knowing «vho would not willingly refresh his memory?" — Oldys BOSTON HOUGHTON, OSGOOD AND COMPANY 1880 ■i^ Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., In the OflSce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. .: o,» ... • • •"^*- ' -;^^ n :^ ^c^-^^^^y^ A ciyi^ifi^^J^. ^kX J^uidit. On bringing the First Series of ^^ All the Year Round'''' to a close^ Mr. Dickens used these words, "It is better that every kind of work, honestly undertaken and discharged^ should speak for itself than be spoken for^ Now, as the general intent of this volume, the manner of its execution, and its usefulness to the reading public, will be sufficiently obvious on even a cursory inspection, they need not be " spoken for'''' here. A few facts, however, crave to be stated by way of explanation and acknowledgment. The arrangement of the names of characters under each tale is alphabetical J but the order in which the tales theinselves are treated is chronological. The latter remark, however, does not apply to the " Reprinted Pieces," which are put at the end of the list, as haviiig been originally published — in '•''Household Words''"' — at various dates between the years 1850 and 1856. Nor does it apply to " Some Uncollected Pieces^'' which, though among the earliest of our author's productions, are placed after all the rest, as being little known, and, at present, inaccessible to the majority of readers. Besides these, a number of other sketches and tales still remain to be gathered from '•^Household Words," and "All the Year Round," and from other sources. To the " Christmas numbers "published in connection with these two periodicals, Mr. Dickens was gener- ally a contributor; and in 1867 he collected and revised, expressly for the "Diamond" edition of his works (issued by the publishers of this volume), " the portions of those numbers^^ written by him- sel/y namely, " Somebodfs Luggage^^ " Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings^^ " Mrs. Lirriper^s Legacy ^^ " Doctor Marigold^'' " Two Ghost Stories;' " The Boy at Mugby,'' and " The Holly-Tree.'' He is said to have written the first and third portions of"^ The Perils of Certain English Prisoners'" (1857), and tnore or less oj ^^The Haunted House'' (1859), "^ Message from the Sea " (i860), ''No Thoroughfare " (1867), &^c.; but as he did not see fit to acknowl- edge any share in these composite productions^ and as it would be impossible to separate his contributions from those of the other writers associated with him, these stories have been wholly omitted. It is to be noted, however, that although, in the " Diamond'" edition, he claimed as his own only those portions ofMugby Junction" en' titled ''The Boy at Mugby " and " The Signal-Man " (reprinted as the second of" Two Ghost Stories "J, yet, in the Contents prefixed to this Christmas number of "All the Year Round" he put his na?ne as author to two other portions, entitled " Barbox Brothers," and " Barbox Brothers and Co." These are accordingly included in the present work. In three or four cases, the extracts from Dickens are taken from his "Readings, as Condensed by Himself" and not directly from his novels. In the case of other extracts, otnissions and ex- planatory additions are always carefully indicated. The summaries of the Principal Incidents in the longer tales have been borrowed (with some slight additions and changes) from the "Diamond" edition; but, as the original references were to the pages in that edition only, these have been omitted, and chapter references given in their stead. They will be found to furnish an excelle7it analysis of the tales, and to be exceedingly convenient for reference. A general synopsis of each story may also be readily obtained by reading the account of the principal character or characters figuring in it. The Illustrations are selected from those designed by Mr. S. Ey tinge, jun., for the "Library," " Household," and " Diamond' ^Preface. yii editions of Dickens's Works, published, with the author's sanction, by Messrs. James R. Osgood and Company. Mr. Dickens only confirmed the ge?teral testimony to their excellence in saying of them, " They are remarkable for a delicate perception of beauty, a lively eye for character, a most agreeable absence of exags^eration, and a general modesty and propriety, which I greatly like." The number ofnatnes of characters included in the General In- dex, and more or less fully treated in the pages precedijtg the Index, is upwards of fifteen hundred and fifty. The nutnber of names of imaginary places, societies, and literary works, and of familiar phrases or sayings, and the like, — also included in the Index, — is upwards of two hundred. On the completion of this Dictionary, it was placed in the hands of Mr. William A. Wheeler, as a ^^ scholar of critical habits and approved experienced^ to be revised and corrected for the press j and he has read every Page of it with scrupulous care, both in the fnanuscript and the proofs, suggesting many alterations which have materially i7nproved the work, besides furnishing contributions of his own, which have given it still greater interest, value, and com- pleteness. As the preparation of this manual has been a pleasant task, the Author would faitt hope that those who consult it may find the perusal equally pleasant J and that it may help, in however small a degree, to extend and perpetuate thefatne and infiuence of Ch arles Dickens, not only in his native land, where he rested his claims to remembrance, and in America, whose people he always regarded as '"'■essentially one'''' with his own countrymen, but throughout the world, which he has so warmed and cheered with the sunshine of his genius and humanity, and to whose intellectual wealth he has added so much, April 20, 1872. €ontent0. PAGE. List of Illustrations ••••.. xi Alphabetical Order of»Dickens's Novels and Tales, with the Date op their First Publication ........ xiii DICTIONARY 1 to 542 Sketches bt Boz 1 Pickwick Papers .....18 Oliver Twist 90 MuDFoa Association • ... 118 Nicholas Nigkleby ...••••••..124 Sketches of Young Couples 154 Master Humphrey's Clock. . • • 156 Old Curiosity Shop •...164 Barnaby Rudgb •••*.. 195 Christmas Carol ••..209 Martin Chuzzlewit •••••••••..216 The Chimes. . . • • 249 Cricket on the Hearth • • • • • 252 Battle of Life .. ••••••••...256 Dombey and Son .••••••••...258 Haunted Man •• 284 David Copperfield •••••• 290 Bleak House ••••*.. 332 Hard Times 360 Seven Poor Travellers • ... 371 Holly-Tree ..•••••••••.. 373 Little Dorrit ..••••.•••... 376 Tale of Two Cities ••••••••...400 Hunted Down ...•••••••••.417 Uncommercial Traveller • • • • 419 Great Expectations ..•••••••..425 ix X Contents. PAGE. Somebody's Luggage 449 Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings 452 Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy 456 Our Mutual Friend . . • • 460 Doctor Marigold 492 Barbox Brothers .*••••• 495 Boy at Mugby . . 498 Two Ghost-Stories 600 Holiday Romance 503 George Silverman's Explanation 507 New Uncommercial Samples 510 Edwin Drood" 512 Reprinted Pieces i . ; . . . 525 Some Uncollected Pieces 535 ADDENDA 543 A Classed List of Charactebs, etc 547 GENERAL INDEX 557 Ct0t 0f IUu0tratx0n0. Charles Dickens -.. «• Frontispiece [Engraved under the superintendence of A. V. S. AJ»ruo. Y.] The Pickwick Club . pagk 1<< Joe, the Fat Boy 31 Old Weller and the Coachmen 8f The Artful Dodger and Charley Bates 94 Cheeryble Brothers and Tim Linkinwater 12f Mr. and Mrs. Squeers and Master Wackfoed 141 QuiLP, Mrs. Quilp, and Mrs. Jiniwin ........ 175 Dick Swiveller and the Marchioness 181 Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim 210 Sairey Gamp and Betsey Prig 223 Mr. Pecksniff and his Daughters 227 Elijah Pogram and Mrs. Hominy 231 Captain Cuttle 264 Uriah Heep and his Mother 300 Mr. Micawber and his Family 303 Peqgotty and Barkis 313 Harold Skimpole , , 348 Mr. Turveydrop and his Son 352 Mr. Bounderby and Mrs. Sparsit 363 Sydney Carton and the Seamstress 405 Joe Gargery and Mrs. Joe 427 PUMBLECHOOK and WOPSLB 440 PODSNAP • 473 The Boy at Muoby ..*••• 493 zi or DICKENS'S NOVELS AND MINOR TALES, With the Date of their First Publication. BARNABY RUDGE, 1841. BATTLE OF LIFE, 1864. BLEAK HOUSE, 1852-53. BOY AT MUGBY, 1866. CHIMES, 1844. CHRISTMAS CAROL, 1843. CRICKET ON THE HEARTH, 1845. DAVID COPPERFIELD, 1849-50. DOCTOR MARIGOLD, 1865. DOMBEY AND SON, 1846-48. GEORGE SILVERMAN'S EXPLANATION, 1868. GREAT EXPECTATIONS, 1861. HARD TIMES, 1854. HAUNTED MAN, 1848. HOLIDAY ROMANCE, 1868. HOLLY TREE, 1855. HUNTED DOWN, 1859. LITTLE DORRIT, 1855-57. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 1843-44. MASTER HUMPHREY'S CLOCK, 1840-41. MRS. LIRRIPER'S LEGACY, 1864. MRS. LIRRIPER'S LODGINGS, 1863. MUDFOG ASSOCIATION, 1837-38. MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD, 1870. NEW UNCOMMERCIAL SAMPLES, 1869. NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 1838-39. xiii ziv 0lpl)al)etfcal ^xXizt ot OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, 1840-41. OLIVER TWIST, 1837-39. OUR MUTUAL FRIEND, 1864-65. PICKWICK PAPERS, 1836-37. REPRINTED PIECES, 1858. Namely: — The Begging Letter- Writer, 1850. Bill Sticking, 1851. Births. Mrs. Meek, of a Son, 1851, Child's Dream of a Star, 1850. Child's Story, 1852. Christmas-Tree, 1850. Detective Police, 1850. Down with the Tide, 1853. A Flight, 1851. The Ghost of Art, 1850. The Long Voyage, 1853. Lying Awake, 1852. A Monument of French Follt, 1851. Noble Savage, 1853. Nobody's Story, 1853. On Duty with Inspector Field, 1851. Our Bore, 1852. Our English Watering-Placb, 1851. Our French Watering-Place, 1854. Our Honorable Friend, 1852. Our School, 1851. Our Vestry, 1852. Out of the Season, 1856. Out op Town, 1856. A Plated Article, 1852, A Poor Man's Tale of a Patent, 1850. Poor Relation's Story, 1852. Prince Bull; A Fairy-Talb, 1855. Schoolboy's Story, 1853. Three "Detective" Anecdotes, 1850. Walk in a Workhouse, 1850. SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS, 1854. SKETCHES BY BOZ, 1836. Namely: — Our Parish; containing The Beadle, the Parish Engine the Schoolmaster; The Curate, the Old Lady, the Half pay Captain ; The Four Sisters; The Election for Beadle; The Broker's Man; The Ladies* Societies; Our Next-door Neighbor. ISfcfeens's Kobels anti ptinor a:ale0, xv SKETCHES BY BOZ, continued. Scenes ; containing The Streets — Morning ; The Streets — Night; Shops and their Tenants ; Scotland Yard; Seven Dials; Meditations in Monmouth Street; Hackney-Coach Stands; Doctors' Commons; London Recreations; The River ; Astley's ; Greenwich Fair ; PrivateTheatres ; Vaux- hall Gardens by Day; Early Coaches; Omnibuses;, The Last Cab-Driver, and the First Omnibus Cad ; A Parlia- mentary Sketch; Public Dinners; The First of May; Brokers' and Marine-Store Shops ; Gin Shops ; The Pawn- broker's Shop ; Criminal Courts; A Visit to Newgate. Characters; containing Thoughts about People; A Christ- mas Dinner ; The New Year ; Miss Evans and the Eagle ; The Parlor Orator; The Hospital Patient ; The Misplaced Attachment of Mr. John Dounce ; The Mistaken Milliner ; The Dancing Academy, Shabby-Genteel People; Making a Night of it ; The Prisoners' Van. Tales ; containing The Boarding-House ; Mr. Minns and his Cousin ; Sentiment ; The Tuggses at Ramsgate ; Horatio Sparkins; The Black Veil ; The Steam Excursion; The Great Winglebury Duel; Mrs. Joseph Porter; A Passage in the Life of Mr. Watkins Tottle ; The Bloomsbury Christening; The Drunkard's Death. SKETCHES OF YOUNG COUPLES, 1841. Namely: — The Young Couple; The Formal Couple; The Loving Couple ; The Contradictory Couple ; The Couple who Dote upon their Children ; The Cool Couple ; The Plausible Couple; The Nice Little Couple; The Egotistical Couple; The Couple who Coddle Themselves ; The Old Couple. SOME UNCOLLECTED PIECES. Namely: — Is She his Wife? 1837. The Lamplighter's Story, 1841. Pantomime of Life, 1837. Public Life of Mr. Tulrumble, 1837. The Strange Gentleman, 1837. The Village Coquettes, 1836. SOMEBODY'S LUGGAGE, 1862. TALE OF TWO CITIES, 1859. TWO GHOST STORIES, 1865, '66. UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER, 1860. The Dickens Dictionary. 0kctcl)C0 bs Bo^, ILLUSTRATIVE OF EVEEY-DAT LIFE Am> EVEKY-DAY PEOPLE. TUESB are a collection of short pieces, comprising Mr. Dickens's first attempts at authorship, and containing the germs of many of the characters which were more fully developed in his later works. They were originally contributed to " The Monthly Magazine " (" The Old Monthly," as it was called to distinguish it from Colburn's " New Monthly "), " The Morning Chronicle," and " Bell's Life in Lon- don." In 1836 they were brought together, and republished, with illustrations by George Cruikshank, in two series, of which the former was contained in two vol- umes, and the latter in one. The very first of these " Sketches " was that entitled " Mrs. Joseph Porter." It appeared in " The Monthly Magazine " for January, 1834. The first in which Dickens assumed the pseudonym of *' Boz " was the second part or chapter of " The Boarding-House," which came out in the same magazine in August, 1834. Of the origin of this name, the author has given the following account : " * Boz ' was the nickname of a pet child, a younger brother [Augustus Dickens], whom I had dubbed Moses in honor 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 will be seen that the name was originally pronounced with the long sound of o, as if spelt Boze / but the public, being ignorant of its derivation, naturally enough gave the vowel the short sound, as in Bob. Thus Hood says, in the verses he wrote on the occa* •ion of Dickens's leaving England for America in 1842, — *' Though a pledge I had to shiver, And the longest ever teas. Ere his vessel left our river, I would drink a health to Boz,** 2 2CI)e Qfcfee«s Dictfonars. Mr. Dickens's cwn estimate of " The Sketches " — given in 1850, in the Preface to a new edition of them — was, that they are " often extremely crude and ill-con- Bidered, bearing obvious marks of haste and inexperience, particularly in that section of the volume which is comprised under the general head of Tales." Such, however, was their mingled shrewdness, humor, and pathos, so varied and graphic were they, that they speedily became very popular ; and for a time, indeed, the dc* mand was greater than the supply. CHARACTERS INTROBTJCEB. OUR PARISH. THE BEADLE. Simmons. Parish beadle, and prototype of Mr. Bumble in " Oliver Twist.'* THE FOUR SISTERS. Dawson, Mr. A surgeon, &c., in attendance on Mrs. Robinson at the time of her confinement. Robinson, Mr. A gentleman in a public office, who marries the youngest Miss Willis, though he has to court her three sisters also, as they are all completely identified one with another. Willises, The four Miss. Four sisters in " our parish," who seem to have no separate existence, and who drive the neighbor- hood distracted by keeping profoundly secret the name of the fortunate one who is to marry ]Mr. Robinson. ELECTION FOR BEADLE. Bung, Mr. A man of thirty-five years of age, with five small children ; a candidate for the office of beadle, which he obtains by a large majority. {See helovo.) Purday, Captain. A bluff and unceremonious old naval officer on half-pay (first introduced, though not mentioned by name, in the sketch entitled " The Curate "). He is a determined opponent of the constituted authorities, whoever they may chance to be, and zealously supports Bung for beadle. Spruggins, Mr. Thomas. Defeated candidate for beadle; a Uttle thin man, fifty years old, with a pale face expressive of care Sltetci)BS 1)2 3So?. 8 and fatigue, owing, perhaps, to the fact of his having ten small children (two of them twins) and a wife. Spruggins, Mrs. His wife. She solicits votes for her husband, and increases the general prepossession which at first prevails in his favor by her personal appearance, which indicates the proba- bility of a still further addition, at no remote period, to his already large family. THE BROKER'S MAN. BuDg, Mr. A broker's assistant, afterwards the parish beadle. (5ee above.) One of those careless, good-for-nothing, happy fellows who float cork-like on the surface for the world to play at hockey with. Fixera. A broker, who assumes the alias of Smith ; Bung's master. John. A servant. THE LADIES' SOCIETIES. Browns, The three Miss. Members of various visitation com- mittees and charitable societies, and admirers of the curate, who is a young man, and unmarried. They are opposed to — Parker, Mrs. Johnson. The mother of seven extremely fine girls, — all unmarried, — and the founder of a Ladies' Bible and Prayer-Book Distribution Society, from which the Miss Browns are excluded. OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR. Williana. A young man who overtasks himself to earn a support for himself and his widowed mother, and at last dies in her arms. SCENES. THE STREETS. — NIGHT. Alacklin, Mrs. An inhabitant of No. 4 in one of the little streets in the suburbs of London. Peplow, Mrs. A neighbor of Mrs. Macklin. Peplow, Master. Her son. Smuggins, Mr. A little round-faced man, in the comic line, with a mixed air of self-denial and mental consciousness of his own powers. Walker, Mrs. An inhabitant of No. 5 in the same street with Mrs. Macklin. 4 Cri)e Bfc&ens Bictfonstj). SEVEN DIALS. Mary. A woman who has taken " three-outs ** enough of gin and bitters to make her quarrelsome. Sarah. A vixen who falls out with her, and settles the difficulty by a resort to blows. DOCTORS' COMMONS. Bum pie, Micliael. Promoter, or complainant, against Mr. Slud- berry, in a brawling case. Sludberry, Thomas. A little red-faced, sly-looking, ginger-beer seller, defendant in the case of " Bumple against Sludberry ; " sen- tenced to excommunication for a fortnight and payment of costs. LONDON RECREATIONS. Bill) Uncle. One of a party of Sunday pleasurers at a tea-garden ; considered a great wit by his friends. Sally. His niece, joked by Uncle Bill about her marriage, and her first baby, because a certain young man is "keeping company" with her. THE RIVER. Dando. A boatman. ASTLEY'S. Woolford, Miss. A ch'cus-rider. PRIVATE THEATRES. Larkins, Jem.. An amateur actor in the genteel comedy line, known to the public as Mr. Horatio St. Julian. Loggins, Mr. A player who takes the part of Macbeth, and is announced on the bills as Mr. Beverley. VAUXHALL GARDENS BY DAY. Green, Mr. An aeronaut. Green, Mr., jun. His son and assistant. THE LAST CAB-DRIVER AND THE FIRST OMNIBUS-CAD. Barker, Mr. William, commonly called Bill Boobker or Aggerawatin Bill. An omnibus-cad, with a remarkable talent for enticing the youthful and unwary, and shoving the old and help- less, into the wrong 'bus. A PARLIAMENTARY SKETCH. Captain, The, A spare, squeaking old man, always damning bia own eyes or " somebody else's," and a complete walking-reservoir of spirits and water. Jane. The Hebe of " Bellamy's," or the refreshment-room of the Houses of Parliament. She has a thorough contempt for the great majority of her visitors, and a great love of admiration. Nicholas. The butler of "Bellamy's." He has held the same place, dressed exactly in the same manner, and said precisely the same things, ever since the oldest of its present visitors can remember. rom, Honest. A metropolitan member of the House of Commons. THE FIRST OF MAY. Bluffen, Mr., of Adam-and-Eve Court. A speaker at the anni- versary dinner given to the chimney-sweeps on May-day at White Conduit House. THE PAWNBROKER'S SHOP. Henry, Mr. A pawnbroker, whose shop is near Drury Lane. Jinkins. A customer, dirty, intoxicated, and quarrelsome. Mackin, Mrs. Another customer, slipshod and abusive. Tatham, Mrs. An old woman who tries to borrow eighteen pence or a shilling on a child's frock and " a beautiful silk ankecher." CHARACTEES. THOUGHTS ABOUT PEOPLE. Smith, Mr. A poor clerk, a mere passive creature of habit and endurance. A CHRISTMAS DINNER. George, Aunt. The hostess at whose house the Christmas family- party assemble. George, Uncle. Her husband. Jane, Aunt. Another member of the family. Margaret, Aunt. Married to a poor man, and treated coldly hy her relations in consequence. Robert, Uncle. Husband to Aunt Jane. 6 CTJie Hfc&ens WttUonaxs* THE NEW YEAR. Dobble, Mr. A clerk in a public office, who gives a quadrille party on New Year's eve. Dobble, Mr., jun. His son. Dobble, Miss Julia. His eldest daughter. Dobble, Mrs. His wife. Tupple, Mr. A junior clerk in the same office with Mr. Dobble ; a young man with a tendency to cold and corns, but " a charming person," and " a perfect ladies' man." MISS EVANS AND THE EAGLE. Evans, Miss Jeminia {called " J'mima Ivins " by her acquaint- ances). A shoe-binder and straw-bonnet-maker, affianced to Mr. Samuel Wilkins. Evans, Miss Tilly. One of her sisters. Evans, Mrs. Her mother. Wilkins, Mr. Samuel. A journeyman carpenter of small di- mensions, " keeping company " with Miss Jemima Evans. THE PARLOR ORATOR. Ellis, Mr. A sharp-nosed man with a very slow and soft voice, who considers Mr. Kogers " such improving company." Rogers, Mr. A stoutish man of about forty, with a red face and a confident oracular air, which marks him as a leading politician, general authority, and universal anecdote-relater. Proof is what he requires — proof, not assertions — in regard to any thing and every thing whatsoever. Tommy. A little chubby-faced green-grocer, of great good sense, who opposes Mr. Rogers, and is denounced by him, in consequence, as " a willing slave." THE HOSPITAL PATIENT. Jack. A young fellow who treats his paramoiw so brutally as to cause her death, and yet is so loved by her, even to the last, that she cannot be persuaded to swear his life away, but dies praying God to bless him. THE MISPLACED ATTACHMENT OF- MR. JOHN DOUNCE. Dounce, Mr. John. A fat, red-faced, white-headed old boy, a retired glove and braces maker, and a widower. He falls in love Sfeetcjes hs 3So?. 7 with a bewitcliing bar-maid, who trifles with his affections, and at last tells him plainly that she " wouldn't have him at no price ; " whereupon he offers himself successively to a school-mistress, a landlady, a feminine tobacconist, a housekeeper, and his own cook, by the last of whom he is accepted, married, — and thoroughly henpecked. Harris, Mr. A law-stationer and a jolly old fellow ; a friend of Mr. Dounce. Jennings, Mr. A robe-maker ; also a friend of Mr. Dounce, and a sad dog in his time. Jones, Mr. Another friend, a barrister's clerk, and a rum fellow, — capital company, — full of anecdote. THE MISTAKEN MILLINER. Martin, Miss Amelia. A milliner and dressmaker who has an ambition to " come out " as a public singer, and tries it, but fails miserably. Rodolph, Mr. and Mrs. Jennings. Her friends and counsel- lors. THE DANCING ACADEMY. Billsmethi, Signer. A popular dancing-master. Billsmethi, Master. His son. Billsmethi, Miss. His daughter, a young lady with her hair curled in a crop all over her head, and her shoes tied in sandals all over her ankles. She sets her cap for Mr. Cooper, and, not suc- ceeding in securing him for a husband, brings a suit for breach of promise, but finally compromises the matter for twenty pounds, four shillings, and sixpence. Cooper, Mr. Augustus. A young gentleman of Fetter Lane, in the oil-and-color business, just of age, with a little money, a little business, and a little mother. MAKING A NIGHT OF IT. Potter, Mr. Thomas. A clerk in the city, with a limited income, and an unbounded friendship for Mr. Smithers. Smithers, Mr. Robert. Also a clerk in the city, knit by the closest ties of intimacy and friendship to Mr. Potter. On the receipt of their quarter's salary, these two " thick-and-thin pals," as they style themselves, spend an evening together, and proceed- ing by degrees from simple hilarity to drunkenness, commit various S 8ri)e ©icfecns BfctConats. breaches of the peace ; are locked up in the station-house for the night ; brought before the police court in the morning, and each fined five shillings for being drunk, and thirty-four pounds for sev- enteen assaults at forty shillings a head. THE PRISONERS' VAN. Bella. A young girl, not fourteen, forced by a sordid and rapacious mother to a life of vice and crime, which she loathes, but cannot escape from. Emily. Her sister, hardened in depravity by two additional years' experience of the debauchery of London street-life, and priding herself on being " game." TALES. THE BOARDING-HOUSE. Agnes. Mrs. Bloss's maid. Bloss, Mrs. The wealthy widow of a cork-cutter, whose cook she had been. Having nothing to do, she imagines she must be ill, but eats amazingly, and has the appearance of being remarkably well. She makes the acquaintance of Mr. Gobler, and marries him. Calton, Mr. A superannuated beau, exceedingly vain, inordinately selfish, and the very pink of politeness. He makes himself agreeable to Mrs. Maplesone, and agrees to marry her ; but, failing to do so, she sues him for breach of promise, and recovers a thousand pounds. Evenson, Mr. John. A stern, morose, and discontented man, a tboroLiizh radical, and a universal fault-finder. Gobler, Mr. A lazy, selfish hypochondriac, whose digestion is so much impaired, and whose interior so deranged, that his stomach is not of the least use to him. Hicks, Mr. Septimus. A tallish, white-faced, spectacled young man, who has the reputation of being very talented. He falls in love with Miss Matilda Maplesone, whom he marries, but after- wards deserts. James. A servant to Mrs. Tibbs. Maplesone, Mrs. An enterprising widow of fifty, shrewd, schem- ing, and good-looking, with no objection to marrying again, if it would benefit her dear girls. Maplesone, Miss Julia. Her younger daughter; married to Mr. Septimus Hicks. Maplesone, Miss Matilda. Her elder daughter; married to Mr. Simpson. O'Bleary, Mr. Frederick. A patriotic Irishman recently im- ported in a perfectly wild state ; in search of employment, and ready to do or be any thing that might turn up. Robinson. A female servant to Mrs. Tibbs. Simpson, Mr. One of the " walking gentlemen " of society ; an empty-headed young man, always dressed according to the carica- tures published in the monthly fashions. Tibbs, Mr. A short man, with very short legs, but a face peculiar- ly long, by way of indemnification. He is to his wife what the is in 90, — of some importance with her, but nothing without her. Tibbs, Mrs. His wife, mistress of the boarding-house ; the most tidy, fidgety, thrifty little person that ever inhaled the smoke of London. Tomkins, Mr. Alfred. Clerk in a wine-house ; a connoisseur in paintings, and with a wonderful eye for the picturesque. Wisbottle, Mr. A clerk in the Woods and Forests office, and a high Tory ; addicted to whistling, and having a great idea of his singing powers. Wosky, Doctor. Mrs. Bloss's medical attendant, who has amassed a fortune by invariably humoring the worst fancies of his female patients. MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN. Brogson, Mr. An elderly gentleman visiting at Mr. Budden's. Budden, Mr. Octavius. A retired com-chandler, residing at Amelia Cottage, Poplar Walk, Stamford Hill. He is a cousin to Mr. INlinns. Budden, Mrs. Amelia. His wife. Budden, Master Alexander Augustus. Their son, a pre- cocious child, and the pride of his parents. Jones, Mr. A little man with red whiskers, a visitor at Mr. Bud- den's, and a " devilish sharp fellow," who talks equally well on any subject. Minns, Mr. Augustus. A clerk in Somerset House, and a precise, tidy, retiring old bachelor, who is always getting into trouble when he leaves his own snug and well-ordered apartments, 10 8ri)e ©fcfeens JSictfonacg. and who is thoroughly disgusted with a visit which he is compelled to make to his cousin, Mr. Octavius Budden. SENTIMENT. Butler, Mr. Theodosius. A very wonderful genius, author of a pamphlet entitled " Considerations on the Policy of Removing the Duty on Beeswax." This he presents to Cornelius Brook Ding- wall, Esq., M.P., under the assumed name of Edward M'Neville Walter, and thus gains admission to his house, and an opportunity of winning the heart of his supersentimental daughter. Crumpton, Miss Amelia. A very tall, thin, skinny, upright, yellow, and precise maiden lady, with the strictest possible idea of propriety. CJrumpton, Miss Maria. The exact counterpart of her sister, in conjunction with whom she carries on a finishing-school for young ladies, called " Minerva House." Dadson, Mr. Writing-master at the Miss Crumptons' school. Dadson, Mrs. His wife. Dingwall, Cornelius Brook, Esq., M.P. A very haughty, solemn, and portentous man, having a great opinion of his own abilities, and wonderfully proud of being a member of parliament. Dingwall, Mrs. Brook. His wife. Dingwall, Frederick. Son of Mr. and Mrs. Brook Dingwall ; one of those public nuisances, — a spoiled child. Dingwall, Miss Lavinia Brook. Their daughter, the most romantic of all romantic young ladies ; in love with Edward M'Nev- ille Walter (otherwise Mr. Theodosius Butler), a young man much her inferior in life. She is therefore sent to the Miss Crumptons* educational establishment, to eradicate the sentimental attachment from her young mind, on the supposition that she can have nc op- portunity of meeting him there. She does meet him, however, and runs away with and marries him in haste, only to repent at leisure. Hilton, Mr. Master of ceremonies at a ball at Minerva House. James. Servant to Mr. Brook Dingwall. Lobskini, Signor. A singing-master, with a splendid tenor voice. Parsons, Miss Laetitia. A brilliant musical performer. Smithers, Miss Emily. The belle of Minerva House. Wilson, Miss Caroline. Her bosom-friend, and the ugliest girl in Hammersmith, — or out of it. THE TUGGSES AT RAMSGATE. Amelia, Jane, and Mary Ann. Young ladies who take part in games of chance in a concert-room at liamsgate. Slaughter, Lieutenant. A friend of Captain Waters. Tippin, Mr. A comic singer at Ramsgate. Tippin, Mrs. His wife; a concert-singer from the London theatres. Tippin, Master. Their son. Tippin, Miss. Their daughter ; a performer on the guitar. Tuggs, Mr. Joseph. A Kttle pursj London grocer, with shiny hair, twinkling eyes, and sliort legs. By the unexpected decision of a long-pending law-suit, he comes into possession of twenty thousand pounds, whereupon he incontinently puts on airs, closes his shop, and starts with his family for Ramsgate, that being a fashionable watering-place. Tuggs, Mrs. His wife ; in charge of the cheesemongery depart- ment, while her husband is a shop-keeper. Tuggs, Miss Charlotte. Their only daughter. When her fa- ther becomes rich, she calls herself Charlotta. Tuggs, Mr. Simon. Their only son ; a young gentleman with that elongation in his thoughtful face, and that tendency to weak- ness in his interesting legs, which tell so forcibly of a great mind and romantic disposition. At first, he is a book-keeper in his fa- ther's shop ; but, when a large fortune suddenly falls to the family, he changes the orthographical architecture of his name, and styles himself Cymon ; attempts to play the gentleman ; and roundly abus- es his father for not appearing aristocratic. Going to Ramsgate, he is neatly taken in and swindled by Captain Waters and his wife, whom he meets there, and greatly admires, — especially the wife. He escapes with the loss of his veneration for appearances, and of fifteen hundred pounds in money. Waters, Captain Walter. A pretended military man, and a sharper. Waters, Mrs. Belinda. His wife ; a young lady with long black ringlets, large black eyes, brief petticoats, and unexceptronable ankles. HORATIO SPARKINS. Barton, Mr. Jacob. Brother of Mrs. Malderton ; a large grocer, who never scrupled to avow that he wasn't above his°business. '* He'd made his money by it, and he didn't care who know'd it." 12 STiJe 23icfeens iBictionarg. Plamwell, Mr. A little spoffish toad-eater, with green spectacles, always pretending to know everybody, but in reality knowing no- body ; a friend of Mr. Malderton. John. A man in Mr. Malderton's service, half groom, half garden- er, but, on great occasions, touched up and brushed to look like a second footman. Malderton, Mr. (of Oak Lodge, Camberwell). A man who has become rich in consequence of a few successful speculations, and who is hospitable from ostentation, illiberal from ignorance, and prejudiced from conceit. The whole scope of his ideas is Umited to Lloyds, the Exchange, the India House, and the Bank. Malderton, Mrs. His wife ; a little fat woman, with a great aver- sion to any thing low. Malderton, Miss Marianne. Their younger daughter ; a senti- mental damsel. Malderton, Miss Teresa. Their elder daughter ; a young lady of eight and twenty, who has flirted for ten years in vain, but is still on the lookout for a husband. Malderton, Mr. Frederick. Their elder son; the very heau ideal of a smart waiter, and the family authority on all points of taste, dress, and fashionable arrangement. Malderton, Mr. Thomas. Their younger son ; snubbed by his father on all occasions, with a view to prevent his becoming " sharp," — a very unnecessary precaution. Sparkins, Mr. Horatio. A young man whose dashing manners and gentlemanlike appearance so dazzle the Maldertons, that tney think he must be a man of large fortune and aristocratic family. They even go so far as to suspect that he may be a nobleman, and are greatly mortified at last to discover that he is a mere clerk in a linen-draper's shop, and owns to the plebeian name of Smith. THE STEAM EXCURSION. Briggs, Mrs. A widow-lady ; a rival of Mps. Taunton. Briggs, Miss. One of her three daughters. Briggs, Miss Julia. Another daughter. Briggs, Miss Kate. Another daughter. Briggs, Mr. Alexander. Her younger son, articled to his broth- er. He is remarkable for obstinacy. Briggs, Mr. Samuel. Her elder son ; an attorney, and a mt-re machine ; a sort of self-acting, legal walking-stick. Se;etcT)es hs aSo?. 13 Edkins, Mr. (of the Inner Temple). A pale young gentleman in a green stock and green spectacles, who makes a speech on every occasion on which one can possibly be made. Fleetwood, Mr. One of the excursion party. Fleetwood, Mrs. His wife, who accompanies him. Fleetwood, Master. Their son ; an unfortunate innocent of about four years of age. Hardy, Mr. A stout, middle-aged gentleman, with a red face, a somewhat husky voice, and a tremendous laugh. He is a practical joker, is immensely popular with married ladies, and a general favorite with young men. Helves, Capt. A military gentleman with a bass voice and an incipient red mustache ; a friend of the Tauntons. Noakes, Mr. Percy. A law-student, smart, spoffish, and eight and twenty. With a few friends he attempts to get up an excur- sion party to which no one shall be invited who has not received the unanimous vote of a committee of arrangements. But the ob- stinate Mr. Alexander Briggs being a member of this committee, and blackballing everybody who is proposed by Mr. Noakes or his friends, the original plaii is abandoned ; and every gentleman is allowed to bring whom he pleases. The party start on a Wednes- day morning for the Nore, and reach it after a pleasant trip ; but on the return a violent squall comes up; the pitching and tossing of the boat bring on a general seasickness ; and, when they get back to the wharf at two o'clock the next morning, every one is thor- oughly dispirited and worn out. Stubbs, Mrs. A dirty old laundress, with an inflamed counte- nance. Taunton, Mrs. A good-looking widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess and the mind of a child. The sole end of her exist- ence is the pursuit of pleasure, and some means of killing time. She is a particular friend of Mr. Percy Noakes, and a mortal enemy of the Briggses. Taunton, Miss Emily. Her daughter ; a frivolous young lady. Taunton, Miss Sophia. Another daughter, as light-minded as her sister. THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL. Brown, Miss Emily. A young lady beloved by both Mr. Trott and Mr. Hunter, but finally maiTied to the latter. 2 14 2r|)e Bicfeens 33ictfonars. Hunter, Mr. Horace. Rival of Mr. Trott for the hand of Miss Emily Brown. Manners, Miss Julia. A buxom and wealthy woman of forty, formerly engaged to be married to a ]\Ir. Cornberry, who died leav- ing her a large property unencumbered with the addition of him- self. Being in want of a young husband, she falls in love with a certain wild and prodigal nobleman, Lord Peter, who falls in lovt with her handsome fortune of three thousand pounds a year ; b in the end she marries plain Mr. Trott. Overton, Joseph, Esq. Solicitor, and mayor of Great Win- glebury. Peter, Lord. A dissipated sprig of nobility, attached to Miss Manners (or her money) ; killed by being thrown from his horse in a steeple-chase. Thomas. A waiter at the Winglebury Arms. Trott, Mr. Alexander. A cowardly young tailor (or umbrella- maker). He desires to marry Miss Emily Brown, but is deterred by the hostile attitude of Mr. Horace Hunter, who challenges him to mortal combat for daring to think of such a thing. He accepts the challenge in a blood-thirsty note, but immediately sends an- other, and an anonymous one, to the mayor of Great Winglebury, urging that ]\Ir. Trott be forthwith arrested. By a ludicrous blunder, he is mistaken for Lord Peter, who is expected at the Winglebury Arms for the purpose of meeting Miss Julia Manners, his intend- ed, and who is to be seized and carried off as an insane person, in order that his relatives may not discover him. Thus it happens that Trott is taken away in a carriage with Miss Manners, and, mutual explanations having been made, that he marries her instead of the adorable Miss Emily Brown. Williamson, Mrs. Landlady of the Winglebury Arms. MRS. JOSEPH PORTER. Balderstone, Mr. Thomas, called " Uncle Tom." A rich brother of Mrs. Gattleton, always in a good temper, and always talking and joking. Brown, Mr. A performer on the violoncello at the private theat- ricals. Cape, Mr. A violinist. Evans, Mr. A tall, thin, and pale young gentleman, with lovely whiskers, and a remarkable talent for writing verses in albums, and Sfeetcijes i)s Boj. 15 for playing the flute. He is the Roderigo of the private theat- ricals. Gattleton, Mr. A retired stockbroker, living at Rose Villa, Clap* ham Rise. He is infected, as are the other members of his fami- ly, with a mania for private theatricals, acting himself as prompter. Gattleton, Mrs. His wife ; a kind-hearted, good-tempered, vul- gar soul, with a natural antipathy to other people's unmarried daughters, a bodily fear of ridicule, and a great dislike for Mrs. Joseph Porter. Gattleton, Miss. One of their three daughters. Gattleton, Miss Caroline. Another daughter ; the Fenella of the private theatricals. Gattleton, Miss Lucina. Another daughter, who plays the part of Desdemona. Gattleton, Mr. Sempronius. Their son, at once stage-manager and Othello. Harleigh, Mr. A singer, who takes the part of Masanidlo. Jenkins, Miss. A piano-player. Porter, Mrs. Joseph. A sarcastic scandal-monger, who delights in making other people uncomfortable. At the private theatricals of the Gattletons, she indulges her propensity to mischief-making by setting on Mr. Jacob Barton (who prides himself on his accu- rate knowledge of Shakspeare) to interrupt the performers in the very midst of the play by correcting their numerous mistakes. Porter, Miss Emily. Her daughter. Wilson, Mr. The lago of the private theatricals. A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. Ikey. The factotum of Mr. Solomon Jacobs's sponging-house. Jacobs, Mr. Solomon. A bailiff, living in Cursitor Street. Jem. A sallow-faced, red-haired, sulky boy in charge of the door of Mr. Jacobs's private lock-up. John. Servant to Mrs. Parsons. Lillerton, Miss. A prim spinster of uncertain age, with a com- plexion as clear as that of a wax doll, and a face as expressive. Martha. Servant to Mrs. Parsons. Parsons, Mr. Gabriel. An elderly and rich sugar-baker, who mistakes rudeness for honesty, and abrupt bluntness for an open and candid manner. Parsons, Mrs. Fanny. His wife. iG Etit iifcfeeits 23ictfonar2. Timson, The Reverend Charles. A friend of Mr. Parsons. He marries Miss Lillerton. Tottle, Mr. "Watkins. A plump, clean, rosy bachelor of fifty ; a compound of strong uxorious inclinations and an unparalleled degree of anti-connubial timidity. Having been arrested for debt, and con- fined in a sponging-house, bis friend Parsons engages to pay the debt, and take him out, if he will agree to marry Miss Lillerton, ■who has five hundred pounds a year in her own right. On being released, he offers himself to that lady, but after such an awkward and ambiguous fashion, that she quite mistakes his meaning, And answers him in a way that makes him think himself accepted. On being sent by her with a note — respecting their marriage, as he supposes — to the Reverend Mr. Timson, it transpires that she has been engaged to that gentleman for several weeks. The upshot of the whole affair is, that Mr. Parsons renounces the friendship and acquaintance of Mr. Tottle, who takes refuge from " the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune " by walking into the Regent's Canal. Walker, Mr. An imprisoned debtor, inmate of Mr. Solomon Jacobs's private lock-up. Willis, Mr. Another inmate of the same establishment. THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING. Danton, Mr. A young man with a considerable stock of impu- dence, and a very small share of ideas, who passes for a wit. He is a friend of Mr. Kitterbell's, and a great favorite generally, espe- cially with young ladies. Dumps, Mr. Nicoderaus, called "Long Dumps." An old bachelor, never happy but when he is miserable, and always miser- able when he has the best reason to be happy, and whose only real comfort is to make everybody about him wretched. He is uncle to ]\Ir. Charles Kitterbell, and, having been invited to stand as god- father to that gentleman's infant son, reluctantly does so, but takes his revenge by suggesting the most dismal possibilities of sickness and accident as altogether likely to happen to the child, and by making a speech at the supper after the christening, so lugubrious and full of gloomy forebodings as to throw Mrs. Kitterbell into violent hysterics, thus breaking up the party, and enabling him to walk home with a cheerful heart. Kitterbell, Mr. Charles. A small, sharp, spare man, with an extraordinarily large head and a cast in his eye ; very credulous and matter-of-fact. ■'_ 5r!)e 33icfctoicfe 33apers. 19 put in Mr. Winkle expressly for the use of Mr. Seymour." The conception of Pickwick as an elderly little gentleman, somewhat pursy, with a bland face, bald head, circular spectacles, fawn-colored tights, and black gaiters, is said to have originated in a description by Mr. Chapman of a like odd-looking character whom he had met at Richmond. The ludicrous name of •' Pickwick" is not a fabrica- tion of the novelist, as many suppose, but is also " founded on fact." It was ac- tually borne by the proprietor of a line of stages running between London and Bath, and, catching Mr. Dickens's eye (which was always on the watch for any thing queer or out of the way), it was adopted by him as the name of his hero, and given to the club, instead of " Nimrod," which had been at first proposed. In the account of the journey to Bath which Mr. Pickwick and his friends take after the famous trial is over, the following allusion to his namesake occurs : — Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had seated themselves at the back part of the coach ; Mr. Winkle had got inside; and Mr. Pickwick 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 afeered, sir, that the properiator 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 spoke, 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 met " 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'i^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, *ve shall lose our places." " Wot 1 ain't nothin' to be done in consequence, sir ? " exclaimed Sam, perfectly aghast at the coolness with which Mr. Pickv/ick prepared to ensconce liimself inside. " Done I " 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," replied Mr. Pickwick eagerly ;—" not on any account. Jump up to yoarseat directly." 20 2^1)^ Sickens ISfctfonarj. Ihe final issue of " The Pickwick Papers," comprising Parts 19 and 20, was in October, 1837. The complete work was now brought out in one volume, octavo, and was dedicated by the author to Mr. Serjeant Talfourd. See p. 543. CHARACTERS INTRODUCED, AJlen, Arabella. Sister of Benjamin Allen ; afterwards the wife of Mr. Winkle. (Ch. xxviii, xxx, xxxix, xlviii, liii, liv, Ivi, Ivii.) Allen, Benjamin. A medical student, and the devoted friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer, to whom he purposes marrying his sister Ara- bella. " I designed 'em for each other; they were made for each other, sent into the world for each other, born for each other, Winlde," said Mr. Ben Allen, setting down his glass with great emphasis. " There 's a special destiny in the matter, my dear sir : there 's only five years' difference between 'em, and both their birth-days are in August." Mr. Allen does not succeed in his project, however, as Mr. Winkle, with the assistance of ]Mr. Pickwick, carries the girl off, and marries her without the consent of either her brother or Mr. Bob Sawyer. (Ch. xxx, xxxii, xxxviii, xlviii, 1, li, lii, Hv, Ivii.) See Sawyer, Bob. Ayresleigh, Mr. A prisoner for debt, whom Mr. Pickwick meets in the " coffee-room " at Coleman Street. (Ch. xl.) Bagman, The one-eyed. A stout, jovial, middle-aged man with a " lonely eye," whom Mr. Pickwick meets, first at the Peacock Inn, Eatanswill, and afterwards at the Bush, in Bristol. He is the narrator of " The Bagman's Story," and of " The Story of the Bagman's Uncle." (Ch. xiv, xlviii, xlix.) See Smart Tom. Bamber, Jack. A little, high-shouldered, keen-eyed old man, whom Mr. Pickwick casually meets at the Magpie and Stump. He relates « The Old Man's Tale about a Queer Client.'* (Ch. xx.) Banta-m, Angelo Cyrus, Esq., M.C. A charming young man of not much more than fifty, whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Bath ; friend to Capt. Dowler, and master of ceremonies at the ball which Mr. Pickwick attends. (Ch. xxxv.) Bardell, Mrs. Martha. Mr. Pickwick's landlady ; said to have been drawn from a certain Mrs. Ann Ellis, a comely and buxom woman of agreeable manners, who kept an eating-house in Knight- rider Street, near Doctors' Commons. Becoming impressed with 2E!)e 33icltb)icfe 33apers. 21 the idea that Mr. Pickwick has offered to marry her, she is highly indio-nant when she finds herself mistaken. In fact, she insists that she is not mistaken, and forthwith brings an action against him for breach of promise. For a full account of this famous trial, and its sequel, see Pickwick, Samuel. (Ch. xii, xxvi, xxxiv, xlvi.) Bardell, Master Tommy. The hopeful son of Mrs. BardelL (Ch. xii, xxvi, xlvi.) Betsey. Servant-girl at Mrs. Raddle's. (Ch. xxxii.) Bladud, Prince. Mythical founder of Bath ; hero of the " True Legend " discovered by Mr. Pickwick. (Ch. xxxvi.) Blotton, Mr. (of Aldgate). A member of the Pickwick Club. Having been accused by Mr. Pickwick, at a meeting of the club, of acting in " a vile and calumnious manner," he retorts by calling Mr. Pickwick " a humbug ; " but it finally being made to appear that they both used the words not in a common, -but in a parlia mentary or merely technical or constructive sense, and that each personally entertains the highest regard and esteem for the other, the difficulty is readily settled, and the gentlemen express them- selves mutually satisfied with the explanations which have been made. [This incident was intended to ridicule a somewhat similar one which took place in parliament about the time that " The Pick- wick Papers " first appeared.] (Ch. i.) Boldwig, Captain. A fierce little man, very consequential ana • imperious ; owner of the premises on whioh Mr. Pickwick and his friends trespass while hunting. Mr. Pickwick, having fallen asleep under the influence of too much cold punch, is left there by the rest of his party, and is discovered by the captain, who indig- nantly orders him to be taken to the pound in a wheelbarrow. (Ch. xix.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Bolo, Miss. A fashionable lady at Bath. (Ch. xxxv.) Budger, Mrs. A little old widow, with plenty of money ; Mr. Tupman's partner in a quadrille at the charity ball at the Bull Inn, Ptochester, which he attends in company with Mr. Jingle. (Ch. ii.) Bulder, Colonel. Head of the garrison at Rochester, and one of the company at the same ball. (Ch. ii, iv.) Bulder, Mrs. Colonel. His wife. (Ch. ii.) Bulder, Miss. Their daughter. (Ch. ii.) Buzfuz, Serjeant. Mrs. Bardell's counsel, remarkable for his brutal and bullying insolence to the witnesses on Mr. Pickwick's side ; «aid to represent a certain Serjeant Bumpus, a lawyer in London 22 2Ci)c Bicfeens ©ictfonats. at the time " The Pickwick Papers " were written. (Ch. xxxiv.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Chancery Prisoner, The. An old man whose acquaintance Mr. Pickwick makes in the Fleet. He has been confined there for twenty years, but gets his release at last from the hands of his Maker, and accepts it with a smile of quiet satisfaction. (Ch. xlii. xliv.) Ca.ergyTnan, The. One of the guests at Mr. Wardle's. He sings the song of " The Ivy Green," and relates the story of " The Con- vict's Return." (Ch. vi, xi, xxviii.) Clubber, Sir Thomas. A fashionable gentleman at Rochester^ commissioner at the head of the dock-yard there. (Ch. ii.) Clubber, Lady. His wife. (Ch. ii.) Clubbers, The Miss. His daughters. (Ch. ii.) Cluppins, Mrs. Betsey. A bosom-friend of Mrs. Bardell's (Ch. xxvi, xxxiv, xlvi.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Craddock, Mrs. Mr. Pickwick's landlady at Bath. (Ch. xxxvi, xxxvii.) Crookey. An attendant at the sponging-house in Coleman Street (Ch. xl.) Crushton, The Honorable Mr. A gentleman whom Mr. Pick wick meets at Bath ; a friend of Capt. Dowler's. (Ch. xxxv.) Dismal Jemmy. See Hutley, Jem. Dodson and Fogg. Attorneys for Mrs. Bardell. (Ch. xx, xxxiv, liii.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Dowler, Captain. A blustering coward, formerly in the army, whom Mr. Pickwick meets at the travellers' room at the ^Vliite Horse Cellar. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi, xxxviii.) The travellers' room at the White Horse Cellar 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. One of these boxes was occupied, on this particular occasion, by a stern-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 wliiskers. He was buttoned up to the chin in a brown coat ; and had a large seal-skin trav- elling-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 scrutinized that gentleman and his companions to his entire satisfaction, hummed a tune in a manner which seemed to say that lie rather suspected somebody wa^ted to take the advantage of him ; but it would n't do. *' Waiter," said the gentleman with the whiskers. a:|)e |3icltb)fcfe ^papers. 23 "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 be- fore, 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 icto conversation. " I wondered at what house the Bath coach puts up. Perhaps you can inform me." " Ai-e 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 I I 'm damned if you 're going inside 1 " said the strange man. " Not ail 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 '11 take a post-chaise, and bring an action. I 've paid my fare. It won't do : I told the clerk that it wouldn 't do. I know these things have been done ; I know they are done every day : but I never was done, and I never will be. Those who know me best, best know it. Crush me ! " Here the fierce gentleman ran^ 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. " My dear sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " you '11 a)low 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. Piekwick. " We are to be fellow-trav- ellers, 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 intercliange of friendly salutations follows -this gra- cious speech; and it is soon found that the second place in the coach has been taken for none other than the illustrious Mrs. Dowler. ' 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 proposed ; she refused me. ' You love another ? ' — ' Spare my blushes. ' — ' I know him. ' — ' You do ? ' — ' Very good, if he remains here, I '11 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 note. I said it was a painful thing. And so it was." 24 ®i)^ ©icftcns JBictConarj, ** 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 in his Majesty's service, I was bound to skin him. I regretted the necessity ; 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." Dowler, Mrs. Wife of Capt. Dowler. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.) Dubbley. One of the special officers of the Mayor's Court at Ips- wich ; a dirty-faced man, over six feet high, and stout in proportion. (Ch. xxiv.) See Nupkins, George. Diimkins, Mr. A member of the All-Muggleton Cricket Club. (Ch. vii.) Edmunds, John. Hero of the story of " The Convict's Return ; " a sullen, wilful young man, condemned to death for crime, but, by commutation of his sentence, transported for fourteen years. A repentant and altered man, he returns to his old home, only to find his mother buried, and to see his father die suddenly from the effects of passion and terror, — the same hard-hearted and ferocious brute that he had always known him. (Ch. vi.) Edmunds, Mr. His father ; a morose, dissolute, and savage-hearted man. (Ch. vi.) Edmunds, Mrs. His mother ; a gentle, ill-used, and heart-broken woman. (Ch. vi.) Emma. A servant-girl at Mr. Wardle's. (Ch. xxviii.) Fitz-Marshall, Charles. See Jingle, Alfred. Fizkin, Horatio, Esq. (of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill). A candidate for parliament, defeated by the Honorable Samuel Slum- key. (Ch. xiii.) See Slumkey, The Honorable Samuel. Flasher, "Wilkins. A stock-broker. (Ch. Iv.) Fogg, Mr. See Dodson and FoGG. Goodwin. Servant to Mrs. Pott. (Ch. xviii.) G-roffin, Thomas. One of the jury in the case of Bardell vs. Pickwick. He desires to be excused from attendance on the ground that he is a chemist, and has no assistant. (Ch. xxxiv.) " 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. ..." Swear the gentleman." . . . u Very well, my lord," replied the chemist in a resigned manner. " Then there '11 be murder before this trial 's over : that 's all. Swear me, if you please, 5N 33icfetoic!t 39apet». 25 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 mean oxalic acid ; and syrup of senna, laudanum. That's all, my lord." Grub, Gabriel. Hero of Mr. Wardle's " Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton ; " a cross-grained, surly, solitary fellow, who is made good-natured and contented by his remarkable experiences on Christmas Eve. (Ch. xxix.) Grummer, Daniel. A constable in attendance upon the Mayor's .Court at Ipswich. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) See Nupkins, George. Grundy, Mr. A friend of ISii-. Lowten's, and a frequenter of the Magpie and Stump Inn. (Ch. xx.) Gunter, Mr. A friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer's. (Ch. xxxii.) Gwynn, Miss. Writing and ciphering governess at Westgate House Establishment for Young Ladies, at Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.) Harris. A green-grocer. (Ch. xxxviii.) Henry. A character in " The Parish Clerk ; '* cousin to Maria Lobbs, whom he finally marries. (Ch. xvii.) Heyling, George. Hero of " The Old Man's Tale about a Queer Client." He is a prisoner for debt in the Marshalsea. Dur- ing his confinement, his little boy is taken sick and dies ; and his wife, who thereupon shares- her husband's lot, soon follows, sinking uncomplainingly under the combined effects of bodily and mental illness. Released from prison by the sudden death of his father, a very wealthy man who had disowned him, and had meant to disin- herit him, he devotes himself unremittingly to avenge the death of his wife and child upon his wife's father, who had cast him into prison, and had spurned daughter and grandchild from his door when they sued at his feet for mercy. In this scheme of vengeance he is successful, sufiering the old man's boy to drown before his eyes, though he might easily have saved him, and afterwards pur- suing the father until he reduces him to utter destitution. He intends to consign him to the hopeless imprisonment which he had himself so long endured, but, on announcing his purpose, his victim fpvlls lifeless, and Heyling disappears, leaving no clew to his subse- quent history. (Ch. xxi.) Heyling, Mary, His wife. (Ch. xxi.) 3 26 8C|)e IBfcfeens Sfctfonatg. Hopkins, Jack. A medical student, whom Mr. Pickwick meetl at 'Mr. Bob Sawyer's party. (Ch. xxxii.) " I hope that 's Jack Hopkins," said Mr. Bob Sawyer. " Hush I Yes : it is. Come up. Jack; come up!" A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presented himself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat with thunder-and-lightning but- tons, and a blue striped shirt with a white false collar. "You 'relate. Jack," said Mr. Benjamin Allen. " Been detained at Bartholomew's," replied Hopkins. *' Any thing new ? " " No : nothing particular. Kather a good accident brought into the casu- alty ward." " What was that, sir ? " inquii-ed 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 would n't. There must be a splendid operation though, to-morrow, — magnificent sight if Slasher does it 1 " " You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator ? " said Mr. Pickwick. " Best alive I " 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 would n't lie there to be made game of; and he 'd tell his mother if they did n't begin." " Dear me I " 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 by. 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 Sir. Pickwick. " A necklace," replied Jack Hopkins. " Not all at once : you know that would be too much. You could n't swallow that, if the child did, — eh, Mr. Pick- wick? Ha, ha I " Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratified with his own pleas- antry, and continued, " No, the way was this : child's parents were poor peo- ple 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, cribbcn 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 I I beg your pardon, sir. Go on." " Next day, child swallowed two beads ; the day after that, he treated him- self 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 sel- dom treated herself to a bit of finery, cried her eyes out at the loss of the necklace ; looked high and low for it ; but, I need n't say, did n't find it. A few days after, the family were at dinner : the child, who was n't hungry, was play- ing about the room, when suddenly there was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hail-storm. ' Don't do that, ray boy,' said the father. ' I ain't a-doin' nothin',' said the child. < Well, don't do it again,' said the father. There was a arte 3?fclttDic!t papers. 2\ 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 '11 find yourself in bed in some- thing less than a pig's whisper.' He gave the child a shake to make him obe- dient; and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heard before. ' Why, damme, it 's in the child I ' 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 neck- lace : I swallowed it, father.' The father caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital ; the beads iu the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolt- ing, 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 'ro obliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for fear he should wake the pa- tients." Humm, Anthony. Cliairman of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. (Ch. xxxiii.) See Weller, Samuel. Hunt. Gardener to Captain Boldwig. (Ch. xix.) Hunter, Mrs. Leo. A literary lady whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Eatanswill. (Ch. xv.) One morning, Sam Weller hands Mr. Pickwick a card bearing the following inscription : — Mxs, %ta i^tinter. The Den. Eatanswill. " Person 's'a-waitin'," said Sam epigrammatically. " Does the person want me, Sam ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " He wants you partickler ; and no one else '11 do, as the Devil's private 8eo» retary said ven he fetched avay Dr. Faustus," replied Mr. Weller. " He 7 Is it a gentleman ? " said Mr. Pickwick. " A werry good imitation o' one, if it ain't," replied Mr. "Weller. "But this is a lady's card," said Mr. Pickwick. " Given me by a gen'lm'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 honor 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 discus- sion 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, pro- ceeded,— 28 8ri)f HBlc'ktns Bfctfonarg. "My wife, sir, — Mrs. Leo Hunter, — is proud to number among her acquaint- ance 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 club that derives its name from him." *' I shall be extremely happy to make the acquaintance of such a lady, sir," replied JMr. Pickwick. "You shall make it, sir," said the grave man. " To-morrow morning, sir, we give a public breakfast — a fete 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 gratification of seeing you at the Den." " With great pleasure," replied Mr. Pickwick. *'Mrs. Leo Hunter has many of these breakfasts, sir," resumed the new ac- quaintance,— " 'feasts of reason, sir, and flows of soul,' as somebody who wrote a sonnet to Mrs. Leo Hunter on her breakfasts, feelingly and originally observed." " "Was he celebrated for Ms 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 acquaintance." "It is a very noble ambition," said Mr. Pickwick. " When I inform Mrs. Leo Hunter, that that remark fell from yotcr lips, sir, she will indeed be proud," said the grave man. " You have a gentleman iu your train who has produced some beautiful little poems, I think, sir." "My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a great taste for poetry," replied Mr. Pick- wick. " So has 3Irs. Leo Hunter, sir. She doats on poetry, sir. She adores it ; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up and intwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces herself, sir. You may have met with her * Ode to Hn Expiring Frog,' sir." " I don't think I have," said Mr. Pickwick. "You astonish me, sir," said Mr. Leo Hunter. "It created an immense sensa- tion. 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 I " said Mr. Pickwick. " Fine," said Mr. Leo Hunter ; " so simple I " " 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. "All point, sir, all point," said Mr. Leo Hunter; " bat you shall hear Hrs. Lea Hunter repeat it. She can do justice to it, sir." Sr|)e ^fckintcS; papers. 29 Hunter, Mr. Leo. Mrs. Leo Hunter's husband. (Ch. xv.) Hutley, Jem, called " Dismal Jemmy." An itinerant actor, who " does the heavy business ; " brother to Job Trotter, and friend ot ]\Ir. Alfred Jingle, who introduces him to Mr. Pickwick. He relates to them " The Stroller's Tale," in which he himself figures. (Ch. iii, V.) See John. Isaac. A friend of Mr. Jackson's. (Ch. xlvi.) Jackson, Mr. A clerk in the office of Dodson and Fogg. (Ch. XX, xxxi, xlvi.) Jemmy, Dismal. See Hutley, Jem. Jingle, Alfred. ' An impudent strolling actor, who palms himself off on Mr. Pickwick and his travelling-companions of the club as a gentleman of consequence, sponges good dinners and borrows money from them, and finally gets into the Fleet prison, where, some time afterwards, Mr. Pickwick finds him in great destitution and dis- tress, and benevolently pays his debts and releases him, on satis- factory evidence of penitence, and on promise of reformation, which is faithfully kept. JMr. Jingle is a very loquacious person, talking incessantly ; rarely speaking a connected sentence, however, but stringing together mere disjointed phrases, generally without verbs. He first meets Mr. Pickwick and his party at the coach-stand in Saint Martin's-le-Grand. " Heads, heads ; take care of your heads I " 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 chil- dren — 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 I Looking at Whitehall, sir ? — fine place — little window — somebody else's head off there, eh, sir ? — he did n't keep a sharp lookout enough, either — eh, sir, eh ?" " I was ruminating," said Mr. Pickwick, " on the strange mutability of hu- man affairs." "Ah! I see — in at the palace-door one day, out at the window tlie 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. Suodgrass has a strong poetic turn," said Mr. Pickwick. " So have I," said the stranger. " Epic poem, — ten thousand lines — revolu- tion 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 I think I was ; fired a musket, — fired with an idea, — rushed Into a wineshop — wrote it down — back again — whiz, bang — another idea — wine- 3* 30 SSe 3j9fcfeens Bfctionats. shop again — pen and ink — back again — cut and slash — noble time, sir. Bportsman, 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 I 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- Btill —called him — Ponto, Ponto — would n'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 road-side). " Very I " said Mr. Tupman. "English girls not so fine as Spanish — noble creatures — jet hair — black eyes — lovely forms — sweet creatures — beautiful 1 " " You have been in Spain, sir ? " said Mr, Tracy Tupman. " Lived there — ages." "Many conquests, sir?" inquired Mr. Tupman. "Conquests I Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizzgig — Grandee — only daughter — Donna Christina — splendid creature — loved me to distraction — jealous father — high-souled daughter — handsome Englishman — Donna Christina in despair — prussic acid — stomach-pump in my portmanteau — operation pe> formed — 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 de- scription of her charms had produced a powerful impression. " Dead, sir — dead," said the stranger, applying to his right eye the brief rem- nant 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 disappearance — talk of the whole city — search made everywhere — without success — public foun- tain in the great square suddenly ceased playing — weeks elapsed — still a stop- page — workmen employed to clean it — water drawn off — father-in-law discov- ered sticking head first in the main pipe, with a full confession in his right boot — took him out and the fountain plaj-ed away again as well as ever." "Will you allow me to note that little romance down, sir?" said Mr. Snod- grass, deeply affected. " Certainly, sir, certainly, — fifty more if you like to hear 'em — strange life mine — rather curious history — not extraordinary, but singular." (Ch. ii, iii, vii — x, xv, xxv, xlii, xlv, xlvii, liii.) See Winkle, Nathaniel. Jinks, Mr. A pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad clerk of the Mayor's Court at Ipswicli. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) See Nupkins, George. S;!)e ^CcfetstcS; papers. 31 Jinkins, Mr. A character in " The Bagman's Story ; " a rascally adventurer with a wife and six babes, — all of them small ones, — who tries to marry a buxom widoAV, the landlady of a roadside inn, but is prevented by Tom Smart, who marries her himself. (Ch. xiv.) Joe, the Fat Boy. Servant to Mr. Wardle ; a youth of astonish- ing obesity and voracity, who has a way of going to sleep on the slightest provocation, and in all sorts of places and attitudes. Mr. Wardle, having met Mr. Pickwick and his friends at a grand review at Rochester, invites them into his carriage for a lunch. " Joe, Joe I " said the stout gentleman, when the citadel was taken, and Hit besiegers and besieged sat down to dinner. " Damn that boy I he 's gone to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him, sir, — in the leg, if you please: nothing else wakes him. Thankj^oul Undo the hamper, Joe." The fat boy, who had been eflfectually roused by the compression of a por- tion of his leg between the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, rolled ofi* the box once again, and proceeded to unpack the hamper, with more expedition than could have been expected from his previous inactivity. " No%v, 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 dow^n in the barouche ; and the stout gentleman pro- ceeded to hand the things from the fat boy (who had mounted up behind for the purpose) into the carriage. " Now, Joe, knives and forks I " 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 implements. "Plates, Joe, plates I" A similar propess employed in the distribution of the crockery. " Now, Joe, the fowls. — Damn that boyl he's gone to sleep again. Joe, Joe I " (Sundry taps on the head with a stick, and the fat boy, with some diffi- culty, roused from his lethargy.) " Come, hand in the eatables." There was something in the sound of the last word, which roused the unctu- ous boy. He jumped up ; and the leaden eyes, which twinkled behind his moun- tainous 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. (Ch. iv -ix, xxviii, liv, Ivi.) John. A low pantomime actor, and an habitual drunkard, whose death is described in " The Stroller's Tale," related to Mr. Pick- wick and his friends by Mr. Hutley. (Ch. iii.) Klate. A character in the story of " The Parish Clerk ; " cousin to Maria Lobbs. (Ch. xvii.) Lobbs, Maria. A character in ^Ir. Pickwick's story of " The Par- 32 2C!)e Bicfeens Bfctfonarj. ish Clerk ; " a pretty girl, beloved by Nathaniel Pipkin, and also by her cousin Henry, whom she marries. (Ch. xvii.) Lobbs, Old. Father to Maria Lobbs ; a rich saddler, and a terrible old fellow wben his pride is injured, or his blood is up. (Ch. xvii.) Lowten, Mr. A puffy-faced young man, clerk to IMi'. Perker. (Ch. XX, xxi, xxxi, xxxiv, xl, xlvii, liii, liv.) Lucas, Solomon. A costumer. (Ch. xv.) Luffey, Mr. Vice-president of the Dingley Dell Cricket Club. (Ch. vii.) Magnus, Peter. A red-hau'ed man, with an inquisitive nose and blue spectacles, who is a fellow-traveller with Mr. Pickwick from London to Ipswich. The two gentlemen chat cosily on the road, and dine together on their arrival at " The Great White Horse " inn. Mr. Magnus, being naturally of a veiy communicative dispo- sition, and made more so by the brandy and water he drinks, confi- dentially informs Mr. Pickwick that he has come down to Ipswich to propose to a certain lady who is even then in the same house. The next morning at breakfast he recurs to the same subject, and the following conversation takes place : — " 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 I " said Mr. Pickwick with great energy, — " never I " " 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 sub- ject; 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," said Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was verging on the five min- utes past. " Well, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which that groat man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impres- sive, " 1 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 show that I was not wholly unworthy, 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 colors 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 maybe taken for granted?" said Mr. Magnus; "because, if she did not do that" at the right place, it would be embarrassing." " I think she would," said Mr. Pickwick. " Upon this, sir, I should squeeze her hand, and 1 think, — I think, Mr. Magnus, — that after I had done that, suppos- ing 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 Avould murmur into my ear a bashful accept- ance." Mr. Magnus started, gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intelligent face for a short time in silence, and tlien (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 greet 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. Pick- wick. ''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 buttoii- hole, and, drawing him into 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 " '' 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." And, 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. Now, it has unfortunately happened that Mr. Pickwick, on the night of their arrival, had occasion to leave his room to get his watch, which he had left on a table down stairs. Returning in the dark, he lost his way, and groped about in search of his room for a long time. A dozen times did he softly turn the handle of some bedroom-door which resem- bled 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 flis attention. He peeped in — right at last I 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 draughts of air through 34 S!)e Bfcfeens JSictfonarg. Which he had passed, and sunk into the socket just as he closed the door after b(m. " 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 inner 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. Pick- wick 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 neck- cloth, and, slowly drawing on his tasselled night-cap, secured it firmly on his head by tying beneath his chin the strings which he had always attached to that article of dress. It was at this moment that the absurdity of his recent bewilderment struck upon his mind; and, throwing himself back in the rush-bottomed chair, Mr. Pick- wick laughed to himself so heartily, that it would have been quite delightful to any man of well-constituted mind to have watched the smiles which expanded his amiable features as they shone forth from beneatii the night-cap. '' It is the best idea," said Mr. Pickwick to himself, smiling till he almost cracked the nightcap-strings, — " it is the best idea, my losing myself in this place, and wandering about those staircases, that 1 ever heard of. Droll, droll, very droll I " Here Mr. Pickwick smiled again, a broader smile than before, and was about to continue the process of undressing, in the best possible humor, when he was sud- denly 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 instantaneously lost in a look of the most unbounded and wonder-stricken surprise. Tlie person, who- ever it was, had come in so suddenly, and with so little noise, that Mr. Pickwick 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 hands, 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 glimmering away, like a gigantic lighthouse in a particularly small piece of water. '' Bless my soul," thought Mr. Pickwick, ''what a dreadful thing 1 " " Hem I " said the old lady; and in went Mr. Pickwick's head with automaton- like rapidity. " I never met with any thing so awful as this I " thought poor Mr. Pickwick, the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his night-cap, — " never I This is fearful I " It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was gcing for- ward. So out went Mr. Pickwick's head again. The prospect was woise than before. The middle-aged lady had finished arranging her hair, and carefully envel- oped 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 himself. "1 can't allow things to go on in this way. By the self-possession of that lady, it 's clear to me that I must have come into the wrong room. If I call out, she '11 alarm the house ; but, il* I remain here, the consequence 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 ladj overpowered him; but he had tied these confounded strings in a knot, and, do whal he would, he could n't get it off. The disclosure must be made. There was onlj one other way of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and called out very loudly, — " Hit, 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 impres- sion that she had fainted awa)', stone-dead, from fright, ventured to peep out again, she was gazing pensively on the fire as before. "Most extraordinary female this I " thought Mr. Pickwick, popping in again. " Ha, hum 1 " These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the ferocious giant Pjlunderbore 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 I " 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 I " 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 extremif y 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 apparition of Mr. Pickwick's night-cap driven her back into the remotest corner of the apartment, where she stood stai ng wildly at Mr. Pickwick, while Mr. Pick- wick, in his turn, stared wildly at her. " Wretch I " said the lad}--, covering her eyes with her hands, " what do you want here ? " " Nothing, ma'am, — nothing whatever, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick earnestly. " Nothing 1 " said the lady, looking up. " Nothing, ma'am, upon my honor," 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 bedroom for my own. I had not been here five minutes, ma'am, when you suddenly entered it." 36 2r|)e 3i(ci^ens ISCcttonavs. " 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, — " certainly, 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 char- acter was beautifully displayed at this moment under the most trying circum- stances. 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 polite* ness. " 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 loud 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 unblemished 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. Mr. Pickwick finally encounters Sam Weller, his valet, who leads him to his room ; but this night-adventure distm'bs him considerably. The remembrance of it wears away, however, and, at the moment of being introduced by Mr. Magnus to his betrothed, the occurrence is not in his mind at all. "Miss Witherfield," said Mr. Magnus, "allow me to introduce my very par- ticular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make you known to Miss Witherfield." The lady was at the upper end of the room; and, 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, 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 struck motionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the other with a coun- tenance expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise. This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behavior: but the fact was, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles than he at once rec- ognized in the future lilrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he had so unwar- rantably 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 I " 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 any thing which may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast, with- out her consent and permission." "Miss "Witherfield," said Mr. Peter Magnus, "do you know this person?" *' Know him I " repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating. " Yes, know him, ma'am. I said know him," replied Mr. Magnus with fero- city. " 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." This, of course, makes Mr. Magnus very angry ; and he proceeds to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and indulges freely in threats of a duel. Miss Witherfield, however, contrives to settle matters by informing the mayor that Mr. Pick- wick is about to fight a duel, in which Mr. Tupman proposes to act as his second, and that the other party has absconded. The sequel is, that Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman are arrested, and taken before the mayor. For proceedings at the trial see Nuprins, George. (Ch. xxii, xxiv.) Mallard, Mr. Clerk to Mr. Serjeant Snubbin. (Ch. xxxi, xxxiv.) Martin, Mr. A prisoner confined in the Fleet prison. (Ch. xlii.) Martin. A coachman. (Ch. xlviii.) Martin. A gamekeeper. (Ch. xix.) Martin, Jack. Hero of " The Story of the Bagman's Uncle." (Ch. xlix.) Mary. A servant-girl at Mr. Nupkins's ; afterwards married to Sam Weller. (Ch. xxv, xxxix, xlvii, lii, liv, Ivi.) Matinters, The two Miss. Ladies attending the ball at Bath. (Ch. xxxv.) Miller, Mr. A guest at Mr. Wardle's. (Ch. vi, xxviii.) Mivins, Mr., called the " Zephyr." A fellow-prisoner with Mr. Pickwick in the Fleet. (Ch. xli, xlii.) Mudge, Mr. Jonas. Secretary of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. (Ch. xxxiii.) Mutanhed, Lord. A fashionable gentleman whom Mr. Pickwick 4 38 ®N Hfcfeeits JBfctfonarg. meets at a ball in Bath ; a friend of Captain and Mrs. Dowler. (Ch. XXXV.) Muzzle, Mr. An undersized footman, with a long body and short legs, in the service of George Nupkins, Esq. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) Namby, Mr. A sheriff's officer who arrests Mr. Pickwick. (Ch. xl.) Neddy. A prisoner for debt, confined in the Fleet ; a phlegmatic and taciturn man. (Ch. xlii, xliii.) Noddy, Mr. A friend of Mr. Bob Sawyer. (Ch. xxxii.) Nupkins, George, Esq. Mayor of Ipswich. Mr. Pickwick and his friend Mr. Tupraan arc brought before him on a charge pre- ferred by Miss AVitherfield, that they are about to engage in a duel, — Mr. Pickwick as principal, and Mr. Tupman as his second. (Ch. xxiv, xxv.) See Magnus, Peter. 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 stern ma- jesty 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 farther 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 mas- ter's chair to await his orders : Mr. Nupkins threw himself back with thrilling solemnity, and scrutinized the faces of his unwilling visitors. " Now, Grummer, who is that person?" said Mr. Nupkins. pointing 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 1 " interposed Mr. "Weller, elbow- ing himself into the front rank. " Beg your pardon, sir; but this here officer o' yourn in the gamboge tops '11 never earn a decent livin' as a master o' the cere- monies 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. Snodgrass, and furder on, next him on the t'other side, Mr. "Winkle — all wery nice gen'Pm'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 treadmill for a month or two, the sooner we shall begin to be on a pleasant understanding. Business first, pleas- ure arterwards, as King Richard the Third said ven 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 hoard him throughout with un- speakable awe, " Who is this man, Grummer ? " said the magistrate. " Wery desp'rate character, your wash-up," replied Grummer. " He attempt- ed to rescue the prisoners, and assaulted the oflScers : so we took him into cus- tody, and brought him here." " You did quite right," replied the magistrate. "He is evidently a desperate ruffian." Srtie 33icfetofcfe papers. 3S " He is my servant, sir I " said Mr. Pickwick angrily. *'OhI he is your servant; is he?" said Mr. Nupkins. "A conspiracy to de- teat the ends of justice, and murder its officers. Pickwick's servant. Put that flown, Mr. Jinks." Mr. Jinks did so. " What *s your name, fellow?" thundered Mr. Nupkins. " Veller," replied Sam. " A very good name for the Newgate Calendar," said Mr. Nupkins. This was a joke : so Jinks, Grummer, Dubbley, all the specials, and Muzzle, went into fits of laughter for 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 magistrate threat- ened to commit him instantly. It 's a dangerous thing laughing at the wrong man in these cases. " Where do you live ? " said the magistrate. " Vare-ever I can," replied Sam. " Put that down, 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 '11 commit him, — I '11 commit him as such," said Mr. Nupkins. " This is a very impartial country for justice," said Sam. " There ain't a magis- trate going 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 supernaturally Bolemn, that the magistrate detected him immediately. " Grummer," said Mr. Nupkins, reddening with passion, " how dare you select Buch an inefficient and disreputable person for a special constable, as that man ? How dare you do it, sir ? " " I am wery sorry, your wash-up," stammered Grummer. " Very sorry I " 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 drunk," returned the magistrate. "How dare you say you are not drunk, sir, when I say 5^ou are ? Does n't he smell of spirits, Grummer ? " " Horrid I your wash-up," replied Grummer, who had a vague impression that there was a smell of rum somewhere. " I knew he did I " 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 have n't touched a drop of spirits this morning," said the man, who was aa sober a fellow as need be. " How dare you tell me a falsehood ?" said Mr. Nupkins. " Is n'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 magis- trate's adviser, having had a legal education of three years in a country attorney's office, whispered the magistrate that he thought it would n't do : so the magis- 40 STDe Bfcfeens JBictionars. trate 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 Grummer, 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 sworn directly; but as Grummer wandered, and Mr. Nupkins's dinner was nearly ready, Mr. Nupkins cut the matter short by putting leading questions to Grummer, which Grummer answered as nearly in the affirmative as he could. So the examination went off all very smooth and comfortable; and the two assaults were proved against Mr. "Weller, and a threat against Mr. Winkle, and a push against Mr. Snodgrass. And, when all this was done to the magis- trate's satisfaction, the magistrate and Mr. Jinks consulted in whispers. The consultation having lasted about ten minutes, Mr. Jinks retired to his end of the table ; and the magistrate, with a preparatory cough, drew himself up in his chair, and was proceeding to commence 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 80 far as I am personally concerned." " Hold your tongue, sir I " said the magistrate peremptorily. " I must submit to you, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. " Hold your tongue, sir I " interposed the magistrate, " or I shall order an officer to remove you." " You may order your officers to do whatever you please, sir," said Mr. Pick- wick; ''and I have no doubt, from the specimen I have had of the subordination preserved among them, that, whatever you order, they will execute : but I shall take the liberty, sir, of claiming my right to be heard, until I am removed by force." " Pickvick and principle 1 " exclaimed Mr. Weller in a very audible voice. " Sam, be quiet," said Mr. Pickwick. "Dumb as a drum vith a hole in it," 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 some- thing in his ear. To this the magistrate returned a half-audible answer; and then the whispering war renewed. Jinks was evidently remonstrating. At length the magistrate, gulping down with a very bad grace his disinclina- tion to hear any thing 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, iv 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 ? ^ " Certainly, sir." " To— to— what, Mr. Jinks ? " said the magistrate pettishly. 2Ci)e 33icktoicfe ^^apers. 41 " To find bail, sir." "Yes. Therefore I call upon you both — as I was about to say when I wai 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 householders, of course." " But bless my heart, sir I " 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 householders 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 any thing more to say ? " inquired the magistrate. Mr. Pickwick recollects that he has lately heard of the adventure of Mr. Alfred Jingle in those parts, under the alias of Charles Ed- ward Fitz-Marshall, and that rumor has it that he is about to marry a daughter of the mayor. Mr. Pickwick determines to speak private- ly to the magistrate, and, if this proves to be the fact, to expose Jingle, and gain the good will of Mr. Nupkins. He therefore asks a private word, which, after some hesitation and great astonishment, is granted. The consultation over, Mr. Pickwick and the mayor return to the office. *' Grummer," said the magistrate in an awful voice. " Your wash-up," replied Grummer with the smile of a favorite. " 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 I you are confused, are you ? " said the magistrate. " Mr. Jinks, you observe Lis confusion ? " " Certainly, sir," replied Jinks. "Now," said the magistrate, "just repeat your statement, Grummer; and igain I warn you to be careful. Mr. Jinks, take his words down." The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to restate his complaint ; but what be- tween 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 mvolved, in something under three minutes, in such a mass of entanglement and contradiction, that Mr. Napkins at once declared he did n'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 satisfactorily concluded, Mr. Grummer wa3 ^lominiously ordered out, — an awful instance of the instability of human great- ness and the uncertain tenure of great men's favor, 4* 42 2r|)e Bfcfeens llBfctfonarg. Nupkins, Mrs. Wife of George Nupkins, Esq. (Ch. xxv.) Nupkins, Miss Henrietta. Their daughter. (Ch. xxv.) Payne, Doctor. Surgeon of the Forty-third regiment, and a friend of Doctor Slammer's. (Ch. ii, iii.) See Slammer, Doctor. Pell, Mr. Solomon. An attorney at the Insolvent Court in Por- tugal Street ; a fat, flabby, pale man, with a narrow forehead, wide face, large head, short neck, and wry nose. (Ch. xliii, Iv.) Perker, Mr. Agent for the Honorable Samuel Slumkey in his race for parliament ; afterwards Mr. Pickwick's attorney, — a little, high-dried man, with a dark, squeezed-up face, small, restless black eyes, and the air of one in the habit of propounding regular posers. (Ch. X, xiii, xxxi, xxxiv, xxxv, xlvii, liii, liv.) Phunky, Mr. Associate counsel with Serjeant Snubbin in the case of Bardell vs. Pickwick ; regarded as " an infant barrister," as he has not been at the bar quite eight years. (Ch. xxxi, xxxiv.) Pickwick, Samuel. Founder of the Pickwi* k Club. (Ch. i - xxviii, xxx-xxxii, xxxiv - xxxvii, xxxix-xlviii, 1-lvi.) The first ray of light which illumines the gloom, an^ <;o» verts into a dazzling brilliancy that obscurity in which the earlier history of tue 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 : — " May 12, 1817. — Joseph Smiggers, Esq., P. V. P. M. P. C.,* presiding. 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, Highgate, Brixton, and Camberwell, they cannot bul 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 ex- tending his travels, and consequently enlarging 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 seri- ous 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 Corre- sponding Soc'.ety of the Pickwick Club.' * Perpetual Vice-President,— Member Pickwick Club, t General Chairman, — Member Pickwick Club. 5ri)e 33fcfetofc!t papers. 43 " That the said proposal has received the sanction and approval of this Asso- :iation. " That the Corresponding Society of tlie Pickwick Club is therefore hereby con- stituted; 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 scen- ery or associations may give rise, to the Pickwick Club, stationed in London. " That this Association cordially recognizes the principle of every member of tlie 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 Asso- ciation 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 possibly have remarked nothing ex- traordinary in the bald head, and circular spectacles, which were intently turned turned towards his (the secretary's) face during the reading of the above resolu- tions. To those who knew that the gigantic brain of Pickwick was working be neath that forehead, and that the beaming eyes of Pickwick were twinkling be- hind those glasses, the sight was indeed an interesting one. There sat the man who had traced to their source the mightv ponds of Hampstead, and agitated the scientific world with his Theory of Tittlebats, as calm and unmoved as the deep waters of 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 interesting did the spec- tacle 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 I The eloquent Pickwick, with one hand gracefully concealed behind his coat-tails, and the other waving in air to assist his glowing declamation, — his ele- vated position revealing those tights and gaiters, which, had they clothed an ordi- nary man, might have passed Avithout observation, but which, when Pickwick clothed them (if we may use the expression), inspired involuntary awe and respect, — surrounded by the men who had volunteered to share the peril of his travels, and who were destined to participate in the glories of his discoveries. On iiis right hand sat Mr. Tracy Tupman ; the too susceptible Tupman, who to the wisdom and experience of maturer years superadded the enthusiasm and ardor of a boy in the most interesting and pardonable of human weaknesses, — 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 capacious chin encroached upon the borders of the white cravat : but the Boul of Tupman had known no change, —admiration of the fair sex was still its rul- ing 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 % new green shooting-coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely-fitted drabs. 44 2ri)0 23fcfeens JBfctfonarg, Mr. Pickwick starts out upon his travels with the other members of the Corresponding Society of tlie Pickwick Club, and meets with many laughable and interesting adventures. At Rochester they attend a grand review, station themselves in the front rank of the crowd, and patiently await the commencement 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 atten- tion during the two hours that ensued. At one time, there was a sudden pressure Crom behind; and then Mr. Pickwick was jerked forward for several yards, with a •legrcseof speed and elasticity highly inconsistent with the general gravity of hia demeanor : 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 thrust into his chest to insure its being com- plied with. Then some facetious gentleman 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 was 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 favor of his putting his head in his pocket. These, and other practical witticisms, coupled with the unaccountable absence of Mr. Tupman (who had suddenly disappeared, and was nowhere to be found), rendered their situation, upon the whole, rather more uncomfortable than pleasing or desirable. At length that low roar of many voices can through the crowd, 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 colors were seen fluttering gayly 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 all together ; 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 »ufficient leisure to observe the scene before him, until it assumed the appearance ve have just described. When he was at last enabled to stand firmly on his legs, his gratification and delight were unbounded. '' Can any thing be finer or more delightful ?" he inquired of IVIr. 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 a brilliant array before its peaceful citizens ; their faces beam- ing, not with warlike ferocity, but with civilized gentleness; their eyes flashing, not with the rude fire of rapine or revenge, but with the soft light of humanity and intelligence." BIr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirit of this eulogium ; but he could not exactly re-echo its terms ; for the soft light of intelligence burnt rather feebly in (5:t)e 3iJirfetoicfe J^apecs. 45 ' the eyes of the warriors, inasmuch as the command, " Eyes front I " had been given ; and all the spectator saw before him was several thousand pair of optics staring straight forward, wholly divested of any expression whatever. "We are in a capital situation, now ! " said Mr. Pickwick, looking round blm. The crowd had gradually dispersed from 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 color, — "I rather think they 're going to fire." " Nonsense I " said Mr. Pickwick hastily. "I — I — really think they are," urged Mr. Snodgrass, somewhat alarmed. " Impossible I " replied Mr. Pickwick. He had hardly uttered the word, when the whole half-dozen regiments levelled their muskets as if they had but one com- mon object, and that object the Pickwickians, 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 military, — 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 appre- hended from the firing. "But— 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 I close to my ear." " We had better throw ourselves on our faces, had n't we ?" said Mr. Snodgrass. " No, no I 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 congrat- ulate 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 sta- tioned. 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 advan- cing mass; and then fairly turned his back, and — we will not say fled; first, 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 awk- wardness of his situation to the full extent, until too late. The opposite troops, whose falling-in had perplexed Mr. Pickwick a few seconds before, were drawn up to repel the mimic attack of the sham besiegers of the cit- adel; and the consequence was, that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions found themselves suddenly enclosed between two lines of great length, — the one advan- cing at u rapid pace, and the other firmly waiting the collision in hostile array. '46 8ri)e JBicltens JiCctionarj. " Hoi I " shouted the officers of the advancing line. " Get out of the way ! " cried the officers of the stationary one. "Where are we to go ?" screamed the agitated Pickwickians. " Hoi, hoi, hoi ! " was the only reply. There was a moment of intense bewil derment, a heavy tramp of footsteps, a violent concussion, 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 compulsory somerset with remarkable agility, when the first object that met the eyes of the latter as he sat on the ground, stanching with a j-ellow 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 gambolling playfully away in perspective. There are very few moments in a man's existence when he experiences so much ludicious 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 judg- ment 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 aa 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. Darting forward to pick it up, Mr. Pickwick is accosted by Mr. Tupman, who has made the acquaintance of Mr. Wardle and his family (the occupants of the carriage), and is introduced to them, as are Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle, who come up shortly after. Being all invited to visit Manor Farm, Mr. Wardle's home, on the following day, they determine to go, — three of them in a chaise, and one on horseback. At an early hour, the carriage is brought to the door. It was a curious little 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 it, 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 I " said Mr. Pickwick as they stood upon the pavement while the coats were being put in, — '• bless my soul I who 's to drive ? I never thought of that 1 " "Oh I you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. " Of course,'' said Mr. Snodgrass. "II" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. " Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hostler. " Warrant him quiet, sir a hinfant in arms might drive him." E\)t 33fclttofclt i^apers. 47 "He don't shy; does he ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. " Shy, sir ? He would n'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'l- m'n the ribbins." " Shiny Villiam " — 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. " Woo I " cried Mr. Pickwick, as thetall 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 encouragingly; "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 I " whispered a grinning post-boy to the inexpressibly gratified waiter. Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle with about as much diffi- culty as he would have experienced in getting up the side of a first-rate man-of- war. "All right?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward presentiment that it was all wrong. " All right I » replied Mr. Winkle faintly. " Let 'em go ! " cried the hostler, " hold him in, sir; " and away went the chaise and the saddle-horse, with Mr. PiQjtwick 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. AVinkle in the saddle. " 1 can't imagine," replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was going up the street in the most mysterious manner, — side first, with his head towards one side of the way, and his tail to 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 at- tached to the chaise, who displayed various peculiarities 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 uncomfortable 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 caw he mean by this?" said IVIr. Snodgrass, when the horse had exe- cuted 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 I " said that gentleman. " I have dropped my whip." " Winkle.," cried 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 }>ieces with the violence of the exercise, — " pick up the whip ; there 's a good 48 8rt)e Bfcfeens IBtctfonarj. 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 disposition, 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 I " said Mr. Winkle soothingly, "poor fellow, good old horse I" The " poor fellow " was proof against flattery : the more Mr. Winkle tried to get nearer him, the more he sidled away; and, notwithstanding all kinds of coaxing and wheedling, there wers 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 dis- tance from the other as when they first commenced, — an unsatisfactory 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 I " " 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 any thing 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 rotary motion in which he had previously indulged, for a retrogr ide movement, of so very determined a charac- ter, that it at once drew Mr. WJnkle, 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 for- ward, 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 homis 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. ''Bleis my soull" exclaimed the agonized Mr. Pickwick: '^ there 's the other horse running away I " 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 heat 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 finally stood stock still to gaze upon the ruin he had made. After extricating themselves, the party are compelled to walk and to lead the horse ; and it is not until late in the afternoon that they reach Manor Farm, tired, dusty, and foot-sore. S:i)e 33icfttDicft 33apers. 49 Wlien in London, Mr. Pickwick makes it his home at Mrs. Bar- dell's, in Goswell Street, where he has very comfortable lodgings, and a very accommodating landlady. He determines, however, to take a servant ; and, desiring to consult Mrs. Bardell in relation to the mat- ter, he sends for her. " Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick .... "Sir," said Mrs. Bardell .... " Do you think it 's a much greater expense to keep two people than to keep one?" " La, Mr. Pickwick I " said Mrs. Bardell, coloring up to the very border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matrimonial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger, — " la, Mr. Pickwick, what a question I " '* Well, but do you ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " That depends," said Mrs. Bardell, . . . "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, JMr. Pickwick I" 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 '11 think it not very strange now," said the amiable Mr. Pickwick, with a good-humored glance at his companion, " that I never consulted you about this matter, and never mentioned it, till I sent your little boy out this morning — eh ? " Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long worshipped Mr. Pick- wick 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 aspii-e. Mr. Pickwick was going to propose — a deliberate plan, too — sent her little boy away. After a few words more, Mrs. Bardell, overcome by her feelings, goes off into ecstatic hysterics, and throws herself into the arras of Mr. Pickwick, who vehemently protests, and begs her to desist. "Mrs. Bardell, my good woman — dear me, what a situation I Pray consider, 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 I " And with these words Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter. " Mercy upon me I " said Mr. Pickwick, struggling violently. " I hear somebody coming up the stairs. Don't, don't, there 's a good creature, don't I " But entreaty and remonstrance were alike unavailing: for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pick- wick's arms ; and, before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair. Master Bar- dell entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless and speechless. He stood with his Iovel5 burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the countenances of his friends, without 5 50 SCtc JBickens ISfctfonars. the slightest attempt at recognition or explanation. They, in their turn, stared al 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 filial affection on the part of her youthful son. Clad in a tight suit of corduroy spangled with brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first stood at the door astounded and un- certain; 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 howl- ing, and, butting forward with his head, commenced assailing that immortal gen- tleman about the back and legs, with such blows and pinches as the strength of his arm and the violence of his excitement allowed. *' Take this little villain away I " said the agonized Mr. Pickwick. " He 's mad I " " 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 struggling, to the farther end of the apartment). Now help me to lead this woman down stairs.'' " Oh I 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 I '' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell hysterically. And down stairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affectionate son. " I cannot conceive," said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returned, — "I can- not 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 extraordi- nary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing I " " Very I " said his three friends. " Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation," continued Mr. Pick- wick. " Very I " was the reply of his follow^ers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other. This behavior was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredu- lity. They evidently suspected him. After this occurrence Mr. Pickwick engages Samuel Weller as his servant ; and the next day they all set out for Eatanswill to observe the incidents attending an election at that borough. The parties there are divided into two factions, — the Buffs and the Blues. Of course it was essentially and indispensably necessary that each of these pow- erful parties should have its chosen organ and representative; and, accordingly, there were two newspapers in the town, — "The Eatanswill Gazette " and "The Eatanswill Independent ; " the former advocating Blue principles, and the latter con- ducted on grounds decidedly Buff. Fine newspapers tliey were 1 Such leading ar- ticles, and such spirited attacks I — " Our worthless contemporary ' The Gazette,' " "That disgraceful and dastardly journal 'The Independent,'" "That false and oourrilous 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 Vntense delight and indignation in the bosoms of the town's-people. Mr. Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosen a peculiarly de- iirable moment for his visit to tlie borough. Never was such a contest known. The Honorable 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 only of England, but of the whole civil- ized world, were upon them. " The Independent " imperatively demanded to know whether the constituency of Eatanswill were the grand fellows they had alway.s taken them for, or base and servile tools, undeserving alike of the name of Eng- lishmen 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 companions, assisted by Sam, dismounted from the roof of the Eatanswill coach. Large blue silk flags were flying from the windows of the Town Arms Inn ; and bills were posted in every sash, intimating, in gigantic letters, that the Honorable Samuel Slumkey 's Committee sat there daily. A crowd of idlers were assembled in the road, look- ing 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), swelled into a tremendous roar of triumph, which stopped even the red-faced man in the balcony. "Hurrah I " shouted the mob in conclusion. " One cheer more 1 " screamed the little fugleman in the balcony ; and out shout- ed the mob again, as if lungs were cast iron, with steel works. <' Slumkey forever I " roared the honest and independent. *' Slumkey forever 1 " echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat. " No Fizkin ! " roared the crowd. "Cei-tainly not ! " shouted Mr. Pickwick. " Hurrah I " And then there was another roaring, like that of a whole menage- rie when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold meat. '' Who is Slumkey?" whispered Mr. Tupman. "Idon't know," replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone. "Hush I 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 I " replied Mr. Pickwick. Volumes could not have said more. While in the country, Mr. Pickwick and his friends think it will be well to indulge in a little sport, and consequently resolve to go out gunning. Accompanied by Mr. Wardle, they take an open car- riage and drive off. Arrived at the grounds, Mr. Pickwick finds him- self too lame to walk, and is much disappointed thereat ; but Sam, having discovered a wheelbarrow, proposes to give him a free ride 52 8C!)e ©icftens MlcUonaxs in this novel vehicle, which proposition Mr. Pickwick gratefully ac- cepts. But here a difficulty arises. The gamekeeper resolutely protests against the introduction into a shooting-party of a gentle- man in a barrow, as a gross violation of all estabhshed rules and pre- cedents. It was a great objection, but not an insurmountable one. The gamekeeper liav- Ing been coaxed and feed, 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 game- keeper leading the way; and Ittr. Pickwick in the barrow, propelled by Sam, bring- ing 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 reso- lutely, " 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 of it 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 am not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, for the saGe 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 upper- most : " there 1 " " Any thin' for a quiet life," said Mr. Weller ; and on they went again. " Stop I " said Mr. Pickwick after they had gone a few yards farther. " What now ? " said Wardle. " That gun of Tupman's is not safe : I know it isn't 1 " said Mr. Pickwick. " Eh ? What I 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 objections; but I cannot consent to go on unless you carry it as Win- kle does his." "I think you had better, sir," said the long gamekeeper, " or you 're quite as likely to lodge the charge into your ownvestcoat as in anybody else's." 3Ir. Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece in the position re- quired, and the party moved on again; the two amateurs marching with reversed arms, like a couple of privates at a royal funeral. The dogs came suddenly 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 I " " Hush I can't you ? " replied Wardle softly. "Don't you see they 're making a point?" " Making a point I " said Mr. Winkle, staring about him, as if he expected to discover some particular beauty in the landscape, which the sagacious animals were calling special attention to, — "making a point I What are they pointing at?" " Keep your eyes open," said Wardle, not heeding the question in the excite ment of the moment. " Now, then ! " SN |3fcfetoicfe ^Papers. 63 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. Winkle in a state of the highest excitement, turn- ing 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, — " where are they ? Why, here they are." " No, no I I mean the others," said the bewildered Winkle. " Far enough off by this time," replied Wardle, coolly reloading his gun. " We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes," said the long gamekeepeer. " If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he '11 just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise." " Ha, ha, ha I " roared Mr. Weller. " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion and em- barrassment. " Sir." "Don't laugh." " Certainly not, sir." So, by way of indemnification. My. Weller contorted his features from behind the wheelbarrow, for the exclusive amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon burst into a boisterous laugh, and was sum- marily 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 I " replied Mr. Tupman with conscious pride. " I let it off." " Well done. You '11 hit something next time if you look sharp. Very easy; an't it ? " " Yes, it 's very easy," said Mr. Tupman. " How it hurts one's shoulder, though I It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea these small fire-arms kicked so." *' Ah I " said the old gentleman, smiling. " You '11 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. " Ay, ay I " 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 time." " Never fear," said Mr. Winkle. " Are they pointing." "No, no I not now. Quietly now, quietly." On they crept, and very quietly they would have advanced, if Mr. Winkle, in the performance of some very intri- cate evolutions with his gun, had not accidentally fired, at the most critical mo- ment, over the boy's head, exactly in the very spot where the tall man's brain would have been, had he been there instead. " Why, Avhat on earth did you do that for ? " said old Wardle, as the birds flew unharmed away. " I never saw such a gun in my life I " replied poor Winkle, looking at the lock, as If that would do any good. " It goes off of its own accord. It will do it." 3* 54 8ri)e 33icfeeiis 23ictionarg. " Will do it I " echoed Wardle, with something of irritation in his manner. ♦• a wish it would kill something of its own accord." "It 'L i-^ 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, it" 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 on. wards 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. . . . With the quickness and penetration of a man of genius, he had at once observed that the two great points to be attained, were first to discharge his piece Avithout injury to himself, and, secondly, to do* so without danger to the by-standers. Obviously the best thing to do, after surmounting the diflaculty 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 very act of falling wounded to the ground. He was just on the point of congratulating 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; 1 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. Tupman to protest, with a smile of self-denial, that he never had. The very smile was taken as evidence to the contrary ; and, from that time forth, his reputation was established. 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 produ- cing any material results worthy of being noted down ; sometimes expending his charge in mid-air, and at others sending it skimming along so near the surface of the ground as to place the lives of the two dogs on a rather uncertain and preca- rious 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. . . . " Well," said Wardle, walking up to the side of the barrow, and wiping the streams of perspiration from his jolly red face; " smoking day, is n'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 I there 's the boy with the Oasket, punctual as clock-work." STJe 3i)fcftfcDicft 33aper». 55 " So he is," said Mr. Pickwick, brightening up. " Good boy, that. I 'II give him a shilling presently. Now, then, Sam, wheel away." " Hold on, sir I " said Mr. Weller, invigorated with the prospect of refreshments. " Out of the vay, young leathers I If you walley my precious life don't upset me, as the gen'l'man said to the driver when they was a-carryin' him to Tyburn." And, quickening his pace to a sharp i"un, Mr. Weller wheeled his master to the green hill, shot him dexterously out by the very side of the basket, and proceeded to unpack it with the utmost despatch. " A wery good notion of a lunch it is, take it altogether," said Mr. Weller, sur- veying his arrangement of the repast with great satisfaction. " Now, gen'l'men, ' fall on,' as the English said to the French when they fixed bagglnets." It needed no second invitation to induce the party to yield fuU justice to the meal ; and as little pressing did It require to induce Mr. Weller, the long gamekeeper, and the two boys, to station themselves on the grass at a little distance, and to do good execution upon a decent proportion of the viands. An old oak-tree afforded a pleasant shelter to the group; and a rich prospect of ai-able and meadow land, intersected with luxuriant hedges, and richly ornamented with wood, lay spread out before them. " Tins is delightful, thoroughly delightful I " 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 I " replied Wardle. " Come, a glass of punch." " With great pleasure," said Mr. Pickwick ; and the satisfaction of his counte- nance after di-inking it bore testimony to the sincerity of the reply. " Good !" said Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips, — " very good I I '11 take another. Cool, very cool. Come, gentlemen, " continued Mr. Pickwick, still retaining his hold upon the jar, " a toast; ' Our friends at Dlngley Dell.' " The toast was drunk with loud acclamations. " I '11 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 '11 put a stuffed partridge on the top of a post, and practise at it, beginning at a short distance, and length- ening it by degrees. I understand it 's a 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 exquisite facetlousness, 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. Pickwick, looking earnestly at the stone bottle ; "and the day is extremely warm, and — Tupman, my dear friend, a glass of punch ? " " With the greatest delight," replied Mr. Tupman : and, having drunk that glass, Mr. Pickwick took another, just to see whether there was any orange-peel in the punch, because orange-peol 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 honor of the punch-compounder, unknown. 56 Sl)5 Bicfeens IBltUonnv^, This constant succession of glasses produced considerable effect upon Mr. Kckwick; his countenance beamed with the most sunny smiles; laughter played around his lips ; and good-humored merriment twinkled in his eye. Yielding by degrees to the influence of the exciting liquid, rendered more so by the 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 a quite 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 master back again, or to leave him where he was until they should be all ready to return. The latter course was at length decided on ; and as their 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 de- termined 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 is what prevented him. Captain Boldwig was a little fierce man in a stiff black neckerchief and blue surtout, who, when he did condescend to walk about his property, did it in com- pany with a thick rattan stick with a brass ferule, and a gardener and sub-garden- er 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, fol- lowed 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 heai, 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 '11 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 with you 7" said Captain Boldwig. " I beg your pardon, sir; but I think there have been trespassers here to-dav " STiJe 3Picfttoicfe papers. 67 " Ha I " said the captain, scowling around him. " Yes, sir. They have been dining here, I think, sir." " Why, damn their audacity I so they have," said Captain Boldwig, as the crumbs and fragments that w^ere strewn upon tlie grass met his eye. '' They have been actually devouring their food here. I wish I had the vagabonds here I " said the captain, clinching the thick stick. " I wish I had the vagabonds here 1 " 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 ? " ask^d the captain. " Punch, I think, sir," replied Wilkins. " That 's his impudence : that 's his confounded impudence 1 " said Captain Bold- wig. " 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," replied Captain Boldwig. " Very well, sir," said Wilkins. " Stay," said the captain. Wilkins stopped accordingly. " Wheel him I " 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 I Wheel him away ! " Away Mr. Pickwick was wheeled in compliance with this imperious mandate; and the great Captain Boldwig, swelling with indignation, proceeded on his walk. Inexpressible was the astonishment of the little party when they returned, to find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the wheelbarrow with him. It was tlie most mysterious and unaccountable 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 corner round, together and separately : they shouted, whistled, laughed, called, — and all with the same result. Mr. Pickwick was not to be found; and, after some hours of fruitless search, they arrived at the unwel- come conclusion, 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 satisfac- tion, not only of all the boys in the village, but three-fourths of the whole popula- tion, who liad gathered round in expectation of his waking. If their most in- tense gratification had been awakened by seeing him wheeled in, how many iiundred-fold was their joy increased, when, after a few indistinct cries of " Sam I " he sat up in the barrow, and gazed with indescribable astonishment on the faces oefoi-e him I A general shout was, of course, the signal of his having woke up; and his in- roluntary inquiry of " What 's the matter ? " occasioned another, louder than the first, if possible. 58 CC&e ©fcltens IBictfonatj. " Here 's a game I " 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 I " cried Mr. Pickwick. " Where 's my servant ? Where are my friends?" " You an't got no friends. Hurrah I " And then there came a turnip, and then a potato, and then an egg, 'rtrith a few other little tokens of the playful disposition of the many-headed. How long this scene might have lasted, or how much Mr. Pickwick might havn suffered, no one can tell, had not a carriage, which was driving swiftly by, sudden- ly pulled up, from whence there descended old Wardle and Sam Weller, the for- mer 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 lat- ter had concluded the third and last round of a single combat with the town- beadle. " Run to the justice's," cried a dozen of voices. " Ah, run avay 1 " said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. " Give my com- pliments — Mr. Veller's compliments — to the justice, and tell him I've spoiled his beadle, and that, if he '11 svear in a new 'un, I '11 come back agin to-morrow and spoil him. Drive on, old feller 1 " "I'll give directions for the commencement of an action for false imprison- ment 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 '11 bring the action." " No, you won't," said Wardle. " 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 ex- tended into a laugh, the laugh into a roar, and the roar became general. So, to keep up their good-humor, 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. A serious trouble, however, is in store for Mr. Pickwick. One- morning, his servant hands him a letter in a strange hand. " I don't know this hand," said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. " Mercy on as I 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 Wardle, alarmed at the horror in Mr. Pick- wick's countenance. Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but pushing the letter across the table, and desir- ing Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his chair with a look of vacant as- tonishment quite alarming to behold. Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of which t he following i? • copy : — Eftt 33icfttDfcfe diapers. 59 Fbebman's Court, Cobnhill, Aug. 23, 1830. Bardell 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 plaintiif lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to inform you that a writ has been is- sued against you iu 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 service thereof. We are, sir, Your obedient servants, DoDSON AND Fogg. Afr. Samuel Piclcwich. Mr. Pickwick is for some time inclined to think the letter a Joke merely ; but he is reminded of the fact, that, on one occasion, he was seen with Mrs. Bardell in his arms, endeavoring to soothe her an- guish. Finding himself the " victim of circumstances," and seeino- that the case is likely to be a serious one, he seeks his solicitor in Loudon, who engages to retain Serjeant Snubbin, an advocate who is " at the very top of his profession," and " leads the court by the nose." The case comes on in due time ; and, on the morning of the trial, Mr. Pickwick, being escorted into court, stands up in agitation, and takes a glance around him. 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 whiskers for which the bar of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as had got 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 observa- tion of the spectators. Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carried under their arms goodly octavos, with a red label behind, and that under-done-pie- crust-colored 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 could. The whole, to the great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided into little groups, who were chatting, and discussing the news of the day iu the most unfeeling manner possible, just as if no trial at all were coming on. A loud cry of " Silence I " announced the entrance of the judge, who was most particularly short, and so fat, that he seemed all face and waistcoat. He rolled in upon two little turned legs ; and having bobbed to the bar, who bobbed to him, put his little legs underneath his table, and his little three-cornered hat upon it: a sensation was then perceptible in the body of the court ; and immediately after- wards Mrs. Bardell, the plaintifiF, supported by Mrs. Cluppins, her bosom-friend number one, was led in in a drooping state. An extra-sized umbrella was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and a pair of pattens by Mr. Fogg (Dodson and Fogg being the plaintilTs attorneys), each of whom had prepared a sympathizing and melancholy face for the occasion. Mrs. Sanders, bosom-friend number two, then appeared, leading in Master Bardell, whom she placed on the floor of the court in front of his hysterical mother, —a commanding position, in which he could not fail to awaken the sympathy of both judge and jury. This was not done without 60 8r|)e Bicfeens Bfctfonars. considerable opposition on the part of the young gejitleman himself, who had misgivings that his being placed in the full glare of the judge's eye was only a for- mal prelude to his being immediately ordered away for instant execution. " I am for the plaintiff, my lord," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. Court. — " Who is Avith you, Brother Buzfuz ? " Mr. Skimpin bowed, to intimate that he was. " I appear for the defendant, my lord," said Mr. Serjeant Snubbin. Court. — " Anybody with you, Brother Snubbin ? » " Mr. Phunky, my lord." Court. — "Go on." 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. Serjeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignity which the grave na- ture of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered to Dodson, and conferred briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over his shoulders, settled his wig, and ad- dressed the jury. Serjeant Buzfuz began by saying, that never, in the whole course of his profes- sional 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 such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon htm, — a responsibility he could never have supported, were he not buoyed up and sustained by a conviction, so strong that it amounted to positive certainty, tliat the cause of truth and justice, or, in other words, the cause of his much-injured and most-oppressed client, must pre- vail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now saw in that box before him. Counsel always begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the best terms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp fellows they must be. A visi- ble effect was produced immediately; several jurymen beginning to take volumi- nou8,notes. " 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 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 one thousand five hundred pounds. 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 this 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. "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 royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world to seek elsewhere for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford." This was a pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had been knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar. "Sometime before Mr. Bardell 's death he had stamped his likeness upon a lit- tle boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Gos- well Street; and here she placed in her front-parlor window a written placard, bearing this inscription : ' 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 ; but I am instructed to say that it was put in the plaintiflPs parlor-window just this time three years. Now I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this document : ' Apartments furnished for a single gentleman ' I ' Mr. Bardell,' said the widow, — * Mr. Bardell was a man of honor ; Mr. Bardell was a man of his word ; Mr. Bardell was no deceiver ; Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Sir. Bardell was when he first won my young and untried affections ; to a single gentleman shall my lodgings be let.' Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put thebill up in her parlor- window. Did it remain therelong ? No. Before the bill had been in the parlor 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 Mrs. Bardell's door. He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick, — Pick- wick the defendant." Serjeant Buzfuz here paused for breath. The silence awoke Mr. Justice Stare* leigh, who immediately wrote down 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. " Of this man Pickwick I will say little: the subject presents but few attrac- tions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men, to de- light in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness and of systematic villany." Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence, 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. "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 de(Jent in him, more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped away. " I shall show you, gentlemen, that, for two years, Pickwick continued to reside, without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. 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 oc- casion, he patted the boy on the head, and, after inquiring whether he had won any alley tors or commoTieys lately (both of which I understand to be a particular species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use of this re- markable expression: < How should you like to have another father?* I shall prove to you, gentlemen, on the testimony of three of his own friends, — most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen, most unwilling witnesses, — that on that morn- ing he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments. " And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties, — letters which are admitted to be in the handwriting of the defend- ant. Let me read the first : — ' Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B. — Chops and tomato-sauce. Yours, PICKV^CK.' Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops I Gracious heavens I and tomato-sauce 1 Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these ? 6 62 2CJ)e 33ickens Bictionars. The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. 'Dear Mrs. B., 1 shall not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach.' And then follows this very re- markable expression. ' Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan.' Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan ? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless it is, as I assert it to be, a mere cover for hidden fire, — a mere substitute for some en- dearing 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 ? ''Enough of this. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined. 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 tomato 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, are the only punishment with which you can visit him, the only recompense 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 sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her civilized 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 vigor. "Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins, — do you recollect being in l^Irs. Bardell's back one pair of stairs on one particular morning in July last, when she was dust- ktig Pickwick's apartment ? " '• Yes, my lord and jury, I do." " Mr. Pickwick's sitting-room was the first-floor front, I believe ? " " Yes, it were, sir." Court. — " What were you doing in the back-room, ma'am?" " My lord and jury, I will not deceive you.'-' Court. — " You had better not, ma'am." *• I was there 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." Court. — " On the what ?" " Partly open, my lord." Court. — " She said on the jar." " It 's all the same, my lord." The little judge looked doubtful, and said he 'd make a note of it. " I walked in, gentlemen, just to say good-mornin', and went in a permiscuoua manner up stairs, and into the back-room. Gentlemen, there was the sound of voices in the front-room, and " — " And you listened, I believe, Mrs. Cluppins ? " " Beggin' your pardon, sir, 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 »ne of those voices Pickwick's ? " " Yes, it were, sir." And Mrs. Cluppins, after distinctly stating that Mr. Pickwick addressed himself lo Mrs. Bardell, repeated by slow degreos, and by dint of many questions, the conversation she had heard. Which, like many other conversations repeated uu- der such circumstances, or, indeed, like many other conversations repeated under any circumstances, was of the smallest possible importance in itself. Mrs. Cluppins, having broken the ice, thought it a favorable opportunity for entering into a short dissertation on her own domestic affairs : so she straight- way proceeded to inform the court that she was the mother of eight children at that present speaking, and that she entertained confident expectations of present- ing Mr. Cluppins with a ninth somewhere about that day six months. At this interesting point, the little judge interposed most irascibly; and the worthy lady was taken out of court. " Nathaniel Winkle I " said Mr. Skimpin. "Here I" Mr. Winkle entered the witness-box, and, having been duly sworu, bowed to the judge, who acknowledged the compliment by saying, — Court. — '■' Don't look at me, sir : look at the jury." Mr. Winkle obeyed the mandate, and looked at the place where he thought the jury might be. Mr. Winkle was then examined by Mr. Skimpin. " Now, sir, have the goodness to let his lordship and the jury know what your name is ; wiU you ? " Mr. Skimpin inclined his head on one side, and listened with great sharpness for the answer, as if to imply that he rather thought Mr. Win- kle's natural taste for perjury would induce him to give some name which did not belong to him. " Winkle." Court. — " Have you any Christian name, sir ?" " Nathaniel, sir." Court. — ' * Daniel, — any other name ? " " Nathaniel, sir, — my lord, I mean." Court. — " Nathaniel Daniel, or Daniel Nathaniel?'* " No, my lord, only Nathaniel ; not Daniel at all." Court. — " What did you tell me it was Daniel for, then, sir ?" " I did n't, my lord." Court. — " You did, sir. How could I have got Daniel on my notes unless you told me so, sir ? " "Mr. Winkle has rather a short memory, my lord: we shall find mean? to re- fresh it before \^e have quite done with him, I dare say. Now, Mr. Winkle, attend to me, if you please, sir; and let me recommend you 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 par- ticular friend of the defendant's ? " " I was just about to say that" — " Will you, or will you not, answer my question, sir?" Court. — "If you don't answer the question, you '11 be committed to prison, sir." "Yes; I am." " Yes ; you are. And could n't you say that at once, sir ? Perhaps you know the plaintiff too ? Eh, Mr. Winkle ? " " I don't know her; but 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 that I have seen her when I went to call on Mr. Pickwick in Goswell Street." 64 Ct)e Bfcfeens Bictionatj. •' How often have you seen her, sir ?" " How often ? " "Yes, Mr. Winkle, — how often? I '11 repeat the question for you a dozen times if you require it, sir." On this question there arose the edifying browbeating 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 had n't seen her a hundred times ; whether he could n't swear that he bad seen her more than fifty times ; whether he did n't know that he had seen her at least seventy-five times ; and so forth. " Pray, Mr. Winkle, do you remember calling on the defendant Pickwick, at these apartments in the plaintiif 's 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," looking very earnestly towards the spot where his friends were stationed. " Pray attend to me, Mr. Winkle, and never mind your friends," with an ex- pressive look at the jury. " They must tell tlieir stories without any previous con- sultation 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; and the plaintiff appeared to have fainted away." " Did you hear the defendant say any thing ? " " 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 anybody should come, — or words to that effect." " Now, Mr. Winkle, I have only one more question to ask you. Will you under- take to swear that Pickwick the defendant did not say, on the occasion in ques- tion, 'My dear IMrs. Bardell, you 're a good creature ; compose 5'ourself to this sit- uation, for to this situation you must come,' — or words to that effect ? " "I — I did n't understand him so certainly. I was on the staircase, and could n'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. fou were on the staircase, and did n't distinctly hear; but you will not swear that Pickwick did not make use of the expressions I have quoted ? So I understand that?" " No : I will not." " You may leave the box, sir." 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 Pick- wick would marry Mrs. Bardell. Knew that Mrs. BardeU's being engaged to Pick- wick was the current topic of conversation in the neighborhood after the fainting in July. Had heard Pickwick ask the little boy how he should like to have anoth- er 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. 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 anybody as called herself a lady would do the same under similar circumstances. During the period of her keeping company with BIr. Sanders, she had received love-letters, like other ladies. In the course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a "duck;" but he had never called her " chops," nor yet "tomato- sauce." Serjeant Buzfuz now rose with more importance than he had yet exhibited, if that were possible, and said, " Call Samuel Weller." It was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller; for Samuel Weller stepped into the box the instant his name was pronounced; and placing his hat on the floor, and his arms on the rail, took a bird's-eye view of the bar and a comprehen- sive survey of the bench, with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect. Court. — " What 's your name, sir ? " " Sam Weller, my lord." Court. — " Do you spell it with a ' V,' or with a ' W ' ? " " That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord. 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, " Quite right too, Samivel; quite right. Put it down a we, my lord, put it down a we." Court. — " Who is that who dares to address the court ? Usher." " Yes, my lord." Court. — " Bring that person here instantly." " Tes, my lord." But, as the usher did n't find the person, he did n'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, — Court. — " Do you know who that was, sir ? " " I rayther suspect it was my father, my lord." Court. — " Do you see him here now ? " Sam stared up into the lantern in the roof of the court, and said, " Wy, no, my lord, I can't say that I do see him at the present moment." Court. — " If you could have pointed him out, I would have sent him to jail instantly." Sam bowed his acknowledgments. " Now, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz. ** Now, sir." " I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in this case. 8peak up, if you please, Mr. Weller." " I mean to speak up, sir. I am in the service o' that 'ere gen'l'man, and a ivery good service it is." " Little to do, and plenty to get, I suppose ? " " Oh I quite enough to get^ sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered him three nundred and fifty lashes." Court. — "You must not tell us what the soldier said, unless the soldier ia 91 court, and is examined in the usual way : it 's not evidence." 6* 66 ffi!)e Bicfeens SSictfonarjj. " "Wery good, my lord." " Do you recollect any thing particular happening on the morning when yon were first engaged by the defendant ? Eh, Mr. Weller ? " " Yes, I do, sir." " 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; and that was a wery partickler and uncommon circumstance vith me in tliose days." The judge looked sternly at Sara ; but Sam's features were so perfectly serene that the judge said nothing. *' Do 3'ou mean to tell me, Mr. "Weller, that you saw nothing of this fainting on the part of the plaintiflT in the arms of the defendant, which you have heard de- scribed by the witnesses ? " " Certainly not, sir. I was in the passage till they called me up ; and then the old lady as you call the plaintiff, — she warn't there, sir." " 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 ; and that 's just it. If they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power, p'r'aps I might be able to see through two flights o' stairs and a deal-door; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision 's limited." "Now, Mr. Weller, I '11 ask you a question on another point, if you please." " If you please, sir." "Do you remember going up to Mrs. Bardell's house one night in November ? " " Oh, yes ! wery well." " Oh I you do remember that, Mr. Weller. I thought we should get at something at last." " I rayther thought that, too, sir." "Well, I suppose you went up to have a little talk about the trial, — eh, Mr. Weller ? " " I went up to pay the rent ; but we did get a-talkin' about the trial." " Oh 1 you did get a-talking about the trial. Now, what passed about the trial ? Will you have the goodness to tell us, Mr. Weller ?" "' Vith all the pleasure in life, sir. Arter a few unimportant obserwations from the two wirtuous females as has been examined here to-day, the ladies gets into a wery great state o' admiration at the honorable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Mr. Fogg, — them two gen'l'men as is settin' near you now." " The attorneys for the plaintiff. Well, they spoke in high praise of the hon- orable conduct of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff; did they?" " Yes : they said what a wery gen'rous thing it was o' them to have taken up the case on spec, and not to charge nothin' af all for costs unless they got 'em out of Mr. Pickwick." " 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. That 's my case, my lord." Serjeant Snubbin then addressed the jury on behalf of the defendant, and did the best he could for Mr. Pickwick; and the best, as everybody knows, could do no more. Mr. Justice Stareleigh summed up in the old-established form. He read as much of his notes to the jury as he could decipher on so short a notice ; he did n't read xs much of them as he could n't make out ; and he made running comments on the ev^idence as he went along. If Mrs. Bardell were right, it was perfectly clear 2C|)e 33i'clttoiclt 33ap^rs. 67 Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and, if they thought tlie evidence of Mrs. Cluppins wor- thy of credence, they would believe it; and if they did n't, why, tliey would n't. Tlie jury then retired to tlieir private room to talk the matter over, and the judge retired to Ms 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; and the judge was fetched in. Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, and gazed at the foreman. " Gentlemen, are you all agreed upon your verdict ?" " We are." *' Do you And 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 the 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 '11 get your costs ; don't you, gentlemen ? " said Mr. Pickwick. Fogg said they thought it rather probable ; and 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 rae, if I spend the rest of my existence in a debtor's prison." "Ha, ha I" said Dodson, "you '11 think better of that before next term, Mr. Pickwick." " He, he, he I we '11 soon see about that, Mr. Pickwick," grinned Fogg. Speechless with indignation, Mr. Pickwick allowed himself to be led by his soli- citor and friends to the door, and there assisted into a hackney-coach, which had been fetched for the purpose by the ever-watchful Sam Weller. Sam had put up the steps, and was preparing to jump on the box, when he felt himself gently touched on the shoulder; and his father stood before him. " Samivel, the gov'nor ought to have been got off with a alleybi. Ve got Tom Vildspai-k off o' that 'ere manslaughter (that come of hard driving), vith a alleybi, ven all the big vigs to a man said as nothing could n't save him. I know'd what 'ud come o' this here way o' doin' bisniss. O Sammy, Sammy I vy worn't there a Bileybi?" Mr. Pickwick sticks to his determination, and goes to prison. Sam Weller, desperate at being separated from his master, borrows twenty- five pounds of his father, whom he gets to arrest him for debt, and so follows Mr. Pickwick. Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, having got a cognovit from Mrs. Bardell, after the trial, for the amount of costs, by representing that it was a mere matter of form, take her in execution for them, and send her also to the Fleet. Here she meets Mr. Pickwick, who, finding that 68 2ri)e ©fcfeens ISictfonacg. nobody can release her from that den of wretchedness but himself, and that he can only do so by paying the entire costs of the suit (both of plaintifl' and defendant), and being also moved to the same course by divers other good reasons, pays them, and sets both him- self and Mrs. Bardell at liberty ; whereupon Sam Weller procures from his attorney a formal discharge, which" his prudent papa has had the foresight to leave in the hands of that gentleman to be used in any case of emergency. Mr. Pickwick having, not long afterwards, withdrawn from the club bearing his name (which circumstance, coupled with others, occasions its dissolution), determines to settle down at Dulwich. He sees all his young friends happily married, including the devoted Sam Weller, who takes to himself a wife, who is installed as Mr. Pickwick's housekeeper. And thus Mr. Pickwick's biography ter- minates while the " sunshine of the world is blazing full upon him." Pipkin, Nathaniel. The " Parish Clerk " in Mr. Pickwick's tale of that name. He is a harmless, good-natured little being, of a very nervous temperament, and with a cast in his eye and a halt in his gait. He falls in love with the beautiful Maria Lobbs, but sees her married to another. (Ch. xvii.) Podder, Mr. A member of the All-Muggleton Cricket Club. (Ch. vii.) Pott, Mr. Editor of "The Eatanswill Gazette." (Ch. xiii, xv, xviii.) Pott, Mrs. Wife of the editor of "The Eatanswill Gazette." (Ch. xiii, XV, xviii, li.) Price, Mr. A coarse, vulgar young man, with a sallow face and a harsh voice ; a prisoner for debt, whom Mr. Pickwick encounters in the " coffee-room " of the sponging-house in Coleman Street. (Ch. xl.) Pruffle. A servant to a scientific gentleman at Bath. (Ch. xxxix.) Raddle, Mr. Husband to Mrs. Raddle. (Ch. xxxii, xlvi.) Raddle, Mrs. Mary Ann. Mr. Bob Sawyer's landlady ; sister to Mrs. Cluppins, and a thorough shrew. (Ch. xxxii, xlvi.) Rogers, Mrs. A lodger at Mrs. Bardell's. (Ch. xlvi.) Roker, Mr. Tom. A turnkey at the Fleet prison. (Ch. xl-xlv.) Sam. A cab-driver. (Ch. ii.) Sanders, Mrs. Susannah. A bosom-friend of Mrs. Bardell's. (Ch. xxvi, xxxiv.) Sawyer, Bob- A medical student whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Mr. Wardle's. He afterwards hangs out his sign (Sawyer, late Nockemorf ) as a medical practitioner, in Bristol, where Mr. Win- kle meets him. He has a very nice place ; but " half the draws have got nothing in 'em, and the other half don't open." Indeed, "hardly any thing real in the shop but the leeches; and they are second-hand.'* Mr. Sawyer keeps a boy, whose duties are thus d ascribed : — " He goes up to a house, rings the area-bell, pokes a packet of medicine with- out a direction into the servant's hand, and walks off. Servant takes it into the dining-parlor ; master opens it, and reads the label: 'Draught to be taken at bed-time; pills as before; lotion as usual; the powder. From Sawyer's, late Nockemorf's. Physicians' prescriptions carefully 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 the 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 I We have got one four-ounce bottle that 's been to half the houses in Bristol, and has n't done yet." ... " The lamp-lighter has eighteen pence 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 1 ' everybody says, ' somebody taken suddenly ill. Sawyer, late Nockem- orf, sent for. "What a business that young man has I ' " (Ch. XXX, xxxii, xxxviii, xlviii, 1-lii.) See Hopkins, Jack. Shepherd, The. See Stiggins, The Reverend Mr. Siminery, Frank, Esq. A smart young stock-broker. (Ch. Iv.) Simpson, Mr. A prisoner in the Fleet. (Ch. xlii.) Skimpin, Mr. Junior counsel with Serjeant Buzfuz for Mrs. Bar- dell, in her suit against Mr. Pickwick. (Ch. xxxiv.) See Pick- wick, Samuel. Slammer, Doctor. Surgeon of the Ninety-seventh Eegiment, present at a charity ball at the Bull Inn, Rochester. The slim Mr. Jingle and the stout ]Mr. Tupman desire to attend the same ball; but Mr. Jingle happens not to have a change of clothing. He therefore induces Mr. Tupman (although they are comparative strangers) to borrow a suit belonging to Mr. Winkle, who has been indulging too freely in wine at the table, and has fallen fast asleep. Mr. Jingle, being a very wide-awake and plausible person, makes a decided impression on an elderly and wealthy widow-lady, who is the object of Doctor Slammer's unremitting attention. 70 8r!)e Bfcfeensf ISfctfonarg. Upon the doctor and the widow the eyes both of Mr. Tupman and his com- panion 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 '11 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 mantle-piece, commenced gazing with an air of respectful and melancholy ad- miration 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, — a smile, a bow, a courtesy, a few words of conversation. The stranger walked boldly up to, and returned with, the master of the ceremonies; a little introductory pantomime, 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 unheed- ed by the widow; and the doctor's indignation was wholly lost on his imper- turbable rival. Doctor Slammer was paralyzed. He, Doctor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh, to be extinguished in a moment by a man whom nobody had ever seen before, and whom nobody knew even now. Doctor Slammer, — Doc- tor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh rejected! Impossible! It could not be! Yes, it was : there they were. What ! introducing his friend I Could he believe his eyes I 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 mistaking the fact. There was the widow before him, bouncing bodily here and there with unwonted vigor; 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-bot- tled-up indignation effervescing from all parts of his countenance, in a perspira- tion 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 I " said the doctor in an a^vful voice, producing a card, and retiring into an angle of the passage, "my name is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, sir — Ninety- seventh 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 atten- tion— ^ot ill now, Slammer — but when I am — knock you up." "You — you 're a shuflaer, sir," gasped the furious doctor, "a poltroon, a cow- ard, 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 gen- tleman — 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." " 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 wich an indignant knock; and the stranger and Mr. Tupman ascended to the bedroom of the latter to restore the borrowed plumage to the unconscious Win- kle. 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 ori- fice in his night-cap originally intended for the reception of his head, and finally overturning his candlestick in his struggles to put it on, Mr. Tracy Tupman man- aged to get into bed by a series of complicated evolutions, and shortly afterwards sank into repose. Early on the following morning, inquiry is made at the inn for a gentleman wearing a bright blue dress-coat Avith a gilt button with ' P. C on it ; and as Mr. Winkle answers to the description, he is awakened out of a sound tsleep, dijesses himself hastily, and goes down stairs to the coffee-room. An officer in undress 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, Doctor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh." '' Doctor Slammer 1 " said Mr. Winkle. " 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) wliich no one gentleman would pursue towards another." Mr. Winkle's astonishment was too real and too evident to escape the observa- tion of Doctor Slammer's friend : he therefore proceeded. " My friend. Doctor Slammer, requested me to add, that he is 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 behavior, he will consent to accept a written apology, to be penned by you from my dictation." "A written apology 1" repeated Mr. Winkle in the most emphatic tone of amazement possible. " Of course you know the alternative," replied the visitor coolly. "Were you intrusted with this message to me by name?" inquired Mr. Win- kle, whose intellects were hopelessly confused by this extraordinary conversa- tion. "I was not present myself," replied the visitor; "and, in consequence of your firm refusal to give your card to Doctor Slammer, I was desired by that gentleman 72 Cn 29icfeens 2!9fctionars. to identify the wearer of a very uncommon coat, — a bright blue dress-coat, with a gilt button displaying a bust, and the letters ' P. C.' " Mr. "Winkle actually staggered with astonishment as he heard his own costume thus minutely described. Doctor Slammer's friend proceeded, — " 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 after- noon. 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 founda- tion, and stationed itself opposite the coflfee-room-window, Mr. "Winkle's surprise would have been as nothing, compared 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 witli a trembling hand opened the bag. There was the coat in its usual place, but exhibiting, 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 afterwards. The fact is I was very drunk. I must have changed my coat, gone somewhere, and insulted somebody, — I have no doubt of it, — and this message is the terrible consequence." Saying which, Mr. "Winkle retraced his steps in the direction of the coflfee-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 oflensive, defensive, or inoffensive; 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 stand- ing were lost forever. 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 communicate the intelligence to Mr. Pickwick, who would certainly lose no time in transmitting it to the local authorities, and thus prevent the kUling or maiming of his fol- lower. Such were his thoughts when he returned to the coffee-room, and intimated his intention of accepting the doctor's challenge. . . . That morning's breakfast passed heavily off. Mr. Tupman was not in a condi- tion to rise after the unwonted dissipation of the previous night; Mr. Snodgrass appeared to labor under a poetical 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 dis- posed to walk, they went out together. " Snodgrass," said Mr. Winkle when they had turned out of the public street, — " Snodgrass, my dear feUow, 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 I " interrupted Winkle, terrified at the idea of his companion's uncon- sciously pledging himself not to give information. ''Don't swear, don't swear: It's quite unnecessary." mt 3PtcfetDfcfe 33apers. 73 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 at- tention. " I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an affair of honor," said Mr. Win- kle. "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 offi- cer, seconded by another officer, at sunset this evening, in a lonely field be}ond Fort Pitt." " I will attend you," said Mr. Snodgrass. He was astonished, but by no means dismayed. It is extraordinary how cool any 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 ; a'n'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 two-penny 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 transpor- tation, — possibly for life I " Mr. Snodgrass winced a little at this ; but his heroism was 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 I The morning was wearing away : he grew desperate. "Snodgrass," he said, stopping suddenly, " do not let me be balked in this mat- ter ; do not give information to the local authorities ; do not obtain the assist- ance of several peace-officers to take either me, or Doctor Slammer of the Nine- ty-seventh Regiment, at present quartered in Chatham Barracks, into custody, and thus prevent this duel, — I say, do not J' Mr. Snodgrass seized his friend's hand warmly, as he enthusiastically 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. . . . It was a dull and heavy evening when they again sallied forth on their awk- vard errand. Mr. Winkle was muffled up in a huge cloak to escape observation; and Mr. Snodgrass bore under his the instruments of destruction. . . . " We are in excellent time," said Mr. Snodgrass as they climbed the fence of the first field : " the sun is just going down." Mr. Winkle looked up at the declin- *ng orb, and painfully thought of the probability 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 di- 74 8E|)e Bicltens Bictionarg. rection indicated by the forefinger of his friend, and observed a figure muffled up as he had described. The officer evinced his consciousness of their presence by slightly beckoning with his hand; and the two friends followed him at a little dis- tance as he walked away. . . . [He] turned suddenly from the path ; and after clhnbing a paling, and scaling a hedge, entered a secluded field. Two gentle- men were waiting in it: one was a little fat man with black hair; and the other — a portly personage in a braided surtout — was sitting with perfect equa- nimity 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 further 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 uncomfortable himself. . . . " We may place our men, then, I think," observed the officer, with as much in- ditFerence 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." . . . Mr. Winkle was always remarkable for extreme humanity. It is conjectured that his unwillingness to hurt a fellow-creature intentionally 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 3xtraordinary and unac- countable demeanor of Doctor Salmmer. That gentleman started, stared, re- treated, rubbed his eyes, stared again, and finally shouted, " Stop, stop I " "What 's all this?" said Doctor Slammer, as* his friend and Mr. Snodgrass came running up. " That 's not the man." " Not the man I " said Doctor Slammer's second. " Not the man ! " said Mr. Snodgrass. "Not the man I " 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." . . . Now, Mr. Winkle had opened his eyes, and his ears too, when he heard his ad- versary call out for a cessation of hostilities ; and perceiving, by what he had after- wards 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 conceal- ing the real motive for 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 Doctor Slammer, and a sufficient reason for proceeding immediately." " Pray, be quiet, Payne I " said the doctor's second. " Why did you not com- tnunicate 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 ques- ticcsir?" " Because, sir," replied Mr. Winkle, who had time to deliberate upon hia answer, — " because, sir, you described an intoxicated and ungentlemanly per- son as wearing a coat which I have the honor, not only to wear, but to have invented, — the proposed uniform, sir, of the Pickwick Club in London. The honor of that uniform I feel bound to maintain; and I therefore, without in- quiry, accepted the challenge which you offered me." " My dear sir," said the good-humored little doctor, advancing with extended hand, " I honor your gallantry. Permit me to say, sir, that I highly admire your conduct, and extremely regret having caused 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. Win- kle. Thereupon, the doctor and Mr. Winkle shook hands ; and then Mr. Winkle and Lieutenant Tappleton the doctor's second); and then Mr. Winkle and the man with the camp-stool ; and, finally, Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass, — the last- named gentleman in an excess of admiration at the noble conduct of his heroic friend. " I think we may adjourn," said Lieutenant Tappleton. " Certainly," added the doctor. . . . The two seconds adjusted the cases ; and the whole party left the ground in a much more lively manner than they had proceeded to it. (Ch. ii, iii.) Slumkey, The Honorable Samuel. Candidate for parliament from the borough of Eatanswill. He is successful in the contest, beatinn; his opponent, Horatio Fizkin, Esq. (Ch. xiii.) Slurk, Mr. Editor of " The Eatanswill Independent." (Ch. li.) See Pott, Mr. Snaangle. A fellow-prisoner with Mr. Pickwick in the Fleet. (Ch. xli, xlii, xliv.) Smart, Tom. Hero of " The Bagman's Story." (Ch. xiv.) See JiNKINS, Mr. Smauker, John. Footman in the service of Angelo Cyrus Ban- tam, Esq. (Ch. XXXV, xxxvii.) Smiggers, Joseph. Perpetual Vice-President of the Pickwick Club. (Ch. i.) Smithers, Miss. A young lady-boarder at Westgate House, Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.) Smithie, Mr. A gentleman present at the charity ball at the Bull Inn, Rochester. (Ch. ii.) Smithie, Mrs. His wife. (Ch. ii.) Smithie, The Misses. His daughters. (Ch. ii.) Smorltork, Count. A famous foreigner whom Mr. Pickwick meets at Mrs. Leo Hunter's fancy-dress breakfast. (Ch. xv.) Smouch, Mr. A sheriff 's assistant, who takes Mr. Pickwick to the Fleet Prison. (Ch. xl.) 76 CClJe ©fcltens Bictionatg. Snipe, The Honorable Wilmot. Ensign of the Ninety-sev- enth ; one of the company at the ball in Rochester attended by Mr. Tupman. (Ch. ii.) Snodgrass, Augustus. A poetic member of the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club. (Ch. i-vi, viii, xi-xv, xviii, xxiv- xxvi, xxviii, xxx-xxxii, xxxiv-xxxvi, xliv, xlvii, liv, Ivii.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Snubbin, Serjeant. Senior counsel for Mr. Pickwick in his suit with Mrs. Bardell. (Ch. xxxi, xxxiv.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Mr. Seijeant Snubbin was a lantern-faced, sallow-complexioned man, of about five and forty. . . . He had that dull-looking, boiled eye, which is so often to be seen in the heads of people who have applied themselves dui-ing many years to a weary and laborious course of study, and which would have been suf- ficient, without the additional eye-glass which dangled from a broad black rib- bon 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 de- voted 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-coUar, and the ill-washed and worse-tied white neckerchief 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 ap- pearance would not have been very much improved if he had. Snuphanuph, Lady. A fashionable lady whom Mr. Pickwick meets at a party at Bath. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.) Staple, Mr. A little cricket-player who makes a big speech at the dinner which succeeds the match-game at Dingley Dell. (Ch. vii.) Stareleigh, Mr. Justice. The judge who presides, in the ab- sence of the chief justice, at the trial of Bardell vs. Pickwick; said to be intended as a caricature of Sir Stephen Gaselee, a jun- ior judge of the Court of Common Pleas. (Ch. xxxiv.) See Pick- wick, Samuel. Stiggins, The Reverend Mr., called The Shepherd. An intemperate, canting, and hypocritical parson, who ministers to a fanatical flock, composed largely of women, at Emanuel Chapel. (Ch. xxvii, xxxiii, xlv, lii.) " Tartuffe and Joseph Surface, Stiggins and Chadband, who are always preachingfine sentiments, and are no more virtuous than hundreds of those whom they denounce and cheat, are fair objects of mistrust and satire ; but their hypocrisy, the homage, accord- ing to the old saying, which vice pays to virtue, has this of good in it,— that its fruits are good. A man may preach good morals, though he may be himself but a lax practitioner ; a Pharisee may put pieces of gold into the charity-plate out of mere hypocrisy and os- tentation : but the bad man's gold feeds the widow and the fatherless as well as the good man's. The butcher and baker must needs look, not to motives, but to money, in re- turn for their wares." — TftacXeray. Slje 33fcfetoicfe ^papers. 77 Struggles, Mr. A cricketer of Dingley Dell. (Ch. vii.) Tadger, Brother. A member of the Brick Lane Branch of the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Temperance Association. (Ch. xxxiii.) Tappleton, Lieutenant. Doctor Slammer's second. (Ch. ii, iii.) See Slammer, Doctor. Tomkins, Miss. Principal of a boarding-school for young ladies, called Westgate House, at Bury St. Edmunds. (Ch. xvi.) Tomlinson, Mrs. Postmistress at Rochester, and one of the com- pany at the charity ball at the Bull Inn there. (Ch. ii.) Tommy. A waterman. (Ch. ii.) Trotter, Job. The confidential servant of Mr. Alfred Jingle, and the only man who proves too sharp for Sam Weller. (Ch. xvi, xx, xxiii, XXV, xlii, xlv-xlvii, liii, Ivii.) Trundle Mr. A young man who marries Isabella Wardle. He is repeatedly brought upon the scene'as an actor, but not once as an interlocutor. (Ch. iv, vi, viii, xvi, xvii, xix, xxviii, Ivii.) Tuckle. A footman at Bath. (Ch. xxxvii.) Tupman, Tracy. One of the Corresponding Society of the Pick- wick Club; of so susceptible a disposition, that he falls in love with every pretty girl he meets. (Ch. i-ix, xi-xv, xviii, xix, xxiv- xxvi, xxviii, xxx, xxxii, xxxiv, xxxv, xliv, xlvii, Ivii.) See Pickwick, Samuel. Upwitch, Richard. A green-grocer ; one of the jurymen in the case of Bardell vs. Pickwick. (Ch. xxxiv.) Wardle, Mr. (of Manor Farm, Dingley Dell). A friend of Mr Pickwick and his companions ; a stout, hearty, honest old gentle- man, who is most happy when he is making others so. (Ch. iv, vi-xi, xvi-xix, xxviii, xxx, liv, Ivi.) Wardle, Miss Emily. One of his daughters. (Ch. iv, vi-xi, xxviii, xxx, liv, Ivii.) Wardle, Miss Isabella. Another daughter. (Ch. iv, \i-viii, xxviii, Ivii.) Wardle, Miss Rachael. His sister ; a spinster of doubtful age, with a pecuUar dignity in her air, majesty in her eye, and touch- me-not-ishness in her walk. The " too susceptible " Mr. Tupman falls in love with her, only to be circumvented by the adroit Mr. Jingle, who steals her heart away from him, and elopes with her, but is pursued, overtaken, and induced to relinquish his prize in consideration of a check for a hundred and twenty pounds. (Ch. iv, vi-ix.) 78 SlJj^ Bfcftews Bictfonarg. Wardle, Mrs. Mother of Mr. -Wardle and Miss Rachael; very old and very deaf. (Ch. vi-ix, xxviii, Ivii.) Watty, Mr. A bankrupt client of Mr. Parker, whom he keeps pestering about his affairs, although they have not been in chan- cery four years. (Ch. xxxi.) Weller, Samuel. Mr. Pickwick's valet ; an inimitable compound of wit, simplicity, quaint humor, and fidelity, who may be regarded as an embodiment of London low life in its most agreeable and entertaining form. Master and servant first meet at a public-house, whither Mr. Pickwick goes with Mr. Wardle in search of that gen- tleman's sister, who has eloped with Mr. Alfred Jingle. Mr. Wel- ler first appears on the scene busily employed in brushing a pair of boots, and " habited in a coarse striped waistcoat, with black calico sleeves and blue glass buttons; drab breeches and leggings. A brio-ht red handkerchief was wound in a very loose and unstudied style round his neck, and an old white hat was thrown carelessly 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 roAv, he stopped in his work, and contemplated its re- sults with evident satisfaction." Sam carries Mr. Jingle's boots to him, and, being asked where Doctors' Commons is, at once divines that he wants to procure a marriage-license. " My father," said Sam in reply to a question, " vos a coachman. A vidower he Yos, and fat enough for any thing, — 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, 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, — 'License, sir, license?'— 'What 's that?' says my father. ' License, sir,' says he. 'Wliat license?' says my father. 'Marriage- license,' 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 a bit. ' 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 ? ' says my father. ' To be sure ve did I ' says the touter : ' you 're a babby to him. This vay, sir, — this vay ! ' 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 I ' says my father ; and down he sat, and stared vith all his eyes, and his mouth vide open, at the names on tlie 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 ven he drove up ; and he know 'd nothing about parishes, he did n't. ' And what 's the lady's name ? ' says the lawyer. My father was struck all of a heap. ' Bless'd if I know I ' says he. ' Not know I ' says the lawyer. ' No more nor you do,' says my father. * Can't I put that in arterwards ? ' — ' Impossible I ' s*ys the lawyer. ' Wery well,' says my father, after he 'd thought a moment, ' put dov/n Mrs. Clarke.' — ' What Clarke?' says the lawyer, dipping his pen in the ink. 'Susan Clarke, Markis o' Granby, Dorking,' says my father : ' she '11 have me, if I ask her, I des-say. i never said nothing to her; but she'll have me, I know.' The license was made out, and she did have him ; and, what 's more, she 's got him now ; and / never had any of the four hundred pound, worse luck I Beg your pardon, sir," said Sam when he had concluded, " but, vhen I gets on this here grievance, I runs on like a new barrow vith the vheel greased." After this, Mr. Pickwick meets Sam, and, liking his appearance, resolves to engage him. He sends for him, therefore, and proposes to give him twelve pounds a year, and two suits of clothes, to attend upon him, and travel about with him and the other Pickwickians, — terms which are highly satisfactory to Sam. When Mr. Pickwick goes to consult Mr. Perker in relation to the action which Mrs. Bardell has brought against him for breach of promise, Sam accompanies him. 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 everybody and every thing ; when the latter, who was always especially 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 innocent eyebrows, that 's where the mysterious dis- appearar.ce of a 'spectable tradesman took place four years ago." " You don't mean to say he was burked, Sam ? " said Mr. Pickwick, looking hastily round. " No : I don't indeed, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " I wish I did I Far worse than that. He was the master o' that 'ere shop, sir, and the inwenter o' that patent never-leavin'-off sassage steam-injine 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 heM stand down in the cellar 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 had n't been for his wife, who was a most ow-dacious wixin. She was always a-foUerin' him about, and dinnin' in his ears, till at last he could n't stand it no longer. ' I '11 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 margin.' Arter wich she keeps on abusin' of him for half an hour, and then runs Into the little parlor behind the shop; sets to a-screamin'; says he '11 be the death 80 ST!)^ Bicfeens 23ictfonars. 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 mornin' the husband was missin'. He had n't taken nothin' from the till ; had n'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 every thin' (which was very liberal, seein' that he had n't done nothin' at all). All the canals was dragged, and for two months artervards, when- ever a body turned up, it was carried right straight off to the sassage-shop. Hows'- ever, none on 'em answered : so they gave out that he 'd run avay, and she kept on thebis'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 of 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 5ays, ' you'll allow me to observe, that, as you don't use the primest parts of the meat in the manafacter of sassages, I think you 'd find beef come nearly as cheap as buttons.' — 'As buttons, sir 1' says she. ' Buttons, ma'am,' said the little old gentleman, unfolding a bit of paper, and showin' twenty or thirty halves o' but- tons. ' Nice seasonin' for sassages is trousers' buttons, ma'am I ' — 'They're my husband's buttons I ' says the widder, beginnin' to faint. ' What I ' screams the little old gen'l'm'n, turnin' wery pale. ' I see it all I ' says the widder : ' in a fit of tem- porary insanity he rashly converted hisself into sassages 1 ' 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, however that might ha' been, the little old gen'l'm'n, who had been remarkably partial to sassages allhis life, rushed out o' the shop in a wild state, and was never heerd on artervards." Sam, in his travels with Mr. Pickwick, falls in with a comely serv- ant-girl by the name of Mary, and is smitten with her charms. He determines to write her a letter, and, while engaged in the task, is in- teiTupted by his father. To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting themselves prac- tically 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, and, while glancing sideways at the letters he is constructing, to form with his tongue imaginary characters to correspond. .These motions, although unquestionably of the greatest assistance to original composition, retard, in some degree, the 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, . . . "wot 's that you 're a-doin' of, — pur- suit of knowledge under difficulties ? eh, Sammy ? " " I 've done now," said Sam, with slight embarrassment. " I 've been a- iv^ritin'." " So I see," replied Mr. Weller. " Not to any young 'ooman, I hope, ^mmy." " Why, it 's no use a-sayin' it ain't," replied Sam. " It 's a walentine." " A what I " exclaimed Mr. Weller, apparently horror-stricken by the word. "A walentine," replied Sam. " Samivel, Samivel," said Mr. Weller in reproachful accents, " I did n't think f ou 'd ha' done it. Arter the warnin' you 've had o' your father's wicious propensi ties; arter all I 've said to you upon this here wery subject; arter actiwally seein' and bein' in the company o' your own mother-in-law (vich I should ha' thought wos a moral lesson as no man could ever ha' forgotten to his dyin'-day), — I did n't think you 'd ha' done it, Sammy, I did n't think you 'd ha' done it." These reflec- tions were too much for the good old man. He raised Sam's tumbler to his lips, and drank off the contents. " Wot 's the matter now ? " said Sam. " Nev'r mind, Sammy," replied 3Ir. Weller. " It '11 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 tiirkey remarked ven the farmer said he wos afeered he should be obliged to kill L Lm for the London market." " Wot '11 be a trial ? " inquired Sam. " To see you married, Sammy ; to see you a deluded wictim, and thinkin' in your innocence that it 's all wery capital," replied Mr. Weller. " It 's a dreadful trial to a father's feelin's — that 'ere, Sammy." " Nonsense I " said Sam. " I ain't a-goin' to get married, don't you fret your- self about that: I know you 're a judge of these things. Order in your pipe, and I '11 read you the letter — there I " We cannot distinctly say whether it was the prospect of the pipe, or the consol- atory reflection that a fatal disposition to get married ran in the family, and could n'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 re- cline against the mantle-piece at the same time, turned towards Sam, and, with a countenance greatly modified 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 of 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 the father. ''No, no," replied Sam. " Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. " Poetry 's unnat'ral : no man ever talked in poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin'-day, or Warren's blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some of them low fellows. Never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy. Begin again, Sammy." Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with critical solemnity ; and Sam once more com- menced, 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 'a ' shamed : ' there 's a blot there. ' I feel myself ashamed.' " 82 ^t>t Bicftens HdictConats. »< Wery good," said Mr. Weller. " Go on." " * Feol myself ashamed, and completely cir ' — I forget wot 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 I am a-lookin' at it," replied Sam; " but there 's another blot. Here 'a a *c,* and a ' i,' and a ' d.' " " Circumwented, p'rhaps," suggested Mr. Weller. " No, it ain't that," said Sam, — " circumscribed ; that 's it I " " That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy," said Mi". Weller gravely. " Think not ? " said Sam. " Nothin' like it I " replied his father. " But don't you think it means more ? " inquired Sam. " Veil, p'rhaps it is a more tenderer word," said Mr. Weller after a few mo- ments' 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 wery pretty sentiment," said the elder Mr. Weller, 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 I what, indeed ? " replied Sam. " You might jist as veil call her a griflfin, or a unicorn, or a king's arms at once, which is wery 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 continu- ing to smoke with a mixed expression of wisdom and complacency which was particularly edifying. " ^ Afore I see you. I thought all women was alike.' " " So they are," observed the elder Mr. Weller parenthetically. " ' But now,' " continued Sam, — * " now I find what a reg'lar soft-headed, in- kred'lous turnip I must ha' been ; for there ain't nobody like you, though I 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'lem'n in diffli- culties did, ven 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 bright- er colors than ever a likeness was taken by the profeel macheen (wich p'r'aps you may have heerd on Mary my dear) altho it does finish a portrait and put the fi-ame and glass on complete^with a hook at the end to hang it up by and all in two min- utes and a quarter.' " " I am afeered that werges on the poetical, Sammy," said Mr. Weller dubi- ously. " No, it don't," replied Sam, reading on very quickly to avoid contesting the point. " ' Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over what I 're Baid. My dear Mary I will now conclude.' That 's all," said Sam. SEte 33ictttofcfe 3^apec». 83 "That '3 rayther a sudden pull up ; ain't it, Sammy ?" inquired Mr. Weller. "Not a bit on it," said Sam. " She '11 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 wery good name, and s 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 respectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin' copy o' werses the niglit 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-hill direction in one corner,— " To Mary, House-maid, at Mr. Nupkins's Mayors, Ipswich, Suf- folk," — and put it into his pocket, wafered, and ready for the general post. To the last, Sam remains devotedly attached to his master ; and when Mr. Pickwick gives up his rambles, retires from active life and settles down at Dulwich, he goes with him, determined to remain sin- gle, and to stick by him and make him comfortable, " vages or no vages, notice or no notice, board or no board, lodgin' or no lodgin '," 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 with- out a murmur. From the circumstance of two sturdy little boys having been re- peatedly seen at the gate of the back-garden, we have reason to suppose that Sam has some family. (Ch. X, xii, xiii, xv, xvi, xviii-xx, xxii-xxviii, xxx-xxxv, xxxvi- xlviii, 1-lii, Iv-lvii.) See Joe (the fat boy), Pickwick (Samuel), Weller (Tony). " Sam is the most light-hearted hero, perhaps, that has ever bee i put upon canvas. He is the very impersonation of easy conscious skill and cleverness. He has never met with any thing in his career that he could not give a good account of. Life is all above-board with him, straight-forward, jovial, on the surface. . . This hostler from the city, tliis groom picked up from the pavement, is, without doubt or controversy, everybody's master in the story of which he is the centre. When the whole little community in the book is puzzled, Sam's cleverness cuts the knot. It is he who always sees what to do, who keeps everybody else in order. He even combines with his role of all-accomplished serving-man the other role of jeune premier, and retains his superiority all through the boolt, at once In philosophy and practical insight, in love and war." — Blackwood'' s Magazine, vol. CIX pp. 678, 679. 84 2ri)c BCcfeens JBcctfonacg. Weller, Tony, Father to Samuel Weller ; one of the old plethor- ic, mottled-faced, great-coated, many-waistcoated stage-coachmen that flourished in England before the advent of railways. Being a widower, and therefore feeling rather lonely at times, he is invei- gled by a buxom widow, who keeps a public-house, into marrying again. Father and son, who have not seen each other for some time, accidentally meet one day at an inn where Sam is staying with his master, 'Mr. Pickwick. A hoarse voice, like some strange effort of ventriloquism, emerged from beneath the capacious shawls which muffled . . . throat and chest, and slowly uttered these sounds, — " Wy, Sammy 1 " " Who 's that, Sam ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. " Why, I would n't ha' believed it, sir 1 " replied Mr. Weller with astonished eyes. " It 's the old 'un." " Old one ?" said Mr. Pickwick, — " what old one ?" " My father, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " How are you, my ancient ? " And, with this 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 I " said the father : '• I han't seen you for two years and bet- ter." " No more you have, old codger," replied the son. " How 'a mother-in- law?" " Wy, I '11 tell you what, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, senior, with much solem- nity in his manner, " there never was a nicer woman as a widder than that >ere second wentur o' mine. A sweet creetur she was, Sammy; and all I can say on her noAV is, that, as she was such an uncommon pleasant widder, it 's a great pity she ever changed her condition. She don't act as a vife, Sammy." '' Don't she, though ?" inquired Mr. Weller, junior. The elder Mr. Weller shook liis 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 life, specially if they 've kept a public-house, Sammy." And, having delivered this parental advice with great pathos, Mr. Weller, senior, refilled his pipe from a tin box he carried in his pocket, and, lighting his fresh pipe from the ashes of the old one, com- menced smoking at a great rate. Shortly after this, "Mr. W^eller meets his son again, when a more extended conversation ensues. " That 'ere your governor's luggage, Sammy?" inquired Mr. Weller, senior, of his affectionate son, as 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 liis-self '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 eightpence," responded the son. " How 's raother-in-lavi'- this mornin' ?" *' Queer, Sammy, queer," replied the elder Mr. Weller with impressive grav OLD WELLER AND THE COACHMEN. a:|)e 33fclttDiclt papers. 85 Ity. " She 's been gettin' rayther in the Methodistical order lately, Sammy; and she 's uncommonly pious, to be sure. She 's too good a creetur for me, Sammy : I feel I don't deserve her." " Ah I " said Mr. Samuel : " that 's wery self-denyin' o' you." " Wery," replied his parent with a sigh. " She 's got hold o' some invention for grown-up people being born again, Sammy, — the new birth, I thinks they calls it. I should wery much like to see that system in haction, Sammy. I should wery 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. Waller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly struck the side of his nose with his forefinger some half-dozen times, — " what do you think they does t'other day, Sammy?" " Don't know," replied Sam : " what ? " " Goes and gets up a grand tea-drinkin' for a feller they calls their shep- herd," 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 applica- tions to be made to the committee. Secretary, Mrs. Weller.' And when I got home, there was the committee a-sittin' in our back-parlor, — fourteen women. I wish you could ha' heard 'em, Sammy I There they was, a-passin' 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'clock on the Friday evenin' I dresses myself out wery smart, and off I goes vith 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' to one another, and lookin' at me as if they 'd never seen rayther a stout gen'lm'n of eight and fifty afore. By and by, there comes a great bustle down stairs ; and a lanky chap with a red nose and white neckcloth rushes up, and sings out, ' Here 's the shepherd a coming to wisit his faithful flock I ' and in comes a fat chap in black, vith a great white face, a-smiliu' avay like clock-work. Such goin's-on, Sammy I 'The kiss of peace,' says the shepherd; and then he kissed the women all round, and, ven he 'd done, the man vith the red nose began. I was just a-thinkin' whether I hadn't better begin too, — 'specially as there was a wery nice lady a-sittin' next me, — ven in comes the tea, and your mother-in-law, as had been makin' the kettle boil down stairs. At it they went, tooth and nail. Such a precious loud hymn, Sammy, while the tea was a-brewingi such a grace 1 such eatin' and flrinkin' I 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 I The red-nosed man warn't by no means the sort of person you *d like to grub by contract ; but he was nothin' to the shepherd. Well, arter the tea was over, they sang an- other hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach ; and wery well he did it, considerin' how heavy them muffins must have lied on his chest. Presently he pulls up all of a sudden, and hollers out, ' Where is the sinner ? where is the mis'rable sinner?' upon which all the women looked at me, and began to groan as if they was dyin'. I thought it was rather sing'lar; but, hows'ever, I says nothing. Presently he pulls up again, and, lookin' wery hard at me, says, 'Where is the sinner? wliere is the mis'rable sinner?' and all the women groans again, ten 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 beggin' my pardon, as any gen'l'm'n would •ja' done, he got more abusive than ever, called me a wessel, Sammy, — a wes- 8 66 ' 2C|)e 23fcfeens JSictfonarg. sel of wrath, — and all sorts o' names. So my blood being reg'larly up, I first gave him two or three for himself, and then two or three more to hand over to the man with the red nose, and walked off. I wish you could ha' heard how the women screamed, Sammy, ven they picked up the shepherd from under the table." (Ch. XX, xxii, xxiii, xxvii, xxxiii, xxxiv, xliii, xlv, Hi, Iv, Ivi.) See Pickwick (Samuel) and Weller (Samuel). Weller, Mrs. Susan. His wife, formerly Mrs. Clarke. (Ch. xxvii, xlv.) See Weller (Samuel) and Wkller (Tony). "Whiflfers. A footman at Bath. (Ch. xxxvii.) "Wicks, Mr. Clerk in office of Dodson and Fogg. (Ch. xx.) Wilkins. Gardener to Captain Boldwig. (Ch. xix.) Winkle, Mr., senior. Father of Nathaniel Winkle ; an old wharfinger at Birmingham, and a thorough man of business, having the most methodical habits, and never committing himself hastily in any affair. He is greatly displeased at his son's marriage to ]\Iiss Arabella Allen, but finally forgives him, and admits that the lady is " a very charming little daughter-in-law, after all." (Ch. 1, Ivi.) Winkle, Nathaniel. A member of the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club, and a cockney pretender to sporting skill. (Ch. i-v, vii, ix, xi-xiii, xv, xviii, xix, xxiv-xxvi, xxviii, xxx- xxxii, xxxiv-xxxvi, xxxviii, xxxix, xliv, xlvii, liv, Ivi, Ivii.) Witherfield, Miss. A middle-aged lady, affianced to Mr. Mag- nus. (Ch. xxii, xxiv.) See Magnus, Peter. Wugsby, Mrs. Colonel. A fashionable lady whom Mr. Pick- wick meets at Bath. (Ch. xxxv, xxxvi.) Zephyr, The. See Mivins, Mr. PRMQIPAL INCIDENTS, Chapteb I. Meeting of the Pickwick Club ; Mr. Blotton calls Mr. Pickwick a " hum* bug" in a " Pickwickian sense." — II. The Pickwickians get into trouble with the coach- men at the Golden Cross Inn; they meet Mr. Alfred Jingle; the journey to Rochester; after supper at the Bull Inn, Mr. Tupman and Mr. Jingle attend the ball, Mr. Jiugle wearing Mr. Winkle's coat; Mr. Jingle excites the jealousy of Dr. Slammer, who chal- lenges Mr. Winkle in consequence ; the duel, which is interrupted by Dr. Slammer discover- ing thatMr. Winkleis "not theman." — III. Dismal Jemmy relates "The Stroller's Tale; " Dr. Slammer recognizes Mr. Jingle. — IV. The military review at Rochester; meeting with Mr. Wardle and his party. — V. The drive to Dingley Dell ; Mr. Winkle, dismounting, is unable to remount ; and, Mr. Pickwick going to his assistance, his horse runs away, leaving ihe Pickwickians to walk the rest of the way. — VI. The card-party at Mr. Wardle's; the SSe ^fcfelDfcfe papers. 87 clergyman recites " The Ivy Green," and relates " The Co'^.vict's Return. " — VII. Mr. Win- kle attemps to shoot the rocks, and wounds Mr. Tupman ; the cricket-match at Muggle- ton, and the dinner which followed.— VIII. Mr. Tupman proposes to Miss Rachael, and is discovered by the fat boy; Joe, relating the discovery to old Mrs. Wardle, is overheard by Mr. Jingle, who determines to supersede Mr. Tupman in the spinster's affections. — IX. Finding his arts successful, he elopes with her; Mr. "Wardle and Mr. Pickwick follow, and are just on the point of overtaking the fugitives, when their carriage breaks down. — X. Sam Weller's first appearance as " boots " at the ^Vl^ite Hart Inn ; his account of his fa- ther's marriage ; Mr. "Wardle questions Sam, and finds that Jingle and Miss Rachael are at the White Hart ; Mr. Jingle is bought off, and the lady returns with her brother. — XL The disappearance of Mr. Tupman, and the journey of Pickwick, Snodgrass, and Winkle in search of him ; Mr. Pickwick discovers the stone with the famous antique inscription ; the madman's manuscript; the discussion occasioned among the learned societie? by Mr. Pickwick's discovery. — XII. Mr. Pickwick, informing Mrs. Bardell of his determination to employ a valet, finds himself in an awkward situation, in which he is discovered by his friends; Mr. Pickwick engages Sam Weller as his valet. —XIII. Some account of Eatan- swill, and the rival factions of the Buffs and Blues ; Mr. Perker explains how an election is managed, and introduces the Piclcwickians to Mr. Pott, editor of the Gazette, who invites Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle to his house ; Sam Weller relates to his master some tricks of the election ; speeches of the rival candidates, and success of the Hon. Samuel Slumkey. — XIV. " The Bagman's Story." — XV. Mr. Leo Hunter waits upon Mr. Pickwick, and invites him and his friends to a/e