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(One of the French King's Body Guard), With Introduction and Concluding Chapter by SIR Lucius O'TRIGGER. In this entertaining book the late Richard H. Home, under the nom de plume "Sir Lucius 9 "Trigger," gives an anecdotal history of Duelling in England, which is full of episodes of a highly romantic character. WELLERISMS FROM Ijltcktotck" & " jHaster ^ SELECTED BY CHARLES F. RIDEAL AND EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES KENT AUTHOR OF "THE HUMOUR AND PATHOS OF CHARLES DICKENS." " Some write well, but he writes Weller." Epigram on Dickens LONDON GEORGE REDWAY MDCCCLXXXVI 15223 DRYDEN PRESS : J. DAVY AND SONS, 137, LONG ACRE, LONDON. CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction ... ... ... ... i to xxi From "Pickwick" Sam Weller's Introduction I Boots and the old Landlady ... ... ... 2 Old Weller at Doctor's Commons 3 Cross-questioned 5 Sam on a Legal Case ... ... ... ... 6 Self-acting Ink 7 Customers at the White Hart 7 Out vith it 8 Sam's old White Hat 8 Sam Weller's Livery 8 Sam's Engagement to Mr. Pickwick... ... 8 Independent Voters 9 Mrs. Leo Hunter's Card 12 Proud o' the Title ... ... ... ... 13 Sam's Mutations 13 Sam's Unfurnished Lodgings 14 The Weller Philosophy 14 The Twopenny Rope ... ... ... ... 15 Job Trotter's Tears 16 Nothing so Refreshing as Sleep ... ... 16 Sam's Chivalrous Challenge 17 Sam and Mr. Pickwick vow Vengeance ... 18 Sam's Misgivings as to Mr. Pickwick ... 19 Clear the Way for the Wheelbarrow 20 It's the Seasonin' as does it 21 Unpacking the Lunch Hamper 22 A little more Chaff for Mr. Winkle 23 11 CONTENTS. PAGE Battledore and Shuttlecock ... ... ... 24 Sam a True Londoner 24 Spoiling the Beadle ... ... ... ... 24 Old Weller's Remedy for the Gout ... ... 27 Sam's Education ... ... ... ... 27 The Victim o' Connubiality ... 28 Sam on Cabs 29 Sam on Laundresses ... ... ... ... 29 Old Weller's first Sight of the Red-nosed Man 30 Old Weller on the New Birth 30 Poverty and Oysters 33 Old Weller on Pikes ... ... ... ... 34 Sam's fresh Misgivings about Mr. Pickwick... 34 Sam's Power of Suction 36 Veller and Gammon ... ... ... ... 36 Old Weller's affecting Farewell ... ... 38 Sam's attempted Rescue of Mr. Pickwick ... 39 Sam as Master of the Ceremonies 41 Sam before Mr. Nupkins 42 Sam welcomed by Mr. Muzzle ... ... 44 Sam's Introduction to Mary and the Cook ... 45 Sam's first Advances to the Pretty Housemaid 45 Something behind the Door 46 Sam delivers the Message to Mrs. Bardell ... 48 Sam and Master Bardell 48 Sam's Good Wishes to Messrs. Dodson & Fogg 49 Sam's Sense of Filial Duty ... ... ... 50 Sam and his Mother-in-law ... 51 Meeting of the Wellers 52 The Shepherd's Water Rates 53 Stiggins as an Arithmetician ... ... ... 53 Connubial Endearments ... 56 Sam's Advice to his Father 56 Sam and the Fat Boy 57 Compact and Comfortable 58 Apologue of the Fat Man's Watch 59 Sharp Weather 61 CONTENTS. Hi PAGE Medical Students 62 Sam Weller Sliding 63 Sam subpoenaed ... ... ... ... 64 Disappearance of the " Sassage " Maker ... 65 A Trial to a Father's Feelin's 69 Old Weller's last Bulletin 69 Sam Weller's Valentine 71 A Allebyi for the Guvernor 75 A Friend o' the Family 76 Old Weller's Plot 76 Tea Drinking at Brick Lane 78 A Moment of Expectancy 79 A Small Settlement with Stiggins 79 Sam in the Witness Box 80 The Soldier's Evidence Inadmissable ... 81 Something Particular... ... 82 Sam's " Wision " Limited 83 Sam's Tribute to Messrs. Dodson & Fogg ... 84 Adding Insult to Injury 86 Sam's Verdict on The Verdict 86 Sam and the Powder-headed Footman ... 88 Chaffing The Bath Flunkey 89 A Friendly " Swarry " 90 Sam and Mr. John 92 The Killebeate 93 Sam Whistling 94 Sam's Approach to the Select Footmen ... 95 Interchange of Sentiment with The Man in Blue 96 Introduction to the Crimson Coated Footman in Red Breeches 96 Sam Called to Order 98 Sam's Speech to the Bath Footman 99 Sam's Incursion into Mr. Winkle's Bedroom loo Tyin' it up in a Small Parcel 102 Sam and the Surly Groom ... 102 Sam's Confidence to The Pretty Housemaid 104 IV CONTENTS. PAGE Sam on Mr. Pickwick's Dark Lantern ... 105 An Amiable Guy Fawkes 107 Sam and The Sheriff's Officer 107 Sam's Imprisonment for Debt 108 The Habeas Corpus a la Sam Weller ... 108 Sam's Definition of Getting into Debt ... 109 The Little Dirty Faced Man 109 Sam's Estimate of Smangle 113 Professional Sympathy 114 Sam's Obstinacy ... ... 114 A Red Faced Vixen 115 Sam's Way of Helping Mr. Pickwick ... 116 Anything for a Quiet Life 117 Old Weller Inexorable 117 Old Weller Resents Mr. Pell's Correction ... 118 Away with Melancholy ... ... ... 122 Weller! 122 Old Weller 's Alarming Laugh 123 Stiggins' Particular 124 A Thoroughbred Angel 125 Sam's Announcement of Mrs. Winkle ... 126 Strange Situation for One of the Family ... 127 Sam's Contentment under a Drenching ... 128 Post Boys and Donkeys 129 Old Weller's Letter 130 Old Weller 's Grief as a Widower 132 A Privileged Individual ... 134 A Vessel 136 Old Weller's Delicacy as to The Will ... 139 Old Weller again Resents Mr. Pell's Correc- tion ... ... ... ... ... ... 140 All Right as to The Will 140 Old Weller Rather at a Non Plus 141 An Egyptian Mummy Deposit 143 Old Weller's Threat 144 A Pretty Sort of a Thing for a Father's Ears. 145 Sam's Rejection of Mr. Pickwick's Offer ... 147 CONTENTS. V PAGE Sam's Dismissal of The Fat Boy 149 Front " Master Humphrey's Clock." How Old Weller Fares ' 150 Young Tony Described by his Grandfather ... 150 Old Weller's Convulsive Laughter 151 Ts she a "Widder?" ... 153 Spunsters and Punsters ... ... ... 153 Old Weller's Denunciation of Railways ... 154 On The Rail with a Widder... 154 Bill Blinder's Request 156 Sam Helping on an Overcoat 156 Sam's Story of the Barber 158 Old Weller's Fear of Going too Far... ... 161 Mr. Weller's Watch 162 Sam's Story of the Hair-dresser 163 Old Weller Mistrusts The Barber 167 Introduction of Little Tony ... 1 68 Little Tony Answers The Housekeeper ... 171 Making Game of Grandfather 171 The Watch Box Boy 172 Old Weller on Master Humphrey's Death ... 173 INTRODUCTION. S a creator of humorous, gro- tesque and pathetic character, Charles Dickens takes his place by right as the greatest of all our English humourists. Each of his fourteen principal fictions is a distinct world-in-little, a veritable microcosm, peopled with those imaginary beings who ever since he called them into existence are as real to us, one and all, as if they were of our own flesh and blood, creatures with whom we are familiarly and intimately acquainted. The earliest of all his great serial stories, " Pickwick," began almost unnoticed, in the April of 1836, "putting forth monthly," as someone long afterwards expressed it, "those two green leaves from England's favourite tree" which, in the lapse of time, IV in all for more than forty years together, came to be not only a popular delight, but a sort of national institution. So little was the success of " Pickwick " foreseen, even by its publishers, that no more than 400 copies of each of the earlier numbers, were prepared for issue by being stitched in the green covers. Yet, long before the work was brought to its con- clusion, not 400 merely, but more than 40,000 copies of it had rapidly passed into circulation. What swung it into that astonishing success was the appearance, in its fourth number, of Sam Weller. The vis comica of Sam carried everything before it. Everyone recognised at once in him one of the supreme achievements in imaginative literature. From his first utter- ance, when he was introduced as Boots at the White Hart in the Borough, he was seen to be not only a master of chaff and slang, but the very incarnation, as might be said, of the mother wit of the streets of Lon- don. Of all the many bright and hilarious characters created by Dickens, Sam proved, to the last, incomparably the most gay and voluble. His irrepressible vivacity made him, from the outset, everybody's favour- ite. In that epic of drollery, so pre- eminent was he as a source of inextin- guishable laughter, that, when Moncrieff came to dramatise "Pickwick," the title selected by him for the play, almost as a matter of course, was, " Sam Weller, or the Pickwickians." Sam won for him- self, without an effort, universal accep- tance, as one, to use Forster's phrase, " whom nobody had ever seen but everybody recognized, at once perfectly natural and intensely original." Sam Weller was to Mr. Pickwick what Sancho Panza was to Don Quixote an attendant who by the sheer force of contrast per- fected the fun and intensified the absurdity of the ludicrous situations into which the hero of the narrative was perpetually blundering. It has been suggested that the germ out of which grew up in the imagination of Charles Dickens, the delightful person- VI ality of Sam Weller, may be recognized in a certain whimsical character in a long forgotten musical farce, which first caught the public fancy nearly a quarter of a century before the serial publication of " Pickwick " commenced. The title of the little two-act piece referred to, was " The Boarding House, or Five Hours at Brighton," written by Samuel Beazley, and first performed at the English Opera House, now known as the Lyceum, on the 27th August, 1811. In it "Little Knight" was the original impersonator of Sam's supposed prototype, Simon Spatterdash, a local militia man, whose chief peculiarity lay in his quaint sayings and out of the way comparisons. It is in Sam Weller's emulation of those fantastic utterances of Simon Spatterdash, alone, that the smallest colourable excuse can be found for insisting that between two such entirely different characters the one the merest sketch, the other a finished masterpiece there is anything at all akin. A few of Sam's most ludicrous sayings, Vll particularly in the way of comparison, were, no doubt, distinctly of the peculiar genus of humour already widely popularized by Simon Spatterdash. And it is worthy of note that long before the first number of " Pickwick " had made its appearance, Simon Spatterdash's verbal oddities had come to be more than ever in vogue thanks to the immense success secured to them by his drollest impersonator, one Samuel Vale, a low comedian at the Surrey Theatre. Thanks to him especially, the public at large had become familiar, years before Sam Weller had been called into existence, with such comical apoph- thegms from the lips of Simon Spatter- dash as these : " I'm down upon you as the extinguisher said to the rushlight." " Let every one take care of themselves as the Jackass said when he was dancing among the chickens." " Sharp work for the eyes as the devil said when the broad-wheeled waggon went over his nose." " I'm all over in a perspiration as the mutton chop said to the gridiron." How Sam Weller not only adopted, but, while adapting to his own facetious purposes, this particular style of humorous extravagance, immensely improved upon it, everybody will at once recall to re- membrance : as where he sententiously remarks " That's a self-evident proposition, as the catsmeat-man said to the servant maid when she called him no gentleman." Or, again, where he observes with a delightful periphrasis " Allow me to express a hope as you won't reduce me to extremities ; in saying wich I merely quote wot the nobleman said to the fractious pennywinkle, ven he vouldn't come out of his shell by means of a pin, and he consequently began to be afeerd that he should be obliged to crack him in the parlour door." For fully a quarter of a century before the publication of " Pickwick," that quaint species of humour which had its origin in Beazley's musical farce may be said to have been afloat in the air at any body's service who cared to employ it. And as IX affording distinct evidence of this, we find Bulwer eight years before Boz had com- menced his first serial writing in " Pelham " " We all have our little foibles, as the Frenchman said when he boiled his grand- mother's head in a pipkin." Yet solely by reason of Dickens's adap- tation of this exceptional kind of fun to the use of Sam Weller, just at odd moments, here and there in the wide range of " Pickwick," it has been actually insisted that he derived the root-idea of one of the most intensely original of all his characters, from the whimsicalities of a second rate farce-writer, and the gaggings of an obscure low comedian. Insomuch has this been seriously maintained in regard to the latter that, by a sort of grammatical genesis, the positive Sam Vale has been said, through a modification into a comparative Sam Valer, to have developed at last into the superlative Sam Weller under the influence, we must still be allowed to presume, in however secondary a sense, of the genius of the Master Humourist. Seriously speaking, the whole notion, of Sam Weller having been evolved from Simon Spatterdash, is to my mind as pre- posterous, as that of the novelist having, by an elaborately round-about process, derived Sam's surname, through the three degrees of comparison above-named, from the forgotten actor Vale. Weller, it is more rational to perceive at a glance, was a name that Charles Dickens drew, as he drew so many others such as Cobb, Larkins, Dorrit, Hubble, and Jasper from the shopfronts or the gravestones familiar to him, from his childhood upwards, in the immediate neighbourhood of his favourite Kentish haunts, in or near the contiguous precincts of Chatham, Strood and Roches- ter. Writing in 1880, at Manchester, about " Charles Dickens and Rochester," Mr. Robert Langton takes distinct note, indeed, of the fact that, then (in 1880), "there is a Weller, a greengrocer, in High Street, Chatham." XI It appears much more probable, how- ever, that the author of " Pickwick " de- rived the name of Samuel Weller in its complete form from the baptismal names of a then popular commentator on Shak- spere Samuel Weller Singer who, in 1816, had published, in 410. pp. 373, certain well-known " Researches into the History of Playing Cards." And a whimsical force is added to this conjecture by the circumstance that the Samuel Weller of " Pickwick " appears on one occasion in the narrative as a Singer ! That is, where, for the entertainment of Mr. Pell and the coachmen, he trolls forth his famous ROMANCE OF THE ROAD. i. Bold Turpin vunce, on Hounslow Heath, His bold mare Bess bestrode er ; Ven there he see'd the Bishop's coach A-coming along the road er. So he gallops close to the 'orse's legs, And he claps his head vithin ; And the Bishop says, " Sure as eggs is eggs, This here's the bold Turpin ! " xn CHORUS. And the Bishop says, " Sure as eggs is eggs, This here's the bold Turpin ! " II. Says Turpin, " You shall eat your words, With a sarse of leaden bul-let ;" So he puts a pistol to his mouth, And he fires it down his gul-let The coachman he not likin' the job, Set off at a full gal-lop, But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, And perwailed on him to stop. CHORUS (sarcastically). But Dick put a couple of balls in his nob, And perwailed on him to stop. Whereupon the mottle-faced gentleman, interrupting, says " I maintain that that 'ere song's personal to the cloth. I demand the name o' that coachman." " Nobody know'd," replies Sam. " He hadn't got his card in his pocket." On which the mottle-faced gentleman observes in return " I object to the introduction o' politics. I submit that, in the present company, that 'ere song's political ; and, wot's much the same, that it ain't true. I say that that coachman did not run away ; but that he died game game as pheasants, and I won't hear nothin' said to the contrairey." Xlll It appears, besides, not unreasonable to suppose that Dickens may have selected the oddest name of his three leading Pickwickians, that of Mr. Snodgrass, from the title page of the " Narrative of the Burmese War, by Major John James Snodgrass," which, in 8vo. pp. 319, had in 1827 just rim into a second edition. While it is curious to note that the source of four other familiar names in " Pick- wick " those of Old Weller's second wife, Mrs. Clarke of the Marquis of Granby, Dorking, of Mr. Wardle, of Mr. Dowler, and of Mr. Perker's clerk Lowten may be found in the " Minutes of Evidence in the case as to Mrs. Clarke and H.R.H. the Duke of York," published in an 8vo. volume, pp. 374, in 1809. For, there, sure enough, among the witnesses ex- amined, in that cause celebre, before the Committee of the House of Commons, appeared in succession Colonel Gwylym Lloyd Wardle, M.P., Mrs. Mary Anne Clarke, Mr. William Dowler, and Mr. Thomas Lowten. For directing my atten- XIV tion to this latter " find " I am indebted to my friend Mr. Percy Fitzgerald who, well up though he is as a student of Dickens, came upon it with surprise in the course of his researches with reference to the Princes of the House of Hanover. Everything considered, therefore, after all that has been here said, Sam Weller as a humorous character may be regarded as having been drawn from Dickens's own inner consciousness. 'Or, if in any way whatever, Simon Spatterdash is to be looked upon as the seed-germ of that finished masterpiece, it can only be ac- cording to Pooh-bah's deliciously absurd phrase, in Gilbert's " Mikado," as " the protoplasmic primordial atomic globule," from which was evolved the concrete and perfected creation, familiar to us all as the inimitable Sam Weller. As an immense enhancement to the ex- hilarating influence of Sam, in " Pickwick," there was, besides, his incomparable pro- genitor, Old Weller, the very archetype of the then fast-dying, but now dead and gone, XV race of stage coachmen. Tony Weller of the Belle Sauvage, London, and of the Marquis of Granby, Dorking, as we all of us know perfectly well, is, in every con- ceivable way, the worthy father and com- peer of Sam Weller, Mr. Pickwick's body servant, or valet de place. By one of those curious combinations of time and place that so often bewilder us in real life, Mrs. Lynn Linton, the authoress of "Amymone," told us but a few years back, in the retrospect of her life, that when her father owned Gadshill Place, near Higham-by-Rochester, afterwards the property of Charles Dickens, she knew very well indeed Weller senior meaning of course, his prototype whose name in the flesh was "Old Chumley"; and whom she described rather superfluously, be- cause those personal traits were long ago familiar to us all, as mottle faced and kindly. " Pickwick " in general, and Old Weller and Sam Weller in particular, as humor- ous masterpieces, came upon the Eng- XVI lish-speaking and English-reading public all over the world, in 1837, as memor- able and most exhilarating revelations. Carlyle, writing to a friend, in the midst of the book's sudden popularity, has borne contemporary witness to the fact that "An archdeacon, with his own venerable lips repeated to me, the other night, a strange profane story : of a solemn clergyman who had been administering ghostly con- solation to a sick person, having finished, satisfactorily, as he thought, and got out of the room, he heard the sick person ejaculate, 'Well, thank God, Pickwick will be out in ten days anyway ! ' " Carlyle adding in his letter, " This is dreadful." Pickwick's success as a source of en- chanting entertainment was signalized, in fact, among all classes among the learned and illiterate, the old and young, the rich and poor as by a very sunburst of laugh- ter. The Spanish king's comment on the scholar who was convulsed with mirth while poring over a book " Either he is mad, or he is reading Don Quixote " XVII had its new application to " Pickwick," any day and in all directions, in the early months of the reign of Queen Victoria. A single instance of the overwhelming way in which it acted upon the sense of the ridiculous, even under the unlikeliest circumstances, will illustrate this better than any number of statements to that effect, however emphatic. Hence, as a direct case in point, take the following delightful confession by one of the writers in Blackivood, who, I am half tempted to conjecture, was Professor Aytoun. " One of the most shameful recollections of our almost irreproachable life," he writes, " lies at the door of the mad wag Dickens. We were attending service in a cathedral in a city where we were a stranger, and had been shown into a pew already occupied by two respectable old ladies. For a time we behaved with our wonted decorum, till some absurdity com- mitted by the elder Weller, of which we had been reading the night before, rose up to haunt us. Had we been in the open air, a good laugh would have at once relieved us, but cabined, cribbed, con- fined, as it was, the risibility expanded till our form swelled visibly, our face grew purple, and we saw a medical man in the next pew feel in his waistcoat pocket as he anxiously watched the veins of our forehead. The choral symphonies of the anthem invested Mr. Weller's image with fifty-fold absurdity, blending him, as they did, in his top boots and shawls, with ' angels ever bright and fair.' Despairing of our ability to prevent an explosion, and feeling the danger each moment becoming more imminent, for india rubber itself must have given way under the accumulating pressure, we suddenly dived our head below the shelf on which the prayer books rested, and laughed silently till the tears dropped like rain upon the footstool. We were beginning to grow calm when, looking round, we saw the two old ladies regarding us with pious horror through their spectacles, and sidling off to the other end of the pew. This set us off again, and down went our head in a vain, ostrich-like attempt at concealment, for our shoulders and back, convulsively agitated from nape to waistband, told of the internal struggle, to say nothing of sounds that occasionally broke forth, no- ways resembling the responses. Conscious that prebendary and precentor were re- garding us from their eminence, we again raised our head with desperate gravity, and shall never forget the agony of shame with which we beheld an aged verger sternly approaching, while two church- wardens were quitting their pews with the faces of men determined to discharge a painful duty. Nevertheless, at the instiga- tion of old Weller, off we went in a fit now quite audible, and were eventually marched down the centre aisle between two rows of faces fixed irt devout horror, with our handkerchief 'rammed nearly down our throat, and our watery eyes starting out of our head, like a land crab's, and so, turning a corner, out under the old Saxon archway into the churchyard, where we XX exasperated the verger and the church- wardens by sitting down upon a tombstone and giving full vent to our mirth. Next day, all repentant, we waited upon the dean, who, being himself a Pickwickian, gave us absolution in the most kindly way, and we caused a copy of 'Pickwick ' to be bound in morocco and gold, with the inscription ' From a penitent sabbath- breaker,' which is to this day conspicuous on a shelf of the episcopal library, for he is now a bishop. We are glad to say that, regular church-goer as we have ever since continued, we have never again remem- bered Old Weller in our orisons except with shame and confusion." At the very time when these recollections were being penitently recalled to mind at Edinburgh, Charles Stuart Calverley, then a young freshman at Christ's Church College, Cambridge, wa*s* writing his famous " Pickwick Examination Paper," (see pp. 121-124 f his "Fly Leaves") in which, for the first time in the history of literature, a great living author the XXI creator of the immortal Wellers was serio-comically made the. subject of a com- petitive examination. And it is especially worth bearing in remembrance, in connec- tion with that delightful tours-de-force, that the First Prize taken under that Paper was won by Mr. Walter Besant, the novelist, and the Second Prize by Mr. Walter Skeat, the philologist. Half-a-dozen years before that, Dean George Butler, who from 1805 to 1829 was Head Master of Harrow, had made note of the fact that Calverley, while his fellow student there, under the now Dean of Llandaff (Dr. Charles John Vaughan), had, even then, between 1846 and 1850, adopted as his two favourite studies, Virgil and Pickivick. "Blades" had, in fact, already taken to his heart both Wellers, and was fast getting by heart those delightful sayings of Sam and Tony, which are, here, for the first time, strung together as Wellerisms. 1th February, 1886. C K. ERRATA. See page 2. line for azy, read hazy. "WELLERISMS." (From Pickwick.) SAM WELLER'S INTRODUCTION. AM ! " Hallo," replied the man with the white hat. " Number twenty-two wants his boots." "Ask number twenty-two whe- ther he'll have 'em now, or wait till he gets ! em," was the reply. " Come, don't be a fool, Sam," said the girl, coaxingly ; " the gentleman wants his boots directly." " Well, you are a nice young 'ooman for a musical party, you are," said the boot-cleaner. " Look at these here boots eleven pair o' boots ; and one shoe as b'longs to number six, with the wooden leg. The eleven boots is to be called at half-past eight and the shoe at nine. Who's number twenty-two that's to put all the others out ? No, no ; reg'lar rotation as Jack Ketch said, wen he tied the men up. Sorry to keep you a-waitin', sir, but I'll attend to you directly." THE BOOTS AND THE LANDLADY. " Sam," cried the landlady, " where's that azy, idle why, Sam oh, there you are ; why don't you answer ? " " Wouldn't be gen-teel to answer, 'till you'd done talking," replied Sam, gruffly. " Here, clean them shoes for number seventeen directly, and take 'em to private sitting-room, number five, first floor." The landlady flung a pair of lady's shoes into the yard, and bustled away. " Number 5," said Sam, as he picked up the shoes, and taking a piece of chalk from his pocket, made a memorandum of their destination on the soles " Lady's shoes and private sittin' room ! I suppose she didn't come in the waggin." " She came in early this morning," cried the girl, who was still leaning over the railing of the gallery, "with a gentleman in a hackney-coach, and it's him as wants his boots, and you'd better do 'em, that's all about it." " Vy didn't you say so before," said Sam, with great indignation, singling out the boots in question from the heap before him. " For all I know'd he vas one o 3 the regular three-pennies. Private room ! and a lady too ! If he's anything of a gen'lm'n, he's vorth a shillin' a day, let alone the arrands." OLD WELLER AT DOCTOR'S COMMONS. " Paul's Church-yard, sir ; low archway on the carriage side, bookseller's at one cor- ner, hot-el on the other, and two porters in the middle as touts for licences. Two coves in vhite aprons touches their hats wen you walk in 'Licence, sir, licence?' Queer sort, them, and their mas'rs, too, sir Old Bailey Proctors and no mistake." " What do they do?" inquired the gentleman. " Do ! You, sir ! That an't the wost on it, neither. They puts things into old gen'lm'n's heads as they never dreamed of. My father, sir, wos a coachman. A widower he wos, and fat enough for anything uncommon fat, to be sure. His missus dies, and leaves him four hundred pound. Down he goes to the Commons, to see the lawyer and draw the blunt wery smart top-boots on nose- gay in his button-hole broad-brimmed tile green shawl quite the gen'lm'n. Goes through the archvay, thinking how he should inwest the money up comes the touter, touches his hat ' Licence, sir, licence ? ' ' What's that ? ' says my father. ' Licence, sir,' says he. ' What licence ? ' says my father. ' Marriage licence,' says the touter. ' Dash my veskit,' says my father, ' I never thought o' that.' ' I think you wants one, sir,' says the touter. My father pulls up, and thinks abit ' No,' says he, ' damme, I'm too old, b'sides I'm a many sizes too large,' says he. ' Not a bit on it, sir,' says the touter. ' Think not? ' says my father. ' I'm sure not,' says he ; 'we married a gen'lm'n twice your size, last Monday.' ' Did you, though ? ' said my father. ' To be sure we did,' says the touter, ' you're a babby to him this way, sir this way ! ' and sure enough my father walks arter him, like a tame monkey behind a horgan, into a little back office, vere a feller sat among dirty papers and tin boxes, making believe he was busy. ' Pray take a seat, vile I makes out the affidavit, sir,' says the lawyer. 'Thankee, sir,' says my father, and down he sat, and stared with all his eyes, and his mouth vide open, at the names on the boxes. ' What's your name, sir ? ' says the lawyer. ' Tony Weller,' says my father. ' Parish ? ' says the lawyer. ' Belle Savage,' says my father ; for he stopped there wen he drove up, and he know'd nothing about parishes, he didn't. ' And what's the lady's name ? ' says the lawyer. My father was struck all of a heap. ' Blessed if I know,' says he. ' Not know '. ' says the lawyer. ' No more nor you do,' says my father, ' can't I put that in arter- wards ? ' ' Impossible ! ' says the lawyer. ' Wery well,' says my father, after he'd thought a moment, ' put down Mrs. Clarke.' ' What Clarke ? ' says the lawyer, dipping his pen in the ink. 'Susan Clarke, Markis o' Granby, v Dorking,' says my father ; ' she'll have me, if I ask, I des-say I never said nothing to her, but she'll have me, I know.' The licence was made out, and she did have him, and what's more she's got him now ; and I never had any of the four hundred pound, worse luck. Beg your pardon, sir," said Sam, when he had concluded, " but wen I gets on this here grievance, I runs on like a new barrow vith the wheel greased." CROSS QUESTIONED. " My friend," said the thin gentleman. " You're one o' the adwice gratis order," thought Sam, " or you wouldn't be so werry fond o' me all at once." But he only said "Well, sir." "My friend," said the thin gentleman, with a conciliatory hem " Have you got many people stopping here, now? Pretty busy. Eh ? " " Oh, werry well, sir," replied Sam, " we shan't be bankrupts, and we shan't make our fort'ns. We eats our biled mutton without capers, and don't care for horse-radish wen ve can get beef." " Ah," said the little man, " you're a wag, a'nt you?" " My eldest brother was troubled with that complaint," said Sam ; " it may be catching I used to sleep with him." " This is a curious old house of yours," said the little man, looking round him. " If you'd sent word you was a coming, we'd ha' had it re- paired ; " replied the imperturbable Sam. SAM ON A LEGAL CASE. " If any authority can be necessary on such a point, my dear sir," said the little man, " let me refer you to the well-known case in Barnwell and " " Never mind George Barnwell," interrupted Sam ; " every body knows vhat sort of a case his was, tho' it's always been my opinion, mind you, that the young 'ooman deserved scragging a pre- cious sight more than he did. Hows'ever, that's neither here nor there. You want me to except of half a guinea. Werry well, I'm agreeable : I can't say no fairer than that, can I, sir? (Mr. Pickwick smiled.) Then the next question is, what the devil do you want with me, as the man said wen he see the ghost ? " CUSTOMERS AT THE WHITE HART. " Who there is in the house ? " said Sam, in whose mind the inmates were always re- presented by that particular article of their costume, which came under his immediate superintendence. " There's a wooden leg in number six ; there's a pair of Hessians in thirteen ; there's two pair of halves in the commercial ; there's these here painted tops in the snuggery inside the bar ; and five more tops in the coffee-room." SELF-ACTING INK. Mr. Pickwick, in the frenzy of his rage, hurled the inkstand madly forward, and fol- lowed it up himself. But Mr. Jingle had disappeared, and he found himself caught in the arms of Sam. " Hallo," said that eccen- tric functional-}', "furniter's cheap where you come from, sir. Self-acting ink, that 'ere ; it's wrote your mark upon the wall, old gen'lm'n. Hold still, sir ; wot's the use o' runnin' arter a man as has made his lucky, and got to t'other end of the Borough by this time." B 2 8 SAM'S OLD WHITE HAT. " Ta'nt a werry good 'un to look at," said Sam, " but it's an astonishn' ; un to wear ; and afore the brim went, it was a werry handsome tile. Hows'ever it's lighter with- out it, that's one thing, and every hole lets in some air, that's another wentilation gossa- mer I calls it." OUT VITH IT. " Now with regard to the matter on which I sent for you," said Mr. Pickwick. " That's the pint, sir," interposed Sam ; " out vith it, as the father said to the child, wen he swal- lowed a farden." SAM'S ENGAGEMENT TO MR. PICKWICK. " Take the bill down," said Sam, emphati- cally. " I'm let to a single gentleman, and the terms is agreed upon." " You accept the situation ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " Certn'ly," replied Sam. " If the clothes fits me half as well as the place, they'll do." SAM WELLER'S LIVERY. Mr. Weller was furnished with a grey coat with the P. C. button, a black hat with a cockade to it, a pink striped waistcoat, light breeches and gaiters. " Well," said that suddenly-transformed individual ; " I wonder whether I'm meant to be a footman, or a groom, or a gamekeeper, or a seedsman. I looks like a sort of compo of every one on 'em. Never mind ; there's a change of air, plenty to see, and little to do ; and all this suits my complaint uncommon ; so long life to the Pickvicks, says I ! " INDEPENDENT VOTERS. " Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr. Pickwick, glancing from the window. " Wery fresh," replied Sam ; " me, and the two waiters at the Peacock, has been a pum- pin' over the independent woters as supped there last night." " Pumping over indepen- dent voters ! " exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. " Yes," said his attendant, " every man slept vere he fell down ; we dragged 'em out, one by one, this mornin', and put 'em under the pump, and they're in reg'lar fine order, now. Shillin' a head the committee paid for that 'ere job." " Can such things be ! " exclaimed the astonished . Mr. Pickwick. " Lord bless your heart, sir," said Sam, " why where was you half baptized? that's nothin', that ain't." " Nothing?" said Mr. Pickwick." Nothin' at all, sir," replied his attendant. " The night afore the last day o' the last election here, the opposite party bribed the bar-maid at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled electors as was a stoppin' in the house." " What do you mean by ' hocussing ' brandy and water ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " Puttin' laud'num in it," replied Sam. " Blessed if she didn't send 'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over." OLD WELLER'S ELECTIONEERING SPILL. " Strange practices, these," said Mr. Pick- wick. " Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an election time, in this werry place, sir," replied Sam. " What was that ? " in- quired Mr. Pickwick. "Why he drove a coach down here once," said Sam ; " 'lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London. Night afore he was going to drive up, com- mittee on t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in ; large room lots of gen'l'm'n heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, ' glad to see you, sir ; how are II you ? ' ' Wery well, thank'ee, sir,' says my father ; ' I hope you're pretty midlin,' says he ' Pretty well, thank'ee, sir,' says the gen'l'm'n ; ' sit down, Mr. Weller pray sit down, sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks wery hard at each other. ' You don't remember me ? ' says the gen'l'm'n. ' Can't say I do,' says my father. ' Oh, I know you,' says the gen'l'm'n ; ' know'd you when you was a boy,' says he. ' Well, I don't remember you,' says my father. ' That's wery odd,' says the gen'l'm'n. ' Wery,' says my father. ' You must have a bad mem'ry, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n. ' Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my father. ' I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him out a glass of wine, and gam- mons him about his driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humour, and at last shoves a twenty pound note into his hand. ' It's a wery bad road between this and London,' says the een'Pm'n. ' Here and there it is a heavy road,' says my father. ' 'Specially near the canal, I think,' says the gen'l'm'n. ' Nasty bit that 'ere,' says my father. ' Well, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n, ' you're a wery good whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we know. W T e're all wery fond o' you, Mr. Weller, so in case you should have an accident when you're bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em over into the canal vithout hurtin' of 'em, this is for yourself,' says he. ' Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,' says my father, ' and I'll drink your health in another glass of wine,' says he ; wich he did, and then buttons up the money and bows himself out. " You wouldn't believe, sir," continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence at his master, " that on the wery day as he came down with them woters, his coach was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the canal." " And got out again ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily." Why," replied Sam, very slowly, " I rather think one old gen'l'm'n was missin'; I know his hat was found, but I a'n't quite certain whether his head was in it or not. But what I look at, is the hex- traordinary, and wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n said, my father's coach should be upset in that wery place, and on that wery day ! " MRS. LEO HUNTER'S CARD. " Person's a waitin'," said Sam, epigram- matically. "Does the person want me, 13 Sam?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "He wants you particklar ; and no one else'll do, as the Devil's private secretary said ven he fetched away Doctor Faustus," replied Mr. Weller. "He. Is it a gentleman ?" said Mr. Pick- wick. " A wery 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'l'm'n, hows'ever," replied Sam, " and he's a waitin' in the drawing-room said he'd rather wait all day, than not see you." PROUD o' THE TITLE. " Where's my servant ? " cried Mr. Pick- wick. " Here you are, sir," said Mr. Weller, emerging from a sequestered spot, where he had been engaged in discussing a bottle of Madeira, which he had abstracted from the breakfast-table, an hour or two before. " Here's your servant, sir. Proud o' the title, as the Living Skellinton said, ven theyshow'd him." SAM'S MUTATIONS. " I worn't always a boots, sir," said Mr. Weller, with a shake of the head. " I wos a wagginer's boy, once." " When was that? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " When I wos first pitched neck and crop into the world, to play B3 14 at leap-frog with its troubles," replied Sam. " I wos a carrier's boy at startin': then a vagginer's, then a helper, then a boots. Now I'm a gen'Pm'n's servant. I shall be a gen'l'm'n myself one of these days, perhaps, with a pipe in my mouth, and a summer- house in the back garden. Who knows ? / shouldn't be surprised, for one." THE WELLER PHILOSOPHY. " You are quite a philosopher, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. " It runs in the family, I b'lieve, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " My father's wery much in that line, now. If my mother- in-law blows him up, he whistles. She flies in a passion, and breaks his pipe ; he steps out, and gets another. Then she screams wery loud, and falls into 'sterics ; and he smokes wery comfortably 'till she comes to agin. That's philosophy, sir, ain't it ?" " A very good substitute for it, at all events," re- plied Mr. Pickwick, laughing. SAM'S UNFURNISHED LODGINGS. " Arter I run away from the carrier, and afore I took up with the wagginer, I had un- furnished lodgin's for a fortnight." " Un- furnished lodgings ? " said Mr. Pickwick. " Yes the dry arches of Waterloo Bridge. Fine sleeping-place within ten minutes' walk of all the public offices only if there is any objection to it, it is that the sitivation's rayther too airy." THE TWOPENNY ROPE. " The twopenny rope, sir," replied Mr. Weller, " is just a cheap lodgin' house, where the beds is twopence a night." " What do they call a bed a rope for ? " said Mr. Pick- wick. " Bless your innocence, sir, that a'nt it," replied Sam. "Wen the lady and gen'l'm'n as keeps the Hot-el first begun business they used to make the beds on the floor ; but this wouldn't do at no price, 'cos instead o' taking a moderate twopenn'orth o' sleep, the lodgers used to lie there half the day. So now they has two ropes, 'bout six foot apart, and three from the floor, which goes right down the room ; and the beds are made of slips of coarse sacking, stretched across 'em."" Well," said Mr. Pickwick. " Well," said Mr. Weller, " the ad wantage o' the plan's hobvious. At six o'clock every mornin' they lets go the ropes at one end, and down falls all the lodgers. 'Consequence is, that being thoroughly waked, they get up wery quietly, and walk away ! " i6 NOTHING so REFRESHING AS SLEEP. "Now, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, "the first thing to be done is to : " Order dinner, sir," interposed Mr. Weller. " It's wery late, sir." "Ah, so it is," said Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch. " You are right, Sam." " And if I might adwise, sir," added Mr. Weller, " I'd just have a good night's rest arterwards, and not begin in- quiring arter this here deep 'un 'till the mornin'. There's nothin' so refreshin' as sleep, sir, as the servant-girl said afore she drank the egg-cupful o' laudanum." JOB TROTTER'S TEARS. " Come, come," interposed Sam, who had witnessed Mr. Trotter's tears with consider- able impatience, " blow this here water-cart bis'ness. It won't do no good, this won't." " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, reproachfully, " I am sorry to find that you have so little respect for this young man's feelings." " His feelins is all wery well, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; " and as they're so wery fine, and it's a pity he should lose 'em, I think he'd better keep 'em in his own buzzum, than let ; em ewaporate in hot water, 'specially as they 17 do no good. Tears never yet wound up a clock, or worked a steam ingen'. The next time you go out to a smoking party, young fellow, fill your pipe with that 'ere reflection ; and for the present just put that bit of pink gingham into your pocket. 'T'an't so hand- some that you need keep waving it about, as if you was a tight-rope dancer." ... In spite of Mr. Weller's remonstrance, the tears again rose to Job Trotter's eyes. " I never see such a feller," said Sam. " Blessed if I don't think he's got a main in his head as is always turned on." SAM'S CHIVALROUS CHALLENGE. " Say at all events, my dear fellow," said Mr. Pickwick (to Wardle), "that I am neither a robber nor a madman." ..." And who- ever says, or has said, he is," interposed Mr. Weller, stepping forward, " says that which is not the truth, but so far from it, on the con- trary, quite the rewerse. And if there's any number o' men on these here premises as has said so, I shall be wery happy to give 'em all a wery convincing proof o' their being mis- taken, in this here wery room, if these wery respectable ladies '11 have the goodness to retire, and order 'em up, one at a time." i8 SAM AND MR. PICKWICK vow VENGEANCE. The bell did ring in due course, and Mr. Weller presented himself. " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, looking out from under the bed- clothes." Sir," said Mr. Weller. Mr. Pick- wick paused, and Mr. Weller snuffed the candle. "Sam," said Mr. Pickwick again, as if with a desperate effort. " Sir," said Mr. Weller, once more. " Where is that Trotter? "" Job, sir ? " " Yes."" Gone, sir." " With his master, I suppose ? " " Friend or master, or whatever he is, he's gone with him," replied Mr. Weller. "There's a pair on 'em, sir." " Jingle suspected my design, and set that fellow on you, with this story, I suppose ? " said Mr. Pickwick, half choking. " Just that, sir," replied Mr. Wel- ler. " It was all false, of course ? " " All, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Reg'lar do, sir ; artful dodge." " I don't think he'll escape us quite so easily the next time, Sam ?" said Mr. Pickwick. -" I don't think he will, sir." "Whenever I meet that Jingle again, wherever it is," said Mr. Pickwick, raising himself in bed, and indenting his pillow with a tremendous blow, " I'll inflict personal chastisement on him, in addition to the ex- 19 posure he so richly merits. I will, or my name is not Pickwick." "And wenever I catches hold o' that there melan-cholly chap with the black hair," said Sam, " if I don't bring some real water into his eyes, for once in a way, my name a'nt Weller. Good night, sir ! " SAM'S MISGIVINGS AS TO MR. PICKWICK. " Rum feller, the hemperor," said Mr. Weller, as he walked slowly up the street. "Think o' his making up to that ere Mrs. Bar- dell vith a little boy, too ! Always the vay vith these here old 'uns hows'ever, as is such steady goers to look at. I didn't think he'd ha' done it, though I didn't think he'd ha' done it ! " CHAFFING MR. WINKLE. " You mustn't handle your piece in that ere way, when you come to have the charge in it, sir," said the tall gamekeeper, gruffly, " or I'm damned if you won't make cold meat of some on us." Mr. Winkle, thus admon- ished, abruptly altered its position, and in so doing, contrived to bring the barrel into pretty sharp contact with Mr. Welter's head. " Hallo ! " said Sam, picking up his hat, which had been knocked off, and rubbing his 20 temple. " Hallo, sir ! if you comes it this vay, you'll fill one o' them bags, and some- thing to spare, at one fire." Here the leather- leggined boy laughed very heartily, and then tried to look as if it was somebody else, whereat Mr. Winkle frowned majestically. ..." We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes," said the long game- keeper. " If the gentleman begins to fire now, perhaps he'll just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " roared Mr. Weller. " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion and embarrassment. " Sir." "Don't laugh." " Certainly not, sir." So, by way of indemnification, Mr. Weller con- torted his features from behind the wheel- barrow, for the exclusive amusement of the boy with the leggings, who thereupon burst into a boisterous laugh, and was summarily cuffed by the long gamekeeper, who wanted a pretext for turning round, to hide his own merriment. CLEAR THE WAY FOR THE WHEELBARROW. " Now, then, Sam, wheel away," said Mr. Pickwick. " Hold on, sir," said Mr. Weller, invigorated with the prospect of refreshments. " Out of the vay, young leathers. If you walley my precious life don't upset me, as the gen'l'm'n said to the driver when they was a carryin' him to Tyburn." IT'S THE SEASONIN' AS DOES IT. " Weal pie," said Mr. Weller, soliloquizing, as he arranged the eatables on the grass. "Wery good thing is weal pie, when you know the lady as made it, and is quite sure it ain't kittens ; and arter all though, where's the odds, when they're so like weal that the wery piemen themselves don't know the dif- ference ?"" Don't they, Sam?" said Mr. Pickwick. " Not they, sir," replied Mr. Weller, touching his hat. " I lodged in the same house vith a pieman once, sir, and a wery nice man he was reg'lar clever chap, too make pies out o' anything, he could. ' What a number o' cats you keep, Mr. Brooks,' says I, when I'd got intimate with him. ' Ah,' says he, ' I do a good many,' says he. ' You must be wery fond o' cats,' says I. ' Other people is,' says he, a winkin' at me ; ' they ain't in season till the winter though,' says he. ' Not in season ? ' says I. 'No,' says he, 'fruits is in, cats is out.' ' Why, what do you mean? ' says I. 'Mean?' 22 says he. ' That I'll never be a party to the combination o' the butchers, to keep up the prices o' meat,' says he. ' Mr. Weller,' says he, a squeezing my hand wery hard, and vis- pering in my ear ' don't mention this here agin but it's the seasonin' as does it. They're all made o' them noble animals,' says he, a pointin' to a wery nice little tabby kitten, 'and I seasons 'em for beefsteak, weal, or kidney, 'cordin to the demand, And more than that,' says he, ' I can make a weal a beef-steak, or a beef-steak a kidney, or any one on 'em a mutton, at a minute's notice, just as the market changes, and appetites wary ! ' " " He must have been a very in- genious young man, that, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, with a slight shudder. " Just was, sir," replied Mr. Weller, continuing his occu- pation of emptying the basket, "and the pies was beautiful." UNPACKING THE LUNCH HAMPER. " Tongue ; well that's a wery good thing when it ain't a woman's. Bread knuckle o' ham, reg'lar picter cold beef in slices, wery good. What's in them stone jars, young touch-and-go ? " " Beer in this one," replied the boy, taking from his shoulder a couple of 23 large stone bottles, fastened together by a leathern strap "cold punch in t'other." " And a wery good notion of a lunch it is, take it altogether," said Mr. Weller, survey- ing his arrangement of the repast with great satisfaction. "Now, gen'l'm'n, 'fall on,' as the English said to the French when they fixed bagginets." A LITTLE MORE CHAFF FOR MR. WlNKLE. " I'll tell you what I shall do, to get up my shooting again," said Mr. Winkle, who was eating bread and ham with a pocket-knife. " I'll put a stuffed partridge on the top of a post, and practice at it, beginning at a short distance, and lengthening it by degrees. I understand it's capital practice." " I know a gen'l'man, sir," said Mr. Weller, "as did that, and begun at two yards ; but he never tried It on agin ; for he blowed the bird right clean away at the first fire, and nobody ever seed a feather on him arterwards." " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick." Sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Have the goodness to reserve your anec- dotes 'till they are called for."" Cert'nly, sir." Here Mr. Weller winked the eye which was not concealed by the beer-can he was raising to his lips with such exquisiteness, 24 that the two boys went into spontaneous convulsions, and even the long man conde- scended to smile. SPOILING THE BEADLE. " Run to the Justice's ! " cried a dozen voices. "Ah, run avay," said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. " Give my compli- ments Mr. Veller's compliments to the Justice, and tell him I've spiled his beadle, and that, if he'll svear in a new 'un, I'll come back agin to-morrow and spile him. Drive on, old feller." BATTLEDORE AND SHUTTLECOCK. " You just come avay," said Mr. Weller. " Battledore and shuttlecock's a wery good game, when you ain't the shuttlecock and two lawyers the battledores, in which case it gets too excitin' to be pleasant. Come avay, sir. If you want to ease your mind by blowing up somebody, come out into the court and blow up me ; but it's rayther too expensive work to be carried on here." SAM A TRUE LONDONER. " But first," said Mr. Pickwick, "as I have been rather ruffled, I should like a glass of 25 brandy and water warm, Sam. Where can I have it, Sam ? " Mr. Weller's knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar. He replied, without the slightest consideration : " Second court on the right hand side last house but vun on the same side the vay take the box as stands in the first fire-place, 'cos there ain't no leg in the middle o' the table, wich all the others has, and it's wery inconwenient." OLD WELLER'S FIRST APPEARANCE. The stout man having blown a thick cloud from his pipe, a hoarse voice, like some strange effort of ventriloquism, emerged from beneath the capacious shawls which muffled his throat and chest, and slowly uttered these sounds "Wy, Sammy !" " Who's that, Sam ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "Why, I wouldn't ha' believed it, sir," replied Mr. Weller with astonished eyes. " It's the old 'un." "Old one," said Mr. Pickwick. "What old one ? " " My father, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " How are you, my ancient ? " With which beautiful ebullition of filial affec- tion, 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. 26 " Wy, Sammy," said the father, " I han't seen you, for two year and better." " Nor more you have, old codger," replied the son. " How's mother in law."" Wy, I'll tell you what, Sammy," said Mr. Weller senior, with much solemnity in his manner; " there never was a nicer woman as a widder, than that 'ere second wentur o' mine a sweet creetur she was, Sammy ; all I can say on her now, is that, as she was such an uncommon plea- sant widder, its a great pity she ever changed her con-dition. She don't act as a vife, Sammy." " Don't she, though ? " inquired Mr. Weller, junior. The elder Mr. Weller shook his head, as he replied with a sigh, " I've done it once too often, Sammy ; I've done it once too often. Take example by your father, my boy, and be werry careful o' widders all your life, specially if they've kept a public-house, Sammy." 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, commenced smoking at a great rate. " Beg your pardon, sir," he said, renewing the sub- ject, and addressing Mr. Pickwick, after a considerable pause, "nothin 1 personal, I hope 27 sir ; I hope you han't got a widder, sir." " Not I," replied Mr. Pickwick, laughing. SAM'S EDUCATION. While Mr. Pickwick laughed, Sam Weller informed his parent in a whisper, of the rela- tion in .which he stood towards that gentle- man. " Beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Weller, senior, taking off his hat, " I hope you've no fault to find with Sammy, sir ? " " None whatever," said Mr. Pickwick. " Wery glad to hear it, sir," replied the old man ; " I took a good deal o' pains with his eddication, sir ; let him run in the streets when he was wery young, and shift for his- self. It's the only way to make a boy sharp, sir." OLD WELLER'S REMEDY FOR THE GOUT. " Don't hurry away, Mr. Waller," said Mr. Pickwick; "won't you take anything?" "You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. W., stopping short ; " perhaps a small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to Sammy, sir, wouldn't be amiss." " Certainly not," replied Mr. Pickwick. "A glass of brandy here ! " The brandy was brought : and Mr. Weller, after pulling his hair to Mr. 28 Pickwick, and nodding to Sam, jerked it down his capacious throat as if it had been a small thimble-full." Well done, father," said Sam, " take care, old fellow, or you'll have a touch of your old complaint, the gout." " I've found a sov'rin' cure for that, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, setting down the glass. " A sovereign cure for the gout," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily producing his note-book " what is it ? " " The gout, sir," replied Mr^ Weller, "The gout is a complaint as arises from too much ease and comfort. If ever you're attacked with the gout, sir, jist you marry a widder as has got a good loud woice, with a decent notion of usin' it, and you'll never have the gout agin. It's a capital prescription, sir. I takes it reg'lar, and I can warrant it to drive away any ill- ness as is caused by too much jollity." Having imparted this valuable secret, Mr. Weller drained his glass once more, pro- duced a laboured wink, sighed deeply, and slowly retired. THE VICTIM o' CONNUBIALITY. "Well, what do you think of what your father says, Sam ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. " Think, sir ! " replied Mr. 29 Weller ; " why, I think he's the wictim o' connubiality, as Blue Beard's domestic chap- lain said, with a tear of pity, ven he buried him." SAM ON LAUNDRESSES. " I am Mr. Perker's laundress," replied the old woman. "Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Sam, " it's a curious circumstance, Sam, that they call the old women in these inns, laundresses. I wonder what that's for." "'Cos they has a mortal awersion to washing anythin', I suppose, sir," replied Mr. Weller. SAM ON CABS. " That 'ere your governor's luggage, Sammy ? " inquired Mr. Weller 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 after- wards. " The Governor hisself '11 be down here presently." " He's a cabbin' it, I sup- pose ? " said the father. " Yes, he's a havin' two mile o' danger at eight-pence," responded the son. 3 OLD WELLER ON THE NEW BIRTH. " How's mother-in-law this mornin'?" said Sam. "Queer, Sammy, queer," replied the elder Mr. Weller, with impressive gravity. "She's been gettin' rayther in the Metho- distical order lately, Sammy ; and she is uncommon pious, to be sure. She's too good a creetur for me, Sammy. I feel I don't deserve her." " Ah," said Mr. Samuel, " that's wery self-denyin' o' you." " Wery," replied his parent, with a sigh. " She's got hold o' some inwention for grown-up people being 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 ! " OLD WELLER'S FIRST SIGHT OF THE RED- NOSED MAN. " What do you think them women does t'other day, Sammy," continued Mr. Weller. "Don't know," replied Sam, "what?" " Goes and gets up a grand tea drinkin' for a feller they calls their shepherd," said Mr. Weller. " I was a standing starin' in at the pictur shop down at our place, when I sees a little bill about it ; ' tickets half-a-crown. All applications to be made to the committee, Secretary, Mrs. Weller ;' and when I got home there was the committee a sittin' in our back parlour. Fourteen women ; I wish you could ha' heard 'em, Sammy. There they was, a passin' resolutions, and wotin' supplies, and all sort 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 with the old 'ooman, and up we walks into a fust floor where there was tea things for thirty, and a whole lot o' women as begins whisperin' to one another, and lookin' at me, as if they'd never seen a rayther stout gen'lm'n of eight-and-fifty afore. By and bye, there comes a great bustle down stairs, and a lanky chap with a red nose and a white neckcloth rushes up, and sings out, 'Here's the shepherd a coming to wisit his faithful flock ;' and in comes a fat chap in black, vith a great white face, a smilin' avay like clockwork. Such goin's on, Sammy ! ' The kiss of peace,' says the 32 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 bile down stairs. At it they went, tooth and nail. Such a precious loud hymn, Sammy, while the tea was a brewing ; such a grace, such eatin' and drinkin' ! I wish you could ha' seen the shepherd walkin' into the ham and muffins. I never see such a chap to eat and drink ; never. The red-nosed man warn't by no means the sort of person you'd like to grub by contract, but he was nothin' to the shepherd, Well ; arter the tea was over, they sang another 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 again, and lookin' wery hard at me, says, ' Where is the sinner ; where 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 33 of begging my pardon as any gen'lm'n would ha' done, he got more abusive than ever : called me a wessel, Sammy a wessel of 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." POVERTY AND OYSTERS. "Not a wery nice neighbourhood this, sir," said Sam, with a touch of the hat, which always preceded his entering into conversa- tion with his master. " It is not indeed, Sam," replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the crowded and filthy street through which they were passing, " It's a wery remarkable cir- cumstance, sir," said Sam, "that poverty and oysters always seems to go together." " I don't understand you, Sam," said Mr. Pick- wick. "What I mean, sir," said Sam, "is, that the poorer a place is, the greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look here, sir ; here's a oyster stall to every half-dozen houses. The street's lined vith 'em. Blessed 34 if I don't think that ven a man's wery poor, he rushes out of his lodgings, and eats oysters in regular desperation." OLD WELLER ON PIKES. "Wery queer life is a pike-keeper's, sir," said Mr. Weller, senior. "A what?" said Mr. Pickwick. "A pike-keeper." "The old 'un means a turnpike keeper, gen'lm'n," ob- served Mr. Samuel Weller, in explanation. " Oh," said Mr. Pickwick, " I see. Yes ; very curious life. Very uncomfortable." " They're all on 'em men as has met with some disappointment in life," said Mr. Weller, senior. "Ay, ay," said Mr. Pickwick. "Yes. Consequence of vich, they retires from the world, and shuts themselves up in pikes ; partly vith the view of being solitary, and partly to rewenge themselves on mankind, by takin' tolls." " Dear me," said Mr. Pick- wick, " I never knew that before." " Fact, sir," said Mr. Weller ; " if they was gen'lm'n you'd call 'em misanthropes, but as it is, they only takes to pike-keepin'." SAM'S FRESH MISGIVINGS ABOUT MR. PICKWICK. " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly ap- pearing before him (his hat put on over his 35 nightcap after the manner of the old patrol, his shoes and gaiters in his hand and his coat and waistcoat over his arm), " Where's my bed-room ? " Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise ; and it was not until the question had been repeated three several times, that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought apartment. " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick as he got into bed, " I have made one of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night, that ever were heard of." " Wery likely sir," replied Mr. Weller drily " But of this I am determined, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick ; "that if I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself about it, alone, again." " That's the wery prudentist resolu- tion as you could come to, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " You rayther want somebody to look arter you, sir, wen your judgment goes out a wisitin'." "What do you mean by that, Sam?" said Mr. Pickwick. He raised himself in bed, and extended his hand, as if he were about to say something more ; but suddenly checking himself, turned round, and bade his valet " Good night." " Good night, sir," replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got outside the door shook his 36 head walked on stopped snuffed the candle shook his head again and finally proceeded slowly to his chamber, apparently buried in the profoundest meditation. SAM'S POWER o' SUCTION. " Mornin', Sammy!" said the father. The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly to his parent, took a long draught by way of reply. " Werry good power o' suction, Sammy," said Mr. Weller the elder, looking into the pot, when his first-born had set it down half empty. " You'd ha' made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in that station o' life." Yes, I des-say I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable livin'," replied Sam, applying himself to the cold beef with considerable vigour. VELLER AND GAMMON. " I'm wery sorry, Sammy," said the elder Mr. Weller, " to hear from your lips, as you let yourself be gammoned by that 'ere mul- berry man. I always thought, up to three days ago, that the names of Veller and gam- mon could never come into contract, Sammy, never." "Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course," said Sam. "Widders, 37 Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, slightly chang- ing colour. " Widders are 'ceptions to ev'ry rule. I have heerd how many ord'nary wo- men, one widdefs equal to, in pint o' comin' over you. I think it's five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it an't more." "Well ; that's pretty well," said Sam." Be- sides, continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, " that's a wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, Sammy, as defended the gen'lem'n as beat his wife with the poker, venever he got jolly, ' And arter all, my lord,' says he, ' It's a amable weak- ness.' So I says respectin' widders, Sammy, and so you'll say ven you gets as old as me." " I ought to ha' know'd better, I know," said Sam. " Ought to ha' know'd better ! " repeated Mr. Weller, striking the table with his fist. " Ought to ha' know'd better! why, I know a young 'un as hasn't had half nor quarter your eddication as hasn't slept about the markets, no, not six months who'd ha' scorned to be let in, in such a vay ; scorned it, Sammy." In the excitement of feeling produced by this agonising reflection, Mr. Weller rang the bell, and ordered an additional pint of ale. " Well, it's no use talking about it now," said Sam. " It's over, c and can't be helped, and that's one consola- tion, as they always says in Turkey, ven they cuts the wrong man's head off. It's my in- nings now, gov'nor, and as soon as I catches hold o' this 'ere Trotter, I'll have a good J un." " I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will," returned Mr. Weller. " Here's your health, Sammy, and may you speedily vipe off the disgrace as you've inflicted on the family name." OLD WELLER'S AFFECTING FAREWELL. " And now, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, con- sulting the large double-faced silver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. '' Now it's time I was up at the office to get my vay-bill, and see the coach loaded ; for coaches, Sammy, is like guns they requires to be loaded with wery great care, afore they go off." At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller junior smiled a filial smile. His revered parent continued in a solemn tone : " I'm a goin' to leave you, Samivel, my boy, and there's no telling ven I shall see you again. Your mother-in-law may ha' been too much for me, or a thousand things may have happened by the time you next hears any news o' the celebrated Mr. Veller 39 o : the Bell Savage. The family name de- pends wery much upon you, Samivel, and I hope you'll do wot's right by it. Upon all little pints o' breedin', I know I may trust you as veil as if it was my own self. So I've only this here one little bit of adwice to give you. If ever you gets to up'ards o' fifty, and feels disposed to go a marryin' anybody no matter who jist you shut yourself up in your own room, if you've got one, and pison yourself off hand. Hangin's wulgar, so don't you have nothin' to say to that. Pison your- self, Samivel, my boy, pison yourself, and you'll be glad on it arterwards." With these affecting words, Mr. Weller looked stead- fastly on his son, and turning slowly upon his heel, disappeared from his sight. SAM'S ATTEMPTED RESCUE OF MR. PICKWICK. " What's the row, gen'l'm'n ? " cried Sam. " Who have they got in this here watch-box in mournin'?" Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snod- grass replied together, but their words were lost in the tumult. "W T ho?" cried Sam again. Once more was a joint reply re- turned ; and, though the words were inau- dible, Sam saw b the motion of the two 40 pairs of lips that they had uttered the magic word " Pickwick." This was enough. In another minute Mr. Weller had made his way through the crowd, stopped the chair- men, and confronted the portly Grummer. " Hallo, old genTm'n ! " said Sam. " Who have you got in this here conwayance ? "- " Stand back," said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the dignity of a great many other men, had been wondrously augmented by a little popularity. " Knock him down, if he don't," said Mr. Dubbley. " I'm wery much obliged to you, old genTm'n," replied Sam, " for consulting my conwenience, and I'm still more obliged to the other genTm'n, who looks as if he'd just escaped from a giant's carrywan, for his wery 'ansome sug- gestion ; but I should prefer your givin' me a answer to my question, if it's all the same to you. How are you, sir ? " This last ob- servation was addressed with a patronising air to Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window. Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged the truncheon with the brass crown from its par- ticular pocket, and flourished it before Sam's eyes. " Ah," said Sam, " it's wery pretty, 'specially the crown, which is uncommon like the real one."" Stand back ! " said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of ad- ding force to the command, he thrust the brass emblem of royalty into Sam's neck- cloth with one hand, and seized Sam's collar with the other : a compliment which Mr. Weller returned by knocking him down out of hand : having previously, with the utmost consideration, knocked down a chairman for him to lie upon. SAM AS MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES. " This here's Pickvick, your wash-up," said Grummer. " Come, none o' that 'ere, old Strike-a-light," interposed Mr. Weller, elbowing himself into the front rank. " Beg your pardon, sir, but this here officer o' yourn in the gambooge tops, 'ull never earn a decent livin' as a master o' the ceremonies any vere. This here, sir," continued Mr. Weller, thrust- ing Grummer aside, and addressing the ma- gistrate with pleasant familiarity, " This here is S. Pickvick, Esquire ; this here's Mr. Tup- man ; that 'ere's Mr. Snodgrass ; and furder on, next him on the t'other side, Mr. Winkle all wery nice gen'l'm'n, sir, as you'll be wery happy to have the acquaintance on ; 42 so the sooner you commits these here officers o' yourn to the tread-mill for a month or two, the sooner we shall begin to be on a pleasant understanding. Business first, pleasure arter- wards, as King Richard the Third said wen he stabbed the t'other king in the Tower, afore he smothered the babbies." SAM BEFORE MR. NUPKINS. Mr. Weller, at the conclusion of this ad- dress, brushed his hat with his right elbow, and nodded benignly to Jinks, who had heard him throughout, with unspeakable awe. " Who is this man, Grummer ? " said the magistrate. " Wery desp'rate ch'racter, your wash-up," replied Grummer. " He attempted to rescue the prisoners, and assaulted the officers ; so we took him into custody, and brought him here." "You did quite right," replied the magistrate. " He is evidently a desperate ruffian." " He is my servant, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, angrily. " Oh! he is your servant, is he?" said Mr. Nupkins. "A conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice, and murder its officers. Pickwick's servant. Put that down, Mr. Jinks." Mr. Jinks did so. " What's your name, fellow ? " thundered Mr. Nupkins. 43 " Veller," replied Sam. " A very good name for the Newgate Calendar," said Mr. Nupkins. This was a joke ; so Jinks, Grum- mer, Dubbley, all the specials, and Muzzle, went into fits of laughter of five minutes' duration. " Put down his name, Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate. " Two L's, old feller," said Sam. Here an unfortunate special laughed again, whereupon the magistrate threatened to commit him, instantly. It is a dangerous thing to laugh at the wrong man, in these cases. " Where do you live ? " said the magistrate. " Vare-ever I can," replied Sam. " Put down that, Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate, who was fast rising into a rage. " Score it under," said Sam. " He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate. " He is a vagabond on his own statement ; is he not, Mr. Jinks ? " " Certainly, sir." " Then I'll commit him. I'll commit him as such," said Mr. Nupkins. " This is a wery impartial country for justice," said Sam. " There ain't a magistrate goin' as don't com- mit himself, twice as often as he commits other people." At this sally another special laughed, and then tried to look so super- naturally solemn, that the magistrate de- tected him immediately. C 2 44 SAM WELCOMED BY Mr. MUZZLE. Mr. Weller, whom the magistrate with his peculiar sagacity had discovered in half an hour to be one of the finest fellows alive, was consigned to the care and guardianship of Mr. Muzzle, who was specially enjoined to take him below, and make much of him. " How de do, sir ? " said Mr. Muzzle, as he conducted Mr. Weller down the kitchen stairs. " Why, no con-siderable change has taken place in the state of my system, since I see you cocked up behind your governor's chair in the parlour, a little vile ago," replied Sam. " You will excuse my not taking more notice of you then," said Mr. Muzzle. "You see, master hadn't introduced us, then. Lord, how fond he is of you, Mr. Weller, to be sure !" "Ah," said Sam, "what a pleasant chap he is !" "Ain't he?" replied Mr. Muz- zle. " So much humour," said Sam. " And such a man to speak," said Mr. Muzzle. " How his ideas flow, don't they ? " " Won- derful," replied Sam ; " they come's a pour- ing out, knocking each other's heads so fast, that they seems to stun one another ; you hardly know what he's arter, do you ? " 45 SAM'S INTRODUCTION TO MARY AND THE COOK. " Mary," said Mr. Muzzle to the pretty ser- vant-girl, " this is Mr. Weller : a gentleman as master has sent down, to be made as comfortable as possible." " And your mas- ter 's a knowin' hand, and has just sent me to the right place," said Mr. Weller, with a glance of admiration at Mary. " If I wos master o' this here house, I should alvays find the materials for comfort vere Mary wos." " Lor, Mr. Weller ! " said Mary, blushing. " Well, I never ! " ejaculated the cook. "Bless me, cook, I forgot you," said Mr. Muzzle. " Mr. Weller, let me introduce you." " How are you, ma'am," said Mr. Weller. " Werry glad to see you, indeed, and hope our acquaintance may be a long 'un, as the gen'lm'n said to the fi' pun' note." SAM'S FIRST ADVANCES TO THE PRETTY HOUSEMAID. " I never could a-bear that Job," said Mary. " No more you never ought to, my dear," replied Mr. Weller. "Why not?" inquired Mary. " Cos ugliness and svindlin' never ought to be formiliar vith elegance and wirtew," replied Mr. Weller. " Ought 46 they, Mr. Muzzle?" "Not by no means," replied that gentleman. Here Mary laughed, and said the cook had made her ; and the cook laughed, and said she hadn't. " I han't got a glass," said Mary. " Drink with me, my dear," said Mr. Weller. " Put your lips to this here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy."" For shame, Mr. Weller ! " said Mary. " What's a shame, my dear ? " " Talkin' in that way." " Nonsense ; it ain't no harm. It's natur ; ain't it, cook ? " " Don't ask me imperence," replied the cook in a high state of delight : and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again, till what be- tween the beer, and the cold meat, and the laughter combined, the latter young lady was brought to the verge of choking an alarm- ing crisis from which she was only recovered by sundry pats on the back, and other neces- sary attentions, most delicately administered by Mr. Samuel Weller. SOMETHING BEHIND THE DOOR. " Get your hat, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. " It's below stairs, sir," said Sam, and he ran down after it. Now, there was nobody in the kitchen, but the pretty house-maid ; and as Sam's hat was mislaid, he had to look 47 for it ; and the pretty house-maid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat. The pretty house-maid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldn't get at it without shutting the door first. " Here it is," said the pretty housemaid. " This is it, ain't it ? " " Let me look," said Sam. The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor ; as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkable small corner, and so it was nobody's fault but the man's who built the house Sam and the pretty house-maid were necessarily very close together. "Yes, this is it," said Sam. "Good bye ! " " Good bye ! " said the pretty house- maid. " Good bye ! " said Sam ; and as he said it, he dropped the hat that had cost so much trouble in looking for. " How awk- ward you are," said the pretty housemaid. " You'll lose it again, if you don't take care." So, just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him. Whether it was that the pretty house-maid's face looked prettier still, 4 8 when it was raised towards Sam's or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near to each other, is matter of un- certainty to this day ; but Sam kissed her. " You don't mean to say you did that on pur- pose," said the pretty housemaid, blushing. " No, I didn't then," said Sam ; " but I will now." So he kissed her again. " Sam ! '' said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters. " Coming, sir," replied Sam, running up stairs. " How long you have been ! " said Mr. Pickwick. " There was something be- hind the door, sir, which perwented our getting it open, for ever so long, sir," replied Sam. And this was the first passage of Mr. Weller's first love. SAM AND MASTER BARDELL. " Well, young townskip," said Sam, " how's mother ? " " She's pretty well," replied Mas- ter Bardell, " so am I."" Well, that's a mercy," said Sam ; " tell her I want to speak to her, will you my hinfant fernomenon ? " SAM DELIVERS THE MESSAGE TO MRS. BARDELL. " Werry sorry to 'casion any personal in- conwenience, ma'am, as the housebreaker 49 said to the old lady when he put her on the fire ; but as me and my governor's only just come to town, and is jest going away agin, it can't be helped you see." " Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his mas- ter," said Mrs. Cluppings, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and conversation. " Certainly not," chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental calculation of the probable extent of the petittoes, in the event of Sam's being asked to stop to supper. " So all I've come about, is jest this here," said Sam, disre- garding the interruption ; " First, to give my governor's notice there it is. Secondly, to pay the rent here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things is to be put together, and give to anybody as we sends for 'em. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like and that's all." SAM'S GOOD WISHES TO MESSRS. DODSON AND FOGG. " And won't Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiff shouldn't get it ?" added Mrs. Cluppins, " when they do it all on specula- tion ! " " Ah ! won't they ! " said Mrs. 50 Sanders."" But the plaintiff must get it," resumed Mrs. Cluppins. " I hope so," said Mrs. Bardell. " Oh, there can't be any doubt about it," rejoined Mrs. Sanders. " Veil," said Sam, rising and setting down his glass, " All I can say is, that I wish you may get it." " Thank'ee, Mr. Weller," said Mrs. Bardell fervently. " And of them Dod- son and Foggs, as does these sort o' things on spec," continued Mr. Weller, " as well as for the other kind and gen'rous people o' the same purfession, as sets people by the ears, free gratis for nothin', and sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes among their neighbours and acquaintances as vants set- tlin' by means o' law-suits all I can say o 3 them is, that I vish they had the revard I'd give 'em." " Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous heart would be inclined to bestow upon them ! " said the gratified Mrs. Bardell." Amen to that," replied Sam, "and a fat and happy livin' they'd get out of it ! Wish you good night, ladies." SAM'S SENSE OF FILIAL DUTY. " I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties as a son, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. " I always had, sir," re- plied Mr. Weller. " That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, approv- ingly." Wery, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; " if ever I wanted anythin' o' my father, I always asked for it in a wery 'spectful and obligin' manner. If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led to do anythin' wrong, through not havin' it. I saved him a world o' trouble in this vay, sir." " That's not pre- cisely what I meant, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head with a slight smile. " All good feelin', sir the wery best intentions, as the gen'l'm'n said ven he run away from his wife 'cos she seemed unhappy with him." replied Mr. Weller. SAM AND HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW. " Mother-in-law," said Sam, " how are you ? ""Why, I do believe he is a Weller !" said Mrs. W., raising her eyes to Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of counten- ance. " I rayther think he is," said the imperturbable Sam ; " and I hope this here reverend gen'l'm'n '11 excuse me saying that I wish I was the Weller as owns you, mother- in-law." This was a double-barrelled com- pliment. It implied that Mrs. Weller was a 5 2 most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clerical appearance. It made a visible impression at once ; and Sam fol- lowed up his advantage by kissing his mother- in-law. " Get along with you ! " said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. " For shame, young man ! " said the gentleman with the red nose. " No offence, sir, no offence," replied Sam ; " you're wery right, though ; it ain't the right sort o' thing, wen mothers- in-law is young and good looking, is it, sir?" " It's all vanity," said Mr. Stiggins." Ah ? so it is," said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights. Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace. MEETING OF THE WELLERS. " What, Sammy ! " exclaimed the father. " What, old Nobs ! " ejaculated the son. And they shook hands heartily. " Werry glad to see you, Sammy," said the elder Mr. Weller, " though how you've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a mystery to me. I only vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's all."" Hush ! " said Sam, " she's at home, old feller." " She ain't vithin hearin'," replied Mr. Weller ; " she always goes and blows up, down stairs, for a couple of hours 53 arter tea ; so we'll just give ourselves a damp, Sammy." STIGGINS AS AN ARITHMETICIAN. " Good hand at accounts," said Mr. Weller. " Is he ? " said Sam. " Borrows eighteen- pence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for a shillin' to make it up half a crown ; calls again on Vensday for another half crown to make it five shillin's ; and goes on, doubling, till he gets it up to a five pound note in no time, like them sums in the 'rithmetic book 'bout the nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy." Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded to by his parent. " So youvouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskits?" said Sam, after another interval of smoking. " Cert'nly not," replied Mr. Weller ; " what's the good o' flannel veskits to the young niggers abroad ? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across the fire-place ; " I'd come down wery handsome towards strait veskits for some people at home." THE SHEPHERD'S WATER-RATES. " They're alvays adoin' some gammon of that sort, Sammy," replied his father. 54 " T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road, wen who should I see, a standin' at a chapel- door, with a blue soup-plate in her hand, but your mother-in-law ! I werily believe there was change for a couple o' suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all in ha'pence ; and as the people came out, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd ha' thought that no mortal plate as ever was baked, could ha' stood the wear and tear. What d'ye think it was all for ? " " For another tea-drinkin', perhaps," said Sam. " Not a bit on it," replied the father, "for the shepherd's water-rate, Sammy." "The shep- herd's water-rate ! " said Sam. " Ay," re- plied Mr. Weller, " there was three quarters owin' and the shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he perhaps it might be on account that the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's wery little o' that tap he drinks, Sammy, wery ; he knows a trick worth a good half dozen of that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and so they cuts the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's a persecuted saint, and says he hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the water off, '11 be softened, and turned in the right vay : but he rayther thinks he's booked for somethin' uncomfortable. Upon this, the women calls 55 a meetin', sings a hymn, votes your mother- in-law into the chair, wolunteers a col-lection next Sunday, and hands it all over to the shepherd. And if he ain't got enough out on 'em, Sammy, to make him free of the water company for life," said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, " I'm one Dutchman, and you're another, and that's all about it." . . . " The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy," continued old Weller, " that they reg 5 - larly turns the heads of all the young ladies, about here. Lord bless their little hearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better ; but they're the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims o' gammon." "I s'ppose they are," said Sam. " Nothin' else," said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely ; " and wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see 'em a wastin' all their time and labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't want 'em, and taking no no- tice of flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I'd my vay, Samivel, I'd just stick some o' these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day. That 'ud shake the nonsense out of 'em, if anythin' vould." 56 CONNUBIAL ENDEARMENTS. " Oh, you've come back, have you ? " said Mrs. Weller. " Yes, my dear," replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe. " Has Mr. Stiggins been back ? " said Mrs. Weller. " No, my dear, he hasn't," replied Mr. Wel- ler, lighting the pipe by the ingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof, between the tongs, a red-hot coal from the adjacent fire ; " and what's more, my dear, I shall manage to surwive it, if he don't come back at all." " Ugh, you wretch ! " said Mrs. Weller. " Thank'ee, my love," said Mr. Weller. " Come, come, father," said Sam, " none o' these little lovins afore strangers." SAM'S ADVICE TO HIS FATHER. " Coin', Sammy ? " inquired Mr. Weller. " Off at once," replied Sam. " I vish you could muffle that 'ere Stiggins, and take him with you," said Mr. Weller. " I am ashamed on you ! " said Sam, reproachfully ; " what do you let him show his red nose in the Markis o' Granby at all for?" Mr. Weller the elder fixed on his son an earnest look, and replied, "'Cause I'm a married man, Samivel, 'cause I'm a married man. Wen you're a married man, Samivel, you'll under- 57 stand a good many things as you don't un- derstand now ; but vether it's worth goin' through so much, to learn so little, as the charity-boy said ven he got to the end of the alphabet, is a matter o' taste. / rayther think it isn't." " Well," said Sam, "good bye." " Tar, tar, Sammy," replied his father. " I've only got to say this here," said Sam, stopping short, " that if / was the pro- prietor o' the Markis o' Granby, and that 'ere Stiggins came and made toast in my bar, I'd"" What ? " interposed Mr. Weller, with great anxiety. " What ?"--" Pison his rum and water," said Sam. " No ! " said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand, " would you raly, Sammy ; would you, though?"" I would," said Sam. " I wouldn't be too hard upon him at first. I'd drop him in the water-butt, and put the lid on ; and if I found he was insensible to kindness, I'd try the other persvasion." SAM AND THE FAT BOY. "Veil, young twenty stun," said Sam, " you're a nice specimen of a prize boy, you are ! " " Thank'ee," said the fat boy." You ain't got nothin' on your mind as makes you fret yourself, have you?" inquired Sam. 58 " Not as I knows on," replied the fat boy. " I should rayther ha' thought, to look at you, that you was a labourin' under an unrequited attachment to someyoung'ooman," said Sam. The fat boy shook his head. " Veil," said Sam, " I am glad to hear it. Do you ever drink anythin' ? " " I likes eating, better," replied the boy." Ah," said Sam, " I should ha' s'posed that ; but what I mean is, should you like a drop of anything 5 as 'd warm you ? but I s'pose you never was cold, with all them elastic fixtures, was you ? " " Sometimes," replied the boy ; " and I likes a drop of some- thing, when it's good." " Oh, you do, do you ? " said Sam, " come this way, then ! "- The Blue Lion Tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed a glass of liquor without so much as winking ; a feat which consider- ably advanced him in Mr. Welter's good opinion. COMPACT AND COMFORTABLE. " Vere does the mince pies go, young opium eater ? " said Mr. Weller to the fat boy, as he assisted in laying out such articles of consumption as had not been duly arranged on the previous night. The fat boy pointed to the destination of the pies. " Wery good," 59 said Sam, " stick a bit o ! Christmas in 'em. T'other dish opposite. There ; now we look compact and comfortable, as the father said ven he cut his little boy's head off, to cure him o' squintin'." APOLOGUE OF THE FAT MAN'S WATCH. " I'll tell you what it is, young boa con- structer," said Mr. Weller, impressively ; " if you don't sleep a little less, and exercise a little more, wen you comes to be a man you'll lay yourself open to the same sort of personal inconwenience as was inflicted on the old gen'l'm'n as wore the pigtail." "What did they do to him ? " inquired the fat boy in a faltering voice. " I'm a-going to tell you," replied Mr. Weller ; " he was one o' the largest patterns as was ever turned out reg'lar fat man, as hadn't caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty-year." " Lor ! " exclaimed Emma. " No, that he hadn't, my dear," said Mr. Weller ; " and if you'd put an exact model of his own legs on the dinin' table afore him, he wouldn't ha' known 'em. Well, he always walks to his office with a wery handsome gold watch- chain hanging out, about a foot and a quarter, and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was 6o worth I'm afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can be a large, heavy, round manafacter, as stout for a watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face in propor- tion. ' You'd better not carry that 'ere watch, says the old gen'Pm'n's friends, 'you'll be robbed on it,' says they. ' Shall I ? ' says he. ' Yes, you will, says they. ' Veil,' says he, ' I should like to see the thief as could get this here watch out, for I'm blest if / ever can, it's such a tight fight,' says he : ' and venever I wants to know what's o'clock, I'm obliged to stare into the bakers' shops, he says. Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a goin' to pieces, and out he walks agin' with his powdered head and pigtail, and rolls down the Strand vith the chain hangin' out furder than ever, and the great round watch almost bustin' through his grey kersey smalls. There warn't a pickpocket in all London as didn't take a pull at that chain, but the chain 'ud never break, and the watch 'ud never come out, so they soon got tired o' dragging such a heavy old gen'l'm'n along the pavement, and he'd go home and laugh till the pigtail wibrated like the pendulum of a Dutch clock. At last one day the old gen'l'm'n was a rollin' along, and he sees a pickpocket as he know'd by sight, 6i a-coming up, arm in arm vith a little boy vith a wery large head. ' Here's a game,' says the old gen'l'm'n to himself, ' they're a-goin' to have another try, but it won't do ! ' So he begins a-chucklin' wery hearty, wen, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves hold of the pickpocket's arm, and rushes head-foremost straight into the old gen'l'm'n's stomach, and for a moment doubles him right up vith the pain. ' Murder ! ' says the old gen'l'm'n. ' All right, sir,' says the pickpocket, a wisperin' in his ear. And wen he come straight agin, the watch and chain was gone, and what's worse than that, the old gen'l'm'n's digestion was all wrong ever arterwards, to the wery last day of his life ; so just you look about you, young feller, and take care you don't get too fat." SHARP WEATHER. " Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick as that favoured servitor entered his bed-chamber with his warm water, on the morning of Christmas Day, " Still frosty ? " " Water in the wash-hand basin 's a mask o' ice, sir," responded Sam " Severe weather, Sam," observed Mr. Pickwick. "Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as the Polar 62 Bear said to himself, ven he was practising his skating," replied Mr. Weller. MEDICAL STUDENTS. " There's a couple o' Sawbones down stairs," said Sam. "A couple of what ! " ex : claimed Mr. Pickwick, sitting up in bed. "A couple o' Sawbones," said Sam. "What's a Sawbones ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, not quite certain whether it was a live animal, or something to eat. "What ! Don't you know what a Sawbones is, sir ? " inquired Mr. Weller. " I thought everybody know'd as a Sawbones was a Surgeon." " Oh, a Surgeon, eh ? " said Mr. Pickwick with a smile. " Just that, sir," replied Sam. These here ones as is below, though, aint reg'lar thorough-bred Sawbones ; they're only in trainin'." " In other words they're Medical Students, I sup- pose ? " said Mr. Pickwick. Sam Weller nodded assent. " I am glad of it," said Mr. Pickwick, casting his nightcap energetically on the counterpane, " They are fine fellows ; very fine fellows ; with judgments matured by observation and reflection ; tastes refined by reading and study. I am very glad of it." " They're a smokin' cigars by the kitchen fire," said Sam." Ah ! " observed Mr. Pick- 63 wick, rubbing his hands, " overflowing with kindly feelings and animal spirits. Just what I like to see." " And one on 'em," said Sam, not noticing his master's interruption, " one on 'em's got his legs on the table, and is a drinkin' brandy neat, vile the t'other one him in the barnacles has got a barrel o' oysters atween his knees, which he's a openin' like steam, and as fast as he eats 'em, he takes a aim vith the shells at young dropsy, who's a sittin' down fast asleep, in the chimbley corner." SAM WELLER'S SLIDING. Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying that beautiful feat of fancy-sliding which is currently denominated " knocking at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming over the ice on one foot, and occa- sionally giving a postman's knock upon it with the other. " Keep the pot a bilin', sir ! " said Sam ; and down went Wardle again, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closely upon each other's heels, and running after each other with as much eager- ness as if all their future prospects in life depended on their expedition. SAM SUBPCENAED. " Samuel Weller ? " said Mr. Jackson, in- quiringly. " Vun o'the truest things as you've said for many a long year," replied Sam, in a most composed manner. " Here's a sub- poena for you, Mr. Weller," said Jackson. " What's that in English ?" inquired Sam. " Here's the original," said Jackson, declining the required explanation. " Which ? " said Sam. " This," replied Jackson, shaking the parchment. " Oh, that's the 'rig'nal, is it ? " said Sam. " Well, I'm wery glad I've seen the 'rig'nal, 'cos it's a gratifyin' sort o' thing, and eases vun's mind so much." "And here's the shilling," said Jackson. " It's from Dodson and Fogg's." "And it's uncommon handsome o' Dodson and Fogg, as knows so little of me, to come down vith a present," said Sam. " I feel it as a wery high com- pliment, sir : it's a wery hon'rable thing to them, as they knows how to reward merit werever they meets it. Besides wich, it's affectin' to one's feelin's." As Mr. Weller said this, he inflicted a little friction on his right eye-lid, with the sleeve of his coat, after the most approved manner of actors when they are in domestic pathetics. DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SASSAGE-MAKER. " 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 !" reite- rated Sam, with some indignation ; " I should rayther think it was. Why, sir, bless your innocent eyebrows, that's were the mysterious disappearance of a 'spectable tradesman took place four years ago." " You don't mean to say he was burked, Sam?" said Mr. Pick- wick, looking hastily round. " No, I don't indeed, sir," replied Mr. Weller, " I wish I did ; far worse than that. He was the master o' that 'ere shop, sir, and the inwenter o' the patent-never-leavin'-off sassage steam ingine, as ud swaller up a pavin' stone if you put it too near, and grind it into sassages as easy as if it was a tender young babby. Wery proud o' that machine he was, as it was nat'ral he should be, and he'd stand down in the celler a lookin' at it wen it was in full play, till he got quite melancholy with joy. A werry happy man he'd ha' been, sir, in the procession o' that 'ere ingine and two more lovely hinfants besides, if it hadn't been for his wife, who was a most ow-dacious wixin. 66 She was always a follerin' him about, and dinnin' in his ears, 'till at last he couldn't stand it no longer. ' I'll tell you what it is, my dear,' he says one day ; ' if you persewere in this here sort of amusement,' he says, ' I'm blessed if I don't go away to 'Merriker ; and that's all about it.' 'You're a idle willin,' says she, 'and I wish the 'Merrikins joy of their bargain.' Arter wich she keeps on abusin' of him for half an hour, and then runs into the little parlour behind the shop, sets to a screamin', says he'll be the death on her, and falls in a fit, which lasts for three good hours one o' them fits wich is all screamin' and kickin'. Well, next mornin', the husband was inissin'. He hadn't taken nothin' from the till, hadn't even put on his great-coat so it was quite clear he warn't gone to 'Merriker. Didn't come back next day ; didn't come back next week ; Missis had bills printed, sayin' that, if he'd come back, he should be forgiven everythin' (which was very liberal, seein' that he hadn't done nothin' at all) ; the canals was dragged, and for two months artervards, wenever a body turned up, it was carried, as a reg'lar thing, straight off to the sassage shop. Hows'ever, none on 'em answered ; so they gave out that 6 7 he'd run avay, and she kep on the bis'ness. One Saturday night, a little thin old gen'l'm'n comes into the shop in a great passion and says, ' Are you the missis o' this here shop ? ' 'Yes I am,' says she. ' Well, ma'am,' says he, ' then I've just looked in to say that me and my family ain't a goin' to be choked for nothin' ; and more than that, ma'am,' he says, ' you'll allow me to observe, that as you don't use the primest parts of the meat in the ma- nafacter o' sassages, I think you'd find beef come nearly as cheap as buttons.' 'As but- tons, sir ! ' says she. ' Buttons, ma'am,' says the little old gentleman, unfolding a bit of paper, and shewin' twenty or thirty halves o' buttons. ' Nice seasonin' for sassages, is trousers' buttons, ma'am.' They're my hus- band's buttons ! " says the widder, beginnin' to faint. ' What ! " screams the little old gen'l'm'n, turnin' wery pale. ' I see it all,' says the widder ;' in a fit of temporary in- sanity he rashly converted his-self into sas- sages ! ' 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 all 68 his life, rushed out o' the shop in a wild state, and was never heerd on artervards ! " SAM AND THE BOY-MESSENGER. "Now, young man, what do you want?" enquired the barmaid. " Is there anybody here, named Sam ? " inquired the youth, in a loud voice of treble quality. " What's the t'other name?" said Sam Weller, looking round. " How should I know ?" briskly re- plied the young gentleman below the hairy cap. "You're a sharp boy, you are," said Mr. Weller; " only I wouldn't show that wery fine edge too much, if I was you, in case any- body took it off. What do you mean by comin' to a hot-el, and asking arter Sam, with as much politeness as a vild Indian?" "'Cos an old gen'l'm'n told me to," replied the boy. " What old gen'l'm'n ?" inquired Sam, with deep disdain. " Him as drives a Ipswich coach, and uses our parlour," rejoined the boy. "He told me yesterday mornin' to come to the George and Wulture this arternoon, and ask for Sam." " It's my father, my dear," said Mr. Weller, turning with an explanatory air to the young lady in the bar ; " blessed if I think he hardly knows wot my other name is. Veil, young brockiley sprout, wot then?" 6 9 "Why, then," said the boy, "you was to come to him at six o'clock to our 'ouse, 'cos he wants to see you Blue Boar, Leaden'all Markit. Shall I say you're comin'?" "You may wenture on that 'ere statement, sir," replied Sam. And thus empowered, the young gentleman walked away, awakening all the echoes in George Yard as he did so, with several chaste and extremely correct imita- tions of a drover's whistle, delivered in atone of peculiar richness and volume. OLD WELLER'S LAST BULLETIN. "Veil, Sammy," said the father. " Veil, my Prooshan Blue," responded the son, lay- ing down his pen. "What's the last bulletin about mother-in-law ?" " Mrs. Veller passed a wery good night, but is uncommon perwerse, and unpleasant this mornin'. Signed upon oath, Tony Veller, Esquire. That's the last vun as was issued, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, untying his shawl. A TRIAL TO A FATHER'S FEELIN'S. " But wot's that you're a doin' of? Pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, Sammy?" "I've done now," said Sam with slight em- barrassment ; " I've been a writin'." " So I 70 see," replied Mr. Weller. "Not to any young 'ooman, I hope, Sammy? " " Why it's no use a sayin' it ain't," replied Sam, " It's a walen- tine." "A what?" exclaimed Mr. Weller, ap- parently horror-stricken by the word. "A walentine," replied Sam. "Samivel, Sami- vel," said Mr. Weller, in reproachful accents, " I didn't think you'd ha' done it. Arter the warnin' you've had o' your father's wicious propensities ; 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 never ha' forgotten to his dyin' day ! I didn't think you'd ha' done it, Sammy, I didn't think you'd ha' done it !" These reflections were too much for the good old man. He raised Sam's tumbler to his lips and drank off its contents. " Wot's the mat- ter now?" said Sam. "Nev'rmind, Sammy," replied Mr. 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 turkey remarked wen the farmer said he wos afeerd he should be obliged to kill him for the London market."" Wot'll be a trial?" inquired Sam. "To see you married, Sammy to see you a dilluded wictim, and thinkin' in your innocence that it's all very capital," replied Mr. Weller. " It's a dreadful trial to a father's feelin's, that 'ere, Sammy." SAM WELLER'S VALENTINE. "'Lovely creetur,'" repeated Sam. "'Tain't in poetry, is it !" interposed his father. 3 ' " No, no," replied Sam. "Wery glad to hear it," said Mr. Weller. " Poetry's unnat'ral ; no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day, or a Warren's blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fel- lows ; never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy. Begin agin, Sammy." Mr. Weller resumed his pipe .with critical solem- nity, and Sam once more commenced, and read as follows. " ' Lovely creetur i feel my- self a dammed' ," "That ain't proper," said Mr. Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth. "No; it ain't 'dammed'," observed Sam, holding the letter up to the light, " it's ' shamed,' there's a blot there ' I feel myself ashamed.'" " Werry good," said Mr. Weller. " Go on." " ' Feel myself ashamed, and com- pletely cir ' I forget what this here word is," said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in vain attempts to remember. "Why don't you look at it, then?" inquired Mr. Weller. 72 " So I am a lookin' at it," replied Sam, "but there's another blot. Here's a ' c,' and a ' i,' and a 'd,'" " Circumwented, p'haps," sug- gested Mr. Weller. " No, it ain't that," said Sam, "circumscribed; that's it." " That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, gravely. "Think not?" said Sam. " Nothin' like it," replied his father. "but don't you think it means more?" inquired Sam. " Veil p'raps it is a more ten- derer word," said Mr. Weller, after a few moments' reflection. " Go on, Sammy." "'Feel myself ashamed and completely cir- cumscribed in a dressin' of you, for you are a nice gal and nothin' but it. ' " " That's a werry pretty sentiment," said the elder Mr. Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark. " Yes, I think it is rayther good," observed Sam, highly flattered." What 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. W T ot's the good o' callin' a young ooman a Wenus or a angel, Sammy?" "Ah! what, indeed?" replied Sam. "You might jist as well call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or a king's arms at once, which is werry well known to be a col- lection o' fabulous animals," added Mr. Wei- 73 ler. " Just as well," replied Sam. " Drive on Sammy," said Mr. Weller. Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows : his father continuing to smoke, 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, paren- thetically."' But now,' continued Sam, ' now I find what a reg"lar soft-headed, in- kredlous turnip I must a' been ; for there ain't nobody like you, though /like you better than nothin' at all.' I thought it best to make that rayther strong," said Sam, looking up. Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed. "'So I take the privilege of the day, Marj% my dear as the gen'l'm'n in diffi- 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 brighter colours than ever a likeness was took by the profeel ma- cheen (wich pr'aps you may of heerd on Mary my dear) altho it does finish a portrait and put the frame and glass on complete, with a hook at the end to hang it up by, and all in two minutes and a quarter.'" " I am afeerd that werges on the poetical, Sammy," said D 74 Mr. Weller, dubiously. "No it don't," replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to avoid con- testing the point : " 'Except of me Mary my dear as your walentine and think over what I've said. My dear Mary I will now con- clude.' "That's all," said Sam. " That's rather a sudden pull up, ain't it, Sammy ?" inquired Mr. Weller. "Not a bit on it," said Sam, " she'll vish there wos more, and that's the great art o' letter writin'." " Well," said Mr. Weller, " there's somethin' in that ; and I wish your mother-in-law 'ud only conduct her conwersation on the same gen-teel principle. Ain't you a goin' to sign it ?" " That's the difficulty," said Sam ; " I don't know what to sign it." Sign it, Veller," said the oldest sur- viving proprietor of that name. " Won't do," said Sam. " Never sign a walentine with your own name." " Sign it 'Pickvick,' then," said Mr. Weller ; " it's a werry good name, and a easy one to spell." " The wery thing," said Sam. I could end with a werse ; what do you think ?" " I don't like it, Sam," re- joined Mr. Weller, " I never knowed a re- spectable coachman as wrote poetry ,'cept one, as made an affectin' copy o' werses the night afore he was hung for highway robbery ; and he was only a Cambervell man, so even that's 75 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." A ALLEYBI FOR THE GOVERNOR. " I've been a turnin' the bis'ness over in my mind," said Mr. Weller, " and he may make his-self easy, Sammy. Nothing like a alleybi, Sammy, nothing." Mr. Weller looked very profound as he delivered this legal opinion : and burying his nose in his tumbler, winked over the top thereof, at his astonished son. " Why, what do you mean ? " said Sam ; " you don't think he's a goin' to be tried at the Old Bailey, do you ? " " That ain't no part of the present con-sideration, Sammy," re- plied Mr. Weller. " Verever he's goin' to be tried, my boy, a alleybi's the thing to get him off. Ve got Tom Vildspark off that 'ere manslaughter, with a alleybi, ven all the big vigs to a man said as nothing couldn't save him. And my 'pinion is, Sammy, that if yowr governor don't prove a alleybi, he'll be what the Italians call reg'larly flummoxed, and that's all about it." 7 6 A FRIEND o' THE FAMILY. " This here red-nosed man, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, " wisits your mother-in-law vith a kindness and constancy as I never see equalled. He's sitch a friend o' the family, Sammy, that ven he's avay from us, he can't be comfortable unless he has somethin' to remember us by." "And I'd give him some- thin' as 'ud turpentine and bees'-vax his memory for the next ten years or so, if I wos you," interposed Sam. " Stop a minute," said Mr. Weller ; " I wos a goin' to say, he always brings now a flat bottle, as holds about a pint and a-half, and fills it vith the pine-apple rum afore he goes avay." " And empties it afore he comes back, I s'pose ? " said Sam. " Clean ! " replied Mr. Weller ; " never leaves nothin' in it but the cork and the smell ; trust him for that, Sammy." OLD WELLER'S PLOT. " These here fellows, my boy," said Mr. Weller, " are a goin' to-night to get up the monthly meetin' o' the Brick Lane Branch o' the United Grand Junction Ebenezer Tem- perance Association. Your mother-in-law 77 was a goin', Sammy, but she's got the rheu- matics, and can't ; and I, Sammy I've got the two tickets as wos sent her." Mr. Weller communicated this secret with great glee, and winked so indefatigably after doing so, that Sam began to think he must have got the tic doloureux in his right eye-lid." " Well ? " said that young gentleman. " Well," continued his progenitor, looking round him very cautiously, " you and I'll go, punctiwal to the time. The deputy shepherd won't, Sammy ; the deputy shepherd won't." Here Mr. Weller was seized with a paroxysm of chuckles, which gradually terminated in as near an approach to a choke as an elderly gentleman can, with safety, sustain. "Well, I never see sitch an old ghost in all my born days," exclaimed Sam, rubbing the old gentleman's back hard enough to set him on fire with the friction. " What are you a laughin' at, corpilence ?" " Hush ! Sammy," said Mr. Weller, looking round him with increased caution, and speaking in a whisper ; " Two friends o' mine, as works the Oxford Road and is up to all kinds o' games, has got the deputy shepherd safe in tow, Sammy ; and ven he does come to the Ebenezer Junction (vich he's sure to do ; for they'll 78 see him to the door, and shove him in if necessary) he'll be as far gone in rum and water, as ever he wos at the Markis o ! Granby, Dorkin', and that's not sayin' a little neither." TEA DRINKING AT BRICK LANE. "Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, " If some o' these here people don't want tappin' to- morrow mornin', I ain't your father, and that's wot it is. Why this here old lady next me is a drownin' herself in tea." " Be quiet, can't you ? " murmured Sam. " Sam," whispered Mr. Weller a moment afterwards in a tone of deep agitation, " mark my words, my boy ; if that 'ere Secretary feller keeps on for five minutes more, he'll blow himself up with toast and water." " Well, let him if he likes," replied Sam ; " it ain't no bis'ness o' yourn." " If this here lasts much longer, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, in the same low voice, " I shall feel it my duty as a human bein', to rise and address the cheer. There's a young 'ooman on the next form but two, as has drank nine breakfast cups and a half ; and she's a swellin' wisibly before my wery eyes." 79 A MOMENT OF EXPECTANCY. " He's a comin', Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, purple in the countenance with sup- pressed laughter. " Don't say nothin' to me," replied Sam, " for I can't bear it. He's close to the door. I heard him a-knockin' his head again the lath and plaster now." A SMALL SETTLEMENT WITH STIGGINS. " Now Sammy," said Mr. Weller, taking off his great coat with much deliberation, "just you step out, and fetch in a watch- man." " And wot are you a goin' to do, the while 1 " inquired Sam. " Never you mind me, Sammy," replied the old gentleman ; " I shall ockipy myself in havin' a small settle- ment with that 'ere Stiggins." Before Sam could interfere to prevent it, his heroic parent had penetrated into a remote corner of the room, and attacked the reverend Mr. Stiggins with manual dexterity. " Come off ! " said Sam. " Come on ! " cried Mr. Weller ; and without further invitation he gave the reverend Mr. Stiggins a preliminary tap on the head, and began dancing round him in a buoyant and cork-like manner, which in a gentleman at his time of life was a perfect marvel to behold. D 2 8o SAM IN THE WITNESS Box. " Call Samuel Weller." It was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller ; for Samuel Weller stepped briskly 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 comprehensive survey of the bench, with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect. " What's your name, sir ? " inquired the judge. " Sam Weller, my lord," replied that gentleman. " Do you spell it with a ' V ' or a 'W?'" inquired the judge. " That de- pends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord," replied Sam. " I never had occasion to spell it more than once or twice in my life, but I spells it with a ' V.' " Here a voice in the gallery exclaimed aloud, " Quite right too, Samivel, quite right. Put it down a we, my lord, put it down a we." " Who is that, who dares to address the court ? " said the little judge looking up. " Usher."" Yes, my lord."" Bring that person here instantly." " Yes, my lord." But as the usher didn't find the person, he didn't bring him ; and, after a great commo- tion, all the people, who had got up to look 8i for the culprit, sat down again. The little judge turned to the witness as soon as his indignation would allow him to speak, and said, "Do you know who that was, sir?" " I rayther suspect it was my father, my lord," replied Sam. " Do you see him here now ? " said the judge. " No, I don't, my lord," replied Sam, staring right up into the lantern in the roof of the court. " If you could have pointed him out, I would have committed him instantly," said the judge. Sam bowed his acknowledgments and turned, with unimpaired cheerfulness of countenance, towards Serjeant Buzfuz. THE SOLDIER'S EVIDENCE INADMISSIBLE. " Now, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz. " Now, Sir," replied Sam. " I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in this case. Speak up, if you please, Mr. Weller." " I mean to speak up, sir," replied Sam ; " I am in the service o' that 'ere gen'l'man, and a wery good service it is." " Little to do, and plenty to get, I suppose ? " said Serjeant Buzfuz, with jocu- larity. " Oh, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered him three hundred and fifty lashes," replied Sam. 82 "You must not tell us what the soldier, or any other man, said, sir," interposed the judge ; " it's not evidence." " Werry good, my lord," replied Sam. SOMETHING PARTICULAR. "Do you recollect anything particular happening on the morning when you were first engaged by the defendant ; eh, Mr. Weller?" said Serjeant Buzfuz. "Yes I do, sir," replied Sam. " Have the goodness to tell the jury what it was." " I had a reg'lar new fit out o' clothes that mornin', gen'l'men of the jury," said Sam, "and that was a wery partickler and uncommon circumstance vith me in those days." Hereupon there was a general laugh ; and the little judge, looking with an angry countenance over his desk, said, " You had better be careful, sir." " So Mr. Pickwick said at the time, my lord," replied Sam ; " and I was wery careful o' that 'ere suit o' clothes ; wery careful indeed, my lord." The judge looked sternly at Sam for full two minutes, but Sam's features were so perfectly calm and serene that the judge said nothing, and motioned Serjeant Buzfuz to proceed. 83 SAM'S WISION LIMITED. " Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz, " that you saw nothing of this fainting on the part of the plantiff in the arms of the defendant, which you have heard described by the witnesses ? " " Cer- tainly not," replied Sam, " I was in the passage 'till they called me up, and then the old lady was not there." " Now, attend, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz, dipping a large pen into the inkstand before him, for the purpose of frightening Sam with a show of taking down his answer. " You were in the passage, and yet saw nothing of what was going forward. Have you a pair of eyes, Mr. Weller ? " " Yes, I have a pair of eyes," replied Sam, " and that's just it. If they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power, p'raps I might be able to see through a flight o' stairs and a deal door ; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision's limited." At this answer, which was delivered without the slightest appearance of irritation, and with the most complete simplicity and equanimity of man- ner, the spectators tittered, the little judge smiled, and Serjeant Buzfuz looked particu- larly foolish. SAM'S TRIBUTE TO MESSRS. DODSON AND FOGG. " Now, Mr. Weller, I'll ask you a question on another point, if you please." " If you please, sir," rejoined Sam, with the utmost good-humour. " Do you remember going up to Mrs. Bardell's house, one night in November last ? " " Oh yes, wery well." " Oh, you do remember that, Mr. Weller," said Serjeant Buzfuz, recovering his spirits ; " I thought we should get at something at last." " I rayther thought that, too, sir," replied Sam ; and at this the spectators tittered again. " Well ; I suppose you went up to have a little talk about this trial eh, Mr. Weller ? " said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking knowingly at the jury. " I went up to pay the rent ; but we did get a talkin' about the trial," replied Sam. " Oh, you did get a talking about the trial," said Serjeant Buzfuz, brightening up with the anticipation of some important discovery. " Now what passed about the trial ; will you have the goodness to tell us, Mr. Weller ?"" Vith all the pleasure in life, sir," replied Sam. " Arter a few unimportant obserwations from the two 85 wirtuous females as has been examined here to-day, the ladies gets into a very great state o' admiration at the honourable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Fogg them two gen'l'men as is sittin' near you now." This, of course, drew general attention to Dodson and Fogg, who looked as virtuous as possible. " The attorneys for the plantiff," said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. " Well ! They spoke in high praise of the honourable conduct of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff, did they ? " " Yes," said Sam, " they said what a wery gen'rous thing it was o' them to have taken up the case on spec, and to charge nothing at all for costs, unless they got 'em out of Mr. Pickwick." At this very unex- pected reply, the spectators tittered again, and Dodson and Fogg, turning very red, leant over to Serjeant Buzfuz, and in a hurried manner whispered something in his ear. "You are quite right," said Serjeant Buzfuz aloud, with affected composure. " It's perfectly useless, my lord, attempting to get at any evidence through the impenetrable stupidity of this witness. I will not trouble the court by asking him any more questions. Stand down, sir." D3 86 OLD WELLER'S VERDICT ON THE VERDICT. Sam had put up the steps, and was pre- paring to jump upon the box, when he felt himself gently touched on the shoulder ; and, looking round, his father stood before him. The old gentleman's countenance wore a mournful expression, as he shook his head gravely, and said, in warning accents : " I know'd what 'ud come 'o this here mode o' doin' bisness. Oh Sammy, Sammy, vy worn't there a alleybi ! " ADDING INSULT TO INJURY. " Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, " what's the matter now ? " " Here's raythur a rum go, sir," replied Sam. "What?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "This here, sir," rejoined Sam. " I'm wery much afeerd, sir, that the properiator o' this here coach is a play in' 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 87 appears ; and there, sure enough, in gilt letters of a goodly size, was the magic name of PICKWICK ! " Dear me," exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, quite staggered by the coinci- dence ; " what a very extraordinary thing ! " " Yes, but that ain't all," said Sam, again directing his master's attention to the coach door ; not content vith writin' up Pickwick, they puts ' Moses ' afore it, vich I call addin' insult to injury, as the parrot said ven they not only took him from his native land, but made him talk the English langwidge arterwards." " It's odd enough, certainly, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick ; " but if we stand talking here, we shall lose our places." "Wot, ain't nothin' to be done in conse- quence, sir ? " exclaimed Sam, perfectly aghast at the coolness with which Mr. Pick- wick prepared to ensconce himself inside. " Done ! " said Mr. Pickwick. " What should be done ? " " Ain't nobody to be whopped for takin' this here liberty, sir ? " said Mr. Weller, who had expected that at least he would have been commissioned to challenge the guard and coachman to a pugilistic en- counter on the spot. " Certainly not," re- plied Mr. Pickwick eagerly ; " not on any account. Jump up to your seat directly." 88 " I'm werry much afeerd," muttered Sam to himself, as he turned away, " that somethin' queer's come over the governor, or he'd never ha' stood this so quiet. I hope that 'ere trial hasn't broke his spirit, but it looks bad, wery bad." SAM AND THE POWDER-HEADED FOOTMAN. "Is this here Mr. Bantam's, old feller?" inquired Sam Weller, nothing abashed by the blaze of splendour which burst upon his sight, in the person of the powdered-headed footman with the gorgeous livery. "Why, young man?" was the haughty inquiry of the powdered-headed footman. " 'Cos if it is, jist you step into him with that 'ere card, and say Mr. Veller's a waitin', will you?" said Sam. And saying it, he very coolly walked into the hall, and sat down. The powdered-headed footman slammed the door very hard, and scowled very grandly ; but both the slam and the scowl were lost upon Sam, who was regarding a mahogany umbrella stand with every outward token of critical approval. Apparently, his master's reception of the card had impressed the powdered-headed footman in Sam's favour, for when he came back from delivering it, he 8 9 smiled in a friendly manner, and said that the answer would be ready directly. "Werry good," said Sam. "Tell the old gen'l'm'n not to put himself in a perspiration. No hurry, six-foot. I've had my dinner." " You dine early, sir," said the powdered- headed footman. " I find I gets on better at supper when I does," replied Sam. " Have you been long in Bath, sir?" inquired the powdered-headed footman. " I have not had the pleasure of hearing of you be- fore." "I haven't created any wery sur- prisin' sensation here, as yet," rejoined Sam, " for me and the other fash'nables only come last night." " Nice place, sir," said the powdered-headed footman. " Seems so," observed Sam. " Pleasant society, sir," re- marked the powdered-headed footman. "Very agreeable servants, sir," "I should think they wos," replied Sam. "Affable, unaffected, say-nothin'-to-nobody sort o' fellers." CHAFFING THE BATH FLUNKEY. " There is the answer, sir," said the pow- dered-headed footman. " I am afraid you'll find it inconveniently large." " Don't men- tion it," said Sam, taking a letter with a small enclosure. " It's just possible as ex- go hausted nature may manage to surwive it." " I hope we shall meet again, sir," said the powdered-headed footman, rubbing his hands, and following Sam out to the door- step. " You are wery obligin', sir," replied Sam. " Now, don't allow yourself to be fatigued beyond your powers ; there's a amiable bein'. Consider what you owe to society, and don't let yourself be injured by too much work. For the sake o' your feller creeturs, keep yourself as quiet as you can : only think what a loss you would be ! " with these pathetic words, Sam Weller departed. " A very singular young man that," said the powdered-headed footman, looking after Mr. Weller, with a countenance which clearly showed he could make nothing of him. Sam said nothing at all. He winked, shook his head, smiled, winked again ; and with an expression of countenance which seemed to denote that he was greatly amused with something or other, walked merrily away. A FRIENDLY SWARRY. "Mr. Weller," said Mrs. Craddock, "here's a letter for you." "Wery odd that," said Sam, " I'm afeerd there must be somethin' the matter, for I don't recollect any gen'l'm'n in my circle of acquaintance as is capable o' writin' one." " Perhaps something uncom- mon has taken place," observed Mrs. Craddock. " It must be somethin' wery uncommon indeed, as could produce a letter out o' any friend o' mine," replied Sam, shaking his head dubiously ; " nothin' less than a nat'ral conwulsion, as the young gen'Pm'n observed ven he wos took with fits. It can't be from the gov'ner," said Sam, looking at the direction. " He always prints, I know, 'cos he learnt writin' from the large bills in the bookin' offices. It's a wery strange thing now, where this here letter can ha' come from." As Sam said this, he did what a great many people do when they are uncertain about the writer of a note, looked at the seal, and then at the front, and then at the back, and then at the superscription ; and, as a last resource, thought perhaps he might as well look at the inside, and try to find out from that. "It's wrote on gilt-edged paper," said Sam, as he unfolded it, "and sealed in bronze vax vith the top of a door- key. Now for it." And, with a very grave face, Mr. Weller slowly read as follows : "A select company of the Bath footmen presents their compliments to Mr. Weller, 9 2 and requests the pleasure of his company this evening, to a friendly svvarry, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton with the usual trimmings. The swarry to be on table at half-past nine o'clock punctually." . . . The envelope was directed to blank Weller, Esq., at Mr. Pickwick's ; and in a parenthesis, in the left hand corner, were the words " airy bell," as an instruction to the bearer. " Veil," said Sam, " this is comin' it rayther powerful, this is. I never heerd a biled leg o' mutton called a swarry afore. I wonder what they'd call a roast one." SAM AND MR. JOHN SMAUKER. " How do you do, Mr. Weller ? " said Mr. John Smauker, raising his hat gracefully with one hand, while he gently waved the other in a condescending manner. " How do you do, sir ? " " Why, reasonably con- walessent," replied Sam. " How do you find yourself, my dear feller ? " " Only so so," said Mr. John Smauker. " Ah, you've been a workin' too hard," observed Sam. " I was fearful you would ; it won't do, you know ; you must not give way to that 'ere uncom- promosin' spirit o' your'n." " It's not so much that, Mr. Weller," replied Mr. John 93 Smauker, "as bad wine; I'm afraid I've been dissipating."" Oh ! that's it, is it ? " said Sam ; " that's a wery bad complaint, that." " And yet the temptation, you see, Mr. Weller," observed Mr. John Smauker. " Ah, to be sure," said Sam. " Plunged into the very vortex of society, you know, Mr. Weller," said Mr. John Smauker with a sigh. " Dreadful indeed ! " rejoined Sam. " But it's always the way," said Mr. John Smauker : " if your destiny leads you into public life, and public station, you must expect to be subjected to temptations which other people is free from, Mr. Weller." " Precisely what my uncle said, ven he vent into the public line," remarked Sam, " and wery right the old gen'lm'n wos, for he drank hisself to death in somethin' less than a quarter." Mr. John Smauker looked deeply indignant at any parallel being drawn be- tween himself and the deceased gentleman in question ; but as Sam's face was in the most immovable state of calmness, he thought better of it, and looked affable again. THE KILLIBEATE. " Have you drank the waters, Mr. Weller," inquired Mr. Smauker. " Once," replied 94 Sam. " What did you think of 'em, sir." 'I thought they were particklery unpleasant," replied Sam. " Ah," said Mr. John Smauker, " you disliked the killibeate taste, perhaps ? " " I don't know much about that 'ere," said Sam. " I thought they'd a wery strong flavour o' warm flat irons." "That is the killibeate, Mr. Weller," observed Mr. John Smauker, contemptuously. " Well, if it is, it's a wery inexpressive word, that's all," said Sam. " It may be, but I ain't much in the chimical line myself, so I can't say." SAM'S WHISTLING. Here Sam began to whistle. " I beg your pardon, Mr. Weller," said Mr. John Smauker, agonized at the exceedingly ungenteel sound, "Will you take my arm ?" " Thankee, you're wery good, but I won't deprive you of it," replied Sam. " I've rayther a way o' puttin' my hands in my pockets, if it's all the same to you." As Sam said this, he suited the action to the word, and whistled far louder than before. " This way," said his new friend, apparently much relieved as they turned down a bye street. 95 SAM'S APPROACH TO THE SELECT FOOT- MEN. "We shall soon be there," said Mr. Smauker. " Shall we ? " said Sam, quite unmoved by the announcement of his close vicinity to the select footmen of Bath. " Yes," said Mr. John Smauker. "Don't be alarmed, Mr. Weller." " Oh no," said Sam. " You'll see some very handsome uniforms, Mr. Weller," continued Mr. John Smauker ; " and perhaps you'll find some of the gentle- men rather high at first, you know, but they'll soon come round." "That's wery kind on 'em," replied Sam. " And you know," resumed Mr. John Smauker, with an air of sublime protection ; "you know, as you're a stranger, perhaps they'll be rather hard upon you at first." "They won't be wery cruel, though, will they?" inquired Sam. " No, no," replied Mr. John Smauker, pulling forth the fox's head, and taking a gentlemanly pinch. " There are some funny dogs among us, and they will have their joke, you know ; but you mustn't mind 'em, you mustn't mind 'em." "I'll try and bear up agin such a reg'lar knock down o' talent," replied Sam. 9 6 INTRODUCTION TO THE CRIMSON COATED FOOTMAN IN RED BREECHES. "Oh, dear me, I quite forgot," said Mr. John Smauker. " Gentlemen, my friend Mr. Weller." " Sorry to keep the fire off you, Weller," said Mr. Tuckle, with a familiar nod. " Hope you're not cold, Weller." " Not by no means, blazes," replied Sam. " It'ud be a wery chilly subject as felt cold wen you stood opposit. You'd save coals if they put you behind the fender in the waitin' room at a public office, you would." As this retort appeared to convey rather a personal allusion to Mr. Tuckle's crimson livery, that gentleman looked majestic for a few seconds, but gradually edging away from the fire, broke into a forced smile, and said it wasn't bad. "Wery much obliged for your good opinion, sir," replied Sam. " We shall get on by degrees, I des-say. We'll try a better one, bye-and-bye." INTERCHANGE OF SENTIMENT WITH THE MAN IN BLUE. "Your health, sir," said Sam. "I like your conwersation much. I think it's wery pretty." At this the man in blue smiled, as 97 if it were a compliment he was well used to ; but looked approvingly on Sam at the same time, and said he hoped he should be better acquainted with him, for without any flattery at all he seemed to have the makings of a very nice fellow about him, and to be just the man after his own heart. " You're wery good, sir," said Sam. " What a lucky feller you are ! " " How do you mean ? " inquired the gentleman in blue. "That 'ere young lady," replied Sam. " She knows wot's wot, she does. Ah ! I see," Mr. Weller closed one eye, and shook his head from side to side, in a manner which was highly gratifying to the personal vanity of the gentleman in blue. " I'm afraid your a cunning fellow, Mr. Weller," said that individual." No, no," said Sam. "I leave all that 'ere to you. It's a great deal more in your way than mine, as the gen'l'm'n on the right side o' the garden vail said to the man on the wrong 'un, ven the mad bull wos a comin' up the lane." " Well, well, Mr. Weller," said the gentleman in blue, " I think she has remarked my air and manner, Mr. Weller." " I should think she couldn't wery well be off o' that," said Sam. " Have you any little thing of that kind in hand, sir ? " inquired the favoured gentle- man in blue, drawing a toothpick from his waistcoat pocket. " Not exactly," said Sam. " There's no daughters at my place, else o' course I should ha' made up to vun on 'em. As it is, I don't think I can do with any thin' under a female markis. I might keep up with a young 'ooman o' large property as hadn't a title, if she made wery fierce love to me. Not else." " Of course not, Mr. Weller," said the gentleman in blue, " one can't be troubled, you know ; and we know, Mr. Weller we, who are men of the world that a good uniform must work its way with the women, sooner or later. In fact, that's the only thing, between you and me, that makes the service worth entering into." " Just so," said Sam, " That's it o' course." SAM CALLED TO ORDER. " Gentlemen," said the man in blue, with an air of the most consummate dandyism, " I'll give you the ladies ; come." " Hear, hear ! " said Sam, " The young missesses." Here there was a loud cry of " Order," and Mr. John Smauker, as the gentleman who had introduced Mr. Weller into that company, begged to inform him that the word he had just made use of, was unparlia- 99 mentary. " Which word was that 'ere, sir ? " inquired Sam. " Mississes, sir," replied Mr. John Smauker, with an alarming frown. " We don't recognise such distinctions here." " Oh, wery good," said Sam, " then I'll amend the obserwation, and call 'em dear creeturs, if Blazes will allow me." SAM'S SPEECH TO THE BATH FOOTMEN. " Wery much obliged to you, old fellers," said Sam, ladling away at the punch in the most unembarrassed manner possible, "for this here compliment ; wich, comin' from such a quarter, is wery overvelmin'. I've heered a good deel on you as a body, but I will say, that I never thought you was sich uncommon nice men as I find you air. I only hope you'll take care o' yourselves, and not compromise nothin' o' your dignity, which is a wery char- min' thing to see, when one's out a walkin', and has always made me wery happy to look at, ever since I was a boy about half as high as the brass-headed stick o' my wery respectable friend, Blazes, there. As to the wictim of oppression in the suit o' brimstone, all I can say of him, is, that I hope he'll get jist as good a berth as he deserves : in vitch case it's wery little cold swarry as ever he'll be troubled with agin." Here Sam sat down with a pleasant smile, and his speech having been vociferously applauded, the company broke up. SAM'S INCURSION INTO MR. WINKLE'S BEDROOM. " Please, sir, here's a young man which says he must see you directly," responded the voice of the chambermaid. " A young man ! " exclaimed Mr. Winkle. " No mis- take about that 'ere, sir," replied another voice through the keyhole ; " and if that wery same interestin' young creetur ain't let in vithout delay, it's wery possible as his legs vill enter afore his countenance." The young man gave a gentle kick at one of the lower panels of the door, after he had given utterance to this hint, as if to add force -and point to the remark. " Is that you, Sam ?" inquired Mr. Winkle, springing out of bed. " Quite unpossibleto identify any gen'l'm'n vith any degree o' mental satisfaction, vith- out lookin' at him, sir," replied the voice, dogmatically. Mr. Winkle, not much doubt- ing who the young man was, unlocked the door ; which he had no sooner done, than Mr. Samuel Weller entered with great preci- 101 pitation, and carefully re-locking it on the in- side, deliberately put the key in his waistcoat pocket : and, after surveying Mr. Winkle from head to foot said : " You're a wery humorous young gen'l'm'n, you air, sir ! " " What do you mean by this conduct, Sam ? " inquire'd Mr. Winkle, indignantly. " Get out, sir, this instant. What do you mean, sir ? " " What do /mean," retorted Sam ; " come, sir, this is rayther too rich, as the young lady said, wen she remonstrated with the pastry- cook, arter he'd sold her a pork-pie as had got nothin' but fat inside. What do /mean ! Well, that ain't a bad 'un, that ain't."" Un- lock that door, and leave this room imme- diately, sir," said Mr. Winkle. " I shall leave this here room, sir, just precisely at the wery same moment as you leaves it," re- sponded Sam, speaking in a forcible manner, and seating himself with perfect gravity. " If I find it necessary to carry you away, pick-a- back, o' course I shall leave it the least bit o' time possible afore you ; but allow me to ex- press a hope as you won't reduce me to ex- tremities : in saying wich, I merely quote wot the nobleman said to the fractious penny- winkle, ven he vouldn't come out of his shell by means of a pin, and he conseqvently began IO2 to be afeerd that he should be obliged to crack him in the parlour-door." TYIN' IT UP IN A SMALL PARCEL. " I feel that my interest is bound up in her," exclaimed Mr. Winkle. " That's wot we call tyin' it up in a small parcel, sir," in- terposed Mr. Weller, with an agreeable smile. Mr. Winkle looked somewhat stern at this interruption, and Mr. Pickwick angrily re- quested his attendant not to jest with one of the best feelings of our nature : to which Sam replied, " That he wouldn't, if he was aware on it ; but there were so many on 'em, that he hardly know'd which was the best ones wen he heerd 'em mentioned." SAM AND THE SURLY GROOM. " Mornin', old friend," said Sam. " Arter- noon, you mean," replied the groom, casting a surly look at Sam. " You're wery right, old friend," said Sam ; " I do mean arter- noon. How are you ? " " Why, I don't find myself much the better for seeing of you," replied the ill-tempered groom. "That's wery odd that is," said Sam, " for you look so uncommon cheerful, and seem altogether so lively, that it does vun's heart good to see 103 you." The surly groom looked surlier still at this, but not sufficiently so to produce any effect upon Sam, who immediately in- quired, with a countenance of great anxiety, whether his master's name was not Walker. " No, it ain't," said the groom. " Nor Brown, I s'pose ? " said Sam." No, it ain't." Nor Vilson ? " " No ; nor that neither," said the groom. " Veil," replied Sam, " then I'm mistaken, and he hasn't got the honor o' my acquaintance, which I thought he had. Don't wait here out o' compliment to me," said Sam, as the groom wheeled in the bar- row, and prepared to shut the gate. " Ease afore ceremony, old boy : I'll excuse you." " I'd knock your head off for half-a-crown," said the surly groom, bolting one half of the gate. " Couldn't afford to have it done on those terms," rejoined Sam. "It 3 ud be vorth a life's board wages at least, to you, and ! ud be cheap at that. Make my compli- ments in doors. Tell 'em not to vait dinner for me, and say they needn't mind puttin' any by, for it'll be cold afore I come in." In reply to this, the groom waxing very wrath, muttered a desire to damage some- body's person ; but disappeared without car- rying it into execution, slamming the door 104 angrily after him, and wholly unheeding Sam's affectionate request, that he would leave him a lock of his hair before he went. SAM'S CONFIDENCES TO THE PRETTY HOUSEMAID. " Mary, my dear," said Sam, " I've got another affair in hand as is wery pressin'. There's one o' my governor's friends Mr. Winkle, you remember him." " Him in the green coat ? " said Mary. " Oh, yes, I re- member him." " Well, said Sam, " he's in a horrid state o' love ; reg'larly comfoozled, and done over with it." " Lor ! " interposed Mary." Yes," said Sam : " but that's no- thin' if we could find out the young 'ooman ; " and here Sam, with many digressions upon the personal beauty of Mary, and the un- speakable tortures he had experienced since he last saw her, gave a faithful account of Mr. Winkle's present predicament. "Well," said Mary, " I never did ! " " O' course not," said Sam, " and nobody never did, nor never vill neither ; and here am I a walkin' about like the wandering Jew a sportin' character you have perhaps heerd on, Mary, my dear, as wos alvays doin' a match agin' time, and never vent to sleep looking arter this here Miss Arabella Allen." "Miss who ? " said Mary, in great astonishment. " Miss Arabella Allen," said Sam." Good- ness gracious ! " said Mary, pointing to the garden door which the sulky groom had locked after him. " Why, it's that very house ; she's been living there these six weeks. Their upper housemaid, which is lady's maid too, told me all about it over the wash-house palin's before the family was out of bed, one mornin'." " Wot, the wery next door to you ? " said Sam. " The very next," replied Mary. Mr. Weller was so deeply overcome on receiving this intelligence that he found it absolutely necessary to cling to his fair informant for support ; and divers little love passages had passed between them, before he was sufficiently collected to return to the subject." Veil," said Sam at length, " if this don't beat cock-fightin', nothin' never vill, as the Lord Mayor said, ven the chief secretary o' state proposed his missis's health arter dinner." SAM ON MR. PICKWICK'S DARK LANTERN. Mr. Pickwick, with many smiles and vari- ous other indications of great self-satisfac-' tion, produced from one of his coat pockets io6 a dark lantern, with which he had specially provided himself for the occasion, and the great mechanical beauty of which, he pro- ceeded to explain to Mr. Winkle as they walked along, to the no small surprise of the few stragglers they met. " Wery nice things, if they're managed properly, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; " but when you don't want to be seen, I think they're more useful arter the candle's gone out, than wen it's alight." . . . " Goodness gracious," cried Mary, " what's that ! "- " That 'ere blessed lantern 'ull be the death on us all," exclaimed Sam, peev- ishly. "Take care wot you're a doin' on, sir ; you're a sendin' a blaze o' light, right into the back parlor winder." " Dear me ! " said Mr. Pickwick, turning hastily aside, " I didn't mean to do that." " Now, it's in the next house, sir," remonstrated Sam. " Bless my heart ! " exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, turning round again. " Now, it's in the stable, and they'll think the place is a' fire," said Sam. " Shut it up, sir, can't you ? " " It's the most extraordinary lantern I ever met with, in all my life ! " exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, greatly bewildered by the effects he had so uninten- tionally produced. "I never saw such a powerful reflector." " It'll be vun too power- 107 ful for us, if you keep blazin' avay in that manner, sir," replied Sam, as Mr. Pickwick, after various unsuccessful efforts, managed to close the slide. A AMIABLE GUY FAWKES. " Where's your master ? What's he doing, Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle. "Bless his old gaiters," rejoined Sam, looking out at the garden-door. " He's a keepin' guard in the lane vith that 'ere dark lantern, like a amiable Guy Fawkes ! I never see such a fine cree- tur in my days. Blessed if I don't think his heart must ha' been born five-and-twenty year arter his body, at least ! " SAM AND THE SHERIFF'S OFFICER. Sam Weller, who had had his eyes fixed hitherto on Mr. Namby's shining beaver, interfered : " Are you a Quaker ? " said Sam. " I'll let you know who I am, before I've done with you," replied the indignant officer. " I'll teach you manners, my fine fellow, one of these fine mornings. " "Thankee," said Sam. "I'll do the same to you. Take your hat off." With this, Mr. Weller, in the most dexterous manner, knocked Mr. Namby's hat to the other side io8 of the room : with such violence, that he had very nearly caused him to swallow the gold tooth-pick into the bargain. " Observe this, Mr. Pickwick," said the disconcerted officer, gasping for breath. " I've been assaulted in the execution of my dooty by your servant in your chamber. I'm in bodily fear. I call you to witness this." " Don't witness nothin', sir," interposed Sam. "Shut your eyes up tight, sir. I'd pitch him out o' winder, only he couldn't fall far enough, 'cause o' the leads outside." THE HABEAS CORPUS A LA SAM WELLER. "Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, " I sup- pose they are getting the habeas corpus ready." "Yes," said Sam, "and I vish they'd bring out the have-his-carcase. It's very unpleasant keepin' us vaitin' here. I'd ha' got half a dozen have-his-carcases ready, pack'd up and all, by this time." SAM ON IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT. " You see how these fellows drink, and smoke, and roar," replied Mr. Pickwick. " It's quite impossible that they can mind it much." " Ah, that's just the wery thing, sir," rejoined Sam, " they don't mind it ; it's 109 a regular holiday to them all porter and skittles. It's the t'other vuns as gets done over, vith this sort o' thing ; them down- hearted fellers as can't svig avay at the beer, nor play at skittles neither ; them as vould pay if they could, and gets low by being boxed up. I'll tell you wot it is, sir ; them as is always a idlin' in public-houses it don't damage at all, and them as is alvays a workin' wen they can, it damages too much. ' It's unekal,' as my father used to say wen his grog worn't made half-and-half : ' it's unekal, and that's the fault on it.' " SAM'S DEFINITION OF GETTING INTO DEBT. " What did he do ? " enquired Mr. Pick- wick. " Wy he did wot many men as has been much better know'd has done in their time, sir," replied Sam, "he run a match agin the constable, and vun it." THE LITTLE DIRTY-FACED MAN. " In other words, I suppose," said Mr. Pickwick, "he got into debt?" "Just that, sir," replied Sam, " and in course o' time he come here in consekens. It warn't much execution for nine pound nothin', multi- plied by five for costs ; but hows : ever here E no he stopped for seventeen year. If he got any wrinkles in his face, they were stopped up vith the dirt, for both the dirty face and the brown coat wos just the same at the end o' that time as they wos at the beginnin'. He wos a wery peaceful inoffendin' little creetur, and wos alvays a bustlin' about for somebody or play in' rackets and never vinnin'; till at last the turnkeys they got quite fond on him, and he wos in the lodge eVry night, a chatterin' vith 'em, and tellin' stories, and all that 'ere. Vun night he wos in there as usual, along vith a wery old friend of his, as wos on the lock, ven he says all of a sudden, ' I ain't seen the market outside, Bill,' he says (Fleet Market was there at that time) ' I ain't seen the market outside, Bill,' he says, ' for seven- teen year.' ' I know you ain't,' says the turnkey, smoking his pipe. ' I should like to see it for a minit, Bill,' he says. ' Wery probable,' says the turnkey, smoking his pipe wery fierce, and making believe he warn't up to wot the little man wanted. ' Bill,' says the little man, more abrupt than afore, ' I've got the fancy in my head. Let me see the public streets once more afore I die ; and if I ain't struck with apoplexy, I'll be back in five minutes by the clock.' 'And wot 'ud Ill become o' me if you wos struck with apo- plexy ? ' said the turnkey. ' Wy,' says the little creetur, ' whoever found me, 'ud bring me home, for I've got my card in my pocket, Bill,' he says, ' No. 20, Coffee-room Flight ; ' and that wos true, sure enough, for wen he wanted to make the acquaintance of any new comer, he used to pull out a little limp card vith them words on it and nothin' else ; in consideration of vich, he wos alvays called Number Tventy. The turnkey takes a fixed look at him, and at last he says in a solemn manner, ' Tventy,' he says, ' I'll trust you ; you won't get your old friend into trouble.' ' No, my boy ; I hope I've somethin' better behind here,' says the little man ; and as he said it he hit his little veskit wery hard, and then a tear started out o' each eye, which wos wery extraordinary, for it wos supposed as water never touched his face. He shook the turnkey by the hand ; out he vent " "And never came back again," said Mr. Pickwick. " Wrong for vunce, sir," replied Mr. Weller, "for back he come, two minits afore the time, a bilin' with rage : sayin' how he'd been nearly run over by a hackney- coach : that he warn't used to it : and he was blowed if he wouldn't write to the Lord 112 Mayor. They got him pacified at last ; and for five years arter that, he never even so much as peeped out o' the lodge-gate." " At the expiration of that time he died, I sup- pose," said Mr. Pickwick. " No he didn't, sir," replied Sam. " He got a curiosity to go and taste the beer at a new public-house over the way, and it wos such a wery nice parlour, that he took it into his head to go there every night, wich he did for a long time, always comin' back reg'lar about a quarter of an hour afore the gate shut, wich wos all wery snug and comfortable. At last he began to get so precious jolly, that he used to forget how the time vent, or care nothin' at all about it, and he vent on gettin' later and later, till vun night his old friend wos just a shuttin' the gate had turned the key, in fact wen he come up. 'Hold hard, Bill,' he says. ' Wot, ain't you come home yet, Tventy ? ' says the turnkey, ' I thought you wos in, long ago.' ' No I wasn't,' says the little man, with a smile. 'Well then, I'll tell you wot it is, my friend,' says the turn- key, openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, ' it's my 'pinion as you've got into bad com- pany o' late, which I'm wery sorry to see. Now, I don't wish to do nothing harsh,' he "3 says, 'but if you can't confine yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at reg'lar hours, as sure as you're a standin' there, I'll shut you out altogether ! ' The little man was seized vith a wiolent fit o' tremblin', and never vent outside the prison walls artervards ! " SAM'S ESTIMATE OF SMANGLE. " Well ; will you know me again ? " said Mr. Smangle, with a frown. " I'd svear to you anyveres, sir," replied Sam, cheerfully. " Don't be impertinent to a gentleman, sir," said Mr. Smangle. " Not on no account," replied Sam. " If you'll tell me wen he wakes, I'll be upon the wery best extra-super behaviour ! " This observation, having a remote tendency to imply that Mr. Smangle was no gentleman, kindled his ire. . . . " There's nothing you want to give out for the man to brush, my dear creature, is there ? " asked Smangle of Mr. Pickwick. " Nothin' whatever, my fine feller," rejoined Sam, taking the reply into his own mouth. " P'raps if vun of us wos to brush, without troubling the man, it 'ud be more agreeable for all parties, as the schoolmaster said wen the young gentleman objected to being flogged by the butler." SAM'S OBSTINACY. " Do you understand me, Sam ? " asked Mr. Pickwick. " Vy no, sir, I do NOT," re- plied Mr. Weller, doggedly. " Try, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. " Veil, sir," rejoined Sam, after a short pause, "I think I see your drift ; and if I do see your drift, it's my 'pinion that you're a comin' it a great deal too strong, as the mail-coachman said to the snow-storm, ven it overtook him." PROFESSIONAL SYMPATHY. " Veil, George," said Mr. Weller, senior, taking off his upper coat, and seating himself with his accustomed gravity. " How is it ? All right behind, and full inside ? " " All right, old feller," replied the embarrassed gentleman. " Is the grey mare made over to any body ? " inquired Mr. Weller, anxiously. George nodded in the affirmative. "Veil, that's all right," said Mr. Weller. " Coach taken care on, also ? " " Con-signed in a safe quarter," replied George, wringing the heads off half-a-dozen shrimps, and swallow- ing them without any more ado. "Wery "5 good, wery good," said Mr. Weller. " Alvays see to the dragven you go down hill. Is the vay-bill all clear and straight for'erd?" " The schedule, sir," said Pell, guessing at Mr. Welter's meaning, " the schedule is as plain and satisfactory as pen and ink can make it." Mr. Weller nodded in a manner which bespoke his inward approval of these arrangements ; and then, turning to Mr. Pell, said, pointing to his friend George : "Ven do you take his cloths off ? " " Why," replied Mr. Pell, "he stands third on the opposed list, and I should think it would be his turn in about half an hour." A RED- FACED NlXON. " Veil now," said Sam, " you've been a prophecyin' away, wery fine, like a red-faced Nixon as the sixpenny books gives picters on." " Who wos he, Sammy ? " inquired Mr. Weller. " Never mind who he was," retorted Sam ; " he warn't a coachman ; that's enough for you." " I know'd a ostler o' that name," said Mr. Weller, musing. " It warn't him," said Sam. " This here gen'l'm'n was a pro- phet." "Wot's a prophet?" inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly on his son. " Wy, a man as tells what's a goin' to happen," re- E 2 n6 plied Sam. " I wish I'd know'd him, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. " P'raps he might ha' throw'd a small light on that 'ere liver com- plaint as we wos a speakin' on, just now. Hows'ever, if he's dead, and ain't left the bisness to nobody, there's an end on it. Go on, Sammy." SAM'S WAY OF HELPING MR. PICKWICK. " Well," said Sam, " you've been a pro- phecyin' avay, about wot'll happen to the gov'nor if he's left alone. Don't you see any vay o 3 takin' care on him ? " " No, I don't, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, with a reflective visage. " No vay at all ?" inquired Sam. " No," said the old gentleman ; " if he von't let you stop there, I see no vay at all. It's no thoroughfare, Sammy, no thoroughfare. " Well, then, I'll tell you wot it is," said Sam, " I'll trouble you for the loan of five-and- twenty pound." " Wot good 'ull that do ? " inquired Mr. Weller. " Never mind," replied Sam. " P'raps you may ask for it, five minits artervards ; p'raps I may say I von't pay, and cut up rough. You von't think o' arrrestin' your own son for the money, and sendin' him off to the Fleet, will you, you unnat'ral waga- bone ? " At this reply of Sam's, the father and son exchanged a complete code of tele- graphic nods and gestures, after which, the elder Mr. Weller sat himself down on a stone step, and laughed till he was purple. ANYTHIN' FOR A QUIET LIFE. " Perhaps Mr. Samuel Weller will oblige the company," said the coach-horser. " Raly, gentlemen," said Sam, " I'm not wery much in the habit o' singin' without the in- strument ; but anythin' for a quiet life, as the man said wen he took the sitivation at the lighthouse." OLD WELLER INEXORABLE. "All right, Sammy," said Mr. Weller. " The officer will be here at four o'clock," said Mr. Pell. " I suppose you won't run away meanwhile, eh ? Ha ! ha ! " " P'raps my cruel pa 'ull relent afore then," replied Sam, with a broad grin. " Not I," said the elder Mr. Weller." Do," said Sam." Not on no account," replied the inexorable credi- tor. " I'll give bills for the amount, at six- pence a month," said Sam. " I won't take 'em," said Mr. Weller. " Ha, ha, ha ! very good, very good," said Mr. Solomon Pell, who was making out his little bill of costs ; " a very amusing incident indeed ! " n8 OLD WELLER RESENTS MR. PELL'S CORRECTION. " Wot a game it is ! " said the elder Mr. Weller, with a chuckle. " A reg'lar progidy son ! " " Prodigal, prodigal son, sir," sug- gested Mr. Pell, mildly. " Never mind, sir," said Mr. Weller, with dignity. " I know wot's o'clock, sir. Wen I don't, I'll ask you, sir." SAM WELLER'S STORY OF THE CRUMPETS. " He wos a clerk in a gov'ment office, sir," said Sam. "Was he?" said Mr. Pickwick. " Yes, he wos, sir," rejoined Mr. Weller ; " and a wery pleasant genTm'n too one o' the precise and tidy sort, as puts their feet in little India-rubber fire buckets wen its wet weather, and never has no other bosom friends but hare-skins ; he saved up his money on principle, wore a clean shirt ev'ry day on principle ; never spoke to none of his relations on principle, 'fear they shou'd want to borrow money of him ; and wos alto- gether, in fact, an uncommon agreeable character. He had his hair cut on principle vunce a fortnight, and contracted for his clothes on the economic principle three H9 suits a year, and send back the old uns. Being a wery reg'lar genTm'n, he din'd ev'ry day at the same place, were it wos one and nine to cut off the joint, and a wery good one and nine's worth he used to cut, as the land- lord often said, with the tears a tricklin' down his face : let alone the way he used to poke the fire in the vinter time, which wos a dead loss o' four-pence ha'penny a day : to say nothin' at all o' the aggrawation o' seein' him do it. So uncommon grand with it too ! ' Post arter the next genTm'n,' he sings out ev'ry day ven he comes in. ' See arter the Times, Thomas ; let me look at the Mornin' Herald, wen it's out o' hand j don't forget to bespeak the Chronicle ; and just bring the 'Tizer, vill you :' and then he'd set vith his eyes fixed on the clock, and rush out, just a quarter of a minit 'fore the time, to waylay the boy as wos a comin' in with the evenin' paper, wich he'd read with sich intense interest and persewerance as worked the other customers up to the wery confines o' desperation and insanity, 'specially one i-ras- cible old gen'l'm'n as the vaiter wos always obliged to keep a sharp eye on, at sich times, fear he should be tempted to commit some rash act with the carving-knife. Veil, sir, 120 here he'd stop, occupyin' the best place for three hours, and never takin' nothin' arter his dinner, but sleep, and then he'd go away to a coffee-house a few streets off, and have a small pot o' coffee and four crumpets, arter wich he'd walk home to Kensington and go to bed. One night he wos took very ill ; sends for a doctor ; doctor comes in a green fly, with a kind o' Robinson Crusoe set o' steps, as he could let down wen he got out, and pull up arter him wen he got in, to per- went the necessity o' the coachman's gettin' down, and thereby undeceivin' the public by lettin' 'em see that it wos only a livery coat as he'd got on, and not the trousers to match. ' Wot's the matter ? ' says the doctor. ' Wery ill,' says the patient. ' Wot have you been a eatin' on ? ' says the doctor. ' Roast weal,' says the patient. ' Wots the last thing you dewoured ? ' says the doctor. ' Crumpets,' says the patient. ' That's it ! ' says the doctor. ' I'll send you a box of pills directly, and don't you never take no more of 'em,' he says. ' No more o' wot ? ' says the patient ' Pills ? ' 4 No ; crumpets,' says the doctor. ' Wy ? ' says the patient, starting up in bed ; ' Iv'e eat four crumpets, ev'ry night for fifteen year, on principle.' ' Well, then, you'd better 121 leave 'em off, on principle,' says the doctor. 'Crumpets is wholesome, sir,' says the patient. ' Crumpets is not wholesome, sir,' says the doctor, wery fierce. ' But they're so cheap,' says the patient, comin' down a little, 'and so wery fillin' at the price.' ' They'd be dear to you, at any price ; dear if you wos paid to eat 'em,' says the doctor. ' Four crumpets a night,' he says, ' vill do your business in six months ! ' The patient looks him full in the face, and turns it over in his mind for a long time, and at last he says, ' Are you sure o' that 'ere, sir ? ' ' I'll stake my professional reputation on it,' says the doctor. ' How many crumpets, at a sittin', do you think 'ud kill me off at once ? ' says the patient. ' I don't know,' says the doctor. ' Do you think half a crown's wurth 'ud do it ? ' says the patient. ' I think it might,' says the doctor. ' Three shillins' wurth 'ud be sure to do it, I s'pose ? ' says the patient. ' Certainly,' says the doctor. 'Wery good,' says the patient ; 'good night.' Next mornin' he gets up, has a fire lit, orders in three shillins' wurth o' crumpets, toasts 'em all, eats 'em all, and blows his brains out." " What did he do that for ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly ; for he was considerably startled by this E3 122 tragical termination of the narrative. " Wot did he do it for, sir ? " reiterated Sam. " Wy in support of his great principle that crumpets wos wholesome, and to show that he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody ! " AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY. " Mornin', gen'l'm'n," said Sam, entering at the moment with the shoes and gaiters. " Avay vith melincholly, as the little boy said ven his school-missis died." "WELLER!" " Here ! " roared Sam, in a stentorian voice. " Wot's the matter ? " Who wants him ? Has an express come to say that his country-house is a-fire ?" " Somebody wants you in the hall," said a man who was standing by. " Just mind that 'ere paper and the pot, old feller, will you ? " said Sam. " I'm a comin'. Blessed, if they was a callin' me to the bar, they couldn't make more noise about it ! " Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the young gentle- man before noticed, who, unconscious of his close vicinity to the person in request, was screaming " Weller ! " with all his might, Sam hastened across the ground, and ran up the steps into the hall. Here, the first object 123 that met his eyes was his beloved father sitting on a bottom stair, with his hat in his hand, shouting out " Weller ! " in his very loudest tone, at half-minute intervals. "Wot are you a roarin' at?" said Sam impetuously, when the old gentleman had discharged him- self of another shout ; " makin' yourself so precious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. Wot's the matter ? " " Aha ! " replied the old gentleman, " I began to be afeerd that you'd gone for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy." "Come," said Sam, "none o' them taunts agin the wictim o' avarice, and come off that 'ere step. Wot are you a settin' down there for ? I don't live there." OLD WELLER'S ALARMING LAUGH. . " Wot, I s'pose you happened to drive up agin a post or two?" said Sam. " I 'm afeerd," replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks, " I 'm afeerd I took vun or two on 'em, Sammy ; the shepherd wos a flyin' out o' the harm- cheer all the way. Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was seized with a hoarse internal rumbling, ac- companied with a violent swelling of the countenance, and a sudden increase in the 124 breadth of all his features ; symptoms which alarmed his son not a little. "Don't be frightened, Sammy, don't be frightened," said the old gentleman, when, by dint of much struggling, and various convulsive stamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. " It's only a kind o' quiet laugh as I'm a tryin' to come, Sammy." " Well, if that 's wot it is," said Sam, " you 'd better not try to come it agin. You '11 find it rayther a dangerous inwention." "Don't you like it, Samrny?" inquired the old gentleman. " Not at all," replied Sam." Well," said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks, " it 'ud ha' been a wery great accommodation to me if I could ha' done it, and 'ud ha' saved a good many vords atween your mother-in-law and me, sometimes ; but I am afeerd you 're right, Sammy : it 's too much in the apple- plexy line a deal too much, Samivel." STIGGINS'S PARTICKLER WANITY. " Wot 's your usual tap, sir," replied Sam. " Oh, my dear young friend," replied Mr. Stiggins, " all taps is vanities ! " " Too true, too true, indeed," said Mrs. Weller, murmur- ing a groan, and shaking her head assentingly. " Well," said Sam, " I des-sey they may 125 be, sir ; but which is your partickler wanity. Vich wanity do you like the flavour on, best, sir ? " " Oh, my dear young friend," replied Mr. Stiggins, " I despise them all. If," said Mr. Stiggins, " if there is any one of them less odious than another, it is the liquor called rum. Warm, my dear young friend, with three lumps of sugar to the tumbler." A THOROUGH-BRED ANGEL. "Thanks to your worthy governor, sir," said Mr. Trotter, " we have half a leg of mut- ton, baked, at a quarter before three, with the potatoes under it to save boiling." " Wot ! Has he been a purwidin' for you?" asked Sam, emphatically. " He has, sir," replied Job. "More than that, Mr. Weller; my master being very ill, he got us a room we were in a kennel before and paid for it, sir ; and come to look at us, at night, when no- body should know. Mr. Weller," said Job, with real tears in his eyes, for once, " I could serve that gentleman till I fell down dead at his feet."" I say ! " said Sam, " I'll trouble you, my friend ! None o' that !" Job Trotter looked amazed. " None o' that, I say, young feller," repeated Sam, firmly. "No man serves him but me. And now we're upon it, 126 I'll let you into another secret besides that," said Sam, as he paid for the beer. " I never heerd, mind you, nor read of in story-books, nor see in picters, any angel in tights and gaiters not even in spectacles, as I re- member, though that may ha' been done for anythin' I know to the contrairey but mark my vords, Job Trotter, he's a reg'lar thorough- bred angel for all that ; and let me see the man as wenturs to tell me he knows a better vun." SAM'S ANNOUNCEMENT OF MR. AND MRS. WINKLE. "Dear, dear," exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who had been evidently roused by his friend's appeal ; " what an annoyance that door is ! Who is that ? " " Me, sir," re- plied Sam Weller, putting in his head. " I can't speak to you just now, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. " I am engaged, at this moment, Sam." " Beg your pardon, sir," rejoined Mr. Weller. " But here's a lady here, sir, as says she's somethin' wery particklar to disclose." " I can't see any lady," replied Mr. Pickwick, whose mind was rilled with visions of Mrs. Bardell. " I vouldn't make too sure o' that, sir," urged Mr. Weller, 127 shaking his head. " If you know'd who was near, sir, I rayther think you'd change your note. As the hawk remarked to himself with a cheerful laugh, ven he heerd the robin red- breast a singin' round the corner." " Who is it?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "Will you see her, sir ? " asked Mr. Weller, holding the door in his hand as if he had some curious live animal on the other side. " I suppose I must," said Mr. Pickwick, looking at Perker. " Well then, all in to begin ! " cried Sam. " Sound the gong, draw up the curtain, and enter the two con-spiraytqrs." STRANGE SITIVATION FOR ONE o' THE FAMILY. "Sorry to do anythin' as may cause an interruption to such wery pleasant proceed- in's, as the king said wen he dissolved the parliament," interposed Mr. Weller, who had been peeping through the glass door ; " but there's another experiment here, sir. Here's a wenerable old lady a lyin' on the carpet waitin' for dissection, or galwinism, or some other rewivin' and scientific inwention." " I forgot," exclaimed Mr. Ben Allen. " It is my aunt."" Dear me ! " said Mr. Pickwick. 128 " Poor lady ! Gently, Sam, gently." - " Strange sitivation for one o' the family," observed Sam Weller, hoisting the aunt into a chair. " Now, depitty Sawbones, bring out the wollatilly ! " SAM'S CONTENTMENT UNDER A DRENCHING. " This is pleasant," said Bob Sawyer, turn- ing up his coat collar, and pulling the shawl over his mouth to concentrate the fumes of a glass of brandy just swallowed. " Wery," replied Sam, composedly. " You don't seem to mind it," observed Bob. "Vy, I don't exactly see no good my mindin' on it 'ud do, sir," replied Sam. " That's an unanswerable reason, anyhow," said Bob. " Yes, sir," re- joined Mr. Weller. "Wotever is, is right, as the young nobleman sveetly remarked wen they put him down in the pension list 'cos his mother's uncle's vife's grandfather vunce lit the king's pipe vith a portable tinder-box." " Not a bad notion that, Sam," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, approvingly. "Just wot the young nobleman said ev'ry quarter- day artervards for the rest of his life," re- plied Mr. Weller. 129 POSTBOYS AND DONKEYS. " Wos you ever called in," inquired Sam, glancing at the driver, after a short silence, and lowering his voice to a mysterious whis- per : " wos you ever called in, ven you wos 'prentice to a sawbones, to wisit a postboy ? " " I don't remember that I ever was," re- plied Bob Sawyer. " You never see a post- boy in that 'ere hospital as you walked (as they says o' the ghosts), did you ? " demanded Sam." No," replied Bob Sawyer, " I don't think I ever did." " Never know'd a church- yard were there wos a postboy's tombstone, or see a dead postboy, did you ? " inquired Sam, pursuing his catechism. "No," re- joined Bob, " I never did." " No ! " rejoined Sam, triumphantly. " Nor never vill ; and there's another thing that no man never see, and that's a dead donkey. No man never see a dead donkey, 'cept the gen'l'm'n in the black silk smalls as know'd the young 'ooman as kep a goat ; and that wos a French don- key, so wery likely he warn't wun o' the reg'lar breed." " Well, what has that got to do with the postboys ? " asked Bob Sawyer. "This here," replied Sam. "Without goin' so far as to as-sert, as some wery sen- sible people do, that postboys and donkeys 130 is both immortal, wot I say is this ; that wen- ever they feels theirselves gettin' stiff and past their work, they just rides off together, wun postboy to a pair in the usual way : wot becomes on 'em nobody knows, but it's wery probable as they starts avay to take their pleasure in some other vorld, for there ain't a man alive as ever see either a donkey or a postboy a takin' his pleasure in this ! " OLD WELLER'S LETTER. " Hallo 1 " exclaimed Sam, " wot's all this ? " " Nothing the matter, I hope ? " said Mary, peeping over his shoulder. " Bless them eyes o' yourn ! " said Sam, looking up. " Never mind my eyes ; you had much better read your letter," said the pretty housemaid ; and as she said so, she made the eyes twinkle with such slyness and beauty that they were perfectly irresistible. Sam refreshed himself with a kiss, and read as follows : " Markis Gran By darken " My dear Sammle, Wens**. " I am wery sorry to have the pleasure of bein a Bear of ill news your Mother in law cort cold consekens of imprudently settin too long on the damp grass in the rain a hearin of a shepherd who warnt able to leave off till late at night owen to his havin vound his-self up vith brandy and vater and not being able to stop his-self till he got a little sober which took a many hours to do the doctor says that if she'd svallo'd varm brandy and vater artervards insted of afore she mightn't have been no vus her veels wos immedetly greased and everythink done to set her agoin as could be inwented your farther had hopes as she vould have vorked round as usual but just as she wos a turnen the corner my boy she took the wrong road and vent down hill vith a welocity you never see and notvithstandin that the drag wos put on drectly by the medikel man it wornt of no use at all for she paid the last pike at twenty minutes afore six o'clock yesterday evenin havin done the jouney wery much under the reglar time vich praps was partly owen to her haven taken in wery little luggage by the vay your father says that if you vill come and see me Sammy he vill take it as a wery great favor for I am wery lonely Samivel n b he vill have it spelt that vay vich I say ant right and as there is sich a many things to settle he is sure your guvner wont object 132 of course he vill not Sammy for I knows him better so he sends his dooty in which I join and am Samivel infernally yours " TONY VELLER." "Wot a incomprehensible letter," said Sam ; " who's to know wot it means, vith all this he-ing and I-ing ! It ain't my father's writin', 'cept this here signater in print let- ters ; that's his." " Perhaps he got some- body to write it for him, and signed it him- self afterwards," said the pretty housemaid. " Stop a minit," replied Sam, running over the letter again, and pausing here and there, to reflect, as he did so. " You've hit it. The gen'l'm'n as wrote it wos a tellin' all about the misfortun' in a proper vay, and then my father comes a lookin' over him, and complicates the whole concern by puttin' his oar in. That's just the wery sort o' thing he'd do. You're right, Mary, my dear." OLD WELLER'S GRIEF AS A WIDOWER. " I wos a thinkin', Sammy," said Mr. Weller, eyeing his son, with great earnest- ness, over his pipe ; as if to assure him that however extraordinary and incredible the declaration might appear, it was neverthe- less calmly and deliberately uttered. " I 133 wos a thinkin', Sammy, that upon the whole I wos werry sorry she wos gone." "Veil, and so you ought to be," replied Sam. Mr. Weller nodded his acquiescence in the senti- ment, and again fastening his eyes on the fire, shrouded himself in a cloud, and mused deeply. "Those wos wery sensible obser- vations as she made, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, driving the smoke away with his hand, after a long silence. "Wot observa- tions?" inquired Sam. " Them as she made, arter she was took ill," replied the old gentle- man." Wot was they ? " " Somethin' to this here effect. ' Veller,' she says, ' I'm afeard I've not done by you quite wot I ought to have done ; you're a wery kind- hearted man, and I might ha' made your home more comfortabler. I begin to see now,' she says, 'ven it's too late, that if a married 'ooman vishes to be religious, she should begin vith dischargin' her dooties at home, and makin' them as is about her cheerful and happy, and that vile she goes to church, or chapel, or wot not, at all proper times, she should be wery careful not to con- wert this sort o' thing into a excuse for idle- ness or self-indulgence. I have done this,' she says, ' and I've vasted time and substance on them as has done it more than me ; but I hope ven I'm gone, Veller, that you'll think on me as I wos afore I know'd them people, and as I raly wos by natur*.' ' Susan,' says I, I wos took up wery short by this, Sami- vel; I von't deny it, my boy, 'Susan,' I says, ' you've been a wery good vife to me, altogether ; don't say nothin' at all about it ; keep a good heart, my dear ; and you'll live to see me punch that 'ere Stiggins's head yet.' She smiled at this, Samivel,'" said the old gentleman, stifling a sigh with his pipe, " but she died after all ! " " Veil," said Sam, venturing to offer a little homely consolation, after the lapse of three or four minutes, con- sumed by the old gentleman in slowly shak- ing his head from side to side, and solemnly smoking ; " veil, gov'ner, ve must all come to it, one day or another." " So we must, Sammy," said Mr. Weller the elder. " There's a Providence in it all," said Sam. " O' course there is," replied his father with a nod of grave approval. " Wot 'ud become of the undertakers vithout it, Sammy ? " A PRIVILEGED INDIVIDUAL. "In short, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, "I feel that I ain't safe anyveres but on the box." 135 " How are you safer there than anyveres else ? " interrupted Sam. " 'Cos a coach- man's a privileged indiwidual," replied Mr. Weller, looking fixedly at his son. "'Cos a coachman may do vithout suspicion wot other men may not ; 'cos a coachman may be on the wery amicablest terms with eighty mile o' females, and yet nobody think that he ever means to marry any vun among 'em. And wot other man can say the same, Sammy ? " " Veil, there's somethin' in that," said Sam. " If your gov'ner had been a coach- man," reasoned Mr. Weller, " do you s'pose as that 'ere jury 'ud ever ha' conwicted him, s'posin' it possible as the matter could ha' gone to that extremity? They dustn't ha' done it." "Wy not?" said Sam, rather disparagingly. " Wy not ! " rejoined Mr. Weller, " 'cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their con- sciences. A reg'lar coachman's a sort o' con-nectin' link betwixt singleness and matri- mony, and every practicable man knows it." " Wot ! You mean, they're gen'ral fav'- rites, and nobody takes adwantage on 'em, p'raps?" said Sam. His father nodded. " How it ever come to that 'ere pass," re- sumed the parent Weller, " I can't say. Wy it is that long-stage coachmen possess such 136 insiniwations, and is always looked up to a-dored, I may say by ev'ry young 'ooman in ev'ry town he vurks through, I don't know. I only know that so it is. It's a reg'lation of natur a dispensary, as your poor mother-in- law used to say." "A dispensation," said Sam, correcting the old gentleman. " Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better," returned Mr. Weller ; " 7 call it a dispensary, and it's alvays writ up so, at the places vere they gives you physic for nothin' in your own bottles ; that's all." A VESSEL. " Oh my young friend," said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence in a very low voice, "here's a sorrowful affliction !" Sam nodded, very slightly. "For the man of wrath, too !" added Mr. Stiggins ; " it makes a vessel's heart bleed ! " Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something relative to making a vessel's nose bleed ; but Mr. Stiggins heard him not. OLD WELLER PAYS OFF OLD SCORES. Mr. Weller, the elder, gave vent to an extraordinary sound, which being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a gasp, nor a growl, 137 seemed to partake in some degree of the character of all four. Mr. Stiggins, en- couraged by this sound, which he under- stood to betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him, rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walking softly across the room to a well-remembered shelf in one corner, took down a tumbler, and with great deliberation put four lumps of sugar in it. Having got thus far, he looked about him again, and sighed grievously ; with that, he walked softly into the bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the rum and water, stopped for breath. The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single word during these proceedings ; but when Stiggins stopped for breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his hand, threw the re- mainder of the rum and water in his face, and the glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most 138 furiously : accompanying every application of his top-boots to Mr. Stiggins's person, with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and body. " Sammy," said Mr. Weller, " put my hat on tight for me." Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the street ; the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in vehemence rather than diminishing, every time the top boot was lifted. It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man writhing in Mr. Welter's grasp, and his whole frame quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession ; it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins's head in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there, until he was half suffocated. " There," said Mr. Weller, throwing all his energy into one most complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. Stiggins to withdraw his head from the trough, " send '39 any vun o'them lazy shepherds here, and I'll pound him to a jelly first, and drownd him arterwards ! Sammy, help me in, and fill me a small glass of brandy, I'm out o' breath, my boy. OLD WELLER'S DELICACY AS TO THE WILL. " Samivel," said Mr. Weller, accosting his son on the morning of the funeral, " I've found it, Sammy. I thought it wos there." " Thought wot wos where ? " inquired Sam. "Your mother-in-law's vill, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller. " In wirtue o' vich, them arrangements is to be made as I told you on, last night, respectin' the funs." " Wot, didn't she tell you were it wos ? " inquired Sam. " Not a bit on it, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller. " We wos a adjestin' our little differences, and I wos a cheerin' her spirits and bearin' her up, so that I forgot to ask anythin' about it. I don't know as I should ha' done it indeed, if I had remembered it," added Mr. Weller, " for it's a rum sort o' thing, Sammy, to go a hankerin' arter any- body's property, ven you're assistin' 'em in illness. It's like helping an outside passenger up, ven he's been pitched off a coach, and puttin' your hand in his pocket, vile you 140 ask him vith a sigh how he finds hisself, Sammy." ALL RIGHT AS TO THE WILL. "That's all, is it?" said Sam. " That's all," replied Mr. Weller. " And I s'pose as it's all right and satisfactory to you and me as is the only parties interested, ve may as veil put this bit o' paper into the fire." " Wot are you a-doin' on, you lunatic ? " said Sam, snatching the paper away, as his parent, in all innocence, stirred the fire preparatory to suiting the action to the word. "You're a nice eggzekiter, you are." "Vy not ? " inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly round, with the poker in his hand. "Vy not ! " exclaimed Sam. " 'Cos it must be proved, and probated, and swore to, and all manner o' formalities." "You don't mean that ? " said Mr. Weller, laying down the poker. Sam buttoned the will carefully in a side pocket ; intimating by a look, mean- while, that he did mean it, and very seriously too. OLD WELLER AGAIN RESENTS MR. PELL'S CORRECTION. " Give me the dockyment," Sammy," said Mr. Weller, taking the will from his son, " Wot we rekvire, sir, is a probe o' this here." " Probate, my dear sir, probate," said Pell. "Well, sir," replied Mr. Weller sharply, " probe and probe it, is wery much the same ; if you don't understand wot I mean, sir, I dessay I can find them as does." "No offence I hope, Mr. Weller," said Pell, meekly. OLD WELLER RATHER AT A NON-PLUS. " I wanted to have a little bit o' conwersation with you, sir," said Mr. Weller, " if you could spare me five minits or so, sir." " Certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick. " Sam give your father a chair." " Thankee, Samivel, I've got a cheer here," said Mr. Weller, bringing one forward as he spoke ; " uncommon fine day it's been, sir," added the old gentleman, laying his hat on the floor as he sat himself down. "Remarkably so indeed," replied Mr. Pickwick. "Very seasonable." "Season- ablest weather I ever see, sir," rejoined Mr. Weller. Here, the old gentleman was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which, being terminated, he nodded his head and winked and made several supplicatory and threaten- ing gestures to his son, all of which Sam Weller steadily abstained from seeing. Mr. 142 Pickwick, perceiving that there was some embarrassment on the old gentleman's part, affected to be engaged in cutting the leaves of a book that lay beside him, and waited patiently until Mr. Weller should arrive at the object of his visit. " I never see sich a aggerawatin' boy as you are, Samivel," said Mr. Weller, looking indignantly at his son ; " never in all my born days." " What is he doing, Mr. Weller ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " He von't begin, sir, rejoined Mr. Weller ; " he knows I ain't ekal to ex-pressin' myself ven there's anythin' partickler to be done, and yet he'll stand and see me a sittin' here takin' up your walable time, and makin' a reg'lar spectacle o' myself, rayther than help me out vith a syllable. It ain't filial conduct, Samivel," said Mr. Weller, wiping his fore- head ; "wery far from it." "You said you'd speak," replied Sam ; " how should I know you wos done up at the wery beginnin' ? "- " You might ha' seen I warn't able to start," rejoined his father ; " I'm on the wrong side of the road, and backin' into the palins, and all manner of unpleasantness, and yet you von't put out a hand to help me. I'm a- shamed on you, Samivel." "The fact is, sir," said Sam, with a slight bow, " the 143 gov'ner's been a drawin' his money." " Wery good, Samivel, wery good," said Mr. Weller, nodding his head with a satisfied air, " I didn't mean to speak harsh to you, Sammy. Wery good. That's the vay to begin. Come to the pint at once. Wery good in- deed, Samivel." A EGYPTIAN MUMMY'S DEPOSIT. "This here money," said Sam, with a little hesitation, " he's anxious to put some- veres, vere he knows it'll be safe, and I'm wery anxious too, for if he keeps it, he'll go a lendin' it to somebody, or inwestin' property in horses, or droppin' his pocket- book down a airy, or makin' a Egyptian mummy of his-self in some vay or another." "Wery good, Samivel," observed Mr. Weller, in as complacent a manner as if Sam had been passing the highest eulogiums on his prudence and foresight. "Wery good." " For vich reasons," continued Sam, plucking nervously at the brim of his hat ; " for vich reasons' he's drawd it out to-day, and come here vith me to say, least-vays to offer, or in other vords to " " To say this here," said the elder Mr. Weller, im- patiently, "that it ain't o' no use to me. 144 I'm a goin' to vork a coach reg'lar, and ha'nt got noveres to keep it in, unless I vos to pay the guard for takin' care on it, or to put it in vun o' the coach pockets, vich 'ud be a temptation to the insides. If you'll take care on it for me, sir, I shall be wery much obliged to you. P'raps," said Mr. Weller, walking up to Mr. Pickwick and whispering in his ear, "P'raps it'll go a little vay towards the expenses o' that 'ere conwiction. All I say is, just you keep it till I ask you for it ' again." With these words, Mr. Weller placed the pocket-book in Mr. Pickwick's hands, caught up his hat, and ran out of the room with a celerity scarcely to be expected from so corpulent a subject. " Stop him, Sam ! " exclaimed Mr. 'Pickwick, earnestly. " Overtake him ; bring him back instantly ! Mr. Weller here come back ! " OLD WELLER'S THREAT. "I'll keep a pike," said Mr. Weller. "Wot!" exclaimed Sam. "A pike," re- joined Mr. Weller, through his set teeth ; " I'll keep a pike. Say good bye to your father, Samivel. I dewote the remainder o' my days to a pike." 145 A PRETTY SORT OF THING FOR A FATHER'S EARS. "Did you happen to see a young girl down stairs when you came in just now with your son?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. "Yes, I see a young gal," replied Mr. Weller shortly. " What did you think of her, now ? candidly, Mr. Weller, what did you think of her ? " " I thought she wos wery plump and veil made," said Mr. VTeller with a critical air. " So she is," said Mr. Pickwick. " So she is. What did you think of her manners from what you saw of her?" "Wery pleasant," rejoined Mr. Weller. " Wery pleasant and comformable." The precise meaning which Mr. Weller attached to this last-mentioned adjective, did not appear ; but, as it was evident from the tone in which he used it that it was a favourable expression, Mr. Pickwick was as well satisfied as if he had been thoroughly enlightened on the subject. " I take a great interest in her, Mr. Weller," said Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Weller coughed. " I mean an interest in her doing well," resumed Mr. Pickwick ; " a desire that she may be comfortable and prosperous. You understand ? " " Wery clearly," replied F 146 Mr. Weller, who understood nothing yet. " That young person," said Mr. Pickwick, "is attached to your son." "To Samivel Veller ! " exclaimed the parent." Yes," said Pickwick." It's nat'ral," said Mr. Weiler, after some consideration, "nat'ral, but rayther alarmin'. Sammy must be careful." " How do you mean ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. " Wery careful that he don't say nothin 5 to her," responded Mr. Weller. " Wery careful that he ain't led avay, in a innocent moment, to say anythink as may lead to a conwiction for breach. You're never safe vith 'em, Mr. Pickwick, ven they vunce has designs on you ; there's no knowin' vere to have 'em ; and vile you're a-considering of it, they have you. I wos married fust, that vay myself, sir, and Sammy wos the consekens o' the manoover." "You give me no great en- couragement to conclude what I have to say," observed Mr. Pickwick, " but I had better do so at once. This young person is not only attached to your son, Mr. Weller, but your son is attached to her." " Veil," said Mr. Weller, " this here's a pretty sort o' thing to come to a father's ears, this is ! " 147 SAM'S REJECTION OF MR. PICKWICK'S OFFER. " I wish to free you from the restraint which your present position imposes upon you," said Mr. Pickwick, " and to mark my sense of your fidelity and many excellent qualities, by enabling you to marry this girl at once, and to earn an independent liveli- hood for yourself and family. I shall be proud, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, whose voice had faltered a little hitherto, but now resumed its customary tone, " proud and happy to make your future prospects in life, my grateful and peculiar care." There was a profound silence for a short time, and then Sam said, in a low husky sort of voice, but firmly withal : " I'm wery much obliged to you for your goodness, sir, as is only like yourself ; but it can't be done." " Can't be done ! " ejaculated Mr. Pickwick in astonishment. " Samivel ! " said Mr. Weller, with dignity. " I say it can't be done," repeated Sam in a louder key. " Wot's to become of you, sir ? " " My good fellow," replied Mr. Pickwick, " the recent changes among my friends will alter my mode of life in future, entirely ; besides I am growing older, and want repose 148 and quiet. My rambles, Sam, are over." " How do I know that 'ere, sir ? " argued Sam. " You think so now ! S'pose you wos to change your mind, vich is not unlikely, for you've the spirit o' five-and-twenty in you still, what 'ud become on you vithout me ? It can't be done, sir, it can't be done." " Wery good, Samivel, there's a good deal in that," said Mr. Weller, encouragingly. " I speak after long deliberation, Sam, and with the certainty that I shall keep my word," said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head. " New scenes have closed upon me ; my rambles are at an end." " Wery good," rejoined Sam. " Then, that's the wery best reason wy you should alvays have somebody by you as understands you, to keep you up and make you comfortable. If you vant a more polished sort o' feller, veil and good, have him ; but vages or no vages, notice or no notice, board or no board, lodgin' or no lodgin', Sam Veller, as you took from the old inn in the Borough, sticks by you, come what come may ; and let ev'rythin' and ev'rybody do their wery fiercest, nothin' shall ever perwent it ! " At the close of this declaration, which Sam made with great emotion, the elder Mr. Weller rose from his chair, and, forgetting 149 all consideration s of time, place, or propriety, waved his hat above his head, and gave three vehement cheers. SAM'S DISMISSAL OF THE FAT BOY. " I say," said Joe, who was unusually loqua- cious, " what a pretty girl Mary is, isn't she ? I am so fond of her, I am ! " Mr. Weller made no verbal remark in reply ; but eyeing the fat boy for a moment, quite transfixed at his presumption, led him by the collar to the corner, and dismissed him with a harmless but ceremonious kick. After which, he walked home, whistling. "WELLERISMS." (From ''Master Humphrey's Clock:') How OLD WELLER FARES. HANKEE, sir," said Mr. Weller, " the axle ain't broke yet. We keeps up a steady pace, not too sewere, but vith a moderate de- gree o' friction, and the consekens is that ve're still a runnin' and comes in to the time reg'lar." YOUNG TONY DESCRIBED BY HIS GRANDFATHER. " Samivel Veller, sir," said the old gentle- man, " has conferred upon me the ancient title of grandfather, vich has long laid dor- mouse, and wos s'posed to be nearly hex- tinct in our family. Sammy relate a anecdote o' vun o' them boys that 'ere little anecdote about young Tony sayin' as he would smoke a pipe unbeknown to his mother." " Be quiet, can't you ? " said Sam. " I never see such a old magpie never ! " " That 'ere Tony is the blessedest boy," said Mr. Weller, heedless of this rebuff, " the blessedest boy as ever I see in my days ! Of all the char- min'est infants as ever I heerd tell on, in- cludin' them as was kivered over by the robin redbreasts arter they'd committed sooicide with blackberries, there never wos any like that 'ere little Tony. He's alvays a playin' vith a quart pot, that boy is ! To see him a settin' down on the doorstep pretend- ing to drink out of it, and fetching a long breath artervards, and smoking a bit of fire- wood and sayin', ' Now I'm grandfather,' to see him a doin' that at two year old is better than any play as wos ever wrote. ' Now I'm grandfather !' He would'nt take a pint pot if you was to make him a present on it, but he gets his quart, and then he says, 'Now I'm grandfather.'" OLD WELLER'S CONVULSIVE LAUGHTER. " He'll do now, Sam."" He'll do, sir ! " cried Sam, looking reproachfully at his parent. " Yes, he will do one of these days he'll do for hisself, and then he'll wish he had'nt. Did anybody ever see such a in- F 2 IS 2 considerate old file, laughing into conwulsions afore company, and stampin' on the floor as if he'd brought his own carpet vith him and wos under a wager to punch the pattern out in a given time? He'll begin again in a minute. There he's a goin' off I said he vould ! " IS SHE A WlDDER ? " Afore the governor vithdraws," said Mr. Weller, "there is a pint, respecting vich Sammy has a question to ask. Vile that question is a perwadin' this here conwersa- tion, p'raps the genl'men will permit me to retire." "Wot are you going away for?" demanded Sam. " I never see such a undoo- tiful boy as you, Samivel," returned Mr. Weller. " Didn't you make a solemn pro- mise, amountin' almost to a solemn speeches o' wow, that you'd put that ere question on my account?" "Well, I'm agreeable to do it," said Sam, "but not if you go cuttin' away like that, as the bull turned round and mildly observed to the drover ven they wos a goadin' him into the butcher's door. The fact is, sir," said Sam, addressing me, " that he wants to know somethin' respectin' that 'ere lady as is housekeeper here." " Vy, sir," said Sam. grinning still more, " he wishes to know vether she " " In short," inter- posed old Mr. Weller decisively, a perspira- tion breaking out upon his forehead, "vether that 'ere old creetur is or is not a widder." SPINSTERS AND PUNSTERS. " There !" cried Sam,"now you're satisfied. You hear she's a spinster." " A wot ? " cried his father with deep scorn. "A spinster," replied Sam. " Never mind vether she makes jokes or not, that's no matter. Wot I say is, is that 'ere female a widder, or is she not ? " " Wot do you mean by her making jokes ?" demanded Sam, quite aghast at the obscurity of his parent's speech. " Never you mind, Samivel," returned Mr. Weller, gravely ; " puns may be wery good things or they may be wery bad 'uns, and a female may be none the better or she may be none the vurse for making of 'em ; that's got nothing to do vith widders." " Wy, now," said Sam, " would anybody believe as a man at his time o' life could be running his head agin spinsters and punsters bein' the same thing ? " " There ain't a straws diffe- rence between 'em," said Mr. Weller. " Your father didn't drive a coach for so many years not to be ekal to his own language as far as that goes Sammy." ON THE RAIL WITH A WIDDER. " It was on the rail," said Mr. Weller, with strong emphasis ; " I was a goin' down to Birmingham by the rail, and I was locked up in a close carriage vith a living widder. Alone we wos ; the widder and me was alone, and I believe it was only because we wos alone, and there was no clergyman in the conwayance, that that 'ere widder didn't marry me afore ve reached the half-way station. Ven I think how she began scream- ing as we wos a goin' under them tunnels in the dark how she kept on a faintin'and ketchen' hold o' me and how I tried to bust open the door as was tight-locked and perwented all escape. Ah ! It was a awful thing, most awful ! " OLD WELLER'S DENUNCIATION OF RAILWAYS. "I consider," said Mr. Weller, "that the rail is unconstitootional and an inwaser o' privileges, and I should wery much like to know what that 'ere old carter as once stood up for our liberties and wun 'em too I should like to know wot he would say, if he wos alive now, to Englishmen being locked up vith widders or with anybody again their wills. Wot a old carter would have said, a old coachman may say, and I assert that in that pint o' view alone, the rail is an inwaser. As to the comfort, vere's the comfort o' sittin' in a harm-cheer, lookin' at brick-walls or heaps o' mud, never comin' to a public-house, never seein' a glass o' ale, never goin' through a pike, never meetin' a change o' no kind (horses or otherwise), but alvays comin' to a place, ven you come to one at all, the weiy picter o' the last, vith the same p'leesemen standin' about, the same blessed old bell a ringin', the same unfort'nate people standin' behind the baths, awaitin' to be let in, and everythin' the same except the name vitch is wrote up in the same size letters as the last name, and vith the same colours. As to the honour and dignity o' travelling vere can that be vithout a coachman ? And vots the rail to sich coachmen and guards as is sometimes forced to go by it, but a outrage and a insult ? As to the pace, wot sort o' pace do you think I, Tony Veller, could have kept a coach goin' at, for five hundred thousand pound a mile, paid in adwance afore the coach was 156 on the road ? And as to the ingein, a nasty wheezin', creekin', gaspin', puffin', bustin' monster, alvays out o' breath, vith a shiny green and gold back, like a unpleasant beetle in that 'ere gas magnifier, as to the ingein as is alvays a pourin' out red-hot coals at night, and black smoke in the day, the sen- siblest thing it does, in my opinion is, ven there's somethin' in the vay, and it sets up that 'ere frightful scream vich seems to say, ' Now here's two hundred and forty pas- sengers in the wery greatest extremity o' danger, and here's their two hundred and forty screams in vun.' " SAM HELPING ON AN OVERCOAT. " All right, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Hold hard, sir. Right arm fust now the left now one strong conwulsion, and the great- coat's on, sir." BILL BLINDER'S BEQUEST. " Then if this here lady vill per-mit," re- joined Mr. Weller, " we'll leave it here ready for next journey." " This here lantern, mum," said Mr. Weller, handing it to the housekeeper, " vunce belonged to the cele- brated Bill Blinder as is now at grass, as all 157 on us vill be in our turns. Bill, mum, wos the hostler as had charge o' them two veil- known pie-bald leaders that run in the Bristol fast coach, and would never go to no other tune but a sutherly vind and a cloudy sky, which wos consekvently played inces- sant, by the guard, wenever they wos on duty. He wos took wery bad one arternoon, arter having been off his feed, and wery shaky on his legs for some veeks ; and he says to his mate, ' Matey,' he says, ' I think I'm a-goin' the wrong side o' the post, and that my foot's wery near the bucket. Don't say I ain't,' he says, ' for I know I am, and don't let me be interrupted,' he says, ' for I've saved a little money, and I'm a-goin' into the stable to make my last vill and testymint.' ' I'll take care as nobody interrupts,' says his mate, ' but you on'y hold up your head, and shake your ears a bit, and you're good for twenty years to come.' Bill Blinder makes him no answer, but he goes avay into the stable, and there he soon artervards lays himself down a'tween the two piebalds and dies previously a writin' outside the corn- chest, ' This is the last vill and testymint of Villiam Blinder.' They wos nat'rally wery much amazed at this, and arter lookin' F 3 among the litter, and up in the loft, and vere not, they opens the corn-chest, and finds that he'd been and chalked his vill inside the lid, so the lid wos obligated to be took off the hinges, and sent up to Doctors' Commons to be proved, and under that ere wery instru- ment this here lantern was passed to Tony Veller ; vich circumstarnce mum, gives it a wally in my eyes, and makes me rekvest, if you will be so kind, as to take partickler care on it." SAM'S STORY OF THE BARBER. " I never knew," said Sam, fixing his eyes in a ruminative manner upon the blushing barber, " I never knew but vun o' your trade, but he was vorth a dozen, and was in- deed dewoted to his callin' ! " " Both," re- plied Sam, " easy shavin' was his natur', and cuttin' and curlin' was his pride and glory. His whole delight wos in his trade. He spent all his money in bears, and run in debt for 'em besides, and these was a growling avay down in the front cellar all day long, and ineffectooally gnashin' their teeth vile the grease o' their relations and friends wos being re-tailed in gallipots in the shop above, and the first-floor-vindow wos ornamented 159 vith their heads, not to speak o' the dreadful aggrawation it must have been to 'em to see a man alvays a walkin' up and down the pavement outside, vith a portrait of a bear in his last agonies, and underneath in large letters, 'Another fine animal was slaughtered yesterday at Jenkinson's ! ' Hows'ever, there they wos, and there Jenkinson wos, till he was took wery ill with some in'ard disorder, lost the use of his legs, and was confined to his bed, vere he lay a wery long time ; but sich wos his pride in his profession, even then, that vhenever he wos vorse than usual the doctor used to go down stairs and say, ' Jenkinson's wery low this mornin' ; we must give the bears a stir,' and as sure as ever they stirred 'em up a bit and made 'em roar, Jenkinson opens his eyes, if he wos ever so bad, calls out, 'There's the bears,' and rewives agin." "Not a bit," said Sam, "human natur" neat as imported. Vun day the doctor happenin' to say, ' I shall look in as usual to-morrow mornin',' Jenkinson catches hold of his hand and says, ' Doctor,' he says, vill you grant me one favour ?' ' I vill, Jenkin- son,' says the doctor. ' Then, doctor,' says Jenkinson, ' vill you come unshaved, and let me shave you ? ' I vill,' says the doctor. i6o ' God bless you,' says Jenkinson. Next day the doctor come, and arter he'd been shaved all skilful and reglar, he says, ' Jenkinson,' he says, ' it's wery plain this does you good. ' Now,' he says, ' I've got a coachman as has got a beard that it 'ud warm your heart to work on, and though the footman,' he says, ' hasn't got much of a beard, still he's a try- ing it on vith a pair o' viskers to that extent that razors is Christian charity. If they take it in turns to mind the carriage when it's a waitin' below,' he says, ' wot's to hinder you from operatin' on both of 'em ev'ry day as well as upon me ? You've got six children,' he says, ' wot's to hinder you from shavin' all their heads and keepin' 'em shaved ? You've got two assistants in the shop down stairs, wot's to hinder you from cuttin' and curlin' them as often as you like ? Do this,' he says and you're a man agin'. Jenkinson squeedged the doctor's hand and begun that wery day, he kept his tools upon the bed, and wenever he felt his-self gettin' vorse, he turned to at vun o' the children who was a runnin' about the house vith heads like clean Dutch cheeses, and shaved him agin. Vun day the lawyer come to make his vill, all the time he wos a takin' it down, Jenkinson was secretly a clippin' avay at his hair vith a large pair of scissors. ' Wot's that 'ere snippin noise ? ' says the lawyer, every now and then ; ' its like a man havin' his hair cut.' ' It ts wery like a man havin' his hair cut,' says poor Jenkinson, hidin' the scissors, and lookin' quite innocent. By the time the lawyer found it out he wos wery nearly bald. Jenkinson wos kept alive in this vay for a long time, but at last vun day he has in all the children vun arter another, shaves each on 'em wery clean, and gives him vun kiss on the crown o' his head ; then he has in the two assistants, and arter cuttin' and curlin' of 'em in the first style of elegance, says he should like to hear the woice o' the greasiest bear, vich rekvest is immediately complied vith ; then he says that he feels wery happy in his mind and vishes to be left alone ; and then he dies, previously cuttin' his own hair and makin' one flat curl in the wery middle of his forehead." OLD WELLER'S FEAR OF GOING TOO FAR. Mr. Weller conveyed a whispered inquiry to his son whether he had gone " too fur." " What do you mean by too fur ? " de- manded Sam. " In that 'ere little compli- 162 ment respectin' the want of hock'erdness in ladies, Sammy," replied his father. " You don't think she's fallen in love vith you in consekens o' that, do you?" said Sam. " More unlikelier things have come to pass, my boy," replied Mr. Weller in a hoarse whisper ; " I'm always afeerd of inadwertent captiwation, Sammy. If I know'd how to make myself ugly or unpleasant, I'd do it, Samivel, rayther than live in this here state of perpetwal terror ! " Mr. WELLER'S WATCH. " I don't think," said Sam, who was smoking with great composure and enjoyment, "that if the lady wos agreeable it ! ud be wery far out o' the vay for us four to make up a club of our own like the governor's does up-stairs, and let him," Sam pointed with the stem of his pipe towards his parent, " be the presi- dent."" That," said Mr. Weller, laying it on the table with its face upwards, " is the title and emblem o' this here society. Sammy reach them two stools this vay for the wacant cheers. Ladies and gentlemen Mr. Welter's watch is vound up and now a goin'. Order." By way of enforcing this proclamation, Mr. Weller, using the watch after the manner of a president's hammer, and remarking with great pride that nothing hurt it, and that falls and concussions of all kinds materially en- hanced the excellence of the works and assisted the regulator, knocked the table a great many times, and declared the associa- tion formally constituted. "And don't let's have no grinnin' at the cheer, Samivel," said Mr. Weller to his son, " or I shall be com- mittin' you to the cellar, and then p'r'aps we may get into what the Merrikins call a fix, and the English a question o' privileges." SAM'S STORY OF THE HAIRDRESSER. " We wos talking jist now, sir," said Sam, turning to Slithers, " about barbers. Pur- suing that 'ere fruitful theme, sir, I'll tell you in a wery few words a romantic little story about another barber as p'r'aps you may never have heerd." " Samivel ! " said Mr. Weller, again bringing his watch and the table into smart collision, " address your obserwations to the cheer, sir, and not to priwate indiwiduals. Besides vich don't call him barber, call him hairdresser." " Well, but suppose he wasn't a hairdresser," sug- gested Sam. " Wy, then, sir, be parliamen- tary and call him vun all the more," returned 164 his father. " In the same vay as ev'ry gen'lman in another place is a honourable, ev'ry barber in this place is a hairdresser. Ven you read the speeches in the papers, and see as vun gen'lman says of another, ' the honourable member, if he vill allow me to call him so,' you vill understand, sir, that that means, ' if he vill allow me to keep up that 'ere pleasant and uniwersal fiction.' " "Here 's the story," said Sam. "Vunce upon a time there wos a young hairdresser as opened a wery smart little shop vith four wax dummies in the winder, two gen'lmen and two ladies the gen'lmen vith dots for their beards, wery large viskers, oudacious heads of hair, un- common clear eyes, and nostrils of amazin' pinkness ; the ladies vith their heads o' one side, their right forefingers on their lips, and their forms deweloped beautiful, in vich last respect they had the adwantage over the gen'lmen, as wasn't allowed but werry little shoulder, and terminated rather abrupt in fancy drapery. He had also a many hair- brushes and tooth-brushes bottled up in the winder, neat glass-cases on the counter, a floor-clothed cuttin'-room up-stairs, and a weighin' macheen in the shop, right opposite the door. But the great attraction and orna- i6 5 ment wos the dummies, which this here young hairdresser wos constantly a runnin' out in the road to look at, and constantly a runnin' in agin to touch up and polish ; in short, he wos so proud on 'em, that ven Sunday came, he wos always wretched and mis'rable to think they wos behind the shutters, and looked anxiously for Monday on that account. Vun o' these dummies wos a fav'rite vith him beyond the others ; and ven any of his acquaintance asked him wy he didn't get married as the young ladies he know'd in partickler often did he used to say, Never ! ' I never vill enter into the bonds of vedlock,' he says, ' until I meet vith a young 'ooman as realises my idea o' that 'ere fairest dummy vith the light hair.' All the young ladies he know'd as had got dark hair told him this wos wery sinful, and that he was wurshippin' a idle ; but them as wos at all near the same shade as the dummy coloured up wery much, and wos observed to think him a wery nice young man." " Samivel," said Mr. Weller, gravely, " a member o' this associashun bein' one o' that ere tender sex which is now im- medetly referred to, I have to rekvest that you vill make no reflections." " I ain't a makin' any, am I ? " inquired Sam. " Order, sir ! " i66 rejoined Mr. Weller, with severe dignity. Then sinking the chairman in the father, he added in his usual tone : " Samivel, drive on ! " " The young hairdresser hadn't been in the habit o' makin' this avowal above six months, ven he encountered a young lady as wos the wery picter o' the fairest dummy. ' Now,' he says, ' it's all up. I am a slave ! ' The young lady wos not only the picter o' the fairest dummy, but she was wery romantic, as the young hairdresser was too, and he says, ' O ! ' he says, ' here's a community o' feelin', here's a flow o' soul !' he says, ' here's a interchange o' sentiment.' The young lady didn't say much o' course, but she expressed herself agreeable, and shortly artervards vent to see him vith a mutual friend. The hair- dresser rushes out to meet her, but d'rectly she sees the dummies she changes colour and falls a tremblin' wiolently. 'Look up, my love,' says the hairdresser, ' behold your imige in my winder, but not correcter than in my art!' ' My imige!' she says. 'Yourn ! ' replies the hairdresser. ' But whose imige is that ? ' she says, a pinting at vun o' the gen'lmen, ' No vuns, my love,' he says, ' it is but a idea.' ' A idea ! ' she cries, ' it is a portrait, I feel it is a portrait, and that 'ere i6 7 noble face must be in the millingtary. 'Wot do I hear ! ' says he, a crumplin' his curls. ' Villiam Gibbs,' she says, quite firm, ' Never renoo the subject. I respect you as a friend,' she says, ' but my affections is set upon that manly brow.' 'This,' says the hairdresser, ' is a reg'lar blight, and in it I perceive the hand of Fate. Farevell ! ' Vith these words he rushes into the shop, breaks the dummy's nose vith a blow of his curlin'-irons, melts him down at the parlour door, and never smiles artervards." "Why, ma'am," said Sam, " finding that Fate had a spite agin her, and everybody she come into contact vith, she never smiled neither, but read a deal o' poetry and pined avay, by rayther slow degrees, for she ain't dead yet. It took a deal o' poetry to kill the hairdresser, and some people say arter all that it was more the gin and water as caused him to be run over ; pVaps it was a little o' both and came o' mixing the two." OLD WELLER MISTRUSTS THE BARBER. " Sammy," said Mr. Weller, " I mistrust that barber." "Wot for?" returned Sam. " Wot's he got to do with you ? You're a nice man you are, arter pretendin' all kinds 1 68 o' terror, to go a payin' compliments and talkin' about hearts and piercers." " Wos I a talkin' about hearts and piercers, wos I though, Sammy, eh?" "Wos you? of course you wos." " She don't know no better, Sammy, there ain't no harm in it, no danger, Sammy, she's only a punster. She seemed pleased though, didn't she ? O' course she wos pleased, it's nat'ral she should be, wery nat'ral." "He's wain of it!" exclaimed Sam, joining in his father's mirth. " He's actually wain ! " " Hush! " replied Mr. Weller, com- posing his features, "they're a comin' back, the little heart's acomin' back. But mark these vords o' mine once more, and remember 'em ven your father says he said 'em, Samivel, I mistrust that 'ere deceitful barber." INTRODUCTION OF LITTLE TONY. " Good ev'nin' mum," said the older Mr. Weller, " I'm afeerd we've come in raytlier arter the time, mum, but the young colt, being full o' wice, has been a boltin' and shyin' and gettin' his leg over the traces to sich a extent that if he ain't wery soon broke in, he'll wex me into a broken heart, and then he'll never be brought out no more, except to learn his letters from the writin' on 169 his grandfather's tombstone." " There's a naughty boy, mum !" said Mr. Weller, burst- ing with delight, "there's a immoral Tony. Wos there ever a little chap o' four year and eight months old as vinked his eye at a strange lady afore ? " " It's in wain to deny it, mum," said Mr. Weller, " this 'ere is a boy arter his grandfather's own heart, and beats out all the boys as ever wos or will be. Though at the same time, mum," added Mr. Weller, trying to look gravely down on his favourite, " it wos wery wrong on him to vant to over all the posts as we come along, and wery cruel on him to force poor grand- father to lift him cross-legged over every vun of 'em. He wouldn't pass vun single blessed post, mum, and at the top o' the lane there's seven and forty on 'em all in a row, and wery close together." Here Mr. Weller, whose feelings were in a perpetual conflict between pride in his grandson's achievements and a sense of his own responsibility, and the importance of impressing his grandson with moral truths, burst into a fit of laughter, and suddenly checking himself, remarked in a severe tone that little boys as made their grandfathers put 'em over posts, never went to Heaven at any price. " Wy, mum," i yo said Mr. Weller, " I don't think you'll see a many sich, and that's the truth. But if my son Samivel vould give me my vay, mum, and only dispense vith his might I wenter to say the vurd ? " " Petticuts, mum," re- turned that gentleman, laying his hand upon the garments of his grandson, " If my son Samivel, mum, vould only dispense vith these here, you'd see such a alteration in his appearance, as the imagination cannot de- picter." " I've offered my son Samivel, mum, agen and agen," returned the old gen- tleman, " to purwide him, at my own cost, vith a suit o' clothes as 'ud be the makin' on him, and form his mind in infancy for those pursuits as I hope the family o' the Vellers vill alvays dewote themselves to. Tony, my boy, tell the lady wot them clothes are, as grandfather says, father ought to let you vear." " A little white hat and a little sprig weskit and little knee cords and little top boots, and a little green coat with little bright buttons, and a little welwet collar," replied Tony, with great readiness and no stops. " That's the cos-toom, mum," said Mr. Weller, " once make sich a model on him as that, and you'd say he wos a angel ! " LITTLE TONY ANSWERS THE HOUSE- KEEPER. " One brother and no sister at all," replied Tony. " Sam his name is, and so's my father's. Do you know my father? " " Is my father fond of you ? " pursued Tony. Tony considered a moment and then said, "Is my grandfather fond of you ? " Mr. Weller took upon himself to say he was very fond of the lady. MAKING GAME OF GRANDFATHER. " It's wery wrong in little boys to make game o' their grandfathers, ain't it, mum ? " said Mr. Weller. " There is vun young Turk, mum," said Mr. Weller, " as havin' seen his grandfather a little overcome vith drink on the occasion of a friend's birthday, goes a reelin' and staggerin' about the house, and makin' believe that he's the old gen'l- m'n." " Yes, mum," said Mr. .Weller, " and previously to so doin', this here young traitor, that I'm a speakin' of, pinches his little nose to make it red, and then he gives a hiccup and says, ' I'm all right,' he says ; 'give us another song ! Ha, ha ! Give us another song,' he says. ' Ha, ha, ha! ' " Little Tony 172 kicked up his legs, and laughing immoder- ately, cried, " That was me, that was." THE WATCH-BOX BOY. "No, Tony, not you," said Mr. Weller. " I hope it warn't you, Tony. It must ha' been that 'ere naughty little chap as comes some- times out o' the empty watch-box round the corner that same little chap as wos found standing on the table afore the looking glass, pretending to shave himself vith a oyster- knife. " Not he, mum," said Mr. Weller proudly 5 " bless your heart, you might trust that ere boy vith a steam-engine a'most, he's such a knowin' young" but suddenly recollecting himself, and observing that Tony perfectly understood and appreci- ated the compliment, the old gentleman groaned and observed that, " it wos all wery shockin', wery." " O, he's a bad 'un," said Mr. Weller, " is that 'ere watch-box boy, makin' such a noise and litter in the back yard, he does, waterin' wooden horses, and feedin' of 'em vith grass, and perpetivally spillin' his little brother out of a veel-barrow, and frightenin' his mother out of her vits, at the wery moment wen she's expectin' to increase his stock of happiness vith another 173 play -fellow, O, he's a bad un. He's even gone so far as to put on a pair o' paper spectacles as he got his father to make for him, and walk up and down the garden vith his hands behind him, in imitation o' Mr. Pick- wick, but Tony don't do sich things, O no ! " " O no ! " echoed Tony. " He knows better, he does," said Mr. Weller. " He knows that if he wos to come sich games as these nobody wouldn't love him, and that his grandfather in particular couldn't abear the sight of him ; for vich reasons Tony's always good." " Always good," echoed Tony. OLD WELLER ON MASTER HUMPHREY'S DEATH. " And the sweet old creetur", sir," said the elder Mr. Weller, " has bolted. Him as had no wice, and was so free from temper that a infant might ha' drove him, has been took at last with that 'ere unawoidable fit o' staggers as we all must come to, and gone off his feed for ever. I see, him," said the old gentle- man, with moisture in his eye, which could not be mistaken ; " I see him gettin' every journey, more and more groggy ; I says to 174 Samivel, ' My Boy ! the grey's a goin' at the knees ;' and now my predictions is fatally werified, and him as I could never do enough to serve or show my likin' for, is up the great uniwersal spout o' natur." Drydcti Press : J. 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