THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Ralph Fre\jd
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. BARNARD. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 JOHN WURTELE LOVELL, 
 
 No. 24 Bond Street.
 
 ll-^ 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 What is exaggeration to one class of minds and percep- 
 tions, is plain truth to another. That which is commonly 
 called a long-sight, perceives in a prospect innumerable 
 features and bearings non-existent to a short-sighted person. 
 I sometnnes ask myself whether there may occasionally be a 
 difference of this kind between some writers and some readers ; 
 whether it is always the writer who colors highly, or whether 
 it is now and then the reader whose eye for color is a little 
 dull t 
 
 On this head of exaggeration I have a positive experience, 
 more curious than the speculation I have just set down. It 
 is this : — I hav'e never touched a character precisely from the 
 life, but some counterpart of that character has incredulously 
 asked me : " Now really, did I ever really, see one like it ? " 
 
 All the Pecksniff family upon earth are quite agreed, I 
 believe, that Mr. Pecksniff is an exaggeration, and that no 
 such character ever existed. I will not offer any plea on his 
 behalf to so powerful and genteel a body, but will make a 
 remark on the character of Jonas Chuzzlewit. 
 
 I conceive that the sordid coarseness and brutality of 
 Jonas would be unnatural, if there had been nothing in his 
 early education, and in the precept and example always before 
 him, to engender and develop the vices that make him odious. 
 But, so born and so bred ; admired for that which made him 
 hateful, and justified from his cradle in cunning, treachery, 
 and avarice ; I claim him as the legitimate issue of the father 
 upon whom those vices are seen to recoil. And I submit that 
 their recoil upon that old man, in his unhonnred age, is not a 
 mere piece of poetical justice, but is the extreme exposition 
 of a direct truth. 
 
 I make this comment and solicit the reader's attention to 
 it in his or her consideration of this tale, because nothing is 
 more common in real life than a want of profitable refiection 
 on the causes of many vices and crimes that awaken general 
 horror. What is substantially true of families in this respect,
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 is true of a whole commonwealth. As we sow, we reap. Let 
 the reader go into the children's side of any prison in England, 
 or, I grieve to add, of many workhouses, and judge whether 
 those are monsters who disgrace our streets, people our hulks 
 and penitentiaries, and overcrowd our penal colonies, or are 
 creatures whom we have deliberately suffered to be bred for 
 misery and ruin. 
 
 The American portion of this story is in no other respect 
 a caricature, than as it is an exhibition, for the most part 
 (Mr. Bevan excepted), of a ludicrous side, only^ of the Ameri- 
 can character — of that side which was, four and twenty years 
 ago, from its nature, the most obtrusive, and the most likely 
 to be seen by such travellers as Young Martin and Mark 
 Tapley. As 1 had never, in writing fiction, had any disposi- 
 tion to soften what is ridiculous or wrong at home, so I then 
 hoped that the good-humored people of the United States 
 would not be generally disposed to quarrel with me for carry- 
 ing the same usage abroad. I am happy to believe that my 
 confidence in that great nation was not misplaced. 
 
 When this book was first published, I was given to under- 
 stand, by some authorities, that the watertoast Association 
 and eloquence were beyond all bounds of belief. Therefore, 
 I record the fact that all that portion of Martin Chuzzlewit's 
 experiences is a literal paraphrase of some reports of public 
 proceedings in the United States (especially of the proceed- 
 ings of a certain Brandywine Association), which were printed 
 in the Times newspaper in June and July, 1843, ''■^ about the 
 time when I was engaged in writing those parts of the book ; 
 and which remain on the file of the Times newspaper, of 
 course. 
 
 In all my writings, I hope I have taken every available 
 opportunity of showing the want of sanitary improvements in 
 the neglected dwellings of the poor. Mrs. Sarah Gamp was, 
 four and twenty years ago, a fair representation of the hired 
 attendant on the poor in sickness. The hospitals of London 
 were, in many respects, noble institutions ; in others, very 
 defective. I think it not the least among the instances of 
 their mismanagement, that Mrs. Betsy Prig was a fair speci- 
 men of a hospital nurse ; and that the hospitals, with their 
 means and funds, should have left it to private humanity and 
 enterprise to enter on an attempt to improve that class of 
 persons — since, greatly improved through the agency of good 
 women.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PACE. 
 
 I. Introductory, concerning the pedigree of the Chuz- 
 
 zlewit family 7 
 
 II. Wherein certain persons are presented to the reader, 
 with whom he may, if he pleases, become better 
 acquainted 13 
 
 III. In which certain other persons are introduced; on 
 
 the same terms as in the last chapter 31 
 
 IV. From which it will appear that if union be strength, 
 
 and family affection be pleasant to contemplate, the 
 Chuzzlewits- were the strongest and most agreeable 
 
 family in the world 49 
 
 V. Containing a full account of the installation of Mr. 
 Pecksniff's new pupil into the bosom of Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's family, with all the festivities held on that 
 occasion, and the great enjoyment of Mr. Pinch.. . 69 
 VI. Comprises, among other important matters, Peck- 
 sniffian and architectural, an exact relation of the 
 progress made by Mr. Pinch in the confidence and 
 
 friendship of the new pupil 91 
 
 VII. In which Mr. Chevy Slyme asserts the independence 
 
 of his spirit, and the Blue Dragon loses a limb.. . . 106 
 VIII. Accompanies Mr. Pecksniff and his charming daugh- 
 ters to the city of London ; and relates what fell 
 
 out, upon their way thither 123 
 
 IX. Town and Todgers's 134 
 
 X. Containing strange matter; on which many events in 
 this history may, for their good or evil influence, 
 
 chiefly depend 161 
 
 XI. Wherein a certain gentleman becomes particular in 
 his attentions to a certain ladv ; and more coming 
 
 events than one, cast their shadows before 17G 
 
 XII. Will be seen in the long run, if not in the short one, 
 
 3
 
 ^ CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAl'. PAGB. 
 
 to concern Mr. Pinch and others, nearly. Mr. 
 Pecksniff asserts the dignity of outraged virtue. 
 Young Martin Chuzzlewit forms a desperate resolu- 
 tion 1 98 
 
 XIII. Showing what became of Martin and his desperate 
 
 resolve after he left Mr. Pecksniff's house ; what 
 persons he encountered ; what anxieties he suf- 
 fered ; and what news he heard 219 
 
 XIV. In which Martin bids adieu to the lady of his love; 
 
 and honors an obscure individual whose fortune he 
 intends to make, by commending her to his protec- 
 tion 240 
 
 XV. The burden whereof is, hail, Columbia ! 251 
 
 XVI. Martin disembarks from that noble and fast-sailing- 
 line-of-packet ship, the Screw, at the port of New 
 York, in the United States of America. He makes 
 some acquaintances, and dines at a boarding-house. 
 
 The particulars of those transactions 261 
 
 XVII. Martin enlarges his circle of acquaintance ; increases 
 his stock of wisdom ; and has an excellent oppor- 
 tunity of comparing his own experiences with those 
 of I.ummy Ned of the Light Salisbury, as related 
 
 by his friend Mr. William Simmons 283 
 
 XVIII. Does business with the house of Anthony Chuzzlewit 
 and son, from which one of the partners retires un- 
 expectedly 303 
 
 XIX. The reader is brought into communication with some 
 professional persons, and sheds a tear over the 
 
 filial piety of good Mr. Jonas 314 
 
 XX. Is a chapter of love 330 
 
 XXI. More American experiences. Martin takes a partner, 
 and makes a purchase. Some account of Eden, as 
 it appeared on paper. Also of the British Lion. 
 Also of the kind of sympathy professed and enter- 
 tained by the Watertoast Association of United 
 Sympathizers 345 
 
 XXII. From which it will be seen that Martin became a 
 lion on his own account. Together with the reason 
 why 366 
 
 XXIII. Martin and his partner take possession of their 
 
 estate. The joyful occasion involves some further 
 account of Eden 377 
 
 XXIV. Reports progress in certain homely matters of love, 
 
 hatred, jealousy, and revenge 387 
 
 XXV. Is in part professional ; and furnishes the reader 
 with some valuable hints in relation to the manage- 
 ment of a sick chamber 404 
 
 XXVI. An unexpected meeting, and a promising prospect. . 420
 
 CONTENTS. • 5 
 
 CHAP. PAGE. 
 
 XXVII. Showing that old friends may not only appear with 
 
 new faces, but in false colors. That people are 
 prone to bite ; and that biters may sometimes be 
 bitten 429 
 
 XXVIII. Mr. Montague at home. And Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit 
 
 at home 451 
 
 XXIX. In which some people are precocious, others profes- 
 sional, and others mysterious : all in their sev- 
 eral ways 462 
 
 XXX. Proves that changes may be rung in the best-regu- 
 lated families, and that Mr. Pecksniff was a spec- 
 ial hand at a triple-bob-major 472 
 
 XXXI. Mr. Pinch is discharged of a duty which he never 
 
 owed to anybody ; and Mr. Pecksniff discharges 
 
 a duty which he owes to society .... 489 
 
 XXXII. Treats of Todgers's again ; and of another blight- 
 
 ed plant besides the plants upon the leads. .... 507 
 
 XXXIII. Further proceedings in Eden, and a proceeding 
 
 out of it. Martin makes a discovery of some 
 . importance 5^4 
 
 XXXIV. In which the travellers move homeward, and en- 
 
 counter some distinguished characters upon the 
 
 way 43 1 
 
 XXXV. Arriving in England, Martin witnesses a ceremony, 
 from which he derives the cheering information 
 that he has not been forgotten in his absence. . 548 
 XXXVI. Tom Pinch departs to seek his fortune. What he 
 
 finds at starting 555 
 
 XXXVII. Tom Pinch, going astray, finds that he is not the 
 only person in that predicament. He retaliates 
 
 upon a fallen foe 577 
 
 XXXVIII. Secret service 587 
 
 XXXIX. Containing some further particulars of the domes- 
 tic economy of the Pinches ; with strange news 
 
 from the city, narrowly concerning Tom 597 
 
 XL. The Pinches make a new acquaintance, and have 
 
 fresh occasion for surprise and wonder 615 
 
 XLI. Mr. Jonas and his friend arriving at a pleasant 
 
 understanding, set forth upon an enterprise. . . . C31 
 XLI I. Continuation of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas and 
 
 his friend 641 
 
 XLIII. Has an influence on the fortunes of several peo- 
 ple. Mr. Pecksniff is exhibited in the plenitude 
 of power, and wields the same with fortitude 
 
 and magnanimity 651 
 
 XLIV. Further continuation of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas 
 
 and his friend 673 
 
 XLV. In which Tom Pinch and his sister take a little
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGB. 
 
 pleasure ; but quite in a domestic \*ay, and with 
 
 no ceremony about it . 6S3 
 
 XLVI. In which Miss Pecksniff makes love, Mr. Jonas 
 makes wrath, Mrs. Gamp makes tea, and Mr. 
 
 Chuffey makes business 693 
 
 XLVI I. Conclusion of the enterprise of Mr. Jonas and his 
 
 friend 716 
 
 XLVIII. Bears tidings of Martin, and of Mark, as well as 
 of a third person not quite unknown to the 
 reader. Exhibits filial piety in an ugly aspect; 
 and casts a doubtful ray of light upon a very 
 
 dark place 725 
 
 XLIX. In which Mrs. Harris, assisted by a teapot, is the 
 
 cause of a division between friends 742 
 
 L. Surprises Tom Pinch very much, and shows how 
 certain confidences passed between him and 
 
 his sister 757 
 
 LI. Sheds new and brighter light upon the very dark 
 place ; and contains the sequel of the enterprise 
 
 of Mr. Jonas and his friend 768 
 
 LI I. In which the tables are turned completely upside 
 
 down 790 
 
 LIII. What John Westlock said to Tom Pinch's sister; 
 
 what Tom Pinch's sister said to John Westlock; 
 
 what Tom Pinch said to both of them ; and 
 
 how they all passed the remainder of the day. . 810 
 
 LIV. Gives the author great concern. For it is the last 
 
 in the book 820
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY, CONCERNING THE PEDIGREE OF THE CHUZ- 
 ZLEWIT FAMILY. 
 
 As no lady or gentleman, with any claims to polite breeding, 
 can possibly sympathize with the Chuzzlewit Family without 
 being first assured of the extreme antiquity of the race, it is 
 a great satisfaction to know that it undoubtedly descended in 
 a direct line from Adam and Eve ; and was, in the very earliest 
 times, closely connected with the agricultural interest. If it 
 should ever be urged by grudging and malicious persons, that a 
 Chuzzlewit, in any period of the family histoiy, displayed an 
 overweening amount of family pride, surely the weakness will 
 be considered not only pardonable but laudable, when the 
 immense superiority of the house to the rest of mankind, in 
 respect of this its ancient origin, is taken into account. 
 
 It is remarkable that as there was, in the oldest family of 
 which we have any record, a murderer and a vagabond, so we 
 never fail to meet, in the records of all old families, with innu- 
 merable repetitions of the same phase of character. Indeed, 
 it may be laid down as a general principle, that the more ex- 
 tended the ancestry, the greater the amount of violence and 
 vagabondism ; for in ancient days, those two amusements, com- 
 bining a wholesome excitement with a ])romising means of re-
 
 8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 pairing shattered fortunes, were at once the ennobhng pursuit 
 and the heaUhfuI recreation of the QuaUty of this land. 
 
 Consequently, it is a source of inexpressible comfort and 
 happiness to find, that in various periods of our history, the 
 Chuzzlewits were actively connected with divers slaughterous 
 conspiracies and bloody frays. It is further recorded of them, 
 that being clad from head to heel in steel of proof, they did 
 on many occasions lead their leather-jerkined soldiers to the 
 death, with invincible courage, and afterwards return home 
 gracefully to their relations and friends. 
 
 There can be no doubt that at least one Chuzzlewit came 
 over with William the Conqueror. It does not appear that 
 this illustrious ancestor " came over " that monarch, to em- 
 ploy the vulgar phrase, at any subsequent period ; inasmuch 
 as the Family do not seem to have been ever greatly distin- 
 guished by the possession of landed estate. And it is well 
 known that for the bestowal of that kind of property upon his 
 favorites, the liberality and gratitude of the Norman were 
 as remarkable, as those virtues are usually found to be in 
 great men when they give away what belongs to other people. 
 
 Perhaps in this place the history may pause to congratu- 
 late itself upon the enormous amount of braver}^ wisdom, elo- 
 quence, virtue, gentle birth, and true nobility, that appears to 
 have come into England with the Norman Invasion ; an 
 amount which the genealogy of every ancient family lends its 
 aid to swell, and which would beyond all question have been 
 found to be just as great, and to the full as prolific in giving 
 birth to long lines of chivalrous descendants, boastful of their 
 origin, even though William the Conqueror had been William 
 the Conquered, a change of circumstances which, it is quite 
 certain, would have made no manner of difference in this re- 
 spect. 
 
 There was unquestionably a Chuzzlewit in the Gunpowder 
 Plot, if indeed the arch-traitor, Fawkes himself, were not a 
 scion of this remarkable stock, as he might easily have been, 
 supposing another Chuzzlewit to have emigrated to Spain in 
 the previous generation, and there intermarried with a Spanish 
 lady, by whom he had issue, one olive-complexioned |on. This 
 probable conjecture is strengthened, if not absolutely confirmed, 
 by a fact which cannot fail to be interesting to those who are 
 curious in tracing the progress of hereditary tastes through the 
 lives of their unconscious inheritors. It is a notable circum- 
 stance that in these later times, many Chuzzlewits, being
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. g 
 
 unsuccessful in other pursuits, have, without the smallest 
 rational hope of enrichin*^ themselves, or any conceivable rea- 
 son, set up as coal-merchants ; and have, month after month, 
 continued gloomily to watch a small stock of coals without 
 in any one instance negotiating with a purchaser. The re- 
 markable similarity between this course of proceeding and 
 that adopted by their Great Ancestor beneath the vaults of the 
 Parliament House at Westminster, is too obvious and too full 
 of interest, to stand in need of comment. 
 
 It is also clearly proved by the oral traditions of the 
 Family, that there existed, at some one period of its histojy 
 which is not distinctly stated, a matron of such destructive 
 principles, and so familiarized to the use and composition of 
 inflammatory and combustible engines, that she was called 
 "The Match Maker : " by which nickname and byword she is 
 recognized in the Family legends to this day. Surely there 
 can be no reasonable doubt that this was the Spanish lady, the 
 mother of Chuzzlewit Fawkes. 
 
 But there is one other piece of evidence, bearing immedi- 
 ate reference to their close connection with this memorable 
 event in English Flistory, which must carry conviction, even 
 to a mind (if such a mind there be) remaining unconvinced by 
 these presumptive proofs. 
 
 There was, within a few years, in the possession of a 
 highly respectable and in every way credible and unimpeach- 
 able member of the Chuzzlewit Family (for his Bitterest enemy 
 never dared to huit at his being otherwise than a wealthy 
 man), a dark lantern of undoubted antiquity ; rendered still 
 more interesting by being, in shape and pattern, extremely like 
 such as are in use at the present day. Now this gentleman, 
 since deceased, was at all times ready to make oath, and did 
 again and again set forth upon his solemn asseveration, that he 
 ■ hadfrequently heard his grandmother say, when contemplating 
 this venerable relic, "Ay, ay ! This was carried by my fourth 
 son on the fifth of November, when he was a Guy Fawkes." 
 These remarkable words wrought (as well they might) a strong 
 impression on his mind, and he was in the habit of repeating 
 them very often. The just interpretation which they bear, 
 and the conclusion to which they lead, are triumphant and 
 irresistible. The old lady, naturally strong-minded, was nev- 
 ertheless frail and fading ; she was notoriously subject to 
 that confusion of ideas, or, to say the least, of speech, to which 
 age and garrulity are liable. The slight, the ver^' slight con-
 
 I o MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 fusion, apparent in these expressions, is manifest and is ludic- 
 rously easy of correction. " Ay, ay," quoth she, and it will 
 be observed that no emendation whatever is necessary to be 
 made in these two initiative remarks, " Ay, ay ! This lan- 
 tern was carried by my forefather " — not fourth son, which 
 is preposterous — " on the fifth of November. And he was 
 Guy Fawkes." Here we have a remark at once consistent, 
 clear, natural, and in strict accordance with the character 
 of the speaker. Indeed the anecdote is so plainly suscepti- 
 ble of this meaning, and no other, that it would be hardly 
 worth recording in its original state, were it not a proof of 
 what may be (and very often is) affected not only in histor- 
 ical prose but in imaginative poetr}', by the exercise of a 
 little ingenious labor on the part of a commentator. 
 
 It has been said that there is no instance in modern 
 times, of a Chuzzlewit having been found on terms of inti- 
 macy with the Great. But here again the sneering detractors 
 who weave such miserable figments from their malicious 
 brains, are stricken dumb by evidence. For letters are yet in 
 the possession of various branches of the family, from which 
 it distinctly appears, being stated in so many words, that one 
 Diggory Chuzzlewit was in the habit of perpetually dining 
 with Duke Humphrey. So constantly was he a guest at that 
 nobleman's table, indeed, and so unceasingly were His Grace's 
 hospitality and companionship forced, as it were, upon him, 
 that we find him uneasy, and full of constraint and reluc- 
 tance : writing his friends to the effect that if they fail to do so 
 and so by bearer, he will have no choice but to dine again 
 with Duke Humphrey ; and expressing himself in a very 
 marked and extraordinary manner as one surfeited of high 
 Life and Gracious Company. 
 
 It has been rumored, and it is needless to say the 
 rumor originated in the same base quarters, that a certain 
 male Chuzzlewit, whose birth must be admitted to be in- 
 volved in some obscurity, was of very mean and low de- 
 scent. How stands the proof? When the son of that in- 
 dividual, to whom the secret of his father's birth was sup- 
 posed to have been communicated by his father in his 
 lifetime, lay upon his deathbed, this question was put to him 
 in a distinct, solemn and formal way : Toby Chuzzlewit, who 
 was your grandfather ? To which he, with his last breath, no 
 less distinctly, solemnly, and formally replied — and his words 
 were taken down at the time, and signed by six witnesses 
 each with his name and address in full — " The Lord No Zoo."
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. II 
 
 It may be said — it has been said, for human wickedness has 
 no limits — that there is no lord of that name, and that among 
 the titles which have become extinct, none at all resembling 
 this, in sound even, is to be discovered. But what is the irre- 
 sistible inference ? — Rejecting a theory broached by some 
 well-meaning but mistaken persons, that this Mr. Toby Chuz- 
 zlewit's grandfather, to judge from his name, must surely have 
 been a Mandarin (which is wholly insupportable, for there is 
 no pretence of his grandmother ever having been out of this 
 countrjr, or of any Mandarin having been in it within some 
 years of his father's birth, except those in the tea-shops, which 
 cannot for a moment be regarded as having any bearing on 
 the question, one way or other), rejecting this hypothesis, is it 
 not manifest that Mr. Toby Chuzzlewit had either received 
 the name imperfectly from his father, or that he had forgotten 
 it, or that he had mispronounced it ? and that even at the 
 recent period in question, the Chuzzlewits were connected by 
 a bend sinister, or kind of heraldic over-the-left, with some 
 unknown noble and illustrious House .'' 
 
 From documentary evidence, yet preserved in the family, 
 the fact is clearly established that in the comparatively modern 
 days of the Diggory Chuzzlewit before mentioned, one of its 
 members had attained to very great wealth and influence. 
 Throughout such fragments of his correspondence as have 
 escaped the ravages of the moths (who, in right of their exten- 
 sive absorption of the contents of deeds and papers, may be 
 called the general registers of the Insect World), we find him 
 making constant reference to an uncle, in respect of whom he 
 would seem to have entertained great expectations, as he 
 was in the habit of seeking to propitiate his favor by presents 
 of plate, jewels, books, watches, and other valuable articles. 
 Thus, he writes on one occasion to his brother in reference 
 to a gravy-spoon, the brother's property, which he (Diggory) 
 would appear to have borrowed or otherwise possessed him- 
 self of : " Do not be angry, I have parted with it — to my uncle." 
 On another occasion he expresses himself in a similar manner 
 with regard to a child's mug which had been entrusted to him 
 to get repaired. On another occasion he says, " I have be- 
 stowed upon that irresistible uncle of mine everything I ever 
 possessed." And that he was in the habit of paying long and 
 constant visits to this gentleman at his mansion, if, indeed, he 
 did not wholly reside there, is manifest from the following 
 sentence : " With the exception of the suit of clothes I carry
 
 12 MA J? TIA^ CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 about with me, the whole of my wearing apparel is at present at 
 my uncle's." This gentleman's patronage and influence must 
 have been very extensive, for his nephew writes, " His interest 
 is too high " — *' It is too much "' — " It is tremendous '' — and 
 the like. Still it does not appear (which is strange) to have 
 procured for him any lucrative post at court or elsewhere, or 
 to have conferred upon him any other distinction than that 
 which was necessarily included in the countenance of so great 
 a man, and the being invited by him to certain entertainments, 
 so splendid and costly in their nature that he calls them 
 " Golden Balls." 
 
 It is needless to multiply instances of the high and lofty sta- 
 tion, and the vast importance of the Chuzzlevvits, at different 
 periods. If it came within the scope of reasonable probability 
 that further proofs were required, they might be heaped upon 
 each other until they formed an Alps of testimony, beneath 
 which the boldest skepticism should be crushed and beaten flat. 
 As a goodly tumulus is already collected, and decently batten- 
 ed up above the Family grave, the present chapter is content to 
 leave it as it is ; merely adding, by way of a final spadeful, that 
 many Chuzzlewits, both male and female, are proved to demon- 
 stration, on the faith of letters written by their own mothers, to 
 have had chiselled noses, undeniable chins, forms that might 
 have served the sculptor for a model, exquisitely-turned limbs, 
 and polished foreheads of so transparent a texture that the 
 blue veins might be seen branching off in various directions, 
 like so many roads on an ethereal map. This fact in itself, 
 though it had been a solitary one, would have utterly settled 
 and clenched the busmess in hand ; for it is well known, on the 
 authority of all the books which treat of such matters, that 
 everyone of these phenomena, but especially that of the chisel- 
 ling, are invariably peculiar to, and only make themselves 
 apparent in, persons of the very best condition. 
 
 This history, having, to its own perfect satisfaction, (and, 
 consequently, to the full contentment of all its readers,) proved 
 the Chuzzlewits to have had an origin, and to have been at 
 one time or other of an importance which cannot fail to render 
 them highly improving and acceptable acquaintance to all right- 
 minded individuals, may now proceed in earnest with its task. 
 And having shown that they must have had, by reason of their 
 ancient birth, a pretty large share in the foundation and increase 
 of the human family, it will one day become its province to sub- 
 mit, that such of its members as shall be introduced in these
 
 MAR TTN C MUZZLE WTT. 1 3 
 
 pages, have still many counterparts and prototypes in the 
 Great World about us. At present it contents itself with 
 remarking, in a general way, on this head : Firstly, that it may 
 he safely asserted and yet without implying any direct partici- 
 pation in the Monboddo doctrine touching the probability of 
 the human race having once been monkeys, that men do play 
 very strange and extraordinary tricks. Secondly, and yet with- 
 out trenching on the Blumenbach theory as to the descendant 
 of Adam having a vast number of qualities which belong more 
 particularly to swine than to any other class of animals in the 
 creation, that some men certainly are remarkable for taking 
 uncommon good care of themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHEREIN CERTAIN PERSONS ARE PRESENTED TO THE READER, 
 WITH WHOISI HE MAY, IF HE PLEASES, BECOME BETTER 
 ACQUAINTED, 
 
 It was pretty late in the autumn of the year, when the de- 
 clining sun, struggling through the mist which had obscured 
 it all day, looked brightly down upon a little Wiltshire village 
 within an easy journey of the fair old town of Salisbur}'. 
 
 Like a sudden flash of memory or spirit kindling up the 
 mind of an old man, it shed a glory upon the scene, in which 
 its departed youth and freshness seemed to live again. The 
 wet grass sparkled in the light ; the scanty patches of verdure 
 in the hedges — where a few green twigs yet stood together 
 bravely, resisting to the last the tyranny of nipping winds and 
 early frosts — took heart and brightened up ; the stream which- 
 had been dull and sullen all day long, broke out into a cheer- 
 ful smile ; the birds began to chirp and twitter on the naked 
 boughs, as though the hopeful creatures half believed that 
 winter had gone by, and spring had come already. The vane 
 upon the tapering spire of the old church glistened from its 
 lofty station in sympathy with the general gladness ; and from 
 the ivy-shaded windows such gleams of light shone back upon 
 the glowing sky, that it seemed as if the quiet buildings were 
 the hoarding-place of twenty summers, and all their ruddiness 
 and warmth were stored within.
 
 14 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Even those tokens of the season which emphatically whis- 
 pered of the coming winter, graced the landscape, and, for 
 the moment, tinged its livelier features with no oppressive air 
 of sadness. The fallen leaves, with which the ground was 
 strewn, gave forth a pleasant fragrance, and subduing all 
 harsh sounds of distant feet and wheels, created a repose in 
 gentle unison with the light scattering of seed hither and 
 thither by the distant husbandman, and with the noiseless 
 passage of the plough as it turned up the rich brown earth, 
 and wrought a graceful pattern in the stubbled fields. On 
 the motionless branches of some trees, autumn berries hung 
 like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchards where 
 the fruits were jewels ; others, stripped of all their garniture, 
 stood each the centre of its little heap of bright red leaves, 
 watching their slow decay ; others again, still wearing theirs, 
 had them all crunched and crackled up, as though they had 
 been burnt ; about the stems of some were piled, in ruddy 
 mounds, the apples they had borne that year \ while others 
 (hardly evergreens this class) showed somewhat stern and 
 gloomy in their vigor, as charged by nature with the admoni- 
 tion that it is not to her more sensitive and joyous favorites 
 she grants the longest term of life. Still athwart their darker 
 boughs, the sunbeams struck out paths of deeper gold ; and 
 the red light, mantling in among their swarthy branches, used 
 them as foils to set its brightness off, and aid the lustre of the 
 dying day. 
 
 A moment, and its glory was no more. The sun went 
 down beneath the long dark lines of hill and cloud which piled 
 up in the west an airy city, wall heaped on wall, and battle- 
 ment on battlement ; the light was all withdrawn ; the shining 
 church turned cold and dark ; the stream forgot to smile ; the 
 birds were silent ; and the gloom of winter dwelt on every- 
 thing. 
 
 An evening wind uprose too, and the slighter branches 
 cracked and rattled as they moved, in skeleton dances, to its 
 moaning music. The withering leaves no longer quiet, hurried 
 to and fro in search of shelter from its chill pursuit ; the 
 laborer unyoked horses, and with his head bent down 
 trudged briskly home beside them ; and from the cottage 
 windows lights began to glance and wink upon the darkening 
 fields. 
 
 Then the village forge came out in all its bright impor- 
 tance. The lusty bellows roared Ha ha ! to the clear fire,
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 15 
 
 which roared in turn, and bade the shining sparks^ dance 
 gayly to the merry clinking of the hammers on the anvil The 
 gleaming iron, in its emulation, sparkled too, and shed its red- 
 hot gems around profusely. The strong smith and his men 
 dealt such strokes upon their work, as made even the melan- 
 choly night rejoice, and brought a glow into its dark face as it 
 hovered about the door and windows, peeping curiously in 
 above the shoulders of a dozen loungers. As to this idle 
 company, there they stood, spell-bound by the place, and, cast- 
 ing now and then a glance upon the darkness in their rear, 
 settled their lazy elbows more at ease upon the sill, and leaned 
 a little further in, no more disposed to tear themselves away 
 than if they had been born to cluster round the blazing hearth 
 like so many crickets. 
 
 Out upon the angry wind ! how from sighing, it began to 
 bluster round" the merry forge, banging at the wicket, and 
 grumbling in the chimney, as if it bullied the jolly bellows 
 for doing anything to order. And what an impotent swaggerer 
 it was too, for all its noise ; for if it had any infiuence on that 
 hoarse companion, it was but to make him roar his cheerful 
 song the louder, and by consequence to make the fire burn 
 the brighter, and the sparks to dance more gayly yet : at 
 length, they whizzed so madly round and round, that it was 
 too much for such a surly wind to bear ; so olT it flew 
 with a howl, giving the old sign before the ale-house door 
 such a cuff as it went, that the Blue Dragon was more ram- 
 pant than usual ever afterwards, and indeed, before Christ- 
 mas, reared clean out of its crazy frame. 
 
 It was small tyranny for a respectable wind to go wreaking 
 its vengeance on such poor creatures as the fallen leaves, but 
 this wind happening to come up with a great heap of them 
 just after venting its humor on the insulted Dragon, did so 
 disperse and scatter them that they tied away, pell-mell, some 
 here, some there, rolling over each other, whirling round and 
 round upon their thin edges, taking frantic flights into the air, 
 and playing all manner of extraordinary gambols in the 
 extremity of their distress. Nor was this enough for its 
 malicious fury ; for not content with driving them abroad, 
 it charged small parties of them and hunted them into the 
 wheelwright's saw-pit, and below the planks and timbers in 
 the yard, and scattering the sawdust in the air, it looked 
 for them underneath, and when it did meet with any, whew ! 
 how it drove them on and followed at their heels !
 
 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 The scared leaves only flew the faster for all this, and a 
 giddy chase it was ; for they got into unfrequented places, 
 where there was no outlet, and where their pursuer kept them 
 eddying round and round at his pleasure ; and they crept 
 under the eaves of houses, and clung tightly to the sides of 
 hay-ricks, like bats ; and tore in at open chamber windows, 
 and cowered close to hedges ; and in short went anywhere for 
 safety. But the oddest feat they achieved was, to take advan- 
 tage of the sudden opening of Mr. Pecksniff's front door, to 
 dash wildly into his passage ; whither the wind following close 
 upon them, and finding the back-door open, incontinent- 
 ly blew out the lighted candle held by Miss Pecksniff, and 
 slammed the front-door against Mr. Pecksniff who was at that 
 moment entering, with such violence, that in the twinkling of 
 an eye. he lay on his back at the bottom of the steps. Being 
 by this time weary of such trifling performances, the boister- 
 ous rover hurried away rejoicing, roaring over moor and 
 meadow, hill and flat, until it got out to sea, where it met 
 with other winds similarly disposed, and made a night of it. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Pecksniff, having received from a 
 sharp angle in the bottom step but one, that sort of knock on 
 the head which lights up, for the patient's entertainment, an 
 imaginary general illumination of very bright short-sixes, lay 
 placidly staring at his own street-door. And it would seem to 
 have been more suggestive in its aspect than street-doors usu- 
 ally are ; for he continued to lie there, rather a lengthy and 
 unreasonable time, without so much as wondering whether he 
 was hurt or no ; neither, when Miss Pecksniff inquired through 
 the key-hole in a shrill voice, which might have belonged to 
 a wind in its teens, " Who's there t " did he make any reply ; 
 nor, when Miss Pecksniff opened the door again, and shading 
 the candle with her hand, peered out, and looked provokingly 
 round him, and about him, and over him, and everywhere but 
 at him, did he offer any remark, or indicate in any manner the 
 least hint of a desire to be picked up. 
 
 " /see you," cried Miss Pecksniff, to the ideal inflicter of 
 a runaway knock. " You'll catch it, sir ! " 
 
 Still Air. Pecksniff, perhaps from having caught it already, 
 said nothing. 
 
 " You're round the corner now," cried Miss Pecksniff. 
 She said it at a venture, but there was appropriate matter in it 
 too ; for Mr. Pecksniff", being in the act of extinguishing the 
 candles before mentioned prettv rapidly, and of reducing the
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 n 
 
 number of brass knobs on his street-door from four or five 
 hundred (which had previously been juggling of their own 
 accord before his eyes in a very novel manner) to a dozen or 
 so, might in one sense have been said to be coming round the 
 corner, and just turning it. 
 
 With a sharply-delivered warning relative to the cage and 
 the constable, and the stocks and the gallows. Miss Pecksniff 
 was about to close the door again, when Mr. Pecksniff (being 
 still at the bottom of the steps) raised himself on one elbow 
 and sneezed. 
 
 " That voice ! " cried Miss Pecksniff. " My parent ! " 
 
 At this exclamation, another Miss Pecksniff bounced out 
 of the parlor, and the two Miss Pecksniffs, with many incohe- 
 rent expressions, dragged Mr. Pecksniff into an upright pos- 
 ture. 
 
 " Pa ! " they cried in concert. " Pa ! Speak, Pa ! Do 
 not look so wild, my dearest Pa ! " 
 
 But as a gentleman's looks, in such a case of all others, 
 are by no means under his own control, Mr. Pecksniff contin- 
 ued to keep his mouth and his eyes very wide open, and to 
 drop his lower jaw, somewhat after the manner of a toy nut- 
 cracker ; and as his hat had fallen off, and his face was pale, 
 and his hair erect, and his coat muddy, the spectacle he 
 presented was so very doleful, that neither of the Miss Peck- 
 sniffs could repress an involuntary screech. 
 
 " That'll do," said Mr. Pecksniff. " I'm better." 
 
 " He's come to himself ! " cried the youngest Miss Peck- 
 sniff. 
 
 " He speaks again ! " exclaimed the eldest. 
 
 With these joyful words they kissed Mr. Pecksniff on 
 either cheek, and bore him into the house. Presently, the 
 youngest Miss Pecksniff ran out again to pick up his hat, his 
 brown paper parcel, his umbrella, his gloves, and other small 
 articles ; and that done and the door closed, both young 
 ladies applied themselves to tending Mr. Pecksniff's wounds 
 in the back parlor. 
 
 They were not ver^' serious in their nature, being limited 
 to abrasions on what the eldest Miss Pecksniff called " the 
 knobby parts " of her parent's anatomy, such as his knees 
 and elbows, and to the development of an entirely new organ, 
 unknown to phrenologists, on the back of his head. These 
 injuries having been comforted externally, with patches of 
 pickled brown paper, and Mr. Pecksniff having been comforted 
 
 2
 
 i8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 internally, with some stiff brandy-and-water, the eldest Miss 
 Pecksniff sat down to make the tea, which was all ready. In 
 the meantime the youngest Miss Pecksniff brought from the 
 kitchen a smoking dish of ham and eggs, and, setting the same 
 before her father, took up her station on a low stool at his 
 feet, thereby bringing her eyes on a level with the teaboard. 
 
 It must not be inferred from this position of humility, that 
 the youngest Miss Pecksniff was so young as to be, as one 
 may say, forced to sit upon a stool, by reason of the shortness 
 of her legs. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool, because of her 
 simplicity and innocence, which were very great — very great. 
 Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool, because she was all girlish- 
 ness, and playfulness, and wildness, and kittenish buoyancy. 
 She, was the most arch and at the same time the most artless 
 creature, was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, that you can possibly 
 imagine. It was her great charm. She was too fresh and 
 guileless, and too full of child-like vivacity, was the youngest 
 Miss Pecksniff, to wear combs in her hair, or to turn it up, or 
 to frizzle it, or braid it. She wore it in a crop, a loosely flow- 
 ing crop, which had so many rows of curls in it, that the top 
 row was only one curl. Moderately buxom was her shape, 
 and quite womanly too ; but sometimes — yes, sometimes — 
 she even wore a pinafore ; antl how charming that was ! Oh ! 
 she was indeed " a gushing thing" (as a young gentleman had 
 observed in verse, in the Poet's-corner of a provincial news- 
 paper), was the youngest Miss Pecksniff ! 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man — a grave man, a man of 
 noble sentiments, and speech ; and he had had her christened 
 Mercy. Mercy ! oh, what a charming name for such a pure- 
 souled being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff ! Her sister's 
 name was Charity. There was a good thing ! Mercy and 
 Charity ! And Charity with her fine strong sense, and her 
 mild, yet not reproachful gravity, was so well named, and did 
 so well set off and illustrate her sister ! What a pleasant 
 sight was that, the contrast they presented : to see each love 
 ' and loving one S3aTipathizing with and devoted to, and leaning 
 on, and yet correcting and counter-checking, and, as it were, an- 
 tidoting the other ! To behold each damsel, in her very admi- 
 ration of her sister, setting up in business for herself on an en- 
 tirely different principle, and announcing no connection with 
 over-the-way, and if the quality of goods at that establishment 
 don't please you, you are respectfully invited to favor me 
 with a call ! .Vnd tlie crowning circumstance of the whole
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 9 
 
 delightful catalogue was, that both the fair creatures were so 
 utterly unconscious of all this ! They had no idea of it. They 
 no more thought or dreamed of it, than Mr. Pecksniff did. 
 Nature played them off against each other : they had no hand 
 in it, the two Miss Pecksniffs. 
 
 It has been remarked that Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man. 
 So he was. Perhaps there never was a more moral man than 
 Mr. Pecksniff, especially in his conversation and correspond- 
 ence. It was once said of him by a homely admirer, that he 
 had a Fortunatus's purse of good sentiments in his inside. In 
 this particular he was like the girl in the fairy tale, except that 
 if they were not actual diamonds which fell from his lips, they 
 were the very brightest paste, and shone prodigiously. He 
 was a most exemplary man : fuller of virtuous precept than a 
 copy-book. Sowie people likened him to a direction-post, 
 which is always telling the way to a place, and never goes 
 there ; but these were his enemies — the shadows cast by his 
 brightness — that was all. His very throat was moral. You 
 saw a good-deal of it. You looked over a very low fence of 
 white cravat (whereof no man had ever beheld the tie, for he 
 fastened it behind), and there it lay, a valley between two jut- 
 ting heights of collar, serene and whiskerless before you. It 
 seemed to say, on the part of Mr. I^ecksniff, " There is no 
 deception, ladies and gentlemen, all is peace, a holy calm per- 
 vades me." So did his hair, just grizzled with an iron- 
 gray, which was all brushed off his forehead, and stood bolt 
 upright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with his heavy 
 eyelids. So did his person, which was sleek though free from 
 corpulency. So did his manner, which was soft and oily. In 
 a word, even his plain black suit, and state of widower, and 
 dangling double eye-glass, all tended to the same purpose, and 
 cried aloud, " Toehold the moral Pecksniff ! " 
 
 The brazen plate upon the door (which being Mr. Peck- 
 niff's, could not lie) bore this inscription, "Pecksniff, Ar- 
 chitect," to which Mr. Pecksniff, on his cards of business 
 added, "and Land Surveyor." In one sense, and only one, 
 he maybe said to have been a Land Sur\^eyor on a pretty large 
 scale, as an extensive prospect lay stretched out before the 
 windows of his house. Of his arcliitectural doings, nothing was 
 clearly known, except that he iiad never designed or built any- 
 thing ; but it was generally understood that his knowledge of 
 the science was almost awful in its profundity. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff's professional engagements, indeed, were al-
 
 20 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 most, if not entirely, confined to the reception of pupils ; for 
 the collection of rents, with which pursuit he occasionally varied 
 and relieved his graver toils, can hardly be said to be a strictly 
 architectural employment. His genius lay in ensnaring parents 
 and guardians, and pocketing premiums. A young gentleman's 
 premium being paid, and the young gentleman come to Mr. 
 Pecksniff's house, Mr. Pecksniff borrowed his case of mathe- 
 matical instruments (if silver-mounted or otherwise valuable) ; 
 entreated him, from that moment, to consider himself one of the 
 family ; complimented him highly on his parents or guardians, 
 as the case might be, and turned him loose in a spacious room 
 on the two-pair front, where, in the company of certain draw- 
 ing-boards, parallel rulers, very stiff-legged compasses, and two, 
 or perhaps three, other young gentlemen, he improved himself, 
 for three or five years, according to his articles, in making ele- 
 vations of Salisbury Cathedral from every possible point of 
 sight ; and in constructing in the air a vast quantit}' of Castles, 
 Houses of Parliament, and other Public Buildings. Perhaps 
 in no place in the world were so many gorgeous edifices of 
 this class erected as under Mr. Pecksniff's auspices ; and if 
 but one-twentieth part of the churches which were built in 
 that front room, with one or othei of the Miss Pecksniffs at 
 the altar in the act of marrying the architect, could only be 
 made available by the parliamentar}^ commissioners, no more 
 churches would be wanted for at least five centuries. 
 
 " Even the worldly goods of which we have just disposed," 
 said Mr. Pecksniff glancing round the table when he had fin- 
 ished, " even cream, sugar, tea, toast, ham, — " 
 
 " And eggs," suggested Charity in a low voice, 
 
 " And eggs," said Mr. Pecksniff, " even they have their 
 moral. See how they come and go ! Every pleasure is tran- 
 sitor)\ We can't even eat, long. If we indulge in harmless 
 fluids, we get the dropsy ; if in exciting liquids, we get drunk. 
 What a soothing reflection is that ! " 
 
 " Don't say we get drunk. Pa," urged the eldest Miss Peck- 
 sniff. 
 
 "When I say we, my dear," returned her father, " I mean 
 mankind in general ; the human race, considered as a body, and 
 not as individuals. There is nothing personal in morality, my 
 love. Even such a thing as this," said Mr. Pecksniff, laying the 
 fore-finger of his left hand upon the brown paper patch on the 
 top of his head, " slight casual baldness though it be, reminds 
 us that we are but " — he was going to say " worms," but rec-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 21 
 
 ollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair, 
 he substituted " flesh and blood." 
 
 " Which," cried Mr. Pecksniff after a pause, during wliich 
 he seemed to have been casting about for a new moral, and not 
 quite successfully, " which is also very soothing. Mercy, my 
 dear, stir the fire and throw up the cinders." 
 
 The young lady obeyed, and having done so, resumed her 
 stool, reposed one arm upon her father's knee, and laid her 
 blooming cheek upon it. Miss Charity drew her chair nearer 
 the fire, as one prepared for conversation, and looked towards 
 her father. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a short pause, during which 
 he had been silently smiling, and shaking his head at the fire ; 
 " I have again been fortunate in the attainment of my object. 
 A new inmate will very shortly come among us." 
 
 " A youth, papa ? " asked Charity. 
 
 " Ye-es, a youth," said Mr. Pecksniff. " He will avail him- 
 self of the eligible opportunity which now offers, for uniting the 
 advantages of the best practical architectural education, with the 
 comforts of a home, and the constant association with some who 
 (however humble their sphere, and limited their capacity) are 
 not unmindful of their moral responsibilities." 
 
 " Oh Pa ! " cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly. " See 
 advertisement !" 
 
 "Playful — playful warbler," said Mr. Pecksniff. It maybe 
 observed in connection with his calling his daughter " a war- 
 bler," that she was not at all vocal, but that Mr. Pecksniff was 
 in the frequent habit of using any word that occurred to him as 
 having a good sound, and rounding a sentence well, without 
 much care for its meaning. And he did this so boldly, and in 
 such an imposing manner, that he would sometimes stagger 
 the wisest people with his eloquence, and make them gasp 
 again. 
 
 His enemies asserted, by the way, that a strong trustfulness 
 in sounds and forms, was the master-key to Mr. Pecksniff's 
 character. 
 
 " Is he handsome. Pa ?" inquired the younger daughter. 
 
 " Silly Merry ! " said the eldest — Merry being fond for 
 Mercy. " What is the premium. Pa ? tell us that." 
 
 " Oh good gracious. Cherry ! " cried Miss Mercy, holding 
 up her hands with the most winning giggle in the world, " what 
 a mercenaiy girl you are ! oh you naughty, thoughtful, prudent 
 thing ! "
 
 22 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 It was perfectly charming, and worthy of the Pastoral age, 
 to see how the two Miss Pecksniffs slapped each other after 
 this, and then subsided into an embrace expressive of their 
 different dispositions. 
 
 " He is well looking," said Mr. Pecksniff, slowly and dis- 
 tinctly : " well looking enough. I do not positively expect any 
 immediate premium with him." 
 
 Notwithstanding their different natures, both Charity and 
 Mercy concurred in opening their eyes uncommonly wide at 
 this announcement, and in looking for the moment as blank 
 as if their thoughts had actually had a direct bearing on the 
 main-chance. 
 
 " But what of that ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, still smiling at the 
 fire. " There is disinterestedness in the world, I hope t We 
 are not all arrayed in two opposite ranks : the ^tensive and 
 the rtit'fensive. Some few there are who walk between ; who 
 help the needy as they go ; and take no part with either side ? 
 Umph ? " 
 
 There was something in these morsels of philanthropy which 
 reassured the sisters. They exchanged glances, and brightened 
 very much. 
 
 " Oh ! let us not be for ever calculating, devising, and plot- 
 ting for the future," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling more and more, 
 and looking at the fire as a man might, who was cracking a 
 joke with it : "1 am weary of such arts. If our inclinations 
 are but good and open-hearted, let us gratify them boldly, 
 though they bring upon us, Loss instead of Profit. Eh, 
 Charity ? " 
 
 Glancins: towards his dauohters for the first time since he 
 had begun these reflections, and seeing that they both smiled, 
 Mr. Pecksniff eyed them for an instant so jocosely (though 
 still with a kind of saintly waggishness) that the younger one was 
 moved to sit upon his knee forthwith, put her fair arms round 
 his neck, and kiss him twenty times. During the whole of this 
 affectionate display she laughed to a most immoderate extent : 
 in which hilarious indulgence even the prudent Cherry joined. 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Mr. Pecksniff, pushing his latest-born away 
 and running his fingers through his hair, as he resumed his 
 ■".ranquil face. " What folly is this ! Let us take heed how we 
 laugh without reason, lest we cr}Mvith it. What is the domes- 
 tic news since yesterday ? John Westlock is gone, I hope ? " 
 
 " Indeed no," said Charity. 
 
 " And why not } " returned her father. " His term expired
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 23 
 
 yesterday. And his box was packed, I know ; for I saw it, 
 in the morning, standing in the hall." 
 
 " He slept last night at the Dragon," returned the young 
 lady, " and had Mr. Pinch to dine with him. They spent the 
 evening together, and Mr. Pinch was not home till very late." 
 
 " And when I saw him on the stairs this morning. Pa," 
 said Mercy with her usual sprightliness, " he looked, oh good- 
 ness, such a monster ! with his face all manner of colors, 
 and his eyes as dull as if they had been boiled, and his head 
 aching dreadfully, I am sure from the look of it, and his clothes 
 smelling, oh it's impossible to say how strong, of " — here the 
 young lady shuddered — " of smoke and punch." 
 
 " Now I think," said Mr. Pecksniff with his accustomed 
 gentleness, though still with the air of one who suffered under 
 injury without complaint, " I think Mr. Pinch might have 
 done better thaTi choose for his companion one who, at the 
 close of a long intercourse, had endeavored, as he knew, to 
 wound my feelings. I am not quite sure that this was delicate 
 in Mr. Pinch. I am nor quite sure that this was kind in Mr. 
 Pinch. I will go further and say, I am not quite sure that 
 this was even ordinarily grateful in Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " But what can anyone expect from Mr. Pinch ! " cried 
 Charity, with as strong and scornful an emphasis on the name 
 as if it would have given her unspeakable pleasure to express 
 it, in an acted charade, on the calf of that gentleman's leg. 
 
 " Ay, ay," returned her father, raising his hand mildly : 
 " it is very well to say what can we expect from Mr. Pinch, but 
 Mr. Pinch is a fellow-creature, my dear ; Mr. Pinch is an item 
 in the vast total of humanity, my love ; and we have a right, it 
 is our duty, to expect in Mr. Pinch some development of those 
 better qualities, the possession of which in our own persons 
 inspires our humble self-respect. No," continued Mr. Peck- 
 sniff. " No ! Heaven forbid that I should say, nothing can 
 be expected from Mr. Pinch ; or that I should say, nothing 
 can be expected from any man alive (even the most degraded, 
 which Mr. Pinch is not, no really) ; but Mr. Pinch has disap- 
 pointed me : he has hurt me : I think a little the worse of him 
 on this account, but not of human nature. Oh no, no ! " 
 
 " Hark ! " said Miss Charity, holding up her finger, as a 
 gentle rap was heard at the street-door. " There is the crea- 
 ture ! Now mark my words, he has come back with John 
 Westlock for his box, and is going to help him to take it to 
 the mail. Only mark my words, if that isn't his intention ! "
 
 24 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Even as she spoke, the box appeared to be in progress or 
 conveyance from the house, but after a brief murmuring of 
 question and answer, it was put down again, and somebody 
 knocked at the parlor door. 
 
 " Come in ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff — not severely ; only 
 virtuously. " Come in ! " 
 
 An ungainly, awkward-looking man, extremely short- 
 sighted, and prematurely bald, availed himself of this permis- 
 sion ; and seeing that Mr. Pecksniff sat with his back towards 
 him, gazing at the fire, stood hesitating, with the door in his 
 hand. He was far from handsome certainly ; and was drest 
 in a snuff-colored suit, of an uncouth make at the best, which, 
 being shrunk with long wear, was twisted and tortured into 
 all kinds of odd shapes ; but notwithstanding his attire, and 
 his clumsy figure, which a great stoop in his shoulders, and a 
 ludicrous habit he had of thrusting his head forward, by no 
 means redeemed, one would not have been disposed (unless 
 Mr. Pecksniff said so) to consider him a bad fellow by any 
 means. He was perhaps about thirty, but he might have 
 been almost any age between sixteen and sixty : being one of 
 those strange creatures who never decline into an ancient 
 appearance, but look their oldest when they are very young, 
 and get it over at once. 
 
 Keeping his hand upon the lock of the door, he glanced 
 from Mr. Pecksniff to Mercy, from Mercy to Charity, and 
 from Charity to Mr. Pecksniff again, several times ; but the 
 young ladies being as intent upon the fire as their father was, 
 and neither of the three taking any notice of him, he was fain 
 to say, at last, 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Pecksniff : I beg your par-' 
 don for intruding \ but — " 
 
 "No intrusion, Mr. Pinch," said that gentleman very 
 sweetly, but without looking round. " Pray be seated, Mr. 
 Pinch. Have the goodness to shut the door, Mr. Pinch, if you 
 please." 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Pinch : not doing so, however, but 
 holding it rather wider open than before, and beckoning ner- 
 vously to somebody without : " Mr. Westlock, sir, hearing 
 that. you were come home — " 
 
 " Mr. Pinch, Mr. Pinch ! " said Pecksniff, wheeling his 
 chair about, and looking at him with an aspect of the deepest 
 melancholy, " I did not expect this from you. I have not 
 deserved this from you ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 25 
 
 " No, but upon my word, sir " — urged Pinch, 
 
 "The less you say, Mr. Pinch," interposed the other, "the 
 better. I utter no complaint. Make no defence." 
 
 " No, but do have the goodness, sir," cried Pinch, with 
 great earnestness, "if you please. Mr. Westlock, sir, going 
 away for good and all, wishes to leave none but friends behind 
 him. Mr. Westlock and you, sir, had a little difference the 
 other day ; you have had many little differences." 
 
 " Little differences I " cried Charity. 
 
 " Little differences ! " echoed Mercy. 
 
 "My loves!" said Mr. Pecksniff, with the same serene 
 upraising of his hand ; " my dears ! " After a solemn pause 
 he meekly bowed to Mr. Pinch, as who should say, " Pro- 
 ceed ; " but Mr. Pinch was so very much at a loss how to 
 resume, and looked so helplessly at the two Miss Pecksniffs, 
 that the conversation would most probably have terminated 
 there, if a good-looking youth, newly arrived at man's estate, 
 had not stepped forward from the doorway and taken up the 
 thread of the discourse. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Pecksniff," he said, with a smile, " don't let 
 there be any ill-blood between us, pray. I am sorry we have 
 ever differed, and extremely sorry 1 have ever given you 
 offence. Bear me no ill-will at parting, sir." 
 
 " I bear," answered Mr. Picksniff, mildly, " no ill-will to 
 any man on earth." 
 
 " I told you he didn't," said Pinch, in an undertone ; " I 
 knew he didn't ! Pie always says he don't." 
 
 "Then you will shake hands, sir?" cried Westlock, ad- 
 vancing a step or two, and bespeaking Mr. Pinch's close at- 
 tention by a glance. 
 
 " Umph ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, in his most winning tone. 
 
 " You will shake hands, sir." 
 
 "No, John," said Mr. Pecksniff with a calmness quite 
 ethereal ; " no, I will not shake hands, John. 1 have forgiven 
 you. I had already forgiven you, even before you ceased to 
 reproach and taunt me. I have embraced you in the spirit, 
 John, which is better than shaking hands." 
 
 " Pinch," said the youth, turning towards him, with a 
 hearty disgust of his late master, " what did I tell you ? " 
 
 Poor Pinch looked down uneasily at Mr. Pecksniff, whose 
 eye was fixed upon him as it had been from the first : and 
 looking up at the ceiling again, made no reply. 
 
 "As to your forgiveness, Mr. Pecksniff," said the youth. 
 " I'll not have it upon such terms. I won't be forgiven."
 
 26 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Won't you, John ? " retorted Mr. Pecksniff, with a smile. 
 " You must. You can't help it. Forgiveness is a high 
 quality ; an exalted virtue ; far above your control or influ- 
 ence, John. I will forgive you. You cannot move me to 
 remember any wrong you have ever done me, John." 
 
 " Wrong ! " cried the other, with all the heat and impetu- 
 osity of his age. " Here's a pretty' fellow ! Wrong ! Wrong 
 I have done him ! He'll not even remember the five hundred 
 pounds he had with me under false pretences ; or the seventy 
 pounds a-year for board and lodging that would have been 
 dear at seventeen ! Here's a martyr ! " 
 
 " Money, John," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is the root of all 
 evil. I grieve to see that it is already bearing evil fruit in 
 you. But I will not remember its existence. I will not even 
 remember the conduct of that misguided person " — and here, 
 although he spoke like one at peace with all the world, he used 
 an emphasis that plainly said ' I have my eye upon the rascal 
 now ' — " that misguided person who has brought you here to- 
 night, seeking to disturb (it is a happiness to say, in vain) the 
 heart's repose and peace of one who would have shed his 
 dearest blood to serve him." 
 
 The voice of Mr. Pecksniff trembled as he spoke, and sobs 
 were heard from his daughters. Sounds floated on the air, 
 moreover, as if two spirit voices had exclaimed : one, " Beast ! " 
 the other, " Savage ! " 
 
 "Forgiveness," said Mr. Pecksniff, "entire and pure for- 
 giveness is not incompatible with a wounded heart ; perchance 
 when the heart is wounded, it becomes a greater virtue. 
 With my breast still wrung and grieved to its inmost core by 
 the ingratitude of that person, I am proud and glad to say, 
 that I forgive him. Nay ! I beg," cried Mr. Pecksniff', raising 
 his voice, as Pinch appeared about to speak, " I beg that in- 
 dividual not to offer a remark ; he will truly oblige me by not 
 uttering one word, just now. I am not sure that I am equal 
 to the trial. In a very short space of time, I shall have suffi- 
 cient fortitude, I trust, to converse with him as if these events 
 had never happened. But not," said Mr. Picksniff, turning 
 round again towards the fire, and waving his hand in the di- 
 rection of the door, " not now." 
 
 " Bah ! " cried John Westlock, with the utmost disgust and 
 disdain the monosyllable is capable of expressing. " Ladies, 
 good evening. Come, Pinch, it's not worth thinking of. I was 
 right and you were wrong. That's a small matter ; you'll be 
 wiser another time."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 27 
 
 So saying, he clapped that dejected companion on the 
 shoulder, turned upon his heel, and walked out into the passage 
 whither poor Mr. Pinch, after lingering irresolutely in the parlor 
 for a few seconds, expressing in his countenance the deepest 
 mental misery and gloom, followed him. Then they took up 
 the box between them, and sallied out to meet the mail. 
 
 That fleet conveyance passed, every night, the corner of a 
 lane at some distance ; towards which point they bent their 
 steps. For some minutes they walked along in silence, until 
 at length young Westlock burst into a loud laugh, and at in- 
 tervals into another, and another. Still there was no response 
 from his companion. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Pinch ! " he said abruptly, after another 
 lengthened silence — " You haven't half enough of the devil in 
 you. Half enough ! You haven't any." 
 
 " Well ! " said Pinch with a sigh, " I don't know, I'm sure. 
 It's a compliment to say so. If I haven't, 1 suppose, I'm all 
 the better for it." 
 
 " All the better ! " repeated his companion tartly : " all 
 the worse, you mean to say." 
 
 " And yet," said Pinch, pursuing his own thoughts and not 
 this last remark on the part of his friend, " I must have a good 
 deal of what you call the devil in me, too, or how could I make 
 Pecksniff so uncomfortable ? I wouldn't have occasioned him 
 so much distress — don't laugh, please — for a mine of money : 
 and Heaven knows I could find good use for it too, John. How 
 grieved he was ! " 
 
 " He grieved ! " returned the other, 
 
 " Why didn't you observe that the tears were almost start- 
 ing out of his eyes ! " cried Pinch. " Bless my soul, John, is 
 it nothing to see a man moved to that extent and know one's 
 self to be the cause ! and did you hear him say that he could 
 have shed his blood for me ? " 
 
 " Do you We?;// any blood shed for you ? " returned his friend, 
 with considerable irritation. " Does he shed anything for you 
 that you do want ? Does he shed employment for you, in- 
 struction for you, pocket-money for you ? Does he shed even 
 legs of mutton for you in any decent proportion to potatoes 
 and garden stuff ? " 
 
 " I am afraid," said Pinch, sigliing again, " that I am a 
 great eater : I can't disguise from myself that I'm a great 
 eater. Now, you know that, John." 
 
 " You a great eater ! " retorted his companion, with no
 
 28 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 less indignation than before. " How do you know you 
 are ? " 
 
 There appeared to be forcible matter in this inquir}-, for Mr. 
 Pinch only repeated in an undertone that he had a strong 
 misgiving on the subject, and that he greatly feared he was : 
 
 " Besides, whether I am or no," he added, " that has little 
 or nothing to do with his thinking me ungrateful. John, there 
 is scarcely a sin in the world that is in my eyes such a crying 
 one as ingratitude ; and when he taxes me with that, and be- 
 lieves me to be guilty of it, he makes me miserable and 
 wretched." 
 
 " Do you think he don't know that .-' " returned the other 
 scornfully. " But come. Pinch, before I say anything more to 
 you, I must run over the reasons you have for being grateful to 
 him at all, will you ? change hands first, for the box is heavy. 
 That'll do. Now, go on." 
 
 " In the first place," said Pinch, " he took me as his pupil 
 for much less than he asked." 
 
 " Well," rejoined his friend, perfectly unmoved by this 
 instance of generosity. " What in the second place ? " 
 
 " What in the second place ! " cried Pinch, in a sort of 
 desperation, " why, everything in the second place. My poor 
 old grandmother died happy to tliink that she had put me 
 with such an excellent man. I have grown up in his house, I 
 am in his confidence, I am his assistant, he allows me a 
 salary : when his business improves, my prospects are to im- 
 prove too. All this, and a great deal more, is in the second 
 place. And in the very prologue and preface to the first 
 place, John, you must consider this, which nobody knows 
 better than I : that I was born for much plainer and poorer 
 things, that I am not a good hand for his kind of business, 
 and have no talent for it, or indeed for anything else but 
 odds and ends that are of no use or service to anybody." 
 
 He said this with so much earnestness, and in a tone so 
 full of feeling, that his companion instinctively changed his 
 manner as he sat down on the box (they had by this time 
 reached the finger-post at the end of the lane) ; motioned him 
 to sit down beside him ; and laid his hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " I believe you are one of the best fellows in the world," 
 he said, " Tom Pinch." 
 
 " Not at all," rejoined Tom. " If you only knew Peck- 
 sniff as well as I do, you might say it of him, indeed, and say 
 it truly."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 29 
 
 "I'll say anything of him, you like," returned the other, 
 " and not another word to his disparagement." 
 
 " It's for my sake, then ; not his, I am afraid," said Pinch, 
 shaking his head gravely. 
 
 " For whose you please, Tom, so that it does please you. 
 Oh ! He's a famous fellow ! He never scraped and clawed 
 into his pouch all your poor grandmother's hard savings- 
 she was a housekeeper, wasn't she, Tom ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Pinch, nursing one of his large knees, and 
 nodding his head : " a gentleman's housekeeper." 
 
 " He never scraped and clawed into his pouch all her hard 
 savings ; dazzling her with prospects of your happiness and 
 advancement, which he knew (and no man better) never would 
 be realized ! He never speculated and traded on her pride in 
 you, and her having educated you, and on her desire that you 
 at least should live to be a gentleman. Not he, Tom ! " 
 
 " No," said Tom, looking into his friend's face, as if he were 
 a little doubtful of his meaning; " of course not." 
 
 " So I say," returned the youth, " of course he never did. 
 He didn't take less than he had asked, because that less was 
 all she had, and more than he expected : not he, Tom ! He 
 doesn't keep you as his assistant because you are of any use 
 to him ; because your wonderful faith in his pretensions is of 
 inestimable service in all his mean disputes ; because your 
 honesty reflects honesty on him ; because your wandering about 
 this little place all your spare hours, reading in ancient books 
 and foreign tongues, gets noised abroad, even as far as Salis- 
 bury, making of him, Pecksniff the master, a man of learning 
 and of vast importance. He gets no credit from you, Tom, not 
 he." 
 
 " Why, of course he don't," said Pinch, gazing at his friend 
 with a more troubled aspect than before. " Pecksniff get 
 credit from Mel Well! " 
 
 " Don't I say that it's ridiculous," rejoined the other," even 
 to think of such a thing ? " 
 
 " Why, it's madness," said Tom. 
 
 " Madness ! " returned young Westlock. " Certainly, it's 
 madness. Who but a madman would suppose he cares to hear 
 it said on Sundays, that the volunteer who plays the organ in 
 the church, and practises on summer evenings in the dark, 
 is Mr. Pecksniff's young man, eh, Tom .'' Who but a madman 
 would suppose it is the game of such a man as he, to have his 
 name in everybody's mouth, connected with the thousand use-
 
 30 MARTI A"- CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 less odds and ends you do (and which, of course, he taught 
 you), eh, Tom ? Who but a madman would suppose you adver- 
 tised him hereabouts, much cheaper and much better than a 
 chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom ? As well might one sup- 
 pose that he doesn't on all occasions pour out his whole heart 
 and soul to you ; that he doesn't make you a very liberal and 
 indeed rather an extravagant allowance ; or, to be more wild 
 and monstrous still, if that be possible, as well might one sup- 
 pose," and here, at every word, he struck him lightly on the 
 breast, " that Pecksniff traded in your nature, and that your 
 nature was, to be timid and distrustful of yourself, and trust- 
 ful of all other men, but most of all, of him who least deserves 
 it. There would be madness, Tom ! " 
 
 Mr. Pinch had listened to all this with looks of bewilder- 
 ment, which seemed to be in part occasioned by the matter of 
 his companion's speech, and in part by his rapid and vehement 
 manner. Now that he had come to a close, he drew a very 
 long breath ; and gazing wistfully in his face as if he were un- 
 able to settle in his own mind what expression it wore, and 
 were desirous to draw from it as good a clue to his real meaning 
 as it was possible to obtain in the dark, was about to answer, 
 when the sound of the mail guard's horn came cheerily upon 
 their ears, putting an immediate end to the conference : 
 greatly as it seemed to the satisfaction of the younger man, 
 who jumped up briskly, and gave his hand to his companion. 
 
 " Both hands, Tom. I shall write to yoii from London, 
 mind ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Pinch. "Yes. Do, please. Goodbye. Good 
 bye. I can hardly believe you're going. It seems, now, but 
 yesterday that you came. Good bye ! my dear old fellow ! " 
 John Westlock returned his parting words with no less hearti- 
 ness of manner, and sprung up to his seat upon the roof. Off 
 went the mail at a canter down the dark road : the lamps 
 gleaming brightly, and the horn awakening all the echoes, far 
 and wide. 
 
 " Go your ways," said Pinch, apostrophizing the coach : 
 " I can hardly persuade myself but you're alive, and are some 
 great monster who visits this place at certain intervals, to 
 bear" my friends away into the world. You're more exulting 
 and rampant than usual tonight, I think ; and you may well 
 crow over your prize ; for he is a fine lad, an ingenuous lad, 
 and has but one fault that I know of : he don't mean it, but 
 he is most cruelly unjust to Pecksniff ! "
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH CERTAIN OTHER PERSONS ARE INIRODUCED : ON" 
 THE SAME TERMS AS IN THE LAST CHAPTER. 
 
 Mention has been already made more than once, of a certain 
 Dragon who swung and creaked complainingly before the vil- 
 lage ale-house door. A faded, and an ancient dragon he was ; 
 and many a wintry' storm of rain, snow, sleet, and hail had 
 changed his color from a gaudy blue to a faint lack-lustre shade 
 of gi'ay. But there he hung, rearing, in a state of monstrous 
 imbecility, on his hind legs ; waxing, with every month that 
 passed, so much more dim and shapeless, that as you gazed 
 at him on one side of the sign-board it seemed as if he must be 
 gradually melting through it, and coming out upon the other. 
 He was a courteous and considerate dragon too ; or had been 
 in his distincter days ; for in the midst of his rampant feeble- 
 ness, he kept one of his fore paws near his nose, as though 
 he would say, " Don't mind me — it's only my fun ; " while he 
 held out the other, in polite and hospitable entreaty. Indeed 
 it must be conceded to the whole brood of dragons of modern 
 times, that they have made a great advance in civilization and 
 refinement. They no longer demand a beautiful virgin for 
 breakfast every morning, with as much regularity as any tame 
 single gentleman expects his hot roll, but rest content with the 
 society of idle bachelors and roving married men ; and they 
 are now remarkable rather for holding aloof from the softer sex 
 and discouraging their visits (especially on Saturday nights), 
 than for rudely insisting on their company without any refer- 
 ence to their inclinations, as they are known to have done in 
 days of yore. 
 
 Nor is this tribute to the reclaimed animals in question, so 
 wide a digression into the realms of Natural History, as it may, 
 at first sight, appear to be \ for the present business of these 
 pages is with the dragon who had his retreat in Mr. Pecksniff's 
 neighborhood, and that courteous animal being already on the 
 carpet, there is nothing in the way of its immediate transaction. 
 
 For many years, then, he had swung and creaked, and llap- 
 ed himself about, before the two windows of the l)est bed- 
 room in that house of entertainment to which he lent his name ;
 
 32 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 but never in all his swinging, creaking, and flapping, had there 
 been such a stir within its ding}' precincts, as on the evening 
 next after that upon which the incidents, detailed in the last 
 chapter, occurred ; when there was such a hurrying up and 
 down stairs of feet, such a glancing of lights, such a whispering 
 of voices, such a smoking and sputtering of wood newly lighted 
 in a damp chimney, such an airing of linen, such a scorching 
 smell of hot warming-pans, such a domestic bustle and to-do, 
 in short, as never dragon, griffin, unicorn or other animal of 
 that species presided over, since they first began to interest 
 themselves in household affairs. 
 
 An old gentleman and a young lady, travelling, unattended, 
 in a rusty old chariot with post-horses ; coming nobody knew 
 whence, and going nobody knew whither ; had turned out of 
 the high road, and driven unexpectedly to the Blue Dragon ; 
 and here was the old gentleman, who had taken this step by 
 reason of his sudden illness in the carriage, suffering the most 
 horrible cramps and spasms, yet protesting and vowing in the 
 very midst of his pain, that he wouldn't have a doctor sent 
 for, and wouldn't take any remedies but those which the young 
 lady administered from a small medicine-chest, and wouldn't, 
 in a word, do anything but terrify the landlady out of her five 
 wits, and obstinately refuse compliance with every suggestion 
 that was made to him. 
 
 Of all the five hundred proposals for his relief which the 
 good woman poured out in less than half-an-hour, he would 
 entertain but one. That was, that he should go to bed. And 
 it was in the preparation of his bed, and the arrangement of 
 his chamber, that all the stir was made in the room behind 
 the Dragon. 
 
 He was, beyond all question, ver}' ill, and suffered exceed- 
 ingly : not the less, perhaps, because he was a strong and 
 vigorous old man, with a will of iron, and a voice of brass. 
 But neither the apprehensions which he plainly entertained, 
 at times, for his life, nor the great pain he underwent, influ- 
 enced his resolution in the least degree. He would have no 
 person sent for. The worse he grew, the more rigid and in- 
 flexible he became in his determination. If they sent for any 
 person to attend him, man, woman, or child, he would leave 
 the house directly (so he told them), though he quitted it on 
 foot, and died upon the threshold of the door. 
 
 Now, there being no medical practitioner actually resi- 
 dent in the village but a poor apothecary, who was also a
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. t^t^ 
 
 grocer and general dealer, the landlady had, upon her own 
 responsibility, sent for him, in the very first burst and outset 
 of the disaster. Of course it followed, as a necessary result 
 of his being wanted, that he was not at home. He had gone 
 some miles away, and was not expected home until late at • 
 night ; so, the landlady, being by this time pretty well beside 
 herself, despatched the same messenger in all haste for Mr. 
 Pecksniff, as a learned man who could bear a deal of respon- 
 sibility, and a moral man who could administer a world of 
 comfort to a troubled mind. That her guest had need of 
 some efiicient services under the latter head was obvious enough 
 from the restless expressions, importing, however, rather a 
 worldly than a spiritual anxiety, to which he gave frequent 
 utterance. 
 
 From this last-mentioned secret errand the messenger 
 returned with iro better new^s than from the first ; Mr. Peck- 
 sniff was not at home. However, they got the patient into 
 bed without him ; and in the course of two hours, he gradu- 
 ally became so far better that there were much longer inter- 
 vals than at first between his terms of suffering. By degrees, 
 he ceased to suffer at all. though his exhaustion was occa- 
 sionally so great, that it suggested hardly less alarm than his 
 actual endurance had done. 
 
 It was in one of his intervals of repose, when, looking 
 round with great caution, and reaching uneasily out of his 
 nest of pillows, he endeavored, with a strange air of secrecy and 
 distrust, to make use of the writing materials which he had 
 ordered to be placed on a table beside him, that the young 
 lady and the mistress of the Llue Dragon, found themselves 
 sitting side by side before the fire in the sick chamber. 
 
 This mistress of the Blue Dragon was in outward appear- 
 ance just what a landlady should be : broad, buxom, comfort- 
 able, and good-looking, with a face of clear red and white, 
 which, by its jovial aspect, at once bore testimony to her 
 hearty participation in the good things of the larder and cel- 
 lar, and to their thriving and healthful influences. She was 
 a widow, but years ago had passed through her state of weeds, 
 and burst into flower again ; and in full bloom she had con- 
 tinued ever since ; and in full bloom she was now ; with 
 roses on her ample skirts, and roses on her boddice, roses in 
 her cap, roses in her cheeks, — ay, and roses, worth the gather- 
 ing too, on her lips, for that matter. She had still a bright 
 black eye, and jet black hair ; was comely, dimpled, plump, 
 
 3
 
 34 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 and tight as a gooseberry ; and though she was not exactly 
 what the world calls young, you may make an affidavit, on 
 trust, before any mayor or magistrate in Christendom, that 
 there are a great many young ladies in the world (blessings on 
 them, one and all !) whom you wouldn't like half as well, or ad- 
 mire half as much, as the beaming hostess of the Blue Dragon. 
 
 As this fair matron sat beside the fire, she glanced occa- 
 sionally, with all the pride of ownership, about the room ; 
 which was a large apartment, such as one may see in country 
 places, with a low roof and a sunken flooring, all down-hill 
 from the door, and a descent of two steps on the inside so 
 exquisitely unexpected, that strangers, despite the most elab- 
 orate cautioning, usually dived in head-first, as into a plung- 
 ing-bath. It was none of your frivolous and preposterously 
 bright bedrooms, where nobody can close an eye with any 
 kind of propriety or decent regard to the association of ideas • 
 but it was a good, dull, leaden, drowsy place, where every ar- 
 ticle of furniture reminded you that you came there to sleep, 
 and that you were expected to go to sleep. There was no 
 wakeful reflection of the fire there, as in vour modern cham- 
 bers, which upon the darkest nights have a watchful conscious- 
 ness of French polish ; the old Spanish mahogany winked at 
 it now and then, as a dozing cat or dog might, nothing more. 
 The very size and shape, and hopeless immovability, of the 
 bedstead, and wardrobe, and in a minor degree of even the 
 chairs and tables, provoked sleep ; they were plainly apoplec- 
 tic and disposed to snore. There were no staring portraits 
 to remonstrate with you for being lazy ; no round-eyed birds 
 upon the curtains, disgustingly wide awake, and insufferably 
 prying. The thick neutral hangings, and the dark blinds, and 
 the heavy heap of bed-clothes, were all designed to hold in 
 sleep, and act as non-conductors to the day and getting up. 
 Even the old stuffed fox upon the top of the wardrobe was 
 devoid of any spark of vigilance, for his glass eye had fallen 
 out, and he slumbered as he stood. 
 
 The wandering attention of the mistress of the Blue Dra- 
 gon roved to these things but twice or thrice, and then for but 
 an instant at a time. It soon deserted them, and even the dis- 
 tant- bed with its strange burden, for the young creature im- 
 mediately before her, who, with her downcast eyes intently 
 fixed upon the fire, sat wrapped in silent meditation. 
 
 She was very young, apparently no more than seventeen ; 
 timid and shrinking in her manner, and yet with a greater
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 35 
 
 share of self-possession and control over her emotions than 
 usually belongs to a far more advanced period of female life. 
 This she had abundantly shown, but now, in her tending of 
 the sick gentleman. She v/as short in stature ; and her figure 
 was slight, as became her years ; but all the charms of youth 
 and maidenhood set it off, and clustered on her gentle brow. 
 Her face was very pale, in part no doubt from recent agita- 
 tion. Her dark brown hair, disordered from the same cause, 
 had fallen negligently from its bonds, and hung upon her 
 neck ; for which instance of its waywardness, no male ob- 
 server would have had the heart to blame it. 
 
 Her attire was that of a lady, but extremely plain ; and in 
 her manner, even when she sat as still as she did then, there 
 was an indefinable something which appeared to be in kindred 
 with her scrupulously unpretending dress. She had sat, at 
 first looking anxiously towards the bed ; but seeing that the 
 patient remained quiet, and v>as busy with his writing, she had 
 softly moved her chair into its present place ; partly, as it 
 seemed, from an instinctive consciousness that he desired to 
 avoid observation \ and partly that she might, unseen by him, 
 give some vent to the natural feelings she had hitherto sup- 
 pressed. 
 
 Of all this, and much more, the rosy landlady of the Blue 
 Dragon took as accurate note and observation as only woman 
 can take of woman. And at length she said, in a voice too 
 low, she knew, to reach the bed : 
 
 " You have seen the gentleman in this way before, miss .'' 
 Is he used to these attacks ? " 
 
 " I have seen him very ill before, but not so ill as he has 
 been to-night." 
 
 " What a providence 1 " said the landlady of the Dragon, 
 " that you had the prescriptions and the medicines with you, 
 miss ? " 
 
 " They are intended for such an emergency. We never 
 travel without them." 
 
 " Oh ! " thought the hostess, "then we are in the habit of 
 travelling, and of travelling together." 
 
 She was so conscious of expressing this in her face, that 
 meeting the young lady's eyes immediately afterwards, and 
 being a very honest hostess, she was rather confused. 
 
 " l"he gentleman — your grandpapa" — she resumed, after 
 a short pause, " being so bent on having no assistance, must 
 terrify you very much, miss ? "
 
 36 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 • I have been very much alarmed to-night. He — he is 
 not my grandfather." 
 
 " Father, I should have said," returned the hostess, sensi- 
 ble of having made an awkward mistake. 
 
 " Nor my father," said the young lady. " Nor," she added, 
 slightly smiling with a quick perception of what the landlady 
 was going to add, " Nor my uncle. We are not related." 
 
 " Oh dear me ! " returned the landlady, still more embar- 
 rassed than before : " how could I be so very much mistaken ; 
 knowing, as anybody in their proper senses might, that when 
 a gentleman is ill, he looks so much older than he really is ? 
 That I should have called you ' Miss,' too. Ma'am ! ' But 
 when she had proceeded thus far, she glanced involuntarily at 
 the third finger of the young lady's left hand, and faltered 
 again : for there was no ring upon it. 
 
 " When I told you we were not related," said the other 
 mildly, but not without confusion on her own part, " I meant 
 not in any way. Not even by marriage. Did you call me 
 Martin ? " 
 
 " Call you ? " cried the old man, looking quickly up, and 
 hurriedly drawing beneath the coverlet, the paper on which he 
 had been writing. " No." 
 
 She had moved a pace or two towards the bed, but 
 stopped immediately, and went no farther. 
 
 " No," he repeated, with a petulant emphasis. " Why do 
 you ask me .-• If 1 had called you, what need for such a ques- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " It was the creaking of the sign outside, sir, I dare say," 
 obser\-ed the landlady : a suggestion by the way (as she felt a 
 moment after she had made it), not at all complimentary to 
 the voice of the old gentleman. 
 
 " No matter what, ma'am," he rejoined : " it wasn't I. 
 Why how you stand there, Mary, as if I had the plague ! But 
 they're all afraid of me," he added, leaning helplessly back- 
 ward on his pillow ; " even she ! There is a curse upon me. 
 What else have 1 to look for ! " 
 
 " Oh dear, no. Oh no, I'm sure," said the good-tempered 
 landlady, rising, and going towards him. " Be of better cheer, 
 sir. These are only sick fancies." 
 
 " What are only sick fancies t " he retorted. " What do 
 you know about fancies ? Who told yon about fancies ? The 
 old story ! Fancies ! " 
 
 " Only see again there, how you take one up ! " said the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 37 
 
 mistress of the Blue Dragon, with unimpaired good humor 
 " Dear heart alive, there is no harm in the word, sir, if it is an 
 old one. Folks in good health have their fancies too, and 
 strange ones, every day." 
 
 Harmless as this speech appeared to be, it acted on the 
 traveller's distrust, like oil on tire. He raised his head up in 
 the bed, and, fixing on her two dark eyes whose brightness 
 was exaggerated by the paleness of his hollow cheeks, as they 
 in turn, together with his straggling locks of long gray hair, 
 were rendered whiter by the tight black velvet skull-cap which 
 he wore, he searched her face intently. 
 
 "Ah ! you begin too soon," he said, in so low a voice that 
 he seemed to be thinking it, rather than addressing her. 
 " But you lose no time. You do your errand, and you earn 
 your fee. Now, w^ho may be your client .-* " 
 
 The landlady looked in great astonishment at her whom 
 he called Mar}^, and finding no rejoinder in the drooping face, 
 looked back again at him. At first she had recoiled involun- 
 tarily, supposing him disordered in his mind ; but the slow 
 composure of his manner, and the settled purpose announced 
 in his strong features, and gathering, most of all, about his 
 puckered mouth, forbade the supposition. 
 
 "Come," he said, "tell me who is it? Being here, it is 
 not very hard for me to guess, you may suppose." 
 
 " Martin," interposed the young lady, laying her hand upon 
 his arm ; " reflect how short a time we have been in this house, 
 and that even your name is unknown here." 
 
 " Unless," he said, " you. — " He was evidently tempted 
 to express a suspicion of her having broken his confidence in 
 favor of the landlady, but either remembering her tender nurs- 
 ing, or being moved in some sort, by her face, he checked 
 himself, and changing his uneasy posture in the bed, was si- 
 lent. 
 
 " There ! " said Mrs. Lupin ; for in that name the Blue 
 Dragon was licensed to furnish entertainment, both to man 
 and beast. " Now, you will be well again, sir. You forgot, 
 for the moment, that there were none but friends here." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the old man, moaning impatiently, as he 
 tossed one restless arm upon the coverlet ; " why do you talk 
 to me of friends ! Can you or anybody teach me to know who 
 are my friends, and who my enemies ? " 
 
 " At least," urged Mrs. Lupin, gently, "this young lady is 
 your friend, I am sure."
 
 38 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 
 
 " She has no temptation to be otherwise," cried the old 
 man, Uke one whose hope and confidence were utterly ex- 
 hausted. " I suppose she is. Heaven knows. There : let 
 me try to sleep. Leave the candle where it is." 
 
 As they retired from the bed, he drew forth the writing 
 which had occupied him so long, and holding it in the flame 
 of the taper burnt it to ashes. That done, he extinguished 
 the light, and turning his face away with a heavy sigh, drew 
 tlie coverlet about his head, and lay quite still. 
 
 This destruction of the paper, both as being, strangely in- 
 consistent with the labor he had devoted to it and as involv- 
 ing considerable danger of fire to the Dragon, occasioned Mrs. 
 Lupin not a little consternation. But the young lady evincing 
 no surprise, curiosity, or alarm, whispered her, with many 
 thanks for her solicitude and company, that she would re- 
 main there some time longer ; and that she begged her not 
 to share her watch, as she was wqU used to being alone, and 
 would pass the time in reading. 
 
 Mrs. Lupin had her full share and dividend of that large 
 capital of curiosity which is inherited by her sex, and at 
 another time it might have been difiicult so to impress this 
 hint upon her as to induce her to take it. But now, in sheer 
 wonder and amazement at these mysteries, she withdrew at 
 once, and repairing straightway to her own little parlor below- 
 stairs, sat down in her easy-chair with unnatural composure. 
 At this very crisis, a step was heard in the entry, and Mr. 
 Pecksniff, looking sweetly over the half-door of the bar, and 
 into the vista of snug privacy beyond, murmured : 
 
 " Good evening, Mrs. Lupin ! " 
 
 " Oh dear me, sir ! " she cried, advancing to receive him, 
 " I am so very glad you have come." 
 
 " And /am very glad I have come," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 " if I can be of service. I am very glad I ha\e come. What 
 is the matter Mrs. Lupin .'' " f 
 
 " A gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very 
 bad up stairs, sir," said the tearful hostess. 
 
 "A gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very 
 bad up stairs, has he ? " repeated Mr. Pecksniff. " Well 
 well!" 
 
 Now there was nothing that one may call decidedly original 
 in this remark, nor can it be exactly said to have contained 
 any wise precept theretofore unknown to mankind, or to have 
 opened any hidden source of consolation ; but Mr. Pecksniff's
 
 MARTI.V CIIUZZLEWIT. 39 
 
 manner was so bland, and he nodded his head so soothingly, 
 and showed in every thing such an affable sense of his own 
 excellence, that anybody would have been, as Mrs. Lupin was, 
 comforted by the mere voice and presence of such a man ; 
 and, though he had merely said " a verb must agree with its 
 nominative case in number and person, m}- good friend," or 
 "eight times eight are sixty-four, my worthy soul," must 
 have felt deeply grateful to him for his humanity and wis- 
 dom. 
 
 " And how," asked Mr. Pecksniff, drawing off his gloves 
 and warming his hands before the fire, as benevolently as if 
 they were somebody else's, not his ; " and how is he now ? " 
 
 " He is better, and quite tranquil," answered Mrs. Lupin. 
 
 " He is better, and quite tranquil," said INIr. Pecksniff. 
 "Very well ! vQrry well ! " 
 
 Here again, though the statement was Mrs. Lupin's and 
 not Mr. Pecksniff's, Mr. Pecksniff made it his own and con- 
 soled her with it. It was not much when Mrs. Lupin said it, 
 but it was a whole book when Mr. Pecksniff said it. " / 
 observe," he seemed to say, "and through me, morality in 
 general remarks, that he is better and quite tranquil." 
 
 " There must be weighty matters on his mind though," 
 said the hostess, shaking her head, " for he talks, sir, in the 
 strangest way you ever heard. He is far from easy in his 
 thoughts, and wants some proper advice from those whose 
 goodness makes it worth his having." 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Pecksniff, "he is the sort of customer 
 for me. ' But though he said this in the plainest language, he 
 didn't speak a word. Pie only shook his head : disparagingly 
 of himself too. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir," continued the landlady, first looking 
 round to assure herself that there was nobody within hearing, 
 and then looking down upon the floor. " I am very much 
 afraid, sir, that his conscience is troubled by his not being 
 related to — or — or even married to — a very young lady — " 
 
 " Mrs. Lupin ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, holding up his hand 
 with something in his manner as nearly approaching to se- 
 verity, as any expression of his, mild being that was, could 
 ever do. " Person ! Young person .'' " 
 
 "A ver)' young person," said Mrs. Lupin, courtesying and 
 blushing : " — I beg your pardon, sir, but 1 have been so hur- 
 ried to-night, that I don't know what I say — who is v»ith him 
 now."
 
 40 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "Who is with him now," ruminated Mr. Pecksniff, warm- 
 ing his back (as he had warmed his hands) as if it were a 
 widow's back, or an orphan's back, or an enemy's back, or a 
 back that any less excellent man would have suffered to be 
 cold. " Oh dear me, dear me ! " 
 
 " At the same time I am bound to say, and I do say with 
 all my heart," observed the hostess, earnestly, "that her looks 
 and manner almost disarm suspicion." 
 
 " Your suspicion, Mrs. Lupin," said Mr. Pecksniff gravely, 
 " is very natural." 
 
 Touching which remark, let it be written down to their 
 confusion, that the enemies of this worthy man unblushingly 
 maintained that he always said of what was very bad, that it 
 was very natural ; and that he unconsciously betrayed his own 
 nature in doing so. 
 
 "Your suspicion, Mrs. Lupin," he repeated, "is ver}' 
 natural, and I have no doubt correct. I will wait upon these 
 travellers." 
 
 With that he took off his great-coat, and having run his 
 fingers through his hair, thrust one hand gently in the 
 bosom of his waistcoat and meekly signed to her to lead the 
 way. 
 
 " Shall I knock ? " asked Mrs. Lupin, when they reached 
 the chamber door. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pecksniff, " enter if you please." 
 
 They went in on tiptoe : or rather the hostess took that 
 precaution, for Mr. Pecksniff always walked softly. The old 
 gentleman was still asleep, and his young companion still sat 
 reading by the tire, 
 
 " I am afraid," said Mr. Pecksniff, pausing at the door, 
 and giving his head a melancholy roll, " 1 am afraid that this 
 looks artful. I am afraid, Mrs. Lupin, do you know, that this 
 looks very artful ! " 
 
 As he finished this whisper, he advanced, before the host- 
 ess ; and at the same time the young lady, hearing footsteps, 
 rose. Mr. Pecksniff glanced at the volume she held, and 
 whispered Mrs. Lupin again : if possible, with increased de- 
 spondency. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," he said, " it is a good book. I was fearful 
 of that beforehand. I am apprehensive that this is a very 
 deep thing indeed ! " 
 
 "What gentleman is this?" inquired the object of his 
 virtuous doubts.
 
 MARTIiV CHUZZLEWIT. 41 
 
 " Hush ! don't trouble yourself, ma'am," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 as the landlady was about to answer. " This young " — in 
 spite of himself he hesitated when ' person ' rose to his lips, 
 and substituted another word : " this young stranger, Mrs. 
 Lupin, will excuse me for replying briefly, that I reside in this 
 village ; it may be in an influential manner, however unde- 
 served ; and that I have been summoned here, by you. I 
 am here, as I am everywhere, I hope, in sympathy for the sick 
 and sorry." 
 
 With these impressive words, Mr. Pecksniff passed over 
 to the bedside, where, after patting the counterpane once or 
 twice in a very solemn manner, as if by that means he gained 
 a clear insight into the patient's disorder, he took his seat in a 
 large arm-chair, and in an attitude of some thoughtfulness and 
 much comfort, 'waited for his waking. Whatever objection 
 the young lady urged to Mrs. Lupin went no further, for 
 nothing more was said to Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Pecksniff 
 said nothing more to anybody else. 
 
 Full half-an-hour elapsed before the old man stirred, but at 
 length he turned himself in bed, and, though not yet awake, 
 gave tokens that his sleep was drawing to an end. By little 
 and little he removed the bed-clothes from about his head, and 
 turned still more towards the side where Mr. Pecksniff sat. In 
 course of time his eyes opened ; and he lay for a few moments 
 as people newly roused sometimes will, gazing indolently at 
 his visitor, without any distinct consciousness of his presence. 
 
 There was nothing remarkable in these proceedings, ex- 
 cept the influence they worked on Mr. Pecksniff, which could 
 hardly have been surpassed by the most marvellous of natural 
 phenomena. Gradually his hands became tightly clasped 
 upon the elbows of his chair, his eyes dilated with surprise, 
 his mouth opened, his hair stood more erect upon his forehead 
 than its custom was, until, at length, when the old man rose 
 in bed, and stared at him with scarcely less emotion than he 
 showed himself, the Pecksniff doubts were all resolved, and he 
 exclaimed aloud : 
 
 " You are Martin Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 His consternation of surprise was so genuine, that the old 
 man, with all the disposition that he clearly entertained to 
 believe it assumed, was convinced of its realit}'. 
 
 " I am Martin Chuzzlewit," he said : "and Martin Chuz- 
 zlewit wishes you had been hanged, before you had come here 
 to disturb him in his sleep. Why, I dreamed of this fellow ! "
 
 42 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 he said, lying down again, and turning away his face, " before 
 1 knew that he was near me ! " | 
 
 " My good cousin — " said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " There ! His very first words ! " cried the old man, shak- 
 ing his gray head to and fro upon the pillow, and throwing 
 up his hands. " In his very first words he asserts his relation- 
 ship ! I knew he would : they all do it ! Near or distant, blood 
 or water, it's all one. Ugh ! What a calendar of deceit, and 
 lying, and false-witnessing, the sound of any word of kindred 
 opens before me ! " 
 
 " Pray do not be hasty, Mr. Chuzzlewit," said Pecksniff, 
 in a tone that was at once in the sublimest degree compas- 
 sionate and dispassionate ; for he had by this time recovered 
 from his surprise, and was in full possession of his virtuous 
 self. " You will regret being hasty, I know you will." 
 
 " You know 1 " said Martin, contemptuously. 
 
 " Yes," retorted Mr. Pecksniff. "Ay, ay, Mr. Chuzzlewit : 
 and don't imagine that I mean to court or flatter you : for 
 nothing is further from my intention. Neither, sir, need you 
 entertain the least misgiving that I shall repeat that obnoxious 
 word which has given you so much offence already, ^^'hy 
 should I ? What do I expect or want from you .-' There is 
 nothing in your possession that / know of, Mr. Chuzzlewit, 
 which is much to be coveted for the happiness it brings you." 
 
 " That's true enough," muttered the old man. 
 
 "Apart from that consideration," said Mr. Pecksniff, watch- 
 ful of the effect he made, " it must be plain to you (1 am 
 sure) by this time, that if I had wished to insinuate myself 
 into your good opinion, I should have been, of all things, 
 careful not to address you as a relati\e : knowing your humor, 
 and being quite certain before hand that I could not have a 
 worse letter of recommendation." 
 
 Martin made not any verbal answer ; but he as clearly 
 implied, though only by a motion of his legs beneath the 
 bedclothes, that there was reason in this, and that he could 
 not dispute it, as if he had said as much in good set terms. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pecksniff, keeping his hand in his waist- 
 coat as though he were ready, on the shortest notice, to pro- 
 duce his heart for Martin Chuzzlewit's inspection, " I came here 
 to offer my services to a stranger. T make no offer of them 
 to you, because I know you would distrust me if I did. But 
 lying on that bed, sir, I regard you as a stranger, and I have 
 just that amount of interest in you which I hope I should feel
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 43 
 
 in any stranger, circumstanced as you are. Beyond that, I am 
 quite as indifferent to you, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as you are to me." 
 
 Ha\'ingsaid which, Mr. Pecksniff threw himseff back in the 
 easy-chair : so radiant with ingenuous lionesty, that Mrs. Lupin 
 almost wondered not to see a stained-glass Glory, such as the 
 Saint wore in the church, shining about his head. 
 
 A long pause succeeded. The old man, with increased 
 restlessness, changed his posture several times. Mrs. Lupin 
 and the young lady gazed in silence at the counterpane. Mr. 
 Pecksniff toyed abstractedly with his eye-glass, and kept his 
 eyes shut, that he might ruminate the better. 
 
 " Eh ? " he said at last, opening them suddenly, and looking 
 towards the bed. " I beg your pardon. I thought you spoke. 
 Mrs. Lupin," he continued, slowly rising, "I am not aware 
 that I can be of any service to you here. The gentleman is 
 better, and you are as good a nurse as he can have. Eh ? " 
 
 This last note of interrogation bore reference to another 
 cliange of posture on the old man's part, which brought his 
 face towards Mr. Pecksniff for the first time since he had 
 turned away from him. 
 
 " If you desire to speak to me before I go, sir," continued 
 that gentleman, after another pause, " you may command my 
 leisure ; but I must stipulate, in justice to myself, that you do 
 so as to a stranger: strictly as to a stranger." 
 
 Now if Mr. Pecksniff knew, from anything Martin Chuzzlewit 
 had expressed in gestures, that he wanted to speak to him, he 
 could only have found it out on some such principle as prevails 
 in melodramas, and in virtue of which the elderly farmer with 
 the comic son always knows what the dumb-girl means when 
 she takes refuge in his garden, and relates her personal me- 
 moirs in incomprehensible pantomime. But without stopping to 
 make any inquiry on this point, Martin Chuzzlewit signed to 
 his young companion to withdraw, which she immediately did, 
 along with the landlady, leaving him and Mr. Pecksniff alone 
 together. For some time they looked at each other in silence ; 
 or rather the old man looked at Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, again closing his eyes on all outward objects, took an 
 inward survey of his own breast. That it amply repaid him 
 for his trouble, and afforded a delicious and enchanting pros- 
 pect, was clear from the expression of his face. 
 
 " You wish me to speak to you as to a total stranger," said 
 the old man, " do you ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff replied, by a shrug of his shoulders and an
 
 ^4 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 apparent turning-round of his eyes in their sockets before he 
 opened them, that he was still reduced to the necessity of en- 
 tertaining that desire. 
 
 " You shall be gratified," said Martin. " Sir, I am a rich 
 man. Not so rich as some suppose, perhaps, but yet wealthy. 
 I am not a miser, sir, though even that charge is made against 
 me, as I hear, and currently believed. I have no pleasure in 
 hoarding. I have no pleasure in the possession of money. 
 The devil that we call by that name can give me nothing but 
 unhappiness." 
 
 It would be no description of Mr. Pecksniff's gentleness of 
 manner to adopt the common parlance, and say, that he looked 
 at this moment as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He 
 rather looked as if any quantity of butter might have been 
 made out of him, by churning the milk of human kindness, 
 as it spouted upwartls from his heart. 
 
 " For the same reason that I am not a hoarder of money," 
 said the old man, " I am not lavish of it. Some people find 
 their gratification in storing it up ; and others theirs in parting 
 with it ; but I have no gratification connected with the thing. 
 Pain and bitterness are the only goods it ever could procure 
 forme. I hate it. It is a spectre walking before me through 
 the world, and making eveiy social pleasure hideous." 
 
 A thought arose in Mr. Pecksniff's mind, which must have 
 instantly mounted to his face, or Martin Chuzzlevvit would not 
 have resumed as quickly and as sternly as he did : 
 
 " You would advise me for my peace of mind, to get rid of 
 this source of misery, and transfer it to some one who could 
 bear it better. Even you, perhaps, would rid me of a burden 
 under which I suffer so grievously. But, kind stranger," said 
 the old man, whose every feature darkened as he spoke, 
 "good Christian stranger, that is a main part of my trouble. 
 In other hands, I have known money do good : in other hands 
 I have known it triumphed in, and boasted of with reason, as 
 the master-key to all the brazen gates that close upon the paths 
 to worldly honor, fortune, and enjoyment. To what man or 
 woman ; to what worthy, honest, incorruptible creature ; shall 
 I confide such a talisman, either now or when I die? Do you 
 know any such person ? Your virtues are of course inesti- 
 mable, but can you tell me of any other living creature who 
 will bear the test of contact with myself?" 
 
 " Of contact with yourself, sir?'" echoed Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 ** Ay," returned the old man, " the test of contact with me —
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 45 
 
 with me. You have heard of him whose misery (the gratifi- 
 cation of his own fooUsh wish) was, that lie turned everj'thing 
 he touched into gold. Tlie curse of my existence, and the 
 realization of my own mad desire, is that by the golden standard 
 which I bear about me, I am doomed to tr^' the mettle of all 
 other men, and find it false and hollow." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff shook his head, and said, "You think so." 
 
 " Oh yes," cried the old man, " I think so ! and in your tell- 
 ing me ' 1 think so,' I recognize the true unworldly ring of 
 your metal. I tell you, man," he added, with increasing bitter- 
 ness, " that I have gone, a rich man, among people of all 
 grades and kinds ; relatives, friends, and strangers ; among 
 people in whom, when I was poor, 1 had confidence, and justly, 
 for they never once deceived me then, or, to me, wronged each 
 other. But I have never found one nature, no, not one, in 
 which, being wealthy and alone, I was not forced to detect the 
 latent corruption that lay hid within it, waiting for such as I to 
 bring it forth. Treacher^', deceit, and low design ; hatred of 
 competitors, real or fancied, for my favor ; meanness, falsehood, 
 baseness, and servility ; or," and here he looked closely in his 
 cousin's eyes, " or an assumption of honest independence, 
 almost worse than all ; these are the beauties which my wealth 
 has brought to light. Brother against brother, child against 
 parent, friends treading on the faces of friends, this is the social 
 company by whom my way has been attended. There are 
 stories told — they may be true or false — of rich men, who, in 
 the garb of poverty, ha\e found out virtue and rewarded it. 
 They were dolts and idiots for their pains. They should have 
 made the search in their own characters. They should have 
 shown themselves fit objects to l^e robbed and preyed upon 
 and plotted against and adulated by any knaves, wlio, but for 
 joy, would have spat upon their coffins when they died their 
 dupes ; and then their search would have ended as mine has 
 done, and they would be what I am." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff, not at all knowing what it might be best to say 
 in the momentary' pause which ensued upon these remarks, 
 made an elaborate demonstration of intending to deliver some- 
 thing ver)' oracular indeed : trusting to the certainty of the old 
 man interrupting him, before he sliould utter a word. Nor 
 was he mistaken, for Martin Chuzzlewit having taken breath, 
 went on to say : 
 
 " Hear me to an end ; judge what profit you are like to gain 
 from any repetition of this \isit ; and leave me. I have so
 
 46 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 corrupted. and changed the nature of all those who have ever 
 attended on me, by breeding avaricious plots and hopes within 
 them ; I have engendered such domestic strife and discord, by 
 tarrying even with members of my own family ; I have been 
 such a lighted torch in peaceful homes, kindling up all the 
 inflammable gases and vapors in their moral atmosphere, 
 which, but for me, might have proved harmless to the end; 
 that I have, I may say, fled from all who knew me, and taking 
 refuge in secret places have lived, of late, the life of one who 
 is hunted. The young girl whom you just now saw — what ! 
 your eye lightens when I talk of her ! You hate her already, 
 do you .'' " 
 
 " Upon my word, sir ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, laying his hand 
 upon his breast, and dropping his eyelids. 
 
 " I forgot," cried the old man, looking at him with a keenness 
 which the other seemed to feel, although he did not raise his 
 eyes so as to see it : "I ask your pardon. I forgot you were 
 a stranger. For the moment you reminded me of one Peck- 
 sniff, a cousin of mine. As I was saying — the young girl whom 
 you just now saw, is an orphan child, whom, with one steady 
 purpose, I have bred and educated, or, if you prefer the word, 
 adopted. For a year or more she has been my constant com- 
 panion, and she is my only one. I have taken, as she knows, 
 a solemn oath never to leave her sixpence when I die, but while 
 I live, I make her an annual allowance : not extravagant in its 
 amount and yet not stinted. There is a compact between us 
 that no term of affectionate cajolery shall ever be addressed by 
 either to the other, but that she shall call me always by my 
 Christian name : I her, by hers. She is bound to me in life 
 by ties of interest, and losing by my death, and having no 
 expectation disappointed, will mourn it, perhaps : though for 
 that I care little. This is the only kind of friend I have or will 
 have. Judge from such premises what a profitable hour you 
 have spent in coming here, and leave me: to return no more." 
 
 With these words, the old man fell slowly back upon his 
 pillow. Mr. Pecksniff as slowly rose, and, with a prefatory 
 hem, began as follows : 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit." 
 
 " There. Go ! " interposed the other. " Enough of this. 
 I am weary of you." 
 
 " I am sorry for that, sir," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff, " because 
 I have a duty to discharge, from which, depend upon it, I shall 
 not shrink. No, sir, I shall not shrink."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 47 
 
 It is a lamentable fact, that as Mr. Pecksniff stood erect 
 beside the bed, in all the dignity of Goodness, and addressed 
 him thus, the old man cast an angr}- glance towards the candle- 
 stick, as if he were possessed by a strong inclination to launch 
 it at his cousin's head. But he constrained himself, and point- 
 ing with his finger to the door, informed him that his road lay 
 there. 
 
 " Thank you," said Mr. Pecksniff, "I am aware of that ; I 
 am going. But before I go, I crave your leave to speak, and 
 more than that, Mr. Chuzzlewit, I must and will — yes indeed, 
 I repeat it, must and will — -be heard. I am not surprised, sir, 
 at anything you have told me to-night. It is natural, very 
 natural, and the greater part of it was known to me before. I 
 will not say," continued Mr. Pecksniff, drawing out his pocket- 
 handkerchief, and winking with both eyes at once, as it were, 
 against his will, " I will not say that you are mistaken in me. 
 While you are in your present mood I would not say so for the 
 world. I almost wish, indeed, that I had a different nature, 
 that I might repress even this slight confession of weakness : 
 which I cannot disguise from you: which I feel is humiliating: 
 but which you will have the goodness to excuse. We will say, 
 if you please," added Mr. Pecksniff, with great tenderness of 
 manner, " that it arises from a cold in the head, or is attribut- 
 able to snuff, or smelling-salts, or onions, or anything but the 
 real cause." 
 
 Here he paused for an instant, and concealed his face behind 
 his pocket handkerchief. Then, smiling faintl}-, and holding 
 the bed-furniture with one hand, he resumed : 
 
 " But, Mr. Chuzzlewit, while I am forgetful of myself, I owe 
 it to myself, and to my character — ay, sir, and I have a charac- 
 ter which is very dear to me, and will be the best inheritance 
 of my two daughters — to tell you, on behalf of another, that 
 your conduct is wrong, unnatural, indefensible, monstrous. 
 And I tell you, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, towering on tiptoe 
 among the curtains, as if he were literally rising above all 
 wordly considerations, and were fain to hold on tight, to keep 
 himself from darting skyward like a rocket, " I tellyou without 
 fear or favor, that it will not do for you to be unmindful of 
 your grandson, young Martin, who has the strongest natunl • 
 claim upon you. It will not do, sir," repeated Mr. Pecksniff, 
 shaking his head. " You may think it will do, but it won't. 
 You must provide for that young man ; you shall provide for 
 him ; you z£'/// provide for him. I believe," said Mr. Pecksniff,
 
 48 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 glancing at the pen-and-ink, "that in secret you have already 
 done so. Bless you for doing so. Bless you for doing right, 
 sir. Bless you for hating me. And goodnight ! " 
 
 So saynig, Mr. Pecksniff waved his right hand with much 
 solemnity ; and once more inserting it in his waistcoat, de- 
 parted. There was emotion in his manner, but his step was 
 firm. Subject to human weaknesses, he was upheld by con- 
 science. 
 
 Martin lay for some time, with an expression on his face 
 of silent wonder, not unmixed with rage : at length he mut- 
 tered in a whisper : 
 
 " What does this mean ? Can the false-hearted boy have 
 chosen such a tool as yonder fellow who has just gone out .-* 
 Why not ! He has conspired against me, like the rest, and 
 they are but birds of one feather. A new plot ; a new plot ! 
 Oh self, self, self ! At every turn nothing but self ! " 
 
 He fell to trifling, as he ceased to speak, with the ashes of 
 the burnt paper \\\ the candlestick. He did so, at first, in 
 pure abstraction, but they presently became the subject of his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Another will made and destroyed," he said, "nothing 
 determined on, nothing done, and I might have died to-night ! 
 I plainly see to what foul uses all this money will be put at 
 last," he cried, almost writhing in the bed : "after filling me 
 with cares and miseries all my life, it will perpetuate discord 
 and bad passions when I am dead. So it always is. What 
 lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day : sow- 
 ing perjury, hatred, and lies among near kindred, where there 
 should be nothing but love ! Heaven help us, we have much 
 to answer for! Oh self, self, self! Every man for himself, 
 and no creature for me ! " 
 
 Universal self ! Was there nothing of its shadow in these 
 reflections, and in the history of Martin Chuzzlewit, on his 
 own showing ,-'
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FROM WHICH IT WILL APPEAR THAT IF UNION BE STRENGTH, 
 AND FAMILY AFFECTION BE PLEASANT TO CONTEMPLATE, 
 THE CHUZZLEWITS WERE THE STRONGEST AND MOST AGREE- 
 ABLE FAMILY IN THE WORLD. 
 
 That worthy man Mr. Pecksniff having taken leave of his 
 cousin in the solemn terms recited in the last chapter, with- 
 drew to his own home, and remained there, three whole days : 
 not so much as,going out for a walk beyond the boundaries 
 of his own garden, lest he should be hastily summoned to the 
 bedside of his penitent and remorseful relative, whom, in his 
 ample benevolence, he had made up his mind to forgive un- 
 conditionally, and to love on any terms. But, such was the 
 obstinacy and such the bitter nature of that stern old man, 
 that no repentant summons came ; and the fourth day found 
 Mr. Pecksniff apparently much farther from his Christian ob- 
 ject than the first. 
 
 During the whole of this interval, he haunted the Dragon 
 at all times and seasons in the day and night, and returning 
 good for evil, evinced the deepest solicitude in the progress of 
 the obdurate invalid ; insomuch that Mrs. Lupin was fairly 
 melted by his disinterested anxiety (for he often particularly 
 required her to take notice that he would do the same by any 
 stranger or pauper in the like condition), and shed many tears 
 of admiration and delight. 
 
 Meantime, old Martin Chuzzlewit remained shut up in his 
 own chamber, and saw no person but his young companion, 
 saving the hostess of the Blue Dragon, who was, at certain 
 times, admitted to his presence. So surely as she came into 
 the room, however, Martin feigned to fall asleep. It was only 
 when he and the young lady were alone, that he would utter a 
 word, even in answer to the simplest inquiry ; though Mr. 
 Pecksniff could make out, by hard listening at the door, that 
 they two being left together, he was talkative enough. 
 
 It happened on the fourth evening, that Mr. Pecksniff 
 walking, as usual, into the bar of the Dragon and finding no 
 Mrs. Lupin there, went straight up stairs : purposing, in the 
 
 4
 
 5° 
 
 A/A J? TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 fervor of his affectionate zeal, to apply his ear once more to 
 the keyhole, and quiet his mind by assuring himself that the 
 hard-hearted patient was goiwg on well. It happened that 
 Mr. Pecksniff, coming softly upon the dark passage into which 
 a spiral ray of light usually darted through the same keyhole, 
 was astonished to find no such ray visible ; and it happened 
 that Mr. Pecksniff, when he had felt his way to the chamber- 
 door, stooping hurriedly down to ascertain by personal in- 
 spection whether the jealousy of the old man hacl caused this 
 keyhole to be stopped on the inside, brought his head into 
 such violent contact with another head, that he could not help 
 uttering in an audible voice the monosyllable "Oh ! " which 
 was, as it were, sharply unscrewed and jerked out of him by 
 very anguish. It happened then, and lastly, that Mr. Peck- 
 sniff found himself immediately cohared by something which 
 smelt like several damp vmibrellas, a barrel of beer, a cask of 
 warm brandy-and-water, and a small parlor-full of stale to- 
 bacco smoke, mixed ; and was straightway led down stairs 
 into the bar from which he had lately come, where he found 
 himself standing opposite to, and in the grasp of, a perfectly 
 strange gentleman of still stranger appearance, who, with his 
 disengaged hand, rubbed his own head very hard, and looked 
 at him, Pecksniff, with an evil countenance. 
 
 I'he gentleman was of that order of appearance, which is 
 currently termed shabby-genteel, though in respect of his dress 
 he can hardlv be said to have been in anv extremities, as his 
 fingers were a long way out of his gloves, and the soles of his 
 feet were at an inconvenient distance from the upper leather 
 of his boots. His nether garments were of a bluish gray — 
 violent in its colors once, but sobered now by age and dingi- 
 ness — and were so stretched and strained in a tough conflict 
 between his braces and his straps, that they appeared every 
 moment in dansrer of flvinsr asunder at the knees. His coat, 
 in color blue and of a military cut, v/as buttoned andfrogged, 
 up to his chin. His cravat was, in hue and pattern, like one 
 of ihose mantles which hair-dressers are accustomed to wrap 
 about their clients, during the progress of the professional 
 mysteries. His hat had arrived at such a pass that it would 
 have been hard to determine whether it was originally white 
 or black. But he wore a mustache — a shaggy mustache 
 too : nothing in the meek and merciful way, but quite in the 
 fierce and scornful style : the regular Satanic sort of thing — 
 and he wore, besides, a vast quantity of unbrushed hair. He
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 i 
 
 was ver)' dirty and very jaunty ; very bold and very mean • 
 very swaggering and ver^' slinking ; very much like a man 
 who might have been something better, and unspeakably like 
 a man who deserved to be something worse. 
 
 " You were eaves-dropping at that door, you vagabond ! " 
 said this gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff cast him off, as Saint George might have re- 
 pudiated the Dragon in that animal's last moments, and said : 
 
 " Where is Mrs. Lupin, I wonder ! can the good woman 
 possibly be aware that there is a person here who — " 
 
 " Stay ! " said the gentleman. " Wait a bit. She does 
 know. What then ? " 
 
 " What then, sir ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " What then ? 
 Do vou know, sir that I am the friend and relative of that 
 sick gentleman ? That I am his protector, his guardian, 
 his—'' 
 
 " Not his niece's husband," interposed the stranger, " I'll 
 be sworn ; for he was there before you." 
 
 " What do you mean } " said Mr. Pecksniff, with indignant 
 surprise. "What do you tell me, sir.? " 
 
 " Wait a bit ! " cried the other. " Perhaps you are a 
 cousin — the cousin who lives in this place ? " 
 
 " I am the cousin who li\ es in this place," replied the man 
 of worth. 
 
 " Your name is Pecksniff ? " said the gentleman. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 "I am proud to know you, and I ask your pardon," said 
 the man touching his hat, and subsequently diving behind his 
 cravat for a shirt-collar, which however he did not succeed in 
 bringing to the surface. "You behold in me, sir, one who 
 has also an interest in that gentleman up stairs. Wait a bit." 
 
 As he said this, he touched the tip of his high nose, by 
 way of intimation that he would let Mr. Pecksniff into a se- 
 cret presently ; and pulling off his hat, began to search inside 
 the crown among a mass of crumpled documents and small 
 pieces of what may be called the bark of broken cigars, 
 whence he presently selected the cover of an old letter, be- 
 grimed with dirt and redolent of tobacco. 
 
 " Read that," he cried, giving it to Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 "This is addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esquire," said that 
 gentleman. 
 
 " You know Chevy Slyme, Esquire, I believe } " returned 
 the stranger.
 
 52 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff shrugged his shoulders as though he would 
 say " I know there is such a person, and I am sorry for it." 
 
 " Very good," remarked the gentleman. "That is my in- 
 terest and business here." With that he made another dive 
 for his shirt-collar, and brought up a string. 
 
 " Now this is very distressing, my friend," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, shaking his head and smiling composedly. " It is very 
 distressing to me, to be compelled to say that you are not the 
 person you claim to be. I know Mr. Slyme, my friend ; this 
 will not do : honesty is the best policy : you had better not : 
 you had indeed." 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the gentleman, stretching forth his right 
 arm, which was so tightly wedged into his threadbare sleeve 
 that it looked like a cloth sausage. " Wait a bit ! " 
 
 He paused to establish himself immediately in front of 
 the fire, with his back towards it. Then gathering the skirts 
 of his coat under his left arm, and smoothing his mustache 
 with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed : 
 
 " I understand your mistake, and I am not offended. 
 Why } Because it's complimentary. You suppose I would 
 set myself up for Chevy Slyme. Sir, if there is a man on 
 earth whom a gentleman would feel proud and honored to be 
 mistaken for, that man is my friend Slyme. For he is, with- 
 out an exception, the highest-minded, the most independent- 
 spirited, most original, spiritual, classical, talented, the most 
 tlioroughly Shakspearian, if not Miltonic, and at the same time 
 the most disgustingly-unappreciated dog \ know. But, sir, I 
 have not the vanity to attempt to pass for Slyme. Any other 
 man in the wide world, I am equal to ; but Slyme is, I frankly 
 confess, a great many cuts above me. Therefore you are 
 wrong." 
 
 '* I judged from this," said Mr. Pecksniff, holding out the 
 cover of the letter. 
 
 " No doubt you did," returned the gentleman. " But, Mr. 
 Pecksniff, the whole thing resolves itself into an instance of 
 the peculiarities of genius. Every man of true genius has his 
 peculiarity. Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme is, that he 
 is always waiting round the corner. He is perpetually round 
 the corner, sir. He is round the corner at this instant. Now," 
 said the gentleman, shaking his forefinger before his nose, 
 and planting his legs wider apart as he looked attentively in 
 Mr. Pecksniff's face, " that is a remarkably curious and inter- 
 esting trait in Mr. Slyme's character; and whenever Slyme's
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 53 
 
 life comes to lie written, that trait must be thoroughly worked 
 out by his biographer, or society will not be satisfied. Ob- 
 serve me, society will not be satisfied ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff coughed. 
 
 "Slyme's biographer, sir, whoever he may be," resumed 
 the gentleman, ""must apply to me ; or, if I am gone to that 
 what's-his-name from which no thingumbob comes back, he 
 must apply to my executors for leave to search among my 
 papers. I have taken a few notes in my poor way, of some 
 of that man's proceedings — my adopted brother, sir,— which 
 would amaze you. He made use of an expression, sir, only 
 on the fifteenth of last month when he couldn't meet a little 
 bill and the other party wouldn't renew, which would ha\'e 
 done honor to Napoleon Bonaparte in addressing the French 
 
 army." 
 
 " And pray," asked Mr. Pecksniff, obviously not quite at 
 his ease, " What may be Mr. Slyme's business here, if 1 may 
 be permitted to inquire, who am compelled by a regard for 
 my own character to disavow all interest in his proceedings ? " 
 
 " In the first place," returned the gentleman, " you will 
 permit me to say, that I object to that remark, and that I 
 strongly and indignantly protest against it on behalf of my 
 friend Slyme. In the next place, you will give me leave to 
 introduce myself. My name, sir, is Tigg. The name of Mon- 
 tague Tigg will perhaps be familiar to you, in connection with 
 the most remarkable events of the Peninsular War ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff gently shook his head. 
 
 "No matter," said the gentleman. "That man was my 
 father, and I bear his name. I am consequently proud — 
 proud as Lucifer. Excuse me one moment. I desire my 
 friend Slyme to be present at the remainder of this confer- 
 ence." 
 
 With this announcement he hurried away to the outer 
 door of the Blue Dragon, and almost immediately returned 
 with a companion shorter than himself, who was wrapped in 
 an old blue camlet cloak with a lining of faded scarlet. His 
 sharp features being much pinched and nipped by long waiting 
 in the cold, and his straggling red whiskers and frowzy hair 
 beins: more than usuallv dishevelled from the same cause, he 
 certainly looked rather unwholesome and uncomfortable than 
 Shakspearian or Miltonic. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Tigg, clapping one hand on the shoul- 
 der of his prepossessing friend, and calling Mr. Pecksniff's
 
 54 
 
 MARTIN CHVZZLEWIT. 
 
 attention to him with the other, " you two are related ; and 
 relations never did agree, and never will : which is a wise dis- 
 pensation and an inevitable thing, or there would be none but 
 family parties, and everj'body in the world would bore every- 
 body else to death. If you were on good terms, I should con- 
 sider you a most confoundedly unnatural pair ; but standing 
 towards each other as you do, I look upon you as a couple of 
 devilish deep-thoughted fellows, who may be reasoned with to 
 any extent." 
 
 Here Mr. Che\'y Slyme, whose great abilities seemed one 
 and all to point towards the sneaking quarter of the moral 
 compass, nudged his friend stealthily with his elbow, and 
 whispered in his ear. 
 
 " Chiv," said Mr. Tigg aloud, in the high tone of one who 
 was not to be tampered with. " I shall come to that presently. 
 I act upon my own responsibility, or not at all. To the ex- 
 tent of such a trifling loan as a crov/npiece to a man of your 
 talents, I look upon Mr. Pecksniff as certain : " and seeing at 
 this juncture that the expression of Mr. Pecksniff's face by no 
 means betokened that he shared this certainty, Mr. Tigg 
 laid his finger on his nose again for that gentleman's pri- 
 vate and especial behoof : calling upon him thereby to take 
 notice, that the requisition of small loans was another instance 
 of the peculiarities of genius as developed in his friend Slyme ; 
 that he, Tigg, winked at the same, because of the strong met- 
 aphysical interest which these weaknesses possessed ; and that 
 in reference to his own personal advocacy of such small ad- 
 vances, he merely consulted the humor of his friend, without 
 the least regard to his own advantage or necessities. 
 
 " Oh, Chiv, Chiv ! " added Mr. Tigg, sur\ eying his adopted 
 brother with an air of profound contemplation after dismissing 
 this piece of pantomime. " You are, upon my life, a strange 
 instance of the little frailties that beset a might}' mind. If 
 there had never been a telescope in the world, I should have 
 been quite certain from my observation of you, Chiv, that there 
 were spots on the sun ! I wish I may die, if this isn't the 
 queerest state of existence that we find ourselves forced into, 
 without knowing why or wherefore, Mr. Pecksniff ! Well, 
 never mind ! Moralize as we will, the world goes on. As 
 Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with his club in 
 every possible direction, but he can't prevent the cats from 
 making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or 
 the dogs from being shot in the hot weather it they run about
 
 MARTI A' CIIUZZLEWIT. 55 
 
 the streets unmuzzled. Life's a riddle : a most infernally hard 
 riddle to guess, Mr. Pecksniff. My own opinion is, that like 
 that celebrated conundrum, ' Why's a man in jail like a man 
 out of jail ? ' there's no answer to it. Upon my soul and body, 
 it's the queerest sort of thing altogether — but there's no use 
 in talking about it. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 With which consolatory deduction from the gloomy prem- 
 ises recited, Mr. Tigg roused himself by a great effort, and 
 proceeded in his former strain. 
 
 " Now I'll tell you what it is. I'm a most confoundedly 
 soft-hearted kind of fellow in my way, and I cannot stand by, 
 and see you two blades cutting each other's throats when 
 there's nothing to be got by it. Mr. Pecksniff, you're the 
 cousin of the testator up stairs and we're the nephew — I say 
 we, meaning Chw. Perhaps in all essential points, you are 
 more nearly related to him than we are. Very good. If so, 
 so be it. But you can't get at liim, neither can we. I give 
 you my brighest word of honor, sir, that I've been looking 
 through that keyhole, with short intervals of rest, ever since 
 nine o'clock this morning, in expectation of receiving an an- 
 swer to one of the most moderate and gentlemanly applications 
 for a little temporar)' assistance — only fifteen pounds, and my 
 security — that the mind of man can conceive. In the mean- 
 time, sir, he is perpetually closeted with, and pouring his whole 
 confidence into the bosom of, a stranger. Now, I say deci- 
 sively, with regard to this state of circumstances, that it won't 
 do ; that it won't act ; that it can't be ; and that it must not 
 be suffered to continue." 
 
 " Every man," said Mr. Pecksniff, " has a right, an un- 
 doubted right, (which I, for one, would not call in question 
 for any earthly consideration : oh no !) to regulate his own pro- 
 ceedings by his own likings and dislikings, supposing they are 
 not immoral and not irreligious. I may feel in my own breast, 
 that Mr. Chuzzlewit does not regard — me, for instance : say 
 me — with exactly that amount of Christian love which should 
 subsist between us ; I may feel grieved and hurt at the circum- 
 stance ; still I may not rush to the conclusion that Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit is wholly without a justification in all his coldnesses : 
 Heaven forbid ! Besides, how, Mr. Tigg," continued Pecksniff 
 even more gravely and impressively than he had spoken yet, 
 " how could Mr. Chuzzlewit be prevented from having these 
 peculiar and most extraordinary confidences of whic'-i }-ou 
 speak ; the existence of which I must admit ; and which I
 
 56 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 cannot but deplore — for his sake ? Consider, my good sir — " 
 and here Mr. Pecksniff eyed him wistfully — " how very much 
 at random you are talking." 
 
 " Why as to that," rejoined Tigg, " it certainly is a difficult 
 question." 
 
 " Undoubtedly it is a difficult question," Mr. Pecksniff an- 
 swered. As he spoke he drew himself aloft, and seemed to 
 grow more mindful, suddenly, of the moral gulf between him- 
 self and the creature he addressed. " Undoubtedly it is a 
 very difficult question. And I am far from feeling sure that 
 it is a question any one is authorized to discuss. Good even- 
 hig to you." 
 
 " You don't know that the Spottletoes are here, I suppose ? " 
 said Mr. Tigg. 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ? what Spottletoes ? " asked 
 Pecksniff, stopping abruptly on his way to the door. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Spottletoe," said Chevy Slyme, Esquire, 
 speaking aloud for the first time, and speaking very sulkily ; 
 shambling with his legs the while. " Spottletoe married my 
 father's brother's child, didn't he ? And Mrs. Spottletoe is 
 Chuzzlewit's own niece, isn't she ? She was his favorite once. 
 You may well ask what Spottletoes." 
 
 " Now, upon my sacred word ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, look- 
 ing upwards. " This is dreadful. The rapacity of these peo- 
 ple is absolutely frightful ! " 
 
 " It's not only the Spottletoes either, Tigg," said Slyme, 
 looking at that gentleman and speaking at Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son have got wind of it, and 
 have come down this afternoon. I saw 'em not five minutes 
 ago, when I was waiting round the corner." 
 
 " Oh, Mammon, Mammon ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, smiting 
 his forehead. 
 
 " So there," said Slyme, regardless of the interruption, 
 " are his brother and another nephew for you, already." 
 
 "This is the whole thing, sir," said Mr. Tigg; "this is the 
 point and purpose at which I was gradually arriving, when my 
 friend Slyme here, with six words, hit it full. Mr. Pecksniff', 
 now. that your cousin (and Chiv's uncle) has turned up, some 
 steps must be taken to prevent his disappearing again ; and if 
 possible, to counteract the influence which is exercised over 
 him now, by this designing favorite. Ever}'body who is inter- 
 ested feels it, sir. The whole family is pouring down to this 
 place. The time has come when individual jealousies and
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 57 
 
 interests must be forgotten for a time, sir, and union must be 
 made against the common enemy. When the common enemy 
 is routed, you will all set up for yourselves again ; every lady 
 and gentlemen who has a part in the game, will go in on their 
 own account and bowl away, to the best of their ability, at the 
 testator's wicket ; and nobody will be in a worse position than 
 before. Think of it. Don't commit yourself now. You'll find 
 us at the Half Moon and Seven Stars in this village, at any 
 time, and open to any reasonable proposition. Hem ! Chiv, my 
 dear fellow, go out and see what sort of a night it is." 
 
 Mr. Slyme lost no time in disappearing, and, it is to be 
 presumed, in going round the corner. Mr. Tigg, planting his 
 legs as wide apart as he could be reasonably expected by the 
 most sanguine man to keep them, shook his head at Mr. 
 Pecksniff and smiled. 
 
 "We must not be too hard," he said, "upon the little ec- 
 centricities of our friend Slyme. You saw him whisper me .'' " 
 
 Mr Pecksniff had seen him. 
 
 " You heard my answer, I think } " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had heard it. 
 
 " Five shillings, eh ? " said Mr. Tigg, thoughtfully. " Ah ! 
 what an extraordinary fellow ? Very moderate too ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff made no answer. 
 
 " Five shillings ! " pursued Mr. Tigg, musing : " and to be 
 punctually repaid next week ; that's the best of it. You heard 
 that ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had not neard that. 
 
 " No ! You surprise me ! " cried Tigg. " That's the cream 
 of the thing, sir. I ne\-er knew that man fail to redeem a 
 promise, in my life. You're not in want of change, are you ? " 
 
 "No," said Mr. Pecksniff, "thank you. No"t at all." 
 
 "Just so," returned Mr. Tigg. "If you had been, I'd 
 have got it for you." With that he began to whistle ; but a 
 dozen seconds had not elapsed when he stopped short, and, 
 looking earnestly at Mr. Pecksniff, said : 
 
 " Perhaps you'd rather not lend Slyme five shillings ? " 
 
 " I would much rather not," Mr. Pecksniff rejoined. 
 
 " Egad ! " cried Tigg, gravely nodding his head as if some 
 ground of objection occurred to him at that moment for the 
 first time, " it's verj^ possible you may be right. Would you 
 entertain the same sort of objection to lending mc five shil- 
 lings, now ? " 
 
 "Yes, I couldn't do it, indeed," said Mr. Pecksniff.
 
 58 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Not even lialf-a-crown, perhaps ? " urged Mr. Tigg, 
 
 " Not even half-a-cro\vn." 
 
 " Why then we come," said Mr. Tigg, " to the ridiculously 
 small amount of eighteenpence. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " And that," said Mr. Pecksniff, "would be equally objec- 
 tionable." 
 
 On receipt of this assurance, Mr. Tigg shook him heartily 
 by both hands, protesting with much earnestness, that he was 
 one of the most consistent and remarkable men he had ever 
 met, and that he desired the honor of his better acquaintance. 
 He moreover observed that there were many little character- 
 istics about his friend Slyme, of which he could by no means, 
 as a man of strict honor, approve ; but that he was prepared 
 to forgive him all these slight drawbacks, and much more, in 
 consideration of the great pleasure he himself had that day en- 
 joyed in his social intercourse with Mr. Pecksniff, which had 
 given him a far higher and more enduring delight than the 
 successful negotiation of any small loan on the part of his 
 friend could possibly have imparted. With which remarks he 
 would beg leave, he said, to wish Mr. Pecksniff a very good 
 evening. And so he took himself off : as little abashed by 
 his recent failure as any gentleman would desire to be. 
 
 The meditations of Mr. Pecksniff that evening at the bar 
 of the Dragon, and that night in his own house, were very 
 serious and grave indeed ; the more especially as the intelli- 
 gence he had received from Messrs. Tigg and Slyme touch- 
 ing the arrival of other members of the family, were fully con- 
 firmed on more particular inquir)-. For the Spottletoes had 
 actually gone straight to the Dragon, where they were at that 
 moment housed and mounting guard, and where their appear- 
 ance had occasioned such a vast sensation, that Mrs. Lupin, 
 scenting their errand before they had been under her roof 
 half-an-hour, carried the news herself with all possible secrecy 
 straight to Mr. Pecksniff's house : indeed it was her great 
 caution in doing so which occasioned her to miss that gentle- 
 man, who entered at the front door of the Dragon, just as she 
 emerged from the back one. Moreover, Mr. Anthony Chuz- 
 /dewit and his son Jonas were economically quartered at the 
 Half Moon and Seven Stars, which was an obscure ale-house ; 
 and by the very next coach there came posting to the scene 
 of action, so many other affectionate members of the family 
 (who quarrelled with each other, inside and out, all the way 
 down, to the utter distraction of the coaciniian;, that in less
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 59 
 
 than four-and-twenty hours the scanty tavern accommodation 
 was at a premium, and all the private lodgings in the place, 
 amounting to full four beds and a sofa, rose cent, per cent, in 
 the market. 
 
 In a word, things came to that pass that nearly the whole 
 family sat down before the Blue Dragon, and formally in- 
 vested it ; and Martin Chuzzlewit was in a state of siege. But 
 he resisted bravely ; refusing to receive all letters, messages, and 
 parcels ; obstinately declining to treat with anybody ; and hold- 
 ing out no hope or promise of capitulation. Meantime the 
 family forces were perpetually encountering each other in di- 
 vers parts of the neighborhood : and, as no one branch of the 
 Chuzzlewit tree had ever been known to agree with another 
 within the memory of man, there was such a skirmishing, and 
 flouting, and snapping off of heads, in the metaphorical sense 
 of that expressio'n ; such a bandying of words and calling of 
 names ; such an upturning of noses and wrinkling of brows ; 
 such a formal interment of good feelings and violent resurrec- 
 tion of ancient grievances ; as had never been known in those 
 quiet parts since the earliest record of their civilized existence. 
 
 At length, in utter despair and hopelessness, some few of 
 the belligerents began to speak to each other in only moder- 
 ate terms of mutual aggravation ; and nearly all addressed 
 themselves with a show of tolerable decency to Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, in recognition of his high character and influential posi- 
 tion. Thus, by little and little they made coaimon cause of 
 Martin Chuzzlewit's obduracy, until it was agreed (if such a 
 word can be used in connection with the Chuzzlewits) that 
 there should be a general council and conference held at Mr. 
 Pecksniff's house upon a certain day at noon : which all mem- 
 bers of the family who had brought themselves within reach of 
 the summons, were forthwith bidden and imited, solemnly, to 
 attend. 
 
 If ever Mr. Pecksniff wore an apostolic look, he wore it on 
 this memorable day. If ever his unruffled smile proclaimed 
 the words, " I am a messenger of peace ! " that was its mis- 
 sion now. If ever man combined within himself all the mild 
 qualities of the lamb with a considerable touch of the dove, 
 and not a dash of the crocodile, or the least possible sugges- 
 tion of the ver}' mildest seasoning of the serpent, that man 
 was he. And, Oh, the two Miss Pecksniffs ! Oh, the serene 
 expression on the face of Charity, which seemed to say, " I 
 know that all my family have injured me bcN-ond the possi-
 
 6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 bility of reparation, l^ut I forgive them, for it is my duty so to 
 do ! " And, Oh, the ga}' simplicity of Mercy : so charming, 
 ■innocent, and infant-Hl<e, tiiat if she had gone out walking by 
 herself, and it had been a little earlier in the season, the 
 robin-redbreasts might have covered her with leaves against 
 her will, believing her to be one of the sweet children in the 
 wood, come out of it, and issuing forth once more to look for 
 blackberries in the young freshness of her heart ! What words 
 can paint the Pecksniffs in that trying hour ? Oh, none : for 
 words have naughty company among them, and the Pecksniffs 
 were all goodness. 
 
 But when the company arrived ! That was the time. When 
 Mr. Pecksniff, rising from his seat at the table's head, with a 
 daughter on either hand, received his guests in the best par- 
 lor and motioned them to chairs, with eyes so overflowing 
 and countenance so clamp with gracious perspiration, that he 
 may be said to have been in a kind of moist meekness ! And 
 the company : the jealous, stony-hearted, distrustful company, 
 who were all shut up in themselves, and had no faith in any- 
 body, and wouldn't believe anything, and would no more allow 
 themselves to be softened or lulled asleep by the Pecksniffs 
 than if they had been so many hedgehogs or porcupines ! 
 
 First, there was Mr. Spottletoe, who was so bald and had 
 such big whiskers, that he seemed to have stopped his hair, 
 by the sudden application of some powerful remedy, in the 
 very act of falling off his head, and to have fastened it irrevo- 
 cably on his face. Then there was Mrs. Spottletoe, who being 
 much too slim for her years, and of a poetical constitution, 
 was accustomed to inform her more intimate friends that the 
 said whiskers were " the lodestar of her existence •" and who 
 could now, by reason of her strong affection for her uncle 
 Chuzzlewit, and the shock it gave her to be suspected of 
 testamentary designs upon him, do nothing but cr}' — except 
 moan. Then there were Anthony Chuzzlewit, and his son 
 Jonas : the face of the old man so sharpened by the wariness 
 and cunning of his life, that it seemed to cut him a passage 
 through the crowded room, as he edged away behind the re- 
 motest chairs ; while the son had so well profited by the pre- 
 cept and example of the father, that he looked a year or two 
 the elder of the twain, as they stood winking their red eyes, 
 side by side, and whispering to each other, softly. Then there 
 was the widow of a deceased brother of Mr. Martin Chuzzle- 
 wit, who being almost supernaturally disagreeable, and having
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 6 1 
 
 a dreary face and a bony figure and a masculine voice, was, 
 in right of these quaHties, what is commonly called a strong- 
 minded woman ; and who, if she could, would have establish- 
 ed her claim to the title, and have shown herself, mentally 
 speaking, a perfect Sampson, by shutting ip her brother-in- 
 law in a private mad-house, until he proved his complete san- 
 ity by loving her very much. Beside her sat her spinster 
 daughters, three in number, and of gentlemanly deportment, 
 who had so mortified themselves with tight stays, that their 
 tempers were reduced to something less than their waists, and 
 sharp lacing was expressed in their very noses. Then there 
 was a young gentleman, grand-nephew of Mr. Martin Chuz- 
 zlewit, ver}' dark and very hairy, and apparently born for no 
 particular purpose but to save looking-glasses the trouble of 
 reflecting more*^ than just the first idea and sketchy notion of 
 a face, which had never been carried out. Then there was a 
 solitary female cousin who was remarkable for nothing but 
 being very deaf, and living by herself, and always having the 
 tooth-ache. Then there was George Chuzzlewit, a gay bach- 
 elor cousin, who claimed to be young but had been younger, 
 and was inclined to corpulency, and rather over-fed himself : 
 to that extent, indeed, that his eves were strained in their 
 sockets, as if with constant surprise ; and he had such an ob- 
 vious disposition to pimples, that the bright spots on his cra- 
 vat, the rich pattern on his waistcoat, and even his glittering 
 trinkets, seemed to have broken out upon him, and not to 
 have come into existence comfortably. Last of all there were 
 present Mr. Chevy Slyme and his friend Tigg. And it is 
 worthy of remark, that although each person present disliked 
 the other, mainly because he or she did belong to the family, 
 they one and all concurred in hating Mr. Tigg because he 
 didn't. 
 
 Such was the pleasant little family circle now assembled in 
 Mr, Pecksniff's best parlor, agreeably prepared to fall foul of 
 Mr. Pecksniff or anybody else who might venture to say any- 
 thing whatever upon any subject. 
 
 "This," said Mr. Pecksniff rising, and looking round upon 
 them, with folded hands, " does me good. It does my daugh- 
 ters good. We thank you for assembling here. We are 
 grateful to you with our whole hearts. It is a blessed distinc- 
 tion that you have conferred upon us, and believe me : " it is 
 impossible to conceive how he smiled here : " we shall not 
 easily forget it."
 
 62 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt you, Pecksniff," remarked Mr. 
 Spottletoe, with his whiskers in a very portentous state ; " but 
 you are assuming too mucli to yourself, sir. Who do you 
 imagine has it in contemplation to confer a distinction upon 
 you^ sir ? " 
 
 A general murmur echoed this inquiry, and applauded it. 
 
 " If you are about to pursue the course with which you 
 have begun, sir," pursued Mr. Spottletoe in a great heat, and 
 giving a violent rap on the table with his knuckles, " the 
 sooner you desist, and this assembly separates, the better. I 
 am no stranger, sir, to your preposterous desire to be regarded 
 as the head of this family, but I can tell you, sir — " 
 
 Oh yes indeed! He \.^\\. He! What.? He was the 
 head, was he .'' From the strong-minded woman downwards 
 everybody fell, that instant, upon Mr. Spottletoe, w^ho after 
 vainly attempting to be heard in silence was fain to sit down 
 again, folding his arms and shaking his head, most wrathfully, 
 and giving Mrs. Spottletoe to understand in dumb show, that 
 that scoundrel Pecksniff might go on for the present, but he 
 would cut in presently, and annihilate him. 
 
 " I am not sorry," said'Mr. Pecksniff in resumption of his 
 address, " I am really not sorry that this little incident has 
 happened. It is good to feel that we are met here without 
 disguise. It is good to know that we have no reserve before 
 each other, but are appearing freely in our own characters." 
 
 Here, the eldest daughter of the strong-minded woman 
 rose a little way from her seat, and trembling violently from 
 head to foot, more as it seemed with passion than timidity, 
 expressed a general hope that some people would appear in 
 their own characters, if it were only for such a proceeding 
 having the attraction of novelty to recommend it : and that 
 when they (meaning the some people before mentioned) talked 
 about their relations, they would be careful to observe who 
 was present in company at the time ; otherwise it might come 
 round to those relations' ears, in a way they little expected ; 
 and as to red noses (she observed) she had yet to learn that 
 a red nose was any disgrace, inasmuch as people neither made 
 nor colored their own noses, but had that feature provided 
 for them without being first consulted ; though even upon 
 that branch of the subject she had great doubts whether 
 certain noses were redder than other noses, or indeed half as 
 red as some. This remark being received with a shrill titter 
 by the two sisters of the speaker, Miss Charity Pecksniff
 
 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 63 
 
 begged with much politeness to be informed whether any of 
 those very low observations were levelled at her ; and receiv- 
 ing no more explanatory answer than was conveyed in the 
 adage " Those the cap fits, let them wear it," immediately 
 commenced a somewhat acrimonious and personal retort, 
 wherein she was much comforted and abetted by her sister 
 Mercy, who laughed at the same with great heartiness : indeed 
 far more naturally than life. And it being quite impossible 
 that any difference of opinion can take place among women 
 without every woman who is within hearing taking active part 
 in it, the strong-minded lady and her two daughters, and Mrs. 
 Spottletoe, and the deaf cousin (who was not at all disquali- 
 fied from joining in the dispute by reason of being perfectly 
 unacquainted with its merits), one and all plunged into the 
 quarrel directlyr 
 
 The two Miss Pecksniffs being a pretty good match for the 
 three Miss Chuzzlewits, and all five young ladies having, in 
 the figurative language of the day, a great amount of steam to 
 dispose of, the altercation would no doubt have been a long 
 one but for the high valor and prowess of the strong-minded 
 woman, who, in right of her reputation for powers of sarcasm, 
 did so belabor and pummel Mrs. Spottletoe with taunting 
 words that that poor lady, before the engagement was two 
 minutes old, had no refuire but in tears, 'llicse she shed so 
 plentifully, and so much to the agitation and grief of Mr. 
 Spottletoe, that that gentleman, after holding his clenched fist 
 close to Mr. Pecksniff's eyes, as if it were some natural 
 curiosity from the near inspection whereof he was likely 
 to derive high gratification and improvement, and after offer- 
 ing (for no particular reason that anybody could discover) to 
 kick Mr. George Chuzzlewit for, and in consideration of, the 
 trifling sum of sixpence, took his wife under his arm, and indig- 
 nantly withdrew. This diversion, by distracting the attention 
 of the combatants, put an end to the strife, which, after break- 
 ing out afresh some twice or thrice in certain inconsiderable 
 spirits and dashes, died away in silence. 
 
 It was then that Mr. Pecksniff once more rose from his 
 chair. It was then that the two Miss Pecksniffs composed 
 themselves to look as if there were no such beings — not to 
 say present, but in the whole compass of the world, as the 
 three Miss Chuzzlewits : while the three Miss Chuzzlewits 
 became equally unconscious of the existence of the two Miss 
 Pecksniffs.
 
 64 ^A R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " It is to be lamented," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a forgiv- 
 ing recollection of Mr. Spottletoe's fist, " that our friend 
 should have withdrawn himself so very hastily, though we have 
 cause for mutual congratulation even in that, since we are 
 assured that he is not distrustful of us in regard to anything 
 we may say or do, while he is absent. Now, that is very 
 soothing, is it not ? " 
 
 " Pecksniff," said Anthony, who had been watching the 
 whole party with peculiar keenness from the first : " don't you 
 be a hypocrite." 
 
 "A what, my good sir 1 " demanded Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 "A hypocrite." 
 
 "Charity, my dear," said Mr. Pecksniff, "when I take my 
 chamber candlestick to-night, remind me to be more than 
 usually particular in praying for Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit ; 
 who has done me an injustice." 
 
 This was said in a ver}^ bland voice, and aside, as being 
 addressed to his daughter's private ear. With a cheerfulness 
 of conscience, prompting almost a sprightly demeanor, he then 
 resumed : 
 
 " All our thoughts centring in our very dear, but unkind 
 relative, and he being as it were beyond our reach, we are met 
 to-day, really as if we were a funeral party, except — a blessed 
 exception — that there is no Body in the house." 
 
 The strong-minded lady was not at all sure that this was a 
 blessed exception. Quite the contrary. 
 
 "Well, my dear madam ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Be that 
 as it may, here we are \ and being here, we are to consider 
 whether it is possible by any justifiable means — " 
 
 " Why, you know as well as I," said the strong-minded 
 lady, " that any means are justifiable in such a case, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " Very good, my dear madam, very good ; whether it is 
 possible by any means, we will say by any means, to open the 
 eyes of our valued relative to his present infatuation. Whether 
 it is possible to make him acquainted by any means with 
 the real character and purpose of that young female whose 
 strange, whose very strange position, in reference to himself," 
 here Mr. Pecksniff sunk his voice to an impressive whisper, 
 "really casts a shadow of disgrace and shame upon this 
 family ; and who, we know," here he raised his ^oice again, 
 " else why is she his companion ? harbors the very basest 
 designs upon his weakness and his property."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 65 
 
 In their strong feeling on this point, they, who agreed in 
 nothing else, all concurred as one mind. Good Heaven, that 
 she should harbor designs upon his property ! The strong- 
 minded lady was for poison, her three daughters were for 
 Bridewell and bread-and-water, the cousin with the tooth-ache 
 advocated Botany Bay, the two Miss Pecksniffs suggested 
 flogging. Nobody but Mr. Tigg, who, notwithstanding his 
 extreme shabbiness, was still understood to be in some sort a 
 lady's man, in right of his upper lip and his frogs, indicated a 
 doubt of the justifiable nature of these measures ; and he only 
 ogled the three Miss Chuzzlewits with the least admixture of 
 banter in his admiration, as though he would observe, "You. 
 are positively down upon her to too great an extent, my sweet 
 creatures, upon my soul you are ! " 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Pecksniff, crossing his two fore-fingers in 
 a manner which was at once conciliatory and argumentative : 
 " I will not, upon the one hand, go so far as to say that she 
 deserves all the inflictions which have been so very forcibly 
 and hilariously suggested ; " one of his ornamental sentences ; 
 " nor will I, upon the other, on any account compromise my 
 common understanding as a man, by making the assertion that 
 she does not. What I would observe is, that I think some 
 practical means might be devised of inducing our respected, 
 shall I say our revered — ? " 
 
 " No ! " interposed the strong-minded woman in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 " Then I will not," said Mr. Pecksniff. "You are quite 
 right, my dear madam, and I appreciate and thank you for 
 your discriminating objection — our respected relative, to dis- 
 pose himself to listen to the promptings of nature, and not to 
 the—" 
 
 " Go on. pa ! " cried Mercy. 
 
 " Why, the truth is, my dear," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling 
 upon his assembled kindred, " that I am at a loss for a word. 
 The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to sa}') 
 who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me." 
 
 Mr. George Chuzzlewit suggested " Swans." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Not swans. Very like swans, 
 too. Thank you." 
 
 The nephew with the outline of a countenance, speaking 
 for the first and last time on that occasion, propounded 
 "Oysters." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his own peculiar urbanity, 
 
 5
 
 66 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters ; a very ex- 
 cellent idea ; thank you, my dear sir, very much. Wait ! Sirens. 
 Dear me ! sirens, of course. I think, I say, that means mi2:ht 
 be devised of disposing our respected relative to listen to the 
 promptings of nature, and not to the siren-like delusions of 
 art. Now we must not lose sight of the fact that our esteemed 
 friend has a grandson, to whom he was, until lately, very much 
 attached, and whom I could have wished to see here to-day, 
 for I have a real and deep regard for him. A fine young 
 man : a veiy fine 3'oung man ! I would submit to you, whether 
 M'e might not remove Mr. Chuzzlewit's distrust of us, and vin- 
 dicate our own disinterestedness by — " 
 
 " If Mr. George Chuzzlewit has anything to say to »«r," 
 interposed the strong-minded woman, sternly, " I beg him to 
 speak out like a man ; and not to look at me and my daugh- 
 ters as if he could eat us." 
 
 " As to looking, I have heard it said, Mrs. Ned," returned 
 Mr. George, angrily, "that a cat is free to contemplate a 
 monarch ; and therefore I hope I have some right, having 
 been born a member of this family, to look at a person who 
 only came into it by marriage. As to eating, I beg to say, 
 whatever bitterness your jealousies and disappointed expecta- 
 tions may suggest to you, that I am not a cannibal, ma'am." 
 
 " I don't know that ! " cried the strong-minded woman. 
 
 " At all events, if I was a cannibal," said Mr. George 
 Chuzzlewit, greatly stimulated by this retort, " I think it would 
 occur to me that a lady who had out-lived three husbands and 
 suffered so very little from their loss, must be most uncom- 
 monly tough." 
 
 The strong-minded woman immediately rose. 
 
 " And I will further add," said Mr. George, nodding his 
 head violently at every second syllable ; " naming no names, 
 and therefore hurting nobody but those whose consciences tell 
 them they are alluded to, that I think it would be much more 
 decent and becoming, if those who hooked and crooked them- 
 selves into this family by getting on the blind side of some of 
 its members before marriage, and manslaughtering them 
 afterwards by crowing over them to that strong ]iilch that they 
 were glad to die, would refrain from acting the part of vul- 
 tures in regard to other members of this family who are living. 
 I think it would be full as well, if not better, if those indi- 
 viduals would keep at home, contenting themselves with what 
 they have got (luckily for them) already ; instead of hovering
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVJT. 67 
 
 about, and thrusting their fingers into, a family pie, which 
 tliey flavor much more than enough, 1 can tell them, when 
 they are fifty miles away." 
 
 "J might have been prepared for this ! " cried the strong- 
 minded woman, looking about her with a disdainful smile as 
 she moved towards the door, followed by her three daugh- 
 ters : " indeed I was fully prepared for it, from the first. 
 What else could I expect in such an atmosphere as this ! " 
 
 " Don't direct your half-pay-ofiicer"s gaze at me, ma'am, if 
 you please," interposed Miss Charity; "for I won't bear it." 
 
 This was a smart stab at a pension enjoyed by the strong- 
 minded woman, during her second widowhood and before her 
 last coverture. It told immensely. 
 
 " I passed from the memory of a grateful country, you very 
 miserable minx,",5aid Mrs. Ned, "when I entered this family ; 
 and I feel now, though I did not feel then, that it served me 
 right, and that I lost my claim upon the United Kingdom of 
 Great Britain and Ireland when I so degraded myself. Now, 
 my dears, if you're quite ready, and have sufficiently improved 
 yourselves by taking to heart the genteel example of these two 
 young ladies, I think we'll go. Mr. Pecksniff, we are very 
 much obliged to you, really. We came to be entertained, and 
 you have far surpassed our utmost expectations, in the amuse- 
 ment you have provided for us. Thank you. Good-bye ! " 
 
 With such departing words, did this strong-minded female 
 paralyze the Pecksniffian energies ; and so she swept out of 
 the room, and out of the house, attended by her daughters, 
 who, as with one accord, elevated their three noses in the air, 
 and joined in a contemptuous titter. As they passed the par- 
 lor window on the outside, they were seen to counterfeit a 
 perfect transport of delight among themselves ; and with this 
 final blow and great discouragement for those within, they 
 vanished. 
 
 Before Mr. Pecksniff or any of his remaining visitors could 
 offer a remark, another figure passed this window, coming, at 
 a great rate, in the opposite direction and immediately after- 
 wards, Mr. Spottletoe burst into the chamber. Compared with 
 his present state of heat, he had gone out a man of snow or 
 ice. His head distilled such oil upon his whiskers, that they 
 were rich and clogged with unctuous drops ; his face was 
 violently infiamed, his limbs trembled ; and he gasped and 
 strove for breatli. 
 
 " My good sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff.
 
 68 ^I-'i A' T/JV C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Oh yes ! " returned the other : " Oh yes, certainly ! Oh 
 to be sure ? Oh of course ! You hear him ? You hear him ? 
 all of you ! " 
 
 " What's the matter ! " cried several voices. 
 
 " Oh nothing ! '' cried Spottletoe, still gasping. " Nothing 
 at all ! It's of no consequence ! Ask him ! He'll tell you ! " 
 
 "I do not understand our friend," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 looking about him in utter amazement. " I assure you that 
 he is quite unintelligible to me." 
 
 " Unintelligible, sir ! " cried the other. " Unintelligible ! 
 Do you mean to say, sir, that you don't know what has hap- 
 pened ! That you haven't decoyed us here, and laid a plot 
 and a plan against us ! Will you venture to say that you 
 didn't know Mr. Chuzzlewit was going, sir, and that you don't 
 know he's gone, sir } " 
 
 " Gone ! " was the general cry. 
 
 "Gone," echoed Mr. Spottletoe. " Gone while we were 
 sitting here. Gone. Nobody knows where he's gone. Oh 
 of course not ! Nobody knew he was going. Oh of course 
 not ! The landlady thought up to the very last moment that 
 they were merely going for a ride ; she had no other suspicion. 
 Oh of course not ! She's not this fellow's creature. Oh of 
 course not ! " 
 
 Adding to these exclamations a kind of ironical howl, and 
 gazing upon the company for one brief instant afterwards, in 
 a sudden silence, the irritated gentleman started off again at 
 the same tremendous pace, and was seen no more. 
 
 It was in vain for Mr. Pecksniff to assure them that tliis 
 new and opportune evasion of the family was at least as great 
 a shock and surprise to him, as to anybody else. Of all the 
 bullyings and denunciations that were ever heaped on one 
 unlucky head, none can ever have exceeded in energy and 
 heartiness those with which he was complimented by each of 
 his remaining relatives, singly, upon bidding him farewell. 
 
 The moral position taken by Mr. Tigg was something quite 
 tremendous ; and the deaf cousin, who had the complicated 
 aggravation of seeing all the proceedings and hearing nothing 
 but the catastrophe, actually scraped her shoes upon the 
 scraper, and afterwards distributed impressions of them all 
 over the top step, in token that she shook the dust from her 
 feet before quitting that dissembling and perfidious mansion. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had, in short, but one comfort, and that was 
 the knowledge that all these his relations and friends had
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 69 
 
 hated him to the very utmost extent before ; and that he, for 
 his part, had not distributed among them any more love, than, 
 with his ample capital in that respect, he could comfortably 
 afford to part with. This view of his affairs yielded him great 
 consolation ; and the fact deserves to be noted, as showing 
 with what ease a good man may be consoled under circum- 
 stances of failure and disappointment. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 containing a full account of the installation of mr. 
 Pecksniff's new pupil into the bosom of mr. peck- 
 sniff's FAMILY. WITH ALL THE FESTIVITIES HELD ON 
 THAT OCCASION, AND THE GREAT ENJOYMENT OF MR. 
 PINCH. 
 
 The best of architects and land surveyors kept a horse, in 
 whom the enemies already mentioned more than once in these 
 pages, pretended to detect a fanciful resemblance to his master. 
 Not in his outward person, for he was a raw-boned, haggard 
 horse, always on a much shorter allowance of corn than Mr. 
 Pecksniff ; but in his moral character, wherein, said they, he 
 was full of promise, but of no performance. He was always, 
 in a manner, going to go, and never going. When at his 
 slowest rate of travelling, he would sometimes lift up his legs 
 so high, and display such mighty action, that it was difficult 
 to believe he was doing less than fourteen miles an hour ; and 
 he was for ever so perfectly satisfied with his own speed, and 
 so little disconcerted by opportunities of comparing himself 
 with the fastest trotters, that the illusion was the more difficult 
 of resistance. He was a kind of animal who infused into the 
 breasts of strangers a lively sense of hope, and possessed all 
 those who knew him better with a grim despair. In what 
 respect, having these points of character, he might be fairly 
 likened to his master, that good man's slanderers only can 
 explain. But it is a melancholy truth, and a deplorable in- 
 stance of the uncharitableness of the world, that they made 
 the comparison. 
 
 In this horse, and the hooded vehicle, whatever its proper
 
 7° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 name miglit be, to wliich he was usually harnessed — it was 
 more like a gig with a tumor, than anything else — all Mr. 
 Pinch's thoughts and wishes centred, one bright frosty morn- 
 ing ; for with this gallant equipage he was about to drive to 
 Salisbury alone, there to meet with the new pupil, and thence 
 to bring him home in triumph. 
 
 Blessings on thy simple heart, Tom Pinch, how proudly 
 dost thou button up that scanty coat, called by a sad misno- 
 mer, for these many years, a "great " one ; and how thorough- 
 ly as with thy cheerful voice thou pleasantly abjurest Sam the 
 hostler " not to let him go yet," dost thou believe that quad- 
 ruped desires to go, and would go if he might ! Who could 
 repress a smile — of love for thee, Tom Pinch, and not in jest 
 at thy expense, for thou art poor enough already. Heaven 
 knows — to think that such a holiday as lies before thee, should 
 awaken that quick flow and hurr}' of the spirits, in which thou 
 settest down again, almost untasted, on the kitchen window- 
 sill, that great white mug (put by, by thy own hands, last 
 night, that breakfast might not hold thee late), and layest 
 yonder crust upon the seat beside thee, to be eaten on the 
 road, when thou art calmer in thy high rejoicing ! Who, as 
 thou drivest off, a happy man, and noddest with .a grateful 
 lovingness to Pecksniff in his nightcap at his chamber-window, 
 would not cry : " Heaven speed thee, Tom, and send that 
 thou wert going off for e\'er to some quiet home where thou 
 mightst live at peace, and sorrow should not touch thee ! " 
 
 What better time for driving, riding, walking, mo\'ing 
 through the air by any means, than a fresh, frosty morning, 
 when hope mns cheerily through the veins with the brisk 
 blood, and tingles in the frame from head to foot ! This was 
 the glad commencement of a bracing day in early winter, such 
 as may put the languid summer season (speaking of it when 
 it can't be had) to the blush, and shame the spring for being 
 sometimes cold by halves. The sheep-bells rang as clearly 
 in the vigorous air, as if they felt its wholesome influence like 
 living creatures ; the trees, in lieu of leaves or blossoms, shed 
 upon the ground a frosty rime that sparkled as it fell, and 
 might have been the dust of diamonds. So it was, to Tom. 
 From cottage chimneys, smoke went streaming up high, high, 
 as if the earth had lost its grossness, being so fair, and must 
 not be oppressed by heavy vapor. The crust of ice on the 
 else rippling brook, was so transparent and so thin in texture, 
 that the lively water might, of its own free will, have stopped
 
 MAIi TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 7 1 
 
 — in Tom's glad mind it liad — to look upon the lovely morn- 
 ing. And lest the sun should break this charm too eagerly, 
 there moved between him and the ground, a mist like that 
 which waits upon the moon on suminer nights — the very same 
 to Tom — and wooed him to dissolve it gently. 
 
 Tom, Pinch went on ; not fast, but with a sense of rapid 
 motion, which did just as well ; and as he went, all kinds of 
 things occurred to keep him happy. Thus when he came 
 within sight of the turnpike, and was — Oh a long way ofif ! — 
 he saw the tollman's wife, who had that moment checked a 
 wagon, run back into the little house again like mad, to say 
 (she knew) that Mr. Pinch was coming up. And she was 
 right, for when he drew within hail of the gate, forth rushed 
 the tollman's children, shrieking in tiny chorus, " Mr. Pinch ! " 
 to Tom's intense' delight. The very tollman, though an ugly 
 chap in general, and one whom folks were rather shy of hand- 
 ling, came out himself to take the toll, and give him rough 
 good morning : and that with all this, and a glimpse of the 
 family breakfast on a little round table before the fire, the 
 crust Tom Pinch had brought away with him acquired as rich 
 a flavor as thou2:h it had been cut from a faiiT loaf. 
 
 But there was more than this. It was not only the married 
 people and the children who gave Tom Pinch a welcome as 
 he passed. No, no. Sparkling eyes and snowy breasts came 
 hurriedly to many an upper casement as he clattered by, and 
 gave him back his greeting : not stinted either, but sevenfold, 
 good measure. They were all merry. They all laughed. 
 And some of the wickedest among them even kissed their 
 hands as Tom looked back. For who minded poor Mr. 
 Pinch ? There was no harm in him. 
 
 And now the morning grew so fair, and all things were so 
 wide awake and gay, that the sun seeming to say — Tom had 
 no doubt he said — " I can't stand it any longer : I must 
 have a look," streamed out in radiant majesty. The mist, too 
 shy and gentle for such lusty company, fled off, quite scared, 
 before it • and as it swept away, the hills and mounds and 
 distant pasture lands, teeming with placid sheep and noisy 
 crows, came out as bright as though they were unrolled bran 
 new for the occasion. In comj^liment to which discover}', the 
 brook stood still no longer, but ran briskly off to bear the 
 tidings to the water-mill, three miles away. 
 
 Mr. Pinch was jogging along, full of pleasant thoughts 
 and cheerful influences, when he saw, upon the path before
 
 72 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 him, going in the same direction with himself, a traveller on 
 foot, who walked with a light quick step, and sang as he went : 
 for certain in a very loud voice, but not unmusically. He 
 was a young fellow, of some five or six-and-twenty perhaps, 
 and was drest in such a free and tiy-away fashion, that the 
 long ends of his loose red neckcloth were streaming out be- 
 hind liim quite as often as before ; and the bunch of bright 
 winter berries in the buttonhole of his velveteen coat, was as 
 visible to Mr. Pinch's rearward observation, as if he had worn 
 that garment wrong side foremost. He continued to sing 
 with so much energy, that he did not hear the sound of wheels 
 until it was close behind him ; when he turned a whimsical 
 face and a veiy merry pair of blue eyes on Mr. Pinch, and 
 checked himself directly. 
 
 " Why, Mark 1 " said Tom Pinch, stopping. " Who'd have 
 thought of seeing you here ? Well ! this is surprising ! " 
 
 Mark touched his hat, and said, with a very sudden 
 decrease of vivacity, that he was going to Salisbury. 
 
 " And how spruce you are, too ! " said Mr. Pinch, survey- 
 ing him with great pleasure. " Really I didn't think you 
 were half such a tight-made fellow, Mark ! " 
 
 " Thankee, Mr. Pinch. Pretty well for that, I believe. 
 It's not my fault, you know. With regard to being spruce, sir, 
 that's where it is, you see.'' And here he looked particularly 
 gloomy. 
 
 " Where what is ? " Mr. Pinch demanded. 
 
 " Where the aggravation of it is. Any man may be in good 
 spirits and good temper when he's well drest. There ain't much 
 credit in that. If I was veiy ragged and very jolly, then I 
 should begin to feel I had gained a point, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " So you were singing just now, to bear up, as it were, 
 against being well dressed, eh, Mark .'' " said Pinch. 
 
 "Your conversation's always equal to print, sir," rejoined 
 Mark, with a broad grin. " That was it." 
 
 " Well ! " cried Pinch, " you are the strangest young man, 
 Mark, I ever knew in my life. I always thought so ; but now 
 I am quite certain of it. I am going to Salisbury, too. Will 
 you get in } I shall be very glad of your company. 
 
 The young fellow made his acknowledgments and accepted 
 the offer ; stepping into the carriage directly, and seating him- 
 self on the very edge of the seat with his body half out of it, 
 to express his being there on sufTerance, and by the politeness 
 of Mr. Pinch. As they went along, the conversation pro- 
 ceeded after this manner.
 
 MARTI?/ CIIUZZLEIVIT. 73 
 
 " I more than half believed, just now, seeing you so very 
 smart," said Pinch, " that you must be going to be married, 
 Mark." 
 
 " Well, sir, I've thought of that, too," he replied. " There 
 might be some credit in being jolly with a wife, 'specially if 
 the children had the measles and that, and was very fractious 
 indeed. But I'm a'most afraid to try it. I don't see my way 
 clear." 
 
 "You're not very fond of anybody, perhaps .'' " said 
 Pinch. 
 
 "Not particular, sir, I think." 
 
 " But the way would be, you know, Mark, according to 
 your views of things," said Mr. Pinch, "to marry somebody 
 you didn't like, and who was ver}- disag'-ecable." 
 
 " So it would, sir ; but that might be carrying out a princi- 
 ple a little too far, mightn't it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it might," said Mr. Pinch. At which they both 
 laughed gayly. 
 
 "Lord bless you, sir," said Mark, "you don't half know 
 me, though. I don't believe there ever was a man as could 
 come out so strong under circumstances that would make 
 other men miserable, as I could, if I could only get a chance. 
 But I can't get a chance. It's my opinion, that nobody never 
 will know half of what's in me, unless something very unex- 
 pected turns up. And I don't see any prospect of that. I'm 
 a going to leave the Dragon, sir." 
 
 " Going to leave the Dragon ! " cried Mr. Pinch, looking 
 at him with great astonishment. " Why, Mark, you take my 
 breath away ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir," he rejoined, looking straight l>efore him and a 
 long way off, as men do sometinles when they cogilale pro- 
 foundly. " What's the use of my stopping at the Dragon ? 
 It an't at all the sort of place for inc. When I left London 
 (I'm a Kentish man by birth, though), and took that sitivation 
 here, I quite made up my mind that it was the dullest little 
 out-of-the-way corner in England, and that there would be 
 some credit in being jolly under such circumstances. But, 
 Lord, there's no dulness at the Dragon ! Skittles, cricket, 
 quoits, nine-pins, comic songs, choruses, company round the 
 chimney corner eveiy winter's evening. Any man could be 
 jolly at the Dragon. There's no credit in tliaty 
 
 " But if common report l)e true for once, Mark, as 1 think 
 it is, being able to conlirm it by what I know myself," said
 
 74 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pinch, " you are the cause of half this merriment, and set 
 it going." 
 
 "There may be something in that, too, sir," answered 
 Mark. " But that's no consolation." 
 
 " Well ! " said Mr. Pinch, after a short silence, his usually 
 subdued tone being even more subdued than ever. " I can 
 hardly think enough of what you tell me. Why, what will 
 become of Mrs. Lupin, Mark t " 
 
 Mark looked more fixedly before him, and further off still, 
 as he answered that he didn't suppose it would be much of an 
 object to her. There were plenty of smart young fellows as 
 would be glad of the place. He knew a dozen himself. 
 
 "That's probable enough," said Mr. Pinch, "but I am 
 not at all sure that Mrs. Lupin would be glad of them. Wh)-, 
 I always supposed that Mrs. Lupin and you would make a 
 match of it, Mark : and so did every one, as far as I know." 
 
 " I never," Mark replied, in some confusion, " said nothing 
 as was in a direct way courting-like to her, nor she to me, but 
 I don't know what I mightn't do one of these odd times, and 
 what she mightn't say in answer. Well, sir, f/iai wouldn't 
 suit." 
 
 " Not to be landlord of the Dragon, Mark } " cried Mr, 
 Pinch. 
 
 "No, sir, certainly not," returned the other, withdrawing 
 his gaze from the horizon, and looking at his fellow-traveller. 
 " Why, that would be the ruin of a man like me. I go and 
 sit down comfortably for life, and no man never finds me out. 
 What would be the credit of the landlord of the Dragon's 
 being jolly .-" Why, he couldn't help it, if he tried." 
 
 " Does Mrs. Lupin know you are going to leave her .'' " 
 Mr. Pinch inquired. 
 
 " I haven't broke it to her yet, sir, but I must. I'm look- 
 ing out this morning for something new and suitable," he 
 said, nodding towards the city. 
 
 " What kind of thing now .'' " Mr. Pinch demanded. 
 
 " I was thinking," Mark replied, " of something in the 
 grave-digging way." 
 
 "Good Gracious, Mark ! " cried Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " It's a good damp, wormy sort of business, sir," said 
 Mark, shaking his head, argumentatively, " and there might 
 be some credit in being jolly, with one's mind in that pursuit, 
 unless grave-diggers is usually given that way ; which would 
 be a drawback. Vou don't happen to know how that is, in 
 general, do you, sir .'' "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 75 
 
 "No," said Mr. Pinch, " I don't indeed. I never thought 
 upon the subject." 
 
 " In case of that not turning out as well as one could wish, 
 you know," said Mark, musing again, " there's other busi- 
 nesses. Undertaking" now. That's gloomy. There might 
 be credit to be gained there. A broker's man in a poor 
 neighborhood woukln't be bad perhaps. A jailor sees a deal 
 of misery. A doctor's man is in the very midst of murder. 
 A bailiff's an't a lively office nat'rally. Even a tax-gatherer 
 must find his feelings rather worked upon at times. There's 
 lots of trades, in which I should have an opportunity, I think." 
 
 Mr. Pinch was so perfectly overwhelmed by these remarks 
 that he could do nothing but occasionally exchange a word or 
 two on some indifferent subject, and cast sidelong glances at 
 the bright face of his odd friend (who seemed quite uncon- 
 scious of his observation), until they reached a certain corner 
 of the road, close upon the outskirts of the city, when Mark 
 said he would jump down there, if he pleased. 
 
 " But bless my soul, Mark," said Mr. Pinch, who in the 
 progress of his observation just then made the discovery that 
 the bosom of his companion's shirt was as much exposed as if 
 it were Midsummer, and was ruffled by every breath of air, 
 " why don't you wear a waistcoat ? " 
 
 " What's the good of one, sir .? " asked Mark. 
 
 " Good of one ? " said Mr. Pinch. " Why, to keep your 
 chest warm." 
 
 "Lord love you, sir! " cried Mark, "you don't know me. 
 My chest don't want no warming. Even if it did, what would 
 no waistcoat bring it to.' Inflammation of the lungs, perhaps ? 
 Well, there'd be some credit in l^eing jolly, with a inflamma- 
 tion of the lungs." 
 
 As Mr. Pinch returned no other answer than such as was 
 conveyed in his breath very hard, and opening his eyes very 
 wide, and nodding his head very much, Mark thanked him 
 for his ride, and without troubling him to stop, jumped lightly 
 down. And away he fluttered, with his red neck-kerchief, and 
 his open coat, down a cross-lane : turning back from time to 
 time to nod to Mr. Pinch, and looking one of the most careless, 
 good-humored, comical fellows in life. His late companion, 
 with a thoughtful face, pursued his way to Salisbury. 
 
 Mr. Pinch had a shrewd notion that Salisbury was a veiy 
 desperate sort of place, an exceeding wild and dissipated city ; 
 and when he had put up the horse, and given the hostler to
 
 76 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 understand that he would look in again in the course of an hour 
 or two to see him take his corn, he set forth on a stroll about the 
 streets with a vague and not unpleasant idea that they teemed 
 with all kinds of mystery and bedevilment. To one of his 
 quiet habits this little delusion was greatly assisted by the 
 circumstance of its being market-day, and the thoroughfares 
 about the market-place being fillecl with carts, horses, don- 
 keys, baskets, wagons, garden stuff, meat, tripe, pies, poultr}', 
 and huckster's wares of every opposite description and possi- 
 ble variety of character. Then there were young farmers and 
 old farmers, with smock-frocks, brown great-coats, drab great- 
 coats, red worsted comforters, leather-leggings, wonderful 
 shaped hats, hunting-whips, and rough sticks, standing about in 
 groups, or talking noisily together on the tavern steps, or paying 
 and recei\ing huge amounts of greasy wealth, with the assist- 
 ance of such bulky pocketbooks that when they were in their 
 pockets it was apoplexy to get them out, and when they were 
 out it was spasms to get them in again. Also there were farm- 
 ers' wives in beaver bonnets and red cloaks, riding shaggy 
 horses purged of all earthly passions, who went soberly into 
 all manner of places without desiring to know why, and who, if 
 required, would have stood stock still in a china-shop, with a 
 complete dinner-service at each hoof. Also a great many 
 dogs, who were strongly interested in the state of the market 
 and the bargains of their masters ; and a great confusion of 
 tongues, both brute and human. 
 
 Mr. Pinch regarded everything exposed for sale with great 
 delight, and was particularly struck by the itinerant cutlery, 
 which he considered of the very keenest kind, insomuch that 
 he purchased a pocket knife with seven blades in it, and not 
 a cut (as he afterwards foun*d out) among them. When he 
 had exhausted themaiket-place, and watched the farmers safe 
 into the market dinner, he went back to look after the horse. 
 Having seen him eat unto his heart's content, he issued forth 
 acrain, to wander round the town and re2;ale himself with the 
 shop windows ; previously taking a long stare at the bank, 
 and wondering in what direction underground, the caverns 
 might be, where they kept the money ; and turning to look 
 back at one or two young men who passed him, whom he 
 knew to be articled to solicitors in the town ; and who had a 
 sort of fearful interest in his eyes, as jolly dogs who knew a 
 thing or two, and kept it up tremendously. 
 
 But the shops. Tirst of all, there were the jewellers'
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 77 
 
 shops, with all the treasures of the earth displayed therein, 
 and such large silver watches hanging up in e\ery pane of 
 glass, that if they were anything but first-rate goers it certain- 
 ly was not because the works could decently complain of want 
 of room. In good sooth they were big enough, and perhaps, 
 as the saying is, ugly enough, to be the most correct of all 
 mechanical performers ; in Mr. Pinch's eyes, however, they 
 were smaller than Geneva ware ; and when he saw one very 
 bloated watch announced as a repeater, gifted with the un- 
 common power of striking every quarter of an hour inside the 
 pocket of its happy owner, he almost wished that he was rich 
 enough ii buy it. 
 
 But what were even gold and silver, precious stones and 
 clockwork, to the bookshops, whence a pleasant smell of paper 
 freshly pressedtame issuing forth, awakening instant recollec-' 
 tions of some new grammar had at school, long time ago, with, 
 " Master Pinch, Grove House Academy," inscribed in fault- 
 less writing on the fiy-leaf ! That whiff of russia leather, too, 
 and all those rows on rows of volumes, neatly ranged within : 
 what happiness did they suggest ! And in the window were the 
 spick-and-span new works from London, with the title-pages, 
 and sometimes even the first page of the first chapter, laid 
 wide open : tempting unwary men to begin to read the book, 
 and then, in the impossibility of turning over, to rush blindly 
 in, and buy it ! Here too were the dainty frontispiece and trini 
 vignette, pointing like hand-posts on the outskirts of great 
 cities, to the rich stock of incident beyond ; and store of books, 
 with many a grave portrait and time-honored name, whose 
 matter he knew well, and would have given mines to have, in 
 any form, upon the narrow shelf beside his bed at Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's. What a heart-breaking shop it was ! 
 
 There was another ; not quite so bad at first, but still a 
 trying shop ; where children's books were sold, and where 
 poor Robinson Crusoe stood alone in his might, with dog and 
 hatchet, goat-skin cap and fowling-pieces ; calmly surveying 
 Philip Quarll and the host of imitators round him, and calling 
 Mr. Pinch to witness that he, of all the crowd, impressed one 
 solitary foot-print on the shore of boyish memory, whereof the 
 tread of generations should not stir the lightest grain of sand. 
 And there too were the Persian tales, with flying chests and 
 students of enchanted books shut up for years in caverns : 
 and there too was Abudah, the merchant, with the terrible 
 little old woman hobbling out of the box in his bedroom : and
 
 78 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 there the mighty tahsman, the rare Arabian Nights, with 
 Cassim Baba, divided by four, like the ghost of a dreadful 
 sum, hanging up, all gory, in the robbers' cave. Which match- 
 less wonders, coming fast on Mr. Pinch's mind, did so rub up 
 and chafe that wonderful lamp within him, that when he 
 turned his face towards the busy street, a crowd of phantoms 
 waited on his pleasure, and he lived again, with new delight, 
 the happy days before the Pecksniff era. 
 
 He had less interest now in the chemists' shops, with their 
 great glowing bottles (with smaller repositories of brightness 
 in their very stoppers) ; and in their agreeable compromises 
 between medicine and prefumery, in the shape of toothsome 
 lozenges and virgin honey. Neither had he the least regard 
 (but he never had much) for the tailors', where the newest 
 metropolitan waistcoat patterns were hanging up, which by 
 some strange transformation always looked amazing there, and 
 never appeared at all like the same thing anywhere else. But 
 he stopped to read the playbill at the theatre, and surveyed 
 the doorway with a kind of awe, which was not diminished 
 when a sallow <rentleman with lonsr dark hair came out, and 
 told a boy to run home to liis lodging and bring down his 
 broadsword. Mr. Pinch stood rooted to the spot on hearing 
 this, and might have stood there until dark, but that the old 
 cathedral bell began to ring for vesper service, on which he 
 tore himself away. 
 
 Now, the organist's assistant was a friend of Mr. Pinch's, 
 which was a good thing, for he too was a very quiet gentle 
 soul, and had been, like Tom, a kind of old-fashioned boy at 
 school, though well-liked by the noisy fellows too. As good 
 luck would have it (Tom always said he had great good luck) 
 the assistant chanced that very afternoon to be on duty by 
 himself, with no one in the dusty organ-loft but Tom : so 
 while he played, Tom helped him with the stops ; and finally, 
 the service being just over, Tom took the organ himself. It 
 was then turning dark, and the yellow light that streamed in 
 through the ancient windows in the choir was mingled with a 
 murky red. As the grand tones resounded through the church, 
 they seemed, to Tom, to find an echo in the depth of every 
 ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his own 
 heart. Great thoughts and hopes came crowding on his mind 
 as the rich music rolled upon the air, and yet among them — 
 something more grave and solemn in their purpose, but the 
 same — were all, the images of that day, down to its very light-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 79 
 
 est recollection of childhood. The feeling that the sounds 
 awakened, in the moment of their existence, seemed to include 
 his whole life and being ; and as the surrounding realities of 
 stone and wood and glass grew dimmer in the darkness, these 
 visions grew so much the brighter that Tom might have for- 
 gotten the new pupil and the expectant master, and have sat 
 there pouring out his grateful heart till midnight, but for a 
 very earthy old verger insisting on locking up the cathedral 
 forthwith. So he took leave of his friend, with many thanks, 
 groped his way out, as well as he could, into the now lamp- 
 lighted streets, and hurried off to get his dinner. 
 
 All the farmers being by this time jogging homewards, 
 there was nobody in the sanded parlor of the tavern where he 
 had left the horse : so he had his little table drawn out close 
 before the fire, and fell to work upon a well-cooked steak and 
 smoking hot potatoes, with a strong appreciation of the ex- 
 cellence, and a veiy keen sense of enjoyment. Beside him, 
 too, there stood a jug of most stupendous Wiltshire beer ; aiifl 
 the effect of the whole was so transcendent, that he was obliged 
 e\ery now and then to lay down his knife and fork, rub his 
 hands, and think about it. By the time the cheese and celery 
 came, Mr. Pinch had taken a book out of his pocket, and 
 could afford to trifle with the viands ; now eating a little, now 
 drinking a little, now reading a little, and now stopping to 
 wonder what sort of a young man the new pupil would turn 
 out to be. He had passed from this latter theme and was 
 deep in his book again, when the door opened, and another 
 guest came in, bringing with him such a quantity of cold air, 
 that he positively seemed at first to put the fire out. 
 
 " Very hard frost to-night, sir," said the new-comer, cour- 
 teously acknowledging Mr. Pinch's withdrawal of the little 
 table, that he might have place. " Don't disturb yourself, I 
 beg." 
 
 Though he said this with a vast amount of consideration 
 for Mr. Pinch's comfort, he dragged one of the great leather- 
 bottomed chairs to the very centre of the hearth, notwith- 
 standing ; and sat down in front of the fire, with a foot on 
 each hob. 
 
 " My feet are quite numl)ed. Ah ! Bitter cold to be sure." 
 
 " You have been in the air some considerable time, I dare 
 say ? " said Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " All day. Outside a coach, too." 
 
 "That accounts for his making the room so cool," thought
 
 8o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pinch. " Poor fellow ! How thoroughly chilled he must 
 be ! " 
 
 The stranger became thoughtful likewise, and sat for five 
 or ten minutes looking at the fire in silence. At length he 
 rose and divested himself of his shawl and great-coat, which 
 (far different from Mr. Pinch's) was a very warm and thick 
 one J but he was not a whit more conversational out of his 
 great coat than in it, for he sat down again in the same place and 
 attitude, and leaning back in his chair began to bite his nails. 
 He was young — one-and-twenty — perhaps — and handsome ; 
 with a keen dark eye, and a quickness of look and manner 
 which made Tom sensible of a great contrast in his own bear- 
 ing, and caused him to feel even more shy than usual. 
 
 There was a clock in the room which the stranger often 
 turned to look at. Tom made frequent reference to it also ; 
 partly from a nervous sympathy with its taciturn companion ; 
 and partly because the new pupil was to inquire for him at 
 half after six, and the hands were getting on towards that 
 hour. Whenever the stranger caught him looking at this 
 clock, a kind of confusion came upon Tom as if he had been 
 found out in something ; and it was a perception of his un- 
 easiness which caused the younger man to say, perhaps, 
 with a smile : 
 
 " We both appear to be rather particular about the time. 
 The fact is, I have an engagement to meet a gentleman here." 
 
 " So have I," said Mr. Pinch. 
 
 "At half-past six," said the stranger. 
 
 "At half-past six," said Tom in the very same breath; 
 whereupon the other looked at him with some surprise. 
 
 " The young gentleman I expect," remarked Tom, timidly, 
 " was to inquire at that time for a person by the name of 
 Pinch." 
 
 " Dear me ! " cried the other, jumping up. " And I have 
 been keeping the fire from you all this while ! I had no idea 
 you were Mr. Pinch. I am the Mr. Martin for whom you were 
 to inquire. Pray excuse me. How do you do ? Oh, do 
 draw nearer, pray ! " 
 
 ".Thank you," said Tom, "thank you. I am not at all 
 cold ; and you are ; and we have a cold ride before us. Well, 
 if you wish it, I will. I — I am very glad," said Tom, smiling 
 with an embarrassed frankness pecuharly his, and which was 
 as plainly a confession of his own imperfections, and an ap- 
 peal to the kindness of the person he addressed, as if he had
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 8 1 
 
 drawn one up in simple language and committed it to paper : 
 " I am very glad, indeed, that you turn out to be the party I 
 expected. I was thinking, but a minute ago, that I could 
 wish him to be like you." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it," returned Martin, shaking 
 hands with him again ; " for I assure you, I was thinking there 
 could be no such luck as Mr. Pinch's turning out like jw^." 
 
 "No, really! " said Tom, with great pleasure. "Are you 
 serious ? " 
 
 " Upon my word I am," replied his new acquaintance. 
 " You and I will get on excellently well, I know : which it's 
 no small relief to me to feel, for to tell you the truth, I am not 
 at all the sort of fellow who could get on with ever}'body, and 
 that's the point on which I had the greatest doubts. But 
 they're quite relieved now. — Do me the favor to ring the bell, 
 will you ? " 
 
 Mr. Pinch rose, and complied with great alacrity — the 
 handle hung just over Martin's head, as he warmed himself — 
 and listened with a smiling face to what his friend went on to 
 say. It w'as : 
 
 " If you like punch, you'll allow me to order a glass a-piece 
 as hot as it can be made, that we may usher in our friendship 
 in a becoming manner. To let you into a secret, Mr. Pinch, 
 I never was so much in want of something warm and cheer- 
 ing in my life ; but I didn't like to run the chance of being 
 found drinking it, without knowing what kind of person you 
 were ; for first impressions, you know, often go a long way, 
 and last a long time." 
 
 Mr. Pinch assented, and the punch was ordered. In due 
 course it came : hot and strong. After drinking to each other 
 in the steaming mixture, they became quite confidential. 
 
 " I'm a sort of relation of Pecksniff's, you know," said the 
 young man. 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Mr. Pinch. 
 
 "Yes. My grandfather is his cousin, so he's kith and kin 
 to me, somehow, if you can make that out. /can't." 
 
 "Then Martin is your Christian name ? " said Mr. Pinch, 
 thoughtfully. " Oh ! ''' 
 
 "Of course it is," returned his friend : " I wish it was my 
 surname, for my own is not a very pretty one, and it takes a 
 long time to sign. Chuzzlewit is my name." 
 
 " Dear me ! " cried Mr. Pinch, with an involuntary start. 
 
 " You're not surprised at my having two names, I sup 
 
 6
 
 82 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 pose ? " returned the other, setting his glass to his lips. 
 " Most people have." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Mr. Pinch, " not at all. Oh dear no ! 
 Well ! " And then remembering that Mr. Pecksniff had pri- 
 vately cautioned him to say nothing in reference to the old 
 gentleman of the same name who had lodged at the Dragon, 
 but to reserve all mention of that person for him, he had no 
 better means of hiding his confusion, than by raising his own 
 glass to his mouth. They looked at each other out of their 
 respective tumblers for a few seconds, and then put them 
 down empty. 
 
 " I told them in the stable to be ready for us ten minutes 
 ago " said Mr. Pinch, glancing at the clock again. " Shall we 
 go?" 
 
 ' If you please," returned the other. 
 
 " Would you like to drive ? " said Mr. Pinch ; his whole 
 face beaming with a consciousness of the splendor of his offer. 
 "You shall, if you wish." 
 
 "Why, that depends, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, laughing, 
 " upon what sort of horse you have. Because if he's a bad 
 one, I would rather keep my hands warm by holding them 
 comfortably in my great-coat pockets." 
 
 He appeared to think this such a good joke, that Mr. 
 Pinch was quite sure it must be a capital one. Accordingly, 
 he laughed too, and was fully persuaded that he enjoyed it 
 very much. Then he settled his bill, and Mr. Chuzzlewit paid 
 for the punch ; and having wrapped themselves up, to the ex- 
 tent of their respective means, they went out together to the 
 front door, where Mr. Pecksniff's property stopped the way. 
 
 " I won't drive, thank you, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, get- 
 ting into the sitter's place. " By-the-bye, there's a box of 
 mine. Can we manage to take it .? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly," said Tom. " Put it in, Dick, anywhere ! " 
 
 It was not precisely of that convenient size which would 
 admit of its being squeezed into any odd corner, but Dick the 
 hostler got it in somehow, and Mr. Chuzzlewit helped him. 
 It was all on Mr. Pinch's side, and Mr. Chuzzlewit said he 
 was ver}^ much afraid it would encumber him ; to which Tom 
 said, " Not at all ; " though it forced him into such an awk- 
 ward position that he had much ado to see anything but his 
 own knees. But it is an ill wind that blows nobody any 
 good ; and the wisdom of the saying was verified in this in- 
 stance \ for the cold air came from Mr. Pinch's side of the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. S3 
 
 carriage, and by interposing a perfect wall of box and man 
 between it and the new pupil, he shielded that young gentle- 
 man effectually ; which was a great comfort. 
 
 It was a clear evening, with a bright moon. The whole 
 landscape was silvered by its light and by the hoar-frost ; and 
 everything looked exquisitely beautiful. At first, the great 
 serenity and peace through which they travelled, disposed 
 them both to silence ; but in a very short time the punch 
 within them and the healthful air without, made them loqua- 
 cious, and they talked incessantly. When they were half-way 
 home, and stopped to give the horse some water, Martin 
 (who was very generous with his money) ordered another glass 
 of punch, which they drank between them, and which had 
 not the effect of making them less conversational than before. 
 Their principal topic of discourse was naturally Mr. Pecksniff 
 and his family ; of whom, and of the great obligations they 
 had heaped upon him, Tom Pinch, with the tears standing in 
 his eyes, drew such a picture, as would have inclined any one 
 of common feeling almost to revere them ; and of which Mr. 
 Pecksniff had not the slightest foresight or preconceived idea, 
 or he certainly (being very humble) would not have sent Tom 
 Pinch to bring the pupil home. 
 
 In this way they went on, and on, and on — in the language 
 of the story-books — until at last the village lights appeared 
 before them, and the church spire cast a long reflection on 
 the grave-yard grass : as if it were a dial (alas, the truest in 
 the world !) marking, whatever light shone out of Heaven, the 
 flight of days and weeks and years, by some new shadow on 
 that solemn ground. 
 
 " A pretty church ! " said Martin, observing that his com- 
 panion slackened the slack pace of the horse, as they ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " Is it not ? " cried Tom, with great pride. " There's 
 the sweetest little organ there you ever heard. I play it for 
 them." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said Martin. " It is hardly worth the trouble, 
 I should think. What do you get for that, now ? " 
 
 "Nothing," answered Tom. 
 
 "Well," returned his friend, "3'ou are a ver}' strange fel- 
 low ! " 
 
 To which remark there succeeded a brief silence. 
 
 " When I say nothing," observed Mr. Pinch, cheerfully, 
 " I am wrong, and don't say what I mean, because I get a
 
 84 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 great deal of pleasure from it, and the means of passing some 
 of the happiest hours I know. It led to something else the 
 other day ; but you will not care to hear about that, I dare 
 say ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, I shall. What ? " 
 
 " It led to my seeing," said Tom, in a lower voice, " one of 
 the loveliest and most beautiful faces you can possibly picture 
 to yourself." 
 
 "And yet I am able to picture a beautiful one," said his 
 friend, thoughtfully, "or should be, if I have any memory." 
 
 " She came," said Tom, laying his hand upon the other's 
 arm, " for the first time, very early in the morning, when it 
 was hardly light ; and when I saw her, over my shoulder, 
 standing just within the porch, I turned quite cold, almost be- 
 lieving her to be a spirit. A moment's reflection got the bet- 
 ter of that of course, and fortunately it came to my relief 
 so soon, that I didn't leave off jDlaying." 
 
 " Why fortunately t " 
 
 " Why ? Because she stood there, listening. I had my 
 spectacles on, and saw her through the chinks in the curtains 
 as plainly as I see you ; and she was beautiful. After a while 
 she glided ofT, and I continued to play until she was out of 
 hearing." 
 
 "Why did you do that.?" 
 
 " Don't you see ? " responded Tom. " Because she might 
 suppose I hadn't seen her ; and might return." 
 
 " And did she ? " 
 
 " Certainly she did. Next morning, and next evening too : 
 but always when there were no people about, and always alone. 
 I rose early and sat there later, that when she came, she 
 might find the church door open, and the organ playing, and 
 might not be disappointed. She strolled that way for some 
 days, and always staid to listen. But she is gone now, and 
 of all unlikely things in this wide world, it is perhaps the most 
 improbable that I shall ever look upon her face again." 
 
 " You don't know anything more about her ? " 
 
 "No." 
 . " And you never followed her, when she went away ? ' 
 
 "Why should I distress her by doing that?" said Tom 
 Pinch. " Is it likely that she wanted my company ? She 
 came to hear the organ, not to see me ; and would you have 
 had me scare her from a place she seemed to grow quite fond 
 of ? Now, Heaven bless her ! " cried Tom, "to have given her
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 8 5 
 
 but a minute's pleasure every day, I would have gone on play- 
 ing the organ at those times until I was an old man ; quite 
 contented if she sometimes thought of a poor fellow like me, as 
 a part of the music ; and more than recompensed if she ever 
 mLxed me up with anything she liked as well as she liked that ! " 
 The new pupil was clearly very much amazed by Mr. 
 Pinch's weakness, and would probably have told him so, and 
 given him some good advice, but for their opportune arrival at 
 Mr. Pecksniff's door ; the front door this time, on account of 
 the occasion being one of ceremony and rejoicing. The same 
 man was in waiting for the horse who had been adjured by 
 Mr. Pinch in the morning not to yield to his rabid desire to 
 start ; and after delivering the animal into his charge, and 
 beseeching Mr. Chuzzlewit in a whisper never to reveal a syl- 
 lable of what he Had just told him in the fulness of his heart, 
 Tom led the pupil in, for instant presentation. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had clearly not expected them for hours to 
 come : for he was surrounded by open books, and was glanc- 
 ing from volume to volume, with a black lead pencil in his 
 mouth, and a pair of compasses in his hand, at a vast number 
 of mathematical diagrams, of such extraordinary s'hapes that 
 they looked like designs for fireworks. Neither had Miss 
 Charity expected them, for she was busied, with a capacious 
 wicker basket before her, in making impracticable nightcaps 
 for the poor. Neither had Miss Mercy expected them, for 
 she was sitting upon her stool, tying on tlie — oh good gracious ! 
 — the petticoat of a large doll that she was dressing for a 
 neighbor's child : really, quite a grown-up doll, which made it 
 more confusing : and had its little bonnet dangling by the rib- 
 bon from one of her fair curls, to which she had fastened it, 
 lest it should be lost, or sat upon. It would be difficult, if 
 not impossible, to conceive a family so thoroughly taken by 
 surprise as the Pecksniff's were, on this occasion. 
 
 " Bless my life ! '' said Mr. Pecksniff, looking up, and grad- 
 ually exchanging his abstracted face for one of joyful recog- 
 nition. " Here already ! Martin, my dear boy, I am delighted 
 to welcome you to my poor house ! " 
 
 With this kind greeting, Mr. Pecksniff fairly took him to 
 his arms, and patted him several times upon the back with his 
 right hand the while, as if to express that his feelings during 
 the embrace were too much for utterance. 
 
 " But here," he said, recovering, " are my daughters, Mar- 
 tin : my two only children, whom (if you ever saw them) you
 
 86 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 have not beheld — ah, these sad family divisions ! — since you 
 were infants together. Nay, my dears, why blush at being 
 detected in your everyday pursuits ? We had prepared to 
 give you the reception of a visitor, Martin, in our little room 
 of state," said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling, " but I like this better, 
 I like this better ! " 
 
 Oh blessed star of Innocence, wherever you may be, how 
 did you glitter in your home of ether, when the two Miss Peck- 
 sniffs put forth, each her lily hand, and gave the same, with 
 mantling cheeks, to Martin ! How did you twinkle, as if flut- 
 tering with sympathy, when Mercy, reminded of the bonnet 
 in her hair, hid her fair face and turned her head aside : the 
 while her gentle sister plucked it out, and smote her, with a 
 sister's soft reproof, upon her buxom shoulder ! 
 
 "And how," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning round after the 
 contemplation of these passages, and taking Mr. Pinch in a 
 friendly manner by the elbow, " how has our friend here 
 used you, Martin } " 
 
 " Very well indeed, sir. We are on the best terms, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " Old Tom Pinch ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, looking on him 
 with affectionate sadness. " Ah ! It seems but yesterday that 
 Thomas was a boy, fresh from a scholastic course. Yet years 
 have passed, I think, since Thomas Pinch and I first walked 
 the world together ! " 
 
 Mr. Pinch could say nothing. He was too much moved. 
 But he pressed his master's hand, and tried to thank him. 
 
 "And Thomas Pinch and I," said Mr. Pecksniff, in a 
 deeper voice, " will walk it yet, in mutual faithfulness and 
 friendship ! And if it comes to pass that either of us be run 
 over, in any of those busy crossings which'divide the streets of 
 life, the other will convey him to the hospital in Hope, and sit 
 beside his bed in Bounty ! " 
 
 " Well, well, well ! " he added in a happier tone, as he 
 shook Mr. Pinch's elbow, hard. " No more of this ! Martin, 
 my dear friend, that you may be at home within these walls, 
 let me show you how we live, and where. Come ! " 
 
 With that he took up a lighted candle, and, attended by 
 his young relative, prepared to leave the room. At the door, 
 he stopped. 
 
 " You'll bear us company, Tom Pinch ? " 
 
 Ay, cheerfully, though it had been to death, would Tom 
 have followed him : glad to lay down his life for such a man !
 
 MA ff TIIV CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 87 
 
 "This," said Mr. Pecksniff, opening the door of an oppo- 
 site parlor, " is the httle room of state, I mentioned to you. 
 My girls have pride in it, Martin ! This," opening another 
 door, " is the little chamber in which my works (slight things 
 at best) have been concocted. Portrait of myself by Spiller. 
 Bust by Spoker. The latter is considered a good likeness. I 
 seem to recognize something about the left-hand corner of the 
 nose, myself." 
 
 Martin thought it was very like, but scarcely intellectual 
 enough. Mr. Pecksniff observed that the same fault had been 
 found with it before. It was remarkable it should have struck 
 his young relation too. He was glad to see he had an eye for 
 art. 
 
 " Various books you observe," said Mr. Pecksniff, waving 
 his hand towards the wall, "connected with our pursuit. I 
 have scribbled myself, but have not yet published. Be careful 
 how you come up stairs. This," opening another door, " is 
 my chamber. I read here when the family suppose I have 
 retired to rest. Sometimes I injure my health, rather more 
 than I can quite justify myself, by doing so ; but art is long 
 and time is short. Every facility you see for jotting down 
 crude notions, even here." 
 
 These latter words were explained by his pointing to a 
 small round table on which were a lamp, divers sheets of paper, 
 a piece of India rubber, and a case of instruments : all put 
 ready, in case an architectural idea should come into Mr. 
 Pecksniff's head in the night, in which event he would in- 
 stantly leap out of bed, and fix it for ever. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff opened another door on the same floor, and 
 shut it again, all at once, as if it were a Blue Chamber. But 
 before he had well done so, he looked smilingly round, and 
 said " Why not ? " 
 
 Martin couldn't say why not, because he didn't know any- 
 thing at all about it. So Mr. Pecksniff answered himself, by 
 throwing open the door, and saying : 
 
 " My daughters' room. A poor first floor to us, but a 
 bower to them. Very neat. Very airy. Plants you observe ; 
 hyacinths ; books again ; birds." These birds, by-the-bye, 
 comprised, in all, one staggering old sparrow without a tail, 
 which had been borrowed expressly from the kitchen. " Such 
 trifles as girls love are here. Nothing more. Those who seek 
 heartless splendor, seek here in vain." 
 
 With that he led them to the floor above.
 
 88 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "This," said Mr. Pecksniff, throwing wide the door of the 
 memorable two-pair front ; " is a room where some talent has 
 been developed, I believe. This is a room in which an idea 
 for a steeple occurred to me, that I may one day give to the 
 world. We work here, my dear Martin. Some architects 
 have been bred in this room : a few, I think, Mr. Pinch ? " 
 
 Tom fully assented ; and what is more, fully believed it. 
 
 " You see," said Mr. Pecksniff, passing the candle rapid- 
 ly from roll to roll of paper, " some traces of our doings here. 
 Salisbury Cathedral from the north. From the south. From 
 the east. From the west. From the south-east. From the 
 nor'-west. A bridge. An alms-house. A jail. A church. 
 A powder-magazine. A wine cellar. A portico. A summer- 
 house. An ice-house. Plans, elevations, sections, ever)' kind 
 of thing. And this," he added, having by this time reached 
 another large chamber on the same story, with four little beds 
 in it, " this is your room, of wdiich Mr. Pinch here is the quiet 
 sharer. A southern aspect ; a charming prospect ; Mr. Pinch's 
 little library, you perceive ; ever}'thing agreeable and appro- 
 priate. If there is any additional comfort you would desire 
 to have here at any time, pray mention it. Even to strangers, 
 far less to you, my dear Martin, there is no restriction on that 
 point." 
 
 It was undoubtedly true, and may be stated in corrobora- 
 tion of Mr. Pecksniff, that any pupil had the most liberal per- 
 mission to mention anything in this way that suggested itself 
 to his fancy. Some young gentlemen had gone on mentioning 
 the very same thing for five years without ever being stopped. 
 
 " The domestic assistants," said Mr. Pecksniff, " sleep 
 above ; and that is all." After which, and listening compla- 
 cently as he went, to the encomiums, passed by his young 
 friend on the arrangements generally, he led the way to the 
 parlor again. 
 
 Here a great change had taken place ; for festive prepara- 
 tions on a rather extensive scale were already completed, and 
 the two Miss Pecksniffs were awaiting their return with hos- 
 pitable looks. There were two bottles of currant wine, white 
 and red ; a dish of sandwiches (very long and very slim) ; 
 another of apples ; another of captain's biscuits (which are 
 always a moist and jovial sort of viand) ; a plate of oranges 
 cut up small and gritty ; with powdered sugar, and a highly 
 geological home-made cake. The magnitude of these prepara- 
 tions quite took away Tom Pinch's breath : for though the
 
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 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 89 
 
 new pupils were usually let down softly, as one may say, par- 
 ticularly in the wine department, which had so many stages of 
 declension, that sometimes a young gentleman was a whole 
 fortnight in getting to the pump ; still this was a banquet ; a 
 sort of Lord Mayor's feast in private life ; a something to think 
 of, and hold on by, afterwards. 
 
 To this entertainment, which apart from its own intrinsic 
 merits had the additional choice quality, that it was in strict 
 keeping with the night, being both light and cool, Mr. Peck- 
 sniff besought the company to do full justice. 
 
 " Martin," he said, "• will seat himself between you two, 
 my dears, and Mr. Pinch will come by me. Let us drink to 
 our new inmate, and may we be happy together ! Martin, my 
 dear friend, my love to you ! Mr. Pinch, if you spare the 
 bottle we shall quarrel." 
 
 And trying (in his regard for the feelings of the rest) to 
 look as if the wine were not acid and didn't make him wink, 
 Mr. Pecksniff did honor to his own toast. 
 
 "This," he said, in allusion to the party, not the wine, " is 
 a Mingling that repays one for much disappointment and 
 vexation. Let us be merry." Here he took a captain's bis- 
 cuit. " It is a poor heart that never rejoices ; and our hearts 
 are not poor. No ! " 
 
 With such stimulants to merriment did he beguile the time, 
 and do the honors of the table ; while Mr. Pinch, perhaps to 
 assure himself that what he saw and heard was holiday reality, 
 and not a charming dream, ate of everything, and in particular 
 disposed of the slim sandwiches to a surprising extent. Nor 
 was he stinted in his draughts of wine ; but on the contrarj^, 
 remembering Mr. Pecksniff's speech, attacked the bottle with 
 such vigor, that every time he filled his glass anew, Miss 
 Charity, despite her amiable resolves, could not repress a fixed 
 and stony glare, as if her eyes had rested on a ghost. Mr. 
 Pecksniff also became thoughtful at those moments, not to 
 say dejected ; but as he knew the vintage, it is very likely he 
 may have been speculating on the probable condition of Mr. 
 Pinch upon the morrow, and discussing within himself the 
 best remedies for colic. 
 
 Martin and the young ladies were excellent friends already, 
 and compared recollections of their childish days, to their 
 mutual liveliness and entertainment. Miss Mercy laughed 
 immensely at everything that was said ; and sometimes, after 
 glancing at the happy face of Mr. Pinch, was seized with such
 
 9° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 fits of mirth as brought her to the very confines of hysterics. 
 But for these bursts of gayety, her sister, in her better sense, 
 reproved her ; observing, in an angry whisper, that it was far 
 from being a theme for jest •; and tliat she had no patience 
 with the creature ; though it generally ended in her laughing 
 too — but much more moderately — and saying, that indeed it 
 was a little too ridiculous and intolerable to be serious about. 
 
 At length it became high time to remember the first clause 
 of that great discovery made by the ancient philosopher, for 
 securing health, riches, and wisdom ; the infallibility of which 
 has been for generations verified by the enormous fortunes 
 constantly amassed by chimney-sweepers and other persons 
 who get up early and go to bed betimes. The young ladies 
 accordingly rose, and having taken leave of Mr. Chuzzlewit 
 with much sweetness, and of their father with much duty, and 
 of Mr. Pinch with much condescension, retired to their bower. 
 Mr. Pecksniff insisted on accompanying his 5^oung friend 
 up stairs, for personal superintendence of his comforts \ and 
 taking him by the arm, conducted him once more to his bed- 
 room, followed by Mr. Pinch, who bore the light. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, seating himself with folded 
 arms on one of the spare beds. " I don't see any snuffers in 
 that candlestick. Will you oblige me by going down, and 
 asking for a pair } " 
 
 Mr. Pinch, only too happy to be useful, went off directly. 
 
 " You will excuse Thomas Pinch's want of polish, Martin," 
 said Mr. Pecksniff, with a smile of patronage and pity, as soon 
 as he had left the room. " He means well." 
 
 " He is a very good fellow, sir." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mr. Pecksniff". " Yes. Thomas Pinch 
 means well. He is very grateful. I have never regretted 
 having befriended Thomas Pinch." 
 
 " I should think you never would, sir." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pecksniff. "No. I hope not. Poor fel- 
 low, he is always disposed to do his best ; but he is not gifted. 
 You will make him useful to you, Martin, if you please. If 
 Thomas has a fault, it is that he is sometimes a little apt to 
 forget his position. But that is soon checked. Worthy 
 soul '! You will find him easy to manage. Good night ! " 
 
 "Good night, sir." 
 
 By this time Mr. Pinch had returned with the snuffers. 
 
 " And good night to you, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff. 
 '' And sound sleep to you both. Bless you ! Bless you ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 91 
 
 Invoking this benediction on tlie heads of his young 
 friends with great fervor, he withdrew to his own room ; while 
 they, being tired, soon fell asleep. If IVIartin dreamed at all, 
 some clew to the matter of his visions may possibly be 
 gathered from the after-pages of this histor}^ Those of 
 Thomas Pinch were all of holidays, church organs, and 
 seraphic Pecksniffs. It was some time before Mr. Pecksniff 
 dreamed at all, or even sought his pillow, as he sat for full 
 two hours before the fire in his own chamber, looking at the 
 coals and thinking deeply. But he, too, slept and dreamed 
 at last. Thus in the quiet hours of the night, one house 
 shuts in as many incoherent and incongruous fancies as a 
 madman's head. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COMPRISES, AMONG OTHER IMPORTANT MATTERS, PECKSNIFFIAN 
 AND ARCHITECTURAL, AN EXACT RELATION OF THE PRO- 
 GRESS MADE BY MR. PINCH IN THE CONFIDENCE AND 
 FRIENDSHIP OF THE NEW PUPIL, 
 
 It was morning ; and the beautiful Aurora, of whom so 
 much had been written, said, and sung, did, with her rosy 
 fingers, nip and tweak Miss Pecksniff's nose. It was the frolic- 
 some custom of the Goddess, in her intercourse with the fair 
 Cherry, so to do : or in more prosaic phrase, the tip of that 
 feature in the sweet girl's countenance, was always very red 
 at breakfast-time. For the most part, indeed, it wore, at that 
 season of the day, a scraped and frosty look, as if it had been 
 rasped ; while a similar phenomenon developed itself in her 
 humor, which was then observed to be of a sharp and acid 
 quality, as though an extra lemon (figuratively speaking) had 
 been squeezed into the nectar of her disposition, and had 
 rather damaged its flavor. 
 
 This additional pungency on the part of the fair young 
 creature led, on ordinary occasions, to such slight conse- 
 quences as the copious dilution of Mr. Pinch's tea, or to his 
 coming off uncommonly short in respect of butter, or to other 
 the like results. But on the morning after the Installation
 
 p2 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Banquet, she suffered him to wander to and fro among the 
 eatables and drinkables, a perfectly free and unchecked man ; 
 so utterly to Mr. Pinch's wonder and confusion, that like the 
 wretched captive who recovered his liberty in his old age, he 
 could make but little use of his enlargement, and fell into a 
 strange kind of flutter for want of some kind hand to scrape 
 his bread, and cut him off in the article of sugar with a lump, 
 and pay him those other little attentions to which he was 
 accustomed. There was something almost awful, too, about 
 the self-possession of the new pupil; who "troubled" Mr. 
 Pecksniff for the loaf, and helped himself to a rasher of that 
 gentleman's own particular and private bacon, with all the 
 coolness in life. He even seemed to think that he was doing 
 quite a regular thing, and to expect that Mr. Pinch would 
 follow his example, since he took occasion to observe of that 
 young man " that he didn't get on ; " a speech of so tremen- 
 dous a character, that Tom cast down his eyes involuntarily, 
 and felt as if he himself had committed some horrible deed 
 and heinous breach of Mr. Pecksniff's confidence. Indeed, 
 the agony of having such an indiscreet remark addressed to 
 him before the assembled family, was breakfast enough in 
 itself, and would, without any other matter of reflection, have 
 settled Mr. Pinch's business and quenched his appetite, for 
 one meal, though he had been never so hungry. 
 
 The young ladies, however, and Mr. Pecksniff likewise, 
 remained in the very best of spirits in spite of these severe 
 trials, though with something of a mysterious understanding 
 among themselves. When the meal was nearly over, Mr. 
 Pecksniff smilingly explained the cause of their common 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "It is not often," he said, "Martin, that my daughters 
 and I desert our quiet home to pursue the giddy round of 
 pleasures that revolves abroad. But we think of doing so 
 to-day." 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " cried the new pupil. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Pecksniff, tapping his left hand with a 
 letter which he held in his right. " I have a summons here 
 to repair to London : on professional business, my dear 
 Martin ; strictly on professional business ; and I promised my 
 girls, long ago, that whenever that happened again, they 
 should accompany me. We shall go forth to-night by the 
 heavy coach — like the dove of old, my dear Martin — and it 
 will be a week before we again deposit our olive-branches in
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 
 
 93 
 
 the passage. When I say oUve-branches," observed Mr. 
 Pecksniff, in explanation, " I mean, our unpretending lug- 
 
 " I hope the young ladies will enjoy their trip," said 
 Martin. 
 
 " Oh ! that I'm sure we shall ! " cried Mercy, clapping her 
 hands. " Good gracious. Cherry, my darling, the idea of 
 London ! " 
 
 " Ardent child ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, gazing on her in a 
 dreamy way. " And yet there is a melancholy sweetness in 
 these youthful hopes ! It is pleasant to know that they never 
 can be realized. I remember thinking once myself, in the 
 days of my childho.od, that pickled onions grew on trees, and 
 that every elephant was born with an impregnable castle on 
 his back. I ha\'e not found the fact to be so ; far from it ; 
 and yet those visions have comforted me under circumstances 
 of trial. Even when 1 have had the anguish of discovering 
 that I have nourished in my breast an ostrich, and not a 
 human pupil : even in that hour of agony, thev have toothed 
 me." 
 
 At this dread allusion to John Westlock, Mr. Pinch pre- 
 cipitately choked in his tea ; for he had that very morning 
 received a letter from him, as Mr. Pecksniff \ery well knew. 
 
 "You will take care, my dear Martin," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 resuming his former cheerfulness, " that the house does not 
 run away in our absence. We leave you in charge of e\-ery- 
 thing. There is no mystery; all is free and open. Unlike 
 the young man in the Eastern tale — who is described as a one- 
 eyed almanack, if I am not mistaken, Mr. Pinch ? " 
 
 "A one-eyed calendar, I think, sir," faltered Tom. 
 
 " They are pretty nearly the same thing, I believe," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, smiling compassionately ; " or they used to be 
 in my time. Unlike that young man, my dear Martin, you 
 are forbidden to enter no corner of tliis house \ but are re- 
 quested to make yourself perfectly at home in every part of it. 
 You will be jovial, my dear Martin, and will kill the fatted 
 calf if you please ! " 
 
 There was not the least objection, doubtless, to the young 
 man's slaughtering and appropriating to his own use any calf, 
 fat or lean, that he might happen to find upon the premises ; 
 but as no such animal chanced at that time to be grazing on 
 Mr. Pecksniff's estate, this request must be considered rather 
 as a polite compliment than a substantial hospitality. It was
 
 54 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 the finishing ornament of the conversation ; for when he had 
 deUvered it, Mr. Pecksniff rose, and led the way to that hot- 
 bed of architectural genius, the two-pair front. 
 
 " Let me see," he said, searching among the papers, "'how 
 you can best employ yourself, Martin, while I am absent. 
 Suppose you were to give me your idea of a monument to a 
 Lord Mayor of London ; or a tomb for a sheriff ; or your 
 notion of a cow-house to be erected in a nobleman's park. 
 Do you know, now," said Mr. Pecksniff, folding his hands, 
 and looking at his young relation with an air of pensive 
 interest, " that I should very much like to see your notion of 
 a cow-house .'' " 
 
 But Martin by no means appeared to relish this suggestion. 
 
 " A pump," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is very chaste practice. 
 I have found that a lamp-post is calculated to refine the mind 
 and give it a classical tendency. An ornamental turnpike 
 has a remarkable effect upon the imagination. What do you 
 say to beginning with an ornamental turnpike ? " 
 
 "Whatever Mr. Pecksniff pleased," said Martin, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 " Stay," said that gentleman. " Come ! as you're am- 
 bitious, and are a very neat draughtsman, you shall — ha, ha ! 
 — you shall try your hand on these proposals for a grammar- 
 school ; regulating your plan, of course, by the printed par- 
 ticulars. Upon my word, now," said Mr. Pecksniff, merrily, 
 " I shall be very curious to see what you make of the 
 grammar-school. Who knows but a young man of your taste 
 might hit upon something, impracticable and unlikely in itself, 
 but which I could put into shape ? For it really is, my dear 
 Martin, it really is in the finishing touches alone, that great 
 experience and long study in these matters tell. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Now it really will be," continued Mr. Pecksniff, clapping his 
 young friend on the back in his droll humor, "an amusement 
 to me, to see what you make of the grammar-school." 
 
 Martin readily undertook this task, and Mr. Pecksniff 
 forthwith proceeded to entrust him with the materials neces- 
 sary for its execution ; dwelling meanwhile on the magical 
 effect of a few finishing touches from the hand of a master ; 
 which, indeed, as some people said (and these were the old 
 enemies again ! ) was unquestionably very surprising, and 
 almost miraculous ; as there were cases on record in which 
 the masterly introduction of an additional back window, or a 
 kitchen door, or half-a-dozen steps, or even a water spout, had
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. g^ 
 
 made the design of a pupil Mr. Pecksniff's own work, and 
 had brought substantial rewards into that gentleman's pocket. 
 Eut such is the magic of genius, which changes all it handles 
 into gold ! 
 
 " When your mind requires to be refreshed, by change of 
 occupation," said Mr. Pecksniff, " Thomas Pinch will instruct 
 you in the art of surx^eying the back garden, or in ascertain- 
 ing the dead level of the road between this house and the 
 finger-post, or in any other practical and pleasing pursuit. 
 There are a cart-load of loose bricks, and a score or two of 
 old flower-pots, in the back yard. If you could pile them up, 
 my dear Martin, into any form which would remind me on my 
 return, say of St. Peter's at Rome, or the Mosque of St. 
 Sophia at Constantinople, it would be at once improving to 
 you and agreeable to my feelings. And now," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, in conclusion, " to drop, for the present, our pro- 
 fessional relations and advert to private rtiatters, I shall be 
 glad to talk with you in my own room, while I pack up my 
 portmanteau." 
 
 Martin attended him ; and they remained in secret con- 
 ference together for an hour or more ; leaving Tom Pinch 
 alone. When the young man returned, he was very taciturn 
 and dull, in which state he remained all day ; so that Tom, 
 after tr}'ing him once or twice with indifferent conversation, 
 felt a delicacy in obtruding himself upon his thoughts, and 
 said no more. 
 
 He would not have had leisure to say much, had his new 
 friend been ever so loquacious ; for first of all Mr. Pecksniff 
 called him down to stand upon the top of his portmanteau 
 and represent ancient statues there, until such time as it 
 would consent to be locked ; and then Miss Charity called 
 him to come and cord her trunk ; and then Miss Mercy sent 
 for him to come and mend her box ; and then he wrote the 
 fullest possible cards for all the luggage ; and then he volun- 
 teered to carry it all down stairs ; and after that to see it 
 safely carried on a couple of barrows to the old finger-post at 
 the end of the lane ; and then to mind it till the coach came 
 up. In short, his day's work would have been a pretty hea\y 
 one for a porter, but his thorough good-will made nothing of 
 it ; and as he sat upon the luggage at last, waiting for the 
 Pecksniffs, escorted by the new pupil, to come down the lane, 
 his heart was light with the hope of having pleased his bene- 
 factor.
 
 96 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I was almost afraid," said Tom, taking a letter from his 
 pocket, and wiping his face, for he was hot with busthng about 
 though it was a cold day, " that I shouldn't have had time to 
 write it, and that would have been a thousand pities ; postage 
 from such a distance being a serious consideration, when one's 
 not rich. She will be glad to see my hand, poor girl, and to 
 hear that Pecksniff is as kind as ever. I would have asked 
 John Westlock to call and see her, and tell her all about me 
 by word of mouth, but I was afraid he might speak against 
 Pecksniff to her, and make her uneasy. Besides, they are 
 particular people where she is, and it might have rendered her 
 situation uncomfortable if she had had a visit from a young 
 man like John. Poor Ruth ! " 
 
 Tom Pinch seemed a little disposed to be melancholy for 
 half a minute or so, but he found comfort very soon, and pur- 
 sued his ruminations thus : 
 
 " I'm a nice m'an, I don't think, as John used to say (John 
 was a kind, meny-hearted fellow : I wish he had liked Peck- 
 sniff better), to be feeling low, on account of the distance be- 
 tween us, when I ought to be thinking, instead, of my extri 
 ordinary good-luck in having ever got here. I must have been 
 born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I am sure, to have ever 
 come across Pecksniff. And here have I fallen again into my 
 usual good-luck with the new pupil ! Such an affable, gener- 
 ous, free fellow, as he is, I never saw. Why, we were com- 
 panions directly ! and he a relation of Pecksniff's too, and a 
 clever, dashing youth who might cut his way through the 
 world as if it were a cheese ! Here he comes while the words 
 are on my lips," said Tom : "walking down the lane as if the 
 lane belonged to him." 
 
 In truth, the new pupil, not at all disconcerted by the 
 honor of having Miss Mercy Pecksniff on his arm, or by the 
 affectionate adieux of that young lady, approached as Mr. 
 Pinch spoke, followed by Miss Charity and Mr. Pecksniff.. 
 As the coach appeared at the same moment, Tom lost no time 
 in entreating the gentleman last mentioned, to undertake the 
 deliveiy of his letter. 
 
 " Oh ! ■' said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing at the superscription. 
 " For your sister, Thomas. Yes, oh yes, it shall be delivered, 
 Mr. Pinch. Make your mind easy upon that score. She shall 
 certainly have it, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 He made the promise with so much condescension and 
 patronage, that Tom felt he had asked a great deal (this had
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLElVir. 97 
 
 not occurred to his mind before), and thanked him earnestly. 
 1 he Miss Pecksnififs, according to a custom they had, were 
 amused beyond description, at the mention of Mr. Pinch's 
 sister. Oh the fright ! The bare idea of a Miss Pinch ! 
 Good heavens ! 
 
 Tom was greatly pleased to see them so merry, for he took 
 it as a token of their favor, and good-humored regard. There- 
 fore he laughed too and rubbed his hands, and wished them 
 a pleasant journey and safe return, and was quite brisk. Even 
 when the coach had rolled away with the olive-branches in 
 the boot and the family of doves inside, he stood waving his 
 hand and bowing : so much gratified by the unusually courte- 
 ous demeanor of the young ladies, that he was quite regard- 
 less, for the moment, of Martin Chuzzlewit, who stood leaning 
 thoughtfully against the finger-post, and who, after disposing 
 of his fair charge, had hardly lifted his eyes from the ground. 
 The perfect silence which ensued upon the bustle and de- 
 parture of the coach, together with the sharp air of the wintry 
 afternoon, roused them both at the same time. They turned, 
 as by mutual consent, and moved off, arm-in-arm. 
 
 " How melancholy you are ! " said Tom " what is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing worth speaking of," said Martin. " Very little 
 more than was the matter yesterday, and much more, I hope, 
 than will be the matter to-morrow. I'm out of spirits. Pinch." 
 "Well," cried Tom, ''now do you know I am in capital 
 spirits to-day, and scarcely ever felt more disposed to be good 
 company. It was a very kind thing in your predecessor, John, 
 to write to me, was it not ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," said Martin carelessly; "I should have 
 thought he would have had enough to do to enjoy himself, with- 
 out thinking of you. Pinch." 
 
 "Just what I felt to be so very likely," Tom rejoined; 
 "but no, he keeps his word, and says, 'My dear Pinch, I 
 often think of you,' and all sorts of kind and considerate 
 things of that description." 
 
 " He must be a devilish good-natured fellow-," said Mar- 
 tin, somewhat peevishly : " because he can't mean that, you 
 know." 
 
 " I don't suppose he can, eh ? " said Tom, looking wist- 
 fully in his companion's face. " He says so to please me, you 
 think ? " 
 
 " Why, is it likely," rejoined Martin, with greater earnest- 
 
 7
 
 98 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ness, " that a young man newly escaiDed from this kennel of 
 a place, and fresh to all the delights of being his own master 
 in London, can have much leisure or inclination to think 
 favorably of anything or anybody he has left behind him 
 here ? I put it to you, Pinch, is it natural ? " 
 
 After a short reflection, Mr. Pinch replied, in a more sub- 
 di^d tone, that to be sure it was unreasonable to expect any 
 such thing, and that he had no doubt Martin knew best. 
 
 " Of course I know best," Martin observed. 
 
 " Yes, I feel that," said Mr. Pinch, mildly. " I said so." 
 And when he had made this rejoinder, they fell into a blank 
 silence again, which lasted until they reached home : by which 
 time it was dark. 
 
 Now, Miss Charity Pecksniff, in consideration of the 
 inconvenience of carrying them with her in the coach, and the 
 impossibility of preserving them by artificial means until the 
 family's return, liad set forth, in a couple of plates, the frag- 
 ments of yesterday's feast. In virtue of which liberal arrange- 
 ment, they had the happiness to find awaiting them in the 
 parlor two chaotic heaps of the remains of last night's pleasure, 
 consisting of certain filmy bits of oranges, some mummied 
 sandwiches, various disrupted masses of the geological cake, 
 and several entire captain's biscuits. Thar choice liquor in 
 which to steep these dainties might not be wanting, the re- 
 mains of the two bottles of currant wine had been poured to- 
 gether and corked with a curl-paper ; so that every material 
 was at hand for making quite a heavy night of it. 
 
 Martin Chuzzlewit beheld these roystering preparations 
 with infinite contempt, and stirring the fire into a blaze (to 
 the great destruction of Mr. Pecksniff's coals), sat moodily 
 down before it, in the most comfortable chair he could find. 
 That he might the better squeeze himself into the small cor- 
 ner that was left for him, Mr. Pinch took up his position on 
 Miss Mercy Pecksniff's stool, and setting his glass down upon 
 the hearth-rug and putting his plate upon his knees, began to 
 enjoy himself. 
 
 If Diogenes coming to life again could have rolled him- 
 self, tub and all, into Mr. Pecksniff's parlor, and could have 
 seen Tom Pinch as he sat on Mercy Pecksniff's stool, with 
 his plate and glass before him, lie could not have faced it out, 
 though in his surliest mood, but must have smiled good-tem- 
 peredly. 'I'he perfect and entire satisfaction of Tom; his 
 surpassing appreciation of the husky sandwiches, which cnun- 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 99 
 
 bled in his mouth like saw-dust ; the unspeakable relish with 
 which he swallowed the thin wine by drops, and smacked his 
 lips, as though it were so rich and generous that to lose an 
 atom of its fruity flavor were a sin ; the look with which he 
 paused sometimes, with his glass in his hand, proposing silent 
 toasts to himself ; and the anxious shade that came upon his 
 contented face when after wandering round the room, exulting 
 in its uninvaded snugness, his glance encountered the dull brow 
 of his companion ; no cynic in the world, though in his hatred 
 of its men a very gritfin, could have withstood these things in 
 Thomas. Pinch. 
 
 Some men would have slapped him on the back, and 
 pledged him in a bumper of the currant wine, though it had 
 been the sharpest vmegar — ay, and liked its flavor too ; some 
 would have seized- him by his honest hand, and thanked him 
 for the lesson that his simple nature taught them. Some 
 would have laughed with, and others would have laughed at 
 him ; of which last class was Martin Chuzzlewit, who, una- 
 ble to restrain himself, at last laughed loud and long. 
 
 " That's right," said Tom, nodding approvingly. " Cheer 
 up ! That's capital ! " 
 
 At which encouragement, young Martin laughed again ; 
 and said, as soon as he had breath and gravity enough : 
 
 " I never saw such a fellow as you are. Pinch." 
 
 " Didn't you though .? " said 1 om. " Well, it's very likely 
 you do find me strange, because I have hardly seen anything 
 of the world, and you ha\e seen a good deal I dare say ? " 
 
 " Pretty well for my time of life," rejoined Martin, draw- 
 ing his chair still nearer to the fire, and spreading his feet out 
 on the fender. " Deuce take it, I must talk openly to some- 
 body. rU talk openly to you. Pinch." 
 
 " Do ! " said Tom. " 1 shall take it as being very friendly 
 of you." 
 
 "I'm not in your way, am I ? " inciuired Martin, glancing 
 down at Mr. Pinch, who was by this time looking at the fire 
 over his leg. 
 
 " Not at all ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " You must know then, to make short of a long stor)%" 
 said Martin, beginning with a kind of effort, as if the revela- 
 tion were not agreeable to him ; " that I have been bred up 
 from childhood with great expectations, and have always been 
 taught to believe that I should be, one day, very rich. So I 
 should have been, but for certain brief reasons which 1 am
 
 lOo MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 going to tell you, and which have led to my being disin- 
 herited." 
 
 " By your father ? " inquired Mr. Pinch, with open eyes. 
 
 " By my grandfather. I have had no parents these many 
 years. Scarcely within my remembrance." 
 
 " Neither have I," said I'om, touching the young man's 
 hand with his own and timidly withdrawing it again. " Dear 
 me!" 
 
 " Why as to that you know, Pinch," pursued the other, 
 stirring the fire again, and speaking in his rapid, off-hand way, 
 " it's all ver)^ right and proper to be fond of pareijts when 
 we have them, and to bear them in remembrance after they're 
 dead, if you have ever known anything of them. But as I 
 never did know anything about mine personally, you know, 
 why I can't be expected to be very sentimental about 'em. 
 And I am not : that's the truth." 
 
 Mr. Pinch was just then looking thoughtfully at the 
 bars. But on his companion pausing in this place, he started, 
 and said " Oh ! of course " and composed himself to listen 
 
 agam. 
 
 "In a word," said Martin, " I have been bred and reared 
 all my life by this grandfather of whom I have just spoken. 
 Nmv, he has a great many good points ; there is no doubt 
 about that ; I'll not disguise the fact from you ; but he has two 
 very great faults, which are the staple of his bad side. In the 
 first place, he has the most confirmed obstinacy of character 
 you ever met with in any human creature. In the second, he 
 is most abominably selfish." 
 
 " Is he indeed ? " cried Tom. 
 
 " In those two respects," returned the other, " there never 
 was such a man. I have often heard from those who know, 
 that they have been, time out of mind, the failings of our fam- 
 ily j and I believe there's some truth in it. But I can't say of 
 my own knowledge. All I have to do, you know, is to be 
 very thankful that they haven't descended to me, and to be 
 very careful that I don't contract 'em." 
 
 "To be sure," said Mr. Pinch. "Ver}' proper." 
 
 "Well, sir," resumed Martin, stirring the fire once more, 
 arid drawing his chair still closer to it, " his selfishness makes 
 him exacting, you see ; and his obstinacy makes him resolute 
 in his exactions. The consequence is that he has always ex- 
 acted a great deal from me in the way of respect, and sub- 
 mission, and self-denial when his wishes were in question, and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. loi 
 
 SO forth. I have borne a great deal from him, because I liave 
 been under obligations to him (if one can ever be said to be 
 under obligations to one's own grandfather), and because I 
 have been really attached to him ; but we have had a great 
 many quarrels for all that, for I could not accommodate my- 
 self to his ways very often — not out of the least reference to 
 
 myself you understand, but because " he stammered here, 
 
 and was rather at a loss. 
 
 Mr. Pinch being about the worst man in the world to help 
 anybody out of a difficulty of this sort; said nothing. 
 
 " Well ! as you understand me," resumed Martin, quick- 
 ly, " I needn't hunt for the precise expression I want. Now, 
 I come to the cream of my story, and the occasion of my be- 
 ing here. I am in love. Pinch." 
 
 Mr. Pinch looked up into his face with increased interest. 
 
 " I say I am in love. I am in love with one of the most 
 beautiful girls the sun ever shone upon. But she is wholly and 
 entirely dependent upon the pleasure of my grandfather ; 
 and if he were to know^ that she favored my passion, she 
 would lose her home and every thing she possesses in the 
 world. There is nothing very selfish in that love, I think } " 
 
 " Selfish ! " cried Tom. " You have acted nobly. To love 
 her as I am sure you do, and yet in consideration for her sj^te 
 of dependence, not even to disclose " 
 
 "What are you talking about. Pinch ?" said Martin pet- 
 tishly : " don't make yourself ridiculous, my good fellow ! 
 What do you mean by not disclosing? " 
 
 "1 beg your pardon," answered Tom. " I thought you 
 meant that, or I wouldn't have said it." 
 
 " If I didn't tell her I loved her, where would be the use 
 of my being in love ? " said Martin : " unless to keep myself in 
 perpetual state of worry and vexation ? " 
 
 "That's true," Tom answered. "Well ! I can guess what 
 she said when you told her," he added, glancing at Martin's 
 handsome face. 
 
 " Why, not exactly. Pinch," he rejoined, with a slight 
 frown: "because she has some girlish notions about duty 
 and gratitude, and all the rest of it, which are rather hard to 
 fathom ; but in the main you are right. Her heart was mine, 
 I found." 
 
 "Just what I supposed," said Tom. "Quite natural!" 
 and, in his great satisfaction, he took a long sip out of his 
 wineglass
 
 I02 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Although I had conducted myself from the first with the 
 utmost circumspection," pursued Martin, " I had not managed 
 matters so well but that my grandfather, who -is full of jeal- 
 ousy and distrust, suspected me of loving her. He said noth- 
 ing to her, but straightway attacked me in private, and 
 charged me with designing to corrupt the fidelity to himself 
 (there you observe his sefishness), of a young creature whom 
 he had trained and educated to be his only disinterested and 
 faithful companion when he should have disposed of me in 
 marriage to his heart's content. Upon that, I took fire imme- 
 diately, and told him that with his good leave I would dispose 
 of myself in marriage, and would rather not be knocked down 
 by him or any other auctioneer to any bidder whomsoever.'" 
 
 Mr. Pinch opened his eyes wider and looked at the fire 
 harder than he had done vet. 
 
 "You may be sure," said Martin, "that this nettled him, 
 and that he began to be the very reverse of complimentar)^ to 
 myself. Interview succeeded interview ; words engendered 
 words, as they always do ; and the upshot of it was, that I 
 was to renounce her, or be renounced by him. Now you 
 must bear in mind. Pinch, that I am not only desperately 
 fond of her (for though she is poor, her beauty and intellect 
 would reflect great credit on anybody, I don't care of what 
 pretensions, who might become her husband), but that a 
 chief ingredient in my composition is a most determined — " 
 
 "Obstinacy," suggested Tom in perfect good faith. But 
 the suggestion was not so well received as he had expected : 
 for the young man immediately rejoined, with some irritation, 
 
 " What a fellow you are Pinch ! " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Tom, " I thought you wanted 
 a word." 
 
 " I didn't want that word," he rejoined. " I told you 
 obstinacy was no part of my character, did I not .'' I was 
 going to say, if you had given me leave, that a chief ingredient 
 in my composition is a most determined firmness." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Tom, screwing up his mouth, and nodding. 
 " Yes, yes ; I see ! " 
 
 "And being firm," pursued Martin, "of course I was not 
 going to yield to him, or give way by so much as the thou- 
 sandth part of an inch." 
 
 " No, no," said Tom. 
 
 " On the contrary ; the more he urged, the more I was 
 determined to oppose him."
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 103 
 
 "To be sure ! " said Tom. 
 
 " Very well," rejoined Martin, throwing; himself back in 
 his chair, with a careless wave of both hands, as if the subject 
 were quite settled, and nothing; more could be said about it : 
 "There is an end of the matter, and here am 1 !'' 
 
 Mr. Pinch sat staring at the fire for some minutes with a 
 puzzled look, such as he might have assumed if some un- 
 commonly difficult conundrum had been proposed, which he 
 found it impossible to guess. At length he said : 
 
 " Pecksniff, of course, you had known before ? " 
 
 " Only by name. No, I had never seen him, for my 
 grandfather kept not only himself but me, aloof from all his 
 relations. But our separation took place in a town in the 
 adjoining county. From that place I came to Salisbur}-, and 
 there I saw Peckyiifif's advertisement, which I answered, hav- 
 ing always had some natural taste, I believe, in the matters 
 to which it referred, and thinking it might suit me. As soon 
 as I found it to be his, I was doubly bent on coming to him 
 if possible, on account of his being — " 
 
 " Such an excellent man," interposed Tom, rubbing his 
 hands : " so he is. You were quite right." 
 
 " Why not so much on that account, if the truth must be 
 spoken," returned Martin, "as because my grandfather has 
 an inveterate dislike to him, and after the old man's arbitrary 
 treatment of me, I had a natural desire to run as directly 
 counter to all his opinions as I could. Well ! As I said 
 before, here I am. My engagement with the young lady I 
 have been telling you about, is likely to be a tolerably long 
 one ; for neither her prospects, nor mine, are very bright ; 
 and of course I shall not think of marrying until I am well 
 able to do so. It would never do, you know, for me to be 
 plunging myself into poverty and shabbiness and love in one 
 room up three pair of stairs, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 " To say nothing of her," remarked Tom Pinch, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Exactly so," rejoined Martin, rising to warm his back, 
 and leaning against the chimney-piece. " To say nothing of 
 her. At the same time, of course it's not very hard upon her 
 to be obliged to yield to the necessity of the case : first, be- 
 cause she loves me very much ; and secondly, because I have 
 sacrificed a great deal on her account, and might have done 
 much better, you know." 
 
 It was a very long time before Tom said " Certainly; " so
 
 1 04 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 long, that he might have taken a nap in the inten^al, but he 
 did say it at last. 
 
 " Now, there is one odd coincidence connected with this 
 love-story," said Martin, " which brings it to an end. You 
 remember what you told me last night as we were coming 
 here, about your pretty visitor in the church ? " 
 
 "Surely I do," said Tom, rising from his stool, and seat- 
 ing himself in the chair from which the other had lately risen, 
 that he might see his face. " Undoubtedly." 
 
 " That was she." 
 
 " I knew what you were going to say," cried Tom, looking 
 fixedly at him, and speaking very softly. " You don't tell me 
 so?" 
 
 " That was she," repeated the young man. " After what 
 I have heard from Pecksniff, I have no doubt that she came 
 and went with my grandfather. Don't you drink too much 
 of that sour wine, or you'll have a fit of some sort. Pinch, I 
 see." 
 
 "It is not very wholesome, I am afraid," said Tom, setting 
 down the empty glass he had for some time held. " So that 
 was she, was it ! " 
 
 Martin nodded assent : and adding, with a restless im- 
 patience, that if he had been a few days earlier he would have 
 seen her ; and that now she might be, for anything he knew, 
 hundreds of miles away ; threw himself after a few turns 
 across the room, into a chair, and chafed like a spoilt child. 
 
 Tom Pinch's heart was very tender, and he could not 
 bear to see the most indifferent person in distress ; still less 
 one who had awakened an interest in him, and who regarded 
 him (either in fact, or as he supposed) with kindness, and in 
 a spirit of lenient construction. Whatever his own thoughts 
 had been a few moments before — and to judge from his face 
 they must have been pretty serious — he dismissed them in- 
 stantly, and gave his young friend the best counsel and com- 
 fort that occurred to him. 
 
 " All will be well in time," said Tom, " I have no doubt ; 
 and some trial and adversity just now will only serve to make 
 you more attached to each other in better days. I have 
 always read that the truth is so, and I have a feeling within 
 me, which tells me how natural and right it is that it should 
 be. What never ran smooth yet," said Tom, with a smile, 
 which despite the homeliness of his face, was pleasanter to 
 see than many a proud beauty's brightest glance : " what
 
 3/ A A" rnV CHUZZLE WIT. i o 5 
 
 never ran smooth yet, can hardly be expected to change its 
 character for us ; so we must take it as we find it, and fashion 
 it into the very best shape we can, by patience and good- 
 humor. I have no power at all ; I needn't tell you that ; but 
 I have an excellent will ; and if I could ever be of use to 
 you, in any way whatever, how veiy glad I should be ! " 
 
 "Thank you," said Martin, shaking his hand. "You're 
 a good fellow, upon my word, and speak very kindly. Of 
 course you know," he added, after a moment's pause, as he 
 drew his chair towards the fire again, " I should not hesitate 
 to avail myself of your ser\-ices if you could help me at all ; 
 but mercy on us ! " Here he rumpled his hair impatiently 
 with his hand, and looked at Tom as if he took it rather ill 
 that he was not somebody else : " you might as well be a 
 toasting-fork or .a frying-pan, Pinch, for any help you can 
 render me." 
 
 " Except in the inclination," said Tom, gently. 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure. I meant that, of course. If inclination 
 went for anything, I shouldn't want help. I tell you what 
 you may do, though, if you will, and at the present moment 
 too." 
 
 " What is that ? " demanded Tom. 
 
 " Read to me." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," cried Tom, catching up the candle, 
 with enthusiasm. " Excuse xx\\ leaving )-on in the dark a mo- 
 ment, and I'll fetch a book directly. What will you like? 
 Shakspeare ? " 
 
 " Ay ! " replied his friend, yawning and stretching himself. 
 " He'll do. I am tired with the bustle of to-day, and the 
 novelty of ever^'thing about me ; and in such a case, there's 
 no greater luxury in the world, I think, than being read to 
 sleep. Yon won't mind my going to sleep, if I can ? " 
 
 " Not at all ? " cried Tom. 
 
 Then begin as soon as you like. You needn't leave off 
 when you see me getting drowsy (unless you feel tired), for 
 it's pleasant to wake gradually to the sounds again. Did you 
 ever try that .-" " 
 
 "No, I never tried that," said Tom. 
 
 " Well I You can, you know, one of these days when we're 
 both in the right humor. Don't mind leaving me in the dark. 
 Look sharp ! " 
 
 Mr. Pinch lost no time in moving away ; and in a minute 
 or two returned with one of the precious volumes from the
 
 I o6 MAR TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 shelf beside his bed. Martin had in the meantime made him- 
 self as comfortable as circumstances would permit, by con- 
 structing before the fire a temporary sofa of three chairs 
 with Mercy's stool for a pillow, and lying down at full-length 
 upon it. 
 
 " Don't be too loud, please," he said to Pinch. 
 
 " No, no," said Tom. 
 
 ' You're sure you're not cold ? ' 
 
 " Not at all ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " I am quite ready, then." 
 
 Mr. Pinch accordingly, after turning over the leaves of his 
 book with as much care as if they were living and highly cher- 
 ished creatures, made his own selection, and began to read. 
 Before he had completed fifty lines, his friend was snoring. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Tom, softly, as he stretched out his 
 head to peep at him over the backs of the chairs. " He is 
 very young to have so much trouble. How trustful and gen- 
 erous in him to bestow all this confidence in me. And that 
 was she, was it .'' " 
 
 But suddenly remembering their compact, he took up the 
 poem at the place where he had left off, and went on read- 
 ing ; always forgetting to snuff the candle, until its wick 
 looked like a mushroom. He gradually became so much in- 
 terested, that he quite forgot to replenish the fire ; and was 
 only reminded of his neglect by Martin Chuzzlewit starting 
 up after the lapse of an hour or so, and crying with a shiver : 
 
 "Why, it's nearly out, I declare ! No wonder I dreamed 
 of being frozen. Do call for some coals. What a fellow you 
 are Pinch ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. CHEVY SLYME ASSERTS THE INDEPENDENCE OF 
 HIS SPIRIT, AND THE BLUE DRAGON LOSES A LIMB, 
 
 Martin began to work at the grammar-school next morn- 
 ing, with so much vigor and expedition, that Mr. Pinch had 
 new reason to do homage to the natural endowments of that 
 young gentleman, and to acknowledge his infinite superiority
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 [07 
 
 to himself. The new pupil received Tom's compliments very 
 graciously ; and having by this time conceived a real regard 
 for him, in his own peculiar way, predicted that they would 
 always be the very best of friends, and that neither of them, 
 he was certain (but particularly Tom), would ever have reason 
 to regret the day on which they became acquainted. Mr. 
 Pinch was delighted to hear him say this, and felt so much 
 flattered by his kind assurances of friendship and protection, 
 that he was at a loss how to express the pleasure they afforded 
 him. And indeed it may be obser\'ed of this friendship, such 
 as it was, that it had within it more likely materials of endur- 
 ance than many a sworn brotherhood that has been rich in 
 promise ; for so long as the one party found a pleasure in pat- 
 ronizing, and the other in being patronized (which was in the 
 very essence of their respective characters), it was of all pos- 
 sible events among the least probable, that the twin demons. 
 Envy and Pride, would ever arise between them. So in \ery 
 many cases of friendship, or what passes for it, the old axiom 
 is reversed, and like clings to unlike more than to like. 
 
 They were both very busy on the afternoon succeeding the 
 family's departure : Martin with the grammar-school : and 
 Tom in balancing certain receipts of rents, and deducting Mr. 
 Pecksniff's commission from the same ; in which abstruse em- 
 ployment he was much distracted by a habit his new friend 
 had of whistling aloud, while he was drawing. They were not 
 a little startled by the unexpected obtrusion into that sanctu- 
 aiy of genius, of a human head, which although a shaggy and 
 somewhat alarming head, in appearance, smiled affably upon 
 them from the doorway, in a manner that was at once wag- 
 gish, conciliatory, and expressive of approbation. 
 
 " I am not' industrious myself, gents both," said tlic head, 
 " but I know how to appreciate that quality in others. I wish 
 I may turn gray and ugly, if it isn't, in my opinion, next to 
 genius, one of the very charmingest qualities of the human 
 mind. Upon my soul, I am grateful to my friend Pecksniff 
 for helping me to the contemplation of such a delicious pic- 
 ture as you present. You remind me of Whittington, after- 
 wards thrice Lord Mavor of London. I give you my unsul- 
 lied word of honor, that you very strongly remind me of that 
 historical character. You are a pair of VVhittingtons, gents, 
 without the cat ; which is a most agreeable and blessed ex- 
 ception to me, for I am not attached to the feline species 
 My name is Tigg; how do you do .'' "
 
 lo8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Martin looked to Mr. Pinch for an explanation ; and Tom, 
 who had never in his life set eyes on Mr. Tigg before, looked 
 to that gentleman himself. 
 
 Chevy Slyme ? " said Mr. Tigg, interrogatively, and kiss- 
 ing his left hand in token of friendship. You will understand 
 me when I say that I am the accredited agent of Chevy 
 Slyme ; that I am the ambassador from the court of Chiv .'' 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Heyday ! " asked Martin, starting at the mention of a 
 name he knew. " Pray, what does he want with me ? " 
 
 " If your name is Pinch," Mr. Tigg began. 
 
 " It is not," said Martin, checking himself. "That is Mr. 
 Pinch." 
 
 " If that is Mr. Pinch," cried Tigg, kissing his hand again, 
 and beginning to follow his head into the room, " he will 
 permit me to say that I greatly esteem and respect his char- 
 acter, which has been most highly commended to me by my 
 friend Pecksniff ; and that I deeply appreciate his talent for 
 the organ, notwithstanding that I do not, if I may use the 
 expression, grind myself. If that is Mr. Pinch, I will venture 
 to express a hope that I see him well, and that he is suffering 
 no inconvenience from the easterly wind ? " 
 
 " Thank you," said Tom. " I am very well." 
 
 "That is a comfort," Mr. Tigg rejoined. "Then," he 
 added, shielding his lips with the palm of his hand, and ap- 
 plying them close to Mr. Pinch's ear, " I have come for the 
 letter." 
 
 " For the letter," said Tom, aloud. " What letter t " 
 
 " The letter," whispered Tigg, in the same cautious man- 
 ner as before, " which my friend Pecksniff addressed to Chevy 
 Slyme, Esquire, and left with you." 
 
 " He didn't leave any letter with me," said Tom. 
 
 " Hush ! " cried the other. " It's all the same thing, 
 though not so delicately done by my friend Pecksniff as I 
 could have wished. The money." 
 
 " The money ! " cried Tom, quite scared. 
 
 " Exactly so," said Mr. Tigg. With which he rapped Tom 
 twice or thrice upon the breast and nodded several times, as 
 though he would say, that he saw they understood each other; 
 that it was unnecessary to mention the circumstance before a 
 tnird person ; and that he would take it as a particular favor 
 if Tom would slip the amount into his hand, as quietly as 
 possible.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 roQ 
 
 Mr. Pinch, however, was so very much astounded by this 
 (to Iiim) inexpUcable deportment, that he at once openly de- 
 clared there must be some mistake, and that he had been 
 entrusted with no commission whatever ha\'ing any reference 
 to Mr. Tigg or to his friend either. Mr. Tigg received this 
 declaration with a grave request that Mr. Pinch would have 
 the goodness to make it again ; and on Tom's repeating it in 
 a still more emphatic and unmistakable manner, checked it 
 off, sentence for sentence, by nodding his head solemnly at the 
 end of each. When it had come to a close for the second 
 time, Mr. Tigg sat himself down in a chair and addressed the 
 yovmg men as follows : 
 
 "Then I tell you what it is, gents both. There is at this 
 present moment in this very place, a perfect constellation of 
 talent and genius, who is involved, through what I cannot but 
 designate as the culpable negligence of my friend Pecksniff, 
 in a situation as tremendous, perhaps, as the social inter- 
 course of the nineteenth century will readily admit of. There 
 is actually at this instant, at the Blue Dragon in this village, 
 an ale-hause observe ; a common, paltr}% low-minded, clodhop- 
 ping, pipe-smoking ale-house ; an individual, of whom it maybe 
 said, in the language of the Poet, that nobody but himself can in 
 any way come up to him ; who is detained there for his bill. Ha ! 
 ha ! For his bill. I repeat it. For his bill. Now," said Mr. 
 Tigg, " we have heard of P'ox's Book of Martyrs, I believe, 
 and we have heard of the Court of Requests, and the Star 
 Chamber ; but I fear the contradiction of no man alive or 
 dead, when I assert that my friend Chevy Slyme being held in 
 pawn for a bill, beats any amount of cock-fighting with which 
 I am acquainted." 
 
 Martin and Mr. Pinch looked, first at each other, and 
 afterwards at Mr. Tigg, who witli his arms folded on his 
 breast surveyed them, half in despondency and half in bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 " Don't mistake me, gents both," he said, stretching forth 
 his right hand. " If it had been for anything but a bill, I 
 could have borne it, and could still have looked upon mankind 
 with some feeling of respect ; but when such a man as my 
 friend Slvme is detained for a score — a thing in itself essen- 
 tially mean ; a low performance on a slate, or possibly chalked 
 upon the back of a door — I do feel that there is a .screw of 
 ."^uch magnitude loose somewhere, that the whole framework 
 of society is shaken, and the very first principles of things can
 
 no MA /? TIN CHUZZLE IVl T. 
 
 no longer be trusted. In short, gents both," said Mr. Tigg 
 with a passionate flourish of his hands and head, " when a 
 man Hke Slyme is detained for such a thing as a bill, I reject 
 the superstitions of ages, and believe nothing. I don't even 
 believe that I doii't believe, curse me if I do ! " 
 
 " I am very sorry, I am sure," said Tom after a pause, 
 " but Mr. Pecksniff said nothing to me about it, and I couldn't 
 act without his instructions. Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you 
 were to go to — to wherever you came from — yourself, and 
 remit the money to your friend ? " 
 
 " How can that be done, when I am detained also ? " said 
 Mr. Tigg ; " and when moreover, owing to the astounding, 
 and I must add, gviilty negligence of my friend Pecksniff, I 
 have no money for coach-hire ? " 
 
 Tom thought of reminding the gentleman (who, no doubt, 
 in his agitation had forgotten it) that there was a post-office 
 in the land ; and that possibly if he wrote to some friend or 
 agent for a remittance it might not be lost upon the road ; or 
 at all events that the chance, however desperate, was worth 
 trusting to. But, as his good-nature presently suggested to 
 him certain reasons for abstaining from this hint, he paused 
 again, and then asked : 
 
 " Did you say, sir, that you were detained also .'' " 
 
 " Come here," said Mr. Tigg, rising. " You have no ob- 
 jection to my opening this window for a moment? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Tom. 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Tigg, lifting the sash. " You see 
 a fellow down there it a red neckcloth and no waistcoat ? " 
 
 "Of course I do," cried Tom. " That's Mark Tapley." 
 
 " Mark Tapley is it .'' " said the gentleman. " Then Mark 
 Tapley had not only the great politeness to follow me to this 
 house, but is waiting now, to see me home again. And for 
 that attention, sir," added Mr. Tigg, stroking his mustache, 
 " I can tell you, that Mark Tapley had better in his infancy 
 have been fed to suffocation by Mrs. Tapley, than preserved 
 to this time." 
 
 Mr. Pinch was not so dismayed by this terrible threat, but 
 that he had voice enough to call to Mark to come in, and up 
 stairs ; a summons which he so speedily obeyed, that almost 
 as soon as I'om and Mr. Tigg had drawn in their heads and 
 closed the window again, he, the denounced, appeared before 
 them. 
 
 " Come here, Mark ! " said Mr. Pinch. " Good gracious
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 1 1 
 
 me ! what's the matter between Mrs. Lupin and this gentle- 
 man ? " 
 
 " What gentleman, sir ? " said Mark. " I don't see no 
 gentleman here, sir, excepting you and the new gentleman," 
 to whom he made a rough kind of bow : " and there's nothing 
 wrong between Mrs. Lupin and either of you, Mr. ]*inch, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Nonsense, Mark ! " cried Tom. " You see Mr. — " 
 
 " Tigg," interposed that gentleman. " Wait a bit. I shall 
 crush him soon. All in good time ! " 
 
 " Oh ///;«./" rejoined ALark, with an air of careless defi- 
 ance. "Yes, I see him. I could see him a little better, if 
 he'd shave himself, and get his hair cut." 
 
 Mr. Tigg shook his head with a ferocious look, and smote 
 himself once upon the breast. 
 
 " It's no use," said Mark. " If you knock ever so much 
 in that quarter, you'll get no answer. I know better. There's 
 nothing there but padding : and a greasy sort it is." 
 
 " Nay, Mark," urged Mr. Pinch, interposing to prevent 
 hostilities, " tell me what I ask you. You're not out of tem- 
 per, I hope t " 
 
 " Out of temper, sir ! " cried Mark, with a grin ; " why no, 
 sir. There's a little credit — not much — in being jolly, when 
 such fellows as him is a going about like roaring lions :'if there 
 is any breed of lions, at least, as is all roar and mane. What 
 is there between him and Mrs. Lupin, sir? Why, there's a 
 score between him and Mrs. Lupin. And I think Airs. Lupin 
 lets him and his friend ofif very easy in not charging 'em 
 double prices for being a disgrace to the Dragon. That's my 
 opinion. I wouldn't have any such Peter the Wild Boy as 
 him in my house, sir, not if 1 was paid race-week prices for it. 
 He's enough to turn the very beer in the casks sour, with his 
 looks : he is ! So he would, if it had judgment enough." 
 
 " You're not answering my question, you know, Mark," 
 observed Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mark, " I don't know as there's much to 
 answer further than that. Him and his friend goes and stops 
 at the Moon and Stars till they've run a bill there ; and then 
 comes and stops with us and (hies the same. Tlu' running of 
 bills is common enough, Mr. I'inch ; it an't that as wc olqect 
 to ; it's the ways of this chajx Nothing's good enough for him ; 
 all the women is dying for him he thinks, and is over-paid if 
 he winks at 'em ; and all the men was made to be ordered
 
 112 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 about by him. This not being aggravation enough, he says this 
 morning to me, in his usual captivating way, ' We're going to- 
 night, my man.' ' Are you, sir .'' ' says I. ' Perhaps you'd Ul^e the 
 bill got ready, sir .? ' ' Oh no, my man,' he says ; ' you needn't 
 mind that. I'll give Pecksniff orders to see to that.' In reply 
 to which, the Dragon makes answer, ' Thankee, sir, you're 
 very kind to honor us so far, but as we don't know any par- 
 ticular good of you, and you don't travel with luggage, and 
 Mr. Pecksniff an't at home (which perhaps you mayn't happen 
 to be aware of, sir), we should prefer something more satis- 
 factory;' and that's where the matter stands. And I ask," 
 said Mr. Tapley, pointing, in conclusion, to Mr. Tigg, with his 
 hat, " any lady or gentleman, possessing ordinary strength of 
 mind, to say, whether he's a disagreeable-looking chap or 
 not ! " 
 
 " Let me inquire," said Martin, interposing between this 
 candid speech and the delivery of some blighting anathema by 
 Mr. Tigg, " what the amount of this debt may be ? " 
 
 " In point of money, sir, very little," answered Mark. 
 " Only just turned of three pounds. But it an't that ; it's 
 the—" 
 
 " Yes, yes, you told us so before," said Martin. " Pinch, 
 a word with you." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Tom, retiring with him to a corner 
 of the room. 
 
 " Why, simply — I am ashamed to say — that this Mr. Slyme 
 is a relation of mine, of whom I never heard anything pleas- 
 ant ; and that I don't want him here just now, and think he 
 would be cheaply got rid of, perhaps, for three or four pounds. 
 You haven't enough money to pay this bill, I suppose .^ " 
 
 Tom shook his head to an extent that left no doubt of his 
 entire sincerity. 
 
 " That's unfortunate, for I am poor too ; and in case you 
 had had it, I'd have borrowed it of you. But if we told this 
 landlady we would see her paid, I suppose that would answer 
 the same purpose ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, yes ! " said Tom. " She knows me, bless you ! " 
 
 " Then, let us go down at once and tell her so ; for the 
 sooner we are rid of their company the better. As you have 
 conducted the conversation with this gentleman hitherto, per- 
 haps you'll tell him what we purpose doing; will you t " 
 
 Mr. Pinch complying, at once imparted the intelligence to 
 Mr. Tigg, who shook him warmly by the hand in return, assur-
 
 MAH TIN CHUZZLE WTT 1 1 3 
 
 ing him that his faith in anything and everj'thing was again re- 
 stored. It was not so much, he said, for the temporary reUef 
 of this assistance that he prized it, as for its vindication of 
 the high principle that Nature's Nobs felt with Nature's Nobs, 
 and that true greatness of soul sympathized with true great- 
 ness of soul, all the world over. It proved to him, he said, 
 that like him they admired genius, even when it was coupled 
 with the alloy occasionally visible in the metal of his friend 
 Slyme ; and on behalf of that friend, he thanked them ; as 
 warmly and heartily as if the cause were his own. Being 
 cut short in these speeches by a general move towards the 
 stairs, he took possession at the street-door of the lapel of Mr. 
 Pinch's coat, as a security against further interruption ; and 
 entertained that gentleman with some highly improving dis- 
 course until they reached the Dragon, whither they were closely 
 followed by Mark and the new pupil. 
 
 The rosy hostess scarcely needed Mr. Pinch's word as a 
 preliminary to the release of her two visitors, of whom she 
 was glad to be rid on any terms : indeed, their brief detention 
 had originated mainly with Mr. Tapley, who entertained a 
 constitutional dislike to gentlemen out-at-elbows who flourished 
 on false pretences ; and had conceived a particular aversion 
 to Mr. Tigg and his friend, as choice specimens of the 
 species. The business in hand thus easily settled, Mr. Pinch 
 and Martin would have withdrawn immediately, but for the 
 urgent entreaties of Mr. Tigg that they would allow him the 
 honor of presenting them to his friend Slyme, which were so 
 very difficult of resistance that, yiekhng partly to these per- 
 suasions and partly to their own curiosity, they suffered them- 
 selves to be ushered into the presence of that distinguished 
 gentleman. 
 
 He was brooding over the remains of yesterday's decanter 
 of brandy, and was engaged in the thoughtful occupation of 
 making a chain of rings on the top of the table with the wet 
 foot of his drinking-glass. Wretched and forlorn as he looked, 
 Mr. Slyme had once been, in his way, the choicest of swag- 
 gerers : putting forth his pretensions, boldly, as a man of in- 
 finite taste and most undoubted promise. The stock-in-trade 
 requisite to set up an amateur in this department of business 
 is very slight, and easily got together ; a trick of the nose and 
 a curl of the lip sufficient to compound a tolerable sneer, being 
 ample provision for any exigency. But, in an evil hour, this 
 off-shoot of the Chuzzlewit trunk, being lazy, and ill qualified 
 
 8
 
 1 1 4 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 for any regular pursuit, and having dissipated such means as 
 he ever possessed, had formally established himself as a profes- 
 sor of Taste for a livelihood ; and iinding, too late, that some- 
 thing more than his old amount of qualificaiions was necessary 
 to sustain him in this calling, had quickly fallen to his present 
 level, where he retained nothing of his old self but his boast- 
 fulness and his bile, and seemed to have no existence separate 
 or apart from his friend Tigg. And now so abject and so 
 pitiful was he — at once so maudlin, insolent, beggarly, and 
 proud — that even his friend and parasite, standing erect beside 
 him, swelled into a Man by contrast. 
 
 " Chiv," said Mr. Tigg, clapping him on the back, "my 
 friend Pecksniff not being at home, I have arranged our trifling 
 piece of business with Mr. Pinch and friend. Mr. Pinch and 
 friend, Mr. Chevy Slyme ! Chiv, Mr. Pinch and friend ! " 
 
 "These are agreeable circumstances in which to be intro- 
 duced to strangers," said Chevy Slyme, turning his bloodshot 
 eyes towards Tom Pinch. " I am the most miserable man in 
 the world, I believe ! " 
 
 Tom begged he wouldn't mention it ; and finding him in 
 this condition, retired, after an awkward pause, followed by 
 Martin. But Mr. Tigg so urgently conjured them, by coughs 
 and signs, to remain in the shadow of the door, that they 
 stopped there. 
 
 " I swear," cried Mr. Slyme, giving the table an imbecile 
 blow with his fist, and then feebly leaning his head upon his 
 hand, while some drunken drops oozed from his eyes, " that I 
 am the wretchedest creature on record. Society is in a con- 
 spiracy against me. I'm the most literary man alive. I'm 
 full of scholarship ; I'm full of genius ; I'm full of information ; 
 I'm full of novel views on every subject ; look at my condi- 
 tion ! I'm at this moment obliged to two strangers for a tavern 
 bill ! " 
 
 Mr. Tigg replenished his friend's glass, pressed it into his 
 hand, and nodded an intimation to the visitors that they would 
 see him in a better aspect immediately. 
 
 " Obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill, eh ! " repeated 
 Mr. Slyme, after a sulky application to his glass. " Very 
 pretty ! And crowds of impostors, the while, becoming 
 famous ; men who are no more on a level with me than — 
 Tigg, I take you to witness that I am the most persecuted 
 hound on the face of the earth." 
 
 With a whine, not unlike the cry of the animal he named,
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 1 ^ 
 
 in its lowest state of humiliation, he raised his glass to his 
 mouth again. He found some encouragement in it ; for when 
 he set it down, he laughed scornfully. Upon that Mr. Tigg 
 gesticulated to the visitors once more, and with great expres- 
 sion : implying that now the time was come when they would 
 see Chiv in his greatness. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Slyme. "Obliged to two 
 strangers for a tavern bill ! Yet I think I've a rich uncle, 
 Tigg, who could buy up the uncles of fifty strangers .'' Have 
 I, or have I not ? I tome of a good family, I believe ? Do 
 I, or do I not.' I'm not a man of common capacity or accom- 
 plishments, I think. Am I, or am I not ? " 
 
 " You are the American aloe of the human race, my dear 
 Chiv," said Mr. Tigg, " which only blooms once in a hundred 
 years ! " 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Slyme, again. " Obliged to 
 two strangers for a tavern bill ! I ! Obliged' to two archi- 
 tect's apprentices. Fellows who measure earth with iron 
 chains, and build houses like bricklayers. Give me the names 
 of those two apprentices. How dare they oblige me ! " 
 
 Mr. Tigg was quite lost in admiration of this noble trait 
 in his friend's character ; as he made known to Mr. Pinch in 
 a neat little ballet of action, spontaneously invented for the 
 purpose. 
 
 " I"ll let 'em know, and I'll let all men know," cried Chevy 
 Slyme, " that I'm none of the mean, grovelling, tame charac- 
 ters they meet with commonly. I have an independent spirit. 
 I have a heart that swells in my bosom. I have a soul that 
 rises superior to base considerations." 
 
 " Oh Chiv, Chiv," murmured Mr. Tigg, "you have a nobly 
 independent nature, Chiv ! " 
 
 " You go aad do your duty, sir," said Mr. Slyme, angrily, 
 " and borrow money for travelling expenses ; and whoever you 
 borrow it of, let 'em know that I possess a haughty spirit, and 
 a proud spirit, and have infernally finely-touched chords in 
 my nature, which won't brook patronage. Do you hear 1 
 Tell 'em I hate 'em, and that that's the way I preserve my 
 self-respect ; and tell 'em that no man ever respected himself 
 more than I do ! " 
 
 He might have added that he hated two sorts of men ; all 
 those who did him favors, and all those who were better off 
 than himself ; as in either case their position was an insult to 
 a man of his stupendous merits. IJut he did not • for with
 
 1 1 6 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 the apt closing words above recited, Mr. Slyme, of too 
 haughty a stomach to work, to beg, to borrow, or to steal ; 
 yet mean enough to be worked or borrowed, begged or stolen 
 for, by any catspaw that would serve his turn ; too insolent to 
 lick the hand that fed him in his need, yet cur enough to bite 
 and tear it in the dark ; with these apt closing words, Mr. 
 Slyme fell forward with his head upon the table, and so 
 declined into a sodden sleep. 
 
 " Was there ever," cried Mr. Tigg, joining the young men 
 at the door, and shutting it carefully behind him, " such an 
 independent spirit as is possessed by that extraordinary crea- 
 ture 1 Was there ever such a Roman as our friend Chiv ? 
 Was there ever a man of such a purely classical turn of 
 thought, and of such a toga-like simplicity of nature ? Was 
 there ever a man with such a flow of eloquence .'' Might he 
 not, gents both, I ask, have sat upon a tripod in the ancient 
 times, and prophesied to a perfectly unlimited extent, if pre- 
 viously supplied with gin-and-water at the public cost ? " 
 
 Mr. Pinch was about to contest this latter position with 
 his usual mildness, when, observing that his companion had 
 already gone down stairs, he prepared to follow him. 
 
 " You are not going, Mr. Pinch .-' " said Tigg. 
 
 " Thank you," answered Tom. " Yes. Don't come 
 down." 
 
 " Do you know that I should like one little word in private 
 with you, Mr. Pinch "i " said Tigg, following him. " One 
 minute of your company in the skittle-ground would very much 
 relieve my mind. Might I beseech that favor ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly," replied Tom, " if you really wish it." 
 So he accompanied Mr. Tigg to the retreat in question ; on 
 arriving at which place that gentleman took from his hat what 
 seemed to be the fossil remains of an antediluvian pocket- 
 handkerchief, and wiped his eyes therewith. 
 
 " You have not beheld me this day," said Mr. Tigg, " in a 
 favorable light." 
 
 " Don't mention that," said Tom, " I beg." 
 
 " But you have nof" cried Tigg. " I must persist in that 
 opinion. If you could have seen me, Mr. Pinch, at the head 
 of my regiment on the coast of Africa, charging in the form 
 of a hollow square, with the women and children and the 
 regimental plate-chest in the centre, you would not have known 
 me for the same man. You would have respected me, sir." 
 
 Tom had certain ideas of liis own upon the subject of
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 117 
 
 glory ; and consequently he was not quite so much excited by 
 this picture as Mr. Tigg could have desired. 
 
 " But no matter ? " said that gentleman. " The school-boy 
 writing home to his parents and describing the milk-and-water, 
 said 'This is indeed weakness.' I repeat that assertion in 
 reference to myself at the present moment : and I ask your 
 pardon. Sir, you have seen my friend Slyme ? " 
 
 "No doubt," said Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " Sir, you have been impressed by my friend Slyme ? " 
 
 " Not very pleasantly, I must say," answered Tom, after a 
 little hesitation. 
 
 " I am grieved but not surprised," cried Mr. Tigg, detain- 
 ing him with both hands, " to hear that you have come to that 
 conclusion, for it is my own. But, Mr. Pinch, though I am 
 a rough and thoughtless man, I can honor Mind. I honor 
 Mind in following my friend. To you of all men, Mr. Pinch, 
 I have a right to make appeal on Mind's behalf, when it has 
 not the art to push its fortune in the world. And so, sir — 
 not for myself, who have no claim upon you, but for my 
 crushed, my sensitive and independent friend, who has — I ask 
 the loan of three half-crowns. I ask you for the loan of three 
 half-crowns, distinctly, and without a blush. I ask it, almost 
 as a right. And when I add that the)' will be returned by 
 post, this week, I feel that you will blame me for that sordid 
 stipulation." 
 
 Mr. Pinch took from his pocket an old-fashioned red- 
 leather purse with a steel clasp, whicli had probably once 
 belonged to his deceased grandmother. It held one half- 
 sovereign and no more. All Tom's worldly wealth until next 
 quarter-day. 
 
 " Stay ! " cried Mr. Tigg, who had watched this proceeding 
 keenly. " I was just about to say, that for the convenience 
 of posting you had better make it gold. Thank you. A 
 general direction, I suppose, to Mr. Pinch, at Mr. Pecksniff's, 
 will find you ? " 
 
 " That'll find me," said Tom. " You had better put 
 Esquire to Mr. Pecksniff's name, if you please. Direct to me, 
 you know, at Seth Pecksniff's, Esquire." 
 
 " At Seth Pecksniff's, Esquire," repeated Mr. Tigg, taking 
 an exact note of it with a stump of pencil. " We said this 
 week, I believe 1 " 
 
 " Yes : or Monday will do," obsen^ed Tom. 
 
 "No, no, I beg your pardon. Monday will not do " said
 
 1 1 8 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Mr. Tigg. " If we stipulated for this week, Saturday is the 
 latest day. Did we stipulate for this week ? " 
 
 " Since you are so particular about it," said Tom, " I think 
 we did." 
 
 Mr. Tigg added this condition to his memorandum ; read 
 the entry over to himself with a severe frown ; and that the 
 transaction might be more correct and business-like, appended 
 his initials to the whole. That done, he assured Mr. Pinch 
 that everything was now perfectly regular ; and, after squeezing 
 his hand with great fervor, departed. 
 
 Tom entertained enough suspicion that Martin might pos- 
 sibly turn this interview into a jest, to render him desirous to 
 avoid the company of that young gentleman for the present. 
 With this view he took a few turns up and down the skittle- 
 ground, and did not re-enter the house until Mr. Tigg and his 
 friend had quitted it, and the new pupil and Mark were watch- 
 ing their departure from one of the windows. 
 
 "I was just a saying, sir, that if one could live by it," ob- 
 served Mark, pointing after their late guests, " that would be 
 the sort of service for me. Waiting on such individuals as 
 them, would be better than grave-digging, sir." 
 
 " And staying here would be better than either, Mark," 
 replied Tom. " So take my advice, and continue to swim 
 easily in smooth water." 
 
 " It's too late to take it now, sir," said Mark. "I have 
 broke it to her, sir. I am off to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Off ! " cried Mr. Pinch, " where to ? " 
 
 " I shall go up to London, sir." 
 
 " What to be ? " asked Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " Well ! I don't know yet, sir. Nothing turned up that 
 day I opened my mind to you, as was at all likely to suit me. 
 All them trades I thought of was a deal too jolly ; there was 
 no credit at all to be got in any of 'em. I must look for a 
 private service, I suppose, sir. I might be brought out strong 
 perhaps, in a serious family, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " Perhaps you might come out rather too strong for a 
 serious family's taste, Mark." 
 
 " That's possible, sir. If I could get into a wicked family, 
 I might do myself justice ; but the difficulty is to make sure 
 of one's ground, because a young man can't very well adver- 
 tise that he wants a place, and wages an't so much an object 
 as a wicked sitivation ; can he, sir .<* " 
 
 "Why, no," said Mr. Pinch, "I don't think he can."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 119 
 
 " An envious family," pursued Mark, with a thoughtful 
 face ; " or a quarrelsome family, or a malicious family, or 
 even a good out-and-out mean family, would open a field of 
 action as I might do something in. The man as would have 
 suited me of all other men was that old gentleman as was took 
 ill here, for he really was a trying customer. Howsever, I 
 must wait and see what turns up, sir ; and hope for the worst." 
 
 " You are determined to go theft ? " said Mr. Pinch. 
 
 " My box is gone already, sir, by the wagon, and I'm going 
 to walk on to-morrow morning, and get a lift by the day coach 
 when it overtakes me. So I wish you good by'e, Mr. Pinch 
 — and you too, sir, — and all good luck and happiness ! " 
 
 They both returned his greeting laughingly, and walked 
 home arm-in-arm : Mr. Pinch imparting to his new friend, 
 as they went, suqIi further particulars of Mark Tapley's whim- 
 sical restlessness as the reader is already acquainted with. 
 
 In the meantime Mark, having a shrewd notion that his 
 mistress was in very low spirits, and that he could not exactly 
 answer for the consequences of any lengthened tetc-a-tcte in 
 the bar, kept himself obstinately out of her way all the after- 
 noon and evening. In this piece of generalship he was very 
 much assisted by the great influx of company into the tap- 
 room ; for the news of his intention having gone abroad, there 
 was a perfect throng there all the evening, and much drinking 
 of healths and clinking of mugs. At length the house was 
 closed for the night ; and there being now no help for it, Mark 
 put the best face he could upon the matter, and walked dog- 
 gedly to the bar-door. 
 
 " If I look at her," said Mark to himself, " I'm done. I 
 feel that I'm a going fast." 
 
 " You have come at last," said Mrs. Lupin. 
 
 Ay, Mark said : There he was. 
 
 " And you are determined to leave us, Mark t " cried Mrs. 
 Lupin. 
 
 " Why, yes ; I am," said Mark, keeping his eyes hard upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " I thought," pursued the landlady, with a most engaging 
 hesitation, " that you had been — fond — of the Dragon ? " 
 
 " So I am," said Mark. 
 
 " Then," pursued the hostess — and it really was not an 
 unnatural inquiry — " why do you desert it ? " 
 
 But as he gave no manner of answer to this question, not 
 even on its being repeated, Mrs. Lupin put his money into his
 
 I20 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 hand, and asked him — not unkindly, quite the contrary — what 
 he would take ? 
 
 It is proverbial that there are certain things which flesh 
 and blood cannot bear. Such a question as this, propounded 
 in such a manner, at such a time, and by such a person, proved 
 (at least, as far as Mark's flesh and blood were concerned) to 
 be one of them. He looked up in spite of himself directly ; 
 and having once looked up, there was no looking down again ; 
 for all the tight, plump, buxom, bright-eyed, dimple-faced 
 landladies that ever shone on earth, there stood before him, 
 then, bodily in that bar, the ver)' pink and pine-apple. 
 
 " Why, I tell you what," said Mark, throwing off all his 
 constraint in an instant, and seizing the hostess round the 
 Avaist — at which she was not at all alarmed, for she knew what 
 a good young man he was — "if I took what L liked most, 1 
 should take you. If I only thought what was best for me, I 
 should take you. If I took what nineteen young fellows in 
 twenty would be glad to take, and would take at any price, I 
 should take you. Yes, I should," cried Mr. Tapley, shaking 
 his head, expressively enough, and looking (in a momentary 
 state of forgetfulness) rather hard at the hostess's ripe lips. 
 " And no man wouldn't wonder if I did ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lupin said he amazed her. She was astonished 
 how he could say such things. She had never thought it of 
 him. 
 
 " Why, I never thought it of myself till now ! " said Mark, 
 raising his eyebrows with a look of the merriest possible surprise. 
 " I always expected we should part, and never have no explana- 
 tion ; I meant to do it when I came in here just now ; but 
 there's something about you, as makes a man sensible. Then 
 let us have a word or two together, letting it be understood 
 beforehand," he added this in a grave tone, to prevent the 
 possibility of any mistake, " that I'm not a going to make no 
 love, 3'ou know." 
 
 There was for just one second a shade, though not by any 
 means a dark one, on the landlady's open brow. But it passed 
 off instantly, in a laugh that came from her very heart. 
 
 " Oh, very good ! " she said ; " if there is to be no love- 
 making, you had better take your arm away." 
 
 " Lord, why should I ! " cried Mark. " It's quite inno- 
 cent." 
 
 " Of course it's innocent," returned the hostess, " or I 
 shouldn't allow it."
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 2 1 
 
 " Very well ! " said Mark. " Then let it be." 
 
 There was so much reason in this, that the landlady laughed 
 again, suffered it to remain, and bade Jiim say what he had 
 to say, and be quick about it. But he was an impudent fellow, 
 she added. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! I almost think 1 am ! " cried Mark, '' though I 
 never thought so before. Why, I can say anything to-night ! " 
 
 " Say what you're going to say if you please, and be 
 quick," returned the landlady, " for I want to get to bed." 
 
 " Why, then, my dear good soul," said Mark, " and a 
 kinder woman than you are, never drawed breath — let me 
 see the man as says she did — what would be the likely con- 
 sequence of us two being — " 
 
 " Oh nonsense ! " cried Mrs. Lupin. " Don't talk about 
 that any more." , 
 
 "No, no, but it ain't nonsense," said Mark ; " and I wish 
 you'd attend. What would be the likely consequence of us 
 two being married } If I can't be content and comfortable in 
 this here lively Dragon now, is it to be looked for as I should 
 be then ? By no means. Very good. Then you, even with 
 your good humor, would be always on the fret and worrit, 
 always uncomfortable in your own mind, always a thinking as 
 you was getting too old for my taste, always a picturing me to 
 yourself as being chamed up to the Dragon door, and wanting 
 to break away. I don't know that it would be so," said Mark, 
 " but I don't know that it mightn't be. I am a roving sort of 
 chap, I know. I'm fond of change. I'm always a thinking 
 that with my good health and spirits it would be more credit- 
 able in me to be jolly where there's things a going on to make 
 one dismal. It may be a mistake of mine, you see, but nothing 
 short of tr}'ing how it acts, will set it right. Then an't it best 
 that 1 should go : particular when your free way has helped 
 me out to say all this, and we can part as good friends as we 
 have ever been since first I entered this here noble Dragon, 
 which," said Mr. Tapley in conclusion, " has my good word 
 and my good wish, to the day of my death ! " 
 
 The hostess sat quite silent for a little time, but she 
 very soon put both her hands in Mark's and shook them 
 heartily. 
 
 " For you are a good man," she said, looking into his 
 face with a smile, which was rather serious for her. " And I 
 do believe have been a better friend to me to-night than ever 
 I have had in all my life."
 
 122 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Oh ! as to that, you know," said Mark, " that's nonsense. 
 But love my heart alive ! " he added, looking at her in a sort 
 of rapture, " if you are that way disposed, what a lot of suita- 
 ble husbands there is as you may drive distracted ! " 
 
 She laughed again at this compliment ; and, once more 
 shaking him by both hands, and bidding him, if he should 
 ever want a friend, to remember her, turned gayly from the 
 little bar and up the Dragon staircase. 
 
 " Humming a tune as she goes," said Mark, listening, "in 
 case I should think she's at all put out, and should be made 
 down-hearted. Come, here's some credit in being jolly, at 
 last ! " 
 
 With that piece of comfort, very ruefully uttered, he went, 
 in anything but a jolly manner, to bed. 
 
 He rose early next morning, and was a-foot soon after 
 sunrise. But it was of no use ; the whole place was up to see 
 Mark Tapley off : the boys, the dogs, the children, the old 
 men, the busy people and the idlers : there they were, all 
 calling out " Good by'e, Mark," after their own manner, and 
 all sorry he was going. Somehow he had a kind of sense that 
 his old mistress was peeping from her chamber-window, but he 
 couldn't make up his mind to look back. 
 
 " Good by'e one, good by'e all ! " cried Mark, waving his 
 . hat on the top of his walking-stick, as he strode at a quick 
 pace up the little street. " Hearty chaps them wheelwrights 
 — hurrah ! Here's the butcher's dog a-coming out of the 
 garden — down, old fellow ! And Mr. Pinch a-going to his 
 organ — good by'e, sir ! And the terrier-bitch from over the 
 way — hie, then lass ! And children enough to hand down 
 human natur to the latest posterity — good by'e, boys and 
 girls ! ■ There's some credit in it now. I'm a-coming out 
 strong at last. These are the circumstances that would try a 
 ordinar)' mind ; but I'm uncommon jolly. Not quite as jolly 
 as I could wish to be, but very near. Good by'e ! good 
 by'e ! "
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ACCOMPANIES MR. PECKSNIFF AND HIS CHARMING DAUGH- 
 TERS TO THE CITY OF LONDON ; AND RELATES WHAl 
 FELL OUT, UPON THEIR WAY THITHER. 
 
 When Mr. Pecksnifif and the two young ladies got into the 
 heavy coach at the end of the lane, they found it empty, which 
 was a great comfort ; particularly as the outside was quite 
 full and the passengers looked very frosty. For as Mr. Peck- 
 sniff justly observed — when he and his daughters had burrowed 
 their feet deep in the straw, wrapped themselves to the chin, 
 and pulled up both windows — it is always satisfactory to feel, 
 in keen weather, that many other people are not as warm as 
 you are. And this, he said, was quite natural, and a very 
 beautiful arrangement ; not confined to coaches, but extending 
 itself into many social ramifications. " For " (he observed), 
 " if every one were warm and well-fed, we should lose the 
 satisfaction of admiring the fortitude with which certain con- 
 ditions of men bear cold and hunger. And if we were no 
 better off than anybody else, what would become of our sense 
 of gratitude ; which," said Mr. Pecksniff with tears in his 
 eyes, as he shook his fist at a beggar who wanted to get up 
 behind, " is one of the holiest feelings of our common na- 
 ture." 
 
 His children heard with becoming reverence these moral 
 precepts from the lips of their father, and signified their ac- 
 quiescence in the same, by smiles. That he might the better 
 feed and cherish that sacred flame of gratitude in his breast, 
 Mr. Pecksniff remarked that he would trouble his eldest daugh- 
 ter, even in this early stage of their journey, for the brandy- 
 bottle. And from the narrow neck of that stone vessel, he 
 imbibed a copious refreshment. 
 
 " What are we ? " said Mr. Pecksniff, " but coaches .'' Some 
 of us are slow coaches " — 
 
 " Goodness, Pa ! " cried Charity. 
 
 ' Some of us, I say," resumed her parent with increased 
 emphasis, " are slow coaches ; some of us are fast coaches. 
 Our passions are the horses ; and rampant animals too ! " —
 
 124 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Really, Pa ! " cried both the daughters at once. " How 
 very unpleasant." 
 
 " And rampant animals too ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff, 
 with so much determination, that he may be said to ha\e ex- 
 hibited, at the moment, a sort of moral rampancy JTimself : 
 " and Virtue is the drag. We start from The Mother's Arms, 
 and we run to The Dust Shovel." 
 
 When he had said this, Mr. Pecksniff, being exhausted, 
 took some further refreshment. When he had done that, he 
 corked the bottle tight, with the air of a man who had effect- 
 ually corked the subject also ; and went to sleep for three 
 stages. 
 
 The tendency of mankind when it falls asleep in coaches, 
 is to wake up cross ; to find its legs in its way ; and its corns 
 an aggravation. Mr. Pecksniff not being exempt from the 
 common lot of humanity, found himself, at the end of his nap, 
 so decidedly the victim of these infirmities, that he had an 
 irresistable inclination to visit them upon his daughters ; which 
 he had already begun to do in the shape of divers random 
 kicks, and other unexpected motions of his shoes, when the 
 coach stopped, and after a short delay, the door was opened. 
 
 " Now mind," said a thin sharp voice in the dark. " I and 
 my son go inside, because the roof is full, but you agree only 
 to charge us outside prices. It's quite understood that we 
 won't pay more. Is it .-• " 
 
 " AH right, sir," replied the guard. 
 
 " Is there anybody inside now ? " inquired the voice 
 
 ' Three passengers," returned the guard. 
 
 " Then I ask the three passengers to witness this bargain, 
 if they will be so good," said the voice. " My boy, I think we 
 may safely get in." 
 
 In pursuance of which opinion, two people took their seats 
 in the vehicle, which was solemnly licensed by Act of Parlia- 
 ment to carry any six persons who could be got in at the door. 
 
 " That was lucky ! " whispered the old man, when they 
 moved on again. " And a great stroke of policy in you to 
 observe it. He, he, he ! We couldn't have gone outside. I 
 should have died of the rheumatism ! " 
 
 Whether it occurred to the dutiful son that he had in some 
 degree over-reached himself by contributing to the prolongation 
 of his father's days ; or whether the cold had affected his tem- 
 per ; is doubtful. But he gave his father such a nudge in 
 reply, that that good old gentleman was taken with a cough
 
 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 125 
 
 which lasted for full five minutes, without intermission, and 
 goaded Mr. Pecksniff to that pitch of irritation, that he said 
 at last, and very suddenly : 
 
 " There is no room ! There is really no room in this coach 
 for any gentleman with a cold in his head ! " 
 
 " Mine," said the old man, after a moment's pause, " is 
 upon my chest, Pecksniff." 
 
 The voice and manner, together, now that he spoke out ; 
 the composure of the speaker ; the presence of his son ; and 
 his knowledge of Mr. Pecksniff ; afforded a clue to his identity 
 which it was impossible to mistake. 
 
 " Hem ! I thought," said Mr. Pecksniff, returning to his 
 usual mildness, " that I addressed a stranger. I find that I 
 address a relative. Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son Mr. 
 Jonas — for they, my dear children, are our travelling com- 
 panions — will excuse me for an apparently harsh remark. It 
 is not my desire to wound the feelings of any person with 
 whom I am connected in family bonds. I may be a Hypo- 
 crite," said Mr. Pecksniff, cuttingly, "but I am not a Brute." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! " said the old man. "What signifies that 
 word, Pecksniff ? Hypocrite ! why, we are all hypocrites. We 
 Avere all hypocrites t'other day. I am sure I felt that to be 
 agreed upon among us, or I shouldn't have called you one. 
 We should not have been there at all, if we had not been 
 hypocrites. The only diiference between you and the rest was 
 — shall I tell you the difference between you and the rest now, 
 Pecksniff ? " 
 
 " If you please, my good sir ; if you please." 
 
 " Why, the annoying quality m you, is," said the old man, 
 " that you never have a confederate or partner in j'c;/^r juggling ; 
 you would deceive everybody, even those who practise the 
 same art ; and have a way with you, as if you — -he, he, he ! — as if 
 yo'.i really believed yourself. I'd lay a handsome wager now," 
 said the old man, " if I laid wagers, w'hich I don't and never 
 did, that you keep up appearances by a tacit understanding, 
 even before your own daughters here. Now I, when I have 
 a business scheme in hand, tell Jonas what it is, and we discuss 
 it openly. You're not offended, Pecksniff? " 
 
 " Offended, my good sir ! " cried that gentleman, as if he 
 had received the highest compliments that language could 
 con\ey. 
 
 " Are you travelling to London, Mr. Pecksniff .'' " asked the 
 son.
 
 126 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Jonas, we are travelling to London. We shall 
 have the pleasure of your company all the way, I trust.-"' 
 
 "Oh ! ecod, you had better ask father that," said Jonas, 
 " I am not a going to commit myself." 
 
 Mr. PecksniiT was, as a matter of course, greatly entertained 
 by this retort. His mirth having subsided, Mr. Jonas gave 
 him to understand that himself and parent were in fact travel- 
 ling to their home in the metropolis : and that, since the 
 memorable day of the great family gathering, they had been 
 tarrying in that part of the countr};, watching the sale of certain 
 eligible investments, which they had had in their copartnership 
 eye when they came down ; for it was their custom, Mr. Jonas 
 said, whenever such a thing was practicable, to kill two birds 
 with one stone, and never to throw away sprats, but as bait for 
 whales. When he had communicated, to Mr. Pecksniff, these 
 pithy scraps of intelligence, he said, " That if it was all the 
 same to him, he would turn him over to father, and have a 
 chat with the gals ;" and in furtherance of this polite scheme, 
 he vacated his seat adjoining that gentleman, and established 
 himself in the opposite corner, next to the fair Miss Mercy. 
 
 The education of Mr. Jonas had been conducted from his 
 cradle on the strictest principles of the main chance. The 
 very first word he learnt to spell v/as "gain," and the second 
 (when he got into two syllables), " money." But for two 
 results, which were not clearly foreseen perhaps by his watch- 
 ful parent in the beginning, his training may be said to have 
 been unexceptionable. One of these flaws was, that having 
 been long taught by his father to over-reach everybody, he had 
 imperceptibly acquired a love of over-reaching that venerable 
 monitor himself. The other, that from his early habits of 
 considering everything as a question of property, he had 
 gradually come to look, with impatience, on his parent as a 
 certain amount of personal estate, which had no right what- 
 ever to be going at large, but ought to be secured in that par- 
 ticular description of iron safe which is commonly called a 
 coffin, and banked in the grave. 
 
 " Well, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas : " Because we are cousins, 
 you know, a few times removed : so you're going to London ? " 
 
 Miss Mercy replied in the affirmative, pinching her sister's 
 arm at the same time, and giggling excessively. 
 
 " Lots of beaux in London, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas, 
 slightly advancing his elbow. 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " cried the young lady. " They won't hurt
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 127 
 
 US, sir, I dare say." And having given him this answer viith 
 great demureness, she was so overcome by her own liumor, 
 that she was fain to stifle her merriment in her sister's shawl. 
 " Merry," cried that more prudent damsel, " really I am 
 ashamed of you. How can you go on so ? You wild thing ! " 
 At which Miss Merry only laughed the more, of course. 
 
 " I saw a wildness in her eye, t'other day," said Mr. Jonas, 
 addressing Charity. " But you're the one to sit solemn ! I 
 say ! You were regularly prim, cousin ! " 
 
 " Oh ! The old-fashioned fright ! " cried Merry, in a whisper. 
 " Cherry, my dear, upon my word you must sit next him. I 
 shall die outright if he talks to me any more ; I shall, posi- 
 tively ! " To prevent which fatal consequence, the buoyant 
 creature skipped out of her seat as she spoke, and squeezed 
 her sister into the- place from which she had risen. 
 
 " Don't mind crowding me," cried Mr. Jonas. " I like to 
 be crowded by gals. Come a little closer, cousin." 
 
 "No, thank you, sir," said Charity. 
 
 " There's that other one a laughing again," said Mr. Jonas; 
 " she's a laughing at my father, I shouldn't wonder. If he puts 
 on that old flannel nightcap of his, I don't know what she'll 
 do ! Is that my father a snoring, Pecksniff ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Jonas." 
 
 " Tread upon his foot, will you be so good ? " said the 
 young gentleman. " The foot next you's the gouty one." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff hesitating to perform this friendly office, 
 Mr. 'Jonas did it himself ; at the same time crying : 
 
 " Come, wake up, father, or you'll be having the night- 
 mare, and screeching out, / know. — Do you ever have the 
 nightmare, cousin ? " he asked his neighbor, with character- 
 istic gallantry, as he dropped his voice again. 
 
 ""Sometimes," answered Charity. " Not often." 
 
 "The other one," said Mr. Jonas, after a pause. " Does 
 she ever have the nightmare .-' " 
 
 "I don't know," replied Charity. "You had better ask 
 her." 
 
 " She laughs so," said Jonas, " there's no talking to her. 
 Only hark how she's a going on now ! You're the sensible 
 one, cousin ! " 
 
 " Tut, tut 1 " cried Charity. 
 
 " Oh ! But you are ! You know you are ! " 
 
 " Mercy is a little giddy," said Miss Charity. " But she'll 
 sober down in time."
 
 128 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " It'll be a very long time, then, if she does at all, ' re- 
 joined her cousin. " Take a little more room." 
 
 " T am afraid of crowding you," said Charity. But she 
 took it notwithstanding ; and after one or two remarks on the 
 extreme heaviness of the coach, and the number of places it 
 stopped at, they fell into a silence which remained unbroken 
 by any member of the party until supper-time. 
 
 Although Mr. Jonas conducted Charity to the hotel and 
 sat himself beside her at the board, it was pretty clear that he 
 had an eye to " the other one " also, for he often glanced 
 across at Mercy, and seemed to draw comparisons between the 
 personal appearance of the two, which were not unfavorable 
 to the superior plumpness of the younger sister. He allowed 
 himself no great leisure for this kind of observation, however, 
 being busily engaged with the supper, which, as he whispered 
 in his fair companion's ear, was a contract business, and 
 therefore the more she ate, the better the bargain was. His 
 father and Mr. Pecksniff, probably acting on the same wise 
 principle, demolished everything that came within their reach, 
 and by that means acquired a greasy expression of counte- 
 nance, indicating contentment, if not repletion, which it was 
 veiy pleasant to contemplate. 
 
 When they could eat no more, Mr. Pecksniff and Mr. 
 Jonas subscribed for two sixpenny-worths of hot brandy-and- 
 water, which the latter gentleman considered a more politic 
 order than one shilling's-worth ; there being a chance of their 
 getting more spirit out of the innkeeper under this arrange- 
 ment than if it were all in one glass. Having swallowed his 
 share of the enlivening fluid, Mr. Pecksniff, under pretence of 
 going to see if the coach were ready, went secretly to the bar, 
 and had his own little bottle filled, in order that he might re- 
 fresh himself at leisure in the dark coach without being ob- 
 served. 
 
 These arrangements concluded, and the coach being ready, 
 they got into their old places and jogged on again. But before 
 he composed himself for a nap, Mr. Pecksniff delivered a kind 
 of grace after meat, in these words : 
 
 " The process of digestion, as I have been informed by 
 anatomical friends, is one of the most wonderful works of 
 nature. I do not know how it may be with others, but it is a 
 great satisfaction to me to know, when regaling on my humble 
 fare, that I am putting in motion the most beautiful machinery 
 with which we have any acquaintance. I really feel at such 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 129 
 
 times as if I was doing a public service. When I have wound 
 myself up, if I may employ such a term," said Mr. Pecksniff 
 with exquisite tenderness, " and know that I am Going, I feel 
 that in the lesson afforded by the works within me, I am a 
 Benefactor to my Kind ! " 
 
 As nothing could be added to this, nothing was said ; and 
 Mr. Pecksniff, exulting, it may be presumed, in his moral 
 utility, went to sleep again. 
 
 The rest of the night wore away in the usual manner. Mr, 
 Pecksniff and Old Anthony kept tumbling against each other 
 and waking up much terrified, or crushed their heads in oppo- 
 site corners of the coach and strangely tattooed the surface of 
 their faces — Heaven knows how — in their sleep. The coach 
 stopped and went on, and went on and stopped, times out of 
 number. Passengers got up and passengers got down, and 
 fresh horses canfe and went and came again, with scarcely any 
 interval between each team as it seemed to those w^ho were 
 dozing, and with a gap of a whole night between every one as 
 it seemed to those who were broad awake. At length they 
 began to jolt and rumble over horribly uneven stones, and 
 Mr. Pecksniff looking out of window said it was to-morrow 
 morning, and they were there. 
 
 Very soon afterwards the coach stopped at the office in the 
 city ; and the street in which it was situated was already in a 
 bustle, that fully bore out Mr. Pecksniff's words about its 
 being morning, though for any signs of day yet appearing in 
 the sky it might have been midnight. There was a dense fog 
 too : as if it were a city in the clouds, which they had been 
 travelling to all night up a magic beanstalk ; and there was a 
 thick crust upon the pavement like oil-cake : which, one of the 
 outsides (mad, no doubt) said to another (his keeper, of 
 course), was Snow. 
 
 Taking a confused leave of Anthony and his son, and 
 leaving the luggage of himself and daugliters at the office to 
 be called for afterwards, Mr. Pecksniff, with one of the young 
 ladies under each arm, dived across the street, and then across 
 other streets, and so up the queerest courts, and down the 
 strangest allevs and under the blindest archwavs, in a kind of 
 frenzy : now skipping over a kennel, now running for his life 
 from a coach and horses ; now thinking he had lost his way, 
 now thinking he had found it ; now in a state of the highest 
 confidence, now despondent to the last degree, but always in 
 a great perspiration and flurry ; until at length they stopped 
 
 9
 
 130 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 in a kind of paved yard near the Monument. That is to say, 
 Mr. Pecksniff told them so ;for as to anything they could see 
 of the Monument, or anything else but the buildings close at 
 hand, they might as well have been playing blindman's buff 
 at Salisbury. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff looked about him for a moment, and then 
 knocked at the door of a very dingy edifice, even among the 
 choice collection of dingy edifices at hand ; on the front of 
 which was a little oval board like a tea-tray, with this inscrip- 
 tion : " Commercial Boarding-House. M. 'i'odgers." 
 
 It seemed that M. Todgers was not up yet, for Mr. Peck- 
 sniff knocked twice and rang thrice, without making any im- 
 pression on anything but a dog over the way. At last a chain 
 and some bolts were withdrawn with a rusty noise, as if the 
 weather had made the very fastenings hoarse, and a small boy 
 with a large red head, and no nose to speak of, and a very 
 dirty Wellington boot on his left arm, appeared ; who (being 
 surprised) rubbed the nose just mentioned with the back of a 
 shoe-brush, and said nothing. 
 
 " Still a-bed, my man ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Still a-bed ! " replied the boy. " I wish they wos still 
 a-bed. They're very noisy a-bed ; all calling for their boots 
 at once. 1 thought you was the Paper, and wondered why 
 you didn't shove yourself through the grating as usual. What 
 do you want ? " 
 
 Considering his years, which -were tender, the youth may 
 be said to have preferred this question sternly, and in some- 
 thing of a defiant manner. But Mr. Pecksniff, without taking 
 umbrage at his bearing, put a card in his hand, and bade him 
 take that up stairs, and show them in the meanwhile into a 
 room where there was a fire. 
 
 " Or if there's one in the eating parlor," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, " I can't find it myself." So he led his daughters, with- 
 out waiting for any further introduction, into a room on the 
 ground floor, where a tablecloth (rather a tight and scanty fit 
 in reference to the table it covered) w'as already spread for break- 
 fast : displaying a mighty dish of pink boiled beef ; an instance 
 of that particular style of loaf which is known to housekeepers 
 as a slack-baked, crummy quartern ; a liberal provision of cups 
 and saucers ; and the usual appendages. 
 
 Inside the fender were some half-dozen pairs of shoes and 
 boots, of various sizes, just cleaned and turned with the soles 
 upwards to dry ; and a pair of short black gaiters, on one of
 
 MAKThX CIIUZZLEIVIT. 131 
 
 which was chalked — in sport, it would appear, by some gentle- 
 man who had slipped down for the purpose, pending his toilet, 
 and gone up again — "Jinkins'o Particular," while the other 
 exhibited a sketch in jDrotile, claiming to be the portrait of 
 Jinkins himself. 
 
 M. Todgers's Commercial Boarding-House was a house of 
 that sort which is likely to be dark at any time ; but that morn- 
 ing it was especially dark. There was an odd smell m the pas- 
 sage, as if the concentrated essence of all the dinners that had 
 been cooked in the kitchen since the house was built, lingered 
 at the top of the kitchen stairs to that hour, and, like the 
 Black Friar in Don Juan, "wouldn't be driven away." In 
 particular, there was a sensation of cabbage ; as if all the 
 greens that had ever been boiled there, were evergreens, and 
 flourished in immortal strength. I'he parlor was wainscoted, 
 and communicated to strangers a magnetic and instin':ti\e 
 consciousness of rats and mice. The staircase was very 
 gloomy and very broad, with balustrades so thick and heavy 
 that they would have served for a bridge. In a sombre cor- 
 ner of the first landing, stood a gruff old giant of a clock, 
 with a preposterous coronet of three bras.-, balls on his head ; 
 whom few had ever seen — none ever looked in the face — and 
 who seemed to continue his heavy tick for no other reason than 
 to warn heedless people from running into him accidentally. It 
 had not been papered orpaiiited. hadn't Todgers's, within the 
 memory of man. It was verj^ black, begrimed, and mouldy. 
 And, at the top of the staircase, was an old, disjointed, rick- 
 ety, ill-favored skylight, patched and mended in all kinds of 
 ways, which looked distrustfully down at everything that 
 passed below, and covered Todgers's up as if it were a sort of 
 human cucumber-frame, and only people of a peculiar grow'th 
 were reared there. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff and his fair daughters had not stood warm- 
 ing themselves at the fire ten minutes, when the sound of feet 
 was heard upon the stairs, and the presiding deity of the 
 establishment came hurrying in. 
 
 M. Todgers was a lady, rather a bony and hard-featured 
 lady, with a row of curls in front of her head, shaped like lit- 
 tle barrels of beer ; and on the top of it something made of 
 net — \-ou couldn't call it a cap exactly — winch liuiked like a 
 black coljweb. She had a little basket on her arm, and in it a 
 bunch of keys that jingled as she came. In her other hand 
 she bore a flaming tallow candle, which, after surveying Mr.
 
 132 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Pecksniff for one instant by its light, she put down upon the 
 table, to the end that she might receive him with the greater 
 cordiality. 
 
 " Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, " Welcome to 
 London ! Who would have thought of such a visit as this, 
 after so — dear, dear ! — so many years ! How do you do, Mr. 
 Pecksniff } " 
 
 " As well as ever ; and as glad to see you as ever ; " Mr. 
 Pecksniff made response, " Why, you are younger than you 
 used to be ! " 
 
 " Vou are, I am sure ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " You're not 
 a bit changed." 
 
 " What do you say to this ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff, stretch- 
 ing out his hand towards the youiig ladies. " Does this make 
 me no older? " 
 
 "Not your daughters !" exclaimed the lady, raising her 
 hands and clasping them. " Oh, no, Mr. Pecksniff ! Your 
 second, and her bridesmaid ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff smiled complacently ; shook his head ; and 
 said, "My daughters, Mrs. Todgers. Merely my daughters." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed the good lady, " I must believe you, for now I 
 look at 'em I think I should have known 'em anywhere. My 
 dear Miss Pecksniffs, how happy your Pa has made me ! " 
 
 She hugged them both ; and being by this time overpow- 
 ered by her feelings or the inclemency of the morning, jerked 
 a little pocket handkerchief out of the little basket, and applied 
 the same to her face. 
 
 " Now, my good madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, " I know 
 the rules of your establishment, and that you only receive 
 gentlemen boarders. But it occurred to me, when I left home, 
 that perhaps you would give my daughters house-room, and 
 make an exception in their favor." 
 
 " Perhaps ? " cried Mrs. Todgers ecstatically. " Perhaps ? " 
 
 " I may say then, that I was sure you would," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff. " I know that you have a little room of your own, 
 and that they can be comfortable there without appearing at 
 the general table." 
 
 " Dear girls ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " I must take that lib- 
 erty once more." 
 
 Mrs. Todgers meant by this that she must embrace them 
 once more, which she accordingly did, with great ardor. 
 But the truth was. that the house being full with the excep- 
 tion of one bed, which would now be occupied by Mr, Peck-
 
 MA R TIN cm 'ZZL ElV/T. 
 
 nz 
 
 sniff, she wanted time for consideration ; and so much time 
 too (for it was a knotty point how to dispose of them), that 
 even when this second embrace was over, she stood for some 
 moments gazing at tlie sisters, with affection beaming in one 
 eye, and calculation shining out of the other. 
 
 " I think I know how to arrange it," said Mrs. Todgers, 
 at length. " A sofa bedstead in the little third room which 
 opens from my own parlor — Oh, you dear girls ! " 
 
 Thereupon she embraced them once more, observing that she 
 could not decide which was most like their poor mother (which 
 was highly probable : seeing that she had never beheld that 
 lady), but that she rather thought the youngest was ; and then 
 she said that as the gentlemen would be down directly, and the 
 ladies were fatigued with travelling, would they step into her 
 room at once ? ,- 
 
 It was on the same floor ; being, in fact, the back parlor ; and 
 had, as Mrs. Todgers said, the great advantage (in London) of 
 not being overlooked; as they would see when the fog cleared 
 off. Nor was this a vain-glorious boast, for it commanded 
 at a perspective of two feet, a brown wall with a black cistern 
 on the top. The sleeping apartment designed for the young 
 ladies was approached from this chamber by a mightily con- 
 venient little door, which could only open when fallen against 
 by a strong person. It commanded from a similar point of 
 sight another angle of the wall, and another side of the cis- 
 tern. " Not the damp side," said Mrs. Todgers. " 77ial is 
 Mr. Jinkins's."' 
 
 In the first of these sanctuaries a fire was speedily kindled 
 by the youthful porter, who, whistling at his work in the ab- 
 sence of Mrs. Todgers (not to mention his sketching figures 
 on his corduroys with burnt firewoodj, and being afterwards 
 taken by that lady in the fact, was dismissed with a box on his 
 ears. Having prepared breakfast for the young ladies with her 
 own hands, she withdrew to preside in the other room ; where 
 the joke at Mr. Jinkins's expense, seemed to be proceedmg 
 rather noisily, 
 
 " I won't ask you yet my dears," said Mr Pecksniff, look- 
 ing in at the door, " how you like London. Shall I .-■ " 
 
 " We haven't seen much of it. Pa ! " cried Merry. 
 
 " Nothing, I hope," said ("herry. (Both very miserably.) 
 
 " Indeed,'" said Mr, Pecksniff", " that's true. W'c have 
 our pleasure, and our business too, before us. All in good 
 time. All in good time ! "
 
 134 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Whether Mr Pecksniff's business in London was as strictly 
 professional as he had given his new pupil to understand, we 
 shall see, to adopt that worthy man's phraseology-, " all in 
 good time." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TOWN AND TODGERS'S. 
 
 Surely there never was, in any other borough, or city, 
 or hamlet in the world, such a singular sort of place as Tocl- 
 gers's. And surely London, to judge from that part of it which 
 hemmed Todgers's round, and hustled it, and crushed it, and 
 stuck its brick-and-mortar elbows into it, and kept the air from 
 it, and stood perpetually between it and the light, was worthy 
 of Todgers's, and qualified to be on terms of close relationship 
 and alliance with hundreds and thousands of the odd family to 
 which Todgers's belonged. 
 
 You couldn't walk about in Todgers's neighborhood, as 
 you could in any other neighborhood. You groped your way 
 for an hour through lanes and bye-ways, and court-yards, and 
 passages ; and you never once emerged upon anything that 
 might be reasonably called a street. A kind of resigned dis- 
 traction came o\er the stranger as he trod those devious 
 mazes, and, gi\ing himself up for lost, went in and out and 
 round about and quietly turned back again when he came to 
 a dead wall or was stopped by an iron railing, and felt that 
 the means of escape might possibly present themselves in their 
 own good time, but that to anticipate them was hopeless. In- 
 stances were known of people who, being asked to dine at 
 Todgers's had travelled round and round for a weary time, 
 with its very chimney-pots in view ; and finding it, at Wst, 
 impossible of attainment, had gone home again with a gentle 
 melancholy on their spirits, tranquil and uncomplaining. 
 Nobody had ever found Todgers's on a verbal direction, though 
 given within a minute's walk of it. Cautious emigrants from 
 Scotland or the North of England had been known to reach 
 it safely, by impressing a charity-boy, town-bred, and bringing 
 him along with them ; or by clinging tenaciously to the post- 
 man ; but these were rare exceptions, and only went to prove
 
 MAR TIX CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 135 
 
 the rule that Toclgers's was in a labyrinth, whereof the mys- 
 tery was known but to a chosen few. 
 
 Several fruit-brokers had their marts near Todgers's ; and 
 one of the first impressions wrought upon the stranger's senses 
 was of oranges— of damaged oranges, with blue and green 
 bruises on them, festering in boxes or moulding away in 
 cellars. All day long, a stream of porters from wharves beside 
 the river, each bearing on his back a bursting chest of oranges, 
 poured slowly through the narrow passages ; while underneath 
 the archway by the public-house, the knots of those who 
 rested and regaled within, were piled from morning until night. 
 Strange solitary pumps were found near Todgers's hiding them- 
 selves for the most part in blind alleys, and keeping company 
 with fire-ladders. There were churches also by dozens, with 
 many a ghostly little churchyard, all overgrown with such 
 straggling vegetafion as springs up spontaneously from damp, 
 and graves, and rubbish. In some of these dingy resting- 
 places, which bore much the same analogy to green church- 
 yards, as the pots of earth for mignonette and wall-flower in 
 the windows overlooking them, did to rustic gardens, there 
 were trees ; tall trees ; still putting forth their leaves in each 
 succeeding year, with such a languishing remembrance of their 
 kind (so one might fancy, looking on their sickly boughs) 
 as birds in cages have of theirs. Here, paralyzed old watch- 
 men guarded the bodies of the dead at night year after year, 
 until at last they joined that solemn brotherhood ; and, saving 
 that they slept below the ground a sounder sleep than e\en 
 they had ever known above it, and were shut up in another 
 kind of box, their condition can hardly be said to have under- 
 gone any material change when they in turn were watched 
 themselves. 
 
 Among the narrow thoroughfares at hand, there lingered, 
 here and there, an ancient doorway of carved oak, from which, 
 of old, the sounds of revelry and feasting often came ; but 
 now these mansions, only used for storehouses, were dark and 
 dull, and, being filled with wool, and cotton, and the like — 
 such heavy merchandise as stifles sound and stops the throat 
 of echo — had an air of palpable deadness about them which, 
 added to their silence and desertion, made them ver}' grim. In 
 like manner,, there were gloomy court-yards in these parts, 
 into which few but belated wayfarers ever strayed, and where 
 vast bags and packs of goods, upward or downward bound, 
 were for ever dangling between heaven and earth from lofty
 
 I •; 6 MA R TLV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 cranes. There were more trucks near Todgers's than you 
 would suppose a whole city could ever need ; not active trucks, 
 but a vagabond race, for ever lounging in the narrow lanes be- 
 fore their masters' doors and stopping up the pass ; so that when 
 a stray hackney-coach or lumbering wagon came that way, 
 they were the cause of such an uproar as enlivened the whole 
 neighborhood, and made the bells in the next church-tower 
 vibrate again. In the throats and maws of dark no-thorough- 
 fares near Todgers's, individual wine-merchants and wholesale 
 dealers in grocery-ware had perfect little towns of their own ; 
 and, deep among the foundations of these buildings, the ground 
 was undermined and burrowed out into stables, where cart- 
 horses, troubled by rats, might be heard on a quiet Sunday 
 rattling their halters, as disturbed spirits in tales of haunted 
 houses are said to clank their chains. 
 
 To tell of half the queer old taverns that had a drowsy and 
 secret existence near Todgers's would fill a goodly book ; while 
 a second volume no less capacious might be devoted to an 
 account of the quaint old guests who frequent their dimly- 
 lighted parlors. These were, in general, ancient inhabitants 
 of that region ; born, and bred there from boyhood ; who had 
 long since become wheezy and asthmatical, and short of breath 
 except in the article of story-telling, in which respect they 
 were still marvellously long-winded. These gentry were much 
 opposed to steam and all new-fangled ways, and held ballooning 
 to be sinful, and deplored the degeneracy of the times ; which 
 that particular member of each little club who kept the keys 
 of the nearest church professionally, always attributed to the 
 prevalence of dissent and irreligion : though the major part 
 of the company inclined to the belief that virtue went out 
 with hair-powder, and that Old England's greatness had de- 
 cayed amain with barbers. 
 
 As to Todgers's itself — speaking of it only as a house in 
 that neighborhood, and making no reference to its merits as a 
 commercial boarding establishment — it was worthy to stand 
 where it did. There was one staircase-window in it at the 
 side of the house, on the ground-floor, which tradition said 
 had not been opened for a hundred years at least, and which, 
 abutting on an always dirty lane, was so begrimed and coated 
 with a century's mud, that no one pane of glass could jjossibly 
 fall out, though all were cracked and broken twenty times. 
 But the grand mystery of Tor'ger's was the cellarage, approach- 
 able only by a little back door and a rusty grating, which
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 137 
 
 cellarage within the memory of man had liad no connection with 
 the house, but had always been the freehold property of some- 
 body else, and was reported to be full of wealth : though in 
 what shape — whether in silver, brass, or gold, or butts of wine, 
 or casks of gunpowder — was a matter of profound uncertainty 
 and supreme indifference to Todgers's, and all its mmates. 
 
 The top of the house was worthy of notice. There was 
 a sort of terrace on the roof, with posts and fragments of rotten 
 lines, once intended to dry clothes upon ; and there were two 
 or three tea-chests out there, full of earth, with forgotten plants 
 in them, like old-walking-sticks. Whoever climbed to the ob- 
 servatory, was stunned at first from having knocked his head 
 against the little door in coming out ; and after that, was for 
 the moment choked from having looked, perforce, straight 
 down the kitcheA chimney ; but these two stages over, there 
 were things to gaze at from the top of Todgers's, well worth 
 your seeing too. For first and foremost, if the day were bright, 
 ypu observed upon the house-tops, stretching far away, a long 
 dark path — the shadow of the Monument — and turning round, 
 the tall original was close beside you, with eveiy hair erect 
 upon his golden head, as if the doings of the city frightened 
 him. Then there were steeples, towers, belfries, shining vanes, 
 and masts of ships — a very forest. Gables, housetops, garret- 
 windows, wilderness upon wilderness. Smoke and noise 
 enough for all the world at once. 
 
 After the first glance, there were slight features in the 
 midst of this crowd of objects, which sprung out from the 
 mass without any reason, as it were, and took hold of the at- 
 tention whether the spectator would or no. Thus, the revol- 
 ving chimney-pots on one great stack of buildings, seemed to 
 be turning gravely to each other every now and then, and 
 whispering the result of their separate observation of what 
 was going on below. Others, of a crook-backed shape, ap- 
 peared to be maliciously holding themselves askew, that they 
 might shut the prospect out and bafilie Todgers's. The man 
 wno was mending a pen at an upper window over the way, 
 became of paramount importance in the scene, and made a 
 blank in it, ridiculously disproportionate in its extent, when 
 he retired. The gambols of a piece of cloth upon the dyer's 
 pole had far more interest for the moment than all the chang- 
 ing motion of the crowd. Yet even while the looker-on felt 
 angry with himself for this, and wondered how it was, the 
 tumult swelled into a roar ; the hosts of objects seemed to
 
 138 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 thicken and expand a hundred-fold ; and after gazing round 
 him, quite scared, he turned into Todgers's again, much more 
 rapidly than he came out ; and ten to one he told M. Todgers 
 afterwards tliat if he hadn't done so, he would certainly have 
 come into the street by the shortest cut — that is to say, head- 
 foremost. 
 
 So said the two Miss Pecksniffs, when they retired with 
 Mrs. Todgers from this place of espial, leaving the youthful 
 porter to close the door and follow them down stairs \ who 
 being of a playful temperament, and contemplating with a de- 
 light peculiar to his sex and time of life, any chance of dash- 
 ing himself into small fragments, lingered behind to walk upon 
 the parapet. 
 
 It being the second day of their stay in London, the Miss 
 Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers were by this time highly confi- 
 dential, insomuch that the last-named lady had already com- 
 municated the particulars of three early disappointments of a 
 tender nature ; and had furthermore possessed her young 
 friends with a general summary of the life, conduct, and char- 
 acter of Mr. Todgers. Who, it seemed, had cut his matri- 
 monial career rather short, by unlawfully running away from 
 his happiness, and establishing himself in foreign countries as 
 a bachelor. 
 
 " Your pa was once a little particular in his attentions, my 
 dears," said Mrs. Todgers : " but to be your ma was too much 
 happiness denied me. You'd hardly know who this was done 
 for, perhaps ? " 
 
 She called theirattention to an oval miniature, like a little 
 blister, which was tacked up over the kettle-holder, and in 
 which there was a dreamy shadowing forth of her own visage. 
 
 " It's a speaking likeness ! " cried the two Miss Pecksniffs. 
 
 " It was considered so once," said Mrs. Todgers warming 
 herself in a gentlemanly manner at the fire: "but I hardly 
 thought you would have known it, my loves." 
 
 They would have known it anywhere. If they could have 
 met with it in the street, or seen it in a shop window, they 
 would have cried : " Good gracious ! Mrs. Todgers ! " 
 
 " Presiding over an establishment like this, makes sad 
 havoc with the features, my dear Miss Pecksniffs," said Mrs. 
 Todgers. " The gravy alone, is enough to add twenty years 
 to one's age, I do assure you." 
 
 " Lor ! " cried tiie two Miss Pecksniffs. 
 
 "The anxiety of that one item, my dears," said Mrs. Tod-
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 13^ 
 
 gers, " keeps the mind continually upon the stretch. There 
 is no such passion in human nature, as the passion »for gravy 
 among commercial gentlemen. It's nothing to say a joint 
 won't yield — a whole animal wouldn't yield— the amount of 
 gravy they expect each day at dinner. And what I have un- 
 dergone in consequence," cried Mrs. Todgers, raising her 
 eyes and shaking her head, "no one would believe ! " 
 
 " Just like Mr. Pinch, Merry ! " said Charity. "We have 
 always noticed it in him, you remember } " 
 
 " Yes, my dear," giggled Merry, " but we have ne\'er given 
 it him, you know." 
 
 "You, my dears, having to deal with your pa's pupils who 
 can't help themselves, are able to take your own way," said 
 Mrs. Todgers, " but in a commercial establishment, where any 
 gentleman may say, any Saturday evening, ' Mrs. Todgers, 
 this day week we'^part, in consequence of the cheese,' it is not 
 so easy to preserve a pleasant understanding. Your pa was 
 kind enough," added the good lady, " to invite me to take a 
 ride with you to-day ; and I think he mentioned that you 
 were going to call upon Miss Pinch. Any relation to the gen- 
 tleman you were speaking of just now, Miss Pecksniff ? " 
 
 " For goodness sake, Mrs. Todgers," interposed the lively 
 Merry, " don't call him a gentleman. My dear Cherry, Pinch 
 a. gentleman ! The idea. " 
 
 " What a wicked girl you are ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, em- 
 bracing her with great affection. " You are quite a quiz 1 do 
 declare ! My dear Miss Pecksniff, what a happiness your 
 sister's spirits must be to your pa and self ! " 
 
 " He's the most hideous, goggle eyed creature, Mrs. Tod- 
 gers, in existence," resumed Merry: "quite an ogre. The 
 ugliest, awkwardest, frightfullest being, you can imagine. This 
 is his sister, so 1 leave you to suppose what she is. 1 shall be 
 obliged to laugh outright, 1 know I shall ! " cried the charm- 
 ing girl, " I never shall be able to keep my countenance. The 
 notion of a Miss Pinch presuming to exist at all is sufficient 
 to kill one, but to see her — oh my stars ! " 
 
 Mrs. Todgers laughed immensely at the dear love's humor, 
 and declared she was quite afraid of her, that she was. She 
 was so very severe. 
 
 " Who is severe ? " cried a \oice at the door. " There is 
 no such thing as severity in our family, I hope ! " And then 
 Mr. Pecksniff peeped smilingly into the room, and said, " May 
 I come in, Mrs. Todgers .'' "
 
 1 40 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Mrs. 'iTodgers almost screamed, for the little door of com- 
 munication between that room and the inner one being wide 
 open, there was a full disclosure of the sofa bedstead in all its 
 monstrous impropriety. But she had the presence of mind to 
 close this portal in the twinkling of an eye ; and having done 
 so, said, though not without confusion, " Oh yes, Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, you can come in, if you please." 
 
 " How are we to-day," said Mr. Pecksniff, jocosely ; "and 
 what are our plans ? Are we ready to go and see Tom 
 Pinch's sister? Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Thomas Pinch ! " 
 
 " Are we ready," returned Mrs. Todgers, nodding her 
 head with mysterious intelligence, " to send a favorable reply 
 to Mr. Jinkins's round-robin? That's the first question, Mr. 
 Pecksniff." 
 
 " Why Mr. Jinkins's robin, my dear madam ?" asked Mr. 
 Pecksniff, putting one arm round Mercy, and the other round 
 Mrs. Todgers, whom he seemed, in the abstraction of the 
 moment, to mistake for Charity. " Why Mr. Jinkins's? " 
 
 " Because he began to get it up, and indeed always takes 
 the lead in the house," said Mrs. Todgers, playfully. " That's 
 why, sir." 
 
 " Jinkins is a man of superior talents," observed Mr. 
 Pecksniff. " I have conceived a great regard for Jinkins. I 
 take Jinkins's desire to pay polite attention to my daughters, 
 as an additional proof of the friendly feeling of Jinkins, Mrs. 
 Todgers." 
 
 " Well now," returned that lady, " having said so much, 
 you must say the rest, Mr. Pecksniff : so tell the dear young 
 ladies all about it." 
 
 With these words, she gently eluded Mr. Pecksniff's grasp, 
 and took Miss Charity into her own embrace ; though whether 
 she was impelled to this proceeding solely by the irrepressible 
 affection she had conceived for that young lady, or whether it 
 had any reference to a lowering, not to say distinctly spiteful 
 expression which had been visible in her face for some 
 moments, has never been exactly ascertained. Be this as it 
 may, Mr. Pecksniff went on to inform his daughters of the 
 purport and history of the round-robin aforesaid, which was 
 in brief, that the commercial gentlemen who helped to make 
 ?ip the sum and substance of that noun of multitude or signify- 
 ing many, called Todgers's, desired the honor of their pres- 
 ence at the general table, so long as they remained in the 
 house, and besought that they would grace the board at dinner-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 141 
 
 time next clay, the same being Sunday. He furtlier said, that 
 Mrs. Todgers being a consenting party to this invitation, he 
 was wilUng, for this part, to accept it ; and so left them that 
 he might write his gracious answer, the while they armed 
 themselves with their best bonnets for the utter defeat and 
 overthrow of Miss Pinch. 
 
 Tom Pinch's sister was governess in a family, a lofty 
 family ; perhaps the wealthiest brass and copper founders' 
 family known to mankind. They lived at Camberwell ; in a 
 house so big and fierce, that its mere outside, like the outside 
 of a giant's castle, struck terror into vulgar minds and made 
 bold persons quail. There was a great front gate ; with 
 a great bell, whose handle was in itself a note of admira- 
 tion ; and a great lodge ; which being close to the house, 
 rather spoilt the Jook-out certainly, but made the look-in tre- 
 mendous. At this entr)', a great porter kept constant watch 
 and ward ; and when he gave the visitor high leave to pass, 
 he rang a second great bell, responsive to whose note a great 
 footman appeared in due time at the great hall-door, with 
 such great tags upon his liveried shoulder that he was per- 
 petually entangling and hooking himself among the chairs and 
 tables, and led a life of torment which could scarcely have 
 been surpassed, if he had been a blue-bottle in a world of 
 cobwebs. 
 
 To this mansion, Mr. Pecksniff, accompanied by his 
 daughters and Mrs. Todgers, dro\e gallantly in a one-horse 
 fly The foregoing ceremonies having been all performed, 
 they were ushered into the house ; and so, by degrees, they 
 got at last into a small room with books in it, where Mr. 
 Pinch's sister was at that moment instructing her eldest pupil : 
 to wit, a premature little woman of thirteen years old, who 
 had already arrived at such a pitch of whalebone and educa- 
 tion that she had nothing girlish about her, which was a 
 source of great rejoicing to all her relations and friends. 
 
 " Visitors for Miss Pinch !" said the footman. He must 
 have been an ingenious young man, for he said it very cleverly, 
 with a nice discrimination between the cold respect with 
 which he would have announced visitors to the family, and 
 the warm personal interest with which he would have an- 
 nounced visitors to the cook. 
 
 " Visitors for Miss Pinch ! " 
 
 Miss Pinch rose hastily, with such tokens or agitation as 
 plainly declared that her list of callers was not numerous.
 
 142 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 At the same time, the Uttle pupil became alarmingly upright, 
 and prepared herself to take mental notes of all that might be 
 said and done. For the lady of the establishment was curious 
 in the natural history and habits of the animal called Gover- 
 ness, and encouraged her daughters to report thereon when- 
 ever occasion served ; which was, in reference to all parties 
 concerned, very laudable, improving, and pleasant. 
 
 It is a melancholy fact ; but it must be related, that Mr. 
 Pinch's sister was not at all ugly. On the contrary, she had 
 a good face, a very mild and prepossessing face, and ?. 
 pretty little figure — slight and short, but remarkable for its 
 neatness. There was something of her brother, much of him 
 indeed, in a certain gentleness of manner, and in her look of 
 timid trustfulness \ but she was so far from being a fright, or 
 a dowdy, or a horror, or anything else, predicted by the two 
 Miss Pecksniffs, that those young ladies naturally regarded 
 her with great indignation, feeling that this was by no means 
 what they had come to see. 
 
 Miss Mercy, as having the larger share of gayety, bore up 
 the best against this disappointment, and carried it off, in 
 outward show at least, with a titter ; but her sister, not caring 
 to hide her disdain, expressed it pretty openly in her looks. 
 As to Mrs. Todgers, she leaned on Mr. Pecksniff's arm and 
 preserved a kind of genteel grimness, suitable to any state of 
 mind, and involving any shade of opinion. 
 
 " Don't be alanned, Miss Pinch," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 taking her hand condescendingly in one of his, and patting it 
 with the other. " I have called to see you, in pursuance of a 
 promise given to your brother, Thomas Pinch. My name — 
 compose yourself. Miss Pinch — is Pecksniff." 
 
 The good man emphasized these words as though he would 
 have said, " You see in me, young person, the benefactor of 
 your race ; the patron of your house ; the preser\'er of your 
 brother, who is fed with manna daily from my table ; and in 
 right of whom there is a considerable balance in my favor at 
 present standing in the books beyond the sky. But I ha\e 
 no pride, for I can afford to do without it ! " 
 
 The poor girl felt it all as if it had been Gospel Truth. 
 Her brother writing in the fulness of his simple heart, had 
 often told her so, and how much more ! As Mr. Pecksniff 
 ceased to speak, she hung her head, and dropped a tear upon 
 his hand. 
 
 "Oh very well, Miss Pinch !" thought the sharp pupil,
 
 MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 '43 
 
 " cr}-ing before strangers, as if you didn't like the situa- 
 tion ! " 
 
 " Thomas is well," said Mr. Pecksniff ; " and sends his 
 love and this letter. I cannot say, poor fellow, that he will 
 ever be distinguished in our profession ; but he has the will 
 to do well, which is the next thing to having the power ; and, 
 therefore, we must bear with him. Eh ? " 
 
 " I know he has the will, sir," said Tom Pinch's sister, 
 " and 1 know how kindly and considerately you cherish it, for 
 which neither he nor 1 can ever be grateful enough, as we 
 very often say m writing to each other. The young ladies 
 too," she added, glancing gratefully at his two daughters, " I 
 know how much we owe to them." 
 
 "My dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning to them with a 
 smile ; " Thomas's sister is saying something you will be glad 
 to hear, I think." 
 
 " We can't take any merit to ourselves, papa ! " cried 
 Cherry, as they both apprised Tom Pinch's sister, with a 
 curtsey, that they would feel obliged if she would keep her 
 distance. " Mr. Pinch's being so well provided for is owing 
 to you alone, and we can only say how glad we are to hear 
 that he is as grateful as he ought to be." 
 
 " Oh very well, Miss Pinch ! " thought the pupil again. 
 " Got a grateful brother, living on other people's kindness ! " 
 
 " It was very kind of you," said Tom Pinch's sister, with 
 Tom's own simplicity, and Tom's own smile, " to come here : 
 very kind indeed : though how great a kindness you have 
 done me in gratifying my wish to see you, and to thank you 
 with my own lips, you, who make so light of benefits conferred, 
 can scarcely think." 
 
 " Very grateful ; very pleasant ; very proper," murmured 
 Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " It makes me happy too," said Ruth Pinch, who now 
 that her first surprise was over, had a chatty, cheerful way 
 with her, and a single-hearted desire to look upon the best 
 side of everything, which was the very moral and image of 
 Tom \ "very happy to think that you will be able to tell him 
 how more than comfortablv I am situated here, and how un- 
 necessarjMt is that he should ever waste a regret on my being 
 cast upon my own resources. Dear me ! So long as I heard 
 that he was happy, and he heard that I was," said Tom's sisier, 
 " we could both bear, without one impatient or complaining 
 thought, a great deal more than ever we have had to endure,
 
 144 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 
 
 I am veiy certain." And if ever the plain truth were spoken 
 on this occasionally false earth, Tom's sister spoke it when 
 she said that. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, whose eyes had in the mean- 
 time wandered to the pupil ; " certainl}'. And how do yoit 
 do, my very interesting child ? " 
 
 "Quite well, I thank you, sir," replied that frosty innocent. 
 
 "A sweet face this, my dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning 
 to his daughters. " A charming manner ! " 
 
 Both young ladies had been in ecstasies with the scion of 
 a wealthy house (through whom the nearest road and shortest 
 cut to her parents might be supposed to lie) from the first. 
 Mrs. Todgers vowed that anything one quarter so angelic she 
 had never seen. " She wanted but a pair of wings, a dear," 
 said that good woman, " to be a young synip : " meaning, pos- 
 sibly, young sylph, or seraph. 
 
 " If you will give that to your distinguished parents, my 
 amiable little friend," said Mr. Pecksniff, producing one of 
 his professional cards, " and will say that I and my 
 daughters — " 
 
 "And Mrs. Todgers, pa," said Merry. 
 
 "And Mrs. Todgers, of London," added Mr. Pecksniff; 
 " that I and my daughters, and Mrs. Todgers, of London, did 
 not intrude upon them, as our object simply was to take some 
 notice of Miss Pinch, whose brother is a young man in my 
 employment ; but that 1 could not leave this very chaste man- 
 sion, without adding my humble tribute, as an Architect, to 
 the correctness and elegance of the owner's taste, and to his 
 just appreciation of that beautiful art to the cultivation of 
 which 1 have devoted a life, and to the promotion of whose 
 glory and advancement I have sacrificed a — a fortune — I 
 shall be very much obliged to you." 
 
 " Missis's compliments to Miss Pinch," said the footman, 
 suddenly appearing, and speaking in exactly the same key as 
 before, " and begs to know wot my young lady is a learning 
 of just now." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, " Here is the young man. He 
 will take the card. With my compliments, if you please, 
 young man. My dears, we are interrupting the studies. Let 
 us go." 
 
 Some confusion was occasioned for an instant by Mrs. 
 Todgers's unstrapping her little flat hand-basket, and hurriedly 
 entrusting the " young man " with one of her own cards, which,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 145 
 
 in addition to certain detailed information relative to the terms 
 of the commercial establishment, bore a foot-note to the effect 
 that M. T. took that opportunity of thanking those gentlemen 
 who had honored her with their favors, and begged they would 
 have the goodness, if satisfied with the table, to recommend 
 her to their friends. But Mr. Pecksniff, with admirable pres- 
 ence of mind, recovered this document, and buttoned it up in 
 his own pocket. 
 
 Then he said to Miss Pinch : with more condescension 
 and kindness than ever, for it was desirable the footman 
 should expressly understand that they were not friends of 
 hers, but patrons : 
 
 " Good-morning. Good-by. God bless you ! Vou may 
 depend upon my continued protection of your brother 
 Thomas. Keep your mind quite at ease, Miss Pinch ! " 
 
 "Thank you," said Tom's sister heartily; "a thousand 
 times." 
 
 "Not at all," he retorted, patting her gently on the head. 
 " Don't mention it. You will make me angry if you do. My 
 sweet child," to the pupil, "farewell ! That fairy creature," 
 said Mr. Pecksniff, looking in his pensive mood hard at the 
 footman, as if he meant him, " has shed a vision on my path, 
 refulgent in its nature, and not easily to be obliterated. My 
 dears, are you ready } " 
 
 They were not quite ready yet, for they were still caressing 
 the pupil. But they tore themselves away at length ; and 
 sweeping past Miss Pinch with each a haughty inclination of 
 the head and a curtsey strangled in its birth, flounced into the 
 passage. 
 
 The young man had rather a long job in showing them 
 out ; for Mr. Pecksniff's delight in the tastefulness of the 
 house was such that he could not help often stopping (partic- 
 ularly when they were near the parlor door) and giving it ex- 
 pression, in a loud voice and ver)^ learned terms. Indeed, he 
 delivered between the study and the hall, a familiar exposition 
 of the whole science of architecture as applied to dwelling- 
 houses, and was yet in the freshness of his eloquence when 
 they reached the garden. 
 
 " If you look," said Mr. Pecksniff, backing from the steps, 
 with his head on one side and his eyes half-shut that he 
 might the better take in the proportions of the exterior — " if 
 you look, my dears, at the cornice which supports the roof, and 
 observe the airiness of its construction, especially where it 
 
 10
 
 1 46 ^lAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 sweeps the southern angle of the building, you will feel with me 
 — How do you do, sir ? I hope you're well ? " 
 
 Interrupting himself with these words, he very politely 
 bowed to a middle-aged gentleman at an upper window, to 
 whom he spoke, not because the gentleman could hear him, 
 (for he certainly could not), but as an appropriate accompani- 
 ment to his salutation. 
 
 " I have no doubt, my dears," said Mr. Pecksniff, feigning 
 to point out other beauties with his hand, " that this is the 
 proprietor. I should be glad to know him. It might lead to 
 something. Is he looking this way. Charity ? " 
 
 "He is opening the window, pa ! " 
 
 " Ha, ha ! '' cried Mr. Pecksniff softly. " All right ! He 
 has found I'm professional. He heard me inside just now, I 
 have no doubt. Don't look ! With regard to the fluted pil- 
 lars in the portico, my dears — " 
 
 " Hallo ! " cried the gentleman. 
 
 " Sir, your servant ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, taking off his 
 hat. " I am proud to make your acquaintance." 
 
 " Come off the grass, will you ! " roared the gentleman. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, doubtful of 
 his having heard aright. " Did you — .-' " 
 
 " Come off the grass ! " repeated the gentleman, warmly. 
 
 "We are unwilling to intrude, sir," Mr. Pecksniff smilingly 
 began. 
 
 " But you are intruding," returned the other, " unwar- 
 rantably intruding. Trespassing. You see a gravel walk, 
 don't you? What do you think it's- meant for .'' Open the 
 gate there ! Show that party out ! " 
 
 With that he clapped down the window again, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff put on his hat, and walked with great de- 
 liberation and in profound silence to the fly, gazing at the 
 clouds as he went, with great interest. After helping his 
 daughters and Mrs. Todgers into that conveyance, he stood 
 looking at it for some moments, as if he were not quite certain 
 whether it was a carriage or a temple ; but, having settled this 
 point in his mind, he got into his place, spread his hands out 
 on his knees, and smiled upon the three beholders. 
 
 But his daughters, less tranquil-minded, burst into a tor- 
 rent of indignation. This came, they said, of cherishing such 
 creatures as the Pinches. This came of lowering themselves 
 to their level. This came of putting themselves in the hu-
 
 MARTIA' CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 147 
 
 miliating position of seeming to know such bold, audacious, 
 cunning, dreadful girls as that. They had expected this. 
 They had predicted it to Mrs. Todgers, as she (Todgers) 
 could depone, that very morning. To this, they added, that 
 the owner of the house, supposing them to be IMiss Pinch's 
 friends, had acted, in their opinion, quite correctly, and had 
 done no more than, under such circumstances, might reason- 
 al)ly have been expected. To that they added (with a triliing 
 inconsistency), that he was a brute and a bear ; and then they 
 merged into a flood of tears, which swept away all wandering 
 epithets before it. 
 
 Perhaps Miss Pinch was scarcely so much to blame in the 
 matter as the Seraph, who, immediately on the withdrawal of 
 the visitors, had hastened to report them at head-quarters, 
 with a full account of their having presumptuously charged her 
 with the delivery of a message afterwards consigned to the 
 footman ; which outrage, taken in conjunction with Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's unobtrusive remarks on the establishment, might pos- 
 sibly have had some share in their dismissal. Poor Miss 
 Pinch, however, had to bear the brunt of it with both parties ; 
 being so severely taken to task by the Seraph's mother for 
 having such vulgar acquaintances, that she was fain to retire 
 to her own room in tears, which her natural cheerfulness and 
 submission, and the delight of having seen Mr. Pecksniff, and 
 having received a letter from her brother, were at first in- 
 sufficient to repress. 
 
 As to Mr. Pecksniff, he told them in the fly, that a good 
 action was its own reward ; and rather gave them to under- 
 stand, that if he could have been kicked in such a cause, he 
 would have liked it all the better. Jiut this was no comfort 
 to the young ladies, who scolded violently the whole way back, 
 and even exhibited, more than once, a keen desire to attack 
 the devoted Mrs. Todgers, on whose personal appearance, but 
 particularly on whose offending card and hand-basket, they 
 were secretly inclined to lay the blame of half their failure. 
 
 Todgers's was in a great bustle that evening, partly owing 
 to some additional domestic preparations for the morrow, and 
 partly to the excitement always inseparable in that house from 
 Saturday night, when every gentleman's linen arrived at a 
 different hour in its own little bundle, with his private account 
 pinned on the outside. There was always a great clinking of 
 pattens down stairs, too, until midniglit, or so, on Saturdays j 
 together with a frequent gleaming of mysterious lights in the
 
 1 48 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 area, much working at the pump, and a constant jangling of 
 the iron handle of the pail. Shrill altercations from time to 
 time arose between Mrs. Todgers and unknown females in re- 
 mote back kitchens ; and sounds were occasionally heard, 
 indicativ'e of small articles of ironmongery and hardware being 
 thrown at the boy. It was the custom of that youth on Satur- 
 days, to roll up his shirt sleeves to his shoulders, and pervade 
 all parts of the house in an apron of coarse green baize ; more- 
 over, he was more strongly tempted on Saturdays than on 
 other days (it being a busy time}, to make excursive bolts into 
 the neighboring alleys when he answered the door, and there 
 to play at leap-frog and other sports with vagrant lads, until 
 pursued and brought back by the hair of his head, or the lobe 
 of his ear ; thus, he was quite a conspicuous feature among 
 the peculiar incidents of the last day in the week at Todgers's. 
 
 He was especially so on this particular Saturday evening, 
 and honored the Miss Pecksniffs with a deal of notice ; seldom 
 passing the door of Mrs. Todgers's private room, where they 
 sat alone before the fire, working by the light of a solitary 
 candle, without putting in his head and greeting them with 
 some such compliments as, " There you are agin ! " " Ain't it 
 nice ? " and similar humorous attentions. 
 
 "I say," he whispered, stopping in one of his journeys to 
 and fro, "young ladies, there's soup to-morrow. She's a 
 making it now. Ain't she a putting in the water ? Oh ! not 
 at all neither ! " 
 
 In the course of answering another knock, he thrust in his 
 head again. 
 
 " I say ! There's fowls to-morrow. Not skinny ones. Oh 
 no!" 
 
 Presently he called through the key-hole : 
 
 " I'here's a fish to-morrow. Just come. Don't eat none 
 of him ! " And, with this special warning, vanished again. 
 
 By and by, he returned to lay the cloth for supj^er, it 
 having been arranged between Mrs. Todgers and the young 
 ladies, that they should partake of an exclusive veal-cutlet to- 
 gether in the privacy of that apartment. He entertained them 
 on this occasion by thrusting the lighted candle into his mouth, 
 and exhibiting his face in a state of transparency ; after the 
 performance of which feat, he went on with his professional 
 duties, brightening every knife as he laid it on the table, by 
 breathing on the blade and afterwards polishing the same on 
 the apron already mentioned. When he had completed his
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 149 
 
 preparations, he grinned at the sisters, and expressed his 
 belief that the approaching collation would be of " rather a 
 spicy sort." 
 
 "Will it be long before it's ready, Bailey ? " asked Mercy, 
 
 " No," said Bailey, ''it is cooked. When I come up, she 
 was dodging among the tender pieces with a fork, and eating 
 of 'em." 
 
 But he had scarcely achieved the utterance of these words, 
 when he received a manual compliment on the head, which 
 sent him staggering against the wall ; and Mrs. Todgers, dish 
 in hand, stood indignantly before him. 
 
 " Oh you little villain ! " said that lady. " Oh you bad, false 
 boy ! " 
 
 " No worse than yerself," retorted Bailey, guarding his 
 head, on a principle invented by Mr. Thomas Cribb. " Ah ! 
 Come now ! Do that agin, will yer ? " 
 
 " He's the most dreadful child," said Mrs. Todgers, setting 
 down the dish, " I ever had to deal with. The gentlemen 
 spoil him to that extent, and teach him such things, that I'm 
 afraid nothing but hanging will ever do him any good." 
 
 " Won't it ! " cried ifailey. " Oh ! Yes ! Wot do you 
 go a lowerin the table-beer for then, and destroying my con- 
 stitooshun ? " 
 
 "Go down stairs, you vicious boy," said Mrs. Todgers, 
 holding the door open. " Do you hear me .'' Go along ! " 
 
 After two or three dexterous feints, he went, and was seen 
 no more that night, save once, when he brought up some 
 tumblers and hot water, and much disturbed the two Miss Peck- 
 sniffs by squinting hideously behind the back of the uncon- 
 scious Mrs. Todgers. Having done this justice to his wounded 
 feelings, he retired underground, where, in company with a 
 swann of black beetles and a kitchen candle, he employed his 
 faculties in cleaning boots and brushing clothes until the 
 night was far advanced. 
 
 Benjamin was supposed to be the real name of this young 
 retainer, but he was known by a great variety of names. Ben- 
 jamin, for instance, had been converted into Uncle Ben, and 
 that had been corrupted into Uncle ; which, by an easy tran- 
 sition, had again passed into Barnwell, in memor}^ of the 
 celebrated relative in that degree who was shot by his nephew 
 George, while meditating in his garden at Camberwcll. The 
 gentlemen at Todgers's had a merry habit, too, of bestowing 
 upon him. for the time being, the name of any notorious male-
 
 150 MARTrN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 factor or minister ; and sometimes when current events were 
 flat, they even sought the pages of history for these distinc- 
 tions ; as Mr. Pitt, Young Brownrigg, and the like. At the 
 period of which we write, he was generally known among the 
 gentlemen as Bailey junior ; a name bestowed upon him in 
 contradistinction, perhaps, to Old Bailey ; and possibly as in- 
 \olviiig the recollection of an unfortunate lady of the same 
 name, who perished by her own hand early in life, and has 
 been immortalized in a ballad. 
 
 The usual Sunday dinner-hour at Todgers's was two 
 o'clock ; a suitable time it was considered, for all parties ; 
 convenient to Mrs. Todgers, on account of the baker's \ and 
 convenient to the gentlemen, with reference to their afternoon 
 engagements. But on the Sunday which was to introduce 
 the two Miss Pecksniffs to a full knowledge of Todgers's and 
 its society, the dinner was postponed until five, in order that 
 everything might be as genteel as the occasion demanded. 
 
 When the hour drew nigh, Bailey junior, testifying great 
 excitement, appeared in a complete suit of cast-off clothes 
 several sizes too large for him, and in particular, mounted a 
 clean shirt of such extraordinary magnitude, that one of the 
 gentlemen (remarkable for his ready wit) called him " collars " 
 on the spot. At about a quarter before five, a deputation, 
 consisting of Mr. Jinkins, and another gentleman whose name 
 was Gander, knocked at the door of Mrs. Todgers's room, 
 and, being formally introduced to the two Miss Pecksniffs by 
 their parent, who was in waiting, besought the honor of con- 
 ducting them up stairs. 
 
 The drawing-room at Todgers's was out of the common 
 style ; so much so indeed, that you would hardly have taken 
 it to be a drawing-room, unless you were told so by somebody 
 who was in the secret. It was lioor-clothed all over ; and the 
 ceiling, including a great beam in the middle, was papered. 
 Besides the three little windows with seats in them, commanding 
 the opposite archway there was another window looking point, 
 blank, without any compromise at all about it, into Jinkins's 
 bed-room ; and high up, all along one side of the wall, was a 
 strip of panes of glass, tvvo-deeix giving light to the staircase. 
 There were the oddest closets possible, with little casements in 
 them, like eight-day clocks, lurking in the wainscot and taking 
 the shape of the stairs ; and the very door itself (which was 
 painted black) had two great glass eyes in its forehead with an 
 inquisitive green pupil in the middle of each.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 151 
 
 Here, the gentlemen were all assembled. There was a 
 general cry of " Hear, hear ! " and '' Bravo Jink ! " when 
 Mr. Jinkins appeared with Charity on his arm ; which became 
 quite rapturous as Mr. Gander followed, escorting Mercy, and 
 Mr, Pecksniff brought up the rear with Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 Then, the presentations took place. They included a gen- 
 tleman of a sporting turn, who propounded questions on 
 jockey subjects to the editors of Sunday papers, which were 
 regarded by his friends as rather stiff things to answer ; and 
 they included a gentleman of a theatrical turn, who had once 
 entertained serious thoughts of " coming out," but had been 
 kept in by the wickedness of human nature ; and they included 
 a gentleman of a debating turn, who was strong at speech- 
 making ; and a gentleman of a literary turn, who wrote squibs 
 upon the rest, and knew the weak side of everybody's char- 
 acter but his own. There was a gentleman of a vocal turn, 
 and a gentleman of a smoking turn, and a gentleman 
 of a convivial turn ; some of the gentlemen had a turn 
 for whist, and a large proportion of the gentlemen had 
 a strong turn for billiards and betting. They had all, it 
 may be presumed, a turn for business ; being all connnercially 
 employed in one way or other ; and had, every one in his own 
 way, a decided turn for pleasure to boot. Mr. Jinkins was of 
 a fashionable turn ; being a regular frequenter of the Parks 
 on Sundays, and knowing a great many carriages by sight. 
 He spoke mysteriously, too, of splendid women, and was sus- 
 pected of having once committed himself with a Countess. 
 Mr. Gander was of a witty turn, being indeed the gentleman 
 who had originated the sally about "collars;" which spark- 
 ling pleasantry was now retailed from mouth to mouth, under 
 the title of Gander's Last, and was received in all parts of the 
 room with great applause. Mr. Jinkins, it may be added, was 
 much the oldest of the party ; being a fish-salesman's book- 
 keeper, aged forty. He was the oldest boarder also ; and in 
 right of his double seniority, took the lead in the house, as 
 Mrs. Todgers had already said. 
 
 There was considerable delay in the production of dinner, 
 and poor Mrs. Todgers, being reproached in confidence by 
 Jinkins, slipped in and out, at least twenty times, to see about 
 it ; always coming back as though she had no such thing upon 
 her mind, and hadn't been out at all. But there was no hitch 
 in the conversation, nevertheless ; for one gentleman, who 
 travelled in the perfumery line, exhibited an interesting nick-
 
 152 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 nack, in the way of a remarkable cake of shaving soap which 
 he had lately met with in Germany ; and the gentleman of a 
 literary turn repeated (by desire) some sarcastic stanzas he 
 had recently produced on the freezing of the tank at the back 
 of the house. These amusements, with the miscellaneous con- 
 versation arising out of them, passed the time splendidly, 
 until dinner was announced by Bailey junior in these terms : 
 
 " The wittles is up ! " 
 
 On which notice they immediately descended to the ban- 
 quet-hall ; some of the more facetious spirits in the rear tak- 
 ing down gentlemen as if they were ladies, in imitation of the 
 fortunate possessors of the two Miss Pecksniffs. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff said grace : a short and pious grace, invok- 
 ing a blessing on the appetites of those present, and commit- 
 ting all persons who had nothing to eat, to the care of Provi- 
 dence ; whose business (so said the grace, in effect) it clearly 
 was, to look after them. This done, they fell to, with less 
 ceremony than appetite ; the table groaning beneath the 
 weight, not only of the delicacies whereof the Miss Pecksniffs 
 had been previously forewarned, but of boiled beef, roast veal, 
 bacon, pies, and abundance of such heavy vegetables as are 
 favorably known to house-keepers for their satisfying qualities. 
 Besides which, there were bottles of stout, bottles of wine, bot- 
 tles of ale, and divers other strong drinks, native and foreign. 
 
 All this was highly agreeable to the two Miss Pecksniffs, 
 who were in immense request ; sitting one on either hand of 
 Mr. Jinkins at the bottom of the table ; and who were called 
 upon to take wine with some new admirer every minute. They 
 had hardly felt so pleasant, and so full of conversation, in 
 their lives ; Mercy, in particular, was uncommonly brilliant, 
 and said so many good things in the way of lively repartee 
 that she was looked upon as a prodigy. "In short," as that 
 young lady observed, " they felt now, indeed, that they were 
 in London, and for the first time too." 
 
 Their young friend Bailey sympathized in these feelings to 
 the fullest extent, and, abating nothing of his patronage, gave 
 them every encouragement in his power : favoring them, when 
 the general attention was diverted from his proceedings, with 
 many nods and winks and other tokens of recognition, and 
 occasionally touching his nose with a corkscrew, as if to 
 express the Bacchanalian character of the meeting. In truth, 
 perhaps even the spirits of the two Miss Pecksniffs, and the 
 hungry watchfulness of Mrs. Todgers, were less worthy of
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 153 
 
 note than the proceedings of this remarkable boy, whom noth- 
 ing disconcerted or put out of his way. If any piece of 
 crockery, a dish or otherwise, chanced to slip through his 
 hands (which happened once or twice), he let it go with per- 
 fect good breeding, and never added to the painful emotions 
 of the company by exhibiting the least regret. Nor did he, 
 by hurrying to and fro, disturb the repose of the assembly, as 
 many well-trained servants do ; on the contrary, feeling the 
 hopelessness of waiting upon so large a party, he left the gen- 
 tlemen to help themselves to what they wanted, and seldom 
 stirred from behind Mr. Jinkins's chair : where, with his hands 
 in his pockets, and his legs planted pretty wide apart, he led 
 the laughter, and enjoyed the conversation. 
 
 The dessert was splendid. No waiting either. The pud- 
 ding-plates had been washed in a little tub outside the door 
 while cheese was on, and though thev were moist and warm 
 with friction, still there they were again, up to the mark, and 
 true to time. Quarts of almonds, dozens of oranges, pounds 
 of raisins, stacks of biffins, soup-plates full of nuts. Oh, 
 Todgers's could do it when it chose ! Mind that. 
 
 Then more wine came on ; red wines and white wines ; 
 and a large china bowl of punch, brewed by the gentleman of 
 a convivial turn, who adjured the Miss Pecksniffs not to be 
 despondent on account of its dimensions, as there were mate- 
 rials in the house for the decoction of lialf a dozen more of 
 the same size. Good gracious, how they laughed ! How 
 they coughed when they sipped it, because it was so strong ; 
 and how they laughed again when somebody vowed that but 
 for its color it might have been mistaken, in regard of its 
 innocuous qualities, for new milk ! What a shout of " No ! " 
 burst from the gentlemen when they pathetically implored 
 Mr. Jinkins to suffer them to qualify it with hot water; and 
 how blushingly, by little and httle, did each of them drink her 
 whole glassful, down to its very dregs ! 
 
 Now comes the trying time, 'llie sun, as Mr. Jinkins says 
 (gentlemanly creature, Jinkins — never at a loss ! ), is about to 
 leave the firmament. " Miss Pecksniff! " says Mrs. Todgers, 
 softly, "will you — ?" "Oh dear, no more, Mrs. Todgers." 
 Mrs. Todgers rises ; the two Miss Pecksniffs rise ; all rise. 
 Miss Mercy Pecksniff looks downward for her scarf. Where 
 is it ? Dear me, where am it be ? Sweet girl, she has it on ; 
 not on her fair neck, but loose upon her flowing figure. A 
 dozen hands assist her. She is all confusion. The youngest
 
 154 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 gentleman m company thirsts to murder Jinkiris. She skips 
 and joins her sister at the door. Her sister has an arm about 
 the waist of Mrs. Todgers. She winds her arm around her 
 sister. Diana, what a picture ! The hist things visible are a 
 shape and a skip. " Gentlemen, let us drink the ladies ! " 
 
 The enthusiasm is tremendous. The gentleman of a 
 debating turn rises in the midst, and suddenly lets loose a tide 
 of eloquence which bears down everything before it. He is 
 reminded of a toast : a toast to which they will respond. 
 There is an individual present — he has him in his eye — to 
 whom they owe a debt of gratitude. He repeats it, a debt of 
 gratitude. Their rugged natures have been softened and 
 ameliorated that day, by the society of lovely woman. There 
 is a gentleman in company whom two accomplished and 
 delightful females regard with veneration, as the fountain of 
 their existence. Yes, when yet the two Miss Pecksniffs lisped 
 in language scarce intelligible, they called that indi\iclual 
 " Father ! " There is great applause. He gives them " Mr, 
 Pecksniff, and God bless him ! " They all shake hands with 
 Mr. Pecksniff, as they drink the toast. The youngest gentle- 
 man in company does so with a thrill ; for he feels that a mys- 
 terious influence pervades the man who claims that being in 
 the pink scarf for his daughter. 
 
 What saith Mr. Pecksniff in reply ? Or rather let the 
 question be, What leaves he unsaid .'' Nothing. More punch 
 is called for, and produced, and drunk. Enthusiasm mounts 
 still higher. Every man comes out freely in his own charac- 
 ter. The gentleman of a theatrical turn recites. The vocal 
 gentleman regales them with a song. Gander leaves the 
 Gander of all former feasts whole leagues behind. He rises 
 to propose a toast. It is, The Father of Todgers's. It is 
 their common friend Jink. It is Old Jink, if he may call him 
 by that familiar and endearing appellation. The youngest 
 gentleman in company utters a frantic negative. He won't 
 have it, he can't bear it, it mustn't be. But his depth of feel- 
 ing is misunderstood. He is supposed to be a little elevated ; 
 and nobody heeds him. 
 
 ■Mr. Jinkins thanks them from his heart. It is, by many 
 degrees, the proudest day in his humble career. When he 
 looks around him on the present occasion, he feels that he 
 wants words in which to express his gratitude. One thing he 
 will say. He hopes it has been shown that Todgers's can be 
 true to itself ; and that, an opportunity arising, it can come
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 155 
 
 out quite as strong as its neighbors — perhaps stronger. He 
 reminds them, amidst tliunders of encouragement, that they 
 have heard of a somewhat simiUir establisliment in Cannon 
 Street ; and that they have heard it praised. He wishes to 
 draw no invidious comparisons ; he would be the last man to 
 do it ; but when that Cannon Street establishment shall be 
 able to produce such a combination of wit and beauty as has 
 graced that board that day, and shall be able to serve up (all 
 things considered) such a dinner as that of which they have 
 just partaken, he will be happy to talk to it. Until then, gen- 
 tleman, he will stick to Todgers's. 
 
 More punch, more enthusiasm, more speeches. Eveiy- 
 body's health is drunk, saving the youngest gentleman's in 
 company. He sits apart, with his elbows on the back of a 
 vacant chair, aifd glares disdainfully at Jinkins. Gander, in 
 a convulsing speech, gives them the health of Bailey junior ; 
 hiccups are heard; and a glass is broken. Mr. Jinkins feels 
 that it is time to join the ladies. He proposes, as a final senti- 
 ment, Mrs. Todgers. She is worthy to be remembered sepa- 
 rately. Hear, hear. So she is : no doubt of it. They all 
 find fault with her at other times ; but every man feels, now, 
 that he could die in her defence. 
 
 They go up stairs, where they are not expected so soon ; 
 for Mrs. Todgers is asleep, Miss Charity is adjusting her 
 hair, and Mercy, who has made a sofa of one of the window- 
 seats, is in a gracefully recumbent attitude. She is rising 
 hastily, when Mr. jinkins implores her, for all their sakes, not 
 to stir ; she looks too graceful and too lovely, he remarks, to 
 be disturbed. She laughs, and yields, and fans herself, and 
 drops her fan, and there is a rush to pick it up. Being now 
 installed, by one consent, as the beauty of the party, she is 
 cruel and capricious, and sends gentlemen on messages to 
 other gentlemen, and forgets all about ihem before they can 
 return with the answer, and invents a thousand tortures, rend- 
 ing their hearts to pieces. Bailey brings up the tea and 
 coffee. There is a small cluster of admirers round Charity ; 
 but they are only those who cannot get near her sister. 'I"he 
 youngest gentleman in company is pale, but collected, and 
 still sits apart; for his spirit loves to hold communion wilh 
 itself, and his soul recoils from noisy revellers. She has a 
 consciousness of his presence and adoration. He sees it 
 flashing sometimes in the corner of her eye. Have a care, 
 Jinkins, ere you provoke a desperate man to frenzy !
 
 lefi MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had followed his younger friends up stairs, 
 and taken a chair at the side of Mrs. Todgers. He had also 
 spilt a cup of coffee over his legs without appearing to be 
 aware of the circumstance ; nor did he seem to know that there 
 was muffin on his knee. 
 
 " And how have they used you down stairs, sir ? " asked 
 the hostess. 
 
 " Their conduct has been such, my dear madam," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, "as I can never think of without emotion, or 
 remember without a tear. Oh, Mrs. Todgers ! " 
 
 " My goodness ! " exclaimed that lady. " How low you 
 are in your spirits, sir ! " 
 
 "I am a man, my dear madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, shed- 
 ding tears, and speaking with an imperfect articulation, " but 
 I am also a father. ' I am also a widower. My feelings, Mrs. 
 Todgers, will not consent to be entirely smothered, like the 
 young children in the Tower. They are grown up, and the 
 more I press the bolster on them, the more they look round 
 the corner of it." 
 
 He suddenly became conscious of the bit of muffin, and 
 stared at it intently, shaking his head the while, in a forlorn 
 and imbecile manner, as if he regarded it as his evil genius, 
 and mildly reproached it. 
 
 " She was beautiful, Mrs. Todgers," he said, turning his 
 glazed eye again upon her, without the least preliminary notice. 
 " She had a small property." 
 
 "So I have heard," cried Mrs. Todgers with great sympa- 
 thy. 
 
 "Those are her daughters," said Mr. Pecksniff, pomtmg 
 out the young ladies, with increased emotion, 
 
 Mrs. Todgers had no doubt of it. 
 
 " Mercy and Charity," said Mr. Pecksniff, " Charity and 
 Mercv. Not unholy names, I hope ? " 
 
 " Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried Mrs. Todgers. " What a ghastly 
 smile ? Are you ill, sir ? " 
 
 He pressed his hand upon her arm, and answered in a 
 solemn manner, and a faint voice, " Chronic." 
 
 " Cholic ? " cried the frightened Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " Chron-ic," he repeated with some difficulty. " Chron-ic 
 A chronic disorder. I have been its victim from childhood. 
 It is carrying me to my grave." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " cried Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 "Yes it is," said Mr. Pecksniff, reckless with despair. "I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 157 
 
 am rather glad of it, upon the whole. You are like her, Mrs. 
 Todgers." 
 
 " Don't squeeze me so tight, pray, Mr. Pecksniff. If any 
 of the gentlemen should notice us." 
 
 " For her sake," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Permit me. In 
 honor of her memory. For the sake of a voice from the tomb. 
 You are very like her, Mrs. Todgers ! What a world this 
 is!" 
 
 " Ah ! Indeed you may say that ! " cried Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 "I'm afraid it is a vain and thoughtless world," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, overflowing with despondency. " These young 
 people about us. Oh ! what sense have they of their respon- 
 sibilities ? None. Give me your other hand, Mrs. Todgers." 
 
 That lady hesitated, and said " she didn't like." 
 
 "Has a voice from the grave no mfluence ?" said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, with dismal tenderness. " This is irreligious ! My 
 dear creature." 
 
 " Hush ! " urged Mrs. Todgers. " Really you mustn't." 
 
 " It's not me," said Mr. Pecksniff. "Don't suppose it's 
 me : it's the voice ; it's her voice." 
 
 Mrs. Pecksniff deceased, must have had an unusually 
 thick and husky voice for a lady, and rather a stuttering voice, 
 and to say the truth somewhat of a drunken voice, if it had 
 ever borne much resemblance to that in which Mr. Pecksniff 
 spoke just then. But perhaps this was delusion on his part. 
 
 " It has been a day of enjoyment, Mrs. Todgers, but still 
 it has been a day of torture. It has reminded me of my 
 loneliness. What am I in the world 1 " 
 
 " An excellent gentleman, Mr. Pecksniff," said Mrs. Tod- 
 gers. 
 
 "There is consolation in that too," cried Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " Am I ? " 
 
 "There is no better man living," said Mrs. Todgers, " I 
 am sure." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff smiled through his tears, and slightly shook 
 his head. "You are very good," he said, "thank you. It is 
 a great happiness to me, Mrs. Todgers, to make young people 
 happy. The happiness of my pupils is my chief object. I dote 
 upon 'em. They dote upon me too. Sometimes." 
 
 " Always," said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 "When they say they haven't inproved, ma'am," whispered 
 Mr. Pecksniff, looking at her with profound mystery, and 
 motioning to her to advance her ear a little closer to -^is
 
 158 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 mouth. " When they say they haven't impro\'ecl, ma'am, and 
 the premium was too high, they lie ! I shouldn't wish it to be 
 mentioned ; you will understand me ; but I say to you as to 
 an old friend, they lie." 
 
 " Base wretches they must be ! " said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " Madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, "you are right. I respect 
 you for that observation. A word in your ear. To Parents 
 and Guardians. This is in confidence, Mrs. Todgers ? " 
 
 " The strictest, of course ! " cried that lady. 
 
 " To Parents and Guardians," repeated Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " An eligible opportunity now offers, which unites the advan- 
 tages of the best practical architectural education with the 
 comforts of a home, and the constant association with some, 
 who, however humble their sphere and limited their capacity 
 — observe ! — are not unmindful of their moral responsibili- 
 ties." 
 
 Mrs. Todgers looked a little puzzled to know what this 
 might mean, as well she might ; for it was, as the reader may 
 perchance remember, Mr. Pecksniff's usual form of advertise- 
 ment when he wanted a pupil ; and seemed to have no partic- 
 ular reference, at present, to anything. But Mr. Pecksniff 
 held up his finger as a caution to her not to interrupt him. 
 
 " Do you know any parent or guardian, Mrs. Todgers," 
 said Mr. Pecksniff, "who desires to avail himself of such an 
 opportunity for a young gentleman ? An orphan would be 
 preferred. Do you know of any orphan with three or four 
 hundred pound ? " 
 
 Mrs. Todgers reflected, and shook her head. 
 
 " When you hear of an orphan with three or four hun- 
 dred pound," said Mr. Pecksniff, " let that dear orphan's 
 friends apply, by letter post-paid, to S. P., Post-office, Salis- 
 bury. I don't know who he is, exactly. Don't be alarmed, 
 Mrs. Todgers," said Mr. Pecksniff, falling heavily against her : 
 " Chronic — chronic ! Let's have a little drop of something 
 to drink." 
 
 " Bless my life. Miss Pecksniffs ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, 
 aloud, " your dear pa's took very poorly ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff straightened himself by a surprising effort, 
 as every one turned hastily towards him ; and standing on his 
 feet, regarded the assembly with a look of ineffable wisdom. 
 Gradually it gave place to a smile ; a feeble, helpless, melan- 
 choly smile ; bland, almost to sickliness. *' Do not repine, 
 my friends," said Mr. Pecksniff, tenderly. "Do not weep for
 
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 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 159 
 
 me. It is chronic." And with these words, after making a 
 futile attempt to pull off his shoes, he fell into the fire-place. 
 
 The youngest gentleman in company had him out in a 
 second. Yes, before a hair upon his head was singed, he had 
 him on the hearth-rug. — Her father ! 
 
 She was almost beside herself. So was her sister. Jin- 
 kins consoled them both. They all consoled them. Every- 
 body had something to say, except the youngest gentleman in 
 company, who with a noble self-devotion did the heavy w^ork, 
 and held up Mr. Pecksniff's head without being taken notice 
 of by anybody. At last they gathered round, and agreed to 
 carry him up stairs to bed. The youngest gentleman in com- 
 pany was rebuked by Jinkins for tearing Mr. Pecksniff's coat ! 
 Ha, ha ! Put no matter. 
 
 They carried him up stairs, and crushed the youngest gentle- 
 man at every step. His bedroom was at the top of the house, 
 and it was a long way ; but they got him there in course of 
 time. He asked them frequently on the road for a little drop 
 of something to drink. It seemed an idiosyncrasy. The 
 youngest gentleman in company proposed a draught of water, 
 Mr. Pecksniff called him opprobrious names for the sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 Jinkins and Gander took the rest upon themselves, and 
 made him as comfortable as they could, on the outside of his 
 bed; and when he seemed disposed to sleep, they left him. 
 But before they had all gained the bottom of the staircase, a 
 vision of Mr. Pecksniff, strangely attired, was seen to flutter 
 on the top landing. He desired to collect their sentiments, it 
 seemed, upon the nature of human life. 
 
 " My friends," cried Mr. Pecksniff, looking over the banis- 
 ters, " let us improve our minds by mutual inquiry and discus- 
 sion. Let us be moral. Let us contemplate existence. 
 Where is Jinkins ? " 
 
 "Here," cried that gentleman. "Go to bed again ! " 
 
 " To bed ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ped ! 'Tis the voice 
 of the sluggard, I hear him complain, you have woke me too 
 soon, I must slumber again. If any young orphan will repeat 
 the remainder of that simple piece from Doctor Watts's collec- 
 tion an eligible opportunity now offers." 
 
 Nobody \-oluntecred. 
 
 " This is very^ soothing," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a pause. 
 " Extremely so. Gool and refreshing ; particularly to the legs ! 
 The legs of the human subject, my friends, are a beautiful
 
 i6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 production. Compare them with wooden legs, and observe 
 the difference between the anatomy of nature and the anatomy 
 of art. Do you know," said Mr. Pecksniff, leaning over the 
 banisters, with an odd recollection of his famihar manner 
 among new pupils at home, "that I should very much like to 
 see Mrs. Todgers's notion of a wooden leg, if perfectly agree- 
 able to herself ! " 
 
 As it appeared impossible to entertain any reasonable 
 hopes of him after this speech, Mr. Jinkins and Mr. Gander 
 went up stairs again, and once more got him into bed. But 
 they had not descended to the second floor before he was out 
 again ; nor when they had repeated the process, had they 
 descended the first flight, before he was out again. In a word, 
 as often as he was shut up in his own room, he darted out 
 afresh, charged with some new moral sentiment, which he 
 continually repeated over the banisters, with extraordinary 
 relish, and an irrepressible desire for the improvement of his 
 fellow-creatures that nothing could subdue. 
 
 Under these circumstances, when they had got him into 
 bed for the thirtieth time or so, Mr. Jinkins held him, while 
 his companion went down stairs in search of Bailey junior, 
 with whom he presently returned. That youth, having been 
 apprised of the service required of him, was in great spirits, 
 and brought up a stool, a candle, and his supper ; to the end 
 that he might keep watch outside the bedroom door with tolera- 
 ble comfort. 
 
 When he had completed his arrangements, they locked Mr. 
 Pecksniff in, and left the key on the outside ; charging the 
 young page to listen attentively for symptoms of an apoplectic 
 nature, with which the patient might be troubled, and, in case 
 of any such presenting themselves, to summon them without 
 delay. To which Mr. Bailey modestly replied that " he hoped 
 he knowed wot o'clock it wos in gineral, and didn't date his 
 letters to his friends, from Todgers's, for nothing."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. i6i 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 CONTAINING STRANGE MATTER ; ON WHICH MANY EVENTS IN 
 THIS HISTORY MAY, FOR THEIR GOOD OR EVIL INFLUENCE, 
 CHIEFLY DEPEND. 
 
 But Mr. Pecksniff came to town on business. Had he 
 forgotten that ? Was he always taking his pleasure with 
 Todgers's jovial brood, unmindful of the serious demands, 
 whatever they might be, upon his calm consideration ? No. 
 
 Time and tide^will wait for no man, saith the adage. But 
 all men have to wait for time and tide. That tide which, 
 taken at the flood, would lead Seth Pecksniff on to fortune, 
 was marked down in the table, and about to flow. No idle 
 Pecksniff lingered far inland, unmindful of the changes of the 
 stream ; but there, upon the water's edge, over his shoes al- 
 ready, stood the worthy creature, prepared to wallow in the 
 very mud, so that it slid towards the quarter of his hope. 
 
 The trustfulness of his two fair daughters was beautiful 
 indeed. They had that firm reliance on their parent's nature, 
 which taught them to feel certain that in all he did, he had 
 his purpose straight and full before him. And that its noble 
 end and object was himself, which almost of necessity in- 
 cluded them, they knew. The devotion of these maids was 
 perfect. 
 
 Their filial confidence was rendered the more touching, by 
 their having no knowledge of their parent's real designs, in 
 the present instance. All that they knew of his proceedings, 
 was, that every morning, after the early breakfast, he repaired 
 to the post-ofhce and inquired for letters. That task performed, 
 his business for the day was over ; and he again relaxed, vmtil 
 the rising of another sun proclaimed the advent of another 
 post. 
 
 This went on, for four or five days. At length, one morn- 
 ing, Mr. Pecksniff returned with a breathless rapidity, strange 
 to observe in him, at other times so calm ; and, seeking im- 
 mediate speech with his daughters, shut himself up with them 
 in private conference, for two whole hours. Of all that passed 
 in this period, only the following words of Mr. Pecksniff's 
 utterance are known. 1 1
 
 1 62 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " How he has come to change so very much (if it should 
 turn out as I expect, that he has), we needn't stop to inquire. 
 My dears, I have my thoughts upon the subject, but I will not 
 impart them. It is enough that we vnll not be proud, resent- 
 ful, or unforgiving. If he wants our friendship, he shall have 
 it. We know our duty, I hope ! " 
 
 That same day at noon, an old gentleman alighted from 
 a hackney-coach at the post-office, and, giving his name, in- 
 quired for a letter addressed to himself, and directed to be left 
 till called for. It had been lying there some days. The 
 superscription was in Mr. Pecksniff's hand, and it was sealed 
 with Mr. Pecksniff's seal. 
 
 It was very short, containing indeed nothing more than an 
 address " with Mr. Pecksniff's respectful, and (notwithstanding 
 what has passed) sincerely affectionate regards." The old 
 gentleman tore off the direction — scattering the rest in frag- 
 ments to the winds — and giving it to the coachman, bade him 
 drive as near that place as he could. In pursuance of these 
 instructions he was driven to the Monument ; where he again 
 alighted, and dismissed the vehicle, and walked towards Tod- 
 gers's. 
 
 Though the face and form, and gait of this old man, and 
 even his grip of the stout stick on which he leaned, were all 
 expressive of a resolution not easily shaken, and a purpose (it 
 matters little whether right or wrong, just now) such as in 
 other days might have survived the rack, and had its strong- 
 est life m weakest death ; still there were grains of hesitation 
 in his mind, which made him now avoid the house he sought, 
 and loiter to and fro in a gleam of sunlight, that brightened 
 the little churchyard hard by. There may have been, in the 
 presence of those idle heaps of dust among the busiest stir 
 of life, something to increase his wavering ; but there he 
 walked, awakening the echoes as he paced up and down, until 
 the church clock, striking the quarters for the second time 
 since he had been there, roused him from his meditation. 
 Shaking off his incertitude as the air parted with the sound of 
 the bells, he walked rapidly to the house, and knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was seated in the landlady's little room, and 
 his visitor found him reading — by an accident ; he apologized 
 for it — an excellent theological work. There were cake and 
 wine upon a little table— by another accident, for which he 
 also apologized. Indeed he said, he had given his visitor up,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLElVfT. 
 
 163 
 
 and was about to partake of that simple refreshment with his 
 children, when he knocked at the door. 
 
 " Your daughters are well ? " said old Martin, laying down 
 his hat and stick. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff endeavored to conceal his agitation as a 
 father, when he answered. Yes, they were. They were good 
 girls, he said, very good. He would not venture to recom- 
 mend Mr. Chuzzlewit to take the easy-chair, or to keep out of 
 the draught from the door. If he made any such suggestion, 
 he would expose himself, he feared, to most unjust suspicion. 
 He would, therefore, content himself with remarking that 
 there was an easy-chair in the room ; and that the door was 
 far from being air-tight. This latter imperfection, he might 
 perhaps venture to add, was not uncommonly to be met with 
 in old houses. 
 
 The old man sat down in the easy-chair, and after a few 
 moments' silence, said : 
 
 " In the first place, let me thank you for coming to London 
 so promptly, at my almost unexplained request ; I need 
 scarcely add, at my cost." 
 
 " At your cost, my good sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in a 
 tone of great surprise. 
 
 " It is not,'" said Martin, waving his hand impatiently, 
 " my habit to put my — well ! my relatives — to any personal 
 expense to gratify my caprices." 
 
 " Caprices, my good sir! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " That IS scarcely the proper word either, in this instance," 
 said the old man. " No. You are right." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was inwardly very much relieved to hear it, 
 though he didn't at all know why. 
 
 " You are right," repeated Martin. " It is not a caprice. 
 It is built up on reason, proof, and cool comparison. Ca- 
 prices never are. Moreover, I am not a capricious man. I 
 never was." 
 
 " Most assuredly not," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " How do you know ? " returned the other quickly. " You 
 are to begin to know it now. You are to test and prove it, in 
 time to come. You and yours are to find that I can be con- 
 stant, and am not to be diverted from my end. Do you 
 hear ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " I very much regret," Martin resumed, looking steadily 
 at him, and speaking in a slow and measured tone ; " I very
 
 164 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 much regret that you and I held such a conversation together, 
 as that which passed between us, at our last meeting. I 
 very much regret that I laid open to you what were then my 
 thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The intentions that I 
 bear towards you, now, are of another kind ; deserted by all 
 in whom I have ever trusted ; hoodwinked and beset by all 
 who should help and sustain me ; I fly to you for refuge. I 
 confide in you to be my ally ; to attach yourself to me by ties 
 of Interest and Expectation ; " he laid great stress upon these 
 words, though Mr. Pecksniff particularly begged him not to 
 mention it ; " and to help me to visit the consequences of the 
 very worst species of meanness, dissimulation, and subtlety, 
 on the right heads." 
 
 " My noble sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, catching at his 
 outstretched hand. " And you regret the having harbored 
 unjust thoughts of me ! you with those gray hairs ! " 
 
 " Regrets," said Martin, " are the natural property of gray 
 hairs ; and I enjoy, in common with all other men, at least 
 my share of such inheritance. And so enough of that. I 
 regret having been severed from you so long. If I had known 
 you sooner, and sooner used you as you well deserve, I might 
 have been a happier man." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and clasped his 
 hands in rapture. 
 
 " Your daughters," said Martin, after a short silence. " I 
 don't know them. Are they like you .-* " 
 
 " In the nose of my eldest and the chin of my youngest, 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit," returned the widower, " their sainted parent 
 (not myself, their mother) lives again." 
 
 " I don't mean in person," said the old man. " Morally, 
 morally." 
 
 "' 'Tis not for me to say," retorted Mr. Pecksniff with a 
 gentle smile. " I have done my best, sir." 
 
 " I could wish to see them," said Martin ; "are they near 
 at hand ? " 
 
 They were ver}^ near ; for they had in fact been listening 
 at the door from the beginning of this conversation until now, 
 when they precipitately retired. Having wiped the signs of 
 weakness from his eyes, and so given them time to get up 
 stairs, Mr. Pecksniff opened he door, and mildly cried in the 
 passage, 
 
 " My own darlings, where are you ? " 
 
 *' Here, my dear pa ! " replied the distant voice of Charity.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 165 
 
 *' Come clown into the back parlor, if you please, my 
 love," said Mr. Pecksniff, " and bring your sister with you." 
 
 "Yes, my dear pa," cried Merry; and down they came 
 directly (being all obedience), singing as they came. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two Miss 
 Pecksniffs when they found a stranger with their dear papa. 
 Nothing could surpass their mute amazement when he said, 
 " My children, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " But when he told them 
 that Mr. Chuzzlewit and he were friends, and that Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit had said such kind and tender words as pierced 
 his very heart, the two Miss Pecksniffs cried with one accord, 
 " Thank Heaven for this ! " and fell upon the old man's neck. 
 And when they had embraced him with such fervor of affec- 
 tion that no words can describe it, they grouped themselves 
 about his chair, arid hung over him ; as figuring to themselves 
 no earthly joy like that of ministering to his wants, and 
 crowding into the remainder of his life, the love they would 
 have diffused over their whole existence, from infancy, if he — • 
 dear obdurate ! — had but consented to receive the precious 
 offering. 
 
 The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and 
 then at Mr. Pecksniff, several times. 
 
 " What," he asked of Mr. Pecksniff, happening to catch 
 his eye in its descent, for until now it had been piously 
 upraised, with something of that expression which the poetry 
 of ages has ^.ttributed to a domestic bird, when breathing its 
 last amid the ravages of an electric storm — " What are their 
 names ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff told him, and added, rather hastily; his ca- 
 lumniators would have said, with a view to any testamentary 
 thoughts that might be flitting through old Martin's mind ; 
 " Perhaps, my dears, you had better write them down. Your 
 humble autographs are of no value in themselves, but affec- 
 tion may prize them." 
 
 " Affection," said the old man, " will expend itself on the 
 living originals. Do not trouble yourselves, my girls, I shall 
 not so easily forget vou. Charity and Mercy, as to need such 
 tokens of remembrance. Cousin ! " 
 
 " Sir ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, with alacrity. 
 
 " Do you never sit down ? " 
 
 "Why, yes; occasionally, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, who 
 had been standing all this time. 
 
 " Will you do so now ? "
 
 1 66 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "Can you ask me," returned Mr. Pecksniff, slipping into 
 a chair immediately, " whether I will do anything that you 
 desire ? " 
 
 " You talk confidently," said Martin, " and you mean well ; 
 but I fear you don't know what an old man's humors are. 
 You don't know what it is to be required to court his likings 
 and dislikings ; to adapt yourself to his prejudices ; to do his 
 bidding, be it what it may ; to bear with his distrusts and jeal- 
 ousies ; and always still be zealous in his service. When I 
 remember how numerous these failings are in me, and judge of 
 their occasional enormity by the injurious thoughts I lately 
 entertained of you, I hardly dare to claim you for my friend." 
 
 " My worthy sir," returned his relative, "how can you talk 
 in such a painful strain ! What was more natural than that 
 you should make one slight mistake, when in all other re- 
 spects you were so very correct, and have had such reason, 
 such very sad and undeniable reason, to judge of ever^' one 
 about you in the worst light ! " 
 
 " True," replied the other. " You are very lenient with 
 me." 
 
 " We always said, my girls and I," cried Mr. Pecksniff 
 with increasing obsequiousness, " that while we mourned the 
 heaviness of our misfortune in being confounded with the base 
 and mercenary', still we could not wonder at it. My dears, 
 you remember.'' " 
 
 Oh vividly ! A thousand times ! 
 
 " We uttered no complaint," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Occa- 
 sionally we had the presumption to console ourselves with the 
 remark that Truth would in the end prevail, and Virtue be 
 triumphant ; but not often. My loves, you recollect ? " 
 
 Recollect ! Could he doubt it ? Dearest pa, what strange 
 unnecessary questions ! 
 
 "And when I saw you," resumed Mr. Pecksniff, with still 
 greater deference, " in the little, unassuming village where we 
 take the liberty of dwelling, I said you were mistaken in me, 
 my dear sir : that was all, I think ? " 
 
 "No, not all," said Martin, who had been sitting with his 
 hand upon his brow for some time past, and now looked up 
 again : " you said much more, which, added to other circum- 
 stances that have come to my knowledge, opened my eyes. 
 You spoke to me, disinterestedly, on behalf of — I needn't 
 name him. You know whom I mean." 
 
 Trouble was expressed in Mr. Pecksniff's visage, as he
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 167 
 
 pressed his hot hands together, and repUed, with humility, 
 "Quite disinterestedly, sir, I assure j^ou." 
 
 " I know it," said old Martin, in his quiet way. " I am 
 sure of it. I said so. It was disinterested too, in you, to 
 draw that herd of harpies off from me, and be their victim 
 yourself ; most other men would have suffered them to display 
 themselves in all their rapacity, and would have striven to 
 rise, by contrast, in my estimation. You felt for me, and drew 
 them off, for which I owe you many thanks. Although I left 
 the place, I know what passed behind my back, you see ! " 
 
 " You amaze me, sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff ; which was 
 true enough. 
 
 " My knowledge of your proceedings," said the old man, 
 " does not stop at this. You have a new inmate in your 
 house." 
 
 "Yes, sir," rejoined the architect, " I have." 
 
 " He must quit it," said Martin. 
 
 " For — for yours ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff, with a quiver- 
 ing mildness. 
 
 "For any shelter he can find," the old man answered. 
 " He has deceived you." 
 
 " I hope not," said Mr. Pecksniff, eagerly. " I trust not. 
 I have been extremely well disposed towards that young man. 
 I hope it cannot be shown that he has forfeited all claim to 
 my protection. Deceit, deceit, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, would 
 be final. I should hold myself bound, on proof of deceit, to 
 renounce him instantly:" 
 
 The old man glanced at both his fair supporters, but espec- 
 ially at Miss Mercy, whom, indeed, he looked full in the face, 
 with a greater demonstration of interest than had yet appeared 
 in his features. His gaze again encountered Mr. Pecksniff", 
 as he said, composedly : 
 
 " Of course you know that he has made his matrimonial 
 choice ? " 
 
 " Oh dear! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, rubbing his hair up very 
 stiff upon his head, and staring wildly at his daughters. " This 
 is becoming tremendous ! " 
 
 " You know the fact ? " repeated Martin. 
 
 " Surely not without his grandfather's consent and appro- 
 bation, my dear sir ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " T3on't tell me 
 that. For the honor of human nature, say you're not about 
 to tell me that ! " 
 
 " I thought he had suppressed it," said the old man.
 
 I OS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 The indignation felt by Mr. Pecksniff at this terrible dis- 
 closure, was only to be equalled by the kindling anger of his 
 daughters. What ! Had they taken to their hearth and home 
 a secretly contracted serpent ; a crocodile, who had made a 
 furtive offer of his hand; an imposition on society; a bank- 
 rupt bachelor with no effects, trading with the spinster world 
 on false pretences ! And oh, to think that he sliould have 
 disobeyed and practised on that sweet, that venerable gentle- 
 man, whose name he bore ; that kind and tender guardian ; 
 his more than father (to say nothing at all of mother), horri- 
 ble, horrible ! To turn him out with ignominy would be treat- 
 ment, much too good. Was there nothing else that could be 
 done to him? Had he incurred no legal pains and penalties? 
 Could it be that the statutes of the land were so remiss as to 
 have affixed no punishment to such delinquency ? Monster ; 
 how basely had they been deceived ! 
 
 " I am glad to find you second me so warmly," said the 
 old man, holding up his hand to stay the torrent of their 
 wrath. " I will not deny that it is a pleasure to me to find 
 you so full of zeal. We will consider that topic as disposed 
 of." 
 
 "No, my dear sir," cried Mr. PecksniiT, "not as disposed 
 of, until I have purged my house of this pollution." 
 
 "That will follow," said the old man, "in its own time. I 
 look upon that as done." 
 
 " You are ver}^ good, sir," answered Mr. Pecksniff, shak- 
 ing his hand. " You do me honor. You may look upon it as 
 done, I assure you." 
 
 " There is another topic," said Martin, "on which I hope 
 you will assist me. You remember Mary, cousin ? " 
 
 " The young lady that I mentioned to you, my dears, as hav- 
 ing interested me so very much," remarked Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " Excuse my interrupting you, sir." 
 
 "I told you her history," said the old man. 
 
 "Which I also mentioned, you will recollect, my dears," 
 cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Silly girls, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Quite 
 moved by it, they were ! " 
 
 " Why look now ! " said Martin, evidently pleased : " I 
 feared I should have had to urge her case upon you, and ask 
 you to regard her favorably for my sake. But I find you have 
 no jealousies ! Well ! You have no cause for any, to be 
 sure. She has nothing to gain from me, my dears, and she 
 knows it."
 
 , 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 169 
 
 The two Miss Pecksniffs murmured their approval of this 
 wise arrangement, and their cordial sympathy with its inter- 
 esting object. 
 
 " If I could have anticipated what has come to pass be- 
 tween us four," said the old man, thoughtfully : " but it is too 
 late to think of that. You would receive her courteously, 
 young ladies, and be kind to her, if need were ? " 
 
 Where was the orphan whom the two Miss Pecksniffs 
 would not have cherished in their sisterly bosom ! But when 
 that orphan was commended to their care by one on whom 
 the dammed-up love of years was gushing forth, what exhaust- 
 less stores of pure affection yearned to expend themselves 
 upon her ! 
 
 An interval ensued, during which Mr. Chuzzlewit, in an 
 absent frame of fnind, sat gazing at the ground, without utter- 
 ing a word ; and as it was plain that he had no desire to be 
 interrupted in his meditations, Mr. Pecksniff and his daugh- 
 ters were profoundly silent also. During the whole of the 
 foregoing dialogue, he had borne his part with a cold, pas- 
 sionless promptitude, as though he had learned and painfully 
 rehearsed it all, a hundred times. Even when his expressions 
 were warmest and his language most encouraging, he had 
 retained the same manner, without the least abatement. But 
 now there was a keener brightness in his eye, and more ex- 
 pression in his voice, as he said, awakening from his thought- 
 ful mood : 
 
 " You know what will be said of this t Have you re- 
 flected .? " 
 
 " Said of what, my dear sir .'' " Mr. Pecksniff asked. 
 
 " Of this new understanding between us." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff looked benevolently sagacious, and at the 
 same time far above all earthly misconstruction, as he shook 
 his head, and observed that a great many things would be 
 said of it, no doubt. 
 
 "A great many," rejoined the old man. "Some will say 
 that I dote in my old age ; that illness has shaken me ; that 
 I have lost all strength of mind ; and have grown childish. 
 You can bear that ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff' answered that it would be dreadfully hard 
 to 'bear, but he thought he could, if he made a great effort. 
 
 " Others will say — I speak of disappointed, angry people 
 only — that you have lied, and fawned, and wormed yourself 
 through dirty ways into my favor ; by such concessions and
 
 170 
 
 MA J? TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 such crooked deeds, such meannesses and vile endurances, as 
 nothing could repay : no, not the legacy of half the world 
 we live in. You can bear that ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff made reply that this would be also very 
 hard to bear, as reflecting, in some degree, on the discern- 
 ment of Mr. Chuzzlewit. Still he had a modest confidence 
 that he could sustain the calumny, with the help of a good 
 conscience, and that gentleman's friendship. 
 
 " With the great mass of slanderers," said old Martin, 
 leaning back in his chair, " the tale, as I clearly foresee, 
 will run thus : That to mark my contempt for the rabble 
 whom I despised, I chose from among them the very worst, 
 and made him do my will, and pampered and enriched him 
 at the cost of all the rest. That, after casting about for the 
 means of a punishment which should rankle in the bosoms 
 of these kites the most, and strike into their gall, I devised 
 this scheme at a time when the last link in the chain of 
 grateful love and duty, that held me to my race, was roughly 
 snapped asunder ; roughly, for I loved him well ; roughly, 
 for I had ever put my trust in his affection ; roughly, for 
 that he broke it when I loved him most, God help me ! and 
 he without a pang could throw me off, while I clung about his 
 heart ! Now," said the old man, dismissing this passionate 
 outburst, as suddenly as he had yielded to it, " is your mind 
 made up to bear this likewise } Lay your account with hav- 
 ing it to bear, and put no trust in being set right by me." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," cried Pecksniff in an ecstasy, 
 " for such a man as you ha\'e shown yourself to be this day ; 
 for a man so injured, yet so very humane ; for a man so — I 
 am at a loss what precise term to use — yet at the same time 
 so remarkably — I don't know how to express my meaning : 
 for such a man as I have described, I hope it is no presump- 
 tion to say that I, and I am sure I may add my children also 
 (my dears, we perfectly agree in this, I think ?), would bear 
 anything whatever ! " 
 
 " Enough," said Martin. " You can charge no conse- 
 quences on me. When do you return home ? " 
 
 " Whenever you please, my dear sir. To-night if you 
 desire it." 
 
 " I desire nothing," returned the old man, " that is un- 
 reasonable. Such a request would be. Will you be ready to 
 return at the end of this week ? " 
 
 The very time of all others that Mr. Pecksniff would have
 
 MARTIN CITUZZLEWIT. 171 
 
 su2:2;ested if it had been left to him to make his own choice. 
 As to his daughters, the words, " Let us be at home on Satur- 
 day, dear pa," were actually upon their lips. 
 
 "Your expenses, cousin," said Martin, taking a folded 
 slip of paper from his pocket-book, " may possibly exceed 
 that amount. If so, let me know the balance that I owe you, 
 when we next meet. It would be useless if I told you where 
 I live just now : indeed, I have no fixed abode. When I 
 have, you shall know it. You and your daughters may expect 
 to see me before long : in the meantime I need not tell you, 
 that we keep our own confidence. What you will do when 
 you get home, is understood between us. Give me no ac- 
 count of it at any time ; and never refer to it in any way. I 
 ask that as a favor. I am commonly a man of few words, 
 cousin ; and all fliat need be said just now is said, I think." 
 
 " One glass of wine, one morsel of this homely cake .'' " 
 cried Mr. Pecksniff, venturing to detain him. " My dears !" 
 
 The sisters fiew to wait upon him. 
 
 " Poor girls ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " You will excuse 
 their agitation, my dear sir. They are made up of feeling. 
 A bad commodity to go through the world with, Air. Chuzzle- 
 wit I My youngest daughter is almost as much of a woman 
 as my eldest, is she not, sir ? " 
 
 " Which is the youngest .-' " asked the old man. 
 
 "Mercy, by five years," said Mr. Pecksniff. "We some- 
 times venture to consider her rather a fine figure, sir. Speak- 
 ing as an artist, I may perhaps be ]:)ermitted to suggest, that 
 its outline is graceful and correct. 1 am naturally," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, drying his hands upon his handkerchief, and look- 
 ing anxiously in his cousin's face at almost every word, 
 " proud, if I may use the expression, to have a daughter who 
 is constructed on the best models." 
 
 " She seems to have a lively disposition," observed 
 Martin. 
 
 " Dear me !" said Mr. Pecksniff. "That is quite remark- 
 able. You have defined her character, my dear sir, as cor- 
 rectly as if you had known her from her birth. She has a 
 lively disposition. I assure you, my dear sir, that in our un- 
 pretending home, her gayety is delightful." 
 
 " No doubt," returned the old man. 
 
 " Charity, upon the other hand," said Mr. Pecksniff, " is 
 remarkable for strong sense, and for rather a deep tone of 
 sentiment, if the partiality of a father may be excused in say-
 
 172 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ing so. A wonderful affection between them, my dear sir ! 
 Allow me to drink your health. Bless you ! " 
 
 " I little thought," retorted Martin, "but a month ago, that 
 I should be breaking bread and pouring wine with you. I 
 drink to you." 
 
 Not at all abashed by the extraordinary abruptness with 
 which these latter words were spoken, Mr. Pecksniff thanked 
 him devoutly. 
 
 " Now let me go," said Martin, putting down the wine 
 when he had merely touched it with his lips. " My dears, 
 good morning ! " 
 
 But this distant form of farewell was by no means tender 
 enough for the yearnings of the young ladies, who again em- 
 braced him with all their hearts — with all their arms at any 
 rate — to which parting caresses their new-found friend sub- 
 mitted with a better grace than might have been expected 
 from one who, not a moment before, had pledged their parent 
 in such a ver}^ uncomfortable manner. These endearments 
 terminated, he took a hasty leave of Mr. Pecksniff, and with- 
 drew, followed to the door by both father and daughters, who 
 stood there, kissing their hands, and beaming with affection 
 until he disappeared : though, by the way, he never once 
 looked back, after he had crossed the threshold. 
 
 When they returned into the house, and were again alone 
 in Mrs. Todgers's room, the two young ladies exhibited an un- 
 usual amount of gayety ; insomuch that they clapped their 
 hands, and laughed, and looked with roguish aspects and a 
 bantering air upon their dear papa. This conduct was so very 
 unaccountable, that Mr. Pecksniff (being singularly grave 
 himself) could scarcely choose but ask them what it meant ; 
 and took them to task, in his gentle manner, for yielding to 
 such light emotions. 
 
 " If it was possible to divine any cause for this merriment, 
 even the most remote," he said, " I should not reprove you. 
 But when you can have none whatever — oh, really, really ! " 
 
 This admonition had so little effect on Mercy, that she 
 was obliged to hold her handkerchief before her rosy lips, and 
 to throw herself back in her chair, with eveiy demonstration 
 of extreme amusement ; which want of duty so offended Mr. 
 Pecksniff that he reproved her in set terms, and gave her his 
 parental advice to correct herself in solitude and contempla- 
 tion. But at that juncture they were disturbed by the sound 
 of voices in dispute ; and as it proceeded from the next room,
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 7 3 
 
 the subject matter of the altercation quickly reached their 
 ears. 
 
 " I don't care that ! Mrs. Todgers," said the young gen- 
 tleman who had been the youngest gentleman in company on 
 the day of the festival ; " I don't care that, ma'am," said he, 
 snapping his fingers, " for Jinkins. Don't suppose I do." 
 
 " I am quite certain you don't, sir," replied Mrs. Todgers. 
 " You have too independent a spirit, I know, to yield to any 
 body. And quite right. There is no reason why you should 
 give way to any gentleman. Everybody must be well aware 
 of that." 
 
 " I should think no inore of admitting daylight into the 
 fellow," said the youngest gentleman, in a desperate voice, 
 " than if he was. a bull-dog." 
 
 Mrs. Todgers did not stop to inquire whether, as a mat- 
 ter of principle, there was any particular reason for admitting 
 daylight even into a bull-dog, otherwise than by the natural 
 channel of his eyes : but she seemed to wring her hands, 
 and she moaned. 
 
 " Let him be careful," said the youngest gentleman. " I 
 give him warning. No man shall step between me and the 
 current of my vengeance. I know a Cove — " he used that 
 familiar epithet in his agitation, but corrected himself, by 
 adding, " a gentleman of property, I mean — who practises 
 with a pair of pistols (fellows too) of his own. If I am driven 
 to borrow 'em, and to send a friend to Jinkins, a tragedy will 
 get into the papers. That's all." 
 
 Again Mrs. Todgers moaned. 
 
 " I have borne this long enough," said the yo ingest gen- 
 tleman, " but now my soul rebels against it, and 1 won't stand 
 it any longer. I left home originally, because I had that 
 within me which wouldn't be domineered over by a sister ; 
 and do you think I'm going to be put down by him ? No." 
 
 " It is very wrong in Mr. Jinkins : I know it is perfectly 
 inexcusable in Mr. Jinkins, if he intends it," observed Mrs. 
 Todgers. 
 
 " If he intends it ! " cried the youngest gentleman. " Don't 
 he interrupt and contradict me on every occasion ? Does he 
 ever fail to interpose himself between me and an3'tiiing or 
 anybody that he sees I have set my mind upon .'' Does he 
 make a point of always pretending to forget me, when he's 
 pouring out the beer ? Does he make bragging remarks about 
 his razors, and insulting allusions to people who have no ne-
 
 174 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 cessity to shave more than once a week ? But let him look 
 out ! He'll find himself shaved, pretty close, before long, and 
 so 1 tell him." 
 
 The young gentleman was mistaken in this closing sen- 
 tence, inasmuch as he never told it to Jinkins, but always to 
 Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " However," he said, " these are not proper subjects for 
 ladies' ears. All I've got to say to you, Mrs. Todgers, is, a 
 week's notice from next Saturday. The same house can't 
 contain that miscreant and me any longer. If we get over 
 the intermediate time without bloodshed, you may think your- 
 self pretty fortunate. I don't myself expect we shall." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " cried Mrs. Todgers, " what would I have 
 given to have prevented this .-' To lose you, sir, would be like 
 losing the house's right-hand. So popular as you are among 
 the gentlemen ; so generally looked up to ; and so much 
 liked ! I do hope you'll think better of it ; if on nobody else's 
 account, on mine." 
 
 "There's Jinkins," said the youngest gentleman, moodily. 
 "Your favorite. He'll console you, and the gentlemen too, 
 for the loss of twenty such as me. I'm not understood in this 
 house. I never have been." 
 
 " Don't run away with that opinion, sir ! " cried Mrs. Tod- 
 gers, with a show of honest indignation. " Don't make such a 
 charge as that against the establishment, I must beg of you. 
 It is not so bad as that comes to, sir. Make any remark you 
 please against the gentlemen, or against me ; but don't say 
 you're not understood in this house." 
 
 " I'm not treated as if I was," said the youngest gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " There you make a great mistake, sir," returned Mrs. 
 Todgers, in the same strain. " As many of the gentlemen 
 and I have often said, you are too sensitive. That's where it 
 is. You are of too susceptible a nature ; it's in your spirit." 
 
 The young gentleman coughed. 
 
 "And as," said Mrs. Todgers, " as to Mr. Jinkins, I must 
 beg of you, if we are to part, to understand that I don't abet 
 Mr. Jinkins, by any means. Far from it. I could wish that 
 Mr. Jinkins would take a lower tone in this establishment, 
 and would not be the means of raising differences between me 
 and gentlemen that I can much less bear to part with, than I 
 could with Mr. Jinkins. Mr. Jinkins is not such a boarder, 
 sir," added Mrs. Todgers. "that all considerations of private
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 7 5 
 
 feeling and respect give way before him. Quite the contrar)', 
 I assure you." 
 
 The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and 
 similar speeches on the part of Mrs. Todgers, that he and that 
 lady gradually changed positions ; so that she became the 
 injured party, and he was understood to be the injurer ; but 
 in a complimentar}', not in an offensive sense ; his cruel con- 
 duct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to that 
 alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his no- 
 tice, and assured Mrs. Todgers of his unalterable regard : and 
 having done so, went back to business. 
 
 '* Goodness me, Miss Pecksniffs ! " cried that lady, as 
 she came into the back room, and sat wearily down, with 
 her basket on hgr knees, and her hands folded upon it, "what 
 a trial of temper it is to keep a house like this ! You must 
 have heard most of what has just passed. Now did you ever 
 hear the like ? " 
 
 " Never ! " said the two Miss Pecksniffs. 
 
 " Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I had to 
 deal with," resumed Mrs. Todgers, " that is the most ridicu- 
 lous and unreasonable. Mr. Jinkins is hard upon him some- 
 times, but not half as hard as he deserves. To mention such 
 a gentleman as Mr. Jinkins in the same breath with Imn. 
 You know it's too much ! And yet he's as jealous of him, 
 bless you, as if he was his equal." 
 
 The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs. Tod- 
 gers's account, no less than with certain anecdotes illustrative 
 of the youngest gentleman's character, which she went on to 
 tell them. But Mr. Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry : 
 and when she had concluded, said in a solemn voice : 
 
 " Pray, Mrs. Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that 
 young gentleman contribute towards the support of these 
 premises 'i " 
 
 " Why, sir, for what he has, he pays about eighteen shil- 
 lings a week ! " said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " Eighteen shillings a week ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Taking one week with another ; as near that as possi- 
 ble," said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded his arms, looked 
 at her, and shook his head. 
 
 "And do you mean to say, ma'am, is it possible, Mrs. 
 Todgers, that for such a miserable consideration as eighteen 
 shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far
 
 1 76 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 demean herself as to wear a double face, even for an in- 
 stant ? " 
 
 " I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir," 
 faltered Mrs. Todgers. " I must preserve peace among them, 
 and keep my connection together, if possible, Mr. Pecksnil^f. 
 The profit is very small." 
 
 " The profit ! " cried that gentleman, laying great stress 
 upon the word. " The profit, Mrs. Todgers ! You amaze me ! " 
 
 He was so severe, that Mrs. Todgers shed tears. 
 
 " The profit ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff. " The profit of 
 dissimulation ! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eigh- 
 teen shillings a week ! " 
 
 " Don't in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr. 
 Pecksniff," cried Mrs. Todgers, taking out her handkerchief. 
 
 " Oh Calf, Calf ! " cried^ Mr. Pecksniff mournfully. " Oh, 
 Baal, Baal ! Oh my friend, Mrs. Todgers ! To barter away 
 that precious jewel, self-esteem, and cringe to any mortal 
 creature — for eighteen shillings a week ! " 
 
 He was so subdued and overcome by the reflection, that 
 he immediately took down his hat from its peg in the passage, 
 and went out for a walk, to compose his feelings. Anybody 
 passing him in the street might have known him for a good 
 man at first sight ; for his whole figure teemed with a con- 
 sciousness of the moral homily he had read to Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 Eighteen shillings a week ! Just, most just, thy censure, 
 upright Pecksniff ! Had it been for the sake of a ribbon, 
 star, or garter ; sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in 
 parliament, a tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword ; a 
 place, a party, or a thriving lie, or eighteen thousand pounds, 
 or even eighteen hundred ; — but to worship the golden calf 
 for eighteen shillings a week ! Oh pitiful, pitiful ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHEREIN A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN BECOMES PARTICULAR IN 
 HIS ATTENTIONS TO A CERTAIN LADY ; AND MORE COMING 
 EVENTS THAN ONE, CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. 
 
 The family were within two or three days of their depart- 
 ure from Mrs. Todgers's, and the commercial gentlemen were 
 to a man despondent and not to be comforted, because of the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 177 
 
 approaching separation, when Bailey junior, at the jocund time 
 of noon, presented himself before Miss Charity Pecksniff, then 
 sitting with her sister in the banquet chamber, hemming six new 
 pocket-handkerchiefs for Mr. Jinkins ; and having expressed a 
 hope, preliminar}- and pious, that he might be blest, gave her 
 in his pleasant way to understand that a visitor attended to 
 pay his respects to her, and was at that moment waiting in the 
 drawing-room. Perhaps this last announcement showed in a 
 more striking point of view than many lengthened speeches 
 could have done, the trustfulness and faith of Bailey's nature j 
 since he had, in fact, last seen the visitor on the door-mat, 
 where, after signifying to him that he would do well to 
 go up stairs, he had left him to the guidance of his own 
 sagacity. Hence,.it was at least an even chance that the 
 visitor w^as then wandering on the roof of the house, or vainly 
 seeking to extricate himself from a maze of bedrooms ; Tod- 
 gers's being precisely that kind of establishment in which an 
 unpiloted stranger is pretty sure to find himself in some place 
 where he least expects and least desires to be. 
 
 " A gentleman for me ! " cried Charity, pausing in her 
 work ; " my gracious, Bailey ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Bailey. " It is my gracious, a'nt it t " 
 Wouldn't I be gracious neither, not if I wos him ! " 
 
 The remark was rendered somewhat obscure in itself, by 
 reason (as the reader may have observed) of a redundancy of 
 negatives ; but accompanied by action expressive of a faithful 
 couple walking arm-in-arm towards a parochial church, mutu- 
 ally exchanging looks of love, it clearly signified this youth's 
 conviction that the caller's purpose was of an amorous tend- 
 ency. Miss Charity affected to reprove so great a liberty ; 
 but she could not help smiling. He was a strange boy to be 
 sure. There was always some ground of probability and like- 
 lihood mingled with his absurd behavior. That was the best 
 of it ! 
 
 "But I don't know any gentleman, Bailey," said Miss 
 Pecksniff. " I think you must have made a mistake." 
 
 Mr. Bailey smiled at the extreme wildness of such a sup- 
 position, and regarded the young ladies with unimpaired affa- 
 bility. 
 
 " My dear Merry," said Charity, "who can it be ? Isn't it 
 odd ? I have a great mind not to go to him really. So very 
 strange you know ! " 
 
 The younger sister plainly considered that this appeal had 
 
 12
 
 1 7 8 ^/^ R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 its origin in the pride of being called upon and asked for ; and 
 that it was intended as an assertion of superiority, and a re- 
 taliation upon her for having captured the commercial gentle- 
 men. Therefore, she replied, with great affection and polite- 
 ness, that it was, no doubt, very strange indeed ; and that 
 she was totally at a loss to conceive what the ridiculous jDer- 
 son unknown could mean by it. 
 
 " Quite impossible to divine ! " said Charity, with some 
 sharpness, " though still, at the same time, you needn't be 
 angry, my dear." 
 
 " Thank you," retorted Merry, singing at her needle. " I 
 am quite aware of that, my love." 
 
 " I am afraid your head is turned, you silly thing," said 
 Cherry. 
 
 " Do you know, my dear," said Merr^-, with engaging can- 
 dor, " that I have been afraid of that, myself, all along ! So 
 much incense and nonsense, and all the rest of it, is enough 
 to turn a stronger head than mine. What a relief it must be 
 to you, my dear, to be so very comfortable in that respect, and 
 not to be worried by those odious men ! How do you do it. 
 Cherry ? " 
 
 This artless inquiry might have led to turbulent results, 
 but for the strong emotions of delight evinced by Bailey junior, 
 whose relish in the turn the conversation had lately taken was 
 so acute, that it impelled and forced him to the instantaneous 
 performance of a dancing step, extremely difficult in its na- 
 ture, and only to be achieved in a moment of ecstasy, which is 
 commonly called The Frog's Hornpipe. A manifestation so 
 lively, brought to their immediate recollection the great 
 virtuous precept, " Keep up appearances whatever you do," 
 in which they had been educated. They forbore at once, and 
 jointly signified to Mr. Bailey that if he should presume to 
 practice that figure any more in their presence, they would 
 instantly acquaint Mrs. Todgers with the fact, and would 
 demand his condign punishment at the hands of that lady. 
 The young gentleman having expressed the bitterness of his 
 contrition by affecting to wipe away scalding tears with his 
 apron, and afterwards feigning to wring a vast amount of 
 water from that garment, held the door open while Miss 
 Charity passed out ; and so that damsel went in state up stairs 
 to receive her mysterious adorer. 
 
 By some strange occurrence of favorable circumstances he 
 had found out the drawing-room, and was sitting there alone.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 179 
 
 " Ah, cousin ! " he said. " Here I am, you see. You 
 thought I was lost, I'll be bound. Well ! how do you find 
 yourself by this time } " 
 
 Miss Charity replied that she was quite well, and gave Mr. 
 Jonas Chuzzlewit her hand. 
 
 " That's right," said Mr. Jonas, " and you've got over the 
 fatigues of the journey, have you ? I say. How's the other 
 one ? " 
 
 " My sister is very well, I believe," returned the young 
 lady. " I have not heard her complain of any indisposition, 
 sir. Perhaps you would like to see her, and ask her your- 
 self ? " 
 
 " No, no, cousin ! " said Mr. Jonas, sitting down beside 
 her on the window-seat. " Don't be in a hurry. There's no 
 occasion for that', you know. What a cruel girl you are ! " 
 
 "It's impossible iox you to know," said Cherry, "whether 
 I am or not." 
 
 " Well, perhaps it is," said Mr. Jonas. " I say ! Did 
 you think I was lost ? You haven't told me that." 
 
 " I didn't think at all about it," answered Cheny. 
 
 " Didn't you, though ? " said Jonas, pondering upon this 
 strange reply. " — Did the other one? " 
 
 " I am sure it's impossible for me to say what my sister 
 may, or may not have thought on such a subject," cried 
 Cherry. " She never said anything to me about it, one way 
 or other." 
 
 " Didn't she laugh about it .? " inquired Jonas. 
 
 " No. She didn't even laugh about it," answered Charity. 
 
 " She's a terrible one to laugh, an't she ? " said Jonas, 
 lowering his voice. 
 
 ■" She is very lively," said Cherr}'. 
 
 " Liveliness is a pleasant thing — when it don't lead to 
 spending money. An't it .'' " asked Mr. Jonas. 
 
 " Very much so, indeed," said Cherry, with a demureness 
 of manner that gave a very disinterested character to her 
 assent. 
 
 " Such liveliness as yours I mean, you know," observed 
 Mr. Jonas, as he nudged her with his elbow. " 1 should have 
 come to see you before, but I didn't know where you was. 
 How quick you hurried off, that morning ! " 
 
 " I was amenable to my papa's directions," said Miss 
 Charity. 
 
 " I wish he had given me his direction," returned her
 
 1 8 o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 cousin, " and then I should have found you out before. Why, 
 I shouldn't have found you even now, if I hadn't met him in 
 the street this morning. What a sleek, sly chap he is ! Just 
 like a tom-cat, an't he ? " 
 
 " I must trouble you to have the goodness to speak more 
 respectfully of my papa, Mr. Jonas," said Charity. " I can't 
 allow such a tone as that, even in jest." 
 
 " Ecod, you may say what you like of my father, then, and 
 so' I give you leave," said Jonas. " I think it's liquid aggrava- 
 tion that circulates through his veins, and not regular blood. 
 How old should you think my father was, cousin .-* " 
 
 "Old, no doubt," replied Miss Charity; "but a fine old 
 gentleman." 
 
 " A fine oldgentleman ! " repeated Jonas, giving the crown 
 of his hat an angry knock. " Ah ! It's time he was thinking 
 of being drawn out a little finer too. Why, he's eighty ! " 
 
 " Is he, indeed ? " said the young lady. 
 
 " And ecod," cried Jonas, " now he's gone so far without 
 giving in, I don't see much to prevent his being ninety ; no, 
 nor even a hundred. Why, a man with any feeling ought to 
 be ashamed of being eighty let alone more. Where's his 
 religion I should like to know, when he goes flying in the face 
 of the Bible like that .-' Three-score-and-ten's the mark ; and 
 no man with a conscience, and a proper sense of what's 
 expected of him, has any business to live longer." 
 
 Is any one surprised at Mr. Jonas making such a reference 
 to such a book for such a purpose 1 Does any one doubt the 
 old saw, that the Devil (being a lajanan) quotes Scripture for 
 his own ends ? If he will take the trouble to look about him, 
 he may tind a greater number of confirmations of the fact, in 
 the occurrences of any single day, than the steam-gun ' can 
 discharge balls in a minute. 
 
 " But there's enough of my father," said Jonas ; " it's of no 
 use to go putting one's-self out of the way by talking about 
 him. I called to ask you to come and take a walk, cousin, 
 and see some of the sights ; and to come to our house after- 
 wards, and have a bit of something. Pecksniff will most 
 likely look in in the evening, he says, and bring you home. 
 See, here's his writing ; I made him put it down this morning, 
 when he told me he shouldn't be back before I came here ; 
 in case you wouldn't believe me. There's nothing like proof, 
 is there ? Ha, ha ! I say — you'll bring the other one, you 
 know ! "
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 8 1 
 
 Miss Charity cast her eyes upon her father's autograph, 
 which merely said : " Go, my children, with your cousin. Let 
 there be union among us when it is possible ; " and after 
 enough of hesitation to impart a proper value to her consent, 
 withdrew, to prepare her sister and herself for the excursion. 
 She soon returned, accompanied by Miss Mercy, who was by 
 no means pleased to leave the brilliant triumphs of Todgers's 
 for the societ}' of Mr. Jonas and his respected father. 
 
 "Aha ! " cried Jonas. " There you are, are you ? " 
 
 " Yes, fright," said Mercy, "here I am ; and I would much 
 rather be anywhere else, I assure you." 
 
 "You don't mean that," cried Mr. Jonas. "You can't, 
 you know. It isn't possible." 
 
 "You can have what opinion you like, fright," retorted 
 Mercy. " I am content to keep mine ; and mine is that you 
 are a very unpleasant, odious, disagreeable person." Here 
 she laughed heartily, and seemed to enjoy herself very much. 
 
 " Oh, you're a sharp gal ! " said Mr. Jonas. " She's a 
 regular teazer, an't she, cousin ? " 
 
 Miss Charity replied in effect, that she was unable to say 
 what the habits and propensities of a regular teazer might be ; 
 and that even if she possessed such information, it would ill 
 become her to admit the existence of any creature with such 
 an unceremonious name in her family ; far less in the person 
 of a beloved sister; "whatever," added Cherry with an angry 
 glance, "whatever her real nature may be." 
 
 "Well, my dear," said Meny, " the only observation I 
 have to make, is, that if we don't go out at once, 1 shall cer- 
 tainly take my bonnet off again, and stay at home." 
 
 This threat had the desired effect of preventing any far- 
 ther altercation, for Mr. Jonas immediately proposed an ad- 
 journment, and the same being carried unanimously, they 
 departed from the house straightway. On the door-step, Mr. 
 Jonas gave an arm to each cousin ; which act of gallantry be- 
 ing observed by Bailey junior, from the garret window, was 
 by him saluted with a loud and \iolent fit of coughing, to which 
 paroxysm he was still the victim when they turned the corner. 
 
 Mr. Jonas inquired in the first instance if they were good 
 walkers, and being answered, "Yes," submitted their pedes- 
 trian powers to a pretty severe test ; for he showed them as 
 many sights, in the way of bridges, churches, streets, outsides 
 of theatres, and other free spectacles, in that one forenoon, as 
 most people see in a twelvemonth. It was observable in this
 
 1 8 2 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 gentleman, that he had an insurmountable distaste to the in- 
 sides of buildings ; and that he was perfectly acquainted with 
 the merits of all shows, in respect of which there was any 
 charge for admission, which it seemed were every one detesta- 
 ble, and of the very lowest grade of merit. He was so thor- 
 oughly possessed with this opinion, that when Miss Charity 
 happened to mention the circumstance of their having been 
 twice or thrice to the theatre with Mr. Jinkins and party, he 
 inquired, as a matter of course, " where the orders came 
 from ? " and being told that Mr. Jinkins and party paid, was 
 beyond description entertained, observing that " they must be 
 nice flats, certainly ; " and often in the course of the walk, 
 bursting out again into a perfect convulsion of laughter at the 
 surpassing silliness of those gentlemen, and (doubtless) at his 
 own superior wisdom. 
 
 When they had been out for some hours and were thor- 
 oughly fatigued, it being by that time twilight, Mr. Jonas in- 
 timated that he would show them one of the best pieces of 
 fun with which he was acquainted. This joke was of a prac- 
 tical kind, and its humor lay in taking a hackney-coach to the 
 extreme limits of possibility for a shilling. Happily it brought 
 them to the place where Mr. Jonas dwelt, or the young ladies 
 might have rather missed the point and cream of the jest. 
 
 The old-established firm of Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son, 
 Manchester Warehousemen, and so forth, had its place of busi- 
 ness in a very narrow street somewhere behind the Post Of- 
 fice ; where eveiy house was in the brightest summer morn- 
 ing very gloomy ; and where light porters watered the pave- 
 ment, each before his own emploj^er's premises, in fantastic 
 patterns, in the dog-days ; and where spruce gentlemen with 
 their hands in the pockets of symmetrical trousers, were al- 
 ways to be seen in warm weather, contemplating their unde- 
 niable boots in dusty warehouse doorways : which appeared 
 to be the hardest work they did, except now and then carr}^- 
 ing pens behind their ears. A dim, dirty, smoky, tumble- 
 down, rotten old house it was, as anybody would desire to 
 see ; but there the firm of Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son trans- 
 acted all their business and their pleasure too, such as it 
 was ; for neither the young man nor the old had any other 
 residence, or any care or thought beyond its narrow limits. 
 
 Business, as may be readily supposed, was the main thing 
 in this establishment ; insomuch indeed that it shouldered com- 
 fort out of doors, and jostled the domestic arrangements at
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 183 
 
 every turn. Thus in the miserable bed-rooms there were files 
 of moth-eaten letters hanging up against the walls ; and linen 
 rollers, and fragments of old patterns, and odds and ends of 
 spoiled goods, strewed upon the ground ; while the meagre 
 bedsteads, washing-stands, and scraps of carpet, were hud- 
 dled away into corners as objects of secondary consideration, 
 not to be thought of but as disagreeable necessities, furnish- 
 ing no profit, and intruding on the one affair of life. The 
 single sitting-room was on the same principle, a chaos of 
 boxes and old papers, and had more counting-house stools 
 in it than chairs ; not to mention a great monster of a 
 desk straddling over the middle of the floor, and an iron safe 
 sunk into the wall above the fire-place. The solitary little 
 table for purposes of refection and social enjoyment, bore as 
 fair a proportion to the desk and other business furniture, as 
 the graces and harmless relaxations of life had ever done, in 
 the persons of the old man and his son, their pursuit of wealth. 
 It was meanly laid out now, for dinner ; and in a chair before 
 the fire, sat Anthony himself, who rose to greet his son and 
 his fair cousins as they entered. 
 
 An ancient proverb warns us that we should not expect to 
 find old heads upon young shoulders ; to which it may be 
 added that we seldom meet with that unnatural combination, 
 but we feel a strong desire to knock them off ; merely from 
 an inherent love we have of seeing things in their right places. 
 It is not improbable that many men, in no wise choleric by 
 nature, felt this impulse rising up within them, when they first 
 made the acquaintance of Mr. Jonas; but if they had known 
 him more intimately in his own house, and had sat with him 
 at his own board, it would assuredly have been paramount to 
 all other considerations. 
 
 " Well, ghost ! " said Mr. Jonas, dutifully addressing his 
 parent by that title. " Is dinner nearly ready "i " 
 
 " I should think it was," rejoined the old man. 
 
 " What's the good of that t " rejoined the son. " /should 
 think it was. I want to know." 
 
 " Ah ! I don't know for certain," said Anthony. 
 
 "You don't know for certain," rejoined his son in a lower 
 tone. " No. You don't know anything for certain, you don't. 
 Give me your candle here. I want it for the gals." 
 
 Anthony handed him a battered old office candlestick, 
 with which Mr. Jonas preceded the young ladies to the near- 
 est bed-room, where he left them to take off their shawls and
 
 1 8 4 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 bonnets ; and returning, occupied himself in opening a bottle 
 of wine, sharpening the carving-knife, and muttering compli- 
 ments to his father, until they and the dinner appeared to- 
 gether. The repast consisted of a hot leg of mutton with 
 greens and potatoes ; and the dishes having been set upon 
 the table by a slipshod old w^oman, they were left to enjoy it 
 after their own manner. 
 
 " Bachelor's Hall you know, cousin," said Mr. Jonas to 
 Charity. "I say — the other one will be having a laugh at this 
 when she gets home, won't she ? Here ; you sit on the right 
 side of me, and I'll have her upon the left. Other one, will 
 you come here ? " 
 
 "You're such a fright," replied Mercy, " that I know I 
 shall have no appetite if I sit so near you : but I suppose I 
 must." 
 
 " An't she lively ? " whispered Mr. Jonas to the elder sis- 
 ter, with his favorite elbow emphasis. 
 
 " Oh I really don't know ! " replied Miss Pecksniff, tartly. 
 "I am tired of being asked such ridiculous questions." 
 
 " What's that precious old father of mine about now ? " 
 said Mr. Jonas, seeing that his parent was travelling up and 
 down the room, instead of taking his seat at table. " What 
 are you looking for ? " 
 
 " I've lost my glasses, Jonas," said old Anthony. 
 
 " Sit down without your glasses, can't you .-• " returned his 
 son. " You don't eat or drink out of 'em, I think ; and 
 where's that sleepy-headed old Chuffey got to ! Now, stupid. 
 Oh ! you know your name, do you ? "' 
 
 It would seem that he didn't, for he didn't come until the 
 father called. As he spoke, the door of a small glass office, 
 which was partitioned off from the rest of the room, was slowly 
 opened, and a little blear-eyed, weazen-faced, ancient man 
 came creeping out. He was of a remote fashion, and dusty, 
 like the rest of the furniture ; he was dressed in a decayed 
 suit of black ; with breeches garnished at the knees with rusty 
 whisps of ribbon, the ver)' paupers of shoe-strings; on the 
 lower portion of his spindle legs were dingy w'orsted stock- 
 ings of the same color. He looked as if he had been put 
 away and forgotten half a centur}' before, and somebody had 
 just found him in a lumber-closet. 
 
 Such as he was, he came slowly creeping on towards the 
 table, until at last he crept into the vacant chair, from which, as 
 his dim faculties became conscious of the presence of strangers,
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 185 
 
 and those strangers ladies, he rose again, apparently intend- 
 ino" to make a bow. But he sat down once more, without hav- 
 in'^ made it, and breathing on his shrivelled hands to warm 
 them, remained with his poor blue nose immovable about his 
 plate, looking at nothing, with eyes that saw nothing, and a 
 face that meant nothing. Take him in that state, and he was 
 an embodiment of nothing. Nothing else. 
 
 "Our clerk," said Mr. Jonas, as host and master of the 
 ceremonies: "Old Chuffey." 
 
 " Is he deaf ? " inquired one of the young ladies. 
 
 " No, I don't know that he is. He an't deaf, is he, 
 father ? " 
 
 " I never heard him say he was," replied the old man. 
 
 " Blind ? " inquired the young ladies. 
 
 " N — no. I never understood that he was at all blind," 
 said Jonas, carelessly. " You don't consider him so, do you 
 father ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Anthony. 
 
 "What is he then.?" 
 
 "Why, I'll tell you what he is," said Mr. Jonas, apart to 
 the young ladies, " he's precious old for one thing \ and I 
 an't best pleased with him for that, for I think my father must 
 have caught it of him. He's a strange old chap, for another," 
 he added in a louder voice, " and don't understand any one 
 hardly, but Jihn ! " He pointed to his honored parent with 
 the carving-fork, in order that they might know whom he 
 meant. 
 
 " How very strange ! " cried the sisters. 
 
 "Why, you see," said Mr. Jonas, " lie's been addling his 
 old brains with figures and book-keeping all his life ; and 
 twenty years ago or so he went and took a fever. vVlI the 
 time he was out of his head (which was three weeks) he never 
 left off casting up ; and he got to so many million at last that 
 I don't believe he's ever been quite right since. We don't do 
 much business now though, nnd he an't a bad clerk." 
 
 " A very good one," said Anthony. 
 
 " Well ! He an't a dear one at all events," observed 
 Jonas ; " and he earns his salt, which is enough for our look- 
 out. I was telling you that he hardly understands any one 
 except my father ; he always understands him though, and 
 wakes up quite wonderful. He's been used to his ways so 
 long, you see ! Why, I've seen him play whist, with my father 
 for a partner j and a good rubber too ; when he had no more
 
 1 86 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 notion what sort of people he was playing against, than you 
 have." 
 
 " Has he no appetite ? " asked Merry. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Jonas, plying his own knife and fork ver}' 
 fast. " He eats — when he's helped. But he don't care 
 whether he waits a minute or an hour, as long as father's here : 
 so when I'm at all sharp set, as I am to-day, I come to him 
 after I've taken the edge off my own hunger, you know. Now, 
 Chuff ey, stupid, are you ready ? " 
 
 Chuffey remained immovable. 
 
 " Always a perverse old file, he was," said Mr. Jonas, 
 coolly helping himself to another slice, '*ask him, father." 
 
 " Are you ready for your dinner, Chuffey ? " asked the old 
 man. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Chuffey, lighting up into a sentient human 
 creature at the first sound of the voice, so that it was at 
 once curious and quite a moving sight to see him. " Yes, 
 yes. Quite ready, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Quite ready, sir. All 
 ready, all ready, all ready." With that he stopped, smilingly, 
 and listened for some further address ; but being spoken to 
 no more, the light forsook his face by little and little, until he 
 was nothing again. ^ 
 
 " He'll be very disagreeable, mind," said Jonas, address- 
 ing his cousins as he handed the old man's portion to his 
 father. " He always chokes himself when it an't broth. Look 
 at him now ! Did you ever see a horse with such a wall-eyed 
 expression as he's got } If it hadn't been for the joke of it, I 
 wouldn't have let him come in to-day ; but I thought he'd 
 amuse you." 
 
 The poor old subject of this humane speech, was, happily 
 for himself, as unconscious of its purport, as of most other 
 remarks that were made in his presence. But the mutton 
 being tough, and his gums weak, he quickly verified the 
 statement relative to his choking propensities, and underwent 
 so much in his attempts to dine, that Mr. Jonas was infinitely 
 amused : protesting that he had seldom seen him better com- 
 pany in all his life, and that he was enough to make a man 
 split his sides with laughing. Indeed, he went so far as to 
 assure the sisters, that in this point of view he considered 
 Chuffey superior to his own father ; which, as he significantly 
 added, was saying a great deal. 
 
 It was strange enough that Anthony Chuzzlewit, himself 
 so old a man, should take a pleasure in these gibings of his
 
 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 187 
 
 estimable son, at the expense of the poor shadow at their 
 table. But he did, unquestionably : though not so much — to 
 do him justice — with reference to their ancient clerk, as in 
 exultation at the sharpness of Jonas. For the same reason, 
 that young man's coarse allusions, even to himself, filled him 
 with a stealthy glee : causing him to rub his hands and chuckle 
 covertly, as if he said in his sleeve, '' /taught him. /trained 
 him. This is the heir of my bringing-up. Sly, cunning, and 
 covetous, he'll not squander my money. I worked for this ; I 
 hoped for this ; it has been the great end and aim of my life." 
 
 What a noble end and aim it was to contemplate in the 
 attainment, truly ! But there be some who manufacture idols 
 after the fashion of themselves, and fail to worshijD them 
 when they are niade ; charging their deformity on outraged 
 nature. Anthony was better than these at any rate. 
 
 Chuffey boggled over his plate so long, that Mr. Jonas, 
 losing patience, took it from him at last with his own hands, 
 and requested his father to signify to that venerable person 
 that he had better " peg away at his bread ; " which Anthony 
 did. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " cried the old man, brightening up as before, 
 when this was communicated to him in the same voice : " quite 
 right, quite right. He's your own son, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! 
 Bless him for a sharp lad ! Bless him, bless him ! " 
 
 Mr. Jonas considered this so particularly childish (perhaps 
 with some reason), that he only laughed the more, and told 
 his cousins that he was afraid one of these fine days, Chuffey 
 would be the death of him. The cloth was then removed, and 
 the bottle of wine set upon the table, from which Mr. Jonas 
 filled the young ladies' glasses, calling on them not to spare 
 it, as they might be certain there was plenty more where that 
 came from. But he added with some haste after this sally, 
 that it was only his joke, and they wouldn't suppose him to be 
 in earnest, he was sure. 
 
 " I shall drink," said Anthony, " to Pecksniff. Your fa- 
 ther, my dears. A clever man, Pecksniff. A wary man ! A 
 hypocrite, though, eh } A hypocrite, girls, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Well, so he is. Now, among friends, he is. I don't think the 
 worse of him for that, unless it is that he overdoes it. You 
 may overdo anything, my darlings. You may overdo even 
 hypocrisy. Ask Jonas ! " 
 
 "You can't overdo taking care of yourself," observed that 
 hopeful gentleman with his mouth full.
 
 l88 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Do you hear that, my dears ? " cried Anthony, quite en- 
 raptured. Wisdom, wisdom ! A good exception, Jonas. No. 
 It's not easy to overdo that." 
 
 " Except," whispered Mr. Jonas to his favorite cousin, 
 " except when one lives too long. Ha, ha ! Tell the other 
 one that. I say ! ' 
 
 " Good gracious me ! " said Cherry, in a petulant manner. 
 "You can tell her, yourself, if you wish, can't you ? " 
 
 " She seems to make such game of one," replied Mr. 
 Jonas. 
 
 " Then why need you trouble yourself about her ? " said 
 Charity. " I am sure she doesn't troubte herself much about 
 you." 
 
 " Don't she though ? " asked Jonas. 
 
 " Good gracious me, need I tell you that she don't ? " 
 returned the young lady. 
 
 Mr. Jonas made no verbal rejoinder, but he glanced at 
 Mercy with an odd expression in his face ; and said that 
 wouldn't break his heart, she might depend upon it. Then he 
 looked on Charity with even greater favor than before, and 
 besought her, as his polite manner was, " to come a little 
 closer." 
 
 " There's another thing that's not easily overdone, father," 
 remarked Jonas, after a short silence. 
 
 " What's that } " asked the father ; grinning already in an- 
 ticipation. 
 
 " A bargain," said the son. " Here's the rule for bargains. 
 ' Do other men, for they would do you.' That's the true busi- 
 ness precept. All others are counterfeits." 
 
 The delighted father applauded this sentiment to the echo ; 
 and was so much tickled by it, that he was at the pains of im- 
 parting the same to his ancient clerk, who rubbed his hands, nod- 
 ded his palsied head, winked his watery eyes, and cried in his 
 whistling tones, " Good ! Good ! Your own son, Mr. Chuzzle- 
 wit ! " with every feeble demonstration of delight that he was ca- 
 pable of making. But this old man's enthusiasm had the re- 
 deeming quality of being felt in sympathy with the only creature 
 to whom he was linked by ties of long association, and by his 
 present helplessness. And if there had been anybody there, 
 who cared to think about it, some dregs of better nature 
 unawakened, might perhaps have been descried through that 
 very medium, melancholy though it was, yet lingering at the 
 bottom of the worn-out cask, called Chuffey.
 
 MARTIiX CHUZZLEWTT. ign 
 
 As matters stood, nobody tliought or said anything upon 
 the subject ; so Chuffey fell hack into a dark corner on one 
 side of the fire-place, where he always spent his evenings, and 
 was neither seen nor heard again that night ; save once, when 
 a cup of tea was given him, in which he was seen to soak his 
 bread mechanically. There was no reason to suppose that he 
 went to sleep at these seasons, or that he heard, or saw, or 
 felt, or thought. He remained, as it were, frozen ujd — if any 
 term expressive of such a vigorous process can be applied to 
 him — until he was again thawed for the moment by a word or 
 touch from Anthony. 
 
 Miss Charity made tea by desire of Mr. Jonas, and felt and 
 looked so like the lady of the house, that she was in the 
 prettiest confusio.p imaginable ; the more so, from Mr. Jonas 
 sitting close beside her, and whispering a variety of admiring 
 expressions in her ear. Miss Alercy, for her part, felt the 
 entertainment of the evening to be so distinctly and exclu- 
 sively theirs, that she silently deplored the commercial gentle- 
 men — at that moment, no doubt, wearying for her return — 
 and yawned over yesterday's newspaper. As to Anthony, 
 he went to sleep outright, so Jonas and Cheriy had a clear 
 stage to themselves as long as they chose to keep possession 
 of it. 
 
 When the tea tray was taken away, as it was at last, Mr. 
 Jonas produced a dirty pack of cards, and entertained the 
 sisters with divers small feats of dexterity : whereof the main 
 purpose of every one was that you were to decoy somebodv into 
 laying a wager with you that you couldn't do it ; and were then 
 immediately to win and pocket his money. Mr. Jonas informed 
 them that these accomplishments were in high vogue in the 
 most intellectual circles, and that large amounts were constantly 
 changing hands on such hazards. And it may be remarked that 
 he fully believed this ; for there is a simplicity of cunning no 
 less than a simplicity of innocence ; and in all matters where 
 a lively faith in knaver}^ and meanness was required as the 
 ground-work of belief, Mr. Jonas was one of the most credu- 
 lous of men. His ignorance, which was stupendous, may 
 be taken into account, if the reader pleases, separately. 
 
 This fine young man had all the inclination to be a profli- 
 gate of the first waler, and only lacked the one good trait in 
 the common catalogue of debauched vices — open-handedness 
 — to be a notable vagabond. But there his griping and pen- 
 urious habits stepped in ; and as one poison will sometimes
 
 I go MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 neutralize another, when wholesome remedies would not avail, 
 so he was restrained by a bad passion from quaffing his full 
 measure of evil, when virtue might have sought to hold him 
 back in vain. 
 
 By the time he had unfolded all the peddling schemes he 
 knew upon the cards, it was growing late in the evening ; 
 and Mr. Pecksniff not making his appearance, the young 
 ladies expressed a wish to return home. But this, Mr. Jonas, 
 in his gallantry, would by no means allow, until they had par- 
 taken of some bread and cheese and porter ; and even then 
 he was excessively unwilling to allow them to depart ; often 
 beseeching Miss Charity to come a little closer, or to stop a 
 little longer, and preferring many other complimentary peti- 
 tions of that nature, in his own hospitable and earnest way. 
 When all his efforts to detain them were fruitless, he put on 
 his hat and great coat preparatory to escorting them to Tod- 
 gers's \ remarking that he knew they would rather walk thither 
 than ride \ and that for his part he was quite of their opinion. 
 
 "Good-night," said Anthony, "Good-night; remember 
 me to — ha, ha, ha ! — to Pecksniff. Take care of your cousin, 
 my dears ; beware of Jonas ; he's a dangerous fellow. Don't 
 quarrel for him, in any case ! " 
 
 " Oh, the creature ! " cried Mercy. "The idea of quarrel- 
 ling for /«';;/ ! You may take him, Cherry, my love, all to your- 
 self. I make you a present of my share." 
 
 " What ! I'm a sour grape, am I, cousin ? " said Jonas. 
 
 Miss Charity was more entertained by this repartee than 
 one would have supposed likely, considering its advanced age 
 and simple character. But in her sisterly affection she took 
 Mr. Jonas to task for leaning so very hard upon a broken 
 reed, and said that he must not be so cruel to poor Merr}' any 
 more, or she (Charity) would positively be obliged to hate him. 
 Mercy, who really had her share of good humor, only retorted 
 with a laugh ; and they walked home in consequence without 
 any angry passage of words upon the way. Mr. Jonas being 
 in the middle and having a cousin on each arm, sometimes 
 squeezed the WTong one ; so tightly too, as to cause her not a 
 little inconvenience ; but as he talked to Charity in whispers 
 the whole time and paid her great attention, no doubt this 
 was an accidental circumstance. When they arrived at Tod- 
 gers's, and the door was opened, Mercy broke hastily from 
 them, and ran up stairs ; but Charity and Jonas lingered on 
 the steps talking together for more than five minutes ; so, as
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 191 
 
 Mrs. Todgers observed next morning, to a third party, " It 
 was pretty clear what was going on there, and she was glad of 
 it, for it really was high time Miss Pecksniff thought of set- 
 tling." 
 
 And now the day was coming on, when that bright vision 
 which had burst on Todgers's so suddenly, and made a sun- 
 shine in the shady breast of Jinkins, was to be seen no more ; 
 when it was to be packed, like a brown paper parcel, or a fish- 
 basket, or an oyster-barrel, or a fat gentleman, or any other 
 dull reality of life, in a stage-coach, and carried down into the 
 country ! 
 
 " Never, my dear Miss Pecksniffs," said Mrs. Todgers, 
 when they retired to rest on the last night of their stay ; 
 " never have I seen an establishment so perfectly broken- 
 hearted as mine Is at this present moment of time.' I don't 
 believe the gentlemen will be the gentlemen they were, or any- 
 thing like it — no, not for weeks to come. You have a great 
 deal to answer for; both of you." 
 
 They modestly disclaimed any wilful agency in this dis- 
 astrous state of things, and regretted it veiy much. 
 
 " Your pious Pa, too," said Mrs. Todgers. " There's a 
 loss ! My dear Miss Pecksniffs, your Pa is a perfect mission- 
 ary of peace and love." 
 
 Entertaining an uncertainty as to the particular kind of 
 love supposed to be comprised in Mr. Pecksniff's mission, the 
 young ladies received the compliment rather coldly. 
 
 " If I dared," said Mrs. Todgers, perceiving this, " to vio- 
 late a confidence which has been reposed in me, and to tell 
 you why I must beg of you to leave the little door between 
 your room and mine open to-night, I think you would be in- 
 terested. But I musn't do it, for I promised Mr. Jinkins 
 faithfully, that I would be as silent as the tomb." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Todgers ! What can you mean ? " 
 
 " Why then, my sweet Miss lY'cksniffs," said the lady of 
 the house ; "my own loves, if you will allow mc the privilege 
 of taking that freedom on the eve of our separation, Mr. Jin- 
 kins and the gentlemen have made up a little musical parly 
 among themselves, and do intend, in the dead of this night to 
 perform a serenade upon the stairs outside the door. I could 
 have wished, I own," said Mrs. Todgers, with her usual fore- 
 sight, " that it had been fixed to take place an hour or two 
 earlier; because, when gentlemen sit up late, they drink, and 
 when they drink, they're not so musical perhaps, as when they
 
 1^2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 don't. But this is the arrangement ; and I know you will be 
 gratified, my dear ]\Iiss Pecksniffs, by such a mark of their 
 attention." 
 
 The young ladies were at first so much excited by the 
 news, that they vowed they couldn't think of going to bed, un- 
 til the serenade was over. But half an hour of cool waiting; 
 so altered their opmion that they not only went to bed, but 
 fell asleep ; and were moreover not ecstatically charmed to be 
 awakened some time afterwards by certain dulcet strains 
 breaking in upon the silent watches of the night. 
 
 It was very effecting, veiy. Nothing more dismal could 
 have been desired bv the most fastidious taste. The gentle- 
 man of a vocal turn was head mute, or chief mourner ; Jin- 
 kins took the bass ; and the rest took anything they could get. 
 The youngest gentleman blew his melancholy into a flute. He 
 didn't blow much out of it, but that was all the better. If the 
 two Miss Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers had perished by spon- 
 taneous combustion, and the serenade had been in honor of 
 their ashes, it would have been impossible to surpass the un- 
 utterable despair expressed in that one chorus, " Go where 
 glory waits thee ! " It was a requiem, a dirge, a moan, a 
 howl, a wail, a lament, an abstract of everything that is sor- 
 rowful and hideous in sound. The flute of the youngest 
 gentleman was wild and fitful. It came and went in gusts, 
 like the wind. For a long time together he seemed to have 
 left off, and when it was quite settled by Mrs. Todgers and 
 the young ladies, that, overcome by his feelings, he had retired 
 in tears, he unexpectedly turned up again at the \qx\ top of 
 the tune, gasping for breath. He was a tremendous performer. 
 There was no knowuig where to ha\e him ; and exactly when 
 you thought he was doing nothing at all, then was he doing 
 the very thing that ought to astonish you most. 
 
 There were several of these concerted pieces ; perhaps 
 two or three too many, though that, as Mrs. Todgers said, was 
 a fault on the right side. But even then, even at that solemn 
 moment, when the thrilling sounds may be presumed to have 
 penetrated into the very depths of his nature, if he had any 
 depths, Jinkins couldn't leave the youngest gentleman alone. 
 Pie asked him distinctly, before the second song began — as a 
 personal favor too, mark the villain in that — not to play. 
 Yes ; he said so ; not to play. The breathing of the youngest 
 gentleman was heard through the key-hole of the door. He 
 didn't play. What vent was a flute for the passions swelling
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 1 93 
 
 up within his breast ? A trombone would have been a world 
 too mild. 
 
 The serenade approached its close. Its crowning interest 
 was at hand. The gentleman of a literary turn had written a 
 song on the departure of the ladies, and adapted it to an old 
 tune. They all joined, except the youngest gentleman in 
 company, who, for the reasons aforesaid, maintained a fearful 
 silence. The song (which was of a classical nature) invoked 
 the oracle of Apollo, and demanded to know what would be- 
 come of Todgers's when Charity and Mercy were banished 
 from its walls. The oracle delivered no opinion particularly 
 worth remembering, according to the not infrequent practice 
 of oracles from the earliest ages down to the present time. In 
 the absence of enjightenment on that subject, the strain de- 
 serted it, and went on to show that the Miss Pecksniffs were 
 nearly related to Rule Britannia, and that if Great Britain 
 hadn't been an island, there could have been no Miss Peck- 
 sniffs. And being now on a nautical tack, it closed with this 
 
 verse ; 
 
 " All hail to tlie vessel of Pecksniff the sire ! 
 And favoring breezes to fan ; 
 While Tritons flock round it, and proudly admire 
 The architect, artist, and man ! " 
 
 As they presented this beautiful picture to the imagination, 
 the gentlemen gradually withdrew to bed to give the music 
 the effect of distance ; and so it died away, and Todgers's was 
 left to its repose. 
 
 Mr. Bailey reserved his vocal offering until the morning, 
 when he put his head into the room as the young ladies were 
 kneeling before their trunks, packing up, and treated them to 
 an imitation of the voice of a young dog, in trying circum- 
 stances : when that animal is supposed by persons of a lively 
 fancy, to relieve his feelings by calling for pen and ink. 
 
 " Well, young ladies," said the }'outh, " so you're agoing 
 home, are you, worse luck ? " 
 
 " Yes, Bailey, we're going home," returned Mercy. 
 
 "A'nt you a going to leave none of 'em a lock of your 
 hair ? " inquired the youth. " It's real, a'nt it ? " 
 
 They laughed at this, and told him of course it was. 
 
 " Oh is it of course though ? " said Bailey. " I know better 
 than that. Hers an't. Why, I see it hanging up once, on 
 that nail by the winder. Besides, I have gone behind her at 
 dinner-time and pulled it ; and she never know'd. I say, 
 
 ^3
 
 194 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT. 
 
 young ladies, I'm a going to leave. I ain't a going to stand 
 being called names by her, no longer." 
 
 Miss Mercy inquired what his plans for the future might 
 be ; in reply to whom, Mr. Bailey intimated that he thought 
 of going, either into top-boots, or into the army. 
 
 " Into the army ! " cried the young ladies, with a laugh. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Bailey, "why not? There's a many drum- 
 mers in the Tower. I'm acquainted with 'em. Don't their 
 country set a valley on 'em, mind you ! Not at all ! " 
 
 "You'll be shot, I see," observed Mercy. 
 
 " Well ! " cried Mr. Bailey, " Wot if I am ? There's some- 
 thing gamey in it, young ladies, a'nt there ? I'd sooner be hit 
 with a connon-ball than a rolling pin, and she's always a 
 catching up something of that sort, and throwing it at me, wen 
 the gentlemans appetites is good. Wot," said Mr. Bailey, 
 stung by the recollection of his wrongs, " wot, if they do con- 
 sume the per-vishuns. It an't m' fault, is it ? " 
 
 " Surely no one says it is," said Mercy. 
 
 "Don't they though ?" retorted the youth. "No. Yes. 
 Ah ! Oh ! No one mayn't say it is ! but some one knows it 
 is. But I an't a going to have every rise in prices wisited on 
 me. I an't a going to be killed, because the markets is dear. 
 I won't stop. And therefore," added Mr. Bailey, relenting 
 into a smile, " wotever yQu mean to giv^e me, you'd better give 
 me all at once, becos if ever you come back agin, I shan't be 
 here ; and as to the other boy, he won't deserve nothing, / 
 know." 
 
 The young ladies, on behalf of Mr. Pecksniff and them- 
 selves, acted on this thoughtful advice ; and in consideration 
 of their private friendship, presented Mr. Bailey w*ith a gratu- 
 ity so liberal, that he could hardly do enough to show his 
 gratitude ; which found but an imperfect vent, during the 
 remainder of the day, in divers secret slaps upon his pocket, 
 and other such facetious pantomime. Nor was it contined to 
 these ebullitions ; for besides crushing a bandbox, with a 
 bonnet in it, he seriously damaged Mr. Pecksniff's luggage, 
 by ardently hauling it down from the top of the house ; and 
 in short evinced, by every means in his jDower, a lively sense 
 of the favors he had received from that gentleman and his 
 family. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff and Mr. Jinkins came home to dinner, arm- 
 in-arm ; for the latter gentleman had made half-holiday, on 
 purpose ; thus gaining an immense advantage over the young-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 '95 
 
 est gentleman and the rest, whose time, as it perversely 
 chanced, was all bespoke, until the evening. The bottle of 
 wine was Mr. Pecksniff's treat, and they were very sociable 
 indeed ; though full of lamentations on the necessity of part- 
 ing. VVhile they were in the midst of their enjoyment, old 
 Anthony and his son were announced ; much to the surprise 
 of Mr. Pecksniff, and greatly to the discomfiture of Jinkins. 
 
 "Come to say good bye, you see," said Anthony, in a low 
 voice, to Mr. Pecksniff, as they took their seats apart at the 
 table, while the rest conversed among themselves. " Where's 
 the use of a division between you and me ? VVe are the two 
 halves of a pair of scissors, when apart, Pecksniff ; but to- 
 gether we are something. Eh .'' " 
 
 " Unanimity, .my good sir," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff, " is 
 always delightful." 
 
 " I don't know about that," said the old man, " for there 
 are some people I would rather differ from than agree with. 
 But you know my opinion of you." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff, still having " Hypocrite " in his mind, only 
 replied' by a motion of his head, which was something between 
 an affirmative bow, and a negative shake. 
 
 " Complimentary," said Anthony. " Complimentary, upon 
 my word. It was an involuntar}' tribute to your abilities, even 
 at the time ; and it was not a time to suggest compliments 
 either. But we agreed in the coach, you know, that we quite 
 understood each other." 
 
 " Oh, quite ! " assented Mr. Pecksniff, in a manner which 
 implied that he himself was misunderstood most cruelly, but 
 would not complain. 
 
 Anthony glanced at his son as he sat besides Miss Charity, 
 and then at Mr. Pecksniff, and then at his son again, very 
 many times. It happened that Mr. Pecksniff's glances took 
 a similar direction ; but when he became aware of it, he first 
 cast down his eyes, and then closed them ; as if he were de- 
 termined that the old man should read nothing there. 
 
 "Jonas is a shrewd lad," said the old man. 
 
 " He appears," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff in his most candid 
 manner, "to be very shrewd." 
 
 "And careful," said the old man. 
 
 " And careful, I have no doul)t," returned Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Lookye ! " said Anthony in his ear. " 1 think he is sweet 
 upon your daughter." 
 
 " Tut, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his eyes still
 
 ig6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 closed ; " young people, young people. A kind of cousins, 
 too. No more sweetness than is in that, sir." 
 
 " Why, there is very little sweetness in that, according to 
 our experience," returned Anthony, " Isn't there a trifle 
 more here .-' " 
 
 " Impossible to say," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff. " Quite im- 
 possible ! You surprise me." 
 
 " Yes, I know that," said the old man, dr}-ly. " It may 
 last \ I mean the sweetness, not the surprise ; and it may die 
 off. Supposing it should last, perhaps (you having feathered 
 your nest pretty well, and I having done the same) we might 
 have a mutual interest in the matter." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff, smiling gently, was about to speak, but 
 Anthony stopped him. 
 
 " I know what you are going to say. It's quite unneces- 
 sary. You have never thought of this for a moment ; and in 
 a point so nearly affecting the happiness of your dear child, 
 you couldn't as a tender father, express an opinion ; and so 
 forth. Yes, quite right. And like you ! But it seems to me, 
 my dear Pecksniff," added Anthony, laying his hand upon his 
 sleeve, " that if you and I kept up the joke of pretending not 
 to see this, one of us might possibly be placed in a position of 
 disadvantage ; and as I am very unwilling to be that party 
 myself, you will excuse my taking the liberty of putting the 
 matter beyond a doubt, thus early ; and having it distinctly 
 understood, as it is now, that we do see it, and do know it. 
 Thank you for your attention. We are now upon an equal 
 footing : which is agreeable to us both, I am sure." 
 
 He rose as he spoke ; and giving Mr. Pecksniff a nod of 
 intelligence, moved away from him to where the young people 
 were sitting : leaving that good man somewhat puzzled and 
 discomfited by such ver)' plain dealing, and not quite free 
 from a sense of having been foiled in the exercise of his 
 familiar weapons. 
 
 But the night-coach had a punctual character, and it was 
 time to join it at the office ; which was so near at hand, that 
 they had already sent their luggage, and arranged to walk. 
 Thither the whole party repaired, therefore, after no more de- 
 lay than sufficed for the equipment of the Miss Pecksniffs and 
 Mrs. Todgers. They found the coach already at its starting- 
 place, and the Horses in ; there, too, were a large majority of 
 the commercial gentlemen, including the youngest, who was 
 visibly agitated, and in a state of deep mental dejection.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 197 
 
 Nothing could equal the distress of Mrs. Todgers in 
 parting from the young ladies, except the strong emotions with 
 which she bade adieu to Mr. Pecksniff. Never surely was a 
 pocket-handkerchief taken in and out of a flat reticule so often 
 as Mrs. Todgers's was, as she stood upon the pavement by 
 the coach-door, supported on either side by a commercial 
 gentleman : and by the light of the coach-lamps caught such 
 brief snatches and glimpses of the good man's face, as the 
 constant interposition of Mr. Jinkins allowed. For Jinkins, 
 to the last the youngest gentleman's rock a-head in life, stood 
 upon the coach-step talking to the ladies. Upon the other 
 step was Mr. Jonas, who maintained that position in right of 
 his cousinship; whereas the youngest gentleman, who had 
 been first upon 1,he ground, was deep in the booking-office 
 among the black and red placards, and the portraits of fast 
 coaches, where he was ignominiously harassed by porters, and 
 had to contend and strive perpetually with hea\-y baggage. 
 This false position, combined with his nervous excitement, 
 brought about the very consummation and catastrophe of his 
 miseries ; for when in the moment of parting, he aimed a 
 flower, a hot-house flower, that had cost money, at tlie fair 
 hand of Mercy, it reached, instead, the coachman on the box, 
 who thanked him kind]}^ and stuck it in his button-hole. 
 
 They were off now ; and Todgers's was alone again. The 
 two young ladies, leaning back in their separate corners, re- 
 signed themselves to their own regretful thoughts. Rut Mr. 
 Pecksniff, dismissing all ephemeral considerations of social 
 pleasure and enjoyment, concentrated his meditations on the 
 one great virtuous purpose before him, of casting out that 
 ingrate and deceiver, whose presence yet troubled his domestic 
 hearth, and was a sacrilege upon the altars of his household 
 gods.
 
 198 
 
 MARTIN cnrzzLEivir. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WILL BE SEEN IN THE LONG RUN, IF NOT IN THE SHORT 
 ONE, TO CONCERN MR. PINCH AND OTHERS, NEARLY. 
 MR. PECKSNIFF ASSERTS THE DIGNITY OF OUTRAGED VIR- 
 TUE. YOUNG MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT FORMS A DESPERATE 
 RESOLUTION. 
 
 Mr. Pinch and Martin, little dreaming of the stormy wea- 
 ther that impended, made themselves very comfortable in the 
 Pecksniffian halls, and improved their friendship daily. Mar- 
 tin's facility, both of invention and execution, being remarka- 
 ble, the grammar-school proceeded with great vigor ; and Tom 
 repeatedly declared, that if there were anything like certainty 
 in human affairs, or impartiality in human judges, a design so 
 new and full of merit could not fail to carry off the first prize 
 when the time of competition arrived. Without being quite 
 SO sanguine himself, Martin had his hopeful anticipations too ; 
 and they served to make him brisk and eager at his task. 
 
 "If I should turn out a great architect, Tom," said the 
 new pupil one day, as he stood at a little distance from his 
 drawing, and eyed it with much complacency, " I'll tell you 
 what should be one of the things I'd build." 
 
 " Ay ! " cried Tom. " What ? " 
 
 " Why, your fortune." 
 
 " No ! " said Tom Pinch, quite as much delighted as if 
 the thing were done. " W'ould you though .-' How kind of 
 you to say so." 
 
 " I'd build it up, Tom," returned Martin, " on such a strong 
 foundation, that it should last your life — ay, and your chil- 
 dren's lives too, and their children's after them. I'd be your 
 patron, Tom. I'd take you under my protection. Let me see 
 the man who should give the cold shoulder to anybody I 
 chose to protect and patronize, if I were at the top of the tree, 
 Tom ! " 
 
 "Now, I don't think," said Mr. Pinch, "upon my word, 
 that I was ever more gratified than by this. I really don't." 
 
 " Oh ! I mean what I say," retorted Martin, with a man- 
 ner as free and easy in its condescension to, not to say in its 
 compassion for, the other, as if he were alread}- First Architect
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 199 
 
 in Ordinary to all the Crowned Heads in Europe. " I'd do it. 
 I'd provide for you." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Tom, shaking his head, " that I should 
 be a mighty awkward person to provide for." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! " rejoined Martin. " Never mind that. If 
 I took it in my head to say, ' Pinch is a clever fellow \ I ap- 
 prove of Pinch ; ' I should like to know the man who would 
 venture to put himself in opposition to me. Besides, con- 
 found it, Tom, you could be useful to me in a hundred 
 ways." 
 
 " If I were not useful in one or two, it shouldn't be for 
 want of trying," said Tom. 
 
 " For instance," pursued Martin, after a short reflection, 
 " you'd be a capital fellow, now, to see that my ideas were 
 properly carried out ; and to overlook the works in their pro- 
 gress before they were sufficiently advanced to be very inter- 
 esting to me ; and to take all that sort of plain sailmg. Then 
 you'd be a splendid fellow to show people over my studio, and 
 to talk about Art to 'em when I couldn't be bored myself, and 
 all that kind of thing. For it would be devilish creditable, 
 Tom (I'm quite in earnest, I give you my word), to have a 
 man of your information about one, instead of some ordinary 
 blockhead. Oh, I'd take care of you. You'd be useful, rely 
 upon it ! " 
 
 To say that Tom had no idea of playing first fiddle in any 
 social orchestra, but was always quite satisfied to be set down 
 for the hundred and fiftieth violin in the band, or thereabouts, 
 is to express his modesty in very inadequate terms. He was 
 much delighted, therefore, by these observations. 
 
 " I should be married to her then, Tom, of course," said 
 Martin. 
 
 What was that which checked Tom Pinch so suddenly, in 
 the high flow of his gladness : bringing the blood into his 
 honest cheeks, and a remorseful feeling to his honest heart, as 
 if he were unworthy of his friend's regard ? 
 
 " I should be married to her then," said Martin, looking 
 with a smile towards the light : " and we should have, I hope, 
 children about us. They'd be very fond of you, Tom." 
 
 But not a word said Mr. Pinch. The words he would have 
 uttered, died upon his lips, and found a life more spirtual in 
 self-denying thoughts. 
 
 "All the children hereabouts arc fond of you, Tom, and 
 mine would be, of course," pursued Martin. " Perhaps I
 
 2 00 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 might name one of 'em after you. Tom, eh ? Well, I don't 
 know. Tom's not a bad name. Thomas Pinch Chuzzlewit. 
 T. P. C. on his pinafores. No objection to that, I should 
 sav." 
 
 Tom cleared his throat, and smiled. 
 
 " She would like you, Tom, 1 know," said Martin. 
 
 " Aye ! " cried Tom Pinch, faintly. 
 
 "I can tell exactly what she would think of you," said 
 Martin, leaning his chin upon his hand, and looking through 
 the window-glass as if he read there what he said ; " J know 
 her so well. She would smile, Tom, often at first when you 
 spoke to her, or when she looked at you — merrily too — but you 
 wouldn't mind that. A brighter smile you never saw." 
 
 " No, no," said Tom. " I wouldn't mind that." 
 
 "She would be as tender with you, Tom," said Martin, 
 *' as if you were a child yourself. So you are almost, in some 
 things, an't you, Tom 1 " 
 
 Mr. Pinch nodded his entire assent. 
 
 " She would always be kind and good-humored, and glad 
 to see you," said Martin ; " and when she found out exactly 
 what sort of fellow you were (which she'd do, very soon;, she 
 would pretend to give you little commissions to execute, and 
 to ask little services of you, which she knew you were burning 
 to render ; so that when she really pleased you most, she 
 would try to make you think you most pleased her. She would 
 take to you uncommonly, Tom ; and would understand you 
 far more delicately than I ever shall ; and would often say, I 
 know, that you were a harmless, gentle, well-intentioned, good 
 fellow." 
 
 How silent Tom Pinch was ! 
 
 " In honor of old times," said Martin, " and of her having 
 heard you play the organ in this damp little church down here 
 — for nothing too — we will have one in the house. I shall 
 build an architectural music-room on a plan of my own, and 
 it'll look rather knowing in a recess at one end. There you 
 shall play away, Tom, till you tire yourself ; and, as you like 
 to do so in the dark, it shall h' dark ; and many's the summer 
 evening she and I will sit and listen to you, Tom ; be sure of 
 that ! " 
 
 It may have required a stronger effort on Tom Pinch's part 
 to leave the seat on which he sat, and shake his friend by both 
 hands, with nothing but serenity and grateful feehng painted 
 on his face ; it may have required a stronger effort to perform
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 20i 
 
 this simple act with a pure heart, than to achieve many and 
 many a deed to which the douI:)tful trumpet l)lown by Fame 
 has lustily resounded. Doubtful, because from its long hover- 
 ing over scenes of violence, the smoke and steam of death 
 have clogged the keys of that brave instrvmient ; and it is not 
 always that its notes are either true or tuneful. 
 
 "It's a proof of the kindness of human nature," said Tom, 
 characteristically putting himself quite out of sight in the mat- 
 ter, " that everybody who comes here, as you have done, is 
 more considerate and affectionate to me than I should have 
 any right to hope, if 1 were the most sanguine creature in the 
 world ; or should have any power to express, if I were the 
 most eloquent. It really overpowers me. But trust me," said 
 Tom, " that I am not ungrateful ; that I never forget ; and 
 that, if I can ever prove the truth of my words to you, I will." 
 
 " That's all right," observed Martin, leaning back in his 
 chair with a hand in each pocket, and yawning drearily. " Very 
 fine talking, Tom ; but I'm at Pecksniff's, I remember, and 
 perhaps a mile or so out of the high-road to fortune just at 
 this minute. So you've heard again this morning from what's 
 his name, eh ? " 
 
 " Who may that be ? " asked Tom, seeming to enter a mild 
 protest on behalf of the dignity of an absent person. 
 
 " You know. What is'it ? Northkey." 
 
 " Westlock," rejoined Tom, in rather a louder tone than 
 usual. 
 
 " Ah ! to be sure," said Martin, " Westlock. I knew it 
 was something connected with a point of the compass and a 
 door. Well ! and what says Westlock ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he has come into his property," answered Tom, 
 nodding his head, and smiling. 
 
 " He's a lucky dog," said Martin. " I wish it were mine 
 instead. Is that all the mystery you were to tell me ? " 
 
 "No," said Tom: not all." 
 
 " What's the rest ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " For the matter of that," said Tom, " it's no mystery, and 
 you won't think much of it ; but it's veiy pleasant to me. 
 John always used to say when he was here, ' Mark my words, 
 Pinch. When my father's executors cash up ' — he used strange 
 expressions now and then, but that was his way." 
 
 " Cash-up's a very good expression," observed Martin, 
 "when other people don't apply it to you. Well? What a 
 slow fellow you are, Pinch ! ''
 
 202 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Yes, I am I know," said Tom ; " but you'll make me 
 nervous if you tell me so. I'm afraid you have put me out a 
 little now, for I forget what I was going to say." 
 
 " When John's father's executors cashed up," said Martin 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Oh yes, to be sure," cried Tom; "yes. 'Then,' says 
 John, ' I'll give you a dinner, Pinch, and come down to Salis- 
 bury on purpose.' Now, when John wrote the other day — 
 the morning Pecksniff left, you know — he said his business 
 was on the point of being immediately settled, and as he was 
 to receive his money directly, when could I meet him at Salis- 
 bury- } I wrote and said, any day this week ; and I told him 
 besides, that there was a new pupil here, and what a fine 
 fellow you were, and what friends we had become. Upon 
 which John writes back this letter " — Tom produced it — "fixes 
 to-morrow ; sends his compliments to you ; and begs that we 
 three may have the pleasure of dining together; not at the 
 house where you and I were, either ; but at the very first hotel 
 in the town. Read what he says." 
 
 " Very well," said Martin, glancing over it with his cus- 
 tomary coolness : " much obliged to him. Vm agreeable.' ' 
 
 Tom could have wished him to be a little more astonished, 
 a little more pleased, or in some form or other a little more 
 interested m such a great event. But he was perfectly self- 
 possessed : and falling into his favorite solace of whistling, 
 took another turn at the grammar-school, as if nothing at all 
 had happened. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff's horse being regarded in the light of a sacred 
 animal, only to be driven by him, the chief priest of that temple, 
 or by some person distinctly nominated for the time being to 
 that high office by himself, the two young men agreed to walk 
 to Salisbury ; and so, when the time came, they set off on 
 foot ; which was, after all, a better mode of travelling than in 
 the gig, as the weather was very cold and very dry. 
 
 Better ! A rare strong, hearty, healthy walk — four statute 
 miles an hour — preferable to that rumbling, tumbling, jolting, 
 shaking, scraping, creaking, villanous old gig 1 Why, the two 
 things "will not admit of comparison. It is an insult to the 
 walk, to set them side by side. Where is an instance of a gig 
 having ever circulated a man's blood, unless wnen, putting him 
 in danger of his neck, it awakened in his veins and in his ears, 
 and all along his spine, a tingling heat, much more peculiar 
 than agreeable ? When did a gig ever sharpen anybody's wits
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 2 03 
 
 and energies, unless it was when the horse bolted, and, crash- 
 ing madly down a steep hill with a stone wall at the bottom, 
 his desperate circumstances suggested to the onl}^ gentleman 
 left inside, some novel and unheard-of mode of dropping out 
 behind ? Better than the gig ! 
 
 The air was cold, Tom ; so it was, there was no denying 
 it ; but would it have been more genial in the gig ? The black- 
 smith's fire burned very brignt, and leaped up high, as though 
 it wanted men to warm ; but would it have been less tempting, 
 looked at from the clantmy cushions of a gig ? The wind blew 
 keenly, nipping the features of the hardy wight who fought his 
 way along ; blinding him with his own hair if he had enough 
 of it, and wintry dust if he hadn't ; stopping his breath as 
 though he had b,een soused in a cold bath ; tearing aside his 
 wrappings-up, and whistling m the ver\' marrow of his bones \ 
 but it would have done all this a hundred times more fiercely 
 to a man in a gig, wouldn't it ? A fig for gigs ! 
 
 Better than the gig ! When were travellers by wheels and 
 hoofs seen with such red-hot cheeks as those ? when were 
 they so good humoredly and merrily bloused ? when did their 
 laughter ring upon the air, as they turned them round, what 
 time the stronger gviests came sweeping up ; and, facing round 
 again as they passed by, dashed on, in such a glow of ruddy 
 health as nothing could keep pace with, but the high 
 spirits it engendered ? Better than the gig ! Why, here is a 
 man in a gig coming the same way now. Look at him as he 
 passes his whip into his left hand, chafes his numbed right 
 fingers on his granite leg, and beats those marble toes of his 
 upon the foot-board. Ha, ha, ha ! Who would exchange this 
 rapid hurry of the blood for yonder stagnant misery, though 
 its pace were twenty miles for one ? 
 
 Better than the gig ! No man in a gig could have such 
 interest in the milestones. No man in a gig could see, or 
 feel, or think, like merry users of their legs. How, as the 
 wind sweeps on, upon these breezy downs, it tracks its flight 
 in darkening ripples on the grass, and smoothest shadows on 
 the hills ! Look round and round upon this bare bleak plain, 
 and see even here, upon a winter's day, how beautiful the 
 shadows are ! x^las ! it is the nature of their kind to be so. 
 The loveliest things in life, Tom. are but shadows ; and they 
 come and go, and change and fade away, as rapidly as these ! 
 
 Another mile, and then begins a fall of snow, making the 
 crow, who skims away so close above the ground to shirk the
 
 2 04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 wind, a blot of ink upon tlie landscape. But though it drives 
 and drifts against them as they walk, stiffening on their skirts, 
 and freezing in the lashes of their eyes, they wouldn't have it 
 fall more sparingly, no, not so much as by a single flake, al- 
 though they had to go a score of miles. And, lo ! the towers 
 of the Old Cathedral rise before them, even now ! and by and 
 by they come into the sheltered streets, made strangely silent 
 by their white carpet ; and so to the Inn for which they are 
 bound ; where they present such flushed and burning faces to 
 the cold waiter, and are so brimful 6f vigor, that he almost 
 feels assaulted by their presence ; and, having nothing to op- 
 pose to the attack (being fresh, or rather stale, from the 
 blazing fire in the coffee-room), is quite put out of his pale 
 countenance. 
 
 A famous Inn ! the hall a very grove of dead game, and 
 dangling joints of mutton ; and in one corner an illustrious 
 larder, with glass doors, developing cold fowls and noble joints, 
 and tarts wherein the raspberr\' jam coyly withdrew itself, as 
 such a precious creature should, behind a lattice work of pastry. 
 And behold, on the first floor, at the court-end of the house, 
 in a room with all the window-curtains drawn, a fire piled half- 
 way up the chimney, plates warming before it, wax candles 
 gleaming everywhere, and a table spread for three, with sih^er 
 and glass enough for thirty — John Westlock ! Not the old 
 John of Pecksniff's, but a proper gentleman ; looking another 
 and a grander person, with the consciousness of being his own 
 master and having money in the bank : and yet in some re- 
 spects the old John too, for he seized Tom Pinch by both his 
 hands the instant he appeared, and fairly hugged him, in his 
 cordial welcome. 
 
 " And this," said John, " is Mr. Chuzzlewit. I am very 
 glad to see him! " John had an off-hand manner of his own ; 
 so they shook hands warmly, and were friends in no time. 
 
 " Stand off a moment, Tom," cried the old pupil, laying 
 one hand on each of Mr. Pinch's shoulders, and holding him 
 out at arm's length. " Let me look at you ! Just the same ! 
 Not a bit changed ! " 
 
 ".Why, it's not so very long ago, you know," said Tom 
 Pinch, "after all." 
 
 " It seems an age to me," cried John \ " and so it ought to 
 seem to you, you dog." And then he pushed Tom down into 
 the easiest chair, and clapped him on the back so heartily, and 
 so like his old self in their old bed-room at old Pecksniff's that
 
 MARTIX CIIUZZLEIVIT. 205 
 
 it was a toss-up with Tom Pinch whether he should laugh or 
 cry. Laughter won it ; and they all three laughed together. 
 
 " I have ordered everything for dinner, that we used to 
 say we'd have, Tom," observed John Westlock. 
 
 " No ! " said Tom Pinch, " Have you ? " 
 
 " Everything. Don't laugh, if you can help it, before the 
 waiters. / couldn't when 1 was ordering it. It's like a 
 dream." 
 
 John was wrong there, because nobody ever dreamed such 
 soup as was put upon the table directly afterwards ; or such 
 fish J or such side-dishes ; or such a top and bottom ; or such 
 a course of birds and sweets ; or in short anything approach- 
 ing the reality of that entertainment at ten-and-sixpence a head, 
 exclusive of win.ps. As to them, the man who can dream such 
 iced champagne, such claret, port, or sl^erry, had better go to 
 bed and stop there. 
 
 JJut perhaps the finest feature of the banquet was, that 
 nobody was half so much amazed by every thing as John him- 
 self, who in his high delight, was constantly bursting into 
 fits of laughter, and then endeavoring to appear preternatur- 
 ally solemn, lest the waiters should conceive he wasn't used 
 to it. Some of the things they brought him to carve, were 
 such outrageous practical jokes, though, that it was impossible 
 to stand it ; and when Tom Pinch insisted, in spite of the de- 
 ferential advice of an attendant, not only breaking down the 
 outer wall of a raised pie with a tablespoon, but on trying to 
 eat it afterwards, John lost all dignity, and sat behind the 
 gorgeous dish-cover at the head of the table, roaring to that 
 extent that he was audible in the kitchen. Nor had he the 
 least objection to laugh at himself, as he demonstrated when 
 they had all three gathered round the fire, and the dessert 
 was on the table ; at which period, the head waiter inquired 
 with respectful solicitude whether that port, being a light and 
 tawny wine, was suited to his taste, or whether he would wisii 
 to try a fruity port with greater body. To this John gravely 
 answered that he was well satisfied with what he had, which 
 he esteemed, as one might say, a pretty tidy vintage : for 
 which the waiter thanked him and withdrew. And then John 
 told his friends, with a broad grin, that he supposed it was all 
 right, but he didn't know ; and went off into a perfect shout. 
 
 They were very merry and full of enjoyment the whole 
 time, but not the least pleasant part of the festival was when 
 they all three sat about the fire, cracking nuts, drinking wine,
 
 2o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 and talking cheerfully. It happened that Tom Pinch had a 
 word to say to his friend the organist's assistant, and so de- 
 serted his warm corner for a few minutes at this season, lest 
 it should grow too late ; leaving the other two young men 
 together. 
 
 They drank his health in his absence, of course ; and John 
 Westlock took that opportunity of saying, that he had never 
 had even a peevish word with Tom during the whole term 
 of their residence in Mr. Pecksniff's house. This naturally 
 led him to dwell upon Tom's character, and to hint that Mr. 
 Pecksniff understood it pretty well. He only hinted this, and 
 very distantly : knowing that it pained Tom Pinch to have 
 that gentleman disparaged, and thinking it would be as well 
 to leave the new pupil to his own discoveries. 
 
 " Yes," said Mactin. " It's impossible to like Pinch 
 better than I do, or to do greater justice to his good qualities. 
 He is the most willing fellow I ever saw." 
 
 " He's rather too willing," observed John, who was quick 
 in observation. " It's quite a fault in him." 
 
 " So It is," said Martin. " Very true. There was a fellow 
 only a week or so ago — a Mr. Tigg — who borrowed all the 
 money he had, on a promise to repay it in a few days. It 
 was but half a sovereign, to be sure ; but it's well it was no 
 more, for he'll never see it again." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said John, who had been very attentive to 
 these few words. " Perhaps you have not had an opportunity 
 of observing that, in his own pecuniary transactions, Tom's 
 proud." 
 
 " You don't say so ! No, I haven't. What do you mean ? 
 Won't he borrow ? " 
 
 John Westlock shook his head. 
 
 " That's very odd," said Martin, setting down his empty 
 glass. " He's a strange compound, to be sure." 
 
 "As to receiving money as a gift," resumed John West- 
 lock ; " I think he'd die first." 
 
 " He's made up of simplicity," said Martin. " Help 
 yourself." 
 
 " You, however," pursued John, filling his own glass, and 
 looking at liis companion with some curiosity, "who are older 
 than the majority of Mr. Pecksniff's assistants, and have evi- 
 dently had much more experience, understand him, I have no 
 doubt, and see how liable he is to be imposed upon. 
 
 "Certainly," said Marun, stretching out his legs, and
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 207 
 
 holding his wine between his eye and the light. " Mr. Peck- 
 sniff knows that too. So do his daughters. Eh ? " 
 
 John Westlock smiled, but made no answer. 
 
 " By the bye," said Martin, " that reminds me. What's 
 your opinion of Pecksniff' } How did he use you ? What 
 do you think of him now ? Coolly, you know, when it's all 
 over? " 
 
 " Ask Pinch," returned the old pupil. " He knows what 
 my sentiments used to be upon the subject. They are not 
 changed, 1 assure you-" 
 
 " No, no," said Martin, " I'd rather have them from you. 
 
 "But Pinch says they are unjust," urged John with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Oh ! well ? ,. Then I know what course they take before 
 hand," said Martin ; " and, therefore, you can have no deli- 
 cacy in speaking plainly. Don't mind me, I beg. I don't 
 like him, I tell you frankly. I am with him because it happens 
 from particular circumstances to suit my convenience. I have 
 some ability, I believe, in that way ; and the obligation, if any, 
 will most likely be on his side and not mine. At the lowest 
 mark, the balance will be even, and there'll be no obligation 
 at all. So you may talk to mc, as \i 1 had no connection with 
 him." 
 
 " If you press me to give my opinion " — returned John 
 Westlock. 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Martin. " You'll oblige me." 
 
 " — I should say," resumed the other, "that he is the 
 most consummate scoundrel on the face of the earth." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Martin, as coolly as ever. " That's rather 
 strong." 
 
 "Not stronger than he deserves," said John ; " and if he 
 called upon me to express my opinion of him to his face, I 
 would do so in the very same terms, without the least qualiii- 
 cation. His treatment of Pinch is in itself enough to justify 
 them ; but when I look back upon the five years I passed in 
 that house, and remember the hypocrisy, the knavery, the 
 meannesses, the false pretences, the lip service of that fellow, 
 and his trading in saintly semblances for the very worst 
 realities ; when I remember how often I was the witness of 
 all this, and how often I was made a kind of party to it, by 
 the fact of being there, with him for my teacher ; 1 swear to 
 you, that I almost despise myself." 
 
 Martin drained his glass, and looked at the fire.
 
 2o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I don't mean to say, that is a right feeUng," pursued 
 John Westlock, " because it was no fault of mine ; and I can 
 quite understand — you, for instance, fully appreciating him, 
 and yet being forced by circumstances to remain there. I tell 
 you simply what my feeling is, and even now, when, as you 
 say, it's all over ; and when I have the satisfaction of knowing 
 that he always hated me, and we always quarrelled, and I 
 always told him my mind ; even now, I feel sorry that I didn't 
 yield to an impulse I often had, as a boy, of running away 
 from him and going abroad." 
 
 " Why abroad ? " asked Martin, turning his eyes upon the 
 speaker. 
 
 " In search," replied John Westlock, shrugging his 
 shoulders, " of the livelihood I couldn't have earned at home. 
 There would have been something spirited in that. But, 
 come ! Fill your glass, and let us forget him." 
 
 " As soon as you please," said Martin. " In reference to 
 myself and my connection with him, I have only to repeat 
 what I said before. I have taken my own way with him so 
 far, and shall continue to do so, even more than ever ; for the 
 fact is, to tell you the truth, that I believe he looks to me to 
 supply his defects, and couldn't afford to lose me. I had a 
 notion of that, in first going there. Your health ! " 
 
 " Thank you," returned young Westlock. " Yours. And 
 may the new pupil turn out as well as you can desire ! " 
 
 '" What new pupil ? " 
 
 " The fortunate youth, born under an auspicious star," 
 returned John Westlock, laughing ; " whose parents, or guard- 
 ians, are destined to be hooked by the advertisement. What ! 
 Don't you know that he has advertised again ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Oh, yes. I read it just before dinner in the old news- 
 paper. I know it to be his ; having some reason to remember 
 the style. Hush ! Here's Pinch. Strange, is it not, that the 
 more he likes Pecksniff (if he can like him better than he 
 does), the greater reason one has to like him ? Not a word 
 more, or we shall spoil his whole enjoyment." 
 
 Tom entered as the words were spoken, with a radiant 
 smile upon his face ; and rubbing his hands, more from a 
 sense of delight than because he was cold (for he had been 
 running fast), sat down in his warm corner again, and was as 
 happy as only Tom Pinch could be. There is no other simile 
 that will express his state of mind.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2og 
 
 " And so," he said, when he had gazed at his friend for 
 some time in silent pleasure, " so you really are a gentleman 
 at last, John. Well, to be sure ! " 
 
 " Trying to be, Tom ; trying to be," he rejoined good- 
 humoredly. " There is no sa}'ing what I may turn out, in 
 time." 
 
 ",I suppose you wouldn't carry your own box to the mail 
 now ? " said Tom Pinch, smiling : " although you lost it alto- 
 gether by not taking it." 
 
 "Wouldn't I?" retorted John. "That's all you know 
 about it, Pinch. It must be a very heavy box that I wouldn't 
 carry to get away from Pecksniff's, Tom." 
 
 " There ! " cried Pinch, turning to Martin, " I told you so. 
 The great fault in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff. 
 You mustn't mind a word he says on that subject. His 
 prejudice is most extraordinary." 
 
 " The absence of anything like prejudice on Tom's part, 
 you know," said John Westlock, laughing heartily, as he laid 
 his hand on Mr. Pinch's shoulder, " is perfectly wonderful. 
 If one man ever had a profound knowledge of another, and 
 saw him in a true light, and in his own proper colors, Tom 
 has that knowledge of Mr, Pecksniff," 
 
 "Why, of course I have," cried Tom. "That's exactly 
 what I have so often said to you. If you knew him as well 
 as I do — John, I'd give almost any money to bring that about 
 — ^you'd- admire, respect, and reverence him. You couldn't 
 help it. Oh, how you wounded his feelings when you went 
 away ! " 
 
 " If I had known whereabout his feelings lay," retorted 
 young Westlock, " I'd have done my best, Tom, with that end 
 in view, you may depend upon it. But as I couldn't wound 
 him in what he lias not, and in what he knows nothing of, 
 except in his ability to prol^e them to the quick in other 
 people, I am afraid I can lay no claim to your compliment." 
 
 Mr. Pinch, being unwilling to protract a discussion which 
 might possibly corrupt Martin, fore bore to say anything in re- 
 ply to this speech ; but John Westlock, whom nothing short of 
 an iron gag would have silenced wdien Mr. Pecksniff's merits 
 were once in question, continued nothwithstanding. 
 
 " i^/i- feelings ! Oh, he's a tender-hearted man. ///.<• feel- 
 ings ! Oh, he's a considerate, conscientious, self-exami.iing, 
 moral vagabond, he is ! His feelings ! Oh ! — what's the mat- 
 ter, Tom .? " 14
 
 2IO MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug, 
 buttoning his coat with great energy. 
 
 " I can't bear it," said Tom, shaking his head. " No. I 
 really cannot. You must excuse me, John. I have a great 
 esteem and friendship for you ; I love you very much ; and 
 have been perfectly cliarmed and over-joyed to-day, to find 
 you just the same as ever ; but I cannot listen to this.", 
 
 '• Why, it's my old way, Tom ; and you say yourself that 
 you are glad to find me unchanged." 
 
 " Not in this respect," said Tom Pinch. " You must ex- 
 cuse me John. I cannot, really ; I will not. It's very wrong ; 
 you should be more guarded in your expressions. It was bad 
 enough when you and I used to be alone together, but under 
 existing circumstances, I can't endure it, really. No. I can- 
 not, indeed." 
 
 *' You are quite right ! " exclaimed the other, exchanging 
 looks with Martin ; " and I quite wrong, Tom. I don't know 
 how the deuce we fell on this unlucky theme. I beg your par- 
 don with all my heart." 
 
 " You have a free and manly temper, I know," said Pinch ; 
 " and therefore, your being so ungenerous in this one solitary 
 instance, only grieves me the more. It's not my pardon you 
 have to ask, John. You have done me nothing but kindnesses." 
 
 "Well! Pecksniff's pardon, then," said young Westlock. 
 " Anything, Tom, or anybody. Pecksniff's pardon. Will that 
 do .'' Here ! let us drink Pecksniff's health ! " 
 
 "Thank you," cried Tom, shaking hands with him eagerly, 
 and filling a bumper. " Thank you ; I'll drink it with all my 
 heart, John. Mr. Pecksniff's health, and prosperity to him ! " 
 
 John Westlock echoed the sentiment, or nearly so ; for he 
 drank Mr Pecksniff's health, and something to him : but what, 
 was not quite audible. The general unanimity being then 
 completely restored, they drew their chairs closer round the 
 fire, and conversed in perfect harmony and enjoyment until 
 bed-time. 
 
 No slight circumstance, perhaps, could have better illus- 
 trated the difference of character between John Westlock and 
 Martin Chuzzlewit, than the manner in which each of the 
 young men contemplated Tom Pinch, after the little rupture 
 just described. There was a certain amount of jocularity in 
 the looks of both, no doubt, but there all resemblance ceased. 
 The old pupil could not do enough to show Tom how cordially 
 he felt towards him, and his friendly regard seemed of a graver 
 
 I
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 i £ 
 
 and more thoughtful kind than before. The new one, on the 
 other hand, had no impulse but to laugh at the recollection 
 of Tom's extreme absurdity ; and mingled with his amuse- 
 ment there was something slighting and contemptuous, indi- 
 cative, as it appeared, of his opinion that Mr Pinch was much 
 too far gone iu simplicity, to be admitted as the friend, on seri- 
 ous and equal terms, of any rational man. 
 
 John Westlock, who did nothing by halves, if he could 
 help it, had provided beds for his two guests in the hotel ; and 
 after a very happy evening, they retired.- Mr. Pinch was 
 sitting on the side of his bed with his cravat and shoes off, 
 ruminating on the manifold good qualities of his old friend, 
 when he was interrupted by a knock at his chamber door, and 
 the voice of Johi> himself. 
 
 " You are not asleep yet, are you, Tom ? " 
 
 " Bless you, no ! not I, I was thinking of you," replied 
 Tom, opening the door. " Come in." 
 
 "I am not going to detain you," said John ; "but I have 
 forgotten all the evening a little commission I took upon my 
 self ; and I am afraid I may forget it again, if 1 fail to dis- 
 charge it at once. You know a Mr. Tigg, Tom, I believe ? " 
 
 " Tigg ! " cried Tom. " Tigg ! The gentleman who bor^ 
 rowed some money of me ? " 
 
 " Exactly," said John Westlock. " He begged me to pre- 
 sent his compliments, and to return it with many thanks. 
 Here it is. I suppose it's a good one, but he is rather a doubt- 
 ful kind of customer, Tom." 
 
 Mr. Pinch received the little piece of gold, with a face 
 whose brightness might have shamed the metal ; and said he 
 had no fear about that. He was glad, he added, to find Mr. 
 Tigg so prompt and honorable in his dealings ; ver)' glad. 
 
 "Why, to tell you the truth, Tom," replied his friend, "he 
 is not always so. If you '11 take my advice, you'll avoid him 
 as much as you can, in the event of your encountering him 
 again. And by no means, Tom — pray bear this in mind, for 
 I am very serious — by no means lend him money any more." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " said Tom, with his eyes wide open. 
 
 " He is very far from being a reputable acquaintance," re- 
 turned young Westlock ; " and the more you let him know 
 you think so, the better for you, Tom." 
 
 " I say, John," quoth Mr. Pinch, as his countenance ffll, 
 and he shook his head in a dejected manner, " 1 hope you 
 are not getting into bad company."
 
 212 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 *' No, no," he replied laughing. " Don't be uneasy on 
 that score." 
 
 " Oh but I am uneasy," said Tom Pinch ; " I can't help it, 
 Avhen I hear you talking in that way.' If Mr. Tigg is what 
 you describe him to be, you have no business to know him, 
 John. You may laugh, but I don't consider it by any means 
 a laughing matter, I assure you." 
 
 "No, no," returned his friend, composing his features. 
 " Quite right. It is not, certainly." 
 
 " You know, John," said Mr. Pinch, " your very good na- 
 ture and kindness of heart make you thoughtless ; and you 
 can't be too careful on such a point as this. Upon my word, 
 if 1 thought you were falling among bad companions, i should 
 be quite wretched, for I know how difficult you would find 
 it to shake them off. I would much rather have lost this 
 money, John, than I would have had it back again on such 
 terms." 
 
 " I tell you, my dear good old fellow," cried his friend, shak- 
 ing him to and fro with both hands, and smiling at him 
 with a cheerful, open countenance, that M'ould have car- 
 ried conviction to a mind much more suspicious than Tom's ; 
 *' I tell you there is no danger." 
 
 " Well ! " cried Tom, " I am glad to hear it ; I am over- 
 joyed to hear it. I am sure there is not, when you say so in 
 that manner. You won't take it ill, John, that I said what I 
 did iust now ! " 
 
 " 111 ! " said the other, giving his hand a hearty squeeze ; 
 " why what do you think I am made of .'' Mr. Tigg and I are 
 not on such an intimate footing that you need be at all un- 
 easy, I give you my solemn assurance of that, Tom. You are 
 quite comfortable now .'' " 
 
 " Quite," said Tom. 
 
 "Then once more, good-night ! " 
 
 " Good-night !" cried Tom ;" and such pleasant dreams 
 to you, as should attend the sleep of the best fellow in the 
 world ! " 
 
 " — Except Pecksniff," said his friend, stopping at the door, 
 for a moment, and looking gayly back. 
 
 "Except Pecksniff," answered Tom, with great gravity: 
 "of course." 
 
 And thus they parted for the night ; John Westlock full of 
 light-heartedness and good humor, and poor Tom Pinch quite 
 satisfied ; though still, as he turned over on his side in bed,
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 1 3 
 
 he muttered to 'himself, " I really do wish, for all that, 
 though, that he wasn't acquainted with Mr. Tigg." 
 
 They breakfasted together very early next morning, for the 
 two young men desired to get back again in good season ; and 
 John Westlock was to return to London by the coach that 
 day. As he had some hours to spare, he bore them company 
 for three or four miles on their walk, and only parted from 
 them at last in sheer necessity. The parting was an unusually 
 hearty one, not only as between him and Tom Pinch, but on 
 the side of Martin also, who had found in the old pupil a very 
 dil^erent sort of person from the milksop he had prepared 
 himself to expect. 
 
 Young Westlock stopped upon a rising ground, when he 
 had gone a little distance, and looked back. They were walk- 
 ing at a brisk pace, and Tom appeared to be talking earnestly. 
 Martin had taken off his great-coat, the wind being now be- 
 hind them, and carried it upon his arm. As he looked, he 
 saw Tom relieve him of it, after a faint resistance, and, throw- 
 ing it upon his own, encumber himself with the weight of both. 
 This trivial incident impressed the old pupil mightily, for he 
 stood there, gazing after them, until they were hidden from 
 his view; when he shook his head, as if he were troubled by 
 some uneasy reflection, and thoughtfully retraced his steps to 
 Salisbury. 
 
 In the meantime, Martin and Tom pursued their way, until 
 they halted, safe and sound, at Mr. Pecksniff's house, where a 
 brief epistle from that good gentleman to Mr. Pinch, an- 
 nounced the family's return by that night's coach. As it 
 would pass the corner of the lane at about six o'clock in the 
 morning, Mr. Pecksniff requested that the gig might be in 
 waiting at the finger-post about that time, together with a cart 
 for the luggage. And to the end that he might be received 
 with the greater honor, the young men agreed to rise early, 
 and be upon the spot themselves. 
 
 It was the least cheerful day they had yet passed together. 
 Martin was out of spirits and out of humor, and took ever}' 
 opportunity of comparing his condition and prospects with 
 those of young Westlock : much to his own disadvantage 
 always. This mood of his depressed Tom : and neither that 
 morning's parting, nor yesterday's dinner, helped to mend the 
 matter. So the hours dragged on heavily enough ; and they 
 were glad to go to bed early. 
 
 They were not quite so glad to get up again at half-past
 
 214 MARTIN CIJUZZLEWIT. 
 
 four o'clock, in all the shivering discomfort of a dark winter's 
 morning ; but they turned out punctually, and were at the 
 finger-post full iialf-an-hour before the appointed time. It 
 was not by any means a lively morning, for the sky was black 
 and cloudy, and it rained hard ; but Martin said there was 
 some satisfaction in seeing that brute of a horse (by this, he 
 meant Mr. Pecksniff's Arab steed) getting very wet ; and that 
 he rejoiced, on his account, that it rained so fast. From this 
 it may be inferred, that Martin's spirits had not improved, as 
 mdeed they had not ; for while he and Mr. Pinch stood wait- 
 ing under a hedge, looking at the rain, the gig, the cart, and 
 Its reeking driver, he did nothing but grumble , and, but that 
 it is indispensable to any dispute that there should be two 
 parties to it, he would certainly have picked a quarrel with 
 Tom. 
 
 At length the noise of wheels was faintly audible in the 
 distance, and presently the coach came splashing through the 
 mud and mire, with one miserable outside passenger crouch- 
 ing down among wet straw, under a saturated umbrella ; and 
 the coachman, guard, and horses, in a fellowship of dripping 
 wretchedness. Immediately on its stopping, Mr. Pecksniff let 
 down the window-glass and hailed Tom Pinch. 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Pinch ! Is it possible that you are out 
 upon this very inclement morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," cried Tom, advancing eagerly, " Mr. Chuzzle- 
 wit and I, sir." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, looking, not so much at Martin 
 as at the spot on which he stood. " Oh ! Indeed ! Do me 
 the favor to see to the trunks, if you please, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 Then Mr. Pecksniff descended, and helped his daughters 
 to alight ; but neither he nor the young ladies took the 
 slightest notice of Martin, who had advanced to offer his 
 assistance, but was repulsed by Mr. Pecksniff's standing 
 immediately before his person, with his back towards him. In 
 the same manner, and in profound silence, Mr. Pecksniff 
 handed his daughters into the gig ; and following himself and 
 taking the reins, drove off home. 
 
 Lost in astonishment, Martin stood staring at the coach, 
 and when the coach had driven awav, at Mr. Pinch and the 
 luggage, until the cart moved off too ; when he said to Tom : 
 
 " Now will you have the goodness to tell me what this 
 portends .'' "• 
 
 " What ? " asked Tom.
 
 MA A' TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 215 
 
 " This fellow's behavior. Mr. Pecksniff's, I mean. You 
 saw it t " 
 
 " No. Indeed 1 did not," cried Tom. " I was busy with 
 the trunks." 
 
 " It is no matter," said Martin. "Come! Let us make 
 haste back." And without another word he started off at 
 such a pace, that Tom had some difficulty in keeping up with 
 him. 
 
 He had no care where he went, but walked through little 
 heaps of mud and little pools of water with the utmost in- 
 difference ; looking straight before him,, and sometimes laugh- 
 ing in a strange manner within himself. Tom felt that anything 
 he could say would only render him the more obstinate, and 
 therefore trusted to Mr. Pecksniff's manner when they 
 reached the house, to remove the mistaken impression under 
 which he felt convinced so great a favorite as the new pupil 
 must unquestionably be laboring. But he was not a little 
 amazed himself, \vhen they did reach it, and entered the 
 parlor where Mr. Pecksniff' was sitting alone before the fire, 
 drinking some hot tea, to find, that instead of taking favorable 
 notice of his relative, and keeping him, Mr. Pinch, in the 
 background, he did exactly the reverse, and was so lavish in 
 his attentions to Tom, that Tom was thoroughly confounded. 
 
 "Take some tea, Mr. Pinch, take some tea," said Peck- 
 sniff, stirring the fire. " You must be very cold and damp. 
 Pray take some tea, and come into a warm place, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 Tom saw that Martin looked at Mr. Pecksniff as though 
 he could have easily found it in his heart to give him an 
 invitation to a very warm place ; but he was quite silent, and 
 standing opposite that gentleman at the table, regarded him 
 attentively. 
 
 " Take a chair, Pinch," said Pecksniff. "Take a chair, if 
 you please. How have things gone on in our absence, Mr. 
 Pinch ? " 
 
 " You — you will be very much pleased with the griunmar 
 school, sir," said Tom. " It's nearly finished." 
 
 " If you will have the goodness, Mr. Pinch," said Peck- 
 sniff, waving his hand and smiling, "we will not discuss any- 
 thing connected with that question at present. What have 
 you been doing, Thomas, humph ? " 
 
 Mr. Pinch looked from master to pupil, and from pupil to 
 master, and was so perplexed and dismayed, that he wanted 
 presence of mind to answer the question. In this awkward
 
 2 1 6 ^''^■^ A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 interval, Mr. Pecksniff (who was perfectly conscious of 
 Martin's gaze, though he had never once glanced towards 
 him) poked the fire very much, and when he couldn't do that 
 any more, drank tea assiduously. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Pecksniff," said Martin at last, in a very quiet 
 voice, " if you have sufficiently refreshed and recovered your- 
 self, I shall be glad to hear what you mean by this treatment 
 of me." 
 
 " And what," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning his eyes on Tom 
 Pinch, even more placidly and gently than before, " what have 
 you been doing, Thomas, humph ? " 
 
 When he had repeated this inquiry, he looked round the 
 walls of the room as if he were curious to see whether any 
 nails had been left there by accident in former times. 
 
 Tom was almost at his wit's ends what to say between the 
 two, and had already made a gesture as if he would call Mr. 
 Pecksniff's attention to the gentleman who had last addressed 
 Inm, when Martin saved him further trouble, by doing so him- 
 self. 
 
 " Mr. Pecksniff," he said, softly rapping the table twice 
 or thrice, and moving a step or two nearer, so that he could 
 have touched him with his hand ; " you heard what I said 
 just now. Do me the favor to reply, if you please. I ask 
 you : " he raised his voice a little here : " what do you mean 
 
 ? 
 
 by thi 
 
 " I will talk to you, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff in a severe 
 voice, as he looked at him for the first time, " presently." 
 
 "You are veiy obliging," returned Martin; "presently 
 will not do. I must trouble you to talk to me at once." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff made a feint of being deeply interested in 
 his pocket-book, but it shook in his hands ; he trembled so. 
 
 "Now," retorted Martin, rapping the table again. "Now. 
 Presently will not do. Now ! " 
 
 "Do you threaten me, sir? " cried Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 Martin looked at him, and made no answer ; but a curi- 
 ous observer might have detected an ominous twitching at his 
 mouth, and perhaps an involuntary attraction of his right 
 hand in the direction of Mr. Pecksniff's cravat. 
 
 " I lament to be obliged to say, sir," resumed Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, "that it would be quite in keeping with your character 
 if you did threaten me. You have deceived me. You have 
 imposed upon a nature which you knew to be confiding and 
 unsuspicious. You have obtained admission, sir," said Mr.
 
 MARTIN CnUZZLEWIT. 
 
 217 
 
 Pecksniff rising, " to this house, on perverted statements, and 
 on false f)retences." 
 
 "Goon," said Martin, with a scornful smile. "I under- 
 stand you now. What more .'' " 
 
 " I'hus much more, sir," cried Mr. Pecksniff, trembling 
 from head to foot, and trjdng to rub his hands, as though he 
 were only cold. "Thus much more, if you force me to pub- 
 lish your shame before a third party, which I was unwilling 
 and indisposed to do. This lowly roof, sir, must not be con- 
 taminated by the presence of one, who has deceived, and 
 cruelly deceived, an honorable, beloved, venerated, and vener- 
 able gentleman ; and who wisely suppressed that deceit from 
 me when he sought my protection and favor knowing that, 
 humble as I am, \ am an honest man, seeking to do my duty 
 in this carnal universe, and setting my face against all vice 
 and treachery. I weep for your depravity, sir," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff ; " I mourn over your corruption, I pity your volun- 
 tary withdrawal of yourself from the flowery paths of purity 
 and peace ; " here he struck himself upon his breast, or moral 
 garden ; " but I cannot have a leper and a serpent for an in- 
 mate. Oo forth," said Mr. Pecksniff, stretching out his hand : 
 "go forth, young man ! Like all who know you, I renounce 
 you ! 
 
 With what intention Martin made a stride forward at these 
 words, it is impossible to say. It is enough to know that Tom 
 Pinch caught him in his arms, and that, at the same moment, 
 Mr. Pecksniff stepped back so hastily, that he missed his foot- 
 ing, tumbled over a chair, and fell in a sitting posture on the 
 ground ; where he remained without an effort to get up again, 
 with Ms head ni a corner ; perhaps considering it the safest 
 place. 
 
 " Let me go. Pinch ! " cried Martin, shaking him away. 
 " Why do you hold me ? Do you think a blow could make 
 him a more abject creature than he is.'' Do you think that if 
 I spat upon him, I could degrade him to a lower level than 
 his own? Look at him. Look at him. Pinch ! " 
 
 Mr. Pinch involuntarily did so. Mr. Pecksniff sitting, as 
 has been already mentioned, on the carpet, with his head in 
 an acute angle of the wainscot, and all the damage and detri- 
 ment of an uncomfortable journey aljout him, was not exactly 
 a model of all that is prepossessing and dignified in man, cer- 
 tainly. Still he 7<yai' Pecksniff; it was impossible to deprive 
 him of that unique and paramount appeal to Tom. And he
 
 2 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 returned Tom's glance, as if he would have said, " Ay, Mr. 
 Pinch, look at me ! Here I am ! You know what J^e Poet 
 says about an honest man ; and an honest man is one of the 
 few great works that can be seen for nothing ! Look at me ! " 
 
 " I tell you," said Martin, " that as he lies there, disgraced, 
 bought, used ; a cloth for dirty hands, a mat for dirty feet, a 
 lying, fawning, servile hound, he is the very last and worst 
 among the vermin of the world. And mark me. Pinch ! The 
 day will come — he knows it : see it written on his face, while 
 I speak ! — when even you will find him out, and will know him 
 as I do, and as he knows I do. He renounce me ! Cast your 
 eyes on the Renouncer, Pinch, and be the wiser for the recol- 
 lection ! " 
 
 He pointed at him as he spoke, with unutterable contempt, 
 and flinging his hat upon his head, walked from the room and 
 from the house. He went so rapidly that he was already clear 
 of the village, when he heard Tom Pinch calling breathlessly 
 after him in the distance. 
 
 " Well ! what now ? " he said, when Tom came up. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " cried Tom, " are you going ? " 
 
 " Going ! " he echoed. " Going ! " 
 
 " 1 didn't so much mean that, as were you going now at 
 once, in this bad weather, on foot, without your clothes, with 
 no money 1 " cried Tom. 
 
 "Yes," he answered sternly, "I am." 
 
 "And where ? " cried Tom. " Oh where will you go ? " 
 
 "I don't know," he said. "Yes I do. I'll go to Amer- 
 ica ! " 
 
 " No, no," cried Tom, in a kind of agony. " Don't go 
 there. Pray don't ! Thmk better of it. Don't be so dread- 
 fully regardless of yourself. Don't go to America." 
 
 " My mind is made up," he said. " Your friend was right. 
 I'll go to America. God bless you, Pinch ! " 
 
 " Take this ! " cried Tom, pressing a book upon him in 
 great agitation. " I must make haste back, and can't say 
 anything I would. Heaven be with you. Look at the leaf I 
 have turned down. Good-by, good-by ! " 
 
 The simple fellow wrung him by the hand, with tears 
 stealing down his cheeks; and they parted hurriedly upon 
 their separate ways.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SHOWING WHAT BECAME OF MARTIN AND HIS DESPERATE 
 RESOLVE AFTER HE LEFT MR. PECKSNIFF'S HOUSE ; WHAT 
 PERSONS HE ENCOUNTERED ; WHAT ANXIETIES HE SUF- 
 FERED ; AND WHAT NEWS HE HEARD. 
 
 Carrying Tom Pinch's book quite unconsciously under his 
 arm, and not even buttoning his coat as a protection against 
 the heavy rain, Martin went doggedly forward at the same 
 quick pace, until he had passed the iinger-post, and was on 
 the high road to London. He slackened veiy little in his 
 speed even then, but he began to think, and look about him, 
 and to disengage his senses from the coil of angry passions 
 which hitherto had held them prisoner. 
 
 It must be confessed that, at that moment, he had no very 
 agreeable employment either for his moral or his physical per- 
 ceptions. The day was dawning from a patch of watery light 
 in the east, and sullen clouds came driving up before it, from 
 which the rain descended in a thick, wet mist. It streamed 
 from every twig and bramble in the hedge ; made little gullies 
 in the path ; ran down a hundred channels in the road ; and 
 punched innumerable holes into the face of every pond and 
 gutter. It fell with an oozy, slushy sound among the grass ; 
 and made a muddy kennel of every furrow in the ploughed 
 fields. No living creature was anywhere to be seen. The 
 prospect could hardly have been more desolate if animated 
 nature had been dissolved in water, and poured down upon 
 the earth again in that form. 
 
 The range of view within the solitary traveller, was quite 
 as cheerless as the scene without. Friendless and penniless ; 
 incensed to the last degree ; deeply wounded in his pride and 
 self-love ; full of independent schemes, and perfecdy destitute 
 of any means of realizing them ; his most vindictive enemy 
 might have been satisfied with the extent of his troubles. 'I o 
 add to his other miseries, he was by this time sensible of 
 being wet to the skin, and cold at his very heart. 
 
 In this deplorable condition, he remembered Mr. Pinch's 
 book ; more because it was rather troublesome to carry, than 
 from any hope of being comforted by that parting gift. He
 
 2 2 o ^^A A' TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 
 
 looked at the ding}' lettering on the back, and finding it to be 
 an odd volume of the " Bachelor of Salamanca," in the French 
 tongue, cursed Tom Pinch's folly, twenty limes. He was on 
 the point of throwing it away, in his ill-humor and \'e\ation, 
 when he bethought himself that Tom had referred him to a 
 leaf, turned down ; and opening it, at that place, that he might 
 have additional cause of complaint against him for supposing 
 that any cold scrap of the Bachelor's wisdom could cheer him 
 in such circumstances, found — 
 
 Well, well ! not much, but Tom's all. The half-sovereign. 
 He had wrapped it hastily in a piece of paper, and pinned it 
 to the leaf. These words were scrawled in pencil on the in- 
 side : " I don't want it, indeed. I should not know what to 
 do with it, if I had it." 
 
 There are some falsehoods, Tom, on which men mount, as 
 on bright wings, towards Heaven. There are some truths, 
 cold bitter taunting truths, wherein your worldly scholars are 
 very apt and punctual, which bind men down to earth with 
 leaden chains. Who would not rather have to fan him, in his 
 dying hour, the lightest feather of a falsehood such as thine, 
 than all the quills that have been plucked from the sharp por- 
 cupine, reproachful truth, since time began ! 
 
 Martin felt keenly for himself, and he felt this good deed 
 of I'om's keenly. After a few minutes it had the effect of 
 raising his spirits, and reminding him that he was not alto- 
 gether destitute, as he had left a fair stock of clothes behind 
 him, and wore a gold hunting-watch in his pocket. He found 
 a curious gratification, too, in thinking what a winning fellow 
 he must be to have made such an impression on Tom ; and in 
 reflecting how superior he was to Tom ; and how much more 
 likely to make his way in the world. Animated by these 
 thoughts, and strengthened in his design of endeavoring to 
 push his fortune in another country, he resolved to get to 
 London as a rallying-point, in the best way he could ; and to 
 lose no time about it. 
 
 He was ten good miles from the village made illustrious 
 by being the' abiding-place of Mr. Pecksniff, when he stopped 
 to breakfast at a little road-side ale-house ; and resting upon 
 a high-backed settle before the fire, pulled off his coat, and 
 hung it before the cheerful blaze, to dry. It was a ver}' dif- 
 ferent place from the last tavern in which he had regaled : 
 boasting no greater extent of accommodation than the brick- 
 floored kitchen yielded : but the mind so soon accommodates
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 221 
 
 itself to the necessities of the body, that this poor wagoner's 
 house-of-call, which he would have despised yesterday, became 
 now quite a choice hotel ; while his dish of eggs and bacon, 
 and his mug of beer, were not by any means the coarse fare 
 he had supposed, but fully bore out the inscription on the 
 window-shutter, which proclaimed those viands to be " Good 
 entertainment for Travellers." 
 
 He pushed away his empty plate ; and with a second mug 
 upon the hearth before him, looked thoughtfully at the fire 
 until his eyes ached. Then he looked at the highly^colored 
 scripture pieces on the wall, in little black frames like common 
 shaving-glasses, and saw how the Wise Men (with a strong 
 family likeness among them) worshipped in a pink manger ; 
 and how the Prodigal Son came home in red rags to a purple 
 father, and already feasted his imagination on a sea-green 
 calf. Then he glanced through the window at the falling rain, 
 coming down aslant upon the sign-post over against the house, 
 and overflowing the horse-trough ; and then he looked at the 
 fire again, and seejned to descry a doubly-distant London, re- 
 treating among the fragments of the burning wood. 
 
 He had repeated this process in just the same order, many 
 times, as if it were a matter of necessity, when the sound of 
 wheels called his attention to the window, out of its regular 
 turn ; and there he beheld a kind of Hglit van drawn by four 
 horses, and laden, as well as he could see (for it was covered 
 in), with corn and straw. The driver, who was aloncy stopped 
 at the door to water his team, and presently came stamping 
 and shaking the wet off his hat and coat, into the room where 
 Martin sat. 
 
 He was a red-faced burly young fellow ; smart in his way, 
 and with a crood-humored countenance. As he advanced 
 towards the fire, he touclied his shining forehead with the 
 forefinger of his stiff leather glove, by way of salutation ; and 
 said (rather unnecessarily) that it was an uncommon wet day. 
 
 " Very wet," said Martin. 
 
 " I don't know as ever 1 see a wetter." 
 
 " I never felt one," said Martin. 
 
 The driver glanced at Martin's soiled dress, and his damp 
 shirt sleeves, and his coat hung up to dry : and said, after a 
 pause, as he warmed his hands : 
 
 " You have been caught in il, sir ? " 
 
 "Yes," was the short re]jly. 
 
 " Out riding, maybe ? " said the driver.
 
 222 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I should have been, if I owned a horse ; but I don't," 
 returned Martin. 
 
 " That's bad," said the driver. 
 
 "And may be worse," said Martin. 
 
 Now the driver said " That's bad," not so much because 
 Martin didn't own a horse, as because he said he didn't with 
 aU the reckless desperation of his mood and circumstances, 
 and so left a great deal to be inferred. Martin put his hands 
 in his pockets and whistled, when he had retorted on the 
 driver : thus giving him to understand that he didn't care a 
 pin for Fortune ; that he was above pretending to be her 
 favorite when he was not ; and that he snapped his fingers at 
 her, the driver, and everybody else. 
 
 The driver looked at him stealthily for a minute or so ; and 
 in the pauses of his warming, whistled too. At length he 
 asked, as he pointed his thumb towards the road. 
 
 " Up or down .'' " 
 
 " Which is up ? " said Martin. 
 
 " London, of course," said the driver, 
 
 " Up then," said Martin. He tossed his head in a care- 
 less manner afterwards, as if he would have added, " Now 
 you know all about it ; " put his hands deeper into his pockets ; 
 changed his tune, and whistled a little louder. 
 
 " /'m going up," observed the driver ; " Hounslow, ten 
 miles this side London." 
 
 " Are you ? " cried Martin, stojDping short and looking at 
 him. 
 
 The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed 
 again, and answered, " Ay, to be sure he was." 
 
 " Why, then," said Martin, " I'll be plain with you. You 
 may suppose from my dress that I have money to spare. I 
 have not. All I can afford for coach-hire is a crown, for I 
 ha\e but two. If you can take me for that, and my waistcoat, 
 or this silk handkerchief, do. If you can't, leave it alone." 
 
 " Short and sweet," remarked the driver. 
 
 " You want more ? " said Martin. " Then I haven't got 
 more, and I can't get it, so there's an end of that." Where- 
 upon he began to whistle again. 
 
 " I didn't say I wanted more, did 1 1 " asked the driver, 
 with something like indignation. 
 
 " You didn't say my olTer was enougli," rejoined Martin. 
 
 " Why how could I, when you wouldn't let me ? In regard 
 to the waistcoat, I wouldn't have a man's waistcoat, much less
 
 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 223 
 
 a gentleman's waistcoat, on my mind, for no consideration ; 
 but the silk handkerchief's another thing ; and if you was 
 satisfied when we got to Hounslow, I shouldn't object to that 
 as a gift." 
 
 "Is it a bargain then ? " said Martin. 
 " Yes, it is," returned the other. 
 
 " Then finish this beer," said Martin, handing him the 
 mug, and pulling on his coat with great alacrity ; " and let us 
 be off as soon as you like." 
 
 In two minutes more he had paid his bill, which amounted 
 to a shilling ; was lying at full length on a truss of straw, high 
 and dry at the top of the van, with the tilt a little open in front 
 for the convenience of talking to his new friend ; and was 
 moving along ih the right direction with a most satisfactory 
 and encouraging briskness. 
 
 The driver's name, as he soon informed Martin, was Wil- 
 liam Simmons, better known as liill ; and his spruce appear- 
 ance was sufficiently explained by his connection with a large 
 stage-coaching establishment at Hounslow, whither he was 
 conveying his load from a farm belonging to the concern in 
 Wiltshire. He was frequently up and down the road on such 
 errands, he said, and to look after the sick and rest horses, of 
 which animals he' had much to relate that occupied a long 
 time in the telling. He aspired to the dignity of the regular 
 box, and expected an appointment on the first vacancy. He 
 was musical besides, and had a little keybugle in his pocket, 
 on which, whenever the conversation flagged, he played the 
 first part of a great many tunes, and regularly broke down in 
 the second. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Bill, with a sigh, as he drew the back of his 
 hand across his lips, and put this instrument in his pocket, 
 after screwing off the mouth-piece to drain it ; " Lummy Ned 
 of the Light Salisbury, he was the one for musical talents. He 
 was a guard. What you may call a Guard'an Angel, was 
 Ned." 
 
 " Is he dead ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " Dead ! " replied the other, with a contemptuous emphasis. 
 " Not he. You won't catch Ned a dying easy. No, no. He 
 knows better than that." 
 
 " You spoke of him in the past tense," observed Martin, 
 " so I supposed he was no more." 
 
 " He's no more in England," said Bill, " if that's what 
 you mean. He went to the U-nited States."
 
 224 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Did he ? " asked Martin, with sudden interest. " When ? " 
 
 " Five year ago, or thenabout," said Bill. " He had set 
 up in the public line here, and couldn't meet his engagements, 
 so he cut off to Liverpool one day, without saying anything 
 about it, and went and shipped himself for the U-nited States." 
 
 " Well ? " said Martin. 
 
 " Well ! as he landed there without a penny to bless him- 
 self with, of course they wos very glad to see him in the U-nited 
 States." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Martin, with some scorn. 
 
 " What do I mean .? " said Bill. " Why, that. All men 
 are alike in the U-nited States, an't they ? It makes no odds 
 whether a man has a thousand pound, or nothing, there. Par- 
 ticular in New York, I'm told, where Ned landed." 
 
 " New York, was it ? " asked Martin, thoughtfully, 
 
 " Yes," said Bill. " New York. I know that, because he 
 sent word home that it brought Old York to his mind, quite 
 wivid, in consequence of being so exactly unlike it in every 
 respect. I don't understand wot particular business Ned 
 turned his mind to, when he got there ; but he wrote home 
 that him and his friends was alwas a singing. Ale Columbia, 
 and blowing up the President, so I suppose it was something 
 in the public line, or free-and-easy way again. Any how, he 
 made his fortune." 
 
 " No ! " cried Martin. 
 
 " Yes he did," said Bill. " I know that, because he lost 
 it all, the day after, in six-and-twenty banks as broke. He 
 settled a lot of the notes on his father, when it was ascertained 
 that they was really stopped, and sent 'em over with a dutiful 
 letter. I know that, because they was shown down our yard 
 for the old gentleman's benefit, that he might treat himself 
 with tobacco in the workus." 
 
 " He was a foolish fellow not to take care of his money 
 when he h"ad it," said Martin, indignantly. 
 
 " There you're right," said Bill, "especially as it was all 
 in paper, and he might have took care of it so very easy, by 
 folding it up in a small parcel." 
 
 Martin said nothing in reply, but soon afterwards fell 
 asleep, and remained so for an hour or more. When he awoke, 
 finding it had ceased to rain, he took his seat beside the 
 driver, and asked him several questions ; as how long had the 
 fortunate guard of the Light Salisbury been in crossing the 
 Atlantic ; at what time of the year had he sailed ; what was
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 225 
 
 the name of the ship in which he made the voyage ; how much 
 had he paid for passage-money ; did he suffer greatly from 
 sea-sickness ? and so forth. But on these points of detail, 
 his friend was possessed of little or no information ; either 
 answering obviously at random, or acknowledging that he had 
 never heard, or had forgotten ; nor, although he returned to 
 the charge very often, could he obtain any useful intelligence 
 on these essential particulars. 
 
 They jogged on all day, and stopped so often — now to 
 refresh, now to change their team of horses, now to exchange 
 or bring away a set of harness, now on one point of business, 
 and now upon another, connected with the coaching on that 
 line of road — that it was midnight when they reached Houns- 
 low. A little short of the stables for which the van was 
 bound, Martin got down, paid his crown, and forced his silk 
 handkerchief upon his honest friend, notwithstanding the 
 many protestations that he didn't wish to deprive him of it, 
 with which he tried to give the lie to his longing looks. That 
 done, they parted company ; and when the van had driven 
 into its own yard and the gates were closed, Martin stood in 
 the dark street, with a pretty strong sense of being shut out, 
 alone, upon the dreary world, without the key of it. 
 
 But in this moment of despondency, and often afterwards, 
 the recollection of Mr. Pecksniff operated as a cordial to him ; 
 awakening in his breast an indignation that was very whole- 
 some in nerving him to obstinate endurance. Under the 
 influence of this fiery dram he started off for London without 
 more ado. Arriving there in the middle of the night, and not 
 knowing where to find a tavern open, he was fain to stroll 
 about the streets and market-places until morning. 
 
 He found himself, about an hour before clawn, in the 
 humbler regions of the Adelphi ; and addressing himself to a 
 man in a fur-cap who was taking down the shutters of an 
 obscure public-house, informed him that he was a stranger, and 
 inquired if he could have a bed there. It happened by good 
 luck that he could. Though none of the gaudiest, it was 
 tolerably clean, and Martin felt very glad and grateful when 
 he crept into it, for wamith, rest, and forgetfulness. 
 
 It was quite late in the afternoon when he awoke ; and by 
 the time he had washed and dressed, and broken his fast, it 
 was growing dusk again. This was all the better, for it was 
 now a matter of absolute necessity that he should part with his 
 watch to some obliging pawnbroker. He would have waited 
 
 15
 
 2 26 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 until after dark for this purpose, though it had been the longest 
 day in the year, and he had begun it without a breakfast. 
 
 He passed more Golden Balls than all the jugglers in 
 Europe have juggled with, in the course of their united per- 
 formances, before he could determine in favor of any particu- 
 lar shop where those symbols were displayed. In the end, he 
 came back to one of the first he had seen, and entering by a 
 side-door in a court, where tJie three balls, with the legend 
 " Money Lent," were repeated in a ghastly transparency, 
 passed into one of a series of little closets, or private boxes, 
 erected for the accommodation of the more bashful and unin- 
 itiated customers. He bolted himself in ; pulled out his 
 watch ; and laid it on the counter. 
 
 " Upon my life and soul ! " said a low voice in the next 
 box to the -shopman who was in treaty with him, " you must 
 make it more : you must make it a trifle more, you must 
 indeed ! You must dispense with one half-quarter of an 
 ounce in weighing out your pound of flesh, my best of friends, 
 and make it two-and-six." 
 
 Martin drew back involuntarily, for he knew the voice at 
 once. 
 
 "You're always full of your chaff," said the shopman, roll- 
 ing up the article (which looked like a shirt) quite as a matter 
 of course, and nibbing his pen upon the counter. 
 
 "I shall never be full of my wheat," said Mr. Tigg, "as 
 long as I come here. Ha, ha ; Not bad ! Make it two-and- 
 six, my dear friend, positively for this occasion only. Half-a- 
 crown is a delightful coin. Two-and-six ! Going at two- 
 and-six ! For the last time at two-and-six ! " 
 
 " It'll never be the last time till it's quite worn out," 
 rejoined the shopman. " It's grown yellow in the service as 
 it "is." 
 
 " Its master has grown yellow in the service, if you mean 
 that, my friend," said Mr. Tigg ; " in the patriotic service of 
 an ungrateful country. You are making it two-and-six, I 
 think } " 
 
 " I'm making it," returned the shopman, "what it always 
 has been — two shillings. Same name as usual, I suppose .'' " 
 
 " Still the same name," said Mr. Tigg ; "my claim to the 
 dormant peerage not being yet established by the House of 
 Lords." 
 
 " The old address ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Mr. Tigg ; " I have removed my town
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 227 
 
 establishment from thirty-eight Mayfair, to number fifteen- 
 hundred-ancl-forty-two, Park Lane." 
 
 " Come, I'm not going to put down that, you know," said 
 the shopman M'ith a grin. 
 
 " You may put down what you please, my friend," quoth 
 Mr. Tigg. " The fact is still the same. The apartments for 
 the under-butler and the fifth footman being of a most con- 
 founded low and vulgar kind at thirty-eight Mayfair, I have 
 been compelled, in my regard for the feelings which do them 
 so much honor, to take on lease, for seven, fourteen, or twenty- 
 one years, renewable at the option of the tenant, the elegant 
 and commodious family mansion, number fifteen-hundred-and- 
 forty-two. Park Lane. Make it two-and-six, and come and 
 see me ! " 
 
 The shopman was so highly entertained by this piece of 
 humor, that Mr. Tigg himself could not repress some little 
 show of exultation. It vented itself, \\\ part, in a desire to 
 see how the occupant of the next box received his pleasantry ; 
 to ascertain which, he glanced round the partition, and im- 
 mediately, by the gaslight, recognized Martin. 
 
 " I wish I may die," said Mr. Tigg, stretchuigout his body 
 so far that his head was as much in Martin's little cell as 
 Martin's own head was, " but this is one of the most tremen- 
 dous meetings in Ancient or Modern History ! How are you ? 
 What is the news from the agricultural districts .-' How are 
 our friends the P.'s ? Ha, ha ! David, pay particular attention 
 to this gentleman, immediately, as a friend of mine, I beg." 
 
 " Here ! Please to give me the most you can for this," 
 said Martin, handing the watch to the shopman, " I want 
 money sorely." 
 
 " He wants money sorely ! " cried Mr. Tigg with exces- 
 sive sympathy. " David, you will have the goodness to do 
 your very utmost for my friend, who wants money sorely. 
 You will deal with my friend as if he were myself. A gold hunt- 
 ing-watch, David, engine-turned, capped and jewelled in four 
 holes, escape movement, horizontal lever, and warranted to 
 perform correctly, upon my personal reputation, who have 
 observed it narrowly for many years, under the most trying 
 circumstances : " here he winked at Martin, that he might 
 understand this recommendation would have an immense 
 effect upon the shopman : "what do you say, David, to my 
 friend ? Be very particular to deserve my custom and recom- 
 mendation, David."
 
 2 28 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I can lend you three pound on this, if you like," said the 
 shopman to Martin, confidentially. " It's very old-fashioned. 
 I couldn't say more." 
 
 " And devilish handsome, too," cried Mr. Tigg. " Two- 
 twelve-six for the watch, and seven-and-six for personal regard. 
 I am gratified : it may be weakness, but I am. Three pound 
 will do. We take it. The name of my friend is Smivey : 
 Chicken Smivey, of Holborn, twenty-six-and-a-half B : lodger." 
 Here he winked at Martin again, to apprise him that all the 
 forms and ceremonies prescribed by law were now complied 
 with, and nothing remained but the receipt of the money. 
 
 In point of fact, this proved to be the case, for Martin, 
 who had no resource but to take what was offered him, signi- 
 fied his acquiescence by a nod of his head, and presently 
 came out with the cash in his pocket. He was joined in the 
 entry by Mr. Tigg, who warmly congratulated him, as he took 
 his arm and accompanied him into the street, on the success- 
 ful issue of the negotiation. 
 
 " As for my part in the same," said Mr. Tigg, " don't men- 
 tion it. Don't compliment me, for I can't bear it ! " 
 
 " I have no such intention, I assure you," retorted Martin, 
 releasing his arm and stopping. 
 
 •'You oblige me very much," said Mr. Tigg. "Thank 
 you." 
 
 " Now, sir," observed Martin, biting his lip, " this is a 
 large town, and we can easily find different ways in it. If you 
 will show me which is your way, I will take another." 
 Mr. Tigg was about to speak, but Martin interposed : 
 " I need scarcely tell you, after what you have just seen, 
 that I have nothing to bestow upon your friend, Mr. Slyme. 
 And it is quite as unnecessary for me to tell you that I don't 
 desire the honor of your company." 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Mr. Tigg, holding out his hand. " Hold ! 
 There is a most remarkably long-headed, flowing-bearded, and 
 patriarchal proverb, which observes that it is the duty of a 
 man to be just before he is generous. Be just now, and you 
 can be generous presently. Do not confuse me with the man 
 Slyme. Do not distinguish the man Slyme as a friend of mine, 
 for he is no such thing. I have been compelled, sir, to aban- 
 don the party whom you call Slyme. I have no knowledge 
 of the party whom you call Slyme. I am, sir," said Mr. Tigg, 
 striking himself upon the breast, " a premium tulip, of a very 
 different growth and cultivation from the cabbage Slyme, sir."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 229 
 
 "It matters very little to me," said Martin coolly, 
 " whether you have set up as a vagabond on your own account, 
 or are still trading on behalf of Mr. Slyme. I wish to hold 
 no correspondence with you. In the devil's name, man," said 
 Martin, scarcely able despite his vexation to repress a smile, 
 as Mr. Tigg stood leaning his back against the shutters of a 
 shop window, adjusting his hair with great composure, " will 
 you go one way or other ? " 
 
 "You will allow me to remind you, sir," said Mr. Tigg, 
 with sudden dignity, " that you— not I — that you — I say 
 emphatically, you — have reduced the proceedings of this even- 
 ing to a cold and distant matter of business, when I was 
 disposed to place them on a friendly footing. It being made 
 a matter of business, sir, I beg to say that I expect a trifle 
 (which I shall bestow in charity) as commission upon the 
 pecuniary advance, in which I have rendered you my humble 
 services. After the terms in which you have addressed me, 
 sir," concluded Mr. Tigg, " you will not insult me, if you 
 please, by offering more than half-a-crown." 
 
 Martin drew that piece of money from his pocket, and 
 tossed it towards him. Mr. Tigg caught it, looked at it to 
 assure himself of its goodness, spun it in the air after the 
 manner of a pieman, and buttoned it up. Finally, he raised 
 his hat an inch or two from his head, with a military air, and, 
 after pausing a moment with deep gravity, as to decide in 
 which direction he should go, and to what Earl or Marquis 
 among his friends he should give the preference in his next 
 call, stuck his hands in his skirt-pockets and swaggered round 
 the corner. Martin took the directly opposite course ; and 
 so, to his great content, they parted company. 
 
 It was with a bitter sense of humiliation that he cursed, 
 again and again, the mischance of ha\ing encountered this 
 man in the pawnbroker's shop. The only comfort he had in 
 the recollection was, Mr. Tigg's voluntary avowal of a separa- 
 tion between himself and Slyme, that would at least prevent 
 his circumstances (so Martin argued) from being known to 
 any member of his family, the bare possibility of which filled 
 him with shame and wounded pride. Abstractedly, there was 
 greater reason, perhaps, for supposing any declaration of Mr. 
 Tigg's to be false, than for attaching the least credence to it ; 
 but remembering the terms on which the intimacy between 
 that gentleman and his bosom friend had subsisted, and the 
 strong probability of Mr, Tigg's having established an inde-
 
 230 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 pendent business of his own on Mr. Slyme's connection, it had 
 a reasonable appearance of probabiUty ; at all events, Martin 
 hoped so ; and that went a long way. 
 
 His first step, now that he had a supply of ready money 
 for his present necessities, was, to retain his bed at the public- 
 house until further notice, and to write a formal note to Tom 
 Pinch (for he knew Pecksniff would see it) requesting to have 
 his clothes forwarded to London by coach, with a direction 
 to be left at the office until called for. These measures 
 taken, he passed the interval before the box arrived — three 
 days — in making inquiries relative to American vessels, at the 
 offices of various shipping-agents in the city ; and in lingering 
 about the docks and wharv^es, with the faint hope of stumbling 
 upon some engagement for the voyage, as clerk or supercargo, 
 or custodian of something or somebody, which would enable 
 him to procure a free passage. But, finding, soon, that no 
 such means of employment were likely to present themselves, 
 and dreading the consequences of delay, he drew up a short 
 advertisement, stating what he wanted, and inserted it in the 
 leading newspapers. Pending the receipt of the twenty or 
 thirty answers which he vaguely expected, he reduced his 
 wardrobe to the narrowest limits consistent with decent re- 
 spectability, and carried the overplus at different times to the 
 pawnbroker's shop, for conversion into money. 
 
 And it was strange, very strange, even to himself, to find, 
 how by quick though almost imperceptible degrees he lost his 
 delicacy and self-respect, and gradually came to do that as a 
 matter of course, without the least compunction, which but a 
 few short days before had galled him to the quick. The first 
 time he visited the pawnbroker's, he felt on his way there as 
 if every person whom he passed suspected whither he was 
 going ; and on his way back agam as if the whole human tide 
 he stemmed, knew well where he had come from. When did 
 he care to think of their discernment now ! In his first wan- 
 derings up and down the wear}' streets, he counterfeited the 
 walk of one who had an object in his view ; but, soon there 
 came upon him the sauntering, slipshod gait of listless idle- 
 ness, and the lounging at street-corners, and plucking and 
 biting of stray bits of straw, and strolling up and down the 
 same place, and looking into the same shop-windows, with a 
 miserable indifference, fifty times a day. At first, he came 
 out from his lodging with an uneasv sense of being obser\-ed 
 — even by those chance passers-by, on whom he had never
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 231 
 
 looked before, and hundreds to one would never see again — 
 issuing in the morning from a public-house ; but now, in his 
 comings-out and goings-in he did not mind to lounge about 
 the door, or to stand sunning himself in careless thought 
 beside the wooden stem, studded from head to heel with pegs, 
 on which the beer-pots dangled like so many boughs upon a 
 pewter-tree. And yet it took but five weeks to reach the low- 
 est round of this tall ladder ! 
 
 Oh, moralists, who treat of happiness and self-respect, 
 innate in every sphere of life, and shedding light on ever}' 
 grain of dust in God's highway, so smooth below your car- 
 riage-wheels, so rough beneath the tread of naked feet, 
 bethink yourselves in looking on the swift descent of men who 
 have lived in their own esteem, that there are scores of thou- 
 sands breathing "^now, and breathing thick with painful toil, 
 who in that high respect have never lived at all, nor had a 
 chance of life ! Go ye, who rest so placidly upon the sacred 
 Bard who had been young, and when he strung his harp was 
 old, and had never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed 
 begging their bread ; go, Teachers of content and honest 
 pride, into the mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid depths of 
 deepest ignorance, and uttermost abyss of man's neglect, and 
 say can any hopeful plant spring up in air so foul that it 
 extinguishes the soul's bright torch as fast as it is kindled 1 
 And, oh ! ye Pharisees of the nineteen hundredth year of 
 Christian Knowledge, who soundingly appeal to human 
 nature, see first that it be human. Take heed it has not 
 been transformed, during your slumber and the sleep of gener- 
 ations, into the nature of the Beasts. 
 
 Five weeks ! Of all the twenty or thirty answers, not one 
 had come. His money, even the additional stock he had 
 raised from the disposal of his spare clothes (and that was 
 not much, for clothes, though dear to buy, are cheap to pawn), 
 was fast diminishing. Yet what could he do .-' At times an 
 agony came over him in which he darted forth again, though 
 he was but newly home, and, returning to some place where 
 he had been already twenty times, made some new attempt to 
 gain his end, but always unsuccessfully. He was years and 
 years too old for a cabin boy, and years upon years too inex- 
 perienced to be accepted as a common seaman. His dress 
 and manner, too, militated fatally against any such proposal 
 as the latter ; and yet he was reduced to making it ; for, even 
 if he could have contemplated the being set down in America,
 
 232 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 totally without money, he had not enough left now for a steer- 
 age-passage and the poorest provisions upon the voyage. 
 
 It is an illustration of a very common tendency in the 
 mind of man, that all this time he never once doubted, one 
 may almost say the certainty of doing great things in the New 
 World, if he could only get there. In proportion as he be- 
 came more and more dejected by his present circumstances, 
 and the means of gaining America receded from his grasp, the 
 more he fretted himself with the conviction that that was the 
 only place in which he could hope to achieve any high end, 
 and worried his brain with the thought that men going there 
 in the meanwhile might anticipate him in the attainment of 
 those objects whicli were dearest to his heart. He often 
 thought of John Westlock, and besides looking out for him on 
 all occasions, actually walked about London for three days 
 together, for the express purpose of meeting with him. But, 
 although he failed in this ; and although he would not have 
 scrupled to borrow money of him ; and although he believed 
 that John would have lent it ; yet still he could not bring his 
 mind to write to Pinch and inquire where he was to be found. 
 For although, as we have seen, he was fond of Tom after his 
 own fashion, he could not endure the thought (feeling so superior 
 to Tom) of making him the stepping-stone to his fortune, or 
 being anything to him but a patron ; and his pride so revolted 
 from the idea, that it restrained him even now. 
 
 It might have yielded, however ; and no doubt must have 
 yielded soon, but for a very strange and unlooked-for occurrence. 
 • The five weeks had quite run out, and he was in a truly 
 desperate plight, when one evening, having just returned to 
 his lodging, and being in the act of lighting his candle at the 
 gas jet in the bar before stalking moodily up stairs to his own 
 room, his landlord called him by his name. Now, as he had 
 never told it to the man, but had scrupulously kept it to him- 
 self, he was not a little startled by this ; and so plainly showed 
 his agitation, that the landlord, to re-assure him, said " it 
 was only a letter." 
 
 " A letter ! " cried Martin. 
 
 " For Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit," said the landlord, reading 
 the superscription of one he held in his hand. " Noon. Chief 
 office. Paid." 
 
 Martin took it from him, thanked him and walked up stairs. 
 It was not sealed, but pasted close ; the handwriting was quite 
 unknown to him. He opened it, and found enclosed, without
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ^2>l 
 
 any name, address, or other inscription or explanation of any 
 kind whatever, a Bank of England note for Twenty Pounds. 
 
 To say that he was perfectly stunned with astonishment 
 and delight ; that he looked again and again at the note and 
 the wrapper ; diat he hurried below stairs to make quite cer- 
 tain that the note was a good note ; and then hurried up again 
 to satisfy himself for the fiftieth time that he had not over- 
 looked some scrap of writing on the wrapper ; that he ex- 
 hausted and bewildered hunself with conjectures ; and could 
 make nothing of it but that there the note was, and he was 
 suddenly enriched ; would be only to relate so many matters 
 of course, to no purpose. The final upshot of the business at 
 that time was, that he resolved to treat himself to a comforta- 
 ble but frugal meal in his own chamber ; and having ordered 
 a fire to be kindled, went out to purchase it forthwith. 
 
 He bought some cold beef, and ham, and French bread, 
 and butter, and came back with his pockets pretty heavily 
 laden. It was somewhat of a damping circumstance to find 
 the room full of smoke, which was attributable to two causes : 
 firstly, to the flue being naturally vicious and a smoker ; and 
 secondly to their having forgotten, in lighting the fire, an odd 
 sack or two and some trifles, which had been put up the chim- 
 ney to keep the rain out. They had already remedied this over- 
 sight, ho\Vever ; and propped up the window-sash with a bun- 
 dle of firewood to keep it open ; so that except in being 
 rather inflammatory to the eyes and choking to the lungs, 
 the apartment was quite comfortable. 
 
 Martin was in no vein to quarrel with it, if it had been in 
 less tolerable order, especially when a gleaming pint of porter 
 was set upon the table, and the servant girl withdrew, bearing 
 with her particular instructions relative to the production of 
 something hot, when he should ring the bell. The cold meat 
 being wrapped in a play-bill, Martin laid the cloth by spread- 
 ing that document on the little round table with the print 
 downwards ; and arranging the collation upon it. The foot 
 of the bed, which was very close to the fire, answered for a 
 sideboard ; and when he had completed these preparations, 
 he squeezed an old arm-chair into the warmest corner, and 
 sat down to enjoy himself. 
 
 He had begun to eat with great appetite, glancing round 
 the room meanwhile with a triumphant anticipation of quitting 
 it for ever on the morrow, wlien his attention was arrested by 
 a stealthy footstep on the stairs, and presently by a knock at
 
 234 ^^ ^ TYiV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 his chamber door, which, although it was a gentle knock 
 enough, communicated such a start to the bundle of firewood, 
 that it instantly leaped out of window, and plunged into the 
 street. 
 
 " More coals, I, suppose," said Martin. "I^ome in ! " 
 
 " It an't a liberty, sir, though it seems so," rejoined a 
 man's voice. " Your servant, sir. Hope you're pretty well, 
 sir." 
 
 Martin stared at the face that was bowing in the door- 
 way ; perfectly remembering the features and expression, but 
 quite forgetting to whom they belonged. 
 
 " Tapley, sir," said his visitor. " Him as formerly lived 
 at the Dragon, sir, and was forced to leave in consequence of 
 a want of jollity, sir." 
 
 " To be sure ! " cried Martin. " Why, how did you come 
 here ? " 
 
 " Right through the passage, and up the stairs, sir," said 
 Mark. 
 
 " How did you find me out, I mean ? " asked Martin. 
 
 "Why, sir," said Mark, "I've passed you once or twice 
 in the street if I'm not mistaken ; and when I was a looking 
 in at the beef-and-ham shop just now, along with a hungry 
 sweep, as was very much calculated to make a man jolly, sir, 
 I see you a buying that." 
 
 Martin reddened as he pointed to the table, and said, 
 somewhat hastily : 
 
 " Well ! What then ? " 
 
 " Why then, sir," said Mark, " I made bold to foller ; and 
 as I told 'em down stairs that you expected me, I was let up." 
 
 " Are you charged with any message, that you told them 
 you were expected ? " inquired Martin. 
 
 " No, sir, I an't," said Mark. " That was what you may 
 call a pious fraud, sir, that was." 
 
 Martin cast an angry look at him ; but there was some- 
 thing in the fellow's merry face, and in his manner, which 
 with all its cheerfulness was far from being obtrusive or 
 familiar, that quite disarmed him. He had lived a solitary 
 life too, for many weeks, and the voice was pleasant in his ear. 
 
 " Tapley," he said, " I'll deal openly with you. From all I 
 can judge, and from all I have heard of you through Pinch, 
 you are not a likely kind of fellow to have been brought here 
 by impertinent curiosity or any other offensive motive. Sit 
 down. I'm glad to see you."
 
 MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 235 
 
 " Thankee, sir," said Mark. " I'd as lieve stand." 
 
 " If you don't sit down," retorted Martin, " I'll not talk to 
 you." 
 
 " Very good, sir," observed Mark. " Your will's a law, 
 sir. Down it is ; " and he sat down accordingly, upon the 
 bedstead. 
 
 " Help yourself," said Martin, handing him the only knife. 
 
 " Thankee, sir," rejoined Mark. " After you've done." 
 
 " If you don't take it now, you'll not have any," said 
 Martin. 
 
 " Very good, sir," rejoined Mark. "That being your de- 
 sire — now it is." With which reply he gravely helped him- 
 self, and went on eating. Martin having done the like for a 
 short time in sUence, said abruptly : 
 
 "What are you doing in London ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all, sir," rejoined Mark. 
 
 " How's that ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " I want a place," said Mark. 
 
 " I'm sorry for you," said Martin. 
 
 " — To attend upon a single gentleman," resumed Mark. 
 " If from the countiy the more desirable. Makeshifts would 
 be preferred. Wages no object." 
 
 He said this so pointedly, that Martin stopped in his eat- 
 ing, and said : 
 
 "If you mean me — " 
 
 " Yes, I do, sir," interposed Mark. 
 
 " Then you may judge from my style of living here, of my 
 means of keeping a man-servant. Besides, I am going to 
 America immediately." 
 
 " Well, sir," returned Mark, quite unmoved by this intel- 
 ligence, " from all that ever I heard about it, I should say 
 America is a veiy likely sort of place for me to be jolly in ! " 
 
 Again Martin looked at him angrily ; and again his anger 
 melted away in spite of himself. 
 
 "Lord bless you, sir," said Mark, "what is the use of us 
 a going round and round, and hiding behind the corner, and 
 dodging up and down, when we can come straight to the 
 point in six words t I've had my e}-e upon you any time this 
 fortnight. I see well enough there's a screw loose in your 
 affairs. I know'd well enough the first time I see you clow^n 
 at the Dragon that it must be so, sooner or later. Now, sir, 
 here am I, without a sitiwation ; without any want of wages 
 for a year to come ; for I saved up (I didn't mean to do it,
 
 236 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 but I couldn't help it) at the Dragon — here am I with a liking 
 for what's wentersome, and a liking for you, and a wish to 
 come out strong under circumstances as would keep other 
 men down : and will you take me, or will you leave me ? " 
 
 " How can I take you ?" cried Martin. 
 
 " When I say take," rejoined Mark, " I mean will you let 
 me go ? and when I say will you let me go, I mean will 
 you let me go along with you ? for go I will, somehow or 
 another. Now that you've said America, I see clear at 
 once, that that's the place for me to be jolly in. Therefore, 
 if I don't pay my own passage in the ship you go in, sir, 
 I'll pay my own passage in another. And mark my 
 words, if I go alone it shall be, to carry out the principle, in 
 the rottonest, craziest, leakingest tub of a wessel that a place 
 can be got in for love or money. So if I'm lost upon the 
 way, sir, there'll be a drowned man at your door — and always 
 a knocking double knocks at it, too, or never trust me ! " 
 
 " This is mere folly," said Martin. 
 
 " Very good, sir," returned Mark. " I'm glad to hear it, 
 because if you don't mean to let me go, you'll be more com- 
 fortable, perhaps, on account of thinking so. Therefore I con- 
 tradict no gentleman. But all I say is, that if I don't emigrate 
 to America in that case, in the beastliest old cockleshell as 
 goes out of port, I'm " 
 
 " You don't mean what you say, I'm sure," said Martin. 
 
 "Yes I do," cried Mark. 
 
 " I tell you I know better," rejoined Martin. 
 
 " Very good, sir," said Mark, with the same air of perfect 
 satisfaction. " Let it stand that way at present, sir, and wait 
 and see how it turns out. Why, love my heart alive ! the only 
 doubt I have is, whether there's any credit in going with a 
 gentleman like you, that's as certain to make his way there as 
 a gimlet is to go through soft deal." 
 
 This was touching Martin on his weak point, and having him 
 at a great advantage. He could not help thinking, either, what 
 a brisk fellow this Mark was, and how great a change he had 
 wrought in the atmosphere of the dismal little room already. 
 
 " Why, certainly, Mark," he said, " I have hopes of doing 
 well there, or I shouldn't go. I may have the qualifications 
 for doing well, perhaps." 
 
 " Of course you have, sir," returned Mark Tapley. 
 " E'/erybody knows that." 
 
 " You see," said Martin, leaning his chin upon his hand,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 237 
 
 and looking at the fire, " ornamental architecture applied to 
 domestic purposes, can hardly fail to be \\\ great request in 
 that country ; for men are constantly changing their resi- 
 dences there, and moving further off ; and it's clear they must 
 have houses to live in." 
 
 " I should say. sir," observed Mark, " that that's a state of 
 things as opens one of the jolliest look-outs for domestic ar- 
 chitecture that ever I heerd tell on." 
 
 " Martin glanced at him hastily, not feeling quite free from 
 a suspicion that this remark implied a doubt of the success- 
 ful issue of his plans. But Mr. Tapley was eating the boiled 
 beef and bread with such entire good faith and singleness of 
 purpose expressed in his visage, that he could not but be satis- 
 fied. Another doubt arose in his mind, however, as this one 
 disappeared. He produced the blank cover in which the note 
 had been enclosed, and fixing his eyes on Mark as he put it 
 in his hands, said, 
 
 " Now tell me the truth. Do you know anything about 
 that?'' 
 
 Mark turned it over and over ; held it near his eyes ; 
 held it away from him at arm's length , held it with the su- 
 perscription upwards, and with the superscription downwards ; 
 and shook his head with such a genuine expression of aston- 
 ishment at being asked the question, that Martin said, as he 
 took it from him again : 
 
 " No, I see you don't. How should you ? Though, in- 
 deed, your knowing about it would not be more extraordinary 
 than it's being here. Come, Tapley," he added, after a mo- 
 ment's thought, "I'll trust you with my history, such as it is, 
 and then you'll see, more clearly, what sort of fortunes you 
 would link yourself to, if you followed me." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Mark ; " but afore you en- 
 ter upon it, will you take me if I choose to go .'' Will you turn 
 off me, Mark Tapley, formerly of the Blue Dragon, as can be 
 well recommended by Mr. Pinch, and as wants a gentleman 
 of your strength of mind to look up to ; or will you, in climb- 
 ing the ladder as you're certain to get to the top of, take me 
 along with you at a respectful distance .-' Now, sir," said 
 Mark, " it's of very little importance to you I know ; there's 
 the difficulty ; but it's of very great importance to me, and 
 will you be so good as to consider of it .'' " 
 
 If this were meant as a second appeal 10 Martin's weak 
 side, founded on his observation of the effect of the first, Mr.
 
 238 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Tapley was a skilful and shrewd observer. Whether an 
 intentional or an accidental shot, it hit the mark full , for 
 Martin, relenting more and more, said, with a condescension 
 which was inexpressibly delicious to him, after his recent hu- 
 miliation : 
 
 " We'll see about it, Tapley. You shall tell me in what dis- 
 position you find yourself to-morrow." 
 
 " Then, sir," said Mark, rubbing his hands, " the job's done. 
 Go on, sir, if you please. I'm all attention." 
 
 Throwing himself back in his arm-chair, and looking at the 
 fire, with now and then a glance at Mark, who at such times 
 nodded his head sagely, to express his profound interest and 
 attention ; Martin ran over the chief points in his history, to 
 the same effect as he had related them, weeks before, to Mr. 
 Pinch. But he adapted them, according to the best of his 
 judgment, to Mr. Tapley's comprehension ; and with that view 
 made as light of his love affair as he could, and referred to it 
 in very few words. But here he reckoned without his host ; 
 for Mark's interest was keenest in this part of the business, 
 and prompted him to ask sundry questions in relation to it ; 
 for which he apologized as one in some measure privileged to 
 do so, from having seen (as Martin explained to him) the young 
 lady at the Blue Dragon. 
 
 " And a young lady as any gentleman ought to feel more 
 proud of being in love with," said Mark, energetically, " don't 
 draw breath." 
 
 " Ay ! You saw her when she was not happy," said Mar- 
 tin, gazing at the fire again. " If you had seen her in the old 
 times, indeed — " 
 
 " Why, she certainly was a little down-hearted, sir, and 
 something paler in her color than I could have wished," said 
 Mark, " but none the worse in her looks for that. I think 
 she seemed better, sir, after she come to London." 
 
 Martin withdrew his eyes from the fire ; stared at Mark as 
 if he thought he had suddenly gone mad ; and asked him what 
 he meant. 
 
 " No offence intended, sir," urged Mark. " I don't mean 
 to say she was any the haj^pier without you ; but I thought 
 she was a looking better, sir." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me she has been in London .'' " asked 
 Martin, rising hurriedly, and pushing back his chair. 
 
 " Of course I do," said Mark, rising too, in great amaze- 
 ment from the bedstead. 
 
 II
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 239 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me she is in London now ? " 
 
 " Most likely, sir. I mean to say she was, a week ago." 
 
 " And you know where ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " cried Mark. " What ! Don't you ? " 
 
 " My good fellow ! " exclaimed Martin, clutching him by 
 both arms, " I have never seen her since 1 left my grandfather's 
 house." 
 
 " Why then ! " cried Mark, giving the little table such a 
 blow with his clenched fist that the slices of beef and ham 
 danced upon it, while all his features seemed, with deligdit, to 
 be going up into his forehead, and never coming back again any 
 more, " if I an't your nat'ral born servant, hired by Fate, there 
 an't such a thing in natur' as a Blue Dragon. What ! when I was 
 a rambling up and down a old churchyard in the City, getting 
 myself into a joMy state, didn't I see your grandfather a tod- 
 dling to and fro for pretty nigh a mortal hour ! Didn't I watch 
 him into Codgers's commercial boarding-house, and watch him 
 out and watch him home to his hotel, and go and tell him as 
 his was the ser\'ice for my money, and I had said so, afore I 
 left the Dragon ! Wasn't the young lady a sitting with him then, 
 and didn't she fall a laughing in a manner as was beautiful to 
 see ! Didn't your grandfather say, ' Come back again next 
 week, and didn't I go next week ;' and didn't he say that he 
 couldn't make up his mind to trust nobody no more ; and there- 
 fore wouldn't engage me ; but at the same time stood some- 
 thing to drink as was handsome ! Why," cried Mr. Tapley, 
 with a comical mixture of delight and chagrin, " where's the 
 credit of a man'c being jolly under such circumstances ! Who 
 could help it, when things come about like this ! " 
 
 For some moments, \lartin stood gazing at him, as if he 
 really doubted the evidence of his senses, and could not be- 
 lieve that Mark stood there, in the body, before him. At 
 length he asked him whether, if the young lady were still in 
 London, he thought he could contrive to deliver a letter to 
 her secretly. 
 
 " Do I think I can ! " cried Mark. " lliinJz I can ! Here, 
 sit down, sir. Write it out, sir! " 
 
 With that he cleared the table by the summary process of 
 tilting everj'thing upon it into the fire-place ; snatched some 
 writing materials from the mantle-shelf ; set Martin's chair 
 before them ; forced him down into it ; dipped a pen into the 
 ink ; and put it in his hand. 
 
 " Cut away, sir ! " cried Mark. " Make it strong, sir. Let
 
 240 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 it be wery pinted, sir. Do I think so ? / should think so. 
 Go to work, sir ! " 
 
 Martin required no further adjuration, but went to work at 
 a great rate ; while Mr. Tapley, installing himself without any 
 more formalities into the functions of his valet and general 
 attendant, divested himself of his coat, and went on to clear 
 the fire-place and arrange the room ; talking to himself in a 
 low voice the whole time. 
 
 " Jolly sort of lodgings," said Mark, rubbing his nose with 
 the nob at the end of the fire-shovel, and looking round the 
 poor chamber : " that's a comfort. The rain's come through 
 the roof too. That an't bad. A lively old bedstead, I'll be 
 bound ; popilated by lots of wampires, no doubt. Come ! my 
 spirits is a getting up again. An uncommon ragged nightcap 
 this. A very good sign. We shall do yet ! Here Jane, my 
 dear," calling down the stairs,"bringupthat there hot tumbler 
 for my master as was a mixing when I come in. That's right, 
 sir," to Martin. " Go at it as if you meant it, sir. Be very 
 tender, sir, if you please. You can't make it too strong, sir i" 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH MARTIN BIDS ADIEU TO THE LADY OF HIS LOVE \ 
 AND HONORS AN OBSCURE INDIVIDUAL WHOSE FORTUNE 
 HE INTENDS TO MAKE, BY COMMENDING HER TO HIS PRO- 
 TECTION. 
 
 The letter being duly signed, sealed, and delivered, was 
 handed to Mark Tapley, for immediate conveyance if pos- 
 sible. And he succeeded so well in his embassy as to be ena- 
 bled to return that same night, just as the house was closing, 
 with the welcome intelligence that he had sent it up stairs to 
 the young lady, enclosed in a small manuscript of his own, pur- 
 porting to contain his further petition to be engaged in Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit's ser\-ice ; and that she had herself come down and 
 told him, in great haste and agitation that slie would meet the 
 gentleman at eight o'clock to-morrow morning in St. James's 
 Park. It was then agreed between the new master and the 
 new man, that Mark should be in waiting near the hotel in
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 241 
 
 good time, to escort the young lady to the place of appoint- 
 ment ; and when they had parted for the night with this under- 
 standing, Martin took up his pen again ; and before he went 
 to bed wrote another letter, whereof more will be seen pres- 
 ently. 
 
 He was up before day-break, and came upon the Park 
 with the morning, which was clad in the least engagmg of the 
 three hundred and sixty-five dresses in the wardrobe of the 
 year. It was raw, damp, dark, and dismal ; the clouds were 
 as muddy as the ground ; and the short perspective of every 
 street and avenue, was closed up by the mist as by a filthy 
 curtain. 
 
 " P^ine weather indeed," Martin bitterly soliloquized, " to 
 be wandering up_^ and down here in, like a thief ! Fine 
 weather indeed, for a meeting of lovers in the open air, and 
 in a public walk ! I need be departing, with all speed, for 
 another country ; for I have come to a pretty pass in this ! " 
 
 He might perhaps have gone on to reflect that of all 
 mornings in the year, it was not the best calculated for a 
 young lady's coming forth on such an errand, either. But he 
 was stopped on the road to this reflection, if his thoughts 
 tended that way, by her appearance at a short distance, on 
 which he hurried forward to meet her. Her squire, Mr. 
 Tapley, at the same time, fell discreetly back, and surveyed 
 the fog above him with an appearance of attentive interest. 
 
 " My dear Martin," said Mary. 
 
 " My dear Mary," said Martin ; and lovers are such a 
 singular kind of people that this is all they did say just then, 
 though Martin took her arm, and her hand too, and they 
 paced up and down a short walk that was least exposed to 
 observation, half-a-dozen times. 
 
 " If you have changed at all, my love, since we parted," 
 said Martin at length, as he looked upon her with a proud 
 delight, " it is only to be more beautiful than ever ! " 
 
 Had she been of the common metal of love-worn j'oung 
 ladies, she would have denied this in her most interesting 
 manner, and would have told him (hat she knew she had be- 
 come a perfect fright ; or that she had wasted away with 
 weeping and anxiety ; or that she was dwindling gently into 
 an early grave ; or that her mental sufferings we-e unspeak- 
 able ; or would, either by tears or words, or a mixture of both, 
 have furnished him with some other information to that effect, 
 and made him as miserable as possible. But she had been 
 
 16
 
 242 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 reared up in a sterner school than the minds of most young 
 girls are formed in ; she had had her nature strengthened by 
 the hands of hard endurance and necessity ; had come out 
 from her young trials constant, self-denying, earnest, and de- 
 voted ; had acquired in her maidenhood — whether happily 
 in the end, for herself or him, is foreign to our present pur- 
 pose to inquire — something of that nobler quality of gentle 
 hearts which is developed often by the sorrows and struggles 
 of matronly years, but often by their lessons only. Unspoiled, 
 unpampered in her joys or griefs ; with frank and full, and 
 deep affection for the object of her early love, she saw in liirn 
 one who for her sake was an outcast from his home and for 
 tune, and she had no more idea of bestowing that love upon 
 him in other than cheerful and sustaining words, full of high 
 hope and grateful trustfulness, than she had of being un 
 worthy of it, in her lightest thought or deed, for any base 
 temptation that the world could offer. 
 
 " What change is there in you^ Martin," she replied ; 
 " for that concerns me nearest .'' You look more anxious and 
 more thoughtful than you used." 
 
 " Why as to that, my love," said Martin, as he drew her 
 waist within his arm, first looking round to see that there were 
 no observers near, and beholding Mr. Tapley more intent 
 than ever on the fog ; " it would be strange if I did not ; for 
 my life, especially of late, has been a hard one." 
 
 " I know it must have been," she answered. " When 
 have I forgotten to think of it and you ? " 
 
 "Not often, I hope," said Martin. "Not often, I am 
 sure. Not often, I have some right to expect, Mary ; for I 
 have undergone a great deal of vexation and privation, and I 
 naturally look for that return, you know." 
 
 " A very, very poor return," she answered with a fainter 
 smile. " But you have it, and will have it always. You have 
 paid a dear price for a poor heart, Martin ; but it is at least 
 your own, and a true one." 
 
 " Of course I feel quite certain of that," said Martin, " or 
 I shouldn't have put myself in my present position. And 
 don't say a poor heart, Mary, for I say a rich one. Now, I 
 am about to break a design to you dearest, which will startle 
 you at first, but which is undertaken for your sake. I am 
 going," he added slowly, looking far into the deep wonder of 
 her bright dark eyes, " abroad." 
 
 " Abroad, Martin ! " 
 
 fl«
 
 MAIi TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 2 43 
 
 " Only to America. See now. How you droop directly ! " 
 
 " If 1 do, or, I hope I may say, if I did," she answered, 
 raising her head after a short silence, and looking once more 
 into his face, " it was for grief to think of what you are re- 
 solved to undergo for me. I would not venture to dissuade 
 you, Martin \ but it is a long, long distance ; there is a wide 
 ocean to be crossed ; illness and want are sad calamities in 
 any place, but in a foreign country dreadful to endure. Have 
 you thought of all this ? " 
 
 " Thought of it ! " cried Martin, abating in his fondness — 
 and he was ver}* fond of her — hardly an iota of his usual im- 
 petuosity. "What am I to do ? It's very well to say, Have 
 I thought of it ? my love ; but you should ask me in the same 
 breath, have I thpught of starving at home ; have I thought 
 of doing porter's work for a living ; have I thought of hold- 
 ing horses in the streets to earn my roll of bread from day to 
 day ? Come, come," he added, in a gentler tone, " do not 
 hang down your head, my dear, for I need the encourage- 
 ment that your sweet face alone can give me. Why, that's 
 well ! Now vou are brave again." 
 
 " I am endeavoring to be," she answered, smiling through 
 her tears. 
 
 " Endeavoring to be anything that's good, and being it, is, 
 with you, all one. Don't I know that of old.'' " cried Martin, 
 gayly. "So! That's famous ! Now I can tell you all my 
 plans as cheerfully as if you were my little wife already, 
 Mary." 
 
 She hung more closely on his arm, and looking upwards 
 in his face, bade him speak on. 
 
 "You see," said Martin, playing with the little hand upon 
 his wrist, " that my attempts to advance myself at home have 
 been bafifled and rendered abortive. I will not say by whom, 
 Mary, for that would give pain to us both. ]]ut so it is. Ha\e 
 you heard him speak of late of any relative of mine or his, 
 called Pecksniff } Only tell me what I ask you, no more." 
 
 " I have heard, to my surprise, that he is a better man 
 than was supposed." 
 
 "I thought so," interrupted Martin. 
 
 "And that it is likely we may come to know him, if not 
 to visit and reside with him and — 1 think — his daughters. 
 He has daughters, has he, love ? " 
 
 " A pair of them," Martin answered. " A precious pair '. 
 Gems of the first water ! "
 
 244 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Ah ! You are jesting ! " 
 
 " There is a sort of jesting which is very much in earnest, 
 and includes some pretty serious disgust," said Martin. " I 
 jest in reference to Mr. Pecksniff (at whose house I have 
 been Uving as his assistant, and at whose hands I have re- 
 ceived insult and injury), in that vein. Whatever betides, or 
 however closely you may be brought into communication with 
 his family, never forget that, Mary ; and never for an instant, 
 whatever appearances may seem to contradict me, lose sight 
 of this assvirance : Pecksniff is a scoundrel." 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " In thought, and in deed, and in everything else. A 
 scoundrel from the topmost hair of his head, to the nether- 
 most atom of his heel. Of his daughters I will only say that 
 to the best of my knowledge and belief, they are dutiful young 
 ladies, and take after their father closely. This is a digres- 
 sion from the main point, and yet it brings me to what I was 
 going to say." 
 
 He stopped to look into her eyes again, and seeing, in a 
 hasty glance over his shoulder, that there was no one near, 
 and that Mark was still intent upon the fog, not only looked 
 at her lips too, but kissed them into the bargain. 
 
 " Now, I am going to America, with great prospects of 
 doing well, and of returning home myself very soon ; it may 
 be to take you there for a few years, but, at all events, to 
 claim you for my wife ; which, after such trials, I should do 
 with no fear of your still thinking it a duty to cleave to him 
 who will not suffer me to live (for this is true), if he can help 
 it, in my own land. How long I may be absent is, of course, 
 uncertain ; but it shall not be very long. Trust me for 
 that." 
 
 " In the meantime, dear Martin — " 
 
 " That's the very thing I am coming to. In the mean- 
 time you shall hear, constantly, of all my goings-on. Thus." 
 He paused to take from his pocket the letter he had writ- 
 ten over-night, and then resumed : 
 
 " In this fellow's employment, and living in this fellow's 
 house (by fellow, I mean Mr. Pecksniff, of course), there is 
 a certain person of the name of Pinch. Don't forget ; a poor, 
 strange, simple oddity, Maiy ; but thoroughly honest and sin- 
 cere, full of zeal, and with a cordial regard for me. Which 
 I mean to return one of these days, by setting him up in life 
 in some way or other."
 
 MA R TIN CHL 'ZZLE WIT. 
 
 245 
 
 " Your old kind nature, Martin ! " 
 
 "Oh ! " said Martin, "that's not worth speaking of, my 
 love. He's very grateful and desirous to serve me ; and I 
 am more than repaid. Now one night I told this Pinch my 
 history, and all about myself and you ; in which he was not 
 a little mterested, I can tell you, for he knows you ! Ay, you 
 may looked surprised, and the longer the better, for it becomes 
 you, but you have heard him play the organ in the church of 
 that village before now ; and he has seen you listening to his 
 music ; and has caught his inspiration from you, too ! " 
 
 " Was he the organist .? " cried Mary. " I thank him from 
 my heart ! " 
 
 "Yes, he was," said Martin, "and is, and gets nothing 
 for it either. There never was such a simple fellow ! Quite 
 an infant ! But a very good sort of creature, I assure you." 
 
 "I am sure of that," she said, with great earnestness. 
 "He must be! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, no doubt at all about it," rejoined Martin, in 
 his usual careless way. " He is. Well ! It has occurred to 
 me — but stay. If I read you what I have written and intend 
 sending to him by post to-night, it will explain itself. ' My 
 dear Tom Pinch.' That's rather familiar, perhaps," said 
 Martin, suddenly remembering that he was proud when they 
 had last met, " but I call him my dear Tom Pinch, because 
 he likes it, and it pleases him." 
 
 " Very right, and ver\' kind," said Mar^^ 
 
 " Exactly so ! " cried Martin. " It's as well to be kind 
 whenever one can ; andj as I said before, he really is an ex- 
 cellent fellow. ' My dear Tom Pinch. I address this under 
 cover to Mrs. Lupin, at the Blue Dragon, and have begged 
 her in a short note to deliver it to you without saying any- 
 thing about it elsewhere ; and to do the same with all future 
 letters she may receive from me. My reason for so doing 
 will be at once apparent to you.' I don't know that it will 
 be, by the bye," said Martin, breaking off, "for he's slow of 
 comprehension, poor fellow ; but he'll find it out in time. My 
 reason simply is, that I don't want my letters to be read by 
 other people ; and particularly by the scoundrel whom he 
 thinks an angel." 
 
 " Mr. Pecksniff again ? " asked Mar}\ 
 
 " The same," said Martin ; " ' — will be at once apparent 
 to you. I have completed my arrangements for going to 
 America ; and you will be surprised to hear that I am to be
 
 246 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 accompanied by Mark Tapley, upon whom I have stumbled 
 strangely in London, and who insists on putting himself under 
 my protection ; ' meaning, my love," said Martin, breaking off 
 again, " our friend in the rear, of course." 
 
 She was delighted to hear this, and bestowed a kind glance 
 upon Mark, v/hich he brought his eyes down from the fog to 
 encounter, and received with immense satisfaction. She said 
 in his hearing, too, that he was a good soul and a merry 
 creature, and would be faithful, she was certain ; commenda- 
 tions which Mr. Tapley inwardly resolved to deser\'e, from 
 such lips, if he died for it. 
 
 " ' Now, my dear Pinch,' " resumed Martin, proceeding 
 with his letter ; " ' I am going to repose great trust in you, 
 knowing that I may do so with perfect reliance on your honor 
 and secrecy, and having nobody else just now to trust in.' " 
 
 " I don't think I would say that, Martin." 
 
 "Wouldn't you 1 Well ! I'll take that out. It's perfectly 
 true, though." 
 
 " But it might seem ungracious, perhaps." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind Pinch," said Martin. " There's no oc- 
 casion to stand on any ceremony with him. However, I'll take 
 it out, as you wish it, and make the full stop at ' secrecy.' Very 
 well ! ' I shall not only ' — this is the letter again, you know." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 " ' I shall not only inclose my letters to the young lady of 
 whom I have told you, to your charge, to be forwarded as she 
 may request ; but I most earnestly commit her, the young 
 lady herself, to your care and regard, in the event of your 
 meeting in my absence. I have reason to think that the prob- 
 abilities of your encountering each other — perhaps very fre- 
 quently — are now neither remote nor few ; and although in 
 our position you can do very little to lessen the uneasiness of 
 hers, I trust to you implicitly to do that much, and so deserve 
 the confidence I have reposed in you.' You see, my dear 
 Mary," said Martin, " it will be a great consolation to you to 
 have anybody, no matter how simple, with whom you can 
 speak about me ; and the very first time you talk to Pinch, 
 you'll feel at once, that there is no more occasion for any em- 
 barrassment or hesitation in talking to him, than if he were 
 an old woman." 
 
 " However that may be," she returned, smiling, " he is 
 your friend, and that is enough." 
 
 "Oh, yes, he's my friend," said Martin, "certainly. In 
 
 \
 
 A/A A- TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 247 
 
 fact, I have told him in so many words that we'll always take 
 notice of him, and protect him ; and it's a good trait in his 
 character that he's grateful, very grateful indeed. You'll like 
 him of all things, my love, I know. You'll observe ver}' much 
 that's comical and old-fashioned about Pinch, but you needn't 
 mind laughing at him \ for he'll not care about it. He'll 
 rather like it indeed ! " 
 
 " I don't think I shall put that to the test, Martin." 
 
 "You wont if you can help it, of course," he said, "but I 
 think you'll find him a little too much for your gravity. How- 
 ever that's neither here nor there, and it certainly is not the 
 letter ; which ends thus : ' Knowing that I need not impress 
 the nature and extent of that confidence upon you at any 
 greater length, as it is already sufirciently established in your 
 mind, I will only say in bidding you farewell, and looking for- 
 ward to our next meeting, that I shall charge myself from this 
 time, through all changes for the better, with your advance- 
 ment and happiness, as if they were my own. You may rely 
 upon that. And always believe nie, my dear Tom Pinch, 
 faithfully your friend, Martin Chuzzlewit. P. S. I enclose 
 the amount which you so kindly ' — Oh," said Martin, check- 
 ing himself, and folding up the letter, " that's nothing ! " 
 
 At this crisis Mark Tapley interposed, with an apology for 
 remarking that the clock at the Horse Guards was striking. 
 
 " Which I shouldn't have said nothing about, sir," added 
 ]\Iark, " if the young lady hadn't begged me to be particular 
 in mentioning it." 
 
 " I did," said Mar}^ " Thank you. You are quite right. 
 In another minute I shall be ready to return, ^^'e have time 
 for a very few words more, dear Martin, and althougli 1 had 
 much to say, it must remain unsaid until the happy time of 
 our next meeting. Heaven send it may come speedily and 
 prosperously ! I]ut I have no fear of that." 
 
 "Fear!" cried Martin. " Why, who has? What are a 
 few months? What is a whole year? When I come gayly 
 back, with a road through life hewn out before me, then in- 
 deed, looking back upon this parting, it may seem a dismal 
 one. But now ! I swear I wouldn't have it happen under 
 more favorable auspices, if I could ; for then I should be less 
 inclined to go, and less impressed with the necessity." 
 " Yes, yes. I feel that too. When do you go ? " 
 *' To-night. We leave for Liverpool to-night, A vessel 
 sails from that port, as I hear, in three days. In a month, or
 
 248 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 less, we shall be there. Why what's a month ! How many 
 months have flown by, since our last parting ! " 
 
 " Long to look back upon," said Mary, echoing his cheer- 
 ful tone, " but nothing in their course ! " 
 
 " Nothing at all ! " cried Martin. " I shall have change 
 of scene and change of place ; change of people, change of 
 manners, change of cares and hopes ! Time will wear wings 
 indeed ! I can bear anything, so that I have swift action, 
 Mary." 
 
 Was he thinking solely of her care for him, when he took 
 so little heed of her share in the separation ; of her quiet 
 monotonous endurance, and her slow anxiety from day to day ? 
 Was there nothing jarring and discordant even in his tone of 
 courage, with this one note " self " for ever audible, however 
 high the strain 1 Not in her ears. It had been better other- 
 wise, perhaps, but so it was. She heard the same bold spirit 
 which had flung away as dross all gain and profit for her sake, 
 making light of peril and privation that she might be calm 
 and happy ; and she heard no more. That heart where self 
 has found no place and raised no throne, is slow to recognize 
 its ugly presence when it looks upon it. As one possessed of 
 an evil spirit, was held in old time to be alone conscious of the 
 lurking demon in the breasts of other men, so kindred vices 
 know each other in their hiding-places every day, when Virtue 
 is incredulous and blind. 
 
 " The quarter 's gone ! " cried Mr. Tapley, in a voice of 
 admonition. 
 
 " I shall be ready to return immediately," she said. " One 
 thing, dear Martin, I am bound to tell you. You entreated 
 me a few minutes since only to answer what you asked me in 
 reference to one theme, but you should and must know (other- 
 wise I could not be at ease), that since that separation of 
 which I was the unhappy occasion, he has never once uttered 
 your name ; has never coupled it, or any faint allusion to it, 
 with passion or reproach ; and has never abated in his kind- 
 ness to me." 
 
 " I thank him for that last act," said Martin, " and for 
 nothing else. Though on consideration I may thank him for 
 his other forbearance also, inasmuch as I neither expect nor 
 desire that he will mention mv name again. He mav once, 
 perhaps — to couple it with reproach — in his will. Let him, if 
 he please ! By the time it reaches me, he will be in his grave ; 
 a satire on his own anger, God help him ! " 
 
 M :
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 249 
 
 " Martin ! If 3'ou would but sometimes, in some quiet 
 hour ; beside the winter fire ; in the summer air ; when you 
 hear gentle music, or think of Death, or Home, or Childhood ; 
 if vou would at such a season resolve to think, but once a 
 month, or even once a year, of him, or any one who ever 
 wronged you, you would forgive him in your heart, I know ! " 
 
 " If I believed that to be true, Mary," he replied, " I would 
 resolve at no such time to bear him in mv mind, wishing to 
 spare myself the shame of such a weakness. I was not born 
 to be the toy and puppet of any man, far less his ; to whose 
 pleasure and caprice, in return for any good he did me, my 
 whole youth was sacrificed. It became between us two a fair 
 exchange, a barter, and no more ; and there is no such bal- 
 ance against me that I need throw in a mawkish forgiveness 
 to poise the scale. He has forbidden all mention of me to 
 you, I know," he added hastily. " Come ! Has he not ? " 
 
 " That was long ago," she returned ; " immediately after 
 your parting ; before you had left the house. He has never 
 done so since." 
 
 " He has never done so since, because he has seen no 
 occasion," said Martin ; " but that is of little consequence, 
 one way or other. Let all allusion to him between you and 
 me be interdicted from this time forth. And therefore, love " — • 
 he drew her quickly to him, for the time of parting had now 
 come — " in the first letter that you write to me through the 
 Post-office, addressed to New York — and in all the others that 
 you send through Pinch — remember he has no existence, but 
 has become to us as one who is dead. Now, God bless you ! 
 This is a strange place for such a meeting and such a parting ; 
 but our next meeting shall be in a better, and our next and 
 last parting in a worse." 
 
 " One other question, Martin, 1 must ask. Have you pro- 
 vided money for this journey .? " 
 
 " Have I ? " cried Martin ; it might have been in his pride ; 
 it might have been in his desire to set her mind at ease : 
 " Have I provided money ? W'hv, there's a question for an 
 emigrant's wife ! How could I move on land or sea without 
 it, love ? " 
 
 " I mean, enough." 
 
 " Enough ! More than enough. Twenty times more than 
 enough. A pocketfull. Mark and I, for all essential ends, 
 are quite as rich as if we had the purse of Fortunatus in our 
 baggage."
 
 250 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " The half-hour 's a-going ! " cried Mr. Tapley. 
 " Good-by a hundred times ! " cried Mary, in a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 But how cold the comfort in Good-bye ! Mark Tapley 
 knew it perfectly. Perhaps he knew it from his reading, per- 
 haps from his experience, perhaps from intuition. It is im- 
 possible to say ; but however he knew it, his knowledge in- 
 stinctively suggested to him the wisest course of proceeding 
 than any man could have adopted under the circumstances. 
 He was taken with a violent fit of sneezing, and was obliged 
 to turn his head another way. In doing which, he, in a man- 
 ner, fenced and screened the lovers into a corner by them- 
 selves. 
 
 There was a short pause, but Mark had an undefined sen- 
 sation that it was a satisfactory one in its way. Then Mary, 
 with her veil lowered, passed him with a quick step, and 
 beckoned him to follow. She stopped once more before they 
 lost that corner, looked back, and waved her hand to Martin. 
 He made a start towards them at the moment as if he had 
 some other farewell words to say ; but she only hurried off 
 the faster, and Mr. Tapley followed as in duty bound. 
 
 When he rejoined Martin again in his own chamber, he 
 found that gentleman seated moodily before the dusty grate, 
 with his two feet on the fender, his two elbows on his knees, 
 and his chin supported, in a not very ornamental manner, on 
 the palms of his hands. 
 
 " Well, Mark ? " 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mark, taking a long breath, "I see the 
 young lady safe home, and I feel pretty comfortable after it. 
 She sent a lot of kind words, sir, and this,'" handing him a 
 ring, "for a parting keepsake." 
 
 " Diamonds ! " said Martin, kissing it — let us do him 
 justice, it was for her sake ; not for theirs — and putting it on 
 his little finger. " Splendid diamonds ! My grandfather is 
 a singular character, Mark. He must have given her this, 
 
 now." 
 
 Mark Tapley knew as well that she had bought it, to the 
 end that that unconscious speaker might carry some article of 
 sterling value with him in his necessity ; as he knew that it 
 was day, and not night. Though he had no more acquaint- 
 ance of his own knowledge with the histor}^ of the glittering 
 trinket on Martin's outspread finger, than Martin himself 
 had, he was as certain that in its purchase she had expended
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 251 
 
 her whole stock of hoarded money, as if he had seen it paid 
 down coin by coin. Her lover's strange obtuseness in rela- 
 tion to this little incident, promptly suggested to Mark's mind 
 its real cause and root ; and from that moment he had a clear 
 and perfect insight into the one absorbing principle of Martin's 
 character. 
 
 " She is worthy of the sacrifices I have made," said Martin, 
 folding his arms, and looking at the ashes in the stove, as if 
 in resumption of some former thoughts. " Well worthy of 
 them. No riches " — here he stroked his chin, and mused— 
 "could have compensated for the loss of such a nature. Not 
 to mention that in gaining her affection, I have followed the 
 bent of my own wishes, and baulked the selfish schemes of 
 others who had^no right to form them. She is quite worthy, 
 more than worthy, of the sacrifices I have made. Yes, she 
 is. No doubt of it." 
 
 These ruminations might or might not have reached Mark 
 Tapley ; for though they were by no means addressed to him, 
 yet they were softly uttered. In any case, he stood there, 
 watching Martin, with an indescribable and most involved 
 expression on his visage, until that young man roused himself 
 and looked towards him ; when he turned away, as being 
 suddenly intent upon certain preparations for the journey, 
 and, without giving vent to any articulate sound, smiled with 
 surpassing ghastliness, and seemed by a twist of his features 
 and a motion of his lips, to release himself of this word : 
 
 "Jolly!" 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE BURDEN WHEREOF IS, HAIL, COLUMBIA ! 
 
 A DARK and dreary night ; people nestling in their beds 
 or circling late about the fire ; Want, colder than Charity, 
 shivering at the street corners ; church-towers humming with 
 the faint vibration of their own tongues, but newly resting 
 from the ghostly preachment ' One ! The earth covered with 
 a sable pall as for the burial of yesterday ; the clumps of 
 dark trees, its giant plumes of funeral feathers, waving sadly
 
 252 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 to and fro ; all hushed, all noiseless, and in deep repose, sav^e 
 the swift clouds that skim across the moon, and the cautious 
 wind, as, creeping after them upon the ground, it stops to 
 listen, and goes rustling on, and stops again, and follows, like 
 a savage on the trail. 
 
 Whither go the clouds and wind, so eagerly ? If, like 
 guilty spirits, they repair to some dread conference with 
 powers like themselves, in what wild regions do the elements 
 hold council, or where unbend in terrible disport ? 
 
 Here ! Free from that cramped prison called the earth, 
 and out upon the waste of waters. Here, roaring, raging, 
 shrieking, howling, all night long. Hither come the sounding 
 voices from the caverns on the coast of that small island, 
 sleeping, a thousand miles away, so quietly in the midst of 
 angry waves ; and hither, to meet them, rush the blasts from 
 unknown desert places of the world. Here, in the fury of 
 their unchecked liberty, they storm and buffet with each 
 other, until the sea, lashed into passion like their own, leaps 
 up, in ravings mightier than theirs, and the whole scene is 
 madness. 
 
 On, on, on, over the countless miles of angry space roll 
 the long heaving billows. Mountains and caves are here, 
 and. yet are not; for what is now the one, is now the other; 
 then all is but a boiling heap of rushing water. Pursuit, and 
 flight, and mad return of wave on wave, and savage struggle, 
 ending in a spouting-up of foam that whitens the black night ; 
 incessant change of place, and form, and hue ; constancy in 
 nothing, but eternal strife ; on, on, on, they roll, and darker 
 grows the night, and louder howls the wind, and more clamor- 
 ous and fierce become the million voices in the sea, when the 
 wild cry goes forth upon the storm " A ship ! " 
 
 Onward she comes, in gallant combat with the elements, 
 her tall masts trembling, and her timbers starting on the 
 strain ; onw'ard she comes, now high upon the curling billows, 
 now low down in the hollows of the sea, as hiding for the 
 moment from its furv ; and every storm-voice in the air and 
 water, cries more loudly yet, " A ship ! " 
 
 Still she comes striving on : and at her boldness and the^ 
 spreading cry, the angry wa\es rise up above each other's 
 hoary heads to look ; and round about the vessel, far as the 
 mariners on the decks can pierce into the gloom, they press 
 upon her, forcing each other down, and starting up, and 
 rushing forward from afar, in dreadful curiosity. High over
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 253 
 
 her they break ; and round her surge and roar ; and giving 
 place to others, moaningly depart, and dash themselves to 
 fragments in their baffled anger. Still she comes onward 
 bravely. And though the eager multitude crowd thick and 
 fast upon her all the night, and dawn of day discovers the 
 untiring train yet bearing down upon the ship in an eternity 
 of troubled water, onward she comes, with dim lights burning 
 in her hull, and people there, asleep : as if no deadly element 
 were peering in at every seam and chink, and no drowned 
 seaman's grave, with but a plank to cover it, were yawning in 
 the unfathomable depths below. 
 
 Among these sleeping voyagers were Martin and ^lark 
 Tapley, who, rocked into a heavy drowsiness by the unac- 
 customed motio;i, were as insensible to the foul air in which 
 they lay, as to the uproar without. It was broad day, when 
 the latter awoke with a dim idea that he was dreaming of 
 
 ■I • 
 
 havmg gone to sleep in a four-post bedstead which had turned 
 bottom upwards in the course of the night. There was more 
 reason in this too, than in the roasting of eggs ; for the first 
 objects Mr. Tapley recognized when he opened his eves were 
 his own heels — looking down to him, as he afterwards ob- 
 served, from a nearly perpendicular elevation. 
 
 " Well ! " said Mark, getting himself into a sitting posture, 
 after various ineffectual struggles with the rolling of the 
 ship. " This is the first time as ever I stood on my head all 
 night." 
 
 " You shouldn't go to sleep upon the ground with your 
 head to leeward then," growled a man in one of the berths. 
 
 "With my head to where 'i " asked Mark. 
 
 The man repeated his previous sentiment. 
 
 " No, I won't another time," said Mark, " when I know 
 whereabouts on the map that country is. In the meanwhile, 
 I can give you a better piece of advice. Don't you nor any 
 other friend of mine never go to sleep with his head in a ship, 
 any more." 
 
 The man gave a grunt of discontented acquiescence, 
 turned over in his berth, and drew his blanket o\-er his head. 
 
 " — For," said Mr. Tapley, pursuing the theme by way of 
 soliloquy, in a low tone of voice ; " the sea is as nonsensical 
 a thing as any going. It, never knows what to do with itself. 
 It hasn't got no employment for its mind, and is always in a 
 state of vacancy. Like them Polar bears in the wild-beast- 
 shows as is constantly a nodding their heads from side to
 
 254 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 side, it never can be quiet. Which is entirely owing to its 
 uncommon stupidity." 
 
 " Is that you, Mark ? " asked a faint voice from another 
 berth. 
 
 " It's as much of me as is left, sir, after a fortnight of this 
 work," Mr. Tapley replied. "What with leading the life of a 
 fly, ever since I've been aboard — for I've been perpetually 
 holding-on to something or other, in a upside-down position 
 — what with that, sir, and putting a very little into myself, 
 and taking a good deal out of yourself, there ain't too much 
 of me to swear by. How do yoii find yourself this morning, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Very miserable," said Martin, with a peevish groan. 
 " Ugh ! This is wretched, indeed ! " 
 
 " Creditable," muttered Mark, pressing one hand upon his 
 aching head and looking round him with a rueful grin. " That's 
 the great comfort. It /> creditable to keep up one's spirits 
 here. Virtue's its own reward. So's jollity." 
 
 Mark was so far right, that unquestionably any man who 
 retained his cheerfulness among the steerage accomodations 
 of that noble and fast-sailing-line-of-packet-ship, " The Screw," 
 was solely indebted to his own resources, and shipped his 
 good humor, like his provisions, without any contribution or 
 assistance from the owners. A dark, low, stifling cabin, sur- 
 rounded by berths all filled to everflowing with men, women, 
 and children, in various stages of sickness and misery, is not 
 the liveliest place of assembly at any time ; but when it is so 
 crowded (as the steerage cabin of " The Screw " was every 
 passage out), that mattresses and beds are heaped upon the 
 floor, to the extinction of everything like comfort, cleanliness, 
 and decency, it is liable to operate not only as a pretty strong 
 barrier against amiability of temper, but as a positive en- 
 courager of selfish and rough humors. Mark felt this, as he 
 sat looking about him ; and his spirits rose proportionately. 
 
 There were English people, Irish people, Welsh people, 
 and Scotch people there ; all with their little store of coarse 
 food and shabby clothes ; and nearly all, with their families 
 of children. There were children of all ages ; from the baby 
 at the breast, to the slattern-girl who was as much a grown 
 woman as her mother. Every kind of domestic suffering that 
 is bred in poverty, illness, banishment, sorrow, and long travel 
 in bad weather, was crammed into the little space ; and yet 
 was there infinitely less of complaint and querulousncss, and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 255 
 
 infinitely more of mutual assistance and general kindness to 
 be found in that unwholesome ark, than in many brilliant ball- 
 rooms. 
 
 Mark looked about him wistfully, and his face brightened 
 as he looked. Here an old grandmother was crooning over a 
 sick child, and rocking it to and fro, in arms hardly more 
 wasted than its own young limbs ; here a poor woman with 
 an infant in her lap, mended another little creature's clothes, 
 and quieted another who was creeping up about her froiu their 
 scanty bed upon the floor. Here were old men awkwardly 
 engaged in little household offices, wherein they would have 
 been ridiculous but for their good-will and kind purpose ; and 
 here were swarthy fellows — giants in their way — doing such 
 little acts of tenderness for those about them, as mi<jht have 
 belonged to gentlest-hearted dwarfs. The very idiot in the 
 corner who sat mowing there, all da}-, had his faculty of imita- 
 tion roused by what he saw about him ; and snapped his fin- 
 gers, to amuse a cr}'ing child. 
 
 " Now, then," said Mark, nodding to a woman who was 
 dressing her three children at no great distance from him — 
 and the grin upon his face had by this time spread from ear 
 to ear — " hand over one of them young uns according to 
 custom." 
 
 " I wish you'd get breakfast, Mark, instead of worrj-ing 
 with people who don't belong to you," observed Martin, pet- 
 ulantly. 
 
 " All right," said Mark. " SJuW do that. It's a fair di- 
 vision of labor, sir. I wash her boys, and she makes our tea. 
 I never rt'/^A/ make tea, but anyone can wash 'a boy." 
 
 The woman, who was delicate and ill, felt and understood 
 his kindness, as well she might, for she had been covered 
 every night with his great-coat, while he had had for his own 
 bed the bare boards and a rug. But, Martin, who seldom got 
 up or looked about him, was quite incensed by the folly of 
 this speech, and expressed his dissatisfaction, by an impatient 
 groan. 
 
 " So it is, certainly," said Mark, brushing the child's hair 
 as coolly as if he had been born and bred a barber. 
 
 " What are you talking about, now ? " asked Martin. 
 
 "What you said," replied Mark; "or what you meant, 
 when you gave that there dismal vent to your feelings. 1 
 quite go along with it, sir. It is very hard upon her." 
 
 " What is ? "
 
 256 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Making the voyage by herself along with these young 
 impediments here, and going such a way at such a time of 
 the year to join her husband. If you don't want to be driven 
 mad with yellow soap in your eye young man," said Mr. Tapley 
 to the second urchin, who was by this time under his hands 
 at the basin, "you'd better shut it." 
 
 "Where does she join her husband ? " asked Martin, 
 yawning. 
 
 " Why, I'm ver}^ much afraid," said Mr. Tapley, in a low 
 voice, " that she don't know. I hope she mayn't miss him. 
 But she sent her last letter by hand, and it don't seem to have 
 been very clearly understood between 'em without it, and if 
 she don't see him a waving his pocket-handkerchief on the 
 shore, like a pictur out of a song-book, my opinion is, she'll 
 break her heart." 
 
 '' Why, how, in Folly's name, does the woman come to be 
 on board ship on such a wild-goose venture ! " cried Martin. 
 
 Mr. Tapley glanced at him for a moment as he lay pros- 
 trate in his berth, and then said, ver}'^ quietly : 
 
 " Ah ! How, indeed ! I can't think ! He's been away 
 from her, for two year : she's been very poor and lonely in 
 her own country ; and has always been a looking forward to 
 meeting him. It's very strange she should be here. Quite 
 amazing ! A little mad, perhaps ! There can't be no other 
 way of accounting for it." 
 
 Martin was too far gone in the lassitude of sea-sickness to 
 make any reply to these words, or even to attend to them as 
 they were spoken. And the subject of their discourse return- 
 ing at this crisis with some hot tea, effectually put a stop to 
 any resumption of the theme by Mr. Tapley ; who, when the 
 meal was over, and he had adjusted Martin's bed, went up 
 on deck to wash the breakfast service, which consisted of two 
 half-pint tin mugs, and a shaving-pot of the same metal. 
 
 It is due to Mark Tapley to state, that he suffered at least 
 as much from sea-sickness as any man, woman, or child, on 
 board ; and that he had a peculiar faculty of knocking himself 
 about on the smallest provocation, and losing his legs at every 
 lurch of the ship. But resolved, m his usual phrase, to " come 
 out strong " under disadvantageous circumstances, he was the 
 life and soul of the steerage, and made no more of stopping 
 in the middle of a facetious conversation to go away and be 
 excessively ill by himself, and afterwards come back in the 
 very best and gayest of tempers to resume it, than if such a 
 course of proceeding had been the commonest in the world.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 257 
 
 It cannot be said that as his ilhiess wore off, his cheerful- 
 ness and good-nature increased, because they would hardly 
 admit of augmentation ; but his usefulness among the weaker 
 members of the party was much enlarged ; and at all times 
 and seasons there he was exerting it. If a gleam of sun 
 shone out of the dark sky down Mark tumbled into the cabin, 
 and presently up he came again with a woman in his arms, 
 or half-a-dozen children, or a man, or a bed, or a saucepan, 
 or a basket, or something animate or inanimate, that he 
 thought would be the better for the air. If an hour or two 
 of fine weather in the middle of the day, tempted those who 
 seldom or never came on deck at other times, to crawl into the 
 long-boat, or lie down upon the spare spars, and try to eat, 
 there, in the centre of the group, was Mr. Tapley, handing 
 about salt beef and biscuit, or dispensing tastes of grog, or 
 cutting up the children's provisions with his pocket-knife, for 
 their greater ease and comfort, or reading aloud from a vener- 
 able newspaper, or singing some roaring old song to a select 
 party, or writing the beginnings of letters to their friends at 
 home for people who couldn't write, or cracking jokes with 
 the crew, or nearly getting blown over the side, or emerging, 
 half-drowned, from a shower of spray, or lending a hand some- 
 where or other : but always doing something for the general 
 entertainment. At night, when the cooking-fire was lighted 
 on the deck, and the driving sparks that fiew among the rig- 
 ging, and the cloud of sails, seemed to menace the ship with 
 certain annihilation by fire, in case the elements of air and 
 water failed to compass her destruction ; there, again, was 
 Mr. Tapley, with his coat off and his shirt-sleeves turned \x\) 
 to his elbows, doing all kinds of culinary offices ; compound- 
 ing the strangest dishes ; recognized by every one as an estab- 
 lished authority ; and helping all parties to achieve something, 
 which, left to themselves, they never could have done, and 
 never would have dreamed of. In short, there never was a 
 more popular character than Mark Tapley became, on board 
 that noble and fast-sailing-linc-of-packet ship, the Screw ; 
 and he attained at last to such a pitch of universal admira- 
 tion, that he began to have grave doubts within himself 
 whether a man might reasonably claim any credit for being 
 jolly under such ex<;iting circumstances. 
 
 " If this was going to last," said Mr. Tapley " there'd be 
 no great difference as I can perceive, between the Screw and 
 the Dragon. I never am to get credit, I think. I begin to 
 
 17
 
 258 
 
 MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT. 
 
 be afraid that the Fates is determined to make the world easy 
 to me." 
 
 "Well, Mark," said Martin, near whose berth he had 
 ruminated to this effect. " When will this be over ? " 
 
 " Another week, they say, sir," returned Mark, " will most 
 likely bring us into port. The ship's a going along at present, 
 as sensible as a ship can, sir ; though I don't mean to say as 
 that's any very high praise." 
 
 " I don't think it is, indeed," groaned Martin. 
 
 " You'd feel all the better for it, sir, if you was to turn 
 out," observed Mark. 
 
 " And be seen by the ladies and gentlemen on the after- 
 deck," returned Martin, with a scornful emphasis upon the 
 words, " mingling with the beggarly crowd that are stowed 
 away in this vile hole. I should be greatly the bet'er for that, 
 no doubt ! " 
 
 "I'm thankful that I can't say from my own experience 
 what the feelings of a gentleman may be," said Mark, " but I 
 should have thought, sir, as a gentleman would feel a deal 
 more uncomfortable down here, than up in the fresh air, 
 especially when the ladies and gentlemen in the after-cabin 
 know just as much about him, as he does about them, and are 
 likely to trouble their heads about him in the same proportion. 
 I should have thought that, certainl}^" 
 
 " I tell you, then," rejoined Martin, "you would have 
 thought wrong, and do think wrong." 
 
 " Very likely, sir," said Mark, with imperturbable good 
 temper. " I often do." 
 
 " As to Ivincr here," cried Martin, raisins: himself on his 
 elbow, and looking angrily at his follower. " Do you suppose 
 it's a pleasure to lie here ? " 
 
 "All the madhouses in the world," said Mr. Tapley, 
 "couldn't produce such a maniac as the man must be who 
 could think that." 
 
 " llien why are you for ever goading and urging me to get 
 up ? " asked Martin. " I lie here because I don't wish to be 
 recognized, in the better days to which I aspire, by any purse- 
 proud citizen, as the man who came over with him among the 
 steerage passengers. I lie here, because I wish to conceal 
 my circumstances and myself, and not to arrive in a new 
 world badged and ticketed as an utterly poverty-stricken man. 
 If I could have afforded a passage in the after-cabin, I should 
 have held up my head with the rest. As I couldn't, I hide it. 
 Do you understand that? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 259 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir," said Mark. " I didn't know you 
 took it so mucli to lieart as this comes to." 
 
 '' Of course you didn't know," returned liis master. " How 
 should you know, unless I told you .' It's no trial to you^ 
 Mark, to make yourself comfortable and to bustle about. It's 
 as natural for you to do so under the circumstances as it is 
 for me not to do so. Why, you don't suppose there is a 
 living creature in this ship who can by possibility have half 
 so much to undergo on board of her as / ha\e ? Do you ? " 
 he asked, sitting upright in his berth and looking at Mark, 
 with an expression of great earnestness not unmixed with 
 wonder. 
 
 Mark twisted his face into a tight knot, and with his head 
 very much on one side pondered upon this question as if he 
 felt it an extremely difficult one to answer. He was relieved 
 from his embarrassment by Martin himself, who said, as he 
 stretched himself upon his back again and resumed the book 
 he had been reading : 
 
 " But what is the use* of my putting such a case to you, 
 when the ver)' essence of what I have been saying, is, that 
 you cannot by possibility understand it ! Make me a little 
 brandy-and-water, cold and very weak, and give me a biscuit, 
 and tell your friend, who is a nearer neighbor of ours than 
 I could wish, to tr}' and keep her children a little quieter 
 to-night than she did last night ; that's a good fellow." 
 
 Mr. Tapley set hunself to obey these orders with great 
 alacrity, and pending their execution, it may be presumed his 
 flagging spirits revived, inasmuch as he several times observed, 
 below his breath, that in respect of its power of imparting a 
 credit to jollity, the Screw unquestionably liad some decided 
 advantages over the Dragon. He also remarked, that it was 
 a high gratification to him to reflect that he would carry its 
 main excellence ashore with him, and have it constantly beside 
 him, wherever he went ; but what he meant by these consola- 
 tory thoughts he did not explain. 
 
 And now a general excitement began to prevail on board ; 
 and various predictions relative to the precise day, and even 
 the precise hour at which they would reach New York, were 
 freely broached. There was infinitely more crowding on deck 
 and looking over the ship's side than there had been before; 
 and an epidemic broke out for packing up things every morn- 
 ing, which required unpacking again every night. Those who 
 had any letters to deliver, or any friends to meet, or any
 
 26o MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 settled plans of going anywhere or doing anything, discussed 
 their prospects a hundred times a day ; and as this class of 
 passengers was very small, and the number of those who had 
 no prospects whatever was very large, there were plenty of 
 listeners and few talkers. Those who had been ill all alone, 
 got well now, and those who had been well, got better. An 
 American gentleman in the after-cabin, who had been wrapped 
 up in fur and oilskin the whole passage, unexpectedly ap- 
 peared in a very shiny, tall, black hat, and constantly over- 
 hauled a very little valise of pale leather, which contained his 
 clothes, linen, brushes, shaving apparatus, books, trinkets, 
 and other baggage. He likewise stuck his hands deep into 
 his pockets, and walked the deck with his nostrils dilated, as 
 already inhaling the air of Freedom which carries death to all 
 tyrants, and can never (under any circumstances worth men- 
 tioning) be breathed by slaves. An English gentleman who 
 was strongly suspected of having run away from a bank, with 
 something in his possession belonging to its strong-box besides 
 the key, grew eloquent upon the subject of the rights of man, 
 and hummed the Marseillaise Hymn constantly. In a word, 
 one great sensation pervaded the whole ship, and the soil of 
 America lay close before them, so close at last, that, upon 
 a certain starlight night, they took a pilot on board, and 
 within a few hours afterwards lay to until the morning, await- 
 ing the arrival of a steam-boat in which the passengers were 
 to be conveyed ashore. 
 
 Off she came, soon after it was light next morning, and 
 lying alongside an hour or more — during which period her 
 very firemen were objects of hardly less interest and curiosity, 
 than if they had been so many angels, good or bad — took all 
 her living freight aboard. Among them, Mark, who still had 
 his friend and her three children under his close protection : 
 and Martin, who had once more dressed himself in his usual 
 attire, but wore a soiled, old cloak above his ordinary clothes, 
 until such time as he should separate for ever from his late 
 companions. 
 
 'rhe steamer — which, with its machinery on deck, looked, 
 as it worked its long slim legs, like some enormously magnitied 
 insect or antediluvian monster — dashed at great speed up a 
 beautiful bay ; and presently they saw some heights, and 
 Islands, and a long, flat, straggling city. 
 
 "And this," said Mr. Tapley, looking far ahead, "is the 
 Land of Liberty, is it ? Very well. I'm agreeable. Any land 
 will do for me, after so much water ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MARTIN DISEMBARKS FROM THAT NOBLE AND FAST-SAILING- 
 LINE-OF-PACKET SHIP, THE SCREW, AT THE PORT OF NEW 
 YORK, IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. HE MAKES 
 SOME ACQUAINTANCES, AND DINES AT A BOARDING-HOUSE. 
 THE PARTICULARS OF THOSE TRANSACTIONS. 
 
 Some trifling excitement prevailed upon the very l)rink and 
 margin of the land of liberty ; for an alderman had been 
 elected the day before, and Party Feeling naturally running 
 rather high on such an exciting occasion, the friends of the 
 disappointed candidate had found it necessary to assert the 
 great Principles of Purity of F^lection and Freedom of ( )pinion 
 by breaking a few legs and arms, and furthermore pursuing 
 one obnoxious gentleman through the streets with the design 
 of slitting his nose. These good-humored little outbursts of 
 the popular fancy were not in themselves sufficiently remark- 
 able to create any great stir, after the lapse of a whole night ; 
 but they found fresh life and notoriety in the breath of the 
 newsboys, who not only proclaimed them with shrill yells in 
 all the highways and bye-ways of the town, upon the wharves 
 and among the shipping, but on the deck and down in the 
 cabins of the steam-boat ; which, before she touched the shore, 
 was boarded and overrun by a legion of those young citizens. 
 
 " Here's this morning's New York Sewer ! " cried one. 
 *' Here's this morning's New York Stabber ! Here's the New 
 York Family Spy ! Here's the New York Private Listener! 
 Here's the New York Peeper ! Here's the New York 
 Plunderer ! Here's the New York Keyhole Reporter ! Here's 
 the New York Rowdv Tournal ! Here's all the New York 
 papers ! Here's full particulars of the patriotic loco-foco 
 movement yesterday, in which the whigs was so chawed up ; 
 and the last Alabama gouging case ; and the interesting 
 Arkansas dooel with Bowie knives ; and all the Political, 
 Commercial, and Fashionable News. Here they are ! Here 
 they are ! Here's the papers, here's the papers ! " 
 
 " Here's the Sewer ! " cried another. " Here's the New 
 York Sewer ! Here's some of the twelfth thousand of to-dav's 
 Sewer, with the best accounts of the markets, and all the
 
 262 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 shipping news, and four whole cohmins of country corre- 
 spondence, and a full account of the Uall at Mrs. White's last 
 night, where all the beauty and fashion of New York was 
 assembled ; with the Sewer's own particulars of the private 
 lives of all the ladies that was there ! Here's the Sewer ! 
 Here's some of the twelfth thousand of the New York Sewer ! 
 Here's the Sewer's exposure of the Wall Street Gang, and the 
 Sewer's exposure of the Washington Gang, and the Sewer's 
 exclusive account of a flagrant act of dishonesty committed 
 by the Secretary of State when he was eight years old ; now 
 communicated, at a great expense, by his own nurse. Here's 
 the Sewer ! Here's the New York Sewer, in its twelfth 
 thousand, with a whole column of New Yorkers to be shown 
 up, and all their names printed ! Here's the Sewer's article 
 upon the Judge that tried him, day afore yesterday, for libel, 
 and the Sewer's tribute to the independent Jury that didn't 
 convict him, and the Sewer's account of what they might have 
 expected if they had ! Here's the Sewer, here's the Sewer ! 
 Here's the wide-awake Sewer ; always on the look-out ; the 
 leading Journal of the United States, now in its twelfth 
 thousand, and still a printing off. Here's the New York 
 Sewer ! " 
 
 " It is in such enlightened means," said a voice almost in 
 Martin's ear, " that the bubbling passions of my country find 
 a vent." 
 
 Martin turned involuntarily, and saw, standing close at 
 his side, a sallow gentleman, with sunken cheeks, black hair, 
 small twinkling eyes, and a singular expression hovering about 
 that region of his face, which was not a frown, nor a leer, and 
 yet might have been mistaken at the first glance for either. 
 Indeed it would have been difficult, on a much closer 
 acquaintance, to describe it in any more satisfactory terms 
 than as a mixed expression of vulgar cunning and conceit. 
 This gentleman wore a rather broad-brimmed hat for the 
 greater wisdom of his appearance ; and had his arms folded 
 for the greater impressiveness of his attitude. He was some- 
 what shabbily dressed in a blue surtout reaching nearly to his 
 ankles-, short loose trousers of the same color, and a faded 
 buff waistcoat, through which a discolored shirt-frill struggled 
 to force itself into notice, as asserting an equality of civil 
 rights with the other portions of his dress, and maintaining a 
 declaration of Independence on its own account. His feet, 
 which were of unusually large proportions, were leisurely
 
 »- ^ 

 
 MA R TIN CHI 'ZZL E WIT. 263 
 
 crossed before him as he half leaned against, half sat upon, 
 the steamboat's bulwark ; and his thick cane, shod with a 
 mighty ferule at one end and armed with a great metal knob 
 at the other, depended from a line-and-tassel on his wrist. 
 Thus attired, and thus composed into an aspect of great pro- 
 fundity, the gentleman twitched up the right-hand corner of 
 his mouth and his right eye, simultaneously, and said, once 
 more . 
 
 " It is in such enlightened means, that the bubbling pas- 
 sions of my country find a vent." 
 
 As he looked at Martin, and nobody else was by, Martin 
 inclined his head, and said : 
 
 " You allude to— .' " 
 
 " To the Palladium of rational Liberty at home sir, and 
 the dread of FoTeign oppression abroad," returned the gentle- 
 man, as he pointed with his cane to an uncommonly dirty 
 newsboy with one eye " To the Envy of the world, sir, and 
 the leaders of Human Civilization. Let me ask you, sir," he 
 added, bringing the ferule of his stick heavily upon the deck 
 with the air of a man who must not be equivocated with, 
 " how do you like my Coun-try ? " 
 
 "I am hardly prepared to answer that question," said 
 Martin, •' seeing that I have not been ashore." 
 
 "Well, I should expect you were not prepared, sir," said 
 the gentleman, " to behold such signs of National Prosperity 
 as those ?" 
 
 He pointed to the vessels lying at the wharves ; and then 
 gave a vague flourish with his stick, as if he would include the 
 air and water, generally, in this remark. 
 
 " Really," said Martin, "I don't know. Yes. I think I was." 
 
 The gentleman glanced at him with a knowing look, and 
 said he liked his policy. It was natural, he said, and it 
 pleased him as a philosopher to observe the prejudices of hu- 
 man nature. 
 
 " You have brought, I see, sir," he said, turning round 
 towards Martin, and resting his chin on the top of his stick, 
 " the usual amount of misery and poverty and ignorance and 
 crime, to be located in the bosom of the great Republic. 
 Well, sir ! let 'em come on in ship-loads from the old countr}'. 
 When vessels are about to founder, the rats are said to leave 
 'em. There is considerable of truth, I find, in that remark." 
 
 "The old ship will keep afloat a year or two longer yet, 
 perhaps," said Martin with a smile, partly occasioned by what
 
 264 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 tlie gentleman said, and partly by his manner of saying it, 
 which was odd enough, for he emphasized all the small woids 
 and syllables in his discourse, and left the others to take care 
 of themselves, as if he thought the larger parts of speech 
 could be trusted alone, but the little ones required to be con- 
 stantly looked after. 
 
 " Hope is said by the poet," observed the gentleman, " to 
 be the nurse of Young Desire." 
 
 Martin signified that he had heard of the cardinal virtue 
 in question serving occasionally in that domestic capacity. 
 
 " She will not rear her infant in the present instance, sir, 
 you'll find," observed the gentleman. 
 
 " Time will show," said Martin. 
 
 The gentleman nodded his head, gravely, and said ; 
 "What is your name, sir.''" 
 
 Martin told him 
 
 " How old are you, sir ? " 
 
 Martin told him. 
 
 " What is your profession, sir ? " 
 
 Martin told him that, also. 
 
 "What is your destination, sir,?" inquired the gentleman. 
 
 '* Really," said Martin, laughing, " 1 can't satisfy you in 
 that particular, for I don't know it myself." 
 
 " Yes ? " said the gentleman. 
 
 " No," said Martin. 
 
 The gentleman adjusted his cane under his left arm, and 
 took a more deliberate and complete survey of Martin than 
 he had yet had leisure to make. When he had completed his 
 inspection, he put out his right hand, shook Martin's hand, 
 and said ; 
 
 " My name is Colonel Diver, sir. I am the Editor of the 
 New York Rowdy Journal." 
 
 Martin received the communication with that degree of 
 respect which an announcement so distinguished appeared to 
 demand. 
 
 " The New York Rowdy Journal, sir," resumed the colo- 
 nel, " is, as I expect you know, the organ of our aristocracy 
 in this city" 
 
 " Oh ! there is an aristocracy here, then ? " said Martin, 
 " Of what is it composed .'' " 
 
 " Of intelligence, sir," replied the colonel ; " of intelligence 
 and virtue. And of their necessary consequence in this re- 
 public. Dollars, sir."
 
 MARTIX CHUZZLEU'IT. 265 
 
 Martin was ver}' glad to hear this, feeUng well assured that 
 if intelligence and virtue led, as a matter of course, to the ac- 
 quisition of dollars, he would speedily become a great capital- 
 ist. He was about to express the gratification such news 
 afforded him, when he was interrupted by the captain of the 
 ship, who came up at the moment to shake hands with the 
 colonel ; and who, seeing a well-dressed stranger on the deck 
 (for Martin had thrown aside his cloak), shook hands with 
 him also. This was an unspeakable relief to Martin, who, in 
 spite of the acknowledged supremacy of Intelligence and vir- 
 tue in that happy countr}', would have been deeply mortified 
 to appear before Colonel Diver in the poor character of a 
 steerage passenger. 
 
 " Well, cap'en ! " said the colonel. 
 
 " Well, colonel ! " cried the captain. " You're looking 
 most uncommon bright, sir. I can hardly realize its being 
 you, and that's a fact." 
 
 " A good iDassage, cap'en ? " inquired the colonel taking 
 him aside. 
 
 "Well now! It was a pretty spanking run, sir," said, or 
 rather sung, the captain, who was a genuine New Englander, 
 " con-siderin the weather." 
 
 " Yes ? " said the colonel. 
 
 "Well! It was sir," said the captain. "I've just now 
 sent a boy up to your office with the passenger-list, colonel." 
 
 " You haven't got another boy to spare, p'raps, cap'en ? " 
 said the colonel, in a tone almost amounting to severity. 
 
 " I guess there air a dozen if you want 'em, colonel," said 
 the captain. 
 
 " One moderate big 'un could convey a dozen of cham- 
 pagne, perhaps," obsened the colonel musing, " to my office. 
 You said a spanking nni, 1 think .'' " 
 
 " Well, so I did," was the reply. 
 
 " It's very nigh you know," observed the colonel. " I'm 
 glad it was a spanking run, cap'en. Don't mind about quarts 
 if you're short of 'em. The boy can as well bring four-and- 
 twenty pints, and travel twice as once. — A first-rate spanker, 
 cap'en, was it ? Yes t " 
 
 "A most e — tarnal spanker," said the skipper. 
 
 " I admire at your good fortun, cap'en. You might loan 
 me a corkscrew at the same time, and half-a-dozen glasses if 
 you liked. However bad the elements combine against my 
 country's noble packet-ship, the Screw, sir," said the colonel,
 
 2 66 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 turning to Martin, and drawing a flourish on the surface of 
 the deck with his cane, " her passage either way, is ahnost 
 certain to eventuate a spanker ! " 
 
 The captain, who had the Sewer below at that moment, 
 lunching expensively in one cabin, while the amiable Stabber 
 was drinking himself into a state of blind madness in another, 
 took a cordial leave of his friend the colonel, and hurried 
 away to despatch the champagne, well-knowing (as it after- 
 wards appeared) that if he failed to conciliate the editor of 
 the Rowdy Journal, that potentate would denounce him and 
 his ship in large capitals before he was a day older ; and 
 would probably assault the memory of his mother also, who 
 had not been dead more than twenty years. The colonel 
 being again left alone with Martin, checked him as he was 
 moving away, and offered, in consideration of his being an 
 Englishman, to show him the town and to introduce him, if 
 such were his desire, to a genteel boarding-house. But before 
 they entered on these proceedings (he said ), he would beseech 
 the honor of his company at the oihce of the Rowdy Journal, 
 to partake of a bottle of champagne of his own importation. 
 
 All this was so extremely kind and hospitable, that Martin, 
 though it was quite early in the morning, readily acquiesced. 
 So, instructing Mark, who was deeply engaged with his friend 
 and her three children, that when he had done assisting them, 
 and had cleared the ba2rs:a2fe, he was to wait for further orders 
 at the Rowdy Journal Office, Martin accompanied his new 
 friend on shore. 
 
 They made their way as they best could through the mel- 
 ancholy crowd of emigrants upon the wharf, who, grouped 
 about their beds and boxes, with the bare ground below them 
 and the bare sky above, might have fallen from another planet, 
 for anything they knew of the country ; and walked for some 
 sl'kort distance along a busy street, bounded on one side by 
 the quays and shipping ; and on the other by a long row of 
 staring red-brick storehouses and offices, ornamented with 
 more black boards and white letters, and more white boards 
 and black letters, than Martin had ever seen before, in fifty 
 times the space. Presently they turned up a narrow street, 
 and presentlv into other narrow streets, until at last they 
 stopped before a house whereon was painted in great charac- 
 ters, " Rowdy Journal." 
 
 The colonel, who had walked the whole way with one hand 
 in his breast, his head occasionally wagging from side to side,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 267 
 
 and liis hat thrown back upon his ears, Hke a man who was 
 oppressed to inconvenience by a sense of his own greatness, 
 lead the way up a dark and dirty flight of stairs into a room 
 of similar character, all littered and bestrewn with odds and 
 ends of newspapers and other crumpled fragments, both in 
 proof and manuscript. . Behind a mangy old writing-table in 
 this apartment, sat a figure with a stump of a pen in its mouth 
 and a great pair of scissors in its right hand, clipping and 
 slicing at a file of Rowdy Journals ; and it was such a laugh- 
 able figure that Martin Jiad some difficulty in preserving his 
 gravity, though conscious of the close obsen-ation of Colonel 
 Diver. 
 
 The individual who sat clipping and slicing as aforesaid at 
 the Rowdy Jouraals, was a small young gentleman of very 
 juvenile appearance, and unwholesomely pale in the face'; 
 partly, perhaps, from intense thought, but partly, there is no 
 doubt, from the excessive use of tobacco, which he was at 
 that moment chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt-collar 
 turned down over a black ribbon ; and his lank hair, a fragile 
 crop, was not only smoothed and parted back from his brow, 
 that none of the Poetry of his aspect might be lost, but had, 
 here and there, been grubbed up by the roots, which account- 
 ed for his loftiest developments being somewhat pimply. He 
 had that order of nose on which the envy of mankind has be- 
 stowed the appellation " snub," and it was ver\' much turned 
 up at the end, as with a lofty scorn. Upon the upper lip of tiiis 
 young gentleman, were tokens of a sandy down, so \er\', very 
 smooth and scant, that, though encouraged to the utmost, it 
 looked more like a recent trace of gingerbread, than the fair 
 promise of a mustache ; and this conjecture, his apparently 
 tender age went far to strengthen. He was intent upon his 
 work. Ever)' time he snapped the great pair of scissors, he 
 made a corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave him a 
 very terrible appearance. 
 
 Martin was not long in determining within himself that 
 this must be Colonel Diver's son ; the hope of the family, and 
 future mainspring of the Rowdy Journal Indeed he had 
 begun to say that he presumed this was the Colonel's little 
 boy, and that it was ver}- pleasant to see him plaving at Editor 
 in all the guilelessness of childhood, when the colonel proudly 
 interposed and said : 
 
 " My War Correspondent, sir. Mr. Jefferson "Trick ! " 
 
 Martin could not help starting at this unexpected announce-
 
 268 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ment, and the consciousness of the irretrievable mistake he 
 had nearly made. 
 
 Mr. Brick seemed pleased with the sensation he produced 
 upon the stranger, and shook hands with him, with an air of 
 patronage designed to reassure him, and to let him know that 
 there was no occasion to be frightened, for he (Brick) wouldn't 
 hurt him. 
 
 "You have heard of Jefferson Brick I see, sir," quoth the 
 colonel, with a smile. " England has heard of JefTerson Brick, 
 Europe has heard of Jefferson Brick. Let me see. When 
 did 30U leave England, sir ? " 
 
 "Five weeks ago," repeated the colonel, thoughtfully; as 
 he took his seat upon the table and swung his legs. " Now 
 let me ask you, sir, which of Mr. Brick's articles had become 
 at that time the most obnoxious to the British Parliament and 
 the Court of Saint James's ? " 
 
 "Upon my word," said Martin, " I — " 
 
 " I have reason to know sir," interrupted the colonel, 
 " that the aristocratic circles of your country quail before 
 the name of Jefferson Brick. I should like to be informed, 
 sir, from your lips, which of his sentiments has struck the 
 deadliest blow — " 
 
 " At the hundred heads of the Hydra of Corruption now 
 grovelling in the dust beneath the lance of Reason, and 
 spouting up to the vmiversal arch above us, its sanguinaiy gore," 
 said Mr. Brick, putting on a little blue cloth cap with a glazed 
 front, and quoting his last article. 
 
 " The libation of freedom. Brick," hinted the colonel. 
 
 " Must sometimes be quaffed in blood, colonel," cried Brick, 
 And when he said "blood," he gave the great pair of scissors 
 a sharp snap, as if ihcy said blood too, and were quite of his 
 opinion. 
 
 This done, they both looked at Martin, pausing for a 
 reply. 
 
 "Upon my life," said Martin, who had by this time quite 
 recovered his usual coolness, " I can't give you any satisfac- 
 tory information about it ; for the truth is that I — " 
 
 "Stop ! " cried the colonel, glancing sternly at his war cor- 
 respondent, and giving his head one shake after every sentence. 
 " That you never heard of Jefferson Brick, sir. That you 
 never read Jefferson Brick, sir. That you never saw the 
 Rowdy Journal, sir. That you never knew, sir of its mighty 
 influence upon the cabinets of Eu — rope. Yes ? "
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 269 
 
 " That's what I was about to observe, certainly," said 
 Martin. 
 
 " Keep cool, Jefferson," said the colonel gravely. " Don't 
 bust ! oh you Europeans ! Arter that, let's have a glass of 
 wine ! " So saying, he got down from the table, and produced, 
 from a basket outside the door, a bottle of champagne, and 
 three glasses. 
 
 " Mr. Jefferson Brick, sir," said the colonel, filling Martin's 
 glass and his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman, 
 "will give us a sentiment." 
 
 " Well, sir ! " cried the war correspondent, " since you have 
 concluded to call upon me, I will respond. I will give you, 
 sir, The Rowdy Journal and its brethren ; the well of Truth, 
 whose waters are black from being composed of printers' ink, 
 but are quite clear enough for my country to behold the 
 shadow of her Destiny reflected in." 
 
 " Hear, hear !" cried the colonel, with great complacency. 
 " There are flowery components, sir, in the language of my 
 friend ? " 
 
 " Very much so, indeed,'" said Martin. 
 
 "There is to-day's Rowdy, sir," observed the colonel, 
 handing him a paper. " You'll find Jefferson Brick at his 
 usual post in the van of human civilization and moral purity." 
 
 The colonel was by this time seated on the table again. 
 Mr. Brick also took up a position on that same piece of furni- 
 ture ; and they fell to drinking pretty hard. They often 
 looked at Martin as he read the paper, and then at each other. 
 When he laid it down, which was not until they had finished 
 a second bottle, the colonel asked him what he thought of it. 
 
 " Why, it's horribly personal," said Martin. 
 
 The colonel seemed much flattered by this remark ; and 
 said he hoped it was. 
 
 " We are independent here, sir," said Mr. Jefferson Brick. 
 "We do as we like." 
 
 " If I may judge from this specimen," returned Martin, 
 " there must be a few thousands here, rather the reverse of 
 independent, who do as they don't like." 
 
 " Well ! They yield to the miglity mind of the Popular 
 Instructor, sir," said the colonel. " They rile up, sometimes ; 
 but in general we have a hold upon our citizens, both in public 
 and in private life, which is as much one of the ennobling 
 institutions of our happy country as — " 
 
 "As nigger slavery itself," suggested Mr. Brick.
 
 270 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 « 
 
 En — tirely so," remarked the colonel. 
 
 " Pray," said Martin, after some hesitation, " may I venture 
 to ask, with reference to a case I observe in this paper of 
 yours, whether the Popular Instructor often deals in — 1 am 
 at a loss to express it without giving you offence — in forgery ? 
 In forged letters, for instance," he pursued, for the colonel 
 was perfectly calm and quite at his ease, " solemnly purporting 
 to have been written at recent periods by living men ? " 
 
 " Well, sir ! " replied the colonel. " It does, now and 
 then." 
 
 " And the popular instructed ; what do they do .'' " asked 
 Martin. 
 
 " Buy 'em," said the colonel. 
 
 Mr Jefferson Brick expectorated and laughed ; the former 
 copiously, the latter approvingly. 
 
 "Buy 'em by hundreds of thousands," resumed the colonel. 
 " We are a smart people here, and can appreciate smartness." 
 
 " Is smartness American for forgery? '' asked Martin. 
 
 " Well ! " said the colonel, " I expect it's American for a 
 good many things that you call by other names. But you 
 can't help yourselves in Europe. We can." 
 
 " And do, sometimes," thought Martin. " You help your- 
 selves with very little ceremony, too ! " 
 
 " At all events, whatever name we choose to employ," said 
 the colonel, stooping down to roll the third empty bottle into 
 a corner after the other two, " I suppose the art of forgery 
 was not invented here, sir ? " 
 
 " I suppose not," replied Martin. 
 
 " Nor any other kind of smartness, I reckon ? ' 
 
 " Invented ! No, I presume not." 
 
 " Well ! " said the colonel ; " then we got it all from the 
 old country, and the old countr^^'s to blame for it, and not the 
 new 'un. There's an end of that. Now, if Mr. Jefferson 
 Brick and you will be so good as clear, I'll come out last, and 
 lock the door " 
 
 Rightly interpreting this as the signal for their departure. 
 Martin walked down stairs after the war correspondent, who 
 preceded him with great majesty. The colonel following, tliey 
 left the Rowdy Journal Office and walked forth into the 
 streets, Martin feeling doubtful whether he ought to kick the 
 colonel for having presumed to speak to him, or whether it 
 came within the bounds of possibility that he and his estab- 
 lishment could be among the boasted usages of that regene- 
 rated land.
 
 MAR TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 2 7 1 
 
 It was clear that Colonel Diver, in the security of his 
 strong position, and in his perfect understanding of the public 
 sentiment, cared very little what Martin or anybody else 
 thought about him. His high-spiced wares were made to sell, 
 and they sold ; and his thousands of readers could as rationally 
 charge their delight in filth upon him, as a glutton can shift 
 upon his cook the responsibility of his beasdy excess. 
 Nothing would have delighted the colonel more than to be 
 told that no such man as he, could walk in high success the 
 streets of any other country in the world ; for that would only 
 have been a logical assurance to him of the correct adaptation 
 of his labors to the prevailing taste, and of his being strictly 
 and peculiarly a national feature of America. 
 
 They walked a mile or more along a handsome street 
 which the colonel said was called Broadway, and which Mr. 
 Jefferson Brick said " whipped the ui.-iiverse." Turning, at 
 length, into one of the numerous streets which branched from 
 this main thoroughfare, they stopped before a rather mean- 
 looking house with jalousie blinds to every window ; a flight 
 of steps before the green street-door ; a shining white orna- 
 ment on the rails on either side like a petritiecl pine-apple, 
 polished ; a little oblong plate of the same material over the 
 knocker, whereon the name of " Pawkins " was engraved ; 
 and four accidental pigs looking down the area. 
 
 The colonel knocked at this house with the air of a man 
 who lived there ; and an Irish girl popped her head out of 
 one of the top windows to see who it was. Pending her 
 journey down stairs, the pigs were joined by two or "three 
 friends from the next street, in company with whom they lay 
 down sociably in the gutter. 
 
 " Is the major in-doors ? " inquired llie colonel, as he en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Is it the master, sir.? " returned the girl, with a hesitation 
 which seemed to imply that they were rather Rush of majors 
 in that establishment. 
 
 " The master ! " said Colonel Diver, stopping short and 
 looking round at his war correspondent. 
 
 " Oh ! The depressing institutions of that British empire, 
 colonel " said Jefferson Brick. '' Master ! " 
 
 " What's the matter with the word ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " I should hope it was never heard in our country, sir : 
 that's all,"' said Jefferson Brick : "except when it is used by 
 some degraded Help, as new to the blessings of our form of 
 government, as this Help is. There are no masters here."
 
 272 
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " All ' owners,' are they ? " said Martin. 
 
 Mr. Jefferson Brick followed in the Rowdy Journal's foot- 
 steps without returning any answer. Martin took the same 
 course, thinl^ing as he went, that perhaps the free and inde- 
 pendent citizens, who in their moral elevation, owned the 
 colonel for their master, might render better homage to the 
 goddess, Liberty, in nightly dreams upon the oven of a Russian 
 Serf. 
 
 The colonel led the way into a room at the back of the 
 house upon the ground-floor, light, and of fair dimensions, but 
 exquisitely uncomfortable, having nothing in it but the four 
 cold white walls and ceiling, a mean carpet, a dreary waste of 
 dining-table reaching from end to end, and a bewildering 
 collection of cane-bottomed chairs. In a further region of 
 this banqueting-hall was a stove, garnished on either side with 
 a great brass spittoon, and shaped in itself like three little 
 iron barrels set up on end in a fender, and joined together on 
 the principle of the Siamese Twins. Before it, swinging him- 
 self in a rocking-chair, lounged a large gentleman with his hat 
 on, who amused himself by spitting alternately into the spit- 
 toon on the right hand of the stove, and the spittoon on the 
 left, and then working his way back again in the same order. 
 A negro lad. in a soiled white jacket was busily engaged in 
 placing on the table two long rows of knives and forks, relieved 
 at intervals by jugs of water ; and as he travelled down one 
 side of this festive board, he straightened with his dirty hands 
 the dirtier cloth, which was all askew, and had not been 
 removed since breakfast. The atmosphere of this room was 
 rendered intensely hot and stifling by the stove ; but being 
 further flavored by a sickly gush of soup from the kitchen, 
 and by such remote suggestions of tobacco as lingered within 
 the brazen receptacles already mentioned, it became, to a 
 stranger's senses, almost insupportable. 
 
 The gentleman in the rocking-chair having his back to- 
 wards them, and being much engaged in his intellectual pas- 
 time, was not aware of their approach until the colonel walk- 
 ing up to the stove, contributed his mite towards the support 
 of the left-hand spittoon, just as the major — for it was the 
 major — bore down upon it. Major Pawkins then reserved 
 his fire, and looking upward, said, with a peculiar air of quiet 
 weariness, like a man who had been up all night — an air which 
 Martin had already observed both in the colonel and Mr. 
 Jefferson Brick — 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 273 
 
 '' " Well, colonel ! " 
 
 " Here is a gentleman from England, major," the colonel 
 replied, "who has concluded to locate himself here if the 
 amount of compensation suits him." 
 
 " 1 am glad to see you, sir," obser\'ed the major, shaking 
 hands with Martin, and not moving a muscle of his face. 
 " You are pretty bright, I hope .'' " 
 ' " Never better," said Martin. 
 
 " You are never likely to be," returned the major. "You 
 will see the sun shine here J'' 
 
 " I think I remember to have seen it shine at home some- 
 times," said Martin, smiling. 
 
 " I think not," replied the major. He said so with a 
 stoical indifference certainly, but still in a tone of firmness 
 which admitted of no further dispute on that point. When he 
 had thus settled the question, he put his hat a little on one 
 side for the greater convenience of scratching his head, and 
 saluted Mr. Jefferson Brick with a lazy nod. 
 
 Major Pawkins (a gentleman of Pennsylvanian origin) was 
 distinguished by a very large skull, and a great mass of yellow 
 forehead ; in deference to which commodities, it was currently 
 held in bar-rooms and other such places of resort, that the 
 major was a man of huge sagacity. He was further to be 
 known by a heavy eye and a dull slow manner ; and for being 
 a man of that kind who, mentally speaking, requires a deal of 
 room to turn himself in. 15ut, in trading on his stock of wis- 
 dom, he invariably proceeded on the jirinciple of putting all 
 the goods he had (and more) into his window ; and that went 
 a great way with his constituency of admirers. It went a 
 great way, perhaps, with Mr. Jefferson Prick, who took occa- 
 sion to whisper in Martin's ear : 
 
 " One of the most remarkable men in our countr)-, sir ! " 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that the perpetual ex- 
 hibition in the market-place of all his stock-in-trade for sale 
 or hire, was the major's sole claim to a very large share of 
 sympathy and support. He was a great politician ; and the 
 one article of his creed, in reference to all public obligations 
 involving the good faith and integrity of his country, was, 
 " run a moist pen slick through everything, and start fresh." 
 This made him a patriot. In commercial affairs he was 3 
 bold speculator. In plainer words, he had a most distinguished 
 genius for swindling, and could start a bank, or negociate a 
 loan, or form a land-jobbing company (entailing ruin, pesti- 
 
 18
 
 274 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 lence, and death, on hundreds of families), with any gifted 
 creature in the Union. This made him an admirable man of 
 business. He could hang about a bar-room, discussing the 
 affairs of the nation, for twelve hours together ; and in that 
 time could hold forth with more intolerable dulness, chew 
 more tobacco, smoke more tobacco, drink more rum-toddy, 
 mint-julep, gin-sling, and cock-tail, than any private gentleman 
 of his acquaintance. This made him an orator and a man of 
 the people. In a word, the major was a rising character, and 
 a i^opular character, and was in a fair way to be sent by the 
 popular party to the State House of New York, if not in the 
 end to Washington itself. But as a man's private prosperity 
 does not always keep pace with his patriotic devotion to pub- 
 lic affairs ; and as fraudulent transactions have their downs 
 as well as ups ; the major was occasionally under a cloud. 
 Hence, just now, Mrs. Pawkins kept a boarding-house, and 
 Major Pawkins rather " loafed " his time away, than other- 
 wise. 
 
 " You have come to visit our countr}', sir, at a season of 
 great commercial depression," said the major. 
 
 " At an alarming crisis," said the colonel. 
 
 " At a period of unprecedented stagnation," said Mr. 
 Jefferson Brick. 
 
 " I am soriy to hear that," returned Martin. " It's not 
 likely to last, I hope ? " 
 
 Martin knew nothing about America, or he would have 
 known perfectly well that if its individual citizens, to a man, 
 are to be believed, it always is depressed, and always is stag- 
 nated, and always is at an alarmmg crisis, and never was 
 otherwise ■ though as a body they are ready to make oath 
 upon the Evangelists at any hour of the clay or night, that it 
 is the most thriving and prosperous of all countries on the 
 habitable globe. 
 
 "' It's not likely to last, I hope? " said Martin. 
 
 "Well!" returned the major, "I expect we shall get 
 along somehow, and come right in the end." 
 
 '' We are an elastic countr)'," said the Rowdy Journal. 
 
 "We are a young lion," said Mr. Jefferson Brick. 
 
 " We have revivifying and vigorous principles within our- 
 selves," observed the major. " Shall we drink a bitter afore 
 dinner, colonel 1 " 
 
 The colonel assenting to this proposal with great alacrity. 
 Major Pawkins proposed an adjournment to a neighboring
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 275 
 
 bar-room, which, as he observed, was " only in the next 
 block." He then referred Martin to Mrs. Pawkins for all 
 particulars connected with the rate of board and lodging, and 
 informed him that he would have the pleasure of seeing that 
 lady at dinner, which would soon be ready, as the dinner hour 
 was two o'clock, and it only wanted a quarter now. This re- 
 minded him that if the bitter were to be taken at all, there 
 was no time to lose ; so he walked off without more ado, and 
 left them to follow if they thought proper. 
 
 When the major rose from his rocking-chair before the 
 stove and so disturbed the hot air and balmy whiff of soup 
 which fanned their brows, the odor of stale tobacco became 
 so decidedly prevalent as to leave no doubt of its proceeding 
 mainly from tliat gentleman's attire. Indeed, as Martin 
 walked behind him to the bar-room, he could not help think- 
 ing that the great square major, in his listlessness and languor, 
 looked very much like a stale weed himself : such as might 
 be hoed out of the public garden, with great advantage to the 
 decent growth of that preserve, and tossed on some congenial 
 dung-hill. 
 
 They encountered more weeds in the bar-room, soine of 
 whom (being thirsty souls as w'ell as dirty) were pretty stale 
 in one sense, and pretty fresh in another. Among them was 
 a gentleman who, as Martin gathered from the conversation 
 that took place over the bitter, started that afternoon for the 
 Far West on a six months' business tour ; and who, as his 
 outfit and equipment for this journev, had just such another 
 shiny hat and just such another little pale valise, as had com- 
 posed the luggage of the gentleman who came from England 
 in the Screw. 
 
 They were walking back veiy leisurely, Martin arm-in-arm 
 with Mr. Jefferson Brick, and the major and the colonel side, 
 by side before them, when, as they came within a house or 
 two of the major's residence, they heard a bell ringing vio- 
 lently. The instant this sound struck upon their ears, the 
 colonel and the major darted off, dashed up the steps and in 
 at the street-door (which stood ajar) like lunatics ; while Mr. 
 Jefferson Brick, detaching his arm from Martin's, made a pre- 
 cipitate dive in the same direction, and vanished also. 
 
 "Good Heaven!" thought Martin. "The premises are 
 on fire ! It was an alarm-bell ! " 
 
 But there was no smoke to be seen, nor any i1amc. nor 
 was there any smell of fire. As Martin faltered on the pave-
 
 276 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ment, three more gentlemen, with horror and agitation de^ 
 picted in their faces, came plunging wildly round the street 
 corner ; jostled each other on the steps ; struggled for an 
 instant ; and rushed into the house, in a confused heap of 
 arms and legs. Unable to bear it an)^ longer, Martin fol- 
 lowed. Even in his rapid progress, he was run down, thrust 
 aside, and passed, by two more gentlemen, stark mad, as it 
 appeared, with fierce excitement. 
 
 " Where is it .-' " cried Martin, breathlessly, to a negro 
 whom he encountered in the passage. 
 
 " In a eatin room, sa. 'Kernell, sa, him kep a seat 'side 
 himself, sa." 
 
 " A seat ! " cried Martin. 
 
 " For a dinnar, sa.'' 
 
 Martin stared at him for a moment, and burst into a 
 hearty laugh ; to which the negro, out of his natural good 
 humor, and desire to please, so heartily responded, that his 
 teeth shone like a gleam of light. " You're the pleasantest 
 fellow I have seen yet," said Martin, clapping him on the 
 back, "and give me a better appetite than bitters." 
 
 With this sentiment he walked into the dining-room and 
 slipped into a chair next the colonel, which that gentleman 
 (by this time nearly through his dinner) had turned down in 
 reserve for him, with its back against the table. 
 
 It was a numerous company, eighteen or twenty perhaps. 
 Of these some fi\e or six were ladies, who sat wedged to- 
 gether in a little phalanx by themselves. All the knives and 
 forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming ; 
 very few words were spoken ; and everybody seemed to eat 
 his utmost in self-defence, as if a famine were expected to set 
 in before breakfast time to-morrow morning, and it had 
 become high time to assert the first law of nature. The 
 poultry, which may perhaps be considered to have formed the 
 staple of the entertainment — for there was a turkey at the 
 top, a pair of ducks at the bottom, and two fowls in the 
 middle — disappeared as rapidly as if every bird had had the 
 use of its wings, and had flown in desperation down a human 
 throat; The oysters, stewed and pickled, leaped from their 
 capacious reservoirs, and slid by scores into the mouths of 
 the assembl}'. The sharpest pickles vanished, whole cucum- 
 bers a once, like sugar-plums, and no man winked his eye. 
 Great heaps of indigestible matter melted away as ice before 
 the sun. It was a solemn and an awful thins: to see. Dvs-
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 277 
 
 peptic individuals bolted their food in wedges ; feeding not 
 themselves, but broods of nightmares, who were continually 
 standing at livery within them. Spare men, with lank and 
 rigid cheeks, came out unsatisfied from the destruction of 
 heavy dishes, and glared with watchful eyes upon the pastry. 
 What Mrs. Pawkins felt each day at dinner-time is hidden 
 from all human knowledge. But she had one comfort. It 
 was very soon o\er. 
 
 When the colonel had finished his dinner, which event 
 took place while Martin, who had sent his plate for some 
 turkey, was waiting to begin, he asked him what he thought 
 of the boarders, who were from all parts of the Union, and 
 whether he would like to know any particulars concerning 
 them. .r- 
 
 " Pray," said Martin, '"who was that sickly little girl op- 
 posite, with the tight round eyes ? I don't see anybody here, 
 who looks like her mother, or who seems to have charge of' 
 her." 
 
 " Do you mean the matron in blue, sir ? " asked the 
 colonel, with emphasis. "That is Mrs. Jefferson Prick, 
 sir." 
 
 "No, no," said Martin, " I mean the little girl, like a doll ; 
 directly opposite." 
 
 " Well, sir ! " cried the colonel. " TJiat is Mrs. Jefferson 
 Brick." 
 
 Martin glanced at the colonel's face, but he was quite 
 serious. 
 
 " Bless my soul .' I suppose there will be a young J]rick 
 then, one of these days "i " said Martin. 
 
 " There are two young Bricks already, sir," returned the 
 colonel. 
 
 The matron looked so uncommonly like a child herself, 
 that Martin could not help saying as much. "Yes, sir," re- 
 turned the colonel, "but some institutions develop Jiuman 
 natur : others re — tard it." 
 
 "Jefferson Brick," he observed after a short silence, in 
 commendation of his correspondent, " is one of the most re- 
 markable men in our country, sir ! " 
 
 This had passed almost in a whisper, for the distinguished 
 gentleman alluded to, sat on Martin's other hand. 
 
 ■ "Pray^ \ix. Brick," said Martin turning to him, and ask- 
 ing a question more for conversation's sake than from any 
 feeling of interest in its subject, "who is that" — he was
 
 278 ' MARTIN CHUZZLF.WIT. 
 
 going to say " young " but thought it prudent to eschew the 
 word — "that very short gentleman yonder, with the red 
 nose ? " 
 
 "That is Pro — fessor MulUt, sir," replied Jefferson. 
 
 " May I ask what he is Professor of ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " Of education, sir," said Jefferson Brick. 
 
 " A sort of schoolmaster, possibly 'i " Martin ventured to 
 observe. 
 
 " He is a man of fine moral elements, sir, and not com- 
 monly endowed," said the war correspondent. " He felt it 
 necessary, at the last election for President, to repudiate and 
 denounce his father, who voted on the wrong interest. He 
 has since written some powerful pamphlets, under the signa- 
 ture of ' Suturb,' or Brutus reversed. He is one of the most 
 remarkable men in our countiy, sir." 
 
 "There seem to be plenty of 'em," thought Martin, "at 
 'any rate." 
 
 Pursuing his inquiries, Martin found that there were no 
 fewer than four majors present, two colonels, one general, 
 and a captain, so that he could not help thinking how strongly 
 officered the American militia must be ; and wondering very 
 much whether the officers commanded each other ; or if 
 they did not, where on earth the pri\'ates came from. There 
 seemed to be no man there without a title ; for those who 
 liad not attained to military honors were either doctors, pro- 
 fessors, or reverends. Three very hard and disagreeable 
 gentlemen were on missions from neighboring States ; one on 
 monetary affairs, one on political, one on sectarian. Among 
 the ladies, there were Mrs. Pawkins, who was very straight, 
 bony, and silent ; and a wiry-faced old ^amsel, who held 
 strong sentiments touching the rights of women, and had 
 diffused the same in lectures ; but the rest were strangely 
 devoid of individual traits of character, insomuch that any 
 one of them night have changed minds with the other, and 
 nobody would have found it out. These, by the way, were 
 the only members of the party who did not appear to be 
 among the most remarkable people in the countr)^ 
 
 Several of the gentlemen got up, one by one, and walked 
 off as they swallowed their last morsel ; pausing generally by 
 the stove for a minute or so to refresh themselves at the brass 
 spittoons. A few sedentary characters, however, remamed at 
 table full a quarter of an hour, and did not rise until the 
 ladies rose, when all stood up.
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 279 
 
 " Where are they going ? " asked Martin, in the ear of 
 Mr. Jefferson Brick. 
 
 " To their bed-rooms, sir." 
 
 " Is there no dessert, or other interval of conversation ? " 
 asked Martin, who was disposed to enjoy himself after his 
 long voyage. 
 
 " We are a busy people here, sir, and have no time for 
 that," was the reply. 
 
 So the ladies passed out in single file ; Mr. JeiTerson Brick 
 and such other married gentlemen as were left, acknowledging 
 the departure of their other halves by a nod ; and there was 
 an end of thejii. Martin thought this an uncomfortable cus- 
 tom, but he kept his opinion to liimself for the present, being 
 anxious to hear; and inform himself, by the conversation of 
 the busy gentlemen, who now lounged about the stove as if a 
 great weight had been taken off their minds by the withdrawal 
 of the other sex ; and who made a plentiful use of the spit- 
 toons and their toothpicks. v. 
 
 It was rather barren of interest, to say the truth ; and theS 
 greater part of it may be summed up in one word. Dollars. 
 All their cares, hopes, joys, affections, virtues, and associa- 
 tions, seemed to be melted down into dollars. Whatever the 
 chance contributions that fell into the slow cauldron of their 
 talk, they made the gruel thick and slab with dollars. Men 
 were weighed by their dollars, measures gauged by their dol- 
 lars ; life was auctioneered, appraised, put up, and knocked 
 down for its dollars. The next respectable thing to dollars 
 was any venture having their attainment for its end. The 
 more of that worthless ballast, honor and fair dealing, which 
 any man cast overboard from the ship of his Good Name and 
 Good Intent, the more ample stowage-room he had for dollars. 
 Make commerce one huge lie and mighty theft. Deface the 
 banner of the nation for an idle rag ; pollute it star by star ; 
 and cut out stripe by stripe as from the arm of a degraded 
 soldier. Do anything for dollars 1 What is a flag to ih m ! ^ 
 
 One who rides at all hazards of limb and life in tiie chase 
 of a fox, will prefer to ride recklessly at most times. So it was 
 with these gentlemen. He was the greatest patriot, in their 
 eyes, who brawled the loudest, and who cared the least for 
 decency. He was their champion, who in the brutal fury of 
 his own pursuit, could cast no stigma upon them, for the hot 
 knavery of theirs. Thus, Martin learned m the five minutes' 
 straggling talk about the stove, that to carry pistols into legis'
 
 2So MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 lative assemblies, and swords in sticks, and other such peace- 
 ful toys ; to seize opponents by the throat, as dogs or rats 
 might do ; to bluster, bully, and overbear by personal assail- 
 ment ; were glowing deeds. Not thrusts and stabs at Freedom, 
 striking far deeper into her House of Life than any sultan's 
 scimetar could reach ; but rare incense on her altars, having a 
 grateful scent in patriotic nostrils, and curling upward to the 
 seventh heaven of Fame. 
 
 Once or twice, when there was a pause, Martin asked such 
 questions as naturally occurred to him, being a stranger, aboui 
 the national poets, the theatre, literature, and the arts. But 
 the information which these gentlemen were in a condition to 
 give him on such topics, did not extend beyond the effusions 
 of such master-spirits of the time, as Colonel Diver, Mr. Jef- 
 ferson Brick, and others, renowned, as it appeared, for excel- 
 lence in the achievment of a peculiar style of broadside-essay 
 called " a screamer." 
 
 " We are a busy people, sir," said one of the captains, who 
 was from the West, " and have no time for reading mere no- 
 tions. We don't mind 'em if they come to us in newspapers 
 along with almighty strong stuff of another sort, but darn your 
 books." 
 
 Here the general, who appeared to grow quite faint at the 
 bare thought of reading anything which was neither mercantile 
 nor political, and was not in a newspaper, inquired " if any 
 gentleman would drink some ? " Most of the company, con- 
 sidering this a very choice and seasonable idea, lounged out, 
 one by one, to the bar-room m the next block. Thence they 
 probably went to their stores and counting-houses ; thence to 
 the bar-room again, to talk once more of dollars, and enlarge 
 their minds with the perusal and discussion of screamers ; and 
 thence each man to snore in the bosom of his own family. 
 
 " Which Avould seem," said Itlartin, pursuing the current 
 of his own thoughts, " to be the principal recreation they en 
 joy in common." With that, he fell a-musing again on dollars, 
 demagogues, and bar-rooms; debating within himself whether 
 busy people of this class were really as busv as they claimed to 
 be, or only had an inaptitude for social and domestic pleasure. 
 
 It was a difficult question to solve ; and the mere fact of 
 its being strongly presented to his mind by all that he had 
 seen and heard, was not encouraging. He sat down at the 
 deserted board, and becoming more and more despondent, as 
 he thought of all the uncertainties and difficulties of his pre- 
 carious situation, sighed heavily.
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 281 
 
 Now, there had been at tlie dinner-table a middle-aged 
 man with a dark eye and a sunburnt face, who had attracted 
 Martin's attention by having something very engaging and 
 honest in the expression of his features ; but of whom he could 
 learn nothing from either of his neighbors, who seemed to 
 consider him quite beneath their notice. He had taken no 
 part in the conversation round the sto\'e, nor had he gone 
 forth with the rest ; and now, when he heard Martin sigh for 
 the third or fourth time, he interposed with some casual re- 
 mark, as if he desired, without obtruding himself upon a 
 stranger's notice, to engage him in cheerful conversation if he 
 could. His motive was so obvious, and yet so delicately ex- 
 pressed, that Martin felt really grateful to him, and showed 
 him so, in the manner of his reply. 
 
 " I will not ask you," said this gentleman with a smile, as 
 he rose and moved towards him, "how you like my country, 
 for I can quite anticipate your feeling on that point. But, as 
 I am an American, and consequently bound to begin with a 
 question, I'll ask you how you like the colonel ? " 
 
 " You are so very frank,'" returned Martin, " that I have 
 no hesitation \\\ saying I don't like him at all. Though I must 
 add that 1 am beholden to him for his civility in bringing me 
 here— and arranging for my stay, on pretty reasonable terms, 
 by the way," he added — remembering that the colonel had 
 whispered him to that effect, before going out. 
 
 " Not much beholden," said the stranger dryly. " The 
 colonel occasionally boards packet-ships, I have heard, to glean 
 the latest information for his journal ; and he occasionally 
 brings strangers to board here, I believe, with a view to the 
 little percentage which attaches to those good offices ; and 
 which the hostess deducts from his weekly bill. I don't offend 
 you, I hope? " he added, seeing that Martin reddened. 
 
 " My dear sir,'' returned Martin, as they shook hands, 
 "how is that possible ! to tell you the truth, I — am — " 
 
 " Yes ? " said the gentleman, sitting down beside him. 
 
 " I am rather at a loss, since I must speak plainly," said 
 Martin, getting the better of his hesitation, " to know how this 
 colonel escapes being beaten." 
 
 " Well ! He has been beaten once or twice," remarked 
 the gentleman quietly. " He is one of a class of men, in 
 whom our own Franklin so long ago as ten vears before the 
 close of the last century, foresaw our danger and disgrace. 
 Perhaps you don't know that Franklin, in very severe terms,
 
 282 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 published his opinion that those who were slandered by such 
 fellows as this colonel, having no sufficient remedy in the 
 administration of this country's laws or in the decent and right- 
 minded feeling of its people, were justified in retorting on such 
 public nuisances by means of a stout cudgel ? " 
 
 " I was not aware of that, said Martin," "but I am very 
 glad to know it, and I think it worthy of his memory ; espe- 
 cially " — here he hesitated again. 
 
 " Go. on," said the other, smiling as if he knew what stuck 
 in Martin's throat. 
 
 " Especially," pursued Martin, "as I can already under- 
 stand that it may have required great courage, even in his 
 time, to write freely on any question which was not a party 
 one in this very free country." 
 
 " Some courage, no doubt," returned his new friend. " Do 
 you think it would require any to do so, now ? " 
 
 " Indeed I think it would ; and not a little," said Martin. 
 
 " You are right. So veiy right, that I believe no satirist 
 could breathe this air. If another Juvenal or Swift could rise 
 up among us to-morrow, he would be hunted down. If you 
 have any knowledge of our literature, and can give me the 
 name of any man, American born and bred, who has anato- 
 mized our follies as a people, and not as this or that party ; 
 and who has escaped the foulest and most brutal slander, the 
 most inveterate hatred and intolerant pursuit ; it will be a 
 strange name in my ears, believe me. In some cases I could 
 name to vou, where a native writer has ventured on the most 
 harmless and good-humored illustrations of our vices or defects, 
 it has been found necessary to announce, that in a second 
 edition the passage has been expunged, or altered, or explained 
 away, or patched into praise." 
 
 " And how has this been brought about .-' " asked Martin 
 in dismay. 
 
 " Think of what you have seen and heard to-day, beginning 
 with the colonel," said his friend, "and ask yourself. How 
 they came about, is another question. Heaven forbid that 
 they should be samples of the intelligence and virtue of 
 America, but they come uppermost, and in great numbers, and 
 too often represent it. Will you walk .-' " 
 
 There was a cordial candor in his manner, and an engaging 
 confidence that it would not be abused ; a manly bearing on 
 his own part, and a simple reliance on the manly faith of a 
 stranger, which Martin had never seen before. He linked
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 283 
 
 his arm readily in that of the American gentleman, and they 
 walked out together. 
 
 It was perhaps to men like this, his new companion, that a 
 traveller of honored name, who trod those shores now nearly 
 forty years ago, and woke upon that soil, as many have done 
 since, to blots and stains upon its high pretensions, which in 
 the brightness of his distant dreams were lost to view, appealed 
 in these words : 
 
 " oil but for such, Columbia's days were done ; 
 Rank without ripeness, quickened without sun, 
 Crude at the surface, rotten at the core. 
 Her fruits would fall before her spring were o'er ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MARTIN ENLARGES HIS CIRCLE OF ACQUAINTANCE ; INCREASES 
 HIS STOCK OF WISDOM ; AND HAS AN EXCELLENT OPPOR- 
 TUNITY OF COMPARING HIS OWN EXPERIENCES WITH THOSE 
 OF LUMMY NED OF THE LIGHT SALISBURY, AS RELATED BY 
 HIS FRIEND MR. WILLIAM SIMMONS. 
 
 It was characteristic of Martin, that all this while he had 
 either forgotten Mark Tapley as completely as if there had 
 been no such person in existence, or, if for a moment the 
 figure of that gentleman rose before his mental vision, had 
 dismissed it as something by no means of a pressing nature, 
 which might be attended to by and by, and could wait his per- 
 fect leisure. But, being now in the streets again, it occurred 
 to him as just coming within the bare limits of possibility that 
 Mr. Tapley might, in course of time, grow tired of waiting on 
 the threshold of the Rowdy Journal Office, so he intimated to 
 his new friend, that if they could conveniently walk in that 
 direction, he would be glad to get this piece of business off 
 his mind. 
 
 " And speaking of business," said Martin, " may I ask, in 
 order that 1 may not be behind-hand with questions either, 
 whether your occupation holds you to this city, or like myself, 
 you are a visitor here ? " 
 
 "A visitor," replied his friend. "I w-as 'raised' in the 
 State of Massachusetts, and reside there still. My home is
 
 284 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 in a quiet country town. I am not often in these busy places ; 
 and my inclination to visit them does not increase with oul 
 better acquaintance, 1 assure you." 
 
 " You have been abroad } " asked Martin. 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 "And, like most people who travel, have become more 
 than ever attached to your home and native country," said 
 Martin, eyeing him curiously. 
 
 ''To my home, yes," rejoined his friend. "To my native 
 country as my home — 3es, also." 
 
 " You imply some reservation," said Martin. 
 
 " Well," returned his new friend, " if you ask me whether 
 I came back here with a greater relish for my country's faults ; 
 with a greater fondness for those who claim (at the rate of so 
 many dollars a day) to be her friends ; with a cooler indiffer- 
 ence to the growth of principles among us in respect of public 
 matters and of private dealings between man and man, the 
 advocacy of which, beyond the foul atmosphere of a criminal 
 trial, would disgrace your own Old Bailey lawyers ; why, then 
 I answer plainly. No." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Martin ; in so exactly the same key as his 
 friend's No, that it sounded like an echo. 
 
 " If you ask me," his companion pursued, " whether I 
 came back here better satisfied with a state of things which 
 broadly divides society into two classes — whereof one, the 
 great mass, asserts a spurious independence, most miserably 
 dependent for its mean existence on the disregard of human- 
 izing conventionalities of manner and social custom, so that 
 the coarser a man is, the more distinctly it shall appeal to his 
 taste ; while the other, disgusted with the low standard thus 
 set up and made adaptable to eveiything, takes refuge among 
 the graces and refinements it can bring to bear on private life, 
 and leaves the public weal to such fortune as may betide it in 
 the press and uproar of a general scramble — then again I 
 answer. No." 
 
 And again Martin said " Oh ! " in the same odcJ way as 
 before, being anxious and disconcerted ; not so much, to say 
 the truth, on public grounds, as with reference to the fading 
 prospects of domestic architecture. 
 
 " In a word," resumed the other, " I do not find and cannot 
 believe, and therefore will not allow, that we are a model of 
 wisdom, and an example to the world, and the perfection of 
 human reason, and a great deal more to the same purpose,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 2S5 
 
 which you may hear any hour in the day ; simply because we 
 began our pohtical Ufe with two inestimable advantages." 
 
 " What were they ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " One, that our history commenced at so late a period as 
 to escape the ages of bloodshed and cruelty through which 
 other nations have passed ; and so had all the light of their 
 probation, and none of its darkness. The other, that we have 
 a vast territory, and not — as yet — too many people on it. 
 These facts considered, we have done little enough, i think." 
 
 " Education } " suggested Martin, faintly 
 
 " Pretty well on that head," said the other, shrugging his 
 shoulders, " still no mighty matter to boast of ; for old coun- 
 tries, and despotic countries too, have done as much, if not 
 more, and made -less noise about it. We shine out brightly in 
 comparison with England, certainly ; but hers is a very extreme 
 case. You complimented me on my frankness, you know," he 
 added, laughing. 
 
 " Oh ! I am not at all astonished at your speaking thus 
 openly when my country is in question," returned Martin. " It 
 is your plain-speakmg in reference to your own that surprises 
 
 me." 
 
 " You will not find it a scarce quality here, I assure you, 
 saving among the Colonel Divers, anrl Jefferson J hicks, and 
 Major Pawkinses ; though the best of us are something like 
 the man in Goldsmith's comedy, who wouldn't suffer anybody 
 but himself to abuse his master. Come ! " he added. " Let 
 us talk of something else. You have come here on some de- 
 sign of improving your fortune, I dare say , and I should 
 grieve to put you out of heart. I am some years older than 
 you, besides ; and may, on a few trivial points, advise you, 
 perhaps." 
 
 There was not the least curiosity or impertinence in the 
 manner of this offer, which was open-hearted, unaffected, and 
 good-natured. As it was next to impossible that he should 
 not have his confidence awakened by a deportment so pre- 
 possessing and kind, Martin plainly stated what had brought 
 him into those parts, and even made the very difficult avowal 
 that he was poor. He did not say how poor, it must be ad- 
 mitted, rather throwing oft" the declaration with an air which 
 might have implied that he had money enough for six months, 
 instead of as many weeks ; but poor he said he was, and 
 grateful he said he would be, for any counsel that his friend 
 would give him.
 
 286 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 It would not have been ver}' difficult for any one to see, 
 but it was particularly easy for Martin, whose perceptions 
 were sharpened by his circumstances, to discern, that the 
 stranger's face grew infinitely longer as the domestic-archi- 
 tecture project was developed. Nor, although he made a great 
 effort to be as encouraging as possible, could he prevent his 
 head from shaking once involuntarily, as if it said in the vulgar 
 tongue, upon its own account, " No go ! " But he spoke in a 
 cheerful tone, and said, that although there was no such open- 
 ing as Martin wished, in that city, he would make it matter of 
 immediate consideration and inquiry where one was most 
 likely to exist ; and then he made Martin acquainted with his 
 name, which was Bevan ; and with his profession, which was 
 physic, though he seldom or never practised, and with other 
 circumstances connected with himself and family, which fully 
 occupied the time, until they reached the Rowdy Journal 
 Office. 
 
 Mr. Tapley appeared to be taking his ease on the landing 
 of the first floor ; for sounds as of some gentleman established 
 in that region, whistling " Rule Britannia " with all his might 
 and main, greeted their ears before they reached the house. 
 On ascending to the spot from whence this music proceeded, 
 they found him recumbent in the midst of a fortification of 
 luggage, apparently performing his national anthem for the 
 gratification of a gray-haired black man, who sat on one of the 
 outworks (a portmanteau), staring intently at Mark, while 
 Mark, with his head reclining on his hand, returned the com- 
 pliment in a thoughtful manner, and whistled all the time. 
 He seemed to have recently dined, for his knife, a case-bottle, 
 and certain broken meats in a handkerchief, lay near at hand. 
 He had employed a portion of his leisure in the decoration of 
 the Rowdy Journal door, whereon his own initials now ap- 
 peared in letters nearly half afoot long, together with the day 
 of the month in smaller type, the whole surrounded by an 
 ornamental border, and looking very fresh and bold. 
 
 " I was a'most afraid you was lost, sir ! " cried Mark, rising, 
 and stopping the tune at that point where Britons generally 
 are supposed to declare (when it is whistled) that they never, 
 never, never. 
 
 " Nothing gone wrong, I hope, sir ? " 
 
 " No, Mark. Where's your friend ? " 
 
 " The mad woman, sir 'i " said Mr. Tapley. " Oh ! she's 
 all right, sir,"
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT. 287 
 
 " Did she find her husband ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Least ways she's found his remains," said 
 Mark, correcting himself. 
 
 " The man's not dead, I hope ? "' 
 
 "Not altogether dead, sir," returned Mark ; "but he's had 
 more fevers and agues than is quite reconcilable with being 
 alive. When she didn't see him a waiting for her, I thought 
 she'd have died herself, I did ! " 
 
 " Was he not here, then .'' " 
 
 " He wasn't here. There was a feeble old shadow come 
 a-creeping down at last, as much like his substance when she 
 know'd him, as your shadow when it's drawn out to its very 
 finest and longest by the sun, is like you. But it was his re- 
 mains, there's no doul)t about that. She took on with joy, 
 poor thing, as much as if it had been all of him ! " 
 
 " Had he bought land .^ " asked Mr. Bevan. 
 
 "Ah ! He'd bought land," said Mark, shaking his head, 
 " and paid for it too. Every sort of nateral advantage was 
 connected with it, the agents said ; and there certainly was 
 one, quite unlimited. No end to the water ! " 
 
 " It's a thing he couldn't have done without, I suppose," 
 observed Martin, peevishly. 
 
 " Certainly not, sir. There it was, any way ; always turned 
 on, and no water-rate. Independent of three or four slimy old 
 rivers close by, it varied on the farm from four to six foot 
 deep in the dry season. He couldn't say how deep it was in 
 the rainy time, for he ne\-er had anything long enough to 
 sound it with." 
 
 " Is this true? " asked Martin of his companion. 
 
 " E.xtremely probable," he answered. " Some Mississippi 
 or Missouri lot, I dare say." 
 
 " However," pursued Mark, " he came from I-don't-know- 
 where-and-all, down to New York here, to meet his wife and 
 children ; and they started off again in a steam-boat this 
 blessed afternoon, as happy to be along with each other, as if 
 they were going to Heaven. I should think they was, pretty 
 straight, if I may judge from the poor man's looks." 
 
 " And may I ask," said Martin, glancing, but not with any 
 displeasure, from Mark to the negro, " who this gentleman is .'' 
 Another friend of yours ? " 
 
 "Why, sir," returned Mark, taking him aside, and speak- 
 ing confidentially in his ear, " he's a man of color, sir ? " 
 
 " Do you take me for a blind man," asked Martin, some*
 
 288 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 what impatiently, " that you think it necessary to tell me 
 that, when his face is the blackest that ever was seen ? " 
 
 " No, no ; when I say a man of color," returned Mark, " I 
 mean that he's been one of them as there's picters of in the 
 shops. A man and a brother, you know, sir," said Mr. Tap- 
 ley, favoring his master with a significant indication of the 
 figure so often represented in tracts and cheap prints. 
 
 " A slave ! " cried Martin, in a whisper. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mark in the same tone. " Nothing else. A 
 slave. Why, when that there man was young — don't look at 
 him, while I'm a telling it — he was shot in the leg ; gashed in 
 the arm ; scored in his live limbs, like crimped fish ; beaten 
 out of shape ; had his neck galled with an iron collar, and 
 wore iron rings upon his wrists and ankles. The marks arc 
 on him to this day. When I was having my dinner just now, 
 he stripped off his coat, and took away my appetite." 
 
 " Is this true ? " asked Martin of his friend, who stood 
 beside them. 
 
 " I have no reason to doubt it," he answered, shaking his 
 head. " It very often is." 
 
 " Bless you," said Mark, " I know it is, from hearing his 
 whole story. That master died ; so did his second master 
 from having his head cut open with a hatchet by another 
 slave, who, when he'd done it, went and drowned himself : 
 then he got a better one. In years and years he saved up a 
 little money, and bought his freedom, which he got pretty 
 cheap at last, on account of his strength being nearly gone, 
 and he being ill. Then he come here. And now he's a saving 
 up to treat himself, afore he dies, to one small purchase ; 
 it's nothing to speak of ; only his own daughter ; that's all ! " 
 cried Mr. Tapley, becoming excited. " Liberty for ever ! 
 Hurrah ! Hail, Columbia ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Martin, clapping his hand upon his 
 mouth, " and don't be an idiot. What is he doing here ? " 
 
 " Waiting to take our luggage off upon a truck," said 
 Mark. " He'd have come for it by and by, but I engaged 
 him for a very reasonable charge (out of my own pocket) to 
 sit along with me and make me jolly ; and 1 a77i jolly ; and if 
 I was rich enough to contract with him to wait upon me once 
 a day, to be looked at, I'd never be anything else." 
 
 The fact may cause a solemn impeachment of Mark's 
 veracity, but it must be admittetl nevertheless, that there was 
 that in his face and manner at the moment, which militated
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 289 
 
 Strongly against this emphatic declaration of his state of 
 mind. 
 
 '- Lord love you, sir," he added, " they're so fond of 
 Liberty in this part of the globe, that they buy her and sell 
 her and carry her to market with 'em. They've such a passion 
 for Liberty, that they can't help taking liberties with her. 
 That s what it's owing to." 
 
 " Very well,' said Martin, wishing to change the theme. 
 '' Having come to that conclusion, Mark, perhaps you'll at- 
 tend to me. The place to which the luggage is to go, is 
 printed on this card Mrs. Pawkins's Boarding House." 
 
 " Mrs. Pawkins's boarding house," repeated Mark. " Now, 
 Cicero.' 
 
 " Is that his name ? " asked Martin. 
 
 "That's his name, sir," rejoined Mark. And the negro 
 grinning assent from under a leathern portmanteau, than 
 which his own face was many shades deeper, hobbled down 
 stairs with his portion of their worldly goods : Mark Tapley 
 having already gone before with his share. 
 
 Martin and his friend followed them to the door below, 
 and were about to pursue their walk, when the latter stopped, 
 and asked, with some hesitation, whether that young man 
 was to be trusted .'' 
 
 " Mark ! Oh certainly ! with anything." 
 
 " You don't understand me. 1 think he had better go 
 with us. He is an honest fellow, and speaks his mind so very 
 plainly." 
 
 "Why, the fact is," said .Martin, smiling, "that being 
 unaccustomed to a free republic, he is used to do so." 
 
 " I think he had better go with us," returned the other. 
 " He may get into some trouble otherwise. This is not a 
 slave State ; but I am ashamed to say that a spirit of Toler- 
 ance is not so common anywhere in these latitudes as the 
 form. We are not remarkable for behaving very temperately 
 to each other when we differ ; but to strangers ! — No, I really 
 think he had better go with us." 
 
 Martin called to him immediately to be of their party ; so 
 Cicero and the truck went one way, and they three went 
 another. 
 
 They walked about the city for two or three hours ; seeing 
 it from the best points of view, and pausing in the principal 
 streets, and before such public buildings as Mr. Bevan pointed 
 out. Night then coming on apace, Martin proposed that they 
 
 19
 
 290 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 should adjourn to Mrs. Pawkins's establishment for coffee ; 
 but in this he was overruled by his new acquaintance, who 
 seemed to have set his heart on carrying him, though it were 
 only for an hour, to the house of a friend of his who lived 
 hard by. Feeling (however disinclined he was, being weary) 
 that it would be in bad taste, and not very gracious, to object 
 that he was unintroduced, when this open-hearted gentleman 
 was so ready to be his sponsor, Martin — for once in his life, 
 at all events — sacrificed his own will and pleasure to the 
 wishes of another, and consented with a fair grace. So, trav- 
 velling had done him that much good, already. 
 
 Mr. Bevan knocked at the door of a very neat house of 
 moderate size, from the parlor windows of which, lights were 
 shining brightly into the now dark street. It was quickly 
 opened by a man with such a thoroughly Irish face, that it 
 seemed as if he ought, asi a matter of right and principle, to 
 be in rags, and could have no sort of business to be looking 
 cheerfully at anybody out of a whole suit of clothes. 
 
 Commending Mark to the care of this phenomenon, for 
 such he may be said to have been in Martin's eyes, Mr. Bevan 
 led the way into the room which had shed its cheerfulness 
 upon the street, to whose occupants he introduced Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit as a gentleman from England, whose acquaintance he 
 had recently had the pleasure to make. They gave him 
 welcome in all courtesy and politeness ; and in less than five 
 minutes' time he found himself sitting very much at his ease, 
 by the fireside, and becommg vastly well acquamted with the 
 whole family. 
 
 There were two young ladies — one eighteen, the other 
 twenty — both very slender, but very pretty ; their mother, 
 who looked, as Martin thought, much older and more faded 
 than she ought to have looked ; and" their grandmother, a 
 little sharp-eyed, quick old woman, who seemed to have got 
 past that stage, and to have come all right again. Besides 
 these, there were the young ladies' father, and the young 
 ladies' brother ; the first engaged in mercantile affairs ; the 
 second, a student at college ; both, in a certain cordiality of 
 manner, like his own friend, and not unlike him in face. 
 Which was no great wonder, for it soon appeared that he was 
 their near relation. Martin could not help tracing the family 
 • pedigree from the two young ladies, because they were fore- 
 most in his thoughts ; not only from being, as aforesaid, very 
 pretty, but by reason of their wearing miraculously small shoes,
 
 MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 291 
 
 and the thinnest possible silk stockings, the which their rock- 
 ing-chairs developed to a distracting extent, 
 
 There is no doubt that it was a monstrous comfortable 
 circumstance to be sitting in a snug, well-furnished room, 
 warmed by a cheerful fire, and full of various pleasant decora- 
 tions, including four small shoes, and the like amount of silk 
 
 stockings, and yes, why not ? — the feet and legs therein 
 
 enshrined. And there is no doubt that Martin was monstrous 
 well-disposed to regard his position in that light, after his 
 recent experience of the Screw, and of Mrs. Pawkins's board- 
 ing-house. The consequence was, that he made himself very 
 agreeable indeed ; and by the time the tea and coffee arrived 
 (with sweet preserves, and cunning tea-cakes in its train), was 
 in a highly gejiial state, and much esteemed by the whole 
 family. 
 
 Another delightful circumstance turned up before the first 
 cup of tea was drunk. The whole family had been in Eng- 
 land. There was a pleasant thing ! But Martin was not 
 quite so glad of this, when he found that they knew all the 
 great dukes, lords, viscounts, marquesses, duchesses, knights, 
 and baronets, quite affectionately, and were beyond everything 
 interested in the least particular concerning them. How- 
 ever, when they asked after the wearer of this or that coronet, 
 and said, " Was he quite well ? " Martin answered, " Yes, oh 
 yes. Never better • " and when they said, '' his lordship's 
 mother, the duchess, was she much changed ? " Martin said, 
 " Oh dear no, they would know her anywhere, if they saw her 
 to-morrow;" and so got on pretty well. In like manner 
 when the young ladies questioned him touching the Gold 
 Fish in that Grecian fountain in such and such a nobleman's 
 conservatorv, and whether there were as manv as there used 
 to be, he gravely reported, after mature consideration, that 
 there must be at least twice as many ; and as to the exotics, 
 " Oh ! well ! it was of no use talking about t/icrn ; they must 
 be seen to be believed;" which improved state of circum- 
 stances reminded the family of the splendor of that brilliant 
 festival (comprehending the whole British Peerage and Court 
 Calendar) to which they were specially invited, and which 
 indeed had been partly given in their honor ; and recollections 
 of what Mr. Norris the father had said to the marquess, and 
 of what Mrs. Norris the mother had said to the marchioness, 
 and of what the marquess and marchioness had both said, 
 I when they said that upon their words and honors they wished
 
 2^2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Norris the father and Mrs. Norris the mother, and the 
 Misses Norris the daughters, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son, 
 would only take up their permanent residence in England, 
 and give them the pleasure of their everlasting friendship, 
 occupied a very considerable time. 
 
 Martin thought it rather strange, and in some sort incon- 
 sistent, that during the whole of these narrations, and in 
 the very meridian of their enjoyment thereof, both Mr. Norris 
 the father, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son (who corresponded, 
 every post, with four members of the English Peerage), en- 
 larged upon the inestimable advantage of having no such arbi- 
 trary distinctions in that enlightened land, where there were 
 no noblemen but nature's noblemen, and where all society 
 was based on one broad level of brotherly love and natural 
 equality. Indeed, Mr. Norris the father, gradually expanding 
 into an oration on this swelling theme was becoming tedious, 
 when Mr. Bevan diverted his thoughts, by happening to make 
 some casual inquiry relative to the occupier of the next house ; 
 in reply to which, this same Mr. Norris the father, observed, 
 that " that person entertained religious opinions of which he 
 couldn't approve ; and therefore he hadn't the honor of know- 
 ing the gentleman." Mrs. Norris the mother added another 
 reason of her own, the same in effect, but varying in words : 
 to wit, that she believed the people were well enough in their 
 way, but they were not genteel. 
 
 Another little trait came out, which impressed itself on 
 Martin forcibly. Mr. Bevan told them about Mark and the 
 negro, and then it appeared that all the Norrises were aboli- 
 tionists. It was a great relief to hear this, and Martin was so 
 much encouraged on finding himself in such company, that he 
 expressed his sympathy with the oppressed and wretched 
 blacks. Now, one of the young ladies — the prettiest and most 
 delicate — was mightily amused at the earnestness with which 
 he spoke ; and on his craving leave to ask her why, was quite 
 unable for a time to speak for laughing. As soon however as 
 she could, she told him that the negroes were such a funny 
 people ; so excessively ludicrous in their manners and appear- 
 ance ; that it was wholly impossible for those who knew them 
 well, to associate any serious ideas with such a very absurd 
 part of the creation. Mr. Norris the father, and Mrs. Norris 
 the mother, and Miss Norris the sister, and Mr. Norris Junior 
 the brother, and even Mrs. Norris Senior the grandmother, 
 were all of this opinion, and laid it down as an absolute mat-
 
 MARTLY CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 293 
 
 ter of fact. As if there were nothing in suffering and slavery, 
 grim enough to cast a solemn air on any human animal ; 
 though it were as ridiculous physically, as the most grotesque 
 of apes, or, morally, as the mildest Nimrod among tuft-hunting 
 republicans. 
 
 " In short," said Mr. Norris the father, settling the question 
 comfortably, " there is a natural antipathy between the races." 
 
 " Extending," said Martin's friend, in a low voice, " to 
 the cruellest of tortures, and the bargain and sale of unborn 
 generations." 
 
 Mr. Norris the son said nothing, but he made a wr}^ face, 
 and dusted his fingers as Hamlet might after getting rid of 
 Yorick's skull ; just as though he had that moment touched a 
 negro, and some of the black had come off upon his hands. 
 
 In order that their talk might fall again into its former 
 pleasant channel, Martin dropped the subject, with a shrewd 
 suspicion that it would be a dangerous theme to revive under 
 the best of circumstances, and again addressed himself to the 
 young ladies, who were very gorgeously attired in very beautiful 
 colors, and had every article of dress on the same extensive scale 
 as the little shoes and the thin silk stockings. This suggested 
 to him that they were great proficients in the French fashions, 
 which soon turned out to be the case, for though their infor- 
 mation appeared to be none of the newest, it was verj' exten- 
 sive ; and the eldest sister in particular, who was distinguished 
 by a talent for metaphysics, the laws of hydraulic pressure, 
 and the rights of human kind, had a novel way of combining 
 these acquirements and bringing them to bear on any subject 
 from Millinery to the Millennium, both inclusive, which was 
 at once improving and remarkable ; so much so, in short, that 
 it was usually obser\'ed to reduce foreigners to a state of tem- 
 porary insanity in five minutes. 
 
 Martin felt his reason going ; and as a means of saving 
 himself, besought the other sister (seeing a piano in the room) 
 to sing. With this request she willingly complied ; and a 
 bravura concert, solely sustained by the \Iisses Norris, pres- 
 ently began. They sang in all languages — except their own. 
 German, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Swiss ; but 
 nothing native — nothing so low as native. For, in this re- 
 spect, languages are like many other travellers — ordinary and 
 common-place enough at home, but 'specially genteel abroad. 
 
 There is little doubt that in course of time the Misses 
 Norris would have come to Hebrew, if they had not been in-
 
 294 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 terrupted by an announcement from the Irishman, who fling- 
 ing open the door, cried in a loud voice : 
 
 "Jiniral Flad'dock ! " 
 
 " My ! " cried the sisters, desisting suddenly. " The gen- 
 eral come back ! " 
 
 As they made the exclamation, the general, attired in full 
 uniform for a ball, came darting in with such precipitancy, 
 that, hitching his boot in the carpet, and getting his sword be- 
 tween his legs, he came down headlong, and presented a curi- 
 ous little bald place on the crown of his head to the eyes of 
 the astonished company. Nor was this the worst of it ; for 
 being rather corpulent and very tight, the general, being down, 
 could not get up again, but lay there writhing and doing such 
 things with his boots, as there is no other instance of in mili- 
 tary history. 
 
 Of course there was an immediate rush to his assistance ; 
 and the general was promptly raised. But his uniform was so 
 fearfully and wonderfully made, that he came up stiff and 
 without a bend in him, like a dead clown, and had no com- 
 mand whatever of himself until he was put quite flat upon the 
 soles of his feet, when he became animated as by a miracle, 
 and moving edgewise that he might go in a narrower compass 
 and be in less danger of fraying the gold lace on his epaulettes 
 by brushing them against anything, advanced with a smiling 
 visage to salute the lady of the house. 
 
 To be sure, it would have been impossible for the family 
 to testify purer delight and joy than at this unlooked-for ap- 
 pearance of General Fladdock ! The general was as warmly 
 received as if New York had been in a state of siege and no 
 other general was to be got, for love or money. He shook 
 hands with the Norrises three times all round, and then re- 
 viewed them from a little distance as a brave commander 
 might, with his ample cloak drawn forward over the right 
 shoulder and thrown back upon the left side to reveal his 
 manly breast. 
 
 " And do I then," cried the general, " once again behold 
 the choicest spirits of my country ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Norris the father. " Here we are, gen- 
 eral." 
 
 Then all the Norrises pressed round the general, inquiring 
 how and where he had been since the date of his letter, and 
 how he had enjoyed himself in foreign parts, and particularly 
 and above all, to what extent he had become acquainted with
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 295 
 
 the great dukes, lords, viscounts, marquesses, duchesses, 
 knights, and baronets, in whom the people of those benighted 
 countries had delight. 
 
 " Well then, don't ask me," said the general, holding up 
 his hand. " I was among 'em all the time, and have got pub- 
 lic journals in my trunk with my name printed " — he lowered 
 his v'oice and was ver)' impressive here—" among the fashion- 
 able news. But, oh the conventionalities of that a-mazing 
 Eu — rope ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mr. Norris the father, mving his head a 
 melancholy shake, and looking towards Martin as though he 
 would say, "I can't deny it, sir. I would if I could." 
 
 " The limited diffusion of a moral sense in that country ! " 
 exclaimed the general. " The absence of a moral dignity in 
 man ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed all the Norrises, quite overwhelmed with 
 despondency. 
 
 " 1 couldn't have realized it," pursued the general, '' with- 
 out being located on the spot. Norris, your imagination is 
 the imagination of a strong man, but yoic couldn't have realized 
 it, without being located on the spot ! " 
 
 " Never," said Mr. Norris. 
 
 " The ex-clusiveness, the pride, the form, the ceremony," 
 exclaimed the general, emphasizing the article more vigorously 
 at every repetition. " The artificial barriers set up between 
 man and man ; the division of the human race into court cards 
 and plain cards, of every denomination — into clubs, diamonds, 
 spades, anything but hearts ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the whole family. " Too true, general ! " 
 
 " But stay ! " cried Mr. Norris the father, taking him by 
 the arm. " Surely you crossed in the Screw, general ? " 
 
 " Well ! so I did," M'as the reply. 
 
 " Possible ! " cried the young ladies. " Only think ! " 
 
 The general seemed at a loss to understand why his having 
 come home in the Screw should occasion such a sensation, nor 
 did he seem at all clearer on the subject when Mr. Norris, 
 introducing him to Martin, said : 
 
 " A fellow-passenger of yours, I think ? " 
 
 " Of mine ?" exclaimed the general ; " No ! " 
 
 He had never seen Martin, but Martin had seen him, and 
 recognized him, now that they stood face to face, as the gentle- 
 man who had stuck his hands in his pockets towards the end 
 of the voyage, and walked the deck with his nostrils dilated.
 
 296 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Everybody looked at Martin. There was no help for it. 
 The truth must out. 
 
 " I came over in the same ship as the general," said Martin, 
 " but not in the same cabin, it being necessary for me to 
 observe strict economy, I took my passage in the steerage." 
 
 If the general had been carried up bodily to a loaded can- 
 non, and required to let it off that moment, he could not have 
 been in a state of greater consternation that when he heard 
 these words. He, Fladdock, Fladdock in full militia uniform, 
 Fladdock the General, Fladdock the carressed of foreign 
 noblemen, expected to know a fellow who had come over in 
 the steerage of a line-of-packet ship, at the cost of four pound 
 ten ! And meeting that fellow in the very sanctuary of New 
 York fashion, and nestling in the bosom of the New York 
 aristocracy ! He almost laid his hand upon his sword. 
 
 A death like stillness fell upon the Norrises. If this story 
 should get wind, their country relation had, by his imprudence, 
 for ever disgraced them, lliey were the bright particular 
 stars of an exalted New York sphere. There were other 
 fashionable spheres above them, and other fashionable spheres 
 .below, and none of the stars in any one of these spheres had 
 anything to say to the stars in any other of these spheres. 
 But through all the spheres it would go forth, that the Norrises, 
 deceived by gentlemanly manners and appearances, had, falling 
 from their high estate, " received " a dollarless and unknown 
 man. O guardian eagle of the pure Republic, had they lived 
 for this ! 
 
 " You will allow me," said Martin, after a terrible silence, 
 " to take my leave. I feel that I am the cause of at least as 
 much embarrassment here, as I have brought upon myself. 
 But I am bound, before I go, to exonerate this gentleman, 
 who, in introducing me to such society, was quite ignorant of 
 my unworthiness, I assure you." 
 
 With that he made his bow to the Norrises, and walked 
 out like a man of snow — very cool externally, but pretty hot 
 within. 
 
 " Come, come," said Mr. Norris the father looking with a 
 pale face on the assembled circle as Martin closed the door, 
 '* the young man has this night behold a refinement of social 
 manner, and an easy magnificence of social decoration, to 
 which he is a stranger in his own country. Let us hope it 
 may awake a moral sense within him." 
 
 If that peculiarly transatlantic article a moral sense, — for
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 297 
 
 if native statesmen, orators, and pamphleteers, are to be be- 
 lieved, America quite monopolizes the commodity, — if that 
 peculiarly transatlantic article be supposed to include a be- 
 nevolent love of all mankind, certainly Martin's would have 
 borne, just then, a deal of waking. As he strode along the 
 street, with Mark at his heels, his immoral sense was in active 
 operation ; prompting him to the utterance of some rather 
 sanguinary remarks, which it was well for his own credit that 
 nobody overheard. He had so far cooled down however, that 
 he had begun to laugh at the recollection of these incidents, 
 when he heard another step behind him, and turning round 
 encountered his friend Bevan, quite out of breath. 
 
 He drew his arm through Martin's, and entreating him to 
 walk slowly, was silent for some minutes. At length he said : 
 
 " 1 hope you exonerate me in another sense? " 
 
 " How do you mean t " asked Martin. 
 
 " I hope you acquit me of intending or foreseeing the ter- 
 mination of our visit. But I scarcely need ask you tiial." 
 
 " Scarcely indeed," said Martin. *' I am the more be- 
 holden to you for your kindness, when I find what kind of 
 stuff the good citizens here are made of." 
 
 " I reckon," his friend returned, " that they are made of 
 pretty much the same stuff as other folks, if they would but 
 own it, and not set up on false pretences." 
 
 " In good faith, that's true," said Martin. 
 
 " I dare say," resumed his friend, " you might have such 
 a scene as that in an English comedy, and not detect any 
 gross improbability or anomaly in the matter of it "i " 
 
 " Yes indeed!" 
 
 " Doubtless it is more ridiculous here than anywhere else," 
 said his companion ; " but our professions are to blame for 
 that. So far as I myself am concerned, I may add that I was 
 perfectly aware from the first that you came over in the 
 steerage, for I had seen the list of passengers, and knew it 
 did not comprise your name." 
 
 " I feel more obliged to you than before," said Martin. 
 
 " Norris is a very good fellow in his way," observed Mr, 
 Bevan. 
 
 " Is he?" said Martin dryly. 
 
 " Oh yes ! there are a hundred good points about him. If 
 you or anybody else addressed iiim as another order of l)eing, 
 and sued to him in forma pauperis, he would be all kindness 
 and consideration."
 
 298 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I needn't have travelled three thousand miles from home 
 to find such a character as that,''' said Martin. Neither he 
 nor his friend said anything more on the way back ; each 
 appearing to find sufficient occupation in his own thoughts. 
 
 The tea, or the supper, or whatever else they called the 
 evening meal, was over when they reached the Major's ; but 
 the cloth, ornamented with a few additional smears and stains, 
 was still upon the table. At one end of the board Mrs. 
 Jefferson Brick and two other ladies were drinking tea ; out 
 of the ordinary course, evidently, for they were bonneted and 
 shaw^led, and seemed to have just come home. By the light 
 of three flaring candles of different lengths, in as many can- 
 dlesticks of different patterns, the room showed to almost as 
 little advantage as in broad day. 
 
 These ladies were all three talking together in a very loud 
 tone when Martin and his friend entered ; but seeing those 
 gentlemen, they stopped directly, and became excessively 
 genteel, not to say frosty. As they went on to exchange some 
 few remarks in whispers, the very water in the tea-pot might 
 have fallen twenty degrees in temperature beneath their chil- 
 ling coldness. 
 
 " Have you been to meeting, Mrs. Brick 1 " asked Martin's 
 friend, with something of a roguish twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " To lecture, sir." 
 
 " I beg you pardon. I forgot. You don't go to meeting, 
 I think .? " 
 
 Here the lady on the right of Mrs. Brick gave a pious 
 cough, as much as to say " /do ! " As, indeed, she did, nearly 
 every night in the week. 
 
 " A good discourse, ma'am t " asked Mr. Bevan, addressing 
 this lady. 
 
 The lady raised her eyes in a pious manner, and answered 
 " Yes." She had been much comforted by some good, strong, 
 peppery doctrine, which satisfactorily disposed of all her 
 friends and acquaintances, and quite settled their business. 
 Her bonnet, too, had far outshone every bonnet in the con- 
 gregation ; so she was tranquil on all accounts. 
 
 " What course of lectures are you attending now, ma'am ? " 
 said Martin's friend, turning again to Mrs. Brick. 
 
 " The Philosophy of the Soul, on Wednesdays." 
 
 " On Mondays .? " 
 
 " The Philosophy of Crime." 
 
 " On Fridays ? "
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 299 
 
 "The Philosophy of Vegetables." 
 
 " You have forgotten Thursdays ; the Philosophy of Gov- 
 ernment, mv dear," observed the third lady. 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Brick. '' That's Tuesdays." 
 
 " So it is ! " cried the lady. " The Philosophy of Matter 
 on Thursdays, of course." 
 
 " You see, Mr. Chuzzlewit, our ladies are fully employed," 
 said Bevan. 
 
 " Indeed you have reason to say so," answered Martin. 
 " Between these very grave pursuits abroad, and family duties 
 at home, their time must be pretty well engrossed." 
 
 Martin stopped here, for he saw that the ladies regarded 
 him with no very great favor, though what he had done to 
 deser\'e the disdainful expression which appeared in their 
 faces he was at a loss to divine. But on their going up stairs 
 to their bed-rooms — which they very soon did — Mr. Bevan 
 informed him that domestic drudgery was far beneath the 
 exalted range of these Philosophers, and that the chances were 
 a hundred to one that not one of the three could perform the 
 easiest woman's work for herself, or make the simplest article 
 of dress for any of her children. 
 
 " Though whether they might not be better employed with 
 such blunt instruments as knitting-needles, than with these 
 edge-tools," he said, " is another question ; but I can answer 
 for one thing : they don't often cut themselves. Devotions 
 and lectures are our balls and concerts. They go to these 
 places of resort, as an escape from monotony ; look at each 
 other's clothes ; and come home again." 
 
 " When you say ' home,' do you mean a house like this ? " 
 
 " Very often. But I see you are tired to death, and will 
 wish you good-night. We will discuss your projects in the 
 morning.. You cannot but feel already that it is useless stay- 
 ing here, with any hope of advancing them. You will have to 
 go farther." 
 
 " And to fare worse ? " said Martin, pursuing the old 
 adage. 
 
 " Well, I hope not. But sufficient for the day, you know. 
 Good-night." 
 
 They shook hands heartily and separated. As soon as 
 Martin was left alone, the excitement of novelty and change 
 which had sustained him through all the fatigues of the day, 
 departed ; and he felt so thoroughly dejected and worn out, 
 that he even lacked the energy to crawl up stairs to bed.
 
 300 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 In twelve or fifteen hours, how great a change had fallen 
 on his hopes and sanguine plans ! New and strange as he 
 was to the ground on which he stood, and to the air he 
 breathed, he could not— recalling all that he had crowded into 
 that one day — but entertain a strong misgiving that his enter- 
 prize was doomed. Rash and ill-considered as it had often 
 looked on shipboard, but had never seemed on shore, it wore 
 a dismal aspect, now, that frightened him. Whatever thoughts 
 he called up to his aid, they came upon him in depressing and 
 discouraging shapes, and gave him no relief. Even the dia- 
 monds on his finger sparkled with the brightness of tears, and 
 had no ray of hope in all their brilliant lustre. 
 
 He continued to sit in gloomy rumination by the stove, 
 unmindful of the boarders who dropped in one by one from 
 their stores and counting-houses, or the neighboring bar-rooms, 
 and after taking long pulls from a great white water-jug upon 
 the sideboard, and lingering with a kind of hideous fascination 
 near the brass spittoons, lounged heavily to bed ; until at 
 length Mark Tapley came and shook him by the arm, suppos- 
 ing him asleep. 
 
 " Mark ! " he cried, starting. 
 
 " All right, sir,"' said that cheerful follower, snuffing with 
 his fingers the candle he bore. " It ain't a very large bed, 
 your'n, sir ; and a man as wasn't thirsty might drink, afore 
 breakfast, all the water you've got to wash in, and arterwards 
 eat the towel. But you'll sleep without rocking to-night, 
 
 sir." 
 
 " I feel as if the house were on the sea," said Martin, 
 staggering when he rose ; " and am utterly wretched." 
 
 " I'm as jolly as a sandboy, myself, sir," said Mark. " But, 
 Lord, I have reason to be ! I ought to have been born here ; 
 that's my opinion. Take care how you go," for they were 
 now ascending the stairs. " You recollect the gentleman 
 aboard the Screw as had the very small trunk, sir 1 " 
 
 " The valise ? Yes." 
 
 " Well, sir, there's been a delivery of clean clothes from 
 the wash to-night, and they're put outside the bed-room doors 
 here. If you take notice as we go up, what a very few shirts 
 there are, and what a many fronts, you'll penetrate the mys- 
 tery of his packing." 
 
 But Martin was too weary and despondent to take heed of 
 anything, so had no interest in this discovery. Mr. Tapley, 
 nothing dashed by his indifference, conducted him to the top
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLElVfT. ^oi 
 
 of the house, and into the bed-chamber prepared for his re- 
 ception, which was a very Uttle narrow room, with half a 
 window in it, a bedstead like a chest without a lid, two 
 chairs, a piece of carpet, such as shoes are commonly tried 
 upon at a ready-made establishment in England ; a little look- 
 ing-glass nailed against the wall, and a washing table, with 
 a jug and ewer that might have been mistaken for a milk- 
 pot and slop-basin. 
 
 "I suppose they polish themselves with a dr\' cloth in 
 this country," said Mark. "They've certainly got a touch of 
 the 'phoby, sir." 
 
 " I wish you would pull off my boots for me," said Martin, 
 dropping into one of the chairs. " I am quite knocked up. 
 Dead beat, Mark." 
 
 " You won't say that to-morrow morning, sir," returned 
 Mr. Tapley ; " nor even to-night, sir, when you've made a trial 
 of this." V\'ith which he produced a very large tumbler, piled 
 up to the brim with little blocks of clear transparent ice, 
 through which one or two thin slices of lemon, and a golden 
 liquid of delicious appearance, appealed from the still depths 
 below, to the loving eye of the spectator. 
 
 "What do you call this ? " said Martin. 
 
 But Mr. Tapley made no answer, merely plunging a reed 
 into the mixture — which caused a pleasant commotion among 
 the pieces of ice — and signifying by an expressive gesture 
 that it was to be pumped up through that agency by the en- 
 raptured drinker. 
 
 Martin took the glass, with an astonished look, applied 
 his lips to the reed, and cast up his eyes once in ecstasy. 
 He paused no more until the goblet was drained to the last 
 drop. 
 
 " There, sir ! " said Mark, taking it from him with a 
 triumphant face ; " If ever you should happen to be dead 
 beat again, when I ain't in the way, all you"ve got to do is, to 
 ask the nearest man to go and fetch a cobbler." 
 
 " To go and fetch a cobbler ? " repealed Martin. 
 
 "This wonderful invention, sir," said Mark, . tenderlv 
 patting the empty glass, '' is called a cobbler. Sherry cobbler 
 when you name it long ; cobbler, when you name it short. 
 Now you're equal to having your boots took off, and are, in 
 every particular worth mentioning, another man." 
 
 Having deli\ered himself of this solemn preface, he 
 brought the boot-jack.
 
 3 02 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Mind ! I am not going to relapse, Mark," said Martin ; 
 " but, good Heaven, if we should be left in some wild part of 
 this country without goods or money ! " 
 
 "Well, sir!" replied the imperturbable Tapley ; "from 
 what we've seen already, I don't know whether, under those 
 circumstances, we shouldn't do better in the wild parts than 
 in the tame ones." 
 
 " Oh, Tom Pinch, Tom Pinch ! " said Martin, in a 
 thoughtful tone ; " what would I give to be again beside you, 
 and able to hear your voice, though it were even in the old 
 bedroom at Pecksniff's ! " 
 
 " Oh, Dragon, Dragon ! " echoed Mark, cheerfully, " if 
 there warn't any water between you and me, and nothing faint- 
 hearted-like in going back, I don't know that I mightn't say 
 the same. But here am I, Dragon, in New York, America ; 
 and there are you in Wiltshire, Europe ; and there's a fortune 
 to make, Dragon, and a beautiful young lady to make it for ; 
 and whenever you go to see the Monument, Dragon, you 
 mustn't give in on the door-steps, or you'll never get up to 
 the top ! " 
 
 " Wisely said, Mark," cried Martin. " We must look for- 
 ward." 
 
 " In all the story-books as ever I read, sir, the people as 
 looked backward was turned into stones," replied Mark ; 
 " and my opinion always was, that they brought it on them- 
 selves, and it served 'em right. I wish you good-night, sir, 
 and pleasant dreams ! " 
 
 " They must be of home, then," said Martin, as he lay 
 down in bed. 
 
 "So I say, too," whispered Mark Tapley, when he was out 
 of hearing and in his own room ; " for if there don't come a 
 time afore we're well out of this, when there'll be a little more 
 credit in keeping up one's jollity, I'm a United Statesman ! " 
 
 Leaving them to blend and mingle in their sleep the 
 shadows of objects afar oft", as they take fantastic shapes upon 
 the wall in the dim light of thought without control, be it the 
 part of this slight chronicle — a dream within a dream — as 
 rapidly to change the scene, and cross the ocean to the 
 English shore.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DOES BUSINESS WITH THE HOUSE OF ANTHONY CHUZZLEWIT 
 AND SON, FROM WHICH ONE OF THE PARTNERS RETIRES 
 UNEXPECTEDLY. 
 
 Change begets change. Nothing propagates so fast. If a 
 man habituated to a narrow circle of cares and pleasures, out 
 of which he seldom travels, step beyond it, though for never 
 so brief a spac^, his departure from the monotonous scene 
 on which he has been an actor of importance, would seem to 
 be the signal for instant confusion. As if, in the gap he had 
 left, the wedge of change were driven to the head, rending 
 what was a solid mass to fragments, things cemented and held 
 together by the usages of years, burst asunder in as many 
 weeks. The mine which Time has slowly dug beneath 
 familiar objects, is sprung in an instant ; and what was rock 
 before, becomes but sand and dust. 
 
 Most men, at one time or other, have proved this in some 
 degree. The extent to which the natural laws of change 
 asserted their supremacy in that limited sphere of action 
 which Martin had deserted, shall be faithfully set down in 
 these pages. 
 
 " What a cold spring it is ! " whimpered old Anthony, 
 drawing near the evening fire. " It was a warmer season, 
 sure, when I was young ! " 
 
 "You needn't go scorching your clothes into holes, 
 whether it was or not," obser\ed the amiable Jonas, raising 
 his eyes from yesterday's newspaper. " Broadcloth ain't so 
 cheap as that comes to." 
 
 " A good lad ! " cried the father, breathing on his cold 
 hands, and feebly chafing them against each other. " A 
 prudent lad ! He never delivered himself up to the vanities 
 of dress. No, no ! " 
 
 " I don't know but I would though, mind you, if I could 
 do it for nothing," said his son, as he resumed the paper. 
 
 " Ah ! " chuckled the old man. " If, indeed ! Lut it's 
 very cold." 
 
 " Let the fire be ! " cried Mr. Jonas, stopping his honored
 
 30| MARTIN CHUZZLEV/IT. 
 
 parent's hand in the use of the poker. " Do you mean to 
 come to want in your old age, that you take to wasting now ? " 
 
 " There's not time for that, Jonas," said the old man. 
 
 " Not time for what t " bawled his heir. 
 
 " For me to come to want. 1 wish there was ! " 
 
 " You always were as selfish an old blade as need be," 
 said Jonas, in a voice too low for him to hear, and looking at 
 him with an angry frown. " You act up to your character. You 
 wouldn't mind coming to want, wouldn't you ! I dare say 
 you wouldn't. And your own flesh and blood might come to 
 want too, might they, for anything you cared? Oh you 
 precious old flint ! " 
 
 After this dutiful address he took his tea-cup in his hand : 
 for that meal was in progress, and the father and son and 
 Chuffey were partakers of it. Then, looking steadfastly at 
 his father, and stopping now and then to carry a spoonful of 
 tea to his lips, he proceeded in the same tone, thus : 
 
 " Want, indeed ! You're a nice old man to be talking of 
 want at this time of day. Beginning to talk of want, are you ? 
 Well, I declare ! There isn't time .? No, I should hope not. 
 But you'd live to be a couple of hundred if you could ; and 
 after all be discontented, /know you ! " 
 
 The old man sighed, and still sat cowering before the fire. 
 Mr. Jonas shook his Britannia-metal teaspoon at him, and 
 taking a loftier position went on to argue the point on high 
 moral grounds. 
 
 " If you're in such a state of mind as that," he grumbled, 
 but in the same subdued key, "why don't you make over your 
 property .^ Buy an annuity cheap, and make your life interest- 
 ing to yourself and everybody else that watches the specu- 
 lation. But no, that wouldn't •a\x\lyou. That would be natural 
 conduct to your own son, and you like to be unnatural, and to 
 keep him out of his rights. Why, I should be ashamed of my- 
 self if 1 was you, and glad to hide my head in the what you 
 may call it." 
 
 Possibly this general phrase supplied the place of grave, 
 or tomb, or sepulchre, or cemetery, or mausoleum, or- other 
 such word which the filial tenderness of Mr. Jonas made him 
 delicate of pronouncing. He pursued the theme no further ; 
 for Chuffey, somehow discovering, from his old corner by the 
 fireside, that Anthony was in the attitude of a listener, and 
 that Jonas appeared to be speaking, suddenly cried out, like 
 one inspired •
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 305 
 
 " He is your own son, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Your own son, 
 sir ! " 
 
 Old Chuffey little suspected what depth of application these 
 words had, or that, in the bitter satire which they bore, they 
 might have sunk into the old man's very soul, could he have 
 known what words were hanging on his own son's lips, or 
 what was passing in his thoughts. But the voice diverted the 
 current of Anthony's reflections, and roused him. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Chuffey, Jonas is a chip of the old block. It's 
 a very old block, now, Chuffey," said the old man, with a 
 strange look of discomposure. 
 
 " Precious old," assented Jonas. 
 
 "No, no, no," said Chuff e}'. " No, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Not 
 old at all, sir."' 
 
 '• Oh ! He's worse than ever, you know ! " cried Jonas, 
 quite disgusted. " Upon my soul, father, he's getting too bad. 
 Hold your tongue, will you .'' " 
 
 " He says you're wrong! " cried Anthony to the old clerk. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " was Chuffey's answer. " 1 know better. I 
 say he's wrong. I say he's wrong. He's a boy. That's what 
 he is. So are you, Mr. Chuzzlewit — a kind of boy. Ha ! ha ! 
 ha! You're quite a boy to many I have known ; you're a boy 
 to me ; you're a boy to hundreds of us. Don't mind him ! " 
 
 With which extraordinary speech — for in the case of 
 Chuffey this was a burst of eloquence without a parallel — the 
 poor old shadow drew through his palsied arm his master's 
 hand, and held it there, with his own folded upon it, as if he 
 would defend him. 
 
 " I grow deafer every day. Chuff," said Anthony, with as 
 much softness of manner, or, to describe it more correctly, 
 with as little hardness as he was capable of expressing. 
 
 " No, no," cried Chuffey. " No you don't. What if you 
 did ? I've been deaf this twenty year." 
 
 "I grow blinder, too," said the old man, shaking his head. 
 
 " That's a good sign ! " cried Chuffey. " Ha ! ha ! The 
 best sign in the world ! You saw too well before." 
 
 He patted Anthony upon the hand as one might comfort 
 a child, and drawing the old man's arm still further through 
 his own, shook his trembling fingers towards the spot where 
 Jonas sat, as though he would wave him off. But, Anthony re- 
 maining quite still and silent, he relaxed his hold by slow de- 
 grees and lapsed into his usual niche in the corner, merely put- 
 ting forth his hand at intervals and touching his old employer 
 
 20
 
 3o6 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 
 
 gently on the coat, as with the design of assuring himself that 
 he was yet beside him. 
 
 Mr. Jonas was so very much amazed by these proceedings 
 that he could do nothing but stare at the two old men, until 
 Chuffey had fallen into his usual state, and Anthony had sunk 
 into a doze ; when he gave some vent to his emotions by going 
 close up to the former personage, and making as though he 
 would, in vulgar parlance, " punch his head." • 
 
 " They've been carrying on this game," thought Jonas in 
 a brown study, " for the last two or three weeks. I never saw 
 my father take so much notice of him as he has in that time. 
 What ! You're legacy hunting are you, Mister Chuff.? Eh t " 
 
 But Chuffey was as little conscious of the thought as 
 of the bodily advance of Mr. Jonas's clenched fist, which 
 hovered fondly about his ear. When he had scowled at him 
 to his heart's content, Jonas took the candle from the table, 
 and walking into the glass office, produced a bunch of keys 
 from his pocket. With one of these he opened a secret drawer 
 in the desk, peeping stealthily out, as he did so, to be certain 
 that the two old men were still before the fire. 
 
 " All as right as ever," said Jonas, propping the lid of the 
 desk open with his forehead, and unfolding a paper. " Here's 
 the will, Mister Chuff. Thirty pound a year for your main- 
 tenance, old boy, and all the rest to his only son, Jonas. 
 You needn't trouble yourself to be too affectionate. You 
 won't get anything by it. What's that ? " 
 
 It was startling, certainly. A face on the other side of 
 the glass partition looking curiously in, and not at him but at 
 the paper in his hand. For the eyes were attentively cast 
 down upon the writing, and were swiftly raised when he cried 
 out. Then they met his own, and were as the eyes of Mr. 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 Suffering the lid of the desk to fall with a loud noise, but 
 not forgetting even then to lock it, Jonas, pale and breathless, 
 gazed upon this phantom. It moved, opened the door, and 
 walked in. 
 
 "What's the matter ? " cried Jonas, falling back. " Who 
 is- it ? Where do you come from ? What do you want ? " 
 
 " Matter ! " cried the voice of Mr. Pecksniff, as Pecksniff 
 in the flesh smiled amiably upon him. " The matter, Mr. 
 Jonas ! " 
 
 " What are you prying and peering about here for? " said 
 Jonas, angrily. " What do you mean by coming up to town in
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 3^7 
 
 this way, and taking one unawares ? It's precious odd a man 
 can't read the — the newspaper — in his own office without be- 
 ing startled out of his wits by people coming in without notice. 
 Why didn't you knock at the door ? " 
 
 " So I did, Mr. Jonas," answered Pecksniff, "but no one 
 heard me. I was curious," he added in his gentle way as he 
 laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder, " to hnd out 
 what part of the newspaper interested you so much ; but the 
 glass was too dim and dirty." 
 
 Jonas glanced in haste at the partition. Well. It wasn't 
 very clean. So far he spoke the truth. 
 
 " Was it poetry now ? " said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking the 
 forefinger of jx'is right hand with an air of cheerful banter. 
 " Or was it politics ? Or was it the price of stock .-" The 
 main chance, Mr. Jonas, the main chance, I suspect." 
 
 " Vou ain't far fro)n the truth," answered Jonas, recover- 
 ing himself and snuffing the candle, " but how the deuce do 
 you come to be in London again .'' Ecod ! it's enough to make 
 a man stare, to see a fellow looking at him all of a sudden, 
 who he thought was sixty or seventy mile away." 
 
 " So it is," said Mr. Pecksniff. " No doubt of it, my dear 
 Mr. Jonas. For while the human mind is constituted as it 
 is—" 
 
 " Oh bother the human mind," interrupted Jonas with im- 
 patience, " what have you come up for ? " 
 
 " A little matter of business," said Mr. Pecksniff, " which 
 has arisen quite unexpectedly." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Jonas, "istiiat all? Well. Here's father 
 in the next room. Hallo father, here's Pecksniff! He gets 
 more addle-pated every day he lives, I do believe," muttered 
 Jonas, shaking his honored parent roundly. " Don't I tell 
 you Pecksniff's here, stupid head .'' " 
 
 The combined effects of the shaking and this lovino" re- 
 monstrance soon awoke the old man, who gave Mr. Peck- 
 sniff a chuckling welcome, which was attributable in part to 
 his being glad to see that gentleman, and in part to his 
 unfading delight in the recollection of having called him a 
 hypocrite. As Mr. Pecksniff had not yet taken tea (indeed 
 he had, but an hour before, arrived in London) the remains 
 of the late collation, with a rasher of bacon, were ser\ed up 
 for his enlertaimnent ; and as Mr. Jonas had a business ap- 
 pointment in the next street, he stepped out to keep it, prom- 
 ising to return before Mr. Pecksniff could finish his repast.
 
 2o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " And now, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff to Anthony, 
 *' now that we are alone, pray tell me what I can do for you. 
 I say alone, because I believe that our dear friend Mr. Chuf- 
 fey is, metaphysically speaking, a — shall I say a dummy ? " 
 asked Mr. Pecksniff with his sweetest smile, and his head very 
 much on one side. 
 
 " He neither hears us," replied Anthony, " nor sees us." 
 
 "Why then," said Mr. Pecksniff, "I will be bold to say, 
 with the utmost sympathy for his afiflictions, and the greatest 
 admiration of those excellent qualities which do equal honor 
 to his head and to his heart, that he is what is playfully termed 
 a dummy. You were going to obser\-e, my dear sir — ? " 
 
 " I was not going to make any observation that I know 
 of," replied the old man. 
 
 "/was," said Mr. Pecksniff, mildly. 
 
 " Oh ! you were ? What was it ? " 
 
 " That I never," said Mr. Pecksniff, previously rising to 
 see that the door was shut, and arranging his chair when he 
 came back, so that it could not be opened in the least without 
 his immediately becoming aware of the circumstance — " that 
 I never in my life was so astonished as by the receipt of your 
 letter yesterday. That you should do me the honor to wish to 
 take counsel with me on any matter, amazed me ; but that you 
 should desire to do so, to the exclusion even of Mr. Jonas, 
 showed an amount of confidence in one to whom you had 
 done a verbal injury, merely a verbal injury you were anxious 
 to repair, which gratified, which moved, which overcame me." 
 
 He was always a glib speaker, but he delivered this short 
 address very glibly, having been at some jjains to compose it 
 outside the coach. 
 
 Although he paused for a reply, and truly said that he was 
 there at Anthony's request, the old man sat gazing at him in 
 profound silence and with a perfectly blank face. Nor did 
 he seem to have the least desire or impulse to pursue the con- 
 versation, though Mr. Pecksniff looked towards the door, and 
 pulled out his watch, and gave him many other hints that 
 their time was short, and Jonas, if he kept his word, would 
 soon return. But the strangest incident in all this strange 
 behavior was, that of a sudden, in a moment, so swiftly that 
 it was impossible to trace how, or to observe any process of 
 change his features fell into their old expression, and he cried, 
 striking his hand passionately upon the table as if no interval 
 at all had taken place :
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 309 
 
 ** Will you hold your tongue, sir, and let me speak ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff deferred to him with a submissive bow ; 
 and said within himself, " I knew his hand was changed, and 
 that his writing staggered. I said so yesterday. Ahem ! 
 Dear me ! " 
 
 "Jonas is sweet upon your daughter, Pecksniff," said the 
 old man, in his usual tone. 
 
 " We spoke of that, if 3-ou remember sir, at Mrs. Tod- 
 gers's," replied the courteous architect. 
 
 " You needn't speak so loud," retorted Anthony. " I'm 
 not so deaf as that." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had certainly raised his voice pretty high ; 
 not so much because he thought Anthony was deaf, as be- 
 cause he felt" convinced that his perceptive faculties were 
 waxing dim ; but this quick resentment of his considerate be- 
 havior greatly disconcerted him, and, not knowing what tack 
 to shape his course upon, he made another inclination of the 
 head, yet more submissive than the last. 
 
 " I have said," repeated the old man, " that Jonas is sweet 
 upon your daughter." 
 
 "A charming girl, sir," murmured Mr. Pecksniff, seeing 
 that he waited for an answer. " A dear girl, Mr. Chuzzle- 
 wit, though I say it who should not." 
 
 " You know better," cried the old man, advancing his 
 weazen face at least a yard, and starting forward in his chair 
 to do it. " You lie ! What, you will be a hypocrite, will 
 you ? " 
 
 " My good sir," Mr. Pecksniff began. 
 
 " Don't call me a good sir," retorted Anthony, " and don't 
 claim to be one yourself. If \o\\x daughter was what you 
 would have me believe, she wouldn't do for Jonas. Being 
 what she is, I think she will. He might be deceived in a 
 wife. She might run riot, contract debts, and waste his sub- 
 stance. Now when I am dead — " 
 
 His face altered so horribly as he said the wortl, that Mr. 
 Pecksniff really was fain to look another way. 
 
 " — It will be worse for me to know of such doings, than 
 if I was alive ; for to be tormented for getting that together, 
 which even while I suffer for its acquisition is fiung into the 
 very kennels of the streets, would be insupportable torture. 
 No," said the old man, hoarsely, " let that be saved at 
 least ; let there be something gained, and kept fast hold of, 
 when so much is lost."
 
 3 1 o MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 '* My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," said Pecksnifif, " these are 
 unwholesome fancies ; quite unnecessary, sir, quite uncalled 
 for, I am sure. The truth is, my dear sir, that you are not 
 well ! " 
 
 " Not dying though ! " cried Anthony, with something like 
 the snarl of a wild animal. " Not yet ! There are years of 
 life in me. Why, look at him," pointing to his feeble clerk. 
 " Death has no right to leave him standing, and to mow me 
 down ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was so much afraid of the old man, and so 
 completely taken aback by the state in which he found him, 
 that he had not even presence of mind enough to call up a 
 scrap of morality from the great storehouse within his own 
 breast. Therefore he stammered out that no doubt it was, in 
 fairness and decency, Mr. Chuffey's turn to expire ; and that 
 from all he had heard of Mr. Chuffey, and the little he had 
 the pleasure of knowing of that gentleman, personally, he felt 
 con\inced in his own mind that he would see the propriety of 
 expiring with as little delay as possible. 
 
 " Come here ! " said the old man, beckoning him to draw 
 nearer. " Jonas will be my heir, Jonas will be rich, and a 
 great catch for you. You know that. Jonas is sweet upon 
 your daughter." 
 
 " I know that too," thought Mr. Pecksniif, " for you have 
 said it often enough." 
 
 " He might get more money than with her," said the old 
 man, " but she will help him to take care of what they have. 
 She is not too young or heedless, and comes of a good hard 
 griping stock. But don't you play too fine a game. She only 
 holds him by a thread ; and if you draw it too tight (I know 
 his temper) it'll snap. Bind him when he's in the mood, 
 Pecksniff; bind him. You're too deep. In your way of lead- 
 ing him on, and you'll leave him miles behind. Bah, you man 
 of oil, have I no eyes to see how you have angled with him 
 from the first ? " 
 
 " Now I wonder," thought Mr. Pecksniff, looking at him 
 with a wistful face, "whether this is all he has to say ! " 
 
 Old Anthony rubbed his hands and muttered to himself; 
 complained again that he was cold ; drew his chair before the 
 fire ; and, sitting with his back to Mr. Pecksniff, and his chin 
 sunk down upon his breast, was, in another minute, quite re- 
 gardless or forgetful of his presence. 
 
 Uncouth and unsatisfactory as this short interview had
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE U 'IT. 3 1 1 
 
 been, it had furnished Mr. Pecksniff with a hint which, sup- 
 posing nothing further were imparted to him, repaid the jour- 
 ney up, and home again. For the good gentleman had never 
 (for want of an opportunity) dived into the depths of Mr. 
 Jonas's nature ; and any recipe for catching such a son-in-law 
 (much more, one written on a leaf out of his own father's book) 
 was worth the having. In order that he might lose no chance 
 of improving so fair an opportunity by allowing Anthony to 
 fall asleep before he had finished all he had to say, Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, in the disposal of the refreshments on the table, a work 
 to which he now applied himself in earnest, resorted to many 
 ingenious contrivances for attracting his attention : such as 
 coughing, sneezing, clattering the tea-cups, sharpening the 
 knives, dropping the loaf and so forth. But all in vain, for 
 Mr. Jonas returned, and Anthony had said no more. 
 
 " What ! My father asleep again .? " he cried, as he hung 
 up his hat, and cast a look at him. " Ah ! and snoring. Only 
 hear ! " 
 
 " He snores very deep," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Snores deep ?" repeated Jonas. "Yes; let him alone 
 for that. He'll snore for six, at any time." 
 
 " Do you know, Mr. Jonas," said Pecksniff, " that I think 
 your father is — don't let me alarm you — breaking ? " 
 
 "Oh, is he though ? " replied Jonas, with a shake of the 
 head which expressed the closeness of his dutiful observation. 
 " Ecod, you don't know how tough he is. He ain't upon the 
 move yet." 
 
 " It struck me that he was changed, both in his appear- 
 ance and manner," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " That's all you know about it," returned Jonas, seating 
 himself with a melancholy air. "lie never was better than 
 he is now. How are they all at home > How's Charity ? " 
 
 " Blooming, Mr. Jonas, blooming." 
 
 " And the other one ; how's she ? " 
 
 " Volatile triiier ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, fondly musing. 
 " She is well, she is well. Roving from parlor to bed-room, 
 Mr. Jonas, like the bee ; skimming from post to pillar, like the 
 butterfly ; dipping her young beak into our currant wine, like 
 the humming-bird ! Ah ! were she a little less giddy than she 
 is, and had she but the sterling qualities of Cherry, my young 
 friend ! " 
 
 " Is she so very gidd)^ then ? " asked Jonas. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, witli great feeling ; " let
 
 3 1 2 -7/// ^ TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 me not be hard upon my child. Beside her sister Cherry 
 she appears so. A strange noise that, Mr. Jonas ! " 
 
 " Something wrong in the dock, I suppose," said Jonas, 
 glancing towards it. " So the other one ain't your favorite, 
 ain't she ? " 
 
 The fond father was about to reply, and had already sum- 
 moned into his face a look of most intense sensibility, when 
 the sound he had already noticed was repeated. 
 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Jonas, that is a very extraordinary 
 clock," said Pecksniff. 
 
 It would have been, if it had made the noise which startled 
 them, but another kind of time-piece was fast running down, 
 and from that the sound proceeded. A scream from Chuffey, 
 rendered a hundred time more loud and formidable by his 
 silent habits, made the house ring from roof to cellar ; and, 
 looking round, they saw Anthony Chuzzlewit extended on 
 the floor, with the old clerk upon his knees beside him. 
 
 He had fallen from his chair in a fit, and lay there, battling 
 for each gasp of breath, with every shrivelled vein and sinew 
 starting in its place, as if it were bent on bearing witness to 
 his age, and sternly pleading with Nature against his recovery. 
 It was frightful to see how the principle of life, shut up within 
 his withered frame, fought like a strong devil, mad to be re- 
 leased, and rent its ancient prison-house. A young man in 
 the fulness of his vigor, struggling with so much strength of 
 desperation, would have been a dismal sight ; but an old, old, 
 shrunken body, endowed with preternatural might, and giving 
 the lie in e\ery motion of its ever}' limb and joint to its en- 
 feebled aspect, was a hideous spectacle indeed. 
 
 They raised him up, and fetched a surgeon with all haste, 
 who bled the patient and applied some remedies ; but the fits 
 held him so long, that it was past midnight w'hen they got 
 him, quiet now, lout quite unconscious and exhausted, into 
 bed. 
 
 " Don't go," said Jonas, putting his ashy lips to Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's ear, and whispering across the bed. "It was a mercy 
 you \;ere present when he was taken ill. Some one might 
 have 3aid it was my doing.' 
 
 " Your doing ! '' cried" Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " I don't know but they might." he replied, wiping the 
 moisture from his white face. " People say such things. 
 How does he look now ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff shook his head.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 313 
 
 "I used to joke, you know," said Jonas ; "but I — I never 
 wished him dead.- Do you think he's very Jaad ? " 
 
 "The doctor said he was. You heard," was Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's answer. 
 
 " Ah ! but he might say that to charge us more, in case of 
 his getting well," said Jonas. " You musn't go away, Peck- 
 sniff. Now it's come to this, I wouldn't be without a witness 
 for a thousand pound." 
 
 Chuffey said not a word, and heard not a word. He had 
 sat himself down in a chair at the bedside, and there he re-, 
 mained, motionless ; except that he sometimes bent his head 
 over the pillow, and seemed to listen. He never changed in 
 this. Though once in the dreary night Mr. Pecksniff, having 
 dozed, awoke \\'ith a confused impression that he had heard 
 him praying, and strangely mingling figures, not of speech, 
 but arithmetic, with his broken prayers. 
 
 Jonas sat there, too, all night ; not where his father could 
 have seen him, had his consciousness returned, but hiding, as 
 it were, behind him, and only reading how he looked, in Mr. 
 Pecksniff's eyes. fL\ the coarse upstart, who had ruled the 
 house so long 1 That craven cur, who was afraid to move, 
 and shook so, that his very shadow fluttered on the wall ! 
 
 It was broad, bright stirring day when, leaving the old 
 clerk to watch liim, they went down to breakfast. People hur- 
 ried up and down the street ; windows and doors were opened ; 
 thieves and beggars took their usual posts ; workmen bestirred 
 themselves ; tradesmen set forth their shops ; bailiffs and 
 constables were on the watch ; all kinds of human creatures 
 strove in their several ways, as hard to live, as the one sick old 
 man who combated for every grain of sand in his fast-empty- 
 ing glass, as eagerly as if it were an empire. 
 
 "If anything happens, Pecksniff," said Jonas, "you must 
 promise me to stop here till it's all. over. You shall see that 
 I do what's right." 
 
 "I know that you will do what's right, Mr. Jonas," said 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " Yes, yes, but I won't be doubted. No one shall have it 
 in his power to say a syllabic against me," he returned. 
 "I know how people will talk. Just as if he wasn't old, or I 
 had the secret of keeping him alive ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff promised that he would remain, if circum- 
 stances should render it, in his esteemed friend's opinion, 
 desirable ; they were finishing their meal in silence, when
 
 314 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 suddenly an apparition stood before them, so ghastly to the 
 view, that Jonas shrieked aloud, and both recoiled in horror. 
 
 Old Anthony, dressed in his usual clothes, was in the 
 room — beside the table. He leaned upon the shoulder of his 
 solitary friend ; and on his livid face, and on his horny hands, 
 and in his glassy eyes, and traced by an eternal finger in the 
 very drops of sweat upon his brow, was one word — Death. 
 
 He spoke to them, in something of his own voice too, 
 but sharpened and made hollow, like a dead man's face. 
 What he would have said, God knows. He seemed to utter 
 words, but they were such as man had never heard. And 
 this was the most fearful circumstance of all, to see him stand- 
 ing there, gabbling in an unearthly tongue. 
 
 " He's better now," said Chuffey. " Better now. Let 
 him sit in his old chair, and he'll be well again. I told him 
 not to mind. I said so, yesterday." 
 
 They put him in his easy-chair, and wheeled it near the 
 window ; then, setting open the door, exposed him to the free 
 current of morning; air. But not all the air that is, nor all the 
 winds that ever blew 'twixt Heaven and Earth, could have 
 brought new life to him. 
 
 Plunge him to the throat in golden pieces now, and his 
 heavy fingers shall not close on one ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE READER IS BROUGHT INTO COMMUNICATION WITH SOME 
 PROFESSIONAL PERSONS, AND SHEDS A TEAR OVER THE 
 FILIAL PIETY OF GOOD MR. JONAS. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was in a hackney cabriolet, for Jonas 
 Chuzzlewit had said " Spare no expense." Mankind is evil 
 in its thoughts and in its base constructions, and Jonas was 
 resolved it should not have an inch to stretch into an ell 
 against him. It never should be charged upon his father's 
 son that he had grudged the money for his father's funeral. 
 Hence, until the obsequies should be concluded, Jonas had 
 taken for his motto " Spend, and spare not ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had been to the undertaker, and was now upon 
 
 V
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 315 
 
 his way to another officer in the train of mourning; a female 
 functionary, a nurse, and watcher, and performer of nameless 
 offices about the persons of the dead, whom he had recom- 
 mended. Her name, as Mr. Pecksniff gathered from a scrap 
 of writing in his hand, was Gamp ; her residence in Kings- 
 gate Street, High Holborn. So Mr. Pecksniff, in a hackney 
 cab, was rattling over Holborn stones, in quest of Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 This lady lodged at a bird-fancier's, next door but one to 
 the celebrated mutton-pie shop, and directly opposite to the 
 original cat's-meat warehouse ; the renown of which establish- 
 ments was duly heralded on their respective fronts. It was a 
 little house, and this was the more convenient ; for Mrs. Gamp 
 being in her highest walk of art, a monthly nurse, or, as her 
 sign-board boldly liad it, "Midwife," and lodging in the first- 
 floor front, was easily assailable at night by pebbles, walking- 
 sticks, and fragments of tobacco-pipe, all much more effica- 
 cious than the street-door knocker, which was so constructed 
 as to wake the street with ease, and even spread alarms of 
 fire in Holborn, without making the smallest impression on 
 the premises to which it was addressed. 
 
 It chanced on this particular occasion, that Mrs. Gamp 
 had been up all the previous night, in attendance upon a cere- 
 mony to which the usage of gossips has given that name which 
 expresses, in two syllables, the curse pronounced on Adam. 
 It chanced that Mrs. Gamp had not been regularly engaged, but 
 had been called in at a crisis, in consequence of her great re- 
 pute, to assist another professional lady with her advice ; and 
 thus it happened that, all points of interest in the case being 
 over, Mrs. Gamp had come home again to the bird-fancier's, 
 and gone to bed. So, when Mr. I'ecksnilT drove up in the 
 hackney cab, Mrs. Gamp's curtains w-ere drawn close, and 
 Mrs. Gamp was fast asleep behind them. 
 
 If the bird-fancier had been at home, as he ought to have 
 been, there would have been no great harm in this ; but he 
 was out, and his shop was closed. The shutters were down 
 certainly ; and in every pane of glass there was at least one 
 tiny bird in a tiny bird-cage, twittering and hopping his little 
 ballet of despair, and knocking his head against the roof ; 
 ■while one unhappy goldfinch who lived outside a red villa 
 with his name on the door, drew the water for his own drink- 
 ing, and mutely appealed to some good man to drop a far- 
 things wortli of poison in it. Still, the door was shut. Mr. 
 Pecksniff tried the latch, and shook it, causing a cracked bell
 
 3i6 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 inside to ring most mournfully ; but no one came. The bird- 
 fancier was an easy shaver also, and a fashionable hair-dresser 
 also ; and perhaps he had been sent for, express, from the 
 court end of the town, to trim a lord, or cut and curl a lady ; 
 but however that might be, there, upon his own ground, he 
 was not ; nor was there any more distinct trace of him to as- 
 sist the imagination of an inquirer, than a professional print 
 or emblem of his calling (much favored in the trade), repre- 
 senting a hair-dresser of easy manners curling a lady of dis- 
 tinguished fashion, in the presence of a patent upright grand 
 pianoforte. 
 
 Noting these circumstances, Mr. Pecksniff, in the inno- 
 cence of his heart, applied himself to the knocker ; but at the 
 first double knock, ever}^ window in the street became alive 
 with female heads ; and before he could repeat the perform- 
 ance, whole troops of married ladies (some about to trouble 
 Mrs. Gamp themselves, ver)' shortly) came flocking round the 
 steps, all crying out with one accord, and with uncommon in- 
 terest, " Knock at the winder, sir, knock at the winder. 
 Lord bless you, don't lose no more time than you can help ; 
 knock at the winder ! " 
 
 Acting upon this suggestion, and borrowing the driver's 
 whip for the purpose, Mr. Pecksniff soon made a commotion 
 among the first-floor flower-pots, and roused Mrs. Gamp, 
 whose voice — to the great satisfaction of the matrons — was 
 heard to sav, " I'm coming." 
 
 " He's as pale as a muffin," said one lady, ni allusion to 
 Mr. Pecksnifi". 
 
 " So he ought to be, if he's the feelings of a man," ob- 
 served another. 
 
 A' third lady (with her arms folded) said she wished he 
 had chosen any other time for fetching Mrs. Gamp, but it 
 always happened so with her. 
 
 It gave Mr. Pecksniff much uneasiness to find, from these 
 remarks, that he was supposed to have come to Mrs. Gamp 
 upon an errand touching — not the close of life, but the other 
 end. Mrs. Gamp herself was under the same impression, for 
 throwing open tlie window, she cried behind the curtains, as 
 she hastily attired herself : 
 
 " Is it Mrs. Perkins ? " 
 
 " No ! " returned Mr. Pecksniff, sharply. ' Nothing of 
 the sort." 
 
 " What, Mr. Whilks ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " Don't say it's
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 317 
 
 you, Mr. Whilks, and that poor creetur Mrs. Whilks with not 
 even a pincushion ready. Don't say it's you, Mr. Whilks ! " 
 
 " It isn't Mr. Whilks," said Pecksniff. " I don't know the 
 man. Nothing of the kind. A gentleman is dead ; and some 
 person being wanted in the house, you have been recommended 
 by Mr. Mould the undertaker." 
 
 As she was by this time in a condition to appear, Mrs. 
 Gamp, who had a face for all occasions, looked out of the 
 window with her mourning countenance, and said she would 
 be down directly. But the matrons took it very ill, that Mr. 
 Pecksniff's mission was of so unimportant a kind ; and the 
 'aly with her arms folded rated him in good round terms, 
 signifying that she would be glad to know what he meant by 
 terrifying delicate females "with his corpses ;" and giving it 
 as her opinion that he was quite ugly enough to know better. 
 The other ladies were not at all behind-hand in expressing 
 similar sentiments ; and the children, of whom some scores 
 had now collected, hooted and defied Mr. Pecksniff quite sav- 
 agely. So, when Mrs. Gamp appeared, the unoffending gentle- 
 man was glad to hustle her with very little ceremony into the 
 cabriolet, and drive off, overwhelmed with popular execration. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp had a large bundle with her, a pair of ])attens, 
 and a species of gig umbrella ; the latter article in color like 
 a faded leaf, except where a circular patch of a lively blue had 
 been dexterously let in at the top. She was much flurried by 
 the haste she had made, and labored under the most erro- 
 neous views of cabriolets, which she appeared to confound with 
 mail-coaches or stage-wagons, inasmuch as she was con- 
 stantly endeavoring for the first half mile to force her luggage 
 through the little front window, and clamoring to the dri\cr 
 to " put it in the boot."' When she was disabused of this 
 idea, her whole being resolved itself intf) an absorbing anxiety 
 about her pattens, with which she played innumerable games 
 at quoits, on Mr. Pecksniff's legs. It was not until they 
 were close upon the house of mourning that she had enough 
 composure to observe : 
 
 " And so the gentleman's dead, sir! Ah! The more's 
 the pity." She didn't even know his name. " Put it's what we 
 must all come to. It's as certain as being born, except that 
 we can't make our calculations as exact. Ah ! Poor dear! " 
 
 She was a fat old woman, this Mrs. Gamp, with a husky 
 voice and a moist eye, which she had a remarkable power of 
 turning up, and only showing the white of it. Having very
 
 3 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 little neck, it cost her some trouble to look over herself, if 
 one may say so, at those to whom she talked. She wore a 
 very rusty black gown, rather the worse for snuff, and a shawl 
 and bonnet to correspond. In these dilapidated articles of 
 dress she had, on principle, arrayed herself, time out of mind, 
 on such occasions as the present ; for this at once expressed 
 a decent amount of veneration for the deceased, and invited 
 the next of kin to present her with a fresher suit of weeds, an 
 appeal so frequently successful, that the very fetch and ghost 
 of Mrs. Gamp, bonnet and all, might be seen hanging up, any 
 hour in the day, in at least a dozen of the second-hand clothes 
 shops about Holborn. The face of Mrs. Gamp — the nose in 
 particular — was somewhat red and swollen, and it was difficult 
 to enjoy her society without becoming conscious of a smell "of 
 spirits. Like most persons who have attained to great emi- 
 nence in their profession, she took to hers very kindly ; inso- 
 much, that setting aside her natural predilections as a woman, 
 she went to a lying-in or a laying-out with equal zest and 
 relish. 
 
 " Ah ! " repeated Mrs. Gamp ; for it was always a safe 
 sentiment in cases of mourning. " Ah dear ! When Gamp 
 was summoned to his long home, and I see him a lying in 
 Guy's Hospital with a penny-piece on each eye, and his wooden 
 leg under his left arm, I thought I should have fainted away. 
 But I bore up." 
 
 If certain whispers current in the Kingsgate Street circles 
 had any truth in them, she had indeed borne up surprisingly ; 
 and had exerted such uncommon fortitude, as to dispose of 
 Mr. Gamp's remains for the benefit of science. But it should 
 be added, in fairness, that this had happened twenty years 
 before ; and that Mr. and Mrs. Gamp had long been separa- 
 ted, on the ground of incompatibility of temper in their drink. 
 
 "You have become indifferent since then, I suppose .'"' 
 said Mr. Pecksniff. " Use is second nature, Mrs. Gamp." 
 
 "You may well say second nater, sir," returned that lady. 
 "One's first ways is to find sich things a trial to the feelings, 
 and so is one's lasting custom. If it wasn't for the nerve a 
 littk sip of liquor gives me (I never was able to do more than 
 taste it), I never could go through with what I sometimes has 
 to do. ' Mrs. Harris,' I says, at the very last case as ever I 
 acted in, which it was but a young person, ' Mrs. Harris,' I 
 says, ' leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and don't ask me 
 to take none, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dis-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT. 
 
 319 
 
 poged, and then I will do what I'm engaged to do, according 
 to the best of my ability.' ' Mrs. Gamp,' she says, in answer, 
 ' if ever there was a sober creetur to be got at eighteen pence 
 a day for working people, and three and six for gentlefolks — 
 night watching,' " said Mrs. Gamp, with emphasis, " 'being a 
 extra charge — you are that inwallable person.' ' Mrs. Harris,' 
 I says to her, 'don't name the charge, for if I could afford to 
 lay all my fellow-creeturs out for nothink, I would gladly do 
 it, sich is the love I bears 'em. But what I always says to 
 them as has the management of matters, Mrs. Harris ' " — 
 here she kept her eye on Mr. Pecksniff — " ' be they gents or 
 be they ladies, is, don't ask me whether I won't take none, or 
 whether I will, but leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and 
 let me put mydips to it when I am so dispoged. ' " 
 
 The conclusion of this affecting narrative brought them to 
 the house. In the passage they encountered Mr. Mould the 
 undertaker — a little elderly gentleman, bald, and in a suit of 
 black — with a note-book in his hand, a massive gold watch- 
 chain dangling from his fob, and a face in which a queer at- 
 tempt at melancholy was at odds with a smirk of satisfaction ; 
 so that he looked as a man might, who, in the very act of 
 smacking his lips over choice old wine, tried to make believe 
 it was physic. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Gamp, and how are you^ Mrs. Gamp ? " said 
 this gentleman, in a voice as soft as his step. 
 
 "Pretty well, I thank you, sir," dropping a curtsey. 
 
 " You'll be very particular here, Mrs. Gamp. This is not 
 a common case, Mrs. Gamp. Let every thing be very nice and 
 comfortable, Mrs. Gamp, if you please," said the undertaker, 
 shaking his head with a solemn air. 
 
 " It shall be, sir," she replied, curtseying again. " You 
 knows me of old, sir, I hope." 
 
 "I hope so, too, Mrs. Gamp," said the undertaker; "and 
 I think so, also." Mrs. Gamp curtseyed again. "This is one 
 of the most impressive cases, sir," he continued, addressing 
 Mr. Pecksniff, " that I have seen in the whole course of my 
 professional experience." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Mould ! " cried that gentleman. 
 
 " Such affectionate regret, sir, I never saw. There is no 
 limitation, there is positively no limitation " — opening his 
 eyes wide, and standing on tiptoe — " in point of expense ! I 
 have orders, sir ! to put on my whole establishment of mutes ; 
 and mutes come very dear, Mr. Pecksniff ; not to mention their
 
 320 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 drink. To provide silver-plated handles of the very best de- 
 scription, ornamented with angels' heads from the most expen- 
 sive dies. To be perfectly profuse in feathers. In short, sir, 
 to turn out something absolutely gorgeous." 
 
 " My friend Mr. Jonas is an excellent man," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " I have seen a good deal of what is filial in my time, sir," 
 retorted Mould, " and what is unfilial too. It is our lot. We 
 come into the knowledge of those secrets. But anything so 
 filial as this ; anything so honorable to human nature ; so 
 calculated to reconcile all of us to the world we live in ; 
 never yet cam:^ under my observation. It only proves, sir, 
 what was so forcibly observed by the lamented theatrical 
 poet — buried at Stratford — that there is good in everything."" 
 
 " It is very pleasant to hear you say so, Mr. Mould," ob- 
 served Pecksniff. 
 
 " You are very kind, sir. And what a man Mr. Chuzzle- 
 wit was, sir ! Ah ! what a man he was. You may talk of 
 your lord mayors," said Mould, waving his hand at the public 
 in general, " your sheriffs, your common councilmen, your 
 trumpery ; but show me a man in this city who is worthy to 
 walk in the shoes of the departed Mr. Chuzzlewit. No, no," 
 cried Mould, with bitter sarcasm. " Hang 'em up, hang 'em 
 up ; sole 'em and heel 'em, and have 'em ready for his son 
 against he's old enough to wear 'em ; but don't try 'em on 
 yourselves, for they won't fit you. We knew him," said 
 Mould, in the same biting vein, as he pocketed his note-book ; 
 " we knew him, and are not to be caught with chaff. Mr. 
 Pecksniff, sir, good-morning." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff returned the compliment ; and Mould, 
 sensible of having distinguished himself, was going away w-ith 
 a brisk smile, when he fortunately remembered the occasion. 
 Quickly becoming depressed again, he sighed ; looked into 
 the crown of his hat, as if for comfort ; put it on without 
 finding any ; and slowly departed. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp and Mr. Pecksniff then ascended the staircase ; 
 and the former, having been shown to the chamber in which 
 all that remained of Anthony Chuzzlewit lay covered up, with 
 but one loving heart, and that a halting one, to mourn it, left 
 the latter free to enter the darkened room below^, and rejoin 
 Mr. Jonas, from whom he had now been absent nearly two 
 hours. 
 
 He found that example to bereaved sons and pattern in
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 321 
 
 the eyes of all performers of funerals, musing over a fragment 
 of writing-paper on the desk, and scratching figures on it with 
 a pen. The old man's chair, and hat, and walking-stick, were 
 removed from their accustomed places, and put out of sight ; 
 the wdndow-blinds, as yellow as November fogs, were drawn 
 down close ; Jonas himself was so subdued, that he could 
 scarcely be heard to speak, and only seen to w-alk across the 
 room. 
 
 " Pecksniff," he said, in a whisper, " you shall have the 
 regulation of it all, mind ! You shall be able to tell anybody 
 who talks about it that everything was correctly and freely 
 done. There isn't any one you'd like to ask to the funeral, 
 is there .-' " 
 
 " No, Mr. J.onas, I think not." 
 
 " Because if there is, you know," said Jonas, " ask him. 
 We don't want to make a secret of it." 
 
 " No," repeated Mr. Pecksniff, after a little reflection. 
 " I am not the less obliged to you on that account, Mr. 
 Jonas, for your liberal hospitality ; but there really is no one." 
 
 '' Very well," said Jonas ; '" then you, and I, and Chuffey, 
 and the doctor, will be just a coachful. We'll have the doctor, 
 Pecksniff, because he knows what was the matter with him, 
 and that it couldn't be helped." 
 
 " Where is our dear friend, Mr. Chuffev .-' " asked Peck 
 sniff, looking round the chamber, and winking both his eyes 
 at once. For he was overcome by his feelings. 
 
 But here he was interrupted by Mr'^. Ga iip, who, divested 
 of her bonnet and shawl, came sidling and bridling into the 
 room ; and with some sharpness, demanded a conference out- 
 side the door with Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " You may say whatever you wish to say here, Mrs. Gamp," 
 said that gentleman, shaking his head with a melancholy ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " It is not much as 1 have to say, when people is a mourn- 
 ing for the dead and gone," said Mrs. Gamp ; " but what I have 
 to say is to the pint and purpose, and no offence intended, 
 must be so considered. I have been at a many places in my 
 time, gentlemen, and I hope I knows what my duties is, and 
 how the same should be performed : in course, if I did not, 
 it would be very strange, and very wrong in sich a gentleman 
 as Mr. Mould, which has undertook the highest families in 
 this land, and given every satisfaction, so to recommend me 
 as he does. I have seen a deal of trouble my own self," 
 
 21
 
 322 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 said Mrs. Gamp, laying greater and greater stress upon her 
 words, " and I can feel for them as has their feelings tried, 
 but I am not a Rooshan or a Prooshan, and consequently 
 cannot suffer spies to be set over me." 
 
 Before it was possible that an answer could be returned, 
 Mrs. Gamp, growing redder in the face, went on to say : 
 
 " It is not a easy matter, gentlemen, to live when you are 
 left a widder woman ; particular when your feelings works 
 upon you to that extent that you often find yourself a going 
 out, on terms which is a certain loss, and never can repay. 
 But, in whatever way you earns your bread, you may have 
 rules and regulations of your own, which cannot be broke 
 through. Some people," said Mrs. Gamp, again entrenching 
 herself behind her strong point, as if it were not assailable by 
 human ingenuity, " may be Rooshans, and others may be 
 I'rooshans ; they are born so, and will please themselves. 
 Them which is of other naturs thinks different." 
 
 " If I understand this good lady," said Mr. Pecksniff, turn- 
 ing to Jonas, " Mr. Chuffey is troublesome to her. Shall I 
 fetch him down ? " 
 
 " Do," said Jonas. " I was going to tell you he was up 
 there, when she came in. I'd go myself and bring him down, 
 only — only I'd rather you went, if you don't mind." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff promptly departed, followed by Mrs. Gamp, 
 who, seeing that he took a bottle and glass from the cupboard, 
 and carried it in his hand, was much softened. 
 
 " I am sure," she said, " that if it wasn't for his own hap- 
 piness, I should no more mind his being there, poor dear, 
 than if he was a fiv. But them as isn't used to these thing's, 
 thinks so much of 'em afterwards, that it's a kindness to 'em 
 not to let 'em have their wish. And even," said Mrs. Gamp, 
 probably in reference to some flowers of speech she had 
 already strewn on Mr. Chuffey, "even if one calls 'em names, 
 it's only done to rouse 'em." 
 
 Whatever epithets she had bestowed on the old clerk, they 
 had not roused him. He sat beside the bed, in the chair he 
 had occupied all the previous night, with his hands folded 
 before him, and his head bowed down ; and neither looked 
 up, on their entrance, nor gave any sign of consciousness, 
 until Mr. I'ecksniff took him by the arm, w-hen he meekly 
 rose. 
 
 "Three score and ten," said Chuffey, "ought and carry 
 seven. Some men are so strong that they live to four score
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Z'2Z 
 
 — four times ought's an ought, four times two's an eight — 
 eightv. Oh ! why — why — why — didn't he live to four times 
 ought's an ought, and four times two's an eight, eighty ? " 
 
 "Ah! what a wale of grief! " cried Mrs. Gamp, possess- 
 ing herself of the bottle and glass. 
 
 '' Why did he die before his poor old crazy servant ! " said 
 Chuffey, clasping his hands and looking up in anguish. " Take 
 him from me, and what remains .'' " 
 
 " Mr. Jonas," returned Pecksniff, " Mr. Jonas, mv good 
 friend." 
 
 "1 loved him," cried the old man, weeping. "He was 
 good to me. We learnt Tare and Tret together, at school. I 
 took him down once, six boys, in the arithmetic class. God 
 forgive me ! Had 1 the heart to take him down ! " 
 
 "Come, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff. "Come with me. 
 Summon up your fortitude, Mr. Chuffey." 
 
 "Yes, I will," returned the old clerk. "Yes. Til sum up 
 mv forty — How many times forty — Oh, Chuzzlewit and Son 
 — Your own son, Mr. Chuzzlewit ; your own son, sir ! " 
 
 He yielded to the hand that guided him, as he lapsed into 
 this familiar expression, and sul:»mitted to be led away. Mrs. 
 Gamp, with the bottle on one knee, and the glass in the other, 
 sat upon a stool, shaking her head for a long time, until, in a 
 moment of abstraction, she poured out a dram of spirits, and 
 raised it to her lips. It was succeeded by a second, and by a 
 third, and then her eyes — either in the sadness of her reflec- 
 tions upon life and death, or in her admiration of the liquor 
 — were so turned up, as to be quite invisible. But she shook 
 her head still. 
 
 Poor Chuffey was conducted to his accustomed corner, and 
 there he remained, silent and quiet, save at long intervals, 
 when he would rise, and walk about the room, and wring his 
 hands, or raise some strange and sudden zxn. For a whole 
 week they all three sat about the hearth and never stirred 
 abroad. Mr. Pecksniff would have walked out in the evening 
 time, but Mr. Jonas was so averse to his being absent for a 
 minute, that he abandoned the idea, and so, from morning 
 until night, they brooded together in the dark room, without 
 relief or occupation. 
 
 The weight of that which was stretched out, stiff and stark, 
 in the awful chamber above-stairs, so crushed and bore down 
 Jonas, that he bent beneath the load. During the whole long 
 seven days and nights, he was always oppressed and haunted
 
 324 ^^ ^ ^-^-^ CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 by a dreadful sense of its presence in the house. Did the 
 door move, he looked towards it with a livid face anc starting 
 eye, as if he fully believed that ghostly fingers clutched the 
 handle. Did the fire flicker in a draught of air, he glanced 
 over his shoulder, as almost dreading to behold some shrouded 
 figure fanning and flapping at it with its fearful dress. The 
 lightest noise disturbed him ; and once, in the night, at the 
 sound of a footstep over-head, he cried out that the dead man 
 was walking, tramp, tramp, tramp, about his coffin. 
 
 He lay at night upon a mattress on the floor of the sitting- 
 room ; his own chamber ha\ing been assigned to Mrs. Gamp ; 
 and Mr. Pecksniff was similarly accommodated. The howling 
 of a dog before the house, filled him with a terror he could 
 not disguise. He avoided the reflection in the opposite 
 windows of the light that burned above, as though it had been 
 an angry eye. He often, in every night, rose up from his 
 fitful sleep, and looked and longed for dawn ; all directions 
 and arrangements, even to the ordering of their daily meals, 
 he abandoned to Mr. Pecksniff. That excellent gentleman, 
 deeming that the mourner wanted comfort, and that high 
 feeding was likely to do him infinite service, availed himself 
 of these opportunities to such good purpose, that they kept 
 quite a dainty table during this melancholy season ; with 
 sweetbreads, stewed kidneys, oysters, and other such light 
 viands for supper every night ; o\'er which, and sundiy jorums 
 of hot punch, Mr. Pecksniff delivered such mora! reflections 
 and spiritual consolation as might have converted a Heathen 
 — especially if he had had but an imperfect acquaintance with 
 the English tongue. 
 
 Nor did Mr. Pecksniff alone indulge in the creature 
 comforts during this sad time. Mrs. Gamp proved to be very 
 choice in her eating, and repudiated hashed mutton with 
 scorn. In her drinking too, she was very punctual and par- 
 ticular, requiring a pint of mild porter at lunch, a pint at 
 dinner, half-a-pint as a species of stay or holdfast between 
 dinner and tea, and a pint of the celebrated staggering ale, or 
 Real Old Brighton Tipper, at supper ; besides the bottle on 
 the chimney-piece, and such casual invitations to refresh her- 
 self with wine as the good breeding of her employers might 
 prompt them to offer. In like manner, Mr. Mould's men 
 found it necessary to drown their grief, like a young kitten in 
 the morning of its existence ; for which reason they generally 
 fuddled themselves before they began to do anything, lest it
 
 Jl/A A' TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 325 
 
 should make head and get the better of them. In short, the 
 whole of that strange week was a round of dismal joviality 
 and grim enjoyment ; and e\eiT one, except poor Chuffey, 
 who came within the shadow of Anthony Chuzzlewit's grave, 
 feasted like a Ghoule. 
 
 At length the day of the funeral, pious and truthful cere- 
 mony that it was, arrived. Mr. Mould, with a glass of 
 generous port between his eye and the light, leaned against 
 the desk in the little glass office with his gold watch in his 
 unoccupied hand, and conversed with Mrs. Gamp; two mutes 
 were at the house-door, looking as mournful as could be 
 reasonably expected of men with such a thriving job in hand; 
 the whole of Mr. Mould's establishment were on duty within 
 the house or \vithout ; feathers waved, horses snorted, silks 
 and velvets fluttered ; in a word, as Mr. Mould emphatically 
 said, " everything that money could do was done." 
 
 " And what can do more, Mrs. Gamp ? " exclaimed the 
 undertaker, as he emptied his glass, and smacked his lips. 
 
 " Nothing in the world, sir." 
 
 " Nothing in the world," repeated Mr. Mould. " You are 
 right, Mrs. Gamp. Why do people spend more money" — 
 here he filled his glass again — " upon a death, Mrs. Gamp, 
 than upon a birth ? Come, that's in your way ; you ought to 
 know. How do you account for that now .? " 
 
 " Perhaps it is because an undertaker's charges comes 
 dearer than a nurse's charges, sir." said Mrs. Gamp, tittering, 
 and smoothing down her new black dress with her hands. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Mould. " You have been break- 
 fasting at somebody's expense this morning, Mrs. Gamp." 
 But seeing, by the aid of a little shaving-glass which hung 
 opposite, that he looked merry, he composed his features and 
 became sorrowful. 
 
 " Many's the time that I've not breakfasted at my own 
 expense along of your kind recommending, sir; and many's 
 the time I hope to do the same in time to come," said Mrs. 
 Gamp, with an apologetic curtsey. 
 
 " So be it," replied Mr. Mould, " please Providence. No. 
 Mrs. Gamp ; I'll tell you why it is. It's because the laying 
 out of money with a well-conducted establishment, where the 
 thing is performed upon the very best scale, binds the broken 
 heart, and sheds balm upon the wounded spirit. Hearts want 
 binding, and spirits want balming when people die : not when 
 people are born. Look at this gentleman to-day ; look at him."
 
 '26 ^V.-i A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 '' An open-handed gentleman ? " cried Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " No, no,'' said the undertaker ; " not an open-handed 
 gentleman in general, by any means. There you mistake 
 him ; but an afflicted gentleman, an affectionate gentleman, 
 who knows what it is in the power of money to do, in giving 
 him relief, and in testifying his love and veneration for the 
 departed. It can give him," said Mr. Mould, waving his 
 watch-chain slowly round and round, so that he described one 
 circle after every item ; " it can give him four horses to each 
 vehicle ; it can give him velvet trappings ; it can give him 
 drivers in cloth cloaks and top-boots ; it can give him the 
 plumage of the ostrich, dyed black ; it can give him any 
 number of walking attendants, dressed in the first style of 
 funeral fashion, and carrying batons tipped with brass ; it can 
 give him a handsome tomb, it can give him a place in West- 
 minster Abbey itself, if he choose to invest it in such a 
 purchase. Oh ! do not let us say that gold is dross, when it 
 can buy such things as these, Mrs. Gamp." 
 
 " But what a blessing, sir," said Mrs. Gamp, " that there 
 are such as you, to sell or let 'em out on hire ? " 
 
 " Ay, Mrs. Gamp, you are right," rejoined the undertaker. 
 " We should be an honored calling. We do good by stealth, 
 and blush to have it mentioned in our little bills. How much 
 consolation may I, even I," cried Mr. Mould, " have diffused 
 among my fellow-creatures by means of my four long-tailed 
 prancers, never harnessed under ten pund ten ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp had begun to make a suitable reply, when she 
 was interrupted by the appearance of one of Mr. Mould's as- 
 sistants — his chief mourner in fact — an obese person, with his 
 waistcoat in closer connection with his legs than is quite re- 
 concilable with the established ideas of grace ; with that cast 
 of feature which is iiguratively called a bottle-nose ; and with 
 a face covered all over with pimples. He had been a tender 
 plant once upon a time, but from constant blowing in the fat 
 atmosphere of funerals, had run to seed. 
 
 " Well, Tacker," said Mr. Mould, " is all ready below .? " 
 
 "A beautiful show, sir," rejoined Tacker. "The horses 
 are prouder and fresher than ever I see 'em ; and toss their 
 heads, they do, as if they know'd how nmch their plumes cost. 
 One, two, three, four," said Mr. Tacker, heaping that number 
 of black cloaks upon his left arm. 
 
 " Is Tom there, with the cake and wine ? " asked Mr. 
 Mould.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 327 
 
 " Ready to come in at a moment's notice, sir, " said Tacker. 
 
 "Then," rejoined Mr. Mould, putting up his watch, and 
 glancing at himself in the little shaving glass, that he might 
 be sure his face had the right expression on it ; '" then, 1 think 
 we may proceed to business. Give me the paper of gloves, 
 Tacker. Ah what a man he was ! Ah Tacker, Tacker, what 
 a man he was I " 
 
 Mr. Tacker, who from his great experience in the perform- 
 ance of funerals, would have made an excellent pantomine 
 actor, winked at Mrs. Gamp without at all disturbing the grav- 
 ity of his countenance, and followed his master into the next 
 room. 
 
 It was a great point with Mr. Mould, and a part of his pro- 
 fessional tact, }iot to seem to know the doctor ; though in re- 
 ality they were near neighbors, and very often, as in the pres- 
 ent instance, worked together. So he advanced to fit on his 
 black kid gloves as if he had never seen him in all his life ; 
 while the doctor, on his part, looked as distant and uncon- 
 scious as if he had heard and read of undertakers, and had 
 passetl their shops, but had never before been brought into 
 communication with one. 
 
 " Gloves, eh ? " said the doctor, " Mr. Pecksniff, after you." 
 
 " J couldn't think of it," returned Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 "You are very good," said the doctor, taking a pair. 
 " Well, sir, as I was saying, I was called up to attend that case 
 at about half-past one o'clock. Cake and wine, eh ? Which 
 is port ? Thank you." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff took some also. 
 
 " At about half-past one o'clock in the morning, sir," re- 
 sumed the doctor, " I was called up to attend that case. At 
 the first pull of the night-bell 1 turned out, threw up the win- 
 dow, and put out my head. Cloak, eh .'' Don't tie it too 
 tight. That'll do." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff having been likewise inducted into a similar 
 garment, the doctor resumed. 
 
 " And put out my head. Hat, eh ? My good friend, that 
 is not mine. Mr. Pecksniff, 1 beg your pardon, but 1 think 
 we have unintentionally made an exchange. Thank you. 
 Well, sir, I was going to tell you " — 
 
 " We are quite ready," interrupted Mould in a low voice. 
 
 " Ready, eh > " said the doctor. " Very good. Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, I'll take an opportunity of relating the rest in the coach. 
 It's rather curious. Ready, eh ? No rain, I hope } "
 
 3»S MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "Quite fair, sir," returned Mould. 
 
 " 1 was afraid tlie ground would have been wet," said the 
 doctor, " for my glass fell yesterday. We may congratulate 
 ourselves upon our good fortune." But seeing by this time 
 that Mr. Jonas and Chuff ey were going out at the door, he 
 put a white pocket-handkerchief to his face as if a violent 
 burst of grief had suddenly come upon him, and walked down 
 side by side with Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 Mr, Mould and his men had not exaggerated the grandeur 
 of the arrangements. They were splendid. The four hearse- 
 horses, especially, reared and pranced, and showed their high- 
 est action, as if they knew a man was dead, and triumphed" in 
 it. " They break us, drive us, ride us ; ill-treat, abuse, and 
 maim us for their pleasure — But they die ; Hurrah, they die ! " 
 
 So through the narrow streets and winding city ways, 
 went Anthony Chuzzlewit's funeral : Mr. Jonas glancing stealth- 
 ily out of the coach-window now and then, to observe its 
 effect upon the crowd ; Mr. Mould as he walked along listen- 
 ing with a sober pride to the exclamations of the bystanders ; 
 the doctor whispering his story to Mr. Pecksniif, without ap- 
 pearing to come any nearer to the end of it ; and poor old 
 Chuffey sobbing unregarded in a corner. But he had greatly 
 scandalized Mr. Mould at an early stage of the ceremony by 
 carrying his handkerchief in his hat in a perfectly informal 
 manner, and wiping his eyes with his knuckles. And as Mr. 
 Mould himself had said already, his behavior was indecent, 
 and quite unworthy of such an occasion ; and he never ought 
 to have been there 
 
 There he was, however, and in the churchyard there he was, 
 also, conducting himself in a no less unbecoming manner, and 
 leaning for support on Tacker, who plainly told him that he 
 was fit for nothing better than a walking funeral. But Chuf- 
 fey, Heaven help him ! heard no sound but the echoes, lin- 
 gering in his own heart, of a voice for ever silent. 
 
 " I loved him," cried the old man, sinking down upon the 
 grave when all was done. " He was very good to me. Oh, 
 my dear old friend and master ! " 
 
 "Come, come, Mr. Chuffey," said the doctor, "this won't 
 do ; it'sa clayey soil, Mr. Chuffey. You musn't, really." 
 
 " If it had been the commonest thing we do, and Mr. Chuf- 
 fey had been a Bearer, gentlemen," said Mould, casting an 
 imploring glance upon them, as he helped to raise him, " he 
 couldn't have gone on worse than this."
 
 A/ A A' T/A' CHUZZLE WIT. 329 
 
 "Be a man, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff. 
 
 " Be a gentleman, Mr. ChuiTey," said Mould. 
 
 " Upon my word, my good friend," murmured the doctor, 
 in a tone of stately reproof, as he stepped up to the old man's 
 side, " this is worse than weakness. This is bad, selfish, very 
 wrong, Mr. Chuffey. You should take examples from others, 
 my good sir. You forget that you were not connected by ties 
 of blood with our deceased friend ; and that he had a very 
 near and very dear relation, Mr. Chuffey." 
 
 " Ay, his own son ! " cried the old man, clasping his hands 
 with remarkable passion. " His own, own, only son ! " 
 
 " He's not right in his head, you know," said Jonas, turning 
 pale. " You're not to mind anything he says. I shouldn't 
 wonder if he w^is to talk some precious nonsense. But don't 
 you mind him, any of you. I don't. My father left him to 
 my charge ; and whatever he says or does, that's enough, /'ll 
 take care of him." 
 
 A hum of admiration rose from the mourners (including 
 Mr. Mould and his merry men) at this new instance of mag- 
 nanimity and kind-feeling on the part of Jonas. But Chuffey 
 put it to the test no farther. He said not a word more, and 
 being left to himself for a little while, crept back again to the 
 ■coach. 
 
 It has been said that Mr. Jonas turned pale when the be- 
 havior of the old clerk attracted general attention ; his dis- 
 composure, however, was but momentary, and he soon re- 
 covered. But these were not the only changes he had 
 exhibited that day. The curious eyes of Mr. Pecksniff had ob- 
 served that as soon as they left the house upon their mourn- 
 ful errand, he began to mend ; that as the ceremonies pro- 
 ceeded he gradually, by little and little, recovered his old con- 
 dition, his old looks, his old liearing, his old agreeable char- 
 acteristics of speech and manner, and became, in all respects, 
 his old pleasant self. And now that they were seated in the 
 coach on their return home ; and more when they got there, 
 and found the windows open, the light and air admitted, and all 
 traces of the late event removed ; he felt so well convinced 
 that Jonas was again the Jonas he had known a week ago, 
 and not the Jonas of the intervening time, that he \'oluntarily 
 gave up his recently-acquired power without one faint attempt 
 to exercise it, and at once fell back into his former position 
 of mild and deferential guest. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp went home to the bird-fancier's, and was
 
 330 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 knocked up asjain that very night for a birth of twins ; Mr. 
 Mould dined gayly in the bosom of his family, and passed the 
 evening facetiously at his club ; the hearse, after standing 
 for a long time at the door of a roistering public-house, re- 
 paired to its stables with the feathers inside and twelve red- 
 nosed undertakers on the roof, each holding on by a dingy 
 peg, to which, in times of state, a waving plume was fitted ; 
 the various trappings of sorrow were carefully laid by in 
 presses for the next hirer ; the fiery steeds were quenched 
 and quiet in their stalls ; the doctor got merry with' wine at 
 a wedding-dinner, and forgot the middle of the stor)'- which 
 had no end to it ; the pageant of a few short hours ago was 
 written nowhere half so legibly as in the undertaker's books. 
 
 Not in the churchyard } Not even there. The gates were 
 closed ; the night was dark and wet ; the rain fell silently, 
 among the stagnant weeds and nettles. One new mound was 
 there which had not been there last night. Time, burrowing 
 like a mole below the ground, had marked his track by throw- 
 ing up another heap of earth. And that was all. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IS A CHAPTER OF I,OVE. 
 
 " Pecksniff," said Jonas, taking off his hat, to see that 
 the black crape band was all right, and finding that it was, 
 putting it on again, complacently, "what do you mean to 
 give your daughters when they marry 1 " 
 
 " My dear Mr. Jonas," cried the affectionate parent, with 
 an ingenuous smile, " what a very singular inquiry ! " 
 
 " Now don't you mind whether it's a singular inquiry or a 
 plural one," retorted Jonas, eyeing Mr. Pecksniff with no great 
 •favor, " but answer it, or let it alone. One or the other." 
 
 " Hum ! The question, my dear friend," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, laying his hand tenderly upon his kinsman's knee, '• is 
 involved with many considerations. What would I grve 
 Ihem ? Eh ? " 
 
 " Ah ! what would you give 'em ? " repeated Jonas. 
 
 " Why, that," said Mr. Pecksniff, " would naturally depend
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 33 1 
 
 in a great measure upon the kind of husbands they might 
 choose, my dear young friend." 
 
 Mr. Jonas was evidently disconcerted, and at a loss how 
 to proceed. It was a good answer. It seemed a deep one, 
 but such is the wisdom of simplicity ! 
 
 " My standard for the merits I would require in a son-in- 
 law," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a short silence, " is a high one. 
 Forgive me, my dear Mr. Jonas," he added, greatly moved, '" if 
 I say that you have spoiled me, and made it a fanciful one ; an 
 imaginative one ; a prismatically tinged one, if I may be per- 
 mitted to call it so." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " growled Jonas, looking 
 at him with increabcd disfavor. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear friend," said Mr. I'ecksniff, *' you may 
 well inquire. I'he heart is not always a royal mint, with pat- 
 ent machinery, to work its metal into current coin. Some- 
 times it throws it out in strange forms, not easily recognized 
 as coin at all. But it is sterling gold. It has at least that 
 merit. It is sterling gold." 
 
 "Is it.'' " grumbled Jonas, with a doubtful shake of the 
 head. 
 
 " Ay ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, wanning with his subject. " it 
 is. To be plain with you, Mr. Jonas, if I could find two such 
 sons-in-law as you will one day make to some deserving man, 
 capable of appreciating a nature such as yours, I would — for- 
 getful of myself — bestow upon my daughters, portions reach- 
 ing to the very utmost limit of my means." 
 
 This was strong language, and it was earnestly delivered. 
 But who can wonder that such a man as Mr. Pecksniff, after 
 all he had seen and heard of Mr. Jonas, should be strong and 
 earnest upon such a theme ; a theme that touched even the 
 worldly lips of undertakers with the honey of eloquence ! 
 
 Mr. Jonas was silent, and looked thoughtfully at the land- 
 scape. For they were seated on the outside of the coach, at 
 the back, and were travelling down into the country. He 
 accompanied Mr. Pecksniff home for a few days' change of 
 air and scene after his recent trials. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, with captivating bluntness, " sup- 
 pose you got one such son-in-law as me, what then .-' " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff regarded him at lirst with inexpressible sur- 
 prise ; then gradually breaking into a sort of dejected vivacity, 
 said : 
 
 " Then well I know whose husband he would be ! "
 
 332 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Whose ? " asked Jonas, dryly. 
 
 " My eldest girl's, Mr. Jonas," replied Pecksniff, with 
 moistening eyes. " My dear Cherry's : my staff, my scrip, my 
 treasure, Mr. Jonas. A hard struggle, but it is in the nature 
 of things ! I must one day part with her to a husband. I 
 know it, my dear friend. 1 am prepared for it." 
 
 " Ecod ! you've been prepared for that a pretty long time, 
 I should think," said Jonas. 
 
 Many have sought to bear her from me," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff. "All have failed. ' I never will give my hand, papa ' — 
 those were her words — ' unless my heart is won.' She has 
 not been quite so happy as she used to be, of late. I don't 
 know why." 
 
 Again Mr. Jonas looked at the landscape ; then at the 
 coachman ; then at the luggage on the roof ; finally at Mr. 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " I suppose you'll have to part with the other one, some of 
 these days ? " he observed, as he caught that gentleman's eye. 
 
 "I*robably," said the parent. "Years will tame down the 
 wildness of my foolish bird, and then it will be caged. But 
 Cherry, Mr. Jonas, Cherry." 
 
 " Oh, ah ! " interrupted Jonas. " Years have made her 
 all right enough. Nobody doubts that. But you haven't an- 
 swered what I asked you. Of course, you're not obliged to 
 do it, you know, if you don't like. You're the best judge." 
 
 There was a warning sulkiness in the manner of this speech, 
 which admonished Mr. Pecksniff that his dear friend was not 
 to be trifled with or fenced off, and that he must either return 
 a straightforward reply to his question, or plainly give him to 
 understand that he declined to enlighten him upon the subject 
 to which it referred. Mindful in this dilemma of the caution 
 Old Anthony had given him almost with his latest breath, he 
 resolved to speak to the point, and so told Mr. Jonas (enlarg- 
 ing upon the communication as a proof of his great attach- 
 ment and confidence), that in the case he had put ; to wit, in 
 the event of such a man as he proposing for his daughter's 
 hand, he would endow her with a fortune of four thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 " 1 should sadly pinch and cramp myself to do so, '' was 
 his fatherly remark; "but that would be my duty, and my 
 conscience would reward me. For myself, my conscience is 
 my bank. I have a trifle invested there, a mere trifle, Mr. 
 Jonas ; but I prize it as a store of value, I assure you."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ZZ7> 
 
 The good man's enemies would have divided upon this 
 question into two parties. One would have asserted without 
 scruole that if Mr. Pecksniff's conscience were his bank, and 
 he kept a running account there, he must have overdrawn it 
 beyond all mortal means of computation. The other would 
 have contended that it was a mere fictitious fonii ; a perfectly 
 blank book ; or one in which entries were only made with a 
 peculiar kind of invisible ink to become legible at some indefi- 
 nite time ; and that he never troubled it at all. 
 
 "It would sadly pinch and cramp me, my dear friend," 
 repeated Mr. Pecksniff, "but I^rovidence, perhaps 1 may be 
 permitted to say a special Providence, has blessed my endeav- 
 ors, and I could guarantee to make the sacrifice." 
 
 A question -of philosophy arises here, whether Mr. Peck- 
 sniff had or had not good reason to say, that he was specially 
 patronized and encouraged in his undertakings. All his life 
 long he had been walking up and down the narrow ways and 
 by-places, with a hook in one hand and a crook in the- other, 
 scraping all sorts of valuable odds and ends into his pouch. 
 Now, there being a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow, 
 it follows (so Mr. Pecksniff would have reasoned), that there 
 must also be a special Providence in the alighting of the 
 stone, or stick, or other substance which is aimed at the 
 sparrow. And Mr. Pecksniff's hook, or crook, having invari- 
 ably knocked the sparrow on the head and brought him down, 
 that gentleman may have been led to consider himself as 
 specially licensed to bag sparrows, and as being specially 
 seized and possessed of all the birds he had got together. 
 That many undertakings, national as well as individual — but 
 especially the former — are held to be specially brought to a 
 glorious and successful issue, which never could be so regard- 
 ed on any other process of reasoning, must be clear to all 
 men. Therefore the precedents would seem to show that Mr. 
 Pecksniff had good argument for what he said, and might be 
 permitted to say it, and did not say it presumptuously, vainly, 
 or arrogantly, but in a spirit of high faith and great wisdom 
 meriting all praise.* 
 
 Mr. Jones, not being much accustomed to perplex his mind 
 vvith theories of this nature, expressed no opinion on the sub- 
 ject. Nor did he receive his companion's announcement with 
 one solitary syllable, good, bad, or indifferent. He preserved 
 
 * The most crediilniis reader will scarcely believe that Mr. Pecksniff's reasouiug was 
 ence set upon as the Author's ! !
 
 334 MARTIX CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 this taciturnity for a quarter of an hour at least, and during 
 the whole of that time appeared to be steadily engaged in 
 subjecting some given amount to the operation of every 
 known rule in figures ; adding to it, taking from it, multiply- 
 ing it, reducing it by long and short division ; working it by 
 the rule-of-three direct and inversed ; exchange or barter ; 
 practice ; simple interest ; compound interest ; and other 
 means of arithmetical calculation. The result of these labors 
 appeared to be satisfactory, for when he did break silence, it 
 was as one w'ho had arrived at some specific result, and 
 freed himself from a state of distressing uncertainty. 
 
 " Come, old Pecksniff ! " Such was his jocose address, 
 as he slapped that gentleman on the back, at the end of the 
 stage ; " let's have something ! " 
 
 " With all my heart," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Let's treat the driver," cried Jonas. 
 
 " If you think it won't hurt the man, or render him discon- 
 tented with his station ; certainly," faltered Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 Jonas only laughed at this, and getting down from the 
 coach-top with great alacrit\% cut a cumbersome kind of caper 
 in the road. After which, he went into the public-house, and 
 there ordered spirituous drink to such an extent, that Mr. 
 Pecksniff had some doubts of his perfect sanity, until Jonas 
 set them quite at rest by saying, when the coach could wait 
 no longer : 
 
 " I've been standing treat for a whole week and more, and 
 letting you have all the delicacies of the season. You shall 
 pay for this, Pecksniff." It was not a joke either, as Mr. 
 Pecksniff at first supposed ; for he went off to the coach 
 without further ceremony, and left his respected victim to 
 setde the bill. 
 
 But Mr. Pecksniff was a man of meek endurance, and Mr. 
 Jonas was his friend. Moreover, his regard for that gentle- 
 man was founded, as we know, on pure esteem, and a knowl- 
 edge of the excellence of his character. He came out from 
 the tavern with a smiling face, and even went so far as to 
 repeat the performance, on a less expensive scale, at the next 
 ale-house. There was a certain wildness in the spirits of Mr. 
 Jonas (not usually a part of his character) which was far 
 from being subdued by these means, and, for the rest of 
 the journey, he was so very buoyant — it may be said, boister- 
 ous — that Mr. Pecksniff had some difficulty in keeping pace 
 with him.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 335 
 
 They were not expected. Oh clear, no ! Mr. Pecksniff 
 had proposed in London to give the girls a surprise, and had 
 said he wouldn't write a word to prepare them on any account, 
 in order that he and Mr. Jonas might take them unawares, 
 and just see what they were doing, when they thought their 
 dear papa was miles and miles away. As a consequence of 
 this playful device, there was nobody to meet tliem at the 
 finger-post, but that was of small consequence, for they had 
 come down by the day coach, and Mr. Pecksniff had only a 
 carpet bag, while Mr. Jonas had only a portmanteau. They 
 took the portmanteau between them, put the bag upon it, 
 and walked off up the lane without delay ; Mr. Pecksniff 
 already going on tiptoe as if, without this precaution, his fond 
 children, being then at a distance of a couple of miles or so, 
 would have some filial sense of his approach. 
 
 It was a lovely evening, in the spring-time of the year; 
 and in the soft stillness of the twilight, all nature was \-ery 
 calm and beautiful. The day had been fine and warm , but 
 at the coming on of night, the air grew cool, and in the mel- 
 lowing distance, smoke was rising gently from the cottage 
 chimneys. There were a thousand pleasant scents diffused 
 around, from young leaves and fresh buds ; the cuckoo had 
 been singing all day long, and was but just now hushed ; the 
 smell of earth newly-upturned, first breath of hope to the first 
 laborer, after his garden withered, was fragrant in the evening 
 breeze. It was a time when most men cherish good resolves, 
 and sorrow for the wasted past ; when most men, looking on 
 the shadows, as they gather, think of that evening which must 
 close on all, and that to-morrow which has none beyond. 
 
 " Precious dull," said Mr. Jonas, looking about. " It's 
 enough to make a man go melancholy mad." 
 
 " We shall have lights and a fire soon," observed Mr. Peck- 
 sniff. 
 
 " We shall need 'em by the time we get there," said Jonas. 
 " Why the devil don't you talk ? \Miat are you thinking 
 of > " 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Mr. Jonas," said Pecksniff with 
 great solemnity, " my mind was running at that moment on 
 our late dear friend, 3^our departed father." 
 
 Mr. Jonas immediately let ins burden fall, and said, 
 t.hreak-ning liim with his hand : 
 
 "Drop that, Pecksniff!" 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff not exactly knowing whether allusion was
 
 336 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 made to the subject or the portmanteau, stared at his friend in 
 unaffected surprise. 
 
 " Drop it, I say ! " cried Jonas, fiercely. " Do you hear ? 
 Drop it, now and forever. You liad better, I give you no- 
 tice ! " 
 
 " It was quite a mistake," urged Mr. Pecksniff, very much 
 dismayed ; " though I admit it was foolish. 1 might have 
 known it was a tender string." 
 
 " Don't talk to me about tender strings," said Jonas, 
 wiping his forehead with the cuff of his coat. " I'm not going 
 to be crowed over by you, because I don't like dead com- 
 pany." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had got out the words "Crowed over, Mr. 
 Jonas ! " when that young man, with a dark expression in his 
 countenance, cut him short once more : 
 
 " Mind ! " he said, " I won't have it. I advise you not to 
 revive the subject, neither to me nor anybody else. You can 
 take a hint, if you choose, as well as another man. There's 
 enough said about it. Come along ! " 
 
 Taking up his part of the load again, when he had said these 
 words, he hurried on so fast that Mr. Pecksniff, at the other 
 end of the portmanteau, found himself dragged forward, in a 
 very inconvenient and ungraceful manner, to the great detri- 
 ment of what is called by fancy gentlemen " the bark " upon 
 his shins, which were most unmercifully bumped against the 
 hard leather and the iron buckles. In the course of a few 
 minutes, however, Mr. Jonas relaxed his speed, and suffered 
 his companion to come up with him, and to bring the port- 
 manteau into a tolerably straight position. 
 
 It was pretty clear that he regretted his late outbreak, 
 and that he mistrusted its effect on Mr. Pecksniff ; for as 
 often as that gentleman glanced towards Mr. Jonas, he found 
 Mr. Jonas glancing at him, which was a new source of em- 
 barrassment. It was but a short-lived one, though, for Mr. 
 Jonas soon began to whistle, whereupon Mr. Pecksniff, taking 
 his cue from his friend, began to hum a tune melodiously. 
 
 " Pretty nearly there, ain't we ? " said Jonas, when this 
 had lasted some time. 
 
 " Close, my dear friend," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " What '11 they be doing, do you suppose.? " asked Jonas. 
 
 " Impossible to say," cried Mr. Pecksniff'. " Giddy truants ! 
 They may be away from home, perhaps. I was going to — 
 he ' he ! he ! — I was going to propose," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. ■^■^-j 
 
 " that we should enter by the back way, and come upon them 
 like a clap of thunder, Mr. Jonas." 
 
 It might not have been easy to decide in respect of which 
 of their manifold properties, Jonas, Mr. Pecksniff, the carpet- 
 bag, and the portmanteau, could be likened to a clap of 
 thunder. But Mr. Jonas giving his assent to this proposal, 
 they stole round into the back yard, and softly advanced to- 
 wards the kitchen window through which the mingled light of 
 fire and candle shone upon the darkening night. 
 
 Truly Mr. Pecksniff is blessed in his children. In one of 
 them, at any rate. The prudent Cherry — staff and scrip, and 
 treasure of her doting father — there she sits, at a little table 
 white as driven snow, before the kitchen fire, making up 
 accounts! See. the neat maiden, as with pen in hand, and 
 calculating look addressed towards the ceiling, and bunch of 
 keys within a little basket at her side, she checks the house- 
 keeping expenditure ! From fiat-iron, dish-cover, and warming- 
 pan ; from pot and kettle, face of brass footman, and black- 
 leaded stove ; bright glances of approbation wink and glow 
 upon her. The very onions dangling from the beam, mantle 
 and shine like cherub's cheeks. Something of the infiuence 
 of those vegetables sinks into Mr. Pecksniff's nature. He 
 weeps. 
 
 it is but for a moment, and he hides it from the obser\a- 
 tion of his friend — very carefully — by a somewhat elaborate 
 use of his pocket-handkerchief, in fact ; for he would not have 
 his weakness known. 
 
 " Pleasant," he murmured, " pleasant to a father's feel- 
 ings ! My dear girl ! Shall we let her know we are here, Mr. 
 Jonas ? " 
 
 " VV'liy, I suppose you don't mean to spend the evening 
 in the stable or the coach-house," he returned. 
 
 " That, indeed, is not such hospitality as I would show 
 io you, my friend," cried Mr. Pecksniff, pressing his hand. 
 And then he took a long breath, and tapping at the window, 
 shouted with stentorian blandness : 
 
 " Boh ! " 
 
 Cherry dropped her pen and screamed. But innocence 
 is ever bold, or should be. As they opened the door, the 
 valiant girl exclaimed in a firm voice, and with a presence of 
 mind which even in that trying moment did not desert her, 
 '* Who are you ? What do you want ? Speak ! Or I will caLI 
 my Pa." 
 
 22
 
 338 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff held out his arms. She knew him instantly, 
 and rushed into his fond embrace. 
 
 " It was thoughtless of us, Mr. Jonas, it was very thought- 
 less," said Pecksniff, smoothing his daughter's hair. " My 
 darling, do you see that I am not alone ! " 
 
 Not she. She had seen nothing but her father until now. 
 She saw Mr. Jonas now, though ; and blushed, and hung her 
 head down, as she gave him welcome. 
 
 But where was Merry? Mr. Pecksniff didn't ask the 
 question in reproach, but in a vein of mildness touched with 
 a gentle sorrow. She was up stairs, reading on the parlor 
 couch. Ah! Domestic details had no charms for //(?/'. " p]ut 
 call her down," said, Mr. Pecksniff, with a placid resignation. 
 " Call her down, my love." 
 
 She was called and came, all flushed and tumbled from 
 reposing on the sofa ; but none the worse for that. No, not 
 at all. Rather the better, if anything. 
 
 " Oh my goodness me ! " cried the arch girl, turning to 
 her cousin when she had kissed her father on both cheeks, 
 and in her frolicsome nature had bestowed a supernumerary 
 salute upon the tip of his nose, '•'■you here, fright ! Well, I'm 
 very thankful that you won't trouble t7ie much ! " 
 
 "What! you're as lively as ever, are you?" said Jonas. 
 " Oh ! You're a wicked one ! " 
 
 " There, go along ! " retorted Merr}% pushing him away. 
 " I'm sure I don't know Avhat I shall ever do, if I have to see 
 much of you. Go along, for gracious' sake ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff striking in here, with a request that Mr. 
 Jonas would immediately walk up stairs, he so far complied 
 with the young lady's adjuration as to go at once. But though 
 he had the fair Cherry on his arm, he could not help looking 
 back at her sister, and exchanging some further dialogue of 
 the same bantering description, as they all four ascended to 
 the parlor \ where — for the young ladies happened, by good 
 fortune, to be a little later than usual that night — the tea- 
 board was at that moment being set out. 
 
 Mr. Pinch was not at home, so they had it all to them- 
 selves, and were very snug and talkative, Jonas sitting be- 
 tween the two sisters, and displaying his gallantry in that 
 engaging manner which was peculiar to him. It was a hard 
 thing, Mr. Pecksniff said, when tea was done, and cleared 
 away, to leave so pleasant a little party, but having some im- 
 portant papers to examine in his own apartment, he must beg
 
 MA R TIN CIIL 'ZZL ElVIT. 
 
 339 
 
 them to excuse him for half an hour. With this apology he 
 withdrew, singing a careless strain as he went. He had not 
 been gone five minutes, when Merry, who had been sitting in 
 the window, apart from Jonas and her sister, burst into a half- 
 smothered laugh, and skipped towards the door. 
 
 " Hallo ! " cried Jonas. " Don't go." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say ! " rejoined Merry, looking back. " You're 
 very anxious I should stay, fright, ain't you .'' " 
 
 "Yes, I am," said Jonas. "Upon my word I am. I want 
 to speak to you." But as she left the room notwithstanding, 
 he ran out after her, and brought her back, after a short 
 struggle in the passage which scandalized Miss Cherry very 
 much. 
 
 " Upon my word, Merr}'," urged that young lady, " I won- 
 der at you ! There are bounds even to absurdity, my dear." 
 
 " Thank you, my sweet," said Merrj', pursing up her rosy 
 lips. " Much obliged to it for its advice. Oh ! do leave me 
 alone, you monster, do ! " This entreaty was wrung from her 
 by a new proceeding on the part of Mr. Jonas, who pulled her 
 down, all breathless as she was, into a seat beside him on the 
 sofa, having at the same time Miss Cherry upon the other side. 
 
 " Now," said Jonas, clasping the waist of each ; " I have 
 got both arms full, haven't I ? " 
 
 " One of them will be black and blue to-morrow, if you 
 don't let me go," cried the playful Merry. 
 
 " Ah ! I don't mind j'(7«r pinching," grinned Jonas, " a bit.'' 
 
 " Pinch him for me. Cherry, pray," said Mercy. " I never 
 did hate anybody so much as 1 hate this creature, 1 declare ! '' 
 
 " No, no, don't say that," urged Jonas, " and don't 
 pinch either, because 1 want to be scMious. J say ! Cousin 
 Charity ! " 
 
 "Well! what .'' " she answered sharply. 
 
 " 1 want to have some sober talk," said Jonas : " I want 
 to prevent any mistakes, you know, and to put everything 
 upon a pleasant understanding. That's desirable and proper, 
 ain't it ? " 
 
 Neither of the sisters spoke a word. Mr. Jonas paused 
 and cleared his throat, which was very dry. 
 
 " She'll not believe what I am going to say, will she 
 cousin ?" said Jonas, timidly squeezing Miss Charity. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Jonas, I don't know, until I hear what it is. 
 It's quite impossible ! " 
 
 "Why, you see," said Jonas, "her way always being to
 
 340 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 make game of people, I know she'll laugh, or pretend to ; 1 
 know that, beforehand. But you can tell her I'm in earnest, 
 cousin ; can't you ? You'll confess you know, won't you ? 
 You'll be honorable, I'm sure," he added persuasively. 
 
 No answer. His throat seemed to grow hotter and hot- 
 ter, and to be more and more difficult of control. 
 
 " You see, Cousin Charity," said Jonas, " nobody but you 
 can tell her what pains I took to get into her company when 
 you were both at the boarding-house in the city, because no- 
 body's so well aware of it, you know. Nobody else can tell 
 her how hard I tried to get to know you better, in order that 
 I might get to know her without seeming to wish it ; can 
 they .'' I always asked you about her, and said where had 
 she gone, and when would she come, and how lively she was, 
 and all that ; didn't I, cousin ? I know you'll tell her so, if 
 you haven't told her so already, and — and — I dare say you 
 ha\-e, because I'm sure you're honorable, ain't you .-' " 
 
 Still not a word. The right arm of Mr. Jonas — the elder 
 sister sat upon his right — may have been sensible of some 
 tumultuous throbbing which was not within itself ; but noth- 
 ing else apprised him that his words had had the least effect. 
 
 " Even if you kept it to yourself, and haven't told her," 
 resumed Jonas, " it don't much matter, because you'll bear 
 honest witness now ; won't you ? We've been very good 
 friends from the first ; haven't we .■* And of course we shall 
 be quite friends in future, and so I don't mind speaking be- 
 fore you a bit. Cousin Mercy, you'\e heard what I've been 
 saying. She'll confirm it, every word ; she must. Will you 
 have me for \our husband ? Eh ? " 
 
 As he released his hold of Charity, to put this question 
 with better effect, she started up and hurried away to her own 
 room, marking her progress as she went by such a train of 
 passionate and incoherent sound, as nothing but a slighted 
 woman in her anger could produce. 
 
 " Let me go away. Let me go after her," said Merry, 
 pushing him off, and giving him — to tell the truth — more than 
 one sounding slap upon his outstretched face. 
 
 " Not till you say 'S'es. You haven't told me. Will you 
 have me for your husband t " 
 
 " No, I won't. I can't bear the sight of you. I have told 
 you so a hundred times. You are a fright. Besides, I always 
 thought you liked my sister best. We all thought so." 
 
 " But that wasn't my fault," said Jonas. 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 341 
 
 " Yes it was ; you know it was." 
 
 "Any trick is fair in love," said Jonas. " She may have 
 thou2;ht I Uked her best, luit you didn't." 
 
 '•^I did .? " 
 
 " No, you didn't. You never could have thought I liked 
 lier best, when you were by." 
 
 " There's no accounting for tastes,'-' said Merry ; " at 
 least I didn't mean to say that. I don"t know what i mean. 
 Let me go to her." 
 
 " Say ' Yes,' and then I will." 
 
 " If I ever brought myself to say so, it should only be, 
 that I might hate and tease you all my life." 
 
 "That's as good," cried Jonas, "as saying it right out. 
 It's a bargain, cousin. We're a pair, if ever there was one." 
 
 This gallant speech was succeeded by a confused noise of 
 kissing and slapping ; and then the fair, but nuich dishev- 
 elled Merry,broke away, and followed in the footsteps of her 
 sister. 
 
 Now whether Mr. Pecksniff had been listening — which in 
 one of his character appears impossible, or divined almost 
 by inspiration what the matter was— which, in a man of his 
 sagacity is far more probable, or happened by sheer good 
 fortune to find himself in exactly the right place, at precisely 
 the right time — which, under the special guardianship in 
 which he lived might very reasonably happen, it is quite cer- 
 tain that at the moment when the sisters came together in 
 their own room, he appeared at the chamber door. And a 
 marvellous contrast it was. They so heated, noisy, and vehe- 
 ment ; he so calm, so self-possessed, so cool and full of peace, 
 that not a hair upon his head was stirred. 
 
 " Children ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, spreading out his hands 
 in wonder, but not before he had shut the door, and set his 
 back against it. " Girls ! Daughters ! What is this ? " 
 
 " The wretch ; the apostate ; the false, mean, odious vil- 
 lain ; has before my very face proposed to Mercy ! '' was his 
 eldest daughter's answer. 
 
 " Who has proposed to Mercy } " asked Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " ^£' has. That thing. Jonas, down stairs." 
 
 "Jonas proposed to Mercy? " said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ay, 
 ay i Indeed.?" 
 
 " Have you nothing else to say ? " cried Charity. " Am I 
 to be driven mad, papa .-* He has proposed to Mercy, not to 
 me."
 
 342 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Oh, fie ! For shame ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, grav.ely. 
 " Oh, for shame ! Can the triumph of a sister move )'ou to 
 this terrible display, my child? Oh, really this is very sad ! 
 I am sorry ; I am surprised and hurt to see you so. Mercy, 
 my girl, bless you ! See to her. Ah, envy, envy, what a pas- 
 sion you are ! " 
 
 Uttering this apostrophe in a tone full of grief and lamen- 
 tation, Mr. Pecksniff left the room (taking care to shut the 
 door behind him), and walked down stairs into the parlor. 
 There he found his intended son-in-law, whom he seized by 
 botli hands. 
 
 " Jonas ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Jonas ! the dearest wish 
 of my heart is now fulfilled ! " 
 
 " Very well ; I'm glad to hear it," said Jonas. "That'll 
 do. I say ! As it ain't the one you're so fond of, you must 
 come down with another thousand, Pecksniff. You must 
 make it up five. It's worth that, to keep your treasure to 
 yourself, you know. You get off ver}^ cheap that way, and 
 haven't a sacrifice to make." 
 
 The grin with which he accompanied this, set off his other 
 attractions to such unspeakable advantage, that even Mr. 
 Pecksniff lost his presence of mind for a moment, and looked 
 at the young man as if he were quite stupefied with wonder 
 and admiration. But he quickly regained his composure, 
 and was in the very act of changing the subject, wlien a hasty 
 step was heard without, and I'om Pinch, in a state of great 
 excitement, came darting into the room. 
 
 On seeing a stranger there, apparently engaged with Mr. 
 Pecksniff in private con\'ersation, Tom was very much abashed, 
 though he still looked as if he had something of great impor- 
 tance to communicate, which would be a sufficient apology 
 for his intrusion. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, " this is hardly decent. You 
 will excuse my saying that 1 think your conduct scarcely 
 decent, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," replied Tom, " for not knocking 
 at the door." 
 
 " Rather beg this gentleman's pardon, Mr. Pinch," said 
 Pecksniff. " /know you ; he does not. My young man, Mr. 
 Jonas." 
 
 The son-in-law that was to be gave him a slight nod, not 
 actively disdainful or contemptuous, only passively, for he 
 was in a good humor.
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 343 
 
 "Could I speak a word with you, sir, if you please? " 
 said Tom. " It's rather pressing." 
 
 " It should be very pressing to justify this strange beha- 
 vior, Mr. Pinch," returned his master. '" Excuse me for one 
 moment, my dear friend. Now, sir, what is the reason of this 
 rough intrusion ? " 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir, I am sure," said Tom, standing, cap 
 in hand, before his patron in the passage : '" and I know it 
 must have a very rude appearance — " 
 
 " It has a very rude appearance, INIr. Pinch.'' 
 
 " Yes, I feel that, sir ; but the truth is, I was so surprised 
 to see them, and knew you would be too, that I ran home 
 very fast indeed, and really hadn't enough command over 
 myself to know what I was doing very well. I was in the 
 church just now, sir, touching the organ for my own amuse- 
 ment, when I happened to look round, and saw a gentleman 
 and lady standing in the aisle listening. They seemed to be 
 strangers, sir, as well as I could make out in the dusk ; and I 
 thought I didn't know them ; so presently I left off, and said, 
 would they walk up into the organ-loft, or take a seat t No, 
 they said they wouldn't do that ; but thev thanked me for the 
 music they had heard. In fact," observed Tom, blushing, " they 
 said, ' Delicious music ! ' at least, she did ; and I am sure that 
 was a greater pleasure and honor to me, than any compliment 
 I could have had I — I — beg your pardon, sir ; " he was all in 
 a tremble, and dropped his hat for the second time ; " but 1 
 — I'm rather flurried, and I fear I've wandered from the 
 point." 
 
 " If you will come back to it, Thomas," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 with and icy look, " I shall feel obliged." 
 
 " Yes, sir,'' returned Tom, "certainly. They had a post- 
 ing carriage at the porch, sir, and had stopped to hear the 
 organ, they said. And then they said — she said, 1 mean. ' I 
 believe you live with Mr. Pecksniff, sir .^ ' I said I had that 
 honor, and I took the liberty, sir,'' added Tom, raising his 
 eyes to his benefactor's face, " of saying, as I always will and 
 must, with your permission, that I was under great obligations 
 to you, and never could express my sense of them sufficiently." 
 
 " That," said Mr. Pecksniff, " was very, very wrong. Take 
 your time, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " Thank vou, sir," cried Tom. " On that thev asked me 
 — she asked, I mean — 'Wasn't there a bridle road to Mr. 
 Pecksniff's house — 1 
 
 ! ))
 
 344 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff suddenly became full of interest. 
 
 "'Without going by the Dragon?' When I said there 
 was, and said how happy 1 should be to show it 'em, they 
 sent the carriage on by the road, and came with me across 
 the meadows. I left 'em at the turnstile to run forward and 
 tell you they were coming, and they'll be here, sir, in — in less 
 than a minute's time, I should say," added Tom, fetching his 
 breath with difficulty. 
 
 "Now, who," said Mr. Pecksniff, pondering, "who may 
 these people be ? " 
 
 " Bless my soul, sir ! " cried Tom, " I meant to mention 
 that at first, I thought I had. I knew them — her, I mean- 
 directly. The gentleman who was ill at the Dragon, sir, last 
 winter ; and the young lady who attended him." 
 
 Tom's teeth chattered in his head, and he positively stag- 
 gered with amazement, at witnessing the extraordinary effect 
 produced on Mr. Pecksniff by these simple words. The 
 dread of losing the old man's favor almost as soon as they 
 were reconciled, through the mere fact of having Jonas in the 
 house ; the impossibility of dismissing Jonas, or shutting him 
 up, or tying him hand and foot and putting him in the coal- 
 cellar, without offending him — beyond recall ; the horrible dis- 
 cordance prevailing in the establishment, and the impossi- 
 bility of reducing it to decent harmony, with Charity in loud 
 hysterics, Mercy in the utmost disorder, Jonas in the parlor, 
 and Martin Chuzzlewit and his young charge upon the ver)' 
 door-steps ; the total hopelessness of being able to disguise 
 or feasibly explain this state of rampant confusion ; the sudden 
 accumulation over his devoted head of ever)^ complicated 
 perplexity and entanglement for his extrication from which he 
 had trusted to time, good fortune, chance, and his own plot- 
 ting, so filled the entrapped architect with dismay, that if Tom 
 could have been a Gorgon staring at Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. 
 Pecksniff could have been a Gorgon staring at Tom, they could 
 not have horrified each other half so much as in their own 
 bewildered persons. 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " cried Tom, " what have I done .-" I hoped 
 it would be a pleasant surprise, sir. I thought you would 
 like to know." 
 
 But at that moment a loud knocking was heard at the hall 
 door. 
 
 \ 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MORE AMERICAN EXPERIENCES. MARTIN TAKES A PARTNER, 
 AND MAKES A PURCHASE. SOME ACCOUNT OF EDEN, AS 
 IT APPEARED ON PAPER. ALSO OF THE BRITISH LION. 
 ALSO OF THE KIND OF SYMPATHY PROFESSED AND ENTER- 
 TAINED BY THE WATERTOAST ASSOCIATION OF UNITED 
 SYMPATHIZERS. 
 
 The knocking at Mr. Pecksniff's door, though loud enough, 
 bore no resemblance whatever to the noise of an American 
 railway train at full speed. It may be well to begin the pres- 
 ent chapter with this frank admission, lest the reader should 
 imairine that the sounds now deafeninir this histor\-"s ears have 
 any connection with the knocker on Mr. Pecksniff's door, or 
 with the great amount of agitation pretty equally divided be- 
 tween that worthy man and Mr. Pinch, of which its strong 
 performance was the cause. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff's house is more than a thousand leagues 
 away ; and again this ha]Dpy chronicle has Liberty and Moral 
 Sensibility for its high companions. Again it breathes the bless- 
 ed air of Independence ; again it contemplates with pious awe 
 that moral sense which renders unto Cassar nothing that is his ; 
 again inhales that sacred atmosphere which was the life of 
 him — oh noble patriot, with many followers ! — who dreamed 
 of Freedom in a slave's embrace, and waking sold her off- 
 spring and his own in public markets, 
 
 How the wheels clank and rattle, and the tram-road 
 shakes, as the train rushes on ! And now the engine yells, 
 as it were lashed and tortured like a living laborer, and writhed 
 in agony. A poor fancy ; for steel and iron are of infi- 
 nitely greater account, in this commonwealth, of flesh and 
 blood. If the cunning work of man be urged beyond its power 
 of endurance, it has within it the elements of its own revenge \ 
 whereas the wretched mechanism of the Divine Hand is dan- 
 gerous with no such property, but may be tampered with, and 
 crushed, and broken, at the driver's pleasure. Look at that 
 engine ! It shall cost a man more dollars in the way of pen- 
 ally and fine, and satisfaction of the outraged law, to deface 
 in wantonness that senseless mass of metal, than to take the
 
 346 MARThV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 lives of twenty humart creatures ! Tims the stars wink upon 
 the bloody stripes ; and Liberty pulls down her cap on her 
 eyes, and owns Oppression in its vilest aspect, for her sister. 
 The engine-driver of the train whose noise awoke us to 
 the present chapter, was certainly troubled with no such re- 
 flections as these ; nor is it very probable that his mind was 
 disturbed by any reflections at all. He leaned with folded 
 arms and crossed legs against the side of the carriage, smok- 
 ing ; and except when he expressed, by a grunt as short as his 
 pipe, his approval of some particularly dexterous aim on the 
 part of his colleague, the fireman, who beguiled his leisure by 
 throwing logs of wood from the tender at the numerous stray 
 cattle on the line, he preserved a composure so immovable, 
 and an indifference so complete, that if the locomotive had 
 been a sucking-pig, he could not have been more perfectly in- 
 different to its doings. Notwithstanding the tranquil state of 
 this ofticer, and his unbroken peace of mind, ti.e train was 
 proceeding with tolerable rapidity ; and the rails being but 
 poorly laid, the jolts and bumps it met with in its progress 
 were neither slight nor few. 
 
 There were three great caravans or cars attached. The 
 ladies' car, the gentlemen's car, and the cars for negroes : 
 the latter painted black, as an appropriate compliment to its 
 company. Martin and Mark Tapley were in the first, as it 
 was the most comfortable ; and, being far from full, received 
 other gentlemen who, like them, were unblessed by the society 
 of ladies of their own. They were seated side by side, and 
 were engaged in earnest conversation. 
 
 " And so, Mark," said Martin, looking at him with an anx- 
 ious expression, " and so you are glad we have left New York 
 far behind us, are you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mark. " I am. Precious glad." 
 
 " Were you not 'jolly ' there .-* " asked Martin. 
 
 " On the contraiiy, sir," returned Mark. " The jolliest 
 week as ever I spent in my life, was that there week at Paw- 
 kins's." 
 
 " What do you think of our prospects .' " inquired Martin, 
 with an air that plainly said he had avoided the question for 
 some time. 
 
 " Uncommon bright, sir," returned Mark. " Impossible 
 for a place to ha\e a better name, sir, than the Walley of 
 Eden, No man couldn't think of setting in a better place 
 than the Walley of Eden. And I'm told," added Mark after
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 347 
 
 a pause, " as there's lot's of serpents there, so we shall come 
 out, quite complete and reg'lar." 
 
 So far from dwelling upon this agreeable piece of infor- 
 mation with the least dismay, Mark's face grew radiant as he 
 called it to mind ; so very radiant that a stranger might have 
 supposed he had all his life been yearning for the society of 
 serpents, and now hailed with delight the approaching con- 
 summation of his fondest wishes. 
 
 " Who told you that ? " asked Martin, sternly. 
 
 "A military ofificer," said Mark. 
 
 " Confound you for a ridiculous fellow ! " cried Martin, 
 laughing heartily in spite of himself. " What military otificer ? 
 You know they spring up in oxcx^ field." 
 
 " As thick as scarecrows in England, sir," interposed 
 Mark, "which is a sort of militia themselves, being entirely 
 coat and wescoat, with a stick inside. Ha, ha ! Don't mind 
 me, sir ; it's my way sometimes. I can't help being jolly. 
 Why it was one of them inwading conquerors at Pawkins's, as 
 told me. ' Am I rightly informed,' he says — not exactly 
 through his nose, but as if he'd got a stoppage in it, very high 
 up — ' that you're a going to the Walley of Eden ? ' 'I heard 
 some talk on it,' I told him. 'Oh ! ' savs he, ' if vou should 
 ever happen to go to bed there^you may, \o\\ know,' he says, 
 * in course of time as civilization progresses — don't foi^get 
 to take a axe with you.' .1 looks at him tolerable hard. 
 ' Fleas ? ' says L ' And more,' says he. ' Wampires ? ' says 
 I. ' And more,' says he. ' Musquitoes, perhaps ? ' says L 
 ' And more,' says he. ' What more ? ' says I. ' Snakes more,' 
 says he ; ' rattlesnakes. You're right to a certain extent, 
 stranger. There air some catawampous chawers in the small 
 way too, as graze upon a human pretty strong; but don't 
 mind them, they're company. It's snakes,' he says, 'as you'll 
 object to ; and whenever you wake and see one in an upright 
 poster on your bed,' he says, ' like a corkscrew with the han- 
 dle off a sittin' on its bottom ring, cut him down, for he 
 means wenom.' " 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me this before ! " cried Martin, with 
 an expression of face which set off the cheerfulness of Mark's 
 visage to great advantage. 
 
 " I never thought on it, sir," said Mark. " It come in at one 
 ear, and went out at the other. But Lord love us, he was one 
 of another Company I dare say, and only made up the story 
 that we might go to his Eden, and not the opposition one."
 
 348 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "There's some probability in that," observed Martin ; " I 
 can honestly say that i hope so, witii all my heart." 
 
 " I've not a doubt about it, sir," returned Mark, who, full 
 of the inspiriting influence of the anecdote upon himself, had 
 for the moment forgotten its probable effect upon his master : 
 " anyhow, we must live, you know, sir." 
 
 " Live ! " cried Martin. " Yes, it's easy to say live ; but 
 if we should happen not to wake when rattlesnakes are making 
 corkscrews of themselves upon our beds, it may be not so 
 easy to do it." 
 
 " And that's a fact," said a voice so close in his ear that 
 it tickled him. "That's dreadful true." 
 
 Martin looked round, and found that a gentleman, on the 
 seat behind, had thrust his head between himself and Mark, 
 and sat with his chin resting on the back rail of their little 
 bench, entertaining himself with their conversation. He was 
 as languid and listless in his looks as most of the gentlemen 
 they had seen ; his cheeks were so hollow that he seemed to 
 be always sucking them in ; and the sun had burnt him, not a 
 wholesome red or brown, but dirty yellow. He had bright 
 dark eyes, which he kept half closed ; only peeping out of the 
 corners, and even then with a glance that seemed to say, 
 " Now you won't overreach me : you want to, but you won't." 
 His arms rested carelessly on his knees as he leant forward ; 
 in the palm of his left hand, as English rustics have their 
 slice of cheese, he had a cake of tobacco ; in his right a pen- 
 knife. He struck into the dialogue with as little reserve as 
 if he had been specially called in, days before, to hear the 
 arguments on both sides, and favor them with his opinion ; 
 and he no more contemplated or cared for the possibility of 
 their not desiring the honor of his acquaintance or interference 
 in their private affairs, than if he had been a bear or a buffalo. 
 
 "That," he repeated, nodding condescendingly to Martin, 
 as to an outer barbarian and foreigner, " is dreadful true. 
 Darn all manner of vermin." 
 
 Martin could not help frowning for a moment, as if he 
 were disposed to insinuate that the gentleman had uncon- 
 sciously " darned " himself. But remembering the wisdom 
 of doing at Rome as Romans do, he smiled with the pleasant- 
 est expression he could assume upon so short a notice. 
 
 Their new friend said no more just then, being busily em- 
 ployed in cutting a quid or plug from his cake of tobacco, and 
 whistling softly to himself the while. When he had shaped il
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 349 
 
 to his liking, ])e took out his old plug, and deposited the same 
 on the back of the seat between Mark and Martin, while he 
 thrust the new one into the hollow of his cheek, where it 
 looked liked a large walnut, or tolerable pippin. Finding it 
 quite satisfactory, he struck the point of his knife into the old 
 plug, and holding it out for their inspection, remarked with 
 the air of a man who had not lived in vain, that it was "used 
 up considerable." Then he tossed it away, put his knife into 
 one pocket and his tobacco into another, rested his chin upon 
 the rail as before, and approving of the pattern on Martin's 
 waistcoat, reached out his hand to feel the texture of that 
 garment. 
 
 " What do you call this now ? " he asked. 
 
 "Upon mv \'ford," said Martin, " I don't know what it is 
 called." 
 
 " It'll cost a dollar or more a yard, I reckon ? " 
 
 " I really don't know." 
 
 "In my country," said the gentleman, " we know the cost 
 of our own produce." 
 
 Martin not discussing the question, there was a pause. 
 
 " Well ! " resumed their new friend, after staring at them 
 intently during the whole interval of silence, "how's the un- 
 nat'ral old parent by this time .'' " 
 
 Mr. Tapley regarding this inquiry as only another version 
 of the impertinent English question, " How's your mother .^ " 
 would have resented it instantly, but for Martin's prompt 
 interposition. 
 
 " You mean the old country.? " he said. 
 
 "Ah!" was the rei^Iv. "How's she! Procrressins: 
 back'ards I expect, as usual ? Well ! How's Queen 
 Victoria ? " 
 
 " In good health, I believe," said Martin. 
 
 "Queen Victoria won't shake in licr royal shoes at all, 
 when she hears to-morrow named,'' observed the stranger. 
 "No."' 
 
 " Not that I aiii aware of. Why should she.' " 
 
 " She won't be taken with a cold chill, when slie realizes 
 what is being done in these diggings," said the stranger. 
 " No." 
 
 " No," said Martin. " I think 1 could take my oath of 
 that." 
 
 The strange gentleman looked at him as if in pity for his 
 ignorance or prejudice, and said :
 
 35° 
 
 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Well, sir, I tell you this — there ain't a en-gine with its 
 biler bust, in God A'mighty's free U-nited States, so fixed, and 
 nipped, and frizzled to a most e-tarnal smash, as that young 
 critter, in her luxurious location in the Tower of London, will 
 be, when she reads the next double-extra Watertoast Ga- 
 zette." 
 
 Several other gentlemen had left their seats and gathered 
 round during the foregoing dialogue. They were highly de- 
 lighted with this speech. One very lank gentleman, in a loose 
 limp white cravat, a long white waistcoat, and a black great- 
 coat, who seemed to be in authority among them, felt called 
 upon to acknowledge it. 
 
 " Hem ! Mr. La Fayette Kettle," he said, taking off his 
 hat. 
 
 There was a grave murmur of " Hush ! " 
 
 " Mr. La Fayette Kettle ! Sir ! " 
 
 Mr. Kettle bowed. 
 
 " In the name of this company, sir, and in the name of our 
 common country, and in the name of that righteous cause of 
 holy sympathy in which we are engaged, I thank you. I thank 
 you, sir, in the name of the Watertoast Sympathizers ; and I 
 thank you, sir, in the name of the Watertoast Gazette ; and I 
 thank you, sir, in the name of the star-spangled banner of the 
 Great United States, for your eloquent and categorical expo- 
 sition. And if, sir," said the speaker, poking Martin with the 
 handle of his umbrella to bespeak his attention, for he was 
 listening to a whisper from Mark ; " if, sir, in such a place, 
 and at such a time, I might venture to con-elude with a senti- 
 ment, glancing — however slantin'dicularly — at the subject in 
 hand, I would say, sir, may the British TJon have his talons 
 eradicated by the noble bill of the American Eagle, and be 
 taught to play upon the Irish Harp and the Scotch Fiddle 
 that music which is breathed in ever}- empty shell that lies 
 upon the shores of green Columbia ! " 
 
 Here the lank gentleman sat down again, amidst a great 
 sensation ; and every one looked very grave. 
 
 " General Choke," said Mr. La Fayette Kettle, " you 
 warm my heart ; sir, you warm my heart. But the p]ritisb 
 Lion is not unrepresented here, sir ; and I should be glad to 
 hear his answer to those remarks." 
 
 " Upon my word," cried Martin, laughing, "since you do 
 me the honor to consider me his representative, I have only 
 to say that I never heard of Queen Victoria reading the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 351 
 
 What's-his-name Gazette, and that I should scarcely think it 
 probable." 
 
 General Choke smiled upon the rest, and said, in patient 
 and benignant explanation ; 
 
 " It is sent to her, sir. It is sent to her. Per mail." 
 
 " But if it is addressed to the Tower of London, it would 
 hardly come to hand, I fear," returned Martin 3 "for she 
 don't live there." 
 
 " The Queen of England, gentlemen," observed Mr. Tap- 
 ley, affecting the greatest politeness, and regarding them with 
 an immovable face, " usually lives in the Mint to take care of 
 the money. She has lodgings, in virtue of her office, with the 
 Lord Mayor at the Mansion-House ; but don't often occupy 
 them, in consequence of the parlor-chimney smoking." 
 
 " Mark," said Martin, " 1 shall be very much obliged to 
 you if you'll have the goodness not to interfere with prepos- 
 terous statements, however jocose they may appear to you. 
 I was merely remarking, gentlemen — though it's a point of 
 very little import — that the Queen of England does not hap- 
 pen to live in the Tower of London." 
 
 " General ! " cried Mr. La Fayette Kettle. " You hear >. " 
 
 " General ! " echoed several others. " General ! " 
 
 " Hush ! Pray, silence ! " said General Choke, holding 
 up his hand, and speaking with a patient and complacent 
 benevolence that was quite touching. " I have always re- 
 marked it as a very extraordinar)^ circumstance, which I im- 
 pute to the natur' of British Institutions and their tendency 
 to suppress that popular inquiry and information which air so 
 widely diffused even in the trackless forests of this vast Con- 
 tinent of the Western Ocean ; that tlie knowledge of Britishers 
 themselves on such points is not to be compared with that 
 possessed by our intelligent and locomotive citizens. This is 
 interesting, and confirms my observation. When you say, 
 sir," he continued, addressing Martin, " that your Queen does 
 not reside in the Tower of London, you fall into an error, not 
 uncommon to your countrymen, even when their abilities and 
 moral elements air such as to command respect. But, sir, you 
 air wrong. She does live there — " 
 
 " When she is at the Court of Saint James's," interposed 
 Kettle. 
 
 " When she is at the Court of Saint James's, of course," 
 returned the General, in the same benignant way ; " for if her 
 location was in Windsor Pavilion it couldn't be in London at
 
 352 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 the same time. Your Tower of London, sir," pursued the 
 General, smiling with a mild consciousness of his knowledge, 
 " is nat'rally your royal residence. Being located in the im- 
 mediate neighborhood of your Parks, your Drives, your 
 Triumphant Arches, your Opera, and your Royal Almacks, it 
 nat'rally suggests itself as the place for holding a luxurious 
 and thoughtless court. And, consequently," said the General, 
 " consequently, the court is held there." 
 
 " Have you been in England ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " In print I have, sir," said the General, " not otherwise. 
 We air a reading people here, sir. You will meet with much 
 information among us that will surprise you, sir." 
 
 "I have not the least doubt of it," returned Martin. But 
 here he was interrupted by Mr. La Fayette Kettle, who whis- 
 pered in his ear : 
 
 " You know General Choke ? " 
 
 " No," returned Martin, in the same tone. 
 
 " You know what he is considered ? " 
 
 " One of the most remarkable men in the country ? " said 
 Martin, at a venture. 
 
 " That's a fact/' rejoined Kettle. " I was sure you must 
 have heard of him ! " 
 
 "I think," said Martin, addressing himself to the General 
 again, " that I have the pleasure of being the bearer of a letter 
 of introduction to you, sir. From Mr. Bevan, of Massachu- 
 setts," he added, giving it to him. 
 
 The General took it and read it attentively, now and then 
 stopping to glance at the two strangers. When he had fin- 
 ished the note, he came over to Martin, sat down by him, and 
 shook hands. 
 
 " Well ! " he said, " and you think of settling in Eden ? " 
 
 "Subject to your opinion, and the agent's advice," replied 
 Martin. " I am told there is nothing to be done in the old 
 towns." 
 
 " I can introduce you to the agent, sir," said the General. 
 " I know him. In fact, I am a member of the Eden Land 
 Corporation myself." 
 
 This was serious news to Martin, for his friend had laid 
 great stress upon the General's having no connection, as he 
 thought, with any land company, and therefore being likely to 
 give hmi disinterested advice. The General explained that he 
 had joined the Corporation only a few weeks ago, and that no 
 communication had passed between himself and Mr. Bevan 
 since.
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 353 
 
 " We have very little to venture," said Martin anxiously : 
 *' only a few pounds ; but it is our all. Now, do you think 
 that for one of my profession, this would be a speculation 
 with any hope or chance in it ? " 
 
 "Well," observed the General, gravely, "if there wasn't 
 any hope or chance in the speculation, it wouldn't have en- 
 gaged my dollars, 1 opinionate." 
 
 " 1 don't mean for the sellers," said Martin. " For the 
 buyers, for the buyers ! " 
 
 " For the buyers, sir ? " observed the General, in a most 
 impressi\'e manner. " Well ! you come from an old country : 
 from a country, sir, that has piled up golden calves as high as 
 Babel, and worshipped 'em for ages. We are a new country, 
 sir ; man is in a'more primeval state here, sir ; we have not 
 the excuse of having lapsed in the slow course of time into 
 degenerate practices ; we have no false gods ; man, sir, here, 
 is man in all his dignity. We fought for that or nothing. 
 Here am I, sir," said the General, setting up his umbrella to 
 represent himself — and a villanous-looking umbrella it was ; 
 a very bad counter to stand for the sterling coin of his benevo- 
 lence — " here am I with gray hairs, sir, and a moral sense. 
 Would I, with my principles, invest capital in this speculation 
 if I didn't think it full of hopes and chances for my brother 
 man ? " 
 
 Martin tried to look convinced, but he thought of New 
 York, and found it difficult. 
 
 "What are the Great United States for, sir," pursued the 
 General, " if not for the regeneration of man ? But it is 
 natVal in you to make such an enquerry, for you come from 
 England, and you do not know my country." 
 
 "Then you think," said Martin, "that allowing for the 
 hardships we are prepared to undergo, there is a reasonable 
 — Heaven knows we don't expect much — a reasonable open- 
 ing in this place ? " 
 
 " A reasonable opening in Eden, sir ! But see the agent, 
 see the agent ; see the maps, and plans, sir ; and conclude to 
 go or stay, according to the natur' of the settlement. Eden 
 hadn't need to go a begging yet, sir," remarked the General. 
 
 "It is an awful lovely pLice, sure-ly. And frightful wliole- 
 some, likewise ! " said Mr. Kettle, who had made himself a 
 party to this conversation as a matter of course. 
 
 Martin felt that to dispute such testimony, for no better 
 reason than because he had his secret misgivings on the sub- 
 
 ^2>
 
 354 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ject, would be ungentlemanly and indecent. So he thanked 
 the General for his promise to put him in personal communica- 
 tion with the agent ; and " concluded " to see that officer 
 next morning. He then begged the General to inform him 
 who the Watertoast Sympathizers were, of whom he had 
 spoken in addressing Mr. La Fayette Kettle, and on what 
 grievances they bestowed their Sympathy. To which the 
 General, looking very serious, made answer, that he might 
 fully enlighten himself on those points to-morrow by attend- 
 ing a Great Meeting of the Body, which would then be held 
 at the town to which they were travelling : " over which, sir," 
 said the General, " my fellow-citizens have called on me to 
 preside." 
 
 They came to their journey's end late in the evening. 
 Close to the railway was an immense white edifice, like an 
 ugly hospital, on which was painted " National Hotel." 
 There was a wooden gallery or veranda in front, in which it 
 was rather startling, when the train stopped, to behold a great 
 many pairs of boots and shoes, and the smoke of a great 
 many cigars, but no other evidences of human habitation. By 
 slow degrees, however, some heads and shoulders appeared, 
 and connecting themselves with the boots and shoes, led to 
 the discovery that certain gentlemen boarders, who had a 
 fancy for putting their heels where the gentlemen boarders in 
 other countries usually put their heads, were enjoying them- 
 selves after their own manner in the cool of the evening. 
 
 There was a great bar-room in this hotel, and a great public 
 room in which the general table was being set out for supper. 
 There were interminable whitewashed staircases, long white- 
 washed galleries up stairs and down stairs, scores of little 
 whitewashed bed-rooms, and a four-sided veranda to every 
 story in the house, which formed a large brick square with an 
 uncomfortable court-yard in the centre, where some clothes 
 were dr3ing. Here and there, some yawning gentlemen lounged 
 up and down with their hands in their pockets ; but within 
 the house and without, wherever half a dozen people were 
 collected together, there, in their looks, dress, morals, man- 
 ners, habits, intellect, and conversation, were Mr. Jefferson 
 Brick, Colonel Diver, Major Pawkins, General Choke, and 
 Mr. La Fayette Kettle, over, and over, and over again. They 
 did the same things, said the same things, judged all sub- 
 jects by, and reduced all subjects to, the same standard. //Ob- 
 serving how they lived, and how they were always in the en-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEiriT. 
 
 355 
 
 chanting company of each other, Martin even began to com- 
 prehend their being the social, cheerful, winning, airy men 
 they were. 
 
 At the sounding of a dismal gong, this pleasant company 
 went trooping down from all parts of the house to the public 
 room ; while from the neighboring stores other guests came 
 tlocking in, in shoals ; for half the town, married folks as well 
 as single, resided at the National Hotel. Tea, coffee, dried 
 meats, tongue, ham, pickles, cake, toast, preserves, and bread 
 and butter, were sw'allowed with the usual ravaging speed ; 
 and then, as before, the company dropped off by degrees, and 
 lounged away to the desk, the counter, or the bar-room. I'he 
 ladies had a smaller ordinary of their own, to which their hus- 
 bands and brothers were admitted if they chose ; and in all 
 other respects they enjoyed themselves as at Pawkins's. 
 
 "Now, Mark, my good fellow," said Martin, closing the 
 door of his little chamber, " we must hold a solemn council, 
 for our fate is decided to-morrow morning. You are deter- 
 mined to invest these savings of yours in the common stock, 
 are you ? " 
 
 " If 1 hadn't been determined to make that wentur, sir," 
 answered Mr. Tapley, " I shouldn't have come." 
 
 " How much is there here, did you say .-' " asked Martin, 
 holding up a little bag. 
 
 "Thirty-seven pound ten and sixpence. The Savings' 
 Bank said so, at least, I never counted it. But they know, 
 bless you ! " said Mark, with a shake of the head expressive 
 of his unbounded confidence in the wisdom and arithmetic of 
 those Institutions. 
 
 " The money we brought with us," said Martin, " is re- 
 duced to a few shillings less than eight pounds." 
 
 Mr. Tapley smiled, and looked all manner of ways, tliat he 
 might not be supposed to attach any importance to this fact. 
 
 "Upon the ring — //ev ring, Mark," said Martin, looking 
 ruefully at his empty finger — 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Mr. Tapley. " Beg your pardon, sir." 
 
 " — We raised, in English money, fourteen pounds. So, 
 even with that, your share of the stock is still very much the 
 larger of the two, you see. Now, Mark," said Martin, in his 
 old way, just as he might have spoken to Tom Pinch, " 1 ha\e 
 thought of a means of making this up to you, more than 
 making it up to you I hope, and very materially elevating 
 your prospects in life."
 
 356 ^/-^ ^ TIN- CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Oh ! don't talk of that, 3'ou know, sir," returned Mark. 
 " I don't want no elevating, sir. I'm all right enough, sir, / 
 am." 
 
 " No, but hear me," said Mariin, " because this is very im- 
 portant to you, and a great satisfaction to me. Mark, you 
 shall be a partner in the business — an equal partner with my- 
 self. I will put in, as my additional capital, my professional 
 knowledge and ability ; and half the annual profits, as long as 
 it is carried on, shall be yours." 
 
 Poor Martin ! For ever building castles in tl^e air. For 
 ever, in his very selfishness, forgetful of all but his own teem- 
 ing hopes and sanguine plans. Swelling, at that instant, with 
 the consciousness of patronizing and most munificently re- 
 warding Mark ! 
 
 " I don't know, sir," Mark rejoined, much more sadly than 
 his custom was, though from a very different cause than Martin 
 supposed, " what I can say to this, in the way of thanking 
 you. I'll stand by you, sir, to the best of my abilitv, and to 
 the last. That's all." 
 
 " We quite understand each other, my good fellow," said 
 Martin, rising in self-approval and condescension. " We are 
 no longer master and servant, but friends and partners ; and 
 are mutuallv gratified. If we determine on Eden, the business 
 shall be commenced as soon as we get there. Under the 
 name," said Martin, who never hammered upon an idea that 
 Wasn't red hot — "under the name of Chuzzlewit and Tapley." 
 
 "Lord love you, sir," cried Mark, "don't have my name 
 in it. I ain't acquainted with the business, sir. I must be 
 Co., I must. I've often thought," he added, in a low voice, 
 " as I should like to know a Co. ; but I little thought as ever 
 I should li\e to be one." 
 
 "You shall have your own way, Mark." 
 
 " Thank'ee, sir. If any country gentleman thereabouts, m 
 the public way, or otherwise, wanted such a thing as a skittle- 
 ground made, I could take that part of the bis'ness, sir." 
 
 " Against any architect in the States," said Martin. "Get 
 a couple of sherry-cobblers, Mark, and we'll drink success to 
 the firm." 
 
 Either he forgot already (and often afterwards), that they 
 were no longer master and servant, or considered this kind of 
 duty to be among the legitimate functions of the Co. But 
 Mark obeyed with his usual alacrity ; and before they parted 
 for the night, it was agreed between them that they should go
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 357 
 
 together to the agent's in the morning, but that Martin should 
 decide the Eden question, on his own sound judgment. And 
 Mark made no merit, even to himself in his jollity, of this 
 concession ; perfectly well knowing that the matter would 
 come to that in the end, any way. 
 
 The General was one of the party at the public table next 
 day, and after breakfast suggested that they should wait upon 
 the agent without loss of time. They, desiring nothing more, 
 agreed ; so off they all four started for the office of the Eden 
 Settlement, which was almost within rifle-shot of the National 
 Hotel. 
 
 It was a small place, something like a turnpike. But a 
 great deal of land may be got into a dice-box, and why may 
 not a whole territory be bargained for in a shed ? It was but 
 a temporary office too ; for the Edeners were " going " to build 
 a superb establishment for the transaction of their business, 
 and had already got so far as to mark out the site. Which is 
 a great way in America. The office-door was wide open, and 
 in the door-way was the agent ; no doubt a tremendous fellow 
 to get through his work, for lie seemed to have no arrears, but 
 was swinging backwards and forwards in a rocking-chair, with 
 one of his legs planted high up against the door-post, and the 
 other doubled up under him, as if he were hatching his foot. 
 
 He was a gaunt man in a huge straw hat, and a coat of 
 green stuff. The weather being hot, he had no cravat, and 
 wore his shirt collar wide open ; so that every time he spoke 
 something was seen to twitch and jerk up in his throat, like 
 the little hammers in a harpsichord when the notes are struck. 
 Perhaps it was the Truth feebly endeavoring to leap to his 
 lips. If so, it never reached them. 
 
 Two gray eyes lurked deep within this agent's head, but 
 one of them had no sight in it, and stood stock still. With 
 that side of his face he seemed to listen to what the other side 
 was doing. Thus each profile had a distinct expression, and 
 when the movable side was most in action, the rigid one was 
 in its coldest state of watchfulness. It was like turning the 
 man inside out, to pass to that \iew of his features in his live- 
 liest mood, and see how calculating and intent they were. 
 
 luich long black hair upon his head hung down as straight 
 as any plummet line ; but rumpled tufts were on the arches of 
 his eyes, as if the crow whose foot was deeply printed in the 
 corners, had pecked and torn them in a savage recognition of 
 his kindred nature as a bird of prey.
 
 35S 
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Such was the man whom they now approached, and whom 
 the General saluted by the name of Scadder. 
 
 "Well, Gen'ral," he returned, "and how are you?" 
 
 " Ac-tive and spry, sir, in my country's service and the 
 sympathetic cause. Two gentlemen on business, Mr. Scad- 
 der." 
 
 He shook hands with each of them (nothing is done in 
 America without shaking hands) then went on rocking. 
 
 " 1 think I know what bis'ness you have brought these 
 strangers here upon, then, Gen'ral .'' " 
 
 " Well, sir. I expect you may." 
 
 " You air a tongue-y person, Gen'ral. For you talk too 
 much, and that's a fact," said Scadder. "You speak a-larm- 
 ing well in public, but you didn't ought to go ahead so fast in 
 private. Now ! " 
 
 '.' If I can realize your meaning, ride me on a rail ! " re- 
 turned the General, after pausing for consideration. 
 
 " You know we didn't wish to sell the lots off right away 
 to any loafer as might bid," said Scadder \ "but had con-eluded 
 to reserve 'em for Aristocrats of Natur'. Yes ! " 
 
 " And they are here, sir ! " cried the General with warmth. 
 " They are here, sir ! " 
 
 " If they air here," returned the agent, in reproachful ac- 
 cents, " that's enough. But you didn't ought to have your 
 dander ris with me, Gen'ral." 
 
 The General whispered Martin that Scadder was the hon- 
 estest fellow in the world, and that he wouldn't have given 
 him offence designedly, for ten thousand dollars. 
 
 " 1 do my duty ; and I raise the dander of my fellow crit- 
 ters, as I wish to serve," said Scadder in a low voice, looking 
 down the road and rocking still. " They rile up rough, along 
 of my objecting to their selling Eden off too cheap. That's 
 human natur' ! Well ! " 
 
 " Mr. Scadder," said the General, assuming his oratorical 
 deportment. " Sir ! Here is my hand, and here my heart. I 
 esteem you, sir, and ask your pardon. These gentlemen are 
 friends of mine, or I would not have brought 'em here, sir, 
 being well aware, sir, that the lots at present go entirely too 
 cheap. But these air friends, sir : these air partick'ler 
 friends." 
 
 Mr. Scadder was so satisfied by this explanation, that he 
 shook the General warmly by the hand, and got out of the 
 rocking-chair to do it. He then invited the General's particu-
 
 sprin^ 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 3^g 
 
 lar friends to accompany him into tlie office. As to the Gen- 
 eral, he observed, with liis usual benevolence, that being one 
 of the company, he wouldn't interfere in the transaction on 
 any account \ so he appropriated the rocking-chair to himself, 
 and looked at the prospect, like a good Samaritan waiting for 
 a traveller. 
 
 " Heyday ! " cried Martin, as his eye rested on a great 
 plan which occupied one whole side of the office. Indeed, 
 the office had little else in it, but some geological and botani- 
 cal specimens, one or two rusty ledgers, a homely desk, and 
 a stool. " Heyday ! what's that ? " 
 
 "That's Eden," said Scadder, picking his teeth with a sort 
 of young bayonet that Hew out of his knife when he touched a 
 
 rr 
 
 ' Why, I had no idea it was a city." 
 
 " Hadn't you >. Oh, it's a city." 
 
 A flourishing city, too ! An architectural city ! There 
 were banks, churches, cathedrals, market-places, factories, ho- 
 tels, stores, mansions, wharves ; an exchange, a theatre, pub- 
 lic buildings of all kinds, down to the office of the P^len 
 Stinger, a daily journal ; all faithfully depicted in the view be- 
 fore them. 
 
 " Dear me ! It's really a most important place!" cried 
 Martin, turning round. 
 
 " Oh ! it's very important," observed the agent. 
 
 " But, I am afraid," said Martin, glancing again al the 
 Public Buildings, "that there's nothing left for me to do." 
 
 " Well, it ain't all built," replied the agent. " Not quite." 
 
 This was a great relief. 
 
 " The market-place, now," said Martin. " Is that built ? " 
 
 " That .-• " said the agent, sticking his toothpick into the 
 weathercock on the top. " Let me see. No : that ain't 
 built." 
 
 " Rather a good job to begin with. Eh, Mark 1 " whis- 
 pered Martin, nudging him with his elbow. 
 
 Mark, who, with a very stolid countenance had been eye- 
 ing the plan and the agent by turns, merely rejoined " Uncom- 
 mon ! " 
 
 A dead silence ensued, Mr. Scadder in some short recesses 
 or vacations of his toothpick, whistled a few bars of Yankee 
 Doodle, and blew the dust off the roof of the Theatre. 
 
 " I suppose," said Martin, feigning to look more narrowly 
 at the plan, but showing by his tremulous voice how much de-
 
 360 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 pended, in his mind, upon the answer — " I suppose there are 
 — several architects there ? " 
 
 " There ain't a single one," said Scadder. 
 
 " Mark," whispered Martin, pullins; him by the sleeve, " do 
 you hear that ? But whose work is all this before us, then ? " 
 he asked aloud. 
 
 " The soil being very fruitful, public buildings grows spon- 
 taneous, perhaps," said Mark. 
 
 He was on the agent's dark side as he said it ; but Scad- 
 der instantly changed his place, and brought his active eye to 
 bear upon him. 
 
 " Feel of my hands, young man," he said. 
 
 "What for? " asked Mark, declining. 
 
 " Air they dirty, or air they clean, sir } " said Scadder, 
 holding them out. 
 
 In a physical point of view they were decidedly dirty. 
 But it being obvious that Mr. Scadder offered them for exam- 
 ination in a figurative sense, as emblems of his moral charac- 
 ter, Martin hastened to pronounce them pure as the driven 
 snow. 
 
 " I entreat, Mark," he said, with some irritation, " that 
 you will not obtrude remarks of that nature, which, however 
 harmless and well-intentioned, are quite out of place, and can- 
 not be expected to be very agreeable to strangers. I am quite 
 surprised." 
 
 " The Co.'s a putting his foot in it already," thought Mark. 
 " He must be a sleeping partner — fast asleep and snoring Co. 
 must — / see." 
 
 Mr. Scadder said nothing, but he set his back against the 
 plan, and thrust his toothpick into the desk some twenty 
 times, looking at Mark all the while as if he were stabbing 
 him in effig)^ 
 
 " You haven't said whose work it is," Martin ventured to 
 observe, at length, in a tone of mild propitiation. 
 
 " Well, never mind whose work it is, or isn't," said the 
 agent sulkily. " No matter how it did eventuate. P'raps he 
 cleared off, handsome, with a heap of dollars ; p'raps he wasn't 
 worth a cent. P'raps he was a loafin' rowdy ; p'raps a ring- 
 tailed roarer. Now ! " 
 
 " All your doing, Mark ! " said Martin. 
 
 " P'raps," pursued the agent, " them a'nt plants of Eden's 
 raising. No ! P'raps that desk and stool ain't made from 
 Eden lumber. No ! P'raps no end of squatters ain't gone
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 361 
 
 out there. No ! P'raps there ain't no sucli location in the 
 territoary of the Great U-nited States. Oh, no ! " 
 
 " I hope you're satisfied with the success of your joke, 
 Mark," said Martin. 
 
 But here, at a most opportune and happy time, the Gen- 
 eral interposed, and called out to Scadder trom the doorway 
 to give his friends the particulars of that little lot of fifty acres 
 with the house upon it ; which, having belonged to the company 
 formerly, had lately lapsed again into their hands. 
 
 " You air a deal too open-handed, Gen'ral," was the an- 
 swer. "It is a lot as should be rose in price. It is." 
 
 He grumblingly opened his books notwithstanding, and al- 
 ways keeping his. bright side towards Mark, no matter at what 
 amount of inconvenience to himself, displayed a certain leaf 
 for their perusal. Martin read it greedily, and then inquired : 
 
 " Now where upon the plan may this place be ? " 
 
 " Upon the plan 1 " said Scadder. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He turned towards it, and reflected for a short time, as if, 
 having been put upon his mettle, he was resolved to be par- 
 ticular to the very minutest hair's breadth of a shade. At 
 length, after wheeling his toothpick slowly round and round 
 in the air, as if it were a carrier pigeon just thrown up, he sud- 
 denly made a dart at the drawing, and pierced the very centre 
 of the main wharf, through and through. 
 
 " There ! " he said, leaving his knife quivering in the wall ; 
 " that's where it is ! " 
 
 Martin glanced with sparkling eyes upon his Co., and his 
 Co. saw that the thing was done. 
 
 The bargain was not concluded as easily as might have 
 been expected though, for Scadder was caustic and ill- 
 humored, and cast much unnecessary, opposition in the way ; 
 at one time requesting them to think of it, and call again in a 
 week or a fortnight ; at another predicting that they wouldn't 
 like it ; at another offering to retract and let them off, and mut- 
 tering strong imprecations u]jon the folly of the General. But 
 the whole of the astoundingly small sum-total of purchase- 
 money — it was only one hundred and fifty dollars, or some- 
 thing more than thirty pounds of the capital brought by Co. 
 into the architectural concern — was ultimately paid down ; 
 and Martin's head was two inches nearer the roof of the little 
 wooden office, with the consciousness of being a landed pro- 
 prietor in the thriving city of Eden.
 
 362 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 If it shouldn't happen to fit," said Scadder, as he gave 
 Martin the necessary credentials on receipt of his money, 
 " don't blame me." 
 
 " No, no," he replied merrily. " We'll not blame you. 
 General, are you going ? " 
 
 " I am at your service, sir ; and I wish you," said the 
 General, giving him his hand with grave cordiality, " joy of 
 your po-ssession. You air now, sir, a denizen of the most 
 powerful and highly-civilized do-minion that has ever graced 
 the world ; a do-minion, sir, where man is bound to man in 
 one vast bond of equal love and truth. May you, sir, be 
 worthy of your a-dopted country! " 
 
 Martin thanked him, and took leave of Mr. Scadder, who 
 had i^esumed his post in the rocking-chair, immediately on the 
 General's rising from it, and was once more swinging away as 
 if he had never been disturbed. Mark looked back several 
 times as they went down the road towards the National Hotel, 
 but now his blighted profile was towards them, and nothing 
 but attentive thoughtfulness was written on it. Strangely dif- 
 ferent to the other side ! He was not a man much given to 
 laughing, and never laughed outright ; but eveiy line in the 
 print of the crow's foot, and every little wiry vein in that 
 division of his head, was wrinkled up into a grin ! The com- 
 pound figure of Death and the Lady at the top of the old 
 ballad w-as not di\ided with a greater nicety, and hadn't 
 halves more monstrously unlike each other, than the two pro- 
 files of Zephaniah Scadder. 
 
 The General posted along at a great rate, for the clock 
 was on the stroke of twelve ; and at that hour precisely, the 
 Great Meeting of the Watertoast Sympathizers was to be 
 holden in the public room of the National Hotel. Being very 
 curious to witness the demonstration, and know what it was 
 all about, Martin kept close to the General ; and, keeping 
 closer than ever when they entered the Hall, got by that 
 means upon a little platform of tables at the upper end, 
 where an arm-chair was set for the General, and Mr. La 
 Fayette Kettle, as secretary, was making a great display of 
 some foolscap documents. Screamers, no doubt. 
 
 " Well, sir ! " he said, as he shook hands with Martin, 
 " here is a spectacle calc'lated to make the British Lion put 
 his tail between his legs, and howl with anguish, I expect ! " 
 
 Martin certainly thought it possible that the British Lion 
 might have been rather out of his element in that Ark ; but 
 
 1
 
 MAR TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 363 
 
 he kept the idea to himself. The General was then voted to 
 the chair, on the motion of a pallid lad of the Jefferson Brick 
 school, who forthwith set in for a high spic-ed speech, with a 
 good deal about hearths and homes in it, and unriveting the 
 chains of Tyranny. 
 
 Oh but it was a clincher for the British Lion, it was ! The 
 indignation of the glowing young Columbian knew no bounds. 
 If lie could only have been one of his own forefathers, he 
 said, wouldn't he have peppered that same Lion, and been 
 to him as another Brute hamer v/ith a wire whip, teaching 
 him lessons not easily forgotten. '* Lion ! (cried that young 
 Columbian) where is he ? Who is he ? What is he ? Show 
 him to me. Let^ne have him here. Here ! " said the young 
 Columbian, in a wrestling attitude, " upon this sacred altar. 
 Here ! " cried the young Columbian, idealizing the dining- 
 table, " upon ancestral ashes, cemented with the glorious 
 blood poured out like water on our native plains of Chicka- 
 biddy Lick ! Bring forth that Lion ! " said the young Colum- 
 bian. "Alone, i dare him ! I taunt that Lion. I tell that 
 Lion, that Freedom's hand once twisted in his mane, he rolls 
 a corse before me, and the Eagles of the Great Republic laugh 
 ha, ha ! " 
 
 When it was found that the Lion didn't come, but kept 
 out of the way ; that tiie young Columbian stood there, with 
 folded arms, alone in his glory ; and consequently that the 
 Eagles were no doubt laughing wildly on the mountain tops ; 
 such cheers arose as might ha\e shaken the hands upon the 
 Horse-Guards' clock, and changed the very mean time of the 
 day in England's capital. 
 
 " Who is this ? " Martin telegraphed to La Fayette. 
 
 The Secretary wrote something, very gravely, on a piece 
 of paper, twisted it up, and had it passed to him from hand 
 to hand. It was an improvement on the old sentiment: " Per- 
 haps as remarkable a man as any in our countr)-." 
 
 This young Col'imbian was succeeded by another, to the 
 full as eloquent as he, who drew down storms of cheers. But 
 both remarkable youths, in their great excitement (for vour 
 true poetry can never stoop to details), forgot to say v/ith 
 whom or what the Watertoasters sympathized, and likewise 
 why or wherefore they were sympathetic. Thus, Martin re- 
 mained for a long time as completely in the dark as ever ; 
 until at length a ray of light broke in upon him through the 
 medium of the secretary, who, by reading the minutes of their
 
 3<^4 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 past proceedings, made the matter somewhat clearer. He 
 then learned that the Watertoast Association sympathized with 
 a certain Public Man in Ireland, who held a contest upon cer- 
 tain points with England ; and that they did so because they 
 didn't love England at all— not by any means because they 
 loved Ireland much ; being indeed horribly jealous and dis- 
 trustful of its people always, and only tolerating them because 
 of their working hard, which made them very useful ; labor 
 being held in greater indignity in the simple republic than in 
 any other country upon earth. This rendered Martin curi- 
 ous to see what grounds of sjmpathy the Watertoast Associa- 
 tion put forth ; nor was he long in suspense, for the General 
 rose to read a letter to the Public Man, which with his own 
 hands he had written. 
 
 "Thus," said the General, "thus, my friends and fellow- 
 citizens, it runs : 
 
 " ' Sir, 
 
 " ' I address you on behalf of the Watertoast Association 
 of United Sympathizers. It is founded, sir, in the great re- 
 public of America ! and now holds its breath, and swells the 
 blue veins in its forehead nigh to bursting, as it watches, sir, 
 with feverish intensity and sympathetic ardor, your noble efforts 
 in the cause of freedom.' " 
 
 At the name of Freedom, and at every repetition of that 
 name, all the Sympathizers roared aloud ; cheering with nine 
 times nine, and nine times over. 
 
 " ' In Freedom's name, sir — holy Freedom — I address you. 
 In Freedom's name, I send herewith a contribution to the funds 
 of your society. In Freedom's name, sir, 1 advert with indig- 
 nation and disgust to that accursed animal, with gore-stained 
 wliiskers, whose rampant cruelty and her)- lust have e\ er been 
 a scourge, a torment to the world. The naked visitors to 
 Crusoe's Island, sir ; the flying wi\es of Peter Wilkins ; the 
 fruit-smeared children of the tan^rled bush ; nav, even the men 
 of large stature, anciently bred in the mining districts of Corn- 
 wall, alike bear witness to its sava^re nature. Where, sir. are 
 the Cormorans, the Blunderbores, the Great Feefofums, named 
 in Historv ? All. all, exterminated by its destroying hand. 
 
 '" I allude, sir, to the British Lion. 
 
 " ' Devoted, mind and body, heart and soul, to Freedom, 
 sir — to Freedom, blessed solace to the snail upon the cellnr- 
 door, the oyster in his pearly bed, the still mite in his home
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWrT. 365 
 
 of cheese, the very winkle of your country in his shelly lair — 
 in her unsullied name, we offer you our sympathy. Oh, sir, 
 in this our cherished and our hapj^y land, her fires burn bright 
 and clear and smokeless : once lighted up in yours, the lion 
 shall be roasted whole. 
 
 " ' I am, sir, in Freedom's name, 
 
 " ' Your affectionate friend and faithful Sympathizer, 
 
 " Cyrus Choke, General, U.S.M.' " 
 
 It happened that just as the General began to read this 
 letter, the railroad train arrived, bringing a new mail from 
 England ; and a packet had been handed in to the Secretary, 
 which during its perusal and the frequent cheerings in homage 
 to freedom, he had opened. Now, its contents disturbed him 
 very much, and the moment the General sat down, he hurried 
 to his side, and placed in his hand a letter and several printed 
 extracts from Phiglish newspapers ; to which, in a state of in- 
 finite excitement, he called his immediate attention. 
 
 The General, being greatly heated by his own composition, 
 was in a fit state to receive anv inflammable inlluence ; but he 
 had no sooner possessed himself of the contents of these docu- 
 ments, than a change came over his face, involving such a huge 
 amount of choler and passion, that the noisy concourse were 
 silent in a moment, in very wonder at the sight of him, 
 
 " My friends! " cried the General rising ; " my friends and 
 fellow-citizens, we have been mistaken in this man." 
 
 " In what man ? " was the cry. 
 
 " In this," panted the General, holding uji the letter he 
 had read aloud a few minutes before. '' I find that he lias 
 been, and is, the advocate — consistent in it always too— of 
 Nigger emancipation ! " 
 
 If anything beneath the sky be real, those sons of Free- 
 dom would have pistolled, stabbed — in some way slain — that 
 man by coward hands and murderous violence, if he had stood 
 among them at that time. The most confiding of their own 
 countrymen, would not have wagered then, no, nor would 
 they ever peril, one dung-hill straw, upon the life of any man 
 in such a strait. They tore the letter, cast the fragments in 
 the air, trod down the pieces as they fell, and yelled, and 
 groaned, and hissed, till they could cry no longer. 
 
 " I shall move," said the General, when he could make 
 himself heard, " that the Watertoast Association of United 
 Sympathizers be immediately dissolved ! "
 
 366 MAK TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Down with it ! Away with it ! Don't hear of it ! Burn 
 its records ! Pull the room down ! Blot it out of human 
 memory ! 
 
 "But, my fellow-countrymen!" said the General, "the 
 contributions. We have funds. What is to be done with the 
 funds ? " 
 
 It was hastily resolved that a piece of plate should be pre- 
 sented to a certain constitutional Judge, who had laid down 
 .from the Bench the noble principle, that it was lawful for any 
 white mob to murder any black man ; and that another piece 
 of plate, of similar value, should be presented to a certain 
 Patriot, who had declared from his high place in the Legisla- 
 ture, that he and his friends would hang, without trial, any 
 Abolitionist wdio might pay them a visit. For the surplus, it 
 was agreed that it should be devoted to aiding the enforce- 
 ment of those free and equal laws, which render it incalculably 
 more criminal and dangerous to teach a negro to read and 
 write, than to roast him alive in a public city. These points 
 adjusted, the meeting broke up in great disorder, and there 
 was an end of the Watertoast Sj'mpathy. 
 
 As Martin ascended to his bedroom, his eye was attracted 
 by the Republican banner, which had been hoisted from the 
 house-top in honor of the occasion, and Avas fluttering before 
 a window which he passed. 
 
 " Tut ! " said Martin. " You're a gay flag in the distance. 
 But let a man be near enough to get the light upon the other 
 side, and see through you, and you are but sorry fustian ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 FROM WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT MARTIN BECAME A LION 
 ON HIS OWN ACCOUNT. TOGETHER WITH THE REASON WHY. 
 
 As soon as it was generally known in the National Hotel, 
 that the young Englishman, Mr. Chuzzlewit, had purchased a 
 " lo-cation " in the Valley of Eden, and intended to betake 
 himself to that earthly Paradise by the next steamboat, he 
 became a popular character. Why this should be, or how 
 it had come to pass, Martin no more knew than Mrs.
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 3^7 
 
 Gamp, of Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, did ; but that he 
 was for the time being, the lion, by popular election, of the 
 Watertoast community, and that his society was in rather in- 
 convenient request, there could be no kind of doubt. 
 
 The first notification he received of this change in his 
 position, was the following epistle, written in a thin running 
 hand, — with here and there a fat letter or two, to make the 
 general effect more striking, — on a sheet of paper, ruled with 
 blue lines. 
 
 " National Hotel, Afonday Aforning. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 "When I had the privilege -of being your fellow- 
 traveller in the cars, the day before )-esterday, you oifered 
 some remarks upffn the subject of the Tower of London, which 
 (in common with my fellow-citizens generally) I could wish to 
 hear repeated to a public audience. 
 
 " As Secretary to the Young Men's Watertoast Associa- 
 tion of this town, 1 am requested to inform you that the So- 
 ciety will be proud to hear you deliver a lecture upon the 
 Tower of London, at their Hall to-morrow evening, at seven 
 o'clock ; and as a large issue of quarter-dollar tickets may be 
 expected, your answer and consent by bearer will be consid- 
 ered obliging. 
 
 " Dear Sir, yours truly, ' 
 
 " La Fayette Kettle. 
 
 " The Honorable Mr. Chuzzlewit. 
 
 " P. S. — The Society would not be particular in limiting 
 you to the Tower of London. Permit me to suggest that any 
 remarks upon the Elements of Geology, or (if more conveni- 
 ent) upon the Writings of your talented and w^itty country- 
 man, the honorable Mr. Miller, would be well received." 
 
 Very much aghast at this invitation, Martin wrote back, 
 civilly, declining it ; and had scarcely done so, when he re- 
 ceived another letter. 
 
 " (Private). 
 
 '■'■ N'o. 47, Bunker Hill Street, Alondav Morning. 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I was raised in those interminable solitudes where 
 our mighty Mississippi (or l''ather of Waters) rolls liis turbid 
 flood. 
 
 " I am young, and ardent. For there is a poetrj^ in wild-
 
 368 MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ness, and every alligator basking in the slime is in himself an 
 Epic, self-contained. I aspirate for fame. It is my yearning 
 and my thirst. 
 
 '" Are you, sir, aware of any member of Congress in Eng- 
 land, who would undertake to pay my expenses to that coun- 
 try, and for six months after my arrival .-' 
 
 " There is something within me which gives me the assur- 
 ance that this enlightened patronage would not be thrown 
 away. In literature or art ; the bar, the pulpit, or the stage ; 
 in one or other, if not all, I feel that I am certain to succeed. 
 
 " If too much engaged to write to any such yourself, please 
 let me have a list of three or four of those most likely to re- 
 spond, and I will address them through the Post Office. May 
 I also ask you to favor me with any critical obsen^ations that 
 have ever presented themselves to your reflective faculties, on 
 ' Cain : a Mystery,' by the Right Honorable Lord Byron .'' 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 " Yours (forgive me if I add, soaringly), 
 
 " Putnam Smif. 
 
 " P. S. — Address your answer to America Junior, Messrs. 
 Hancock & Floby, Dry Goods Store, as above." 
 
 Both of which letters, together with Martin's reply to each, 
 were, according to a laudable custom, much tending to the 
 promotion of gentlemanly feeling and social confidence, pub- 
 lished in the next number of the Watertoast Gazette. 
 
 He had scarcely got through this correspondence, when 
 Captain Kedgick, the landlord, kindly came up stairs to see 
 how he was getting on. The Captain sat down upon the bed 
 before he spoke ; and finding it rather hard, moved to the 
 pillow. 
 
 " Well, sir ! " said the Captain, putting his hat a little 
 more on one side, for it was rather tight in the crown, " You're 
 quite a public man I calc'late." 
 
 " So it seems," retorted Martin, who was very tired. 
 
 "Our citizens, sir," pursued the Captain, "intend to pay 
 their respects to you. You will have to hold a sort of le — vee, 
 sir, while j^ou're here." 
 
 " Powers above ! " cried Martin, " I couldn't do that my 
 good fellow ! " 
 
 " I reckon you must then," said the Captain. 
 
 " Must is not a pleasant word. Captain," urged Martin. 
 
 " Well ! I didn't fix the mother language, and I can't un-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 369 
 
 fix it," said the Captain, coolly, " else I'd make it pleasant. 
 You must re-ceive. Tiiat's all.'' 
 
 " Biit why should I receive people who care as much for 
 me as 1 care for them .'' '' asked Martin. 
 
 " Well ! because I have had a muniment put up in the 
 bar," returned the Captain. 
 
 " A what ? " cried Martin. 
 
 "A muniment," rejoined the Captain. 
 
 Martin looked despairingly at Mark, who informed him 
 that the Captain meant a written notice that Mr. Chuzzlewit 
 would receive the Watertoasters that day, at and after two 
 o'clock, which was in effect, then hanging in the bar, as Mark 
 from ocular inspection of the same could testify. 
 
 "You wouldn't be unpop'lar, /know," said the Captain, 
 paring his nails. " Our citizens an't long of riling up, I tell 
 you \ and our Gazette could flay you like a wild cat." 
 
 Martin was going to be very wroth, but he thought better 
 of it, and said : 
 
 " In Heaven's name let them come, then." 
 
 "Oh, thefW come," returned the Captain. "I have seen 
 the big room fixed a'pm-pose, with my eyes." 
 
 "But will you," said Martin, seeing that the Captain was 
 about to go — " will you at least tell me this ? What do they 
 want to see me for? what have I done? and how do tiu/ 
 happen to have such a sudden interest in me ? " 
 
 Captain Kedgick put a thumb and three fingers to each 
 side of the brim of his hat ; lifted it a little way off his head ; 
 put it on again carefully ; passed one hand all down his face, 
 beginning at the forehead and ending at the chin ; looked at 
 Martin ; then at Mark ; then at Martin again ; winked ; and 
 walked out. 
 
 " Upon my life, now ! " said Martin, bringing his hand 
 heavily upon the table : " such a perfectly unaccountable fel- 
 low as that, I never saw. Mark, what do you say to this ? " 
 
 "Why, sir," returned his partner, " my opinion is that we 
 must have got to the most remarkable man in the countr)- at 
 last. So I hope there's an end to the breed, sir." 
 
 Although this made Martin laugh, it couldn't keep off two 
 o'clock. Punctuallv, as the hour struck, Cajitain Kedgick 
 returned to hand him to the room of state ; and he had no 
 sooner got him safe there, than he bawled down the staircase 
 to his fellow-citizens below, that Mr. Chuzzlewit was " re- 
 ceiving," 24
 
 37° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Up they came with a rush. Up they came until the room 
 ■svas full, and, through the open door, a dismal perspective of 
 more to come, was shown upon the stairs. One after another, 
 one after another, dozen after dozen, score after score, more, 
 more, more, up they came, all shaking hands with Martin. 
 Such varieties of hands, the thick, the thin, the short, the 
 long, the fat, the lean, the coarse the fine ; such diit'erences 
 of temperature, the hot, the cold, the diy, the moist, the flab- 
 by ; such diversities of grasp, the tight, the loose, the short- 
 lived, and the lingering ! Still up, up, up, more, more, more, 
 and ever and anon the Captain's voice was heard above the 
 crowd : " There's more below ! there's more below. Now, 
 gentlemen, vou that have been introduced to Mr. Chuzzlewit, 
 will you clear, gentlemen t Will you clear .' Will you be so 
 good as clear, gentlemen, and make a little room for more ? " 
 
 Regardless of the Captain's cries, they didn't clear at all, 
 but stood there, bolt upright and staring. Two gentlemen 
 connected with the Watertoast Gazette had come express to 
 get the matter for an article on Martin. They had agreed to 
 divide the labor. One of them took him below the waist- 
 coat ; one above. Each stood directly in front of his subject 
 with his head a little on one side, intent on his department. 
 If Martin put one boot before the other, the lower gentleman 
 was down upon him ; he rubbed a pimple on his nose, and 
 the upper gentleman booked it. He opened his mouth to 
 speak, and the same gentleman was on one knee before him, 
 looking in at his teeth, with the nice scrutiny of a dentist. 
 Amateurs in the physiognomical and phrenological sciences 
 roved about him with watchful eyes and itching fingers, and 
 sometimes one, more daring than the rest, made a mad grasp 
 at the back of his head, and vanished in the crowd. They 
 had him in all points of vjew — in front, in profile, three-quarter 
 face and behind. Those who were not professional or scien- 
 tific, audibly exchanged opinions on his looks. New lights 
 shone in upon him, in respect of his nose. Contradictory 
 rumors were abroad on the subject of his hair. And still the 
 Captain's voice was heard — so stifled by the concourse, that 
 he seemed to speak from underneath a feather-bed, exclaim- 
 ing, " Gentlemen, you that have been introduced to Mr. 
 chuzzlewit, will you clear ? " 
 
 Even when they began to clear, it was no better ; for then 
 a stream of gentlemen, every one witli a lady on each arm 
 (exactly like the chorus to the National Anthem when Royalty
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 571 
 
 goes in state to the play), came gliding in j every new group 
 fresher than the last, and bent on staying to the latest mo- 
 ment. If they spoke to him, which was not often, they 
 invariably asked the same questions, in the same tone, with 
 no more remorse, or delicacy, or consideration, than if he had 
 been a figure of stone, purchased, and paid for, and set up 
 there, for their delight. Even when, in the slow course of 
 time, these died off, it was as bad as ever, if not worse ; for then 
 the boys grew bold, and came in as a class of themselves, and 
 did everything that the grown-up people had done. Uncouth 
 stragglers too, appeared ; men of a ghostly kind, who beiiv^ 
 in, didn't know how to get out again ; insomuch that one 
 silent gentleman with glazed and fishy eyes, and only one 
 button on his waistcoat (which was a very large metal one, 
 and shone prodigiously), got behind the door, and stood there, 
 like a clock, long after everybody else was gone. 
 
 Martin felt, from pure fatigue, and heat, and worry, as if 
 he could have fallen on the ground and willingly remained 
 there, if they would but have had the mercy to leave hiin 
 alone. But as letters and messages threatening his public 
 denouncement if he didn't see the senders, poured in like 
 hail ; and as more visitors came while he took his coffee by 
 himself ; and as Mark, with all his vigilance, was unable to 
 keep them from the door, he resolved to go to bed. Not 
 that he felt at all sure of bed being any protection, but that 
 he might not leave a forlorn hope untried. 
 
 He had communicated this design to Mark, and was on 
 the eve of escaping, when the door was thrown open in a great 
 hurr}% and an elderly gentleman entered, bringing with him a 
 lady who certainly could not be considered young — that was 
 matter of fact ; and probably could not be considered hand- 
 some — but that was matter of opinion. vShe was very straight, 
 very tall, and not at all flexible in face or figure. On her head 
 she wore a great straw bonnet, with trimmings of the same, 
 in which she looked as if she had been thatched by an unskil- 
 ful laborer ; and in her hand she held a most enormous fan. 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit, I believe ? " said the gentleman. 
 
 "That is my name." 
 
 " Sir," said the gentleman, " I am pressed for time.' 
 
 " Thank God ! " thought Martin. 
 
 "I go back Toe my home, sir," pursued the gentleman, 
 "by the return train, which starts immediate. Start is not :* 
 word you use in your country, sir."'
 
 372 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Oh yes, it is," said Martin. 
 
 " You air mistaken, sir," returned the gentleman, with 
 great decision : " but we will not pursue the subject, lest it 
 should awake your prejii-dice. Sir, Mrs. Hominy." 
 
 Martin bowed. 
 
 " Mrs. Hominy, sir, is the lady of Major Hominy, one of 
 our chicest spirits ; and belongs Toe one of our most aristo- 
 cratic families. You air, p'raps, acquainted, sir, with Mrs. 
 Hominy's writings ? " 
 
 Martin couldn't say he was. 
 
 ■■' You have much Toe learn, and Toe enjoy, sir," said the 
 gentleman. " Mrs. Hominy is going Toe stay until the end 
 of the Fall, sir, with her married daughter at the settlement 
 of New Thermopylce, three days this side of Eden. Any at- 
 tention, sir, that you can show Toe Mrs. Hominy upon the 
 journey, will be very grateful Toe the Major and our fellow- 
 citizens. Mrs. Homin}^ I wish you good-night, ma'am, and a 
 pleasant pro-gress on your rout ! " 
 
 Martin could scarcely believe it ; but he had gone, and 
 Mrs. Hominy was drinking the milk. 
 
 "A'most used-up I am, I do declare!" she observed. 
 "The jolting in the cars is pretty nigh as bad as if the rail 
 was full of snags and sawyers." 
 
 " Snags and sawyers, ma'aiu ? " said Martin. 
 
 "Well, then, I do suppose you'll hardly realize my mean- 
 ing, sir," said Mrs. Hominy. " My ! Only think ! Do tell ! " 
 
 It did not appear that these expressions, although they 
 seemed to conclude with an urgent entreaty, stood in need of 
 any answer ; for Mrs. Hominy, untying her bonnet-strings, 
 observed that she would withdraw to lay that article of dress 
 aside, and would return immediately. 
 
 " Mark ! " said Martin. " Touch me, will you. Am I 
 awake ? " 
 
 " Hominy is, sir," returned his partner ; " broad awake ! 
 Just the sort of woman, sir, as would be discovered with her 
 eyes wide open, and her mind a working for her country's 
 good, at any hour of the day or night." 
 
 They had no opportunity of saying more, for Mrs. Hominy 
 stalked in again ; very erect, in proof of her aristocratic 
 blood ; and holding in her clasped hands a red cotton pocket- 
 handkerchief, perhaps a parting gift from that choice spirit, 
 the Major. She had laid aside her bonnet, and now ap- 
 peared in a highly aristocratic and classical cap, meeting
 
 MARTIX CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 ;73 
 
 beneath her chin ; a style of head-dress so admirably adapted 
 to her countenance, that if the late Mr. Grimaldi had appeared 
 in the lappets of Mrs. Siddons, a more complete effect could 
 not ha\ e been produced. 
 
 Martin handed her to a chair. Her first words arrested 
 him before he could get back to his own seat. 
 
 "Pray, sir!" said Mrs. Hominy, "where do you hail 
 from.'" 
 
 " I am afraid I am dull of comprehension," answered 
 Martin, " being extremely tired ; but, upon my word, I don't 
 understand you." 
 
 Mrs. Hominy shook herhead \\ath a melancholy smile that 
 said, not inexpressively, "They corrupt even the language in 
 that old country ! " and added then, as coming down a step 
 or two to meet his low capacity, " Where was you rose ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Martin, " I was born in Kent." 
 
 " And how do you like our country, sir ! " asked Mrs. 
 Hominy. 
 
 "Very much indeed," said Martin, half asleep. " At least 
 — that is — pretty well, ma'am." 
 
 " Most strangers — and partick'larly Britishers — are much 
 surprised by what they see in the U-nited States," remarked 
 Mrs. Hominy. 
 
 " They have excellent reason to be so, ma'am," said 
 Martin. " I never was so much suq^rised in all my life." 
 
 "Our institutions make our people smart much, sir," Mrs. 
 Hominy remarked. 
 
 " The most short-sighted man could see that at a glance, 
 with his naked eye," said Martin, 
 
 Mrs. Hominy was a philosopher and an authoress, and 
 consequently had a pretty strong digestion ; but this coarse, 
 this indecorous phrase, was almost too much for her. For a 
 gentleman sitting alone with a lady to — although the door was 
 open — to talk about a naked eye ! 
 
 A long interval elapsed before even she, woman of mascu- 
 line and towering intellect though she was, could call up forti- 
 tude enough to resume the conversation. But Mrs. Hominy 
 was a traveller. Mrs. Hominy was a writer of reviews and 
 analytical disquisitions. Mrs. Hominy had had her letters 
 from abroad, beginning "My ever dearest blank," and signed 
 " The Mother of the Modern Gracchi " (meaning the married 
 Miss Hominy), regularly printed in a public journal, with all 
 the indignation in capitals, and all the sarcasm in italics Mrs.
 
 374 ■ ^'^lARTIX CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Homiry had looked on foreign countries with the eye of a 
 perfect republican hot from the model oven ; and Mrs. Hom- 
 iny could talk (or write) about them by the hour together. 
 So Mrs. Hominy at last came down on Martin heavily, and as 
 he was fast asleep she had it all her own way, and bruised him 
 to her heart's content. 
 
 It is no great matter what Mrs. Hominy said, save she had 
 learnt it from the cant of a class, and a large class, of her 
 fellow-countrymen, who, in their every word, avow themselves 
 to be as senseless to the high principles on which America 
 sprang, a nation, into life, as any Orson in her legislative halls. 
 Who are no more capable of feeling, or caring if they did feel, 
 that by reducing their own country to the ebb of honest men's 
 contempt, they put in hazard the rights of nations yet unborn, 
 and very progress of human race, than are the swine that 
 wallow in their streets. Who think that crying out to other 
 nations, old in their iniquity, " We are no worse than you ! " 
 (No worse !) is high defence and 'vantage-ground enough 
 for that Republic, but yesterday let loose upon her noble 
 course, and but to-day so maimed and lame, so full of sores 
 and ulcers, foul to the eye and almost hopeless to the sense, 
 that her best friends turn from the loathsome creature with 
 disgust. Who, having by their ancestors declared and won 
 their Independence, because they would not bend the knee to 
 certain Public vices and corruptions, and would not abrogate 
 the truth, run riot in the Bad, and turn their backs upon the 
 Good ; and lying down contented with the wretched boast that 
 other Temples also are of glass, and stones which batter theirs 
 may be flung back ; show themselves in that alone, as im- 
 measurably behind the import of the trust they hold, and as 
 unworthy to possess it, as if the sordid hucksterings of all 
 their little governments — each one a kingdom in its small 
 depravity — were brought into a heap for evidence against 
 them. 
 
 Martin by degrees became so far awake, that he had a 
 sense of a terrible oppression on his mind ; an imperfect dream 
 that he had murdered a particular friend, and couldn't get rid 
 of the body. When his eyes opened it was staring him full in 
 the face. There was the horrible Hominy talking deep truths 
 in a melodious snuffle, and pouring forth her mental endow- 
 ments to such an extent that the Major's bitterest enemy, 
 hearing her, would have forgiven him from the bottom of his 
 heart. Martin .night have done something desperate if the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. -y^ 
 
 gong had not sounded for supper ; but sound it did most op- 
 portunely ; and having stationed Mrs. Hominy at the upper 
 end of the table, he took refuge at the lower end himself ; 
 whence, after a hasty meal, he stole away, while the lady was 
 yet busied with dried beef and a saucer-full of pickled fixings. 
 
 It would be difficult to give an adequate idea of Mrs. 
 Hominy's freshness next clay, or of the avidity with which 
 she went headlong into moral philosophy at breakfast. Some 
 little additional degree of asperity, perhaps, was visible in her 
 features, but not more than the pickles would have naturally 
 produced. All that day she clung to Martin; She sat beside 
 him while he received his friends (for there was another Re- 
 ception, yet more numerous than the former) propounded 
 theories, and ajiswered imaginary objections, so that Martin 
 really began to think he must be dreaming, and speaking for 
 two ; she quoted interminable passages from certain essays on 
 government, written by herself ; used the Major's pocket-hand- 
 kerchief as if the snuffle were a temporary malady, of which 
 she was determined to rid herself by some means or other ; 
 and in short, was such a remarkable companion, that Martin 
 quite settled it between himself and his conscience, that in 
 any new settlement it would be absolutely necessaiy to ha\ e 
 such a person knocked on the head for the general peace of 
 society. 
 
 In the meantime Mark was busy, from early in the morn- 
 ing until late at night, in getting on board the steamboat such 
 provisions, tools, and other necessaries, as they had been 
 forewarned it would be wise to take. The purchase of these 
 things, and the settlement of their bill at the National, re- 
 duced their finances to sc low an ebb, that if the captain had 
 delayed his departure -"my longer, they would have been in 
 almost as bad a pligh. as the unfortunate poorer emigrants, 
 who (seduced on board by solemn advertisement) had been 
 living on the lower deck a whole week, and exhausted thtir 
 miserable stock of provisions before the voyage commenced. 
 There they were, .all huddled together, with the engine and 
 fires. Farmers who had never seen a plough ; woodmen who 
 had never used an axe ; builders who couldn't make a box : 
 cast out of their own land, with not a hnnd to aid them : newly 
 come into an, unknown world, children in helplessness, but 
 men in wants, with younger children at their backs, to li\e or 
 die as it might happen ! 
 
 The morning came, and they would start at noon. Noon
 
 376 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 came, and they would start at night. But nothing is eternal 
 in this world, not even the procrastination of an American 
 skipper : and at night all was ready. 
 
 Dispirited and weary to the last degree, but a greater lion 
 than ever (he had done nothing all the afternoon but answer 
 letters from strangers ; half of them about nothing, half about 
 borrowing money, and all requiring an instantaneous reply), 
 Martin walked down the wharf, through a concourse of people 
 with Mrs. Hominy upon his arm ; and went on board. But 
 Mark was bent on solving the riddle of this lionship, if he 
 could ; and so, not without the risk of being left behind ran 
 back to the hotel. 
 
 Captain Kedgick was sitting in the colonnade, with a julep 
 on his knee, and a cigar in his mouth. He caught Mark's 
 eye, and said : 
 
 "Why, what the 'Tarnal brings you here ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you plainly what it is. Captain," said Mark, " I 
 want to ask you a question." 
 
 " A man may (7J'^ a question so he may," returned Kedgick, 
 strongly implying that another man might not answer a ques- 
 tion, so he mightn't. 
 
 " What have they been making so much of him for, now ? " 
 said Mark, slyly. " Come ! " 
 
 " Our people like ex-citement," answered Kedgick, sucking 
 his cigar. 
 
 " But how has he excited 'em ? " asked Mark. 
 
 The captain looked at him as if he were half inclined to 
 unburden his mind of a capital joke. 
 
 " You air a going ? " he said. 
 
 " Going ! " cried Mark. " Ain't ever}- moment precious ? " 
 
 " Our people like ex-citement," said the captain, whisper- 
 ing. " He ain't like emigrants in gin'ral ; and he excited 'em 
 along of this ; " he winked and burst into a smothered laugh ; 
 " along of this. Scadder is a smart man, and — and — nobody 
 as goes to Eden ever comes back a-live ! '•' 
 
 The wharf was close at hand, and at that instant Mark 
 could hear them shouting out his name ; could even hear 
 Martin calling to him to make haste, or they would be sepa- 
 rated. It was too late to mend the matter, or put any face 
 upon it but the best. He gave the Captain a parting benedic- 
 tion, and ran of! like a race-horse. 
 
 "Mark! Mark !" cried Martin. 
 
 '^ Here am I, sir ! " shouted Mark, suddenly replying from
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 2>n 
 
 the edge of the quay, and leapins; at a bound on board. 
 "Never was half so jolly, sir. All right. Haul in! do 
 a-head ! " 
 
 The sparks from the wood fire streamed upward from the 
 two chimneys as if the vessel were a great firework just lighted ; 
 and they roared away upon the dark water. 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 MARTIN AND HIS^ PARTNER TAKE POSSESSION OF THEIR ESTATE. 
 THE JOYFUL OCCASION INVOLVES SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT 
 OF EDEN. 
 
 There happened to be on board the steamboat several 
 gentlemen passengers, of the same stamp as Martin's New 
 York friend Mr. Eevan ; and in their society he was cheerful 
 and hapjjy. They released him as well as they could from 
 the intellectual entanglements of Mrs. Hominy ; and exhibit- 
 ed, in all they said and did, so much good sense and high 
 feeling, that he could not like them too well. " If this were 
 a republic of Intellect and Worth," he said, " instead of vapor- 
 ing and jobbing, they would not want the levers to keep it in 
 motion." 
 
 " Having good tools, and using bad ones," returned Mr. 
 Tapley, " would look as if they was rather a poor sort of car- 
 penters, sir, wouldn't it ? " 
 
 Martin nodded. " As if their work were infinitely above 
 their powers and purpose, Mark ; and they botched it in 
 consequence." 
 
 " The best on it is," said Mark, " that when they do hap- 
 pen to make a decent stroke, such as a better workmen, with 
 no such opportunities, make every day of their lives and think 
 nothing of, they begin to sing out so surprising loud. Take 
 notice of my words, sir. If ever the defaulting part of this 
 here country pays its debts — along of finding that not paying 
 'em won't do in a commercial point of \iew. vou see, and is 
 inconvenient in its consequences — they'll take such a shine 
 out of it, and make such bragging speeches, that a man might 
 suppose no borrowed money had ever been paid afore, since
 
 378 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 the world was first begun. That's the way they gammon each 
 other, sir. Bless you, / know 'em. Take notice of my words, 
 now ! " 
 
 " You seem to be growing profoundly sagacious ! " cried 
 Martin, laughing. 
 
 "Whether that is," thought Mark, "because I'm a day's 
 journey nearer Eden, and am brightening up, afore I die, I 
 can't say. P'rhaps by the time I get there, I shall have growed 
 into a prophet." 
 
 He gave no utterance to these sentiments ; but the exces- 
 sive joviality they inspired within him, and the merriment 
 they brought upon his shining face, were quite enough for Mar- 
 tin. Although he might sometimes profess to make light of his 
 partner's inexhaustible cheerfulness, and might sometimes, as 
 in the case of Zephaniah Scadder, find him too jocose a com- 
 mentator, he was always sensible of the effect of his example in 
 rousing him to hopefulness and courage. Whether he were in 
 the humor to profit by it, mattered not a jot. It was conta- 
 gious, and he could not choose but be affected. 
 
 At first they parted with some of their passengers once or 
 twice a day, and took in others to replace them. But by 
 degrees, the towns upon their routs became more thinly scat- 
 tered ; and for many hours together they would see no other 
 habitations than the huts of the wood-cutters, where the vessel 
 stopped for fuel. Sky, wood, and water, all the livelong day ; 
 and heat that blistered everything it touched. 
 
 On they toiled through great solitudes, where the trees 
 upon the banks grew thick and close ; and floated in the 
 stream • and held up shrivelled arms from out the river's 
 depths ; and slid down from the margin of the land, half 
 growing, half decaying, in the miry water. On through the 
 wear)' day and melancholy night ; beneath the burning sun, 
 and in the mist and vapor of the evening ; on, until return 
 appeared impossible, and restoration to their home a misera- 
 ble dream. 
 
 They had now but few people on board, and these few 
 were as flat, as dull, and stagnant, as the vegetation that 
 oppressed their eyes. No sound of cheerfulness or hope was 
 heard ; no pleasant talk beguiled the tardy time ; no little 
 group made common cause against the dull depression of the 
 scene. But that, at certain periods, they swallowed food 
 together from a common trough, it might have been old 
 Charon's boat, conveying melancholy shades to judgment.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 379 
 
 At length they drew near New Thermopyloe ; where, that 
 same evening, Mrs. Hominy would disembark. A gleam of 
 comfort sunk into Martin's bosom when she told him this. 
 Mark needed none ; but he was not displeased. 
 
 It was almost night when they came alongside the landing- 
 place. A steep bank with an hotel, like a barn, on the top of 
 it ; a wooden store or two ; and a few scattered sheds. 
 
 " You sleep here to-night, and go on in the morning, I 
 suppose, ma'am t " said Martin. 
 
 " Where should I go on to ? " cried the mother of the 
 modern Gracchi. 
 
 " To New Thermopylae." 
 
 "My! ain't I there?" said Mrs. Hominy. 
 
 Martin looked for it all round the darkening panorama ; 
 but he couldn't see it, and was obliged to say so. 
 
 " Why that's it ! " cried Mrs. Hominy, pointing to the sheds 
 just mentioned. 
 
 " That r' exclaimed Martin. 
 
 " Ah ! that ; and work it which way you will, it whips 
 Eden," said Mrs. Hominy, nodding her head with great 
 expression. 
 
 The married Miss Hominy, who had come on board with 
 her husband, gave to this statement her most unqualified sup- 
 port, as did that gentleman also. Martin gratefully declined 
 their invitation to regale himself at their house during the half 
 hour of the vessel's stay ; and having escorted Mrs. Hominy 
 and the red pocket-handkerchief (which was still on active 
 service) safely across the gangway, returned in a thoughtful 
 mood to watch the emigrants as they removed their goods 
 ashore. 
 
 Mark, as he stood beside him, glanced in his face from time 
 to time, anxious to discover what effect this dialogue had had 
 upon him, and not unwilling that his hopes should be dashed 
 before they reached their destination, so that the blow he 
 feared, might be broken in its fall. But saving that he some- 
 times looked up quickly at the poor erections on the hill, he 
 gave him no clue to what was passing in his mind, until they 
 were again upon their way. 
 
 "Mark," he said then, "are there really none but our- 
 selves on board this boat who are bound for Eden ? " 
 
 " None at all, sir. Most of 'em, as you know, have 
 stopped short ; and the few that are left are going further 
 on. What matters that ! More room there for us, siv."
 
 38o 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 " Oh to be sure ! " said Martin. " But I was thinking "— 
 and there he paused. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! " observed Mark. 
 
 " How odd it was that the people should have arranged to 
 try their fortune at a wretched hole like that, for instance, 
 when there is such a nuich better, and such a very different 
 kind of place, near at hand, as one may say." 
 
 He spoke in a tone so very different from his usual con- 
 fidence, and with such an obvious dread of Mark's reply, that 
 the good-natured fellow was full of pity. 
 
 " Why, you know, sir," said Mark, as gently as he could 
 by any means insinuate the observation, " we must guard 
 against being too sanguine. There's no occasion for it, either, 
 because we're determined to make the best of everything, 
 after we know the worst of it. Ain't we, sir.? " 
 
 Martin looked at him, but answered not a word. 
 
 "Even Eden, you know, ain't all built," said Mark. 
 
 "In the name of Heaven, man," cried Martin angrily, 
 "don't talk of Eden in the same breath with that place. Are 
 you mad .'' There — God forgive me ! — don't think harshly of 
 me for my temper ! " ' 
 
 After that, he turned away, and walked to and fro upon 
 the deck full two hours. Nor did he speak again, except to 
 say, " Good-night," until next day ; nor even then upon this 
 subject, but on other topics quite foreign to the purpose. 
 
 As they proceeded further on their track, and came more 
 and more towards their journey's end, the monotonous desola- 
 tion of the scene increased to that degree, that for any redeem 
 ing feature it presented to their eyes, they might have entered, 
 in the body, on the grim domains of Giant Despair. A fiaf 
 morass, bestrewn with fallen timber ; a marsh on which the 
 good growth of the earth seemed to have been wrecked and 
 cast away, that from its decomposing ashes vile and ugly 
 things might rise ; where the very trees took the aspect of 
 huge weeds, begotten of the slime from which they sprung, by 
 the hot sun that burnt them up ; where fatal maladies, seek- 
 ing whom they might infect, came forth at night, in misty 
 shapes, and creeping out upon the water, hunted them like 
 spectres until day ; where even the blessed sun shining down 
 on festering elements of corruption and disease, became a 
 horror ; this was the realm of Hope through which they 
 moved. 
 
 At last they stopped. At Eden too. The waters of the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 381 
 
 Deluge might have left it but a week before, so choked 
 with slime and matted growth was the hideous swamp which 
 bore that name. 
 
 There being no depth of water close in shore, they landed 
 from the vessel's boat, with all their goods beside them. 
 There were a few log-houses visible among the dark trees — the 
 best, a cow-shed or a rude stable. But for the wharves, the 
 market-place, the public buildings ! 
 
 " Here comes an Edener," said Mark. " He'll get us 
 help to carry these things up. Keep a good heart, sir. Hallo 
 there ! " 
 
 The man advanced toward them through the thickening 
 gloom, very slowly, leaning on a stick. As he drew nearer, 
 they observed that he was pale and worn, and that his anx- 
 ious eyes were deeply sunken in his head. His dress of home- 
 spun blue hung about him in rags ; his feet and head were 
 bare. He sat down on a stump half-way, and beckoned them 
 to come to him. When they complied, he put his hand upon 
 his side as if in pain, and while he fetched his breath stared 
 at them, wondering. 
 
 " Strangers ! " he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak. 
 
 " The very same," said Mark. " How are you, sir?" 
 
 " I've had the fever verv bad,'' he answered faintlv. " I 
 haven't stood upright these many wtcks. Those are your 
 notions 1 see," pointing to their property. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mark, " they are. You couldn't recom- 
 mend us some one as would lend a hand to help carry "em up 
 to the — to the town, could you, sir } " 
 
 " My eldest son would do it if he could," replied the man ; 
 "but to-day he has his chill upon hmi, and is lying wrapped 
 up in the blankets. My youngest died last week." 
 
 " I'm sorry for it, governor, with all my heart," said Mark, 
 shaking him by the hand. " Don't mind us. Come along 
 with me, and I'll give you an arm back. The goods is safe 
 enough, sir," to Martin ; " there ain't many people about, to 
 make away with 'em. What a comfort that is ! " 
 
 " No," cried the man. " You must look for such folk 
 here," knocking his stick upon the ground, " or yonder in the 
 bush, towards the north. We've buried most of 'em. The 
 rest have gone away. Them that we have here, don't come 
 out at night." 
 
 " The night air ain't quite wholesome, 1 suppose," said 
 Mark.
 
 382 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " It's deadly poison," was the settler's answer. 
 
 Mark showed no more uneasiness than if it had been com- 
 mended to him as ambrosia ; but he gave the man his arm, 
 and as they went along explained to him the nature of their 
 purchase, and inquired where it lay. Close to his own log- 
 house, he said ; so close that he had used their dwelling as a 
 store-house for some corn ; they must excuse it that night, but 
 he would endeavor to get it taken out upon the morrow. He 
 then gave them to understand, as an additional scrap of local 
 chit-chat, that he had buried the last proprietor with his own 
 hands ; a piece of information which Mark also received with- 
 out the least abatement of his equanimity. 
 
 In a word, he conducted them to a miserable cabin, rudely 
 constructed of the trunks of trees, the door of which had 
 either fallen down or been carried away long ago, and which 
 was consequently open to the wild landscape and the dark 
 night. Saving for the little store he had mentioned, it was 
 perfectly bare of all furniture ; but they had left a chest upon 
 the landing-place, and he gave them a rude torch in lieu of 
 candle. This latter acquisition Mark planted in the earth, 
 and then declaring that the mansion " looked quite comfort- 
 able," hurried Martin off again to help bring up the chest. 
 And all the way to the landing-place and back, Mark talked 
 incessantly, as if he would infuse into his partner's breast 
 some faint belief that they had arrived under the most auspi- 
 cious and cheerful of all imaginable circumstances. 
 
 But many a man who would have stood within a home 
 dismantled, strong in his passion and design of vengeance, 
 has had the firmness of his nature conquered by the razing of 
 an air-built castle. When the log-hut received them for the 
 second time, Martin lay down upon the ground, and wept 
 aloud. 
 
 " Lord love you, sir ! " cried Mr. Tapley, in great terror ; 
 " Don't do that ! Don't do that, sir ! Anything but that ! It 
 never helped man, woman, or child, over the lowest fence yet, 
 sir, and it never will. Besides its being of no use to you, it's 
 worse than of no use to me, for the least sound of it will knock 
 me flat down. I can't stand up agin it, sir. Anything but 
 that ! " 
 
 There is no doubt he spoke the truth, for the extraordi- 
 nary alarm with which he looked at Martin as he paused upon 
 his knees before the chest, in the act of unlocking it, to say 
 these words, sufficiently confirmed him.
 
 MARTnV CHUZZLEWIT. 383 
 
 " I ask your forgiveness a thousand times, my dear fellow," 
 said Martin. " I couldn't have helped it, if death had been 
 the penalty." 
 
 " Ask my forgiveness ! " said Mark, with his accustomed 
 cheerfulness, as he proceeded to unpack the chest. " The 
 head partner a asking forgiveness of Co., eh ? There must be 
 something wrong in the firm when that happens. I must ha\e 
 the books inspected, and the accounts gone over immediate. 
 Here we are. Everything in its proper place. Here's the 
 salt pork. Here's the biscuit. Here's the whiskey. Uncom- 
 mon good it smells too. Here's the tin pot. This tin pot's a 
 small fortun' in itself ! Here's the blankets. Here's the axe. 
 Who says we aui't got a first-rate fit out ? I feel as if I was 
 a cadet gone out to Indy, and my noble father was chairman 
 of the Board of Directors. Now, when I've got some water 
 from the stream afore the door and mixed the grog," cried 
 Mark, running out to suit the action to the word, " there's a 
 supper ready, comprising ever}^ delicacy of the season. Here 
 we are, sir, all complete. For what we are going to receive, 
 et cetrer. T^ord bless you, sir, it's very like a gipsy party ! " 
 
 It was impossible not to take heart, in the company of such 
 a man as this. Martin sat upon the ground beside the box, 
 took out his knife, and ate and drank sturdily. 
 
 "Now you see," said Mark, when they had made a hearty 
 meal, "with your knife and mine. I sticks this blanket right 
 afore tlie door, or where, in a stale of higli civilization, the 
 door would be. And very neat it looks. Then I stops the 
 aperture below, by putting the chest agin it. And very neat 
 that looks. Then there's your blanket, sir. I'hen here's 
 mine. And what's to hinder our passing a good night ? " 
 
 For all his light-hearted speaking, it was long before he 
 slept himself. He wrapped his blanket round him, put the 
 axe ready to his hand, and lay across the threshold of the 
 door, too anxious and too watchful to close his eyes. The 
 noveltv of their drearv situation, the dread of some rapacious 
 animal or human enemy, the terrible uncertainty of their means 
 of subsistence, the apprehension of death, the immense dis- 
 tance and the hosts of obstacles between themsehes and 
 England, were fruitful sources of disquiet in the deep silence 
 of the night. Though Martin would have had him think 
 otherwise, Mark felt that he was waking also, and a prey to 
 the same reflections. 'I'his was almost worse than all, for if 
 he began to brood over their miseries instead of trying to
 
 384 MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 make head against them, there could be little doubt that such 
 a state of mind would powerfully assist the influence of the 
 pestilent climate. Never had the light of day been half so 
 welcome to his eyes, as when awakening from a fitful doze, 
 Mark saw it shining through the blanket in the doorway. 
 
 He stole out gently, for his companion was sleeping now ; 
 and having refreshed himself by washing in the river, where it 
 flowed before the door, took a rough survey of the settlement. 
 There were not above a score of cabins in the whole ; half of 
 these appeared untenanted ; all were rotten and decayed. 
 The most tottering, abject, and forlorn among them, was 
 called, with great propriety, the Bank, and National Credit 
 Office. It had some feeble props about it, but was settling 
 deep down in the mud, past all recovery. 
 
 Here and there, an effort had been made to clear the land, 
 and something like a field had been marked out, where, among 
 the stumps and ashes of burnt trees, a scanty crop of Indian 
 corn was growing. In some quarters, a snake or zigzag fence 
 had been begun, but in no instance had it been completed ; 
 and the fallen logs, half hidden in the soil, lay mouldering 
 away. Three or four meagre dogs, wasted and vexed witli 
 hunger ; some long-legged pigs, wandering away into the 
 woods in search of food ; some children, nearly naked, gazing 
 at him from the huts, were all the li\ing things he saw. A 
 fetid vapor, hot and sickening as the breath of an oven, rose 
 up from the earth, and hung on everything around ; and as 
 his foot-prints sunk into the marshy ground, a black ooze 
 started forth to blot them out. 
 
 Their own land was mere forest. The trees had grown 
 so thick and close that they shouldered one another out of 
 their places, and the weakest, forced into shapes of strange 
 distortion, languished like cripples. The best were stunted, 
 from the pressure and the want of room ; and high about the 
 stems of all, grew long rank grass, clank weeds, and frowsy 
 underwood, not devisable into their separate kinds, but 
 tangled all together in a heap ; a jungle deep and dark, witli 
 neither earth nor water at its roots, but putrid matter, formed 
 of the pulpy offal of the two, and of their own corruption. 
 
 He went down to the landing-place where they had left 
 their goods last night, and there he found some half-dozen 
 men — wan and forlorn to look at, but ready enough to assist 
 — who helped him to carry them to the log-house. Theyshook 
 their heads in speaking of the settlement, and had no comfort
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 385 
 
 to give him. Those who had the means of going away, had 
 all deserted it. They who were left, had lost their wives, their 
 children, friends, or brothers there, and suffered much them- 
 selves. Most of them were ill then ; none were the men they 
 had been once. They frankly offered their assistance and 
 advice, and, leaving him for that time, went sadly off upon their 
 several tasks. 
 
 Martin was by this time stirring ; but he had greatly 
 changed, even in one night. He was ver}^ pale and languid ; 
 he spoke of pains and weakness in his limbs, and complained 
 that his sight was dim, and his voice feeble. Increasing in 
 his own briskness as the prospect grew more and more dismal, 
 Mark brought away a door from one of the deserted houses, 
 and fitted it to their own habitation ; then went back again 
 for a rude bench he had observed, with which he presently 
 returned in triumph ; and having put this piece of furniture 
 outside the house, arranged the notable tin-pot and other such 
 movables upon it, that it might represent a dresser or a side- 
 board. Greatly satisfied with this arrangement, he next rolled 
 their cask of flour into the house, and set it up on end in one 
 corner, where it served for a side table. No better dining- 
 table could be required than the chest, which he solemnly 
 devoted to that useful service thenceforth. Their blankets, 
 clothes, and the Jike, he hung on pegs and nails. And lastly, 
 he brought forth a great placard (which Martin in the exulta- 
 tion of his heart had prepared with his own hands at the 
 National Hotel), bearing the inscription, Chuzzlewit & Co., 
 Architects and Surveyors, which he displayed upon the 
 most conspicuous part of the premises, with as much gravity 
 as if the thriving city of Eden had a real existence, and they 
 expected to be overwhelmed with business. 
 
 "These here tools," said Mark, bringing forward Martin's 
 case of instruments and sticking the compasses upright in a 
 stump before the door, " shall be set out in the open air to 
 show that we come provided. And now, if any gentleman 
 wants a house built, he'd better give his orders, afore we're 
 other ways bespoke." 
 
 Considering the intense heat of the weather, this was not 
 a bad morning's work ; but without pausing for a moment, 
 though he was streaming at e\ery pore, Mark vanished into 
 the house again, and presently reappeared with a hatchet, 
 intent on performing some impossibilities with that implement. 
 
 " Here's a ugly old tree in the way, sir," he observed, 
 
 2!;
 
 386 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " which'll be all the better down. We can build the oven in 
 the afternoon. There never was such a handy spot for clay 
 as Eden is. That's convenient, anyhow." 
 
 But Martin gave him no answer. He had sat the whole 
 time with his head upon his hands, gazing at the current as it 
 rolled swiftly by ; thinking, perhaps, how fast it moved towards 
 the open sea, the high road to the home he never would be- 
 hold again. 
 
 Not even the vigorous strokes which Mark dealt at the 
 tree, awoke him from his mournful meditation. Finding all 
 his endeavors to rouse him of no use, Mark stopped in his work 
 and came towards him. 
 
 " Don't give in, sir," said Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " Oh, Mark," returned his friend, " What have I done in 
 all my life that has deserved this heavy fate ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," returned Mark, "for the matter of that, ev'ry- 
 body as is here might say the same thing ; many of 'em with 
 better reason p'raps than you or me. Hold up, sir. Do 
 something. Couldn't you ease your mind, now, don't you 
 think, by making some personal obserwations in a letter to 
 Scadder t " 
 
 " No," said Martin, shaking his head sorrowfully, " I am 
 past that." 
 
 "But if you're past that already," returned Mark, "you 
 must be ill, and ought to be attended to." 
 
 " Don't mind me," said Martin. " Do the best you can 
 for yourself. You'll soon have only yourself to consider, 
 And then God speed you home, and forgive me for bringing 
 you here ! I am destined to die in this place. I felt it the 
 instant I set foot upon the shore. Sleeping or waking, Mark, 
 I dreamed it all last night." 
 
 " I said you must be ill," returned Mark, tenderly, " and 
 now I'm sure of it. A touch of fever and ague caught on these 
 rivers, I daresay ; but bless you, ^//afs nothing. It's only a 
 seasoning ; and we must all be seasoned, one way or another. 
 That's religion, that is, you know," said Mark. 
 
 He only sighed and shook his head. 
 
 " Wait half a minute," said Mark cheerily, " till I run up 
 to one of our neighbors and ask what's best to be took, and 
 borrow a little of it to give you ; and to-morrow you'll find 
 yourself as strong as ever again. I won't be gone a minute. 
 Don't give in, while I'm away, whatever you do ! " 
 
 Throwing down his hatchet, he sped away immediately,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 387 
 
 but stopped when he had got a Httle distance, and looked 
 back : then hurried on again. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Tapley," said Mark, giving himself a tremen- 
 dous blow in the chest by way of reviver, " just you attend to 
 what I've got to say. Things is looking about as bad as they 
 can look, young man. You'll not have such another oppor- 
 tunity for showing your jolly disposition, my fine fellow, as 
 long as you live. And therefore, Tapley Now's your time to 
 come out strong ; or Never 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ■REPORTS PROGRESS IN CERTAIN HOMELY MATTERS OF LOVE, 
 HATRED, JEALOUSY, AND REVENGE. 
 
 Hallo, Pecksniff ! " cried Mr. Jonas from the parlor. 
 " Isn't somebody agoing to open that precious old door of 
 yours? " 
 
 " Immediately, Mr. Jonas. Immediately." 
 
 "Ecod," muttered the orphan, "not before it's time 
 neither. Whoever it is, has knocked three times, and each 
 one loud enough to wake the — " he had such a repugnance to 
 the idea of waking the Dead, that he stopped even then with 
 the words upon his tongue, and said, instead, " the Seven 
 Sleepers." 
 
 " Immediately, Mr. Jonas ; immediately," repeated Peck- 
 sniff. " Thomas Pinch " — he couldn't make up his mind, in 
 in his great agitation whether to call Tom his dear friend or a 
 villain, so he shook his fist at him pro tern. — " go up to my 
 daughters' room, and tell them who is here. Say, Silence. 
 Silence ! Do you hear me, sir ? " 
 
 " Directly, sir ! " cried Tom, departing, in a state of much 
 amazement, on his errand. 
 
 "You'll — ha ha ha! — you'll excuse me, Mr. Jonas, if I 
 close this door a moment, will you .^ " said Pecksniflf. " This 
 may be a professional call. Indeed I am pretty sure it is. 
 Thank you." Then Mr. Pecksniff, gently warbling a rustic 
 Stave, put on his garden hat, seized a spade, and opened the
 
 388 ^^AJ? TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 street door, calmly appearing on the threshold, as if he thought 
 he had, from his vineyard, heard a modest rap, but was not 
 quite certain. 
 
 Seeing a gentleman and. lady before him, he started back 
 in as much confusion as a good man with a crystal conscience 
 might betray in mere surprise. Recognition came upon him 
 the next moment, and he cried : 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit ! Can I believe my eyes ! My dear 
 sir ; my good sir ! A jo^iul hour, a happy hour indeed. Pray, 
 my dear sir, walk in. You find me in my garden-dress. You 
 will excuse it, I know. It is an ancient pursuit, gardening. 
 Primitive, my dear sir ; for, if I am not mistaken, Adam was the 
 first of our calling. My Eve, I grieve to say, is no more, sir ; 
 but " — here he pointed to his spade, and shook his head, as if 
 he were not cheerful without an effort — " but I do a little bit 
 of Adam still." 
 
 He had by this time got them into the best parlor, where 
 the portrait by Spiller, and the bust by Spoker were. 
 
 " My daughters," said Mr. Pecksniff, " will be overjoyed. 
 If I could feel weary upon such a theme, I should have been 
 worn out long ago, my dear sir, by their constant anticipation 
 of this happiness, and their repeated allusions to our meeting 
 at Mrs. Todgers's. Their fair young friend, too," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, " whom they so desire to know and love — indeed to 
 know her, is to love — I hope I see her well. I hope in saying, 
 ' Welcome to my humble roof ! ' I find some echo in her own 
 sentiments. If features are an index to the heart, I have no 
 fears of that. An extremely engaging expression of coun- 
 tenance, Mr. Chuzzlewit, my dear sir ; very much so ! " 
 
 " Mary," said the old man, " Mr. Pecksniff flatters you. 
 But flattery from him is worth the having. He is not a 
 dealer in it, and it comes from his heart. We thought 
 Mr. " 
 
 "Pinch," said Mary. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch would have arrived before us, Pecksniff." 
 
 " He did arrive before you, my dear sir," retorted Peck- 
 sniff,- raising his voice for the edification of Tom upon the 
 stairs, "and was about, I dare say, to tell me of your coming, 
 when I begged him first to knock at my daughters' chamber, 
 and inquire after Charity, my dear child, who is not so well 
 as I could wish. No," said Mr. Pecksniff, answering their 
 looks. " I am sorry to say, she is not. It is merely an hyster- 
 ical affection ; nothing more. I am not uneasy. Mr. Pinch !
 
 MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. 389 
 
 Thomas ! " exclaimed Pecksniff, in his kindest accents. " Pray 
 come in. I shall make no stranger of you. Thomas is a 
 friend of mine, of rather long-standing, \\x. Chuzzlewit, you 
 must know." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Tom. " You introduce me- very 
 kindly, and speak of me in terms of which I am veiy proud." 
 
 " Old Thomas ! " cried his master, pleasantly. " God 
 bless you ! " 
 
 Tom reported that the young ladies would appear directly, 
 and that the best refreshments which the house afforded were 
 even then in preparation, under their joint superintendence. 
 While he was speaking, the old man looked at him intently, 
 though with less harshness than was common to him ; nor 
 did the mutual embarrassment of Tom and the }'oung lady, to 
 whatever cause he attributed it, seem to escape his observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Pecksniff," he said after a pause, rising and taking him 
 aside towards the window, " I was much shocked on hearing 
 of my brother's death. We had been strangers for many 
 years. My only comfort is, that he must have lived the hap- 
 pier and better man for having associated no hopes or schemes 
 with me. Peace to his memory ! We were playfellows once ; 
 and it would have been better for us both if we had died 
 then." 
 
 Finding him in this gentle mood, Mr. Pecksniff began to 
 see another way out of his diihculties, besides the casting 
 overboard of Jonas. 
 
 " That any man, my dear sir, could possibly be the happier 
 for not knowing you," he returned, "you will excuse my 
 doubting. But that Mr. Anthony, in the evening of his life, 
 was happier in the affection of liis excellent son — a pattern, 
 my dear sir, a pattern to all sons — and in the care of a distant 
 relation, who, however lowly in his means of serving him, had 
 no bounds to his inclination : /can inform you." 
 
 "How's this?" said the old man. "You are not a 
 legatee } " 
 
 " You don't," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a melancholy pres- 
 sure of his hand, " quite understand my nature yet, 1 find. 
 No, sir, I am not a legatee. 1 am proud to say I am not a 
 legatee. I am proud to say that neither of my children is a 
 legatee. And yet, sir, I was with him at his own request. Hi 
 understood me somewhat better, sir. He wrote and said, ' I 
 am sick. I am sinking. Come to me ! ' I went to him. I
 
 3go MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 sat beside his bed, sir, and I stood beside his grave. Yes, at 
 the risk of offending even yoti, I did it, sir. Tliough the 
 avowal should lead to our instant separation, and to the sever- 
 ing of those tender ties between us which have recently been 
 formed, I make it. But I am not a legatee," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, smiling dispassionately ; " and I never expected to be a 
 legatee. I knew better ! " 
 
 " His son a pattern ! " cried old Martin. " How can you 
 tell me that ? My brother had in his wealth the usual doom 
 of wealth, and root of misery. He carried his corrupting in- 
 fluence with him, go where he would ; and shed it round him, 
 even on his hearth. It made of his own child a greedy ex- 
 pectant, who measured every day and hour the lessening dis- 
 tance between his father and the grave, and cursed his tardy 
 progress on that dismal road." 
 
 " No ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, boldly. " Not at all, sir ! " 
 
 " But I saw that shadow in his house," said Martin Chuz- 
 zlewit, " the last time we met, and warned him of its presence. 
 I know it when I see it, do I not .'' I, who have lived within 
 it all these years ! " 
 
 " I deny it," Mr. Pecksniff answered, warmly. " I deny it 
 altogether. That bereaved young man is now in this house, 
 sir, seeking in change of scene the peace of mind he has lost. 
 Shall I be backward in doing justice to that young man, when 
 even undertakers and coffin-makers have been moved by the 
 conduct he has exhibited ; when even mutes have spoken in 
 his praise, and the medical man hasn't known what to do with 
 himself in the excitement of his feelings ! There is a person 
 of the name of Gamp, sir — Mrs. Gamp — ask her. She saw 
 Mr. Jonas in a trying time. Ask her, sir. She is respectable, 
 but not sentimental, and will state the fact. A line addressed 
 to Mrs. Gamp, at the Bird-shop, Kingsgate Street, High Hol- 
 born, London, will meet with every attention, I have no doubt. 
 Let her be examined, my good sir. Strike, but hear ! Leap, 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit, but look ! Forgive me, my dear sir," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, taking both his hands, " if I am warm ; but I 
 am honest, and must state the truth." 
 
 In proof of the character he gave himself, Mr. Pecksniff 
 suffered tears of honesty to ooze out of his eyes. 
 
 The old man gazed at him for a moment with a look of 
 wonder, repeating to himself, " Here now ! In this house ! " 
 But he mastered his surprise, and said, after a pause : 
 
 " Let me see him." 
 
 ^
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 391 
 
 In a friendly spirit, I hope ? " said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " Forgive me, sir, but he is in the receipt of my liumble hos- 
 pitahty." 
 
 " I said," repHed the old man, " let me see him. If I 
 were disposed to regard him in any other than a friendly 
 spirit, I should have said, keep us apart." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear sir. So you would. You are frank- 
 ness itself, I know. I will break this happiness to him," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, as he left the room, " if you will excuse me for 
 a minute, gently." 
 
 He paved the way to the disclosure so very gently, that a 
 quarter of an hour elapsed before he returned with Mr. Jonas. 
 In the meantime the young ladies had made their appearance, 
 and the table had been set out for the refreshment of the 
 travellers. 
 
 Now, however well Mr Pecksniff, in his morality, had 
 taught Jonas the lesson of dutiful behavior to his uncle, and 
 however perfectly Jonas, in the cunning his nature, had learnt 
 it, that young man's bearing, when presented to his father's 
 brother, was anything but manly or engaging. Perhaps, in- 
 deed, so singular a mixture of defiance and obsequiousness, 
 of fear and hardihood, of dogged sullenness and an attempt at 
 cringing and propitiation, never was expressed in any one 
 human figure as in that of Jonas, when, having raised his 
 downcast eyes to Martin's face, he let them fall again, and 
 uneasily closing and unclosing his hands without a moment's 
 intermission, stood swinging himself from side to side, waiting 
 to be addressed. 
 
 " Nephew," said the old man. " You have been a dutiful 
 son, I hear." 
 
 " As dutiful as sons in general, I suppose," returned 
 Jonas, looking up and down once more. " I don't brag to 
 have been any better than other sons ; but I haven't been any 
 worse I dare say." 
 
 "A pattern to all sons, I am told," said the old man, 
 glancing towards Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Ecod ! " said Jonas, looking up again for a moment, and 
 shaking his head, " I've been as good a son as ever you were 
 a brother. It's the pot and the kettle, if you come to that." 
 
 " You speak bitterly, in the violence of your regret," said 
 Martin, after a pause. " Give me your hand." 
 
 Jonas did so, and was almost at his ease. " Pecksniff," 
 he whispered, as they drew their chairs about the table : *'I
 
 392 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 gave him as good as he brought, eh ? He had better look at 
 home, before he looks out of window, I think ? " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff only answered by a nudge of the elbow, 
 which might either be construed into an indignant remon- 
 strance or a cordial assent ; but which, in any case, was an 
 emphatic admonition to his chosen son-in-law to be silent. 
 He then proceeded to do the honors of the house with his ac- 
 customed ease and amiability. 
 
 But not even Mr. Pecksniff's guileless merriment could 
 set such a party at their ease, or reconcile materials so utterly 
 discordant and conflicting as those with which he had to deal. 
 The unspeakable jealousy and hatred which that night's ex- 
 planation had sown in Charity's breast, was not to be so 
 easily kept down ; and more than once it showed itself in 
 such intensity, as seemed to render a full disclosure of all the 
 circumstances then and there, impossible to be avoided. The 
 beauteous Merry, too, with all the glory of her conquest fresh 
 upon her, so j^robed and lanced the rankling disappointment 
 of her sister by her capricious airs, and thousand little trials 
 of Mr. Jonas's obedience, that she almost goaded her into a 
 fit of madness, and obliged her to retire from table in a burst 
 of passion, hardly less vehement than that to which she had 
 abandoned herself in the first tumult of her wrath. The con- 
 straint imposed upon the family by the presence among them 
 for the first time of Mary Graham (for by that name old Mar- 
 tin Chuzzlewit had introduced her) did not at all improve this 
 state of things ; gentle and quiet though her manner was. 
 Mr. Pecksniff's situation was peculiarly tr}ang ; for, what with 
 having constantly to keep the peace between his daughters ; 
 to maintain a reasonable show of affection and unity in his 
 household ; to curb the growing ease and gaiety of Jonas, 
 which vented itself in sundry insolences towards Mr. Pinch, 
 and an indefinable coarseness of manner in reference to Mary 
 (they being the two dependants) ; to make no mention at all 
 of his having perpetually to conciliate his rich old relative, 
 and to smooth down, or explain away, some of the ten thou- 
 sand bad appearances and combinations of bad appearances-, 
 by which they were surrounded on that unlucky evening — ■ 
 what with having to do this, and it would be difficult to sum 
 up how much more, without the least relief or assistance from 
 anybody, it may be easily imagined that Mr. Pecksniff had in 
 his enjoyment something more than that usual portion of alloy 
 which is mixed up with the best of men's delights. Perhaps
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 393 
 
 he had never in his life felt such relief as when old Martin, 
 looking at his watch, announced that it was time to go. 
 
 "We have rooms," he said, "at the Dragon, for (he pres- 
 ent. 1 have a fancy for the evening walk. The nights are 
 dark just now : perhaps Mr. Pinch would not object to light 
 us home ? " 
 
 " My dear sir ! " cried Pecksniff, " / shall be delighted. 
 Merry, my child, the lantern." 
 
 "The lantern, if you please, my dear," said Martin ; " but 
 I couldn't think of taking your father out of doors to-night ; 
 and, to be brief, I won't." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff already had his hat in his hand, but it was 
 so emphatically said that he paused. 
 
 "I take Mr.- Pinch, or go alone," said Martin. "Which 
 shall it be ? ' 
 
 "It shall be Thomas, sir," cried Pecksniff, " since you are 
 so resolute upon it. Thomas, my friend, be very careful, if 
 you please." 
 
 Tom was in some need of this injunction, for he felt so 
 nervous, and trembled to such a degree, that he found it diffi- 
 cult to hold the lantern. How much more difficult when, at 
 the old man's bidding, she drew her hand through his, Tom 
 Pinch's, arm ! 
 
 " And so, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, on the way, " you are 
 veiy comfortably situated here ; are you ? " 
 
 Tom answered, with even more than his usual enthusiasm, 
 that he was under obligations to Mr. Pecksniff which the de- 
 votion of a lifetime would but imperfectly repay. 
 
 " How long have you known my nephew ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " Your nephew, sir ! " faltered Tom. 
 
 "Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit," said Mary. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes," cried Tom, greatly relieved, for his mind 
 was running upon Martin. " Certainly. 1 never spoke to him 
 before to-night, sir ! " 
 
 " Perhaps half a lifetime will suffice for the acknowledgment 
 of his kindness," observed the old man. 
 
 Tom felt that this was a rebuff for him, and could nofbut 
 understand it as a left-handed hit at his employer. So he was 
 silent. Mary felt that Mr. Pinch was not remarkable for 
 presence of mind, and that he could not say too little under 
 existing circumstances. So she was silent. The old man dis- 
 gusted by what in his suspicious nature he considered a shame- 
 less and fulsome puff of Mr. Pecksniff, which was a part of
 
 394 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Tom's hired service and in which he was determined to perse- 
 vere, set him down at once for a deceitful, servile, miserable, 
 fawner. So he was silent. And though they were all suffi- 
 ciently uncomfortable, it is fair to say that Martin was per- 
 haps the most so ; for he had felt kindly towards Tom at first, 
 and had been interested by his seeming simplicity. 
 
 " You're like the rest," he thought, glancing at the face of 
 the unconscious Tom. " You had nearly imposed upon me, 
 but you have lost your labor. You are too zealous a toad-eater, 
 and betray yourself, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 During the whole remainder of the walk, not another word 
 was spoken. First among the meetings to which Tom had 
 long looked forward with a beating heart, it was memorable 
 for nothing but embarrassment and confusion. They parted 
 at the Dragon door ; and sighing as he extinguished the candle 
 in the lantern, Tom turned back again over the gloomy fields. 
 
 As he approached the first stile, which was in a lonely 
 part, made very dark by a plantation of young firs, a man 
 slipped past him and went on before. Coming to the stile he 
 stopped, and took his seat upon it. Tom was rather startled, 
 and for a moment stood still ; but he stepped forward again 
 immediately, and went close up to him. 
 
 It was Jonas ; swinging his legs to and fro, sucking the 
 head of a stick, and looking with a sneer at Tom. 
 
 " Good gracious me ! " cried Tom, " who would have 
 thought of its being you ! You followed us, then t " 
 
 " What's that to you ?" said Jonas. " Go to the devil ! " 
 
 "You are not very civil, I think," remarked Tom. 
 
 " Civil enough iox you" retorted Jonas. " Who are you ? " 
 
 " One who has as good a right to common consideration 
 as another," said Tom, mildly. 
 
 " You're a liar," said Jonas. " You haven't a right to any 
 consideration. You haven't a right to anything. You're a 
 pretty sort of fellow to talk about your rights, upon my soul ! 
 Ha, ha ! Rights, too ! " 
 
 ." If you proceed in this way," returned Tom, reddening, 
 " yoii will oblige me to talk about my wrongs. But I hope 
 your joke is over." 
 
 " It's the way with you curs," said Mr. Jonas, " that when 
 you know a man's in real earnest, you pretend to think he's 
 joking, so that you may turn it off. But that won't do with 
 me. It's too stale. Now just attend to me for a bit, Mr. 
 Pitch, or Witch, or Stitch, or whatever your name is."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 395 
 
 " My name is Pinch," observed Tom. " Have the goodness 
 to call me by it." 
 
 " What ! You mustn't even be called out of your name, 
 mustn't you ! " cried Jonas. " Pauper 'prentices are looking 
 up, I think. Ecod, we manage 'em a little better in the 
 city ! " 
 
 " Never mind what you do in the city," said Tom. " What 
 have you got to say to me ? " 
 
 "Just this. Mister Pinch," retorted Jonas, thrusting his 
 face so close to Tom's that Tom was obliged to retreat a step, 
 " I advise you to keep your own counsel, and to avoid tittle- 
 tattle, and not to cut in where you're not wanted. I've heard 
 something of you, my friend, and your meek ways ; and I 
 recommend you to forget 'em till I am married to one of Peck- 
 snifif's gals, and not to curry favor among my relations, but to 
 leave the coast clear. You know, when curs won't leave the 
 course clear, they're whipped off ; so this is kind advice. Do 
 you understand ? Eh ? Damme, who are you," cried Jonas, 
 with increased contempt, " that you should walk home with 
 them, unless it was behind 'em, like any other servant out of 
 livery ? " 
 
 " Come ! " cried Tom, " I see that you had better get off 
 the stile, and let me pursue my way home. Make room for 
 me, if you please." 
 
 " Don't think it ! " said Jonas, spreading out his legs. 
 " Not till I choose. And I don't choose now. What ! You're 
 afraid of my making you split upon some of your babbling 
 just now, are you. Sneak ? " 
 
 "I am not afraid of many things, I hope," said Tom; 
 "and certainly not of anything that you will do. I am not a 
 tale-bearer, and I despise all meanness. You quite mistake 
 me. Ah ! " cried Tom, indignantly. " Is this manly from 
 one in your position to one in mine .'' Please to make room 
 for me to pass. The less I say, the better." 
 
 '' The less you say ! " retorted Jonas, dangling his legs the 
 more, and taking no heed of this request. " You say very 
 little, don't you } Ecod, I should like to know what goes on 
 between you and a vagabond member of my family. There's 
 very little in that too, I daresay ! " 
 
 " I know no vagabond member of your family," cried Tom, 
 stoutly. 
 
 " You do ! " said Jonas. 
 
 " I don't," said Tom. " Your uncle's namesake, if you
 
 396 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 mean him, is no vagabond. Any comparison between you and 
 him " — Tom snapped his fingers at him, for he was rising fast 
 in wrath — " is immeasurably to your disadvantage." 
 
 " Oh indeed ! " sneered Jonas. " And what do you think 
 of his deary, his beggarly leavings, eh. Mister Pinch ? " 
 
 " I don't mean to say another word, or stay here another 
 instant," replied Tom. 
 
 " As I told you before, you're a liar," said Jonas, coolly. 
 " You'll stay here till I give you leave to go. Now, keep 
 where you are, will you ? " 
 
 He flourished his stick over Tom's head ; but in a moment 
 it was spinning harmlessly in the air, and Jonas himself lay 
 sprawling in the ditch. In the momentary struggle for the 
 stick, Tom had brought it into violent contact with his op- 
 ponent's forehead ; and the blood welled out profusely from a 
 deep cut on the temple. Tom was first apprised of this by 
 seeing that he pressed his handkerchief to the wounded part, 
 and staggered as he rose, being stunned. 
 
 " Are you hurt ? " said Tom. " 1 am very sorr}-. Lean 
 on me for a moment. You can do that without forgiving me, 
 if you still bear me malice. But I don't know why ; for I 
 never offended you before we met on this spot." 
 
 He made him no answer, not appearing at first to under- 
 stand him, or even to know that he was hurt, though he 
 several times took his handkerchief from the cut to look va- 
 cantly at the blood upon it. After one of these examinations, 
 he looked at Tom^ and then tliere was an expression in his 
 features, which showed that he understood what had taken 
 place, and would remember it. 
 
 Nothing more passed between them as they went home. 
 Jonas kept a little in advance, and Tom Pinch sadly followed, 
 thinking of the grief which the knowledge of this quarrel must 
 occasion his excellent benefactor. When Jonas knocked at the 
 door, Tom's heart beat high ; higher when Miss Mercy an- 
 swered it, and seeing her wounded lover, shrieked aloud ; 
 higher, when he followed them into the family parlor; higher 
 than at any other time, when Jonas spoke. 
 
 ■ "Don't make a noise about it," he said. "It's nothing 
 worth mentioning. I didn't know the road ; the night's very 
 dark ; and just as I came up with Mr. Pinch " — he turned 
 his face towards Tom, but not his eyes — " I ran against a tree. 
 It's only skin deep." 
 
 Cold water, Merry, my child ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 (' ;
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 397 
 
 " Brown paper ! Scissors! A piece of old linen ! Charity, 
 my clear, make a bandage. Bless me, Mr. Jonas ! " 
 
 " Oh, bother jw/r nonsense," returned the gracious son- 
 in-law elect. " Be of some use if you can. If you can't, get 
 out ! " 
 
 Miss Charity, though called upon to lend her aid, sat up- 
 right in one corner, with a smile upon her face, and didn't 
 move a finger. Though Mercy laved the wound herself ; and 
 Mr. Pecksniff held the patient's head between his two hands, 
 as if without that assistance it must inevitably come in half ; 
 and Tom Pinch, in his guilty agitation, shook a bottle of 
 Dutch Drops until they were nothing but English Froth, and 
 in his other hand sustained a formidable carving-knife," really 
 intended to reduce the swelling, but apparently designed for 
 the ruthless infliction of another wound as soon as that was 
 dressed ; Charity rendered not the least assistance, nor uttered 
 a word. But when Mr. Jonas's head was bound up, and he 
 had gone to bed, and everybody else had retired, and the 
 house was quiet, Mr. Pinch, as he sat mournfully on his bed- 
 stead, ruminating, heard a gentle tap at his door ; and open- 
 ing it, saw her, to his great astonishment, standing before him 
 with her finger on her lip. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch," she whispered. " Dear Mr. Pinch ! Tell 
 me the truth ! You did that ? There was some quarrel be- 
 tween you, and you struck him .'' I am sure of it ! " 
 
 It was the first time she had ever spoken kindly to Tom, 
 in all the many years they had passed together. He was 
 stupefied with amazement. 
 
 " Was it so, or not ? " she eagerly demanded. 
 
 " I was very much provoked," said Tom. 
 
 " Then it was ? " cried Charity, with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " Ye-yes. We had a struggle for the path," said Tom. 
 " But I didn't mean to hurt him so much." 
 
 " Not so much ! " she repeated, clenching her hand and 
 stamping her foot, to Tom's great wonder. " Don't say that. 
 It was brave of you. I honor you for it. If you should ever 
 quarrel again, don't spare him for the world, but beat him 
 down and set your shoe upon him. Not a word of this to 
 anybody. Dear Mr. Pinch, I am your friend from to-night. 
 I am always your friend from tliis time." 
 
 She turned her flushed face upon Tom to confirm her words 
 by its kindling expression ; and seizing his right hand, pressed 
 it to her breast, and kissed it. And there was nothing per
 
 398 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 sonal in this to render it at all embarrassing, for even Tom, 
 whose power of observation was by no means remarkable, 
 knew from the energy with which she did it that she would 
 have fondled any hand, no matter how bedaubed or dyed, that 
 had broken the head of Jonas Chuzzlewit. 
 
 Tom went into his room, and went to bed, full of uncom- 
 fortable thoughts. That there should be any such tremendous 
 division in the family as he knew must have taken place to 
 convert Charity Pecksniff into his friend, for any reason, but, 
 above all, for that which was clearly the real one ; that Jonas, 
 who had assailed him with such exceeding coarseness, should 
 have been sufficiently magnanimous to keep the secret of their 
 quarrel ; and that any train of circumstances should have led 
 to the commission of an assault and battery by Thomas Pinch 
 upon any man calling himself the friend of Seth Pecksniff ; 
 were matters of such deep and painful cogitation, that he 
 could not close his eyes. His own violence, in particular, so 
 preyed upon the generous mind of Tom, that coupling it with 
 the many former occasions on which he had given Mr. Peck- 
 sniff pain and anxiety (occasions of which that gentleman 
 often reminded him), he really began to regard himself as 
 destined by a mysterious fate to be the evil genius and bad 
 angel of his patron. But he fell asleep at last, and dreamed 
 — new source of waking uneasiness — that he had betrayed his 
 trust, and run away with Mary Graham. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that, asleep or awake, Tom's 
 position in reference to this young lady was full of uneasiness. 
 The more he saw of her, the more fee admired her beauty, her 
 intelligence, the amiable qualities that even won on the divided 
 house of Pecksniff, and in a few days restored at all events the 
 semblance of harmony and kindness between the angry 
 sisters. When she spoke, Tom held his breath, so eagerly he 
 listened ; when she sang, he sat like one entranced. She 
 touched his organ, and from that bright epoch, even it, the 
 old companion of his happiest hours, incapable as he had 
 thought of elevation, besfan a new and deified existence. 
 
 God's love upon thy patience, Tom ! Who, that had be- 
 held thee, for three summer weeks, poring through half the 
 deadlong night over the jingling anatomy of that inscrutable 
 old harpsichord in the back parlor, could have missed the en- 
 trance to thy secret heart, albeit it was dimly known to thee ? 
 Who that had seen the glow upon thy cheek when leaning 
 down to listen, after hours of labor, for the sound of one in-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. jgg 
 
 corrigible note, thou foundest that it had a voice at last, and 
 wheezed out a flat something, distantly akin to what it ought 
 to be, would not have known that it was destined for no 
 common touch, but one that smote, though gently as an 
 angel's hand, upon the deepest chord within thee ! And if a 
 friendly glance — ay, even though it were as guileless as thine 
 own. Dear Tom— could but have pierced the twilight of that 
 evening, when, in a voice well tempered to the time, sad, 
 sweet, and low, yet hopeful, she first sang to the altered instru- 
 ment, and wondered at the change ; and thou, sitting apart at 
 the open window, kept a glad silence and a swelling heart : 
 must not that glance have read perforce the dawning of a 
 story, Tom, that^it were well for thee had ne\'er been begun ! 
 
 Tom Pinch's situation was not made the less dangerous or 
 difficult, by the fact of no one word passing between them in 
 reference to Martin. Honorably mindful of his promise, Tom 
 gave her opportunities of all kinds. Early and late he was in 
 the church, in her favorite walks, in the village, in the gar- 
 den, in the meadows ; and in any or all of these places he 
 might have spoken freely. But no : at all such times she 
 carefully avoided him, or never came in his way unaccom- 
 panied. It could not be that she disliked or distrusted him, 
 for by a thousand little delicate means, too slight for any no- 
 tice but his own, she singled him out when others were 
 present, and showed herself the very soul of kindness. Could 
 it be that she had broken with Martin, or had never returned 
 his affection, save in his own bold and heightened fancy? 
 Tom's cheek grew red with self-reproach, as he dismissed the 
 thought. 
 
 All this time old Martin came and went in his own strange 
 manner, or sat among the rest absorbed within himself, and 
 holding little intercourse with any one. Although he was un- 
 social, he was not wilful in other things, or troublesome, or 
 morose, being never better pleased than when they left him 
 quite unnoticed at his book, and pursued their own amuse- 
 ments in his presence, unreserved. It was impossible to 
 discern in whom he took an interest, or whether he had aw 
 interest in any of them. Unless they spoke to him directly, 
 he never showed that he had ears or eyes for an)'thing that 
 passed. 
 
 One day the lively Merry, silting with downcast eyes under 
 a shady tree in the churchyard, whither she had retired after 
 fatiguing herself by the imposition of sundry trials on the
 
 ^oo MARTIN CHUZZLEWn. 
 
 temper of Mr. Jonas, felt that a new shadow came between 
 her and the sun. Raising her eyes in the expectation of see- 
 ing her betrothed, she was not a little surprised to see old 
 Martin instead. Her surprise was not diminished when he 
 took his seat upon the turf beside her, and opened a conver- 
 sation thus : 
 
 " When are you to be married ? " 
 
 " Oh ! dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, my goodness me ! I'm sure 
 I don't know. Not yet awhile, I hope." 
 
 " You hope ? " said the old man. 
 
 It was very gravely said, but she took it for banter, and 
 giggled excessively. 
 
 " Come ! " said the old man, with unusual kindness, " you 
 are young, good-looking, and I think good-natured ! Frivol- 
 ous you are, and love to be, undoubtedly \ but you must have 
 some heart." 
 
 " I have not given it all away, I can tell you," said Merry, 
 nodding her head shrewdly, and plucking up the grass. 
 
 " Have you parted with any of it ? " 
 
 She threw the grass about, and looked another way, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 Martin repeated his question. 
 
 " Lor, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit ! really you must excuse 
 me ! How \'ery odd you are." 
 
 " If it be odd in me to desire to know whether you love 
 the young man whom I understand you are to marr}', I am 
 very odd," said Martin. " For that is certainly my wish." 
 
 " He's such a monster, you know," said Merr}-, pouting. 
 
 " Then you don't love him ? " returned the old man. " Is 
 that your meaning ? " 
 
 " Why, my dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I'm sure I tell him a 
 hundred times a-day that I hate him. You must have heard 
 me tell him that." 
 
 " Often," said Martin. 
 
 " And so I do," cried Merry. " I do positively." 
 
 " Being at the same time engaged to many him," observed 
 the old man. 
 
 "Oh yes," said Merry. " But I told the wretch — my dear 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit, I told him when he asked me — that if I ever 
 did marr}'- him, it should only be that I might hate and teaze 
 him all my life." 
 
 She had a suspicion that the old man regarded Jonas with 
 anything but favor, and intended these remarks to be ex-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 401 
 
 tremely captivating. He did not appear, however, to regard 
 them in that light by any means ; for when he spoke again, it 
 was in a tone of severity. 
 
 " Look about you," he said, pointing to the graves ; " and 
 remember that from }our bridal hour to the day which sees 
 you brought as low as these, and laid in such a bed, there will 
 be no appeal against him. Think, and speak, and act, for 
 once, like an accountable creature. Is any control put upon 
 your inclinations ? Are you forced into this match ? Are 
 you insidiously advised or tempted to contract it, by any one .'' 
 I will not ask by whom. By any one ? " 
 
 "No," said Merry, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't 
 know that I am.'^ 
 
 " Don't know that you are ! Are you ? " 
 
 "No," replied INIerry. " Nobody ever said anything to 
 me about it. If any one had tried to make me have him, I 
 wouldn't have had him at all." 
 
 " I am told that he was at first supposed to be your sister's 
 admirer," said Martin. 
 
 " Oh, good gracious ! My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, it would 
 be very hard to make him, though he is a monster, account- 
 able for other people's vanity," said Merr}'. " And poor dear 
 Cherry is the vainest darling ! " 
 
 " It was her mistake, then ? " 
 
 "I hope it was," cried Merry ; "but, all along, the dear 
 child had been so dreadfully jealous, and so cross, that, upon 
 my word and honor, it's impossible to please her, and it's of 
 no use trying." 
 
 "Not forced, persuaded, or controlled," said Martin, 
 thoughtfully. " And that's true, I see. There is one chance 
 yet. You may have lapsed into this engagement in very 
 giddiness. It may have been the wanton act of a light head. 
 Is that so ? " 
 
 "My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," simpered Merry, "as to light- 
 headedness, there never was such a feather of a head as 
 mine. It's a perfect balloon, I declare ! You never did, you 
 know ! " 
 
 He waited quietly till she had finished, and then said, 
 steadily and slowly, and in a softened voice, as if he would still 
 invite her confidence : 
 
 " Have you any wish — or is there anything within your 
 breast that whispers you may form the wish, if you have time 
 to think — to be released from this engagement .'' " 
 
 26
 
 402 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Again Miss Merry pouted, and looked down, and plucked 
 the grass, and shrugged her shoulders. No. She didn't know 
 that she had. She was pretty sure she hadn't. Quite sure, 
 she might say. She " didn't mind it." 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you," said Martin, "that your 
 married life may perhaps be miserable, full of bitterness, and 
 most unhappy ? " 
 
 Merry looked down again : and now she tore the grass up 
 by the roots. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, what shocking words ! Of 
 course, I shall quarrel with him. I should quarrel with any 
 husband. Married people always quarrel, I believe. But as 
 to being miserable, and bitter, and all those dreadful things, 
 you know, why I couldn't be absolutely that, unless he always 
 had the best of it ; and I mean to have the best of it myself. 
 I always do now," cried Merry, nodding her head and giggling 
 very much ; " for I make a perfect slave of the creature." 
 
 " Let it go on," said Martin, rising. "Let it go on ! I 
 sought to know your mind, my dear, and you have shown it 
 me. I wish you joy. Joy ! " he repeated, looking full upon 
 her, and pointing to the wicket-gate where Jonas entered at 
 the moment. And then, without waiting for his nephew, he 
 passed out at another gate, and went away. 
 
 " Oh you terrible old man ! " cried the facetious Merry to 
 herself. " What a perfectly hideous monster to be wandering 
 about churchyards in the broad daylight, frightening people 
 out of their wits! Don't come here, Griffin, or I'll go away 
 directly." 
 
 Mr. Jonas was the Griffin. He sat down upon the grass 
 at her side, in spite of this warning, and sulkily inquired : 
 
 " What's my uncle been a talking about ? " 
 
 "About you," rejoined Merr}-. " He says you're not half 
 good enough for me." 
 
 "Oh yes, I dare say! We all know that. • He means to 
 give yovt some present worth having, I hope. Did he say any- 
 thing that looked like it ? " 
 
 " T/iathQ didn't ! " cried Merry, most decisively. 
 
 " A stingy old dog he is," said Jonas. " Well ? " 
 
 " Griffin ! " cried Miss Mercy, in counterfeit amazement ; 
 " what are you doing. Griffin ? " 
 
 " Only giving you a squeeze," said the discomfited Jonas. 
 " There's no harm in that, I suppose ? " 
 
 " But there is a great deal of harm in it, if I don't consider
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 403 
 
 it agreeable," returned his cousin. " Do go along, will you ? 
 You make me so hot ! " 
 
 Mr. Jonas withdrew his arm ; and for a moment looked at 
 her more like a murderer than a lover. But he cleared his 
 brow by degrees, and broke silence with : 
 
 " I say, Mel ! " 
 
 " What do you say, you vulgar thing, you low savage ? " 
 cried his fair betrothed. 
 
 "When is it to be.'' I can't afford to go on dawdling 
 about here half my life, I needn't tell you, and Pecksniff says 
 that father's being so lately dead makes very little odds ; for 
 we can be marcied as quiet as we please down here, and my 
 being lonely is a good reason to the neighbors for taking a 
 wife home so soon, especially one that he knew. As to cross- 
 bones (my uncle, I mean), he's sure not to put a spoke in the 
 wheel, whatever we settle on, for he told Pecksniff only this 
 morning, that if you liked it, he'd nothing at all to say. So, 
 Mel," said Jonas, venturing on another squeeze; "when 
 shall it be ? " 
 
 " Upon my word," cried Merry. 
 
 " Upon my soul, if you like," said Jonas. " What do you 
 say to next week, now ? " 
 
 " To next week ! If you had said next quarter, I should 
 have wondered at your impudence." 
 
 " But I didn't say next quarter," retorted Jonas. " I said 
 next week." 
 
 "Then, Griffin," cried Miss Merry, pushing him off, and 
 rising. " I say no ! not next week. It shan't be till 1 choose, 
 and I may not choose it to be for months. There ! " 
 
 He glanced up at her from the ground, almost as darkly 
 as he had looked at Tom Pinch \ but held his peace. 
 
 " No fright of a Griffin with a patch over his eye, shall 
 dictate to me, or have a voice in the matter," said Merry. 
 " There ! " 
 
 Still Mr. Jonas held his peace. 
 
 " If it's next month, that shall be the very earliest ; but I 
 won't say when it shall be till to-morrow ; and if you don't 
 like that, it shall never be at all," said Merry; "and if you 
 follow me about and won't leave me alone, it shall never be 
 at all. There ! And if you don't do ever}'thing I order you 
 to do, it shall never be at all. So don't follow me. There, 
 Griffin ! " 
 
 And with that, she skipped away among the trees.
 
 404 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Ecod, my lady ! " said Jonas, looking after her, and bit- 
 ing a piece of straw, almost to powder ; " you'll catch it for 
 this, when you are married ! It's all very well now — it keeps 
 one on, somehow, and you know it — but I'll pay you off scot 
 and lot by and by. This is a plaguy dull sort of a place for 
 a man to be sitting by himself in. I never could abide a 
 mouldy old churchyard." 
 
 As he turned into the avenue himself, Miss Merry, who 
 was far ahead, happened to look back. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Jonas, with a sullen smile, and a nod that 
 was not addressed to her. " Make the most of it while it 
 lasts. Get in your hay while the sun shines. Take your own 
 way as long as it's in your power, my lady ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IS IN PART PROFESSIONAL ; AND FURNISHES THE READER 
 WITH SOME VALUABLE HINTS IN RELATION TO THE 
 MANAGEMENT OF A SICK CHAMBER. 
 
 Mr. Mould was surrounded by his household gods. He 
 was enjoying the sweets of domestic repose, and gazing on 
 them with a calm delight. The day being sultry, and the 
 window open, the legs of Mr. Mould were on the window-seat 
 and his back reclined against the shutter. Over his shining 
 head a handkerchief was drawn, to guard his baldness from 
 the flies. The room was fragrant with the smell of punch, a 
 tumbler of which grateful compound stood upon a small 
 round table, convenient to the hand of Mr. Mould ; so deftly 
 mixed, that as his eye looked down into the cool transparent 
 drink, another eye, peering brightly from behind the crisp 
 lemon-peel, looked up at him, and twinkled like a star. 
 
 Deep in the City, and within the ward of ■ Cheap, stood 
 Mr. .Mould's establishment. His Harem, or, in other words, 
 the common sitting-room of Mrs. Mould and family, was at 
 the back, over the little counting-house behind the shop ; abut- 
 ting on a churchyard small and shady. In this domestic 
 chamber Mr. Mould now sat ; gazing, a placid man, upon his 
 punch and home. If for a moment at a time, he sought a 
 wider prospect, whence he might return with freshened zest
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 405 
 
 to these enjoyments, his moist glance wandered Uke a sun- 
 beam through a rural screen of scarlet runners, trained on 
 strings before the window ; and he looked down, with an 
 artist's eye, upon the graves. 
 
 The partner of his life, and daughters twain, were Mr. 
 Mould's companions. Plump as any partridge was each Miss 
 Mould, and Mrs. M. was plumper than the two together. So 
 round and chubby were their fair proportions, that they might 
 have been the bodies once belonging to the angels' faces in 
 the shop below, grown up, with other heads attached to make 
 them mortal. Even their peachy cheeks were puffed out and 
 distended, as though they ought of right to be performing on 
 celestial trumpets. The bodiless cherubs in the shop, who 
 were depicted as constantly blowing those instruments for 
 ever and ever without any lungs, played, it is to be presumed, 
 entirely by ear. 
 
 Mr. Mould looked lovingly at Mrs. Mould, who sat hard 
 by, and was a helpmate to him in his punch as in all other 
 things. Each seraph daughter, too, enjoyed her share of his 
 regards, and smiled upon him in return. So bountiful were 
 Mr. Mould's possessions, and so large his stock in trade, that 
 even there, within his household sanctuar)-, stood a cumbrous 
 press, whose mahogany maw was filled with shrouds, and 
 winding-sheets, and other furniture of funerals. ]]ut, though 
 the Misses Mould had been brought up, as one may say, 
 beneath his eye, it had cast no shadow on their timid infancy 
 or blooming youth. Sporting behind the scenes of death and 
 burial from cradlehood, the Misses Mould knew better. Hat- 
 bands, to them, were but so many yards of silk or crape ; the 
 final robe but such a quantity of linen. The Misses Mould 
 could idealize a player's habit, or a court-lady's petticoat, or 
 even an act of parliament. But they were not to be taken in 
 by palls. They made them sometimes. 
 
 The premises of Mr. Mould were hard of hearing to the 
 boisterous noises in the great main streets, and nestled in a 
 quiet corner, where the City strife became a drowsy hum, that 
 sometimes rose and sometimes fell and sometimes altogether 
 ceased ; suggesting to a thoughtful mind a stoppage in Cheap- 
 side. The light came sparkling in among the scarlet runners, 
 as if the chur«hyard winked at Mr. Mould, and said, " We 
 understand each other ; " and from the distant shop a pleasant 
 sound arose of coffin-making with a low melodious hammer, 
 rat, tat, tat, tat, alike promoting slumber and digestion.
 
 4o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Quite the buzz of insects," said Mr. Mould, closing his 
 eyes in a perfect luxury. "It puts one in mind of the sound 
 of animated nature in the agricultural districts. It's exactly 
 like the woodpecker tapping." 
 
 " The woodpecker tapping the hollow elm tree," observed 
 Mrs. Mould, adapting the words of the popular melody to the 
 description of wood commonly used in the trade. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Mould. " Not at all bad, my 
 dear. We shall be glad to hear from you again, Mrs. M. 
 Hollow elm tree, eh ? Ha, ha ! Very good indeed. I've 
 seen worse than that in the Sunday papers, my love." 
 
 Mrs. Mould, thus encouraged, took a little more of the 
 punch, and handed it to her daughters, who dutifully followed 
 the example of their mother. 
 
 " Hollow elm tree, eh .-' " said Mr. Mould, making a slight 
 motion with his legs in his enjoyment of the joke. " It's beech 
 in the song. Elm, eh ? Yes, to be sure. Ha, ha, ha ! Upon 
 my soul, that's one of the best things I know ! " He was so 
 excessively tickled by the jest that he couldn't forget it, but 
 repeated twenty times, " Elm, eh ? Yes, to be sure. Elm, of 
 course. Ha, ha, ha ! Upon my life, you know, that ought to 
 be sent to somebody who could make use of it. It's one of 
 the smartest things that ever was said. Hollow elm tree, eh ? 
 Of course. Very hollow. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Here a knock was heard at the room door. 
 
 "That's Tacker, / know," said Mrs. Mould, "by the 
 wheezing he makes. Who that hears him now, would sup- 
 pose he'd ever had wind enough to carry the feathers on his 
 head ! Come in, Tacker." 
 
 " Beg your pardon, ma'am," said Tacker, looking in a little 
 way. " I thought our Governor was here." 
 
 " Well ! so he is," cried Mould. 
 
 " Oh ! I didn't see you, I'm sure," said Tacker, looking in 
 a little farther. " You wouldn't be inclined to take a walking 
 one of two, with the plain wood and a tin plate, I suppose .? " 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Mr. Mould, " much too common. 
 Nothing to say to it." 
 
 " I told 'em it was precious low," observed Mr. Tacker. 
 
 " Tell 'em to go somewhere else. We don't do that style 
 of business here," said Mr. Mould. " Like tJieir impudence 
 to propose it. Who is it ? " 
 
 " Why," returned Tacker, pausing, " that's where it is, 
 you see. It's the beadle's son-in-law."
 
 MA R TIN- CHUZZLE WIT. 407 
 
 •' The beadle's son-in-law, eh ? " said Mould. " Well ! I'll 
 do it if the beadle follows in his cocked hat ; not else. We 
 carry it off that way, by looking official, but it'll be low enough 
 then. His cocked hat, mind ! " 
 
 "I'll take care, sir," rejoined Tacker. "Oh! Mrs. 
 Gamp's below, and wants to speak to you." 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Gamp to come up stairs," said Mould. " Now, 
 Mrs. Gamp, what's your news .'' " 
 
 The lady in question was by this time in the doorway, 
 curtseying to Mrs. Mould. At the same moment a peculiar 
 fragrance was borne upon the breeze, as if a passing fairy 
 had hiccoughed, and had previously been to a wine-vault. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp made no response to Mr. Mould, but curtseyed 
 to Mrs. Mould again, and held up her hands and eyes, as in a 
 devout thanksgiving that she looked so well. She was neatly, 
 but not gaudily attired, in the weeds she had worn when Mr. 
 Pecksniff had the pleasure of making her acquaintance ; and 
 was perhaps the turning of a scale more snuffy. 
 
 " There are some happy creeturs," Mrs. Gamp observed, 
 " as time runs back'ards with, and you are one, Mrs. Mould ; 
 not that he need do nothing except use you in his most 
 owldacious way for years to come, I'm sure; for young you 
 are and will be. I says to Mrs. Harris," Mrs. Gamp con- 
 tinued, " only t'other day ; the last Monday evening fortnight 
 as ever dawned upon this Piljian's Projiss of a mortal wale ; I 
 says to Mrs. Harris when she says to me, ' Years and our 
 trials, Mrs. Gamp, sets marks upon us all.' — ' Say not the 
 words, Mrs. Harris, if you and me is to be continual friends, 
 for sech is not the case. Mrs. Mould,' I says, making so 
 free, I will confess, as use the name," (she curtseyed here), 
 "'is one of them that goes agen the obserwation straight; 
 and never, Mrs. Harris, whilst I've a drop of breath to draw, 
 will I set by, and not stand up, don't think it.' — ' I ast your 
 pardon, ma'am,' says Mrs. Harris, ' and I humbly grant your 
 grace ; for if ever a woman lived as would see lier feller creeturs 
 into fits to serve her friends, well do I know that woman's 
 name is Sairey Gamp.' " 
 
 At this point she was fain to stop for breath ; and advan- 
 tage may be taken of the circumstance, to state that a fearful 
 mystery surrounded this lady of the name of Harris, whom no 
 one in the circle of Mrs. Gamp's acquaintance had ever seen ; 
 neither did any human being know her place of residence, 
 though Mrs. Gamp appeared on her own showing to be in
 
 4oS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 constant communication with her. There were conflicting 
 rumors on the subject; but the prevalent opinion was that she 
 was a phantom of Mrs. Gamp's brain — as Messrs. Doe and 
 Roe are fictions of the law — created for the express purpose 
 of holding visionar}^ dialogues with her on all manner of sub- 
 jects, and invariably winding up with a compliment to the ex- 
 cellence of her nature. 
 
 " And likeways what a pleasure," said Mrs. Gamp, turning 
 with a tearful smile towards the daughters, "to see them two 
 young ladies as I know'd afore a tooth in their pretty heads 
 was cut, and have many a day seen — ah, the sweet creeturs ! — 
 playing at berryins down in the shop, and follerin' the order- 
 book to its long home in the iron safe ! But that's all past 
 and over, Mr. Mould ; " as she thus got in a carefully regu- 
 lated routine to that gentleman, she shook head waggishly ; 
 " That's all past and over now, sir, an't it ? " 
 
 " Changes, Mrs. Gamp, changes ! " returned the under- 
 taker. 
 
 " More changes too, to come, afore we've done with changes, 
 sir," said Mrs. Gamp, nodding yet more waggishly than before. 
 " Young ladies with such faces thinks of something else besides 
 berryins, don't they, sir? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, Mrs. Gamp," said Mould, with 
 a chuckle. — " Not bad in Mrs. Gamp, my dear.? " 
 
 "Oh yes, you do know, sir!" said Mrs. Gamp, "and so 
 does Mrs. Mould, your ansome pardner too, sir ; and so do I, 
 although the blessing of a daughter was deniged me ; which, if 
 we had had one. Gamp would certainly have drunk its little 
 shoes right off its feet, as with our precious boy he did, and 
 arterwards send the child a errand to sell his wooden leg for 
 any money it would fetch as matches in the rough, and bring 
 it home in liquor : which was truly done beyond his years, for 
 ev'ry individgle penny that child lost at toss or buy for kidney 
 ones ; and come I.ome arterwards quite bold, to break the 
 news, and offering to drown himself if that would be a satis- 
 faction to his parents. — Oh yes, you do know, sir," said Mrs. 
 Gamp, wiping her eye with her shawl, and resuming the thread 
 of her discourse. " There's something besides births and 
 berr}'ins in the newspapers, an't there, Mr. Mould ? " 
 
 Mr. Mould winked at Mrs. Mould; whom he had by this 
 time taken on his knee, and said : " No doubt. A good deal 
 more, Mrs. Gamp. Upon my life, Mrs. Gamp is very far from 
 bad, my dear ! "
 
 MARTIX CHUZZLEWIT. 409 
 
 "There's marr}dngs, an't there, sir ! " said Mrs. Gamp, while 
 both the daughters blushed and tittered. " Bless their pre- 
 cious hearts, and well they knows it ! Well you know'd it too, 
 and well did Mrs, Mould, when you was at their time of life ! 
 But my opinion is, you're all of one age now. For as to you 
 and Mrs. Mould, sir, ever having grand-children — " 
 
 " Oh ! Fie, fie ! Nonsense, Mrs. Gamp," replied the under- 
 taker. " Devilish smart, though. Ca-pi-tal ! " This was in a 
 whisper. " INIy dear — " aloud again — "Mrs. Gamp can drink 
 a glass of rum, I dare say. Sit down, Mrs. Gamp, sit down." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp took the chair that was nearest the door, and 
 casting up her eyes towards the ceiling, feigned to be wholly 
 insensible to the fact of a glass of rum being in preparation, 
 until it was placed in her hand by one of the young ladies, 
 when she exhibited the greatest surprise. 
 
 "A thing," she said, "as hardly ever, Mrs. Mould, occurs 
 with me unless it is when I am indispoged, and find my 
 half a pint of porter settling heavy on the chest. Mrs. Harris 
 often and often says to me, ' Sairey Gamp," she says, ' you 
 raly do amaze me ! ' ' Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, ' why so ? 
 Give it a name, I beg.' ' Telling the truth then, ma'am,' says 
 Mrs. Harris, ' and shaming him as shall be nameless betwixt 
 3^ou and me, never did I think till I know'd you. as any woman 
 could sick-nurse and monthly likeways, on the little that you 
 takes to drink.' ' Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, ' none on us 
 knows what we can do till we tries ; and wunst, when me and 
 Gamp kept ouse, I thought so too. But now,' I says, ' my 
 half a pint of porter fully satisfies ; perwisin', Mrs. Harris, 
 that it is brought reg'lar, and draw'd mild. Whether I sicks 
 or monthlies, ma'am, I hope I does my duty, but I am but a 
 poor woman, and I earns my living hard ; therefore I do re- 
 quire it, which I makes confession, to be brought reg'lar and 
 draw'd mild.' " 
 
 The precise connection between these observations and 
 the glass of rum, did not appear ; for Mrs. Gamp proposing 
 as a toast " The best of lucks to all ! " took off the dram in 
 quite a scientiffc manner, without any further remarks. 
 
 " And what's your news, Mrs. Gamp ? " asked Mould again, 
 as that lady wiped her lips upon her shawl, and nibbled a 
 corner off a soft biscuit, which she appeared to carry in her 
 pocket as a provision against contingent drams. " How's Mr. 
 Chuffey ? " 
 
 "Mr. Chuffey, sir,"' she replied, " is jest as usual ; he an't
 
 41 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 no better and he an't no worse. I take it very kind in the 
 gentleman to have wrote up to you and said, ' let Mrs. Gamp 
 take care of him till I come home ; ' but ev'ry think he does is 
 kind. There an't a many like him. If there was, we shouldn't 
 want no churches." 
 
 " What do you want to speak to me about, Mrs. Gamp ? " 
 said Mould, coming to the point. 
 
 "Jest this, sir," Mrs. Gamp returned, " with thanks to you 
 for asking. There is a gent, sir, at the Bull in Holborn, as 
 has been took ill there, and is bad abed. They have a day 
 nurse as was recommended from Bartholomew's ; and well I 
 knows her, Mr. Mould, her name bein' Mrs. Prig, the best of 
 creeturs. But she is othervvays engaged at night, and they are 
 in wants of night-watching ; consequent she says to them, 
 having reposed the greatest friendliness in me for twenty year, 
 ' The soberest person going, and the best of blessings in a 
 sick room, is Mrs. Gamp. Send a boy to Kingsgate Street,' 
 she says, ' and snap her up at any price, for Mrs. Gamp is 
 worth her weight and more in goldian guineas.' My landlord 
 brings the message down to me, and says, ' bein' in a light 
 place where you are, and this job promising so well, why not 
 unite the two ? ' 'No sir,' I says, 'not unbeknown to Mr. 
 Mould, and therefore do not think it. But I will go to Mr. 
 Mould,' I says, ' and ast him, if you like.' " Here she looked 
 sideways at the undertaker, and came to a slop. 
 
 " Night-watching, eh?" said Mould, rubbing his chin. 
 
 " From eight o'clock till eight, sir. I will not deceive 
 you," Mrs. Gamp rejoined. 
 
 " And then go back, eh ? " said Mould. 
 
 "Quite free "then, sir, to attend to Mr. Chuffey. His ways 
 bein' quiet, and his hours early, he'd be abed, sir, nearly all 
 the time. I will not deny," said Mrs. Gamp with meekness, 
 " that I am but a poor woman, and that the money is a object ; 
 but do not let that act upon you, Mr. Mould. Rich folks may 
 ride on camels, but it ain't so easy for 'em to see out of a 
 needle's eye. That is my comfort, and I hope I knows it." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Gamp,"' observed Mould, " I don't see any 
 particular objection to your earning an honest penny under such 
 circumstances. I should keep it quiet, I think, Mrs. Gamp. I 
 wouldn't mention it to Mr. Chuzzlewit on his return, for in- 
 stance, unless it were necessary, or he asked you point-blank." 
 
 " The very words was on my lips, sir," Mrs. Gamp rejoined. 
 " Suppoging that the gent should die, I hope I might take the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 411 
 
 liberty of saying as I knowed some one in the undertaking 
 line, and yet give no offence to you, sir ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs. Gamp," said Mould, with much conde- 
 scension. " You may casually remark, in such a case, that we 
 do the thing pleasantly and in a great variety of styles, and 
 are generally considered to make it as agreeable as possible 
 to the feelings of the survivors. But don't obtrude it, don't 
 obtrude it. Easy, easy ! My dear, you may as well give 
 Mrs. Gamp a card or two, if you please." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp received them, and scenting no more rum in 
 the wind (for the bottle was locked up again) rose to take her 
 departure. 
 
 "Wishing ev'r}^ happiness to this happy family," said Mrs. 
 Gamp, " with all my heart. Good arternoon, Mrs. Mould ! 
 If I was Mr. Mould, I should be jealous of you, ma'am ; 
 and I'm sure, if I was you, I should be jealous of Mr. Mould." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Bah, bah ! Go along, Mrs. Gamp ! " cried 
 the delighted undertaker. 
 
 " As to the young ladies," said Mrs. Gamp, dropping a 
 curtsey, " bless their sweet looks — how they can ever recon- 
 size it with their duties to be so grown up wdth such young 
 parents, it an't for sech as me to give a guess at." 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense. Be off, Mrs. Gamp ! " cried 
 Mould. But in the height of his gratification, he actually 
 pinched Mrs. Mould, as he said it. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, my dear," he observed, when Mrs. 
 Gamp had at last withdrawn, and shut the door, " that's a 
 ve-ry shrewd woman. That's a woman whose intellect is im- 
 mensely superior to her station in life. That's a woman who 
 observes and retiects in an uncommon manner. She's the 
 sort of woman now," said Mould, drawing his silk handker- 
 chief over his head again, and composing himself for a nap, 
 " one would almost feel disposed to buiy for nothing : and do 
 it neatly, too ! " 
 
 Mrs. Mould and her daughters fully concurred in these 
 remarks; the subject of which had by this time reached the 
 street, where she experienced so much inconvenience from 
 the air, that she was obliged to stand under an archway for a 
 short time, to reco\er herself. Even after this precaution, she 
 walked so unsteadily as to attract the compassionate regards 
 of divers kind-hearted boys, who took the liveliest interest in 
 her disorder ; and in their simple language, bade her be of 
 good cheer, for she was, " only a little screwed."
 
 412 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 Whatever she was, or whatever name the vocabulary of 
 medical science would have bestowed upon her malady, Mrs. 
 Gamp was perfectly acquainted with the way home again ; 
 and arriving at the house of Anthony Chuzzlewit & Son, lay 
 down to rest. Remaining there until seven o'clock in the 
 evening, and then persuading poor old Chuffey to betake him- 
 self to bed, she sallied forth upon her new engagement. First, 
 she went to her private lodgings in Kingsgate Street, for a 
 bundle of robes and wrappings comfortable in the night 
 season ; and then repaired to the Bull in Holborn, which she 
 reached as the clocks were striking eight. 
 
 As she turned into the yard, she stopped ; for the land- 
 lord, landlady, and head chambermaid, were all on the thresh- 
 old together, talking earnestly with a young gentleman who 
 seemed to have just come or to be just going away. The 
 first words that struck upon Mrs. Gamp's ear obviously bore 
 reference to the patient ; and it being expedient that all good 
 attendants should know as much as possible about the case 
 on which their skill is brought to bear, Mrs. Gamp listened as 
 a matter of duty. 
 
 " No better, then .-' " observed the gentleman. 
 
 " Worse ! " said the landlord. 
 
 *' Much worse," add the landlady. 
 
 " Oh ! a deal badder," cried the chambermaid from the 
 background, opening her eyes very wide, and shaking her 
 head. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said the gentleman, " I am sorry to hear 
 it. The worst of it is, that I have no idea what friends or 
 relations he has, or where they live, except that it certainly is 
 not in London." 
 
 The landlord looked at the landlady ; the landlady looked 
 at the landlord ; and the chambermaid remarked, hysterically, 
 " that of all the many wague directions she had ever seen or 
 heerd of (and they wasn't few in an hotel), that was the 
 waguest." 
 
 " The fact is, you see," pursued the gentleman, " as I told 
 you yesterday when you sent to me, I really know very little 
 about him. We were school-fellows together ; but since that 
 time I have only met him twice. On both occasions I was in 
 London for a boy's holiday (having come up for a week or so 
 from Wiltshire), and lost sight of him again directly. The 
 letter bearing my name and address which you found upon 
 his table, and which led to your applying to me, is in answer,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 413 
 
 you will observe, to one he wrote from this house the very 
 day he was taken ill, making an appointment with him at his 
 own request. Here is his letter, if you wish to see it." 
 
 The landlord read it : the landlady looked over him. The 
 chambermaid, in the background, made out as much of it as 
 she could, and invented the rest ; believing it all from that 
 time forth as a positive piece of evidence. 
 
 " He has very little luggage, you say ? " observed the 
 gentleman, who was no other than our old friend, John West- 
 lock. 
 
 "Nothing but a portmanteau,"' said the landlord] "and 
 very little in it." 
 
 " A few pounds in his purse, though 1 " 
 
 " Yes. It's sealed up, and in the cash-box. I made a 
 memorandum of the amount, which j^ou're welcome to see." 
 
 " Well ! " said John, " as the medical gentleman says the 
 fever must take its course, and nothing can be done just now 
 beyond giving him his drinks regularly and having him care- 
 fully attended to, nothing more can be said that I know of, 
 until he is in a condition to give us some information. Can 
 you suggest anything else .'' " 
 
 " N-no," replied the landlord, " except — " 
 
 " Except, who's to pay, I suppose.' " said John. 
 
 "Why," hesitated the landlord, "it would be as well." 
 
 "Quite as well," said the landlady. 
 
 " Not forgetting to remember the servants," said the cham- 
 bermaid in a bland whisper. 
 
 " It is but reasonable, I fully admit," said John Westlock. 
 " At all events, you have the stock in hand sto go upon for 
 the present ; and I will readily undertake to pay the doctor 
 and the nurses." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " A rayal gentleman ! " 
 
 She groaned her admiration so audibly, that they all 
 turned round. Mrs. Gamp felt the necessity of advancing, 
 bundle in hand, and introducing herself. 
 
 " The night-nurse," she observed, " from Kingsgate Street, 
 well beknown to Mrs. Prig the day-nurse, and the best of 
 creeturs. How is the poor dear gentleman, to-night .-" If he 
 an't no better yet, still that is what must be expected and pre- 
 pared' for. It an't the fust time by a many score, ma'am," 
 dropping a curtsey to the landlady, " that Mrs. Prig and me 
 has nussed together, turn and turn about, one off, one on. 
 We knows each other's ways, and often gives relief when
 
 414 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Others fail. Our charges is but low, sir " — Mrs. Gamp 
 addressed herself to John on this head — "considerin' the 
 nater of our painful dooty. If they wos made accordin' to 
 our wishes, they would be easy paid." 
 
 Regarding herself as having now delivered her inaugura- 
 tion address, Mrs. Gamp curtseyed all round, and signified 
 her wish to be conducted to the scene of her official duties. 
 The chambermaid led her, through a variety of intricate pas- 
 sages, to the top of the house ; and pointing at length to a 
 solitary door at the end of a gallery, informed her that 
 yonder was the chamber where the patient lay. That done, 
 she hurried off with all the speed she could make. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp traversed the gallery in a great heat from hav- 
 ing carried her large bundle up so many stairs, and tapped at the 
 door, which was immediately opened by Mrs. Prig, bonneted and 
 shawled and all impatience to be gone. Mrs. Prig was of the 
 Gamp build, but not so fat ; and her voice was deeper and 
 more like a man's. She had also a beard. 
 
 " I began to think you warn't a coming ! " Mrs. Prig ob- 
 served, in some displeasure. 
 
 " It shall be made good to-morrow night," said Mrs. Gamp, 
 " /honorable. I had to go and fetch my things." She had be- 
 gun to make signs of inquiry in reference to the position of 
 the patient and his overhearing them — for there was a screen 
 before the door — when Mrs. Prig settled that point easily. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said aloud, " he's quiet, but his wits is gone. 
 It ain't no matter wot you say." 
 
 " Anything to tell afore you goes, my dear ? " asked Mrs. 
 Gamp, setting her bundle down inside the door, and looking 
 affectionately at her partner. 
 
 "The pickled Salmon," Mrs. Prig replied, '^' is quite de- 
 licious. I can partick'ler recommend it. Don't have noth- 
 ing to say to the cold me'at, for it tastes of the stable. The 
 drinks is all good." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp expressed herself much gratified. 
 
 "The physic and them things is on the drawers and 
 mankle-shelf," said Mrs. Prig, cursorily. " He took his last 
 slime draught at seven. The easy-chair an't soft enough. 
 You'll want his piller." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp thanked her for these hints, and giving her a 
 friendly good-night, held the door open until she had disap- 
 peared at the other end of the gallery. Having thus performed 
 the hospitable duty of seeing her safely off, she shut it, locked
 
 MAJi TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 415 
 
 it on the inside, took up her bundle, walked round the screen, 
 and entered on her occupation of the sick chamber. 
 
 " A little dull, but not so bad as might be," Mrs. Gamp 
 remarked. " I'm glad to see a parapidge, in case of fire, and 
 lots of roofs and chimley-pots to walk upon." 
 
 It will be seen from these remarks that Mrs. Gamp was 
 looking out of window. When she had exhausted the prospect, 
 she tried the easy-chair, which she indignantly declared was 
 " harder than a brickbadge." Next she pursued her researches 
 among the physic-bottles, glasses, jugs, and tea-cups ; and 
 when she had entirely satisfied her curiosity on all these sub- 
 jects of investigation, she untied her bonnet-strings and 
 strolled up to the bed-side to take a look at the patient. 
 
 A young inan — dark and not ill-looking — with long black 
 hair, that seemed the blacker for the whiteness of the bed- 
 clothes. His eyes were partly open, and he never ceased 
 to roll his head from side to side upon the pillow, keep- 
 ing his body almost quiet. He did not utter words ; but 
 every now and then gave vent to an expression of impatience 
 or fatigue, sometimes of surprise ; and still his restless head 
 — oh, weary, weary hour ! — went to an fro without a moment's 
 intermission. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp solaced herself with a pinch of snuff, and 
 stood looking at him with her head inclined a little sideways, 
 as a connoisseur might gaze upon a doubtful work of art. By 
 degrees, a horrible remembrance of one branch of her call- 
 ing took possession of the woman ; and stooping down, she 
 pinned his wandering arms against his sides, to see how he 
 would look if laid out as a dead man. Hideous as it may 
 appear, her fingers itched to compose his limbs in that last 
 marble attitude. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mrs. Gamp, walking away from the bed, " he'd 
 make a lovely corpse." 
 
 She now proceeded to unpack her bundle ; lighted a candle 
 with the aid of a fire-box on the drawers ; filled a small ket- 
 tle, as a preliminary to refreshing herself with a cup of tea in 
 the course of the night ; laid what she called " a little bit of fire," 
 for the same philanthropic purpose ; and also set forth a small 
 teaboard, that nothing might be wanting for her comfortable 
 enjoyment. These preparations occupied so long, that when 
 they were brought to a conclusion it was high time to think 
 about supper ; so she rang the bell and ordered it. 
 
 "I think, young woman," said Mrs. Gamp to the assistant
 
 4 1 6 ^fA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 chambermaid, in a tone expressive of weakness, " that I could 
 pick a little bit of pickled salmon, with a nice little sprig of 
 fennel, and a sprinkling of white pepper. I takes new bread, 
 my dear, with jest a little pat of fresh butter, and a mossel of 
 cheese. In case there should be such a thing as a cowcum- 
 ber in the 'ouse, will you be so kind as bring it, for I'm rather 
 partial to 'em, and they does a world of good in a sick room. 
 If they draws the Brighton Old Tipper here, I takes that ale 
 at nig'it, my love ; it being considered wakeful by the doctors. 
 And what ever you do, young woman, don't bring more than 
 a shilling's-worth of gin and watei warm when I rings the bell 
 a second time ; for that is always my allowance, and I never 
 takes a drop beyond ! " 
 
 Having preferred these moderate requests" Mrs. Gamp 
 observed that she would stand at the door until the order was 
 executed, to the end that the patient might not be disturbed 
 by her opening it a second time ;' and therefore she would 
 thank the young woman to "look sharp." 
 
 A tray was brought with everything upon it, even to the 
 cucumber ; and Mrs. Gamp accordingly sat down to eat and 
 drink in high good humor. The extent to which she availed 
 herself of the vinegar, and supped up that refreshing fluid with 
 the blade of her knife, can scarcely be expressed in narrative. 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Gamp, as she meditated over the 
 warm shilling's-worth, " what a blessed thing it is — living in a 
 wale — to be contented ! What a blessed thing it is to make 
 sick people happy in their beds, and never mind one's self as 
 long as one can do a service ! I don't believe a finer cow- 
 cumber was ever grow'd. I'm sure I never see one ! " 
 
 She moralized in the same vein until her glass was empty, 
 and then administered the patient's medicine, by the simple 
 process of clutching his windpipe to make him gasp, and im- 
 mediately pouring it down his throat. 
 
 " I a'most forgot the piller, I declare ! " said Mrs. Gamp, 
 drawing it away. " There ! Now he's comfortable as he can 
 be, /'m sure ! I must try to make myself as much so as I can." 
 
 With this view, she went about the construction of an ex- 
 temporaneous bed in the easy chair, with the addition of the 
 next easy one at her feet. Having formed the best couch 
 that the circumstances admitted of, she took out of her bundle 
 a yellow nightcap, of prodigious size, in shape resembling a 
 cabbage ; which article of dress she fixed and tied on with 
 the utmost care, previously divesting herself of a row of bald
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 417 
 
 old curls that could scarcely be called false, they were so very 
 innocent of anything ajDproaching to deception. Yxoxa. the 
 same repository she brought forth a night jacket, in which she 
 also attired herself. Finally, she produced a watchman's coat, 
 which she tied round her neck by the sleeves, so that she be- 
 came two people ; and looked, behind, as if she were in the 
 act of being embraced by one of the old patrol. 
 
 All these arrangements made, she lighted the rushlight, 
 coiled herself upon her couch, and went to sleep. Ghostly 
 and dark the room became, and full of lowering shadows. 
 The distant noises in the streets were gradually hushed ; the 
 house was quiet as a sepulchre ; the dead of night was coffined 
 in the silent city. 
 
 Oh weaiy, wear}' hour ! Oh haggard mind, grouping 
 darkly through the past ; incapable of detaching itself from the 
 miserable present ;' dragging its heavy chain of care through 
 imaginary feasts and revels, and scenes of awful pomp ; seek- 
 ing but a moment's rest among the long-forgotten haunts of 
 childhood, and the resorts of yesterday ; and dimly finding 
 fear and horror everywhere ! Oh, wear\% wear}^ hour ! What 
 were the wanderings of Cain, to these ! 
 
 Still, without a moment's interval, the burning head tossed 
 to and fro. Still, from time to time, fatigue, impatience, suf- 
 fering, and surprise, found utterance upon that rack, and 
 plainly too, though never once in words. At length, in the 
 solemn hour of midnight, he began to talk ; waiting awfully 
 for answers sometimes, as though invisible companions were 
 about his bed, and so replying to their speech and question- 
 
 ing agam. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp awoke, and sat up in her bed, presenting on 
 the wall the shadow of a gigantic night constable, struggling 
 with a prisoner. 
 
 " Come ! Hold your tongue ! " she cried, in sharp reproof. 
 "Don't make none of that noise here." 
 
 There was no alteration in the face, or in the incessant 
 motion of the head, but he talked on wildly. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mrs. Gamp, coming out of the chair with an 
 impatient shiver ; " I thought I was a sleepin' too pleasant to 
 last ! The devil's in the night, I think, it's turned so chilly ! " 
 
 " Don't drink so much ! " cried the sick man. " You'll 
 ruin us all. Don't you see how the fountain sinks ? Look 
 at the mark where the sparkling water was just now ! " 
 
 " Sparkling water, indeed ! " said Mrs. Gamp. " I'll have 
 
 27
 
 41 8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 a sparkling cup o' tea, I think. I wish you'd hold your 
 noise ! "' 
 
 He burst into a laugh, which, being prolonged, fell off 
 into a dismal wail. Checking himself, with tierce inconstancy 
 he began to count, fast. 
 
 " One — two — three — four — five — six. " 
 
 " ' One, two, buckle my shoe,' " said Mrs. Gamp, who was 
 now on her knees, lighting the fire, " ' three, four, shut the 
 door,' — I wish you'd shut your mouth, young man — ' five, six, 
 picking up sticks.' If I'd got a few handy, I should have the 
 kettle biling all the sooner." 
 
 Awaiting this desirable consummation, she sat down so 
 close to the fender (which was a high one) that her nose 
 rested upon it ; and for some time she drowsily amused her- 
 self by sliding that feature backwards and forwards along the 
 brass top, as far as she could, without changing her position 
 to do it. She maintained, all the while, a running commen- 
 tary upon the wanderings of the man in bed. 
 
 " That makes five hundred and twenty-one men, all dressed 
 alike, and with the same distortion on their faces, that have 
 passed in at the window, and out at the door," he cried, 
 anxiously. " Look there ! Five hundred and twenty-two — 
 twenty-three — twenty-four. Do you see them ? " 
 
 " Ah ! /see 'em," said Mrs. Gamp ; " all the whole kit of 
 'em numbered like hackney-coaches, ain't they ? " 
 
 " Touch me ! Let me be sure of this. Touch me ! " 
 
 " You'll take your next draught when I've made the kettle 
 bile," retorted Mrs. Gamp, composedly, " and you'll be 
 touched then. You'll be touched up, too, if you don't take it 
 quiet." 
 
 " Five hundred and twenty-eight, five hundred and twenty- 
 nine, five hundred and thirty, — look here ! " 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " They're coming four abreast, each man with his arm 
 entwined in the next man's, and his hand upon his shoulder. 
 What's that upon the arm of every man, and on the flag t " 
 
 " Spiders, p'raps," said Mrs. Ganip. 
 
 " Crape ! Black crape ! Good God ! why do they wear 
 it outside ? " 
 
 " Would you have 'em carry black crape in their insides ? " 
 Mrs. Gamp retorted. " Hold your noise, hold your noise." 
 
 The fire beginning by this time to impart a grateful 
 warmth, Mrs. Gamp became silent ; gradually rubbed her
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 419 
 
 nose more and more slowly along the top of the fender ; and 
 fell into a heavy doze. She was awakened by the room ring- 
 ing (as she fancied) with a name she knew : 
 
 " Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 The sound was so distinct and real, and so full of agonized 
 entreaty, that Mrs. Gamp jumped up in terror, and ran to the 
 door. She expected to find the passage filled with people, 
 come to tell her that the house in the City had taken tire. 
 But the place was empty — not a soul was there. She opened 
 the window, and looked out. Dark, dull, ding}^, and desolate 
 house-tops. As she passed to her seat again, she glanced at 
 the patient. Just the same ; but silent. Mrs. Gamp was so 
 warm now, that .she threw off the watchman's coat, and fanned 
 herself. 
 
 " It seemed to make the wer}^ bottles ring," she said. 
 " What could I have been a-dreaming of ? That dratted 
 ChufTey, I'll be bound." 
 
 The supposition was probable enough. At any rate, a 
 pinch of snuff, and the song of the steaming kettle, quite re- 
 stored the tone of Mrs. Gamp's nerves, which were none of 
 the weakest. She brewed her tea ; made some buttered 
 toast ; and sat down at the tea-board, with her face to the 
 fire. 
 
 When once again, in a tone more terrible than tliat which 
 had vibrated in her slumbering ear, these words were shrieked 
 out : 
 
 " Chuzzlewit ! Jonas ! No ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp dropped the cup she was in the act of raising 
 to her lips, and turned round with a start that made the little 
 tea-board leap. The cry had come from the bed. 
 
 It was bright morning the next time Mrs. Gamp looked 
 out of the window, and the sun was rising cheerfully. Lighter 
 and lighter grew the sky, and noisier the streets ; and high 
 into the summer air uprose the smoke of newly kindled fires, 
 until the busy day was broad awake. 
 
 Mrs. Prig relieved punctually, having passed a good night 
 at her other patient's. Mr. Westlock came at the same time, 
 but he was not admitted, the disorder being infectious. The 
 doctor came too. The doctor sliook iiis head. It was all he 
 could do, under the circumstances, and he did it well. 
 
 " What sort of a night, nurse ? " 
 
 " Restless, sir," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Talk much ? "
 
 42 o 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Middling, sir," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Nothing to the purpose, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh bless you no, sir. Only jargon." 
 
 "Well ! " said the doctor, " we must keep him quiet ; keep 
 the room- cool ; give him his draughts regularly ; and see that 
 he's carefully looked too. That's all ! " 
 
 " And as long as Mrs. Prig and me waits upon him, sir, 
 no fear of that," said Mrs. Gamp 
 
 " I suppose," observed Mrs. Prig, when they had curtseyed 
 the doctor out, " there's nothin' new? " 
 
 " Nothin' at all, my dear," said Mrs. Gamp. " He's rather 
 wearin' in his talk from making up a lot of names ; elseways 
 you needn't mind him." 
 
 " Oh, I sha'n't mind him,"' Mrs. Prig returned. " I have 
 somethin' else to think of." 
 
 " I pays my debts to-night, you know, my dear, and comes 
 afore my time," said Mrs. Gamp. " But, Betsey Prig " — 
 speaking with great feeling, and laying her hand upon her 
 arm — " try the cowcumbers. God bless you ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, AND A PROMISING PROSPECT. 
 
 The laws of sympathy between beards and birds, and the 
 secret source of that attraction which frequently impels a 
 shaver of the one to be a dealer in the other, are questions 
 for the subtle reasoning of scientific bodies : not the less so, 
 because their investigation would seem calculated to lead 
 to no particular result. It is enough to know that the 
 artist who had the honor of entertaining Mrs. Gamp as his 
 first-floor lodger united the two pursuits of barbering and 
 bird-fancying ; and that it was not an original idea of his, but 
 one in which he had, dispersed about the by-streets and sub- 
 urbs of the town, a host of rivals. 
 
 The name of this householder was Paul Sweedlepipe. But 
 he was commonly called Poll Sweedlepipe, and was not 
 uncommonly believed to have been so christened, among his 
 friends and neighbors.
 
 MAJi TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 42 1 
 
 I 
 
 With the exception of the staircase, and his lodger's 
 private apartment, Poll Sweedlepipe's house was one great 
 bird's nest. Game-cocks resided in the kitchen ; pheasants 
 wasted the brightness of their golden plumage on the garret ; 
 bantams roosted in the cellar ; owls had possession of the 
 bed-room ; and specimens of all the smaller fry of birds chir- 
 ruped and twittered in the shop. The staircase was sacred to 
 rabbits. There in hutches of all shapes and kinds, made 
 from old packing-cases, boxes, drawers, and tea-chests, they 
 increased in a prodigious degree, arid contributed their share 
 towards that complicated whiff which, quite impartially, and 
 without distinction of person, saluted every nose that was put 
 into Sweedlepipe's easy shaving-shop. 
 
 Many noses found their way there, for all that, especially 
 on Sunday morning, before church-time. Even archbishops 
 shave, or must be shaved, on a Sunday, and beards 7xv7/ grow 
 after twelve o'clock on Saturday night, though it be upon the 
 chins of base mechanics ; who, not being able to engage their 
 valvets by the quarter, hire them by the job, and pay them — 
 oh, the wickedness of copper coin ! — in dirty pence. Poll 
 Sweedlepipe, the sinner, shaved all comers at a penny each, 
 and cut the hair of any customer for twopence ; and being a 
 lone unmarried man, and having some connection in the bird 
 line. Poll got on tolerably well. 
 
 He was a little elderly man, with a clammy cold right 
 hand, from which even rabbits and birds could not remove 
 the smell of shaving-soap. Poll had something of the bird 
 in his nature ; not of the hawk or eagle, but of the sparrow, 
 that builds in chimney-stacks, and inclines to human company. 
 He was not quarrelsome, though, like the sparrow ; but peace- 
 ful, like the dove. In his walk he strutted; and, in this re- 
 spect, he bore a faint resemblance to the pigeon, as well as in 
 a certain prosiness of speech, which might, in its monotony, 
 be likened to the cooing of that bird. He was very inquisi- 
 tive ; and when he stood at his shop-door in the evening-tide, 
 watching the neighbors, with his head on one side, and his 
 eye cocked knowingly, there was a dash of the raven in him. 
 Yet, there was no more wickedness in I^oll than in a robin. 
 Happily, too, when any of his ornithological properties were 
 on the verge of going too far, they were quenched, dissolved, 
 melted down, and neutralized in the barber ; just as his bald 
 head — otherwise, as the head of a shaved magpie — lost itself 
 in a wig of curly black ringlets, parted on one side, and cut
 
 42 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 away almost to the crown, to indicate immense capacity of 
 intellect. 
 
 Poll had a very small, shrill, treble voice, which might 
 have led the wags of Kingsgate Street to insist the more upon 
 his feminine designation. He had a tender heart, too ; for, 
 when he had a good commission to provide three or four score 
 sparrows for a shooting-match, he would observe, in a compas- 
 sionate tone, how singular it was that sparrows should have 
 been made expressly for such purposes. The question, whether 
 men were made to shoot tliem, never entered into Poll's phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 Poll wore in his sporting character, a velveteen coat, a 
 great deal of blue stocking, ankle boots, a neckerchief of 
 some bright color, and a very tall hat. Pursuing his more 
 qujet occupation of barber, he generally subsided into an 
 apron not over-clean, a flannel jacket, and corduroy knee- 
 shorts. It was in this latter costume, but with his apron 
 girded round his waist, as a token of his having shut up shop 
 for the night, that he closed the door one evening, some weeks 
 after the occurrences detailed in the last chapter, and stood 
 upon the steps in Kingsgate Street, listening until the little 
 cracked bell within should leave off ringing. For, until it 
 did — this was Mr. Sweedlepipe's reflection — the place never 
 seemed quiet enough to be left to itself. 
 
 " It's the greediest little bell to ring," said Poll, " that 
 ever was. But it's quiet at last." 
 
 He rolled his apron up a little tighter as he said these 
 words, and hastened down the street. Just as he was turn- 
 ing into Holborn, he ran against a young gentleman in a liv- 
 ery. This youth was bold, though small, and with several 
 lively expressions of displeasure, turned upon him instantly. 
 
 " Now, Stoo-pid ! " cried the young gentleman. " Can't 
 you look where you're a going to — eh ? Can't you mind 
 where you're a coming to — eh ? What do you think your 
 eyes was made for — eh ? Ah ! Yes. Oh ! Now then ! " 
 
 The young gentleman pronounced the two last words in a 
 very- loud tone and with frightful emphasis, as though they 
 contained within themselves the essence of the direst aggra- 
 vation. But he had scarcely done so, when his anger yielded 
 to surprise, and he cried, in a milder tone : 
 
 " What ! Polly ! " 
 
 " Why it ain't you, sure ! " cried Poll. " It can't be you ! " 
 No, It ain't me," returned the youtli. " It's my son, my 
 
 a
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 423 
 
 oldest one. He's a credit to his father, ain't he, Polly ? " 
 With this delicate little piece of banter, he halted on the pave- 
 ment, and went round and round in circles, for the better ex- 
 hibition of his figure, rather to the inconvenience of the pas- 
 sengers generally, who were not in an equal state of spirits 
 with himself. 
 
 " I wouldn't have believed it," said Poll. " What ! You've 
 left your old place, then ? Have you 1 " 
 
 " Have I ! " returned his young friend, who had by this 
 time stuck his hands into the pockets of his white cord breeches, 
 and was swaggering along at the barber's side. " D'ye know 
 a pair of top-boots when you see 'em, Polly .'' Look here ! " 
 
 " Beau-ti-ful^! " cried Mr. Sweedlepipe. 
 
 "D'ye know a slap-up sort of button, when you see it.'"' 
 said the youth. " Don't look at mine, if you ain't a judge, 
 because these lions' heads was made for men of taste, "not 
 snobs." 
 
 " Beau-ti-ful ! " cried the barber again. " A grass-green 
 frock-coat, too, bound with gold ! And a cockade in your 
 hat ! " 
 
 "/should hope so," replied the youth. "Blow the cock- 
 ade, though ; for, except that it don't turn round, it's like the 
 wentilator that used to be in the kitchen winder at Todgers's. 
 You ain't seen the old lady's name in the Gazette, have you ? " 
 
 " No," returned the barber. " Is she a bankrupt ? " 
 
 " If she ain't, she will be," retorted Bailey. " That bis'- 
 ness never can be carried on without me. Well ! How are 
 you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm pretty well," said Poll. " Are you living at this 
 end of the town, or were you coining to see me ? Was that 
 the bis'ness that brought you to Holborn ? " 
 
 " I haven't got no bis'ness in Holborn," returned Bailey, 
 with some displeasure. " All my bis'ness lays at the West- 
 end. I've got the right sort of governor now. You can't see 
 his face for his whiskers, and can't see his whiskers for the 
 dye upon 'em. That's a gentleman, ain't it } You wouldn't 
 like a ride in a cab, would you? Why, it wouldn't be safe to 
 offer it. You'd faint away, only to see me a comin' at a mild 
 trot round the corner." 
 
 To convey a slight idea of the effect of this approach, Mr. 
 Bailey counterfeited in his own person the action of a high- 
 trotting horse, and threw up his head so high, in backing 
 against a pump, that he shook his hat off.
 
 424 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 "Why, he's own uncle to Capricorn," said Bailey, "and 
 brother to Cauliflower. He's been through the winders of 
 two chaney shops since we've had him, andwos sold for killin' 
 his missis. That's a horse, I hope ? " 
 
 "Ah ! you'll never want to buy any more red-polls, now," 
 observed Poll, looking on his young friend with an air of mel- 
 ancholy. " You'll never want to buy any more red-polls now, 
 to hang up over the sink, will you ? " 
 
 "/should think not," replied Bailey. " Reether so. I 
 wouldn't have nothin' to say to any bird below a Peacock ; 
 and he'^ be wulgar. Well, how are you ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm pretty well," said Poll. He answered the ques- 
 tion again because Mr. Bailey asked it again ; Mr. Bailey 
 asked it again, because— accompanied with a straddling action 
 of the white cords, a bend of the knees, and a striking- 
 forth of the top-boots — it was an easy, horse-fleshy, turfy sort 
 of thing to do. 
 
 " Wot are you up to, old feller ? " asked Mr. Bailey, with 
 the same graceful rakishness. He was quite the man-about- 
 town of the conversation, while the easy-shaver was the child. 
 
 " Why, I am going to fetch my lodger home," said Paul. 
 
 " A woman ! " cried Mr. Bailey, " for a twenty-pun' note \ " 
 
 The little barber hastened to explain that she was neither 
 a young woman, nor a handsome woman, but a nurse, who 
 had been acting as a kind of housekeeper to a gentleman for 
 some weeks past, and left her place that night, in consequence 
 of being superseded by another and a more legitimate house- 
 keeper : to wit, the gentleman's bride. 
 
 " He's newly-married, and he brings his young wife home 
 to-night," said the barber. " So I'm going to fetch my lodger 
 away — Mr. Chuzzlewit's, close behind the Post-office — and 
 carry her box for her." 
 
 " Jonas Chuzzlewit's ? " said Bailey. 
 
 " Ah ! " returned Paul : " that's the name sure enough. 
 Do you know him ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " cried Mr. Bailey ; " not at all. And I don't 
 know her ! Not neither ! Why, they first kept company 
 through me, a'most." 
 
 " Ah ? " said Paul. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Bailey, with a wink ; " and she ain't bad- 
 looking, mind you. But her sister was the best. She was the 
 merry one. I often used to have a bit of fun with her, in the 
 hold times ! "
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 425 
 
 Mr. Bailey spoke as if he already had a leg and three- 
 quarters in the grave, and this had happened twenty or thirty 
 years ago. Paul Sweedlepipe, the meek, was so perfectly 
 confounded by his precocious self-possession, and his patroniz- 
 ing manner, as well as by his boots, cockade, and liver}', that 
 a mist swam before his eyes, and he saw— not the Bailey, of 
 acknowledged juvenility, from Todgers's Commercial Boarding 
 House, who had made his acquaintance within a twelvemonth, 
 by purchasing, at all sundry times, small birds at two pence each 
 — but a highly condensed embodiment of the sporting grooms in 
 London ; an abstract of all the stable-knowledge of the time ; a 
 something at a high-pressure thatmusthave had existence many 
 years, and was fraught with terrible experiences. And truly, 
 though in the cloudy atmosphere of Todgers's, Mr. Bailey's ge- 
 nius had ever shone out brightly in this particular respect, it now 
 eclipsed both time and space, cheated beholders of their senses, 
 and worked on their belief in defiance of all natural laws. He 
 walked along the tangible and real stones of Holborn Hill, 
 an under-sized boy ; and yet he winked the winks, and thought 
 the thoughts, and did the deeds, and said the sayings of an 
 ancient man. There was an old principle within him, and a 
 young surface without. He became an inexplicable creature : 
 a breeched and booted Sphinx. There was no course open to 
 the barber but to go distracted himself, or to take Bailey for 
 granted : and he wisely chose the latter. 
 
 Mr. Bailey was good enough to continue to bear him com- 
 pany, and to entertain him, as they went, with easy conversa- 
 tion on various sporting topics ; especially on the compara- 
 tive merits, as a general principle, of horses with white stock- 
 ings, and horses without. In regard to the style of tail to be 
 preferred, Mr. Bailey had opinions of his own, wiiich he ex- 
 plained, but begged they might by no means influence his 
 friends, as here he knew he had the misfortune to differ from 
 some excellent authorities. He treated Mr. Sweedlepipe to 
 a dram, compounded agreeably to his own directions, which 
 he informed him had been invented by a member of the Jockey 
 Club ; and, as they were by this time near the barber's desti- 
 nation, he observed that, as he had an hour to spare, and 
 knew the parties, he would, if quite agreeable, he introduced 
 to Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 Paul knocked at Jonas Chuzzlewit's ; and, on the door 
 being opened by that lady, made the two distinguished per- 
 sons known to one another. It was a happy feature in Mrs.
 
 426 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 Gamp's twofold profession, that it gave her an interest in 
 everything that was young as well as in everything that was 
 old. She received Mr. Bailey with much kindness. 
 
 " It's very good, I'm sure, of you to come," she said to 
 her landlord, " as well as bring so nice a friend. But I'm 
 afraid that I must trouble you so far as to step in, for the 
 young couple has not yet made appearance." 
 
 " They're late, ain't they } " inquired her landlord, when 
 she had conducted them down stairs into the kitchen. 
 
 " Well, sir, considerin' the Wings of Love, they are," said 
 Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 Mr. Bailey inquired whether the Wings of Love had ever 
 won a plate, or could be backed to do anything remarkable ; 
 and being informed that it was not a horse, but merely a 
 poetical or figurative expression, evinced considerable diso-ust. 
 Mrs. Gamp was so vevf much astonished by his affable 
 manners and great ease, that she was about to propound to 
 her landlord in a whisper the staggering inquir)', whether he 
 was a man or a boy, when Mr. Sweedlepipe, anticipating her 
 design, made a timely diversion. 
 
 " He knows Mrs. Chuzziewit," said Paul aloud. 
 
 "There's nothin' he don't know; that's my opinion," 
 observed Mrs. Gamp. " All the wickedness of the world is 
 Print to him." 
 
 Mr. Bailey received this as a compliment, and said, adjust- 
 ing his cravat, " reether so." 
 
 " As you knows Mrs. Chuzziewit, you knows, p'raps, what 
 her chris'n name is ? " Mrs. Gamp observed. 
 
 " Charity," said Bailev. 
 
 " That it ain't ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Cherry, then," said Bailey. " Cherr}^'s short for it. It's 
 all the same." 
 
 "It don't begin with a C at all," retorted Mrs. Gamp, 
 shaking her head. " It begins with a M." 
 
 " Whew ! " cried Mr. Bailey, slapping a little cloud of pipe- 
 clay out of his left leg, " then he's been and married the merry 
 one ! " 
 
 As these words were mysterious, Mrs. Gamp called upon 
 him to explain, which Mr. Bailey proceeded to do, that lady 
 listening greedily to ever^-thing he said. He was yet in the 
 fulness of his narrative when the sound of wheels, and a 
 double knock at the street door, announced the arrival of the 
 newly-married couple. Begging him to reserve what more
 
 
 X 
 
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 o 
 
 X 
 
 R 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 c 
 
 o 
 
 2 
 
 4i
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 427 
 
 he had to say, for her hearing on the way home, Mrs. Gamp 
 took up the candle, and hurried away to receive and welcome 
 the young mistress of the house. 
 
 " Wishing you appiness and joy with all my art," said Mrs. 
 Gamp, dropping a curtsey as they entered the hall ; " and you, 
 too, sir. Your lady looks a little tired with the journey, Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit, a pretty dear ! " 
 
 " She has bothered enough about it," grumbled Mr. Jonas. 
 " Now, show a light, will you t " 
 
 " This way, ma'am, if you please," said Mrs. Gamp, going 
 up stairs before them. " Things has been made as comfort- 
 able as they could be ; but there's many things you'll have to 
 alter your owiv self when you gets time to look about you. 
 Ah ! sweet thing ! But you don't," added Mrs. Gamp, inter- 
 nally, " you don't look much like a merry one, I must say ! " 
 
 It was true : she did not. The death that had gone be- 
 fore the bridal seemed to have left its shade upon the house. 
 The air was heavy and oppressive ; the rooms were dark ; a 
 deep gloom filled up every chink and corner. Upon the 
 hearthstone, like a creature of ill omen, sat the aged clerk, 
 with his eyes fixed on some withered branches in the stove. 
 He rose and looked at her. 
 
 " So there you are, Mr. Chuff," said Jonas carelessly, as 
 he dusted his boots ; " still in the land of the living, eh ? " 
 
 " Still in the land of the living, sir," retorted Mrs. Gamp. 
 " And Mr. Chuffey may thank you for it, as many and many 
 a time I've told him." 
 
 Mr. Jonas was not in the best of humors, for he merely 
 said, as he looked round, " We don't want you any more, you 
 know, Mrs. Gamp." 
 
 " I'm a going immediate, sir," returned the nurse ; " un- 
 less there's nothink I can do for you, ma'am. Ain't there," 
 said Mrs. Gamp, with a look of great sweetness, and rum- 
 maging all the time in her pocket ; " ain't there nothink I 
 can do for you, my little bird .' " 
 
 " No," said Merry, almost crying. " You had better go 
 a way, please ! " 
 
 With a leer of mingled sweetness and slyness ; with one 
 eye on the future, one on the bride, and an arch expression in 
 her face, partly spiritual, partly spirituous, and wholly pro- 
 fessional and peculiar to her art, Mrs. Gamp rummaged in 
 her pocket again, and took from it a printed card, whereon 
 was an inscription copied from her sign-board.
 
 42 8 ^AR 2ViV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Would you be so good, my darling dovey of a dear young 
 married lady," Mrs. Gamp observed, in a low voice, " as put 
 that somewheres where you can keep it in your mind ? I'm 
 well beknown to many ladies, and it's my card. Gamp is my 
 name, and Gamp my nater. Livin' quite handy, I will make 
 so bold as call in now and then, and make inquiry how your 
 health and spirits is, my precious chick ! " 
 
 And with innumerable leers, winks, coughs, nods, smiles, 
 and curtseys, all leading to the establishment of a mysterious 
 and confidential understanding between herself and the bride, 
 Mrs. Gamp, invoking a blessing upon the house, leered, winked, 
 coughed, nodded, smiled, and curtseyed herself out of the 
 room. 
 
 " But I will say, and I would if I was led a Martha to the 
 Stakes for it," Mrs. Gamp remarked below stairs, in a whisper, 
 " that she don't look much like a merry one at this present 
 moment of time." 
 
 " Ah ! wait till you hear her laugh ! " said Bailey. 
 
 " Hem ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, in a kind of groan. " I will, 
 child." 
 
 They said no more in the house, for Mrs. Gamp put on her 
 bonnet, Mr. Sweedlepipe took up her box, and Mr. Bailey 
 accompanied them towards Kingsgate Street, recounting to 
 Mrs. Gamp as they went along, the origin and progress of his 
 acquaintance with Mrs. Chuzzlewit and her sister. It was a 
 pleasant instance of his youth's precocity, that he fancied Mrs. 
 Gamp had conceived a tenderness for him, and was much 
 tickled by her misplaced attachment. 
 
 As the door closed heavily behind them, Mrs. Jonas sat 
 down in a chair, and felt a change chill creep upon her, whilst 
 she looked about the room. It was pretty much as she had 
 known it, but appeared more dreary. She had thought to see 
 it brightened to receive her. 
 
 " It ain't good enough for you, I suppose ? " said Jonas, 
 watching her looks. 
 
 " Why, it is dull," said Merry, trying to be more herself. 
 
 *' It'll be duller before you're done with it," retorted Jonas, 
 " if you give me any of your airs. You're a nice article, to 
 turn sulky on first coming home ! 'Ecod, you used to have 
 life enough, when you could plague me with it. The gal's 
 down stairs. Ring the bell for supper, while I take my boots 
 off!" 
 
 She roused herself from looking after him as he left the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 429 
 
 room, to do what he had desired, when the old man Chuffey 
 laid his hand softly on her arm. 
 
 " You are not married ? " he said eagerly. " Not mar- 
 ried ? " 
 
 " Yes. A month ago. Good Heaven, what is the mat- 
 ter ? " 
 
 He answered nothing was the matter ; and turned from 
 her. But in her fear and wonder, turning also, she saw him 
 raise his trembling hands above his head, and heard him 
 say : 
 
 " Oh ! woe, woe, woe, upon this wicked house ! " 
 
 It was her welcome, — Home. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SHOWING THAT OLD FRIENDS MAY NOT ONLY APPEAR WITH 
 
 NEW FACES, BUT IN FALSE COLORS. THAT PEOPLE ARE 
 
 PRONE TO BITE ; AND THAT BITERS MAY SOMETIMES CE 
 BITTEN. 
 
 Mr. Bailey, Junior — for the sporting character, whilom 
 of general utility at Todgers's, had now regularly set up in life 
 under that name, without troubling himself to obtain from the 
 legislature a direct license in the form of a Private Bill, which 
 of all kinds and classes of bills is without exception the most 
 unreasonable in its charges — Mr. Bailey, Junior, just tall 
 enough to be seen by an inquiring eye, gazing indolently at 
 society from beneath the apron of his master's cab, drove 
 slowly up and down Pall Mall about the hour of noon, in 
 waiting for his "Governor." The horse of distinguished 
 family, who had Capricorn for his nephew, and Cauliflower for 
 his brother, showed himself worthy of his high relations by 
 champing at the bit until his chest was white with foam, and 
 rearing like a horse in heraldry ; the plated harness and the 
 patent leather glittered in the sun ; pedestrians admired ; Mr. 
 Bailey was complacent, but unmoved. He seemed to say, 
 " A barrow, good people, a mere barrow ; nothing to what we 
 could do, if we chose ! " and on he went, squaring his short 
 green arms outside the apron, as if he were hooked on to it by 
 his armpits.
 
 43° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 Mr. Bailey had a great opinion of brother to Cauliflower, and 
 estimated his powers highly. But he never told him so. On 
 the contrar}% it was his practice, in driving that animal, to 
 assail him with disrespectful, if not injurious expressions, as, 
 "Ah! would you!" "Did you think it, then?" "Where 
 are you going to now } " " No you won't, my lad ! " and simi- 
 lar fragmentary remarks. These being usually accompanied 
 by a jerk of the rein, or a crack of the whip, led to many 
 trials of strength between them, and to many contentions for 
 the upper hand, terminating now and then in china shops, and 
 other unusual goals, as Mr. Bailey had already hinted to his 
 friend Poll Sweedlepipe. 
 
 On the present occasion Mr. Bailey, being in spirits, was 
 more than commonly hard upon his charge ; in consequence 
 of which that fiery animal confined himself almost entirely to 
 his hind legs in displaying his paces, and constantly got him- 
 self into positions with reference to the cabriolet that very 
 much amazed the passengers in the street. But Mr. Bailey, 
 not at all disturbed, had still a shower of pleasantries to bestow 
 on any one who crossed his path ; as, calling to a full-grown 
 coalheaver in a wagon, who for a moment blocked the way, 
 " Now, young 'un, who trusted you with a cart ? " inquiring of 
 elderly ladies who wanted to cross, and ran back again, " Wliy 
 they didn't go to the workhouse and get an order to be buried .'' " 
 tempting boys with friendly words, to get up behind, and 
 immediately afterwards cutting them down ; and the like 
 flashes of a cheerful humor, which he would occasionally re- 
 lieve by going round St. James's Square at a hand gallop, and 
 coming slowly into Pall Mall by another entry, as if, in the in- 
 terval, his pace had been a perfect crawl. 
 
 It was not until these amusements had been very often re- 
 peated, and the apple-stall at the corner had sustained so 
 many miraculous escapes as to appear impregnable, that Mr. 
 Bailey was summoned to the door of a certain house in Pall 
 Mall, and turning short, obeyed the call and jumped out. It 
 was not until he had held the bridle for some minutes longer 
 — every jerk of Cauliflower's brother's head, and every twitch 
 of Cauhflower's brother's nostril, taking him ofi^ his legs in the 
 meanwhile — that two persons entered the vehicle, one of whom 
 took the reins and drove rapidly off. Nor was it until Mr. Bai- 
 ley had run after it some hundreds of yards in vain, that he man- 
 aged to lift his short leg into the iron step, and finally to get 
 his boots upon the little footboard behind. Then, indeed, he
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE IV/r 43 1 
 
 became a sight to see, and — standing now on one foot and 
 now upon the other, now trjdng to look round the cab on this 
 side, now on that, and now endeavoring to peep over the top 
 of it, as it went dashing in among the carts and coaches — was 
 from head to heel Newmarket. 
 
 The appearance of Mr. Bailey's governor as he drove 
 along, fully justified that enthusiastic youth's description of 
 him to the wondering Poll. He had a world of jet-black shin- 
 ing hair upon his head, upon his cheeks, upon his chin, upon 
 his upper lip. His clothes, symmetrically made, were of the 
 newest fashion and the costliest kind. J'lowers of sold and 
 blue, and green and blushing red, were on his waistcoat ; pre- 
 cious chains apd jewels sparkled on his breast ; his fingers, 
 clogged with brilliant rings, were as unwieldly as summer flies 
 but newly rescued froni a hone3'-pot. The daylight mantled 
 in his gleaming hat and boots as in a polished glass. And yet 
 though changed his name, and changed his outward surface, 
 it was Tigg. Though turned and twisted upside down, and 
 inside out, as great men have been sometimes known to be ; 
 though no longer Montague Tigg, but Tigg Montague ; still it 
 was Tigg ; the same Satanic, gallant, military Tigg. The 
 brass was burnished, lacquered, -newly stamped ; yet itwas the 
 true Tigg metal notwithstanding. 
 
 Beside him sat a smiling gentleman of less pretentions 
 and of business looks, whom he addressed as David. Surely 
 not the David of the — how shall it be phrased i" — the triumvi- 
 rate of golden balls 1 Not David, tapster of the Lombards' 
 Arms ? Yes. The very man. 
 
 " The secretary's salary, Da\id, ' said Mr. Montague, " the 
 office being now established, is eight hundred pounds per an- 
 num, with his house-rent, coals, and candles free. His five- 
 and-twenty shares he holds, of course. Is that enough ? " 
 
 David smiled and nodded, and coughed behind a little 
 locked portfolio which he carried, with an air that proclaimed 
 him to be the secretary in question. 
 
 " If that's enough," said Montague, " I will propose it at 
 the Board to-day, in my capacity as chairman." 
 
 The secretary smiled again ; laughed, indeed, this time ; 
 and said, rubbing his nose slyly with one end of the portfolio : 
 
 " It was a capital thought, wasn't it .? " 
 
 " What was a capital thought, David .? " Mr. Montague in- 
 quired. 
 
 " The Anglo-Bengalee," tittered the secretary.
 
 432 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "The Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life As- 
 surance Company, is rather a capital concern, I hope, David," 
 said Montague. 
 
 " Capital, indeed ! " cried the secretary, with another laugh 
 — "in one sense." 
 
 " In the only important one," observ^ed the chairman ; 
 " which is number one, David." 
 
 "What," asked the secretary, bursting into another laugh, 
 " what will be the paid up capital, according to the next pros- 
 pectus 1 " 
 
 " A figure of two, and as many oughts after it as the 
 printer can get into the same line," replied his friend. " Ha, 
 ha ! " 
 
 At this they both laughed ; the secretary so vehemently, 
 that in kicking up his feet, he kicked the apron open, and 
 nearly started Cauliflower's brother into an oyster-shop ; not 
 to mention Mr. Bailey's receiving such a sudden swing, that 
 he held on for a moment, quite a young Fame, by one strap 
 and no legs. 
 
 " What a chap you are ? " exclaimed David admiringly, 
 when this little alarm had subsided. 
 
 " Say, genius, David, genius." 
 
 " Well, upon my soul, you arc a genius then," said David. 
 " I always knew you had the gift of the gab, of course ; but I 
 never believed you were half the man you are. How could 1 ? " 
 
 " I rise with circumstances, David. That's a point of 
 genius in itself," said Tigg. " If you were to lose a hundred 
 pound wager to me at this minute, David, and were to pay it 
 (which is most confoundedly improbable), I should rise, in a 
 mental point of view, directly." 
 
 It is due to Mr. Tigg to say that he had really risen with 
 his opportunities ; peculating on a grander scale, he had be- 
 come a grander man altogether. 
 
 " Ha, ha! " cried the secretary-, laying his hand, with grow- 
 ing familiarity, upon the chairman's arm. " When I look at 
 you, and think of your property in Bengal being — ha, ha, 
 ha !— " 
 
 The half-expressed idea seemed no less ludicrous to Mr. 
 Tigg than to his friend, for he laughed, too, heartily. 
 
 " — Being," resumed David, " being amenable — your prop- 
 erty in Bengal being amenable — to all claims upon the com- 
 pany ; when I look at you and think of that, you might tickle 
 me into fits by waving the feather of a pen at me. Upon my
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 433 
 
 soul you might ! " 
 
 " It's a devilish fine property," said Tigg Montague, " to 
 be amenable to any claims. The preserve of Tigers alone is 
 worth a mint of money, David." 
 
 David could only reply in the intervals of his laughter. 
 " Oh, what a chap you are ! " and so continued to laugh, and 
 hold his sides, and wipe his eyes, for some time, without offer- 
 ing any other observation. 
 
 "A capital idea.-" " said Tigg, returning after a time to his 
 companion's first remark : " no doubt it was a capital idea. 
 It was my idea." 
 
 " No, no. It was my idea," said David. " Hang it, let a 
 man have some-credit. Didn't I say to you that I'd saved a 
 few pounds ? — " 
 
 ''You said ! Didn't I say to you," interposed Tigg, "that 
 /had come into a few pounds ? " 
 
 " Certainly you did," returned David, warmly, " but that's 
 not the idea. Who said, that if we put the money together 
 we could furnish an ofiice, and make a show ? " 
 
 " And who said," retorted Mr. Tigg, " that, provided we 
 did it on a sufficiently large scale, we could furnish an office 
 and make a show, without anv monev at all ? Be rational, 
 and just, and calm, and tell me whose idea was that." 
 
 "Why there," David was obliged to confess, "you had the 
 advantage of me, I admit. But I don't put myself on a level 
 with you. I only want a little credit in the business." 
 
 " All the credit you desen-e you have," said Tigg. " The 
 plain work of the company, David — figures, books, circulars, 
 advertisements, pen, ink and paper, sealing-wax and wafers — 
 is admirably done by you. You are a first-rate groveller. I 
 don't dispute it. But the ornamental department, David 3 
 the inventive and poetical department — " 
 
 " Is entirely yours," said his friend. " No question of it. 
 But with such a swell turn-out as this, and all the handsome 
 things you've got about you, and the life you lead, I mean to 
 say it's a precious comfortable department too." 
 
 " Does it gain the purpose ? Is it Anglo-Bengalee ? " 
 asked Tigg. 
 
 "Yes/' said David. 
 
 " Could you undertake it yourself? " demanded Tigg. 
 
 " No," said David. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed Tigg. "Then be contented with 
 your station and vour profits, David, mv fine fellow, and bless 
 
 28
 
 434 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZIEWIT. 
 
 the day that made us acquainted across the counter of our 
 common uncle, for it was a golden day to you." 
 
 It will have been already gathered from the conversation 
 of these worthies, that they were embarked in an enterprise 
 of some magnitude, in which they addressed the public in 
 general from the strong position of having everything to gain, 
 and nothing at all to lose ; and which, based upon this great 
 principle, was thriving pretty comfortably. 
 
 The Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assur- 
 ance Company, started into existence one morning, not an 
 Infant Institution, but a Grown-up Company running along at 
 a great pace, and doing business right and left : with a 
 " branch '" in a first tioor over a tailor's at the West-end of 
 the town, and main offices in a new street in the City, com- 
 prising the upper part of a spacious house, resplendent in 
 stucco and plate-glass, with wire blinds in all the windows, 
 and " Anglo-Bengalee " worked into the pattern of every one 
 of them. On the door-post was painted again in large letters, 
 " Offices of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life 
 Assurance Company," and on the door was a large brass 
 plate with the same inscription, always kept very bright, as 
 courting inquiry ; staring the City out of countenance after 
 office hours on working days, and all day long on Sundays ; 
 and looking bolder than the Bank. Within, the offices were 
 newly plastered, newly painted, newly papered, newly coun- 
 terecl, newly floor-clothed, newly tabled, newly chaired, newly 
 fitted-up in every way, with goods that were substantial and 
 expensive, and designed (like the company) to last. Business ! 
 Look at the green ledgers with red backs, like strong cricket- 
 balls beaten flat ; the court-guides, directories, day-books, 
 almanacs, letter-boxes, weighing-machines for letters, rows of 
 fire-buckets for dashing out a conflagration in its first spark, 
 and saving the immense w'ealth in notes and bonds belonging 
 to the company ; look at the iron safes, the clock, the office 
 seal — in its capacious self, security for anything. Solidity ! 
 Look at the massi\'e blocks of marble in the chimney-pieces, 
 and the gorgeous parapet on the top of the house ! Publicity ! 
 Why, Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance 
 Company is painted on the very coal-scuttles. It is repeated 
 at every turn until the eyes are dazzled with it, and the head 
 is giddy. It is engraved upon the top of all the letter paper, 
 and it makes a scroll-work round the seal, and it shines out 
 of the porter's buttons, and it is repeated twenty times in
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 435 
 
 every circular and public notice wherein one David Crimple, 
 Esquire, Secretary and resident Director takes the liberty of 
 inviting your attention to the accompanying statement of the 
 advantages offered by the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan 
 and Life Assurance Company, and fully proves to you that 
 any connection on your part with that establishment must 
 result in a perpetual Christmas Box and constantly increasing 
 Bonus to yourself, and that nobody can run any risk by the 
 transaction except the office, which, in its great liberality, is 
 pretty sure to lose. And this, David Crimple, Esquire, 
 submits to you (and the odds are heavy you belie^'e him), is 
 the best guarantee that can reasonably be suggested by the 
 Board of Management for its permanence and stability. 
 
 This gentleman's name, by the way, had been originally 
 Crimp ; but as the word was susceptible of an awkward con- 
 struction and might be misrepresented, he had altered it to 
 Crimple. 
 
 Lest with all these proofs and confirmations, any man 
 should be suspicious of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested 
 Loan and Life Assurance Company ; should doubt in tiger, 
 cab, or person, Tigg Montague, Esquire (of I^all Mall and 
 Bengali) or any other name in the imaginative List of 
 Directors ; there was a porter on the premises — a wonderful 
 creature, in a vast red waistcoat and a short-tailed pepper- 
 and-salt coat — who carried more conviction to the minds of 
 skeptics than the whole establishment without him. No con- 
 fidence existed between him and the Directorship ; nobody 
 knew where he had served last ; no character or explanation 
 had been given .or required. No questions had been asked 
 on either side. This mysterious being, relying solely on his 
 figure, had applied for the situation, and had been instantly 
 engaged on his own terms. They were high ; but he knew, 
 doubtless, that no man could carry such an extent of waistcoat 
 as himself, and felt the full value of his capacity to such an 
 institution. When he sat upon a seat erected for him in a 
 corner of the office, with his glazed hat hanging on a peg over 
 his head, it was impossible to doubt the respectability of the 
 concern. It went on doubling itself with every square inch 
 of his red waistcoat until, like the problem of the nails in the 
 horse's shoes, the total became enormous. People had been 
 known to apply to effect an insurance on their lives for a 
 thousand pounds, and looking at him, to beg, before the form 
 of proposal was filled up, that it might be made two. And
 
 436 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 yet he was not a giant. His coat was rather small than other- 
 wise. The whole charm was in his waistcoat. Respectability, 
 competence, property in Bengal or anywhere else, responsi- 
 bility to any amount on the part of the company that employed 
 him, were all expressed in that one garment. 
 
 Rival offices had endeavored to lure him away ; Lombard 
 Street itself had beckoned to him ; rich companies had 
 whispered " Be a Beadle ! " but he still continued faithful to 
 the Anglo-Bengalee. Whether he was a deep rogue, or a 
 stately simpleton, it was impossible to make out, but he 
 appeared to believe in the Anglo-Bengalee. He was grave 
 with imaginary cares of office ; and having nothing whatever 
 to do, and something less to take care of, would look as if the 
 pressure of his numerous duties, and a sense of the treasure 
 in the company's strong-room, made him a solemn and a 
 thoughtful man. 
 
 As the cabriolet drove up to the door, this officer appeared 
 bare-headed on the pavement, cr^'ing aloud " Room for the 
 chairman, room for the chairman, if you please ! " much to 
 the admiration of the bystanders, who, it is needless to say, 
 had their attention directed to the Anglo Bengalee Company 
 thenceforth, by that means. Mr. Tigg leaped gracefully out, 
 followed by the Managing Director (who was by this time 
 very distant and respectful), and ascended the stairs, still 
 preceded by the porter, who cried as he went, " By your 
 leave there ! by your leave ! The Chairman of the Board, 
 Gentle — men ! " In like manner, but in a still more sten- 
 torian voice, he ushered the chairman through the public 
 office, where some humble clients were transacting business, 
 into an awful chamber, labelled Board-room, the door of 
 which sanctuary immediately closed, and screened the great 
 capitalist from vulgar eyes. 
 
 The board-room had a Turkey carpet in it, a sideboard, 
 a portrait of Tigg Montague, Esquire, as chairman ; a very 
 imposing chair of office, garnished with an ivory hammer and 
 a little hand-bell ; and a long table, set out at intervals with 
 sheets of blotting-paper, foolscap, clean pens, and inkstands. 
 The chairman having taken his seat with great solemnity, the 
 secretary supported him on his right hand, and the porter 
 stood bolt upright behind them, forming a warm background 
 of waistcoat. This was the board : everything else being a 
 light-hearted little fiction. 
 
 " Bullamy ! " said Mr. Tigg.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 437 
 
 (( 
 
 Sir ! " replied the Porter. 
 
 " Let the Medical Officer know, with my compliments, that 
 I wish to see him." 
 ■ Bullamy cleared his throat, and bustled out into the office, 
 crying " The Chairman of the Board wishes to see the Medical 
 Officer. By your leave there ! By your leave ! " He soon 
 returned with the gentleman in question ; and at both open- 
 ings of the board-room door — at his coming in and at his 
 going out — simple clients were seen to stretch their necks and 
 stand upon their toes, thirsting to catch the slightest glimpse 
 of that mysterious chamber. 
 
 '' Jobling, my dear friend ! " said Mr. Tigg, " how are you ? 
 Bullamy, wait O^Litside. Crlmple, don't leave us. Jobling, my 
 good fellow, I am glad to see you." 
 
 " And how are you, Mr. Montague, eh ? " said the Medical 
 Officer, throwing himself luxuriously into an easy-chair (they 
 were all easy-chairs in the board-room), and taking a hand- 
 some gold snuffbox from the pocket of his black satin waist- 
 coat. " How are you ? A little worn with business, eh ? If 
 so, rest. A little feverish from wine, humph ? If so, water. 
 Nothing at all the matter, and quite comfortable .-' Then take 
 some lunch. A very wholesome thing at this time of day to 
 strengthen the gastric juices with lunch, Mr. Montague." 
 
 The Medical Officer (he was the same medical officer who 
 had followed poor old Anthony Chuzzlewit to the grave, and 
 who had attended Mrs. Gamp's patient at the Bull) smiled in 
 saying these words ; and casually added, as he brushed some 
 grains of snuff from his shirt-frill, " I always take it myself 
 about this time of day, do you know ! " 
 
 " Bullamy ! " said the Chairman, ringing the little bell. 
 
 " Sir ! " 
 
 " Lunch." 
 
 " Not on my account, I hope ? " said the doctor. " You 
 are very good. Thank you. I'm quite ashamed. Ha, ha ! 
 if I had been a sharp practitioner, Mr. Montague, I shouldn't 
 have mentioned it without a fee ; for you may depend upon it, 
 my dear sir, that if you don't make a point of taking lunch, 
 you'll very soon come under my hands. Allow me to illustrate 
 this. In Mr. Crimple's leg — " 
 
 The resident Director gave an involuntary start, for the 
 doctor, in the heat of his demonstration, caught it up and 
 laid it across his own, as if he were going to take it off, then 
 and there.
 
 438 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " In Mr. Crimple's leg, you'll obser\'e," pursued the doctor, 
 turning back his cuffs and spanning the limb with both hands, 
 " where Mr. Crimple's knee fits into the socket, here, there is 
 — that is to say, between the bone and the socket — a certain 
 quantity of animal oil." 
 
 " What do you pick my leg out for? " said Mr. Crimple, 
 looking with something of an anxious expression at his limb.- 
 " It's the same with other legs, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Never you mind, my good sir," returned the doctor, 
 shaking his head, " whether it is the same with other legs, or 
 not the same." 
 
 " But I do mind," said David. 
 
 " I take a particular case, Mr. Montague," returned the 
 doctor, " as illustrating my remark, you observe. In this 
 portion of Mr. Crimple's leg, sir, there is a certain amount of 
 animal oil. In eveiy one of Mr. Crimple's joints, sir, there 
 is more or less of the same deposit. Very good. If Mr. 
 Crimple neglects his meals, or fails to take his proper quantity 
 of rest, that oil wanes, and becomes exhausted. What is the 
 consequence.'' Mr. Crimple's bones sink down into their 
 sockets, sir, and Mr. Crimple becomes a weazen, puny, 
 stunted, miserable man ! " 
 
 The doctor let Mr. Crimple's leg fall suddenly, as if he 
 were already in that agreeable condition, turned down his wrist- 
 bands again, and looked triumphantly at the chairman. 
 
 " We know a few secrets of nature in our profession, sir," 
 said the doctor. " Of course we do. We study for that ; we 
 pass the Hall and the College for that ; and we take our 
 station in society by that. It's extraordinary how little is 
 known on these subjects generally. Where do you suppose, 
 now " — the doctor closed one eye, as he leaned back smilingly 
 in his chair, and formed a triangle with his hands, of which 
 his two thumbs composed the base — " where do you suppose 
 Mr. Crimple's stomach is .'' " 
 
 Mr. Crimple, more agitated than before, clapped his hand 
 immediately below his waistcoat. 
 
 "-Not at all," cried the doctor; "not at all. Quite a 
 popular mistake ! My good sir, you're altogether deceived." 
 
 " I feel it there, when it's out of order ; that's all I know," 
 said Crimple. 
 
 "You think you do," replied the doctor; "but science 
 knows better. There was a patient of mine once " — touching 
 one of the many mourning rings upon his fingers, and slightly
 
 ■MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 435 
 
 bowing his head — " a gentleman who did me the honor to 
 make a very handsome mention of me in his will — ' in testi- 
 mony,' as he was pleased to say, 'of the unremitting zeal, 
 talent, and attention of my friend and medical attendant, 
 John Jobling, Esquire, M.R.C.S.,' — who was so overcome by 
 the idea of having all his life labored under an erroneous 
 view of the locality of this important organ, that when I as- 
 sured him, on my professional reputation, he was mistaken, 
 he burst into tears, put out his hand, and said, ' Jobling, God 
 bless you ! ' Immediately afterwards he became speechless, 
 and was ultimatelv buried at Brixton." 
 
 " By your leave there ! " cried Bullamy, without. " By 
 your leave ! Refreshment for the Board-room ! " 
 
 " Ha ! " said the doctor, jocularly, as he rubbed his hands 
 and drew his chair nearer to the table. " The true Life As- 
 surance, Mr. Montague. The best Policy in the world, my 
 dear sir. We should be provident, and eat and drink when- 
 ever we can. Eh, Mr. Crimple ? " 
 
 The resident Director acquiesced rather sulkily, as if the 
 gratification of replenishing his stomach had been impaired 
 by the unsettlement of his preconceived opinions in reference 
 to its situation. But the appearance of the porter and under 
 porter with a tray covered with a snow-white cloth, which, 
 being thrown back, displayed a pair of cold roast fowls, 
 flanked by some potted meats and a cool salad, quickly re- 
 stored his good humor. It was enhanced still further by the 
 arrival of a bottle of excellent madeira, and another of cham- 
 pagne ; and he soon attacked the repast with an appetite 
 scarcely inferior to that of the medical officer. 
 
 The lunch was handsomely served, with a profusion of rich 
 glass, plate, and china, which seemed to denote that eating 
 and drinking on a showy scale formed no unimportant item in 
 the business of the Anglo-Bengalee Directorship. As it pro- 
 ceeded, the Medical Officer grew more and more joyous and 
 red-faced, insomuch that every mouthful he ate, and every 
 drop of wine he swallowed, seemed to impart new lustre to his 
 eyes, and to light up new sparks in his nose and forehead. 
 
 In certain quarters of the City and its neighborhood, i\Ir. 
 Jobling was, as we have already seen in some measure, a very 
 popular character. He had a portentously sagacious chin, 
 and a pompous voice, with a rich huskiness in some of its 
 tones that w-ent directly to the heart, like a ray of light shining 
 through the ruddy medium of choice old burgundy. His neck-
 
 440 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 kerchief and shirt-frill were ever of the whitest, his clothes of 
 the blackest and sleekest, his gold watch-chain of the heaviest, 
 and his seals of the largest. His boots, which were always of 
 the brightest, creaked as he walked. Perhaps he could shake 
 his head, rub his hands, or warm himself before a fire, better 
 than any man alive ; and he had a peculiar way of smacking 
 his lips and saying, " Ah ! " at inten^als while patients detailed 
 their symptoms, which inspired great confidence. It seemed 
 to express, " I know what you're going to say better than you 
 do ; but go on, go on." As he talked on all occasions whether 
 he had anything to say or not, it was unanimously observed of 
 him that he was "full of anecdote ;" and his experience and 
 profit from it were considered, for the same reason, to be 
 something much too extensive for description. His female 
 patients could never praise him too highly ; and the coldest 
 of his male admirers would always say this for him to their 
 friends, " that whatever Jobling's professional skill might be 
 (and it could not be denied that he had a very high reputa- 
 tion), he was one of the most comfortable fellows you ever 
 saw in your life ! " 
 
 Jobling was for many reasons, and not last in the list be- 
 cause his connection lay principally among tradesmen and 
 their families, exactly the sort of person whom the Anglo- 
 Bengalee Company wanted for a medical officer. But Job- 
 ling was far too knowing to connect himself with the com- 
 pany in any closer ties than as a paid (and well paid) func- 
 tionary, or to allow his connection to be misunderstood 
 abroad, if he could help it. Hence he always stated the case 
 to an inquiring patient, after this manner : 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, with regard to the Anglo-Bengalee, 
 my information, you see, is limited : ver^- limited. I am the 
 medical officer, in consideration of a certain monthly pay- 
 ment. The laborer is worthy of his hire ; Bis dat qui cito dat " 
 — (" Classical scholar, Jobling ! " thinks the patient, " well- 
 read man ! ") — " and I receive it regularly. Therefore I am 
 bound, so far as my own knowledge goes,' to speak well of 
 the establishment." (" Nothing can be fairer than Jobling's 
 conduct," thinks the patient, who has just paid Jobling's bill 
 himself.) " If you put any question to me, my dear friend," 
 says the doctor, " touching the responsibility or capital of the 
 company, there I am at fault ; for I have no head for figures, 
 and not being a shareholder, am delicate of showing any 
 curiosity whatever on the subject. . Delicacy — your amiable
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 441 
 
 lady will agree with me I am sure — should be one of the first 
 characteristics of a medical man." ( " Nothing can be finer 
 or more gentlemanly than Jobling's feeling," thinks the pa- 
 tient.) " Very good, my dear sir, so the matter stands. You 
 don't know Mr. Montague ? I'm sorry for it. A remarkably 
 handsome man, and quite the gentleman in every respect. 
 Property, I am told, in India. House and eveiything belong- 
 ing to him, beautiful. Costly furniture on the most elegant 
 and lavish scale. And pictures, which, even in an anatomi- 
 cal point of view, are per — fection. In case you should ever 
 think of doing anything with the company, I'll pass you, you 
 may depend upon it. I can conscientiously report you a 
 healthy subject." If I understand any man's constitution, it is 
 yours ; and this little indisposition has done him more good, 
 ma'am," says the doctor, turning to the patient's wife, "than 
 if he had swallowed the contents of half the nonsensical bot- 
 tles in my surger}-. For they are nonsense — to tell the hon- 
 est truth, one half of them are nonsense — compared with such 
 a constitution as his ! " ( " Jobling is the most friendly crea- 
 ture I ever met with in my life," thinks the patient ; " and 
 upon my word and honor, I'll consider of it ! ") 
 
 " Commission to you, doctor, on four new policies, and a 
 loan this morning, eh? " said Crimple looking, when they had 
 finished lunch, over some papers brought in by the porter. 
 " Well done ! " 
 
 "Jobling, my dear friend," said Tigg, "long life to you." 
 
 "No, no. Nonsense. Upon my word I've no right to 
 draw the commission," said the doctor, " I haven't really. It's 
 picking your pocket. I don't recommend anybody here. I 
 only say what I know. My patients ask me what I know, 
 and I tell 'em what I know. Nothing else. Caution is my 
 weak side, that's the truth \ and always was from a boy. That 
 is," said the doctor, filling his glass, " caution in behalf of 
 other people. Whether I would repose confidence in this 
 company myself, if I had not been paying money elsewhere 
 for many years — that's quite another question." 
 
 He tried to look as if there were no doubt about it ; but 
 feeling that he did it but indifferently, changed the tiieme and 
 praised the wine. 
 
 " Talking of wine," said the doctor, " reminds me of one 
 of the finest glasses of light old port I ever drank in my life ; 
 and that was at a funeral. You have not seen anything of — of 
 that party, Mr. Montague, have you ? " handing him a card.
 
 442 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " He is not buried, I hope ? " said Tigg, as he took it. 
 " The honor of his company is not requested if he is." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed the doctor. " No ; not quite. He 
 was honorably connected with that very occasion though." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Tigg, smoothing his mustache, as he cast 
 his eyes upon the name. " I recollect. No. He has not 
 been here." 
 
 The words were on his lips, when Bullamy entered, and 
 presented a card to the Medical Officer. 
 
 " Talk of the what's his name," observed the doctor rising. 
 
 " And he's sure to appear, eh } " said Tigg. 
 
 "Why, no, Mr. Montague, no," returned the doctor. "We 
 will not say that in the present case, for this gentleman is very 
 far from it." 
 
 " So much the better," retorted Tigg. " So much the 
 more adaptable to the Anglo-Bengalee. Bullamy, clear the 
 table and take the things out by the other door. Mr. Crim- 
 ple, business." 
 
 " Shall I introduce him .'' " asked Jobling. 
 
 " I shall be eternally delighted," answered Tigg, kissing 
 his hand and smiling sweetly. 
 
 The doctor disappeared into the outer office, and imme- 
 diately returned with Jonas Chuzzlewit. 
 
 "Mr. Montague," said Jobling. "Allow me. My friend 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit. My dear friend — our chairman. Now do 
 you know," he added, checking himself with infinite policy, 
 and looking round with a smile, " that's a very singular in- 
 stance of the force of example. It really is a very remarkable 
 instance of the force of example. I say our chairman. Why 
 do I say our chairman ? Because he is not my chairman, you 
 know. I have no connection with the company, farther than 
 giving them, for a certain fee and reward, my poor opinion as 
 a medical man, precisely as I may give it any day to Jack 
 Noakes or Tom Styles. Then why do I say our chairman 1 
 Simply because I hear the phrase constantly repeated about 
 me. Such is the involuntary operation of the mental faculty 
 in the imitative biped man. Mr. Crimple, I believe you never 
 take snuff ? Injudicious. You should." 
 
 Pending these remarks on the part of the doctor, and the 
 lengthened and sonorous pinch with which he followed them 
 up, Jonas took a seat at the board, as ungainly a man as 
 ever he has been within the reader's knowledge. It is too 
 common with all of us, but it is especially in the nature of a
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 443 
 
 mean mind, to be overawed by fine clothes and fine furniture. 
 Tiiey had a very decided influence on Jonas. 
 
 " Now you two gentlemen have business to discuss, I 
 know," said the doctor, " and your time is precious. So is 
 mine ; for several lives are waiting for me in the next room, 
 and I have a round of visits to make after — after I have 
 taken 'em. Having had the happiness to introduce you to 
 each other, I may go about my business. Good-by. But 
 allow me, Mr. Montague, before I go, to say this of my friend 
 who sits beside you : That gentleman has done more, sir," 
 rapping his snuff-box solemnly, " to reconcile me to human 
 nature, than any man alive or dead. Good-by ! " 
 
 With these words Jobling bolted abruptly out of the room, 
 and proceeded in his own official department, to impress the 
 lives in waiting with a sense of his keen conscientiousness in 
 the discharge of his duty, and the great difficulty of getting 
 into the Anglo-Bengalee ; by feeling their pulses, looking at 
 their tongues, listening at their ribs, poking them in the chest, 
 and so forth ; though, if he didn't well know beforehand that 
 whatever kind of lives they were, the Anglo-Bengalee would 
 accept them readily, he was far from being the Jobling that 
 his friend considered him ; and w-as not the original Jobling, 
 but a spurious imitation. 
 
 Mr. Crimple also departed on the business of the morn- 
 ing ; and Jonas Chuzzlewit and Tigg were left alone. 
 
 " I learn from our friend," said Tigg, drawing his chair 
 towards Jonas with a winning ease of manner, "that you have 
 been thinking — " 
 
 "Oh! Ecod then he'd no right to say so," cried Jonas, 
 interrupting. " I didn't tell him my thoughts. If he took it 
 into his head that I was coming here for such or such a pur- 
 pose, why, that's his look-out. I don't stand committed by 
 that." 
 
 Jonas said this offensively enough ; for over and above the 
 habitual distrust of his character, it was in his nature to seek 
 to revenge himself on the fine clothes and the fine furniture, 
 in exact proportion as he had been unable to withstand their 
 influence. 
 
 " If I come here to ask a question or two, and get a docu- 
 ment or two to consider of, I don't bind myself to anything. 
 Let's understand that, you know," said Jonas. 
 
 " My dear fellow ! " cried Tigg, clapping him on the 
 shoulder, " I applaud your frankness. If men like you and
 
 444 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 I speak openly at first, all possible misunderstanding is 
 avoided. Why should I disguise what you know so well, but 
 what the crowd never dream of ? We companies are all birds 
 of prey : mere birds of prey. The only question is, whether, 
 in serving our own turn, we can serve yours too, whether in 
 double-lining our own nest, we can put a single lining into 
 yours. Oh, you're in our secret. You're behind the scenes. 
 We'll make a merit of dealing plainly with you, when we know 
 we can't help it." 
 
 It was remarked, on the first introduction of Mr. Jonas 
 into these pages, that there is a simplicity of cunning no less 
 than a simplicity of innocence, and that in all matters involving 
 a faith in knavery, he was the most credulous of men. If Mr. 
 Tigg had preferred any claim to high and honorable dealing, 
 Jonas would have suspected him though he had been a very 
 model of probity ; but when he gave utterance to Jonas's own 
 thoughts of everything and everybody, Jonas began to feel 
 that he was a pleasant fellow, and one to be talked to freely. 
 
 He changed his position in the chair ; not for a less awk- 
 ward, but for a more boastful attitude ; and smiling in his 
 miserable conceit, rejoined ; 
 
 " You an't a bad man of business, Mr. Montague. You 
 know how to set about it, I ivill say." 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Tigg, nodding confidentially, and showing 
 his white teeth : " we are not children, Mr. Chuzzlewit ; we 
 are grown men, I hope." 
 
 Jonas assented, and said after a short silence, first spread- 
 ing out his legs, and sticking one arm akimbo to show how 
 perfectly at home he was, 
 
 " The truth is—" 
 
 " Don't say, the truth," interposed Tigg, with another grin. 
 "It's so like humbug." 
 
 Greatly charmed by this, Jonas began again. 
 
 " The long and the short of it, is — " 
 
 " Better," muttered Tigg. " Much better ! " 
 
 " — That I didn't consider myself very well used by one or 
 two of the old companies in some negotiations I have had 
 with 'em. Once had, I mean. They started objections they 
 had no right to start, and put questions they had no right to 
 put, and carried things much too high for my taste." 
 
 As he made these observations he cast down his eyes, and 
 looked curiously at the carpet. Mr. Tigg looked curiously at 
 him.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 445 
 
 He made so long a pause, that Tigg came to the rescue, 
 and said, in his pleasantest manner : 
 
 " Take a glass of wine." 
 No, no," returned Jonas, with a cunning shake of the 
 head ; " none of that, thankee. No wine over business. All 
 very well for you, but it wouldn't do for me." 
 
 " What an old hand you are, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " said Tigg, 
 leaning back in his chair, and leering at him through his half- 
 shut eyes. 
 
 Jonas shook his head again, as much to say, " You're 
 right there ; " and then resumed, jocosely : 
 
 "Not such an old hand, cither, but that I've been and got 
 married. That^s rather green, you'll say. Perhaps it is, 
 especially as she's young. But one never knows what may 
 happen to these women, so I'm thinking of insuring her life. 
 It is but fair, you know, that a man should secure some con- 
 solation in case of meeting with such a loss." 
 
 " If anything can console him under such heart-breaking 
 circumstances," murmured Tigg, with his eyes shut up as 
 before. 
 
 " Exactly," returned Jonas ; "if anything can. Now, sup- 
 posing I did it here, I should do it cheap, 1 know, and easy, 
 without bothering her about it ; which I'd much rather not do, 
 for it's just in a woman's way to take it into her head, if you 
 talk to her about such things, that she's going to die di- 
 rectly." 
 
 " So it is," cried Tigg, kissing his hand in honor of the 
 sex. " You're quite right. Sweet, silly, fluttering little sim- 
 pletons ! " 
 
 " Well," said Jonas, "on that account, you know, and 
 because offence has been given me in other quarters, I 
 wouldn't mind patronizing this Company. But I want to 
 know what sort of security there is for the Company's going 
 on. That's the — " 
 
 " Not the truth ? " cried Tigg, holding up his jewelled 
 hand. " Don't use that Sunday School expression, please ! " 
 
 " The long and the short of it," said Jonas. "The long 
 and the short of it is, what's the security .'' " 
 
 " The paid-up capital, my dear sir," said Tigg, referring 
 to some papers on the table, " is, at this present moment — " 
 
 " Oh ! I understand all about paid-up capitals, you know," 
 said Jonas. 
 
 " You do 1 " cried Tigg, stopping short.
 
 446 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I should hope so." 
 
 He turned the papers down again, and moving nearer to 
 him, said in his ear : 
 
 " I know you do. I know you do. Look at me ! " 
 
 It was not much in Jonas's way to look straight at anybody ; 
 but thus requested, he made shift to take a tolerable survey 
 of the chairman's features. The chairman fell back a little, to 
 give him the better opportunity. 
 
 " You know me ? " he inquired, elevating his eyebrows. 
 " You recollect ? You've seen me before .-* " 
 
 " Why, I thought I remembered your face when I first 
 came in," said Jonas, gazing at it : " but I couldn't call to 
 mind where I had seen it. No. I don't remember, even now. 
 Was it in the street t " 
 
 " Was it in Pecksniff's parlor ? " said Tigg. 
 
 " In Pecksniff's parlor ! " echoed Jonas, fetching a long 
 breath. " You don't mean when — " 
 
 " Yes," cried Tigg, " when there was a very charming and 
 delightful little family party, at which yourself and your re- 
 spected father assisted." 
 
 " Well, never mind ///>«," said Jonas. " He's dead, and 
 there's no help for it." 
 
 " Dead is he ! " cried Tigg. " Venerable old gentleman, 
 is he dead ! You're very like him." 
 
 Jonas received this compliment with anything but a good 
 grace ; perhaps because of his own private sentiments in ref- 
 erence to the personal appearance of his deceased parent ; per- 
 haps because he was not best pleased to find that Montague 
 and Tigg were one. That gentleman perceived it, and tap- 
 ping him familiarly on the sleeve, beckoned him to the window. 
 From this moment, Mr. Montague's jocularity and flow of 
 spirits were remarkable. 
 
 " Do you find me at all changed since that time ? " he asked. 
 " Speak plainly." 
 
 Jonas looked hard at his waistcoat and jewels ; and said, 
 " Rather, ecod ! " 
 
 "Was I at all seedy in those days ? " asked Montague. 
 
 " Precious seedy," said Jonas. 
 
 Mr. Montague pointed down into the street, where Bailey 
 and the cab were in attendance. 
 
 " Neat : perhaps dashing. Do you know whose it is ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Mine. Do you like this room t "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 447 
 
 " It must have cost a lot of money," said Jonas. 
 
 " You're right. Mine too. Why don't you " — he whispered 
 this, and nudged hnn in the side with his elbow — " why don't 
 you take premiums, instead of paying 'em } That's what a 
 man like you should do. Join us ! " 
 
 Jonas stared at him in amazement. 
 
 " Is that a crowded street .-' " asked Montague, calling his 
 attention to the multitude without. 
 
 " Very," said Jonas, only glancing at it, and immediately 
 afterwards looking at him again. 
 
 " There are printed calculations," said his companion, 
 " which will tell you pretty nearly how many people will pass up 
 and down that tlioroughtare in the course of a day. /can tell 
 you how many of 'em will come in here, merely because they find 
 this office here ; knowing no more about it than they do of the 
 Pyramids. Ha, ha ! Join us. You shall come in cheap." 
 
 Jonas looked at him harder and harder. 
 
 " I can tell you," said Tigg in his ear, "how many of 'em 
 will buy annuities, effect insurances, bring us their money in a 
 hundred shapes and ways, force it upon us, trust us as if we 
 were the Mint ; yet know no more about us than you do of the 
 crossing-sweeper at the corner. Not so much. Ha, ha! " 
 
 Jonas gradually broke into a smile. 
 
 " Yah ! " said Montague, giving him a pleasant thrust in 
 the breast ; " you're too deep for us, you dog, or I wouldn't 
 have told you. Dine with me to^norrow in Pall Mall ! " 
 
 " I will," said Jonas. 
 
 " Done ! " cried Montague. " Wait a bit. Take these 
 papers with you, and look 'em over. See," he said, snatching 
 some printed forms from the table. " P is a little tradesman, 
 clerk, parson, artist, author, any common thing you like." 
 
 " Yes," said Jonas, looking greedily over his shoulder. 
 " Well ! " 
 
 " B wants a loan. Say fifty or a hundred pound ; perhaps 
 more \ no matter, B proposes self and two securities. B is 
 accepted. Two securities give a bond. \\ assures his own 
 life for double the amount, and brings two friends' lives also 
 — just to patronize the office. Ha, ha, ha ! Is that a good 
 notion t " 
 
 " Ecod, that's a capital notion ! " cried Jonas. " But does 
 he really do it .'' " 
 
 " Do it ! " repeated the chairman. " B's hard-up my good 
 fellow, and will do anything. Don't you see } It's my idea."
 
 448 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " It does you honor. I'm blest if it don't," said Jonas. 
 
 " I think it does," repUed the chairman, " and I'm proud 
 to hear you say so. B pays the highest lawful interest — " 
 
 " That an't much," interrupted Jonas. 
 
 " Right ! quite right ! " retorted Tigg. " And hard it is 
 upon the part of the law that it should be so confoundedly 
 down upon us unfortunate victims ; when it takes such amaz- 
 ing good interest for itself from all its clients. But charity 
 begins at home, and justice begins next door. Well ! The law 
 being hard upon us, we're not exactly soft upon B ; for besides 
 charging B the regular interest, we get B's premium, and 
 B's friends' premiums, and we charge B for the bond, and, 
 whether we accept him or not, we charge B for ' inquiries '(we 
 keep a man, at a pound a week, to make 'em), and we charge 
 B a trifle for the secretary ; and, in short, my good fellow, we 
 stick it into B, up hill and down dale, and make a devilish 
 comfortable little property out of him. Ha, ha, ha ! I drive 
 B, in point of fact," said Tigg, pointing to the cabriolet, 
 " and a thorough-bred horse he is. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Jonas enjoyed this joke very much indeed. It was quite 
 in his peculiar vein of humor. 
 
 "Then," said Tigg Montague, "we grant annuities on the 
 very lowest and most advantageous terms known in the money 
 market ; and the old ladies and gentlemen down in the coun- 
 try, buy 'em. Ha, ha, ha ! And we pav 'em too — perhaps. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " But there's responsibility in that," said Jonas, looking 
 doubtful. 
 
 " I take it all myself," said Tigg Montague. " Here I am, 
 responsible for everything. The only responsible person in 
 the establishment ! Ha, ha, ha ! Then there are the Life 
 Assurances without loans : the common policies. Very prof- 
 itable, very comfortable. Money clown, you know ; repeated 
 every year ; capital fun ! " 
 
 " But when they begin to fall in," observed Jonas. " It's 
 all very well, while the office is young, but when the policies 
 begin to die ; that's what I am thinking of." 
 
 "At the first start, my dear fellow," said Montague, "to 
 show you how correct your judgment is, we had a couple of 
 unlucky deaths that brought us down to a grand piano." 
 
 " Brought you down where ? " cried Jonas. 
 
 "I give you my sacred word of honor," said Tigg Mon- 
 tague, " that I raised money on every other individual piece
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 449 
 
 of property, and was left alone in the world with a grand 
 piano. And it was an upright-grand too, so that I couldn't 
 even sit upon it. But, my dear fellow, we got over it. We 
 granted a great many new policies that week (liberal allow- 
 ance to solicitors, by the bye), and got over it in no time. 
 Whenever they should chance to fall in heavily, as you very 
 justly observe they may, one of these days ; then — " he fin- 
 ished the sentence in so low a whisper, that only one discon- 
 nected word was audible, and that imperfectly. But it sounded 
 like " Bolt." 
 
 " Why, you're as bold as brass ! " said Jonas, in the ut- 
 most admiration. 
 
 " A man can well afTord to be as bold as brass, my good 
 fellow, when he gets gold in exchange ! " cried the chairman, 
 with a laugh that shook him from head to foot. " You'll dine 
 with me to-morrow ? " 
 
 '* At what time .'' " asked Jonas. 
 
 " Seven. Here's my card. Take the documents. I see 
 you'll join us ! " 
 
 " I don"t know about that," said Jonas. " There's a good 
 deal to be looked into first." 
 
 "You shall look," said Montague, slapping him on the 
 back, " into anything and everything you please. But you'll 
 join us, I am convinced. You were made for it. Bullamy ! " 
 
 Obedient to the summons and the little bell, the waistcoat 
 appeared. Being charged to show Jonas out, it went before ; 
 and the voice within it cried, as usual, " By your leave there, 
 by your leave ! Gentleman from the board-room, by your 
 leave ! " 
 
 Mr. Montague being left alone, pondered for some mo- 
 ments, and then said, raising his voice, 
 
 " Is Nadgett in the office there ? " 
 
 " Here he is, sir." And he promptly entered : shutting 
 the board-room door after him, as carefully as if he were about 
 to plot a murder. 
 
 He was the man at a pound a week who made the inqui- 
 ries. It was no virtue or merit in Nadgett that he transacted 
 all his Anglo-Bengalee business secretly and in the closest 
 confidence ; for he was born to be a secret. He was a short, 
 dried-up, withered, old man, who seemed to have secreted his 
 very blood \ for nobody would have given him credit for the 
 possession of six ounces of it in his whole body. How he 
 lived was a secret ; where he lived was a secret ; and even 
 
 29
 
 4 r- o MA y? r/A^ CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 what he was, was a secret. In his musty old pocket-book he 
 carried contradictory cards, in some of which he called him- 
 self a coal-merchant, in others a wine-merchant, in others a 
 commission-agent, in others a collector, in others an account- 
 ant : as if he really didn't know the secret himself. He was 
 always keeping appointments in the City, and the other man 
 never seemed to come. He would sit on 'Change for hours, 
 looking at everA'body who walked in and out, and would do 
 the like at Garraway's, and in other business coffee-houses, in 
 some of which he would be occasionally seen diying a very 
 damp pocket-handkerchief before the fire, and still looking 
 over his shoulder for the man who never appeared. He was 
 mildewed, threadbare, shabby ; always had flue upon his legs 
 and back ; and kept his linen so secret by buttoning up and 
 wrapping over, that he might have had none — perhaps he 
 hadn't. He carried one stained beaver glove, which he 
 dangled before him by the forefinger as he walked or sat ; but 
 even its fellow was a secret. Some people said he had been 
 a bankrupt, others that he had gone an infant into an ancient 
 Chancery suit which was still depending, but it was all a se- 
 cret. He carried bits of sealing-wax and a hieroglyphical old 
 copper seal in his pocket, and often secretly indited letters in 
 corner boxes of the trj-sting-places before mentioned ; but 
 they never appeared to go to anybody, for he would put them 
 into a secret place in his coat, and deliver them to himself 
 weeks afterwards, very much to his own surprise, quite yel- 
 low. He was that sort of man that if he had died worth a 
 million of money, or had died worth twopence halfpenny, 
 ever}'body would have been perfectly satisfied, and would 
 have said it was just as they expected. And yet he belonged 
 to a class : a race peculiar to the City ; who are secrets as 
 profound to one another, as they are to the rest of mankind. 
 
 " Mr. Nadgett," said Montague, copying Jonas Chuzzle- 
 wit's address upon a piece of paper, from the card which was 
 still lying on the table, " any information about this name, I 
 shall be glad to have myself. Don't you mind what it is. 
 Any- you can scrape together, bring me. Bring it to me, Mr. 
 Nadgett." 
 
 Nadgett put on his spectacles, and read the name atten- 
 tively ; then looked at the chairman over his glasses, and 
 bowed ; then took them off, and put them in their case ; and 
 then put the case in his pocket. When he had done so, he 
 looked, without his spectacles, at the paper as it lay before
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 45' 
 
 him, and at the same tune produced liis pocket-book from 
 somewhere about the middle of his spine. Large as it was, 
 it was very full of documents, but he found a place for this 
 one ; and having clasped it carefully, passed it by a kind of 
 solemn legerdemain into the same region as before. 
 
 He withdrew with another bow and without a word ; 
 opening the door no wider than was sufficient for his passage 
 out ; and shutting it as carefully as before. The chairman 
 of the board employed the rest of the morning in affixing his 
 sign-manual of gracious acceptance to various new proposals 
 of annuity-purchase and assurance. The Company was look- 
 ing up, for they flowed in gayly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 MR. MONTAGUE AT HOME. AND MR. JONAS CHTTZZLEWIT AT 
 
 HOME. 
 
 There were many powerful reasons for Jonas Chuzzlewit 
 being strongly prepossessed in favor of the scheme which its 
 great originator had so boldly laid open to him ; but three 
 among them stood prominently forward. Firstly, there was 
 money to be made by it. Secondly, the money had the pe- 
 culiar charm of being sagaciously obtained at other people's 
 cost. Thirdly, it involved much outward show of homage and 
 distinction : a board being an awful institution in its own 
 sphere, and a director a mighty man. " 'I'o make a swingeing 
 profit, have a lot of chaps to order about, and get into regular 
 good society by one and the same means, and them so easy 
 to one's hand, ain't such a bad look out," thought Jonas. 
 The latter considerations were only second to his avarice ; 
 for, conscious that there was nothing in his person, conduct, 
 character, or accomplishments, to command respect, he was 
 greedy of power, and was in his heart, as much a tyrant as 
 any laurelled conqueror on record. 
 
 But he determined to proceed with cunning and caution, 
 and to be very keen in his observation of the gentility of Mr. 
 Montague's private establishment. For it no more occurred 
 to this shallow knave that Montague wanted him to be so, or
 
 452 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 he wouldn't have invited him while his decision was yet in 
 abeyance, than the possibility of that genius being able to 
 overreach him in any way, pierced through his self-conceit by 
 the inlet of a needle's point. He had said, in the outset, that 
 Jonas was too sharp for him ; and Jonas, who would have 
 been sharp enough to believe him in nothing else, though he 
 had solemnly sworn it, believed him in that, instantly. 
 
 It was with a faltering hand, and yet with an imbecile 
 attempt at a swagger, that he knocked at his new friend's 
 door in Pall Mall "when the appointed hour arrived. Mr. 
 Bailey quickly answered to the summons. He was not proud, 
 and was kindly disposed to take notice of Jonas ; but Jonas 
 had forgotten him. 
 
 " Mr. Montague at home ? " 
 
 " I should hope he wos at home, and waiting dinner, too," 
 said Bailey, with the ease of an old acquaintance. " Will you 
 take your hat up along with you, or leave it here ?" 
 
 ]\Ir. Jonas preferred leaving it there. 
 
 " The hold name, I suppose .'' " said Bailey, with a grin. 
 
 Mr. Jonas stared at him, in mute indignation. 
 
 " What, don't you remember hold mother Todgers's .-' " 
 said Mr. Bailey, with his favorite action of the knees and 
 boots. " Don't you remember my taking your name up to 
 the young ladies, when you come a courting there ? A reg'lar 
 scaly old shop, warn't it ? Times is changed, ain't they .-' I 
 say, how you've growed ! " 
 
 Without pausing for any acknowledgment of this com- 
 pliment, he ushered the visitor up stairs ; and having an- 
 nounced him, retired with a private wink. 
 
 The lower story of the house was occupied by a wealthy 
 tradesman, but Mr. Montague had all the upper portion, and 
 splendid lodging it was. The room in which he receiveq' 
 Jonas was a spacious and elegant apartment, furnished witK 
 extreme magnificence, decorated with pictures, copies from 
 the antique in alabaster and marble, china vases, lofty mirrors, 
 crimson hangings of the richest silk, gilded carvings, luxurious 
 couches, glistening cabinets inlaid with precious woods, 
 costly toys of every sort in negligent abundance. The only 
 guests besides Jonas were the doctor, the resident Director, 
 and two other gentlemen, whom Montague presented in due 
 form. 
 
 " My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Jobling 
 you know, I believe ? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 453 
 
 " I think so," said the doctor pleasantly, as he stepped 
 out of the circle to shake hands. " 1 trust I have that honor. 
 I hope so. My dear sir, I see you well. Quite well ? Thai's 
 well ! " 
 
 " Mr. Wolf," said Montague, as soon as the doctor would 
 allow him to introduce the two others, " Mr. Chuzzlewit. Mr. 
 Pip, Mr. Chuzzlewit." 
 
 Both gentlemen were exceedingly happy to have .the honor 
 of making Mr. Chuzzlewit's acquaintance. The Doctor drew 
 Jonas a little apart, and whispered behind his hand: 
 
 " Men of the world, my dear sir — men of the world. Hem ! 
 Mr. Wolf — literary character — you needn't mention it — re- 
 markably cleveF weekly paper — oh, remarkably clever ! Mr. 
 Pip — theatrical man — capital man to know — oh, capital 
 man ! " 
 
 " Well ! " said Wolf, folding his arms and resuming a 
 conversation which the arrival of Jonas had interrupted. 
 " And what did Lord Nobley say to that .' " 
 
 "Why," returned Pip, with an oath. "He didn't know 
 what to say. Damme, sir, if he wasn't as mute as a poker. 
 But you know what a good fellow Nobley is ! " 
 
 "The best fellow in the world!" cried \\V)lf. " It was 
 only last week that Nobley said to me, ' P.y Gad, Wolf, I've 
 got a living to bestow, and if you had but been brought up at 
 the University, strike me blind if I wouldn't have made a 
 parson of you ! ' " 
 
 "Just like him," said Pip with another oath. "And he'd 
 have done it ! " 
 
 " Not a doubt of it," said Wolf. " But you were going to 
 tell us ?— " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " cried Pip. " To be sure. So I was. At 
 first he was dumb — sewn up, dead sir, — but after a minute he 
 said to the Duke, ' Here's Pip. Ask Pip. Pip's our mutual 
 friend. Ask Pip. He knows.' 'Damme!' said the Duke, 
 ' I appeal to Pip then. Come, Pip. Bandy or not bandy ? 
 Speak out I ' ' Bandy, your Grace, by the Lord Harry ! ' said 
 L 'Ha, ha!' laughed the Duke. 'To be sure she is. 
 Bravo, Pip. Well said, Pip. I wish I may die if you're not 
 a trump, Pip. Pop me down among your fashionable visitors 
 whenever Pm in town, Pip.' And so I do, to this day." 
 
 The conclusion of this story gave immense satisfaction, 
 which was in no degree lessened by the announcement of 
 dinner. Jonas repaired to the dining-room, along with his
 
 454 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 distinguished host, and toolc his seat at the board between 
 that individual and his friend the doctor. The rest fell into 
 their places like men who were well accustomed to the house ; 
 and dinner was done full justice to, by all parties. 
 
 It was as good a one as money (or credit, no matter 
 which) could produce. The dishes, wines, and fruits were of 
 the choicest kind. Everything was elegantly served. The 
 plate was gorgeous. Mr. Jonas was in the midst of a calcula- 
 tion of the value of this item alone, when his host disturbed 
 him. 
 
 " A glass of wine ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Jonas, who had had several glasses already. 
 " As much of that as you like ! It's too good to refuse." 
 
 " Well said, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " cried Wolf. 
 
 " Tom Gag, upon my soul ! " said Pip. 
 
 " Positively, you know, that's — ha, ha, ha ! " observed the 
 doctor, laying down his knife and fork for one instant, and 
 then going to work again, pell-mell — " that's epigrammatic ; 
 quite ! " 
 
 " You're tolerably comfortable, I hope ? " said Tigg, apart 
 to Jonas. 
 
 "Oh! You needn't trouble your head about ;«t'," he 
 replied. " Famous ! " 
 
 " I thought it best not to have a party," said Tigg. " You 
 feel that ? " 
 
 " Why, what do you call this ? " retorted Jonas. " You 
 don't mean to say you do this every day, do you .'' " 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Montague, shrugging his shoulders, 
 " every day of my life, when I dine at home. This is my 
 common style. It was of no use having anything uncommon 
 for you. You'd have seen through it. ' You'll have a party ? ' 
 said Crimple. 'No, 1 won't,' I said; 'he shall take us in 
 the rough ? '" 
 
 " And pretty smooth too, ecod ! " said Jonas, glancing 
 round the table. "This don't cost a trifle." 
 
 "Why, to be candid with you, it does not," returned the 
 other. " But I like this sort of thing. It's the way I spend 
 my money." 
 
 Jonas thrust his tongue into his cheek, and said, " Was 
 it .? " 
 
 " When you join us, you won't get rid of your share of the 
 profits in the same way ? " said Tigg. 
 
 " Quite different," retorted Jonas.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 455 
 
 "Well, and you're right," said Tigg, with a friendly can- 
 dor. " You needn't. It's not necessary. One of a Company 
 must do it to hold the connection together ; but as I take a 
 pleasure in it, that's my department. You don't mind dining 
 expensively at another man's expense, I hope 1 " 
 
 " Not a bit," said Jonas. 
 
 " Then I hope you'll often dine with me ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Jonas, " I don't mind. On the contrar}'. 
 
 " And I'll never attempt to talk business to you over wine, 
 said Tigg. " Oh deep, deep, deep of you this morning ! I 
 must tell 'em that. They're the very men to enjoy it. Pip, 
 my good fellow, I've a splendid little trait to tell you of my 
 friend Chuzzlewit, who is the deepest dog I know. I give you 
 my sacred word of honor he is the deepest dog I know Pip ! " 
 
 Pip swore a frightful oath that he was sure of it already ; 
 and the anecdote, being told, was received with loud applause, 
 as an incontestable proof of Mr. Jonas's greatness. Pip, in 
 a natural spirit of emulation, then related some instances of 
 his own depth ; and Wolf, not to be left behind-hand, recited 
 the leading points of one or two vastly humorous articles he 
 was then preparing. These lucubrations, being of what he 
 called " a warm complexion," were highly approved ; and all 
 the company agreed that they were full of point. 
 
 " Men of the world, my dear sir," Jobling whispered to 
 Jonas ; " thorough men of the world ! To a professional 
 person like myself, it's quite refreshing to come into this kind 
 of society. It's not only agreeable — and nothing can be more 
 agreeable — but it's philosophically improving. It's character, 
 my dear sir ; character ! " 
 
 It is so pleasant to find real merit appreciated, whatever 
 its particular walk in life may be, that the general harmony of 
 the company was doubtless much promoted by their knowing 
 that the two men of the world were held in great esteem by 
 the upper classes of society, and by the gallant defenders of 
 their country in the army and navy, but particularly the former. 
 The least of their stories had a colonel in it ; lords were as 
 plentiful as oaths ; and even the Blood Royal ran in the muddy 
 channel of their personal recollections. 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit didn't know him, I'm afraid," said Wolf, 
 in reference to a certain personage of illustrious descent, who 
 had previously figured in a reminiscence. 
 
 " No," said Tigg. " But we must bring him into contact 
 with this sort of fellows."
 
 456 ^JAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 " He was very fond of literature," observed Wolf. 
 
 " Was he ? " said Tigg. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; he took my paper regularly for many years. 
 Do you know he said some good things now and then ? He 
 asked a certain Viscount, who's a friend of mine — Pip knows 
 him — ' What's the editor's name, what's the editor's name ? ' 
 ' Wolf.' 'Wolf, eh ? Sharp biter. Wolf. We must keep the 
 Wolf from the door, as the proverb says.' It was very well. 
 And being complimentary, I printed it." 
 
 " But the Viscount's the boy ! " cried Pip, who invented a 
 new oath for the introduction of everything he said. " The 
 Viscount's the boy ! He came into our place one night to take 
 Her home ; rather slued, but not much ; and said, ' Where's 
 Pip ? I want to see Pip. Produce Pip ! ' — ' What's the row, 
 my lord ? ' — ' Shakspeare's an infernal humbug, Pip ! What's 
 the good of Shakspeare, Pip .-' I never read him. What 
 the devil is it all about, Pip .-' There's a lot of feet in Shak- 
 speare's verse, but there ain't any legs worth mentioning in 
 Shakspeare's plays, are there, Pip ? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady 
 Macbeth, and all the rest of 'em, whatever their names are, 
 might as well have no legs at all, for anything the audience 
 know about it, Pip. Why, in that respect they're all Miss 
 Biffins to the audience, Pip. I'll tell you what it is. What 
 the people call dramatic poetry is a collection of sermons. 
 Do 1 go to the theatre to be lectured t No, Pip. If I wanted 
 that, I'd go to church. What's the legitimate object of the 
 drama, Pip ? Human nature. What are legs ? Human na- 
 ture. Then let us have plenty of leg pieces, Pip, and I'll 
 stand by you, my buck ! ' And I am proud to say," added 
 Pip, " that he did stand by me, handsomely." 
 
 The conversation now becoming general, Mr. Jonas's 
 opinion was requested on this subject ; and as it was in full 
 accordance with the sentiments of Mr. Pip, that gentleman 
 was extremely gratified. Indeed, both himself and Wolf had 
 so much in common with Jonas, that they became very ami- 
 cable ; and between their increasing friendship and the fumes 
 of wine, Jonas grew talkative. 
 
 It does not follow in the case of such a person that the 
 more talkative he becomes, the more agreeable he is ; on the 
 contrary, his merits show to most advantage, perhaps, in silence. 
 Having no means, as he thought, of putting himself on an 
 equality with the rest, but by the assertion of that depth and 
 sharpness on which he had been complimented, Jonas ex-
 
 MARTTN CHUZZLEVVIT. 457 
 
 hibited that faculty to the utmost ; and was so deep and sliarp 
 that he lost himself in his own profundity, and cut his fingers 
 with his own edge tools. 
 
 It was especially in his way and character to exhibit his 
 quality at his entertainer's expense ; and while he drank of 
 his sparkling wines, and partook of his monstrous profusion, 
 to ridicule the extravagance which had set such costly fare 
 before him. Even at such a wanton board, and in such more 
 than doubtful company, this might have proved a disagreeable 
 experiment, but that Tigg and C'rimple, studying to understand 
 their man thoroughly, gave him what license he chose, know- 
 ing that the more he took, the better for their purpose. And 
 thus while the ^Dlundering cheat — gull that he was, for all his 
 cunning — thought himself rolled up hedgehog fashion, with 
 his sharpest points towards them, he was, in fact, betraying 
 all his vulnerable parts to their unwinking watchfulness. 
 
 Whether the two gentlemen who contributed so much to 
 the doctor's philosophical knowledge (by the way, the docter 
 slipped off quietly, after swallowing his usual amount of wine) 
 had had their cue distinctly from the host, or took it from what 
 they saw and heard, they acted their parts very well. They 
 solicited the honor of Jonas's better acquaintance, trusted 
 that they would have the pleasure of introducing him into that 
 elevated society in which he was so well qualified to shine ; 
 and informed him, in the most friendlv manner, that the ad- 
 vantages of their respective establishments were entirely at 
 his control. In a word, they said " Be one of us ! " And 
 Jonas said he was infinitely obligetl to them, and he would be, 
 adding within himself, that so long as they " stood treat," 
 there was nothing he would like better. 
 
 After coffee, which was served in the drawing-room, there 
 w^as a short interval (mainly sustained by Pip and Wolf) of 
 conversation ; rather highly spiced and strongly seasoned. 
 When it flagged, Jonas took it up and showed considerable 
 humor in appraising the furniture ; inquiring whether such an 
 article was paid for ; what it had originally cost ; and the like. 
 In all of this, he was, as he considered, desperately hard on 
 Montague, and very demonstrative of his own brilliant ])arts. 
 
 Some Champagne Punch gave a new though temporary 
 fillip to the entertainments of the evening. For after leading 
 to some noisy proceedings, which were not intelligible, it ended 
 in the unsteady departure of the two gentlemen of the world, 
 and the slumber of Mr. Jonas upon one of the sofas.
 
 458 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 As he could not be made to understand where he was, j\Ir. 
 Bailey received orders to call a hackney-coach, and take him 
 home, which that young gentleman roused himself from an 
 uneasy sleep in the hall, to do. It being now almost three 
 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 " Is he hooked, do you think ? " whispered Crimple, as 
 himself and partner stood in a distant part of the room ob- 
 serving him as he lay. 
 
 " Ay ! " said Tigg, in the same tone. " With a strong iron, 
 perhaps. Has Nadgett been here to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes. I went out to him. Hearing you had company, he 
 went away." 
 
 " Why did he do that 1 " 
 
 " He said he would come back early in the morning, before 
 you were out of bed." 
 
 " Tell them to be sure and send him up to my bedside. 
 Hush ! Here's the boy ! Now Mr. Bailey, take this gentle- 
 man home, and see him safely in. Hallo here ! Why Chuz- 
 zlewit, halloa ! " 
 
 They got him upright with some difficulty, and assisted 
 him down stairs, where they put his hat upon his head, and 
 tumbled him into the coach. Mr. Bailey, having shut him in, 
 mounted the box beside the coachman, and smoked his cigar 
 with an air of particular satisfaction ; the undertaking in 
 which he was engaged having a free and sporting character 
 about it, which was quite congenial to his taste. 
 
 Arriving in due time at the house in the City, Mr. Bailey 
 jumped down, and expressed the lively nature of his feelings, 
 in a knock, the like of which had probably not been heard 
 in that quarter since the great fire of London. Going out 
 into the road to observe the effect of this feat, he saw that a 
 dim light, previously visible at an upper window, had been 
 already removed and was travelling down stairs. To obtain 
 a foreknowledge of the bearer of this taper, Mr. Bailey 
 skipped back to the door again, and put his eye to the 
 keyhole. 
 
 It ■ was the merr}' one herself. But sadly, strangely 
 altered ! So careworn and dejected, so faltering and full of 
 fear ; so fallen, humbled, broken, that to iiave seen her, quiet 
 in her coffin, would have been a less surprise. 
 
 She set the light upon a bracket in the hall, and laid her 
 hand upon her heart, upon her eyes, upon her burning head. 
 Then she came on towards the door, with such a wild and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 4-g 
 
 hurried step, that Mr. Bailey lost his self-possession, and still 
 had his eye where the keyhole had been, when she opened it. 
 
 " Aha ! " said Mr. Bailey, with an effort. " There you 
 are, are you ! What's the matter } Ain't you well, though ! " 
 
 In the midst of her astonishment as she reco2:nized him in 
 his altered dress, so much of her old smile came back to her 
 face that Bailey was glad. But next moment he was sorry 
 again, for he saw tears standing in her poor dim eyes. 
 
 *' Don't be frightened," said Bailey. " There ain't nothing 
 the matter. I've brought home Mr. Chuzzlewit. He ain't 
 ill. He's only a little swipey you know." Mr. Bailey reeled 
 in his boots, to express intoxication. 
 
 " Have yoj.1 come from Mrs. Todgers's ? " asked Merr}', 
 trembling. 
 
 "Todgers's, bless you? No!" cried Mr. Bailey. "I 
 haven't got nothing to do with Todgers's. I cut that connection 
 long ago. He's been a dining with my governor at the West- 
 end. Didn't 3'ou know he was a coming to see us ? " 
 
 "No," she said, faintly. 
 
 " Oh yes ! We're heavy swells too, and so I tell you. 
 Don't you come out, a catching cold in 3-our head. J'W wake 
 him ! " Mr. Bailey expressing in his demeanor a perfect con- 
 fidence that he could carry him in with ease, if necessaiy, 
 opened the coach door, let down the steps, and giving Jonas 
 a shake, cried " We've got home, my flower ! Tumble up 
 then ! " 
 
 He was so far recovered as to be able to respond to this 
 appeal, and to come stumbling out of the coach in a heap, to 
 the great hazard of Mr. Bailey's person. When he got upon 
 the pavement, Mr. Bailey first butted at him in front, and tlien 
 dexterously propped him up behind ; and having steadied him 
 by these means, he assisted him into the house. 
 
 "You go up first with the light," said Bailey to Mrs. 
 Jonas, " and we'll foller. Don't trenible so. He won't hurt 
 you. When /'\e had a drop too much, I'm full of good natur 
 myself." 
 
 She went on before, and her husband and Bailey, by dint 
 of tumbling over each other, and knocking themselves about, 
 got at last into the sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas 
 staggered into a seat. 
 
 "There!" said Mr. Bailey. " He's all right now. You 
 ain't got nothing to cry for, bless you ! He's righter than a 
 trivet I '
 
 460 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 The ill-favored brute, with dress awry, and sodden face, 
 and rumpled hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his 
 idiotic eyes about, until, becoming conscious by degrees, he 
 recognized his wife, and shook his fist at her. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mr. Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden 
 emotion. "What, 3-ou're wicious, are you.' Would you 
 though ! You'd better not ! " 
 
 " Pra3% go away ! " said Merry. " Bailey, my good boy, 
 go home. Jonas ! " she said, timidly laying her hand upon 
 his shoulder, and bending her head down, over him, " Jonas ! " 
 
 " Look at her ! " cried Jonas, pushing her off with his ex- 
 tended arm. " Look here ! Look at her ! Here's a bargain 
 for a man ! " 
 
 " Dear Jonas ! " 
 
 " Dear Devil ! " he replied, with a fierce gesture. " You're 
 a pretty clog to be tied to a man for life, you mewling, white- 
 faced cat ! Get out of my sight ! " 
 
 "I know you don't mean it, Jonas. You wouldn't say it 
 if you were sober." 
 
 With affected gayety she gave Bailey a piece of money, 
 and again implored him to be gone. Her entreaty was so 
 earnest, that the boy had not the heart to stay there. But he 
 stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and listened. 
 
 " I wouldn't say it if I was sober ! " retorted Jonas. " You 
 know better. Have I never said it when I was sober ? " 
 
 " Often, indeed ! " she answered through her tears. 
 
 " Hark ye ! " cried Jonas, stamping his foot upon the 
 ground. " You made me bear your pretty humors once, and 
 ecod I'll make you bear mine now. 1 always promised myself 
 I would. I married you that I might. I'll know who's master, 
 and who's slave ! " 
 
 " Heaven knows I am obedient ! " said the sobbing girl. 
 " Much more so than I ever thought to be ! " 
 
 Jonas laughed in his drunken exultation. " What ! you're 
 finding it out, are you ! Patience, and you will in time ! 
 Griffins have claws, my girl. There's not a pretty slight you 
 ever put upon me, nor a pretty trick you ever played me, nor 
 a pretty insolence you ever showed me, that I won't pay back 
 a hundred-fold. What else did I marr}' you for. You, too ! " 
 he said, with coarse contempt. 
 
 It might have softened him to hear her turn a little frag- 
 ment of a song he used to say he liked : trying, with a heart 
 60 full, to win him back.
 
 MA R TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 46 1 
 
 " Oho ! " he said, " you're deaf, are you ? You don't hear 
 me, eh ? So much the better for you. I hate you. I hate 
 myself, for haxiiii;- been fool enough to strap a pack upon my 
 back for the pleasure of treading on it whenever I choose. 
 Why, things have opened to me, now, so that I might marry 
 almost where I liked. But I wouldn't; I'd keep single. I 
 ought to be single, among the friends /know. Instead of 
 that, here I am, tied like a log to you. Pah ! Why do you 
 show your pale face when 1 come home .' Am I never to for- 
 get you .'' " 
 
 " How late it is ! " she said cheerfully, opening the 
 shutter after an interval of silence. "Broad day, Jonas ! "' 
 
 " Broad dg.y or black night, what do / care ! " was the 
 kind rejoinder. 
 
 " The night passed quickly, too. 1 don't mind sitting up, 
 at all." 
 
 " Sit up for me again, if you dare ! " growled Jonas. 
 
 " I was reading," she proceeded. " all night long. I be- 
 gan when you went out, and read till you came home again. 
 The strangest story, Jonas ! And true, the book says. I'll 
 tell it you to-morrow." 
 
 " True, was it ? " said Jonas, doggedly. 
 
 " So the book says." 
 
 "Was there anything in it, about a man's being determined 
 to conquer his wife, break her spirit, bend her temper, crush 
 all her humors like so many nut-shells — kill her, for aught I 
 know } " said Jonas. 
 
 " No. Not a word," she answered quickly. 
 
 " Ah I " he returned. " That'll be a true story though, 
 before long ; for all the book says nothing about it. It's a 
 lying book, I see. A fit book for a lying reader. But you're 
 deaf. I forgot that." 
 
 There was another interval of silence ; and the boy was 
 stealing away, when he heard her footstep on the floor, and 
 stopped. She went up to him, as it seemed, and spoke lov- 
 ingly .; saying that she would defer to him in everything, and 
 would consult his wishes and obey them, and ihey might be 
 very happy if he would be gentle with her. He answered with 
 an imprecation, and — 
 
 Not with a blow .-" Yes. Stern truth against the.base- 
 souled villain : with a blow. 
 
 No angry cries ; no loud reproaches. Even her weeping and 
 her sobs were stifled by her clinging round him. She only
 
 462 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 said, repeating it in agony of heart, How could he, could he, 
 could he ! And lost utterance in tears. 
 
 Oh woman, God beloved in old Jerusalem ! The best among 
 us need deal lightly with thy faults, if only for the punishment 
 thy nature will endure, in bearing heavy evidence against us, 
 on the Day of Judgment ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH SOME PEOPLE ARE PRECOCIOUS, OTHERS PROFESSIONAL, 
 AND OTHERS MYSTERIOUS : ALL IN THEIR SEVERAL WAYS. 
 
 It may have been the restless remembrance of what he 
 had seen and heard overnight, or it may have been no deeper 
 mental operation than the discovery that he had nothing to do, 
 which caused Mr. Bailey, on the following afternoon, to feel 
 particularly disposed for agreeable society, and prompted him 
 to pay a visit to his friend Poll Sweedlepipe. 
 
 On the little bell giving clamorous notice of a visitor's ap- 
 proach (for Mr. P>ailey came in at the door with a lunge, to 
 get as much sound out of the bell as possible), Poll Sweedle- 
 pipe desisted from the contemplation of a favorite owl, and 
 gave his young friend hearty welcome. 
 
 "Why, you look smarter by day," said Poll, "than you do 
 by candle-light. I never see .such a tight young dasher." 
 
 " Reether so, Polly. How's our fair friend Sairah ? " 
 
 " Oh, she's pretty well," said Poll. " She's at home." 
 
 " There's the remains of a fine woman about Sairah, Poll," 
 observed Mr. Bailey, with genteel indifference. 
 
 " Oh ! " thought Poll, " he's old. He must be very old ! " 
 
 " Too much crumb, you know," said Mr. Bailey ; " too fat, 
 Poll. But there's many worse at her time of life." 
 
 " The very owl's a opening his eyes ! " thought Poll. " I 
 don't wonder at it, in a bird of his opinions." 
 
 He happened to have been sharpening his razors, which 
 were l}ing open in a row, while a huge strop dangled from the 
 wall. Glancing at these preparations, Mr. Bailey stroked his 
 chin, and a thought appeared to occur to him. 
 
 "Poll," he said, " I ain't as neat as I could wish about the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 463 
 
 gills. Being here, I may as well have a shave, and get trimmed 
 close." 
 
 The barber stood aghast ; but Mr. Bailey divested himself 
 of his neck-cloth, and sat down in the easy shaving chair with 
 all the dignity and confidence in life. There was no resisting 
 his manner. The evidence of sight and touch became as 
 nothing. His chin was as smooth as a new-laid egg or a 
 scraped Dutch cheese ; but Poll Sweedlepipe wouldn't have 
 ventured to deny, on afhdavit, that he had the beard of a 
 Jewish rabbi. 
 
 " Go with the grain, Poll, all round, please," said Mr. 
 Bailey, screwing up his face for the reception of the lather. 
 " You may do \\;ot you like with the bits of whisker. I don't 
 care for 'em." 
 
 The meek little barber stood gazing at him with the brush 
 and soap-dish in his hand, stirring them round and round in a 
 ludicrous uncertainty, as if he were disabled by some fascina- 
 tion from beginning. At last he made a dash at Mr. Bailey's 
 cheek. Then he stopped again, as if the ghost of a beard had 
 suddenly receded from his touch ; but receiving mild encour- 
 agement from Mr. Bailey, in the form of an adjuration to 
 "Go in and win," he lathered him bountifully. Mr. Bailey 
 smiled through the suds in his satisfaction. 
 
 "• Gently over the stones, Poll. Go a tip-toe over the 
 pimples ! " 
 
 Poll Sweedlepipe obeyed, and scraped the lather off again 
 with particular care. Mr. Bailey squinted at every successive 
 dab, as it was deposited on a cloth on his left shoulder, and 
 seemed, with a microscopic eye, to detect some bristles in it ; 
 for he murmured more than once, " Reether redder than 1 
 could wish. Poll." The operation being concluded. Poll fell 
 back and stared at him again, while Mr. Bailey, wiping his 
 face on the jack-towel, remarked, " that arter late hours nothing 
 freshened up a man so much as a easy shave." 
 
 He was in the act of tying his cravat at the glass, without 
 his coat, and Poll had wiped his razor, ready for the next cus- 
 tomer, when Mrs. Gamp, coming down stairs, looked in at the 
 shop-door to give the barber neighborly good-day. Feeling 
 for her unfortunate situation, in having conceived a regard for 
 himself which it was not in ihe nature of things that he could 
 return, Mr. Bailey hastened to soothe her with words of kind- 
 ness. 
 
 " Hallo ! " he said, " Sairah ! I needn't ask you how you've
 
 464 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 been this long time, for you're in full bloom. All a blowin' 
 and a growin' ; ain't she, Polly? " 
 
 " Why, drat the Bragian boldness of that boy ! " cried Mrs. 
 Gamp, though not displeased. " What a imperent young 
 sparrow it is ! I wouldn't be that creetur's mother not for fifty 
 jwund ! " 
 
 Mr. Bailey regarded this as a delicate confession of her 
 attachment, and a hint that no pecuniary gain could recom- 
 pense her for its being rendered hopeless. He felt flattered. 
 Disinterested affection is always flattering. 
 
 " Ah, dear ! " moaned Mrs. Gamp, sinking into the shaving 
 chair. " That there blessed Bull, Mr. Sweedlepipe, has done 
 his wery best to conker me. Of all the trying inwalieges in 
 this walley of the shadder, that one beats 'em black and lilue." 
 
 It was the practice of Mrs. Gamp and her friends in the 
 profession, to say this of all the easy customers ; as having at 
 once the effect of discouraging competitors for office, and 
 accountuig for the necessity of high living on the part of the 
 nurses. 
 
 " Talk of constitooshun ! " Mrs. Gamp observed. " A 
 person's constitooshun need be made of Bricks to stand it. 
 Mrs. Harris jestly says to me, but t'otlier day, ' Oh ! Sairey 
 Gamp,' she says, 'how is it done!' 'Mrs. Harris, ma'am,' I 
 says to her, ' we gives no trust ourselves, and put a deals o' 
 trust elsevere ; these is our religious feelins, and we finds 'em 
 answer.' 'Sairey,' says Mrs. Harris, ' sech is life. Vich 
 likeways is the hend of all things ! ' " 
 
 The barber gave a soft murmur, as much as to say that Mrs. 
 Harris's remark, though perhaps not quite so intelligible as 
 could be desired from such an authority, did equal honor to 
 her head and to her heart. 
 
 " And here," continued Mrs. Gamp, " and here am I a 
 goin twenty mile in distant, on as wentersome a chance as 
 ever any one as monthlied ever run, I do believe. Says Mrs. 
 Harris, with a woman's and a mother's art a beatin in her 
 human breast, she says to me, ' You're not a goin, Saiiey, 
 Lord forgive you ! ' ' Why am I not a going, Mrs. Harris ? ' 
 I replies. 'Mrs. Gill,' I says, 'wos never wrong with six; 
 and is it likely, ma'am — I ask you as a mother — that she will 
 begin to be unreg'lar now. Often and often have I heerd him 
 say,' I says to Mrs. Harris, meaning Mr. Gill, 'that he would 
 back his wife agen Moore's almanack, to name the very day 
 and hour, for ninepence farden. Is it likely, ma'am,' I says,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 465 
 
 * as she will fail this once ? ' says Mrs. Harris, ' No, ma'am, 
 not in the course of nater. But,' she says, the tears a fillin in 
 her eyes, 'you knows much betterer than me, with your ex- 
 perienge, how little puts us out. A Punch's show,' she says, 
 'a chimbley sweep, a newfundlandog, or a drunkin man a 
 comin round the corner sharp, may do it.' So it may, Mr. 
 Sweedlepipes," said Mrs. Gamp, " there's no deniging of it ; 
 and though my books is clear for a full week, I takes a anxious 
 art along with me, I do assure you, sir." 
 
 " You're so full of zeal, you see ! " said Poll. " You worrit 
 yourself so." 
 
 " Worrit myself ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, raising her hands and 
 turning up her- eyes. " You speak truth in that, sir, if you 
 never speaks no more, 'twixt this and when two Sundays jines 
 together. I feels the sufferins of other people more than I 
 feels my own, though no one mayn't suppoge it. The families 
 I've had," said Mrs. Gamp, "if all was knowed, and credit 
 done where credit's doo, would take a week to chris'en at 
 Saint Polge's fontin ! " 
 
 "Where's the patient goin .' " asked Sweedlepipe. 
 
 " Into Har'fordshire, which is his native air. J3ut native 
 airs nor native graces neither," Mrs. Gamp observed, "won't 
 bring hi7n round." 
 
 " So bad as that ? " inquired the wistful barber. " In- 
 deed ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp shook her head mysteriously, and pursed up 
 her lips. " There's fevers of the mind," she said, "as well 
 as body. You may take your slime drafts till you flies into 
 the air with effenvescence ; but you won't cure that." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the barber, opening his eyes, and putting on 
 his raven aspect. " Lor ! " 
 
 " No. You may make yourself as light as any gash bal- 
 loon," said Mrs. Gamp. " But talk, when you're wrong in 
 your head, and when you're in your sleep, of certain things ; 
 and you'll be heavy in your mind." 
 
 " Of what kind of things now ? " inquired Poll, greedily 
 biting his nails in his great interest. " (jhosts .'' " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp, who perhaps had been already tempted further 
 than she had intended to go, by the barber's stimulating cu- 
 riosity, gave a sniff of uncommon significance, and said, it didn't 
 signify. 
 
 " I'm a going down with my patient in the coach this arter- 
 noon," she proceeded. " I'm a going to stop with him a day 
 
 30
 
 465 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 or so, till he gets a coimtr)^ nuss (drat them country' nusses, 
 much the orkard hussies knows about their bis'ness) ; and then 
 I'm a comin' back ; and that's my trouble, Mr. Sweedlepipes. 
 But I hope that everythink'll only go on right and comfortable 
 as long as I'm away; perwisin which, as Mrs. Harris says, 
 Mrs. Gill is welcome to choose her own time : all times of the 
 day and night bein' equally the same to me." 
 
 During the progress of the foregoing remarks, which Mrs. 
 Gamp had addressed exclusively to the Barber, Mr. Bailey 
 had been tying his cravat, getting on his coat, and making 
 hideous faces at himself in the glass. Being now personally 
 addressed by Mrs. Gamp, he turned round, and mingled in 
 the conversation. 
 
 " You ain't been in the City, I suppose, sir, since we was 
 all three there together," said Mrs. Gamp, " at Mr. Chuzzle- 
 wit's ? " 
 
 " Yes I have, Sairah. I was there, last night.' 
 
 " Last night ! " cried the Barber. 
 
 " Yes, Poll, reether so. You can call it this morning if you 
 like to be particular. He dined with us." 
 
 "Who does that young Limb mean by ' hus } ' " said Mrs. 
 Gamp, with most impatient emphasis. 
 
 " Me and my Governor, Sairah. He dined at our house. 
 We wos very merrv', Sairah. So much so, that I was obliged 
 to see him home in a hackney coach at three o'clock in the 
 morning." It was on the tip of the boy's tongue to relate 
 what had followed ; but remembering how easily it might be 
 carried to his master's ears, and the repeated cautions he had 
 had from Mr. Crimple " not to chatter," he checked himself; 
 adding only, " She was sitting up, expecting him." 
 
 "And all things considered," said Mrs. Gamp sharply, 
 " she might have know'd better than to go a tiring herself out, 
 by doin' any think of the sort. Did they seem pretty pleasant 
 together, sir ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered Bailey, "pleasant enough." 
 
 " I'm glad on it," said Mrs. Gamp, with a second snifiE of 
 significance. 
 
 "They haven't been married so long," observed Poll, rub- 
 bing his hands, " that they need be anything but pleasant yet 
 awhile." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Gamp, with a third significant signal. 
 
 "Especially," pursued the Barber, "when the gentleman 
 bears sucfi a character as you gave him."
 
 MARThY CHUZZLEIVIT. 467 
 
 " I speak as I find, Mr. Sweedlepipes," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 " Forbid it should be otherways ! But we never knows wot's 
 hidden in each other's hearts ; and if we had glass winders 
 there, we'd need keep the shetters up, some on us, I do assure 
 you ! " 
 
 "But you don't mean to say," Poll Sweedlepipe began. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Gamp, cutting him very short, " I don't. 
 Don't think I do. The torters of the Imposition shouldn't 
 make me own I did. All I says is," added the good woman 
 rising and folding her shawl about her, "that the Bull's a 
 waitin', and the precious moments is a flyin' fast." 
 
 The little barber having in his eager curiosity a great de- 
 sire to see Mrs'.' Gamp's patient, proposed to Mr. Bailey that 
 they should accompany her to the Bull, and witness the de- 
 parture of the coach. That young gentleman assenting, they 
 all went out together. 
 
 Arriving at the tavern, Mrs. Gamp (who was full-dressed 
 for the journey, in her latest suit of mourning) left her friends 
 to entertain themselves in the yard, while she ascended to the 
 sick room, where her fellow-laborer Mrs. Prig was dressing 
 the invalid. 
 
 He was so wasted, that it seemed as if his bones would 
 rattle when they moved him. His cheeks were sunken, and his 
 eyes unnaturally large. He lay back in the easy-chair like one 
 more dead than living ; and rolled his languid eyes towards 
 the door when Mrs. Gamp appeared, as painfully as if their 
 weight alone were burdensome to move. 
 
 "And how are we by this time ?" Mrs. Gamp observed. 
 "We looks charming." 
 
 " We looks a deal charminger than we are, then," re- 
 turned Mrs. Prig, a little chafed in her temper. " We got 
 out of bed back'ards, I think, for we're as cross as two sticks. 
 I never see sich a man. He wouldn't have been washed, if 
 he'd had his own way." 
 
 " She put the soap in my mouth," said the unfortunate pa- 
 tient, feebly. 
 
 " Couldn't you keep it shut then ? " retorted Mrs. Prig. 
 " Who do you think's to wash one fcater, and miss another, 
 and wear one's eyes out with all manner of fine-work of that 
 description, for half-a-crown a day ! If you wants to be titti- 
 vated, you must pay accordin." 
 
 " Oh dear me ! " cried the patient, " oh dear, dear ! " 
 
 "There!" said Mrs. Prig, " that's the way he's been a
 
 468 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 conducting of himself, Sarah, ever since I got him out of bed, 
 if you'll believe it." 
 
 "Instead of being grateful," Mrs. Gamp observ^ed, "for 
 all our little ways. Oh, fie for shame, sir, fie for shame ! " 
 
 Here Mrs. Prig seized the patient by the chin, and began 
 to rasp his unhappy head with a hair-brush. 
 
 " i suppose you don't like that, neither ! " she obser\^ed, 
 stopping to look at him. 
 
 it was just possible that he didn't, for the brush was a 
 specimen of the hardest kind of instnunent producible by 
 modern art ; and his ver}^ eyelids were red with the friction. 
 Mrs. Prig was gratified to observe the correctness of her sup- 
 position, and said triumphantly, " she know'd as much." 
 
 When his hair was smootlied down comfortably into his 
 eyes, Mrs. Prig and Mrs. Gamp put on his neckerchief : ad- 
 justing his shirt-collar with great nicety, so that the starched 
 points should also invade those organs, and afilict them with 
 an artificial ophthalmia. His waistcoat and coat were next 
 arranged : and as e\-ery button was wrenched into a wrong 
 button-hole, and the order of his boots was reversed, he pre- 
 sented on the whole rather a melancholy appearance. 
 
 " I don't think it's right," said the poor weak invalid. " I 
 feel as if I was in somebody else's clothes. I'm all on one 
 side ; and you've made one of my legs shorter than the other. 
 There's a bottle in my pocket too. What do you make me 
 sit upon a bottle for ? " 
 
 " Deuce take the man ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, drawing it 
 forth. " If he ain't been and got my night-bottle here. I 
 made a little cupboard of his coat when it hung behind the 
 door, and quite forgot it, Betsey. You'll find a ingun or two, 
 and a little tea and sugar in his t'other pocket, my dear, if 
 you'll just be good enough to take 'em out." 
 
 Betsey produced the property in question, together w'ith 
 some other articles of general chandlery ; and Mrs. Gamp 
 transferred them to her own pocket, which was a species of 
 nankeen pannier. Refreshment then arrived in the form of 
 chops and strong ale. for the ladies, and a basin of beef-tea 
 for the patient : which refection was barely at an end when 
 John Westlock appeared. 
 
 " Up and dressed ! " cried John, sitting down beside him. 
 " That's brave. How do vou feel .^ " 
 
 " Much better. But very weak." 
 
 " No wonder. You have had a hard bout of it. But country
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 469 
 
 air, and change of scene," said John, " will make another man 
 of you ! Why, Mrs. Gamp," he added, laughing, as he kindly 
 arranged the sick man's garments, "you have odd notions of 
 a gentleman's dress ! " 
 
 " Mr. Lewsome an't a easy gent to get into his clothes, 
 sir," Mrs. Gamp replied with dignity ; " as me and Betsey 
 Prig can certify afore the Lord Mayor and Uncommon Coun- 
 sellors, if needful ! " 
 
 John at that moment was standing close in front of the 
 sick man, in the act of releasing him from the torture of the 
 collars before mentioned, when he said in a whisper : 
 
 " Mr. Westlock ! I don't w^ish to be overheard. I have 
 something very particular and strange to say to you : some- 
 thing that has been a dreadful weight on my mind, through 
 this long illness." 
 
 Quick in all his motions, John was turning round to desire 
 the women to leave the room : when the sick man held him 
 by the sleeve. 
 
 " Not now. I've not the strength. I've not the courage. 
 May I tell it when I have .? May I write it, if I lind that 
 easier and better ? " 
 
 " May you ! " cried John. " Wh)', Lewsome, what is this ! " 
 " Don't ask me what it is. It's unnatural and cruel. 
 Frightful to think of. Frightful to tell. Frightful to know. 
 Frightful to have helped in. Let me kiss your hand for all 
 your goodness to me. Be kinder still, and don't ask me what 
 it is ! " 
 
 At first, John gazed at him, in great surprise ; but re- 
 membering how very much reduced he was, and how recently 
 his brain had been on fire with fever, believed that he was 
 laboring under some imaginary horror, or despondent fancy. 
 For farther information on this point, he took an opportunity 
 of drawing Mrs. Gamp aside, while Betsey Prig was wrapping 
 him in cloaks and shawls, and asked her whether he was quite 
 collected in his mind. 
 
 "Oh bless you, no!" said Mrs. Gamp. "He hates his 
 nusses to this hour. Thev alwavs does it, sir. It's a certain 
 sign. If you could have heard the poor dear soul a findin' 
 fault with me and Betsey Prig, not half an hour ago, you 
 would have wondered how it is we don't get fretted to the 
 tomb." 
 
 This almost confirmed John in his suspicion ; so, not tak- 
 ing what had passed into any serious account, he resumed
 
 47 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 his former cheerful manner, and assisted by Mrs. Gamp and 
 Betsey Prig, conducted Lewsome down stairs to tlie coach : 
 just then upon the point of starting. 
 
 Poll Sweedlepipe was at the door with his arms tight 
 folded and his eyes wide open, and looked on with absorbing 
 interest, while the sick man was slowly moved into the 
 vehicle. His bony hands and haggard face impressed Poll 
 wonderfully ; and he informed Mr. Bailey, in confidence, that 
 he wouldn't have missed seeing him for a pound. Mr. Bailey, 
 who was of a different constitution, remarked, that he would 
 have stayed away for five shillings. 
 
 It was a troublesome matter to adjust Mrs. Gamp's lug- 
 gage to her satisfaction ; for every package belonging to that 
 lady had the inconvenient property of requiring to be put in 
 a boot by itself, and to have no other luggage near it, on pain 
 of actions at law for heavy damages against the proprietors 
 of the coach. The umbrella with the circular patch was par- 
 ticularly hard to be got rid of, and several times thrust out its 
 battered brass nozzle from improper crevices and chinks, to 
 the great terror of the other passengers. Indeed, in her in- 
 tense anxiety to find a haven of refuge for this chattle, Mrs. 
 Gamp so often moved it, in the course of five minutes, that it 
 seemed not one umbrella but fifty. At length it was lost, or 
 said to be ; and for the next five minutes she was face to face 
 with the coachman, go wherever he might, protesting that it 
 should be " made good," though she took the question to the 
 House of Commons. 
 
 At last, her bundle, and her pattens, and her basket, and 
 everything else, being disposed of, she took a friendly leave 
 of Poll and Mr. Bailey, dropped a curtsey to John Westlock, 
 and parted as from a cherished member of the sisterhood with 
 Betsey Prig. 
 
 " Wishin' you lots of sickness, my darling creetur," Mrs. 
 Gamp observed, " and good places. It won't be long, I hope, 
 afore we works together, oft" and on, again, Betsey ; and may 
 our next meetin' be at a large family's, where they all takes it 
 reg'lar, one from another, turn and turn about, and has it 
 business-like." 
 
 " I don't care how soon it is," said Mrs. Prig; " nor how 
 many weeks it lasts." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp with a reply in a congenial spirit was backing 
 to the coach, when she came in contact with a lady and gentle- 
 man who were passing along the footway.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 47 1 
 
 "Take care, take care here!" cried the gentleman. 
 " Halloo ! My clear ! Why, it's Mrs. Gamp ! " 
 
 " What, Mr. Mould ! " exclaimed the nurse. " And Mrs. 
 Mould ! who would have thought as we should ever have a 
 meetin' here, I'm sure ! " 
 
 " Going out of town, Mrs. Gamp ? " cried Mould. " That's 
 unusual, isn't it ? " 
 
 "■ It is unusual, sir," said Mrs. Gamp. " But only for a day 
 or two at most. The gent," she whispered, " as I spoke about." 
 
 " What, in the coach ! " cried Mould. " The one you 
 thought of recommending ? Very odd. My dear, this will 
 interest you. The gentleman that Mrs. Gamp thought likely 
 to suit us, is in 'the coach, my love." 
 
 Mrs. Mould was greatly interested. 
 
 " Here, my dear. You can stand upon the door-step," 
 said Mould, " and take a look at him. Ha ! There he is. 
 Where's my glass .-' Oh ! all right. I've got it. Do you see 
 him, my dear 1 " 
 
 " Quite plain," said Mrs. Mould. 
 
 " Upon my life you know, this is a very singular circum- 
 stance," said Mould, quite delighted. " I'his is the sort of 
 thing, my clear, I wouldn't have missed on any account. It 
 tickles one. It's interesting. It's almost a little play, you 
 know. Ah ! There he is ! To be sure. Looks poorly, Mrs. 
 M., don't he ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mould assented. 
 
 " He's coming our way, perhaps, after all," said Mould. 
 "Who knows ! I feel as if I ought to show him some little 
 attention, really. He don't seem a stranger to me. Tm\ery 
 much inclined to move my hat, my dear." 
 
 " He's looking hard this way," said Mrs. Mould. 
 
 " Then I will ! " cried Mould. " How d'ye do, sir ? I 
 wish you good day. Ha ! He bows too. Very gentlemanl}^ 
 Mrs. Gamp has the cards in her pocket, I have no doubt. 
 This is very singular, my dear — and very pleasant. 1 am not 
 superstitious, but it really eeenis as if one was destined to pay 
 him those little melancholy civilities w-hich belong to our 
 peculiar line of business. There can be no kind of objection 
 to your kissing your hand to him, my dear." 
 
 Mrs. Mould did so. 
 
 " Ha ! " said Mould. " He's evidently gratified. Poor 
 fellow ! I'm quite glad you did it, my love. Bye bye, Mrs. 
 Gamp ! " waving his hand. " There he goes ; there he goes ! "-
 
 472 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 So he did ; for the coach rolled off as the words were 
 spoken. Mr. and Mrs. Mould, in high good humor, went 
 their merry way. Mr. Bailey retired with Poll Sweedlepipe 
 as soon as possible ; but some little time elapsed before he 
 could remove his friend from the ground, owing to the impres- 
 sion wrought upon the barber's nerves by Mrs. Prig, whom he 
 pronounced, in admiration of her beard, to be a woman of 
 transcendent charms. 
 
 When the light cloud of bustle hanging round the coach 
 was thus dispersed, Nadgett was seen in the darkest box of 
 the Bull coffee-room, looking wistfully up at the clock — as if 
 the man who never ajDpearecl were a little behind his time. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PROVES THAT CHANGES MAY BE RUNG IN THE BEST-REGU- 
 LATED FAMILIES, AND THAT MR. PECKSNIFF WAS A SPECIAL 
 HAND AT A TRIPLE-BOB-MAJUR. 
 
 As the surgeon's first care after amputating a limb is to 
 take up the arteries the cruel knife has severed, so it is the 
 duty of this history, which in its remorseless course has cut 
 from the Pecksnifhan trunk its right arm, Mercy, to look to 
 the parent stem, and see how in all its various ramifications it 
 got on without her. 
 
 And first of Mr. Pecksniff, it may be observed, that having 
 provided for his youngest daughter that choicest of blessings, 
 a tender and indulgent husband ; and having gratified the 
 dearest wish of his parental heart by establishing her in life 
 so happily ; he renewed his youth, and spreading the plumage 
 of his own bright conscience, felt himself equal to all kinds of 
 flights. It is customary with fathers in stage-pkys, after 
 giving their daughters to the men of their hearts, to congratu- 
 late themselves on having no other business on their hands 
 but to die immediately : though it is rarely found that they 
 are in a hurry to do it. Mr. Pecksniff, being a father of a 
 more sage and practical class, appeared to think that his im- 
 mediate business was to live ; and having deprived himself of 
 one comfort, to surround himself with others.
 
 MARTIN CirUZZLK WIT. 
 
 473 
 
 But however much inclined the good man was to be jocose 
 and playful, and in the garden of his fancy to disport himself (if 
 one may say so), like an architectural kitten, he had one impedi- 
 ment constantly opposed to him. The gentle Cherry, stung 
 by a sense of slight and injur}', which far from softening down 
 or wearing out, rankled and festered in her heart, was in flat 
 rebellion. She waged fierce war against her dear Papa ; she led 
 her parent what is usually called, for want of abetter figure of 
 speech, the life of a dog. But never did that dog live, in 
 kennel, stable-yard, or house, whose life was half as hard as 
 Mr. PecksnitY's with his gentle child. 
 
 The father and daughter were sitting at their breakfast. 
 Tom had retired, and they were alone. Mr. Pecksniff frowned 
 at first ; but having cleared his brow, looked stealthily at his 
 child. Her nose was very red indeed, and screwed up tight, 
 with hostile preparation. 
 
 " Cherry," cried Mr. Pecksniff, " what is amiss between 
 us .■* My child, why are we disunited .-' " 
 
 Miss Pecksniff's answer was scarcely a response to this 
 gush of affection, for it was simply, " Bother, Pa ! " 
 
 " Bother ! " repeated Mr. Pecksniff, in a tone of anguish. 
 
 "Oh! 'tis too late. Pa," said his daughter, calmly, " to 
 talk to me like this. 1 know what it means, and what its value 
 is." 
 
 " This is hard ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, addressing his 
 breakfast-cup. " This is very hard ! She is my child. I 
 carried her in my arms, when she wore shapeless worsted shoes 
 — I might say, mufflers — many years ago ! " 
 
 " You needn't taunt me with that, Pa," retorted Cherry, 
 with a spiteful look. " I am not so many years older than 
 my sister, either, though she is married to your friend ! " 
 
 " Ah, human nature, human nature ! Poor human nature ! " 
 said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his head at human nature, as if he 
 didn't belong to it. " To think that this discord should arise 
 from such a cause ! oh dear, oh dear ! " 
 
 " From such a cause indeed ! " cried Cherry. " State the 
 real cause. Pa, or I'll state it myself. Mind ! I will ! " 
 
 Perhaps the energy with which she said this was infectious. 
 However that may be, Mr. Pecksniff -changed his tone and 
 the expression of his face, for one of anger if not downright 
 violence, when he said : 
 
 " You will ! you have. You did yesterday. You do al- 
 ways. You have no decency ; you make no secret of your
 
 474 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 temper ; you have exposed yourself to Mr. Chuzzlewit a hun- 
 dred tunes." 
 
 " Myself ! " cried Cherry, with a bitter smile. " Oh, in- 
 deed ! I don't mind that." 
 
 " Me too, then," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 His daughter answered -with a scornful laugh. 
 
 " And since we have come to an explanation, Charity," 
 said Mr. Pecksniff, rolling his head portentously, " let me tell 
 you that I won't allow it. None of your nonsense, Miss ! I 
 won't permit it to be done." 
 
 "I shall do," said Charity, rocking her chair backwards 
 and forwards, and raising her voice to a high pitch, " I shall 
 do. Pa, wliat I please and what I have done. 1 am not going 
 to be crushed in everything, depend upon it. I've been more 
 shamefully used than anybody ever was in this world," here 
 she began to cry and sob, " and may expect the worst treat- 
 ment from you, I know. But I don't care for that. No I 
 don't ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was made so desperate by the loud tone in 
 which she spoke, that, after looking about him in frantic un- 
 certainty for some means of softening it, he rose and shook 
 her until the ornamental bow of hair upon her head nodded 
 like a plume. She was so very much astonished by this 
 assault that it really had the desired effect. 
 
 " I'll do it again ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff as he resumed his 
 seat, and fetched his breath, " if you dare to talk in that loud 
 manner. How do you mean about being shamefully used .-' 
 If Mr. Jonas chose your sister in preference to you, who could 
 help it, I should wish to know. What have /to do with it ?" 
 
 " Wasn't I made a convenience of .'' Wern't my feelings 
 trifled with ? Didn't he address himself to me first?" sobbed 
 Cherrj^ clasping her hands ; '• and oh good gracious, that I 
 should live to be shook ! " 
 
 " You'll live to be shaken again," returned her parent, "if 
 you drive me to that means of maintaining the decorum of 
 this humble roof. You surprise me. I wonder you have not 
 more .spirit. If Mr. Jonas didn't care for you, how could you 
 wish to have him ? " 
 
 " / wish to have him ! " exclaimed Cherry, " / wish to 
 have him, Pa ! " 
 
 " Then what are you making all of this piece of work for," 
 retorted her father, " if you didn't wish to have him ? " 
 
 " Because I was treated with duplicity," said Cherry; "and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 475 
 
 because my own sister and my own father conspired against 
 me. I am not angiy with her" said Cherry, looking mucli 
 more angry than e\-er. " I pity her. I'm sorry for her. 1 
 know the fate that's in store for her, with that Wretch." 
 
 " Mr. Jonas will sur\ive your calling him a wretch, my 
 child, I dare say," said Mr. Pecksniff, with returning resigna- 
 tion ; " but call him what you like and make an end of it." 
 
 " Not an end, Pa," said Charity. " No, not an end. That's 
 not the only point on which we're not agreed. I won't sub- 
 mit to it. It's better you should know that, at once. No ; I 
 won't submit to it indeed, Pa ! I am not quite a fool, and I 
 am not blind. All I've got to say is, I won't submit to it." 
 
 Whatever she meant, she shook Mr. Pecksniff now ; for 
 his lame attempt to seem composed was melancholy in the 
 last degree. His anger changed to meekness, and his words 
 were mild and fawning. 
 
 " My dear," he said ; " if in the short excitement of an 
 angry moment I resorted to an unjustifiable means of sup- 
 pressing a little outbreak calculated to injure you as well as 
 myself — it's possible I may have done so ; perhaps 1 did — I 
 ask your pardon. A father asking pardon of his child,'.' said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, " is, I believe, a spectacle to soften the most 
 rugged nature." 
 
 But it didn't at all soften Miss Pecksniff : perhaps because 
 her nature was not rugged enough. On the contrary, she per- 
 sisted in saying, over and over again, that she wasn't quite a 
 fool, and wasn't blind, and wouldn't submit to it. 
 
 " You labor under some mistake, my child ! " said Mr. 
 Pecksniff : " but I will not ask you what it is ; I don't desire 
 to know. No, pray ! " he added, holding out his hand and 
 coloring again, " let us avoid the subject, my dear, whatever 
 it is!" 
 
 " It's quite right that the subject should be avoided be- 
 tween us, sir," said Cherry. " But I wish to be able to avoid 
 it altogether, and consequently must beg you to provide me 
 with a home." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff looked about the room, and said " A home, 
 my child ! " 
 
 " Another home, Papa," said Cherry with increasing state- 
 liness. " Place me at Mrs. Todgers's or somewhere, on an 
 independent footing ; but I will not live here, if such is to be 
 the case." 
 
 It is possible that Miss Pecksniff saw in Mrs. Todgers's a
 
 4^6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 vision of entliusiastic men, pining to fall, in adoration, at her 
 feet. It is possible that Mr. Pecksniff, in his new-born juve- 
 nility, saw in the suggestion of that same establishment, an 
 easy means of relieving himself from an irksome charge in 
 the' way of temper and watchfulness. It is undoubtedly a 
 fact that in the attentive ears of Mr. Pecksniff, the proposi- 
 tion did not sound quite like the dismal knell of all his hopes. 
 
 But he was a man of great feeling, and acute sensibility ; 
 and he squeezed his pocket-handkerchief against his eyes with 
 both hands — as such men always do : especially when they 
 are observed. " One of my birds," Mr. Pecksniff said, " has 
 left me for the stranger's breast ; the other would take wing 
 to Todgers's I Well, well, what am I .? I don't know what I 
 am, exactly. Never mind ! " 
 
 Even this remark, made more pathetic perhaps by his 
 breaking down in the middle of it, had no effect upon Charity. 
 She was grim, rigid, and inflexible. 
 
 " But I have ever," said Mr. Pecksniff, " sacrificed my 
 children's happiness to my own — I mean my own happiness 
 to my children's — and 1 will not begin to regulate my life by 
 other' rules of conduct now. If you can be happier at Mrs. 
 Todgers's than in your father's house, my dear, go to Mrs. 
 Todgers's ! Do not think of me, my girl ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 with emotion : "I shall get on pretty well, no doubt." 
 
 Miss Charity, who knew he had a secret pleasure in the 
 contemplation of the proposed change, suppressed her own, 
 and went on to negotiate the terms. His views upon this 
 'subject were at first so very limited that another difference, 
 involving possibly another shaking, threatened to ensue ; but 
 by degrees they came to something like an understanding, and 
 the storm blew over. Indeed, Miss Charity's idea was so 
 agreeable to both, that it would have been strange if they had 
 not come to an amicable agreement. It was soon arranged 
 between them that the project should be tried, and that im- 
 mediately ; and that Cherry's not being well, and needing 
 change of scene, and wishing to be near her sister, should 
 form the excuse for her departure, to Mr. Chuzzlewit and 
 Mary, to both of whom she had pleaded indisposition for some 
 time past. These premises agreed on, Mr. Pecksniff gave 
 her his blessing, with all the dignity of a self-denying man 
 who had made a hard sacrifice, but comforted himself with 
 the reflection that virtue is its own reward. Thus they were 
 reconciled for the first time since that not easily forgiven
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 477 
 
 night, when Mr. Jonas, repudiating the elder, had confessed his 
 passion for the younger sister, and Mr. Pecksniff had abetted 
 him on moral grounds. 
 
 But how happened it — in the name of an unexpected addi- 
 tion to that small family, the Seven Wonders of the World, 
 wliatever and wherever they may be, how happened it — that 
 ]\'Ir. Pecksniff and his daughter were about to part ? How 
 happened it that their mutual relations were so greatly al- 
 tered .'' Why was Miss Pecksniff so clamorous to have it 
 understood that she was neither blind nor foolish, and she 
 wouldn't bear it. It is not possible that Mr. Pecksniff had 
 any thoughts of marr}'ing again ! or that his daughter with 
 the sharp eye of a single woman, fathomed his design. 
 
 Let us inquire into this. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniif, as a man without reproach, from whom the 
 breath of slander passed like common breath from any other 
 polished surface, could afford to do what common men could 
 not. He knew the purity of his own motives ; and when he 
 had a motive worked at it as only a very good man (or a very 
 bad one) can. Did he set before himself any strong and pal- 
 pable motives for taking a second wife t Yes : and not one 
 or two of them, but a combination of very many. 
 
 Old Martin Chuzzlewit had gradually undergone an impor- 
 tant change. Even upon the night when he made such an 
 ill-timed arrival at JMr. Pecksniff's house, he was comparatively 
 subdued and easy to deal with. This Mr. Pecksniff attributed, 
 at the time, to the effect his brother's death had had upon 
 him. But from that hour his character seemed to have 
 modified by regular degrees, and to have softened down into 
 a dull indifference for almost every one but Mr. Pecksniff. 
 His looks were much the same as ever, but his mind was 
 singularly altered. It was not that this or that passion stood 
 out in brighter or in dimmer hues ; but that the color of the 
 whole man was faded. As one trait disappeared, no other 
 trait sprung up to take its place. His senses dwindled too. 
 He was less keen of sight ; was deaf sometimes ; took little 
 notice of what passed before him ; and would be profoundly 
 taciturn for days together. The process of this alteration was 
 so easy, that almost as soon as it began to be observed it was 
 complete. But Mr. Pecksniff saw it first, and having Anthony 
 Chuzzlewit fresh in his recollection, saw in his brother Martin 
 the same process of decav. 
 
 To a gentleman of Mr. Pecksnift"'s tenderness, this was a
 
 478 
 
 MARTI.y CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 very mournful sight. He could not but foresee the probability 
 of his respected relative being made the victim of designing 
 persons, and of his riches falling into worthless hands. It 
 gave him so much pain that he resolved to secure the 
 property to himself ; to keep bad testamentary suitors at a 
 distance ; to wall up the old gentleman, as it were, for his own 
 use. By little and little, therefore, he began to try whether 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit gave any promise of becoming an instnnnent 
 in his hands, and finding that he did, and indeed that he was 
 very supple in his plastic fingers, he made it the business of 
 his life, kind soul ! to establish an ascendancy over him : and 
 every little test he durst apply meeting with a success beyond 
 his hopes, he began to think he heard old Martin's cash 
 already chinking in his own unworldly pockets. 
 
 But when Mr. Pecksniff pondered on this subject (as, in 
 his zealous way, he often did), and thought with an uplifted 
 heart of the train of circumstances which had delivered the 
 old gentleman into his hands for the confusion of evil-doers 
 and the triumph of a righteous nature, he always felt that 
 Mary Graham was his stumbling-block. Let the old man say 
 what he would, Mr. Pecksniff knew he had a strong affection 
 for her. He knew that he showed it in a thousand little ways ; 
 that he liked to have her near him, and was never quite at 
 ease when she was absent long. That he had ever really 
 sworn to leave her nothing in his will, Mr; Pecksniff greatly 
 doubted. That even if he had, there were many ways by 
 which he could evade the oath and satisfy his conscience, Mr. 
 Pecksniff knew. That her unprotected state was no light 
 burden on the old man's mind, he also knew, for Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit had plainly told him so. " Then," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, "what if I married her! What," repeated Mr, 
 Pecksniff, sticking up his hair and glancing at his bust by 
 Spoker : " What if, making sure of his approval first — he is 
 nearly imbecile, poor gentleman — I married her ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had a lively sense of the Beautiful ; especially 
 in women. His manner towgirds the sex was remarkable for 
 its insinuating character. It is recorded of him in another 
 part of these pages, that he embraced Mrs. Todgers on the 
 smallest provocation : and it was a way he had : it was a part 
 of the gentle placidity of his disposition. Before any thought 
 of matrimony was in his mind, he had bestowed on Mary 
 many little tokens of his spiritual admiration. They had 
 been indignantly received, but that was nothing. True, as
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 479 
 
 the idea expanded within him, these had become too ardent 
 to escape the piercing eye of Cherr}-, who read Ijis scheme at 
 once ; but he had always felt the power of Marsh's channs. 
 So Interest and Inclination made a pair, and drew the curricle 
 of Mr. Pecksniff's plan. 
 
 As to any thought of revenging himself on young Martin 
 for his insolent expressions when they parted, and of shutting 
 him out still more effectually from any hope of reconciliation 
 with his grandfather, Mr. Pecksniff was much too meek and 
 forgiving to be suspected of harboring it. As to being re- 
 fused by Mary, Mr. Pecksniff was quite satisfied that in her 
 position she could never hold out if he and Mr. Chuzzlewit 
 were both against her. As to consulting the wishes of her 
 heart in such a case, it formed no part of Mr. Pecksniff's 
 moral code ; for he knew what a good man he was, and what 
 a blessing he must be to anybody. His daughter having 
 broken the ice, and the murder being out between them, Mr. 
 Pecksniff had now only to pursue his design as cleverly as he 
 could, and by the craftiest approaches. 
 
 " Well, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, meeting old 
 Martin in the garden, for it was his habit to walk in and out 
 by that way, as the fancy took him : '' and how is my dear 
 friend this delicious morning ? " 
 
 " Do you mean me ? " asked the old man. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, " one of his deaf days, I see. 
 Could I mean any one else, my dear sir .' " 
 
 " You might ha\-e meant Alary," said the old man. 
 
 " Indeed I might, (^uitc true. I might speak of her as 
 a dear, dear friend, I hope ? " observed Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " I hope so," returned old Martin. " I think she deserves it." 
 
 " Think ! " cried Pecksniff, "Think, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 " You are speaking I know," returned Martin, " but I 
 don't catch what you say. Speak up ! " 
 
 " He's getting deafer than a flint," said Pecksniff. " I was 
 saying, my dear sir, that I am afraid I must make up my mind 
 to part with Cherry." 
 
 " What has she been doing ? " asked the old man. 
 
 " He puts the most ridiculous questions I ever heard ! " 
 muttered Mr. Pecksniff. " He's a child to-day." After which 
 he added, in a mild roar : " She hasn't been doing anything, 
 my dear friend." 
 
 " What are you going to part with her for ? " demanded 
 Martin.
 
 480 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " She hasn't her health by any means," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " She misses her sister, my dear sir ; they doated on each 
 other from the cradle. And I think of giving her a run in 
 London for a change. A good long run, sir, if I find she 
 likes it." 
 
 " Quite right," cried Martin. " It's judicious." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so. I hope you mean to bear 
 me company in this dull part, while she's away ? " said Mr. 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " I have no intention of removing from it," was Martin's 
 answer. 
 
 " Then why," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking the old man's arm 
 in his, and walking slowly on : " Why, my good sir, can't you 
 come and stay with me ? I am sure I could surround you 
 with more comforts, lowly as is my cot, than you can obtain 
 at a village house of entertainment. And pardon me, Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit, pardon me if I say that such a place as the 
 Dragon, however well-conducted (and, as far as I know, Mrs. 
 Lupin is one of the worthiest creatures in this country), is 
 hardly a home for Miss Graham." 
 
 Martin mused a moment : and then said as he shook him 
 by the hand. 
 
 " No. You're quite right ; it is not." 
 
 " The very sight of skittles," Mr. Pecksniff eloquently 
 pursued, " is far from being congenial to a delicate mind." 
 
 " It's an amusement of the vulgar," said old Martin, 
 " certainly." 
 
 "Of the very vulgar," Mr. Pecksniff answered. "Then 
 why not bring Miss Graham here, sir ? Here is the house. 
 Here am I alone in it, for Thomas Pinch I do not count as 
 any one. Our lovely friend shall occupy my daughter's cham- 
 ber ! you shall choose your own ; we shall not quarrel I 
 hope ! " 
 
 " We are not likelv to do that," said Martin. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff pressed his hand. " We understand each 
 other, my dear sir, I see ! — I can wind him," he thought, with 
 exultation, " round my little finger ! " 
 
 " You leave the recompense to me ? " said the old man, 
 after a minute's silence. 
 
 " Oh ! do not speak of recompense ! " cried Pecksniff. 
 
 " I say," repeated Martin, with a glimmer of his ojd 
 obstinacy, " you leave the recompense to me. Do you ? " 
 
 " Since you desire it, my good sir."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 481 
 
 " I always desire it," said the old man. " You know I 
 always desire it. I wish to pay as I go, even when I buy of 
 you. Not that I do not leave a balance to be settled one 
 day, Pecksniff." 
 
 The architect was too much overcome to speak. He 
 tried to drop a tear upon his patron's hand, but couldn't find 
 one in his dr}^ distillery. 
 
 " May that day be ver)- distant ! " was his pious exclama- 
 tion. " Ah, sir ! If I could say how deep an interest I have 
 in you and yours ! I allude to our beautiful young friend." 
 
 " True," he answered.' " True. She need have some one 
 interested in her. I did her wrong to train her as I did. 
 Orphan though ^she was, she would have found some one to 
 protect her whom she might have loved again. When she 
 was a child, I pleased myself with the thought that in gratify- 
 ing my whim of placing her between me and false-hearted 
 knaves, I had done her a kindness. Now she is a woman, I 
 have no such comfort. She has no protector but herself. I 
 have put her at such odds with the world, that any dog may 
 bark or fawn upon her at his pleasure. Indeed she stands 
 in need of delicate consideration. Yes; indeed she does!" 
 
 " If her position could be altered and defined, sir .'' " Mr. 
 Pecksniff hinted. 
 
 " How can that be done .-' Should I make a seamstress of 
 her, or a governess ? " 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. " My dear sir, 
 there are other ways. There are indeed. But I am much 
 excited and embarrassed at present, and would rather not 
 pursue the subject. I scarcely know what I mean. Permit 
 me to resume it at another time." 
 
 " You are not unwell .'' " asked Martin anxiously. 
 
 " No, no ! " cried l^ecksniff. " No. Permit me to resume 
 it at another time. I'll walk a little. Bless you ! " 
 
 Old Martin blessed him in return, and squeezed his hand. 
 As he turned away, and slowly walked towards the house, 
 Mr. Pecksniff stood gazing after him : being pretty well re- 
 covered from his late emotion, which, in any other man, one 
 might have thought had been assumed as a machinery for 
 feeling Martin's pulse. Tlie change in the old man found 
 such a slight expression in his figure, that Mr. Pecksniff, look- 
 ing after him, could not help snying to himself : 
 
 " And I can w^nd him round my little finger ! Only 
 think ! " 
 
 31
 
 482 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Old Martin happening to turn his head, saluted him afifec- 
 tionately. Mr. Pecksniff returned the gesture. 
 
 "Why the time was," said Mr. Pecksniff; "and not long 
 ago, when he wouldn't look at me ! How soothing is this 
 change. Such is the delicate texture of the human heart ; so 
 complicated is the process of its being softened ! Externally 
 he looks the same, and I can wind him round my little finger. 
 Only think ! " 
 
 In sober truth, there did appear to be nothing on which 
 Mr. Pecksniff might not have ventured with Martin Chuzzle- 
 wit ; for whatever Mr. Pecksniff said or did was right, and 
 whatever he advised was done. Martin had escaped so many 
 snares from needy fortune-hunters, and had withered in the 
 shell of his suspicion and distrust for so many years, but to 
 become the good man's tool and plaything. With the happi- 
 ness of this conviction painted on his face, the architect went 
 forth upon his morning walk. 
 
 The summer weather in his bosom was reflected in the 
 breast of Nature. Through deep green vistas where the 
 boughs arched over-head, and showed the sunlight flashing in 
 the beautiful perspective ; through dewy fern from which the 
 startled hares leaped up, and fled at his approach ; by 
 mantled pools, and fallen trees, and down in hollow places, 
 rustling among last year's leaves whose scent woke memory of 
 the past ; the placid Pecksniff strolled. By meadow gates 
 and hedges fragrant with wild roses ; and by thatched-roofed 
 cottages whose inmates humbly bowed before him as a man 
 both good and wise ; the worthy Pecksniff walked in tranquil 
 meditation. The bee passed onward, humming of the work 
 he had to do ; the idle gnats for ever going round and round 
 in one contracting and expanding ring, yet always going on as 
 fast as he, danced merrily before him ; the color of the long 
 grass came and went, as if the light clouds made it timid as they 
 floated through the distant air. The birds, so many Pecksniff 
 consciences, sang gayly upon every branch ; and Mr. Pecksniff 
 paid his homage to the day by ruminating on his projects as 
 he walked along. 
 
 Chancing to trip, in his abstraction, over the spreading 
 root of an old tree, he raised his pious eyes to take a survey 
 of the ground before him. It startled him to see the embodied 
 image of his thoughts not far a-head. Mary herself. And 
 alone. 
 
 At first Mr. Pecksniff stopped as if with the intention of
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 483 
 
 avoiding her ; but his next impulse was, to advance, whicli he 
 did at a brisk pace ; caroling as he went, so sweetly and with 
 so much innocence, that he only wanted feathers and wings 
 to be a bird. 
 
 Hearing notes behind her, not belonging to the songsters of 
 the grove, she looked round. Mr. Pecksniff kissed his hand, 
 and was at her side immediately. 
 
 " Communing with nature .-' " said Mr. Pecksniff. " So 
 am I." 
 
 She said the morning was so beautiful that she had walked 
 further than she intended, and would return. Mr. Pecksniff 
 said it was exactly his case, and he would return with her. 
 
 " Take my arm, sweet girl," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 Mary declined it, and walked so very fast that he remon- 
 strated. "You were loitering when I came upon you," Mr. 
 Pecksniff said. " Why be so cruel as to hurry now. You 
 would not shun me, would you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would," she answered, turning her glowing cheek 
 indignantly upon him, "you know 1 would. Release me, Mr. 
 Pecksniff. Your touch is disagreeable to me." 
 
 His touch ! What .' That chaste patriarchal touch which 
 Mrs. Todgers — surely a discreet lady — had endured, not only 
 without complaint, but with apparent satisfaction ! This was 
 positively wrong. Mr. Pecksniff was sorry to hear her say it. 
 
 " If you have not observed," said Mary, " that it is so, 
 pray take assurance from my lips, and not, as you are a gen- 
 tleman, continue to offend me." 
 
 "Well, well ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, mildly, "I feel that T 
 might consider this becoming in a daughter of my own, and 
 why should I object to it in one so beautiful ! It's harsh. It 
 cuts me to the soul," said Mr. Pecksniff: "but I cannot 
 quarrel with you, Mary." 
 
 She tried to say she was sorry to hear it, but burst into 
 tears. Mr. Pecksniff now repeated the Todgers' performance 
 on a comfortable scale, as if he intended it to last some time ; 
 and in his disengaged hand, catching hers, employed himself 
 in separating the fingers with his own, and sometimes kissing 
 them, as he pursued the conversation thus : 
 
 " I am glad we met. I am very glad we met. I am able 
 now to ease my bosom of a heavy load, and speak to you in 
 confidence. Mary," said Mr. Pecksniff in his tenderest 
 tones : indeed, they were so very tender that he almost 
 squeaked : " My soul 1 I love you ! "
 
 484 ^^^ ^ ^-^^ CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 A fantastic thing, that maiden affectation ! She made 
 believe to shudder. 
 
 " I love you," said Mr. Pecksniff, " my gentle life, with a 
 devotion which is quite surprising, even to myself. I did 
 suppose that the sensation was buried in the silent tomb of a 
 lady, only second to you in qualities of the mind and form : 
 but I find I am mistaken." 
 
 She tried to disengage her hand, but might as well have 
 tried to free herself from the embrace of an affectionate boa- 
 constrictor : if anything so wily may be brought into com- 
 parison with Pecksniff. 
 
 " Although I am a widower," said Mr. Pecksniff, examin- 
 ing the rings upon her fingers, and tracing the course of one 
 delicate blue \€m. with his fat thumb, '• a widower with two 
 daughters, still I am not encumbered, my love. One of them, 
 as you know, is married. The other, by her own desire, but 
 with a view, I will confess — why not ? — to my altering my 
 condition, is about to leave her father's house. I have a 
 character, I hope. People are pleased to speak well of me, I 
 think. My person and manner are not absolutely those of a 
 monster, I trust. Ah, naughty Hand ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 apostrophizing the reluctant prize, " w^hy did you take me 
 prisoner ! Go, go ! " 
 
 He slapped the hand to punish it ; but relenting, folded it 
 in his waistcoat, to comfort it again. 
 
 " Blessed in each other, and in the societ)- of our venerable 
 friend, my darling," said Mr. Pecksniff, "we shall be happy. 
 When he is wafted to a haven of rest, we will console each 
 other. My pretty primrose, what do you say ? " 
 
 '• It is possible," Mary answered, in a hurried manner, 
 "that I ought to feel grateful for this mark of your confidence. 
 I cannot say that I do, but I am willing to suppose you may 
 deserve my thanks. Take them ; and pray leave me, Mr. 
 Pecksniff." 
 
 The good man smiled a greasy smile ; and drew her closer 
 to him. 
 
 " Pray, pray release me, Mr. Pecksniff. I cannot listen 
 to your proposal. I cannot receive it. There are many to 
 whom it may be acceptable, but it is not so to me. As an act 
 of kindness and an act of pit}', leave me ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff walked on with his arm round her waist, 
 and her hand in his, as contentedly as if they had been all in 
 all to each other, and were joined in the bonds of truest love. 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 485 
 
 " If you force me by your superior strength," said Mary, 
 who finding that good words had not the least effect upon him, 
 made no further effort to suppress her indignation : " if you 
 force me by your superior strength to accompany you back, and 
 to be the subject of your insolence upon the way, you cannot 
 constrain the expression of my thoughts. I hold you in the 
 deepest abhorrence. I know your real nature and despise it." 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Pecksniff, sweetly. " No, no, no ! "' 
 
 " By what arts or unhappy chances you have gained your 
 influence over Mr. Chuzzlewit, I do not know," said Mary: 
 " it may be strong enough to soften even this, but he shall 
 know of this, trust me, sir." 
 
 Mr. Pecksnitf raised his heavy eyelids languidly, and let 
 them fall again. It was saying with perfect coolness, " Ay, 
 ay ! Indeed ! " 
 
 " Is it not enough," said Mary, " that you warp and change 
 his nature, adapt his every prejudice to your bad ends, and 
 harden a heart naturally kind by shutting out the truth and 
 allowing none but false and distorted views to reach it \ is it 
 not enough that you have the power of doing this, and that 
 you exercise it, but must you also be so coarse, so cruel, and 
 so cowardly to me ? " 
 
 Still Mr. Pecksniff led her calmly on, and looked as mild 
 as any lamb that ever pastured in the fields. 
 
 " Will nothing move you, sir ? " cried Mary. 
 
 " My dear," observed Mr. Pecksniff, with a placid leer, 
 " a habit of self-examination, and the practice of — shall I say 
 of virtue .'' " 
 
 " Of hypocrisy," said Mary. 
 
 " No, no," resumed Mr. Pecksniff, chafing the captive 
 hand reproachfully, " of virtue — have enabled me to set such 
 guards upon myself, that it is really difficult to rufile me. It 
 is a curious fact, but it is difficult, do you know, for any one 
 to ruffie me. And did she think," said Mr. Pecksniff, with a 
 playful tightening of his grasp, " that she could ! How little 
 did she know his heart ! " 
 
 Little, indeed ! Her mind was so strangely constituted 
 that she would have preferred the caresses of a toad, an adder, 
 or a serpent : nay, the hug of a bear : to the endearments of 
 Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Come, come," said that good gentleman, " a word or 
 two will set this matter right, and establish a pleasant under- 
 standing between us. I am not angry, my lo\e."
 
 486 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " You angry ! " 
 
 "No," said Mr. Pecksniff, " I am not. I say so. Neither 
 are you." 
 
 There was a beating heart beneath his hand that told 
 another story though. 
 
 " I am sure you are not," said Mr. Pecksniff : " and I 
 will tell you why. There are two Martin Chuzzlewits, my 
 dear ; and your carr^-ing your anger to one might have a 
 serious effect — who knows ! — upon the other. You wouldn't 
 wish to hurt him, would you ! " 
 
 She trembled violently, and looked at him with such a 
 proud disdain that he turned his eyes away. No doubt lest 
 he should be offended with her in spite of his better self. 
 
 " A passive quarrel, my love," said Mr. Pecksniff, " may 
 be changed into an active one, remember. It would be sad to 
 blight even a disinherited young man \w his already blighted 
 prospects : but how easy to do it. Ah, how easy ! Have I 
 influence with our venerable friend, do you think ? Well, 
 perhaps I have. Perhaps I have." 
 
 He raised his eyes to hers ; and nodded with an air of 
 banter that was charming. 
 
 " No," he continued, thoughtfully. " Upon the whole, my 
 sweet, if I were you I'd keep my secret to myself. I am not 
 at all sure : very far from it : that it would surprise our friend 
 in any way, for he and I have had some conversation together 
 only this morning, and he is anxious, very anxious, to establish 
 you in some more settled manner. But whether he was sur- 
 prised or not surprised, the consequence of your imparting it 
 might be the same. Martin, junior, might suffer severely. 
 I'd have compassion on Martin, junior, do you know ? " said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, with a persuasive smile. " Yes. He don't 
 deserve it, but I would." 
 
 She wept so bitterly now, and was so much distressed, that 
 he thought it prudent to unclasp her waist, and hold her only 
 by the hand. 
 
 "As to our own share in the precious little myster}-," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff, " we will keep it to ourselves, and talk of it 
 between ourselves, and you shall think it over. You will 
 consent, my love ; you will consent, I know. Whatever you 
 may think ; you will. I seem to remember to have heard : I 
 really don't know where, or how : " he added, with bewitching 
 frankness, " that you and Martin, junior, when you were chil- 
 dren, had a sort of childish fondness for each other. When
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 487 
 
 we are married, you shall have the satisfaction of thinking 
 that it didn't last, to ruin him, but passed away, to do him 
 good ; for we'll see tlien, what we can do to put some trifling 
 help in Martin, junior's, way. Have I any influence with our 
 venerable friend ? Well ! Perhaps I have. Perhaps 1 have." 
 
 The outlet from the wood in which these tender passages 
 occurred, was close to Mr. Pecksniff's house. They were now 
 so near it that he stopped, and holding up her little finger, 
 said in playful accents, as a parting fancy : 
 
 " Shall I bite it >. " 
 
 Receiving no reply he kissed it instead ; and then stoop- 
 ing down, inclined his ffabby face to hers (he had a flabby 
 face, although he tons a good man), and with a blessing, which 
 from such a source was quite enough to set her up in life, and 
 prosper her for that time forth, permitted her to leave him. 
 
 Gallantry in its true sense is supposed to ennoble and 
 dignify a man ; and love has shed refinements on innumerable 
 Cymons. But Mr. Pecksniff : perhaps because to one of his 
 exalted nature these were mere grossnesses : certainly did not 
 appear to any unusual advantage, now that he was left alone. 
 On the contrar}-, he seemed to be shrunk and reduced ; to be 
 trj'ing to hide himself within himself ; and to be wretched at 
 not having the power to do it. His shoes looked too large ; 
 his sleeve looked too long ; his hair looked too limp ; his 
 features looked too mean ; his exposed throat looked as if a 
 halter would have done it good. For a minute or two, in fact, 
 he was hot, and pale, and mean, and shy, and slinking, and 
 consequently not at all PecksnifiRan. But after that, he 
 recovered himself, and went home with as beneficent an air 
 as if he had been the High Priest of the summer weather. 
 
 " I have arranged to go, Papa," said Charity, " to-morrow." 
 
 " So soon, my child ! " 
 
 " I can't go too soon," said Charity, " under the circum- 
 stances. I have written to Mrs. Todgers to propose an 
 arrangement, and have requested her to meet me at the coach, 
 at all events. You'll be quite your own master, now, Mr. 
 Pinch ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had just gone out of the room, and Tom had 
 just come into it. 
 
 " My own master ! " repeated Tom. 
 
 " Yes, you'll have nobody to interfere with you," said 
 Charity. " At least I hope you won't. Hem ! It's a chang- 
 ing world."
 
 488 jMARTIN chuzzlewit. 
 
 " What ! are you going to be married, Miss Pecksniff ? " 
 asked Tom in great surprise. 
 
 " Not exactly," faltered Cherry. " I haven't made up my 
 mind to be. I believe I could be, if I chose, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 "Of course you could ! " said Tom. And he said it in 
 perfect good faith. He believed it from the bottom of his 
 heart. 
 
 " No," said Cherry, " / am not going to be married. 
 Nobody is, that I know of. Hem ! But 1 am not going to 
 live with Papa. I have my reasons, but it's all a secret. I 
 shall always feel very kindly towards you, I assure you, for 
 the boldness you showed that night. As to you and me, Mr. 
 Pinch, lOc part the best friends possible ! " 
 
 Tom thanked her for her confidence, and for her friend- 
 ship, but there was a mystery in the former, which perfectly 
 bewildered him. In his extravagant devotion to the family, 
 he had felt the loss of Merry more than any one but those 
 who knew that for all the slights he underwent he thought his 
 own demerits were to blame, could possibly have understood. 
 He had scarcely reconciled himself to that, when here was 
 Charity about to leave them. She had grown up, as it were, 
 under Tom's eye. The sisters were a part of Pecksniff, and 
 a part of Tom ; items in Pecksniff's goodness, and in Tom's 
 service. He couldn't bear it : not two hours' sleep had Tom 
 that night, through dwelling in his bed upon these dreadful 
 changes. 
 
 When morning dawned, he thought he must have dreamed 
 this piece of ambiguity ; but no, on going down stairs he 
 found them packing trunks and cording boxes, and making 
 other preparations for Miss Charity's departure, which lasted 
 all day long. In good time for the evening-coach, Miss 
 Charity deposited her housekeeping keys with much ceremony 
 upon the parlor table : took a gracious leave of all the house ; 
 and quitted her paternal roof — a blessing, for which the Peck- 
 sniffian servant was observed by some profane persons to be 
 particularly active in the thanksgiving at church next Sun- 
 day.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 489 
 
 CHAPTER XXXT. 
 
 MR. PINCH IS DISCHARGED OF A DUTY WHICH HE NEVER 
 OWED TO ANYBODY ; AND MR. PECKSNIFF DISCHARGES A 
 DUTY WHICH HE OWES TO SOCIETY. 
 
 The closing words of the last chapter, lead naturally to 
 the commencement of this, its successor ; for it has to do with 
 a church. With the church so often mentioned heretofore, in 
 which Tom Pindi played the organ for nothing. 
 
 One sultry afternoon, about a week after Miss Charity's 
 departure for London, Mr. Pecksniff being out walking by 
 himself, took it into his head to stray into the churchyard. 
 As he was lingering among the tombstones, endeavoring 
 to extract an available sentiment or two from the epitaphs 
 — for he never lost an opportunity of making up a few moral 
 crackers, 10 be let off as occasion served — Tom Pinch began 
 to practise. Tom could run down to the church and do so 
 whenever he had time to spare ; for it was a simple little 
 organ, provided with wind by the action of the musician's feet ; 
 and he was independent, even of a bellows-blower. Though 
 if Tom had wanted one at any time, there was not a man or 
 boy in all the village, and away to the turnpike (tollman 
 included), but would have blown away for him till he was black 
 in the face. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had no objection to music ; not the least. 
 He was tolerant of everything ; he often said so. He con- 
 sidered it a vagabond kind of trilling, in general, just suited 
 to Tom's capacity. But in regard to Tom's performance upon 
 this same organ, he was remarkably lenient, singularly amia- 
 ble ; for when Tom played it on Sundays, Mr. Pecksniff in 
 his unbounded sympathy felt as if he played it himself, and 
 were a benefactor to the congregation. So whenever it was 
 impossible to devise any other means of taking the value of 
 Tom's wages out of him, Mr. Pecksniff gave him leave to cul- 
 tivate this instrument. For which mark of his consideration, 
 Tom was veiy grateful. 
 
 The afternoon was remarkably warm, and Mr. Pecksniff 
 had been strolling a long way. He had not what may be 
 called a fine ear for music, but he knew when it had a tran-
 
 490 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 quilizing influence on his soul ; and that was the case now, 
 for it sounded to him like a melodious snore. He approached 
 the church, and looking through the diamond lattice of a 
 window near the porch, saw Tom, with the curtains in the 
 loft drawn back, playing away with great expression and 
 tenderness. 
 
 The church had an inviting air of coolness. The old oak 
 roof supported by cross-beams, the hoary walls, the marble 
 tablets, and the cracked stone pavement, were refreshing to 
 look at. There were leaves of ivy tapping gently at the oppo- 
 site windows ; and the sun poured in through only one : leav- 
 ing the body of the church in tempting shade. But the most 
 tempting spot of all, was one red-curtained and soft-cushioned 
 pew, wherein the official dignitaries of the place (of whom Mr. 
 Pecksniff was the head and chief) enshrined themselves on 
 Sundays. Mr. Pecksniff's seat was in the corner : a remark- 
 ably comfortable corner ; where his very large Prayer-Book 
 was at that minute making the most of its quarto self upon 
 the desk. He determined to go in and rest. 
 
 He entered very softly ; in part because it was a church ; 
 in part because his tread was always soft ; in part because 
 Tom played a solemn tune ; in part because he thought he 
 would surprise him when he stopped. Unbolting the door of 
 the high pew of state, .he glided in and shut it after him ; then 
 sitting in his usual place, and stretching out his legs upon the 
 hassocks, he composed himself to listen to the music. 
 
 It is an unaccountable circumstance that he should have 
 felt drowsy there, where the force of association might surely 
 have been enough to keep him wide awake ; but he did. He 
 had not been in the snug little corner five minutes before he 
 began to nod. He had not recovered himself one minute be- 
 fore he began to nod again. In the ver}' act of opening his 
 eyes indolently, he nodded again. In the very act of shutting 
 them, he nodded again. So he fell out of one nod into an- 
 other until at last he ceased to nod at all, and was as fast as 
 the church itself. 
 
 He had a consciousness of the organ, long after he fell 
 asleep, though as to its being an organ he had nd more idea 
 of that, than he had of its being a Bull. After a while he be- 
 gan to have at intervals the same dreamy impressions of 
 voices ; and awakening to an indolent curiosity upon the sub- 
 ject, opened his eyes. 
 
 He was so indolent, that after glancing at the hassocks
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 491 
 
 and the pew, he was already lialf-way off to sleep again, when 
 it occurred to him that there really were voices in the church : 
 low voices, talking earnestly hard by : while the echoes seemed 
 to mutter responses. He roused himself, and listened. 
 
 Before he had listened half a dozen seconds, he became 
 as broad awake as ever he had been in all his life. With 
 eyes, and ears, and mouth, wide open, he moved himself a 
 very little with the utmost caution, and gathering the curtain 
 in his hand, peeped out. 
 
 Tom Pinch and Mary. Of course. He had recognized 
 their voices, and already knew the topic they discussed. 
 Looking like the small end of a guillotined man, with his cliin 
 on a level with' the top of the pew, so that he might duck 
 down immediately in case of either of them turning round, he 
 listened. Listened with such concentrated eagerness, that 
 his very hair and shirt-collar stood bristling up to help him. 
 
 " No," cried Tom. " No letters have ever reached me, 
 except that one from New York. But don't be uneasy on that 
 account, for it's very likely they have gone away to some far- 
 off place, where the posts are neither regular nor frequent. 
 He said in that very letter that it might be so, even in that 
 city to which they thought of travelling — Eden, you know." 
 
 " It is a great weight upon my mind," said Mary. 
 
 " Oh, but you mustn't let it be," said Tom. " There's a 
 true saying that nothing travels so fast as ill news ; and if the 
 slightest harm had happened to Martin, you may be sure you 
 would have heard of it long ago. I have often wished to say 
 this to you," Tom continued with an embarrassment that be- 
 came him very well, " but you have never gi\en me an oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " I have sometimes been almost afraid," said Mar}', " that 
 you might suppose I hesitated to confide in you, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 " No," Tom stammered, " I — 1 am not aware that I ever 
 supposed that. I am sure that if 1 have, I have checked the 
 thought directly, as an injustice to you. I feel the delicacy of 
 your situation in having to confide in me at all," said Tom, 
 " but I would risk my life to save you from one day's uneasi- 
 ness : indeed I would ! " 
 
 Poor Tom ! 
 
 " I have dreaded sometimes," Tom continued, " that I 
 might have displeased you by — by having the boldness to try 
 and anticipate your wishes now and then. At other times I 
 have fancied that your kindness prompted you to keep aloof 
 from me."
 
 492 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " It was very foolish : very presumptuous and ridiculous : 
 to think so," Tom pursued : " but I feared you might suppose 
 it possible that I — I — should admire you too much for my 
 own peace ; and so denied yourself the slight assistance you 
 would otherwise have accepted from me. If such an idea has 
 ever presented itself to you," faltered Tom, "pray dismiss it. 
 I arh easily made happy : and I shall live contented here long 
 after you and Martin have forgotten me. I am a poor, shy, 
 awkward creature : not at all a man of the world : and vou 
 should think no more of me, bless you, than if I were an old 
 friar ! " 
 
 If friars bear such hearts as thine, Tom, let friars multiply ; 
 though they have no such rule in all their stern arithmetic. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Pinch ! " said Mar}^, giving him her hand ; " I 
 cannot tell you how your kindness moves me. I have never 
 wronged you by the lightest doubt, and have never for an in- 
 stant ceased to feel that you were all ; much more than all ; 
 that Martin found you. Without the silent care and friend- 
 ship I have experienced from you, my life here would have 
 been unhappy. But you have been a good angel to me ; fill- 
 ing me with gratitude of heart, hope, and courage." 
 
 " I am as little like an angel, I am afraid," replied Tom, 
 shaking his head, " as any stone cherubim among the grave- 
 stones ; and I don't think there are many real angels of that 
 pattern. But I should like to know (if you will tell me) why 
 you have been so very silent about Martin." 
 
 " Because I have been afraid," said Mary, " of injuring 
 you." 
 
 " Of injuring me ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " Of doing you an injury with your employer.' 
 
 The gentleman in question dived. 
 
 " With Pecksniff ! " rejoined Tom, with cheerful confi- 
 dence. " Oh dear, he'd never think of us ! He's the best of 
 men. The more at ease you were, the happier he would be. 
 Oh dear, you needn't be afraid of Pecksniff. He is not a 
 spy." 
 
 Many a man in Pecksniff's place, if he could have dived 
 through the floor of the pew of state and come out at Calcutta 
 or any inhabited region on the other side of the earth, would 
 have done it instantly. Mr. Pecksniff sat dow-n upon a has- 
 sock, and listening more attentively than ever, smiled. 
 
 Mar\' seemed to have expressed some dissent in the mean- 
 while, for Tom went on to say, with honest energ}' :
 
 MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. 493 
 
 '' Well, I don't know how it is, but it always happens, 
 whenever I express myself in this way, to anybody almost, 
 that I find they won't do justice to Pecksniff. It is one of the 
 most extraordinary circumstances that ever came within my 
 knowledge, but it is so. There's John Westlock, who used to 
 be a pupil here, one of the best-hearted young men in the 
 ■world, in all other matters : I really believe John would have 
 Pecksniff flogged at the cart's tail if he could. And John is 
 not a solitary case, for every pupil we have had in my time 
 has gone away with the same inveterate hatred of him. There 
 was Mark Tapley, too, quite in another station of life," said 
 Tom : " the mockery he used to make of Pecksniff when he 
 was at the Dragon was shocking. Martin too : Martin was 
 worse than any of 'em. But I forgot. He prepared you to 
 dislike Pecksniff, of course. So you came with a prejudice, 
 you know. Miss Graham, and are not a fair witness." 
 
 Tom triumphed ver^^ much in this discovery, and rubbed 
 his hands with great satisfaction. 
 
 "Mr. Pinch," said Mary, "you mistake him." 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Tom. " You mistake him. But," he 
 added, with a rapid change in his tone, " what is the matter ? 
 Miss Graham, what is the matter?" 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff brought up to the top of the pew, by slow 
 degrees, his hair, his forehead, his eyebrow, his eye. She 
 was sitting on a bench beside the door with her hands before 
 her face ; and Tom was bending over her. 
 
 "What is the matter!" cried Tom. "Have I said any- 
 thing to hurt you ? Has any one said anything to hurt you ? 
 Don't cry. Pray tell me what it is. I cannot bear to see you 
 so distressed. Mercy on us, I never was so surprised and 
 grieved in all my life ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff kept his eye in the same place. He could 
 have moved it now for nothing short of a gimlet or a red-hot 
 wire. 
 
 " I wouldn't have told you, Mr. Pinch," said Mary, " if I 
 could have helped it ; but your delusion is so absorbing, and 
 it is so necessary that we should be upon our guard, that you 
 should not be compromised ; and to that end that you should 
 know by whom I am beset ; that no alternative is left me. I 
 came here purposely to tell you, but I think I should have 
 wanted courage if you had not chanced to lead me so directly 
 to the object of my coming." 
 
 Tom gazed at her steadfastly, and seemed to say, " What 
 else 1 " But he said not a word.
 
 494 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 
 
 " That person whom you think the best of men," said 
 Mary, looking up, and speaking with a quivering Up and flash- 
 ing eye : 
 
 " Lord bless me ! " muttered Tom, staggering back, " Wait 
 a moment. That person whom I think the best of men ! You 
 mean Pecksniff, of course. Yes, I see you mean Pecksniff. 
 Good gracious me, don't speak without authority. What 
 has he done ? If he is not the best of men, what is he ? " 
 
 " The worst. The falsest, craftiest, meanest, cruellest, 
 most sordid, most shameless," said the trembling girl — trem- 
 bling with her indignation. 
 
 Tom sat down on a seat, and clasped his hands. 
 
 " What is he," said Mary, "who receiving me in his house 
 as his guest ; his unwilling guest : knowing my history, and 
 how defenceless and alone I am, presumes befere his daugh- 
 ters to affront me so, that if I had a brother but a child, who 
 saw it, he would instinctively have helped me ? " 
 
 " He is a scoundrel ! " exclaimed Tom. " Whoever he 
 may be, he is a scoundrel." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff" dived again. 
 
 " What is he," said Mary, " who, when my only friend : a 
 dear and kind one, too : was in full health of mind, humbled 
 himself, before him, but was spurned away (for he knew him 
 then) like a dog. Who, in his forgiving spirit, now that that 
 friend is sunk into a failing state, can crawl about him again, 
 and use the influence he basely gains, for ever}^ base and 
 wicked purpose, and not for one — not one — that's true or 
 good > " 
 
 " I say he is a scoundrel ! " answered Tom. 
 
 " But what is he : oh Mr. Pinch, what is he : who, think- 
 ing he could compass these designs the better if I were his 
 wife, assails me with the coward's argument that if I marr}'^ 
 him, Martin, on whom I have brought on much misfortune, 
 shall be restored to something of his former hopes ; and if I 
 do not, shall be plunged in deeper ruin? What is he who 
 makes my very constancy to one I love with all my heart a 
 torture to myself and wrong to him ; who makes me, do what 
 I will, the instrument to hurt a head 1 would heap blessings 
 on ! What is he who, winding all these cruel snares about 
 me, explains their purpose to me, with a smooth tongue and a 
 smiling face, in the broad light of day : dragging me on, the 
 while, in his embrace, and holding to his lips a hand," pur- 
 sued the agitated girl, extending it, " which I would have
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 495 
 
 struck off, if with it I could lose the shame and degradation 
 of his touch ? " 
 
 " I say," cried Tom, in great excitement, " he is a scoun- 
 drel and a villain ! I don't care who he is, I say he is a 
 double-dyed and most intolerable villain ! " 
 
 Covering her face with her hands again, as if the passion 
 which had sustained her through these disclosures lost itself 
 in an overwhelming sense of shame and grief, she abandoned 
 herself to tears. 
 
 Any sight of distress was sure to move the tenderness of 
 Tom, but this especially. Tears and sobs from her, were ar- 
 rows in his heart. He tried to comfort her : sat down beside 
 her ; expended all his store of homely eloquence ; and spoke 
 in words of praise and hope of Martin. Ay, though he loved 
 her from his soul with such a self-denying love as women sel- 
 dom wins : he spoke from first to last of Martin. Not the 
 wealth of the rich Indies would have tempted Tom to shirk 
 one mention of her lover's name. 
 
 When she was more composed, she impressed upon Tom 
 that this man she had described, was Pecksniff in his real 
 colors; and word by word and phrase by phrase, as well as 
 she remembered it, related what had passed between them in 
 the wood : which was no doubt a source of high gratification 
 to that gentleman himself, who in his desire to see and his 
 dread of being seen, was constantly diving down into the state 
 pew, and coming up again like the intelligent householder 
 in Punch's Show, who avoids being knocked on the head 
 with a cudgel. When she had concluded her account, and 
 had besought Tom to be very distant and unconscious in his 
 manner towards her after this explanation, and had thanked 
 him very much, they parted on the alarm of footsteps in the 
 burial-ground ; and Tom was left alone in the church again. 
 
 And now the full agitation and misery of the disclosure 
 came rushing upon Tom indeed. The star of his whole life 
 from boyhood had become, in a moment, putrid vapor. It 
 was not that Pecksniff, Tom's Pecksniff, Jiad ceased to exist, 
 but that he never had existed. In his death Tom would ]ia\'e 
 had the comfort of remembering what he used to be, but in 
 this discovery, he had the anguish of recollecting what he 
 never was. For as Tom's blindness in this matter had been 
 total and not partial, so was his restored sight. His Pecksniff 
 could never have w^orked the wickedness of which he had just 
 now heard, but any other Pecksniff could ; and the Pecksniff
 
 496 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 who could do that, could do anything, and no doubt had 
 been doing anything and everything except the right thing, all 
 through his career. From the lofty height on which poor 
 Tom had placed his idol it was tumbled down headlong, and 
 
 Not all the king's horses, nor all the king's men, 
 Could have set Mr. Pecksniff up again. 
 
 Legions of Titans couldn't have got him out of the mud ; and 
 serve him right ! But it was not he who suffered ; it was Tom. 
 His compass was broken, his chart destroyed, his chronom- 
 eter had stopped, his masts were gone by the board ; his 
 anchor was adrift, ten thousand leagues away. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff watched him with a lively interest, for he 
 divined the purpose of Tom's ruminations, and was curious 
 to see how he conducted himself. For some time, Tom wan- 
 dered up and down the aisle like a man demented, stopping 
 occasionally to lean against a pew and think it over; then he 
 stood staring at a blank old monument bordered tastefully 
 with skulls and cross-bones, as if it were the finest work of 
 Art he had ever seen, although at other times he held it in 
 unspeakable contempt ; then he sat down ; then walked to and 
 fro again ; then went wandering up into the organ-loft, and 
 touched the keys. But their minstrelsy was changed, their 
 music gone ; and sounding one long melancholy chord, Tom 
 drooped his head upon his hands and gave it up as hopeless. 
 
 " I wouldn't have cared," said Tom Pinch, rising from his 
 stool, and looking down into the church as if he had been the 
 Clergyman, " I wouldn't have cared for anything he might 
 have done to Me, for I have tried his patience often, and 
 have lived upon his sufferance, and have never been the help 
 to him that others could have been. I wouldn't have minded, 
 Pecksniff," Tom continued, little thinking who heard him, "if 
 you had done Me any wrong ; I could have found plenty of 
 excuses for that ; and though you might have hurt me, could 
 have still gone on respecting you. But why did you ever fall 
 so low as this in my esteem. Oh Pecksniff, Pecksniff, there 
 is nothing I would not have given, to have had you deserve my 
 old opinion of you ; nothing ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff sat upon the hassock pulling up his shirt- 
 collar, while Tom, touched to the quick, delivered this apos- 
 trophe. After a pause he heard Tom coming down the stairs 
 jingling the church keys ; and bringing his eye to the top of 
 the pew again, saw him go slowly out, and lock the door. 
 
 Mr, Pecksniff durst not issue from his place of conceal-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 497 
 
 ment ; for through the windows of the church, he saw Tom pass- 
 ing on among the graves, and sometimes stopping at a stone, 
 and leaning there, as if he were a mourner who had lost a 
 friend. Even when he had left the churchyard Mr. Pecksniff 
 still remained shut up : not being at all secure but that in his 
 restless state of mind Tom might come wandering back. At 
 length he issued forth, and walked with a pleasant counte- 
 nance into the vestry ; where he knew there was a window 
 near the ground, by which he could release himself by merely 
 stepping out. 
 
 He was in a curious frame of mind, Mr. Pecksniff : being 
 in no hurry to go, but rather inclining to a dilatory trifling 
 with the time, which prompted him to open the vestry cup- 
 board, and look at himself in the parson's little glass that hung 
 within the door. Seeing that his hair was rumpled, he took 
 the liberty of borrowing the canonical brush and arranging it. 
 He also took the liberty of opening another cupboard ; but he 
 shut it up again quickly, being rather startled by the sight of 
 a black and a white surplice dangling against the wall ; which 
 had very much the appearance of two curates who had com- 
 mitted suicide by hanging themselves. Remembering that he 
 had seen in the first cupboard a port-wine bottle and some bis- 
 cuits, he peeped into it again, and helped himself with much 
 deliberation : cogitating all the time though, in a very deep and 
 weighty manner, as if his thoughts were otherwise employed. 
 
 He soon made up his mind, if it had ever been in doubt ; 
 and putting back the bottle and biscuits, opened the casement. 
 He got out into the churchyard without any difficulty ; shut 
 the window after him ; and walked straight home. 
 
 " Is Mr. Pinch in-doors ? " asked Mr. Pecksniff of his serv- 
 ing maid. 
 
 " Just come in, sir." 
 
 " Just come in, eh ? " repeated Mr. Pecksniff, cheerfully. 
 " And gone up stairs, I suppose ? "' 
 
 " Yes, sir. Gone up stairs. Shall I call him, sir ? " 
 
 "No." said Mr. Pecksniff, "no. You needn't call him, 
 Jane. Thank you, Jane, how are your relations, Jane ? " 
 
 " Pretty well, I tliank you, sir." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. Let thcin know I asked about 
 them, Jane. Is Mr. Chuzzlewit in the way, Jane.?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. He's in the parlor, reading." 
 
 " He's in the parlor, reading, is he, Jane? " said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff. "Very well. Then I think I'll go and see him, Jane." 
 
 32
 
 498 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Never had Mr. Pecksniff been beheld in a more pleas- 
 ant humor. 
 
 But when he walked into the parlor where the old man 
 was engaged as Jane had said ; with pen and ink and paper on 
 a table close at hand (for Mr. Pecksniff was always very partic- 
 ular to have him well supplied with writing materials) ; he be- 
 came less cheerful. He was not angry, he was not vindictive, 
 he was not cross, he was not moody, but he was grieved ; he 
 was sorely grieved. As he sat down by the old man's side, 
 two tears : not tears like those with which recording an<rels 
 blot their entries out, but drops so precious that they use 
 them for their ink : stole down his meritorious cheeks. 
 
 " What is the matter .? " asked old Martin. " Pecksniff, 
 what ails you, man ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt you, my dear sir, and I am still 
 more sorry for the cause. My good, my worthy friend, I am 
 deceived." 
 
 " You are deceived ! " 
 
 "Ah ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in an agony, "deceived in the 
 tenderest point. Cruelly deceived in that quarter, sir, in which 
 I placed the most unbounded confidence. Deceived, Mr. 
 Chuzzlewitt, by Thomas Pinch." 
 
 " Oh ! bad, bad, bad ! " said Martin, laying down his book. 
 " Very bad ! I hope not. Are you certain t " 
 
 " Certain, my good sir ! My eyes and ears are witnesses. 
 T wouldn't have believed it otherwise. I wouldn't have be- 
 lieved it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, if a Fiery Serpent had proclaimed 
 it from the top of Salisbury Cathedral. I would have said," 
 cried Mr. Pecksniff, "that the Serpent lied. Such was my 
 faith in Thomas Pinch, that I would have cast the falsehood 
 back into the Serpent's teeth, and would have taken Thomas 
 to my heart. But I am not a Serpent sir, myself, I grieve to 
 say, and no excuse or hope is left me." 
 
 Martin was greatly disturbed to see him so much agitated, 
 and to hear such unexpected news. He begged him to com- 
 pose himself, and asked upon what subject Mr. Pinch's 
 treachery had been developed. 
 
 "That is almost the worst of all, sir," Mr. Pecksniff an- 
 swered. "On a subject nearly concerning j'(?//. Oh ! is it not 
 enough," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking upward, " that these 
 blows must fall on me, but must they always hit my friends ! " 
 
 " You alarm me," cried the old man, changing color. "I 
 am not strong as I was. You terrify me, Pecksniff ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 4^9 
 
 " Cheer up, my noble sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking cour- 
 age, " and we will do what is required of us. You shall know 
 all, sir, and shall be righted. But first excuse me, sir, ex- 
 cuse me. I have a duty to discharge, which I owe to society." 
 
 He rang the bell, and Jane appeared. " Send Mr. Pinch 
 here, if you please Jane." 
 
 Tom came. Constrained and altered in his manner, down- 
 cast and dejected, visibly confused ; not liking to look Peck- 
 sniff in the face. 
 
 The honest man bestowed a glance on INIr. Chuzzlewit, 
 as who should say " You see ! " and addressed himself to Tom 
 in these terms ;, 
 
 " Mr. Pinch I have left the vestr}'-window unfastened. 
 Will you do me the favor to go and secure it ; then bring the 
 keys of the sacred edifice to me ! " 
 
 " The vestr)'-window, sir ? " cried Tom. 
 
 "You understand me, Mr. Pinch, I think," returned his 
 patron. " Yes, Mr. Pinch, the vestry-window. I grieve to 
 say that sleeping in the church after a fatiguing ramble, I 
 overheard just now some fragments," he emphasized that word, 
 " of a dialogue between two parties ; and one of them locking 
 the church when he went out, I was obliged to leave it myself 
 by the vestry-window. Do me the favor to secure that vestry- 
 window, Mr. Pinch, and then come back to me." 
 
 No physiognomist that ever dwelt on earth could have 
 construed Tom's face when he heard these words. Wonder 
 was in it, and a mild look of reproach, but certainly not fear 
 or guilt, although a host of strong emotions struggled to dis- 
 play themselves. He bowed and without saying one word 
 good or bad, withdrew. 
 
 "Pecksniff," cried Martin, in a tremble, "what does all 
 this mean ,-' You are not going to do anything in haste )'ou 
 may regret I " 
 
 " No, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, firmly, "No. But 
 I have a duty to discharge which I owe to society ; and it 
 shall be discharged, my friend, at any cost ! " 
 
 Oh late-remembered, much-forgotten, mouthing, braggart 
 duty, always owed, and seldom paid in any other coin than 
 punishment and wrath, when will mankind begin to know 
 thee ! When will men acknowledge thee in thy neglected 
 cradle, and thy stunted youth, and not begin their recogni- 
 tion in thy sinful manhood and thy desolate old age ! Oh 
 ermined Judge whose duty to society is, now, to doom the
 
 500 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ragged criminal to punishment and death, hadst thou never, 
 Man, a duty to discharge in barring up the hundred open 
 gates that wooed him to the felon's dock, and throwing but ajar 
 the portals to a decent life ! Oh prelate, prelate, whose duty to 
 society it is to mourn in melancholy phrase the sad degeneracy 
 of these bad times in which thy lot of honors has been cast, 
 did nothing go before thy elevation to the lofty seat, from 
 which thou dealest out thy homilies to other tarriers for dead 
 men's shoes, whose duty to society has not begun ! Oh 
 magistrate, so rare a country gentleman and brave a squire, 
 had you no duty to society, before the ricks were blazing and 
 the mob were mad ; or did it spring up, armed and booted 
 from the earth, a corps of yeomanry, full-grown ! 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff's duty to society could not be paid till Tom 
 came back. The interval which preceded the return of that 
 young man, he occupied in a close conference with his friend ; 
 so that when Tow did arrive, he found the two quite ready to 
 receive him. Mary was in her own room above, whither Mr. 
 Pecksniff, always considerate, had besought old Martin to 
 entreat her to remain some half-hour longer, that her feelings 
 might be spared. 
 
 When Tom came back, he found old Martin sitting by the 
 window, and Mr. Pecksniff in an imposing attitude at the 
 table. On one side of him was his pocket-handkerchief ; and 
 on the other, a little heap (a very little heap) of gold and 
 silver, and odd pence. Tom saw, at a glance, that it was his 
 own salary for the current quarter. 
 
 " Have you fastened the vestry-window, Mr. Pinch .'' " said 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Thank you. Put down the keys if vou please, Mr. Pinch." 
 
 Tom placed them on the table. He held the bunch by 
 the key of the organloft (though it was one of the smallest), 
 and looked hard at it as he laid it down. It had been an old, 
 old friend of Tom's ; a kind companion to him, many and 
 many a day. 
 
 "Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, shaking his head: "Oh Mr, 
 Pinch ! I wonder you can look me in the face ! " 
 
 Tom did it though ; and notwithstanding that he has been 
 described as stooping generally, he stood as upright then as 
 man could stand. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, taking up his handkerchief, 
 as if he felt that he should want it soon, " I will not dwell
 
 MA R TIN CIJUZZL E WIT. 
 
 SOI 
 
 upon the past. I will spare you, and I will spare myself, that 
 pain at least." 
 
 Tom's was not a very bright eye, but it was a very expres- 
 sive one when he looked at Mr Pecksniff, and said : 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I am very glad you will not refer to 
 the past." 
 
 " The present is enough," said Mr. Pecksniff, dropping a 
 penny, "and the sooner thai is past, the better. Mr. Pinch, 
 I will not dismiss you without a word of explanation. Even 
 such a course would be quite justifiable under the circum- 
 stances ; but it might wear an appearance of hurr}% and I will 
 not do it ; for_ I am," said Mr. Pecksniff, knocking down 
 another penny, " perfectly self-possessed. Therefore I will 
 say to you, what I have already said to Mr. Chuzzlewit." 
 
 Tom glanced at the old gentleman, who nodded now and 
 then as approving of Mr. Pecksniff's sentences and senti- 
 ments, but interposed between them in no other way. 
 
 " From fragments of a conversation which I overheard in 
 the church, just now, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, "between 
 yourself and Miss Graham — I say fragments, because I was 
 slumbering at a considerable distance from you, when I was 
 roused by your voices — and from what I saw, I ascertained 
 (I would have given a great deal not to have ascertained, Mr. 
 Pinch) that you, forgetful of all ties of duty and of honor, 
 sir ; regardless of the sacred laws of hospitality, to which you 
 were pledged as an inmate of this house ; have presumed to 
 address Miss Graham with un-returned professions of attach- 
 ment and proposals of love." 
 
 Tom looked at him steadily. 
 
 " Do you deny it, sir t " asked Mr. Pecksniff, dropping 
 one pound two and fourpence, and making a great business 
 of picking it up again. 
 
 " No, sir," replied Tom. " 1 do not." 
 
 " You do not," said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing at the old 
 gentleman. "Oblige me by counting this money, Mr. Pinch, 
 and putting your name to this receipt. You do not ?" 
 
 No, Tom did not. He scorned to deny it. He saw that 
 Mr. Pecksniff having overheard his own disgrace, cared not a 
 jot for sinking lower yet in his contempt. He saw that he 
 had devised this fiction as the readiest means of getting rid of 
 him at once, but that it must end in that any way. He saw 
 that Mr. Pecksniff reckoned on his not denying it, because his 
 doing so and explaining, would incense the oM man more than
 
 502 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ever against Martin, and against Mary : while Pecksniff him- 
 self would only have been mistaken in his "fragments." 
 Deny it ! No. 
 
 " You find the amount correct, do you, Mr. Pinch ? " said 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " Quite correct, sir," answered Tom. 
 
 " A person is waiting in the kitchen," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 " to carry your luggage wherever you please. We part, Mr. 
 Pinch, at once, and are strangers from this time." 
 
 Something without a name ; compassion, sorrow, old 
 tenderness, mistaken gratitude, habit : none of these, and yet 
 all of them ; smote upon Tom's gentle heart, at parting. 
 There was no such soul as Pecksniff's in that carcase ; and 
 yet, though his speaking out had not invohed the comprom- 
 ise of one he loved, he couldn't have denounced the very 
 shape and figure of the man. Not even then. 
 
 " I will not say," cried Mr. Pecksniff, shedding tears, 
 " what a blow this is. I will not say how much it tries me ; 
 how it works upon my nature ; how it grates upon my feelings. 
 I do not care for that. I can endure as well as another man. 
 But what I have to hope, and what you have to hope, Mr. 
 Pinch (otherwise a great responsibility rests upon you), is, 
 that this deception may not alter my ideas of humanity ; that 
 it may not impair my freshness, or contract, if I may use the 
 expression, my Pinions. I hope it will not ; I don't think it 
 will. It may be a comfort to you, if not now, at some future 
 time, to know, that I shall endeavor not to think the worse of 
 my fellow-creatures in general, for what has passed between 
 us. Farewell ! " 
 
 Tom had meant to spare him one little puncturation with 
 a lancet, which he had it in his power to administer, but he 
 changed his mind on hearing this, and said : 
 
 " I think you left something in the church, sir." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff. " I am not 
 aware that I did." 
 
 " This is your double eye-glass, I believe ? " said Tom. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Pecksniff, with some degree of confusion. 
 ''I am obliged to you. Put it down, if you please." 
 
 "I found it," said Tom, slowly, "when I went to bolt 
 the vestry-window, in the pew." 
 
 So he had. Mr. Pecksniff had taken it off when he was 
 bobbing up and down, lest it should strike against the panel- 
 ling : and had forgotten it. Going back to the church with
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 503 
 
 his mind full of having been watched, and wondering very 
 much from what part Tom's attention was caught by the door 
 of the state pew standing open. Looking into it he found the 
 glass. And thus he knew, and by returning it gave Mr. Peck- 
 sniff the information that he knew, where the listener had 
 been ; and that instead of overhearing fragments of the con- 
 versation, he must have rejoiced in every word of it. 
 
 " I am glad he's gone," said Martin, drawing a long breath 
 when Tom had left the room. 
 
 " It is a relief," assented Mr. Pecksniff. " It is a great 
 relief. But having discharged — I hope with tolerable firmness 
 • — the duty which 1 owed to society, I w'ill now, my dear sir, if 
 you will give nfe leave, retire to shed a few tears in the back 
 garden, as an humble indivdual." 
 
 Tom went up stairs : cleared his shelf of books : packed 
 them up with his music and an old fiddle in his trunk ; got 
 out his clothes (they were not so many that they made his 
 head ache) ; put them on the top of his books ; and went into 
 the workroom for his case of instruments. There was a ragged 
 stool there, with the horsehair all sticking out of the top 
 like a wig : a very Beast of a stool in itself : on which he had 
 taken up his daily seat, year after year, during the whole 
 period of his service. They had grown older and shabbier in 
 company. Pupils had served their time ; seasons had come 
 and gone ; Tom and the worn-out stool had held together 
 through it all. That part of the room was traditionally called 
 "Tom's Corner." It had been assigned to him at first be- 
 cause of its being situated in a strong draught, and a great 
 way from the fire ; and he had occupied it ever since. There 
 were portraits of him on the wall, with all his weak points mon- 
 strously portrayed. Diabolical sentiments, foreign to his 
 character, were represented as issuing from his mouth in fat 
 balloons. Every pupil had added something, even unto fancy 
 portraits of his father with one eye, and of his mother with a 
 disproportionate nose, and especially of his sister ; who always 
 being presented as extremely beautiful, made full amends to 
 Tom for any other joke. Under less uncommon circumstances, 
 it would have cut Tom to the heart to leave these things, and 
 think that he saw them for the last time ; but it didn't now. 
 There was no Pecksniff ; there never had been a Pecksniff ; 
 and all his other griefs were swallowed up in that. 
 
 So when he returned into the bed-room, and, having fas- 
 tened his box and a carpet-bag, put on his walking gaiters, and
 
 ^04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 his great coat, and his hat, and taken his stick in his hand, 
 looked round it for the last time. Early on summer mornings, 
 and by the light of private candle-ends on winter nights, he 
 had read himself half blind in this same room. He had tried 
 in this same room to learn the fiddle under the bedclothes, but 
 yielding to objections from the other pupils had reluctantly 
 abandoned the design. At any other time he would have 
 parted from it with a pang, thinking of all he had learned 
 there, of the many hours he had passed there ; for the love of 
 his very dreams. But there was no Pecksniff ; there never 
 had been a Pecksniff ; and the unreality of Pecksniff extended 
 itself to the chamber, in which, sitting on one particular bed, 
 the thing supposed to be that Great Abstraction had often 
 preached morality with such effect, that Tom had felt a mois- 
 ture in his eyes, while hanging breathless on the words. 
 
 The man engaged to bear his box — Tom knew him well ; 
 a Dragon man — came stamping up the stairs, and made a 
 roguish bow to Tom (to whom in common times he would 
 have nodded with a grin), as though he were aware of what 
 had happened, and wished him to perceive it made no differ- 
 ence in him. It was clumsily done ; he was a mere waterer of 
 horses ; but Tom liked the man for it, and felt it more than 
 going away. 
 
 Tom would have helped him with the box, but he made no 
 more of it, though it was a heavy one, than an elephant would 
 have made of a castle : just swinging it on his back and bowl- 
 ing down stairs as if, being naturally a heavy sort of fellow, he 
 could carry a box infinitely better than he could go alone. 
 Tom took the carpet-bag, and went down stairs along with him. 
 At the outer door stood Jane, ciying with all her might ; and 
 on the steps was Mrs. Lupin, sobbing bitterely, and putting out 
 her hand for Tom to shake. 
 
 " You're coming to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch ? " 
 
 " No," said Tom, " no. I shall walk to Salisbury to-night. 
 I couldn't stay here. For goodness' sake, don't make me so 
 unhappy, Mrs. Lupin." 
 
 " But you'll come to the Dragon, Mr. Pinch. If it's only 
 for to-night. To see me, you know : not as a traveller." 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " said Tom, wiping his eyes. " The 
 kindness of people is enough to break one's heart !, I mean 
 to go to Salisbury to-night, my dear good creature. If you'll 
 take care of my box foi' me, till I write for it, I shall consider 
 it the greatest kindness you can do me."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 505 
 
 " I wish," cried Mrs. Lupin, "there were twenty boxes, 
 Mr. Pinch, that I might have 'em all." 
 
 " Thank'ee," said Tom. " It's like you. Good bye. 
 Good bye." 
 
 There were several people, young and old, standing about 
 the door, some of whom cried with Mrs. Lupin ; while others 
 tried to keep up a stout heart, as Tom did • and others were 
 absorbed in admiration of Mr. Pecksniff — a man who could 
 build a church, as one may say, by squinting at a sheet of 
 paper ; and others were divided between that feeling, and sym- 
 pathy with Tom. Mr. Pecksniff had appeared on the top of 
 the steps, simultaneously with his old pupil, and while Tom 
 was talking witlrMrs. Lupin kept his hand stretched out, as 
 though he said " Go forth ! " When Tom went forth, and had 
 turned the corner, Mr. Pecksniff shook his head, shut his 
 eyes, and heaving a deep sigh, shut the door. On which, the 
 best of Tom's supporters said he must have done some dreadful 
 deed, or such a man as Mr. Pecksniff never could have felt 
 like that. If it had been a common quarrel (they observed) 
 he would have said something, but when he didn't, Mr. Pinch 
 must have shocked him dreadfully. 
 
 Tom was out of hearing of their shrewd opinions, and 
 plodded on as steadily as he could go, until he came within 
 sight of the turnpike where the tollman's family had cried out 
 "Mr. Pinch!" that frosty morning when he went to meet 
 young Martin. He had got through the village, and this toll- 
 bar was his last trial ; but when the infant toll-takers came 
 screeching out, he had half a mind to run for it, and make a 
 bolt across the country. 
 
 "Why deary Mr. Pinch ! oh deary sir!" exclaimed the 
 tollman's wife. " What an unlikely time for you to be a going 
 this way with a bag ! " 
 
 " I am going to Salisbury," said 'i'om. 
 
 " Why, goodness, Where's the gig then?" cried the toll- 
 man's wife, looking down the road, as if she thought Tom 
 might have been upset without observing it. 
 
 " I haven't got it," said Tom. " 1 ■ — " he couldn't evade 
 it ; he felt she would have him in the next question, if he got 
 over this one. " I have left Mr, Pecksniff." 
 
 The tollman — a crusty customer, always smoking solitary 
 pipes in a Windsor chair, inside, set artfully between two little 
 windows that looked up and down the road, so that when he 
 saw anything coming up, he might hug himself on having toll
 
 5o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 to take, and when he saw it going down, might hug himself on 
 having taken it — the tollman was out in an instant. 
 
 " Left Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried the tollman. 
 
 " Yes," said Tom, " left him." 
 
 The tollman looked at his wife, uncertain whether to ask 
 her if she had anything to suggest, or to order her to mind 
 the children. Astonishment making him surly, he preferred 
 the latter, and sent her into the toll-house, with a flea in her 
 ear. 
 
 " You left Mr. Pecksniff ! " cried the tollman, folding his 
 arms, and spreading his legs. " I should as soon have thought 
 of his head leaving him." 
 
 " Ay ! " said Tom, " so should I, yesterday. Good 
 night ! " 
 
 If a heavy drove of oxen hadn't come by, immediately, the 
 tollman would have gone down to the village straight, to in- 
 quire into it. As things turned out, he smoked another pipe, 
 and took his wife into his confidence. But their united saga- 
 city could make nothing of it, and they went to bed — meta- 
 phorically — in the dark. But several times that night, when a 
 wagon or other vehicle came through, and the driver asked the 
 toll-keeper " What news ? " he looked at the man by the light of 
 his lantern, to assure himself he had an interest in the subject, 
 and then said, wrapping his watch-coat round his legs • 
 
 " You've heard of Mr. Pecksniff down yonder .'' " 
 
 " Ah ! sure-ly ! " 
 
 " And of his young man Mr. Pinch p'raps ? " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " They'-ve parted." 
 
 After every one of these disclosures, the tollman plunged 
 into his house again, and was seen no more, while the other 
 side went on, in great amazement. 
 
 But this was long after Tom was abed, and Tom was now 
 with his face towards Salisbury, doing his best to get there. 
 The evening was beautiful at first, but it became cloudy and 
 dull at sunset, and the rain fell heavily soon afterwards. For 
 ten long miles he plodded on, wet through, until at last the 
 lights appeared, and he came into the welcome precincts of 
 the city. 
 
 He went to the inn where he had waited for Martin, and 
 briefly answering their inquiries after Mr. Pecksniff, ordered 
 a bed. He had no heart for tea or supper, meat or drink of 
 any kind, but sat by himself before an empty table in the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 507 
 
 public room while the bed was getting ready, revolving in his 
 mind all that had had happened that eventful day, and won- 
 dering what he could or should do for the future. It was a 
 great relief when the chambermaid came in, and said the bed 
 was ready. 
 
 It was a low four-poster shelving downward in the centre 
 like a trough, and the room was crowded with impracticable 
 tables and exploded chests of drawers, full of damp linen. A 
 graphic representation in oil of a remarkably fat ox hung 
 over the fireplace, and the portrait of some former landlord 
 (who might have been the ox's brother, he was so like him) 
 stared roundly iij, at the foot of the bed. A variety of queer 
 smells were partially quenched in the prevailing scent of very 
 old lavender ; and the window had not been opened for such 
 a long space of time, that it pleaded immemorial usage, and 
 wouldn't come open now. 
 
 These were trifles in themselves, but they added to the 
 strangeness of the place, and did not induce Tom to forget 
 his new position. Pecksniff had gone out of the world — had 
 never been in it — and it was as much as Tom could do to say 
 his prayers without him. But he felt happier afterwards, and 
 went to sleep, and dreamed about him as he Never Was. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 TREATS OF TODGERS S AGAIN ; AND OF ANOTHER BLIGHTED 
 PLANT BESIDES THE PLANTS UPON THE LEADS. 
 
 Early on the day next after that on which she bade adieu 
 to the halls of her youth and the scenes of her childhood, 
 Miss Pecksniff, arriving safely at the coach office in London, 
 was there received, and conducted to her peaceful home be- 
 neath the shadow of the Monument, by Mrs. Todgers. M. 
 Todgers looked a little worn by cares of gravy and other 
 such solicitudes arising out of her establishment, but displayed 
 her usual earnestness and warmth of manner. 
 
 " And how, my sweet Miss Pecksniff," said she, " how is 
 your princely pa ? " 
 
 Miss Pecksniff signified (in confidence) that he contem-
 
 5o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 plated the introduction of a princely ma ; and repeated the 
 sentiment that she wasn't blind, and wasn't quite a fool, and 
 wouldn't bear it. 
 
 Mrs. Todgers was more shocked by the intelligence than 
 any one could have expected. She was quite bitter. She 
 said there was no truth in man, and that the warmer he ex- 
 pressed himself, as a general principle, the falser and more 
 treacherous he was. She foresaw with astonishing clearness 
 that the object of Mr. Pecksniff's attachment was designing, 
 worthless, and wicked ; and receiving from Charity the fullest 
 comfirmation of these views, protested with tears in her eyes 
 that she loved Miss Pecksniff like a sister, and felt her in- 
 juries as if they were her own. 
 
 " Your real darling sister, I have not seen her mor§ than 
 once since her marriage," said Mrs. Todgers, " and then I 
 thought her looking poorly. My sweet Miss Pecksniff, I 
 always thought that you was to be the lady .-^ " 
 
 " Oh dear do ! " cried Cherr}% shaking her head. " Oh no, 
 Mrs. Todgers. Thank you. No ! not for any consideration 
 he could offer." 
 
 " I dare say you are right," said Mrs. Todgers with a sigh, 
 " I feared it all along. But the misery we have had from that 
 match, here among ourselves, in this house, my dear Miss 
 Pecksniff, nobody would believe." 
 
 "Lor, Mrs. Todgers 
 
 " Awful, awful ! " repeated Mrs. Todgers, with strong em- 
 phasis. " You recollect our youngest gentleman, my dear ? " 
 
 " Of course I do," said Cherr\\ 
 
 " You might have observed," said Mrs. Todgers, "how he 
 used to w-atch your sister ; and that a kind of stony dumbness 
 came over him whenever she was in company.'' " 
 
 " I am sure I never saw anything of the sort," said Cheriy, 
 in a peevish manner, " What nonsense, Mrs. Todgers ! " 
 
 " My dear," returned that lady in a hollow voice, "I have 
 seen him, again and again, sitting over his pie at dinner, with 
 his spoon a perfect fixture in his mouth, looking at your sister. 
 I have seen him standing in a corner of our drawing-room, 
 gazing at her, in such a lonely, melancholy state, that he was 
 more like a Pump than a man, and might have drawed 
 tears." 
 
 "I never saw it! " cried Cherr}^ ; "that's all I can say." 
 
 " But when the marriage took place," said Mrs. Todgers, 
 proceeding with her subject, " when it was in the paper, and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWFT. 509 
 
 was read out here at breakfast, I thought he had taken leave 
 of his senses, I did indeed. The violence of that young man, 
 my dear Miss Pecksniff ; the frightful opinions he expressed 
 upon the subject of self-destruction ; the extraordinary actions 
 he performed with his tea ; the clenching way in which he bit 
 his bread and butter ; the manner in which he taunted Mr. 
 Jinkins ; all combined to form a picture never to be for- 
 gotten." 
 
 "It's a pity he didn't destroy himself, I think," observed 
 Miss Pecksniff. 
 
 " Plimself ! " said Mrs. Todgers, "it took another turn at 
 night. He was for destroying other people then. There was 
 a little chaffing going on — I hope you don't consider that a 
 low expression. Miss Pecksniff ; it is always in our gentle- 
 men's mouths — a little chafhng going on, my dear, among 
 'em, all in good nature, when suddenly he rose up, foaming 
 with his fury, and but for being held by three, would have 
 had Mr. Jinkins's life with a boot-jack." 
 
 Miss Pecksniff's face expressed supreme indifference. 
 
 "And now," said Mrs. Todgers, "now he is the meekest 
 of men. You can almost bring the tears into his eyes by 
 looking at him. He sits with me the whole day long on 
 Sundays, talking in such a dismal way that I find it next to 
 impossible to keep my spirits up equal to the accommodation 
 of the boarders. His only comfort is in female society. He 
 takes me half-price to the play, to an extent which 1 some- 
 times fear is beyond his means ; and I see the tears a standing 
 in his eyes during the whole performance — particularly if il is 
 anything of a comic nature. The turn 1 experienced only 
 yesterday," said Mrs. Todgers, putting her hand to her side, 
 " when the housemaid threw his bedside carpet out of the 
 window of his room, while I w^as sitting here, no one can 
 imagine. I thought it was him, and that he had done it' at 
 last ! " 
 
 The contempt with which Miss Charity received this 
 pathetic account of the state to which the youngest gentle- 
 man in company was reduced, did not say much for her power 
 of sympathizing with that unfortunate character. She treated 
 it with great levity, and went on to inform herself, then and 
 afterwards, whether any other changes had occurred in the 
 commercial boarding-house. 
 
 Mr. Bailey was gone, and had been succeeded (such is the 
 decay of human greatness \) by an old woman whose name
 
 5IO 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 was reported to be Tamaroo — which seemed an impossibility. 
 Indeed it appeared in the fulness of time that the jocular 
 boarders had appropriated the word from an English ballad, 
 in which it is supposed to express the bold and fiery nature 
 of a certain hackney-coachman ; and that it was bestowed 
 upon Mr. Bailey's successor by reason of her having nothing 
 fiery about her, except an occasional attack of that fire which 
 is called St. Anthony's. This ancient female had been 
 engaged, in fulfilment of a vow, registered by Mrs. Todgers, 
 that no more boys should darken the commercial doors ; and 
 she was chiefly remarkable for a total absence of all compre- 
 hension upon every subject whatever. She was a perfect 
 Tomb for messages and small parcels ; and when despatched 
 to the Post-office with letters, had been frequently se*n 
 endeavoring to insinuate them into casual chinks in private 
 doors, under the delusion that any door with a hole in it 
 would answer the purpose. She was a very little old woman, 
 and always wore a very coarse apron with a bib before and 
 a loop behind, together with bandages on her wrists, which 
 appeared to be afflicted with an everlasting sprain. She was 
 on all occasions chary of opening the street-door, and ardent 
 to shut it again ; and she waited at table in a bonnet. 
 
 This was the only great change over and above the change 
 which had fallen on the youngest gentleman. As for him, he 
 more than corroborated the account of Mrs. Todgers ; 
 possessing greater sensibility than even she had given him 
 credit for. He entertained some terrible notions of Destiny, 
 among other matters, and talked much about people's 
 " Missions ; " upon which he seemed to have some private 
 information not generally attainable, as he knew it had been 
 poor Merry's mission to crush him in the bud. He was very 
 frail, and tearful ; for being aware that a shepherd's mission 
 was to pipe to his flocks, and that a boatswain's mission 
 was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be 
 a paid piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper, 
 so he had got it into his head that his own peculiar mission 
 was to pipe his eye. Which he did perpetually. 
 
 He often informed Mrs. Todgers that the sun had set 
 upon him ; that the billows had rolled over him ; that the 
 Car of Juggernaut had crushed him ; and also that the deadly 
 Upas tree of Java had blighted him. His name was Moddle. 
 
 Towards this most unhappy Moddle, Miss Pecksniff con- 
 ducted herself at first with distant haughtiness, being in no
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 1 1 
 
 humor to be entertained with dirges in honor of her married 
 sister. The poor young gentleman was additionally crushed 
 by this, and remonstrated with Mrs. Todgers on the subject. 
 
 " Even she turns from me, Mrs. Todgers," said Moddle. 
 
 " Then why don't you try and be a little bit more cheerful, 
 sir ? " retorted Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " Cheerful, Mrs. Todgers ! cheerful ! " cried the youngest 
 gentleman : " when she reminds me of days for ever fled, Mrs. 
 Todgers ! " 
 
 " Then you had better avoid her for a short time, if she 
 does," said Mrs. Todgers, " and come to know her again, by 
 degrees. That's my advice." 
 
 "But I can't avoid her," replied Moddle. "I haven't 
 strength of mind to do it. Oh, Mrs. Todgers, if you knew 
 what a comfort her nose is to me ! " 
 
 " Her nose, sir ! " Mrs. Todgers cried. 
 
 " Her profile, in general," said the youngest gentleman, 
 " but particularly her nose. It's so like ; " here he yielded 
 to a burst of grief ; " it's so like hers who is Another's, Mrs. 
 Todgers ! " 
 
 The observant matron did not fail to report this conversa- 
 tion to Charity, who laughed at the time, but treated Mr. 
 Moddle that very evening with increased consideration, and 
 presented her side-face to him as much as possible. Mr. 
 Moddle was not less sentimental than usual ; was rather more 
 so, if anything ; but he sat and stared at her with glistening 
 eyes, and seemed grateful. 
 
 " Well, sir ! " said the lady of the Boarding-House next 
 day. " You held up your head last night. You're coming 
 round, I think." 
 
 " Only because she's so like her who is Another's, Mrs. 
 Todgers," rejoined the youth. " When she talks, and when 
 she smiles, I think I'm looking on her brow again, Mrs. 
 Todgers." 
 
 This was likewise carried to Charity, who talked and 
 smiled next evening in her most engaging manner, and 
 rallying Mr. Moddle on the lowness of his spirits, challenged 
 him to play a rubber at cribbage. Mr. Moddle taking up the 
 gauntlet, they played several rubbers for sixpences, and 
 Charity won them all. This may have been partially attribut- 
 able to the gallantry of the youngest gentleman, but it was 
 certainly referable to the state of his feelings also : for his 
 eyes being frequently dimmed by tears, he thought that aces
 
 512 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 were tens, and knaves queens, which at times occasioned some 
 confusion in his play. 
 
 On the seventh night of cribbage, when Mrs. Todgers, 
 sitting by, proposed that instead of gambling they should play 
 for " love," Mr. Moddle was seen to change color. On the 
 fourteenth night, he kissed Miss Pecksniff's snuffers, in the 
 passage, when she went up stairs to bed ; meaning to have 
 kissed her hand, but missing it. 
 
 In short, Mr. Moddle began to be impressed with the idea 
 that Miss Pecksniff's mission was to comfort him ; and Miss 
 Pecksniff began to speculate on the probability of its being 
 her mission to become ultimately Mrs. Moddle. He was a 
 young gentleman (Miss Pecksniff was not a very young lady) 
 with rising jDrospects, and " almost " enough to live on. 
 Really it looked very well. 
 
 Besides, besides, he had been regarded as devoted to 
 Merry. Merry had joked about him, and had once spoken 
 of it to her sister as a conquest. He was better looking, 
 better shaped, better spoken, better tempered, better mannered 
 than Jonas. He was easy to manage, could be made to consult 
 the humors of his Betrothed, and could be shown off like a 
 lamb when Jonas was a bear. There was the rub ! 
 
 In the meantime the cribbage went on, and Mrs. Todgers 
 went off ; for the youngest gentleman, dropping her society, 
 began to take Miss Pecksniff to the play. He also began, as 
 Mrs. Todgers said, to slip home "in his dinner-times," and 
 to get away from " the office " at unholy seasons ; and twice, 
 as he informed Mrs. Todgers himself, he received anony- 
 mous letters, inclosing cards from Furniture Warehouses — 
 clearly the act of that ungentlemanly ruffian Jinkins : only he 
 hadn't evidence enough to call him out upon. All of which, 
 so Mrs. Todgers told Miss Pecksniff, spoke as plain English 
 as the shining sun. 
 
 " My dear Miss Pecksniff, you mav depend upon it," said 
 Mrs. Todgers, " that he is burning to propose." 
 
 " My goodness me, why don't he then ? " cried Cherry. 
 
 " Men are so much more timid than we think 'em, my 
 dear," returned Mrs. Todgers. "They baulk themselves 
 continually. I saw the words on Todgers's lips for months 
 and months, and months before he said 'em." 
 
 Miss Pecksniff submitted that Todgers might not have 
 been a fair specimen. 
 
 " Oh yes he was. Oh bless you, yes, my dear. I was
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 513 
 
 ver)' particular in those days, I assure you," said Mrs. 
 Todgers, bridling. " No, no. You give Mr. Moddle a little 
 encouragement, Miss Pecksniff, if you wish him to speak ; and 
 he'll speak fast enough, depend upon it." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know what encouragement he would 
 have, Mrs. Todgers," returned Charity. " He walks with 
 me, and plays cards with me, and he comes and sits alone 
 with me." 
 
 "Quite right," said Mrs. Todgers. " That's indispensable, 
 my dear." 
 
 " And he sits ver\- close to me." 
 
 "Also quite correct," said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " And he looks at me." 
 
 "To be sure he does," said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 " And he has his arm upon the back of the chair or sofa, 
 or whatever it is — behind me, you know." 
 
 "/should think so," said Mrs. Todgers. 
 
 ' And then he begins to cxy \ " 
 
 Mrs. Todgers admitted that he might do better than that • 
 and might undoubtedly profit by the recollection of the great 
 Lord Nelson's signal at the battle of Trafalgar. Still, she 
 said, he would come round, or, not to mince the matter, would 
 be brought round, if Miss Pecksniff took up a decided posi- 
 tion, and plainly showed him that it must be clone. 
 
 Determining to regulate her conduct by this opinion, the 
 young lady received Mr. Moddle, on the earliest subsequent 
 occasion, with an air of constraint ; and gradually leading him 
 to inquire, in a dejected manner, \vhy she was so changed, 
 confessed to him that she felt it necessary for their mutual 
 peace and happiness to take a decided step. They had been 
 much together lately, she observed, much together, and had 
 tasted the sweets of a genuine reciprocity of sei'U:iment. She 
 never could forget him, nor could she ever cease to think of 
 him with feelings of the liveliest friendship ; but people had 
 begun to talk, the thing had been observed, and it was neces- 
 sary that they should be nothing more to each other, than any 
 gentleman and lady in society usually are. She was glad she 
 had had the resolution to say thus much before her feelings 
 had been tried too far ; they had been greatly tried, she would 
 admit ; but though she was weak and silly, she would soon get 
 the better of it, she hoped. 
 
 Moddle, who had by this time become in the last degree 
 maudlin, and wept abundantly, inferred from the foregoing
 
 su 
 
 J\/A A' TIN CIIUZZLE I VI T. 
 
 avowal, that it was his mission to communicate to others the 
 blight which had fallen on himself ; and that, being a kind of 
 unintentional Vampire, he had had Miss Pecksniff assigned 
 to him by the Fates, as Victim Number One. Miss Pecksniff 
 controverting this opinion as sinful, Moddle was goaded on to 
 ask whether she could be contented with a blighted heart ; and 
 it appearing on further examination that she could be, 
 plighted his dismal troth, which was accepted and returned. 
 
 He bore his good fortune with the utmost moderation. 
 Instead of being triumphant, he shed more tears than he had 
 ever been known to shed before : and sobbing, said : 
 
 " Oh ! what a day this has been ! I can't go back to the 
 office this afternoon. Oh, what a tr\'ing day this has been. 
 Good Gracious ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXHI. 
 
 FURTHER PROCEEDINGS IN EDEN, AND A PROCEEDING OUT 
 OF IT. MARTIN MAKES A DISCOVERY OF SOME IMPOR- 
 TANCE. 
 
 From Mr. Moddle to Eden is an easy and natural transi- 
 tion. Mr. Moddle, living in the atmosphere of Miss Peck- 
 sniff's love, dwelt (if he had but known it) in a terrestrial 
 Paradise. The thriving city of Eden was also a terrestrial 
 Paradise, upon the showing of its proprietors. The beautiful 
 Miss Pecksniff might have been poetically described as a 
 something too good for man in his fallen and degraded state. 
 That was exactly the character of the thriving city of Eden, 
 as poetically heightened by Zephaniah Scadder, General 
 Choke, and other worthies : part and parcel of the talons of 
 that great American Eagle, which is always airing itself sky- 
 high in purest aether, and never, no never, never, tumbles 
 down with draggled wings into the mud. 
 
 When Marie Tapley, leaving Martin in the architectural 
 and surveying offices, had effectually strengthened and en- 
 couraged his own spirits by the contemplation of their joint 
 misfortunes, he proceeded, with new cheerfulness, in search 
 of help : congratulating himself, as he went along, on the 
 enviable position to which he had at last attained. 
 
 " I used to think, sometimes," said Mr. Tapley, " as a
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 515 
 
 desolate island would suit me, but I should only have had 
 myself to provide for there, and being naturally a easy man to 
 manage, there wouldn't have been much credit in that. Now 
 here I've got my partner to take care on, and he's something 
 like the sort of man for the purpose. I want a man as is 
 always a sliding off his legs when he ought to be on 'em. I 
 want a man as is so low down in the school of life, that he's 
 always a making figures of one in his copy-book, and can't get 
 no further. I want a man as is his own great coat and cloak, 
 and is always a wrapping himself up in himself. And I have 
 got him too," said Mr. Tapley, after a moment's silence. 
 " What a happiness ! " 
 
 He paused to look round, uncertain to which of the log- 
 houses he should repair. 
 
 " I dont know which to take," he observed ; " that's the 
 truth. They're equally prepossessing outside, and equally 
 commodious, no doubt, within ; being fitted up with every con- 
 venience that a Alligator, in a state of natur', could possibly 
 require. Let me see ! The citizen as turned out last night, 
 lives under water, in the right-hand dog-kennel at the corner. 
 I don't want to trouble him if I can help it, poor man, for he is 
 a melancholy object : a reg'lar Settler in every respect. 
 There's a house with a winder, but I am afraid of their being 
 proud. I don't know whether a door ain't too aristocratic ; 
 but here goes for the first one ! " 
 
 He went up to the nearest cabni. and knocked with his 
 hand. Being desired to enter, he complied. 
 
 " Neighbor," said Mark : " for I avi a neighbor, though 
 you don't know me ; I've come a begging. Hallo ! hal — lo ! 
 
 • Vm I a-bed, and dreaming ! " 
 
 He made this exclamation on hearing his own name pro- 
 nounced, and finding himself clasped about the skirts by two 
 little boys, whose faces he had often washed, and whose sup- 
 pers he had often cooked, on board of that noble, and fast- 
 sailing line of packet ship, the Screw. 
 
 " My eyes is wrong ! " said Mark. " I don't believe 'em. 
 That ain't my fellow-passenger yonder, a nursing her little 
 girl, who I am sorry to see, is so delicate ; and that ain't her 
 husband as come lo New York to fetch her. Nor these," he 
 added, looking down upon the boys, " aiiTt them two young 
 shavers as was so familiar to me ; though they are uncommon 
 like 'em. That I must confess." 
 
 The woman shed tears, in very joy to see him ; the man
 
 5 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 shook both his hands, and would not let them go ; the two 
 boys hugged his legs ; the sick child, in the mother's arms, 
 stretched out her burning little lingers, and muttered, in her 
 hoarse, dry throat, his well-remembered name. 
 
 It was the same family, sure enough. Altered by the salu- 
 brious air of Eden. But the same. 
 
 "This is a new sort of a morning call," said Mark, draw- 
 ing a long breath. " It strikes one all of a heap. Wait a 
 little bit ! I'm a coming round, fast. That'll do ! These 
 gentlemen ain't my friends. Are they on the wisiting list of 
 the house } " 
 
 The inquiry referred to certain gaunt pigs, who had 
 walked in after him, and were much interested in the heels of 
 the family. As they did not belong to the mansion, they were 
 expelled by the two little boys. 
 
 " I ain't superstitious about toads," said Mark, looking 
 round the room, " but if you could prevail upon the two or 
 three I see in company, to step out at the same time, my 
 young friends, I think they'd find the open air refreshing. 
 Not that I at all object to 'em. A very handsome animal 
 is a toad," said Mr. Tapley, sitting down upon a stool : 
 " very spotted ; very like a partickler style of old gentleman 
 about the throat ; very bright-eyed, very cool, and very slippy. 
 But one sees 'em to the best advantage out of doors perhaps." 
 
 While pretending, with such talk as this, to be perfectly at 
 his ease, and to be the most indifferent and careless of men, 
 Mark Tapley had an eye on all around him. The wan and 
 meagre aspect of the family, the changed looks of the poor 
 mother, the fevered child she held in her lap, the air of great 
 despondency and little hope on everything, were plain to him, 
 and made a deep impression on his mind. He saw it all as 
 clearly and as quickly, as with his bodily eyes he saw the rough 
 shelves supported by pegs driven between the logs, of which 
 the house was made ; the flour-cask in the corner, serving also 
 for a table ; the blankets, spades, and other articles against the 
 walls ; the damp that blotched the ground ; or the crop of 
 vegetable rottenness in every crevice of the hut. 
 
 " How is it that you have come here .'' " asked the man, 
 when their first expressions of surprise were over. 
 
 " Why, we come by the steamer last night," replied Mark. 
 " Our intention is to make our fortuns with punctuality and 
 dispatch ; and to retire upon our property as soon as ever it's 
 realized. But how are you all t You're looking noble "
 
 MARThV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 517 
 
 " We are but sickly now," said the poor woman, bending 
 over her child. " But we shall do better when we are seasoned 
 to the place." 
 
 " There are some here," thought Mark, " whose seasoning 
 will last for ever." 
 
 But he said cheerfullv, " Do better I To be sure vou will. 
 We shall all do better. What we've got to do is, to keep up 
 our spirits, and be neighborly. We shall come all right in 
 the end, never fear. That reminds me, by the l)y, that my 
 partner's all wrong just at present ; and that I looked in, to 
 beg for him I wish you'd come, and give me your opinion of 
 him, master." 
 
 That must have been a very unreasonable request on the 
 part of Mark Tapley, with which, in their gratitude for his 
 kind offices on board the ship, they would not have complied 
 instantly. The man rose to accompany him without a mo- 
 ment's delay. Before they went, Mark took the sick child in 
 his arms, and tried to comfort the mother j but the hand of 
 death was on it then, he saw. 
 
 They found Martin in the house, Iving wrapped up in his 
 blanket on the ground. He was to all appearance, very ill 
 indeed, and shook and shivered horribly : not as people do 
 from cold, but in a frightful kind of spasm or convulsion, that 
 racked his whole body. Mark's friend pronounced his disease 
 an aggravated kind of fever, accompanied with ague ; which 
 was ver}' common in those parts, and which he predicted 
 would be worse to-morrow, and for many more to-morrows. 
 He had had it himself off and on, he said, for a couple of 
 years or so ; but he was thankful that, while so many he had 
 known had died about him, he had escaped with life. 
 
 " And with not too much of that," thought Mark, surveying 
 his emaciated form. " Eden for ever ! " 
 
 They had some medicine in their chest ; and this man of 
 sad experience showed Mark how and when to administer it, 
 and how he could best alleviate the sufferings of Martin. His 
 attentions did not stop there ; for he was backwards and for- 
 wards constantly, and rendered Mark good service in all his 
 brisk attempts to make their situation more endurable. Hope 
 or comfort for the future he could not bestow. The season 
 was a sickly one ; the settlement a grave. His child died 
 that night ; and Mark keeping the secret from Martin, helped 
 to bury it, beneath a tree, next day. 
 
 With all his various duties of attendance upon Martin (who
 
 5 1 8 ^'if^ ^ TLY CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 became the more exacting in liis claims, the worse he grew), 
 Mark worked out of doors, early and late ; and with the assist- 
 ance of his friend and others, labored to do something with 
 their land. Not that he had the least strength of heart or 
 hope, or steady purpose in so doing, beyond the habitual 
 cheerfulness of his disposition, and his amazing power of self- 
 su^tainment ; for within himself, he looked on their condition 
 as beyond all hope, and in his own words, " came out strong " 
 in consequence. 
 
 " As to coming out as strong as I could wish, sir," he con- 
 fided to Martin in a leisure moment ; that is to say, one even- 
 ing, while he was washing the linen of the establishment, after 
 a hard day's work, " that I give up. It's a piece of good 
 fortune as never is to happen to me, I see ! " 
 
 " Would you wish for circumstances stronger than these ? " 
 Martin retorted with a groan, from underneath his blanket. 
 
 " Why, only see how easy they might have been stronger, 
 sir," said Mark, " if it wasn't for the envy of that uncommon 
 fortun of mine, which is always after me, and tripping me up. 
 The night we landed here, I thought things did look pretty 
 jolly. I won't deny it. 1 thought they did look pretty jolly." 
 
 " How do they look now ? " groaned Martin. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mark, " Ah to be sure. That 's the question. 
 How do they look now ! On the very first morning of my 
 going out, what do I do .-' Stumble on a family I know, who 
 are constantly assisting of us in all sorts of wa}'s, from that 
 time to this ! That won't do, vou know : that ain't what Td 
 a right to e.xpect. If I had stumbled on a serpent, and got 
 bit ; or stumbled on a first-rate patriot, and got bowie-knifed ; 
 or stumbled on a lot of Sympathizers with inverted shirt-collars, 
 and got made a lion of ; I might have distinguished myself, 
 and earned some credit. As it is, the great object of my 
 voyage is knocked on the head. So it would be, wherever I 
 went. How do you feel to-night, sir ? " 
 
 " Worse than ever," said poor Martin. 
 
 " That's something," returned Mark, " but not enough. 
 Nothing but being very bad myself, and jolly to the last, will 
 ever do me justice." 
 
 " In Heaven's name, don't talk of that," said Martin, with 
 a thrill of terror. " What should I do, Mark, if you were 
 taken ill ! " 
 
 Mr. Tapley's spirits appeared to be stimulated by this re- 
 mark, although it was not a very flattering one. He pro-
 
 HI A J^ TIN CIIUZZL E WIT. 
 
 519 
 
 ceecled with his washing in a brighter mood ; and observed 
 " tliat his glass was a-rising." 
 
 " There's one good thing in this place, sir," said Mr. Tap- 
 ley, scrubbing away at the linen, " as disposes me to be jolly ; 
 and that is, that it's a reg'lar little United States in itself. 
 There's two or three American settlers left ; and they coolly 
 comes over one, even here, sir, as if it was the wholesomest 
 and loveliest spot in the world. But they're like the cock 
 that went and hid himself to save his life, and was found out 
 by the noise he made. They can't help crowing. They was 
 born to do it, and do it they must, whatever comes of it."' 
 
 Glancing from his work, out at the door, as he said these 
 words Mark's eyes encountered a lean person in a blue frock 
 and a straw hat, with a short black pipe in his mouth, and a 
 great hickory stick, studded all over with knots, in his hand ; 
 who smoking and chewing as he came along, and spitting fre- 
 quently, recorded his progress by a train of decomposed to- 
 bacco on the ground. 
 
 " Here's one on 'em," crietl Mark, " Hannibal Chollop." 
 
 " Don't let him in," said Martin, feebly. 
 
 '' He won't want any letting in," replied Mark. " He'll 
 come in, sir," Which turned out to be quite true, for he did. 
 His face was almost as hard and knobby as stick ; and so were 
 his hands. His head was like an old black hearth-broom. He 
 sat down on the chest willi his hat on ; and crossing his legs 
 and looking up at Mark, said without removing his pipe : 
 
 " Well, Mr. Co ! and how do you git along, sir ? " 
 
 It may be necessary to observe that Mr. Tapley had gravely 
 introduced himself to all strangers, by that name. 
 
 " Pretty well, sir ; pretty well," said Mark. 
 
 " If this ain't Mr. Chuzzlewit, ain't it ! " exclaimed the 
 visitor. " How do you git along, sir ? " 
 
 Martin shook his head, and drew the blanket over it in- 
 voluntarily ; for he felt that Hannibal was going to spit ; and 
 his eye, as the song says, was upon him. 
 
 " You need not regard me sir," observed Mr. Chollop, 
 complacently. " I am fever-proof, and likewise agur." 
 
 "Mine was a more selfish motive," said Martin, looking out 
 again. " I was afraid you were going to " 
 
 " I can calc'late my distance, sir," returned Mr. Chollop, 
 " to an inch." 
 
 With a proof of which happy faculty he inmiediately fa- 
 vored him.
 
 520 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I re-quire, sir," said Hannibal, " two foot clear in a cir- 
 c'lar di-rection, and can engage my-self toe keep within it. I 
 have gone ten foot, in a circ'lar di-rection, but that was for a 
 
 wager. 
 
 " I hope you won it, sir," said Mark. 
 
 "Well, sir, I realized the stakes," said Chollop. "Yes, 
 sir." 
 
 He was silent for a time, during which he was actively 
 engaged in the formation of a magic circle round the chest 
 on which he sat. When it was completed, he began to talk 
 again. 
 
 " How do like our country, sir ? " he inquired, looking at 
 Martin. 
 
 " Not at all," was the invalid's reply. 
 
 Chollop continued to smoke without the least appearance 
 of emotion, until he felt disposed to speak again. That time 
 at length arriving, he took his pipe from his mouth, and 
 said : 
 
 " I am not surprised to hear you say so. It re-quires An 
 elevation, and A preparation of the intellect. The mind of 
 man must be prepared for Freedom, Mr. Co." 
 
 He addressed himself to Mark : because he saw that Mar- 
 tin, who wished him to go, being already half-mad with fever- 
 ish irritation, which the droning voice of this new horror ren- 
 dered almost insupportable, had closed his eyes, and turned 
 on his uneasy bed. 
 
 " A little bodily preparation wouldn't be amiss, either, 
 would it, sir," said Mark, " in the case of a blessed old swamp 
 like this.?" 
 
 " Do you con-sider this a swamp, sir.'" inquired Chollop 
 gravely. 
 
 " Why yes, sir," returned Mark. " I haven't a doubt about 
 it, myself." 
 
 " The sentiment is quite Europian," said the major, " and 
 does not surprise me : what would your English millions say 
 to such a swamp in England, sir .'' " 
 
 " They'd say it was an uncommon nasty one, I should 
 think," said Mark ; " and that they would rather be inoculated 
 for fever in some other way." 
 
 " Europian ! " remarked Chollop, with sardonic pity, 
 " Quite Europian ! " 
 
 And there he sat. Silent and cool, as if the house were 
 his ; smoking away like a factory chimney.
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 2 i 
 
 Mr. Chollop was, of course, one of the most remarkable 
 men in the country ; but he really was a notorious person be- 
 sides. He was usually described by his friends, in the South 
 and West, as " a splendid sample of our na-tive raw material, 
 sir," and was much esteemed for his devotion to rational Lib- 
 erty ; for the better propagation whereof he usually carried a 
 brace of revolving pistols in his coat pocket, with seven bar- 
 rels a-piece. He also carried, amongst other trinkets, a sword- 
 stick, which he called his "Tickler ; " and a great knife, which 
 (for he was a man of a pleasant turn of humor) he called 
 " Ripper," in allusion to its usefulness as a means of ventilat- 
 ing the stomach of any adversar)' in a close contest. He had 
 used these weapons with distinguished effect in several in- 
 stances, all duly chronicled in the newspapers ; and was 
 greatly beloved for the gallant manner in which he had "job- 
 bed out " the eye of one gentleman, as he was in the act of 
 knocking at his own street-door. 
 
 Mr. Chollop was a man of a roving disposition ; and, in 
 any less advanced community, might have been mistaken for 
 a violent vagabond. But his fine qualities being perfectly un- 
 derstood and appreciated in those regions where his lot was 
 cast, and where he had many kindred spirits to consort with, 
 he may be regarded as having been born under a fortunate 
 star, which is not alwavs the case with a man so much before 
 the age in which he lives. Preferring, with a view to the 
 gratification of his tickling and ripping fancies, to dwell upon 
 the outskirts of society, and in the more remote towns and 
 cities, he was in the habit of emigrating from place to place, 
 and establishing in each some business — usually a newspaper 
 — which he presently sold : for the most part closing the bar- 
 gain by challenging, stabbing, pistolling, or gouging, the new 
 editor, before he had quite taken possession of the property. 
 
 He had come to Eden on a speculation of this kind, but 
 had abandoned it, and was about to leave. He always intro- 
 duced himself to strangers as a worshipper of Freedom ; was 
 the consistent advocate of Lvnch law, and slaverv ; and inva- 
 riably recommended, both in print and speech, the "tarring 
 and feathering " of any unpopular person who differed from 
 himself. He called this " planting the standard of civiliza- 
 tion in the wilder gardens of Mv country." 
 
 There is little doubt that Chollop would have planted this 
 standard in Eden at Mark's expense, in return for his plain- 
 ness of speech (for the genuine Freedom is dumb, save when
 
 522 
 
 MARTIN CFTUZZLEWTT. 
 
 she vaunts herself), but for the utter desolation and decay 
 prevailing in the settlement, and his own approaching depar- 
 ture from it. As it was, he contented himself with showing 
 Mark one of the revolving-pistols, and asking him what he 
 thought of that weapon. 
 
 " It ain't long since I shot a man down with that, sir, in 
 the State of Illinry," observed Chollop. 
 
 " Did you, indeed ! " said Mark, without the smallest 
 agitation. "Very free of you. And very independent ! " 
 
 " I shot him down, sir," pursued Chollop, "for asserting 
 in the Spartan Portico, a tri-weekly journal, that the ancient 
 Athenians went a-head of the present Locofoco Ticket." 
 
 " And what's that t " asked Mark. 
 
 " Pkiropian not to know," said Chollop, smoking placidly. 
 " Europian quite ! " 
 
 After a short devotion to the interests of the magic circle, 
 he resumed the conversation by observing ; 
 
 " You won't half feel yourself at home in Eden, now ? " 
 
 " No," said Mark, " I don't." 
 
 " You miss the imposts of your countiy. You miss the 
 house dues ? " observed Chollop. 
 
 "And the houses— rather," said Mark. 
 
 " No window dues here, sir," observed Chollop. 
 
 " And no windows to put 'em on," said Mark. 
 
 " No stakes, no dungeons, no blocks, no racks, no scaf- 
 folds, no thumbscrews, no pikes, no pillories," said Chollop. 
 
 " Nothing but rewolwers and bowie-knives," returned 
 Mark. " And what are they t Not worth mentioning ! " 
 
 The man who had met them on the night of their arrival 
 came crawling up at this juncture, and looked in at the door. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Chollop. " How do jvw git along ? " 
 
 He had considerable difficulty in getting along at all, and 
 said as much in reply. 
 
 " Mr. Co. And me, sir," observed Chollop, " are disputa- 
 ting a piece. He ought to be slicked up pretty smart, to 
 disputate between the Old World and the New, I do expect .'' " 
 
 " Well ! " returned the miserable shadow. " So he had." 
 
 " I was merely observing, sir," said Mark, addressing this 
 new visitor, " that I looked upon the city in which we have 
 the honor to live, as being swampy. What's your senti- 
 ments t " 
 
 " I opinionate it's moist perhaps, at certain times," returned 
 the man.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWrr. 523 
 
 " But not as moist as England, sir ? " cried Chollop, witli 
 a fierce expression in his face. 
 
 " Oh ! Not as moist as England ; let alone its Institutions," 
 said the man. 
 
 " I should hope there ain't a swamp in all Americay, as 
 don't whip that small island into mush and molasses," 
 observed Chollop, decisively. " You bought slick, straight, 
 and right away, of Scadder, sir 1 " to Mark. 
 
 He answered in the affirmative. Mr. Chollop winked at 
 the other citizen. 
 
 " Scadder is a smart man, sir .'' He is a rising man } He 
 is a man as will come up'ards, right side up, sir ? " Mr. 
 Chollop winked again at the other citizen. 
 
 "He should have his right side very high up, if I had my 
 way," said Mark. "As high up as the top of a good tall 
 gallows, perhaps." 
 
 Mr. Chollop was so delighted at the smartness of his ex- 
 cellent countryman having been too much for the Britisher, 
 and at the Britisher's resenting it, that he could contain 
 himself no longer, and broke forth in a shout of delight. But 
 the strangest exposition of this ruling passion was in the 
 other : the pestilence-stricken, broken, miserable shadow of a 
 man : who derived so much entertainment from the circum- 
 siance, that he seemed to forget his own ruin in thinking of 
 it, and laughed outright when he said " that Scadder was a 
 smart man, and had draw'd a lot of British ca]Mtal that way, 
 as sure as sun-up." 
 
 After a full enjoyment of this joke, Mr. flamiibal Chollop 
 sat smoking and improving the circle, without making any 
 attempts either to converse, or to take leave ; apparently 
 laboring under the not uncommon delusion, that tor a free 
 and enlightened citizen of the United States to con\ ert another 
 man's house into a spittoon for two or three hours together, 
 was a delicate attention, full of interest and politeness, of 
 which nobody could ever tire. At last he rose. 
 
 " I am a going easy," he observed. 
 
 Mark entreated him to take ])articular care of himself. 
 
 "Afore 1 go," he said sternly, " 1 have got a leetle word 
 to say to you. You are darnation 'cute you are." 
 
 Mark thanked him for the compliment. 
 
 " But you are much too cute to last. I can't con-ceive of 
 any spotted Painter in the bush, as ever was so riddled 
 through and through as you will be, 1 bet."
 
 5 24 MARTIN CHUZZLElVir. 
 
 " What for ? " asked Mark. 
 
 " We must be cracked-up, sir," retorted Chollop, in a tone | 
 of menace. " You are not now in A despotic land. We are 
 a model to the airth, and must be jist cracked-up, I tell you." 
 
 " What, I speak too free, do I ? " cried Mark. 
 
 " I have draw'd upon A man, and fired upon A man for 
 less," said Chollop, frowning. " I have know'd strong men 
 obleeged to make themselves uncommon skase for Less. I 
 have know'd men Lynched for less, and beaten into punkin'- 
 sarse for less, by an enlightened people. We are the intellect 
 and virtue of the airth, the cream Of human natur', and the 
 flower Of moral force. Our backs is easy ris. We must be 
 cracked-up, or they rises, and we snarls. We shows our teeth, 
 I tell you, fierce. You'd better crack us up, you had ! " 
 
 After the delivery of this caution, Mr. Chollop departed ; 
 with Ripper, Tickler, and the revolvers, all ready for action 
 on the shortest notice. 
 
 " Come out from under the blanket, sir," said Mark, " he's 
 gone. What's this !" he added softly : kneeling down to look 
 into his partner's face, and taking his hot hand. What's 
 come of all that chattering and swaggering ? He's wandering 
 in his mind to-night, and don't know me:" 
 
 Martin indeed was dangerously ill ; very near his death. 
 He lay in that state many days, during which time Mark's 
 poor friends, regardless of themselves, attended him. Mark, 
 fatigued in mind and body ; working all the day and sitting 
 up at night ; worn with hard living and the unaccustomed toil 
 of his new life ; surrounded by dismal and discouraging cir- 
 cumstances of every kind ; never complained or yielded in 
 the least degree. If ever he had thought Martin selfish or 
 inconsiderate, or had deemed him energetic only by fits and 
 starts, and then too passive for their desperate fortunes, he 
 now forgot it all. He remembered nothing but the better 
 qualities of his fellow-wanderer, and was devoted to him, heart 
 and hand. 
 
 Many weeks elapsed before Martin was strong enough to 
 move about with the help of a stick and Mark's arm ; and 
 even then his recovery, for want of wholesome air and proper 
 nourishment, was very slow. He was yet in a feeble and 
 weak condition, when the misfortune he had so much dreaded 
 fell upon them. Mark was taken ill. 
 
 Mark fought against it \ but the malady fought harder, 
 and his efforts were in vain.
 
 
 o
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 525 
 
 "Floored for the present, sir," he said one morning, sinl<- 
 ing back upon his bed : " but jolly ! " 
 
 Floored indeed, and by a heavy blow ! As any one but 
 Martin might have known beforehand. 
 
 If Mark's friends had been kind to Martin (and they had 
 been very), they were twenty times kinder to Mark. And now 
 it was Martin's turn to work, and sit beside the bed and 
 watch, and listen through the long, long nights, to every sound 
 in the gloomy wilderness ; and hear poor Mr, Tapley, in his 
 wandering fancy, playing at skittles in the Dragon, making 
 love-remonstrances to Mrs. Lupin, getting his sea-legs on 
 board the Screw, travelling with old Tom Pinch on English 
 roads, and burning stumps of trees in Eden, all at once. 
 
 But whenever Martin gave him drink or medicine, or 
 tended him in any way, or came into the house returning from 
 some drudgery without, the patient Mr. Tapley brightened up,, 
 and cried : " I'm jolly, sir : Em jolly! " 
 
 Now, when Martin began to think of this, and to look at 
 Mark as he lay there ; never reproaching him by so much a.s 
 an expression of regret ; never murmuring ; always striving to 
 be manful and staunch ; he began to think, how was it that 
 this man who had had so few advantages, was so much better 
 than he who had had so many.? And attendance upon a sick 
 bed, but especially the sick bed of one whom we have been ac- 
 customed to see in full activity and vigor, being a great breeder 
 of reflection, he began to ask himself in what they differed. 
 
 He was assisted in coming to a conclusion on this head 
 by the frequent presence of ALark's friend, their fellow-passen- 
 ger across the ocean : which suggested to him that in regard 
 to having aided her, for example, they had differed very much. 
 Somehow he coupled Tom Pinch with this train of reflection ; 
 and thinking that Tom would be very likely to have struck up 
 the same sort of acquaintance under similar circumstances, 
 began to think in what respects two people so extremely dif- 
 ferent were like each other, and were unlike him. At first 
 sight there was nothing very distressing in these meditations, 
 but they did undoubtedly distress him for all that, 
 
 Martin's nature was a frank and generous one ; but he 
 had been bred up in his grandfather's house ; and it will usu- 
 ally be found that the meaner domestic vices propagate them- 
 selves to be their own antagonists. Selfishness does this es- 
 pecially ; so do suspicion, cunning, stealth, and covetous 
 propensities. Martin had unconsciously reasoned as a child,
 
 526 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " My guardian takes so much thought to himself, that unless 
 I do the like by myself, I shall be forgotten." So he had 
 grown selfish. 
 
 But he had never known it. If any one had taxed him 
 with the vice, he would have indignantly repelled the accusa- 
 tion, and conceived himself unworthily aspersed. He never 
 would have known it, but that being newly risen from a bed of 
 dangerous sickness, to watch by such another couch, he felt 
 how nearly Self had dropped into the grave, and what a poor 
 dependent, miserable thing it was. 
 
 It was natural for him to reflect — he had months to do it in 
 — upon his own escape, and Mark's extremity. This led him to 
 consider which of them could be the better spared, and why ? 
 Then the curtain slowly rose a very little way ; and Self, Self, 
 Self, was shown below. 
 
 He asked himself, besides, when dreading Mark's decease 
 (as all men do and must, at such a time), whether he had done 
 his duty by him, and had deserved and made a good response 
 to his fidelity and zeal. No. Short as their companionship 
 had been, he felt in many, many instances, that there was 
 blame against himself ; and still inquiring why, the curtain 
 rose a little more, and Self, Self, Self, dilated on the scene. 
 
 It was long before he fixed the knowledge of himself so 
 firmly in his mind that he could thoroughly discern the truth ; 
 but in the hideous solitude of that most hideous place, with 
 Hope so far removed. Ambition quenched, and Death beside 
 him rattling at the very door, reflection came, as in a plague- 
 beleaguered town ; and so he felt and knew the failing of his 
 life, and saw distinctly what an ugly spot it was. 
 
 Eden was a hard school to learn so hard a lesson in ; but 
 there were teachers in the swamp and thicket, and the pesti- 
 lential air, who had a searching method of their own. 
 
 He made a solemn resolution that when his strength re- 
 turned he would not dispute the point or resist the conviction, 
 but would look upon it as an established fact, that selfishness 
 was in his breast, and must be rooted out. He was so doubt- 
 ful (and with justice) of his own character, that he determined 
 not to say one word of vain regret or good resolve to Mark, 
 but steadily to keep his purpose before his own eyes solely : 
 and there was not a jot of pride in this ; nothing but humility 
 and steadfastness : the best armor he could wear. So low 
 had Eden brought him down. So high had Eden raised him up. 
 
 After a long and lingering illness (in certain forlorn stages
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 5-^7 
 
 of which, when too far gone to speak, he had feebly written 
 " jolly ! " on a slate), Mark showed some symptoms of return- 
 ing health. They came and went, and flickered for a time ; 
 but he began to mend at last decidedly ; and after that, con- 
 tinued to improve from day to day. 
 
 As soon as he was well enough to talk without fatigue, 
 Martin consulted him upon a project he had in his mind, and 
 which a few months back he would have carried into execution 
 without troubling anybody's head but his own. 
 
 " Ours is a desperate case," said Martin. " Plainly. The 
 place is deserted ; its failure must have become known ; and 
 selling what we have bought to any one for anything is hope- 
 less, even if it were honest. We left home on a mad enter- 
 prise, and have failed. The only hope left us ; the only one 
 end for which we have now to try, is to quit this settlement 
 for ever, and get back to England. Any how ! by any means ! 
 Only to get back there, Mark." 
 
 " That's all, sir," returned Mr. Tapley, with a significant 
 stress upon the words : " only that ! " 
 
 "Now, upon this side of the water," said Martin, "we 
 have but one friend who can help us, and that is Mr. Bevan." 
 
 " I thought of him when you was ill," said Mark. 
 
 " But for the time that would be lost, I would even write 
 to my grandfather," Martin went on to say, " and implore him 
 for money to free us from this trap into which we were so 
 cruelly decoyed. Shall I try Mr. Bevan first ? " 
 
 " He's a very pleasant sort of a gentleman," said Mark. 
 " I think so." 
 
 " The few goods we brought here, and in which we spent 
 our money, would produce something if sold," resumed Mar- 
 tin ; " and whatever they realize shall be paid him instantly. 
 But they can't be sold here." 
 
 "There's nobody but corpses to buy 'em," said Mr. Tap- 
 ley, shaking his head with a rueful air, " and pigs." 
 
 " Shall I tell him so, and only ask him for money enough 
 to enable us by the cheapest means to reach New York, or 
 any port from which we may hope to get a passage home, by 
 serving in any capacity .•* Explaining to him at the same time 
 how I am connected, and that I will endeavor to repay him, 
 even through my grandfather, innnediately on our arri\al in 
 England ? " 
 
 " Why to be sure," said Mark , " he can only say no, and 
 he may say yes. If you don't mind trying him, sir — "
 
 528 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Mind ! " exclaimed Martin. '' I am to blame for coming 
 here, and I would do anything to get away. I grieve to think 
 of the past. If I had taken your opinion sooner, Mark, we 
 never should have been here, I am certain." 
 
 Mr. Tapley was very much surprised at this admission, 
 but protested, with great vehemence, that they would have 
 been there all the same ; and that he had set his heart upon 
 coming to Eden, from the first word he had ever heard of it. 
 
 Martin then read him a letter to Mr. Bevan, which he had 
 already prepared. It was frankly and ingenuously written, 
 and described their situation without the least concealment ; 
 plainly stated the miseries they had undergone ; and preferred 
 their request in modest but straightforward tenns. Mark 
 highly commended it ; and they determined to despatch it by 
 the next steamboat going the right way, that might call to 
 take in wood at Eden, — where there was plent}' of wood to 
 spare. Not knowing how to address Mr. Bevan at his own 
 place of abode, Martin superscribed it to the care of the 
 memorable Mr. Norris of New York, and wrote upon the cover 
 an entreaty that it might be forwarded without delay. 
 
 More than a week elapsed before a boat appeared ; but at 
 length they were awakened \&x^ early one morning by the 
 high-pressure snorting of the " Esau Slodge ; " named after 
 one of the most remarkable men in the country, who had been 
 very eminent somewhere. Hurrying down to the landing- 
 place, they got it safe on board ; and waiting anxiously to see 
 the boat depart, stopped up the gangway : an instance of 
 neglect which caused the " Capting " of the Esau Slodge to 
 " wish he might be sifted fine as flour, and whittled small as 
 chips ; that if they didn't come off that there fixing right smart 
 too, he'd spill 'em in the drink : " whereby the Capting meta- 
 phorically said he'd throw them in the river. 
 
 They were not likely to receive an answer for eight or ten 
 weeks at the earliest. In the meantime they devoted such 
 strength as they had, to the attempted improvement of their 
 land ; to clearing some of it, and preparing it for useful pur- 
 poses. Monstrously defective as their farming was, still it was 
 better than their neighbors' ; for Mark had some practical 
 knowledge of such matters, and Martin learned of him ; 
 whereas the other settlers who remained upon the putrid swamp 
 (a mere handful, and those withered by disease), appeared to 
 have wandered there with the idea that husbandry was the 
 natural gift of all mankind. They helped each other after
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 529 
 
 their own manner in these struggles, and in all others ; but 
 they worked as hopelessly and sadly as a gang of convicts in 
 a penal settlement. 
 
 Often at night when Mark and Martin were alone, and 
 lying down to sleep, they spoke of home, familiar places, 
 houses, roads, and people whom they knew ; sometimes in the 
 lively hope of seeing theni again, and sometimes with a sor- 
 rowful tranquillity, as if that hope were dead. It was a source 
 of great amazement to Mark Tapley to find, pervading all 
 these conversations, a singular alteration in Martin. 
 
 " I don't know what to make .of him," he thought one 
 night, " he ain't what I supposed. He don't think of himself 
 half as much. Ill trv him again. Asleep, sir } " 
 
 " No, Mark." 
 
 " Thinking of home, sir .-' " 
 
 "Yes, Mark." 
 
 " So was I, sir. I was wondering how Mr. Pinch and Mr. 
 Pecksniff gets on now." 
 
 " Poor Tom ! " said Martin, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Weak-minded man, sir," observed Mr. Tapley. "Plays 
 the organ for nothing, sir. Takes no care of himself ? " 
 
 " I wish he took a little more, indeed," said Martin. 
 "Though I don't know why I should. We shouldn't like him 
 half as well, perhaps." 
 
 " He gets put upon, sir," hinted Mark. 
 
 " Yes," said Martin, after a short silence. " / know that, 
 Mark." 
 
 He spoke so regretfully, that his partner abandoned the 
 theme, and was silent for a short time, until he had thought of 
 another. 
 
 '' Ah, sir ! " said Mark, with a sigh. " Dear me ! You've 
 ventured a good deal for a young lady's love ! " 
 
 " I tell you what. I'm not so sure of that, Mark," was the 
 reply ; so hastily and energetically spoken, that Martin sat up 
 in his bed to give it. " I begin to be far from clear upon it. 
 You may depend upon it, she is very unhappy. She has sac- 
 rificed her peace of mind ; she has endangered her interests 
 ver}' much ; she can't run away from those who are jealous of 
 her, and opposed to her, as I have done. She has to endure, 
 Mark : to endure without the possibility of action, poor girl ! 
 I begin to think she has more to bear than ever I have had. 
 Upon my soul I do ! " 
 
 Mr. Tapley opened his eyes wide, in the dark ■ but did not 
 interrupt. 34
 
 530 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 "And I'll tell you a secret, Mark," said Martin, "since we 
 are upon this subject. That ring — " 
 
 " Which ring, sir ! " Mark inquired : opening his eyes still 
 wider. 
 
 " That ring she gave me when we parted, Mark. She 
 bought it ; bought it • knowing I was poor and proud (Heaven 
 help me ! Proud !) and wanted money," 
 
 " Who savs so, sir ? " asked Mark. 
 
 " I say so. I know it. I thought of it, my good fellow, 
 hundreds of times, while you were lying ill. And like a beast, 
 I took it from her hand, and wore it on my own, and never 
 dreamed of this even at the moment when I parted with it, 
 when some faint glimmering of the truth might surely have 
 possessed me ! But it's late," said Martin, checking himself, 
 "and you are weak and tired, I know. You only talk to cheer 
 me up. Good night! God bless you Mark I" 
 
 " God bless you, sir ! But I'm reg'larly defrauded," thought 
 Mr. Tapley, turning round, with a happy face. " It's a swindle. 
 I never entered for this sort of service. There'll be no credit 
 in being jolly with Jiwi /" 
 
 The time wore on, and other steam boats coming from the 
 point on which their hopes were fixed, arrived to take in wood ; 
 but still no answer to the letter. Rain, heat, foul slime, and 
 noxious vapor, with all the ills and filthy things they bred, 
 prevailed. The earth, the air, the vegetation, and the water 
 that they drank, all teemed with deadly properties. Their 
 fellow-passenger had lost two children long before ; and buried 
 now her last. Such things are much too common to be widely 
 known or cared for. Smart citizens grow rich, and friendless 
 victims smart and die, and are forgotten. That is all. 
 
 At last, a boat came panting up the ugly river, and stopped 
 at Eden. Mark was waiting at the wood hut, when it came, 
 and had a letter handed to him from on board. He bore it 
 off to Martin. They looked at one another trembling. 
 
 " It feels heavy," faltered Martin. And opening it, a little 
 roll of dollar-notes fell out upon the ground. 
 
 What either of them said, or did, or felt, at first, neither of 
 them knew. All Mark could ever tell was, that he was at the 
 river's bank again out of breath, before the boat had gone, 
 inquiring when it would retrace its track and put in there. 
 
 The answer was, in ten or twelve days : notwithstanding 
 which, they began to get their goods together and to tie them 
 up, that very night. When this stage of excitement was passed,
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 531 
 
 each of them believed (they found this out, in talking of it 
 afterwards) that he would surely die before the boat returned. 
 
 They lived, however, and it came, after the lapse of three 
 long crawling weeks. At sunrise, on an autumn day, they 
 stood upon her deck. 
 
 "Courage ! We shall meet again! " cried Martin, waving 
 his hand to two thin figures on the bank. " In the Old 
 World ! " 
 
 " Or in the next one," added Mark below his breath. " I'o 
 see them standing side by side, so quiet, is a'most the worst 
 of all ! " 
 
 They looked at one another, as the vessel moved away, 
 and then looked backward at the spot from which it hurried 
 fast. The log-house, with the open door, and drooping trees 
 about it ; the stagnant morning mist, and red sun, dimly seen 
 beyond ; th'e vapor rising up from land and river ; the quick 
 stream making the loathsome banks it washed, more flat and 
 dull : how often they returned in dreams ! How often it was 
 happiness to wake, and find them Shadows that had vanished ! 
 
 CPiAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE TRAVELLERS MOVE HOMEV^^ARD, AND ENCOUN- 
 TER SOME DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS UPON THE WAY. 
 
 Among the passengers on board the steamboat, there was 
 a faint gentleman sitting on a low camp-stool, with his legs on 
 a high barrel of flour, as if he were looking at the prospect 
 with his ankles ; who attracted their attention speedily. 
 
 He had straight black hair, parted up the middle of his 
 head, and hanging down upon his coat ; a little fringe of hair 
 upon his chin ; wore no neckcloth ; a white hat ; a suit of 
 black, long in the sleeves, and short in the legs ; soiled brown 
 stockings, and laced shoes. His complexion, naturally muddy, 
 was rendered muddier by too strict an economy of soap and 
 water ; and the same observation will apply to the washable 
 part of his attire, which he might have changed with comfort 
 to himself, and gratification to liis friends. He was about five 
 and thirty ; was crushed and jammed up in a heap, under the
 
 532 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 shade of a large green cotton umbrella \ and ruminated over 
 his tobacco-plug like a cow. 
 
 He was not singular, to be sure, in these respects ; for 
 every gentleman on board appeared to have had a difference 
 with his laundress, and to have left off washing himself in 
 early youth. Every gentleman, too, was perfectly stopped up 
 with tight plugging, and was dislocated in the greater part of 
 his joints. But about this gentleman there was a peculiar air 
 of sagacity and wisdom, which convinced Martin that he was 
 no common character ; and this turned out to be the case. 
 
 " How do you do, sir ? " said a voice in Martin's ear. 
 
 " How do you do, sir ? " said Martin. 
 
 It was a tall thin gentleman who. spoke to him, with a 
 carpet-cap on, and a long loose coat of green baize, orna- 
 mented about the pockets with black velvet. 
 
 " You air from Europe, sir ? " 
 
 " I am," said Martin. 
 
 "You air fortunate, sir." 
 
 Martin thought so too : but he soon discovered that the 
 gentleman and he attached different meanings to this remark. 
 
 " You air fortunate, sir, in having an opportunity of be- 
 holding our Elijah Pogram, sir." 
 
 " Your Elijahpogram ! " said Martin, thinking it was all 
 one word, and a building of some sort. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Martin tried to look as if he understood him, but he 
 couldn't make it out. 
 
 " Yes, sir," repeated the gentleman. " Our Elijah Pogram, 
 sir, is, at this minute, identically settin' by the en-gine biler." 
 
 The gentleman under the umbrella put his right foretinger 
 to his eyebrow, as if he were revolving schemes of state. 
 
 "That is Elijah Pogram, is it.''" said Martin. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the other. "That is Elijah Pogram." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Martin. " I am astonished." But he 
 had not the least idea who this Elijah Pogram was ; having 
 never heard the name in all his life. 
 
 " If the biler of this vessel was Toe bust, sir," said his 
 new acquaintance, " and Toe bust now, this would be a festi- 
 val day in the calendar of despotism ; pretty nigh equallin', 
 sir, in its effects upon the human race, our Fourth of glorious 
 July. Yes, sir, that is the Honorable Elijah Pogram, Mem- 
 ber of Congress ; one of the master-minds of our country, sir. 
 There is a brow, sir, there ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. t^2>Z 
 
 "Quite remarkable," said Martin. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Our own immortal Chiggle, sir, is said to have 
 observed, when he made the celebrated Pogram statter in 
 marble, which rose so much con-test and preju-dice in 
 Europe, that the brow was more than mortal. This was 
 before the Pogram Defiance, and was, therefore, a pre-diction, 
 cruel smart." 
 
 " What is the Pogram Defiance ? " asked Martin think- 
 ing, perhaps, it was the sign of a public-house. 
 
 "An o-ration, sir," returned his friend. 
 
 "Oh! to be sure," cried Martin. "What am I thinking 
 of ! It defied—" 
 
 " It defied the world, sir," said the other, gravely. " De- 
 fied the world in general to com-pete with our country upon 
 any hook : and devellop'd our internal resources for making 
 war upon the universal airth. You would like to know Elijah 
 Pogram, sir ? " 
 
 " If you please," said Martin. 
 
 " Mr. Pogram," said the stranger — Mr. Pogram having 
 overheard every word of the dialogue — " this is a gentleman 
 from Europe, sir ; from England, sir. But gen'rous enemies 
 may meet upon the neutral sile of private life, I think." 
 
 The languid Mr. Pogram shook hands with Martin, like a 
 clock-work figure that was just running down. But he made 
 amends by chewing like one that was just wound up. 
 
 " Mr. Pogram," said the introducer, "is a public servant, 
 sir. When Congress is recessed, he inakes himself acquainted 
 with those free United States, of which he is the gifted son." 
 
 It occurred to Martin, that if the Honorable Elijah Pogram 
 had stayed at home, and sent his shoes upon a tour, they 
 would have answered the same purpose ; for they were the 
 only part of him in a situation to see anything. 
 
 In course of time, howe\er, Mr. Pogram rose ; and having 
 ejected certain plugging consequences which would have 
 impeded his articulation, took up a position where there was 
 something to lean against, and began to talk to Martin : 
 shading himself with the green umbrella all the time. 
 
 As he began with the words. "How do you like — .^ " 
 Martin took him up and said : 
 
 " The country I presume .'' " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Elijah Pogram. A knot of passengers 
 gathered round to hear what followed : and Martin heard his 
 friend say, as he whispered to another friend, and rubbed his 
 hands, " Pogram will smash him into sky-blue fits I know ! "
 
 ^34 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Why," said Martin, after a moment's hesitation, " I have 
 learned by experience, that you take an unfair advantage of a 
 stranger, when you ask that question. Vou don't mean it to 
 be answered, except in one way. Now, 1 don't choose to 
 answer it in that way, for I cannot honestly answer it in that 
 way. And therefore, I would rather not answer it at all." 
 
 But Mr. Pogram was going to make a great speech in the 
 next session about foreign relations, and was going to write 
 strong articles on the subject ; and as he greatly favored the 
 free and independent custom (a very harmless and agreeable 
 one) of procuring information of any sort in any kind of con- 
 fidence, and afterwards perverting it publicly in any manner 
 that happened to suit him, he had determined to get at Mar- 
 tin's opinions somehow or other. For, if he could have got 
 nothing out of him, he would have had to invent it for him, 
 and that would have been laborious. He made a mental note 
 of his answer, and went in agam. 
 
 " You are from Eden, sir.? How did you like Eden ? ' 
 
 Martin said what he thought of that part of the country, in 
 pretty strong terms. 
 
 "It is strange," said Pogram, looking round upon the 
 group, " this hatred of our country, and her Institutions ! This 
 national antipathy is deeply rooted in the British mind ! " 
 
 " Good Heaven, sir," cried Martin. " Is the Eden Land 
 Corporation, with Mr. Scadder at his head, and all the misery it 
 has worked, at its door, an Institution of America ? A part 
 of any form of government that ever was known or heard of .-' " 
 
 " I con-sider the cause of this to be," said Pogram, looking 
 round again and taking himself up where Martin had inter- 
 rupted him, " partly jealously and prejudice, and partly the 
 nat'ral unfitness of the British people to appreciate the ex- 
 alted Institutions of our native land. I expect, sir," turning 
 to ]\Iartin again, " that a gentleman named Chollop happened 
 in upon you during your lo-cation in the town of Eden ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Martin; "but my friend can answer 
 this better than I can, for I was very ill at the time. Mark ! 
 The gentleman is speaking of Mr. Chollop." 
 
 "Oh. Yes sir. Yes. /see him," observed Mark. 
 
 " A splendid example of our na-tive raw material, sir ? " 
 said Pogram, interrogatively. 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " cried Mark. 
 
 The Honorable Elijah Pogram glanced at his friends as 
 though he would have said, " Observe this ! See what fol-
 
 MA A' r/jV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 535 
 
 lows ! " and they rendered tribute to the Pogram genius, by a 
 gentle murmur. 
 
 "Our fellow-countryman is a model of a man, quite fresh 
 from Natur's mould ! " said Pogram, with enthusiasm. " He 
 is a true-born child of this free hemisphere ! Verdant as the 
 mountains of our country ; bright and tiowing as our mineral 
 Licks \ unspiled by withering conventionalities as air our 
 broad and boundless Perearers I Rough he may be. vSo air 
 our Barrs. Wild he may be. So air our Buffalers. But he 
 is a child of Natur', and a child of Freedom ; and his boastful 
 answer to the Despot and the Tyrant is, that his bright home 
 is in the Settin Sun." 
 
 Part of this referred to ChoUop, and part to a Western 
 postmaster, who, being a public defaulter not very long before 
 (a character not at all uncommon in America), had been re- 
 moved from ofhce ; and on whose behalf Mr. Pogram (he 
 voted for Pogram) had thundered the last sentence from his 
 seat in Congress, at the head of an unpopular President. It 
 told brilliantly ; for the bystanders were delighted, and one 
 of them said to Martin, "that he guessed he had now seen 
 something of the eloquential aspect of our country, and was 
 chawed up pritty small." 
 
 Mr. Pogram waited until his hearers were calm again, be- 
 fore he said to Mark : 
 
 " You do not seem to coincide, sir ? " 
 
 " Why," said Mark, " I didn't like him much ; and that's 
 the truth, sir. I thought he was a bully ; and I didn't admire 
 his carryin' them murderous little persuaders, and being so 
 ready to use 'em." 
 
 " It's singler ! " said Pogram, lifting his umbrella high 
 enough to look all round from under it. " It's strange ! You 
 observe the settled opposition to our Institutions which per- 
 vades the British mind ! " 
 
 " What an extraordinary people you are ! " cried Martin, 
 " Are Mr. Chollop and the class he represents, an Institution 
 here ? Are pistols with rexohing barrels, sword-sticks, bowie- 
 knives, and such things, Institutions on which you pride your- 
 selves ? Are bloody duels, brutal combats, savage assaults, 
 shooting down and stabbing in the streets, your Institutions ! 
 Why, I shall hear next, that Dishonor and Fraud are among 
 the Institutions of the great republic ! " 
 
 The moment the words passed his lips, the Honorable 
 Elijah Pogram looked round again.
 
 536 
 
 J]/A A' TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 "This morbid hatred of our Institutions," he observed, 
 " is quite a study for the psychological observer. He's alludin 
 to Repudiation now ! " 
 
 " Oh ! You may make anything an Institution if you like," 
 said Martin, laughing, " and I confess you had me there, for 
 you certainly have made that, one. But the greater part of 
 these things are one Institution with us, and we call it by the 
 generic name of Old Bailey ! " 
 
 The bell being rung for dinner at this moment, everybody 
 ran away into the cabin, whither the Honorable Elijah Pogram 
 fled with such precipitation that he forgot his umbrella was up, 
 and fixed it so tightly in the cabin door that it could neither 
 be let down nor got out. For a minute or so this accident 
 created a perfect rebellion among the hungry passengers be- 
 hind, who, seeing the dishes, and hearing the knives and forks 
 at work, well knew what would happen unless they got there 
 instantly, and were nearly mad ; while several virtuous citizens 
 at the table were in deadly peril of choking themselves in 
 their unnatural efforts to get rid of all the meat before these 
 others came. 
 
 They carried the umbrella by storm, however, and rushed 
 in at the breach. The Honorable Elijah Pogram and Martin 
 found themselves, after a severe struggle, side by side, as they 
 might have come together in the pit of a London theatre ; and 
 for four whole minutes afterwards, Pogram was snapping up 
 great blocks of everything he could get hold of, like a raven. 
 When he had taken this unusually protracted dinner, he began 
 to talk to Martin ; and begged him not to have the least deli- 
 cacy in speaking with perfect freedom to him, for he was a 
 calm philosopher. Which Martin was extremely glad to hear ; 
 for he had begun to speculate on Elijah being a disciple of 
 that other school of republican philosophy, whose noble senti- 
 ments are carved with knives upon a pupil s body, and written, 
 not with pen and ink, but tar and feathers. 
 
 "What do you think of my countrymen who are present, 
 sir .'' " inquired Elijah Pogram. 
 
 "Oh ! very pleasant," said Martin. 
 
 They were a very pleasant party. No man had spoken a 
 word ; every one had been intent, as usual, on his own private 
 gorging ; and the greater part of the company were decidedly 
 dirty feeders. 
 
 The Honorable Elijah Pogram looked at Martin as if he 
 thought "'You don't mean that, I know! " and he was soon 
 confirmed in this opinion.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLFAITT. 
 
 537 
 
 Sitting opposite to them was a gentleman in a high state 
 of tobacco, who wore quite a Httle beard, coniposed of the 
 overtiowings of that weed, as they had dried about his moutli 
 and chin ; so common an ornament that it would scarcely 
 have attracted Martin's observation, but that this good citizen, 
 burning to assert his equality against all comers, sucked his 
 knife for some moments, and made a cut with it at the butter, 
 just as Martin was in the act of taking some. There was a 
 juiciness about the deed that might have sickened a scavenger. 
 
 " When Elijah Pogram (to whom this was an every-day 
 incident) saw that Martin put the plate away, and took no 
 butter, he was quite delighted, and said, 
 
 " Well ! The morbid hatred of you British to the Institu- 
 tions of our country is as-TONishing ! " 
 
 " Upon my life ! " cried Martin, in his turn. " This is the 
 most wonderful community that ever existed. A man deliber- 
 ately makes a hog of himself, and that's an Institution ! " 
 
 "We have no time to acquire forms, sir," said Elijah 
 Pogram. 
 
 " Acquire ! " cried Martin. " But it's not a question of ac- 
 quiring anything. It's a question of losing the natural polite- 
 ness of a savage, and that instinctive good-breeding which 
 admonishes one man not to offend and disgust another. 
 Don't you think that man over the way, for instance, naturally 
 knows better, but considers it a very fine and independent 
 thing to be a brute in small matters ? " 
 
 " He is a na-tive of our country, and is nat-rally bright and 
 spry, of course," said Mr. Pogram. 
 
 " Now, observe what this comes to, Mr. Pogram," pursued 
 Martin. "The mass of your countrymen begin by stubbornly 
 neglecting little social observances, which have nothing to do 
 with gentility, custom, usage, government, or country, but are 
 acts of common, decent, natural, human politeness. You abet 
 them in this, by resenting all attacks upon their social offences 
 as if they were a beautiful national feature. Erom disregard- 
 ing small obligations they come in regular course to disregard 
 great ones ; and so refuse to pay their debts. What they may 
 do, or what they may refuse to do next, I don't know ; but 
 any man may see if he will, that it will be something following 
 in natural succession, and a part of one great growth, which is 
 rotten at the root." 
 
 The mind of Mr. Pogram was too philosophical to see 
 this ; so they went on deck again, where, resuming his former
 
 538 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 post, he chewed until he was in a lethargic state, amounting to 
 insensibility. 
 
 After a wear}- voyage of several days, they came again to 
 that same wharf where Mark had been so nearly left behind, 
 on the night of starting for Eden. Captain Kedgick, the land- 
 lord, was standing there, and was greatly surprised to see them 
 coming from the boat. 
 
 " Why, what the 'tarnal ! " cried the Captain. " Well ! I 
 do admire at this, I do ! " 
 
 "We can stay at your house until to-morrow, Captain, I 
 suppose ? " said Martin. 
 
 " I reckon you can stay there for a twelvemonth if you 
 like," retorted Kedgick coolly. "But our people won't best 
 like your coming back." 
 
 " Won't like" it. Captain Kedgick ! " said Martin. 
 "They did ex-pect you was a-going to settle," Kedgick 
 answered, as he shook his head. " They've been took in, you 
 can't deny ! " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Martin. 
 " You didn't ought to have received 'em," said the Cap- 
 tain. " No, you didn't ! " 
 
 "My good friend," returned Martin, "did I want to re- 
 ceive them ? Was it any act of mine ? Didn't you tell me 
 they would rile up, and that I should be flayed like a wild cat 
 — and threaten all kinds of vengeance, if I didn't receive 
 them ? " 
 
 " 1 don't know about that," returned the Captain. " But 
 when our people's frills is out, they're starched up pretty stiff, 
 I tell you ! " 
 
 With that he fell into the rear to walk with Mark, while 
 Martin and Elijah Pogram went on to the National. 
 " We've come back alive, you see ! " said Mark. 
 " It ain't the thing I did expect," the Captain grumbled, 
 " A man ain't got no right to be a public man, unless he 
 meets the public views. Our fashionable people wouldn't 
 have attended his le-vee, if they had know'd it." 
 
 Nothing mollified the Captain, who persisted in taking it 
 very ill that they had not both died in Eden. The boarders 
 at the National felt strongly on the subject too ; but it hap- 
 pened by good fortune that they had not much time to 
 think about this grievance, for it was suddenly determined to 
 pounce upon the Honorable Elijah Pogram, and give him a 
 le-vee forthwith.
 
 
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 I 

 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 53c; 
 
 As the general eveninp; meal of the house was over before the 
 arrival of the boat, Martin, Mark, and Pogram, were taking tea 
 and fixings at the public table hy themselves, when the depu- 
 tation entered, to announce this honor, consisting of six 
 gentlemen boarders, and a very shrill boy. 
 
 " Sir ! " said the spokesman. 
 
 " Mr. Pogram ! " cried the shrill boy. 
 
 The spokesman thus reminded of the shrill boy's presence, 
 introduced him. " Doctor Ginery Dunkle, sir. A gentleman 
 of great poetical elements. He has recently jined us here, 
 sir, and is an acquisition to us, sir, I do assure you. Yes, sir. 
 Mr. Jodd, sir. Mr. Izzard, sir. Mr. Julius Bib, sir." 
 
 " Julius Washington Merryweather Bib," said the gentle- 
 man himself to himself. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir. Excuse me. ]\Ir. Julius Wash- 
 ington Merryweather Bib, sir ; a gentleman in the lumber 
 line, sir, and much esteemed. Colonel Groper, sir. Pro-fes- 
 sor Piper, sir. My own name, sir, is Oscar Buffum." 
 
 Each man took one slide forward as he was named ; but- 
 ted at the Honorable Elijah Pogram with his head ; shook 
 hands, and slid back again. The introductions being com- 
 pleted, the spokesman resumed. 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " Mr. Pogram ! " cried the shrill boy. 
 
 " Perhaps," said the spokesman, with a hopeless look, you 
 will be so good. Dr. Ginery Dunkle, as to charge yourself with 
 the execution of our little ofihce, sir ? " 
 
 As there was nothing the shrill boy desired more, he im- 
 mediately stepped forward. 
 
 " Mr. Pogram ! Sir ! A handful Of your fellow-citizens, 
 sir, hearing Of your arrival at the National Hotel, and feeling, 
 the patriotic character Of your public services, wish, sir, to 
 have the gratification Of beholding you, and mixing with you 
 sir ; and unbending with you, sir, in those moments which — " 
 
 " Air," suggested Buffum. 
 
 "Which air so peculiarly the lot, sir. Of our great and 
 happy country." 
 
 " Hear ! " cried Colonel Groper, in a loud voice. " Good ! 
 Hear him ! Good ! " 
 
 "And therefore, sir," pursued the Doctor, "they request, 
 as A mark of their respect, the honor of your company at a 
 little le-Vee, sir, in the ladies' ordinary, at eight o'clock." 
 
 Mr. Pogram bowed, and said :
 
 2^0 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Fellow-countrymen ! " 
 
 " Good ! " cried the Colonel. " Hear him ! Good ! ' 
 
 Mr. Pogram bowed to the Colonel individually, and then 
 resumed : 
 
 " Your approbation of My labors in the common cause, 
 goes to My heart. At all times and in all places ; in the la- 
 dies' ordinary, My friends, and in the Battle Field — " 
 
 " Good, very good ! Hear him ! Hear him ! " said the 
 Colonel. 
 
 " The name Of Pogram will be proud to jine you. And 
 mav it. My friends, be written on My tomb, ' He was a mem- 
 ber of the Con-gress of our common country, and was ac-Tive 
 in his trust.' " 
 
 "The Com-mittee, sir," said the shrill boy, " will wait upon 
 you at five minutes afore eight. I take My leave, sir ! " 
 
 Mr. Pogram shook hands with him, and everybody else, 
 once more ; and when they came back again at five minutes 
 before eight, they said, one by one, in a melancholy voice, 
 " How do you do, sir ? " and shook hands with Mr. Pogram 
 all over again, as if he had been abroad for a twelvemonth in 
 the meantime, and they met, now, at a funeral. 
 
 But, by this time Mr. Pogram had freshened himself up, 
 and had composed his hair and features after the Pogram 
 statue, so that any one with half an e\'e might cry out, 
 " There he is ! as he delivered the Defiance .-" " The Com- 
 mittee were embellished also ; and when they entered the 
 ladies' ordniary in a body, there was much clapping of hands 
 from ladies and gentlemen, accompanied by cries of " Pogram ! 
 Pogram ! " and some standing up on chairs to see him. 
 
 The object of the popular caress looked round the room 
 as he walked up it, and smiled ; at the same time observing 
 to the shrill boy, that he knew something of the beauty of the 
 daughters of their common country, but had never seen it in 
 such lustre and perfection as at that moment. Which the 
 shrill boy put in the paper next day ; to Elijah Pogram's 
 great surprise. 
 
 " We will re-quest you, sir, if you please," said Buffum, 
 laying hands on Mr. Pogram as if he were taking his measure 
 for a coat, " to stand up with your back agin the wall right in 
 the furthest corner, that there may be more room for our fel- 
 low-cit-izens. If you could set your back right slap agin that 
 curtain-peg, sir, keeping your left leg everlastingly behind the 
 stove, we should be fixed quite slick."
 
 MAR TIN C MUZZLE IVIT^ ^ 4 1 
 
 Mr. Pogram did as he was told, and wedged himself into 
 such a little corner, that the Pogram statue wouldn't have 
 known him. 
 
 The entertainments of the evening then began. Gentle- 
 men brought ladies up, and brought themselves up, and 
 brought each other up ; and asked Elijah Pogram what he 
 thought of this political question, and what he thought of 
 that ; and looked at him, and looked at one another, and 
 seemed very unhappy indeed. The ladies on the chairs 
 looked at Elijah Pogram through their glasses, and said audi- 
 bly, " I wish he'd speak. Why don't he speak. Oh, do ask 
 him to speak ! " And Elijah Pogram looked sometimes at 
 the ladies and sometimes elsewhere, delivering senatorial 
 opinions, as he was asked for them. But the great end and 
 object of the meeting seemed to be, not to let Elijah Pogram 
 out of the corner on any account : so there they kept him, 
 hard and fast. 
 
 A great bustle at the door, in the course of the evening, 
 announced the arrival of some remarkable person ; and im- 
 mediately afterwards an elderly gentleman, much excited, was 
 seen to precipitate himself upon the crowd, and battle his 
 way towards the Monorable Elijah Pogram. Martin, who had 
 found a snug place of observation in a distant corner, where 
 he stood with Mark beside him (for he did not so often forget 
 him now as formerly, though he still did sometimes), thought 
 he knew this g-entleman, but had no doubt of it, when he cried 
 as loud as he could, with his eyes starting out of his head : 
 
 " Sir, Mrs. Hominy ! " 
 
 "Lord bless that woman, Mark. She has turned up 
 again ! " 
 
 "Here she comes, sir." answered Mr. Tapley. "Pogram 
 knows her. A public character ! Always got her eye upon 
 her country, sir ! If that there lady's husband is of my opin- 
 ion, what a jolly old gentleman he nmst be ! " 
 
 A lane was made, and Mrs. Hominy, with the aristocratic 
 stock, the pocket handkerchief, the clasped hands, and the 
 classical cap, came slowly up it, in a procession of one. Mr. 
 Pogram testified emotions of delight on seeing her, and a 
 general hush prevailed. For it was known that when a woman 
 like Mrs. Hominy encountered a man like Pogram, something 
 interesting must be said. 
 
 Their first salutations were exchanged in a voice too low 
 to reach the impatient ears of the throng \ but they soon be-
 
 5 42 'MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 came audible, for Mrs. Hominy felt her position, and knew 
 what was expected of her. 
 
 Mrs. H. was hard upon him at first, and put him through 
 a rigid catechism in reference to a certain vote he had given, 
 which she had found it necessar\', as the mother of the modern 
 Gracchi, to deprecate in a line by itself, set up expressly for 
 the purpose in German text. But Mr. Pogram evading it by 
 a well-timed allusion to the star-spangled banner, which, it 
 appeared, had the remarkable peculiarity of flouting the 
 breeze whenever it was hoisted where the wind blew, she 
 forgave him. They now enlarged on certain questions of 
 tariff, commercial treaty, boundary, importation and exporta- 
 tion, with great effect. And Mrs. Hominy not only talked, 
 as the saying is, like a book, but actually did talk her own 
 books, word for word. 
 
 " My ! what is this ? " cried Mrs. Hominy, opening a little 
 note which was handed her by her excited gentleman-usher, 
 " Do tell ! oh, well, now ! on'y think ! " 
 
 And then she read aloud, as follows : 
 
 " Two literary ladies present their compliments to the 
 mother of the modern Gracchi and claim her kind introduc- 
 tion, as their talented countrywoman, to the honorable (and 
 distinguished) Elijah Pogram, whom the two L. L.'s have 
 often contemplated in the speaking marble of the soul-subdu- 
 ing Chiggle. On a verbal intimation from the mother of the 
 M.G., that she will comply with the request of the two L. L.'s, 
 they will have the immediate pleasure of joining the galaxy 
 assembled to do honor to the patriotic conduct of a Pogram. 
 It may be another bond of union between the two L. L.'s and 
 the mother of the M. G. to observe, that the two L. L.'s are 
 Transcendental." 
 
 Mrs. Hominy promptly rose, and proceeded to the door, 
 whence she returned, after a short interval, with the two L. L.'s, 
 whom she led, through the lane in the crowd, with all that state- 
 liness of deportment which was so remarkably her own, up to 
 the great Elijah Pogram. It was (as the shrill boy cried 
 out in an ecstasy) quite the Last Scene from Coriolanus. 
 
 One of the L. L.'s wore a brown wig of uncommon size. 
 Sticking on the forehead of the other, by invisible means, 
 was a massi\'e cameo, in size and shape like the raspberrv' tart 
 which is ordinarily sold for a penny, representing on its 
 front the Capitol at Washington. 
 
 " Miss Toppit, and Miss Codger ! " said Mrs. Hominy.
 
 MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. ^43 
 
 " Codger's the lady so often mentioned in the EngUsh 
 newspapers, I should think, sir," whispered Mark. '" The 
 oldest inhabitant as never remembers anything." 
 
 " I'o be presented to a Pogram," said Miss Codger, "by 
 a Hominy, indeed, a thrilling moment is it in its impressive- 
 ness on what we call our feelings. But why we call them so, 
 or why impressed they are, or if impressed they are at all, or 
 if at all we are, or if there really is, oh gasping one ! a Pogram 
 or a Hominy, or any active principle to which we give those 
 titles, is a topic. Spirit searching, light abandoned, much too 
 vast to enter on, at this unlooked-for crisis." 
 
 "Mind and matter," said the lady in the wig, "glide 
 swift into the vortex of immensity. Howls the sublime, and 
 softly sleeps the calm Ideal, in the whispering chambers of 
 Imagination. To hear it, sweet it is. But then, outlaughs 
 the stern philosopher, and saith to the Grotesque, ' What ho ! 
 arrest for me that Agency. Go, bring it here ! ' And so the 
 vision fadeth." 
 
 After this, they both took Mr. Pogram by the hand, and 
 pressed it to their lips, as a patriotic palm. That homage 
 paid, the mother of the modern Gracchi called for chairs, and 
 the three literary ladies went to work in earnest, to bring 
 poor Pogram out, and make him show himself in all his bril- 
 liant colors. 
 
 How Pogram got out of his depth instantly, and how the 
 L. L.'s were never in theirs, is a piece of history not worth re- 
 cording. Suffice it, that being all four out of their depths, 
 and all unable to swim, they splashed upwards in all direc- 
 tions, and floundered about famously. On the whole, it was 
 considered to have been the severest mental exercise ever 
 heard in the National Hotel. Tears stood in the shrill boy's 
 eyes several times ; and the whole company observed that 
 their heads ached with the effort — as well they might. 
 
 When it at last became necessary to release f^lijah Pogram 
 from the corner, and the committee saw him safely back again 
 to the next room, they were fervent in their admiration. 
 
 " Which," said Mr. Buffum, " must have vent, or it will bust. 
 Toe you, Mr. Pogram, I am grateful. Toe-wards you, sir, I 
 am inspired with lofty veneration, and with deep e-mo-tion. 
 The sentiment Toe which I would propose to give ex-pression, 
 sir, is this : ' May you ever be as firm, sir, as your marble stat- 
 ter ! May it ever be as great a terror Toe its enemies as you.' " 
 
 There is some reason to suppose that it was rather terrible
 
 544 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 to its friends ; being a statue of the Elevated or Goblin 
 School, in which the Honorable Elijah Pogram was represented 
 as in very high wind, with his hair all standing on end, and 
 his nostrils blown wide open. But Mr. Pogram thanked his 
 friend and countryman for the aspiration to which he had 
 given utterance, and the Committee, after another solemn 
 shaking of hands, retired to bed, except the doctor, who imme- 
 diately repaired to the newspaper-office, and there wrote a short 
 poem suggested by the events of the evening, beginning with 
 fourteen stars, and headed, " A Fragment. Suggested by wit- 
 nessing the Honorable Elijah Pogram engaged in a philo- 
 sophical disputation with three of Columbia's fairest daugh- 
 ters. By Doctor Ginery Dunkle. Of Troy." 
 
 If Pogram was as glad to get to bed as Martin was, he 
 must have been well rewarded for his labors. They started 
 off again next day (Martin and Mark previously disposing of 
 their goods to the storekeepers of whom they had purchased 
 them for anything they would bring), and were fellow-trav- 
 ellers to within a short distance of New York. When Pogram 
 was about to leave them he grew thoughtful, and after ponder- 
 ing for some time, took Martin aside. 
 
 " We air all going to part, sir," said Pogram. 
 
 " Pray don't distress yourself," said Martin ; " we must 
 bear it." 
 
 " It ain't that, sir," returned Pogram, " not at all. But I 
 should wish you to accept a copy of My oration," 
 
 "Thank you," said Martin, "you are very good, I shall 
 be most happy." 
 
 " It ain't quite that, sir, neither," resumed Pogram : " air 
 you bold enough to introduce a copy into your country' ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Martin. " Why not t " 
 
 " It's sentiments air strong, sir," hinted Pogram, darkly, 
 
 " That makes no difference," said Martin. " I'll take a 
 dozen if you like." 
 
 " No sir," reported Pogram. "Not A dozen. That is 
 more than I require. If you are content to run the hazard, 
 sir, here is one for your Lord Chancellor," producing it, "and 
 one for Your principal Secretar}- of State. I should wish 
 them to see it, sir, as expressing what my opinions air. That 
 they may not plead ignorance at a future time. But don't 
 get into danger, sir, on my account ! " 
 
 " There is not the least danger, I assure you," said Martin. 
 So he put the pamphlets in his pocket, and they parted.
 
 MART/A' CHUZZLEWIT. 545 
 
 Mr. Bevan had written in Iiis letter that, at a certain time, 
 which fell out happily just then, he would be at a certain hotel 
 in the city, anxiously expecting to see them. To this place 
 they repaired without a moment's delay. They had the sat- 
 isfaction of finding him within ; and of being received, by 
 their good friend, with his own warmth and heartiness. 
 
 '' I am truly sorry and ashamed," said Martin, " to have 
 begged of you. But look at us. See what we are, and judge 
 to what we are reduced ! " 
 
 "So far from claiming to have done you any service," re- 
 turned the other, " I reproach myself with having been, un- 
 wittingly, the original cause of your misfortunes. I no more 
 supposed you would go to Eden on such representation as 
 you received ; or, indeed, that you would do anything but be 
 dispossessed, by the readiest means, of your idea that for- 
 tunes were so 'easily made here, than I thought of going to 
 Eden myself." 
 
 " The fact is, I closed with the thing in a mad and san- 
 guine manner," said Martin, "and the less said about it the 
 better for me. Mark, here, hadn't a \'oice in the matter." 
 
 "Well! But he hadn't a voice in any other matter, had 
 he ? " returned Mr. Bevan, laughing with an air that showed 
 his understanding of Mark and Martin too. 
 
 " Not a very powerful one, I am afraid," said Martin with 
 a blush. " But live and learn, Mr. Bevan ! Nearly die and 
 learn : and we learn the quicker." 
 
 " Now," said their friend, " about your plans. You mean 
 to return home at once ? " 
 
 "Oh, I think so," returned Martin hastily, for he turned 
 pale at the thought of any other suggestion. " That is your 
 opinion too, I hope ? " 
 
 " Unquestionably. For I don't know why you ever came 
 here ; though it's not such an unusual case, I am sorry to say, 
 that we need go any farther into that. You don't know that 
 the ship in which you came over, with our friend General 
 Fladdock, is in port, of course .'' " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Martin. 
 
 " Yes. And is advertised to sail to-morrow." 
 
 This was tempting news, but tantalizing too, for Martin 
 knew that his getting any employment on board a ship of that 
 class was hopeless. The money in liis pocket would not pay 
 one-fourth of the sum he had alreadv borrowed, and if it had 
 been enough for their passage-money, he could hardly have 
 
 35
 
 5 46 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 resolved to spend it. He explained this to Mr. Bevan, and 
 stated what their project was. 
 
 " Why, that's as wild as Eden every bit," returned his friend. 
 " You must take your passage like a Christian ; at least, as 
 like a Christian as a fore-cabin passenger can ; and owe me 
 a few more dollars than you intend. If Mark will go down to 
 the ship and see what passengers there are, and finds that you 
 can go in her, without being actually suffocated, my advice is, 
 go ! You and I will look about us in the meantime (we won't 
 call at the Norris's unless you like), and we will all three dine 
 together in the afteraoon." 
 
 Martin had nothing to express but gratitude, and so it was 
 arranged. But he went out of the room after Mark, and ad- 
 vised him to take their passage in the Screw, though they lay 
 upon the bare deck, which Mr. Tapley, who needed no en- 
 treaty on the subject, readily promised to do. 
 
 When he and Martin met again, and were alone, he was 
 in high spirits, and evidently had something to communicate, 
 in which he gloried very much. 
 
 " I've done Mr. Bevan, sir," said Mark. 
 
 " Done Mr. Bevan ! " repeated Martin. 
 
 " The cook of the Screw went and got married yesterday, 
 sir," said Mr. Tapley. 
 
 Martin looked at him for farther explanation. 
 
 " And when I got on board, and the word was passed that 
 it was me," said Mark, " the mate he comes and asks me 
 whether I'd engage to take this said cook's place upon the 
 passage home. ' For you're used to it,' he says, ' you were 
 always a cooking for everybody on your passage out.' And so 
 I was," said Mark, "although I never cooked before, I'll take 
 my oath." 
 
 " What did you say ? " demanded Martin, 
 
 "Say!" cried Mark. "That I'd take anything I could 
 get. ' If that's so,' says the mate, ' why, bring a glass of rum ; ' 
 which they brought according. And my wages, sir," said 
 Mark in high glee " pays your passage ; and I've put the roll- 
 ing-pin in your berth to take it (it's the easy one up in the 
 corner) ; and there we are. Rule Britannia, and Britons strike 
 home ! " 
 
 " There never was such a good fellow as you are ! " cried 
 Martin, seizing him by the hand. " But what do you mean 
 by ' doing ' Mr. Bevan, Mark >. " 
 
 " Why, don't you see," said, Mark. "We don't tell him,
 
 MAR TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 547 
 
 you know. We take his money, but we don't spend it, and 
 we don't keep it. What we do is, write him a Httle note, ex- 
 plaining this engagement, and roll it up, and leave it at the 
 bar, to be given to him after we are gone. Don't you see ? " 
 
 Martin's delight in this idea was not inferior to Mark's. 
 It was all done as he proposed. They passed a cheerful 
 evening, slept at the hotel, left the letter as arranged, and 
 went off to the ship betimes next morning, with such light 
 hearts, as the weight of their past miseries engendered. 
 
 " Good-by ! a hundred thousand times good-by ! " said 
 Martin to their friend. " How shall I remember all your kind- 
 ness ! How shall I ever thank you ! " 
 
 " If you ever become a rich man, or a powerful one," re- 
 turned his friend, " you shall tiy to make your Government 
 more careful of its subjects when they roam abroad to live. 
 Tell it what you know of emigration in your own case, and 
 impress upon it how much suffering may be prevented with a 
 little pains ! " 
 
 Cheerily lads, cheerily ! Anchor weighed. Ship in full 
 sail. Her sturdy bowsprit pointed true to England. America 
 a cloud upon the sea behind them ! 
 
 " Why, Cook ? what are you thinking of so steadily? " said 
 Martin. 
 
 " Why, I was a thinking, sir," returned Mark, " that if I was 
 a painter and was called upon to paint the American Eagle, 
 how should I do it .■' " 
 
 " Paint it as like an Eagle as you could, I suppose." 
 
 "No," said Mark. "That wouldn't do for me, sir. I 
 should want to draw it like a Bat, for its short-sightedness ; 
 like a Bantam, for its bragging ; like a Magpie, for its , hon- 
 esty ; like a Peacock, for its vanity ; like an Ostrich, for its 
 putting its head in the mud, and thinking nobody sees it — "' 
 
 " And like a Phoenix, for its power of springing from the 
 ashes of its faults and vices, and soaring up anew into the 
 sky ! " said Martin. " Well, Mark. Let us hope so."
 
 548 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 \ CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ARRIVING IN ENGLAND, MARTIN WITNESSES A CEREMONY, FROM 
 WHICH HE DERIVES THE CHEERING INFORMATION THAT HE 
 HAS NOT BEEN FORGOTTEN IN HIS ABSENCE. 
 
 It was mid-day, and high water in the English port for 
 which the Screw was bound, when, borne in gallantly upon the 
 fullness of the tide, she let go her anchor in the river. 
 
 Bright as the scene was ; fresh, and full of motion ; air}', 
 free, and sparkling ; it was nothing to the life and exultation 
 in the breasts of the two travellers, at sight of the old 
 churches, roofs, and darkened chimney stacks of Home. The 
 distant roar, that swelled up hoarsely from the busy streets, 
 was music in their ears ; the lines of people gazing from the 
 wharves, were friends held dear ; the canopy of smoke that 
 overhung the town, was brighter and more beautiful to them, 
 than if the richest silks of Persia had been waving in the air. 
 And though the water, going on its glistening track, turned, 
 ever and again, aside, to dance and sparkle round great ships, 
 and heave them up ; and leaped from off the blades of oars, 
 a shower of diving diamonds ; and wantoned with the idle 
 boats, and swiftly passed, in many a sportive chase, through 
 obdurate old iron rings, set deep into the stone-work of the 
 quays ; not even it was half so buoyant, and so restless, as 
 their fluttering hearts, when yearning to set foot, once more, 
 on native ground. 
 
 A year had passed since those same spires and roofs had 
 faded from their eyes. It seemed, to them, a dozen years. 
 Some trifling changes, here and there, they called to mind ; 
 and wondered that they were so few and slight. In health 
 and fortune, prospect and resource, they came back poorer 
 men than they had gone away. But it was home. And 
 though home is a name, a word, it is a strong one ; stronger 
 than magician ever spoke, or spirit answered to, in strongest 
 conjuration. 
 
 Being set ashore, with ver>- little money in their pockets, 
 and no definite plan of operation in their heads, they sought 
 out a cheap tavern, where they regaled upon a smoking steak, 
 and certain flowing mugs of beer, as only men just landed
 
 MA R TIN ClfUZZLE WIT. 5 4g 
 
 from the sea can revel in the generous dainties of the earth. 
 When they had feasted, as two grateful-tempered giants might 
 have done, they stirred the fire, drew back the glowing cur- 
 tain from the window, and making each a sofa for himself, by 
 union of the great unwieldly chairs, gazed blissfully into the 
 street. 
 
 Even the street was made a fairy street, by being half hid- 
 den in an atmosphere of steak, and strong, stout, stand-up 
 English beer. For, on the window-glass hung such a mist, 
 that Mr. Tapley was obliged to rise and wipe it with his hand- 
 kerchief, before the passengers appeared like common mortals. 
 And even then, a spiral little cloud went curling up from 
 their two glasses of hot grog, which nearly hid them from each 
 other. 
 
 It was one of those unaccountable little rooms which are 
 never seen anywhere but in a tavern, and are supposed to 
 have got into taverns by reason of the facilities afforded to 
 the architect for getting drunk while engaged in their con- 
 struction. It had more corners in it than the brain of an 
 obstinate man ; was full of mad closets, into which nothing 
 could be put that was not specially invented and made for 
 that purpose ; had mysterious shelvings and bulk-heads, and 
 indications of staircases in the ceiling ; and was elaborately 
 provided with a bell that rung in the room itself, about two 
 feet from the handle, and had no connection whatever with 
 any other part of the establishment. It was a little below the 
 pavement, and abutted close upon it ; so that passengers 
 grated against the window panes with their buttons, and 
 scraped it with their baskets ; and fearful boys suddenly com- 
 ing between a thoughtful guest and the light, derided him, or 
 put out their tongues as if he were a physician ; or made white 
 knobs on the ends of their noses by flattening the same 
 against the glass, and vanished awfully, like spectres. 
 
 Martin and Mark sat looking at the people as they passed, 
 debating ever}' now and then, what their first step should be. 
 
 " We want to see Miss Mary, of course," said Mark. 
 
 " Of course," said Martin. " But I don't know where she 
 is. Not having had the heart to write in our distress — you 
 yourself thought silence most advisable — and consequently, 
 never having heard from her since we left New York the first 
 time, I don't know where she is, my good fellow." 
 
 " My opinion is, sir," returned Mark, " that what we've got 
 to do, is to trave straight to the Dragon. There's no need
 
 55° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 for you to go there, where you're known, unless you like. 
 You may stop ten mile short of it. I'll go on. Mrs. Lupin 
 will tell me all the news. Mr. Pinch will give me every infor- 
 mation that we want, and right glad Mr. Pinch will be to do 
 it. My proposal is : To set off walking this afternoon. To 
 stop when we are tired. To get a lift when we can. To walk 
 when we can't. To do it at once, and do it cheap." 
 
 " Unless we do it cheap, we shall have some difficulty in 
 doing it at all," said Martin, jDuUing out the bank, and telling 
 it over in his hand. 
 
 "The greater reason for losing no time, sir," replied 
 Mark. " Whereas, when you've seen the young lady, and 
 know what state of mind the old gentleman's in, and all about 
 it, then you'll know what to do next." 
 
 " No doubt," said Martin. " You are quite right." 
 
 They were raising their glasses to their lips, when their 
 hands stopped midway, and their gaze v/as arrested by a 
 figure which slowly, very slowly, and reflectively, passed the 
 window at that moment. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff. Placid, calm, but proud. Honestly proud. 
 Dressed with peculiar care, smiling with even more than usual 
 blandness, pondering on the beauties of his art with a mild 
 abstraction from all sordid thoughts, and gently travelling 
 across the disc, as if he were a figure in a magic lantern. 
 
 As Mr Pecksniff passed, a person coming in the opposite 
 direction stopped to look after him with great interest and 
 respect, almost with veneration ; and the landlord bouncing 
 out of the house, as if he had seen him too, joined this person, 
 and spoke to him, and shook his head gravely, and looked- 
 after Mr. Pecksniff likewise. 
 
 Martin and Mark sat staring at each other, as if they 
 could not believe it ; but there stood the landlord, and the 
 other man still. In spite of the indignation with which this 
 glimpse of Mr. Pecksniff had inspired him, Martin could not 
 help laughing heartily. Neither could Mark. 
 
 " We must inquire into this ! " said Martin. " Ask the 
 landlord in, Mark." 
 
 Mr. Tapley retired for that purpose, and immediately re- 
 turned with their large-headed host in safe convoy. 
 
 " Pray, landlord ! " said Martin, " who is that gentleman 
 who passed just now, and whom you were looking after ? " 
 
 The landlord poked the fire as if, in his desire to make the 
 most of his answer, he had become indifferent even to the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 551 
 
 price of coals, and putting his hands in his pockets, said, after 
 inflating himself to give still further effect to his reply : 
 
 " That, gentlemen, is the great Mr. PecksnifiE ! The cele- 
 brated architect, gentlemen ! " 
 
 He looked from one to the other while he said it, as if he 
 were ready to assist the first man who might be overcome by 
 the intelligence. 
 
 " The great Mr. Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentle- 
 men," said the landlord, " has come down here, to help to lay 
 the first stone of a new and splendid public building." 
 
 " Is it to be built from his designs?" asked Martin. 
 
 " The great Mr. Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gen- 
 tlemen," returned the landlord, who seemed to have an 
 unspeakable delight in the repetition of these words, " carried 
 off the First Premium, and will erect the building." 
 
 " Who lays the stone ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " Our member has come down express," returned the land- 
 lord. " No scrubs would do for no such a purpose. Nothing 
 less would satisfy our Directors than our member in the House 
 of Commons, who is returned upon the Gentlemanly Interest." 
 
 "What interest is that ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " What, don't you know ! " returned the landlord. 
 
 It was quite clear the landlord didn't. They always told 
 him at election time, that it was the Gentlemanly side, and he 
 immediately put on his top-boots, and voted for it. 
 
 " When does the ceremony take place ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " This day," replied the landlord. Then pulling out his 
 watch, he added, impressively, " almost this minute." 
 
 Martin hastily inquired whether there was any possibility 
 
 •of getting in to witness it, and finding that there would be 
 
 no objection to the admittance of any decent person, unless 
 
 indeed the ground were full, hurried off with Mark, as hard 
 
 as they could go. 
 
 They were fortunate enough to squeeze themselves into a 
 famous corner on the ground, where they could see all that 
 passed, without much dread of being beheld by Mr. Peck- 
 sniff in return. They were not a minute too soon, for as 
 they were in the act of congratulating each other, a great 
 noise was heard at some distance, and ever\'body looked to- 
 wards the gate. Several ladies prepared their pocket hand- 
 kerchiefs for waving ; and a stray teacher belonging to the 
 charit}^ school being much cheered by mistake, was immensely 
 groaned at when detected.
 
 252 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 " Perhaps he has Tom Pinch with him," Martin whispered 
 Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " It would be rather too much of a treat for him, wouldn't 
 it, sir ? " whispered Mr. Tapley in return. 
 
 There was no time to discuss the probabilities either way, 
 for the charity school, in clean linen, came tiling in two and 
 two, so much to the self-approval of all the people present 
 who didn't subscribe to it, that many of them shed tears. A 
 band of music followed, led by a conscientious drummer who 
 never left off. Then came a great many gentlemen with wands 
 in their hands, and bows on their breasts, whose share in the 
 proceedings did not appear to be distinctly laid down, and 
 who trod upon each other, and blocked up the entry for a 
 considerable period. These were followed by the Mayor and 
 Corporation, all clustering round the member for the Gen- 
 tlemanly Interest, who had the great Mr. Pecksniff, the 
 celebrated architect, on his right hand, and conversed with 
 him familiarly as they came along. Then the ladies waved 
 their handkerchiefs, and the gentlemen their hats, and the 
 charity children shrieked, and the member for the Gentle- 
 manly Interest bowed. 
 
 Silence being restored, the member for the Gentlemanly 
 Interest rubbed his hands and wagged his head, and looked 
 about him pleasantly ; and there was nothing this member 
 did, at which some lady or other did not burst into an ecstatic 
 waving of her pocket handkerchief. When he looked up at 
 the stone, they said how graceful ! when he peeped into the 
 hole, they said how condescending ! when he chatted with 
 the Mayor, they said how easy ! when he folded his arms 
 they cried with one accord, how statesman-like ! 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was observed too ; closely. When he talked 
 to the Mayor, they said. Oh, really, what a courtly man he 
 was ! When he laid his hand upon the mason's shoulder, 
 giving him directions, how pleasant his demeanor to the work- 
 ing classes : just the sort of man who made their toil a pleas- 
 ure to them, poor dear souls ! 
 
 But now a silver trowel was brought ; and when the mem- 
 ber for the Gentlemanly Interest, tucking up his coat-sleeve, 
 did a little slight-of-hand with the mortar, the air was rent, so 
 loud was the applause. The workman-like manner in which 
 he did it was amazing. No one could conceive where such a 
 gentlemanly creature could have picked the knowledge up. 
 
 When he had made a kind of dirt-pie under the direction
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 553 
 
 of the mason, they brought a little vase contain uig coins, 
 the which the member of the Gentlemanly Interest jingled, as 
 if he were going to conjure. Whereat they said how droll, 
 how cheerful, what a flow of spirits ! This put into its place, 
 an ancient scholar read the inscription, which was in Latin : 
 not in English : that would never do. It gave great satisfac- 
 tion ; especially every time there was a good long substantive 
 in the third declension, ablative case, with an adjective to 
 match ; at which periods the assembly became very tender, 
 and were much affected. 
 
 And now the stone was lowered down into its place, amidst 
 the shouting of the concourse. When it was firmly fixed, the 
 member for the Gentlemanly Interest struck upon it thrice 
 with the handle of the trowel, as if inquiring, with a touch of 
 humor, whether anybody was at home. Mr. Pecksniff then 
 unrolled his Plans (prodigious plans they were), and people 
 gathered round to look at and admire them. 
 
 Martin, who had been fretting himself — quite unnecessarily, 
 as Mark thought — during the whole of these proceedings, 
 could no longer restrain his impatience ; but stepping for- 
 ward among several others, looked straight o\er the shoulder 
 of the unconscious Mr. Pecksniff, at the designs and plans he 
 had unrolled. He returned to Mark, boiling with rage. 
 
 "Why, what's the matter, sir.? " cried Mark. 
 
 " Matter ! This is wv building." 
 
 " Your building, sir ! " said Mark. 
 
 " My grammar-school. I invented it. I did it all. He 
 has only put four windows in, the villain, and spoilt it ! " 
 
 Mark could hardly believe it at first, but being assured that 
 it was really so, actually held him to prevent his interference 
 foolishly, until his temporary heat was past. In the meantime, 
 the member addressed the company on the gratifying deed 
 which he had just performed. 
 
 He said that since he had sat in Parliament to represent 
 the Gentlemanly Interest of that town, and he might add, the 
 Lady Interest he hoped, besides (pocket handkerchiefs), it 
 had been his pleasant duty to come among them, and to raise 
 his voice on their behalf in Another Place (pocket handker- 
 chiefs and laughter), often. But he had never come among 
 them, and had never raised his voice, with half such pure, 
 such deep, such unalloyed delight, as now. "The present oc- 
 casion," he said, "wille\erbe memorable to me; not only 
 for the reasons I have assigned, but because it has afforded
 
 ^54 ^^^ ^ ^^^ CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 me an opportunity of becoming personally known to a gentle- 
 man — " 
 
 Here he pointed the trowel at Mr. Pecksniff, who was 
 greeted with vociferous cheering, and laid his hand upon his 
 heart. 
 
 " To a gentleman who, I am happy to believe, will reap 
 both distinction and profit from this field : whose fame had 
 previously penetratecl to me — as to whose ears has it not ! — 
 but whose intellectual countenance I never had the distin- 
 guished honor to behold until this day, and whose intellectual 
 conversation I had never before the improving pleasure to 
 enjoy." 
 
 Everybody seemed very glad of this, and applauded more 
 than ever. 
 
 " But I hope my Honorable Friend," said the Gentlemanly 
 member — of course he added " if he will allow me to call him 
 so," and of course Mr. Pecksniff bowed — " will give me many 
 opportunities of cultivating the knowledge of him ; and that 
 I may have the extraordinary gratification of retiecting in after 
 time that I laid on this day two first stones, both belonging to 
 structures which shall last my life ! " 
 
 Great cheering again. AH this time, Martin was cursing 
 Mr. Pecksniff up hill and down dale. 
 
 " My friends ! " said Mr. Pecksniff", in reply. " My duty 
 is to build, not speak ; to act, not talk ; to deal with marble, 
 stone, and brick : not language. I am veiy much affected. 
 God bless you ! " 
 
 This address, pumped out apparently from Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's very heart, brought the enthusiasm to its highest pitch. 
 The pocket handkerchiefs were waved again ; the charity chil- 
 dren were admonished to grow up Pecksniffs, every boy among 
 them ; the Corporation, gentlemen with wands, member for 
 the Gentlemanly Interest, all cheered for Mr. Pecksniff. Three 
 cheers for Mr. Pecksniff ! Three more for Mr. Pecksniff ! 
 Three more for Mr. Pecksniff, gentlemen, if you please ! One 
 more, gentlemen, for Mr. Pecksniff, and let it be a good one 
 to finish with ! 
 
 In short, Mr. Pecksniff was supposed to have done a great 
 work, and was very kindly, courteously, and generously re- 
 warded. When the procession mo\^ed away, and Martin and 
 Mark were left almost alone upon the ground, his merits, and 
 a desire to acknowledge them, formed the common topic. He 
 was only second to the Gentlemanly member.
 
 MARTLV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 555 
 
 •* Compare that fellow's situation to-day with ours ! " said 
 Martin, bitterly. 
 
 " Lord bless you, sir ! " cried Mark, " what's the use ? 
 Some architects are clever at making foundations, and some 
 architects are clever at building on 'em when they're made. 
 But it'll all come right in the end, sir ; it'll all come right ! " 
 
 " And in the meantime — " began Martin. 
 
 " In the meantime, as you say, sir, we have a deal to do, 
 and far to go. So sharp's the word, and Jolly ! " 
 
 " You are the best master in the world, Mark," said Martin, 
 " and I will not be a bad scholar if I can help it, 1 am resolved ! 
 So come ! Best foot foremost, old fellow ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVL 
 
 TOM PINCH DEPARTS TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE. WHAT HE FINDS 
 
 AT STARTING. 
 
 Oh ! what a different town Salisbury was in Tom Pinch's 
 eyes to be sure, when the substantial Pecksniff of his heart 
 melted away into an idle dream ! He possessed the same 
 faith in the wonderful shops, the same intensified appreciation 
 of the mystery and wickedness of the place ; made the same 
 exalted estimate of its wealth, population, and resources ; and 
 yet it was not the old city nor anything like it. He walked 
 into the market while they were getting breakfast ready for 
 him at the Inn ; and though it was the same market as of 
 old, crowded by the same buyers and sellers ; brisk with the 
 same business ; noisy with the same confusion of tongues and 
 cluttering of fowls in coops ; fair with the same display of 
 rolls of butter, newly made, set forth in linen cloths of dazzling 
 whiteness ; green with the same fresh show of dewy vegetables ; 
 dainty with the same array in higglers' baskets of small shaving- 
 glasses, laces, braces, trouser-straps, and hardware ; savory 
 with the same unstinted show of delicate pigs' feet, and pies 
 made precious by the pork that once had walked upon them : 
 still it was strangely changed to Tom. For, in the centre of 
 the market-place, he missed a statue lie had set up there, as in 
 all other places of his personal resort : and it looked cold and 
 bare without that ornament.
 
 556 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 The change lay no deeper than this, for Tom was far from 
 being sage enough to know, that, having been disappointed in 
 one man, it would have been a strictly rational and eminently 
 wise proceeding to have revenged himself upon mankind in 
 general, by mistrusting them one and all. Indeed this piece 
 of justice, though it is upheld by the authority of divers profound 
 poets and honorable men, bears a nearer resemblance to the 
 justice of that good Vizier in the Thousand-and-one Nights, who 
 issues orders for the destruction of all the Porters in Bag;dad 
 because one of that unfortunate fraternity is supposed to have 
 misconducte^l himself, than to any logical, not to say Christian 
 system of conduct, known to the world in later times. 
 
 Tom had so long been used to steep the Pecksniff of his 
 fancy in his tea, and spread him out upon his toast, and take 
 him as a relish with his beer, that he made but a poor break- 
 fast on the first morning after his expulsion. Nor did he much 
 improve his appetite for dinner by seriously considering his 
 own affairs, and taking counsel thereon with his friend the 
 organist's assistant. 
 
 The organist's assistant gave it as his decided opinion that 
 whatever Tom did, he must go to London ; for there was no 
 place like it. Which may be true in the main, though hardly, 
 perhaps, in itself, a sufficient reason for Tom's going there. 
 
 But Tom had thought of London before, and had coupled 
 with it thoughts of his sister, and of his old friend John West- 
 lock, whose advice he naturally felt disposed to seek in this 
 important crisis of his fortunes. To London, therefore, he 
 resolved to go ; and he went away to the coach-office at once, 
 to secure his place. The coach being already full, he was 
 obliged to postpone his departure until the next night ; but 
 even this circumstance had its bright side as well as its dark 
 one, for though it threatened to reduce his poor purse with 
 unexpected countiy-charges, it afforded him an opportunity of 
 writing to Mrs. Lupin and appointing his box to be brought 
 to the old finger-post at the old time ; which would enable 
 him to take that treasure with him to the metropolis, and save 
 the expense of its carriage. " So," said Tom, comforting him- 
 self, "it's very nearly as broad as it's long." 
 
 And it cannot be denied that, when he had made up his 
 mind to even this extent, he felt an unaccustomed sense of 
 freedom — a vague and indistinct impression of hoHday-making 
 — which was very luxurious. He had his moments of depres- 
 sion and anxiety, and they were, with good reason, pretty nu-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 557 
 
 merous ; but still, it was wonderfully pleasant to reflect that 
 he was his own master, and could plan and scheme for him- 
 self. It was startling, thrilling, vast, difticult to understand ; 
 it was a stupendous truth, teeming with responsibility and self- 
 distrust ; but, in spite of all his cares, it gave a curious relish 
 to the viands at the Inn, and interposed a dreamy haze be- 
 tween him and his prospects, in which they sometimes showed 
 to magical advantage. 
 
 In this unsettled state of mind, Tom went once more to 
 bed in the low four-poster, to the same immovable surprise of 
 the efifigies of the former landlord and the fat ox ; and in this 
 condition, passed the whole of the succeeding day. When 
 the coach came round at last, with " London " blazoned in 
 letters of gold upon the boot, it gave Tom such a turn, that 
 he was half disposed to run away. But he didn't do it ; for 
 he took his seat upon the box instead, and looking down upon 
 the four grays, felt as if he was another gray himself, or, at all 
 events, a part of the turn-out ; and was quite confused by the 
 novelty and splendor of his situation. 
 
 And really it might have confused a less modest man than 
 Tom to find himself sitting next that coachman ; for of all the 
 swells that ever flourished a whip, professionally, he might 
 have been elected emperor. He didn't handle his gloves like 
 another man, but put them on — even when he was standing 
 on the pavement, quite detached from the coach — as if the 
 four grays were, somehow or other, at the ends of the fingers. 
 It was the same with his hat. He did things with his hat, 
 which nothing but an unlimited knowledge of horses and the 
 wildest freedom of the road, could ever have made him per- 
 fect in. Valuable little parcels were brought to him with par- 
 ticular instructions, and he pitched them into this hat, and 
 stuck it on again ; as if the laws of gravity did not admit of 
 such an event as its being knocked off or blown ofT, and noth- 
 ing like an accident could befall it. The guard, too ! Seventy 
 breezy miles a-day were written in his very whiskers. His 
 manners were a canter ; his conversation a round trot. He 
 was a fast coach upon a down-hill turnpike road ; he was all 
 pace. A wagon couldn't have moved slowly, with that guard 
 and his key-bugle on the top of it. 
 
 These were all foreshadowings of London, Tom thought, 
 as he sat upon the box, and looked about him. Such a coach- 
 man, and such a guard, never could have existed between 
 Salisbury and any other place. The coach was none of your
 
 5SS 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 steady-going, yokel coaches, but a swaggering, rakish, dissi- 
 pated London coach ; up all night, and lying by all day, and 
 leading a devil of a life. It cared no more for Salisbury 
 than if it had been a hamlet. It rattled noisily through the 
 best streets, defied the Cathedral, took the worst corners 
 sharpest, went cutting in everywhere, making ever^'thing get 
 out of its way ; and spun along the open countr)'-road, 
 blowing a lively defiance out of its key-bugle, as its last glad 
 parting legacy. 
 
 It was a charming evening. Mild and bright. And even 
 with the weight upon his mind which arose out of the immen- 
 sity and uncertainty of London, Tom could not resist the cap- 
 tivating sense of rapid motion through the pleasant air. The 
 four grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well as 
 Tom did ; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays ; the 
 coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice ; the wheels 
 hummed cheerfullv in unison ; the brass work on the harness 
 was an orchestra of little bells ; and thus, as they went clink- 
 ing, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole concern, from 
 the buckles of the leaders' coupling-reins, to the handle of the 
 hind boot, was one great instrument of music. 
 
 Yoho, past hedges, gates, and trees ; past cottages and 
 Darns, and people going home from work. Yoho, past donkey- 
 chaises, drawn aside into the ditch, and empty carts with ram- 
 pant horses, whipped up at a bound upon the little water- 
 course, and held by struggling carters close to the li\'e-barred 
 gate, until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the 
 road. Yoho, by churches dropped down by themselves in 
 quiet nooks, with rustic burial-grounds about them, where the 
 graves are green, and daisies sleejD — for it is evening — on the 
 bosoms of the dead. Yoho, past streams, in which the cattle 
 cool their feet, and where the rushes grow ; past paddock- 
 fences, farms and rick -yards ; past last year's stacks, cut, 
 slice by slice, away, and showing, in the waning light, like 
 ruined gables, old and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip, 
 and through the merry water-splash, and up at a canter to the 
 level road again. Yoho ! Yoho ! 
 
 Was the box there, when they came up to the old finger- 
 post ? The box ! Was Mrs. Lupin herself.? Had she turned 
 out magnificently as a hostess should, in her own chaise-cart, 
 and was she sitting in a mahogany chair, driving her own 
 horse Dragon (who ought to have been called Dumpling), and 
 looking lovely .? Did the stage-coach pull up beside her.
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 559 
 
 shaving her very wheel, and even while the guard helped her 
 man up with the trunk, did he send the glad echoes of his bugle 
 careering down the chimneys of the distant Pecksniff, as if 
 the coach expressed its exultation in the rescue of Tom 
 Pinch ? 
 
 " This is kind indeed ! " said Tom, bending down to shake 
 hands with her. " I didn't mean to give you this trouble." 
 
 " Trouble, Mr. Pinch I " cried the hostess of the Dragon. 
 
 " Well ! It's a pleasure to you, I know," said Tom, squeez- 
 ing her hand heartily. " Is there any news ? " 
 
 The hostess shook her head. 
 
 " Say you saw me," said Tom, " and that I was very bold 
 and cheerful, and not a bit down-hearted ; and that I entreated 
 her to be the same, for all is certain to come right at last. 
 Good-by ! " 
 
 " You'll write when you get settled, Mr. Pinch 1 " said 
 Mrs. Lupin. 
 
 " When I get settled ! " cried Tom, with an involuntary 
 opening of his eyes. "Oh, yes, I'll write when I get settled. 
 Perhaps 1 had better write before, because I may find that it 
 takes a little time to settle myself, not having too much money, 
 and having only one friend. I shall give your love to the 
 friend, by the way. You were always great with Mr. West- 
 lock, you know. Good-by ! " 
 
 " Good-by ! " said Mrs. Lupin, hastily producing a basket 
 with a long bottle sticking out of it. " Take this. Good- 
 by ! " 
 
 " Do you want me to carry it to London for you ? " cried 
 Tom. She was already turning the chaise-cart round. 
 
 " No, no," said Mrs. Lupin. " It's only a little some- 
 thing for refreshment on the road. Sit fast. Jack. Drive on, 
 sir. All right ! Good-by ! " 
 
 She was a quarter of a mile off, before Tom collected 
 himself ; and then he was waving his hand lustily ; and so 
 was she. 
 
 " And that's the last of the old finger-post," thought Tom, 
 straining his eyes, " where I have so often stood, to see this 
 very coach go by, and where I have parted with so many 
 companions ! I used to conijjare this coach to some great 
 monster that appeared at certain times to bear my friends 
 away into the world. And now it's bearing me away, to seek 
 my fortune. Heaven knows where and how ! " 
 
 It made Tom melancholy to picture himself walking up
 
 56o 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 the lane and back to Pecksniff's as of old ; and, being melan- 
 choly, he looked downwards at the basket on his knee, which 
 he had for the moment forgotten. 
 
 " She .8 the kindest and most considerate creature in the 
 world," thought Tom. " Now I know that she particularly 
 told that man of hers not to look at me, on purpose to prevent 
 my throwing him a shilling ! I had it ready for him all the 
 time, and he never once looked towards me ; whereas that 
 man naturally (for I know him very well), would have done 
 nothing but grin and stare. Upon my word, the kindness of 
 people perfectly melts me." 
 
 Here he caught the coachman's eye. The coachman 
 winked. " Remarkable fine woman for her time of life," said 
 the coachman. 
 
 " I quite agree with you," returned Tom. " So she is." 
 
 " Finer than many a young 'un, I mean to say," observed 
 the coachman. " Eh ? " 
 
 "Than many a young one," Tom assented. 
 
 " I don't care for 'em myself when they're too young," re- 
 marked the coachman. 
 
 This was a matter of taste, which Tom did not feel himself 
 called upon to discuss. 
 
 " You'll seldom find 'em possessing correct opinions about 
 refreshment, for instance, when they're too young, you know," 
 said the coachman : " a woman must have arrived at maturity, 
 before her mind's equal to coming provided with a basket like 
 that." 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to know what it contains ? " said 
 Tom, smiling. 
 
 As the coachman only laughed, and as Tom was curious 
 himself, he unpacked it, and put the articles, one by one, 
 upon the footboard. A cold roast fowl, a packet of ham in 
 slices, a crusty loaf, a piece of cheese, a paper of biscuits, half 
 a dozen apples, a knife, some butter, a screw of salt, and a 
 bottle of old sherry. There was a letter besides, which Tom 
 put in his pocket. 
 
 The coachman was so earnest in his approval of Mrs. 
 Tupin's provident habits, and congratulated Tom so warmly 
 on his good fortune, that Tom felt it necessary, for the lady's 
 sake, "to explain that the basket was a strictly Platonic basket, 
 and had merely been presented to him in the way of friend 
 ship. When he had made the statement with perfect gravity ; 
 for he felt it incumbent on him to disabuse the mind of this
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVTT. 5 6 1 
 
 lax rover of any incorrect impressions on the subject ; he 
 signified that he would be happy to share the gifts with him, 
 and proposed that they should attack the basket in a spirit of 
 good fellowship at any time in the course of the night which 
 the coachman's experience and knowledge of the road might 
 suggest, as being best adapted to the purpose. From this 
 time they chatted so pleasantly together, that although Tom 
 knew infinitely more of unicorns than horses, the coachman 
 informed his friend the guard, at the end of the next stage, 
 " that rum as the box-seat looked, he was as good a one to 
 go, in pint of conversation, as ever he'd wish to sit by." 
 
 Yoho, among the gathering shades ; making of no account 
 the deep reflections of the trees, but scampering on through 
 light and darkness, all the same, as if the light of London 
 fifty miles away, were quite enough to travel by, and some to 
 spare. Yoho, beside the village-green, where cricket-players 
 linger yet, and every little indentation made in the fresh grass 
 by bat or wicket, ball or player's foot, sheds out its perfume 
 on the night. Away with four fresh horses from the Bald- 
 faced Stag, where topers congregate about the door admiring ; 
 and the last team with traces hanging loose, go roaming off 
 towards the pond, until observed and shouted after by a 
 dozen throats, while volunteering boys pursue them. Now, 
 with a clattering of hoofs and striking out of fier)' sparks, 
 across the old stone Inidge, and down again into the shadowy 
 road, and through the open, gate, and far away, away, into 
 the wold. Yoho ! 
 
 Yoho, behind there, stop that bugle for a moment ! Come 
 creeping over to the front, along the coach-roof, guard, and 
 make one at this basket ! Not that we slacken in our pace 
 the while, not we : we rather put the bits of blood upon their 
 metal, for the greater glory of the snack. Ah ! It is long 
 since this bottle of old wine was brought into contact with 
 the mellow breath of night, you may depend, and rare good 
 stuff it is to wet a bugler's whistle with. Only try it. Don't 
 be afraid of turning up your finger. Bill, another pull ! Now, 
 take your breath, and try the bugle. Bill. There's music ! 
 There's a cone! "Over the hills and far away," indeed. 
 Yoho ! The skittish mare is all alive to-night. Yoho ! 
 Yoho ! 
 
 See the bright moon ! High up before we know it : mak- 
 ing the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water. 
 Hedges, trees, low cottages, church steeples, blighted stumps 
 
 36
 
 562 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 and flourishing young slips, have all grown vain upon the 
 sudden, and mean to contemplate their own fair images till 
 morning. The poplars yonder rustle, that their quivering 
 leaves may see themselves upon the ground. Not so the oak ; 
 trembling does not become hitn ; and he watches himself in 
 his stout old burly steadfastness, without the motion of a twig. 
 The moss-grown gate, ill-poised upon its creaking hinges, 
 crippled and decayed, swings to and fro before its glass, like 
 some fantastic dowager ; while our own ghostly likeness travels 
 on, Yoho ! Yoho ! through ditch and brake, upon the ploughed 
 land and the smooth, along the steep hill-side and steeper 
 wall, as if it were a phantom-Hunter. 
 
 Clouds too ! And a mist upon the Hollow ! Not a dull 
 fog that hides it, but a light airy gauze-like mist, which in our 
 eves of modest admiration gives a new charm to the beauties 
 it is spread before : as real gauze has done ere now, and would 
 again, so please you, though we were the Pope. Yoho ! \^^hy 
 now we travel like the Moon herself. Hiding this minute in 
 a grove of trees ; next minute in a patch of vapor ; emerging 
 now upon our broad clear course ; withdrawing now, but 
 always dashing on, our journey is a counterpart of hers. Yoho ! 
 A match against the Moon ! 
 
 The beauty of the night is hardly felt, when Day comes 
 leaping up. Yoho ! Two stages, and the country roads are 
 almost changed to a continuous street. Yoho, past market- 
 gardens, rows of houses, villas, crescents, terraces, and 
 squares ; past wagons, coaches, carts ; past early workmen, 
 late stragglers, drunken men, and sober carriers of loads ; 
 past brick and mortar in its every shape ; and in among the 
 rattling pavements, where a jaunty-seat upon a coach is not 
 so easy to preserve ! Yoho, down countless turnings, and 
 through countless mazy ways, until an old Inn-yard is gained, 
 and Tom Pinch, getting down, quite stunned and giddy, is in 
 London ! 
 
 " Five minutes before the time, too ! " said the driver, as 
 he received his fee of Tom. 
 
 " Upon my word," said Tom, " I should not have minded 
 very much, if we had been five hours after it ; for at this 
 early hour I don't know where to go, or what to do with my- 
 self." 
 
 " Don't they expect you then ? " inquired the driver 
 
 " Who ? " said Tom. 
 
 "Why, them," returned the driver
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 563 
 
 His mind was so clearly running on the assumption of 
 Tom's bavins: come to town to see an extensive circle of 
 anxious relations and friends, that it would have been pretty 
 hard work to undecei\'e him. Tom did not try. He cheer- 
 fully evaded the subject, and going into the Inn, fell fast 
 asleep before a fire in one of the public rooms opening from 
 the yard. When he awoke, the people in the house were all 
 astir, so he washed and dressed himself ; to his great refresh- 
 ment after the journey ; and, it being by that time eight o'clock, 
 went forth at once to see his old friend John. 
 
 John Westlock lived in Furnival's Inn, High Holborn, 
 which was within a quarter of an hour's Avalk of Tom's start- 
 ing-point, but seemed a long way off, by reason of his going 
 two or three miles out of the straight road to make a short 
 cut. When at last he arrived outside John's door, two stories 
 up, he stood faltering with his hand upon the knocker, and 
 trembled from head to foot. For he was rendered very nervous 
 by the thought of having to relate what had fallen out between 
 himself and Pecksniff ; and he had a misgiving that John 
 would exult fearfully in the disclosure. 
 
 "But it must be made," thought Tom, "sooner or later; 
 and I had better get it over." 
 
 Rat tat. 
 
 " I am afraid that's not a London knock," thought Tom. 
 " It didn't sound bold. Perhaps that's the reason why nobody 
 answers the door." 
 
 It is quite certain that nobody came, and that Tom stood 
 looking at the knocker, wondering whereabouts in the neigh- 
 borhood a certain gentleman resided, who was roaring out to 
 somebody " Come in ! " with all his might. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " thought Tom at last. " Perhaps he 
 lives here, and is calling to me. I never thought of that. 
 Can I open the door from the outside, 1 wonder. Yes, to be 
 sure I can." 
 
 To be sure he could, by turning the handle : and to be 
 sure when he did turn it the same voice came rushing out, 
 cr}dng " Why don't you come in .'' Come in, do you hear .'' 
 What are you standing there for .'' " — quite violently. 
 
 Tom stepped from the little passage into the room from 
 which these sounds proceeded, and had barely caught a glimpse 
 of a gentleman in a dressing-gown and slippers (with his 
 boots beside him ready to jxit on), sitting at his breakfast 
 with a newspaper in his hand, when the said gentleman, at
 
 564 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 the imminent hazard of oversetting his tea-table, made a 
 plunge at Tom, and hugged him. 
 
 " Why, Tom, my boy ! ' cried the gentleman. " Tom ! " 
 
 *' How glad I am to see you, Mr. Westlock ! " said Tom 
 Pinch, shaking both his hands, and trembling more than ever. 
 " How kind 3'ou are ! " 
 
 " Mr. Westlock ! " repeated John, " what do you mean by 
 that Pinch t You have not forgotten my Christian name, I 
 suppose? " 
 
 " No, John, no. I have not forgotten it," said Thomas 
 Pinch. " Good gracious me, how kind you are ! " 
 
 " I never saw such a fellow in all my life ! " cried John. 
 " What do you mean by saying that o\er and over again 1 
 What did you expect me to be, I wonder ! Here, sit down 
 Tom, and be a reasonable creature. How are you, my boy. 
 I am delighted to see you ! " 
 
 " And I am delighted to see I'l?//," said Tom. 
 
 " It's mutual, of course," returned John. " It always was, 
 I hope. If I had known you had been coming, Tom, I would 
 have had something for breakfast. I would rather have such 
 a surprise than the best breaMast in the world, myself, but 
 yours is another case, and I have no doubt you are as hungry 
 as a hunter. You must make out as well as you can, Tom, 
 and "we'll recompense ourselves at dinner time. You take 
 sugar I know : I recollect the sugar at Pecksniff's. Ha, ha, 
 ha ! How is Pecksniff ? When did you come to town .'' Do 
 begin at something or other, Tom. There are only scraps 
 here, but they are not at all bad. Boar's Head potted. Try 
 it, Tom. Make a beginning whatever you do. What an old 
 Blade you are ! I am delighted to see you." 
 
 While he delivered himself of these words in a state of 
 great commotion, John was constantly running backwards and 
 forwards to and from the closet, bringing out all sorts of things 
 in pots, scooping extraordinary quantities of tea out of the 
 caddy, dropping French rolls into his boots, pouring hot 
 water over the butter, and making a variety of similar mistakes 
 without disconcerting himself in the least. 
 
 " There ! " said John, sitting down for the fiftieth time, 
 and instantly starting up again to make some other addition 
 to the breakfast. " Now we are as well off as we are likely to 
 be till dinner. And now let us have the news, Tom. Im- 
 primis, how's Pecksniff ? " 
 
 "I don't know how he is," was Tom's grave answer.
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 565 
 
 John Westlock put the teapot 'down, and looked at him 
 in astonishment. 
 
 " I don't know how he is," said Thomas Pinch ; " and saving 
 that I wish him no ill, I don't care. 1 have left him, John. 
 I have left him for ever." 
 
 " Voluntarily ? " 
 
 " Why no, for he dismissed me. But I had first found out 
 that I was mistaken in him ; and I could not have remained 
 with him under any circumstances. I grieve to say that you 
 were right in your estimate of his character. It may be a 
 ridiculous weakness, John, but it has been ver}- painful and 
 bitter to me to find this out, I do assure you." 
 
 Tom had no need to direct that appealing look towards 
 his friend, in mild and gentle deprecation of his answering 
 with a laugh. John Westlock would as soon have thought of 
 striking him down upon the floor. 
 
 " It was all a dream of mine," said Tom, " and it is over. 
 I'll tell you how it happened, at some other time. Bear with 
 my folly, John. I do not, just now, like to think or speak 
 about it." 
 
 " I swear to you, Tom," returned his friend, with great 
 earnestness of manner, after remaining silent for a few 
 moments, " that when I see, as I do now, how deeply you feel 
 this, I don't know whether to be glad or sorry, that you have 
 made the discovery at last. I reproach myself with the 
 thought that I ever jested on the subject ; I ought to have 
 known better." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Tom, extending his hand, " it is 
 very generous and gallant in you to receive me and my dis- 
 closure in this spirit ; it makes me blush to think that I should 
 have felt a moment's uneasiness as I came along. You can't 
 think what a weight is lifted off my mind," said Tom, taking 
 up his knife and fork again, and looking very cheerful. " I 
 shall punish the Boar's Head dreadfully." 
 
 The host, thus reminded of his duties, instantly betook 
 himself to piling up all kinds of irreconcilable and contradic- 
 tory viands in Tom's plate, and a ver}^ capital breakfast Tom 
 made, and very much the better for it, Tom felt. 
 
 "That's all right," said John, after contemplating his visi- 
 tor's proceedings, with infinite satisfaction. " Now, about 
 our plans. You are going to stay with me, of course. 
 Where's your box ? " 
 
 " It's at the Inn," said Tom. " I didn't intend '
 
 566 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Never mind what you didn't intend," John Westlock 
 interposed. " What you did intend is more to the purpose. 
 You intended, in coming here, to ask my advice, did you not, 
 Tom t " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And to take it when I gave it to you ? " 
 
 "Yes," rejoined Tom, smiUng, "if it were good advice, 
 which, being yours, I have no doubt it will be," 
 
 " Very well. Then don't be an obstinate old humbug in 
 the outset, Tom, or I shall shut up shop and dispense none 
 of that invaluable commodity. You are on a visit to me, I 
 wish I had an organ for you, Tom ! " 
 
 " So do the gentlemen down stairs, and the gentlemen 
 overhead, I have no doubt," was Tom's reply. 
 
 " Let me see. In the first place, you will wish to see your 
 sister this morning," pursued his friend, " and of course you 
 will like to go there alone. I'll walk part of the way with 
 you, and see about a little business of my own, and meet you 
 here again in the afternoon. Put that in your pocket, Tom. 
 It's only the key of the door. If you come home first, you'll 
 
 want it." 
 
 " Really," said Tom, ." quartering one's self upon a friend 
 in this way — " 
 
 " Why, there are two kevs," interposed John Westlock. 
 " I can't open the door with them both at once, can I } What 
 a ridiculous fellow you are, Tom ! Nothing particular you'd 
 like for dinner, is there?" 
 
 " Oh dear no," said Tom, 
 
 " Veiy well, then you may as well leave it to me. Have 
 a glass of cherry brandy, Tom "i " 
 
 " Not a drop ! What remarkable chambers these are ! " 
 said Pinch, " there's everything in 'em ! " 
 
 " Bless your soul, Tom, nothing but a few little bachelor 
 contrivances ! the sort of impromptu arrangements that might 
 have suggested themselves to Philip Quarll or Robinson Cru- 
 soe : that's all. What do you say ? Shall we walk 'i " 
 
 " By all means," cried Tom. " As soon as you like." 
 
 Accordingly, John Westlock took the French rolls out of 
 his boots, and put his boots on, and dressed himself, giving 
 Tom the paper to read in the meanwhile. When he returned, 
 equipped for walking, he found Tom in a brown study, with 
 the paper in his hand. 
 
 " Dreaming, Tom } "
 
 Jl/A R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 5^7 
 
 " No," said Mr. Pinch, " No. I have been looking over 
 the advertising sheet, thinking there might be something in it 
 which would be likely to suit me. But, as I often think, the 
 strange thing seems to be that nobody is suited. Here are 
 all kinds of employers wanting all sorts of servants, and all 
 sorts of servants wanting all kinds of employers, and they 
 never seem to come together. Here is a gentleman in a joub- 
 lic office in a position of temporary difficulty, who wants to 
 borrow five hundred pounds ; and in the very next advertise- 
 ment here is another gentleman who has got exactly that sum 
 to lend. But he'll never lend it to him, John, you'll find ! 
 Here is a lady possessing a moderate independence, who 
 wants to board and lodge with a quiet, cheerful family ; and 
 here is a family describing themselves in those very words, ' a 
 quiet, cheerful family,' who want exactly such a lady to come 
 and live witb them. But she'll never go, John ! Neither do 
 any of these single gentlemen who want an airy bed-room, 
 with the occasional use of a parlor, ever appear to come to 
 terms with these other people who live in a rural situation, 
 remarkable for its bracing atmosphere, within five minutes' 
 walk of the Royal Exchange. Even those letters of the alpha- 
 bet, who are always running away from their friends and being 
 entreated at the tops of columns to come back, never do come 
 back, if we may judge from the number of times they are 
 asked to do it, and don't. It really seems," said Tom relin- 
 quishing the paper, with a thoughtful sigh, " as if people had 
 the same gratification in printing their complaints as in mak- 
 ing them known by word of mouth ; as if they found it a 
 comfort and consolation to proclaim ' I want such and such a 
 thing, and I can't get it, and I don't expect I ever shall ! '" 
 
 John Westlock laughed at the idea, and they went out to- 
 gether. So many years had passed since Tom was last in 
 London, and he had known so little of it then, that his inter- 
 est in all he saw was very great. He was particularly anxious, 
 among other notorious localities, to have those streets pointed 
 out to him which were appropriated to the slaughter of country- 
 men ; and was quite disappointed to find, after a half-an-hour's 
 walking, that he hadn't had his pocket picked. But on John 
 Westlock's inventing a pickpocket for liis gratification, and 
 pointing out a highly respectable stranger as one of that 
 fraternity, he was much delighted. 
 
 His friend accompanied him to within a short distance of 
 Camberwell, and having put him beyond the possibility of
 
 568 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 mistaking the wealthy brass-and-copper founder's, left him to 
 make his visit. Arriving before the great bell-handle, Tom 
 gave it a gentle pull. The porter appeared. 
 
 " Pray does Miss Pinch live here ? " said Tom. 
 
 " Miss Pinch is Governess here," replied the porter. 
 
 At the same time he looked at Tom from head to foot, as 
 if he would have said, " You are a nice man, you are ; where 
 did you come from ? " 
 
 " It's the same young lady," said Tom. " It's quite right. 
 Is she at home ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure," rejoined the porter. 
 
 " Do you think you could have the goodness to ascertain ? " 
 said Tom. He had quite a delicacy in offering the suggestion, 
 for the possibility of such a step did not appear to present 
 itself to the porter's mind at all. 
 
 The fact was that the porter in answering the gate-bell, 
 had, according to usage, rung the house-bell (for it is as well 
 to do these things in the Baronial style while you are about 
 it), and that there the functions of his office had ceased. Be- 
 ing hired to open and shut the gate, and not to explain him- 
 self to strangers, he left this little incident to be developed by 
 the footman with the tags, who, at this juncture, called out, 
 from the door steps : 
 
 " Hollo, there ! wot are you up to ? This way young man ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said Tom, hurrying towards him. " I didn't ob- 
 serve that there was anybody else. Pray is Miss Pinch at 
 home ? " 
 
 " She's /;/," replied the footman. As much as to say to 
 Tom : " But if you think she has anything to do with the 
 proprietorship of this place, you had better abandon that 
 idea." 
 
 " I wish to see her if you please," said Tom. 
 
 The footman, being a lively young man, happened to have 
 his attention caught at that moment by the flight of a pigeon, 
 in which he took so Avarm an interest, that his gaze was rivet- 
 ed on the bird until it was quite out of sight. He then in- 
 vited Tom to come in, and showed him into a parlor. 
 
 " Hany neem ? " said the young man, pausing languidly at 
 the door. 
 
 It was a good thought : because without providing the 
 stranger, in case he should happen to be of a warm temper, 
 with a sufficient excuse for knocking him down, it implied 
 this young man's estimate of his quality, and relieved his
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 5^9 
 
 breast of the oppressive burden of rating him in secret as a 
 nameless and obscure individual. 
 
 " Say her brother, if you please," said Tom. 
 
 " Mother.? " drawled the footman. 
 
 " Brother," repeated Tom, slightly raising his voice. 
 " And if you will say, in the first instance, a gentleman, and 
 then say her brother, I shall be obliged to you, as she does 
 not expect me, or know I am in London, and I do not wish to 
 starde her." 
 
 The young man's interest in Tom's observations had 
 ceased long before this time, but he kindly waited until now ; 
 when, shutting the door, he withdrew. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Tom. " This is very disrespectful 
 and uncivil behavior. I hope these are new servants here, 
 and that Ruth is very differently treated." 
 
 His cogitations were interrupted by the sound of voices 
 in the adjoining room. They seemed to be engaged in high 
 dispute, or in indignant reprimand of some offender ; and 
 gathering strength occasionally, broke out into a perfect whirl- 
 wind. It was in one of these gusts, as it appeared to Tom, 
 that the footman announced him ; for an abrupt and unnatural 
 calm took place, and then a dead silence. He was standing 
 befcre the window wondering what domestic quarrel might 
 have caused these sounds, and hoping Ruth had nothing to 
 do with it, when the door opened, and his sister ran into his 
 arms. 
 
 " Why, bless my soul ! " said Tom, looking at her with 
 great pride, when they had tenderly embraced each other, 
 "how altered you are, Ruth ! I should scarcely have known 
 you, my love, if I had seen you anywhere else, I declare ! 
 You are so improved," said Tom, with inexpressible delight : 
 " you are so womanly ; you are so — positively, you know, you 
 are so handsome ! " 
 
 " \i you think so, Tom — " 
 
 " Oh, but ever}-body must think so, you know," said Tom, 
 gently smoothing down her hair. It's matter of fact; not 
 opinion. But what's the matter ? " said Tom, looking at her 
 more intently, " how flushed you are ! and you ha\e been cry- 
 
 ing." 
 
 "No, I have not, Tom." 
 
 " Nonsense," said her brother stoutly. "That's a story. 
 Don't tell me ! I know better. What is it, dear? I'm not 
 with Mr. Pecksniff now ; I am going to Xxy and settle myself
 
 570 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 in London ; and if you are not happy here (as I very much 
 fear you are not, for I begin to think you have been deceiving 
 me with the kindest and most affectionate intention) you shall 
 not remain here." 
 
 Oh ! Tom's blood was rising ; mind that ! Perhaps the 
 Boar's Head had something to do with it, but certainly the 
 footman had. So had the sight of his pretty sister — a great 
 deal to do with it. Tom could bear a good deal himself, but 
 he was proud of her, and pride is a sensitive thing. He be- 
 gan to think, " there are more Pecksniffs than one, perhaps," 
 and by all the pins and needles that run up and down in an- 
 gry veins, Tom was in a most unusual tingle all at once ! 
 
 " We will talk about it, Tom," said Ruth, giving him an- 
 other kiss to pacify him. " I am afraid I cannot stay here." 
 
 " Cannot ! " replied Tom. " Why then, you shall not, my 
 love ! Heyday ! You are not an object of charity ! Upon 
 my word ! " 
 
 Tom was stopped in these exclamations by the footman, 
 who brought a message from his master, importing that he 
 wished to speak with him before he went, and with Miss 
 Pinch also. 
 
 "Show the way," said Tom. "I'll wait upon him at 
 
 once." 
 
 Accordingly they entered the adjoining room from which 
 the noise of altercation had proceeded ; and there they found 
 a middle-aged gentleman, with a pompous voice and manner, 
 and a middle-aged lady, with what may be termed an excise- 
 able face, or one in which starch and vinegar were decidedly 
 employed. There was likewise present that eldest pupil of 
 Miss Pinch, whom Mrs. Todgers, on a previous occasion, had 
 called a syrup, and who was now weeping and sobbing spite- 
 fully. 
 
 "My brother, sir," said Ruth Pinch, timidly presenting 
 Tom. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the gentleman, surveying Tom attentively. 
 " You really are INIiss Pinch's brother, 1 presume ? You will 
 excuse my asking. I don't observe any resemblance." 
 
 " Miss Pinch has a brother, I know," observed the lady. 
 
 " Miss Pinch is always talking about her brother, when 
 she ought to be engaged upon my education," sobbed the 
 pupil. 
 
 " Sophia ! Hold your tongue ! " observed the gentleman. 
 " Sit down, if you please," addressing Tom.
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 5 7 1 
 
 Tom sat down, looking from one face to another, in mute 
 surprise. 
 
 " Remain here, if you please, Miss Pinch," pursued the 
 gentleman, looking slightly over his shoulder. 
 
 Tom interrupted him here, by rising to place a chair for 
 his sister. Having done which he sat down again. 
 
 " I am glad you chance to have called to see your sister 
 to-day, sir," resumed the brass-and-copper founder. " For 
 although 1 do not approve, as a principle, of any young per- 
 son engaged in my family, in the capacity of a go\erness, re- 
 ceiving visitors, it happens in this case to be well-timed. I 
 am sorry to inform you that we are not at all satisfied with 
 your sister." 
 
 " We are very much rf/Vsatisfied with her," ol^served the 
 lady. 
 
 " I'd never say another lesson to Miss Pinch if I was to 
 be beat to death for it ! " sobbed the pupil. 
 
 " Sophia ! " cried her father. " Hold your tongue ! " 
 
 " Will you allow me to inquire what your ground of dis- 
 satisfaction is.-" " asked Tom. 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman, " I will. I don't recognize it 
 as a right ; but I will. Your sister has not the slightest in- 
 nate power of commanding respect. It has been a constant 
 source of difference between us. Although she has been in 
 this family for some time, and although the young lady who 
 is now present, has almost, as it were, grown up under her 
 tuition, that young lady has no respect for her. Miss Pinch 
 has been perfectly unable to command my daughter's respect, 
 or to win my daughter's confidence. Now," said the gentle- 
 man, allowing the palm of his hand to fall gravely down upon 
 the table : " I maintain that there is something radically 
 wrong in that ! You, as her brother, may be disposed to 
 deny it — " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Tom. " I am not at all 
 disposed to deny it. I am sure that there is something radi- 
 cally wrong — radically monstrous — in that." 
 
 "■Good Heavens!" cried the gentleman, looking round 
 the room with dignitv, what do 1 find to be the case ! what 
 results obtrude themselves upon me as flowing from this weak- 
 ness of character on the part of Miss Pinch ! What are my 
 feelings as a father, when, after my desire (repeatedly ex- 
 pressed to Miss Pinch, as I think she will not venture to 
 deny) that my daughter should be choice in her expressions,
 
 572 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 genteel in her deportment, as becomes her station in life, and 
 politely distant to her inferiors in society, I find her, only this 
 very morning, addressing Miss Pinch herself as a beggar ! " 
 
 " A beggarly thing," observed the lady, in correction. 
 
 " Which is worse," said the gentleman, triumphantly ; 
 "which is worse. A beggarly thing. A low, coarse despica- 
 ble expression ! " 
 
 " Most despicable," cried Tom. "I am glad to find that 
 there is a just appreciation of it here." 
 
 " So just, sir," said the gentleman, lowering his voice to 
 be the more impressive. " So just, that, but for my knowing 
 Miss Pinch to be an unprotected young person, an orphan, 
 and without friends, I would, as I assured Miss Pinch, upon 
 my veracity and personal character, a few minutes ago, I 
 would have severed the connection between us at that mo- 
 ment and from that time." 
 
 " Bless my soul, sir ! " cried Tom, rising from his seat, for 
 he was now unable to contain himself any longer ! " don't allow 
 such considerations as those to influence you, pray. They 
 don't exist, sir. She is not unprotected. She is ready to de- 
 part this instant. Ruth, my dear, get your bonnet on ! " 
 
 " Oh, a pretty family ! " cried the lady. " Oh, he's her 
 brother ! There's no doubt about that ! " 
 
 "As little doubt, madam," said Tom, " as that the young 
 lady yonder is the child of your teaching, and not my sister's. 
 Ruth, my dear, get your bonnet on ! " 
 
 "When you say, young man," interposed the brass-and- 
 copper founder, haughtily, " with that impertinence which is 
 natural to you, and which I therefore do not condescend to 
 notice further, that the young lady, my eldest daughter, has 
 been educated by any one but Miss Pinch, you — I needn't 
 proceed. You comprehend me fully. I have no doubt you 
 are used to it." 
 
 " Sir ! " cried Tom, after regarding him in silence for some 
 little time. " If you do not understand what I mean, I will 
 tell you. If you do understand what I mean, I beg you not 
 to repeat that mode of expressing yourself in answer to it. My 
 meaning is, that no man can expect his children to respect 
 what he degrades." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the gentleman. " Cant ! cant ! 
 The common cant ! " 
 
 " The common story, sir ! " said Tom ; " the story of a 
 common mind. Your governess cannot win the confidence
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 573 
 
 and respect of your children, forsooth ! Let her begin by win- 
 ning yours, and see what happens then." 
 
 "Miss Pinch is getting her bonnet on, I trust, my dear? " 
 said the gentleman. 
 
 "I trust she is," said Tom, forestalling the reply. "I 
 have no doubt she is. In the meantime I address myself to 
 you, sir. You made your statement to me, sir ; you required 
 to see me for that purpose ; and I have a right to answer it. 
 I am not loud or turbulent," said Tom, \Vhich was quite true, 
 " though I can scarcely say as much for you, in your manner 
 of addressing yourself to me. And I wish, on my sister's 
 behalf, to state the simple truth." 
 
 " You mav state anvthing vou like, young man," returned 
 
 V ^ cry J ^ J <~p ^ 
 
 the gentleman, affecting to yawn. " My dear, Miss Pinch's 
 money." 
 
 " When yeu tell me," resumed Tom, who was not the less 
 indignant for keeping himself quiet, " that my sister has no 
 innate power of commanding the respect of your children, 
 I must tell you it is not so ; and that she has. She is as well 
 bred, as well taught, as well qualified by nature to command 
 respect, as any hirer of a governess you know. But when 
 you place her at a disadvantage in reference to every servant 
 in your house, how can you suppose, if you have the gift of 
 common sense, that she is not in a tenfold worse position in 
 reference to your daughters ? " 
 
 " Pretty well ! Upon my word," exclaimed the gentleman, 
 " this is pretty' well ! " 
 
 " It is very ill, sir," said Tom. " It is very bad and mean, 
 and wrong and cruel. Respect ! I believe young people are 
 quick enough to observe and imitate ; and why or how should 
 they respect whom no one else respects, and everybody 
 slights .'' And very partial they must grow — oh, very partial ! 
 • — to their studies, when they see to what a pass proficiency in 
 those same tasks has brought their governess ! Respect ! 
 Put anything the most deserving of respect before your daugh- 
 ters in the light in which you place her, and you will bring it 
 down as low, no matter what it is ! " 
 
 "You speak with extreme impertinence, young man," ob- 
 served the gentleman. 
 
 "I speak without passion, but with extreme indignation 
 and contempt for such a course of treatment, and for all who 
 practise it," said Tom. " why, how can you, as an honest 
 gentleman, profess displeasure or surprise at your daughter
 
 574 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 telling my sister she is something beggarly and humble, wlien 
 you are for ever telling her the same thing yourself in fifty 
 plain, out-speaking ways, though not in words ; and when 
 your very porter and footman make the same delicate an- 
 nouncement to all comers ? As to your suspicion and distrust 
 of her, even of her word, if she is not above their reacn, you 
 have no right to employ her." 
 
 " No right ! " cried the brass-and-copper founder. 
 
 " Distinctly not,"" Tom answered. " If you imagine that 
 the payment of an annual sum of money gives it to you, you 
 immensely exaggerate its power and value. Your money is 
 the least part of your bargain in such a case. You may be 
 punctual in that to half a second on the clock, and yet be 
 Bankrupt. I have nothing more to say," said Tom, much 
 flushed and flustered, now that it was over, " except to crave 
 permission to stand in your garden until my sister is ready." 
 
 Not waiting to obtain it, Tom walked out. 
 
 Before he had well begun to cool, his sister joined him. 
 She was crying ; and Tom could not bear that any one about 
 the house would see her doing that. 
 
 "They will think you are sorry to go," said Tom. "You 
 are not sorry to go ? " 
 
 " No, Tom, no. I have been anxious to go for a very 
 long time." 
 
 " Very well, then ! Don't cry ! " said Tom. 
 
 " I am so sorry iox you, dear," sobbed Tom's sister. 
 
 " But you ought to be glad on my account," said Tom. " I 
 shall be twice as happy with you for a companion. Hold up 
 your head. There t Now we go out as we ought. Not blus- 
 tering, you know, but firm and confident in ourselves." 
 
 The idea of Tom and his sister blustering, under any cir- 
 cumstances, was a splendid absurdity. But Tom was \-ery far 
 from feeling it to be so, in his excitement ; and passed out at 
 the gate with such severe determination written in his face that 
 the porter hardly knew him again. 
 
 It was not until they had walked some short distance, and 
 Tom found himself getting cooler and more collected, that he 
 was quite restored to himself by an inquiry from his sister, 
 who said in her pleasant little voice : 
 
 "Where are we going, Tom.'' " 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Tom, stopping, " I don't know." 
 
 " Don't you — don't you live anywhere, dear ? " asked 
 Tom's sister, looking wistfully in his face.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 
 
 575 
 
 " No," said Tom. " Not at present. Not exactly. I only 
 arrived this morning. We must have some lodgings." 
 
 He didn't tell her that he had been going to stay with his 
 friend John, and could on no account think of billeting two 
 inmates upon him, of whom one was a young lady ; for he 
 knew that would make her uncomfortable, and would cause 
 her to regard herself as being an inconvenience to him. Nei- 
 ther did he like to leave her anywhere while he called on John, 
 and told him of this change in his arrangements ; for he Avas 
 delicate of seeming to encroach upon the generous and hospi- 
 table nature of his friend. Therefore he said again, " We 
 must have some lodgings, of course ; " and said it as stoutly 
 as if he had been a perfect Directory and Guide-Book to all 
 the lodgings in London. 
 
 " Where shall we go and look for 'em ? " said Tom. " What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 Tom's sister was not much wiser on such a topic than he 
 was. So she squeezed her little purse into his coat-pocket, 
 and folding the little hand with which she did so on the other 
 little hand with which she clasped his arm, said nothing. 
 
 " It ought to be a cheap neighborhood," said Tom, " and 
 not too far from London. Let me see. Should you think 
 Islington a good place ? " 
 
 "I should think it was an excellent place, Tom." 
 
 " It used to be called Merry Islington, once upon a time," 
 said Tom. " Perhaps it's merry now ; if so, it's all the better. 
 Eh ? " 
 
 " If it's not too dear," said Tom's sister. 
 
 " Of course, if it's not too dear," assented Tom. " Well, 
 where is Islington ? W^e can't do better than go there, I 
 should think. Let's go. 
 
 Tom's sister would have gone anywhere with him ; so they 
 walked off, arm in arm, as comfortably as possible. Finding, 
 presently, that Islington was not in that neighborhood, Tom 
 made inquiries respecting a public conveyance thither, which 
 they soon obtained. As they rode along they were very full of 
 conversation indeed, Tom relating what had happened to him, 
 and Tom's sister relating what had happened to her, and both 
 finding a great deal more to say than time to say it in ; for 
 they had only just begun to talk, in comparison with what they 
 had to tell each other, when they reached their journey's end. 
 
 " Now," said Tom, " we must first look out for some very un- 
 pretending streets, and then look out for bills in the windows."
 
 576 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 So they walked off again, quite as happily as if they had 
 just stepped out of a snug little house of their own, to look 
 for lodgings on account of somebody else. Tom's simplicity 
 was unabated. Heaven knows ; but now that he had somebody 
 to rely upon him, he was stimulated to rely a little more upon 
 himself, and was, in his own opinion, quite a desperate fellow. 
 
 After looking up and down for hours, looking at some 
 scores of lodgings, they began to find it rather fatiguing, es- 
 pecially as they saw none which were at all adapted to their 
 purpose. At length, however, in a singular little old-fashioned 
 house, up a blind street, they discovered two small bed-rooms 
 and a triangular parlor, which promised to suit them well 
 enough. Their desiring to take possession immediately was 
 a suspicious circumstance, but even this was surmounted by 
 the payment of their first week's rent, and a reference to 
 John Westlock, Esquire, Furnival's Inn, High Holborn. 
 
 Ah ! It was a goodly sight, when this important point was 
 settled, to behold Tom and his sister trotting round to the 
 baker's, and the butcher's, and the grocer's, with a kind of 
 dreadful delight in the unaccustomed cares of housekeeping ; 
 taking secret counsel together as they gave their small orders, 
 and distracted by the least suggestion on the part of the shop- 
 keeper ! When they got back to the triangular parlor, and 
 Tom's sister, bustling to and fro, busy about a thousand 
 pleasant nothings, stopped every now and then to give old 
 Tom a kiss, or smile upon him, Tom rubbed his hands as if 
 all Islington were his. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon now, though, and high time 
 for Tom to keep his appointment. So, after agreeing with his 
 sister that in considei'ation of not having dined, they would 
 venture on the extravagance of chops for supper, at nine, he 
 Avalked out again to narrate these marvellous occurrences to 
 John. 
 
 " I am quite a family man all at once," thought Tom. " If 
 I can only get something to do, how comfortable Ruth and I 
 may be ! Ah, that if ! But it's of no use to despond. I can 
 but do that, when I have tried everything and failed ; and 
 e\-en then it won't ser\'e me much. Upon my word," thought 
 Tom, quickening his pace, " I don't know what John will 
 think has become of me. He'll begin to be afraid I have 
 strayed into one of those streets where the countrymen are 
 murdered ; and that I have been made meat pies of, or some 
 such horrible thing."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWn. 
 
 577 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 TOM PINCH, GOING ASTRAY, FINDS THAT HE IS NOT THE 
 ONLY PERSON IN THAT PREDICAMENT. HE RETALIATES 
 UPON A FALLEN FOE. 
 
 Tom's evil genius did not lead him into tlie dens of any of 
 those preparers of cannibalic pastr)', who are represented in 
 many standard country legends, as doing a lively retail busi- 
 ness in the Metropolis ; nor did it mark him out as the prey 
 of ring-droppers, pea and thimble-riggers, duffers, touters, or 
 any of those bloodless sharpers, who are, perhaps, a little better 
 known to the -Police. He fell into conversation with no gen- 
 tleman, who took him into a public-house, where there hap- 
 pened to be another gentleman, who swore he had more money 
 than any gentleman, and very soon proved he had more money 
 than one gentleman, by taking his away from him ; neither did 
 he fall into any other of the numerous man-traps which are 
 set up, without notice, in the public grounds of this city 
 But he lost his way. He very soon did that ; and in trj'ing to 
 find it again, he lost it more and more. 
 
 Now, Tom, in his guileless distrust of London, thought 
 himself very knowing in coming to the determination that he 
 would not ask to be directed to Furnival's Inn, if he could 
 help it; unless, indeed, he should find himself near the Mint, 
 or the Bank of England ; in which case, he would step in, 
 and ask a civil question or two, confiding in the perfect re- 
 spectability of the concern. So, on he went, looking up all 
 the streets he came near, and going up half of them ; and 
 thus, by dint of not being true to Goswell Street, and filing off 
 into Aldermanbury, and bewildering himself in Barbican, 
 and being constant to the wrong point of the compass in Lon- 
 don Wall, and then getting himself crosswise into Thames 
 Street by an instinct that would have been marvellous if he 
 had had the least desire or reason to go there, he found him- 
 self, at last, hard by the Monument. 
 
 The Man in the Monument was quite as mysterious a 
 being to Tom as the Man in the Moon. It immediately oc- 
 curred to him that the lonely creature who held himself aloof 
 from all mankind in that pillar like some old hermit, was the 
 
 37
 
 tjyS MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 very man of whom to ask his way. Cold, he might be ; little 
 sympathy he had, perhaps, with human passion — the column 
 seemed too tall for that ; but if truth didn't live in the base of 
 the Monument, notwithstanding Pope's couplet about the out- 
 side of it, where in London (Tom thought) was she likely to 
 be found ! 
 
 Coming close below the pillar, it was a great encourage- 
 ment to Tom to find that the Man in the Monument had sim- 
 ple tastes ; that stony and artificial as his residence was, he 
 still preserved some rustic recollections ; that he liked plants, 
 hung up bird-cages, was not wholly cut off from fresh ground- 
 sel, and kept young trees in tubs. The Man in the Monu- 
 ment, himself, was sitting outside the door — his own door : 
 the Monument-door : what a grand idea ! — and was actually 
 yawning, as if there, were no Monument to stop his mouth, 
 and give him a perpetual interest in his own existence. 
 
 Tom was advancing towards this remarkable creature, to 
 inquire the way to Furnival's Inn, when two people came to 
 see the Monument. They were a gentleman and a lady ; and 
 the gentleman said, " How much a-piece ? " 
 
 'riie Man in the Monument replied, " A Tanner.' 
 
 It seemed a low expression, compared with the Monu- 
 ment. 
 
 The gentleman put a shilling into his hand, and the Man 
 in the Monument opened a dark little door. When the gen- 
 tleman and lady had passed out of view, he shut it again, and 
 came slowly back to his chair. 
 
 He sat down and laua;hed. 
 
 " They don't know what a many steps there is ! " he said. 
 " It's worth twice the money to stop here. Oh, my eye ! " 
 
 The Man in the Monument was a Cynic ; a worldly man ! 
 Tom couldn't ask his way of him. He was prepared to put 
 no confidence in anything he said. 
 
 " My Gracious ! " cried a well-known voice behind Mr. 
 Pinch. "Why, to be sure it is ! " 
 
 At the same time he was poked in the back by a parasol. 
 Turning round to inquire into this salute, he beheld the 
 eldest daughter of his late patron. 
 
 " Miss Pecksniff ! " said Tom. 
 
 "•Why, my goodness, Mr. Pinch! "cried Cherry. "What 
 are you doing here ? " 
 
 " I have rather wandered from my way," said Tom.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 579 
 
 " I hope you have run away," said Charity. " It would 
 be quite spirited and proper if you had, when my Papa so far 
 forgets himself." 
 
 "I have left him," returned Tom. "But it was perfectly 
 understood on both sides. It was not done clandestinely." 
 
 " Is he married ? " asked Cherry, with a spasmodic shake 
 of her chin. 
 
 "No, not yet," said Tom, coloring: "to tell you the 
 truth, I don't think he is likely to be, if — if Miss Graham is 
 the object of his passion." 
 
 " Tcha, Mr. i'mch ! " cried Charity, with sharp impatience, 
 " you're very easily deceived. You don't know the arts of 
 which such a creature is capable. Oh ! it's a wicked world." 
 
 " You are not married ? " Tom hinted, to divert the con- 
 versation. 
 
 " N — no ! " said Cherry, tracing out one particular pav- 
 ing stone in Monument Yard with the end of her parasol. 
 " I— but really it's quite impossible to explain. Won't you 
 walk in ? " 
 
 " You live here, then ? " said Tom. 
 
 " Yes," returned Miss Pecksniff, pointing with her parasol 
 to Todgers's ; " I reside with this lady, at present.'' 
 
 The great stress on the two last words suggested to Tom 
 that he was expected to say something in reference to them. 
 So he said : 
 
 " Only at present ! Are you going home again, soon .'' " 
 
 "No,' Mr. Pinch," returned Charity. "No, thank you. 
 No ! A mother-in-law who is younger than — I mean to say, 
 who is as nearly as possible about the same age as one's self, 
 would not quite suit my spirit. Not quite ! " said Cherry 
 with a spiteful shiver. 
 
 " I thought from your saying at present " — Tom observed. 
 
 " Really upon my word ! 1 had no idea you would press 
 me so very closely on the subject, Mr. Pinch," said Charity, 
 blushing, " or I should not have been so foolish as to allude 
 to — Oh really ! — won't you walk in ? " 
 
 Tom mentioned, to excuse himself, that he had an appoint- 
 ment in Furnival's Inn, and that coming from Islington he 
 had taken a few wrong turnings, and arrived at the Monu- 
 ment instead. Miss Pecksniff simpered very much when he 
 asked her if she knew the way to Furnival's Inn, and at 
 length found courage to reply : 
 
 " A gentleman who is a friend of mine, or at least who is
 
 58o 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 not exactly a friend so much as a sort of acquaintance — Oh, 
 upon my word, I hardly know what I say, Mr. Pinch ; you 
 mustn't suppose there is any engagement between us ; or at 
 least if there is, that it is at all a settled thing as yet — is 
 going to Furnival's Inn immediately, I believe upon a little 
 business, and I am sure he would be very glad to accompany 
 you, so as to prevent your going wrong again. You had 
 better walk in. You will very likely find my sister Merry 
 here," she said, with a curious toss of her head, and anything 
 but an agreeable smile. 
 
 " Then, I think, I'll endeavor to find my way alone," said 
 Tom ; "for I fear she would not be very glad to see me. 
 That unfortunate occurrence, in relation to which you and I 
 had some amicable Avords together, in private, is not likely 
 to have impressed her with any friendly feeling towards me. 
 Though it really was not my fault." 
 
 " She has never heard of that, you may depend," said 
 Cherry, gathering up the corners of her mouth, and nodding 
 at Tom. " I am far from sure that she would bear you any 
 mighty ill will for it, if she had." 
 
 " You don't say so ? " cried Tom, who was really concerned 
 by this insinuation. 
 
 " I say nothing," said Charity. " If I had not already 
 known what shocking things treachery and deceit are in 
 themselves, Mr. Pinch, I might perhaps have learnt it from the 
 success they meet with — from the success they meet with." 
 Here she smiled as before. " But I don't say anything. 
 On the contrary, I should scorn it. You had better walk in ! " 
 
 There was something hidden here, which piqued Tom's 
 interest and troubled his tender heart. When, in a moment's 
 irresolution, he looked at Charity, he could not but observe a 
 struggle in her face between a sense of triumph and a sense 
 of shame ; nor could he but remark how, meeting even his 
 eyes, which she cared so little for, she turned away her own, 
 for all the splenetic defiance in her manner. 
 
 An uneasy thought entered Tom's head ; a shadowy mis- 
 giving that the altered relations between himself and Peck- 
 sniff, were somehow to involve an altered knowledge on his 
 part of other people, and were to give him an insight into 
 much of which he had had no previous suspicion. And yet 
 he put no definite construction upon Charity's proceedings, 
 lie certainly had no idea that as he had been the audience 
 and spectator of her mortification, she grasped with eager
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 581 
 
 delight at any opportunity of reproaching her sister with his 
 presence in her far deeper misery ; for he knew nothing of it, 
 and only pictured that sister as tiie same giddy, careless, 
 trivial creature she always had been, with the same slight 
 estimation of himself which she had never been at the least 
 pains to conceal. In short, he had merely a confused im- 
 pression that Miss Pecksniff was not quite sisterly or kind \ 
 and being curious to set it right, accompanied her, as she 
 desired. 
 
 The house-door being opened, she went in before Tom, re- 
 questing him to follow her ; and led the way to the parlor door. 
 
 " Oh, Merry ! " she said, looking in, " I am so glad you 
 have not gone home. Who do you think I have met in the 
 street, and brought to see you ! Mr. Pinch ! There. Now 
 you are surprised, I am sure I " 
 
 Not more surprised than Tom was, when he looked upon 
 her. Not so much. Not half so much. 
 
 " Mr. Pinch has left Papa, my dear," said Cherry, " and 
 his prospects are quite flourishing. I have promised that 
 Augustus, who is going that way, shall escort him to the 
 place he wants. Augustus, my child, where are you .'' " 
 
 With these words Miss Pecksniff screamed her way out of 
 the parlor, calling on Augustus Moddle to appear ; and left 
 Tom Pinch alone with her sister. 
 
 If she had always been his kindest friend ; if she had 
 treated him through all his servitude with such consideration 
 as was never yet received by struggling man ; if she had 
 lightened every moment of those many years, and had ever 
 spared and never wounded him ; his honest heart could not 
 have swelled before her with a deeper pity, or a purer freedom 
 from all base remembrance than it did then. 
 
 " My gracious me ! You are really the last person in the 
 world I should have thought of seeing, I am sure ! " 
 
 Tom was sorry to hear her speaking in her old man- 
 ner. He had not expected that. Yet he did not feel it a 
 contradiction that he should be sorry to see her so unlike her 
 old self, and sorry at the same time to hear her speaking in 
 her old manner. The two things seemed quite natural. 
 
 " I wonder you find any gratification in coming to see me. 
 I can't think what put it in your head. I never had much in 
 seeing you. There was no love lost between us, Mr. Pinch, 
 at any time, I think." 
 
 Her bonnet lay beside her on the sofa, and she was verj
 
 582 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 busy with the ribbons as she spoke. Much too busy to be 
 conscious of the woik lier fingers did. 
 
 "We never quarrelled," said Tom. — Tom was right in 
 that, for one person can no more quarrel without an adver- 
 sary, than one person can play at chess, or fight a duel. " I 
 hoped you would be glad to shake hands with an old friend. 
 Don't let us rake up by-gones," said Tom. " If ever I 
 offended you, forgive me." 
 
 She looked at him for a moment ; dropped her bonnet 
 from her hands ; spread them before her altered face and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Pinch ! " she said, " although I never used you 
 well, I did believe your nature was forgiving. I did not think 
 you could be cmel." 
 
 She spoke as little like her old self now, for certain, as 
 Tom could possibly have wished. But she seemed to be ap- 
 pealing to him reproachfully, and he did not understand her. 
 
 " I seldom showed it — never — I know that. But I had 
 that belief in you, that if I had been asked to name the person 
 in the world least likely to retort upon me, I would have 
 named you, confidently." 
 
 " Would have named me ! " Tom repeated. 
 
 " Yes," she said with energ}', " and I have often thought 
 
 so." 
 
 After a moment's reflection, Tom sat himself upon a chair 
 beside her. 
 
 " Do you believe," said Tom, " oh can you think, that what 
 I said just now, I said with any but the true and plain inten- 
 tion which my words professed .' I mean it, in the spirit and 
 the letter. If I ever offended you, forgive me ; I may have 
 done so, many times. You never injured or offended me. 
 How, then, could I possibly retort, if even I were stern and 
 bad enough to wish to do it ! " 
 
 After a little while she thanked him, through her tears and 
 sobs, and told him she had never been at once so sorry and so 
 comforted, since she left home. Still she wept bitterly ; and 
 it was the greater pain to Tom to see her weening, from her 
 standing in especial need, just then, of synij athy and tender- 
 ness. 
 
 "Come, come ! " said Tom, "you used to be as cheerful 
 as the day was long." 
 
 "Ah! used!" she cried, in such a tone as rent Tom's 
 heart.
 
 AfAI^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 583 
 
 "And will be again," said Tom. 
 
 " No, never more. No, never, never more. If you should 
 talk with old Mr. Chuzzlewit, at any time," she added looking 
 hurriedly into his face — " I sometimes thought he liked you, 
 but suppressed it — will you promise me to tell him that you 
 saw me here, and that 1 said I bore in mind the time we 
 talked together in the churchyard .-' " 
 
 Tom promised that he would. 
 
 " Many times since then, when I have wished I had been 
 carried there before that day, I have recalled his words. I 
 wish that he should know how true they were, although the 
 least acknowledgment to that effect has never passed my lips, 
 and never will." 
 
 Tom promised this, conditionally, too. He did not tell 
 her how improbable it was that he and the old man would 
 ever meet again, because he thought it might disturb her 
 more. 
 
 " If he should ever know this, through your means, dear 
 Mr. Pinch," said Mercy, " tell him that I sent the message, 
 not for myself, but that he might be more forbearing and 
 more patient, and more trustful to some other person, in some 
 other time of need. Tell him that if he could know how my 
 heart trembled in the balance that day, and what a very little 
 would have turned the scale, his own would bleed with pity 
 for me," 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Tom, "I will." 
 
 " When I appeared to him the most unworthy of his help, 
 I was — I know I was, for I have often, often, thought about 
 it since — the most inclined to yield to what he showed me. 
 Oh ! if he had relented but a little more ; if he had thrown 
 himself in my way for but one other quarter of an hour ; if he 
 had extended his compassion for a vain, unthinking, miserable 
 girl, in but the least degree ; he might, and I believe he would, 
 have saved her ! Tell him that I don't blame him, but am 
 grateful for the effort that he made ; but ask him for the love 
 of God, and youth, and in merciful consideration for the 
 struggle which an ill-advised and unawakened nature makes 
 to hide the strength it thinks its weakness — ask him never, 
 never, to forget this* when he deals with one again ! " 
 
 Although Tom did not hold the clue to her full meaning, 
 he could guess it pretty nearly. Touched to the quick, he 
 took her hand and said, or meant to say, some words of con- 
 solation. She felt and understood them, whether they were
 
 584 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 spoken or no. He was not quite certain, afterwards, but that 
 she had tried to kneel down at his feet, and bless him. 
 
 He found that he was not alone in the room when she had 
 left it. Mrs. Todgers was there, shaking her head. Tom had 
 never seen Mrs. Todgers, it is needless to say, but he had a 
 perception of her being the lady of the house ; and he saw 
 some genuine compassion in her eyes, that won his good 
 opinion. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! You are an old friend, I see," said Mrs. 
 Todgers. 
 
 " Yes," said Tom. 
 
 "And yet," quoth Mrs. Todgers, shutting the door softly, 
 "she hasn't told you what her troubles are, I'm certain." 
 
 Tom was struck by these words, for they were quite true. 
 " Indeed," he said, " she has not." 
 
 " And never would," said Mrs. Todgers, "if you saw her 
 daily. She never makes the least complaint to me, or utters 
 a single word of explanation or reproach. But I know," said 
 Mrs. Todgers, drawing in her breath, "/know." 
 
 Tom nodded sorrowfully, " so do I." 
 
 " I fully believe," said Mrs. Todgers, taking her pocket- 
 handkerchief from the flat reticule, " that nobody can tell one 
 half of what that poor young creature has to undergo. But 
 though she comes here, constantly, to ease her poor full heart 
 without his knowing it ; and saying, ' Mrs. Todgers, I am 
 very low to-day ; I think that 1 shall soon be dead,' sits cry- 
 ing in my room until the fit is past ; I know no more from 
 her. And I believe," said Mrs. Todgers, putting back her 
 handkerchief again, " that she considers me a good friend 
 too." 
 
 Mrs. Todgers mi<rht have said her best friend. Commer- 
 cial gentlemen and gravy had tried Mrs. Todgers's temper ; 
 the main chance — it was such a very small one in her case, 
 that she might have been excused for looking sharp after it, 
 lest it should entirely vanish from her sight — had taken a firm 
 hold on Mrs. Todgers's attention. But in some odd nook in 
 Mrs. Todgers's breast, up a great many steps, and in a corner 
 easy to be overlooked, there was a secret door, with " Woman " 
 written on the spring, which, at a touch from Mercy's hand, 
 had flown wide open, and admitted her for shelter. 
 
 When boarding-house accounts are balanced with all other 
 ledgers, and the books of the Recording Angel are made up 
 for ever, perhaps there may be seen an entry to thy credit, 
 lean Mrs. Todgers, which shall make thee beautiful !
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 5S5 
 
 She was growing beautiful so rapidly in Tom's eyes ; for 
 he saw that she was poor, and that this good had sprung up 
 in her from among the sordid strivings of her life ; that she 
 might have been a very Venus in a minute more, if Miss 
 Pecksniff had not entered with her friend. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas Pinch ! " said Charit}', performing the cere- 
 mony of introduction with evident pride. " Mr. Moddle. 
 Where's my sister } " 
 
 " Gone, Miss Pecksniff," Mrs. Todgers answered. " She 
 had appointed to be home." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Charity, looking at Tom. " Oh, dear me ! " 
 
 " She's greatly altered since she's been Anoth — since she's 
 been married, Mrs. Todgers ! " observed Moddle. 
 
 " My dear Augustus ! " said Miss Pecksniff, in a low voice, 
 " I verily believe you have said that tifty thousand times, in 
 my hearing. What a Prose you are ! " 
 
 This was succeeded by some trifling love passages, which 
 appeared to originate with, if not to be wholly carried on by 
 Miss Pecksniff. At any rate, Mr. Moddle was much slower 
 in his responses than is customary with young lovers, and ex- 
 hibited a lowness of spirits which was quite oppressive. 
 
 He did not improve at all when Tom and he were in the 
 streets, but sighed so dismally that it was dreadful to hear 
 him. As a means of cheering him, Tom told him that he 
 wished him joy. 
 
 " Joy ! " cried Moddle. " Ha, ha ! " 
 
 " What an extraordinary young man ! " thought Tom. 
 
 "The Scorner has not set his seal upon you. You care 
 what becomes of you ? " said Moddle. 
 
 Tom admitted that it was a subject in which he certainly 
 felt some interest. 
 
 " I don't," said Mr. Moddle. " The Elements may have 
 me when they please. I'm ready." 
 
 Tom inferred from these, and other expressions of the 
 the same nature, that he was jealous. Therefore he allowed 
 him to take his own course ; which was such a gloomy one, 
 that he felt a load removed from his mind when they parted 
 company at the gate of Furnival's Inn. 
 
 It was now a couple of hours past John Westlock's dinner- 
 time ; and he was walking up and down the room, quite anx- 
 ious for Tom's safety. The table was spread ; the wine was 
 carefully decanted ; and the dinner smelt delicious. 
 
 " Why, Tom, old boy, where on earth have you been ?
 
 586 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Your box is here. Get your boots off instantly, and sit 
 down ! " 
 
 " 1 am sorry to say I can't stay, John," replied Tom Pinch, 
 who was breathless with the haste he had made in running up 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Can't stay ! " 
 
 "If you'll go on with your dinner," said Tom, " I'll tell 
 you my reason the while. I mustn't eat myself, or I shall 
 have no appetite for the chops." 
 
 " There are no chops here, my good fellow." 
 
 " No. But there are at Islington," said Tom. 
 
 John Westlock was perfectly confounded by this reply, and 
 vowed he would not touch a morsel until Tom had explained 
 himself fullv. So Tom sat down and told him all ; to which 
 he listened with the greatest interest. 
 
 He knew Tom too well, and respected his delicacy too 
 much, to ask him why he had taken these measures without 
 communicating with him first. He quite concurred in the 
 expediency of Tom's immediately returning to his sister, as 
 he knew so little of the place in which he had left her ; and 
 good-humoredly proposed to ride back with him in a cab, in 
 which he might convey his box. Tom's proposition that he 
 should sup with them that night, he flatly rejected, but made 
 an appointment with him for the morrow. " And now, Tom," 
 he said, as they rode along, " I have a question to ask you, 
 to which I expect a manly and straightforward answer. Do 
 you want any money ? I am pretty sure you do." 
 
 " I don't indeed," said Tom. 
 
 " I believe you are deceiving me." 
 
 " No. With many thanks to you, I am quite in earnest," 
 Tom replied. " My sister has some money, and so have I. If 
 I had nothing else, John, I have a five-pound note, which that 
 good creature, Mrs. Lupin, of the Dragon, handed up to me 
 outside the coach, in a letter, begging me to borrow it ; and 
 then drove off as hard as she could go." 
 
 " And a blessing on every dimple in her handsome face, 
 say I ! " cried John, " though why you should give her the 
 preference over me, I don't know. Never mind. I bide my 
 time, Tom." 
 
 "And I hope you'll continue to bide it," returned Tom, 
 gayly, " For I owe you more, already, in a hundred other 
 ways, than I can ever hope to pay." 
 
 They parted at the door of Tom's new residence. John
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 5S7 
 
 Westlock, sitting in tlie cab, and, catching a glimpse of a 
 blooming little busy creature darting out to kiss 'J'om, and to 
 help him with his box, would not have had the least objection 
 to change places with him. 
 
 Well ! she was a cheerful little thing ; and had a quaint, 
 bright quietness about her, that was infinitely pleasant. Surely 
 she was the best sauce for chops ever invented. The potatoes 
 seemed to take a pleasure in sending up their grateful steam 
 before her ; the froth upon the pint of porter pouted to attract 
 her notice. But it was all in vain. She saw nothing but Tom. 
 Tom was the first and last thing in the world. 
 
 As she sat opposite to Tom at supper, fingering one of 
 Tom's pet tunes upon the table-cloth, and smiling in his face, 
 he had never been so happy in his life. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 SECRET SERVICE. 
 
 In walking from the City with his sentimental friend, 
 Tom Pinch had looked into the face, and brushed against the 
 threadbare sleeve, of Mr. Nadgett, man of mystery to the 
 Anolo-Beu'jjalee Disinterested Loan and Life Assurance Com- 
 pany. Mr. Nadgett naturally passed away from Tom's re- 
 membrance as he passed out of his view ; for he didn't know 
 him, and had never heard his name. 
 
 As there are a vast number of people in the huge metrop- 
 olis of England who rise up every morning, not knowing 
 where their heads will rest at night, so tiiere are a multitude 
 who shooting arrows over houses as their daily business, never 
 know on whom they fall. Mr. Nadgett might have passed 
 Tom Pinch ten thousand times ; might even have been quite 
 familiar with his face, his name, pursuits, and character ; yet 
 never once have dreamed that Tom had any interest in any 
 act or mystery of his. Tom might have done the like by him, 
 of course. But the same private man out of all the men ali\e, 
 was in the mind of each at the same moment ; was prominently 
 connected, though in a different manner, with the day's ad- 
 ventures of both ; and formed, when they passed each other 
 in the street, the one absorbing topic of their thoughts.
 
 588 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Why Tom had Jonas Chuzzlewit in his mind requires no 
 explanation. Why Mr. Nadgett should have had Jonas Chuz- 
 zlewit in his, is quite another thing. 
 
 But, somehow or other, that amiable and worthy orphan 
 had become a part of the mysteiy of Mr. Nadgett's existence. 
 Mr. Nadgett took an interest in his lightest proceedings ; and 
 it never flagged or wavered. He watched him in and out of 
 the Assurance Office, where he was now formally installed 
 as a Director ; he dogged his footsteps in the streets ; he 
 stood listening when he talked ; he sat in coffee-rooms enter- 
 ing his name in the great pocket-book, over and over again ; 
 he wrote letters to himself about him constantly ; and when 
 he found them in his pocket, put them in the fire, with such 
 distrust and caution that he would bend down to watch the 
 crumpled tinder while it floated upward, as if his mind misgave 
 him, that the mystery it had contained might come out at the 
 chimney-pot. 
 
 And yet all this was quite a secret. Mr. Nadgett kept it 
 to himself, and kept it close. Jonas had no more idea that 
 Mr. Nadgett's eyes were flxed on him, than he had that he 
 was living under the daily inspection and report of a whole 
 order of Jesuits. Indeed Mr. Nadgett's eyes were seldom 
 fixed on any other objects than the ground, the clock, or the 
 fire ; but every button on his coat might have been an eye ; 
 he saw so much. 
 
 The secret manner of the man disarmed suspicion in this 
 wise ; suggesting, not that he was watching any one, but that 
 he thought some other man was watching him. He went 
 about so stealthily, and kept himself so wrapped up in him- 
 self, that the whole object of his life appeared to be, to avoid 
 notice, and preserve his own mystery. Jonas sometimes saw 
 him in the street, hovering in the outer office, waiting at the 
 door for the man who never came, or slinking off with his 
 immovable face and drooping head, and the one beaver glove 
 dangling before him ; but he would as soon have thought of 
 the cross upon the top of St. Paul's Cathedral taking note 
 of what he did, or slowly winding a great net about his feet, 
 as of Nadgett's being engaged in such an occupation. 
 
 Mr. Nadgett made a mysterious change about this time in 
 his rnysterious life ; for whereas he had, until now, been first 
 seen every morning coming down Cornhill, so exactly like the 
 Nadgett of the day before, as to occasion a popular belief 
 that he never went to bed or took his clothes off, he was now
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 589 
 
 first seen in Holborn, coming out of Kingsgate Street ; and it 
 was soon discovered that he actually went every morning to a 
 barber's shop in that street to get shaved ; and that the bar- 
 ber's name was Sweedlepipe. He seemed to make appoint- 
 ments with the man who never came, to meet him at this bar- 
 ber's ; for he would frequently take long spells of waiting in 
 the shop, and would ask for pen and ink, and pull out his 
 pocket-book, and be very busy over it for an hour at a time. 
 Mrs. Gamp and Mr. Sweedlepipe had many deep discoursings 
 on the subject of this mysterious customer ; but they usually 
 agreed that he had speculated too much and was keeping out 
 of the way. 
 
 He must have appointed the man who never kept his word, 
 to meet him at another new place too ; for one day he was 
 found, for the first time, by the waiter at the Mourning Coach- 
 Horse, the House-of-call for Undertakers, down in the City 
 there, making figures with a pipe-stem in tlie sawdust of a 
 clean spittoon ; and declining to call for anything, on the 
 ground of expecting a gentleman presently. As the gentleman 
 was not honorable enough to keep his engagement, he came 
 again next day, with his pocket-book in such a state of disten- 
 tion that he was regarded in the bar as a man of large property. 
 After that, he repeated his visits every day, and had so much 
 writing to do, that he made nothing of emptying a capacious 
 leaden inkstand in two sittings. Although he never talked 
 much, still, by being there among the regular customers, he 
 made their acquaintance ; and in course of time became quite 
 intimate with Mr. Tacker, Mr. Mould's foreman ; and even 
 with Mr. Mould himself, who openly said he was a long-headed 
 man, a dry one, a salt fish, a deep file, a rasper : and made 
 him the subject of many other flattering encomiums. 
 
 At the same time, too, he told the people at the Assurance 
 Office, in his own mysterious way, that there was something 
 wrong (secretly wrong, of course) iii his li\er, and that he 
 feared he must put himself under the doctor's hands. He 
 was delivered over to Jobling upon this representation ; and 
 though Jobling could not find out where his liver was wrong, 
 wrong Mr. Nadgett said it w^as ; observing that it was his own 
 liver and he hoped he ought to know. Accordinglv, he became 
 Mr. Jobling's patient ; and detailing his symptoms in his slow 
 and secret way, was in and out of that gentleman's room a 
 dozen times a dny. 
 
 As he pursued all these occupations at once ; and all
 
 59° 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Steadily ; and all secretly ; and never slackened in his watch- 
 fulness of everything that Mr, Jonas said, and did, and left un- 
 said and undone ; it is not improbable that they were, secretly, 
 essential parts of some great scheme which Mr. Nadgett had 
 on foot. 
 
 It was on the morning of this very day on which so much 
 had happened to Tom Pinch, that Nadgett suddenly appeared 
 before Mr. Montague's house in Pall Mall — he always made 
 his appearance as if he had that moment come up a trap — 
 when the clocks were striking nine. He rang the bell in a 
 covert under-handed way, as though it were a treasonable act ; 
 and passed in at the door, the moment it was opened wide 
 enou2;h to receive his body. That done, he shut it immediatly, 
 with his own hands. 
 
 Mr. Bailey, taking up his name without delay, returned 
 with a request that he would follow him into his master's 
 chamber. The chairman of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested 
 Loan and Life Assurance Board was dressing, and received 
 him as a business person who was often backwards and for- 
 wards, and was received at all times for his business' sake. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Nadgett?" 
 
 Mr. Nadgett put his hat upon the ground and coughed. 
 The boy having withdrawn and shut the door, he went to it 
 sofdy, examined the handle, and leturned to within a pace or 
 two of the chair in which Mr. Montague sat. 
 
 " Any news, Mr. Nadgett ? " 
 
 " I think we have some news at last, sir." 
 
 " I am happy to hear it. I began to fear you were off the 
 scent, Mr. Nadgett." 
 
 " No, sir. It grows cold occasionally. It will sometimes. 
 We can't help that." 
 
 " You are truth itself, Mr. Nadgett. Do you report a great 
 success .'' " 
 
 " That depends upon your judgment and construction of 
 it," was his answer, as he put on his spectacle . 
 
 " What do you think of it yourself. Have you pleased 
 yourself .'' " 
 
 Mr. Nadgett rubbed his hands slowly, stroked his ' chin, 
 looked round the room, and said, " Yes, yes, I think it's a 
 good case. I am disposed to think it's a good case. Will you 
 go into it at once .'' " 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 Mr, Nadgett picked out a certain chair from among the
 
 
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 H 
 
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 < 
 
 ei 
 
 S
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 591 
 
 rest, and having planted it in a particular spot, as carefully as 
 it he had been going to vault over it, placed another chair iti 
 front of it ; leaving room for his own legs between them, lie 
 then sat down in chair number two, and laid his pocket-book, 
 very carefully, on chair number one. He then untied the 
 pocket-book, and hung the string o\er the back of chair num- 
 ber one. He then drew both the chairs a little nearer Mr. 
 Montague, and opening the pocket-book spread out its con- 
 tents. Finally he selected a certain memorandum from the 
 rest, and held it out to his employer, who, during the whole 
 of these preliminary ceremonies, had been making violent 
 efforts to conceal his impatience. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't be so fond of making notes, my ex- 
 cellent friend," said Tigg Montague with a ghastly smile. "■ I 
 wish you would consent to gi\-e me their purport by word of 
 mouth." 
 
 "I don't like word of mouth," said Mr. Nadgett gravely. 
 "We never know who's listening." 
 
 Mr. Montague was going to retort, when Nadgett handed 
 him the paper, and said, with quiet exultation in his tone, 
 '• We'll begin at the beginning, and take that one first, if you 
 please, sir." 
 
 The chairman cast his eyes upon it, cold!}-, and with a 
 smile which did not render any great homage to the slow and 
 methodical habits of his spy. But he had not read half-a- 
 dozen lines when the expression of his face began to change, 
 and before he had finished the perusal of the paper, it was full 
 of grave and serious attention. 
 
 " Number Two," said Mr. Nadgett, handing him another, 
 and receiving back the first. " Read Number Two, sir, if you 
 please. There is more mterest as you go on." 
 
 Tigg Montague leaned backward in Ins chair, and cast 
 upon his emissaiy such a look of vacant wonder (not unmin- 
 gled with alarm), that Mr. Nadgett considered it necessary to 
 repeat the request he had already twice preferred : with the 
 view of recalling his attention to the point in hand. Profiting 
 by the hint, Mr. Montague went on with Number Two, and 
 afterwards with Numbers Three, and Four, and Five, and so on. 
 
 These documents were all in Mr. Nadgett's writing, and 
 were apparently a series of memoranda, jotted down from 
 time to time upon the backs of old letters, or any scrap of 
 paper that came first to hand. Loose straggling scrawls they 
 were, and of very uninviting exterior ; but they had we^gh*/
 
 592 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 purpose in them, if the chairman's face were any index to the 
 character of their contents. 
 
 The progress of Mr. Nadgett's secret satisfaction arising 
 out of the effect they made, kept pace with the emotions of 
 the reader. At first, Mr. Nadgett sat with his spectacles low 
 down upon his nose, looking over them at his employer, and 
 nervously rubbing his hands. After a little while, he changed 
 his posture in his chair for one of greater ease, and leisurely 
 perused the next document he held ready, as if an occasional 
 glance at his employer's face were now enough, and all occa- 
 sion for anxiety or doubt were gone. And finally he rose and 
 looked out of the window, where he stood with a triumphant 
 air, until Tigg Montague had finished. 
 
 " And this is the last, Mr. Nadgett ! " said that gentle- 
 man, drawing a long breath. 
 
 "That, sir, is the last." 
 
 " You are a wonderful man, Mr. Nadgett ! " 
 
 " I think it is a pretty good case," he returned as he 
 gathered up his papers. " It cost some trouble, sir." 
 
 " The trouble shall be well rewarded, Mr. Nadgett." Nad- 
 gett bowed. " There is a deeper impression of Somebody's 
 Hoof here, than I had expected, Mr. Nadgett. I may congra- 
 tulate myself upon your being such a good hand at a secret." 
 
 "Oh ! nothing has an interest to me that's not a secret," 
 replied Nadgett, as he tied the string about his pocket-book, 
 and put it up. " It almost takes away any pleasure I may 
 have had in this inquiry even to make it known to you." 
 
 "A most invaluable constitution," Tigg retorted. "A 
 great gift for a gentleman employed as you are, Mr. Nadgett. 
 Much better than discretion : though you possess that quality 
 also in an eminent degree. 1 think I heard a double knock. 
 Will you put your head out of window, and tell me whether 
 there is anybody at the door ? " 
 
 Mr. Nadgett softly raised the sash, and peered out from 
 the very corner, as a man might who was looking down into a 
 street from whence a brisk discharge of musketry might be 
 expected at any moment. Drawing in his head with equal 
 caution, he observed, not altering his voice or manner : 
 
 " Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 " I thought so," Tigg retorted. 
 
 " Shall I go ? " 
 
 " I think you had better. Stay though ! No ! remaio 
 here, Mr. Nadgett, if you please."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 593 
 
 It was remarkable how pale and flurried he had become in 
 an instant. There was nothing to account for it. His eye 
 had fallen on his razors : but what of them ! 
 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit was announced. 
 
 " Show him up directly, Nadgett ! Don't leave us alone 
 together. Mind you don't, now ! By the Lord ! " he added 
 in a whisper to himself : " We don't know what may happen." 
 
 Saying this, he hurriedly took up a couple of hair-brushes, 
 and began to e.xercise them on his own head, as if his toilet 
 had not been interrupted. Mr. Nadgett withdrew to the stove, 
 in which there was a small fire for the convenience of heating 
 curling irons ; and taking advantage of so favorable an oppor- 
 tunity for drying his pocket-handkerchief, produced it without 
 loss of time. There he stood, during the whole interview, 
 holding it before the bars, and sometimes, but not often, 
 glancing over his shoulder. 
 
 " My dear Chuzzlewit ! " cried Montague, as Jonas en- 
 tered ; "you rise with the lark. Though you go to bed with 
 the nightingale, you rise with the lark. You have superhuman 
 energy, my dear Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 " Ecod ! " said Jonas, with an air of languor and ill-humor, 
 as he took a chair, " I should be very glad not to get up with 
 the lark, if I could help it. But I am a light sleeper ; and 
 it's better to be up, than lying awake, counting the dismal old 
 church-clocks, in bed." 
 
 " A light sleeper ! " cried his friend. " Now, what is a 
 light sleeper ? I often hear the expression, but upon my life 
 I have not the least conception what a light sleeper is." 
 
 " Hallo ! " said Jonas, *' What's that ? Oh, old what's-his- 
 name ; looking (as usual) as if he wanted to skulk up the 
 chimney." 
 
 " Ha, ha! I have no doubt he does." 
 
 " Well ! He's not wanted here, I suppose," said Jonas. 
 *' He may go, mayn't he ? " 
 
 " Oh, let him stay, let him stay ! " said Tigg. " He's a 
 mere piece of furniture. He has been making his report, and 
 is waiting for further orders. He has been told," said Tigg, 
 raising his voice, " not to lose sight of certain friends of ours, 
 or to think that he has done with them by any means. He 
 understands his business." 
 
 " He need," replied Jonas ; " for of all the precious old 
 dummies in appearance that ever I saw, he's about the worst. 
 He's afraid of me, I think." 
 
 38
 
 594 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 " It's my belief," said Tigg, " that you are Poison to him. 
 Nadgett ! give me that towel ! " 
 
 He had as little occasion for a towel as Jonas had for a 
 start. But Nadgett brought it quickly ; and, having lingered 
 for a moment, fell back upon his old post by the fire. 
 
 " You see, my dear fellow," resumed Tigg, " you are too 
 what's the matter with your lips .'' How white they are ! " 
 
 " I took some vinegar just now," said Jonas. " I had 
 oysters for my breakfast. Where are they white ? " he added, 
 muttering an oath, and rubbing them upon his handkerchief. 
 " I don't believe they are white." 
 
 " Now I look again, they are not," replied his friend. 
 " They are coming right again." 
 
 " Say what you were going to say," cried Jonas angrily, 
 " and let my face be ! As long as I can show my teeth when 
 I want to (and I can do that pretty well), the color of my 
 lips is not material." 
 
 " Quite true," said Tigg. " I was only going to say that 
 you are too quick and active for our friend. He is too shy 
 to cope with such a man as you, but does his duty well. Oh, 
 very well ! But what is a light sleeper ? " 
 
 " Hang a light sleeper ! " exclaimed Jonas pettishly. 
 
 " No, no," interrupted Tigg. " No. We'll not do that." 
 
 " A light sleeper ain't a heavy one," said Jonas in his 
 sulky way ; " don't sleep much, and don't sleep well, and 
 don't sleep sound." 
 
 "And dreams," said Tigg, "and cries out in an ugly 
 manner ; and when the candle burns clown in the night, is in 
 an agony ; and all that sort of thing. I see ! " 
 
 They were silent for a little time. Then Jonas spoke : 
 
 "Now we've done with child's talk, I want to have a word 
 with you. I want to have a word with you before we meet 
 up yonder to-day. I am not satisfied with the state of affairs." 
 
 " Not satisfied ! " cried Tigg. " The money comes in 
 well." 
 
 " The money comes in well enough," retorted Jonas \ "but 
 it don't come out well enough. It can't be got at, easily 
 enough. I haven't sufficient power ; it is all in your hands. 
 Ecod ! what with one of your by-laws, and another of your 
 by-laws, and your votes in this capacity, and your votes in 
 that capacity, and your official rights, and your individual 
 rights, and other people's rights who are only you again, 
 there are no rights left for me. Everybody else's rights are my
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 595 
 
 wrongs. What's the use of my having a voice if it's always 
 drowned ? I might as well be dumb, and it would be much 
 less aggravating. I'm not agoing to stand that, you know." 
 
 " No ! " said Tigg in an insinuating tone. 
 
 " No 1 " returned Jonas, "I'm not indeed. I'll play Old 
 Gooseberry with the office, and make you glad to buy me out 
 at a good high figure, if you try any of your tricks with me.' 
 
 " I give you my honor — — ," Montague began. 
 
 " Oh ! confound your honor," interrupted Jonas, who be- 
 came more coarse and quarrelsome as the other remonstrated, 
 which may have been a part of Mr. Montague's intention : " I 
 want a little more control over the money. You may have all the 
 honor, if you like ;" I'll never bring you to book for that. But 
 I'm not agoing to stand it, as it is now. If you should take 
 it into your honorable head to go abroad with the bank, I 
 don't see much to prevent you. Well ! That won't do. Y've 
 had some very good dinners here, but they'd come too dear 
 on such terms : and therefore, that won't do." 
 
 "I am unfortunate to find you in this humor," said Tigg, 
 with a remarkable kind of smile : " for I was going to propose 
 to you — for your own ad\'antage ; solely for your own advan- 
 tage — that you should venture a little more with us." 
 
 " Was you, by G — .'' " said Jonas, with a short laugh. 
 
 "Yes. And to suggest," pursued Montague, " that surely 
 you have friends ; indeed, I know you have ; who would 
 answer our purpose admirably, and whom we should be de- 
 lighted to receive." 
 
 " How kind of you ! You'd be delighted to receive 'cm, 
 would you ? " said Jonas, bantering. 
 
 " I give you my sacretl honor, quite transported. As your 
 friends, observe I " 
 
 " Exactly," said Jonas ; " as my friends, of course. You'll 
 be very much delighted when you get 'em, I have no doubt. 
 And it'll be all to my advantage, won't it ? " 
 
 " It will be very much to your advantage," answered Mon- 
 tague, poising a brush in each hand, and looking steadily upon 
 him. " It will be very much to your advantage, I assure you." 
 
 " And you can tell me how," said Jonas, " can't you .' " 
 
 " Shall I tell you how ? " returned the other. 
 
 " I think you had better," said Jonas. "Strange things 
 have been done in the Assurance way before now, by strange 
 sorts of men, and I mean to take care of myself." 
 
 " Chuzzlewit 1 " replied Montague, leaning forward, with
 
 596 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 his arms upon his knees, and looking full into his face. 
 " Strange things have been done, and are done every day ; 
 not only in our way, but in a variety of other ways ; and no 
 one suspects them. But ours, as you say, my good friend, is 
 a strange way ; and we strangely happen, sometimes, to come 
 into the knowledge of very strange events." 
 
 He beckoned to Jonas to bring his chair nearer ; and look- 
 ing slightly round, as if to remind him of the presence of 
 Nadgett, whispered in his ear. 
 
 From red to white ; from white to red again ; from red to 
 yellow ; then to a cold, dull, awful, sweat-bedabbled blue. In 
 that short whisper, all these changes fell upon the face of 
 Jonas Chuzzlewit ; and when at last he laid his hand upon the 
 whisperer's mouth, appalled, least any syllable of what he 
 said should reach the ears of the third person present, it was 
 as bloodless, and as heavy as the hand of Death. 
 
 He drew his chair away and sat a spectacle of terror, 
 misery, and rage. He was afraid to speak, or look, or move, 
 or sit still. Abject, crouching, and miserable, he was a greater 
 degradation to the form he bore, then if he had been a loath- 
 some wound from head to heel. 
 
 His companion leisurely resumed his dressing, and com- 
 pleted it, glancing sometimes with a smile at the transforma- 
 tion he had effected, but never speaking once. 
 
 " You'll not object," he said, when he was quite equipped, 
 " to venture further with us, Chuzzlewit, my friend ? " 
 
 His pale lips faintly stammered out a " No." 
 
 " Well said ! That's like yourself. Do you know I was 
 thinking yesterday that your father-in-law, relying on your ad- 
 vice as a man of great sagacity in money matters, as no doubt 
 you are, would join us, if the thing were well presented to 
 him. He has money ? " 
 
 "Yes, he has money." 
 
 " Shall I leave Mr. PecksniiT to you ? Will you undertake 
 for Mr. Pecksniff ? " 
 
 "I'll try. I'll do my best." 
 
 " A thousand thanks," replied the other, clapping him 
 upon the shoulder. " Shall we walk down stairs .'' Mr. Nad- 
 gett ! Follow us, if you please." 
 
 They went down in that order. Whatever Jonas felt in 
 reference to Montague ; whatever sense he had of being caged, 
 and barred, and trapped, and having fallen down into a pit 
 of deepest ruin ; whatever thoughts came crowding on his
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. c,g-j 
 
 mind even at that early time, of one terrible chance of escape, 
 of one red glimmer in a sky of blackness ; he no more thought 
 that the slinking figure half a dozen stairs behind him was 
 his pursuing Fate, than that the other figure at his side was 
 his Good Angel. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 CONTAINING SOME FURTHER PARTICULARS OF THE DOMESTIC 
 ECONOMY OF THE PINCHES ; WITH STRANGE NEWS FROM 
 THE CITY, NARROWLY CONCERNING TOM. 
 
 Pleasant little Ruth ! Cheerful, tidy, bustling, quiet lit- 
 tle Ruth ! No doll's house ever yielded greater delight to its 
 young mistress, than little Ruth derived from her" glorious 
 dominion over the triangular parlor and the two small bed- 
 rooms. 
 
 To be Tom's housekeeper. What dignity ! Housekeeping, 
 upon the commonest terms, associated itself with elevated 
 responsibilities of all sorts and kinds ; but housekeeping for 
 Tom, implied the utmost complication of grave trusts and 
 niighty charges. Well might she take the keys out of the little 
 chiffonier which held the tea and sugar ; and out of the two 
 little damp cupboards down by the fire-place, where the very 
 black beetles got mouldy, and had the shine taken out of 
 their backs by envious .mildew ; and jingle them upon a ring 
 before Tom's eyes when he came down to breakfast ! Weil 
 might she, laughing musically, put them up in that blessed 
 little pocket of hers with a merry pride ! For it was such a 
 grand novelty to be mistress of anything, that if she had been 
 the most relentless and despotic of all little houskeepers, she 
 might have pleaded just that much for her excuse, and have 
 been honorably acquitted. 
 
 So far from being despotic, however, there was a coyness 
 about her ver\' way of pouring out the tea, which Tom quite 
 revelled in. And when she asked him what he would like to 
 have for dinner, and faltered out "chops" as a reasonably 
 good suggestion after their last night's successful supper, Tom 
 grew quite facetious and rallied her desperately.
 
 598 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I don't know, Tom," said his sister, blushing, " I am 
 not quite confident, but I think I could make a beef-steak 
 pudding, if I tried, Tom." 
 
 " In the whole catalogue of cooker}-, there is nothing I 
 should like so much as a beef-steak pudding!" cried Tom : 
 slapping his leg to give the greater force to this reply. 
 
 " Yes, dear, that's excellent ! But if it should happen not 
 to come quite right the first time," his sister faltered ; " if it 
 should happen not to be a pudding exactly, but should turn 
 out a stew, or a soup, or something of that sort, you'll not be 
 vexed, Tom, will you ? " 
 
 The serious way in which she looked at Tom ; the way in 
 which Tom looked at her ; and the way in which she gradually 
 broke into a merry laugh at her own expense ; would have 
 enchanted you. 
 
 "Why," said Tom, "this is capital. It gives us a new, 
 and quite an uncommon interest in the dinner. We put into 
 a lottery for a beef-steak pudding, and it is impossible to say 
 what we may get. We may make some wonderful discovery, 
 perhaps, and produce such a dish as never was known before." 
 
 " I shall not be at all surprised if we do, Tom," returned 
 his sister, still laughing merrily, " or if it should prove to be 
 such a dish as we shall not feel very anxious to produce 
 again ; but the meat must come out of the saucepan at last, 
 somehow or other, you know. We can't cook it into nothing 
 at all ; that's a great comfort. So if you like to venture, / 
 will." 
 
 " I have not the least doubt," rejoined Tom, " that it will 
 come out an excellent pudding ; or at all events, I am sure 
 that I shall think it so. There is naturally something so 
 handy and brisk about you, Ruth, that if you said you could 
 make a bowl of faultless turtle soup, I should believe you." 
 
 And Tom was right. She was precisely that sort of person. 
 Nobody ought to have been able to resist her coaxing manner ; 
 and nobody had any business to tr}-. Yet she never seemed 
 to know it was her manner at all. That was the best of it. 
 
 Well ! she washed up the breakfast cups, chatting away 
 the whole time, and telling Tom all sorts of anecdotes about 
 the brass-and-copper founder ; put everything in its place ; 
 made the room as neat as herself ; — you must not suppose its 
 shape was half as neat as hers though, or anything like it — 
 and brushed Tom's old hat round and round and round again, 
 until it was as sleek as Mr. Pecksniff. Then she discovered, all
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 599 
 
 in a moment, that Tom's shirt-collar was frayed at the edge ; 
 and flying up stairs for a needle and thread, came flying down 
 asain with her thimble on, and set it right with wonderful 
 expertness ; never once sticking the needle into his face, 
 although she was humming his pet tune from first to last, and 
 beating time with the fingers of her left hand upon his neck- 
 cloth. She had no sooner done this, than off she was again ; 
 and there she stood once more, as brisk and busy as a bee, 
 tying that compact little chin of hers into an equally compact 
 little bonnet : intent on bustling out to the butcher's without 
 a minute's loss of time ; and inviting Tom to come and see 
 the steak cut, with his own eyes.. As to Tom, he was ready 
 to go anywhere ; so, off they trotted, arm-in-arm, as nimbly as 
 you please : saying to each other what a quiet street it was to 
 lodge in, and how very cheap, and what an aiiy situation. 
 
 To see the butcher slap the steak, before he laid it on the 
 block, and give his knife a sharpening, was to forget breakfa.^t 
 instantly. It was agreeable, too — it really was — to see him 
 cut it off, so smooth and juicy. There was nothing savage in 
 the act, although the knife was large and keen ; it was a piece 
 of art, high art ; there was delicacy of touch, clearness of 
 tone, skilful handling of the subject, fine shading. It was 
 the triumph of mind over matter ; quite. 
 
 Perhaps the greatest cabbage-leaf ever grown in a garden 
 was wrapped about this steak, before it was delivered over lo 
 Tom. But the butcher had a sentiment for his business, and 
 knew how to refine upon it. When he saw Tom putting the 
 cabbage-leaf into his pocket awkwardly, he begged to be 
 allowed to do it for him; "for meat," he said with some 
 emotion, "must be humored, not drove." 
 
 Back they went to the lodgings again, after they had bought 
 some eggs, and flour, and such small matters ; and Tom sat 
 gravely dowai to write, at one end of the parlor table, while 
 Ruth prepared to make the pudding, at the other end ; for 
 there was nobody in the house but an old woman (the land- 
 lord being a mysterious sort of man, who went out early in 
 the morning, and was scarcely ever seen) ; and saving in 
 mere household drudger}-, they waited on themselves. 
 
 " What are you writing, Tom .-' " inquired his sister, laying 
 her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Why, you see, my dear," said Tom, leaning back in his 
 chair, and looking up in her face, "■ I am very anxious of course, 
 to obtain some suitable employment ; and before Mr. West-
 
 6oo MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 lock comes this afternoon, I think I may as well prepare a 
 little description of myself and my qualifications ; such as he 
 could show to any friend of his." 
 
 " You had better do the same for me, Tom, also," said 
 his sister, casting down her eyes. " I should dearly like to 
 keep house for you, and take care of you always, Tom ; but 
 we are not rich enough for that." 
 
 " We are not rich," returned Tom, " certainly ; and we 
 may be much poorer. But we will not part, if we can help it. 
 No, no : we will make up our minds, Ruth, that, unless we 
 are so very unfortunate as to render me quite sure that you 
 would be better off away from me than with me, we will battle 
 it out together. I am certain we shall be happier if we can 
 battle it out together. Don't you think we shall ? " 
 
 " Think Tom ! " 
 
 " Oh, tut, tut ! " interposed Tom, tenderly. " You mustn't 
 cr>'." 
 
 " No, no ; I won't, Tom. But you can't afford it, dear. 
 You can't, indeed." 
 
 " We don't know that," said Tom. " How are we to know 
 that, yet awhile, and without trying "i Lord bless my soul ! " 
 Tom's energy became quite grand. " There is no knowing 
 what may happen, if we try hard. And I am sure we can 
 live contentedly upon a very little — if we can only get it." 
 
 " Yes : that I am sure we can, Tom." 
 
 " Why, then," said Tom, " We must try for it. My friend, 
 John Westlock, is a capital fellow, and very shrewd and in- 
 telligent. I'll take his advice. We'll talk it over with him — 
 both of us together. You'll like John very much, when you 
 come to know him, I am certain. Don't cry, don't ciy. You 
 make a beef-steak pudding, indeed ! " said Tom, giving her a 
 gentle push. "Why, you haven't boldness enough for a 
 dumpling ! " 
 
 " You ?w7/call it a pudding, Tom. Mind ! I told you not ! " 
 
 " I may as well call it that, till it proves to be something 
 else," said Tom. " Oh, you are going to work in earnest, are 
 you .? " 
 
 Ay, ay ! That she was. And in such pleasant earnest, 
 moreover, that Tom's attention wandered from his writing 
 every moment. First, she tripped down stairs into the kitchen 
 for the floor, then for the pie-board, then for the eggs, then 
 for the butter, then for a jug of water, then for the rolling-pin, 
 then for a pudding-basin, then for the pepper, then for the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 60 1 
 
 salt ; making a separate journey for ever\-thing, and laugh- 
 ing every time she started off afresh. When all the materials 
 were collected, she was horrified to find she had no apron on, 
 and so ran up stairs, by way of variety, to fetch it. She didn't 
 put it on up stairs, but came dancing down with it in her hand ; 
 and being one of those little women to whom an apron is a 
 most becoming little vanity, it took an immense time to ar- 
 range ; having to be carefully smoothed down beneath — Oh, 
 heaven, what a wicked little stomacher ! and to be gathered 
 up into little plaits by the strings before it could be tied, and 
 to be tapped, rebuked, and wheedled, at the pockets, before 
 it would set right, which at last it did, and when it did^ — but 
 never mind ; this is a sober chronicle. And then, there were 
 her cuffs to be tucked up, for fear of flour ; and she had a 
 little ring to pull off her finger, which wouldn't come off 
 (foolish little ring !) ; and during the whole of these prepara- 
 tions she looked demurely every now and then at Tom, from 
 under her dark eye-lashes, as if they were all a part of the 
 pudding, and indispensable to its composition. 
 
 For the life and soul of him Tom could get no further in 
 his writing than, " A respectable young man, aged thirty-five," 
 and this, notwithstanding the show she made of being super- 
 naturally quiet, and going about on tiptoe, lest she should 
 disturb him : which only served as an additional means of 
 distracting his attention, and keeping it upon her. 
 
 " Tom," she said at last, in high glee. " Tom ! " 
 
 " What now t " said Tom, repeating to himself, " aged 
 thirty-five ! " 
 
 " Will you look here a moment, please ? " 
 
 As if he hadn't been looking all the time ! 
 
 " I am going to begin, Tom. Don't you wonder why I 
 butter the inside of the basin t " said his busy little sister. 
 
 "Not more than you do, I dare say," replied Tom, laugh- 
 ing. "For I believe you don't know anything about it." 
 
 "What an Infidel you are, Tom ! How else do you think 
 it would turn out easily when it was done ? For a civil- 
 engineer and land-surveyor not to know that ! My goodness, 
 Tom ! " 
 
 It was wholly out of the question to try to write. Tom 
 lined out " A respectable young man, aged thirty-five ; " and 
 sat looking on, pen in hand, with one of the most loving smiles 
 imaginable. 
 
 Such a busy little woman as she was ! So full of self-
 
 6o2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 importance, and trying so hard not to smile, or seem uncertain 
 about anything! It was a perfect treat to Tom to see her 
 with her brows knit, and her rosy lips pursed up, kneading 
 away at the crust, rolling it out, cutting it up into strips, lining 
 the basin with it, shaving it offline round the rim, chopping 
 up the stake into small pieces, raining down pepper and salt 
 upon them, packing them into the basin, pouring in cold water 
 for gravy, and never venturing to steal a look in his direction, 
 lest her gravity should be disturbed ; until, at last, the basin 
 being quite full and only wanting the top crust, she clapped 
 her hands all covered with paste and flour, at Tom, and burst 
 out heartily into such a charmmg little laugh of triumph, that 
 the pudding need have had no other seasoning to commend it 
 to the taste of any reasonable man on earth. 
 
 " Where's the pudding? " said Tom. For he was cutting 
 his jokes, Tom was. 
 
 " Where ? " she answered, holding it up with both hands. 
 " Look at it ! " 
 
 " That a pudding ! " said Tom. 
 
 "It will be, you stupid fellow, when it's covered in," 
 returned his sister. Tom still pretending to look incredulous, 
 she gave him a tap on the head with the rolling-pin, and still 
 laughing merrily, had returned to the composition of the 
 top crust, when she started and turned very red. Tom started, 
 too, for following her eyes, he saw John Westlock in the room. 
 
 " Why, my goodness, John ! How did you come in ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said John — "your sister's pardon 
 especially — but I met an old lady at the street door, who re- 
 quested me to enter here ; and as you didn't hear me knock, 
 and the door was open, I made bold to do so. I hardly know," 
 said John, with a smile, " why any of us should be discon- 
 certed at my having accidentally intruded upon such an agree- 
 able domestic occupation, so very agreeable and skilfully pur- 
 sued ; but I must confess that / am. Tom, will you kindly 
 come to my relief ? " 
 
 " Mr. John Westlock," said Tom. " My sister." 
 
 " I hope, that as the sister of so old a friend," said John, 
 laughing, " you will have the goodness to detach your first 
 impressions of me from my unfortunate entrance." 
 
 " My sister is not indisposed perhaps to say the same to 
 you on her own behalf," retorted Tom. 
 
 John said, of course, that this wms quite unnecessar}', for he 
 had been transfixed in silent admiration ; and he held out his
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 03 
 
 hand to Miss Pinch ; who couldn't take it, however, by reason 
 of thetiour and paste upon her own. This, which mi,2;ht seem 
 calculated to increase the general confusion and render matters 
 worse, had in reality the best effect ni the world, for neither 
 of them could help laughing ; and so they both found them- 
 selves on easy terms immediately. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you," said Tom. " Sit down." 
 
 " I can only think of sitting down, on one condition," re- 
 turned his friend : " and that is, that your sister goes on with 
 the pudding, as if you were still alone." 
 
 "That lam sure she will," said Tom. "On one other 
 condition, and that is, that you stay and help us to eat it." 
 
 Poor little Ruth was seized with a palpitation of the heart 
 when Tom committed this appalling indiscretion, for she felt 
 that if the dish turned out a failure, she never would be able 
 to hold up her head before John Westlock again. Quite un- 
 conscious of her state of mind, John accepted the invitation 
 with all imaginable heartiness ; and after a little more pleas- 
 antry concerning this same pudding, and the tremendous ex- 
 pectations he made believe to entertain of it, she blushingly 
 resumed her occupation, and he took a chair. 
 
 " I am here much earlier than I intended, Tom ; but I will 
 tell you what brings me, and I think I can answer for your 
 being glad to hear it. Is that anything you wish to show 
 me } " 
 
 " Oh dear no ! " cried Tom, who had forgotten the blotted 
 scrap of paper in his hand, until this iiuiuiry brought it to his 
 recollection. " ' A respectable young man, aged thirty-five ' — ■ 
 The beginning of a 'description of myself. That's alk" 
 
 "I don't think you will have occasion to finish it, Tom. 
 But how is it you never told me you had friends in London ? " 
 ■ Tom looked at his sister with all his might ; and certainly 
 his sister looked with all her might at him. 
 
 " Friends in London ! " echoed Tom. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Westlock, " to be sure." 
 
 " Have iy;// any friends in London, Ruth, my dear.^" 
 asked Tom. 
 
 " No, 'I'om." 
 
 " I am very happy to hear that / have," said Tom, "but 
 it's news to me. I never knew it. They must be capital peo- 
 ple to keep a secret, John." 
 
 " You shall judge for yourself," returned the other. 
 " Seriously, Tom, here, is the plain state of the case. As \
 
 6 04 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 was sitting at breakfast this morning, there comes a knock at 
 my door." 
 
 " On which you cried out, very loud, ' Come in ! ' " sug- 
 gested Tom. 
 
 " So I did. And the person who knocked, not being a 
 respectable young man, aged thirty-five, from the country, 
 came in when he was invited, instead of standing gaping and 
 staring about him on the landing. Well ! When he came 
 in, I found he was a stranger ; a grave, business-like, sedate- 
 looking, stranger. ' Mr. Westlock ? ' said he. ' That is my 
 name,' said I. ' The favor of a few words with you ? ' said he. 
 ' Pray be seated, sir,' said 1." 
 
 Here John stopped for an instant, to glance towards the 
 table, where Tom's sister, listening attentively, was still busy 
 with the basin, which by this time made a noble appearance. 
 Then he resumed : 
 
 "The pudding having taken a chair, Tom " — 
 
 " What ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " Having taken a chair." 
 
 " You said a pudding." 
 
 " No, no," replied John, coloring rather ; " a chair. The 
 idea of a stranger coming into my rooms at half-past eight 
 o'clock in the morning, and taking a pudding ! Having taken 
 a chair, Tom, a chair — amazed me by opening the conversation 
 thus : ' T believe you are acquainted, sir, with Mr. Thomas 
 Pinch ? ' " 
 
 " No ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " His very words, I assure you. I told him I was. Did 
 I know where you were at present residing ? Yes. In Lon- 
 don ? Yes. He had casually heard, in a roundabout wa}', 
 that you had left your situation with Mr. Pecksniff. Was 
 that the fact? Yes, it was. Did you want another.? Yes, 
 you did." 
 
 " Certainly," said Tom, nodding his head. 
 
 " Just what I impressed upon him. You may rest assured 
 that I set that point beyond the possibility of any mistake, 
 and gave him distinctly to understand that he might make up 
 his mind about it. Ver)'^ well. 
 
 " ' Then,' said he, ' 1 think I can accommodate him.' " 
 
 Tom's sister stopped short. 
 
 " Lord bless me ! " cried Tom. " Ruth, my dear, ' think 
 t can accommodate him.' " 
 
 "Of course 1 begged him," pursued John Westlock,
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 605 
 
 glancing at Tom's sister, who was not less eager \\\ her interest 
 than Tom himself, " to proceed, and said that I would under- 
 take to see you immediately. He replied that he had very 
 little to say, being a man of few words, but such as it was, it 
 was to the purpose — and so, indeed, it turned out — for he im- 
 mediately went on to tell me that a friend of his was in want 
 of a kind of secretary and librarian ; and that although the sal- 
 ary was small, being only a hundred pounds a year, with nei- 
 ther board nor lodging, still the duties were not heavy, and 
 there the post was. Vacant, and ready for your acceptance." 
 
 " Good gracious me ! " cried Tom ; " a hundred pounds a 
 year 1 My dear John 1 Ruth, my love I A hundred pounds 
 a year ! " 
 
 " But the strangest part of the stor)'," resumed John West- 
 lock, laying his hand on Tom's wrist, to bespeak his attention, 
 and repress his ecstasies for the moment ; " the strangest part 
 of the story, Miss Pinch, is this. I don't know this man from 
 Adam ; neither does this man know Tom." 
 
 " He can't," said Tom, in great perplexity, " if he's a 
 Londoner. I don't know any one in London." 
 
 "And on my observing," John resumed, still keeping his 
 hand upon Tom's wrist, " that I had no doubt he would 
 excuse the freedom I took, in inquiring who directed him to 
 me ; how he came to know of the change which had taken 
 place in my friend's position ; and how he came to be 
 acquainted with my friend's peculiar fitness for such an office 
 as he had described ; he dryly said that he was not at liberty 
 to enter into any explanations." 
 
 " Not at liberty to enter into any explanations ! " repeated 
 Tom, drawing a long breath. 
 
 " ' I must be perfectly aware,' he said," John added, " ' that 
 to any person who had ever been in Mr. Pecksniff's neigh- 
 borhood, Mr. Thomas Pinch and his acquirements were as 
 well known as the Church steeple, or the Blue Dragon.' " 
 
 " The Blue Dragon ! " repeated Tom, staring alternately 
 at his friend and his sister. 
 
 " Ay ; think of that ! He spoke as familiarly of the Blue 
 Dragon, I give you my word, as if he had been Mark Tapley. 
 I opened my eyes, I can tell you, when he did so ; but I could 
 not fancy I had ever seen the man before, although he said 
 with a smile, ' You know the Blue Dragon, Mr. Westlock ; 
 you kept it up there, one or twice, yourself.' Kept it up there \ 
 So I did. You remember, Tom .'' "
 
 6o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Tom nodded with great significance, and falling into a 
 state of deeper perplexity than before, observed that this was 
 the most unaccountable and extraordinary circumstance he 
 had ever heard of in his life. 
 
 '* Unaccountable ? " his friend repeated. " I became 
 afraid of the man. Though it was broad day, and bright 
 sunshine, I was positively afraid of him. I declare I half 
 suspected him to be a supernatural visitor, and not a mortal, 
 until he took out a common-place description of pocket-book, 
 and handed me this card." 
 
 " Mr. Fips," said Tom, reading it aloud. " Austin Friars. 
 Austin Fria:rs sounds ghostly, John." 
 
 " Fips don't, I think," was John's reply. " But there he 
 lives, Tom, and there he expects us to call this morning. And 
 now you know as much of this strange incident as I do, upon 
 my honor." 
 
 Tom's face, between his exultation in the hundred pounds 
 a year, and his wonder at this narration, was only to be 
 equalled by the face of his sister, on which there sat the very 
 best expression of blooming surprise that any painter could 
 have wished to see. What the beef-steak pudding would ha\e 
 come to, if it had not been by this time finished, astrology 
 itself could hardly determine. 
 
 "Tom," said Ruth, after a little hesitation, "perhaps Mr. 
 Westlock, in his friendship for you, knows more of this than 
 he chooses to tell." 
 
 " No, indeed ! " cried John, eagerly. " It is not so, I 
 assure you. I wish it were. I cannot take credit to myself, 
 Miss Pinch, for any such thing. All that I know, or, so far 
 as I can judge, am likely to know, I have told you." 
 
 " Couldn't you know more, if you thought proper t " said 
 Ruth, scraping the pie-board industriously. 
 
 " No," retorted John. " Indeed, no. It is very ungenerous 
 in you to be so suspicious of me when I repose implicit faith 
 in you. I have unbounded confidence in the pudding. Miss 
 Pinch." 
 
 She laughed at this, but they soon got back into a seri- 
 ous vein, and discussed the subject with profound gravity. 
 Whatever else was obscure in the business, it appeared to be 
 quite plain that Tom was offered a salary of one hundred 
 pounds a year ; and this being the main point, the surround- 
 ing obscurity rather set it off than otherwise. 
 
 Tom, being in a great flutter, wished to start for Austin
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT. 607 
 
 Friars instantly, but they waited nearly an hour, by John's 
 advice, before they departed. Tom made himself as spruce 
 as he could before leaving home, and when John Westlock, 
 through the half-opened parlor door, had glimpses of that 
 brave little sister brushing the collar of his coat in the passage, 
 taking up loose stitches in his gloves, and hovering lightly 
 about and about him, touching him up here and there in the 
 height of her quaint, little, old-fashioned tidiness, he called to 
 mind the fancy portraits of her on the wall of the Pecksniflfian 
 work-room, and decided with uncommon indignation that they 
 were gross libels, and not half pretty enough ; though, as hath 
 been mentioned in its place, the artists always made those 
 sketches beautiful, and he had drawn at least a score of them 
 with his own hands. 
 
 " Tom," he said, as they were walking along, " I begin to 
 think you must be somebody's son." 
 
 " 1 suppose I am," Tom answered in his quiet way. 
 " But I mean somebody's of consequence." 
 " Bless your heart," replied Tom, " my poor father was of 
 no consequence, nor my mother either." 
 " You remember them perfectly, then ? " 
 " Remember them .-' oh dear yes. My poor mother was 
 the last. She died when Ruth was a mere baby, and then we 
 both became a charge upon the savings of that good old 
 grandmother I used to tell you of. You remember ! Oh ! 
 There's nothing romantic in our historv, John." 
 
 " Very well," said John in quiet despair. " Then there 
 is no way of accounting for my visitor of this morning. So 
 we'll not try, Tom." 
 
 They did try, notwithstanding, and never left off tr}'ing 
 until they got to Austin Friars, where, in a very dark passage 
 on the first Hoor, oddly situated at the back of a house, across 
 some leads, they found a little blear-eyed glass door up in one 
 corner, with Mr. Fips painted on it in characters which were 
 meant to be transparent. There was also a wicked old side- 
 board hiding in the gloom hard by, meditating designs upon 
 the ribs of visitors ; and an old mat, worn into lattice work, 
 which, being useless as a mat (even if anybody could have 
 seen it, which was impossible), had for many years directed 
 its industry into another channel, and regularly tripped up 
 every one of Mr. Fips's clients. 
 
 Mr. Fips, hearing a violent concussion between a human 
 hat and his office door, was apprised, by the usual means of
 
 6o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 communication, that somebody had come to call upon him, 
 and giving that somebody admission, observed that it was 
 " rather dark." 
 
 "Dark indeed," John whispered in Tom Pinch's ear. 
 " Not a bad place to dispose of a countryman in, I should 
 think, Tom." 
 
 Tom had been already turning over in his mind the possi- 
 bility of their having been tempted into that region to furnish 
 forth a pie ; but the sight of Mr, Fips, who was small and 
 spare, and looked peaceable, and wore black shorts and pow- 
 der, dispelled his doubts. 
 
 "Walk in," said Mr. Fips. 
 
 They walked in. And a mighty yellow-jaundiced little 
 office Mr. Fips had of it : with a great, black, sprawling splash 
 upon the floor in one corner, as if some old clerk had cut his 
 throat there, years ago, and had let out ink instead of blood. 
 
 " I have brought my friend Mr. Pinch, sir," said John 
 Westlock. 
 
 "Be pleased to sit," said Mr. Fips. 
 
 They occupied the two chairs, and Mr. Fips took the office 
 stool, from the stuffing whereof he drew forth a piece of 
 horse-hair of immense length, which he put into his mouth 
 with a great appearance of appetite. 
 
 He looked at Tom Pinch curiously, but with an entire 
 freedom from any such expression as could be reasonably con- 
 strued into an unusual display of interest. After a short silence, 
 during which Mr. Fips was so perfectly unembarrassed as to 
 render it manifest that he could have broken it sooner with- 
 out hesitation, if he had felt inclined to do so, he asked if Mr. 
 Westlock had made his offer fully known to Mr. Pinch. 
 
 John answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " And you think it worth your while, sir, do you ? " Mr, 
 Fips inquired of Tom. 
 
 " I think it a piece of great good fortune, sir," said Tom. 
 " I am exceedingly obliged to you for the offer." 
 
 " Not to me," said Mr. Fips. " I act upon instructions." 
 
 "To your friend, sir, then," said Tom. "To the gentle- 
 man with whom I am to engage, and whose confidence I shall 
 endeavor to deserve. When he knows me better, sir, I hope 
 he will not lose his good opinion of me. He will find me 
 punctual and vigilant, and anxious to do what is right. That 
 I think I can answer for, and so," looking towards him, "can 
 Mr. Wesdock."
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6og 
 
 " Most assuredly," said John. 
 
 Mr. Fips appeared to have some little difficulty in resum- 
 ing the conversation. To relieve himself, he took up the 
 wafer-stamp, and began stamping capital F's all over his 
 legs. 
 
 "The fact is," said Mr. Fips, "that my friend is not, at 
 this present moment, in town." 
 
 Tom's countenance fell ; for he thought this equivalent to 
 telling him that his appearance did not answer ; and that Fips 
 must look out for somel^ody else. 
 
 " When do you think he will be in town, sir," he asked. 
 
 "I can't say ; it's impossible to tell. I really have no idea. 
 But," said Fips, taking off a very deep impression of the 
 wafer-stamp upon the calf of his left leg, and looking steadily 
 at Tom, " I don't know that it's a matter of much conse- 
 quence." 
 
 Poor Tom inclined his head deferentially, but appeared to 
 doubt that. 
 
 " I say," repeated Mr. Fips, "that I don't know it's a mat- 
 ter of much consequence. The business lies entirely between 
 yourself and me, Mr. Pinch. With reference to your duties I 
 can set you going; and with reference to your salary, I can 
 pay it. Weekly," said Mr. Fips, putting down the wafer-stamp, 
 and looking at John Westlock and Tom Pinch by turns ; 
 " weekly ; in this office ; at any time between the hours of 
 four and live in the afternoon." As Mr. Fips said this, he 
 made up his face as if he were going to whistle. But he 
 didn't. 
 
 "You are very good," said Tom, whose countenance was 
 now suffused with pleasure : "and nothing can be more sat- 
 isfactory or straightforward. My attendance will be re- 
 Cjuired — " 
 
 " From half-past nine to four o'clock or so, I should say," 
 interrupted Mr. Fips. " About that." 
 
 " I did not mean the hours of attendance," retorted Tom, 
 "which are light and easy, I am sure ; but the place." 
 
 "Oh, the place ! The place is in the Temple." 
 
 Tom was delighted. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mr. Fips, "you would like to see the 
 place ? " 
 
 "Oh dear!" cried Tom. "T shall only be too glad to 
 consider myself engaged, if you will allow me ; without any 
 further reference to the place." 
 
 39
 
 6 1 o MAJi TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " You may consider yourself engaged, by all means," said 
 Mr. Fips ; " you couldn't meet me at the Temple Gate in 
 Fleet Street, in an hour from this time, I suppose, could 
 you ? " 
 
 Certainly Tom could. 
 
 " Good," said Mr. Fips, rising. " Then I will show you 
 the place ; and you can begin your attendance to-morrow 
 morning. In an hour, therefore, I shall see you. You too, 
 Mr. Westlock "i Very good. Take care how you go. It's 
 rather dark." 
 
 With this remark, which seemed superfluous, he shut them 
 out upon the staircase, and they groped their way into the 
 street again. 
 
 The interview had done so little to remove the mystery in 
 which Tom's new engagement was involved, and had done so 
 much to thicken it, that neither could help smiling at the puz- 
 zled looks of the other. They agreed, however, that the intro- 
 duction of Tom to his new office and office companions could 
 hardly fail to throw a light upon the subject ; and therefore 
 postponed its further consideration until after the fulfilment of 
 the appointment they had made with Mr. Fips. 
 
 After looking at John Westlock's chambers, and devoting 
 a few spare minutes to the Boar's Head, they issued forth 
 again to the place of meeting. The time agreed upon, had 
 not quite come ; but Mr. Fips was already at the Temple Gate, 
 and expressed his satisfaction at their punctuality. 
 
 He led the way through sundry lanes and courts, into one 
 more quiet and more gloomy than the rest, and, singling out 
 a certain house, ascended a common staircase, taking from 
 his pocket, as he went, a bunch of rusty keys.^ Stopping be- 
 fore a door upon an upper story, which had nothing but a 
 yellow smear of paint where custom would have placed the 
 tenant's name, he began to beat the dust out of one of these 
 keys, very deliberately, upon the great broad hand-rail of the 
 balustrade. 
 
 "You had better have a little plug made," he said, looking 
 round at Tom, after blowing a shrill whistle into the barrel of 
 the key. " It's the only way of preventing them from getting 
 stopped up. You'll find the lock go the better, too, I dare 
 say, for a little oil." 
 
 Tom thanked him ; but was too much occupied with his 
 own speculations, and John Westlock's looks, to be very 
 talkative. In the meantime, Mr. Fips opened the door, which
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 1 1 
 
 yielded to his hand very unwillingly, and with a horribly dis- 
 cordant sound. He took the key out, when he had done so, 
 and gave it to Tom. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " said Mr. Fips. " The dust lies rather thick 
 here." 
 
 Truly, it did. Mr. Fips might have gone so far as to say, 
 very thick. It had accumulated everywhere ; lay deep on 
 everything ; and in one part, where a ray of sun shone through 
 a crevice in the shutter and struck upon the opposite wall, it 
 went twirling round and round, like a gigantic squirrel-cage. 
 
 Dust was the only thing in the place that had any motion 
 about it. When their conductor admitted the light freely, and 
 lifting up the heavy window-sash, let in the summer air, he 
 showed the mouldering furniture, discolored wainscoting and 
 ceiling, rusty stove, and ashy hearth, in all their inert neglect. 
 Close to the door, there stood a candlestick, with an extin- 
 guisher upon it ; as if the last man who had been there had 
 paused, after securing a retreat, to take a parting look at the 
 dreariness he left behind, and then had shut out light and life 
 together, and closed the place up like a tomb. 
 
 There were two rooms on that floor ; and in the first or 
 outer one a narrow staircase, leading to two more above. 
 These last were fitted up as bed-chambers. Neither in them, 
 nor in the rooms below, was any scarcity of convenient furni- 
 ture observable, although the fittings were of a by-gone fash- 
 ion ; but solitude and want of use seemed to have rendered it 
 unfit for any purposes of comfort, and to have given it a 
 grisly, haunted air. 
 
 Movables of every kind lay strewn about, without the 
 least attempt at order, and were intermixed with boxes, ham- 
 pers, and all sorts of lumber. On all the floors were piles of 
 books, to the amount, perhaps, of some thousands of volumes : 
 these, still in bales ; those, wrapped in paper, as they had 
 been purchased ; others scattered singly or in heaps : not one 
 upon the shelves which lined the walls. To these, Mr. Fips 
 called Tom's attention. 
 
 " Before anything else can be done, we must have them 
 put in order, catalogued, and ranged upon the book-shelves, 
 Mr. Pinch. That will do to begin with, I think, sir." 
 
 Tom rubbed his hands in the pleasant anticipation of a 
 task so congenial to his taste, and said : 
 
 " An occupation full of interest for me, I assure you. It 
 will occupy me, perhaps, until Mr. "
 
 6 1 2 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Until Mr. " repeated Fips ; as much as to ask Tom 
 
 what he was stopping for. 
 
 " I forgot that you had not mentioned the gentleman's 
 name," said Tom. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mr. Fips, pulling on his glove, " didn't I ? 
 No, by the bye, I don't think I did. Ah ! I dare say he'll be 
 here soon. You will get on very well together, I have no 
 doubt. I wish you success, I am sure. You won't- forget to 
 shut the door? It'll lock of itself if you slam it. Half-past 
 nine, you know. Let us say from half-past nine to four, or 
 half-past four, or thereabouts ; one day, perhaps, a little ear- 
 lier, another day, perhaps a little later, according as you feel 
 disposed, and as you arrange your work. Mr. Fips, Austin 
 Friars, of course you'll remember ? And you won't forget to 
 slam the door, if you please ? " 
 
 He said all this in such a comfortable, easy manner, that 
 Tom could only rub his hands, and nod his head, and smile 
 in acquiescence, which he was still doing, when Mr. Fips 
 walked coolly out. 
 
 " Why, he's gone ! " cried Tom. 
 
 "And what's more, Tom," said John Westlock, seating 
 himself upon a pile of books, and looking up at his astonished' 
 friend, " he is evidently not coming back again \ so here you 
 are, installed. Under rather singular circumstances, Tom ! " 
 
 It was such an odd affair throughout, and Tom standing 
 there among the books with his hat in one hand and the key 
 in the other, looked so prodigiously confounded, that his friend 
 could not help laughing heartily. Tom himself was tickled : 
 no less by the hilarity of his friend, than by the recollection 
 of the sudden manner in which he had been brought to a stop, 
 in the very height of his urbane conference with Mr. Fips ; so, 
 by degrees Tom burst out laughing too ; and each making the 
 other laugh more, they fairly roared. 
 
 When they had had their laugh out, which did not happen 
 very soon, for, give John an inch that way, and he was sure 
 to take several ells, being a jovial, good-tempered fellow, they 
 looked about them more closely, groping among the lumber 
 for any stray means of enlightenment that might turn up. But 
 no scrap or shred of information could they find. The books 
 were marked with a variety of owners' names, having, no 
 doubt, been bought at sales, and collected here and there at 
 different times ; but whether any one of these names belonged 
 to Tom's employer, and, if so, which of them, they had no 
 
 I
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 613 
 
 means whatever of determining. It occurred to John as a 
 very bright thought, to make inquiry at the steward's oflfice, 
 to whom the chambers belonged, or by wiiom they were held ; 
 but he came back no wiser than he went, the answer being, 
 " Mr. Fips, of Austin Friars ! " 
 
 " After all, Tom, I begin to think it lies no deeper than 
 this. Fips is an eccentric man ; has some knowledge of Peck- 
 sniff ; despises him, of course ; has heard or seen enough of 
 you to know that you are the man he wants ; and engages you 
 in his own whimsical manner." 
 
 " But why in his own whimsical manner .-' " asked Tom. 
 
 " Oh ! why does any man entertain his own whimsical 
 taste ? Why does Mr. Fips wear shorts and powder, and Mr. 
 Fips's next-door neighbor boots and a wig ? " 
 
 Tom, being in that state of mind in which any explanation 
 is a great relief, adopted this last one (which indeed was quite 
 as feasible as any other) readily, and said he had no doubt of 
 it. Nor was his faith at all shaken by his having said exactly 
 the same thing to each suggestion of his friend's, in turn, and 
 being perfectly ready to say it again if he had any new solu- 
 tion to propose. 
 
 As he had not, Tom drew down the window-sash, and 
 folded the shutter, and they left the rooms. He closed the 
 door heavily, as Mr. Fips had desired him • tried it, found 
 it all safe, and put the key in his pocket. 
 
 They made a pretty wide circuit in going back to Isling- 
 ton, as they had time to spare, and Tom was never tired of 
 looking about him. It was well he had John Westlock for his 
 companion, for most people would have been wear}^ of his 
 perpetual stoppages at shop-windows, and his frequent dashes 
 into the crowded carriage-way at the peril of his life, to get 
 the better view of church steeples, and other public buildings. 
 But John was charmed to see him so much interested, and 
 every time Tom came back with a beaming face from among 
 the wheels of carts and hackney-coaches, wholly unconscious 
 of the personal congratulations addressed to him by the 
 drivers, John seemed to like him better than before. 
 
 There was no flour on Ruth's hands when she received 
 them in the triangular parlor, but there were pleasant smiles 
 upon her face, and a crowd of welcomes shining out of every 
 smile, and gleaming in her bright eyes. By the bye, how bright 
 they were ! Looking into tiiem for but a moment, when )'ou 
 took her hand, you saw, in each, such a capital miniature of
 
 6i4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 yourself, representing you as such a restless, flashing, eager, 
 brilliant little fellow — 
 
 Ah ! if you could only have kept them for your own minia- 
 ture ! But wicked, roving, restless, too impartial eyes, it was 
 enough for any one to stand before them, and straightway, 
 there he danced and sparkled quite as merrily as you ! 
 
 The table was already spread for dinner; and though it 
 was spread with nothing very choice in the way of glass or 
 linen, and with green-handled knives, and very mountebanks 
 of two-pronged forks, which seemed to be trying how far 
 asunder they could possibly stretch their legs, without con- 
 verting themselves into double the number of iron toothpicks, 
 it wanted neither damask, silver, gold, nor china — no, nor any 
 other garniture at all. There it was — and being there, noth- 
 ing else would have done as well. 
 
 The success of that initiative dish — that first experiment 
 of hers in cookery — was so entire, so unalloyed and perfect, 
 that John Westlock and Tom agreed she must have been 
 studying the art in secret for a long time past, and urged her 
 to make a full confession of the fact. They were exceedingly 
 merry over this jest, and many smart things were said con- 
 cerning it ; but John was not as fair in his behavior as might 
 have been expected, for, after luring Tom Pinch on, for a long 
 time, he suddenly went over to the enemy, and swore to every- 
 thing his sister said. However, as Tom observed the same 
 night before going to bed, it was only in joke, and John had 
 always been famous for being polite to ladies, even when he 
 was quite a boy. Ruth said, " Oh ! indeed ! " She didn't 
 say anything else. 
 
 It is astonishing how much three people may find to talk 
 about. They scarcely left oft" talking once. And it was not 
 all lively chat which occupied them ; for, when Tom related 
 how he had seen Mr. Pecksniff's daughters, and what a 
 change had fallen on the younger, they were very serious. 
 
 John Westlock became quite absorbed in her fortunes ; 
 asking many questions of Tom Pinch about her marriage, in- 
 quiring whether her husband was the gentleman whom Tom 
 had brought to dine with him at Salisbury ; in what degree 
 of relationship they stood towards each other, being different 
 persons ; and taking, in short, the greatest interest in the sub- 
 ject. Tom then went into it at full length ; he told how 
 Martin had gone abroad, and had not been heard of for a 
 long time ; how Dragon Mark had borne him company ; how
 
 MA R TLY CHUZZLE WIT. 6 1 ^ 
 
 Mr , Pecksniff had got the poor old doting grandfather into 
 his power ; and how he basely sought the hand of Mary 
 Graham. But, not a word said Tom of what lay hidden in 
 his heart ; his heart, so deep, and true, and full of honor, and 
 yet with so much room for every gentle and unselfish thought : 
 not a word. 
 
 Tom, Tom ! The man in all this world most confident in 
 his sagacity and shrewdness ; the man in all this world most 
 proud of his distrust of other men, and having most to show 
 in gold and silver as the gains belonging to his creed ; the 
 meekest favorer of that wise doctrine, Every man for himself, 
 and God for us all (there being high wisdom in the thought 
 that the Eternal Majesty of Heaven ever was, or can be, on 
 the side of selfish lust and love !) ; shall never find, oh, never 
 find, be sure of that, the time come home to him, when all his 
 wisdom is an idiot's folly, weighed against a simple heart ! 
 
 Well, well, Tom, it was simple too, though simple in a dif- 
 ferent way, to be so eager touching that same theatre, of 
 which John said, when tea was done, he had the absolute 
 command, so far as taking parties in without the payment of 
 a sixpence, was concerned ; and simpler yet, perhaps, never 
 to suspect that when he went in first, alone, he paid the 
 money ! Simple in thee, dear Tom, to laugh and ciy so 
 heartily, at such a sorry show, so poorly shown ; simple, to 
 be so happy and loquacious trudging home with Ruth ; sim- 
 ple, to be so surprised to find that merry present of a cook- 
 ery-book, waiting her in the parlor next morning, with the 
 beef-steak-pudding-leaf turned down, and blotted out. There ! 
 Let the record stand ! Thy quality of soul was simple, sim- 
 ple ; quite contemptible, Tom Pinch ! 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE PINCHES MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE, AND HAVE FRESH 
 OCCASION FOR SURPRISE AND WONDER. 
 
 There was a ghostly air about these uninhabited cham- 
 bers in the Temple, and attending ever}^ circumstance of 
 Tom's employment there, which had a strange charm in it. 
 Every morning when he shut his door at Islington, he turned
 
 6 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 his face towards an atmosphere of unaccountable fascination, 
 as surely as he turned it to the London smoke ; and from 
 that moment, it thickened round and round him all day long, 
 until the time arrived for going home again, and leaving it, 
 like a motionless cloud, behind. 
 
 It seemed to Tom, every morning, that he approached this 
 ghostly mist, and became enveloped in it, by the easiest suc- 
 cession of degrees imaginable. Passing from the roar and 
 rattle of the streets nito the quiet court-yards of the Temple, 
 was the first preparation. Every echo of his footsteps sound- 
 ed to him like a sound from the old walls and pavements, 
 wanting language to relate the histories of the dim, dismal 
 rooms ; to tell him what lost documents were decaying in 
 forgotten corners of the shut-up cellars, from whose lattices 
 such mouldy signs came breathing forth as he went past ; to 
 whisper of dark bins of rare old wine, bricked up in vaults 
 among the old foundations of the Halls ; or mutter in a lower 
 tone yet darker legends of the cross-legged knights, whose 
 marble effigies were in the church. With the first planting of 
 his foot upon the staircase of his dusty office, all these mys- 
 teries increased ; until, ascending step by step, as Tom as- 
 cended, they attained their full growth in the solitary labors 
 of the day. 
 
 Every day brought one recurring, never-failing source of 
 speculation. This employer ; would he come to-day, and what 
 would he be like ? For Tom could not stop short at Mr. 
 Fips ; he quite believed that Mr. Fips had spoken truly, when 
 he said he acted for another ; and what manner of man that 
 other was, became a full-blown flower of wonder in the garden 
 of Tom's fancy, which never faded or got trodden down. 
 
 At one time, he conceived that Mr. Pecksniff, repenting 
 of his falsehood, might, by exertion of his influence with some 
 third person, have devised these means of giving him employ- 
 ment. He found this idea so insupportable after what had 
 taken place between that good man and himself, that he con- 
 fided it to John Westlock on the very same day ; informing 
 John that he would rather ply for hire as a porter, than fall 
 so low in his own esteem as to accept the smallest obligation 
 from the hands of Mr. Pecksniff. But John assured him that 
 he (Tom Pinch) was far from doing justice to the character 
 of Mr. Pecksniff yet, if he supposed that gentleman capable 
 of performing a generous action ; and that he might make his 
 mind quite easy on that head, until he saw the sun turn green
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 617 
 
 and the moon black, and at the same time distinctly perceived 
 with the naked eye, twelve first-rate comets careering round 
 those planets. In which unusual state of things, he said (and 
 not before), it might become not absolutely lunatic to suspect 
 Mr. Pecksniff of anything so monstrous. In short he laughed 
 the idea down, completely ; and Tom, abandoning it, w^as 
 thrown upon his beam-ends again, for some other solution. 
 
 In the meantime Tom attended to his duties daily, and 
 made considerable progress with the books, which were 
 already reduced to some sort of order, and made a great 
 appearance in his fairly-written catalogue. During his busi- 
 ness hours, he indulged himself occasionally with snatches of 
 reading ; which were often, indeed, a necessary part of his 
 pursuit ; and as he usually made bold to cany one of these 
 goblin volumes home at night (always bringing it back again 
 next morning, in case his strange employer should appear and 
 ask what had become of it), he led a happy, quiet, studious 
 kind of life, after his own heart. 
 
 But, though the books were never so interesting, and never 
 so full of novelty to Tom, they could not so enchain him, in 
 those mysterious chambers, as to render him unconscious, for 
 a moment, of the lightest sound. Any footstep on the flags 
 without, set him listening attentively, and when it turned into 
 that house, and came up, up, up, the stairs, he always thought 
 with a beating heart, " Now I am coming face to face with 
 him, at last ! " But no footstep ever passed the floor immedi- 
 ately below, except his own. 
 
 This mystery and loneliness engendered fancies in Tom's 
 mind, the folly of which his common sense could readily dis- 
 cover, but which his common sense was quite unable to keep 
 away, notwithstanding ; that quality being with most of us, in 
 such a case, like the old French Police — quick at detection, 
 but very weak as a preventive power. Misgi\-ings, undefined, 
 absurd, inexplicable, that there was some one hiding in the 
 inner room — walking softly over head, peeping in through the 
 door-chink, doing something stealthy, anywhere where he was 
 not — came over him a hundred times a clay, making it pleas- 
 ant to throw up the sash, and hold communication even with 
 the sparrows who had built in the roof and water spout, and 
 were twittering about the windows all day long. 
 
 He sat with the outer door wide open, at all times, that he 
 might hear the footsteps as they entered, and turned off into 
 the chambers on the lower floor. He formed odd preposses-
 
 6i8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 
 
 sions too, regarding strangers in the streets ; and would say 
 within himself of such or such a man, who struck him as hav- 
 ing anything vuicommon in his dress or aspect, " I shouldn't 
 wonder, now, if that were he ! " But it never was. And 
 though he actually turned back and followed more than one 
 of these suspected individuals, in a singular belief that they 
 were going to the place he was then upon his way from, he 
 never got any other satisfaction by it, than the satisfaction of 
 knowing it was not the case. 
 
 Mr. Fips, of Austin Friars, rather deepened than illumined 
 the obscurity of his position ; for, on the first occasion of 
 Tom's waiting on him to receive his weekly pay, he said : 
 
 " Oh ! by the bye, Mr. Pinch, you needn't mention it, if you 
 please ! " 
 
 Tom thought he was going to tell him a secret ; so he said 
 that he wouldn't on any account, and that Mr. Fips might 
 entirely depend upon him. But as Mr. Fips said " Very good," 
 in reply, and nothing more, Tom prompted him : 
 
 " Not on any account," repeated Tom. 
 
 Mr. Fips repeated " Very good." 
 
 " You were going to say " — Tom hinted. 
 
 " Oh dear no ! " cried Fips. " Not at all." — However, see- 
 ing Tom confused, he added, " I mean that you needn't men- 
 tion any particulars about your place of employment, to people 
 generally. You'll find it better not." 
 
 " I have not had the pleasure of seeing my employer yet, 
 sir," observed Tom, putting his week's salary in his pocket. 
 
 " Haven't you ? " said Fips. " No, I don't suppose you 
 have though." 
 
 " I should like to thank him, and to know that what I have 
 done so far, is done to his satisfaction," faltered Tom. 
 
 " Quite right," said Mr. Fips, with a yawn. " Highly 
 creditable. Ver}^ proper." 
 
 Tom hastily resolved to Xxy him on another tack. 
 
 " I shall soon have finished, with the books," he said. " I 
 hope that will not terminate my engagement, sir, or render me 
 useless ? " 
 
 " Oh dear no ! " retorted Fips. " Plenty to do — plen-ty to 
 do ! Be careful how you go. It's rather dark." 
 
 This was the very utmost extent of information Tom could 
 ever get out of him. So, it was dark enough in all conscience ; 
 and if Mr. Fips expressed himself with a double meaning, he 
 had good reason for doing so.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 619 
 
 But now a circumstance occurred, which helped to divert 
 Tom's thoughts from even this mystery, and to divide them be- 
 tween it and a new channel, which was a very Nile in itself. 
 
 The way it came about was this. Having always been an 
 early riser, and having now no organ to engage him in sweet 
 converse every morning, it was his habit to take a long 
 walk before going to the Temple ; and naturally inclining, as 
 a stranger, towards those parts of the town which were con- 
 spicuous for the life and animation pervading them, he became 
 a great frequenter of the market-places, bridges, quays, and 
 especially the steamboat wharves ; for it was very li\ely and 
 fresh to see the people hurrying away upon their many 
 schemes of business or pleasure, and it made Tom glad to 
 think that there was that much change and freedom in the 
 monotonous routine of city lives. 
 
 In most of these morning excursions Ruth accompanied 
 him. As their landlord was always up and away at his busi- 
 ness (whatever that might be, no one seemed to know) at a 
 very early hour, the habits of the people of the house in which 
 they lodged corresponded with their own. Thus, they had often 
 finished their breakfast, and were out in the summer-air, by 
 seven o'clock. After a two hours' stroll they parted at some 
 convenient point, Tom going to the Temple, and his sister 
 returning home, as methodically as you please. 
 
 Many and many a pleasant stroll they had in Covent-Gar- 
 den Market, snuffing up the perfume of the fruits and flow- 
 ers, wondering at the magnificence of the pine-apples and 
 melons ; catching glimpses down the side avenues, of rows 
 and rows of old women, seated on inverted baskets shelling 
 peas ; looking unutterable things at the fat bundles of aspara- 
 gus with which the dainty shops were fortified as with a breast- 
 work ; and, at the herbalists' doors, gratefully inhaling scents 
 as of veal-stufiing yet uncooked, dreamily mixed up with cap- 
 sicums, brown-paper, seeds — even with hints of lusty snails 
 and fine young curly leeches. Many and many a pleasant 
 stroll they had among the poultry markets, where ducks and 
 fowls, with necks unnaturally long, lay stretched out in pairs, 
 ready for cooking ; where there were speckled eggs in mossy 
 baskets, white country sausages beyond impeachment by sur- 
 viving cat or dog, or horse or donkey, new cheeses to any 
 wild extent, live birds in coops and cages, looking much too 
 big to be natural, in consequence of those receptacles being 
 much too little ; rabbits, alive and dead, innumerable. Many
 
 62 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 a pleasant stroll they had among the cool, refreshing, silvery 
 fish-stalls, with a kind of moonlight effect about their stock in 
 trade, excepting always for the ruddy lobsters. Many a pleas- 
 ant stroll among the wagon-loads of fragrant hay, beneath 
 which dogs and tired wagoners lay fast asleep, oblivious of 
 the pieman and the public-house. But, never half so good a 
 stroll as down among the steamboats on a bright morning. 
 
 There they lay, alongside of each other ; hard and fast for 
 ever, to all appearance, but designing to get out somehow, 
 and quite confident of doing it ; and in that faith shoals of 
 passengers, and heaps of luggage, were proceeding hurriedly 
 on board. Little steamboats dashed up and down the stream 
 incessantly. Tiers upon tiers of vessels, scores of masts, laby- 
 rinths of tackle, idle sails, splashing oars, gliding row-boats, 
 lumbering barges, sunken piles, with ugly lodgings for the 
 water-rat within their mud-discolored nooks ; church steeples, 
 warehouses, house-roofs, arches, bridges, men and women, 
 children, casks, cranes, boxes, horses, coaches, idlers, and hard- 
 laborers : there they were, all jumbled up together, any sum- 
 mer morning, far beyond Tom's power of separation. 
 
 In the midst of all this turmoil, there was an incessant roar 
 from every packet's funnel, which quite expressed and carried 
 out the uppermost emotion of the scene. They all appeared 
 to be perspiring and bothering themselves, exactly as their 
 passengers did ; they never left off fretting and chafing, in 
 their own hoarse manner, once ; but were always panting 
 out, without any stops, "Come along do make haste I'm very 
 nervous come along oh good gracious we shall never get there 
 how late you are do make haste I'm off directly come along ! " 
 Even when they had let off, and had got safely out into the 
 current, on the smallest provocation they began again ; for 
 the bravest packet of them all, being stopped by some en- 
 tanglement in the river, would immediately begin to fume and 
 pant afresh, " Oh here's a stoppage what's the matter do go 
 on there I'm in a hurr)* it's done on purpose did you e\-er oh 
 my goodness do go on there ! " and so, in a state of mind bor- 
 dering on distraction, would be last seen drifting slowly through 
 the mist into the summer light beyond, that made it red. 
 
 Tom's ship, however ; or, at least, the packet-boat in which 
 Tom and his sister took the greatest interest on one particu- 
 lar occasion, was not off yet, by any means ; but was at the 
 height of its disorder. The press of passengers was very 
 great ; another steamboat lay on each side of her ; the gang- 
 
 i
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 62 1 
 
 ways were choked up ; distracted women, obviously bound for 
 Gravesend, but turning a deaf ear to all represencations that 
 this particular vessel was about to sail for Antwerp, persisted 
 in secreting baskets of refreshments behind bulk-heads and 
 water-casks, and under seats ; and very great confusion pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 It was so amusing, that Tom, with Ruth upon his arm, 
 stood looking down from the wharf, as nearly regardless as it 
 was in the nature of flesh and blood to be, of an elderly lady 
 behind him, who had brought a large umbrella with her, and 
 didn't know what to do with it. This tremendous instrument 
 had a hooked handle ; and its' vicinity was first made known 
 to him by a painful pressure on the windpipe, consequent upon 
 its havinsf caucrht him round the throat. Soon after disen- 
 gaging himself with perfect good humor, he had a sensation of 
 the ferule in his back ; immediately afterwards, of the hook 
 entangling his ankles ; then of the umbrella generally, wan- 
 dering about his hat, and flapping at it like a great bird ; and 
 lastly, of a poke or thrust below the ribs, which gave him 
 such exceeding anguish, that he could not refrain from turning 
 round to offer a mild remonstrance. 
 
 Upon his turning round, he found the owner of the um- 
 brella struggling on tiptoe, with a countenance expressive of 
 violent animosity, to look down upon the steamboats ; from 
 which he inferred that she had attacked him, standing in the 
 front row, by design and as her natural enemy. 
 
 " What a very ill-natured person you must be ! " said Tom. 
 
 The lady cried out fiercely, " Where's the pelisse ! " mean- 
 ing the constabulary — and went on to say, shaking the handle 
 of the umbrella at Tom, that but for them fellers never being 
 in the way when they was wanted, she'd have given him in 
 charge, she would. 
 
 " If they greased their whiskers less, and minded the 
 duties which they're paid so heavy for, a little more," she ob- 
 served, "no one needn't be dro\e mad by scrouding so ! " 
 
 She had been grievously knocked about^ no doubt, for her 
 bonnet was bent into the shape of a cocked hat. Being a fat 
 little woman, too, she was in a state of great exhaustion and 
 intense iieat. Instead of pursuing the altercation, therefore, 
 Tom civilly inquired what boat she wanted to go on board of ? 
 
 " I suppose," returned the lady, " as nobody but yourself 
 can want to look at a steam ])ackage, without wanting to go a 
 boarding of it, can they ! Booby ! "
 
 62 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 
 
 " Which one do you want to look at then ? " said Tom. 
 "We'll make room for you if we can. Don't be so ill-tem- 
 pered." 
 
 " No blessed creetur as ever I was with in tr)'ing times," re- 
 turned the lady, somewhat softened, " and they're a many in 
 their numbers, ever brought it as a charge again myself that I 
 was anythin' but mild and equal in my spirits. Never mind 
 a contradicting of me, if you seem to feel it does you good, 
 ma'am, I often says, for well you know that Sairey may be 
 trusted not to give it back again. But I will not ' denige that 
 I am worrited and wexed this day, and with good reagion, 
 Lord forbid ! " 
 
 By this time, Mrs. Gamp (for it was no other than that ex- 
 perienced practitioner) had, with Tom's assistance, squeezed 
 and worked herself into a small corner between Ruth and the 
 rail ; where, after breathing very hard for some little time, and 
 performing a short series of dangerous evolutions with her um- 
 brella, she managed to establish herself pretty comfortably. 
 
 " And which of all them smoking monsters is the Ank- 
 works boat, I wonder. Goodness me ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " What boat did you want ? " asked Ruth. 
 
 " The Ankworks package," Mrs. Gamp replied. " I will 
 not deceive you, my sweet. Why should I .'' " 
 
 "That is the Antwerp packet in the middle," said Ruth. 
 
 " And I wish it was in Jonadge's belly, I do," cried Mrs. 
 Gamp ; appearing to confound the prophet with the whale in 
 this miraculous aspiration. 
 
 Ruth said nothing in reply ; but, as Mrs. Gamp, laying her 
 chin against the cool iron of the rail, continued to look intently 
 at the Antwerp boat, and every now and then to give a little 
 groan, she inquired whether any child of hers was going 
 abroad that morning ? Or perhaps her husband, she said 
 kindly. 
 
 " Which shows," said Mrs. Gamp, casting up her eyes, 
 " what a little way you've travelled into this wale of life, my 
 dear young creetur ! As a good friend of mine has frequent 
 made remark to me, which her name, my love, is Harris, Mrs. 
 Harris through square and up the steps a turnin' round by the 
 tobacker shop, ' Oh Sairey, Sairey, little do we know wot 
 lays afore us ! ' ' Mrs. Harris, ma'am,' I says, ' not much, it's 
 true, but more than you suppoge. Our calcilations, ma'am,' 
 I says, ' respectin' wot the number of a family will be, comes 
 most times within one, and oftener than you would suppoge,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 623 
 
 exact.' ' Sairey,' says Mrs. Harris, in a awful way, * Tell me 
 wot. is my indiwidgle number.' ' No, Mrs. Harris,' I says to 
 her, 'ex-cuge me, if you please. My own,' I says, ' has fallen 
 out of three-pair backs, and had damp doorsteps settled on 
 their lungs, and one was turned up smilin' in a bedstead, un- 
 beknown. Therefore ma'am,' I says, ' seek not to proticipate, 
 but take 'em as they come and as they go.' Mine," said Mrs. 
 Gamp, " mine is all gone, my dear young chick. And as to 
 husbands, there's a wooden leg irone likewavs home to its ac- 
 count, which in its constancy of walkin' into wine vaults, and 
 never comin' out again 'till fetched by force, was quite as 
 weak as flesh, if not weaker." 
 
 When she had delivered this oration, Mrs. Gamp leaned 
 her chin upon the cool iron again ; and looking intently at 
 the Antwerp packet, shook her head and groaned. 
 
 " I wouldn't," said Mrs. Gamp, " I wouldn't be a man and 
 have such a think upon my mind ! — but nobody as owned the 
 name of man, could do it ! " 
 
 Tom and his sister glanced at each other ; and I^.uth, after 
 a moment's hesitation, asked Mrs. Gamp what troubled her 
 so much. 
 
 "My dear," returned that lady, dropping her voice, "you 
 are single, ain't you ? " 
 
 Ruth laughed, blushed, and said " Yes." 
 
 " Worse luck," proceeded Mrs. Gamp, " for all parties ! 
 But others is married, and in the marriage state ; and there is 
 a dear young creetur a comin' down this mornin' to' that very 
 package, which is no more fit to trust herself to sea, than 
 nothin' is ! " 
 
 She paused here, to look over the deck of the packet in 
 question, and on the steps leading down to it, and on the 
 gangways. Seeming to have thus assured herself that the 
 object of her commiseration had not yet arrived, she raised 
 her eyes gradually up to the top of the escape-pipe, and in- 
 dignantly apostrophized the vessel : 
 
 "Oh drat you ! " said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her umbrella 
 at it, " you're a nice spluttering nisy monster for a delicate 
 young creetur to go and be a passinger by ; ain't vou ! You 
 never do no harm in that way, do you } With you hammering, 
 and roaring, and hissing, and lamp-iling, you brute ! 'I'hem 
 Confugion steamers," said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her umbrella 
 again, " has done more to throw us out of our reg'lar work 
 and bring ewents on at times when nobody counted on 'em
 
 62 4 ^^'-^ ^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 (especially them screeching railroad ones), than all the other 
 frights that ever was took. I have heard of one young man, 
 a guard upon a railway, only three years opened — well does 
 Mrs. Harris know him, which indeed he is her own relation 
 by her sister's marriage with a master sawyer — as is godfather 
 at this present time to six-and-twenty blessed little strangers, 
 equally unexpected, and all on 'um named after the In- 
 geins as was the cause. Ugh ! " said Mrs. Gamp, resuming 
 her apostrophe, " one might easy know you was a man's in- 
 vention, from your disregardlessness of the weakness of our 
 naturs, so one might, you brute ! " 
 
 It would not have been unnatural to suppose, from the 
 first part of Mrs. Gamp's lamentations, that she was con- 
 nected with the stage-coaching or post-horsing trade. She 
 had no means of judging of the effect of her concluding re- 
 marks upon her young companion ; for she interrupted her- 
 self at this point, and exclaimed : 
 
 " There she identically goes ! Poor sweet young creetur, 
 there she goes, like a lamb to the sacrifige ! If there's any 
 illness when that wessel gets to sea," said Mrs. Gamp, pro- 
 phetically, " it's murder, and I'm the witness for the persecu- 
 tion." 
 
 She was so very earnest on the subject, that Tom's sister 
 (being as kind as Tom himself), could not help saying some- 
 thing to her in reply. 
 
 " Pray which is the lady," she inquired, " in whom you 
 are so much interested? " 
 
 "There!" groaned Mrs. Gamp. "There she goes! A 
 crossin' the little wooden bridge at this minute. She's a 
 sJippin' on a bit of orange-peel ! " tightly clutching her um- 
 brella. " What a turn it give me ! " 
 
 " Do you mean the lady who is with that man wrapped up 
 from head to foot in a large cloak, so that his face is almost 
 hidden ? " 
 
 " Well he may hide it ? " Mrs. Gamp replied. He's good 
 call to be ashamed of himself. Did you see him a jerking of 
 her wrist, then ? " 
 
 " He seems to be hasty with her, indeed." 
 
 " Now he's a taking of her down into the close cabin ! " 
 said Mrs. Gamp, impatiently. "What's the man about ! The 
 deuce is in him I think. Why can't he leave her in the open 
 air .? " 
 
 He did not, whatever his reason was, but led her quickly
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE JVI7. 
 
 625 
 
 down and disappeared himself, without loosening his cloak, 
 or pausing on the crowded deck one moment longer than was 
 necessary to clear their way to that part of the vessel. 
 
 Tom had not heard this dialogue ; for his attention had 
 been engaged in an unexpected manner. A hand upon his 
 sleeve had caused him to look round, just when Mrs. Gamp 
 concluded her apostrophe to the steam-engine ; and on his 
 right arm, Ruth being on his left, he found their landlord ; to 
 his great surprise. 
 
 He was not so much surprised at the man's being there, 
 as at his having got close to him so quietly and swiftly ; for 
 another person had been at his elbow one instant before ; and 
 he had not in the meantime been conscious of any change or 
 pressure in the knot of people among whom he stood. He 
 and Ruth had frequently remarked how noiselessly this land- 
 lord of theirs came into and went out of his own house ; but 
 Tom was not the less amazed to see him at his elbow now. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Pinch," he said in his ear. " I 
 am rather infirm, and out of breath, and my eyes are not \ery 
 good. I am not as young as I was, sir. You don't see a 
 gentleman in a large cloak down yonder, with a lady on his 
 arm ; a lady in a veil and a black shawl ; do you ? " 
 
 If he did not, it was curious that in speaking he should 
 have singled out from all the crowd the very people whom he 
 described, and should have glanced hastily from them to Tom, 
 as if he were burning to direct his wandering eyes. 
 
 " A gentleman in a large cloak ! '' said Tom, " and a lady 
 in a black shawl ! Let me see ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " replied the other, with keen impatience. 
 " A gentleman muffled up for such a morning as this — like an 
 invalid, with his hand to his face at this minute, perhaps. 
 No, no, no ! not there," he added, following Tom's gaze ; the 
 other way ; in that direction ; dow-n yonder." Again he in- 
 dicated, but this time in his hurry, with his outstretched finger, 
 the very spot on which the progress of these persons was 
 checked at that moment. 
 
 " There are so many people, and so much motion, and so 
 many objects," said Tom, " that I find it difhcult to — no, I 
 really don't see a gentleman in a large cloak, and a lady in a 
 black shawl. There's a lady in a red shawl over there." 
 
 " No, no, no ! " cried his landlord, pointing eagerly again, 
 " not there. The other way — the other way. Look at the 
 cabin steps. To the left. They must be near the cabin steps. 
 
 40
 
 626 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Do you see the cabin steps ? There's the bell ringing already ! 
 Do you see the steps ? " 
 
 " Stay ! " said Tom, " you're right. Look ! there they go 
 now. Is that the gentleman you mean } Descending at this 
 minute, with the folds of a great cloak trailing down after 
 him ->. " 
 
 " The very man ! " returned the other, not looking at what 
 Tom pointed out, however, but at Tom's own face. " Will 
 you do me a kindness, sir, a great kindness ? Will you put 
 that letter in his hand } Only give him that 1 He expects it. 
 I am charged to do it by my employers, but I am late in find- 
 ing him, and, not being as young as I have been, should never 
 be able to make my way on board and off the deck again in 
 time. Will you pardon my boldness, and do me that great 
 kindness .'"' 
 
 His hands shook, and his face bespoke the utmost interest 
 and agitation, as he pressed the letter upon Tom, and pointed 
 to its destination, like the Tempter in some grim old carving. 
 
 To hesitate in the performance of a good-natured or com- 
 passionate office, was not in Tom's way. He took the letter ; 
 whispered Ruth to wait till he returned, which would be im- 
 mediately ; and ran down the steps with all the expedition he 
 could make. There were so many people going down, so 
 many others coming up, such heavy goods in course of transit 
 to and fro, such a ringing of bells, blowing-ofif of steam, and 
 shouting of men's voices, that he had much ado to force his 
 way, or keep in mind to which boat he was going. But, he 
 reached the right one with good speed, and, going down the 
 cabin-stairs immediately, descried the object of his search 
 standing at the upper end of the saloon, with his back towards 
 him, reading some notice which was hung against the wall. 
 As Tom advanced to give him the letter, he started, hearing 
 footsteps, and turned round. 
 
 What was Tom's astonishment to find in him the man with 
 whom he had had the conflict in the field — poor Mercy's hus- 
 band. Jonas ! 
 
 Tom understood him to say, what the devil did he want ; 
 but it was not easy to make out what he said ; he spoke so in- 
 distinctly. 
 
 " I want nothing with you for myself," said Tom ; " I was 
 asked, a moment since, to give you this letter. You were 
 pointed out to me, but I didn't know you in your strange dress. 
 Take it ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 627 
 
 He did so, opened it, and read the writing on the inside. 
 The contents were evidently very brief ; not more perhaps 
 than one line ; but they struck upon him like a stone from a 
 sling. He reeled back as he read. 
 
 His emotion was so different from any Tom had ever seen 
 before, that he stopped involuntarily. Momentar)' as his state 
 of indecision was, the bell ceased while he stood there, and a 
 hoarse voice calling down the steps, inquired if there was any 
 one to go ashore ? 
 
 "Yes," cried Jonas, "I — I am coming. Give me time. 
 Where's that woman ! come back ; come back here." 
 
 He threw open another door as he spoke, and dragged, 
 rather than led, her forth. She was pale and frightened, and 
 amazed to see her old acquaintance ; but had no time to 
 speak, for they were making a great stir above ; and Jonas 
 drew her rapidly towards the deck. 
 
 " Where are we going ? What is the matter ? " 
 
 "We are going back," said Jonas. " I have changed my 
 mind. I can't go. Don't question me, or I shall be the 
 death of you, or some one else. Stop there ! Stop ! We're 
 for the shore. Do you hear ? We're for the shore ! " 
 
 He turned, even in the madness of his hurr}', and scowl- 
 ing darkly back at Tom, shook his clenched hand at him. 
 There are not many human faces capable of the expression 
 with which he accompanied that gesture. 
 
 He dragged her up, and Tom followed them. Across the 
 deck, over the side, along the crazy plank, and up the steps, 
 he dragged her fiercely ; not bestowing any look on her, but 
 gazing upwards all the while among the faces on the wharf. 
 Suddenly he turned again, and said to Tom with a tremendous 
 oath : 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 Before Tom, in his indignation and amazement, could re- 
 turn an answer to a question he so little understood, a gen- 
 tleman approached Tom behind, and saluted Jonas Chuzzle- 
 wit by name. He was a gentleman of foreign appearance, 
 with a black mustache and whiskers ; and addressed him 
 with a polite composure, strangely different from his own dis- 
 tracted and desperate manner. 
 
 " Chuzzlewit, my good fellow ! " said the gentleman, rais- 
 ing his hat in compliment to Mrs. Chuzzlewit, " I ask your 
 pardon twenty thousand times. I am most unwilling to inter- 
 fere between you and a domestic trip of this nature (always
 
 628 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 SO very charming and refreshing, I know, although I have not 
 the happiness to be a domestic man myself, which is the great 
 infelicity of my existence) ; but the bee-hive, my dear friend, 
 the bee-hive — will you introduce me ? " 
 
 " This is Mr. Montague," said Jonas, whom the words ap- 
 peared to choke. 
 
 " The most unhappy and most penitent of men, Mrs. Chuz- 
 zlewit," pursued that gentleman, "for having been the means 
 of spoiling this excursion ; but as I tell my friend, the bee- 
 hive, the bee-hive. You projected a short little continental 
 trip, my dear friend, of course ? " 
 
 Jonas maintained a dogged silence. 
 
 " May I die," cried Montague, " but I am shocked ! Upon 
 my soul I am shocked. But that confounded bee-hive of ours 
 in the city must be paramount to every other consideration, 
 when there is honey to be made ; and that is my best excuse. 
 Here is a very singular old female dropping curtseys on my 
 right," said Montague, breaking off in his discourse, and look- 
 ing at Mrs. Gamp, " who is not a friend of mine. Does any- 
 body know her ? " 
 
 " Ah ! Well they knows me, bless their precious hearts ! " 
 said Mrs. Gamp, " not forgettin' your own merry one, sir, and 
 long may it be so ! Wishin' as every one " (she delivered 
 this in the form of a toast or sentiment) "was as merry, and 
 as handsome-looking, as a little bird has whispered me a cer- 
 tain gent is, which I will not name for fear I give offence 
 where none is doo ! My precious lady," here she stopped 
 short in her merriment, for she had until now affected to be 
 vastly entertained, "you're too pale by half ! " 
 
 " Yoii are here too, are you .'' " muttered Jonas. " Ecod, 
 there are enough of you." 
 
 "I hope, sir," returned Mrs. Gamp, dropping an indignant 
 curtsey, " as no bones is broke by me and Mrs. Harris a 
 walkin' down upon a public wharf. Which was the veiy words 
 she says to me (although they was the very last I ever had to 
 speak) was these: ' Sairey,' she says, 'is it a public wharf?' 
 'Mrs. Harris,' I makes answer, 'can you doubt it? You 
 have know'd me now, ma'am, eight and thirty year ; and did 
 you ever know me go, or wish to go, where I was not made 
 welcome, say the words.' 'No, Sairey,' Mrs. Harris says, 
 ' contrairy quite.' And well she knows it too. I am but a 
 poor woman, but I've been sought arter, sir, though you may 
 not think it. I've been knocked up at all hours of the night,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 629 
 
 and warned out by a many landlords, in consequence of being 
 mistook for Fire, I goes out working for my bread, 'tis true, 
 but I maintains my indepency, with your kind leave, and which 
 I will till death. I has my feelins as a woman, sir, and I have 
 been a mother likeways ; but touch a pipkin as belongs to me, 
 or make the least remarks on what I eats or drinks, and 
 though you was the favoritest young for'ard hussy of a ser- 
 vant-gal as ever come into a house, either you leaves the place, 
 or me. My earnings is not great, sir, but I will not be impoged 
 upon. Bless the babe, and save the mother, is my mortar, 
 sir ; but I makes so free as add to that. Don't try no impogi- 
 cian with the Nuss, for she will not abear it ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp concluded by drawing her shawl tightly over 
 herself with both hands, and, as usual, referring to Mrs. Har- 
 ris for all corroboration of these particulars. She had that 
 peculiar trembling of the head, which, in ladies of her excitable 
 nature, may be taken as a sure indication of their breaking 
 out again very shortly ; when Jonas made a timely interposi- 
 tion. 
 
 " As you are here," he said, "you had better see to her, 
 and take her home. I am otherwise engaged." He said 
 nothmg more ; but looked at Montague as if to give him no- 
 tice that he was ready to attend him. 
 
 " I am sorry to take you away," said Montague. 
 
 Jonas gave him a sinister look, which long lived in Tom's 
 memory, and which he often recalled afterwards. 
 
 " I am, upon my life," said Montague. " Why did you 
 make it necessary'- .? " 
 
 With the same dark glance as before, Jonas replied, after 
 a moment's silence. 
 
 " The necessity is none of my making. You have brought 
 it about yourself." 
 
 He said nothing more. He said even this as if he were 
 bound, and in the other's power, but had a sullen and sup- 
 pressed devil within him, which he could not quite resist. 
 His very gait, as they walked away together, was like that of 
 a fettered man ; but, striving to work out at his clenched 
 hands, knitted brows, and fast-set lips, was the same im- 
 prisoned devil still. 
 
 They got into a handsome cabriolet, which was waiting for 
 them, and drove away. 
 
 The whole of this extraordinary' scene had passed so 
 rapidly, and the tumult which prevailed around was so
 
 630 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 unconscious of any impression from it, that, although Tom 
 had been one of the chief actors, it was like a dream. No 
 one had noticed him after they had left the packet. He had 
 stood behind Jonas, and so near him, that he could not help 
 hearing all that passed. He had stood there, with his sister 
 on his arm, expecting and hoping to have an opportunity of 
 explaining his strange share in this yet stranger business. 
 But Jonas had not raised his eyes from the ground ; no one 
 else had even looked towards him ; and before he could 
 resolve on any course of action, they were all gone. 
 
 He gazed round for his landlord. But he had done that, 
 more than once already, and no such man was to be seen. 
 He was still pursuing this search with his eyes, when he saw 
 a hand beckoning to him from a hackney-coach ; and hurraing 
 towards it, found it was Merry's. She addressed him hurriedly, 
 but bent out of the window, that she might not be overheard 
 by her companion, Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " What is it } " she said, " Good Heaven, what is it ? Why 
 did he tell me last night to prepare for a long journey, and 
 why have you brought us back like criminals ? Dear Mr. 
 Pinch ! " she clasped her hands distractedly, " be merciful to 
 us. Whatever this dreadful secret is, be merciful, and God 
 will bless you ! " 
 
 "If any power of mercy lay with me," cried Tom, "trust 
 me, you shouldn't ask in vain. But I am far more ignorant 
 and weak than you." 
 
 She withdrew into the coach again, and he saw the hand 
 waving towards him for a moment ; but whether in reproach- 
 fulness or incredulity, or misery, or grief, or sad adieu, or 
 what else, he could not, being so hurried, understand. She 
 was gone now ; and Ruth and he were. left to walk away, and 
 wonder. 
 
 Had Mr, Nadgett appointed the man who never came, to 
 meet him upon London Bridge that morning ? He was 
 certainly looking over the parapet, and down upon the steam- 
 boat wharf at that moment. It could not have been for 
 pleasure ; he never took pleasure. No. He must have had 
 some business there.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 63 1 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 MR. JONAS AND HIS FRIEND, ARRIVING AT A PLEASANT UNDER- 
 STANDING, SET FORTH UPON AN ENTERPRISE. 
 
 The office of the Anglo-Bengalee Disinterested Loan and 
 Life Assurance Company being near at hand, and Mr. Mon- 
 tague driving Jonas straight there, they had very little way to 
 go. But, the journey might have been one of several hours' 
 duration, without provoking a remark from either ; for it was 
 clear that Jonas did not mean to break the silence which pre- 
 vailed between them, and that it was not, as yet, his dear 
 friend's cue to tempt him into conversation. 
 
 He had thrown aside his cloak, as having now no motive 
 for concealment, and with that garment huddled on his knees, 
 sat as far removed from his companion as the limited space 
 in such a carriage would allow. There was a striking 
 difference in his manner, compared with what it had been, 
 within a few minutes, when Tom encountered him so unex- 
 pectedly on board the packet, or when the ugly change had 
 fallen on him in Mr. Montague's dressing-room. He had the 
 aspect of a man found out, and held at bay ; of being baffled, 
 hunted, and beset ; but there was now a dawning and 
 increasing purpose in his face, which changed it very much. 
 It was gloomy, distrustful, lowering ; pale with anger, and 
 defeat ; it still was humbled, abject, cowardly, and mean ; but 
 let the conflict go on as it would, there was one strong purpose 
 wrestling with every emotion of his mind, and casting the 
 whole series down as they arose. 
 
 Not prepossessing in appearance, at the best of times, it 
 may readily be supposed that he was not so now. He had 
 left deep marks of his front teeth in his nether lip ; and those 
 tokens of the agitation he had lately undergone, improved his 
 looks as little as the heavy corrugations in his forehead. But 
 he was self-possessed now ; unnaturally self-possessed, indeed, 
 as men quite otherwise than brave are known to be in 
 desperate extremities ; and when the carriage stopped, he 
 waited for no invitation, but leapt hardily out, and went up 
 stairs. 
 
 The chairman followed him ; and closing the board-room
 
 632 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 door as soon as they had entered, threw himself upon a sofa. 
 Jonas stood before the window, looking down into the street ; 
 and leaned against the sash, resting his head upon his arms. 
 
 "This is not handsome, Chuzzlewit !" said Montague at 
 length. " Not handsome, upon my soul ! " 
 
 " What would you have me do ? " he answered, looking 
 round abruptly ; "what do you expect? " 
 
 " Confidence, my good fellow. Some confidence ! " said 
 Montague, in an injured tone. 
 
 "Ecod! You show great confidence in me," retorted 
 Jonas. " Don't you ? " 
 
 " Do I not ? " said his companion, raising his head, and 
 looking at him, but he had turned again. " Do I not ? Have 
 I not confided to you the easy schemes I have formed for 
 our advantage ; our advantage, mind ; not mine alone ; and 
 what is my return .-' Attempted flight ! " 
 
 " How do you know that ? Who said I meant to fly ! " 
 
 " Who said ! Come, come. A foreign boat, my friend, 
 an early hour, a figure wrapped up for disguise ! Who said ? 
 If you didn't mean to jilt me, why were you there ? If you 
 didn't mean to jilt me, why did you come back .-' " 
 
 "I came back," said Jonas, "to avoid disturbance." 
 
 " You were wise," rejoined his friend. 
 
 Jonas stood quite silent ; still looking down into the street, 
 and resting his head upon his arms. 
 
 " Now, Chuzzlewit," said Montague, " notwithstanding 
 what has passed, I will be plain with you. Are you attending 
 to me there ? I only see your back." 
 
 "/hear you. Goon." 
 
 " I say that notwithstanding what has passed, I will be plain 
 with you." 
 
 " You said that before. And I have told you once, I 
 heard you say it. Go on." 
 
 " You are a little chafed, but I can make allowance for 
 that, and am, fortunately myself in the very best of tempers. 
 Now, let us see how circumstances stand. A day or two ago, 
 I mentioned to you, my dear fellow, that I thought I had 
 discovered " 
 
 " Will you hold your tongue ? " said Jonas, looking fiercely 
 round, and glancing at the door. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Montague. " Judicious ! Quite cor- 
 rect ! My discoveries being published, would be like many 
 other men's discoveries in this honest world ; of no further use
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 633 
 
 to me. You see, Chuzzlewit, how ingenuous and frank I am in 
 showing you the weakness of my own position ! To return. I 
 make, or think I make, a certain discovery, which I take an 
 early opportunity in mentioning in your ear, in that spirit of 
 confidence which I really hoped did prevail between us, and 
 was reciprocated by you. Perhaps there is something in it ; 
 perhaps there is nothing. I have my knowledge and opinion 
 on the subject. You have yours. VVe will not discuss tlie 
 question. But, my good fellow, you have been v.'cak ; what I 
 wish to point out to you is, that you have been weak. I may 
 desire to turn this little incident to my account (indeed, I do — 
 I'll not deny it), but my account does not lie in probing it, or 
 using it against you." 
 
 "What do you call using it against me?" asked Jonas, 
 who had not yet changed his attitude. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Montague, with a laugh. " We'll not enter 
 into that." 
 
 " Using it. to make a beggar of me. Is that the use you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Ecod," muttered Jonas, bitterly. " That's the use in 
 which your account docs lie. You speak the truth there." 
 
 " I wish you to venture (it's a very safe venture) a little 
 more with us, certainly, and to keep quiet," said Montague. 
 " You promised me you would ; and you must. I say it 
 plainly, Chuzzlewit, you must. Reason the matter. If you 
 don't, my secret is worthless to me ; and being so, it may as well 
 become the public property as mine : better, for I shall gain 
 some credit, bringing it to light. I want you, besides, to act 
 as a decoy in a case I have already told you of. You don't 
 mind that, I know. You care nothing for the man (you care 
 nothing for any man ; you are too sharp ; so am I, I hope) ; 
 and could bear any loss of his, with pious fortitude. Ha, ha, 
 ha ! You have tried to escape from the first consequence. 
 You cannot escape it, I assure you. I have shown you that 
 to-day. Now, I am not a moral man, you know. I am not 
 the least in the world affected by anything you may have done 
 by any little indiscretion you may have committed ; but I wish 
 to profit by it, if I can ; and to a man of your intelligence I 
 make that free confession. I am not at all singular in that 
 infirmity. Ever}'body profits by the indiscretion of his neigh- 
 bor ; and the people in the best repute, the most. Why do 
 you give me this trouble ? It must come to a friendly agree-
 
 634 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ment, or an unfriendly crash. It must. If the former, you 
 
 are very little hurt. If the latter — well ! you know best what 
 is likely to happen then." 
 
 Jonas left the window, and walked up close to him. He 
 did not look him in the face ; it was not his habit to do that ; 
 but he kept his eyes towards him — on his breast, or there- 
 abouts — and was at great pains to speak slowly and distinctly, 
 in reply. Just as a man in a state of conscious drunkenness 
 might be. 
 
 " Lying is of no use, now," he said. " I did think of get- 
 ting away this morning, and making better terms with you 
 from a distance." 
 
 " To be sure ! To be sure ! " replied Montague. " Noth- 
 ing more natural. I foresaw that, and provided against it. 
 But I am afraid I am interrupting you." 
 
 "How the devil," pursued Jonas, with a still greater 
 effort, " you made choice of your messenger, and where you 
 found him, I'll not ask you. I owed him one good turn be- 
 fore to-day. If you are so careless of men in general, as you 
 said you were just now, you are quite indifferent to what be- 
 comes of such a crop-tailed cur as that, and will leave me to 
 settle my account with him in my own manner." 
 
 If he had raised his eyes to his companion's face, he would 
 have seen that Montague was evidently unable to compre- 
 hend his meaning. But, continuing to stand before him, 
 with his furtive gaze directed as before, and pausing here, 
 only to moisten his dry lips with his tongue, the fact was lost 
 upon him. It might have struck a close observer that this 
 fixed and steady glance of Jonas's, was a part of the altera- 
 tion which had taken place in his demeanor. He kept it 
 riveted on one spot, with which his thoughts had manifestly 
 nothing to do ; like as a juggler walking on a cord or wire to 
 any dangerous end, holds some object in his sight to steady 
 him, and never wanders from it, lest he trip. 
 
 Montague was quick in his rejoinder, though he made it 
 at a venture. There was no difference of opinion between 
 him and his friend on that point. Not the least. 
 
 " Your great discovery," Jonas proceeded, with a savage 
 sneer that got the better of him for a moment, " may be true, 
 and may be false. Whichever it is, I dare say I'm no worse 
 than other men." 
 
 " Not a bit," said Tigg. " Not a bit. We're all alike— 
 or nearly so."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 635 
 
 " I want to know this," Jonas went on to say ; " is it your 
 own ? You'll not wonder at my asking the question." 
 
 " My own ! " repeated Montague. 
 
 " Ay ! " returned the other, gruffly. " Is it known to 
 anybody else? Come ! Don't waver about that." 
 
 "No!" said Montague, without the smallest hesitation. 
 " What would it be worth, do you think, unless I had the 
 keeping of it ? " 
 
 Now, for the first time, Jonas looked at him. After a 
 pause he put out his hand, and said, with a laugh : 
 
 " Come ! make things easy to me, and I'm yours. I don't 
 know that I may not be better off here, after all, than if I had 
 gone away this morning. But here I am, and here I'll stay 
 now. Take vour oath ! " 
 
 He cleared his throat, for he was speaking hoarsely, and 
 said in a lighter tone : — 
 
 " Shall I go to Pecksniff ! When ? Say when ! " 
 
 " Immediately ! " cried Montague. " He cannot be en- 
 ticed too soon." 
 
 " Ecod ! " cried Jonas, with a wild laugh. "There's some 
 fun in catching that old hypocrite. I hate him. Shall I go 
 to-night t " 
 
 "Ay! This," said Montague, ecstatically, "is like 
 business ! We understand each other now ? To-night, my 
 good fellow, by all means." 
 
 " Come with me," cried Jonas. " We must make a dash : 
 go down in state, and carry documents, for he's a deep file to 
 deal with, and must be drawn on with an artful hand, or he'll 
 not follow. I know him. As I can't take your lodgings or 
 your dinners down, I must take you. Will you come to- 
 night .? " 
 
 His friend appeared to hesitate ; and neither to have an- 
 ticipated this proposal, nor to relish it very much. 
 
 " We can concert our plans upon the road," said Jonas. 
 " We must not go direct to him, but cross over from some 
 other place, and turn out of our way to see him. I may not 
 want to introduce you, but I must have you on the spot. I 
 know the man, I tell you." 
 
 " But, what if the man knows me ? " said Montague, 
 shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " He know ! " cried Jonas, " Don't you run that risk 
 with fifty men a day ! Would your father know you .'' Did / 
 know you ? Ecod ! you were another figure when I saw you
 
 636 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 first. Ha, ha, ha ! I see the rents and patches now ! No 
 false hair then, no black dye ! You were another sort of joker, 
 in those days, you were ! You even spoke different, then. 
 You've acted the gentleman so seriously since, that you've 
 taken in yourself. If he should know you, what does it 
 matter ? Such a change is a proof of your success. You 
 know that, or you would not have made yourself known to me. 
 Will you come ? " 
 
 " My good fellow," said Montague, still hesitating, " I 
 can trust you alone." 
 
 " Trust me ! Ecod, you may trust me now far enough. 
 I'll try to go away no more — no more ! " He stopped, and 
 added in a more sober tone, " I can't get on without you. 
 Will you come ? " 
 
 " I will," said Montague, " if that's your opinion," and they 
 shook hands upon it. 
 
 The boisterous manner which Jonas had exhibited during 
 the latter part of this conversation, and which had gone on 
 rapidly increasing with almost every word he had spoken — 
 from the time when he looked his honorable friend in the 
 face until now — did not now subside, but, remaining at its 
 height, abided by him. Most unusual with him at any period ; 
 most inconsistent with his temper and constitution — especially 
 unnatural it would appear in one so darkly circumstanced ; it 
 abided by him. It was not like the effect of wine, or any 
 ardent drink, for he was perfectly coherent. It even made 
 him proof against the usual influence of such means of excite- 
 ment ; for, although he drank deeply several times that day, 
 with no reserve or caution, he remained exactly the same 
 man, and his spirits neither rose nor fell in the least observ- 
 able degree. 
 
 Deciding, after some discussion, to travel at night, in 
 order that the day's business might not be broken in upon, 
 they took counsel together in reference to the means. Mr. 
 Montague being of opinion that four horses were advisable, at 
 all events for the first stage, as throwing a great deal of dust 
 into people's eyes, in more senses than one, a travelling char- 
 iot and four lay under orders for nine o'clock. Jonas did not 
 go home, observing, that his being obliged to leave town on 
 business in so great a hurry, would be a good excuse for hav- 
 ing turned back so unexpectedly in the morning. So he wrote 
 a note for his portmanteau, and sent it by a messenger, who 
 duly brought his luggage back, with a short note from that
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 637 
 
 Other piece of luggage, his wife, expressive of her wish to 
 be allowed to come and see him for a moment. To this re- 
 quest he sent for answer, "she had better;" and one such 
 threatening affirmative being sufficient, in defiance of the 
 English grammar, to express a negative, she kept away. 
 
 Mr. Montague, being much engaged in the course of the 
 day, Jonas bestowed his spirits chiefly on the doctor, with 
 whom he lunched in the medical officer's own room. On his 
 way thither, encountering Mr. Nadgett in the outer room, he 
 bantered that stealthy gentleman on always appearing anxious 
 to avoid him, and inquired if he were afraid of him. Mr. 
 Nadgett slyly answered, " No, but he believed it must be his 
 way, as he had been charged with much the same kind of 
 thing before." 
 
 Mr. Montague was listening to, or, to speak with greater 
 elegance, he overheard, this dialogue. As soon as Jonas was 
 gone, he beckoned Nadgett to him with the feather of his pen, 
 and whispered in his ear, 
 
 " Who gave him my letter this morning ? " 
 " My lodger, sir," said Nadgett behind the palm of his 
 hand. 
 
 " How came that about ? " 
 
 " I found him on the wharf, sir. Being so much hurried, 
 and you not arrived, it was necessary to do something. It 
 fortunately occurred to me, that if I gave it him myself, I 
 could be of no further use. I should have been blown upon 
 immediately." 
 
 " Mr. Nadgett, you are a jewel," said Montague, patting 
 him on the back. " What's your lodger's name .'' " 
 "■ Pinch, sir. Mr. Thomas Pinch." 
 Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked : 
 " From the country, do you know ? " 
 " From Wiltshire, sir, he told me." 
 
 They parted without another word. To see Mr. Nadgett 
 bow when Montague and he next met, and to see Mr. Montague 
 acknowledge it anybody might have undertaken to swear that 
 they had never spoken to each other confldentially, in all their 
 lives. 
 
 In the meanwhile,Mr. Jonas and the doctor made themselves 
 very comfortable up stairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira, and 
 some sandwiches ; for the doctor having been already invited 
 to dine below at six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. 
 It was advisable, he said, in two points of view : first as be-
 
 638 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ing healthy in itself. Secondly, as being the better preparar 
 tion for dinner. 
 
 " And you are bound for all of our sakes to take .a partic 
 ular care of your digestion, Mr. Chuzzlewit, my dear sir," said 
 the doctor, smacking his lips after a glass of wine ; " for de- 
 pend upon it, it is worth preserving. It must have been in 
 admirable condition, sir ; perfect chronometer-work. Other- 
 wise your spirits could not be so remarkable. Your bosom's 
 lord sits lightly on its throne, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as what's- 
 his-name says in the play. I wish he said it in a play which 
 did anything like common justice to our profession, by the 
 bye. There is an apothecary in that drama, sir, which is a 
 low thing ; vulgar, sir ; out of nature altogether." 
 
 Mr. Jobling pulled out his shirt-frill of fine linen as though 
 he would have said, "This is what I call nature in a medical 
 man, sir ; " and looked at Jonas for an observation. 
 
 Jonas not being in a condition to pursue the subject, 
 took up a case of lancets that were lying on the table and 
 opened it. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the doctor leaning back in his chair, " I 
 always take 'em out of my pocket before I eat. My pockets 
 are rather tight. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Jonas had opened one of the shining little instruments ; and 
 was scrutinizing it with a look as sharp and eager as its own 
 bright edge, 
 
 " Good steel, doctor. Good steel. Eh ? " 
 
 " Ye-es," replied the doctor, with the faltering modesty of 
 ownership. " One might open a vein pretty dexterously with 
 that, Mr. Chuzzlewit." 
 
 " It has opened a good many in its time, I suppose ? " 
 said Jonas, looking at it with growing interest. 
 
 " Not a few, my dear sir, not a few. It has been engaged 
 in a — in a pretty good practice, I believe I may say," replied 
 the doctor, coughing as if the matter-of-fact were so ver}' dry 
 and literal that he couldn't help it. In a pretty good practice," 
 repeated the doctor putting another glass of wine to his lips. 
 
 " Now, could you cut a man's throat with such a thing as 
 this? " demanded Jonas. 
 
 " Oh certainly, certainly, if you took him in the right place," 
 returned the doctor. " It all depends upon that." 
 
 " Where you have your hand now, hey ? " cried Jonas, 
 bending forward to look at it. 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor; " that's the jugular."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 639 
 
 Jonas, in his vivacity, made a sudden sawing in the air, so 
 close behind the doctor's jugular, that he turned quite red. 
 Then Jonas (in the same strange spirit of vivacity) burst into 
 a loud discordant laugh. 
 
 " No, no," said the doctor, shaking his head : " edge tools, 
 edge tools ; never play with 'em. A veiy remarkable instance 
 of the skilful use of edge-tools, by the way, occurs to me at 
 this moment. It was a case of murder. I am afraid it was 
 a case of murder, committed by a member of our profession ; 
 it was so artistically done." 
 
 " Ay ! " said Jonas. "How was that ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," returned Jobling, " the thing lies in a nut-shell. 
 A certain gentleman was found, one morning, in an obscure 
 street, lying in an angle of a doorway — I should rather say, 
 leaning, in an upright position, in the angle of a doorway, and 
 supported consequently by the doorway. Upon his waistcoat 
 there was one solitary drop of blood. He was dead, and cold ; 
 and had been murdered, sir." 
 
 " Only one drop of blood ! " said Jonas. 
 
 " Sir, that man," replied the doctor, " had been stabbed 
 to the heart. Had been stabbed to the heart with such dex- 
 terity, sir, that he had died instantly, and had bled internally. 
 It was supposed that a medical friend of his (to whom sus- 
 picion attached) had engaged him in conversation on some 
 pretence ; had taken him, very likely, by the button in a con- 
 versational manner ; had examined his ground at leisure with 
 his other hand ; had marked the exact spot ; drawn out the 
 instrument, whatever it was, when he was quite prepared ; 
 and " 
 
 " And done the trick," suggested Jonas. 
 
 " Exactly so," replied the doctor. " It was quite an opera- 
 tion in its way, and very neat. The medical friend never 
 turned up ; and, as I tell you, he had the credit of it. 
 Whether he did it or not, I can't say. But, having had the 
 honor to be called in with two or three of my professional 
 brethren on the occasion, and having assisted to make a 
 careful examination of the wound, I have no hesitation in 
 saying that it would have reflected credit on any medical man ; 
 and that in an unprofessional person, it could not but be con- 
 sidered, either as an extraordinary work of art, or the result 
 of a still more extraordinary, happy, and favorable conjunction 
 of circumstances." 
 
 His hearer was so much interested in this case, that the
 
 640 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 doctor went on to elucidate it with the assistance of his own 
 finger and thumb and waistcoat ; and at Jonas's request, he 
 took the further trouble of going into a corner of the room, 
 and alternately representing the murdered man and the mur- 
 derer ; which "^he did with great effect. The bottle being 
 emptied and the story done, Jonas was in precisely the same 
 boisterous and unusual state as when they had sat down. If, 
 as Jobling theorized, his good digestion were the cause, he 
 must have been a very ostrich. 
 
 At dinner, it was just the same ; and after dinner too ; 
 though wine was drunk in abundance, and various rich meats 
 eaten. At nine o'clock it was still the same. There being a 
 lamp in the carriage, he swore they would take a pack of 
 cards, and a bottle of wine \ and with these things under his 
 cloak, went down to the door. 
 
 " Out of the way, Tom Thumb, and get to bed ! " 
 
 This was the salutation he bestowed on Mr. Bailey, who, 
 booted and wrapped up, stood at the carriage-door to help 
 him in. 
 
 " To bed, sir ! I'm a going, too," said Bailey. 
 
 He alighted quickly, and walked back into the hall, where 
 Montague was lighting a cigar, conducting Mr. Bailey with 
 him, by the collar. 
 
 " You are not a going to take this monkey of a boy, are 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Montague. 
 
 He gave the boy a shake, and threw him roughly aside. 
 There was more of his familiar self in the action, than in any- 
 thing he had done that day; but he broke out laughing 
 immediately afterwards, and making a thrust at the doctor 
 with his hand, in imitation of his representation of the medical 
 friend, went out to the carriage again, and took his seat. His 
 companion followed immediately. Mr. Bailey climbed into 
 the rumble. 
 
 " It will be a stormy night ! " exclaimed the doctor, as 
 they started
 
 MARTIN CFIUZZLEWIT. 645 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS 
 
 FRIEND. 
 
 The Doctor's prognostication in reference to the weather 
 was speedily verified. Although the weather was not a patient 
 of his, and no third party had required him to give an opinion 
 on the case, the quick fulhhnent of his prophecy may be taken 
 as an instance of his professional tact ; for, unless the 
 threatening aspect of the night had been perfectly plain and 
 unmistakable, Mr. Jobling would never have compromised 
 his reputation by delivering any sentiments on the subject. 
 He used this principle in Medicine with too much success, to 
 be unmindful of it in his commonest transactions. 
 
 It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at 
 windows, listening for the thunder which they know will 
 shortly break ; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes 
 and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and 
 lonely ships at seas, struck by lightning. Lightning flashed 
 and quivered on the black horizon even now ; and hollow 
 murmurinfrs were in the wind, as thou2;h it had been blowinsr 
 where the thunder rolled, and still was charged with its ex- 
 hausted echoes. But the storm, though gathering swiftly, 
 had not yet come up ; and the prevailing stillness was the 
 more solemn, from the dull intelligence that seemed to hover 
 in the air, of noise and conflict afar off. 
 
 It was very dark ; but in the murky sky there were masses 
 of cloud which shone with a lurid light, like monstrous heaps 
 of copper that had been heated in a furnace, and were growing 
 cold. These had been advancing steadily and slowly, but 
 they were now motionless, or nearly so. As the carriage 
 clattered round the corners of the streets, it passed at every 
 one, a knot of persons, who had conie there — many from 
 their houses close at hand, without hats — to look up at that 
 quarter of the sky. And now, a very few large drops of rain 
 began to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. 
 
 Jonas sat in accruer of the carriage, with his bottle resting 
 on his knee, and gripped as tightly in his hand, as if he 
 
 41
 
 642 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 would have ground its neck to powder if he could. Instinct- 
 ively attracted by the night, he had laid aside the pack of 
 cards upon the cushion ; and with the same involuntary im- 
 pulse, so intelligible to both of them as not to occasion a 
 remark on either side, his companion had extinguished the 
 lamp. The front glasses were down ; and they sat looking 
 silently out upon the gloomy scene before them. 
 
 They were clear of London, or as clear of it as travellers 
 can be, whose way lies on the Western Road, within a stage 
 of that enormous city. Occasionally, they encountered a foot- 
 passenger, hurrying to the nearest place of shelter ; or some 
 unwieldy cart proceeding onward at a heavy trot, with the 
 same end in view. Little clusters of such vehicles were 
 gathered round the stable-yard or baiting-place of every way- 
 side tavern ; while their dri\'ers watched the weather from the 
 doors and open windows, or made merry witliin. Everywhere, 
 the people were disposed to bear each other company, rather 
 than sit alone ; so that groups of watchful faces seemed to be 
 looking out upon the night and them, from almost eveiy house 
 they passed. 
 
 It may appear strange that this should have disturbed 
 Jonas, or rendered him uneasy : but it did. After muttering 
 to himself, and often changing his position, he drew up the 
 blind on his side of the carriage, and turned his shoulder 
 sulkily towards it. But he neither looked at his companion, 
 nor broke the silence which prevailed between them, and 
 which had fallen so suddenly upon himself, by addressing a 
 word to him. 
 
 The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed ; the rain poured 
 down, like Heaven's wrath. Surrounded at one moment by 
 intolerable light, and at the next by pitchy darkness, they still 
 pressed forward on their journey. Even when they arrived at 
 the end of the stage, and might have tarried, they did not ; 
 but ordered horses out, immediately. Nor had this any refer- 
 ence to some five minutes' lull, which at that time seemed to 
 promise a cessation of the storm. They held their course as 
 if they were impelled and driven by its fury. Although they 
 had not exchanged a dozen words, and might have tarried 
 very well, they seemed to feel, by joint consent, that onward 
 they must go. 
 
 Louder and louder the deep thunder rolled, as through the 
 myriad halls of some vast temple in the sky ; fier-cer and 
 brighter became the lightning ; more and more heavily the
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLFAVIT. 643 
 
 rain poured down. The horses (they were travelling now with 
 a single pair) plunged and started from the rills of quivering 
 fire that seemed to wind along the ground before them ; but 
 there these two men sat, and forward they went as if they were 
 led on by an invisible attraction. 
 
 The eye, partaking of the quickness of the flashing light, 
 saw in its every gleam a multitude of objects which it could 
 not see at steady noon in fifty times that period. Bells in 
 steeples, with the rope and wheel that moved them ; ragged 
 nests of birds in cornices and nooks ; faces full of consternation 
 in the tilted wagons that came tearing past, their frightened 
 teams ringing out a warning which the thunder drowned ; har- 
 rows and ploughs left out infields ; miles upon miles of hedge- 
 divided countiy, with the distant fringe of trees as obvious as 
 the scarecrow in the beanfield close at hand ; in a trembling, 
 vivid, flickering instant, everything was clear and plain : then 
 came a flush of red into the yellow light ; a change to blue ; 
 a brightness so intense that there was nothing else but light ,; 
 and then the deepest and profoundest darkness. 
 
 The lightning being very crooked and very dazzling, may 
 have presented or assisted a curious optical illusion, which 
 suddenly rose before the startled eyes of Montague in the 
 carriage, and as rapidly disappeared. He thought he saw 
 Jonas with his hand lifted, and the bottle clenched in it like 
 a hammer, making as if he would aim a blow at his head. At 
 the same time he observed (or so believed), an expression in 
 his face — a combination of the unnatural excitement he had 
 shown all day, with a wild hatred and fear — which might have 
 rendered a wolf a less terrible companion. 
 
 He uttered an involuntary exclamation, and called to the 
 driver, who brought his horses to a stop with all speed. 
 
 It could hardly have been as he supposed ; for although he 
 had not taken his eyes off his companion, and had not seen 
 him move, he sat reclining in his corner as before. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " said Jonas. " Is that your general 
 way of waking out of your sleep .'' " 
 
 " I could swear," returned the other, " that I have not 
 closed my eyes ! " 
 
 "When you have sworn it," said Jonas, composedly, "we 
 had better go on again, if you have only stopped for that." 
 
 He uncorked the bottle with the help of his teeth ; and 
 putting it to his lips, took a long draught. 
 
 " I wish we had never started on this journey. This is
 
 644 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 not," said Montague, recoiling instinctively, and speaking in a 
 voice that betrayed his agitation, " this is not a night to travel 
 in." 
 
 " Ecod 1 you're right there," returned Jonas ; " and we 
 shouldn't be out in it but for you. If you hadn't kept me 
 waiting all day, we might have been at Salisbury by this time ; 
 snug abed and fast asleep. What are we stopping for t " 
 
 His companion put his head out of window for a moment, 
 and drawing it in again, observed (as if that were his cause of 
 anxiety), that the boy was drenched to the skin. 
 
 " Serve him right," said Jonas. " I'm glad of it. What 
 the devil are we stopping for ? Are you going to spread him 
 out to dry ? " 
 
 " I have half a mind to take him inside," observed the 
 other with some hesitation. 
 
 " Oh ! thankee ! " said Jonas. " We don't want any damp 
 boys here, especially a young imp like him. Let him be 
 where he is. He ain't afraid of a little thunder and lightning, 
 I dare say ; whoever else is. Go on, driver ! We had better 
 have ///w inside perhaps," he muttered with a laugh; "and 
 the horses ! " 
 
 "Don't go too fast," cried Montague to the postilion; 
 " and take care how you go. You were nearly in the ditch 
 when I called to you." 
 
 This was not true ; and Jonas bluntly said so, as they 
 moved forward again. Montague took little or no heed of 
 what he said, but repeated that it was not anight for travelling, 
 and showed himself, both then and afterwards, unusually 
 anxious. 
 
 From this time, Jonas recovered his former spirits, if such 
 a term may be employed. to express the state in which he had 
 left the city. He had his bottle often at his mouth ; roared 
 out snatches of songs, without the least regard to time or tune 
 or voice, or anything but loud discordance ; and urged his 
 silent friend to be merry with him. 
 
 " You're the best company in the world, my good fellow," 
 said Montague with an effort, " and in general irresistible ; 
 but to night — do you hear it ? " 
 
 "Ecod I hear\ind see to it too," cried Jonas, shading his 
 eyes, for the moment, from the lightning which was flashing, 
 not in any one direction, but all around them. "What of 
 that ? It don't change you, nor me, nor our affairs. Chorus, 
 chorus.
 
 MAKTIiV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 It m?y lighten and storm, 
 
 Till It hunt the red worm 
 From the i^jrass where tiie gibbet is driven ; 
 
 But )t cin't hurt the dead, 
 
 And It won't save the head 
 That is doom'd to be ntled and riven. 
 
 645 
 
 That must be a precious old song," he added with an oath, as 
 he stopped short in a kind of wonder at himself. " I haven't 
 heard it since I was a boy, and how it comes into my head 
 now, unless the lightning put it there, I don't know. ' Can't 
 hurt the dead ! ' No no. ' And won't save the head ! ' No no. 
 No ! Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 His mirth was of such a savage and extraordinary character, 
 and was, in an explicable way, at once so suited to the night, 
 and yet such a coarse intrusion on its terrors, that his fellow- 
 traveller, always a coward, shrunk from him in positive fear. 
 Instead of Jonas being his tool and instrument, their places 
 seemed to be reversed. But there was reason for this too, 
 Montague thought ; since the sense of his debasement might 
 naturally inspire such a man with the wish to assert a noisy 
 independence, and in that license to forget his real condition. 
 Being quick enough, in reference to such subjects of contem- 
 plation, he was not long in taking this argument into account, 
 and giving it its full weight. But, still, he felt a vague sense 
 of alarm, and was depressed and uneasy. 
 
 He was certain he had not been asleep ; but his eyes might 
 have deceived him ; for, looking at Jonas now in any interval 
 of darkness, he could represent his figure to himself in any 
 attitude his state of mind suggested. On the other hand, he 
 knew full well that Jonas had no reason to love him ; and 
 even taking the piece of pantomime which had so impressed 
 his mind to be a real gesture, and not the working of his fancy, 
 the most that could be said of it, was, that it was quite in keep- 
 ing with the rest of his diabolical fun, and had the same im- 
 potent expression of truth in it. " If he could kill me with a 
 wish," thought the swindler, " I should not live long." 
 
 He resolved, that when he should have had his use of 
 Jonas, he would restrain him with an iron curb ; in the mean- 
 time, that he could not do better than leave him to take his 
 own way, and preserve his own peculiar description of good- 
 humor, after his own uncommon manner. It was no great 
 sacrifice to bear with him : " for when all is got that can be 
 got," thought Montague, " I shall decamp across the water, 
 and have the laugh on my side — and the gains."
 
 646 MARTIN CHUZZLEWn\ 
 
 Such were his reflections from hour to hour ; his state of 
 mind being one in which the same thoughts constantly present 
 themselves over and over again in wearisome repetition ; while 
 Jonas, who appeared to have dismissed reflection altogether, 
 entertained himself as before. They agreed that they would 
 go to Salisbury, and would cross to Mr. Pecksniff's in the 
 morning j and at the prospect of deluding that worthy gentle- 
 man, the spirits of his amiable son-in-law became more bois- 
 terous than ever. 
 
 As the night wore on, the thunder died away, but still 
 rolled gloomily and mournfully in the distance. The lightning 
 too, though now comparatively harmless, was yet bright and 
 frequent. The rain was quite as violent as it had ever been. 
 
 It was their ill-fortune, at about the time of dawn and in 
 the last stage of their journey, to have a restive pair of horses. 
 These animals had been greatly terrified in their stable by the 
 tempest ; and coming out into the dreary interval between 
 night and morning, when the glare of the lightning was yet 
 unsubdued by day, and the various objects in their view 
 were presented in indistinct and exaggerated shapes which 
 they would not have worn by night, they gradually became 
 less and less capable of control ; until taking a sudden fright 
 at something by the roadside, they dashed off wildly ddwn a 
 steep hill, flung the driver from his saddle, drew the carriage 
 to the brink of a ditch, stumbled headlong down and threw it 
 crashing over. 
 
 The travellers had opened the carriage door, and had 
 either jumped or fallen out. Jonas was the first to stagger to 
 his feet. He felt sick and weak, and very giddy, and, reeling 
 to a five-barred gate, stood holding by it, looking drowsily 
 about, as the landscape swam before his eyes. But, by de- 
 grees, he grew more conscious, and presently observed that 
 Montague was lying senseless in the road, within a few feet of 
 the horses. 
 
 In an instant, as if his own faint body were suddenly ani- 
 mated by a demon, he ran to the horses' heads ; and pulling 
 at their bridles with all his force, set them struggling and 
 plunging with such mad violence as brought their hoofs at 
 every effort nearer to the skull of the prostrate man ; and 
 must have led in half a minute to his brains being dashed out 
 on the highway. 
 
 As he did this, he fought and contended with them like a 
 man possessed, making them wilder by his cries.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 647 
 
 " Whoop ! " cried Jonas. " Whoop ! again ! another ! 
 A little more, a little more! Up, ye devils ! Hillo ! " 
 
 As he heard the driver who had risen and was hurrying 
 up, crying to him to desist, his violence increased. 
 
 " Hillo ! Hillo ! " cried Jonas. 
 
 " For God's sake ! " cried the driver. " The gentleman — • 
 in the road— he'll be killed !" 
 
 The same shouts and the same struggles were his only 
 answer. But the man darting in at the peril of his own life, 
 saved Montague's, by dragging him through the mire and 
 water out of the reach of present harm. That done, he ran 
 to Jonas ; and with the aid of his knife they very shortly dis- 
 engaged the horses from the broken chariot, and got them, 
 cut and bleeding, on their legs again. The postilion and 
 Jonas had now leisure to look at each other, which they had 
 not had yet. 
 
 " Presence of mind, presence of mind ! " cried Jonas, 
 throwing up his hands wildly. " What would you have done 
 without me ! " 
 
 " The other gentleman would have done badly without 
 me'' returned the man, shaking his head. " You should have 
 moved him first. I gave him up for dead." 
 
 " Presence of mind, you croaker, presence of mind ! " cried 
 Jonas, with a harsh loud laugh, " Was he struck, do you 
 think } " 
 
 They both turned to look at him. Jonas muttered some- 
 thing to himself, wlien he saw him sitting up beneath the 
 hedge, looking vacantly round. 
 
 " What's the matter 1 " asked Montague. " Is anybody 
 hurt ? " 
 
 " Ecod ! " said Jonas, " it don't seem so. There are no 
 bones broke, after all." 
 
 They raised him, and he tried to walk. He was a good 
 deal shaken, and trembled very much. I]ut with the excep- 
 tion of a few cuts and bruises this was all the damage he had 
 sustained. 
 
 "Cuts and bruises, eh?'' said Jonas. "We've all got 
 them. Only cuts and bruises, eh ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't have given sixpence for the gentleman's head 
 in half a dozen seconds more, for all he's only cut and 
 bruised," observed the post-boy. " If ever you're in an accident 
 of this sort again, sir, which I hope you won't be, never you 
 pull at the bridle of a horse that's down, when there's a man's
 
 648 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 head in the way. That can't be done twice without tliere 
 being a dead man in the case ; it would have ended in that, 
 this time, as sure as ever you were born, if I hadn't come up 
 just when I did." 
 
 Jonas repUed by advising him with a curse to hold his 
 tongue, and to go somewhere, whither he was not very likely 
 to go of his own accord. But Montague, who had listened 
 eagerly to every word, himself diverted the subject, by ex- 
 claiming : " Where's the boy ! " 
 
 " Ecod, I forgot that monkey," said Jonas. " What's 
 become of him ! " A very brief search settled that question. 
 The unfortunate Mr. Bailey had been thrown sheer over the 
 hedge of the five-barred gate ; and was lying in the neighbor- 
 ing field, to all appearance dead. 
 
 "When 1 said to-night, that I wished I had never started 
 on this journey," cried his master, " I knew it was an ill-fated 
 one. Look at this boy ! " 
 
 " Is that all ? " growled Jonas. " If you call that a sign of 
 it—" 
 
 " Why, what should I call a sign of it ? " asked Montague, 
 hurriedly. " What do you mean .? " 
 
 " I mean," said Jonas, stooping down over the body, 
 " that I never heard you were his father, or had any particular 
 reason to care much about him. Halloa. Hold up here ! " 
 
 But the boy was past holding up, or being held up, or 
 giving any other sign of life, than a faint and fitful beating of 
 the heart. After some discussion, the driver mounted the 
 horse which had been least injured, and took the lad in his 
 arms, as well as he could ; while Montague and Jonas lead- 
 ing the other horse, and carrying a trunk between them, 
 walked by his side towards Salisbury, 
 
 " You'd get there in a few minutes, and be able to send 
 assistance to meet us, if you went forward, post-boy," said 
 Jonas. "Trot on ! " 
 
 "No, no," cried Montague ; "we'll keep together." 
 
 " Why, what a chicken you are ! You are not afraid of 
 being robbed ; are you t " said Jonas. 
 
 "I am not afraid of anything," replied the other, whose 
 looks and manner were in flat contradiction to his words, 
 "But we'll keep together." 
 
 "You were mighty anxious about the boy, a minute ago," 
 said Jonas. " 1 suppose you know that he may die in the 
 meantime ? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 649 
 
 "Ay, ay. I know. But we'll keep together." 
 
 As it was clear that he was not to be moved from this 
 determination, Jonas made no other rejoinder than such as 
 his face expressed ; and they proceeded in company. They 
 had three or four good miles to travel ; and tlie way was not 
 made easier by the state of the road, the burden ,by which 
 they were embarrassed, or their own stiff and sore condition. 
 After a sufificiently long and painful walk they arrived at the 
 Inn ; and having knocked the people up (it being yet very 
 early in the morning), sent out messengers to see to the car- 
 riage and its contents, and roused a surgeon from his bed to 
 tend the chief sufferer. All the service he could render, he 
 rendered promptly and skilfully. But he gave it as his 
 opinion that the boy was laboring under a severe concussion of 
 the brain, and that Mr. Bailey's mortal course was run. 
 
 If Montague's strong interest in the announcement could 
 have been considered as unselfish, in any degree, it might 
 have been a redeeming trait in a character that had no such 
 lineaments to spare. But it was not difficult to see that, for 
 some unexpressed reason best appreciated by himself, he 
 attached a strange value to the company and presence of this 
 mere child. When, after receiving some assistance from the 
 surgeon himself, he retired to the bed-room prepared for him, 
 and it was broad day, his mind was still dwelling on this 
 theme. 
 
 "I would rather have lost," he said, "a thousand pounds 
 than lost the boy just now. But I'll return home alone. I 
 am resolved upon that. Chuzzlewit shall go forward first, 
 and I will follow in mv own time. I'll have no more of this," 
 he added, wiping his damp forehead. " Twenty-four hours of 
 this would turn my hair gray ! " 
 
 After examining his chamber, and looking under the bed, 
 and in the cupboards, and even behind the curtains, with 
 unusual caution (although it was, as has been said, broad 
 day), he doubled-locked the door by which he had entered, and 
 retired to rest. There was another door in the room, but it 
 was locked on the outer side ; and with what place it com- 
 municated, he knew not. 
 
 His fears or evil conscience reproduced this door in all his 
 dreams. He dreamed that a dreadful secret was connected 
 with it, a secret which he knew, and yet did not know ; for 
 although he was heavily responsible for it, and a party to it, 
 he was harassed even in his \ision by a distracting uncer-
 
 650 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 tainty in reference to its import. Incoherently entwined with 
 this dream was another, which represented it as the hiding-place 
 of an enemy, a shadow, a phantom ; and made it the business 
 of his life to keep the terrible creature closed up, and prevent 
 it from forcing its way in upon him. With this view Nadgett, 
 and he, and a strange man with a bloody smear upon his head 
 (who told him that he had been his playfellow, and told him, 
 too, the real name of an old schoolmate, forgotten until then), 
 worked with iron plates and nails to make the door secure ; 
 but though they worked never so hard, it was all in vain, for 
 the nails broke, or changed to soft twigs, or what was worse, 
 to worms, between their fingers ; the wood of the door 
 splintered and crumbled, so that even nails would not remain 
 in it ; and the iron plates curled up like hot paper. All this 
 time the creature on the other side — whether it was in the 
 shape of man, or beast, he neither knew nor sought to know 
 — was. gfainins: on them. But his greatest terror was when 
 the man with the bloody smear upon his head demanded of 
 him if he knew this creature's name, and said that he would 
 whisper it. At this the dreamer fell upon his knees, his 
 whole blood thrilling with inexplicable fear, and held his ears. 
 But looking at the speaker's lips, he saw that they formed the 
 utterance of the letter " J ; " and crying out aloud that the 
 secret was discovered, and they were all lost, he awoke. 
 
 Awoke to find Jonas standing at his bedside watching 
 him. And that very door wide open. 
 
 As their eyes met, Jonas retreated a few paces, and Mon- 
 tague sprang out of bed. 
 
 " Heyday ! " said Jonas. " You're all alive this morning." 
 
 " Alive ! " the other stammered, as he pulled the bell-rope 
 violently : "What are you doing here t " 
 
 " It's your room to be sure," said Jonas ; " but I'm almost 
 inclined to ask you what jou are doing here ? My room is on 
 the other side of that door. No one told me last night not to 
 open it. I thought it led into a passage, and was coming out 
 to order breakfast. There's — there's no bell in my room." 
 
 Montague had in the meantime admitted the man with his 
 hot water and boots, who hearing this, said, yes, there was ; 
 and passed into the adjoining room to point it out, at the head 
 of the bed. 
 
 " r couldn't find it, then," said Jonas : "it's all the same. 
 Shall I order breakfast ? " 
 
 Montague answered in the affirmative. When Jonas had
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 65 1 
 
 retired, whistling, through his own room, he opened the door 
 of communication, to take out the key and fasten it on the 
 inner side. But it was taken out already. 
 
 He dragged a table against the door, and sat down to 
 collect himself, as if his dreams still had some influence upon 
 his mind. 
 
 " An evil journey," he repeated several times. " An evil 
 journey. But I'll travel home alone. I'll have no more of 
 this ! " 
 
 His presentiment, or superstition, that it was an evil 
 journey, did not at all deter him from doing the evil for 
 which the journey was undertaken. With this in view, he 
 dressed himself more carefully than usual to make a favorable 
 impression on Mr. Pecksniff ; and, reassured by his own 
 appearance, the beauty of the morning, and the Hashing of 
 the wet boughs outside his window in the merry sunshine, was 
 soon sufficiently inspirited to swear a few round oaths, and 
 hum the fag-end of a song. 
 
 But he still muttered to himself at intervals, for all that : 
 "I'll travel home alone! " 
 
 CHAPTER XLHI. 
 
 HAS AN INFLUENCE ON THE FORTUNES OF SEVERAL PEOPLE, 
 MR. PECKSNIFF IS EXHIBITED IN THE PLENITUDE OF POWER, 
 AND WIELDS THE SAME WITH FORTITUDE AND MAGNANIM- 
 ITY. 
 
 On the night of the storm, Mrs. Lupin, hostess of the 
 Blue Dragon, sat by herself in her little bar. Her solitary 
 condition, or the bad weather, or both united, made Mrs. 
 Lupin thoughtful, not to say sorrowful. As she sat with her 
 chin upon her hand, looking out through a low back lattice, 
 rendered dim in the brightest daytime by clustering vine- 
 leaves, she shook her head very often, and said, " Dear me ! 
 Ah, dear, dear, me ! " 
 
 It was a melancholy time, even in the snugness of the 
 Dragon bar. The rich expanse of corn-field, pasture-land, 
 green slope, and gentle undulation, with its sparkling brooks,
 
 652 MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT. 
 
 its many hedgerows, and its clumps of beautiful trees, was black 
 and dreary, from the diamond panes of the lattice away to the 
 far horizon, where the. thunder seemed to roll alon^ the hills. 
 The heavy ram beat down the tender branches of vine and 
 jessamine, and trampled on them in its fury ; and when the 
 lightning gleamed, it showed the tearful leaves shivering and 
 cowering together at the window, and tapping at it urgently, 
 as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night. 
 
 As a mark of her respect for the lightning, Mrs. Lupin had 
 removed her candle to the chimney-piece. Her basket of 
 needlework stood unheeded at her elbow ; her supper spread 
 on a round table not far off, was untasted ; and the knives had 
 been removed for fear of attraction. She had sat for a long 
 time with her chin upon her hand, saying to herself at inter- 
 vals,. " Dear me ! Ah, dear, dear me ! " 
 
 She was on the e\-e of saying so, once more, when the 
 latch of the house-door (closed to keep the rain out), rattled 
 on its well-worn catch, and a traveller came in, who, shutting 
 it after him, and walking straight up to the half-door of the 
 bar, said, rather gruffly : 
 
 " A pint of the best old beer here." 
 
 He had some reason to be gruff, for if he had passed the 
 day in a waterfall, he could scarcely have been wetter than he 
 was. He was wrapped up to the eyes in a rough blue sailor's 
 coat, and had an oil-skin hat on, from the capacious brim of 
 which, the rain fell trickling down upon his breast, and back, 
 and shoulders. Judging from a certain liveliness of chin — he 
 had so pulled down his hat, and pulled up his collar to de- 
 fend himself from the weather, that she could only see his 
 chin, and even across that he drew the wet sleeve of his 
 shaggy coat, as she looked at hnn — Mrs. Lupin set him down 
 for a good-natured fellow, too. 
 
 " A bad night ! " observed the hostess cheerfully. 
 
 The traveller shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and 
 said it was, rather. 
 
 " There's a fire in the kitchen," said Mrs. Lupin, " and 
 very good company there. Hadn't you better go and dry 
 yourself } " 
 
 " No, thankee," said the man, glancing towards the kitchen 
 as he spoke ; he seemed to know the way. 
 
 " It's enough to give you your death of cold," observed 
 the hostess. 
 
 " I don't take my death easy," returned the traveller ; " or
 
 MARTIN CHCZZLEWIT. . 653 
 
 I should most likely have took it afore to-night. Your health, 
 ma'am ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lupin thanked him ; but in the act of lifting the 
 tankard to his mouth, he changed his mind, and put it down 
 again. Throwing his body back, and looking about him stiff- 
 ly, as a man does who is wrapped up, and has his hat low 
 down over his eyes, he said, 
 
 " What do you call this house ? Not the Dragon, do 
 you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Lupin complacently made answer, " Yes, the Dra- 
 gon." 
 
 " Why, then, you've got a sort of a relation of mine here, 
 ma'am," said the traveller ; " a young man of the name of 
 Tapley. What ! Mark, my boy ! " apostrophizing the prem- 
 ises, " have I come upon you at last, old buck ! " 
 
 This was touching Mrs. Lupin on a tender point. She 
 turned to trim the candle on the chimney-piece, and said, with 
 her back towards the traveller : 
 
 " Nobody should be made more welcome at the Dragon, 
 master, than any one who brought me news of ALark. But 
 it's many and many a long day and month since he left here 
 and England. And whether he's alive or dead, poor fellow, 
 Heaven above us only knows ! " 
 
 She shook her head, and her voice trembled ; her hand 
 must have done so too, for the light required a deal of trim- 
 ming. 
 
 " Where did he go, ma'am ? " asked the traveller, in a 
 gentler voice. 
 
 "He went," said Mrs. Lupin, with increased distress, "to 
 America. He was always tender-hearted and kind, and per- 
 haps at this moment may be lying in prison under sentence of 
 death, for taking pity on some miserable black, and helping 
 the poor runaway creetur to escape. How could he ever go 
 to America ! Why didn't he go to some of those countries 
 where the savages eat each other fairly antl give an equal 
 chance to every one ! " 
 
 Quite subdued by this time, Mrs. Lupin sobbed, and was 
 retiring to a chair to give her grief free vent, when the trav- 
 eller caught her in his arms, and she uttered a grand crv of 
 recognition. 
 
 " Yes, I will ! " cried Mark, " another — one more — twenty 
 more ! You didn't know me in that hat and coat .'' I thought 
 you would have known me anywheres ! Ten more ! "
 
 654 • MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " So I should have known you, if I could have seen you ; 
 but I couldn't, and you spoke so gruff. I didn't think you 
 could speak gruff to me, Mark, at first coming back." 
 
 " Fifteen more ! " said Mr. Tapley. " How handsome and 
 how young you look ! Six more ! The last half-dozen warn't 
 a fair one, and must be clone over again. Lord bless you, 
 what a treat it is to see you ! One more ! Well, I never was 
 so jolly. Just a few more, on account of there not being any 
 credit in it ! " 
 
 When Mr. Tapley stopped in these calculations in simple 
 addition, he did it, not because he was at all tired of the exer- 
 cise, but because he was out of breath. The pause reminded 
 him of other duties. 
 
 " Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit's outside," he said. " I left him 
 under the cart-shed, while I came on to see if there was any- 
 body here. We want to keep quiet to-night, till we know the 
 news from you, and what it's best for us to do." 
 
 " There's not a soul in the house, except the kitchen com- 
 pany," returned the hostess. " If they were to know you had 
 come back, Mark, they'd have a bonfire in the street, late as 
 it is." 
 
 " But they mustn't know it to-night, my precious soul," said 
 Mark ; " so have the house shut, and the kitchen fire made up ; 
 and when it's all ready, put a light in the winder, and we'll come 
 in. One more ! I long to hear about old friends. You'll tell 
 me all about 'em, won't you : Mr. Pinch, and the butcher's dog 
 down the street, and the terrier over the way, and the wheel- 
 wright's, and eveiy one of 'em. When I first caught sight of 
 the church to-night, I thought the steeple would have choked 
 me, I did. One more ! Won't you .-' Not a very little one 
 to finish off with t " 
 
 " You have had plenty, I am sure," said the hostess. 
 " Go along with your foreign manners ! '' 
 
 " That ain't foreign, bless you ! " cried Mark. " Native as 
 oysters, that is ! One more, because it's native ! As a mark 
 of respect for the land we live in ! This don't count as be- 
 tween you and me, you understand," said Mr. Tapley. " I 
 ain't a kissing you now, you'll observe. I have been among 
 the patriots : I'm a kissin' my country." 
 
 It would have been very unreasonable to complain of the 
 exhibition of his patriotism with which he followed up this ex- 
 planation, that it was all lukewarm or indifferent. When he 
 had given full expression to his nationality, he hurried off to
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 655 
 
 Martin ; while Mrs. Lupin, in a state of great agitation and 
 excitement, prepared for their reception. 
 
 The company soon came tumbhng out, insisting to each 
 other that the Dragon clock was half an hour too fast, and 
 that the thunder must have affected it. Impatient, wet, and 
 weary though they were, Martin and Mark were overjoyed to 
 see these old faces, and watched them with delighted interest 
 as they departed from the house, and passed close by them. 
 
 " There's the old tailor, Mark ! " whispered Martin. 
 
 " There he goes, sir ! A little handier than he was, I 
 think, sir, ain't he ? His figure's so far altered, as it seems 
 to me, that you might wheel a rather larger barrow between 
 his legs as he walks, than you could have done conveniently, 
 when we know'd him. There's Sam a coming out, sir." 
 
 " Ah, to be. sure ! " cried Martin : " Sam, the hostler. I 
 wonder whether that horse of Pecksniff's is alive still 1 " 
 
 "Not a doubt on it, sir," returned Mark. " I'hat's a de- 
 scription of animal, sir, as will go on in a bony way peculiar 
 to himself for a long time, and get into the newspapers at last 
 under the title of ' Sing'lar Tenacity of Life in a Quadruped.' 
 As if he had ever been alive in all his life, worth mentioning I 
 There's the clerk, sir, — wery drunk, as usual." 
 
 " I see him ! " said Martin, laughing. " But, my life, how 
 wet you are, Mark ! " 
 
 "/am ! What do vou consider vourself, sir? " 
 
 " Oh, not half as bad," said his fellow-traveller, with an 
 air of great vexation. " 1 told you not to keep on the windy 
 side, Mark, but let us change and change about. The rain 
 has been beating on you ever since it began." 
 
 " You don't know how it pleases me, sir," said Mark, after 
 a short silence, " if I may make so bold as say so, to hear you 
 a going on in that there uncommon considerate way of yours \ 
 which I don't mean to attend to, never, but which, ever since 
 that time when I was floored in Eden, you have showed." 
 
 " Ah, Mark ! " sighed Martin, " the less we say of that the 
 better. Do I see the light yonder? " 
 
 " That's the light ! " cried Mark. " Lord bless her, what 
 briskness she possesses ! Now for it, sir. Neat wines, good 
 beds, and first-rate entertainment for man or beast." 
 
 The kitchen fire burnt clear and red, the table was spread 
 out, the kettle boiled ; the slippers were there, the boot-jack 
 too, sheets of ham were there, cooking on the gridiron ; half- 
 a-dozen of eggs were there, poaching in the frying-pan ; a
 
 6s6 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 plethoric cherry-brandy bottle was there, winking at a foaming 
 jug of beer upon the table ; rare provisions were there, dang- 
 ling from the rafters as if you had only to open your mouth, 
 and something exquisitely ripe and good would be glad of the 
 excuse for tumbling into it. Mrs. Lupin, who for their sakes 
 had dislodged the very cook, high priestess of the temple, 
 with her own genial hands was dressing their repast. 
 
 It was impossible to help it — a ghost must have hugged 
 her. The Atlantic Ocean and the Red Sea being, in that re- 
 spect, all one, Martin hugged her instantly. Mr. Tapley (as 
 if the idea were quite novel, and had never occurred to him 
 before), followed, with much gravity, on the same side. 
 
 " Little did I ever think," said Mrs. Lupin, adjusting her 
 cap and laughing heartily ; yes, and blushing too ; " often as 
 I have said that Mr. Pecksniff's young gentlemen were the 
 life and soul of the Dragon, and that without them it would 
 be too dull to live in — little did I ever think, I am sure, that 
 any one of them would ever make so free as you, Mr. Mar- 
 tin ! And still less that I shouldn't be angry with him, but 
 should be glad with all my heart, to be the first to welcome 
 him home from America, with Mark Tapley, for his — " 
 
 " For his friend, Mrs. Lupin," interposed Martin. 
 
 " For his friend," said the hostess, evidently gratified by 
 this distinction, but at the same time admonishing Mr. Tap- 
 ley with a fork to remain at a respectful distance. "Little 
 did I ever think that ! but still less, that I should ever have 
 the changes to relate that I shall have to tell you of, when 
 you have done your supper ! " 
 
 " Good Heaven ! " cried Martin, changing color, " What 
 changes ? " 
 
 " She,^'' said the hostess, " is quite well, and now at Mr. 
 Pecksniff's. Don't be at all alarmed about her. She is every 
 thing you could wish. It's of no use mincing matters, or 
 making secrets, is it .' I know all about it, you see 1 " 
 
 " My good creature," returned Martin, "you are exactly 
 the person who ought to know all about it. I am delighted 
 to think you do know all about it. But what changes do you 
 hint at ? Has any death occurred ? " 
 
 " No, no ! " said the hostess. " Not so bad as that. But 
 I declare now that I will not be drawn into saying another 
 word till you have had your supper. If you ask me fifty 
 questions in the meantime, I won't answer one." 
 
 She was so positive, that there was nothing for it but to
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 657 
 
 get the supper over as quickly as possible ; and as they had 
 been walking a great many miles, and had fasted since the 
 middle of the day, they did no great violence to their own in- 
 clinations in falling on it tooth and nail. It took rather longer 
 to get through than might have been expected ; for, half-a- 
 dozen times, when they thought they had finished, Mrs. Lu- 
 pin exposed the fallacy of that impression triumphantly. But 
 at last, in the course of time and nature, they gave in. Then, 
 sitting with their slippered feet stretched out upon the kitchen 
 hearth (which was wonderfully comforting, for the night had 
 grown by this time raw and chilly), and looking with involun- 
 tary admiration at their dimpled, buxom, blooming hostess, 
 as the firelight sparkled in her eyes and glimmered in her 
 raven hair, they composed themselves to listen to her news. 
 
 Many were the exclamations of surprise which interrupted 
 her, when she told them of the separation between Mr. Peck- 
 sniff and his daughters, and between the same good gentle- 
 man and Mr. Pinch. But these were nothing to the indignant 
 demonstrations of Martin, when she related, as the common 
 talk of the neighborhood, what entire possession he had ob- 
 tained over the mind and person of old Mr. Chuzzlewit, and 
 what high honor he designed for Mary. On receipt of this 
 intelligence, Martin's slippers flew off in a twinkling, and he 
 began pulling on his wet boots with that indefinite intention 
 of going somewhere instantly, and doing something to some- 
 body, which is the first safety-valve of a hot temper. 
 
 " He ! " said Martin, " smooth-tongued villain that he is ! 
 He ! Give me that other boot, Mark ! " 
 
 " Where was you a thinking of going to, sir ? " inquired 
 Mr. Tapley, drying the sole at the fire, and looking coolly at 
 it as he spoke, as if it were a slice of toast. 
 
 " Where ! " repeated Martin. " You don't suppose I am 
 going to remain here, do you ? " 
 
 The imperturbable Mark confessed that he did. 
 
 " You do ! " retorted Martin angrily. " I am nuich obliged 
 to you. What do you take me for ? " 
 
 " I take you for what you are, sir," said Mark ; " and, con- 
 sequently, am quite sure that whatever you do, will be right 
 and sensible. The boot, sir." 
 
 Martin darted an impatient look at him, without taking it, 
 and walked rapidly up and down the kitchen several times, 
 with one boot and a stocking on. But, mindful of his Eden 
 resolution, he had already gained many victories over himself 
 
 42
 
 658 
 
 MAR77N CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 when Mark was in the case, and he resolved to conquer now. 
 So he came back to the boot-jack, laid his hand on Mark's 
 shoulder to steady himself, pulled the boot off, picked up his 
 slippers, put them on, and sat down again. He could not 
 help thrusting his hands to the very bottom of his pockets, 
 and muttering at intervals, " Pecksniff too ! That fellow ! 
 Upon my soul ! In-deed ! What next ? " and so forth : nor 
 could he help occasionally shaking his fist at the chimney, 
 with a very threatening countenance ; but this did not last 
 long ; and he heard Mrs. Lupin out, if not with composure, at 
 all events in silence. 
 
 " As to Mr. Pecksniff himself," observed the hostess in 
 conclusion, spreading out the skirts of her gown with both 
 hands, and nodding her head a great many times as she did 
 so, " I don't know what to say. Somebody must have poisoned 
 his mind, or influenced him in some extraordinary way. I 
 cannot believe that such a noble-spoken gentleman would go 
 and do wrong of his own accord ! " 
 
 A noble-spoken gentleman ! How many people are there 
 in the world, who, for no better reason, uphold their Pecks- 
 niffs to the last, and abandon virtuous men, when Pecksniffs 
 breathe upon them ! 
 
 " As to Mr. Pinch," pursued the landlady, " if ever there 
 was a dear, good, pleasant, worthy, soul alive. Pinch, and no 
 other, is his name. But how do we know that old Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit himself was not the cause of difference arising between 
 him and Mr. Pecksniff ? No one but themselves can tell ; for 
 Mr. Pinch has a proud spirit, though he has such a quiet way ; 
 and when he left us, and was so sorry to go, he scorned to 
 make his story good, even to me." 
 
 " Poor old Tom ! " said Martin, in a tone that sounded like 
 remorse. 
 
 " It's a comfort to know," resumed the landlady, "that he 
 has his sister living with him, and is doing well. Only yester- 
 day he sent me back, by post, a little — " here the color came 
 into her cheeks — " a little trifle I was bold enough to lend 
 him when he went away, saying, with many thanks, that he 
 had good employment, and didn't want it. It was the same 
 note ; he hadn't broken it. I never thought I could have 
 beeii so little pleased to see a bank-note come back to me, as 
 I was to see that." 
 
 " Kindly said, and heartily ! " said Martin. " Is it not, 
 Mark ? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 6S9 
 
 " She can't say anything as does not possess them quali- 
 ties," returned Mr. Tapley ; " which as much belong to the 
 ■ Dragon as its license. And now that we have got quite cool 
 and fresh to the subject again, sir, what will you do ? If 
 you're not proud, and can make up your mind to go through 
 with what you spoke of, coming along, that's the course for 
 you to take. If you started wrong with your grandfather 
 (which, you'll excuse my taking the liberty of saying, appears 
 to have been the case), up with you, sir, and tell him so, and 
 make an appeal to his affections. Don't stand out. He's a 
 great deal older than you, and if he was hasty, you was hasty 
 too. Give way, sir, give way." 
 
 The eloquence of Mr. Tapley was not without its effect on 
 Martin, but he still hesitated, and expressed his reason thus : 
 
 " That's all very true, and perfectly correct, Mark ; and if 
 it were a mere question of humbling myself before ///w, I 
 would not consider it twice. But don't you see, that being 
 wholly under this hypocrite's government, and having (if 
 what we hear be true) no mind or will of his own, I throw my- 
 self, in fact, not at his feet, but at the feet of Mr. Pecksniff? 
 And when I am rejected and spurned away," said Martin, 
 turning crimson at the thought, " it is not by him — my own 
 blood stirred against me — but by Pecksniff — Pecksniff, 
 Mark ! " 
 
 " Well, but we know beforehand," returned the politic Mr. 
 Tapley, " that Pecksniff is a wagabond, a scoundrel, and a 
 willain." 
 
 " A most pernicious villain ! " said Martin. 
 
 " A most pernicious willain. We know that beforehand, 
 sir ; and, consequently, it's no shame to be defeated by Peck- 
 sniff. Blow Pecksniff ! " cried Mr. Tapley, in the fervor of 
 his eloquence. " Who's he ! It's not in the nature of Peck- 
 sniff to shame ns^ unless he agreed with us, or done us a ser- 
 vice ; and, in case he offered any outdacity of that descrip- 
 tion, we could express our sentiments in the English language, 
 I hope. Pecksniff ! " repeated Mr. Tapley, with ineffable dis- 
 dain. " What's Pecksniff, who's Pecksniff, where's Pecksniff,* 
 that he's to be so much considered ? We're not a calculating 
 for ourselves ; " he -laid uncommon emphasis on the last sylla- 
 ble of that word, and looked full in Martin's face ; " we're 
 making a effort for a young lady likewise as has undergone 
 her share ; and whatever little hope we have, this here Peck- 
 sniff is not to stand in its way, I expect. I never heard of
 
 66 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 any act of Parliament as was made by Pecksniff. Pecksniff ! 
 Why, I wouldn't see the man myself ; I wouldn't hear him ; I 
 wouldn't choose to know he was in company. I'd scrape my 
 shoes on the scraper of the door, and call that Pecksniff, if 
 you liked ; but I wouldn't condescend no further." 
 
 The amazement of Mrs. Lupin, and indeed of Mr. Tapley 
 himself for that matter, at this impassioned flow of language, 
 was immense. But Martin, after looking thoughtfully at the 
 fire for a short time, said : 
 
 " You are right, Mark. Right or wrong, it shall be done. 
 I'll do it." 
 
 "One word more, sir," returned Mark. " Only think of 
 him so far, as not to give him a handle against you. Don't 
 you do anything secret, that he can report before you get 
 there. Don't you even see Miss Mar}' in the morning, but let 
 this here dear friend of ours ; " Mr. Tapley bestowed a smile 
 upon the hostess ; " prepare her for what's a going to happen, 
 and carry any little message as may be agreeable. She knows 
 how. Don't you ? " Mrs. Lupin laughed and tossed her 
 head. " Then you go in, bold and free as a gentleman should. 
 ' I haven't done nothing underhanded,' says you. ' I haven't 
 been a skulking about the premises, here I am, for-give me, I 
 ask your pardon, God Bless You ! ' " 
 
 Martin smiled, but felt that it was good advice not- 
 withstanding, and resolved to act upon it. When they ascer- 
 tained from Mrs. Lupin that Pecksniff had already returned 
 from the great ceremonial at which they had beheld him in his 
 glory, and when they had fully arranged the order of their 
 proceedings, they went to bed, intent upon the morrow. 
 
 In pursuance of their project as agreed upon at this discus- 
 sion, Mr. Tapley issued forth next morning, after breakfast, 
 charged with a letter from Martin to his grandfather, request- 
 ing leave to wait upon him for a few minutes. And post- 
 ponijig as he went along the congratulations of his numerous 
 friends until a more convenient season, he soon arrived at 
 Mr. Pecksniff's house. At that gentleman's door, with a face 
 so immovable that it would have been next to an impossibility 
 far the most acute physiognomist to determine what he was 
 thinking about, or whether he was thinking at all, he straight- 
 way knocked. 
 
 'a person of Mr. Tapley's observation could not long re- 
 main insensible to the fact, that Mr. Pecksniff was making the 
 end of his nose very blunt against the glass of the parlor
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 66 1 
 
 window, in an angular attempt to discover wlio had knocked 
 at the door. Nor was Mr. Tapley slow to batifle this mo\e- 
 ment on the part of the enemy, by perching himself on the 
 top step, and presenting the crown of his hat in that direc- 
 tion. But possibly Mr. Pecksniff had already seen him, for 
 Mark soon heard his shoes creaking, as he advanced to open 
 the door with his own hands. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff was as cheerful as ever, and sang a little 
 song in the passage. 
 
 " How d'ye do, sir.'' " said Mark. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Tapley, I believe ? The 
 Prodigal returned ! We don't want any beer, my friend." 
 
 " Thankee, sir," said Mark. " I couldn't accommodate 
 you, if you did. A letter, sir. Wait for an answer." 
 
 " For me ? " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " And an answer, eh ? " 
 
 "Not for you I think, sir," said Mark, pointing out the 
 direction. " Chuzzlewit, I believe the name is, sir." 
 
 "Oh!" returned Mr. Pecksniff. "Thank you. Yes. 
 Who's it from, my good young man ? " 
 
 " The gentleman it comes from, wrote his name inside, 
 sir," returned Mr. Tapley with extreme politeness. " I see 
 him a signing of it at the end, while I was a waitin'." 
 
 " And he said he wanted an answer did he ! " asked Mr. 
 Pecksniff in his most persuasive manner. 
 
 Mark replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " He shall have an answer. Certainlv," said Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, tearing the letter into small pieces, as mildly as if that 
 were the most flattering attention a correspondent could re- 
 ceive. " Have the 2,-oodness to pive hini that, with mv com- 
 pliments, if you please. Good-morning!" Whereupon, he 
 handed Mark the scraps ; and shut the door. 
 
 Mark thought it prudent to subdue his personal emotions, 
 and return to Martin, at the Dragon. They were not unpre- 
 pared for such a reception, and suffered an hour or so to 
 elapse before making another attempt. When this interval 
 had gone by, they returned to Mr. Pecksniff's house in com- 
 pany. Martin knocked this time, while Mr. Tapley prepared 
 himself to keep the door open with his foot and shoulder, 
 when anybody came, and by that means secure an enforced 
 parley. But this precaution was needless, for the servant girl 
 appeared almost immediately. Brushing quickly past her as 
 he had resolved in such a case to do, Martin (closely followed 
 by his faithful ally) opened the door of that parlor in which
 
 662 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 he knew a visitor was most likely to be found, passed at once 
 into the room ; and stood, without a word of notice or an- 
 nouncement, in the presence of his grandfather. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff also was in the room, and Maiy. In the 
 swift instant of their mutr.al recognition, Martin saw the old 
 man droop his gray head, and hide his face in his hands. 
 
 It smote him to the heart. In his most selfish and most 
 careless day, this lingering remnant of the old man's ancient 
 love, this buttress of a ruined tower he had built up in the 
 time gone by, with so much pride and hope, would have 
 caused a pang in Martin's heart. But now, changed for the 
 better in his worst respect ; looking through an altered me- 
 dium on his former friend, the guardian of his childhood, so 
 broken and bowed down ; resentment, sullenness, self-confi- 
 dence, and pride, were all swept away, before the starting 
 tears upon the withered cheeks. He could not bear to see 
 them. He could not bear to think they fell at sight of him. 
 He could not bear to view reflected in them, the reproachful 
 and irrevocable Past. 
 
 He hurriedly advanced, to seize the old man's hand in his, 
 when Mr. Pecksniff interposed himself between them. 
 
 " No, young man ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, striking himself 
 upon the breast, and stretching out his other arm towards his 
 guest as if it were a wing to shelter him. " No, sir. None of 
 that. Strike here, sir, here ! Launch your arrows at me, sir, 
 if you'll have the goodness ; not at him ! " 
 
 "Grandfather!" cried Martin. "Hear me! I implore 
 you, let me speak ! " 
 
 " Would you, sir ! Would you ! " said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 dodging about, so as to keep himself always between them. 
 " Is it not enough, sir, that you come into my house like a 
 thief in the night, or I should rather say, for we can never be 
 too particular on the subject of Truth, like a thief in the day- 
 time ; bringing your dissolute companions with you, to plant 
 themselves with their backs against theinsidesof parlor doors, 
 and prevent the entrance or issuing forth of any of my house- 
 hold ; " Mark had taken up this position, and held it quite 
 unmoved ; " but would you also strike at venerable Virtue ? 
 Would you ? Know that it is not defenceless. I will be its 
 shield, young man. Assail me. Come on, sir. Fire away ! " 
 
 " Pecksniff," said the old man, in a feeble voice. "Calm 
 yourself. Be quiet." 
 
 " I can't be calm," cried Mr. Pecksniff, "and I won't be
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 663 
 
 quiet. My benefactor and my friend ! Shall even my house 
 be no refuge for your hoary pillow ! " 
 
 " Stand aside ! " said the old man, stretching out his hand ; 
 " and let me see what it is, I used to love so dearly." 
 
 " It is right that you should see it, my friend," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff. " It is well that you should see it, my noble sir. 
 It is desirable that you should contemplate it in its true pro- 
 portions. Behold it ! There it is, sir. There it is ! " 
 
 Martin could hardly be a mortal man, and not express in his 
 face something of the anger and disdain, with which Mr. Peck- 
 sniff inspired him. But beyond this he evinced no knowledge 
 whatever of that gentleman's presence or existence. True, he 
 had once, and that at first, glanced at him involuntarily, and 
 with supreme contempt ; but for any other heed he took of 
 him, there might have been nothing in his place save empty air. 
 
 As Mr. Pecksniff withdrew from between them, agreeably 
 to the wish just now expressed (which he did during the de- 
 livery of the observations last recorded), old Martin, who had 
 taken Mary Graham's hand in his, and whispered kindly to 
 her, as telling her she had no cause to be alarmed, gently 
 pushed her from him, behind his chair \ and looked steadily 
 at his grandson. 
 
 " And that," he said, " is he. Ah ! that is he ! Say what 
 you wish to say. But come no nearer." 
 
 " His sense of justice is so fine," said Mr. Pecksniff, "that 
 he will hear even him, although he knows beforehand that 
 nothing can come of it. Ingenuous mind ! " Mr. Pecksniff 
 did not address himself immediately to any person in saying 
 this, but assuming the position of the Chorus in a Greek 
 Tragedy, delivered his opinion as a commentary on the pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 " Grandfather ! " said Martin, with great earnestness. 
 " From a painful journey, from a hard life, from a sick-bed, 
 from privation and distress, from gloom and disappointment, 
 from almost hopelessness and despair, I have come back to 
 you." 
 
 " Rovers of this sort," observed Mr. Pecksniff as Chorus, 
 " very commonly come back when they find they don't meet 
 with the success they expected in their marauding ravages." 
 
 " But for this faithful man," said Martin, turning towards 
 Mark, " whom I first knew in this place, and who went away 
 with me voluntarily, as a servant, but has been, throughout, 
 my zealous and devoted friend ; but for him, I nmst have died
 
 664 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 abroad. Far from home, far from any help or consolation ; 
 far from the probability even of my wretched fate being ever 
 known to any one who cared to hear it — oh that you would 
 let me say, of being known to you." 
 
 The old man looked at Mr. Pecksniff. Mr. Pecksniff 
 looked at him. "Did you speak, my worthy sir?" said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, with a smile. The old man answered in the nega- 
 tive. " I know what you thought," said Mr. Pecksniff, with 
 another smile. " Let him go on, my friend. The develop- 
 ment of self-interest \\\ the human mind is always a curious 
 study. Let him go on, sir." 
 
 " Go on ! " observed the old man, in a mechanical obedi- 
 ence, it appeared, to Mr. Pecksniff's suggestion. 
 
 '* I have been so wretched and so poor," said Martin, "that 
 I am indebted to the charitable help of a stranger, in a land of 
 strangers, for the means of returning here. All this tells 
 against me in your mind, I know. I have given you cause to 
 think I have been driven here wholly by want, and have not been 
 led on, in any degree, by affection or regret. When I parted 
 from you, Grandfather, I deserved that suspicion, but I do 
 not now. I do not now." 
 
 The Chorus put its hand in its waistcoat, and smiled. 
 " Let him go on, my worthy sir," it said. " I know what you 
 are thinking of, but don't express it prematurely." 
 
 Old Martin raised his eyes to Mr. Pecksniff's face, and 
 appearing to derive renewed instruction from his looks and 
 words, said, once again : 
 
 "Go on !" 
 
 " I have little more to say," returned Martin. " And as 
 I say it now, with little or no hope. Grandfather ; whatever 
 dawn of hope I had on entering the room ; believe it to be 
 true. At least, believe it to be true." 
 
 " Beautiful Truth ! " exclaimed the Chorus, looking up- 
 ward. " How is your name profaned by vicious persons ! 
 You don't live in a well, my holy principle, but on the lips of 
 false mankind. It is hard to bear with mankind, dear sir," — ■ 
 addressing the elder Mr. Chuzzlewit ; " but let us do so 
 meekly. Jt is our duty so to do. Let us be among the Few 
 who do their duty. If," pursued the Chorus, soaring up into 
 a lofty flight, " as the poet informs us, England expects every 
 man to do his duty, England is the most sanguine countr}' on 
 the face of the earth, and will find itself continually disap- 
 pointed."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 665 
 
 " Upon that subject," said Martin, looking calmly at the 
 old man as he spoke, but glancing once at Mary, whose face 
 was now buried in her hands, upon the back of his easy-chair; 
 "upon that subject, which hrst occasioned a division between 
 us, my mind and heart are incapable of change. Whatever 
 influence they have undergone, since that unhappy time, has 
 not been one to weaken but to strengthen me. I cannot pro- 
 fess sorrow for that, nor irresolution in that, nor shame in 
 that. Nor would you wish me, I know. But that I might 
 have trusted to your love, if I had thrown myself manfully 
 upon it ; that I might have won you over, with ease, if I had 
 been more yielding, and more considerate ; that I should 
 have best remembered myself in forgetting myself, and recol- 
 lecting you ; reflection, solitude, and misery, have taught me. 
 I came, resolved to say this, and to ask your forgiveness ; 
 not so much in hope for the future, as in regret for the past ; 
 for all that I would ask of you is, that you would aid me to 
 live. Help me to get honest work to do, and I would do it. 
 My condition places me at the disadvantage of seeming to 
 have only my selfish ends to serve, but try if that be so, or 
 not. Try if I be self-willed, obdurate, and haughty, as I 
 was ; or have been disciplined in a rough school. Let the 
 voice of nature and association plead between us. Grandfather ; 
 and do not, for one fault, however thankless, quite reject 
 me ! " 
 
 As he ceased, the gray head of the old man dropped 
 again ; and he concealed his face behind his outspread 
 fingers. 
 
 " My dear sir," cried Mr. PecksnilT, bending over him, 
 "you must not give way to this. It is very natural, and 
 very amiable, but you must not allow the shameless conduct 
 of one whom you long ago cast off, to move you so far. 
 Rouse yourself. Think," said Pecksniff, "think of Me, my 
 friend." 
 
 " I will," returned old Martin, looking up into his face. 
 "You recall me to myself. I will." 
 
 " Why, what," said Mr. Pecksnifif, sitting down beside 
 him in a chair which he drew up for the purpose, and tapping 
 him playfully on the arm, "what is the matter with my strong- 
 minded compatriot, if I may venture to take the liberty of 
 calling him by that endearing expression ? Shall I have to 
 scold my coadjutor, or to reason with an intellect like his ? 
 I think not."
 
 666 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " No, no. There is no occasion," said the old man. " A 
 momentary feeling. Nothing more." 
 
 "Indignation," observed Mr. Pecksniff, "re/// bring the 
 scalding tear into the honest eye, I know ; " he wiped his own 
 elaborately. " But we have higher duties to perform than that. 
 Rouse yourself, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Shall I give expression to 
 your thoughts, my friend ? " 
 
 " Yes," said old Martin, leaning back in his chair, and 
 looking at him, half in vacancy and half in admiration, as if 
 he were fascinated by the man. " Speak for me, Pecksniff. 
 I'hank you. You are true to me. Thank you ! " 
 
 "Do not unman me, sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his 
 hand vigorously, " or I shall be unequal to the task. It is 
 not agreeable to my feelings, my good sir, to address the 
 person who is now before us, for when I ejected him from 
 this house, after hearing of his unnatural conduct from your 
 lips, I renounced communication with him forever. But you 
 desire it ; and that is sufficient. Young man ! The door is 
 immediately behind the companion of your infamy. Blush if 
 you can ; begone without a blush, if you can't." 
 
 Martin looked as steadily at his grandfather as if there 
 had been a dead silence all this time. The old man looked 
 no less steadily at Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " When I ordered you to leave this house upon the last 
 occasion of your being dismissed from it with disgrace," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff; "when, stung and stimulated beyond endur- 
 ance by your shameless conduct to this extraordinary noble- 
 minded individual, I exclaimed ' Go forth ! ' I told you that 
 I wept for your depravity. Do not suppose that the tear 
 which stands in my eye at this moment, is shed for you. It is 
 shed for him, sir. It is shed for him." 
 
 Here Mr. Pecksniff, accidentally dropping the tear in 
 question on a bald part of Mr. Chuzzlewit's head, wiped 
 the place with his pocket-handkerchief, and begged pardon. 
 
 " It is shed for him, sir, whom you seek to make the vic- 
 tim of your arts," said Mr. Pecksniff ; " whom you seek to 
 plunder, to deceive, and to mislead. It is shed in sympathy 
 with him, and admiration of him ; not in pity for him, for 
 happily he knows what you are. You shall not wrong him 
 further, sir, in any way," said Mr. Pecksniff, quite transported 
 with enthusiasm, " while I have life. You may bestride my 
 senseless corse, sir. That is very likely. I can imagine a 
 mind like yours deriving great satisfaction from %ny measure
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 667 
 
 of that kind. But while I continue to be called upon to exist, 
 sir, you must strike at him through me. Aye ! " said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, shaking his head at Martin with indignant jocularity ; 
 " and in such a cause you will find me, my young sir, an L'gly 
 Customer ! " 
 
 Still Martin looked steadily and mildly at his grandfather. 
 " Will you give me no answer," he said, at length, ''not a 
 word ? " 
 
 " You hear what has been said," replied the old man, 
 without averting his eyes from the face of Mr. Pecksniff, who 
 nodded encouragingly. 
 
 " 1 have not heard your voice. I have not heard your 
 spirit," returned Martin. 
 
 "Tell him again," said the old man, still gazing up in Mr. 
 Pecksniff's face. 
 
 " I only hear," replied Martin, strong in his purpose from 
 the first, and stronger in it as he felt how Pecksniff winced 
 and shrunk beneath his contempt ; " I only hear what you 
 say to me, grandfather." 
 
 Perhaps it was well for Mr. Pecksniff that his venerable 
 friend found in his (Mr. Pecksniff's) features an exclusive 
 and engrossing subject of contemplation, for if his eyes had 
 gone astray, and he had compared young Martin's bearing 
 with that of his zealous defender, the latter disinterested gen- 
 tleman would scarcely have shown to greater advantage than 
 on the memorable afternoon when he took Tom Pinch's last 
 receipt in full of all demands. One really might ha\e thought 
 there was some quality in Mr. Pecksniff — an emanation from 
 the brightness and purity within him perhaps — which set off 
 and adorned his foes, they looked so gallant and so manly 
 beside him. 
 
 "Not a word ? " said Martin, for the second time. 
 
 " I remember that 1 ha\e a word to say, Pecksniff," ob- 
 served the old man. " Put a word. You spoke of being 
 indebted to the charitable help of some stranger for the means 
 of returning to England. Who is he .'' And what help in 
 money did he render you ? " 
 
 Although he asked this question of Martin, he did not 
 look towards him, but kept his eyes on Mr. Pecksniff as 
 before. It appeared to have become a habit with him. both 
 in a literal and figurative sense, to look to Mr. Pecksniff 
 alone. 
 
 Martin fook out his pencil, tore a leaf from his pocket-
 
 668 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 book, and hastily wrote clown the particulars of his debt to 
 Mr. Bevan. The old man stretched out his hand for the 
 paper, and took it ; but his eyes did not wander from Mr, 
 Pecksniff's face. 
 
 " It would be a poor pride and a false humility," said 
 Martin, in a low voice, " to say, I do not wish that to be paid, 
 or that I have any present hope of being able to pay it. liut 
 1 never felt my poverty so deeply as I feel it now." 
 
 " Read it to me, Pecksniff," said the old man. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff, after approaching the perusal of the paper 
 as if it were a manuscript confession of a murder, complied. 
 
 '' I think, Pecksniff," said old Martin, " I could wish that 
 to be discharged. I should not like the lender, who was 
 abroad, who had no opportunity of making inquiry, and who 
 did (as he thought) a kind action, to suffer." 
 
 " An honorable sentiment, my dear sir. Your own en- 
 tirely. But a dangerous precedent," said Mr. Pecksniff, 
 "permit me to suggest." 
 
 " It shall not be a precedent," returned the old man. " It 
 is the only recognition of him. But we will talk of it again. 
 You shall advise me. There is nothing else ? " 
 
 "Nothing else," said Mr. Pecksniff buoyantly, "but for 
 you to recover this intrusion — this cowardly and indefensible 
 outrage on your feelings — with all possible dispatch, and 
 smile again." 
 
 " You have nothing more to say ? " inquired the old man, 
 laying his hand with unusual earnestness on Mr. Pecksniff's 
 sleeve. 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff would not say what rose to his lips. For 
 reproaches, he observed, were useless. 
 
 " You have nothing at all to urge } You are sure of that ? 
 If you have, no matter what it is, speak freely. I will oppose 
 nothing that you ask of me," said the old man. 
 
 The tears rose in such abundance to Mr. Pecksniff's eyes 
 at this proof of unlimited confidence on the part of his friend, 
 that he was fain to clasp the bridge of his nose convulsively 
 before he could at all compose himself. When he had the 
 power of utterance again, he said, with great emotion, that he 
 hoped he should live to deserve this ; and added, that he had 
 no other observation whatever to make. 
 
 For a few moments the old man sat looking at him, with 
 that blank and motionless expression which is not uncommon 
 in the faces of those whose faculties are on the wane, in age-
 
 MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 669 
 
 But he rose up firmly too, and walked towards the door, from 
 which Mark withdrew to make way for him. 
 
 The obsequious Mr. Pecksniff proffered his arm. The old 
 man took it. Turning at the door, he said to Martin, waving 
 off with his hand, 
 
 " You have heard him. Go away. It is all over. Go ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff murmured certain cheering expressions of 
 sympathy and encouragement as they retired ; and Martin, 
 awakening from the stupor into which the closing portion of 
 this scene had plunged him, to the opportunity afforded by 
 their departure, caught the innocent cause of all in his em- 
 brace, and pressed her to his heart. 
 
 " Dear girl ! " said Martin. " He has not changed you. 
 Why, what an impotent and harmless knave the fellow is ! " 
 
 " You have restrained yourself so nobly ! You have borne 
 so much ! " 
 
 " Restrained mj'self ! " cried Martin, cheerfully. " You 
 were by, and were unchanged, I knew. What more advan- 
 tage did I want ? The sight of me was such a bitterness to 
 the dog, that I had my triimiph in his being forced to endure 
 it. But tell me, love — for the few hasty words we can ex- 
 change now are precious — what is this which has been 
 rumored to me } Is it true that you are persecuted by this 
 knave's addresses ? " 
 
 " I was, dear Martin, and to some extent am now ; but my 
 chief source of unhappiness has been anxiety for you. Why 
 did you leave us in such terrible suspense ? " 
 
 " Sickness, distance ; the dread of hinting at our real con- 
 dition, the impossibility of concealing it except in perfect 
 silence ; the knowledge that the truth would have pained you 
 infinitely more than uncertainty and doubt," said Martin, 
 hurriedly ; as indeed ever}^thing else was done and said, in 
 these few hurried moments, "were the causes of my writing 
 only once. But Pecksniff ? You needn't fear to tell me the 
 whole tale ; for you saw me with him face to face, hearing 
 him speak, and not taking him by the throat : what is the his- 
 tory of his pursuit of you "i Is it known to my grandfather.^ " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And he assists him in it ? " 
 
 "No," she answered eagerly. 
 
 " Thank Heaven 1 " cried Alartin, " that, it leaves his mind 
 unclouded in that one respect ! " 
 
 " I do not think," said Mary, " it was known to him at
 
 670 MARThY CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 first. When this man had sufficiently prepared his mind, he 
 revealed it to him by degrees. I thinl<. so, but I only know 
 it, from my own impression, not from anything they told me. 
 Then he spoke to me alone." 
 
 " My grandfather did ? " said Martin. 
 
 ' Yes — spoke to me alone, and told me — " 
 
 " What the hound had said," cried Martin. " Don't 
 repeat it." 
 
 " And said I knew well what qualities he possessed ; that 
 he was moderately rich, in good repute, and high in his 
 favor and confidence. But seeing me \&xy much distressed, 
 he said that he would not control or force my inclinations, but 
 would content himself with telling me the fact. He would 
 not pain me by dwelling on it, or reverting to it ; nor has he 
 ever done so since, but has truly kept his word " 
 
 "The man himself? — " asked Martin. 
 
 *' He has had few opportunities of pursuing his suit. I 
 have never walked out alone, or remained alone an instant in 
 his presence. Dear Martin, I must tell you," she continued, 
 " that the kindness of your grandfather to me, remains un- 
 changed. I am his companion still. An indescribable ten- 
 derness and compassion seem to have mingled themselves 
 with his old regard ; and if I were his only child, I could not 
 have a gentler father. What former fancy or old habit sur- 
 vives in this, when his .heart has turned so cold to you, is a 
 mystery I cannot penetrate ; but it has been, and it is, a hap- 
 piness to me, that I remained true to him ; that if he should 
 wake from his delusion, even at the point of death, I am here, 
 love, to recall you to his thoughts." 
 
 Martin looked with admiration on her glowing face, and 
 pressed his lips to hers. 
 
 " I ha\ e sometimes heard, and read," she said, " that those 
 whose powers had been enfeebled long ago, and whose lives 
 had faded, as it were, into a dream, have been known to rouse 
 themselves before death, and inquire for familiar faces once 
 very dear to them ; but forgotten, unrecognized, hated even, 
 in the meantime. Think, if with his old impressions of this 
 man, he should suddenly resume his former self, and find in 
 him his only friend ! " 
 
 " I would not urge you to abandon him, dearest," said 
 Martin, " though I could count the years we are to wear out 
 asunder. But the influence this fellow exercises over him, 
 has steadily increased, I fear."
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 6 7 1 
 
 She could not help admitting that. Steadily, imperceptibly, 
 and surely, until now it was paramount and supreme. She 
 herself had none ; and yet he treated her with more affection 
 than at any previous time. Martin thought the inconsistency 
 a part of his weakness and decay. 
 
 " Does the influence extend to fear ? " said Martin. " Is 
 he timid of asserting his own opinion in the presence of this 
 infatuation ? I fancied so just now." 
 
 " I have thought so, often. Often when we are sitting 
 alone, almost as we used to do, and I have been reading a 
 favorite book to him, or he has been talking quite cheerfully, 
 I have observed that the entrance of Mr. Pecksniff has 
 changed his whole demeanor. He has broken off immediately, 
 and become what you have seen to-day. When we first came 
 here he had his impetuous outbreaks, in which it was not easy 
 for Mr. Pecksniff with his utmost plausibility to appease him. 
 But these have long since dwindled away. He defers to him 
 in everything, and has no opinion upon any question, but that 
 which is forced upon him by this treacherous man." 
 
 Such was the account — rapidly furnished in whispers, and 
 interrupted, brief as it was, by many false alarms of Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's return — which Martin received of his grandfather's de- 
 cline, and of that good gentleman's ascendancy. He heard 
 of Tom Pinch, too, and Jonas, too, with not a little about him- 
 self into the bargain ; for though lovers are remarkable for 
 leaving a great deal unsaid on all occasions, and very probably 
 desiring to come back and say it, they are remarkable also 
 for a wonderful power of condensation, and can, in one way 
 or other, gave utterance to more language — eloquent language 
 — in any given short space of time, than all the six hundred 
 and fifty-eight members in the Commons House of Parlia- 
 ment of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland ; 
 who are strong lovers, no doubt, but of their country only, 
 which makes all the difference ; for in a passion of that kind 
 (which is not always returned), it is the custom to use as 
 many words as possible, and express nothing whatever. 
 
 A caution from Mr. 'I'apley ; a hasty interchange of fare- 
 wells, and of something else which the proverb says must not 
 be told of afterwards ; a white hand held out to Mr. Tapley 
 himself, which he kissed with the devotion of a knight-errant ; 
 more farewells, more something else's ; a parting word from 
 Martin that he would write from London and would do great 
 things there yet (Heaven knows what, but he quite believed
 
 672 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 it) ; and Mark and he stood on the outside of the Pecksniffian 
 halls. 
 
 " A short interview after such an absence ! " said Martin, 
 sorrowfully. " But we are well out of the house. We might 
 have placed ourselves in a false position by remaining there, 
 even so long, Mark." 
 
 "I don't know about ourselves, sir," he returned; "but 
 somebody else would have got into a false position, if he had 
 happened to come back again, while we was there. I had the 
 door all ready, sir. If Pecksniff had showed his head, or had 
 only so much as listened behind it, I would have caught him 
 like a walnut. He's the sort of man," added Mr. Tapley, 
 musing, " as would squeeze soft, I know." 
 
 A person who was evidently going to Mr. Pecksniff's house, 
 passed them at this moment. He raised his eyes at the men- 
 tion of the architect's name ; and when he had gone on a few 
 yards, stopped, and gazed at them. Mr. Tapley, also, looked 
 over his shoulder, and so did Martin ; for the stranger, as he 
 passed, had looked very sharply at them. 
 
 " Who may that be, I wonder ! " said Martin. " The face 
 seems familiar to me, but I don't know the man." 
 
 " He seems to have a amiable desire that his face should 
 be tolerable familiar to us," said Mr. Tapley, "for he's a 
 staring pretty hard. He'd better not waste his beauty, for he 
 ain't got much to spare." 
 
 Coming in sight of the Dragon, they saw a travelling car- 
 riage at the door. 
 
 " And a Salisbury carriage, eh ! " said Mr. Tapley. " That's 
 what he came in, depend upon it. What's in the wind now ? 
 A new pupil, I shouldn't wonder. P'raps it's a order for an- 
 other grammar-school, of the same pattern as the last." 
 
 Before they could enter at the door, Mrs. Lupin came run- 
 ning out, and beckoning them to the carriage showed them a 
 portmanteau with the name of Chuzzlewit upon it. 
 
 " Miss Pecksniff's husband that was," said the good 
 woman to Martin. " I didn't know what terms you might be 
 on, and was quite in a worry till you came back." 
 
 " He and I have never interchanged a word yet," observed 
 Martin ; " and as I have no wish to be better or worse ac- 
 quainted with him, I will not put myself in his way. We 
 passed him on the road, I have no doubt. I am glad he timed 
 his coming as he did. Upon my word ! Miss Pecksniff's 
 husband travels gayly ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 673 
 
 " A ver}' fine-looking gentleman with him — in the best room 
 now," whispered Mrs. Lupin, glancing up at the window as 
 they went into the house. *' He has ordered eveiything that 
 can be got for dinner ; and has the glossiest mustaches and 
 whiskers ever you saw." 
 
 " Has he ? " cried Martin, " why then we'll endeavor to 
 avoid him too, in the hope that our self-denial may be strong 
 enough for the sacrifice. It is only for a few hours," said 
 Martin, dropping wearily into a chair behind the little screen 
 in the bar. " Our visit has met with no success, my dear 
 Mrs. Lupin, and I must go to London." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " cried the hostess. 
 
 "Yes. One foul wind no more makes a winter, than one 
 swallow makes a summer. Lll try it again. Tom Pinch has 
 succeeded. With his advice to guide me, I may do the same. 
 I took Tom under my protection once, God save the mark ! " 
 said Martin, with a melancholy smile , " and promised I would 
 make his fortune. Perhaps Tom will take me under his pro- 
 tection now, and teach me how to earn my bread." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 FURTHER CONTINUATION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS 
 
 AND HIS FRIEND. 
 
 It was a special quality, among the many admirable qual- 
 ities possessed by Mr. Pecksniff, that the more he was found 
 out, the more hypocrisy he practised. Let him be discom- 
 forted in one quarter, and he refreshed and recompensed 
 himself by carrying the war into another. If his workings and 
 windings were detected by A, so much the greater reason was 
 there for practising without loss of time on B, if it were only 
 to keep his hand in. He had never been such a saintly and 
 improving spectacle to all about him, as after his detection 
 by Thomas Pinch. He had scarcely ever been at once so 
 tender in his humanity, and so dignified and exalted in his 
 virtue, as when young Martin's scorn was fresh and hot upon 
 him. 43
 
 674 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Having this large stock of superfluous sentiment and mo- 
 rality on hand which must positively be cleared off at any sacri- 
 lice, Mr. Pecksniff no sooner heard nis son-in-law announced, 
 than he regarded him as a kind of wholesale or general order, 
 to be immediately executed. Descending, therefore, swiftly 
 to the parlor, and clasping the young man in his arms, he ex- 
 claimed, with looks and gestures that denoted the perturba- 
 tion of his spirit : 
 
 " Jonas ! My child ! She is well ! There is nothing the 
 matter .'' " 
 
 " What, you're at it again, are you ? " replied his son-in-law. 
 " Even with me ! Get away with you, will you ? " 
 
 " Tell me she is well then," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Tell 
 me she is well, my Boy ! " 
 
 " She's well enough," retorted Jonas, disengaging himself. 
 " There's nothing the matter with her.'' 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with her ! " cried Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, sitting down in the nearest chair, and rubbing up his 
 hair. " Fie upon my weakness ! I cannot help it, Jonas. 
 Thank you. 1 am better now. How is my other child ; my 
 eldest : my Cherrywerrychigo ? " said Mr. Pecksniff, inventing 
 a playful little name for her, in the restored lightness of his 
 heart. 
 
 " She's much about the same as usual," returned Mr. 
 Jonas. " She sticks pretty close to the vinegar-bottle. You 
 know she's got a sweetheart, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I have heard of it," said Mr. Pecksniff, " from head- 
 quarters ; from my child herself. I will not deny that it moved 
 me to contemplate the loss of my remaining daughter, Jonas 
 — I am afraid we parents are selfish, I am afraid we are — but 
 it has ever been the study of my life to qualify them for the 
 domestic hearth ; and it is a sphere which Cherry will adorn." 
 
 " She need adorn some sphere or other," observed his son- 
 in-law, " for she ain't very ornamental in general." 
 
 " My girls are now provided for," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " They are now happily provided for, and I have not labored 
 in vain ! " 
 
 This IS exactly what Mr. Pecksniff would have said, if one 
 of his daughters had drawn a prize of thirty thousand pounds 
 in the lotter}^ or if the other had picked up a valuable purse 
 in the street, which nobody appeared to claim. In either of 
 these cases, he would have invoked a patriarchal blessing on 
 the fortunate head, with great solemnity, and would have
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 675 
 
 taken immense credit to himself, as having meant it from the 
 infant's cradle. 
 
 " Suppose we talk about something else, now," observed 
 Jonas, dryly ; " just for a change. Are you quite agreeable ? " 
 
 " Quite," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Ah, you wag, you naughty 
 wag ! You laugh at poor old fond papa. Well ! He de- 
 serves it. And he don't mind it either, for his feelings are 
 their own reward. You have come to stay with me, Jonas ' " 
 
 " No. I've got a friend with me," said Jonas. 
 
 " Bring your friend ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff, in a gush of 
 hospitality. " Bring any number of your friends ! " 
 
 " This ain't the sort of man to be brought," said Jonas, 
 contemptuously. " I think I see myself ' bringing ' him to 
 your house, for a treat ! Thank'ee all the same ; but he's a 
 little too near the top of the tree for that, Pecksniff." 
 
 The good man pricked up his ears ; his interest was 
 awakened. A position near the top of the tree was greatness, 
 virtue, goodness, sense, genius ; or, it should rather be said, 
 a dispensation from all, and in itself something immeasurably 
 better than all ; with Mr. Pecksniff. A man who was able to 
 look down upon Mr. Pecksniff could not be looked up at, by 
 that gentleman, with too great an amount of deference, or 
 from a position of too much humility. So it always is with 
 great spirits. 
 
 " I'll tell you what you may do, if you like," said Jonas: 
 " you may come and dine with us at the Dragon. We were 
 forced to come down to Salisbury last night, on some business, 
 and I got him to bring me over here this morning, in his car- 
 riage ; at least, not his own carriage, for we had a break-down 
 in the night, but one we hired instead ; it's all the same. 
 Mind what you're about, you know. He's not used to all 
 sorts ; he only mixes with the best ! " 
 
 " Some young nobleman who has been borrowing money 
 of you at good interest, eh .'' " said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his 
 forefinger facetiously. " I shall be delighted to know the gay 
 sprig." 
 
 " Borrowing ! " echoed Jonas. " Borrowing ! When you're 
 a twentieth part as rich as he is, you may shut up shop ! We 
 should be pretty well off, if we could buy his furniture, and 
 plate, and pictures, by clubbing together. A likely man to 
 borrow : Mr. Montague ! Why, since 1 was lucky enough 
 (come ! and I'll say, sharp enough, too) to get a share in the 
 Assurance Office that he s President of, I've made — never
 
 676 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 mind what I've made," said Jonas, seeming to recover all at 
 once his usual caution. " You know me pretty well, and I 
 don't blab about such things. But, Ecod, I've made a trifle." 
 
 " Really, my dear Jonas," cried Mr. Pecksniff, with much 
 warmth, " a gentleman like this should receive some attention. 
 Would he like to see the church ? Or if he has a taste for the 
 fine arts — which I have no doubt he has, from the description 
 you give of his circumstances — I can send him down a few 
 portfolios. Salisbury Cathedral, my dear Jonas," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff — the mention of the portfolios, and his anxiety to 
 display himself to advantage, suggesting his usual phraseology 
 in that regard — " is an edifice replete with venerable associa- 
 tions, and strikingly suggestive of the loftiest emotions. It is 
 here we contemplate the work of bygone ages. It is here we 
 listen to the swelling organ, as we stroll through the rever- 
 berating aisles. We have drawings of this celebrated structure 
 from the North, from the South, from the East, from the 
 West, from the South-East, from the Nor'- West " 
 
 During this digression, and indeed during the whole dia- 
 logue, Jonas had been rocking on his chair, with his hands in 
 his pockets, and his head thrown cunningly on one side. He 
 looked at Mr. Pecksniff now with such shrewd meaning twink- 
 ling in his eyes, that Mr. Pecksniff stopped, and asked him 
 what he was going to say. 
 
 " Ecod ! " he answered. " Pecksniff, if I knew how you 
 meant to leave your money, I could put you in the way of 
 doubling it, in no ■time. It wouldn't be bad to keep a chance 
 like this snug in the family. But you're such a deep one ! " 
 
 " Jonas ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff', much affected, " I am not 
 a diplomatical character : my heart is in my hand. By far the 
 greater part of the inconsiderable savings I have accumula- 
 ted in the course of — I hope — a not dishonorable or useless 
 career, is already given, devised, and bequeathed (correct me, 
 my dear Jonas, if I am technically wrong), with expressions 
 of confidence, which I will not repeat ; and in securities which 
 it is unnecessary to mention ; to a person whom I cannot, 
 whom I will not, whom I need not, name." Here he give the 
 hand of his son-in-law a fervent squeeze, as if he would have 
 added, "God bless you; be very careful of it when you get 
 it!" 
 
 Mr. Jonas only shook his head and laughed, and seeming 
 to think better of what he had had in his mind, said, " No. 
 He would keep his own counsel." But as he observed that
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 677 
 
 he would take a walk, Mr. Pecksniff insisted on accompanying 
 him, remarking that he could leave a card for Mr. Montague, 
 as they went along, by way of gentleman-usher to himself at 
 dinner-time. Which he did. 
 
 In the course of their walk, Mr. Jonas affected to maintain 
 that close reserve which had operated as a timely check upon 
 him during the foregoing dialogue. And as he made no at- 
 tempt to conciliate Mr. Pecksniff, but, on the contrary, was 
 more boorish and rude to him than usual, that gentleman, so 
 far from suspecting his real design, laid himself out to be 
 attacked with advantage. For it is in the nature of a knave 
 to thmk the tools with which he works indispensable to 
 knavery ; and knowing what he would do himself in such a 
 case, Mr. Pecksniff argued, "if this young man wanted any- 
 thing of me for his own ends, he would be polite and defer- 
 ential." 
 
 The more Jonas repelled him* in his hints and inquiries, 
 the more solicitous, therefore, Mr. Pecksniff became to be 
 initiated into the golden mysteries at which he had obscurely 
 glanced. Why should there be cold and worldly secrets, he 
 observed, between relations ? \\'hat was life without confi- 
 dence ? If the chosen husband of his daughter, the man to 
 whom he had delivered her with so much pride and hope, 
 such bounding and such beaming joy : if he were not a green 
 spot in the barren waste of life, where was that Oasis to be 
 found ? 
 
 Little did Mr. Pecksniff think on what a very green spot 
 he planted one foot at that moment ! Little did he foresee 
 when he said, " All is but dust ! " how very shortly he would 
 come down with his own. 
 
 Inch by inch, in his grudging and ill-conditioned way ; 
 sustained to the life, for the hope of making Mr. Pecksniff 
 suffer in that tender place, the pocket, where Jonas smarted 
 so terribly himself, gave him an additional and malicious in- 
 terest in the wiles he was set on to practise : inch by inch, 
 and bit by bit, Jonas rather allowed the dazzling prospects of 
 the Anglo-Bengalee establishment to escape him, than para- 
 ded them before his greedy listener. And in the same nig- 
 pardly spirit, he left Mr. Pecksniff to infer, if he chose (which 
 he did choose, of course), that a consciousness of not having 
 any great natural gifts of speech and manner himself, rendered 
 him desirous to have the credit of introducing to Mr. Mon- 
 tague some one who was well endowed in those respects, and
 
 678 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 SO atone for his own deficiencies. Otherwise he muttered 
 discontentedly, he would have seen his beloved father-in-law 
 " far enough off," before he would have taken him into his 
 confidence. 
 
 Primed in this artful manner, Mr. Pecksniff presented 
 himself at dinner-time in such a state of suavity, benevolence, 
 cheerfulness, politeness, and cordiality, as even he had per- 
 haps never attained before. The frankness of the country 
 gentleman, the refinement of the artist, the good-humored al- 
 lowance of the man of the world ; philanthropy, forbearance, 
 piety, toleration, all blended together in a flexible adaptability 
 to anything and everything ; were expressed in Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, as he shook hands with the great speculator and capi- 
 talist. 
 
 " Welcome, respected sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, " to our 
 humble village ! We are a simple people ; primitive clods, Mr. 
 Montague ; but we can appreciate the honor of your visit, as 
 my dear son-in-law can testify. It is very strange," said Mr. 
 Pecksniff, pressing his hand almost reverentially, " but I seem 
 to know you. That towering forehead, my dear Jonas," said 
 Mr. Pecksniff aside, " and those clustering masses of rich hair 
 — I must have seen you, my dear sir, in the sparkling throng." 
 
 Nothing was more probable, they all agreed. 
 
 " I could have wished," said Mr. Pecksniff, " to have had 
 the honor of introducing you to an elderly inmate of our 
 house : to the uncle of our friend. Mr. Chuzzlewit, sir, would 
 have been proud indeed to have taken you by the hand." 
 
 " Is the gentleman here now ? " asked Montague, turning 
 deeply red. 
 
 "He is," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " You said nothing about that, Chuzzlewit." 
 
 " I didn't suppose you'd care to hear of it," returned 
 Jonas. " You wouldn't care to know him, I can promise 
 you." 
 
 " Jonas ! my dear Jonas ! " remonstrated Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " Really ! " 
 
 " Oh ! it's all very well for you to speak up for him," said 
 Jonas. " You have nailed him. You'll get a fortune by him." 
 
 "Oho ! Is the wind in that quarter 1 " cried Montague. 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " and here they all laughed — especially Mr. 
 Pecksniff. 
 
 " No, no ! " said that gentleman, clapping his son-in-law 
 playfully upon the shoulder. " You must not believe all that
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 679 
 
 my young relative says, Mr. Montague. You may believe 
 him in official business, and trust him in official business, but 
 you must not attach importance to his flights of fancy." 
 
 " Upon my life, Mr. Pecksniff," cried Montague, "I attach 
 the greatest importance to that last observation of his. I 
 trust and hope it's true. Money cannot be turned and turned 
 quickly enough in the ordinary course, Mr. Pecksniff. There 
 is nothing like building our fortunes on the weaknesses of 
 mankind." 
 
 " Oh fie ! Oh fie ! Oh fie, for shame ! " cried Mr. Peck- 
 sniff. But they all laughed again — especially Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 "I give you my honor that we^o it," said Montague. 
 
 " Oh fie, fie ! " cried Mr. Pecksniff. " You are very pleas- 
 ant. That I am sure you don't ! That I am sure you don't ! 
 How can you, you know ? " 
 
 Again they all laughed in concert ; and again Mr. Peck- 
 sniff laughed especially. 
 
 This was very agreeable indeed. It was confidential, 
 easy, straightforward, and still left Mr. Pecksniff in the posi- 
 tion of being in a gentle way the Mentor of the party. The 
 greatest achievements in the article of cookery that the Drag- 
 on had ever performed, were set before them ; the oldest and 
 best v/ines in the Dragon's cellar saw the light on that 
 occasion ; a thousand bubbles, indicative of the wealth and 
 station of Mr. Montague in the depths of his pursuits, were 
 constantly rising to the surface of the conversation ; and they 
 were as frank and merry as three honest men could be. Mr. 
 Pecksniff thought it a pity (he said so) that Mr. Montague 
 should think lightly of mankind and their weaknesses. He 
 was anxious upon this subject ; his mind ran upon it ; in one 
 way or another he was constantly coming back to it ; he must 
 make a convert of him, he said. And as often as Mr. Mon- 
 tague repeated his sentiment about building fortunes on the 
 weaknesses of mankind, and added frankly, " M'c do it!" 
 just as often as Mr. Pecksniff repeated "Oh fie ! Oh fie, for 
 shame ! I am sure you don't. How can you, you know ? " 
 laying a greater stress each time on those last words. 
 
 The frequent repetition of this playful inquiry on the part 
 of Mr. Pecksniff, led at last to playful answers on the part of 
 Mr. Montague ; but after some little sharp-shooting on both 
 sides, Mr. Pecksniff became grave, almost to tears ; observing 
 that if Mr. Montague would give him leave, he would drink 
 the health of his young kinsman, Mr. Jonas: congratulating
 
 68 o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 him upon the vakiable and distinguished friendship he had 
 formed, but envying him, lie would confess, his usefuhiess to 
 his fellow-creatures. For, if he understood the objects of 
 that Institution with which he was newly and advantageously 
 connected— knowing them but imperfectly — they were calcu- 
 lated to do Good ; and for his (Mr. Pecksniff's) part, if he 
 could in any way promote them, he thought he would be able 
 to lay his head upon his pillow eveiy night, with an absolute 
 certainty of going to sleep at once. 
 
 The transition from this accidental remark (for it was 
 quite accidental, and had fallen from Mr. Pecksniff in the 
 openness of his soul), to the discussion of the subject as a 
 matter of business, was easy. Books, papers, statements, 
 tables, calculations of various kinds, were soon spread out be- 
 fore them ; and as they were all framed with one object, it is 
 not surprising that they should have all tended to one end. 
 But still, whenever Montague enlarged upon the profits of the 
 office, and said that as long as there were gulls upon the wing 
 it must succeed, Mr. Pecksniff mildly said " Oh fie ! " — and 
 might indeed have remonstrated with him, but that he knew 
 he was joking. Mr. Pecksniff did know he was joking ; be- 
 cause he said so. 
 
 There never had been before, and there never would be 
 again, such an opportunity for the investment of a consider- 
 able sum (the rate of advantage increased in proportion to 
 the amount invested), as at that moment. The only time that 
 had at all approached it, was the time when Jonas had come 
 into the concern ; which made him ill-natured now, and in- 
 clined him to pick out a doubt in this place, and a fiaw in 
 that, and grumblingly to advise Mr. Pecksniff to think better 
 of it. The sum which would complete the proprietorship in 
 in this snug concern, was nearly equal to Mr. Pecksniff's 
 whole hoard, not counting Mr. Chuzzlewit, that is to say, 
 whom he looked upon as money in the Bank, the possession 
 of which inclined him the more to make a dash with his own 
 private sprats for the capture of such a whale as Mr. Mon- 
 tague described. The returns began almost immediately, and 
 were immense. The end of it was, that Mr. Pecksniff agreed 
 to become the last partner and proprietor in the Anglo-Ben- 
 galee, and made an appointment to dine with Mr. Montague, 
 at Salisbury, on the next day but one, then and there to com- 
 plete the negotiation. 
 
 It took so long to bring the subject to this head, that it
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 68 1 
 
 was nearly midnight when they parted. When Mr. Pecksniff 
 walked down stairs to the door, he found Mrs. Lupin stand- 
 ing there, looking out. 
 
 " Ah, my good friend ! " he said : " not a-bed yet ! Con- 
 templating the stars, Mrs. Lupin ? " 
 
 •' It's a beautiful starlight night, sir." 
 
 " A beautiful starlight night," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking 
 
 up. " Behold the planets, how they shine ! Behold the 
 
 those two persons who were here this morning, have left your 
 house, I hope, Mrs. Lupin .? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. They are gone." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Pecksniff. " Behold the 
 wonders of the firmament, Mrs. Lupin ! How glorious is the 
 scene ! When I look up at those shining orbs, I think that 
 each of them is winking to the other to take notice of the 
 vanity of men's pursuits. My fellow-men ! " cried Mr. Peck- 
 sniff, shaking his head in pity ; " you are much mistaken ; my 
 wormy relatives, you are much deceived ! The stars are per- 
 fectly contented (I suppose so) in their several spheres. Why 
 are not you ? Oh ! do not strive and struggle to enrich your- 
 selves, or to get the better of each other, my deluded friends, 
 but look up there, with me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lupin shook her head, and heaved a sigh. It was 
 very affecting. 
 
 " Look up there, with me ! " • repeated Mr. Pecksniff, 
 stretching out his hand ; " with me, an humble individual who 
 is also an Insect like yourselves. Can silver, gold, or pre- 
 cious stones, sparkle like those constellations ! I think not. 
 Then do not thirst for silver, gold, or precious stones ; but 
 look up there, with me ! " 
 
 With those words, the good man patted Mrs. Lupin's 
 hand between his own, as if he would have added *' think of 
 this, my good woman ! " and walked away in a sort of ecstasy 
 or rapture, with his hat under his arm. 
 
 Jonas sat in the attitude in which Mr. Pecksniff had left 
 him, gazing moodily at his friend, who, surrounded by a heap 
 of documents, was writing something on an oblong slip of 
 paper. 
 
 " You mean to wait at Salisbury over the day after to-mor- 
 row, do you, then ? " said Jonas. 
 
 " You heard our appointment," returned Montague, with- 
 out raising his eyes. " In any case I should have waited to 
 see after the boy."
 
 682 MAJi TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 They appeared to have changed places again ; Montague 
 being in high spirits ; Jonas gloomy and lowering. 
 
 " You don't want me, I suppose ? " said Jonas, 
 
 " I want you to put your name here," he returned, glancing 
 at him with a smile, " as soon as I have filled up the stamp. 
 I may as well have your note of hand for that extra capital. 
 That's all I want. If you wish to go home, I can manage Mr. 
 Pecksniff now, alone. There is a perfect understanding be- 
 tween us." 
 
 Jonas sat scowling at him as he wrote, in silence. When 
 he had finished his writing, and had dried it on the blotting- 
 paper in his travelling-desk, he looked up, and tossed the pen 
 towards him. 
 
 " What, not a day's grace, not a day's trust, eh ? " said 
 Jonas, bitterly. "Not after the pains I have taken with to- 
 night's work .-' " 
 
 " To-night's work was a part of our bargain," replied 
 Montague ; "and so was this." 
 
 " You drive a hard bargain," said Jonas, advancing to the 
 table. " You know best. Give it here ! " 
 
 Montague gave him the paper. After pausing as if he 
 could not make up his mind to put his name to it, Jonas dipped 
 his pen hastily in the nearest inkstand, and began to write. 
 But he had scarcely marked the paper when he started back, 
 in a panic. 
 
 " Why, what the devil's this .? " he said. " It's bloody ! " 
 
 He had dipped the pen, as another moment showed, into 
 red ink. But he attached a strange degree of importance to 
 the mistake. He asked how it had come there, who had 
 brought it, why it had been brought ; and looked at Montague, 
 at first, as if he thought he had put a trick upon him. Even 
 when he used a different pen, and the right ink, he made some 
 scratches on another paper first, as half-believing they would 
 turn red also. 
 
 " Black enough, this time," he said, handing the note to 
 Montague. "Good-by." 
 
 " Going now ! How do you mean to get away from here ? " 
 
 " I shall cross early in the morning, to the high road, be- 
 fore you are out of bed ; and catch the day-coach, going up. 
 Good-by ! " 
 
 " You are in a hurry ! " 
 
 " I have something to do," said Jonas. " Good-by ! " 
 
 His friend looked after him as he went out, in surprise,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 683 
 
 which gradually gave place to an air of satisfaction and re- 
 lief. 
 
 " It happens all the better. It brings about what I wanted, 
 without any difficulty. I shall travel home alone." 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 IN WHICH TOM PINCH AND HIS SISTER TAKE A LITTLE PLEAS- 
 URE ; BUT QUITE IN A DOMESTIC WAY, AND WITH NO CERE- 
 MONY ABOUT IT. 
 
 Tom Pinch and his sister having to part, for the dispatch 
 of the morning's business, immediately after the dispersion of 
 the other actors in the scene upon the Wharf with which the 
 reader has been already made acquainted, had no opportunity 
 of discussing the subject at that time. But Tom, in his soli- 
 tary office, and Ruth, in the triangular parlor, thought about 
 nothing else all day ; and, when their hour of meeting in the 
 afternoon approached, they were very full of it, to be sure. 
 
 There was a little plot between them, that Tom should 
 always come out of the Temple by one way ; and that was 
 past the fountain. Coming through Fountain Court, he was 
 just to glance down the steps leading into Garden Court, and 
 to look once all round him ; and if Ruth had come to meet 
 him, there he would see her ; not sauntering, you understand 
 (on account of the clerks), but coming briskly up, with the 
 best little laugh upon her face that ever played in opposition 
 to the fountain, and beat it all to nothing. For, fifty to one, 
 Tom had been looking: for her in the wrong direction, and 
 had quite given her up, while she had been tripping towards 
 him from the first, jingling that little reticule of hers (with 
 all the keys in it) to attract his wandering observation. 
 
 Whether there was life enough left in the slow vegetation 
 of Fountain Court for the smoky shrubs to have any con- 
 sciousness of the brightest and purest-hearted little woman in 
 the world, is a question for gardeners, and those who are 
 learned in the loves of plants. But, that it was a good thing 
 for that same paved yard to have such a delicate little figure 
 flitting through it ; that it passed like a smile from the grimy
 
 684 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 old houses, and the worn flag stones, and left them duller, 
 darker, sterner than before ; there is no sort of doubt. The 
 Temple fountain might have leaped up twenty feet to greet 
 the spring of hopeful maidenhood, that in her person stole on, 
 sparkling, through the dry and dusty channels of the Law \ 
 the chirping sparrows, bred in Temple chinks and crannies, 
 might have held their peace to listen to imaginary skylarks, 
 as so fresh a little creature passed ; the dingy boughs, unused 
 to droop, otherwise than in their puny growth, might have 
 bent down in a kindred gracefulness, to shed their benedic- 
 tions on her graceful head ; old love letters, shut up in iron 
 boxes in the neighboring offices, and made of no account 
 among the heaps of family papers into which they had strayed, 
 and of which, in their degeneracy, they formed a part, might 
 have stirred and fluttered with a moment's recollection of their 
 ancient tenderness, as she went lightly by. Anything might 
 have happened that did not happen, and never will, for the 
 love of Ruth. 
 
 Something happened, too, upon the afternoon of which 
 the history treats. Nor for her love. Oh no ! quite by acci- 
 dent, and without the least reference to her at all. 
 
 Either she was a little too soon, or Tom was a little too 
 late — she was so precise in general, that she timed it to half 
 a minute — but no Tom was there. Well ! But was anybody 
 else there, that she blushed so deeply, after looking round, 
 and tripped off down the steps, with such unusual expedi- 
 tion ? 
 
 Why, the fact is, that Mr. Westlock was passing at that 
 moment The Temple is a public thoroughfare ; they may 
 write up on the gates that it is not, but so long as the gates 
 are left open it is, and will be ; and Mr. Westlock had as good 
 a right to be there as anybody else. But why did she run 
 away, then ? Not being ill dressed, for she was much too 
 neat for that, why did she run away ? The brown hair that 
 had fallen down beneath her bonnet, and had one imper- 
 tinent imp of a false flower clinging to it, boastful of its 
 licence before all men, that could not have been the c^use, for 
 it looked charming. Oh ! foolish, panting, frightened little 
 heart, why did she run away ! 
 
 Merrily the tiny fountain played, and merrily the dimples 
 sparkled on its sunny face. John Westlock hurried after her. 
 Softly the whispering water broke and fell ; and roguishly the 
 dimples twinkled, as he stole upon her footsteps.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 685 
 
 Oh, foolish, panting, timid little heart, why did she feign 
 to be unconscious of his coming ! Why wish herself so far 
 away, yet be so flutteringly happy there ! 
 
 " I felt sure it was you," said John, when he overtook her, 
 in the sanctuary of Garden Court. " I knew I couldn't be 
 mistaken." 
 
 She was so surprised. 
 
 " You are waiting for your brother " said John. " Let 
 me bear you company." 
 
 So light was the touch of the coy little hand, that he 
 glanced down to assure himself he had it on his arm. But 
 his glance, stopping for an instant at the bright eyes, forgot 
 its first design, and went no farther. 
 
 They walked up and down three or four times, speaking 
 about Tom and. his mysterious employment. Now that was 
 a very natural and innocent subject, surely. Then why, when- 
 ever Ruth lifted up her eyes, did she let them fall again im- 
 mediately, and seek the uncongenial pavement of the court } 
 They were not such eyes as shun the light ; they were not 
 such eyes as require to be hoarded to enhance their value. 
 They were much too precious and too genuine to stand in 
 need of arts like those. Somebody must have been looking 
 at them ! 
 
 They found out Tom, though, quickly enough. This pair 
 of eyes descried him in the distance, the moment he appeared. 
 He was staring about him, as usual, in all directions but the 
 right one ; and was as obstinate in not looking towards them, 
 as if he had intended it. As it was plain that, being left to 
 himself, he would walk away home, John Westlock darted off 
 to stop him. 
 
 This made the approach of poor little Ruth, by herself, 
 one of the most embarrassing of circumstances. There was 
 Tom, manifesting extreme surprise (he had no presence of 
 mind, that Tom, on small occasions) ; there was John, making 
 as light of it as he could, but explaining at the same time, 
 with most unnecessary elaboration \ and here was she, coming 
 towards them, with both of them looking at her, conscious of 
 blushing to a terrible extent, but trying to throw up her eye- 
 brows carelessly, and pout her rosy lips, as if she were the 
 coolest and most unconcerned of little women. 
 
 Merrily the fountain plashed and plashed, until the dim- 
 ples, merging into one another, swelled into a general smile, 
 that covered the whole surface of the basin.
 
 686 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " What an extraordinary meeting ! " said Tom. " I should 
 never have dreamed of seeing you two together here." 
 
 " Quite accidental," John was heard to murmur. 
 
 "Exactly," cried Tom ; "that's what I mean, you know. 
 If it wasn't accidental, there would be nothing remarkable in 
 it." 
 
 " To be sure," said John. 
 
 " Such an out-of-the-way place for you to have met in," 
 pursued Tom, quite delighted. " Such an unlikely spot ! " 
 
 John rather disputed that. On the contrary, he consid- 
 ered it a very likely spot, indeed. He was constantly pass- 
 ing to and fro there, he said. He shouldn't wonder if it were 
 to happen again. His only wonder was, that it had never 
 happened before. 
 
 By chis time Ruth had got round on the farther side of her 
 brother, and had taken his arm. She was squeezing it now, 
 as much as to say, " Are you going to stop here all day, you 
 dear, old blundering Tom ? " 
 
 Tom answered the squeeze as if it had been a speech. 
 "John," he said, "if you'll give my sister your arm, we'll 
 take her between us, and walk on. I have a curious circum- 
 stance to relate to you. Our meeting could not have hap- 
 pened better." 
 
 Merrily the fountain leaped and danced, and merrily the 
 smiling dimples twinkled and expanded more and more, until 
 they broke into a laugh against the basin's rim, and vanished. 
 
 " Tom," said his friend, as they turned into the noisy 
 street, '■ I have a proposition to make. It is, that you and 
 your sister — if she will so far honor a poor bachelor's dwell- 
 ing — give me a great pleasure, and come and dine with me." 
 
 " What, to-day ? " cried Tom. 
 
 " Yes, to-day. It's close by, you know. Pray, Miss Pinch, 
 insist upon it. It will be very disinterested, for I have noth- 
 ing to give you." 
 
 " Oh ! you must not believe that, Ruth," said Tom, " He 
 is the most tremendous fellow, in his housekeeping, that I 
 ever heard of, for a single man. He ought to be Lord Mayor. 
 Well ! what do you say? Shall we go ? " 
 
 " If you please, Tom," rejoined his dutiful litde sister. 
 
 " But I mean," said Tom, regarding her with smiling ad- 
 miration, " is there anything you ought to wear, and haven't 
 got } I am sure I don't know, John : she may not be able to 
 take her bonnet off, for anything I can tell."
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 687 
 
 There was a great deal of laughing at this, and there were 
 divers compliments from John Westlock — not compliments, he 
 said at least (and really he was right), but good, plain, hon- 
 est truths, which no one could deny. Ruth laughed, and all 
 that, but she made no objection ; so it was an engagement. 
 
 " If I had known it a little sooner," said John, " 1 would 
 have tried another pudding. Not in rivalry ; but merely to 
 exalt that famous one. I wouldn't on any account have had 
 it made with suet." 
 
 " Why not .'' " asked Tom. 
 
 " Because that cookery book advises suet," said John 
 Westlock ; '* and ours was made with tiour and eggs." 
 
 " Oh <rood gracious ! " cried Tom. " Ours was made with 
 flour and eggs, was it 1 Ha, ha, ha ! A beefsteak pudding 
 made with flour and eggs ! Why anybody knows better than 
 that, /know better than that ! Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 It is unnecessary to say that Tom had been present at the 
 making of the pudding, and had been a devoted believer in it 
 all through. But he was so delighted to have this joke against 
 his busy little sister, and was tickled to that degree at having 
 found her out, that he stopped in Temple Bar to laugh ; and 
 it was no more to Tom, that he was anathematized and 
 knocked about by the surly passengers, than it would have 
 been to a post ; for he continued to exclaim with unabated 
 good humor, "flour and eggs ! A beefsteak pudding made 
 with fiour and eggs ! " until John Westlock and his sister 
 fairly ran away from him, and left him to have his laugh out 
 by himself ; which he had ; and then came dodging across the 
 crowded street to them, with such sweet temper and tender- 
 ness (it was quite a tender joke of Tom's) beaming in his face, 
 God bless it, that it might have purified the air, though 
 Temple Bar had been, as in the golden days gone by, 
 embellished with a row of rotting human heads. 
 
 There are snug chambers in those Inns where the bachelors 
 live, and, for the desolate fellows they pretend to be, it is 
 quite surprising how well they get on. John was very pathetic 
 on the subject of his dreary life, and the deplorable make- 
 shifts and apologetic contrivances it invohed ; .but he really 
 seemed to make himself pretty comfortable. His rooms were 
 the perfection of neatness and convenience at any rate ; and 
 if he were anything but comfortable, the fault was certahily 
 not theirs. 
 
 He had no sooner ushered Tom and his sister into his
 
 688 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 best room (where there was a beautiful little vase of fresh 
 flowers on the table, all ready for Ruth. — Just as if he had 
 expected her, Tom said), than seizing his hat, he bustled out 
 again, in his most energetically bustling way ; and presently 
 came hurrying back, as they saw through the half-opened 
 door, attended by a fiery-faced matron attired in a crunched 
 bonnet, with particularly long strings to it hanging down her 
 back ; in conjunction with whom, he instantly began to lay the 
 cloth for dinner, polishing up the wine glasses with his own 
 hands, brightening the silver top of the pepper-castor on his 
 coat-sleeve, drawing corks and filling decanters, with a skill 
 and expedition that were quite dazzling. And as if, in the 
 course of this rubbing and polishing, he had rubbed an 
 enchanted lamp or a magic ring, obedient to which there were 
 twenty thousand supernatural slaves at least, suddenly there 
 appeared a being in a white waistcoat, carr\-ing under his arm 
 a napkin, and attended by another being with an oblong box 
 upon his head, from which a banquet, piping hot, was taken 
 out and set upon the table. 
 
 Salmon, lamb, peas, innocent young potatoes, a cool salad, 
 sliced cucumber, a tender duckfing, and a tart — all there. 
 They all came at the right time. Where they came from, 
 didn't appear ; but the oblong box was constantly going and 
 coming, and making its arrival known to the man'in the white 
 waistcoat by bumping modestly against the outside of the 
 door ; for, after its first appearance, it entered the room no 
 more. He was never surprised, this man ; he never seemed 
 to wonder at the extraordinar}- things he found in the box ; 
 but took them out with a face expressive of a steady purpose 
 and impenetrable character, and put them on the table. He 
 was a kind man ; gentle in his manners, and much interested 
 in what they ate and drank. He was a learned man, and 
 knew the fiavor of John Westlock's private sauces, which he 
 softly and feelingly described, as he handed the little bottles 
 round. He was a grave man, and a noiseless ; for dinner 
 being done, and wine and fruit arranged upon the board, he 
 vanished, box and all, like something that had never been. 
 
 " Didn't I say he was a tremendous fellow in his house- 
 keeping .?" cried Tom. " Bless my soul ! It's wonderful." 
 
 " Ah, Miss Pinch," said John. " This is the bright side 
 of the life we lead in such a place. It would be a dismal life, 
 indeed, if it didn't brighten up to-day." 
 
 " Don't believe a word he says,'"' cried Tom. " He lives
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 689 
 
 here like a monarch, and wouldn't change his mode of life foi 
 any consideration. He only pretends to grumble." 
 
 No, John really did not appear to pretend \ for he was un- 
 commonly earnest in his desire to ha\e it understood that he 
 was as dull, solitar\-, and uncomfortable on ordinary occasions 
 as an unfortunate young man could, in reason, be. It was a 
 wretched life, he said, a miserable life. He thought of getting 
 rid of the chambers as soon as possible ; and meant, in fact, 
 to put a bill up very shortly. 
 
 "Well ! " said Tom Pinch, " I don't know where vou can 
 go, John, to be more comfortable. That's all 1 can say. 
 What do you say, Ruth ? " 
 
 Ruth trifled with the cherries on her plate, and said that 
 she thought Mr. Westlock ought to be quite happy, and that 
 she had no doubt he was. 
 
 Ah, foolish, panting, frightened little heart, how timidly 
 she said it ! 
 
 " But you are forgetting what you hnd to tell, Tom : what 
 occurred this morning," she added in the same breath. 
 
 "So I am," said Tom. "We have been so talkative on 
 other topics, that I declare I have not had tim.e to think of it. 
 I'll tell it you at once, John, in case I should forget it 
 altogether." 
 
 On Tom's relating what had passed upon the wharf, his 
 friend was very much surprised, and took such a great interest 
 in the narrative as Tom could not quite understand. He 
 believed he knew the old lady whose acquaintance they had 
 made, he said ; and that he might venture to say, from their 
 description of her, that her name was Gamp. But of what 
 nature the communication could have been which Tom had 
 borne so unexpectedly ; why its delivery had been entrusted 
 to him ; how it happened that the parties were involved to- 
 gether ; and what secret lay at the bottom of the whole affair ; 
 perplexed liim very much. Tom had been sure of his taking 
 some interest in the matter ; but was not prepared for the 
 strong interest he showed. It held John Westlock to the 
 subject, even after Ruth had left the room ; and evidently 
 made him anxious to pursue it further than as a mere subject 
 of conversation. 
 
 " I shall remonstrate with my landlord, of course," said 
 Tom : " though he is a very singular secret sort of man, and 
 not likely to afford me much satisfaction ; even if he knew 
 what was in the letter." 44
 
 690 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Which you may swear he did," John interposed. 
 
 " You think so ? " 
 
 " I am certain of it." 
 
 " Well ! " said Tom, " I shall remonstrate with him when 
 I see him (he goes in and out in a strange way, but I will try 
 to catch him to-morrow morning), on his having asked me to 
 execute such an unpleasant commission. And I have been 
 thinking, John, that if I went down to Mrs. What's-her-name's 
 in the City, where I was before, you know — Mrs. Todgers's — 
 to-morrow morning, I might find poor Mercy Pecksniff there, 
 perhaps, and be able to explain to her how I came to have any 
 hand in the business." 
 
 " You are perfectly right, Tom," returned his friend, after 
 a short interval of reflection. " You cannot do better. It is 
 quite clear to me that whatever the business is, there is little 
 good in it ; and it is so desirable for you to disentangle your- 
 self from any appearance of wilful connection with it, that I 
 would counsel you to see her husband, if you can, and wash 
 your hands of it, by a plain statement of the facts. I have a 
 misgiving that there is something dark at work here, Tom. I 
 will tell you why, at another time : when I have made an in- 
 quiry or two myself." 
 
 All this sounded very mysterious to Tom Pinch. But as he 
 knew he could rely upon his friend, he resolved to follow this 
 advice. 
 
 Ah, but it would have been a good thing to have had a 
 coat of invisibility, wherein to have watched little Ruth, when 
 she was left to herself in John Westlock's chambers, and 
 John and her brother were talking thus, over their wine ! 
 The gentle way in which she tried to get up a little conversa- 
 tion with the fiery-faced matron in the crunched bonnet, who 
 was waiting to attend her ; after making a desperate rally in 
 regard of her dress, and attiring herself in a washed-out yellow 
 gown with sprigs of the same upon it, so that it looked like 
 a tesselated work of pats of butter. That would have been 
 pleasant. The grim and griffin-like inflexibility with which the 
 fiery-faced matron repelled these engaging advances, as pro- 
 ceeding from a hostile and dangerous power, who could have 
 no business there, unless it were to deprive her of a customer, 
 or suggest what became of the self-consuming tea and sugar, 
 and other general trifles. That would have been agreeable. 
 The bashful, winning, glorious curiosity, with which litde 
 Ruth, when fiery-face was gone, peeped into the books and
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 691 
 
 nick-nacks that were lying about, and had a particular inter- 
 est in some delicate paper matches on the chimney-piece : 
 wandering who could have made them. That would have 
 been worth seeing. The faltering hand with which she tied 
 those flowers together ; with which, almost blushing at her 
 own fair self as imaged in the glass, she arranged them in her 
 breast, and looking at them with her head aside, now half 
 resolved to take them out again, now half resolved to leave 
 them where they were. That would have been delightful ! 
 
 John seemed to think it all delightful : for coming in v.ith 
 Tom to tea, he took his seat beside her like a man enchanted. 
 And when the tea-service had been removed, and Tom, sitting 
 down at the piano, became absorbed in some of his old organ 
 tunes, he was still beside her at the open window, looking out 
 upon the twilight. 
 
 There is little enough to see, in Furnival's Inn. It is a 
 shady, quiet place, echoing to the footsteps of the stragglers 
 who have business there ; and rather monotonous and gloomy 
 on summer evenings. What gave it such a charm to them, 
 that they remained at the window as unconscious of the flight 
 of time as Tom himself, the dreamer, while the melodies 
 which had so often soothed his spirit were hovering again about 
 him! What power infused into the fading light, the gathering 
 darkness ; the stars that here and there appeared ; the even- 
 ing air, the City's hum and stir, the very chiming of the old 
 church clocks ; such exquisite enthralment, that the divinest 
 regions of the earth spread out before their eyes could not 
 have held them captive in a stronger chain ? 
 
 The shadows deepened, deepened, and the room became 
 quite dark. Still Tom's fingers wandered over the keys of the 
 piano ; and still the window had its pair of tenants. 
 
 At length, her hand upon his shoulder, and her breath 
 upon his forehead, roused Tom from his reverie. 
 
 " Dear me ! " he cried, desisting with a start. " I am 
 afraid I have been very inconsiderate and unpolite." 
 
 Tom little thought how much consideration and politeness 
 he had shown ! 
 
 " Sing something to us, my dear," said Tom. " Let us 
 hear your voice. Come." 
 
 John Westlock added his entreaties with such earnestness 
 that a flinty heart alone could have resisted them. Hers was 
 not a flinty heart. Oh dear no ! Quite another thing. 
 
 So down she sat, and in a pleasant voice began to sing the
 
 6 g 2 MAR TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 ballads Tom loved well. Old rhyming stories, with here and 
 there a pause for a few simple chords, such as a harper might 
 have sounded in the ancient time while looking upward for 
 the current of some half-remembered legend ; words of old 
 poets, wedded to such measures that the strain of music 
 might have been the poet's breath, giving utterance and ex- 
 pression to his thoughts ; and now a melody so joyous and 
 light-hearted, that the singer seemed incapable of sadness, 
 until in her inconstancy (oh wicked little singer !) she relapsed 
 and broke the listeners' hearts again ; these were the simple 
 means she used to please them. And that these simple 
 means prevailed, and she did please them, let the still dark- 
 ened chamber, and its long-deferred illumination witness. 
 
 The candles came at last, and it was time for moving 
 homeward. Cutting paper carefully, and rolling it about the 
 stalks of those same flowers, occasioned some delay ; but 
 even this was done in time, and Ruth was ready. 
 
 " Good night ! " said Tom. "A memorable and delight- 
 ful visit, John ! Good night ! " 
 
 John thought he would walk with them. 
 
 " No, no. Don't ! " said Tom. " What nonsense ! We 
 can get home very well alone. I couldn't think of taking you 
 out." 
 
 But John said he would rather. 
 
 " Are you sure you would rather ? " said Tom. " I am 
 afraid you only say so out of politeness." 
 
 John being quite sure, gave his arm to Ruth, and led her 
 out. Fiery-face, who was again in attendance, acknowledged 
 her departure with so cold a curtsey that it was hardly visible ; 
 and cut Tom, dead. 
 
 Their host was bent on walking the whole distance, and 
 would not listen to Tom's dissuasions. Happy time, happy 
 walk, happy parting, happy dreams ! But there are some sweet 
 day-dreams, so there are, that put the visions of the night to 
 shame. 
 
 Busily the Temple fountain murmured in the moonlight, 
 while Ruth lay sleeping, with her flowers beside her; and 
 John Westlock sketched a portrait— whose ?— from memory.
 
 MA /? T/jV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 693 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 JN WHICH MISS PECKSNIFF MAKES LOVE, MR. JONAS MAKES 
 WRATH, MRS. GAMP MAKES TEA, AND MR. CHUFFEY MAKES 
 BUSINESS. 
 
 On the next day's ofificial duties coming to a close, Tom 
 hurried home without losing any time by the way ; and after 
 dinner and a short rest, sallied out again, accompanied by 
 Ruth, to pay his projected visit to Todgers's. Tom took 
 Ruth with him, not only because it was a great pleasure to 
 him to have her for his companion whenever he could, but 
 because he wished her to cherish and comfort poor Merry ; 
 which she, for her own part (having heard the wretched his- 
 tory of that young wife from Tom), was all eagerness to do. 
 
 " She was so glad to see me," said Tom, " that I am sure 
 she will be glad to see you. Your sympathy is certain to be 
 much more delicate and acceptable than mine."' 
 
 " I am very far from being certain of that, Tom," she re- 
 plied ; " and indeed you do yourself an injustice. Indeed you 
 do. But I hope she may like me, Tom." 
 
 "Oh, she is sure to do that !" cried Tom, confidently. 
 
 " What a number of friends I should have, if everybody 
 was of your way of thinking. Shouldn't I, Tom, dear ? " said 
 his little sister, pinching him upon the cheek. 
 
 Tom laughed, and said that with reference to this particu- 
 lar case he had no doubt at all of finding a disciple in Merry. 
 "For you women," said Tom, "you women, my dear, are so 
 kind, and in your kindness have sucli nice perception ; you 
 know so well how to be affectionate and full of solicitude with- 
 out appearing to be ; your gentleness of feeling is like your 
 touch : so light and easy, that the one enables you to deal with 
 wounds of the mind as tenderly as the other enables you to 
 deal with wounds of the body. You are such " 
 
 " My goodness, Tom ! " his sister interposed. " You ought 
 to fall in love immediately." 
 
 Tom put this observation off good humoredly, but some- 
 what gravely too ; and they were soon very chatty again on 
 some other subject. 
 
 As they were passing through a street in the City, not very
 
 694 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 far from Mrs. Todgers's place of residence, Ruth checked Tom 
 before a window of a large Upholstery and Furniture Ware- 
 house, to call his attention to something very magnificent and 
 ingenious, displayed there to the best advantage, for the ad- 
 miration and temptation of the public. Tom had hazarded 
 some most erroneous and extravagantly wrong guess in rela- 
 tion to the price of this article, and had joined his sister in 
 laughing heartily at his mistake, when he pressed her arm in 
 his, and pointed to two persons at a little distance, who were 
 looking in at the same window with a deep interest in the 
 chests of drawers and tables. 
 
 " Hush ! " Tom whispered. " Miss Pecksniff, and the young 
 gentleman to whom she is going to be married." 
 
 " Why does he look as if he was going to be buried, Tom } " 
 inquired his little sister. 
 
 "Why, he is naturally a dismal young gentleman, I be- 
 lieve,"' said Tom : " but he is very civil and inoffensive." 
 
 " I suppose they are furnishing their house," whispered 
 Ruth. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose they are," replied Tom. " We had bet- 
 ter avoid speaking to them." 
 
 They could not ver}' well avoid looking at them, however, 
 especially as some obstruction on the pavement, at a little dis- 
 tance, happened to detain them where they were for a few 
 moments. Miss Pecksniff had quite the air of having taken 
 the unhappy Moddle captive, and brought him up to the con- 
 templation of the furniture like a lamb to the altar. He of- 
 fered no resistance, but was perfectly resigned and quiet. The 
 melancholy depicted in the turn of his languishing head, and 
 in his dejected attitude, was extreme ; and though there was 
 a full-sized four-post bedstead in the window, such a tear stood 
 trembling in his eye, as seemed to blot it out. 
 
 "Augustus, my love," said Miss Pecksniff, " ask the price 
 of the eight rose-wood chairs, and the loo table." 
 
 " Perhaps they are ordered already," said Augustus. " Per- 
 haps they are Another's." 
 
 " They can make more like them, if they are," rejoined 
 Miss Pecksniff. 
 
 " No, no, they can't," said Moddle. " It's impossible ! " 
 
 He appeared for a moment, to be quite overwhelmed and 
 stupefied by the prospect of his approaching happiness ; but 
 recovering, entered the shop. He returned immediately : 
 saying in a tone of despair :
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT 695 
 
 " Twenty-four pound ten ! " 
 
 Miss Pecksniff, turning to receive this announcement, be- 
 came conscious of the observation of Tom Pinch and his 
 sister. 
 
 " Oh, really ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, glancing about her, as 
 if for some convenient means of sinking into the earth. 
 " Upon my word, I — there never was such a — to think that 
 one should be so very — Mr. Augustus Moddle, Miss Pinch !" 
 
 Miss Pecksniff was quite gracious to Miss Pinch in this 
 triumphant introduction ; exceedingly gracious. She was 
 more than gracious ; she was kind and cordial. Whether the 
 recollection of the old service Tom had rendered her in knock- 
 ing Mr. Jonas on the head, had wrought this change in her 
 opinions ; or whether her separation from her parent had rec- 
 onciled her to all human-kind, or to all that increasing por- 
 tion of human-kind which was not friendly to him ; or whether 
 the delight of having some new female acquaintance to whom 
 to communicate her intersting prospects, was paramount to 
 every other consideration ; cordial and kind Miss Pecksniff 
 was. And twice Miss Pecksniff kissed Miss Pinch upon the 
 cheek. 
 
 " Augustus — Mr. Pinch, you know. My dear girl ! " said 
 Miss Pecksniff, aside. " I never was so ashamed in my life." 
 
 Ruth begged her not to think of it. 
 
 " I mind your brother less than anybody else," simpered 
 Miss Pecksniff. " But the indelicacy of meeting any gentle- 
 man under such circumstances ! Augustus, my child, did 
 you " 
 
 Here Miss Pecksniff whispered in his ear. The suffering 
 Moddle repeated : 
 
 " Twenty-four pound ten ! " 
 
 " Oh, you silly man ! I don't mean them," said Miss 
 Pecksniff, " I am speaking of the " 
 
 Here she whispered him again. 
 
 " If it's the same patterned chintz as that in the window ; 
 thirty-two, twelve, six," said Moddle, with a sigh. "And very 
 dear." 
 
 Miss Pecksniff stopped him from giving any further expla- 
 nation by laying her hand upon his lips, and betraying a soft 
 embarrassment. She then asked Tom Pinch which way he 
 was going. 
 
 " I was going to see if T could find your sister." answered 
 Tom, " to whom I wished to say a few words. We were go-
 
 696 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 ing to Mrs. Todgers's, where I had the pleasure of seeing her 
 before." 
 
 " It's of no use your going on, then," said Cherr)% " for we 
 have not long left there ; and I know she is not at home. 
 But I'll take you to my sister's house, if you please. Augus- 
 tus — Mr. Moddle, I mean — and myself, are on our way to 
 tea there, now. You needn't think of /;/;«," she added, nod- 
 ding her head, as she observed some hesitation on Tom's 
 part. " He is not at home." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Oh, I am quite sure of that. I don't want any more re- 
 venge," said Miss Pecksniff, expressively. " But, really, I 
 must beg you two gentlemen to walk on, and allow me to fol- 
 low with Miss Pinch. My dear, I never was so taken by sur- 
 prise ! " 
 
 In furtherance of this bashful arrangement, Moddle ga:e 
 his arm to Tom ; and Miss Pecksniff linked her own in 
 Ruth's. 
 
 " Of course, my love," said Miss Pecksniff, " it would be 
 useless for me to disguise, after what you have seen, that I 
 am about to be united to the gentleman who is walking with 
 your brother. It would be in vain to conceal it. What do 
 you think of him ? Pray, let me have your candid opinion." 
 
 Ruth intimated that, as far as she could judge, he was a 
 very eligible swain. 
 
 " I am curious to know," said Miss Pecksniff', with lo- 
 quacious frankness, " whether you have observed, or fancied, 
 in this ver}' short space of time, that he is of a rather melan- 
 choly turn ? " 
 
 " So very short a time," Ruth pleaded. 
 
 " No, no ; but don't let that interfere with your answer," 
 returned Miss Pecksniff. " I am curious to hear what you 
 say." 
 
 Ruth acknowledged that he had impressed her at first 
 sight as looking " rather low." 
 
 " No, really".' " said Miss Pecksniff. " Well ! that is quite 
 remarkable ! Everybody says the same. Mrs. Todgers says 
 the same ; and Augustus informs me that it is quite a joke 
 among the gentlemen in the house. Indeed, but for the pos- 
 itive commands I have laid upon him, I believe it would have 
 been the occasion of loaded fire-arms being resorted to more 
 than once. What do you think is the cause of his appearance 
 of depression ? "
 
 MARTIN CIICZZLEVVIT. ■ 697 
 
 Ruth thought of several things ; such as his digestion, his 
 tailor, his mother, and the like. But hesitating to give utter- 
 ance to any one. of them, she refrained from expressing an 
 opinion. 
 
 " My dear," said Miss Pecksniff ; " I shouldn't wish it to 
 be known, but I don't mind mentioning it to you, having known 
 your brother for so many years — I refused Augustus three 
 times. He is of a most amiable and sensiti\e nature ; always 
 ready to shed tears, if you look at him, which is extremely 
 charmin"; ; and he has never recovered the effect of that crueltv. 
 For it was cruel," said Miss Pecksniff, with a self-convicting 
 candor that might have adorned the diadem of her own papa. 
 " There is no doubt of it. I look back upon my conduct now 
 with blushes. 1 always liked him. I felt that he was not to 
 me what the crowd of young men who had made proposals had 
 been, but something ver)- different. Then what right had I to 
 refuse him three times .'' " 
 
 " It was a severe trial of his fidelity, no doubt," said Ruth. 
 " My dear," returned Miss Pecksniff". '' It was wrong. 
 But such is the caprice and thoughtlessness of our sex ! Let 
 me be a warning to you. Don't tr)' the feelings of any one 
 who makes you an offer, as I have tried the feelings of Augus- 
 tus ; but if you ever feel towards a person as I really felt to- 
 wards him, at the \&x\ time when I was dri\-ing him to dis- 
 traction, let that feeling find expression, if that person throws 
 himself at your feet, as Augustus Moddle did at mine. Think," 
 said Miss Pecksniff", " what my feelings would have been, if I 
 had goaded him to suicide, and it had got into the papers !" 
 
 Ruth observed that she would have been full of remorse, 
 no doubt. 
 
 " Remorse ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, in a sort of snug and 
 comfortable penitence. "What my remorse is at this moment, 
 even after making reparation by accepting him, it would be 
 impossible to tell you ! Looking back upon my giddy self, my 
 dear, now that I am sobered down and made thoughtful, by 
 treading on the ver}' brink of matrimony ; and contemplating 
 myself as I was when I was like you are now ; I shudder. I 
 shudder. What is the consequence of my past conduct ? 
 Until Augustus leads me to the altar, he is not sure of me. I 
 have blighted and withered the affections of his heart to that 
 extent that he is not sure of me. I see that preying on his 
 mind and feeding on his vitals. What are the reproaches of 
 my conscience, when I see this in the man I love ! "
 
 698 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Ruth endeavored to express some sense of her unbounded 
 and flattering confidence ; and presumed that she was going 
 to be married soon. 
 
 " Very soon indeed," returned Miss Pecksniff. " As soon 
 as our house is ready. We are furnishing now as fast as we 
 can." 
 
 In the same vein of confidence, Miss Pecksniff ran through 
 a general inventory of the articles that were already bought, 
 with the articles that remained to be purchased ; what gar- 
 ments she intended to be married in, and where the ceremony 
 was to be performed ; and gave Miss Pinch, in short (as she 
 told her), early and exclusive information on all points of in- 
 terest connected with the event. 
 
 While this was going forward in the rear, Tom and Mr. 
 Moddle walked on, arm in arm, in the front, in a state of 
 profound silence, which Tom at last broke : after thinking for 
 a long time what he could say that should refer to an indiffer- 
 ent topic, in respect of which he might rely, with some degree 
 of certainty, on Mr. Moddle's bosom being unruffled. 
 
 " I wonder," said Tom, " that in these crowded streets, 
 the foot-passengers are not oftener run over." 
 
 Mr. Moddle, with a dark look, replied : 
 
 "The drivers won't do it." 
 
 " Do you mean 1 " Tom began — 
 
 "That there are some men," interrupted Moddle, with a 
 hollow laugh, " who can't get run over. They live a charmed 
 life. Coal wagons recoil from them, and even cabs refuse 
 to run them down. Ah ! " said Augustus, marking Tom's as- 
 tonishment. " There are such men. One of 'em is a friend of 
 mine." 
 
 " Upon my word and honor," thought Tom, "this )'oung 
 gentleman is in a state of mind which is very serious indeed ! " 
 Abandoning all idea of conversation, he did not venture to 
 say another word ; but he Avas careful to keep a tight hold 
 upon Augustus's arm, lest he should fly into the road, and 
 making another, and a more successful attempt, should get up 
 a private little Juggernaut before the eyes of his betrothed. 
 Tom was so afraid of his committing this rash act, that he had 
 scarcely ever experienced such mental relief as when they ar- 
 rived in safety at Mrs. Jonas Chuzzlewit's house. 
 
 " Walk up, pray, Mr. Pinch," said Miss Pecksniff : for 
 Tom halted, irresolutely, at the door. 
 
 " I am doubtful whether I should be welcome," replied
 
 MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT. 699 
 
 Tom, " or, I ought rather to say, I have no doubt about it. I 
 will send up a message, I think." 
 
 " But what nonsense that is ! " returned Miss Pecksniff, 
 speaking apart to Tom. " He is not at home, I am certain ; 
 I know he is not ; but Merry hasn't the least idea that you 
 ever " 
 
 "No," interrupted Tom. " Nor would I have her know 
 it, on any account. I am not so proud of that scuffle, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " Ah, but then 3-ou are so modest, you see," returned Miss 
 Pecksniff, with a smile. " But pray walk up. If you don't 
 wish her to know it, and do wish to speak to her, pray walk 
 up. Pray walk up. Miss Pinch. Don't stand here." 
 
 Tom still hesitated ; for he felt that he was in an aw^kward 
 position. But Cherry passing him at this juncture, and lead- 
 ing his sister up stairs,' and the house-door being at the same 
 time shut behind them, he follow^ed without quite knowing 
 whether it was well or ill-judged so to do. 
 
 " Merry, my darling ! " said the fair Miss Pecksniff, open- 
 ing the door of the usual sitting-room. " Here are Mr. Pinch 
 and his sister come to see you ! I thought we should find 
 you here, Mrs. Todgers ! How do you do, Mrs. Gamp ? And 
 how do you do, Mr. Chuffey, though it's of no use asking you 
 the question, I am well aware." 
 
 Honoring each of these parties, as she severally addressed 
 them, with an acid smile. Miss Charity presented Mr. Moddle. 
 
 " I believe you have seen hi}?i before," she pleasantly ob- 
 served. 'Augustus, my sweet child, bring me a chair." 
 
 The sweet child did as he was told ; and was then about 
 to retire into a corner to mourn in secret, when Miss Charity, 
 calling him in an audible whisper " a little pet," gave him 
 leave to come and sit beside her. It is to be hoped, for the 
 general cheerfulness of mankind, that such a doleful little pet 
 was never seen as Mr. Moddle looked when he complied. So 
 despondent was his temper, that he showed no outward thrill 
 of ecstasy, when Miss Pecksniff placed her lily hand in his, 
 and concealed this mark of her favor from the vulgar gaze, 
 by covering it with a corner of her shawl. Indeed, he was 
 infinitely more rueful then than he had been before ; and, 
 sitting uncomfortably uprii^ht in his chair, surveyed the com- 
 pany with watery eyes, which seemed to sa}^, without the aid 
 of language, " Oh, good gracious ! look here ! Won't some 
 kind Christian help me ! "
 
 700 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 But the ecstasies of Mrs. Gamp were sufficient to have fur- 
 nished forth a score of young lovers ; and they were chiefly 
 awakened by the sight of Tom Pinch and his sister. Mrs. 
 Gamp was a lady of that happy temperament which can be 
 ecstatic without any other stimulating cause than a general 
 desire to establish a large and profitable connection. She 
 added daily so many strings to her bow, that she made a per- 
 fect harp of it ; and upon that instrument she now began to 
 perform an extemporaneous concerto. 
 
 " Why, goodness me ! " she said, " Mrs. Chuzzlewit ! To 
 think as I should see beneath this blessed ouse, which well I 
 know it, Miss Pecksniff, my sweet young lady, to be a ouse 
 as there is not a many like, worse luck, and wishin' it ware 
 not so, which then this tearful walley would be changed into 
 a fiowerin' guardian, Mr. Chuffey ; to think as I should see 
 beneath this indiwidgle roof, identically comin', Mr. Pinch (I 
 take the liberty, though almost unbeknown), and do assure 
 you of it, sir, the smilinest and sweetest face as ever, Mrs. 
 Chuzzlewit, I see, exceptin' yourn, my dear good lady, and 
 your good lady's too, sir, Mr. Moddle, if I may make so bold 
 as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as needn't 
 look through millstones, Mrs. Todgers, to find out wot is 
 wrote upon the wall behind. Which no offence is meant, 
 ladies and gentlemen ; none bein' took, I hope. To think as 
 I should see that smilinest and sweetest face which me and 
 another friend of mine, took notige of among the packages 
 down London Bridge, in this promiscous place, is a surprige 
 in-deed ! " 
 
 Having contrived, in this happy manner, to invest every 
 member of her audience with an individual share and imme- 
 diate personal interest in her address, Mrs. Gamp dropped 
 several curtseys to Ruth, and smilingly shaking her head a 
 great many times, pursued the thread of her discourse : 
 
 " Now, ain't we rich in beauty this here joyful arternoon, 
 I'm sure. I knows a lady, which her name, I'll not deceive 
 you, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, is Harris, her husband's brother bein' 
 six foot three, and marked with a mad bull in Wellington 
 boots upon his left arm, on account of his precious mother 
 haviii' been worrited by one into a shoemaker's shop, when 
 in a sitiwation which blessed is the man as has his quiver full 
 of sech, as many times I've said to Gamp when words has 
 roge betwixt us on account of the expense — and often have I 
 said to Mrs. Harris, 'Oh, Mrs. Harris, ma'am ! your counte-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 70I 
 
 nance is quite a angel's ! ' Which, but for Pimples, it would 
 be. 'No, Sairey Gamp,' says she, 'you best of hard-working 
 and industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any price, 
 which underpaid you are, quite diff 'rent. Harris had it done 
 afore marriage at ten and six,' she says, ' and wore it faith- 
 ful next his heart 'till the color run, when the money was 
 declined to be give back, and no arrangement could be come 
 to. But he never said it was a angel's, Sairey, wotever he 
 might have thought.' If Mrs. Harris's husband was here 
 now," said Mrs. Gamp, looking round, and chuckling as slie 
 dropped a general curtsey, " heVl speak out plain, he would, 
 and his dear wife would be the last to blame him ! For il 
 ever a woman lived as know'd not wot it was to form a wish 
 to pizon them as had good looks, and had no reagion give 
 her by the best of husbands, Mrs. Harris is that ev'niy dis- 
 pogician ! " 
 
 With these words the worthy woman, who appeared to 
 have dropped in to take tea as a delicate little attendon, 
 rather than to have any engagement on the premises in an 
 official capacity, crossed to Mr. Chuffey, who was seated in 
 the same corner as of old, and shook him by the shoulder. 
 
 " Rouge yourself, and look up ! Come ! " said Mrs. 
 Gamp. " Here's company, Mr. Chuffey." 
 
 " I am sorry for it," cried the old man, looking humbly 
 round the room. " I know I'm in the way. I ask pardon, 
 but I've nowhere else to go to. Where is she ? " 
 
 Merry went to him. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the old man, patting her on the cheek. 
 " Here she is. Here she is ! She's never hard on poor old 
 Chuffey. Poor old Chuff ! " 
 
 As she took her seat upon a low chair by the old man's 
 side, and put herself within the reach of his hand, she looked 
 up once at Tom. It was a sad look that she cast upon him, 
 though there was a faint smile trembling on her face. It was 
 a speaking look, and Tom knew what it said. " You see 
 how misery has changed me. I can feel for a dependant nota, 
 and set some value on his attachment." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " cried Chuffey in a soothing tone. " Ay, ay, 
 ay ! Never mind him. It's hard to bear, but never mind 
 him. He'll die one day. There are three hundred and sixty- 
 five days in the year — three hundred and sixty-six in leap 
 year — and he may die on nnv one of 'em." 
 
 " You're a wearing old soul, and that's the sacred truth,''
 
 702 
 
 AIA R TIN CHUZZL ElVIT. 
 
 said Mrs. Gamp, contemplating him from a little distance 
 with anything but favor, as he continued to mutter to himself. 
 " It's a pity that you don't know wot you say, for you'd tire 
 your own patience out if you did, and fret yourself into a 
 happy releage for all as knows you." 
 
 " His son," murmured the old man lifting up his hand. 
 " His son ! " 
 
 "Well I'm sure ! " said Mrs. Gamp, "you're a settlin' of 
 it, Mr. Chuffey. To your satigefaction, sir, I hope. But I 
 wouldn't lay a new pin-cushion on it myself, sir, though you 
 are so well informed. Drat the old creetur, he's a layin' 
 down the law tolerable confident, too ! A deal he knows of 
 sons ! Or darters either ! Suppose you was to favor us with 
 some remarks on twins, sir, would you be so good ! " 
 
 The bitter and indignant sarcasm which Mrs. Gamp con- 
 veyed into these taunts was altogether lost on the uncon- 
 scious Chuffey, who appeared to be as little cognizant of their 
 delivery as of his having given Mrs. Gamp offence. But that 
 high-minded woman being sensitively alive to any invasion of 
 her professional province, and imagining that Mr. Chuffey 
 had given utterance to some prediction on the subject of 
 sons, which ought to have emanated in the first instance from 
 herself as the only lawful authority, or which should at least 
 have been on no account proclaimed without her sanction and 
 concurrence, was not so easily appeased. ■ She continued to 
 sidle at Mr. Chuffey with looks of sharp hostility, and to defy 
 him with many other ironical remarks, uttered in that low 
 key which commonly denotes suppressed indignation ; until 
 the entrance of the tea-board, and a request from Mrs. Jonas 
 that she would make tea at a side-table for the party that had 
 unexpectedly assembled, restored her to herself. She smiled 
 again, and entered on her ministration with her own particular 
 urbanity. 
 
 "And quite a family it is to make tea for," said Mrs. 
 Gamp ; " and wot a happiness to do it ! My good young 
 'ooman " — to the servant-girl — " p'raps somebody would like 
 to try a new-laid egg or two, not biled too hard. Likeways, 
 a few rounds o' buttered toast, first cuttin' off the crust, in 
 consequence of tender teeth, and not too many of 'em ; which 
 Gamp himself, Mrs. Chuzzlewit, at one blow, being in liquor, 
 struck out four, two single, and two double, as was took by 
 Mrs. Harris for a keepsake, and is carried in her pocket at 
 this present hour, along with two cramp-bones, a bit o' ginger,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 703 
 
 and a grater like a blessed infant's shoe, in tin_^ with a 
 little heel to put the nutmeg in ; as many times I've seen and 
 said, and used for caudle when required, within the month." 
 
 As the privileges of the side-table — besides including the 
 small prerogatives of sitting next the toast, and taking two 
 cups of tea to other people's one, and always taking them 
 at a crisis, that is to say, before putting fresh water into the 
 tea-pot, and after it had been standing for some time — 
 also comprehended a full view of the company, and an oppor- 
 tunity of addressing them as from a rostrum, Mrs. Gamp dis- 
 charged the functions entrusted to her with extreme good-humor 
 and affability. Sometimes, resting her saucer on the palm of 
 her outspread hand, and supporting her elbow on the table, 
 she stopped between her sips of tea to favor the circle with a 
 smile, a wink, a roll of the head, or some other mark of notices 
 and at those periods, her countenance was lighted up with a 
 degree of intelligence and vivacity, which it was almost im- 
 possible to separate from the benignant influence of distilled 
 waters. 
 
 But for Mrs. Gamp, it would have been a curiously silent 
 party. Miss Pecksniff only spoke to her Augustus, and to 
 him in whispers. Augustus spoke to nobody, but sighed for 
 every one, and occasionally gave himself such a sounding slap 
 upon the forehead as would make Mrs. Todgers, who was 
 rather nervous, start in her chair with an involuntarv excla- 
 mation. Mrs. Todgers was occupied in knitting, and seldom 
 spoke. Poor Merry held the hand of cheerful little Ruth be- 
 tween her own, and listening with evident pleasure to all she 
 said, but rarely speaking herself, sometimes smiled, and some- 
 times kissed her on the cheek, and sometimes turned aside to 
 hide the tears that trembled in her eyes. Tom felt this change 
 in her so much, and was so glad to see how tenderly Ruth 
 dealt with her, and how she knew and answered to it, that he 
 had not the heart to make any movement towards their de- 
 parture, although he had long since given utterance to all he 
 came to say. 
 
 The old clerk, subsiding into his usual state, remained pro- 
 foundly silent, while the rest of the little assembly were thus 
 occupied, intent upon the dreams, whatever they might be, 
 which hardly seemed to stir the surface of his sluggish 
 thoughts. The bent of these, dull fancies combining probably 
 with the silent feasting that was going on about him, and 
 some struggling recollection of the last approach to revelry
 
 704 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 he had witnessed, suggested a strange question to his mind. 
 He looked round upon a sudden, and said, 
 
 " Who's lying dead up stairs ? " 
 
 " No one," said Merry, turning to him. "What is the 
 matter ? We are all here." 
 
 " All here ! " cried the old man, " all here ! Where is he 
 then — my old master, Mr. Chuzzlewit, who had the only son .'' 
 Where is he ? " 
 
 " Hush ! Hush ! " said Merr}'^, speaking kindly to him. 
 " That happened long ago. Don't you recollect ? " 
 
 " Recollect ! " rejoined the old man, with a cry of grief, 
 "as if I could forget ! As if I ever could forget ! " 
 
 He put his hand up to his face for a moment ; and then 
 repeated, turning round exactly as before. 
 
 " Who's lying dead up stairs .'' " 
 
 " No one ! " said Meny. 
 
 At first he gazed angrily upon her, as upon a stranger who 
 endeavored to deceive him ; but, peering into her face, and 
 seeing that it was indeed she, he shook his head in sorrowful 
 compassion. 
 
 " You think not. But they don't tell you. No, no, poor 
 thing ! They don't tell you. Who are these, and why are 
 they merry-making here, if there is no one dead ? Foul play ! 
 Go see who it is ! " 
 
 She made a sign to them not to speak to him, which in- 
 deed they had little inclination to do ; and remained silent 
 herself. So did he for a short time ; but then he repeated 
 the same question with an eagerness that had a peculiar terror 
 in it. 
 
 "There's some one dead," he said, "or dying; and I want 
 to know who it is. Go see, go see ! Where's Jonas .'' " 
 
 " In the country," she replied. 
 
 The old man gazed at her as if he doubted what she said, or 
 had not heard her ; and, rising from his chair, walked across 
 the room and up stairs whispering as he went, " P'oul 
 play ! " They heard his footsteps overhead, going up into 
 that corner of the room in which the bed stood (itwas there 
 old Anthony had died) ; and then they heard him coming down 
 again immediately. His fancv was not so strong or wild that 
 it pictured to him anvthing in the deserted bed-chamber which 
 was not there ; for he returned much calmer, and appeared 
 to have satisfied himself. 
 
 " They don't tell you," he said to Merry in his quavering
 
 MA R TIN CIIUZZLE WIT. 
 
 705 
 
 voice, as he sat down again, and patted her upon the head. 
 "They don't tell me either; but I'll watch, I'll watch. They 
 shall not hurt you • don't be frightened. When you have sat 
 up watching, I have sat up watching too. Ay, ay, I have ! " 
 he piped out, clenching his weak^ shrivelled hand. " Many 
 a night I ha\^e been ready ! " 
 
 He said this with such trembling gaps and pauses in his 
 want of breath, and said it in his jealous secrecy so closely 
 in her ear, that little or nothing of it was understood by the 
 visitors. But they had heard and seen enough of the old 
 man to be disquieted, and to have left their seats and gathered 
 about him ; thereby affording Mrs. Gamp, whose professional 
 coolness was not so easily disturbed, an eligible opportunity 
 for concentrating the whole resources of her powerful mind 
 and appetite upon the toast and butter, tea and eggs. She 
 had brought them to bear upon those viands with such vigor 
 that her face was in the highest state of inflammation, when she 
 now (there being nothing left to eat or drink) saw fit to inter- 
 pose. 
 
 " Why, highty tighty, sir ! " cries Mrs. Gamp, " is tiiese 
 your manners ? You want a pitcher of cold water throw'd 
 over you to bring you around ; that's my belief ; and if you 
 was under Betsy Prig you'd have it, too, I do assure you, Mr. 
 Chuffey. Spanish Flies is the only thing to draw this non- 
 sense out of you ; and if anybody wanted to do you a kind- 
 ness, they'd clap a blister of 'em on your head, and put a 
 mustard poultige on your back. Who's dead, indeed ! It 
 wouldn't be no grievous loss if some one was, I think ! " 
 
 " He's quiet now, Mrs. Gamp," said Merry. " Don't dis- 
 turb him." 
 
 "Oh, bother the old wictim, Mrs. Chuzzlewit," replied 
 that zealous lady, " I ain't no patience with him. You give 
 him his own way too much by half. A worritin' wexagious 
 creetur ! " 
 
 No doubt with the view of carrj-ing out the precepts she 
 enforced, and "bothering the old wictim " in practice as well 
 as in theory, Mrs. Gamp took him by the collar of his coat, 
 and gave him some dozen or two of hearty shakes backward 
 and forward in his chair ; that exercise being considered by 
 the disciples of the Prig school of nursing (who are very 
 numerous among professional, ladies) as exceedingly condu- 
 cive to repose, and highly beneficial to the performance of the 
 nervous functions. Its effect in this instance was to render 
 
 45
 
 7o6 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 the patient so giddy and addle-headed, that he could say 
 nothing more ; which Mrs. Gamp regarded as the triumph of 
 her art. 
 
 " There ! " she said, loosening the old man's cravat, in 
 consequence of his being rather black in the face, after this 
 scientific treatment. " Now, I hope, you're easy in your mind. 
 If you should turn at all faint, we can soon rewive you, sir, I 
 promige you. Bite a person's thumbs, or turn their fingers 
 the wrong way," said Mrs. Gamp, smiling with the conscious- 
 ness of at once imparting pleasure and instruction to her 
 auditors, " and they comes to, wonderful, Lord bless you ! " 
 
 As this excellent woman had been formally entrusted with 
 the care of Mr. Chuffey on a previous occasion, neither Mrs. 
 Jonas nor anybody else had the resolution to interfere directly 
 with her mode of treatment : though all present (Tons Pinch 
 and his sister especially) appeared to be disposed to differ 
 from her views. For such is the rash boldness of the unin- 
 itiated, that they will frequently set up some monstrous ab- 
 stract principle, such as humanity, or tenderness, or the like 
 idle folly, in obstinate defiance of all precedent and usage ; 
 and will even venture to maintain the same against the per- 
 sons who have made the precedents and established the usage, 
 and who must therefore be the best and most impartial judges 
 of the subject. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Pinch ! " said Miss Pecksniff. " It all comes of 
 this unfortunate marriage. If my sister had not been so pre- 
 cipitate, and had not united herself to a Wretch, there would 
 have been no Mr. Chuffey in the house." 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Tom. " She'll hear you." 
 
 " I should be very sorry if she did hear me, Mr. Pinch," 
 said Cherry, raising her voice a little ; " for it is not in my 
 nature to add to the uneasiness of any person, far less of my 
 own sister, /know what a sister's duties are, Mr. Pinch, and 
 I hope I always showed it in my practice. Augustus, my dear 
 child, find my pocket-handkerchief, and give it to me. 
 
 Augustus obeyed, and took Mrs. Todgers aside to pour 
 his griefs into her friendly bosom. 
 
 " I am sure, Mr. Pinch," said Charity, looking after her 
 betrothed and glancing at her sister, " that I ought to be very 
 grateful for the blessings I enjoy, and those which are yet in 
 store for me. When I contrast Augustus " — here she was 
 modest and embarrassed — " who, I don't mind saying to you, 
 is all softness, mildness, and devotion, with the detestable
 
 MAKTTN CHUZZLEIVIT. 707 
 
 man who is my sister's husband ; and when I think, Mr. Pinch, 
 that in the dispensations of this world, our cases mig^ht have 
 been reversed, I have much to be thankful for, indeed, and 
 much to make me liumble and contented." 
 
 Contented she might have been, but humble she assur- 
 edly was not. Her face and manner experienced something 
 so widely different from humility, that Tom could not help 
 understanding and despising the base motives that were work- 
 ing in her breast. He turned away, and said to Ruth, that it 
 was time for them to go. 
 
 " I will write to your husband," said Tom to Merry, "and 
 explain to him, as I would have done if I had met him here, 
 that if he has sustained any inconvenience through my means, 
 it is not my fault : a postman not being more innocent of the 
 news he brings, than I was when I handed him that letter." 
 
 " I thank you ! " said Merry. " It may do some good." 
 
 She parted tenderly from Ruth, who with her brother was 
 in the act of leaving the room, when a key was heard in the 
 lock of the door below, and immediately afterwards a quick 
 footstep in the passage. Tom stopped, and looked at Merry. 
 
 It was Jonas, she said timidly. 
 
 " I had better not meet him on the stairs, perhaps," said 
 Tom, drawing his sister's arm through his, and coming back 
 a step or two. " I'll wait for him here, a moment." 
 
 He had scarcely said it when the door opened, and Jonas 
 entered. His wife came forward to receive him ; but he put 
 her aside with his hand, and said in a surly tone : 
 
 " I didn't know you"d got a party." 
 
 As he looked, at the same time, either by accident or de^ 
 sign, towards Miss Pecksniff ; and as Miss Pecksniff was only 
 too delighted to quarrel with him, she instantly resented it. 
 
 "Oh dear !" she said, rising. "Pray don't let us intrude 
 upon your domestic happiness ! That would be a pity. We 
 have taken tea, sir, in your absence ; but if you will have the 
 goodness to send us a note of the expense, receipted, we 
 shall be happy to pay it. Augustus, my love, we will go, if 
 you please. Mrs. Todgers, unless you wish to remain here, 
 we shall be happy to take you with us. It would be a pity, 
 indeed, to spoil the bliss which this gentleman always brings 
 with him, especially into his own home." 
 
 "Charity! Charity !" remonstrated her sister, in such a 
 heartfelt tone that she might have been imploring her to show 
 the cardinal virtue whose name she bore.
 
 7o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " Merr\% my clear, I am much obliged to you for your ad- 
 vice," returned Miss Pecksniff, with a stately scorn — by the 
 way, she had not been offered any — "but / am not his 
 slave " 
 
 " No, nor wouldn't have been if you could," interrupted 
 Jonas. " We know all about it." 
 
 " What did you say, sir 1 " cried Miss Pecksniff, sharply. 
 
 "Didn't you hear.'' " retorted Jonas, lounging down upon 
 a chair. " I am not a-going to say it again. If you like to 
 stay, you may stay. If you like to go, you may go. But if 
 you stay, please to be civil." 
 
 " Beast ! " cried Miss Pecksniff, sweeping past him. 
 " Augustus ! He is beneath your notice ! " Augustus had 
 been making some faint and sickly demonstration of shaking 
 his fist. "Come away, child," screamed Miss Pecksniff, "I 
 command you ! " 
 
 The scream was elicited from her by Augustus manifest- 
 ing an intention to return and grapple with him. But Miss 
 Pecksniff giving the fiery youth a pull, and Mrs. Todgers giv- 
 ing him a push, they all three tumbled out of the room to- 
 gether, to the music of Miss Pecksniff's shrill remonstrances. 
 
 All this time, Jonas had seen nothing of Tom and his sis- 
 ter ; for they were almost behind the door when he opened it, 
 and he had sat down with his back towards them, and had 
 purposely kept his eyes upon the opposite side of the street 
 during his altercation with Miss Pecksniff, in order that his 
 seeming carelessness might increase the exasperation of that 
 wronged young damsel. His wife now faltered out that Tom 
 had been waiting to see him ; and Tom ad\anced. 
 
 The instant he presented himself, Jonas got up from his 
 chair, and swearing a great oath, caught it in his grasp, as if 
 he would have felled Tom to the ground with it. As he most 
 unquestionably would have done, but that, his very passion 
 and surprise made him irresolute, and gave Tom, in his calm- 
 ness, an opportunity of being heard. 
 
 " You have no cause to be violent, sir," said Tom. 
 " Though what I wish to say relates to your own affairs, I 
 know nothing of them, and desire to know nothing of them." 
 
 Jonas was too enraged to speak. He held the door open; 
 and stamping his foot upon the ground, motioned Tom away. 
 
 " As you cannot suppose," said Tom, " that I am here, 
 with any view of conciliating you or pleasing myself, I am 
 quite indifferent to your reception of me, or your dismissal of
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 709 
 
 me. Hear what I have to say, if you are not a madman ! I 
 gave you a letter the other day, when you were about to go 
 abroad." 
 
 " You Thief, you did ! "' retorted Jonas. " I'll pay you for 
 the carriage of it one day, and settle an old score besides. I 
 will ! " 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Tom, " you needn't waste words or 
 threats. I wish you to understand — plainly because I would 
 rather keep clear of you and everything that concerns you ; 
 not because I have the least apprehension of your doing me any 
 injury, which would be weak indeed — ^that I am no party to 
 the contents of that letter. That I know nothing of it. That 
 I was not even aware that it was to be delivered to you ; and 
 that I had it from " 
 
 " By the Lord ! " cried Jonas, fiercely catching up the 
 chair, "I'll knock your brains out, if you speak another 
 word." 
 
 Tom, nevertheless, persisting in his intention, and opening 
 his lips to speak again, Jonas set upon him like a sa\age ; 
 and in the quickness and ferocity of his attack would have 
 surely done him some grievous injury, defenceless as he was, 
 and embarrassed by having his frightened sister clinging to 
 his arm, if Merry had not run between them, crying to Tom 
 for the love of Heaven to leave the house. The auonv of lliis 
 poor creature, the terror of his sister, the impossibility of mak- 
 ing himself audible, and the equal impossibility of bearing up 
 against Mrs. Gamp, who threw herself upon him like a feather- 
 bed, and forced him backwards down the stairs bv the mere 
 oppression of her dead-weight, prevailed. Tom shook tl;e 
 dust of that house off his feet, without having mentioned 
 Nadgett's name. 
 
 If the name could have passed his lips; if Jonas, in the 
 insolence of his vile nature, had ne\ er roused him to do that 
 old act of manliness, for which (and not for his last offence) 
 be hated him with such malignity ; if Jonas could have 
 learned, as then he could and would have learned, through 
 Tom's means, what unsuspected spy there was upon him ; he 
 would have been saved from the commission of a Guilty Deed, 
 then drawing on towards its black accomplishment. But the 
 fatality was of his own working ; the pit was of his own dig- 
 ging ; the gloom that gathered round him, was the shadow of 
 his own life. 
 
 His wife had closed the door, and thrown herself before it,
 
 7 I o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 on the ground, upon her knees. She held up her hands to 
 him now, and besought him not to be harsh with her, for she 
 had interposed in fear of bloodshed. 
 
 " So, so ! " said Jonas, looking down upon her, as he 
 fetched his breath. " These are your friends, are they, when 
 I am away t You plot and tamper with this sort of people, 
 do you .'' " 
 
 " No, indeed ! I have no knowledge of these secrets, and 
 no clue to their meaning. I have never seen him since I left 
 home but once — but twice — before to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! " sneered Jonas, catching at this correction. " But 
 once, but twice, eh t Which do you mean ? Twice and once, 
 perhaps. Three times ! How many more, you lying jade } " 
 
 As he made an angrv motion with his hand, she shrunk 
 down hastily. .A suggestive action ! Full of a cruel truth 
 
 " How many more times .-' " he repeated. 
 
 " No more. The other morning, and to-day, and once be- 
 sides." 
 
 He was about to retort upon her, when the clock struck. 
 He started, stopped, and listened ; appearing to revert to 
 some engagement, or to some other subject, a secret within 
 his own breast, recalled to him by this record of the progress 
 of the hours. 
 
 " Don't lie there ! Get up ! " 
 
 Having helped her to rise, or rather hauled her up by the 
 arm, he went on to say: 
 
 " Listen to me, young lady ; and don't whine when you 
 have no occasion, or I may make some for you. If I find him 
 in my house again, or find that you have seen him in anybody 
 else's house, you'll repent it. If you are not deaf and dumb 
 to everything that concerns me, unless you have my leave to 
 hear and speak, you'll repent it. If you don't obey exactly 
 what I order, you'll repent it. Now, attend. What's the 
 time } " 
 
 " It struck Eight a minute ago." 
 
 He looked towards her intently ; and said, with a labored 
 distinctness, as if he had got the words off by heart : 
 
 " I have been travelling day and night, and am tired. I 
 have lost some money, and that don't improve me. Put my 
 supper in the little off-room below, and have the truckle-bed 
 made. I shall sleep there to-night, and maybe to-morrow 
 night ; and if I can sleep all day to-morrow, so much the 
 better, for I've got trouble to sleep off, if I can. Keep the
 
 MARTIN C NUZZLE WIT. 7 1 1 
 
 house quiet, and don't call me. IMind ! Don't call me ! 
 Don t let anybody call me. Let me lie there." 
 
 She said it should be done. Was that all } 
 
 " All what ! You must be prying and questioning ? " he 
 angrily retorted. "What more do you want to know.?" 
 
 " I want to know nothing, Jonas, but what you tell me. 
 All hope of conhdence between us has long deserted me ! " 
 
 " Ecod, I should hope so ! " he muttered. 
 
 " But if you will tell me what you wish, I will be obedient 
 and will tiy to please you. I make no merit of that, for 1 have 
 no friend in my father or my sister, but am quite alone. I am 
 very humble and submissive. You told me you would break 
 my spirit, and you have done so. Do not break my heart 
 too ! " 
 
 She ventured, as she said these words, to lay her hand 
 upon his shoulder. He suffered it to rest there, in his exulta- 
 tion ; and the whole mean, abject, sordid, pitiful soul of the 
 man, looked at her, for the moment, through his wicked eyes. 
 
 For the moment only ; for, wiih the same hurried return 
 to something within himself, he bade her, in a surly tone, show 
 her obedience by executing his commands without dela\-. 
 When she had withdrawn, he paced up and down the room 
 several times ; but always with his right hand clenched, as if 
 it held something ; which it did not, being empty. When he 
 was tired of this, he threw himself into a chair, and thought- 
 fully turned up the sleeve of his right arm, as if he were rather 
 musing about its strength than examining it ; but, even then, 
 he kept the hand clenched. 
 
 He was brooding in this chair, with his eyes cast down 
 upon the ground, when Mrs. Gamp came in to tell him that 
 the little room was ready. Not being quite sure of her re- 
 ception after interfering in the quarrel, Mrs. Gamp, as a 
 means of interesting and propitiating her patron, affected a 
 deep solicitude in Mr. Chuffey. 
 
 " How is he now, sir t " she said. 
 
 " Who t " cried Jonas, raising his head, and staring at her. 
 
 "To be sure?" returned the matron with a smile and a 
 curtsey. " What am I thinking of ! You wasn't here, sir, 
 when he was took so strange. I never see a poor dear creetur 
 took so strange in all my life, except a patient much about the 
 same age, as I once nussed, which his calling was the custom- 
 'us, and his name was Mrs. Harris's own father, as pleasant a 
 singer, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as ever you heerd, with a voice like a
 
 712 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Jew's-liarp in the bass notes, that it took six men to hold at 
 sech times, foaming frightful." 
 
 "Chuffey, eh?" said Jonas carelessly, seeing that she 
 went up to the old clerk, and looked at him. " Ha ! " 
 
 "The creetur's head's so hot," said Mrs. Gamp, "that 
 you might eat a flat-iron at it. And no wonder . I am sure, 
 considerin' the things he said ! " 
 
 " Said ! " cried Jonas. " What did he say ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp laid her hand upon her heart, to put some 
 check upon its palpitations, and turning up her eyes replied in 
 a faint voice : 
 
 " The awfullest things, Mr. Chuzzlewit, as ever I heerd ! 
 Which Mrs. Harris's father never spoke a word when took so, 
 some does and some don't, except sayin' when he come round, 
 'Where is Sairey Gamp.?' But raly, sir, when Mr. Chuffey 
 comes to ask who's lyin' dead up stairs, and — " 
 
 " Who's lying dead up stairs ! " repeated Jonas, standing 
 aghast. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp nodded, made as if she were swallowing, and 
 went on. 
 
 " Who's lying dead up stairs ; such was his Bible language ; 
 and where was Mr. Chuzzlewit as had the only son ; and when 
 he goes up stairs a looking in the beds and wandering about 
 the rooms, and comes down again a whisperin' softly to his- 
 self about foul play and that ; it give me sich a turn, I don't 
 deny it, Mr. Chuzzlewit, that I never could have kep myself 
 up but for a little drain of spirits, which I seldom touches, but 
 could always wish to know where to find, if so dispoged, never 
 knowin' wot may happen next, the world bein' so uncertain." 
 
 " Why, the old fool's mad ! " cried Jonas, much dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 "That's my opinion, sir," said Mrs. Gamp, "and I will 
 not deceive you. I believe as Mr. Chuffey, sir, rekwires atten- 
 tion (if 1 may make so bold), and should not have his liberty 
 to wex and worrit your sweet lady as he doos." 
 
 " Why, who minds what he says ? " retorted Jonas. 
 
 " Still he is worritin' sir," said Mrs. Gamp. " No one 
 don't mind him, but he is a ill conwenience." 
 
 " Ecod you're right," said Jonas, looking doubtfully at the 
 subject of this conversation. " I have half a mind to shut 
 him up." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp rubbed her hands, and smiled, and shook her 
 head, and sniffed expressively, as scenting a job.
 
 MAR TIN CHL ^ZZLE WIT. 7 1 3 
 
 " Could you — could you take care of such an idiot now, in 
 some spare room up stairs ? " asked Jonas. 
 
 " Me and a friend of mine, one off, one on, could do it, 
 Mr, C'huzzlewit," replied the nurse ; " our charges not bein' 
 high, but wishin' they was lower, and allowance made con- 
 siderin' not strangers. Me and Betsey Prig, sir, would under- 
 take Mr. Chuffey, reasonable," said Mrs. Gamp, looking at 
 him with her head on one side, as if he had been a piece of 
 goods, for which she was driving a bargain ; " and give every 
 satigefaction. Betsey Prig has nussed a many lunacies, and 
 well she knows their ways, which puttin' 'em right close afore 
 the fire, when fractious, is the certainest and most compog- 
 ing." 
 
 While Mrs. Gamp discoursed to this effect, Jonas was 
 walking up and down the room again, glancing covertly at 
 the old clerk, as he did so. He now made a stop, and said : 
 
 " I must look after him, I suppose, or I may have him 
 doing some mischief. What say you ? " 
 
 "^Nothin' more likely ! " Mrs. Gamp replied. " As well I 
 have experienged, I do assure you, sir." 
 
 *' Well ! Look after him for the present, and — let me see 
 — three days from this time let the other woman come here, 
 and we'll see if we can make a bargain of it. About nine or 
 ten o'clock at night, say. Keep your eye upon him in the 
 meanwhile, and don't talk about it. He's as mad as a March 
 hare ! " 
 
 " Madder ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " A deal madder ! " 
 
 " See to him, then ; take care that he does no harm ; and 
 recollect what I have told you." 
 
 Leaving Mrs. Gamp in the act of repeating all she had 
 been told, and of producing in support of her memory and 
 trustworthiness, many commendations selected from among 
 the most remarkable opinions of the celebrated Mrs. Harris, 
 he descended to the little room prepared for him, and pulling 
 off his CO It and his boots, put them outside the door before 
 he locked it. In locking it, he was careful so to adjust the 
 key, as to baffle any curious person wlio might try to peep in 
 through the keyhole ; and when he had taken these precau- 
 tions, he sat down to his supper. 
 
 " Mr. Chuff," he muttered, " it'll be pretty easy to be even 
 with you. It's of no use doing things by halves, and as long 
 as I stop here, I'll take good care of you. When I'm off yon 
 may say what you please. But it's a d — d strange thing,"' he
 
 714 MAR TIX C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 added, pushing away his untouched plate, and striding mood- 
 ily to and fro, " that his drivellings should have taken this 
 turn just now." 
 
 After pacing the room from end to end several times, he 
 sat down in another chair. 
 
 " I say just now, but for anything I know, he may have 
 been carrying on the same game all along. Old dog! He 
 shall be gagged ! " 
 
 He paced the room again in the same restless and 
 unsteady way ; and then sat down upon the bedstead, lean- 
 ing his chin upon his hand, and looking at the table. When 
 he had looked at it for a long time, he remembered his supper • 
 and resuming the chair he had first occupied, began to eat 
 with great rapacity, not like a hungrj^ man, but as if he were 
 determined to do it. He drank too, roundly ; sometimes 
 stopping in the middle of a draught to walk, and change his 
 seat and walk again, and dart back to the table and fall to, in 
 a ravenous hurr)-, as before. 
 
 It was now growing dark. As the gloom of evening, 
 deepening into night, came on, another dark shade emerging 
 from within him seemed to overspread his face, and slowly 
 change it. Slowly, slowly ; darker and darker ; more and 
 more haggard ; creeping over him by little and little ; until it 
 was black night within him and without. 
 
 The room in which he had shut himself up, was on the 
 ground floor, at the back of the house. It was lighted by a 
 dirty skylight, and had a door in the wall, opening into a 'nar- 
 row covered passage or blind-alley, verv' little frequented after 
 five or six o'clock in the evening, and not in much use as a 
 thoroughfare at any hour. But it had an outlet in a neigh- 
 boring street. 
 
 The ground on which this chamber stood, had. at one time, 
 not within his recollection, been a yard ; and had been con- 
 verted to its present purpose, for use as an office. But the 
 occasion for it died with the man who built it ; and saving 
 that it had sometimes served as an apolog\' for a spare bed- 
 room, and that the old clerk had once held it (but that was 
 years ago) as his recognized apartment, it had been little 
 trouble by ,-\nthony Chuzzlewit and Son. It was a blotched, 
 stained, mouldering room, like a vault ; and there were water- 
 pipes running through it, which at unexpected times in the 
 niofht, when other things were quiet, clicked and gurgled 
 suddenly, as if they were choking.
 
 ATA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 7 i ^ 
 
 The door into llie court had not been open for a long, 
 long time ; but the key liad always hung in one place, and 
 there it hung now. He was prepared for its being rusty ; for 
 he had a little bottle of oil in his pocket and the feather of a 
 pen, with which he lubricated the key, and the lock too, care- 
 fully. All this while he had been without his coat, and had 
 nothing on his feet but his stockings. He now got softly into 
 bed, in the same state, and tossed from side to side to tumble 
 it. In his restless condition, that was easily done. 
 
 When he arose, he took from his portmanteau, which l;e 
 had caused to be carried into that place when he came home, 
 a pair of clumsy shoes, and put them on his feet ; also a pair 
 of leather leggings, such as countrymen are used to wear, with 
 straps to fasten them to the waistband. In these he dressed 
 himself at leisure. Lastly, he took out a common frock of 
 coarse dark jean, which he drew over his own underclothing ; 
 and a felt hat — he had purposely left his own up stairs. He 
 then sat himself down by the door, with the key in his hand, 
 waiting. 
 
 He had no light ; the time was dreary, long, and awful. 
 The ringers were practising in a neighboring church, and the 
 clashing of the bells was almost maddening. Curse the 
 clamoring bells, they seemed to know that he was listening 
 at the door, and to proclaim it in a crowd of voices to all the 
 town ! Would they never be still 1 
 
 They ceased at last, and then the silence was so new and 
 terrible that it seemed the prelude to some dreadful noise. 
 Footsteps in the court ! Two men. He fell back from the 
 door on tiptoe, as if they could luue seen him through its 
 wooden panels. 
 
 They passed on, talking (he could make out) about a skel- 
 eton which had been dug up yesterday, in some work of exca- 
 vation near at hand, and was supposed to be that of a mur- 
 dered man. " So murder is not always found out, you see," 
 they said to one another as they turnecl the corner. 
 
 Hush ! 
 
 He put the key into the lock and turned it. The door 
 resisted for a while, but soon came stiffly o\nt\\ ; mingling with 
 the sense of fever in his mouth, a taste of rust, and dust, and 
 earth, and rotting wood. He looked out ; passed out ; locked 
 it after him. 
 
 All was clear and quiet, as he tied away.
 
 7 1 6 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE ENTERPRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS 
 
 FRIEND. 
 
 Did no man passing through the dim streets shrink without 
 knowing why, when he came steaHng up behind them ? As lie 
 glided on, had no child in its sleep an indistinct perception of 
 a guilty shadow falling on its bed, that troubled its innocent 
 rest ? Did no dog howl, and strive to break its rattling chain, 
 that it might tear him ; no burrowing rat, scenting the work 
 he had in hand, essay to gnaw a passage after him, that it 
 might hold a greedy revel at the feast of his providing ? 
 When he looked back, across his shoulder, was it to see if his 
 quick footsteps still fell dry upon the dusty pavement, or were 
 already moist and clogged with the red mire that stained the 
 naked feet of Cain ! 
 
 He shaped his course for the main western road, and soon 
 reached it, riding a part of the way, then alighting and walk- 
 ing on again. He travelled for a considerable distance upon 
 the roof of a stage-coach, which came up while he was a-foot, 
 and when it turned out of his road, bribed the driver of a 
 return post-chaise to take him on with him ; and then made 
 across the countrv' at a run, and saved a mile or two before 
 he struck again into the road. At last, as his plan was, he 
 came up with a certain lumbering, slow, night-coach, which 
 stopped wherever it could, and was stopping then at a public- 
 house, while the guard and coachman ate and drank within. 
 
 He bargained for a seat outside this coach, and took it. 
 And he quitted it no more until it was within a few miles of 
 his destination, but occupied the same place all night. 
 
 All night ! It is a common fancy that nature seems to 
 sleep by night. It is a false fancy, as who should know better 
 than he ? 
 
 The fishes slumbered in the cold, bright, glistening streams 
 and. rivers, perhaps ; and the birds roosted on the branches of 
 the trees ; and in their stalls and pastures beasts were quiet ; 
 and human creatures slept. But what of that, when the solemn 
 night was watching, when it never winked, when its darkness 
 watched no less than its light ! The stately trees, the moon
 
 MAR TIN Ciri 'ZZLE WIT. 
 
 717 
 
 and shining stars, the softly-stirring wind, the over-shadowed 
 lane, the broad, bright country-side, tirev all kept watch. There 
 was not a blade of growing grass or corn, but watched ; and 
 the quieter it was, the more intent and fixed its watch upon 
 him seemed to be. 
 
 And yet he slept. Riding on among those sentinels of 
 God, he slept, and did not change the purpose of his journey. 
 If he forgot it in his troubled dreams, it came up steadily, and 
 woke him. But it never woke him to remorse, or to abandon- 
 ment of his design. 
 
 He dreamed at one time that he was lying calmly in his 
 bed, thinking of a moonlight night and the noise of wheels, 
 when the old clerk put his head in at the door, and beckoned 
 him. At this signal he arose immediately — being already 
 dressed, in the .clothes he actually wore at that time — and ac- 
 companied him into a strange city, where the names of the 
 streets were written on the walls in characters quite new to 
 him ; which gave him no surprise or uneasiness, for he re- 
 membered in his dream to have been there before. Although 
 these streets were very precipitous, insomuch that to get from 
 one to another, it was necessary to descend great heights by 
 ladders that were too short, and ropes that moved deep bells, 
 and swung and swayed as they were clung to, the danger gave 
 him little emotion beyond the first thrill of terror : his anxie- 
 ties being concentrated on his dress, which was quite unfitted 
 for some festival that was about to be holden there, and in 
 which he had come to take a part. Already, great crowds 
 began to fill the streets, and in one direction myriads of peo- 
 ple came rushing down an interminable perspective, strewing 
 flowers and making way for others on white horses, when a 
 terrible figure started from the throng, and cried out that it 
 was the Last Day for all the world. The cry being spread, 
 there was a wild hurrying on to Judgment ; and the press be- 
 came so great that he and his companion (who was constantly 
 changing, and was never the same man two minutes together, 
 though he never saw one man come or another go), stood 
 aside in a porch, fearfully surveying the multitude ; in which 
 there were many faces that he knew, and many that he did 
 not know, but dreamed he did ; when all at once a struggling 
 head rose up among the rest — livid and deadlv, but the same 
 as he had known it — and denounced him as having appointed 
 that direful day to happen. They closed together. As he 
 strove to free the hand in which he held a club, and strike the
 
 7i8 MARTIN CUUZZLEWIT. 
 
 the blow he had so often thought of, he started to the knowl- 
 edge of his waking purpose and the rising of the sun. 
 
 The sun was welcome to him. There were life and mo- 
 tion, and a world astir, to divide the attention of Day. It 
 was the eye of Night : of wakeful, watchful, silent, and atten- 
 ti\e Night, with so much leisure for the observation of his 
 wicked thoughts : that he dreaded most. There is no glare 
 in the night. Even Glory shows to small advantage in the 
 night, upon a crowded battle-field. How then shows Glory's 
 blood-relation, bastard Murder ! 
 
 Ay ! He made no compromise, and held no secret with 
 himself now. Murder. He had come to do it. 
 
 " Let me get down here," he said. 
 
 " Short of the town, eh } " observed the coachman, 
 
 " I may get down where I please, I suppose .'' " 
 
 " You got up to please yourself, and may get down to 
 please yourself. It won't break our hearts to lose you, and it 
 wouldn't have broken 'em if we'd never found you. Be a 
 little quicker. That's all." 
 
 The guard had alighted, and was waiting in the road to 
 take his money. In the jealousy and distrust of what lie con- 
 templated, he thought this man looked at him with more than 
 common curiosity. 
 
 "What are you staring at ? " said Jonas. 
 
 " Not at a handsome man," returned the guard. " If you 
 want your fortune told, I'll tell you a bit of it. You won't be 
 drowned. That's a consolation for you." 
 
 Before he could retort or turn away, the coachman put 
 an end to the dialogue by giving him a cut with his whip, and 
 bid him get out for a surly dog. The guard jumped up to 
 his seat at the same moment, and they drove off, laughing ; 
 leaving him to stand in the road, and shake his fist at them. 
 He was not displeased though, on second thoughts, to have 
 been taken for an ill-conditioned common countr\'-fellow ; but 
 rather congratulated himself upon it as a proof that he was 
 well disguised. 
 
 Wandering into a copse by the road-side — but not in that 
 place : two or three miles off — he tore out from a fence a thick, 
 hard,, knotted stake ; and, sitting down beneath a hay-rick, 
 spent some time in shaping it, in peeling olT the bark, and 
 fashioning its jagged head, with his knife. 
 
 The day passed on. Noon, afternoon, evening. Sunset. 
 
 At that serene and peaceful time two men, riding in a gig,
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE IVIT. 
 
 V9 
 
 came out of the city by a road not much frequented. It was 
 the day on which Mr. Pecksniff had asjreed to dine with Mon- 
 tague. He had kept his appointment, and was now going 
 home. His host was riding with him for a short distance : 
 meaning to return by a pleasant track, which Mr. Pecksniff 
 had engaged to show him, through some fields. Jonas knew 
 their plans. He had hung about the inn-yard while they 
 were at dinner and had heard their orders given. 
 
 They were loud and merry in their conversation, and might 
 have been heard at some distance : far above the sound of 
 their carriage wheels or horses' hoofs. They came on noisily, 
 to where a stile and footpath indicated their point of separa- 
 tion. Here they stoppecl. 
 
 " It's too soon. Much too soon," said Mr. Pecksniff. 
 " But this is the. place, my dear sir. Keep the path, and go 
 straight through the little wood you'll come to. The path is 
 narrower there, but you can't miss it. When shall I see you 
 again .' Soon I hope .'' " 
 
 "I hope so," replied Montague. 
 
 " Good-night ! " 
 
 " Good-night, and a pleasant ride ! " 
 
 So long as Mr. Pecksniff was in sight, and turned his head, 
 at intervals, to salute him, Montague stood in the road smiling, 
 and waving his hand. But when his new partner had disap- 
 peared, and this show was no longer necessary, he sat down 
 on the stile with looks so altered, that he might have grown 
 ten years older in the meantime. 
 
 He was flushed with wine, but not gay. His scheme had 
 succeeded, but he showed no triumph. The effort of sustain- 
 ing his difficult part before his late companion had fatigued 
 him, perhaps, or it may be, that the evening whispered to his 
 conscience, or it may be (as it has been) that a shadowy veil 
 was dropping round him, closing out all thoughts but the 
 presentiment and vague foreknowledge of impending doom. 
 
 If there be fluids, as we know there are, which, conscious 
 of a coming wind, or rain or frost, will shrink and strive to hide 
 themselves in their glass arteries ; may not that subtle liquor 
 of the blood perceive, by properties within itself, that hands 
 are raised to waste and spill it ; and in the veins of men run 
 cold and dull as his did, in that hour ! 
 
 So cold, although the air was warm : so dull, although the 
 sky was bright : that he rose up shivering, from his seat, and 
 hastily resumed his walk. He checked himself as hastily :
 
 po MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 undecided whether to pursue the footpath which was lonely 
 and retired, or to go back by the road. 
 
 He took the footpath. 
 
 The glory of the departing sun was on his face. The 
 music of the birds was in his ears. Sweet wild flowers bloom- 
 ed about him. Thatched roofs of poor men's homes were in 
 the distance ; and an old gray spire, surmounted by a Cross, 
 rose up between him and the coming night. 
 
 He had never read the lesson which these things con- 
 veyed : he had ever mocked and turned away from it \ but, 
 before going down into a hollow place, he looked round, once, 
 upon the evening prospect, sorrowfully. Then he went down, 
 down, down, into the dell. 
 
 It brought him to the wood ; a close, thick, shadowy wood, 
 through which the path went winding on, dwindling away into 
 a slender sheep-track. He paused before entering \ for the 
 stillness of this spot almost daunted him. 
 
 The last rays of the sun were shining in, aslant, making 
 a path of golden light along the stems and branches in its 
 range, which, even as he looked, began to die away, yielding 
 gently to the twilight that came creeping on. It was so very 
 quiet that the soft and stealthy moss about the trunks of some 
 old trees, seemed to have grown out of the silence, and to be 
 its proper offspring. Those other trees which were subdued 
 by blasts of wind in winter time, had not quite tumbled down, 
 but being caught by others, lay all bare and scathed across their 
 leafy arms, as if unwilling to disturb the general repose by 
 the crash of their fall. Vistas of silence opened everywhere, 
 into the heart and innermost recesses of the wood ; beginning 
 with the likeness of an aisle, a cloister, or a ruin open to the 
 sky ; then tangling off into a deep green rustling mystery, 
 through which gnarled trunks, and twisted boughs, and ivy- 
 covered stems, and trembling leaves, and bark-stripped bodies 
 of old trees stretched out at length, were faintly seen in beau- 
 tiful confusion. 
 
 As the sunlight died away, and evening fell upon the 
 wood, he entered it. Moving, here and there, a bramble or a 
 drooping bough wliich stretched across his path, he slowly 
 disappeared. ■ At intervals a narrow opening showed him 
 passing on, or the sliarp cracking of some tender branch de- 
 noted where he went : then, he was seen or heard no more. 
 
 Never more beheld by mortal eye or heard by mortal ear : 
 one man excepted. That man, parting the leaves and branches
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 721 
 
 on the other side, near where the path emerged again, came 
 leaping out soon afterwards. 
 
 What had he left within tlie wood, that he sprang out of 
 it, as if it were a hell ! 
 
 The body of a murdered man. In one thick solitary spot, 
 it lay among the last year's leaves of oak and beech, just as 
 it had fallen headlong down. Sopping and soaking in among 
 the leaves that formed its pillow ; oozing down into the boggy 
 ground, as if to cover itself from human sight ; forcing its way 
 between and through the curling leaves, as if those senseless 
 things rejected and foreswore it, and were coiled up in abhor- 
 rence ; went a dark, dark stain that dyed the whole summer 
 night from earth to heaven. 
 
 The doer of this deed came leaping from the wood so 
 fiercely, that he cast into the air a shower of fragments of 
 young boughs, torn away in his passage, and fell with violence 
 upon the grass. But he quickly gained his feet again, and 
 keeping underneath a hedge with his body bent, went running 
 on towards the road. The road once reached, he fell into a 
 rapid walk, and set on towards London. 
 
 And he was not sorry for what he had done. He was 
 frightened when he thought of it — when did he not think of 
 it ! — but he was not sorrv. He had had a terror and dread 
 of the wood when he was in it ; but being out of it, and hav- 
 ing committed the crime, his fears were now diverted, strangely, 
 to the dark room he had left shut up at home. He had a 
 greater horror, infinitely greater, of that room than of the 
 wood. Now that he was on his return to it, it seemed beyond 
 comparison more dismal and more dreadful than the wood. 
 His hideous secret was shut up in the room, and all its ter- 
 rors were there ; to his thinking it was not in the world at all. 
 
 He walked on for ten miles ; and then stopped at an ale- 
 house for a coach, which he knew would pass through, on its 
 way to London, before long ; and which he also knew was not 
 the coach he had travelled down by, for it came from another 
 place. He sat down outside the door here, on a bench, be- 
 side a man who was smoking his pipe. Having called for 
 some beer, and drunk, he offered it to this companion, who 
 thanked him, and took a draught. He could not help think- 
 ing that, if the man had known all, he might scarcely have 
 relished drinking out of the same cup with him. 
 
 " A fine night, master ! " said this person. " And a rare 
 sunset." 46
 
 72 2 ^^^ ^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " I didn't see it," was his hasty answer. 
 
 " Didn't see it ? " returned the man. 
 
 " How the devil could I see it, if I was asleep ? 
 
 "Asleep! Ay, ay." The man appeared surprised by his 
 unexpected irritability, and saying no more, smoked his pipe in 
 silence. They had not sat very long, when there was a knock- 
 ing within. 
 
 " What's that ? " cried Jonas. 
 
 "Can't say, I'm sure," replied the man. 
 
 He made no further inquiiy, for the last question had es- 
 caped him, in spite of himself. But he was thinking, at the 
 moment, of the closed-up room ; of the possibility of their 
 knocking at the door on some special occasion ; of their being 
 alarmed at receiving no answer ; of their bursting it open ; of 
 their finding the room empty ; of their fastening the door into 
 the court, and rendering it impossible for him to get into the 
 house, without showing himself in the garb he wore ; which 
 would lead to rumor, rumor to detection, detection to death. 
 At that instant, as if by some design and order of circum- 
 stances, the knocking had come. 
 
 It still continued ; like a warning echo of the dread reality 
 he had conjured up. As he could not sit and hear it, he paid 
 for his beer and walked on again. And having slunk about, 
 in places unknown to him, all day ; and being out at night 
 ill a lonely road, in an unusual dress, and in that wandering 
 and unsettled frame of mind ; he stopped more than once 
 to look about him, hoping he might be in a dream. 
 
 Still he was not sorr^^ No. He had hated the man too 
 much, and had been bent, too desperately and too long, on 
 setting himself free. If the thing could have come over again 
 he would have done it again. His malignant and revengeful 
 passions were not so easily laid. There was no more peni- 
 tence or remorse within him now, than there had been when 
 the deed was brewing. 
 
 Dread and fear were upon him. To an extent he had 
 never counted on, and could not manage in the least degree. 
 He was so horribly afraid of that infernal room at home. 
 This made him, in a gloomy, murderous, mad way, not only 
 fearful y^;;- himself but of himself ; for being, as it were, a part 
 of the room : a something supposed to be there, yet missing 
 from it : he invested himself with its mvsterious terrors ; and 
 when he pictured in his mind the ugly chamber, false and 
 quiet, false and quiet, through the dark hours of two nights \
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 723 
 
 and the tumbled bed, and he not in it, though believed to be ; 
 he became in a manner his own ghost and phantom, and was 
 at once the haunting spirit and the haunted man. 
 
 When the coach came up, which it soon did, he got a place 
 outside, and was carried briskly onward towards home. Now, 
 in taking his seat among the people behind, who were chiefly 
 country people, he conceived a fear that they knew of the 
 murder, and would tell him that the body had been found \ 
 which, considering the time and place of the commission of 
 the crime, were e\-ents almost impossible to ha\e happened 
 yet, as he very'well knew. But although he did know it, and 
 had therefore no reason to regard their ignorance as any- 
 thing but the natural sequence to the facts, still this very ig- 
 norance of theirs encouraged him. So far encouraged him, 
 that he beoran to believe the body never would be found, and 
 began to speculate on that probability. Setting off from this 
 point, and measuring time by the rapid hurry of his guilty 
 thoughts, and what had gone before the bloodshed, and the 
 troops of incoherent and disordered images, of which he was 
 the constant prey ; he came by daylight to regard the murder 
 as an old murder, and to think himself comparatively safe, 
 because it had not been discovered yet. Yet ! When the sun 
 which looked into the wood, and gilded with its rising light a 
 dead man's face, had seen that man alive, and sou^iit to win 
 him to a thought of Heaven, on its going down last night ! 
 
 But here were London streets again. Hush ! 
 
 It was but five o'clock. He had time enough to reach his 
 own house unobserved, and before there were many people in 
 the streets, if nothing had happened so far, tending to his 
 discovery. He slipped down from the coach without troubling 
 the driver to stop his horses ; and hurr\-ing across the road, 
 and in and out of ever)' by-way that lay near his course, at 
 length approached his own dwelling. He used additional 
 caution in his immediate neighborhood ; halting first to look 
 all down the street before him ; then gliding swiftly through 
 that one, and stopping to survey the next ; and so on. 
 
 The passage-way was empty when his murderer's face 
 looked into it. He stole on to the door, on tiptoe, as if he 
 dreaded to disturb his own imaginar}' rest. 
 
 He listened. Not a sound. As he turned the key with a 
 trembling hand, and pushed the door softly open with his 
 knee, a monstrous fear beset his mind. 
 
 What if the murdered man were there before him !
 
 724 ^f^R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 He cast a fearful glance all round. But there was nothing 
 there. 
 
 He went in, locked the door, drew the key through and 
 through the dust and damp in the fire-place to sully it again, 
 and hung it up as of old. He took off his disguise, tied it up 
 in a bundle ready for carr}'ing away and sinking in the river 
 before night, and locked it up in a cupboard. These precau- 
 tions taken, he undressed, and went to bed. 
 
 The raging thirst, the fire that burnt within him as he lay 
 beneath the clothes, the augmented horror of the room, when 
 they shut it out from his \-iew ; the agony of listening, in which 
 he paid enforced regard to every sound, and thought the most 
 unlikely one the prelude to that knocking which should bring 
 the news ; the starts with which he left his couch, and looking 
 in the glass, imagined that his deed was broadly written in his 
 face, and lying down and burvdng himself once more beneath 
 the blankets, heard his own heart beating Murder, Murder, 
 Murder, in the bed ; what words can paint tremendous truths 
 like these ! 
 
 The morning advanced. There were footsteps in the 
 house. He heard the blinds drawn up, and shutters opened ; 
 and now and then a stealthy tread outside his own door. He 
 tried to call out, more than once, but his mouth was dry as if 
 it had been filled with sand. At last he sat up in his bed, and 
 cried : 
 
 " Who's there > " 
 
 It was his wife. 
 
 He asked her what it was o'clock ? Nine. 
 
 " Did — did no one knock at my door yesterday ? " he fal- 
 tered. " Something disturbed me ; but unless you had knocked 
 the door down, you would have got no notice from me." 
 
 "No one," she replied. That was well. He had waited, 
 almost breathless, for her answer. It was a relief to hnn, if 
 anything could be. 
 
 *' Mr. Nadgett wanted to see you," she said, " but I told him 
 you were tired, and had requested not to be disturbed. He 
 said it was of little consequence, and went away. As I was 
 opening my window, to let in the cool air, I saw him passing 
 through the street this morning, ver}- early ; but he hasn't 
 been again." 
 
 Passing through the street that morning ? Very early ! 
 Jonas trembled at the thought of having had a narrow chance 
 of seeing him himself : even him, who had no object but to
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 725 
 
 avoid people, and sneak on unobserved, and keep his own 
 secrets : and who saw nothing. 
 
 He called to her to get his breakfast ready, and prepared 
 to go up stairs : attiring himself in the clothes he had taken 
 off when he came into that room, which had been, ever since, 
 outside the door. In his secret dread of meeting the house- 
 hold for the first time, after what he had done, he lingered at 
 the door on slight pretexts that they might see him without 
 looking in his face ; and left it ajar while he dressed ; and 
 called out, to have the windows opened, and the pavement wa- 
 tered, that thev might become accustomed to his voice. Even 
 when he had put off the time, by one means or other, so that 
 he had seen or spoken to them all, he could not muster cour- 
 age for a long while to go in among them, but stood at his 
 own door listening: to the murmur of their distant conversa- 
 
 tion. 
 
 He could not stop there forever, and so joined them. His 
 last glance at the glass had seen a tell-tale face, but that might 
 have been because of his anxious looking in it. He dared 
 not look at them to see if they observed him, but he thought 
 them very silent. 
 
 And whatsoever guard he kept upon himself, he could not 
 help listening, and showing that he listened. Whether he at- 
 tended to their talk, or tried to think of other things, or talked 
 himself, or held his peace, or resolutely counted the dull tick- 
 ings of a hoarse clock, at his back, he always lapsed, as if a spell 
 were on him, into eager listening. For he knew it must come ; 
 and his present punishment, and torture, and distraction, were, 
 to listen for its coming. 
 
 Hush! 
 
 CHAPTER XLVni. 
 
 BEARS TIDINGS OF MARTIN, AND OF MARK, AS WELL AS OF A 
 THIRD PERSON NOT QUITE UNKNOWN TO THE READER. 
 EXHIBITS FILIAL PIETY IN AN UGLY ASPECT ; AND CASTS 
 A DOUBTFUL RAY OF LIGHT UPON A VERY DARK PLACE. 
 
 Tom Pinch and Ruth were fitting at their early breakfast, 
 with the window open, and a row of the freshest little plants
 
 J 26 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 ranged before it on the inside by Ruth's own hands ; and 
 Ruth had fastened a sprig of geranium in Tom's button-hole, 
 to mal<e him very smart and summer-Uke for the day, (it was 
 obliced to be fastened in, or that dear old Tom was certain to 
 lose it) ; and people were crying flowers up and down the street ; 
 and a blundering bee, who had got himself in between the two 
 sashes of the window, was bruising his head against the glass, 
 endeavoring to force himself out into the fine morning, and 
 considering himself enchanted because he couldn't do it ; and 
 the morning was as fine a morning as ever was seen ; and the 
 fragrant air was kissing Ruth and rustling about Tom, as if 
 it said, " How are you, my dears : I came all this way on 
 purpose to salute you ; " and it was one of those glad times 
 when we form, or ought to form, the wish that every one on 
 earth were able to be happy, and catching glimpses of the 
 summer of the heart, to feel the beauty of the summer of the 
 year. 
 
 It was even a pleasanter breakfast than usual : and it was 
 always a pleasant one. For little Ruth had now two pupils 
 to attend, each three times a week, and each two hours at a 
 time ; and besides this, she had painted some screens and 
 card-racks, and, unknown to Tom (was there ever anything so 
 delightful ! ) had walked into a certain shop which dealt in such 
 articles, after often peeping through the window; and had 
 taken courage to ask the mistress of that shop whether she 
 would buy them. And the mistress had not only bought them, 
 but had ordered more ; and that very morning Ruth had made 
 confession of these facts to Tom, and had handed him the 
 money in a little purse she had worked expressly for the pur- 
 pose. They had been in a flutter about this, and perhaps had 
 shed a happy tear or two for anything the history knows to the 
 contrary ; but it was all over now ; and a brighter face than 
 Tom's, or a brighter face than Ruth's the bright sun had not 
 looked on, since he went to bed last night. 
 
 " My dear girl," said Tom, coming so abruptly on the sub- 
 ject that he interrupted himself in the act of cutting a slice of 
 bread, and left the knife sticking in the loaf, " what a queer 
 fellow our landlord is ! I don't believe he has been home once, 
 since he got me into that unsatisfactory scrape. I begin to 
 think he will never come home again. What a mysterious life 
 that man does lead, to be sure ! " 
 
 " Very strange. Is it not, ^Tom ! " 
 
 " Really," said Tom, " I hope it is only strange, I hope
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 727 
 
 there may be nothing wrong in it. Sometimes I begin to be 
 doubtfnl of that. I must have an explanation with him," said 
 Tom, shaking his head as if this were a most tremendous 
 threat, " when I can catch him ! " 
 
 A short double knock at the door put Tom's menacing 
 looks to flight, and awakened an expression of surprise in- 
 stead. 
 
 "Heyday!" said Tom. " An early hour for visitors ! It 
 must be John, I suppose." 
 
 "I — 1 — don't think it was his knock, Tom," observed his 
 little .sister. 
 
 " No ? " said Tom. " It surely can't be my employer, 
 suddenly arrived in town ; directed here by Mr. Fips ; and 
 come for the key of the otiice. It's somebody inquiring for 
 me, I declare ! . Come in, if you please ! " 
 
 But when the person came in, Tom Pinch, instead of say- 
 ing, " Did you wish to speak with me, sir ? " or, '' My name 
 is Pinch, sir : what is your business, may I ask ? " or address- 
 ing him in any such distant terms ; cried out, " Good gracious 
 Heaven ! " and seized him by both hands, with the liveliest 
 manifestations of astonishment and pleasure. 
 
 The visitor was not less moved than Tom himself, and 
 they shook hands a great many times, without another word 
 being spoken on either side. Tom was the hrst to find his 
 voice. 
 
 " Mark Tapley, too ! " said Tom, running towards the 
 door, and shaking hands with somebody else. " My dear 
 Mark, come in. How are you, Mark ! He don't look a day 
 older than he used to do, at the Dragon. How arc you, 
 Mark ! " 
 
 " Uncommonly jolly, sir, thankee," returned Mr. Tapley, 
 all smiles and bows. " I hope I see you well, sir." 
 
 " Good gracious me ! " cried Tom, patting him tenderly 
 on the back. " How delightful it is to hear his old voice 
 again ! My dear Martin, sit down. My sister, Martin. Mr. 
 Chuzzlewit, my love. Mark Tapley from the Dragon, my 
 dear. Good gracious me, what a surprise this is ! Sit down. 
 Lord bless me ! " 
 
 Tom was in such a state of excitement that he couldn't 
 keep himself still for a moment, but was constantly running 
 between Mark and Martin, shaking hands with them alter- 
 nately, and presenting them over and over again to his sister. 
 
 " I remember the day we parted, Martin, as well as if it
 
 728 MARTIN CIICZZLEWn\ 
 
 were yesterday," said Tom. "What a day it was ! and what 
 a passion you were in ! And don't you remember my over- 
 taking you in the road tlaat morning, Mark, when I was going 
 to Salisbury in the gig to fetch him, and you were looking out 
 for a situation ! And don't you recollect the dinner we had 
 at Salisbury. Martin, with John Westlock, eh ? Good gracious 
 me ! Ruth, my dear, Mr. Chuzzlewit. Mark Tapley, my love, 
 from the Dragon. More cups and saucers, if you please. 
 Bless my soul how glad I am to see you both ! " 
 
 And then Tom (as John Westlock had done on his arrival) 
 ran off to the loaf to cut some bread and butter for them ; 
 and before he had spread a single slice, remembered some- 
 thing else, and came running back again to tell it ; and then 
 he shook hands with them again ; and then he introduced his 
 sister again ; and then he did everything he had done already 
 all over again ; and nothing Tom could do, and nothing Tom 
 could say, was half sufficient to express his joy at their safe 
 return. 
 
 Mr. Tapley was the first to resume his composure. In a 
 very short space of time, he was discovered to have somehow 
 installed himself in office as waiter, or attendant upon the 
 party ; a fact which was first suggested to them by his tempo- 
 rary absence in the kitchen, and speedy return with a kettle of 
 boiling water, from which he replenished the tea-pot with a 
 self-possession that was quite his own. 
 
 " Sit down and take your breakfast, Mark," said Tom, 
 " Make him sit down and take his breakfast, Martin." 
 
 "Oh! I gave him up long ago, as incorrigible," Martin re- 
 plied. " He takes his own way, Tom. You would excuse 
 him, Miss Pinch, if you knew his value." 
 
 " She knows it, bless you ! " said Tom. " have told her 
 all about Mark Tapley. Have I not, Ruth.? " 
 
 " Yes, Tom." 
 
 " Not all," returned Martin, in a low voice. " The best of 
 Mark Tapley is only known to one man, Tom ; and but for 
 Mark he would hardly be alive to tell it." 
 
 " Mark ! " said Tom Pinch energetically, " if you don't sit 
 down this minute, I'll swear at you ! " 
 
 " Well, sir," returned Mr. Tapley, " sooner than you should 
 do that, I'll com-ply. It's a considerable invasion of a man's 
 jollity to be made so partickler welcome, but a Werb is a word 
 as signifies to be, to do, or to suiTer (which is all the grammar, 
 and enough too, as ever I was taught) • and if there's a Werb
 
 MARTIX CnUZZLEWIT. 
 
 729 
 
 alive, I'm it. For I'm always a bein', sometimes a doin', and 
 coniinually a sufferin'." 
 
 "Not jolly yet ? " asked Tom, with a smile. 
 
 " Why, I was rather so, over the water, sir," returned Mr. 
 Tapley ; " and not entirely without credit. But Human 
 Natur' is in a conspiracy agin' me ; I can't get on. I shall 
 have to leave it in my will, sir, to be wrote upon my tomb : 
 ' He was a man as might have come out strong if he could 
 have got a chance. But it was denied him.' " 
 
 Mr. Tapley took this occasion of looking about him with a 
 grin, and subsequently attacking the breakfast, with an ap- 
 petite not expressive of blighted hopes, or insurmountable 
 despondency. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Martin drew his chair a little nearer to 
 Tom and his sister, and related to them what had passed at 
 Mr. Pecksniff's house ; adding in few words a general sum- 
 mary of the distresses and disappointments he had vmder- 
 gone since he left England. 
 
 " For your faithful stewardship in the trust I left with you, 
 Tom," he said, " arid for all your goodness and disinterested- 
 ness, I can never thank you enough. When I add Mary's 
 thanks to mine " 
 
 Ah, Tom! The blood retreated from his cheeks, and 
 came rushing back, so violently, that it was pain to feel it ; 
 ease though, ease, compared with the aching of his wounded 
 heart. 
 
 "When I add Mary's thanks to mine," said Martin, "I 
 have made the only poor acknowledgment it is in our power 
 to offer ; but if you knew how much we feel, Tom, you would 
 set some store by it, I am sure." 
 
 And if they had known how much 'l\:)m felt — but that no 
 human creature ever knew — they w(5uld have set some store 
 by him. Indeed they would. 
 
 Tom changed the topic of discourse. He was sorry he 
 could not pursue it, as it gave Martin pleasure ; but he was 
 unable, at that moment. No drop of envy or bitterness was 
 in his soul ; but he could not master the firm utterance of her 
 name. 
 
 He inquired what Martin's projects were. 
 
 " No longer to make your fortune, Tom," said Martin, 
 " but to try and live. I tried that once in London, Tom ; and 
 failed. If you will give me the benefit of your advice and 
 friendly counsel, I may succeed better under your guidance.
 
 73° 
 
 MA R TIN CIIUZZL E IV I T. 
 
 I will do anything, Tom, anything, to gain a livelihood by my 
 own exertions. My hopes do not soar above that, now." 
 
 High-hearted, noble Tom ! Sorry to find the pride of his 
 old companion humbled, and to hear him speaking in this 
 altered strain, at once, at once he drove, from his breast the in- 
 ability to contend with its deep emotions, and spoke out 
 bravely. 
 
 " Your hopes do not soar above that ! " cried Tom. 
 " Yes they do. How can you talk so ! They soar up to the 
 time when you will be happy with her, Martin. They soar up 
 to the time when you will be able to claim her, Martin. They 
 soar up to the time when you will not be able to beliexe that 
 you were ever cast down in spirit, or poor in pocket, Martin. 
 Advice, and friendly counsel ! Why, of course. But you 
 shall have better advice and counsel (though you cannot ha\ e 
 more friendly) than mine. You shall consult John Westlock. 
 We'll go there immediately. It is yet so early that I shall 
 have time to take you to his chambers before I go to business ; 
 they are in my way ; and I can leave you there, to talk o\er 
 your affairs with him. So come along. Come along. I am 
 a man of occupation now, you know," said Tom with his pleas- 
 antest smile ; " and have no time to lose. Your hopes don't 
 soar higher than that ? I dare say they don't. / know you 
 pretty well. They'll be soaring out of sight soon, Martin, and 
 leaving all the rest of us leagues behind." 
 
 " Ay ! But I may be a little changed," said Martin, 
 " since you knew me pretty well, Tom." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed Tom. " Why should you 
 be changed ? You talk as if you were an old man. I never 
 heard such a fellow ! Come to John Westlock's, come. 
 Come along, Mark Tapley. It's Mark's doing, I have no 
 doubt ; and it serves you right for having such a grumbler for 
 your companion." 
 
 " There's no credit to be got through being jolly with you, 
 Mr. Pinch, anyways," said Mark, with his face all wrinkled up 
 with grins. " A parish doctor might be jolly with you. There's 
 nothing short of goin' to the U-nited States for a second trip, 
 as would make it at all creditable to be jolly, after seein' you 
 
 agam 
 
 t 
 
 Tom laughed, and taking leave of his sister, hurried Mark 
 and Martin out into the street, and away to John Westlock's 
 by the nearest road ; for his hour of business was ver)'^ near at 
 hand, and he prided himself on always being exact to his time„
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 7 3 1 
 
 John Westlock was at home, but, strange to say, was rather 
 embarrassed to see them ; and when Tom was about to go into 
 the room where he was breakfasting, said he had a stranger 
 there. It appeared to be a mysterious stranger, for John shut 
 that door as he said it, and led them into the next room. 
 
 He was very much delighted, though, to see Mark Tapley ; 
 and received Martin with his own frank courtesy. But Martin 
 felt that he did not inspire John Westlock with any unusual 
 interest ; and twice or thrice observed that he looked at Tom 
 Pinch doubtfully ; not to say compassionately. He thought 
 and blushed to think that he knew the cause of this. 
 
 " I apprehend you are engaged," said Martin, when Tom 
 had announced the purport of their visit. " If you will allow 
 me to come again at your own time, I shall be glad to do so." 
 
 " I atn engaged," replied John, with some reluctance ; "but 
 the matter on- which I am engaged is one, to say the truth, 
 more immediately demanding your knowledge than mine." 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Martin. 
 
 "It relates to a member of your family, and is of a serious 
 nature. If you will have the kindness to remain here, it will 
 be a satisfaction to me to have it privately communicated to 
 you, in order that you may judge of its importance for your- 
 self." 
 
 " And in the meantime," said Tom, " I must really take 
 myself off, without any further ceremony." 
 
 "Is your business so ver)' particular," asked Martin, "that 
 you cannot remain with us for half an hour .'' I wish you 
 could. What is your business, Tom ? " 
 
 It was Tom's turn to be embarrassed now ; but he plainly 
 said, after a little hesitation : 
 
 " Why, I am not at liberty to say what it is, Martin : 
 though I hope soon to be in a condition to do so, and am 
 aware of no other reason to prevent my doing so now, than 
 the request of my employer. It's an awkward position to be 
 placed in," said Tom, with an uneasy sense of seeming to 
 doubt his friend, " as I feel every day ; but I really cannot 
 help it, can 1, John t " 
 
 John Westlock replied in the negative ; and Martin, ex- 
 pressing himself perfectly satisfied, begged them not to say 
 another word : though he could not help wondering very 
 much, what curious office Tom held, and why he was so secret, 
 and embarrassed, and unlike himself, in reference to it. Nor 
 could he help reverting to it, in his own mind, several times
 
 ^32 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 after Tom went away, which he did as soon as this conversa- 
 tion was ended, taking Mr. Tapley with him, who, as he 
 laughingly said, might accompany him as far as Fleet Street, 
 without injury. 
 
 " And what do you mean to do, Mark ? " asked Tom, as 
 they walked on together. 
 
 '" Mean to do, sir ? " returned Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " Ay. What course of life do you mean to pursue ? ' 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mr. Tapley. "The fact is, that I have 
 been a-thinking rather of the matrimonial line, sir." 
 
 " You don't say so, Mark ! " cried Tom. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I've been a-turnin' of it over." 
 
 " And who is the ladv, Mark ? " 
 
 " The which, sir ? " said Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " The lady. Come ! You know what I said," replied 
 Tom, laughing, " as well as I do ! " 
 
 Mr. Tapley suppressed his own inclination to laugh ; and 
 with one of his most whimsically-twisted looks, replied, 
 
 " You couldn't guess I suppose, Mr. Pinch ? " 
 
 " How is it possible ? " said Tom. " I don't know any of 
 your flames, Mark. Except Mrs. Lupin, indeed." 
 
 " Well, sir ! " retorted Mr. Tapley. " And supposing it 
 was her ! " 
 
 Tom stopping in the street to look at him, Mr. Tapley for 
 a moment presented to his view, an utterly stolid and expres- 
 sionless face : a perfect dead wall of countenance. But 
 opening window after window in it, with astonishing rapidity, 
 and lighting them all up as for a general illumination, he 
 repeated : 
 
 " Supposin', for the sake of argument, as it was her, sir ! " 
 
 " Why, I thought such a connexion wouldn't suit you, 
 Mark, on any terms ! " cried Tom. 
 
 "Well, sir, I used to think so myself, once," said Mark. 
 " But I ain't so clear about it now, A dear, sweet creetur, 
 sir ! '' 
 
 " A dear, sweet creature ? To be sure she is," cried Tom. 
 " But she always was a dear sweet creature, was she not ? " 
 
 " Was she not ! " assented Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " Then why on earth didn't you marr}' her at first, Mark, 
 instead of wandering abroad, and losing all this time, and 
 leaving her alone by herself, liable to be courted by other 
 people ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," retorted Mr. Tapley, in a spirit of unbounded
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 733 
 
 confidence, " I'll tell you how it come about. You know nie, 
 Mr. Pinch, sir ; there ain't a gentleman alive as knows me 
 better. You're acquainted with my constitution, and you're 
 acquainted with my weakness. My constitution is, to be 
 jolly ; and my weakness is, to wish to find a credit in it. 
 Wery good, sir. In this state of mind, I gets a notion in my 
 head' that she looks on me with a eye of — with what you may 
 call a favorable sort of a eye in fact," said Mr. Tapley, with 
 modest hesitation. 
 
 " No doubt," replied Tom. " We knew that perfectly 
 well when we spoke on this subject long ago ; before you left 
 the Dragon." 
 
 Mr. Tapley nodded assent. " Well sir ! But bein" _ at 
 that time fulTof hopeful wisions, I arrives at the conclusion 
 that no credit is to be got out of such a way of life as that, 
 where everv'thing agreeable would be ready to one's hand. 
 Lookin' on 'the bright side of human life in short, one of my 
 hopeful wisions is, that there's a deal of misery a-waitin' for 
 me ; in the midst of which I may come out tolerable strong, 
 and be jolly under circumstances as reflects some credit. I 
 goes into the world, sir, wer)' boyant, and I tries this. I goes 
 aboard ship first, and wery soon disco\ers (by the ease with 
 which I'm jolly, mind you)' as there's no credit to be got there. 
 I might have' took warning by this, and gave it up ; but I 
 didn't. I gets to the U-nited States ; and then I do begin, I 
 won't deny it, to feel some little credit in sustaining my spirits. 
 What follows ? Jest as I'm beginning to come out, and am a 
 treadin' on the werge, my master deceives me." 
 
 " Deceives you ! " cried Tom. 
 
 " Swindles me," retorted Mr. Tapley with a beaming face. 
 " Turns his back on ev'ry thing as made his service a credit- 
 able one, and leaves me, high and dry, without a leg to stand 
 upon. In which state, I returns home. Wery good. Then 
 all my hopeful wisions bein' crushed ; and findin' that there 
 ain't no credit forme nowhere; I abandons myself to despair, 
 and says, ' Let me do that as has the least credit in it, of all ; 
 marry a dear, sweet creetur, as is wery fond of me : me being, 
 at the same time, wery fond of her : lead a happy life, and 
 struggle no more again' the blight which settles on my pros- 
 pects." 
 
 "If your philosophy, Mark," said Tom, who lauglied 
 heartily at this speech, " be the oddest I ever heard of, it is 
 not the least wise. Mrs. Lupin has said ' yes,' of course? "
 
 734 
 
 MA R TIIV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Why, no, sir," replied Mr. Tapley ; " she hasnt gone so 
 far as that yet. Which I attribute principally to my not 
 havin' asked her. But we was wery agreeable together — ■ 
 comfortable, I may say — the night I come home. It's all 
 right, sir." 
 
 ''Well!" said Tom, stopping at the Temple Gate. "I 
 wish you joy, Mark, with all my heart. I shall see you again 
 to-day, I dare say. Good-by for the present." 
 
 " Good-by, sir ! Good-by, Mr. Pinch ! " he added, by way 
 of soliloquy, as he stood looking after him: "although you 
 are a damper to a honorable ambition. You little think it, 
 but you was the first to dash my hopes. Pecksniff would 
 have built me up for life, but your sweet temper pulled me 
 down. Good-by, Mr. Pinch ! " 
 
 While these confidences were interchanged between Tom 
 Pinch and Mark, Martin and John Westlock were very differ- 
 endy engaged. They were no sooner left alone together than 
 Martin said, with an effort he could not disguise : 
 
 " Mr. Westlock, we have met only once before, but you 
 have known Tom a long while, and that seems to render you 
 familiar to me. I cannot talk freely with you on any subject 
 unless I relieve my mind of what oppresses it just now. I 
 see with pain that you so far mistrust me that you think me 
 likely to impose on Tom's regardlessness of himself, or on his 
 kind nature, or some of his good qualities." 
 
 " I had no intention," repliecl John, " of conveying any 
 such impression to you, and am exceedingly sorry to have 
 done so." 
 
 " But you entertain it t " said Martin. 
 
 " You ask me so pointedly and directly," returned the 
 other, " that I cannot deny the having accustomed myself to 
 regard you as one who, not in wantonness but in mere thought- 
 lessness of character, did not sufficiently consider his nature 
 and did not quite treat it as it deserves to be treated. It is 
 much easier to slight than to appreciate Tom Pinch." 
 
 This was not said warmly, but was energetically spoken 
 too ; for there was no subject in the world (but one) on which 
 the speaker felt so strongly. 
 
 "I grew into the knowledge of Tom," he pursued, "as I 
 grew towards manhood ; and I have learned to love him as 
 something infinitely better than myself. I did not think that 
 you understood him when we met before, f did not think 
 that you greatly cared to understand him. The instances of
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 735 
 
 this which I observed in you, were, like my opportunities for 
 observation, very trivial — and were very harmless I dare say. 
 But they were not agreeable to me, and they forced them- 
 selves upon me ; for I was not upon the watch for them, be- 
 lieve me. You will say," added John, with a smile, as he sub- 
 sided into more of his accustomed manner, " that I am not by 
 any means agreeable to you. I can only assure you, in reply, 
 that I would not have originated this topic on any account." 
 
 "I originated it," said Martin ; "and so far from ha\ing 
 any complaint to make against you, highly esteem the friend 
 ship you entertain for Tom, and the veiy many proofs you 
 have given him of it. Why should I endeavor to conceal 
 from you " — he colored deeply though — " that I neither under- 
 stood him nor cared to understand him when I was his com- 
 panion ; and that I am ver}- truly sorry for it now ! " 
 
 It was so sincerely said, at once so modestly and manfully, 
 that John offered him his hand as if he had not done so before ; 
 and Martin giving his in the same open spirit, all constraint 
 between the young men vanished. 
 
 " Now pray," said John, "when I tire your patience very 
 much in what I am going to say, recollect that it has an end 
 to it, and that the end is the point of the story." 
 
 With this preface, he related all the circumstances con- 
 nected with his having presided over the illness and slow re- 
 cover)'- of the patient at the \\\\^\ ; and tacked on to the skirts 
 of that narrative Tom's own account of the business on the 
 wharf. Martin was not a little puzzled when he came to an 
 end, for the two stories seemed to have no connection with 
 each other, and to leave him, as the phrase is, all abroad. 
 
 " If you will excuse me for one moment," said John, 
 rising, " I will beg you almost immediately to come into the 
 next room." 
 
 Upon that, he left Martin to himself, in a state of consider- 
 able astonishment ; and soon came back again to fulfil his 
 promise. Accompanying him into the next room, Martin 
 found there a third person ; no doubt the stranger of whom 
 his host had spoken when Tonr Pinch introduced him. 
 
 He was a young man ; with deep black hair and eyes. 
 He was gaunt and pale ; and evidently had not long recovered 
 from a severe illness. He stood as Martin entered, but sat 
 again at John's desire. His eyes were cast downward ; and 
 but for one glance at them both, half in humiliation and half 
 in entreaty, he kept them so, and sat quite still and silent.
 
 736 MAR TIN- CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " This person's name is Lewsome," said John Westlock, 
 " whom I liave mentioned to you as having been seized with 
 an iUness at the inn near here, and undergone so much. He 
 has had a very hard time of it, ever since he began to recover ; 
 but, as you see, he is now doing well." 
 
 As he did not move or speak, and John Westlock made a 
 pause, Martin, not knowing what to say, said that he was glad 
 to hear it. 
 
 The short statement that I wish you to hear from his own 
 lips, Mr. Chuzzlewit," John pursued, looking attentively at 
 him, and not at Martin, " he made to me for the first time 
 yesterday, and repeated to me this morning, without the least 
 variation of any essential particular. I have already told you 
 that he informed me before he was removed from the Inn, that 
 he had a secret to disclose to me which lay heavy on his mind. 
 But, fluctuating between sickness and health, and between his 
 desire to relieve himself of it, and his dread of involving him- 
 self by revealing if, he has, until yesterday, avoided the dis- 
 closure. I never pressed him for it (having no idea of its 
 weight or import, or of my right to do so), until within a few 
 days past ; when, understanding from him, on his own volun- 
 tary avowal, in a letter from the country, that it related to a 
 person whose name was Jonas Chuzzlewit ; and thinking that 
 it might throw some light on that little mystery which made 
 Tom anxious now and then ; I urged the point upon him, and 
 heard his statement, as you will now, from his own lips. It is 
 due to him to say, that in the apprehension of death, he com- 
 mitted it to writing sometime since, and folded it in a sealed 
 paper, addressed to me : which he could not resolve, however, 
 to place of his own act in my hands. He has the paper in his 
 breast, I believe, at this moment." 
 
 The young man touched it hastily, in corroboration of the 
 fact. 
 
 " It will be well to leave that in our charge, perhaps," 
 said John. " But do not mind it now." 
 
 As he said this, he held up his hand to bespeak Martin's 
 attention. It was already fixed upon the man before him, 
 who, after a short silence said, in a low, weak, hollow voice : 
 
 " What relation was Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewit, who — " 
 
 " — Who died — to me ? " said Martin. " He was my grand- 
 father's brother." 
 
 " I fear he was made awav with. Murdered ! " 
 
 " My God ! " said Martin.' " By whom .? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 737 
 
 The young man Lewsome, looked up in his face, and cast- 
 ing down his eyes again, replied : 
 
 " I fear, by me." 
 
 '' By you ? " cried Martin. 
 
 " Not by my act, but I fear by my means." 
 
 " Speak out ! " said Martin, " and speak the truth." 
 
 " I fear this is the truth." 
 
 Martin was about to interrupt him again, but John West- 
 lock saying softly, " Let him tell his story in his own way," 
 Lewsome went on thus : 
 
 " I have been bred a surgeon, and for the last few years 
 have served a general practitioner in the City, as his assistant. 
 While I was in his employment I became acquainted with 
 Jonas Chuzzlewit. He is the principal in this deed." 
 
 '• What do you mean ? " demanded Martin, sternly. " Do 
 you know he is the son of the old man of whom you have 
 spoken ? " 
 
 " I do," he answered. 
 
 He remained silent for some moments, when he resumed 
 at the point where he had left off. 
 
 " I have reason to know it ; for I have often heard him 
 wish his old father dead, and complain of his being wearisome 
 to him, and a drag upon him. He was in the habit of doing 
 so, at a place of meeting we had — three or four of us — at 
 night. There was no good in the place, you may suppose, 
 when you hear that he was the chief of the party. I wish I 
 had died mvself, and never seen it ! " 
 
 He stopped again ; and again resumed as before. 
 
 " We met to drink and game ; not for large sums, but for 
 sums that were large to us. He generally won. Whether or 
 no, he lent money at interest to those who lost; and in this 
 way, though I think we all secretly hated him, he came to be 
 the master of us. To propitiate him, we made a jest of his 
 father : it began with his debtors ; I was one : and we used to 
 toast a quicker journey to the old man, and a swift inheritance 
 to the young one." 
 
 He paused again. 
 
 " One night he came there in a very bad humor. He had 
 been greatly tried, he said, by the old man that day. He and 
 I were alone together : and he angrily told me, that the old 
 man was in his second childhood ; that he was weak, imbecile, 
 and drivelling ; as unbearable to himself as he was to other 
 people ; and that it would be a charity to put him out of the 
 
 47
 
 738 
 
 MA R TIN' CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 way. He swore that he had often thought of mixing some- 
 thing with the stuff he took for his cough, which should help 
 him to die easily. People were sometimes smothered who 
 were bitten by mad dogs, he said ; and why not help these 
 lingering old men out of their troubles too t He looked full 
 at me as he said so, and I looked full at him ; but it went no 
 farther that night." 
 
 He stopped once more, and was silent for so long an in- 
 terval that John Westlock said " Go on." Martin had never 
 removed his eyes from his face, but was so absorbed in horror 
 and astonishment, that he could not speak. 
 
 " It may have been a week after that, or it may have been 
 less, or more — the matter was in my mind all the time, but I 
 cannot recollect the time, as I should any other period: — when 
 he spoke to me again. We were alone then, too ; being there 
 before the usual hour of assembling. There was no appoint- 
 ment between us ; but I think I went there to meet him, and 
 I know he came there to meet me. He was there first. He 
 was reading a newspaper when I went in, and nodded to me 
 without looking up, or leaving . off reading. I sat down 
 opposite and close to him. He said, immediately, that he 
 wanted me to get him some of two sorts of drugs. One that 
 was instantaneous in its effect ; of which he wanted very little. 
 One that was slow, and not suspicious in appearance ; of which 
 he wanted more. While he was speaking to me he still read 
 the newspaper. He said ' Drugs,' and never used any other 
 word. Neither did I." 
 
 " This all agrees with what I have heard before," observed 
 John Westlock. 
 
 " I asked him what he wanted the drugs for ? He said for 
 no harm ; to physic cats ; what did it matter to me .'' I was 
 going out to a distant colony (I had recently got the appoint- 
 ment, which, as Mr. Westlock knows, I have since lost by my 
 sickness, and which was my only hope of salvation from ruin), 
 and what did it matter to me t He could get them without 
 my aid at half a hundred places, but not so easily as he could 
 get them of me. This was true. He might not want them at 
 all, he said, and he had no present idea of using them ; but 
 he wished to have them by him. All th'is time he still read 
 the newspaper. We talked about the price. He was to for- 
 give me a small' debt — I was quite in his power — and to pay 
 me five pounds ; and there the matter dropped, through others 
 coming in. But, next night, under exactly similar circum-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 /o9 
 
 stances, I gave him the drugs, on his saying I was a fool to 
 think that he should ever use them for any harm ; and he gave 
 me the money. W'e ha\e never met since. I only know that 
 the poor old father died soon afterwards, just as he would 
 have died from this cause ; and that I ha\e undergone, and 
 suffer now, intolerable miser}^ Nothing," he added, stretching 
 out his hands, " can paint my misery ! It is well deserved, but 
 nothing can paint it." 
 
 With that he hung his head, and said no more. Wasted 
 and wretched, he was not a creature upon whom to heap re- 
 proaches that were una\'ailing. 
 
 " Let him remain at hand," said Martin, turning from him ; 
 " but out of sight, in Heaven's name ! " 
 
 "He will remain here," John whispered, ''Come with 
 me ! " Softly turning the key upon him as they went out, he 
 conducted Martin into the adjoining room, in which they had 
 been before. 
 
 Martin was so amazed, so shocked, and confounded by 
 what he had heard, that it was some time before he could re- 
 duce it to any order in his mind, or could sufificiently compre- 
 hend the bearing of one part upon another, to take in all the 
 details at one view. When he, at length, had the whole 
 narrative clearly before him, John Westlock went on to point 
 out the great probability of the guilt of Jonas being known to 
 other people, who traded in it for their own benefit, and who 
 were, by such means, able to exert that control over him which 
 Tom Pinch had accidentally witnessed, and unconsciously 
 assisted. This appeared so plain, that they agreed upon it 
 without difficulty ; but instead of deriving the least assistance 
 from this source, they found that it embarrassed them the 
 more. 
 
 They knew nothing of the real parties, who possessed this 
 power. The only person before them was Tom's landlord. 
 They had no right to question Tom's landlord, even if the}' 
 could hnd him, which, according to Tom's account, it would 
 not be easy to do. And granting that they did question him, 
 and he answered (which was taking a good deal for granted), 
 he had only to say, with reference to the adventure on the 
 wharf, that he had been sent from such and such a place to 
 summon Jonas back on urgent business, and there was an end 
 of it. 
 
 Besides, there was the great difficulty and responsibility of 
 moving at all in the matter. Lewsome's stor}' might be false ;
 
 740 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 in his wretched state it might be greatly heightened by a 
 diseased brain ; or admitting it to be entirely true, the old 
 man might have died a natural death. Mr. Pecksniff had 
 been there at the time ; as Tom immediately remembered, 
 when he came back in the afternoon, and shared their counsels ; 
 and there had been no secrecy about it. Martin's grandfather 
 was of right the person to decide upon the course that should 
 be taken ; but to get at his views would be impossible, for 
 Mr. Pecksniff's views were certain to be his. And the nature 
 of Mr. Pecksniff's views in reference to his own son-in-law, 
 might be easily reckoned upon. 
 
 Apart from these considerations, Martin could not endure 
 the thought of seeming to grasp at this unnatural charge 
 against his relative, and using it as a stepping-stone to his 
 grandfather's favor. But, that he would seem to do so, if he 
 presented himself before his grandfather in Mr. Pecksniff's 
 house again, for the purpose of declaring it ; and that Mr. 
 Pecksniff, of all men, would represent his conduct in that 
 despicable light, he perfectly well knew. On the other hand, 
 to-be in possession of such a statement, and take no measures 
 of further inquiry in reference to it, was tantamount to being 
 a partner in the guilt it professed to disclose. 
 
 In a word, they were wholly unable to discover any outlet 
 from this maze of difficulty, which did not lie through some 
 perplexed and entangled thicket. And although Mr. Tapley 
 was promptly taken into their confidence ; and the fertile 
 imagination of that gentleman suggested many bold expedients, 
 which, to do him justice, he was quite ready to carry into 
 instant operation on his own personal responsibility ; still, 
 'bating the general zeal of Mr. Tapley's nature, nothing was 
 made particularly clearer by these offers of service. 
 
 It was in this position of affairs that Tom's account of the 
 strange behavior of the decayed clerk, on the night of the tea- 
 party, became of great moment, and finally convinced them 
 that to arrive at a more accurate knowledge of the workings 
 of that old man's mind and memory, would be to take a most 
 important stride in their pursuit of the truth. So, having first 
 satisfied themselves that no communication had ever taken 
 place between Lewsome and Mr. Chuffey (which would have 
 accounted at once for any suspicion the latter might enter- 
 tain), they unanimously resolved that the old clerk was the 
 rnan they wanted. 
 
 But, lik» the unanimous resolution of a public meeting,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 741 
 
 which will oftentimes declare that this or that grievance is not 
 to be borne a moment longer, which is nevertheless borne for 
 a centur}^ or two afterwards, without any modification, the}' only 
 reached in this the conclusion that they were all of one mind. 
 For, it was one thing to want Mr. Chuff ey, and another thing 
 to get at him ; and to do that without alarming him, or without 
 alarming Jonas, or without being discomfited by the difficulty 
 of striking, in an instrument so out of tune and so unused, 
 the note they sought, was an end as far from their reach as 
 ever. 
 
 The question then became, who of those about the old 
 clerk had had most influence with him that night ? Tom said 
 his young mistress clearly. But Tom and all of them shrunk 
 from the thought of entrapping her, and making her the inno- 
 cent means of bringing retribution on her cruel husband. 
 Was there nobody else .-• Why yes. In a very different way, 
 Tom said, he was influenced by Mrs. Gamp, the nurse, who 
 had once had the control of him, as he understood for some 
 time. 
 
 They caught at this immediately. Here was a new way out, 
 developed in a quarter until then overlooked. John Westlock 
 knew Mrs. Gamp ; he had given her employment ; he was ac- 
 quainted with her place of residence, for that good lady had 
 obligingly furnished him, at parting, with a pack of her pro- 
 fessional cards for general distribution. It was decided that 
 Mrs. Gamp should be approached with caution, but approached 
 without delay ; and that the depths of that discreet matron's 
 knowledge of Mr. Chuffey, and means of bringing them or 
 one of them, into communication with him, should be care- 
 fully sounded. 
 
 On this service, Martin and John Westlock determined to 
 proceed that night ; waiting on Mrs. Gamp first, at her lodg- 
 ings, and taking their chance of finding her in the repose of 
 private life, or of having to seek her out, elsewhere, in the ex- 
 ercise of her professional duties. Tom returned home, that 
 he might lose no opportunity of having an interview with 
 Nadgett, by being absent in the event of his reappearance. 
 And Mr. Tapley remained (by his own particular desire) for 
 the time being in Furnixal's Inn, to look after Lewsome ; who 
 might safely have been left to himself, however, for any thought 
 he seemed to entertain of giving them the slip. 
 
 Before they parted on their several errands, they caused 
 him to read aloud, in the presence of them all, the papei
 
 742 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 which he had about him, and the declaration he had attached 
 to it, which was to the effect, that he had written it voluntarily, 
 in the fear of death and in the torture of his mind. And 
 when he had done so, they all signed it, and taking it from 
 him, of his free will locked it in a place of safety. 
 
 Martin also wrote, by John's advice, a letter to the trus- 
 tees of the famous Grammar School, boldly claiming the suc- 
 cessful design as his, and charging Mr. Pecksniff with the 
 fraud he had committed. In this proceeding also, John was 
 hotly interested : observing with his usual irreverence, that 
 Mr. Pecksniff had been a successful rascal all his life through, 
 and that it would be a lasting source of happiness to him 
 (John) if he could help to do him justice in the smallest par- 
 ticular. 
 
 A busy day ! But Martin had no lodgings yet ; so when 
 these matters were disposed of, he excused himself from din- 
 ing with John Westlock and was fain to wander out alone, 
 and look for some. He succeeded, after great trouble, in en- 
 gaging two garrets for himself and Mark, situated in a court 
 in the Strand, not far from Temple Bar. Their luggage, 
 which was waiting for them at a coach-office, he conveyed to 
 this new place of refuge ; and it was with a glow of satisfaction, 
 which as a selfish man he never could have known and never 
 had, that, thinking how much pains and trouble he had saved 
 Mark, and how pleased and astonished Mark would be. he 
 afterwards walked up and down, in the Temple, eating a meat- 
 pie for his dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 IN WHICH MRS. HARRIS, ASSISTED BY A TEAPOT, IS THE CAUSE 
 OF A DIVISION BETWEEN FRIENDS. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate Street, High Hol- 
 born, wore, metaphorically speaking, a robe of state. It was 
 swept and garnished for the reception of a visitor. That 
 visitor was Betsey Prig : Mrs. Prig, of Bartlemy's, or as some 
 said Barklemy's, or as some said Bardlemy's : for by all these 
 endearing and familiar appellations, had the hospital of Saint
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 743 
 
 Bartholomew become a household word among the sisterhood 
 which Betsey Prig adorned. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp's apartment was not a spacious one, but, to 
 a contented mind, a closet is a palace ; and the first-floor front 
 at Mr. Sweedlepipe's may have been, in the imagination of 
 Mrs. Gamp, a stately pile. If it were not exactly that,_ to 
 restless intellects, it at least comprised as much accommodation 
 as any person, not sanguine to insanity, could have looked 
 for in a room of its dimensions. For only keep the bedstead 
 always in your mind, and you were safe. That was the 
 grand secret. Remembering the bedstead you might even 
 stoop to look under the little round table for anything you 
 had dropped, without hurting yourself much against the chest 
 of drawers, or qualifying as a patient of Saint Bartholomew, 
 by falling into the fire. 
 
 Visitors were much assisted in their cautious efforts to pre- 
 serve an unflagging recollection of this piece of furniture, by 
 its size, which was great. It was not a turn-up bedstead, nor 
 yet a French bedstead, nor yet a four-post bedstead, but what 
 is poetically called a tent : the sacking whereof, was low and 
 bulgy, insomuch that Mrs. Gamp's box would not go under it, 
 but stopped half way, in a manner which while it did violence 
 to reason, likewise endangered the legs, of a stranger. The 
 frame too, which would have supported the canopy and hang- 
 ings if there had been any, was ornamented with divers pip- 
 pins carved in timber, which on the slightest provocation, and 
 frequently on none at all, came tumbling down ; harassing the 
 peaceful guest with inexplicable terrors. 
 
 The bed itself was decorated with a patchwork quilt of 
 great Antiquity ; and at the upper end, upon tlie side nearest 
 to the door, hung a scanty curtain of blue check, which pre- 
 vented the Zephyrs that were abroad in Kingsgate Street, from 
 visiting Mrs. Gamp's head too roughly. Some rusty gowns 
 and other articles of that lady's wardrobe depended from the 
 posts ; and these had so adapted themselves by long usage to 
 her figure, that more than one impatient husband coming in 
 precipitately, at about the time of twilight, had been for an 
 instant stricken dumb by the supposed discovery that Mrs. 
 Gamp had hanged herself. One gentleman, coming on the usual 
 hasty errand, had said indeed, that they looked like guardian 
 angels " watching of her in her sleep." But that, as Mrs. 
 Gamp said, "was his first ;" and he never repeated the senti- 
 ment, though he often repeated his visit.
 
 ^44 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 The chairs in Mrs. Gamp's apartment were extremely large 
 and broad-backed, which was more than a sufficient reason for 
 there being but two in number. They were both elbow-chairs, 
 of ancient mahogany ; and were chiefly valuable for the slip- 
 pery nature of their seats, which had been originally horse- 
 hair, but were now covered with a shiny substance of a bluish 
 tint, from which the visitor began to slide away with a dis- 
 mayed countenance, immediately after sitting down. What 
 Mrs. Gamp wanted in chairs she made up in bandboxes ; of 
 which she had a great collection, devoted to the reception of 
 various miscellaneous valuables, which were not, however, as 
 well protected as the good woman, by a pleasant fiction, 
 seemed to think ; for, though every bandbox had a carefully 
 closed lid, not one among them had a bottom : owing to 
 which cause, the property within was merely, as it were, ex- 
 tinguished. The chest of drawers having been originally 
 made to stand upon the top of another chest, had a dwarfish, 
 elfin look, alone ; but, in regard of its security it had a great 
 advantage over the bandboxes, for as all the handles had 
 been long ago pulled off, it was ver}^ difficult to get at its con- 
 tents. This indeed was only to be done by one of two devices ; 
 either by tilting the whole structure forward until all the 
 drawers fell out together, or by opening them singly with 
 knives, like oysters. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp stored all her household matters in a little cup- 
 board by the fireplace ; beginning below the surface (as in 
 nature) with the coals, and mounting gradually upwards to the 
 spirits, which, from motives of delicacy, she kept in a tea-pot. 
 The chimney-piece was ornamented with a small almanac, 
 marked here and there in Mrs. Gamp's own hand, with a 
 memorandum of the date at which some lady was expected to 
 fall due. It was also embellished with three profiles : one, in 
 colors, of Mrs. Gamp herself in early life ; one, in bronze, of 
 a lady in feathers, supposed to be Mrs. Harris, as she ap- 
 peared when dressed for a ball ; and one, in black, of Mr. 
 Gamp, deceased. The last was a full length, in order that the 
 likeness might be rendered more obvious and forcible, by the 
 introductiton of the wooden leg. 
 
 A pair of bellows, a pair of pattens, a toasting-fork, a 
 kettle, a pap-boat, a spoon for the administration of medicine 
 to the refractory, and lastly, Mrs. Gamp's umbrella, which as 
 something of great price and rarity was displayed with par 
 ticular ostentation, completed the decorations of the chimney-
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 745 
 
 piece and adjacent wall. Towards these objects, Mrs. Gamp 
 raised her eyes in satisfaction when she had arranged the tea- 
 board, and had concluded her arrangements for the reception 
 of Betsey Prig, even unto the setting forth of two joounds of 
 Newcastle salmon, intensely pickled. 
 
 " There ! Now drat you, Betsey, don't be long ! " said 
 Mrs, Gamp, apostrophizing her absent friend. " For I can't 
 abear to wait, I do assure you. To wotever place I goes, I 
 sticks to this one mortar. ' I'm easy pleased ; it is but little as 
 I wants ; but I must have that little of the best, and to the 
 minute when the clock strikes, else we do not part as I could 
 wish, but bearin' malice in our arts.' " 
 
 Her own preparations were of the best, for they compre- 
 hended a delicate new loaf, a plate of fresh butter, a basin of 
 fine white sugar, and other arrangements on the same scale. 
 Even the snuff with which she now refreshed herself, was so 
 choice in quaUty, that she took a second pinch. 
 
 "There's the little bell a ringing now," said Mrs. Gamp, 
 hurrying to the stairhead and looking over. " Betsey Prig, 
 my — why it's that there disapintin' Sweedlepipes, I do believe." 
 
 " Yes, it's me," said the barber in a faint voice ; "I've 
 just come in." 
 
 " You're always a comin' in, I think," muttered Mrs. 
 Gamp to herself, " except wen you're a-going out. I ha'n't no 
 patience with that man ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Gamp," said the barber. " I say ! Mrs. Gamp ! " 
 
 "Well," cried Mrs. Gamp, impatiently, as she descended 
 the stairs. " What is it .'' Is the Thames a-fire, and cooking 
 its own fish, Mr. Sweedlepipe ? Why wot's the man gone 
 and been a-doin' of to himself .'' Pie's as white as chalk ! " 
 
 She added the latter clause of inquiry, when she got down 
 stairs, and found him seated in the shaving-chair, pale and 
 disconsolate. 
 
 "You recollect," said Poll. " You recollect young — " 
 
 "Not young Wilkins ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. "Don't say 
 young Wilkins, wotever you do. If young Wilkins's wife is 
 took—" 
 
 " It isn't anybody's wife," exclaimed the little barber. 
 " Bailey, young Bailey ! " 
 
 " Why, wot do you mean to say that chit's been a-doin' 
 of ? " retorted Mrs. Gamp, sharply. " Stuff and nonsense, 
 Mr. Sweedlepipes ! " 
 
 " He hasn't been a-doing anything ! " exclaimed poor Poll,
 
 746 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 quite desperate. " What do you catch me up so short for 
 when you see me put out, to that extent, that I can hardly 
 speak ? He'll never do anything again. He's done for. He's 
 killed. The first time I ever see that boy," said Poll, " I 
 charged him too much for a red-poll. I asked him three-half- 
 pence for a penny one, because I was afraid he'd beat me 
 down. But he didn't. And now he's dead ; and if you was 
 to crowd all the steam-engines and electric fluids that ever 
 was, into this shop, and set 'em every one to work their hard- 
 est, they couldn't square the account, though it's only a 
 ha'penny ! " 
 
 Mr. Sweedlepipe turned aside to the towel, and wiped his 
 eyes with it. 
 
 " And what a clever boy he was ! " he said. " What a 
 surprising young chap he was ! How he talked ! and what a 
 deal he know'd ! Shaved in this very chair he was ; only for 
 fun ; it was all his fun ; he was full of it. Ah ! to think that 
 he'll never be shaved in earnest ! The birds might every one 
 have died, and welcome," cried the little barber, looking round 
 him at the cages, and again applying to the towel, " sooner 
 than I'd have heard this news ! " 
 
 " How did you ever come to hear it ? " said Mrs. Gamp. 
 " Who told you ? " 
 
 "I went out," returned the little barber, "into the City, 
 to meet a sporting Gent, upon the Stock Exchange, that 
 wanted a few slow pigeons to practice at; and when I'd done 
 with him, I went to get a little drop of beer, and there I heard 
 everybody a-talking about it. It's in the papers." 
 
 " You are in a nice state of confugion, Mr. Sweedlepipes, 
 you are ! " said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head ; " and my 
 opinion is, as half-a-dudgeon fresh young lively leeches on 
 your temples, wouldn't be too much to clear your mind, 
 which so I tell you. Wot were they a-talkin' on, and wot was 
 in the papers ? " 
 
 " All about it ! " cried the barber. " What else do you 
 suppose ? Him and his master were upset on a journey, and 
 he was carried to Salisbury, and was breathing his last when 
 the account came away. He never spoke afterwards. Not a 
 single word. That's the worst of it to me ; but that ain't all. 
 His master can't be found. The other manager of their office in 
 the city — Crimple, David Crimple— has gone off with the money, 
 and is advertised for, with a reward, upon the walls. Mr. 
 Montague, poor young Bailey's master (what a boy he was !)
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 'j /^-j 
 
 is advertised for, too. Some say he's slipped off, to join his 
 friend abroad ; some say he mayn't have got away yet ; and 
 they're looking for him high and low. Their office is a 
 smash ; a swindle altogether. But what's a Life Assurance 
 Office to a Life ! And what a Life Young Bailey's was ! " 
 
 " He was born into a wale," said Mrs. Gamp, with philo- 
 sophical coolness ; " and he lived in a wale : and he must take 
 the consequences of sech a sitiwation. But don't you hear 
 nothink of Mr. Chuzzlewit in all this ? " 
 
 " No," said Poll, " nothing to speak of. His name w^asn't 
 printed as one of the board, though some people say it was 
 just going to be. Some believe he was took in, and some 
 believe he was one of the takers-in ; but however that may be, 
 they can't prove nothing against him. This morning he went 
 up of his own accord afore the Lord Mayor or some of them 
 City big-wigs, and complained that he'd been swindled, and 
 that these two persons had gone off and cheated him, and 
 that he had just found out that Montague's name wasn't even 
 Montague, but something else. And they do say that he 
 looked like Death, owing to his losses. But, Lord forgive 
 me," cried the barber, coming back again to the subject of his 
 individual grief, " what's his looks to me ! He might have 
 died and welcome, fifty times, and not been such a loss as 
 Bailey ! " 
 
 At this juncture the little bell rang, and the deep voice of 
 Mrs. Prig struck into the conversation. 
 
 " Oh ! You're a-talkin' about it, are you ! " observed that 
 lady. " Well, I hope you've got it over, for I ain't interested 
 in it myself." 
 
 " My precious Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, " how late you 
 are !" 
 
 The worthy Mrs. Prig replied, with some asperity, " that if 
 perwerse people went off dead, when they was least expected, 
 it warn't no fault of her'n." And further, " that it was quite 
 aggrawation enough to be made late when one was dropping 
 for one's tea, without hearing on it again." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp, deriving from this exhibition of repartee some 
 clue to the state of Mrs. Prig's feelings, instantly conducted 
 her up stairs, deeming that the sight of pickled salmon might 
 work a softening change. 
 
 But Betsey Prig expected pickled salmon. It was ob- 
 vious that she did ; for her first words, after glancing at the 
 table, were :
 
 748 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 " I know'd she wouldn't have a coucumber ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp changed color, and sat down upon the bed- 
 stead. 
 
 " Lord bless you, Betsey Prig, your words is true. I quite 
 forgot it ! " 
 
 Mrs. Prig, looking steadfastly at her friend, put her hand 
 in her pocket, and, with an air of surly triumph drew forth 
 either the oldest of lettuces or youngest of cabbages, but at 
 any rate, a green vegetable of an expansive nature, and of 
 such magnificent proportions that she was obliged to shut it 
 up like an umbrella before she could pull it out. She also 
 produced a handful of mustard and cress, a trifle of the herb 
 called dandelion, three bunches of radishes, an onion rather 
 larger than an average turnip, three substantial slices of beet' 
 root, and a short prong or antler of celery ; the whole of this 
 garden-stuff having been publicly exhibited, but a short time 
 before, as a twopenny salad, and purchased by Mrs. Prig, on 
 condition that the vendor could get it all into her pocket. 
 Which had been happily accomplished, in High Holborn, to 
 the breathless interest of a hackney-coach stand. And she 
 laid so little stress on this surprising forethought, that she did 
 not even smile, but returning her pocket into its accustomed 
 sphere, merely recommended that these productions of nature 
 should be sliced up, for immediate consumption, in plenty of 
 vinegar. 
 
 " And don't go a dropping none of your snuff in it," said 
 Mrs. Prig. " In gruel, barley-water, apple-tea, mutton-broth, 
 and that, it don't signify. It stimilates a patient. But I don't 
 relish it myself." 
 
 " Why, Betsey Prig ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, " how ca7i you 
 talk so ! " 
 
 " \\'hy, ain't your patients, wotever their diseases is, al- 
 ways a sneezin' their wery heads off, along of your snuff.'"' 
 said Mrs. Prig. 
 
 " And wot if they are ! " said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Nothing if they are," said Mrs. Prig. " But don't deny 
 it, Sairah." 
 
 " Who deniges of it ? " Mrs. Gamp inquired. 
 
 Mrs. Prig returned no answer. 
 
 " Who deniges of it, Betsey? " Mrs. Gamp inquired again. 
 Then Mrs. Gamp, by reversing the question, imparted a deeper 
 and more awful character of solemnity to the same. " Betsey, 
 who denizes of it .-' "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 749 
 
 It was the nearest possible approach to a very decided 
 difference of opinion between these ladies ; but Mrs. Prig's 
 impatience for the meal being greater at the moment than 
 her impatience of contradiction, she replied, for the present, 
 " Nobody, if you don't, Sairah," and prepared herself for tea. 
 For a quarrel can be taken up at any time, but a limited 
 quantity of salmon cannot. 
 
 Her toilet was simple. She had merely to " chuck " her 
 bonnet and shawl upon the bed, give her hair two pulls, one 
 upon the right side and one upon the left, as if she were ring- 
 ing a couple of bells, and all was done. The tea was already 
 made, Mrs. Gamp was not long over the salad, and they were 
 soon at the height of their repast. 
 
 The temper of both parties was improved, for the time 
 being, by the enjoyments of the table. When the meal came 
 to a termination (which it was pretty long in doing), and Mrs. 
 Gamp having cleared away, produced the tea-pot from the 
 top-shelf, simultaneously with a couple of wine-glasses, they 
 were quite amiable. 
 
 " Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, filling her own glass, and 
 passing the tea-pot, " I will now propoge a toast. My fre- 
 quent pardner, Betsey Prig ! " 
 
 "VVhich, altering the name to Sairah Gamp; I drink," 
 said Mrs. Prig, " with love and tenderness." 
 
 From this moment symptonis of inflammation began to 
 lurk in the nose of each lady ; and perhaps, notwithstanding 
 all appearances to the contrary, in the temper also. 
 
 "Now, Sairah," said Mrs. Prig, " joining business with 
 pleasure, wot is this case in which you wants me ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp betraying in her face some intention of return- 
 ing an evasive answer, Betsey added : 
 
 "/j- it Mrs. Harris ! " 
 
 " No, Betsey Prig, it ain't," was Mrs. Gamp's reply. 
 
 " Well ! " said Mrs. Prig, with a short laugh. " I'm glad 
 of that, at any rate." 
 
 "Why should you be glad of that, Betsey?" Mrs. Gamp 
 retorted, warmly. " She is unbeknown to you except by hear- 
 say, why should you be glad? If you have anythink to say 
 contrairy to the character of Mrs. Harris, which well I knows 
 behind her back, afore her face, or anywheres, is not to be 
 impeaged, out with it, Betsey. I have know'd that sweetest 
 and best of women," said Mrs. Gamp, shaking her head, and 
 shedding tears, " ever since afore her First, which Mr. Harris
 
 750 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 who was dreadful timid went and stopped his ears in a empty 
 dog-kennel, and never took his hands away or come out once 
 till he was showed the baby, wen bein' took with fits, the 
 doctor collared him and laid him on his back upon the airy 
 stones, and she was told to ease her mind, his owls was or- 
 gans. And I have know'd her, Betsey Prig, when he has hurt 
 her feelin' art by sayin' of his Ninth that it was one too many, 
 if not two, while that dear innocent was cooin' in his face, 
 which thrive it did though bandy, but I have never know'd as 
 you had occagion to be glad, Betsey, on accounts of Mrs. 
 Harris not requiring you. Require she never will, depend 
 upon it, for her constant words in sickness is, and will be, 
 ' Send for Sairey ! ' " 
 
 During this touching address, Mrs. Prig adroitly feigning 
 to be the victim of that absence of mind which has its origin 
 in excessive attention to one topic, helped herself from the 
 tea-pot without appearing to observe it. Mrs. Gamp observed 
 it, however, and came to a premature close in consequence. 
 
 " Well it ain't her, it seems," said Mrs. Prig, coldly : "who 
 is it then .? " 
 
 " You have heerd me mention, Betsey," Mrs. Gamp re- 
 plied, after glancing in an expressive and marked manner at 
 the tea-pot, " a person as I took care on at the time as you 
 and me was pardners off and on, in that there fever at the 
 Bull.?" 
 
 " Old Snuffey," Mrs. Prig observed. 
 
 Sarah Gamp looked at her with an eye of fire, for she saw 
 in this mistake of Mrs. Prig, another wilful and malignant 
 stab at that same weakness or custom of hers, an ungenerous 
 allusion to which, on the part of Betsey, had first disturbed 
 their harmony that evening. And she saw it still more 
 clearly, when, politely but firmly correcting that lady by the 
 distinct enunciation of the word "Chuffey," Mrs. Prig received 
 the correction with a diabolical laugh. 
 
 The best among us have their failings, and it must be con- 
 ceded of Mrs. Prig, that if there were a blemish in the good 
 ness of her disposition, it was a habit she had of not bestow- 
 ing all its sharp and acid properties upon her patients (as a 
 thoroughly amiable woman would have done), but of keeping 
 a considerable remainder for the service of her friends. 
 Highly pickled salmon, and lettuces chopped up in vinegar, 
 may, as viands possessing some acidity of their own, have en- 
 couraged and increased this failing in Mrs. Prig ; and every
 
 AIARTLV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 751 
 
 application to the tea-pot, certainly did ; for it was often re- 
 marked of her by her friends, that she was most contradictory 
 when most elevated. It is certain that her countenance 
 became about this time derisive and defiant, and that she sat 
 with her arms folded, and one eye shut up, in a somewhat 
 offensive, because obtrusively intelligent, manner. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp observing this, felt it the more necessary that 
 Mrs. Prig should know her place, and be made sensible of her 
 exact station in society, as well as of her obligations to her- 
 self. She therefore assumed an air of greater patronage and 
 importance, as she went on to answer Mrs. Prig a little more 
 in detail. 
 
 " Mr. Chuffey, Betsey," said Mrs. Gamp, " is weak in his 
 mind. Excuge me if I makes remark, that he may neither be 
 so weak as people thinks, nor people may not think he is so 
 weak as they pretends, and what I knows, I knows ; and 
 what you don't, you don't ; so do not ask me, Betsey. But 
 Mr. Chuffey's friends has made propojals for his bein' took 
 care on, and has said to me, ' Mrs. Gamp, will you undertake 
 it .-• We couldn't think,' they says, ' of trusting him to nobody 
 but you, for, Sairey, you are gold as has passed the furnage. 
 Will you undertake it, at your own price, day and night, and 
 by your own self ? ' ' No,' I says, ' I will not. Do not reckon 
 on it. There is,' I says, 'but one creetur in the world as I 
 would undertake on sech terms, and her name is Harris. 
 But,' I says, ' I am acquainted with a friend, whose name is 
 Betsey Prig, that I can recommend, and will assist me. Bet- 
 sey,' I says, ' is always to be trusted, under me, and will be 
 guided as I could desire.' " 
 
 Here Mrs. Prig, without any abatement of her offensive 
 manner, again counterfeited abstraction of mind, and stretched 
 out her hand to the tea-pot. It was more than Mrs. Gamp 
 could bear. She stopped the hand of Mrs. Prig with her own, 
 and said, with great feeling : ^ 
 
 " No, Betsey ! Drink fair, wotever you do ! " 
 
 Mrs. Prig, thus baffled, threw herself back in her chair, 
 and closing the same eye more emphatically, and folding her 
 arms tighter, suffered her head to roll slowly from side to 
 .side, while she surveyed her friend with a contemptuous 
 smile. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp resumed : 
 
 " Mrs. Harris, Betsey — " 
 
 " Bother Mrs. Harris ! " said Betsey Prig.
 
 752 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp looked at her with amazement, incredulity, 
 and indignation; when Mrs. Prig, shutting her eye still closer, 
 and folding her arms still tighter, uttered these memorable 
 and tremendous words : 
 
 " I don't believe there's no sich a person ! " 
 
 After the utterance of which expressions, she leaned for- 
 ward, and snapped her fingers once, twice, thrice ; each time 
 nearer to the face of Mrs. Gamp, and then rose to put on her 
 bonnet, as one who felt that there was now a gulf between 
 them, which nothing could ever bridge across. 
 
 The shock of this blow was so violent and sudden, that 
 Mrs. Gamp sat stari;ig at nothing with uplifted eyes, and her 
 mouth open as if she were gasping for breath, until Betsey 
 Prig had put on her bonnet and shawl, and was gathering the 
 latter about her throat. Then Mrs. Gamp rose — morally and 
 physically rose — and denounced her. 
 
 "What!" said Mrs. Gamp, "you bage creetur, have 1 
 know'd Mrs. Harris five and thirty year, to be told at last that 
 there ain't no sech a person livin' ! Have I stood her friend 
 in all her troubles, great and small, for it to come at last to 
 sech a end as this, which her own sweet picter hanging up 
 afore you all the time, to shame your Bragian words ! But 
 well you mayn't believe there's no sech a creetur, for she 
 wouldn't demean herself to look at you, and often has she 
 said, when I have made mention of your name, which, to my 
 sinful sorrow, I have done, ' What, Sairey Gamp ! debage 
 yourself to her T Go along with you ! " 
 
 "I'm a goin', ma'am, ain't I?" said Mrs. Prig, stopping 
 as she said it. 
 
 " You had better, ma'am," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Do you know who you're talking to, ma'am ? " inquired 
 her visitor. 
 
 " Aperiently," said Mrs. Gamp, surveying her with scorn 
 from head to foot, "to Betsey Prig. Aperiently so. /know 
 her. No one better. Go along with you ! " 
 
 " And yoii was a going to take me under you ! " cried 
 Mrs. Prig, surveying Mrs. Gamp from head to foot in her 
 turn. " You was, was you ? Oh, how kind ! Why, deuce 
 take your imperence," said Mrs. Prig, with a rapid change 
 from banter to ferocitv, " what do vou mean ? " 
 
 " Go along with you ! " said Mrs. Gamp. " I blush for 
 you." 
 
 "You had better blush a little for yourself, while you
 
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 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 
 
 753 
 
 are about it ! " said Mrs. Prig. " You and your Chuffeys ! 
 What, the poor old creetur isn't mad enough, isn't he } 
 Aha ! " 
 
 " He'd very soon be mad enough, if you had anything to 
 do with him," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " And that's what I was wanted for, is it ? " cried Mrs. 
 Prig, triumphantly. " Yes. But you'll find yourself deceived. 
 I won't go near him. We shall see how you get on without 
 me. I won"t have nothink to do with him." 
 
 " You never spoke a truer word than that ! " said Mrs. 
 Gamp. " Go along with you ! " 
 
 She was pre\'ented from witnessing the actual retirement 
 of Mrs. Prig from the room, notwithstanding the great desire 
 she had expressed to behold it, by that lady, in her angry 
 withdrawal, coming into contact with the bedstead, and bring- 
 ing down the previously-mentioned pippins ; three or four of 
 which came rattling on the head of Mrs. Gamp so smartly, 
 that when she recovered from this wooden shower-bath, Mrs. 
 Prig was gone. 
 
 She had the satisfaction, however, of hearing the deep 
 voice of Betsey, proclaiming her injuries and her determina- 
 tion to have nothing to do with Mr. Chuffey, down the stairs, 
 and along the passage, and even out in Kingsgate Street. 
 Likewise of seeing in her own apartment, in the place of 
 Mrs. Prig, Mr. Sweedlepipe and two gentlemen. 
 
 "Why, bless my life ! " exclaimed the little barber, "what's 
 amiss? The noise you ladies have been making, Mrs. Gamp.^ 
 Wh}^ these two gentlemen have been standing on the stairs, 
 outside the door, nearly all the time, trying to make you hear, 
 while you were pelting away, hammer and tongs ! It'll be the 
 death of the little bullfinch in the shop, that draws his own 
 water. In his fright, he's been a straining himself all to bits, 
 drawing more water than he could drink in a twelvemonth. 
 He must have thought it was Fire ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp had in the meanwhile sunk into her chair, 
 from whence, turning up her overflowing eyes, and clasping 
 her hands, she delivered the following lamentation : 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Sweedlepipe, which Mr. Westlock also, if my 
 eyes do not deceive, and a friend not havin' the pleasure of 
 bein' beknown, wot I have took from Betsey Prig this blessed 
 night, no mortal creetur knows ! If she had abuged me, 
 bein' in liquor, which I thought I smelt her wen she come, 
 but could not so believe, not bein' used myself " — Mrs. Gamp, 
 
 48
 
 754 
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT 
 
 by the way, was pretty far gone, and the fragrance of the tea- 
 pot was strong in the room — " I could have bore it with a 
 thankful art. But the words she spoke of Mrs. Harris, lambs 
 could not forgive. No, Betsey ! " said Mrs. Gamp, in a violent 
 burst of feeling, " nor worms forget ! " 
 
 The little barber scratched his head, and shook it, and 
 looked at the tea-pot, and gradually got out of the room. 
 John Westlock, taking a chair, sat down on one side of Mrs. 
 Gamp. Martin, taking the foot of the bed, supjDorted her 
 on the other. 
 
 " You wonder what we want, I dare say," observed John. 
 " I'll tell you presently, when you have recovered. It's not 
 pressing, for a few minutes or so. How do you find yourself ? 
 Better ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp shed more tears, shook her head and feebly 
 pronounced Mrs. Harris's name. 
 
 " Have a little — " John was at a loss what to call it. 
 
 " Tea," suggested Martin. 
 
 "It ain't tea," said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " Physic of some sort, I suppose," cried John. "Have a 
 little." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp was prevailed upon to take a glassful. " On 
 copdition,'' she passionately observed, " as Betsey never has 
 andtlier stroke of work from me." 
 
 ^' Certainly not," said John. " She shall never help to 
 
 nurse w^r." 
 
 " To think," said Mrs. Gamp, " as she should ever have 
 helped to nuss that friend of yourn, and been so near of hear- 
 ing things that — Ah ! " 
 
 John looked at Martin. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " That was a narrow escape, Mrs. 
 Gamp." 
 
 " Narrer, in-deed ! " she returned. " It was only my hav- 
 ing the night, and hearin' of him in his wanderins ; and her 
 the day, that saved it. Wot would she have said and done, 
 if she had know'd what 1 know ; that perfeejus wretch ! Yet, 
 oh good gracious me ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, trampling on the 
 floor, in the absence of Mrs. Prig, " that I should hear from 
 that same woman's lips what I ha\'e heerd her speak of Mrs. 
 Harris ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said John. " You know it is true." 
 
 " Isn't true ! " cried Mrs. Gamp. " True ! Don't I know 
 as that dear woman is expecting of me at this minnit, Mr.
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. y c; q 
 
 Westlock, and is a lookin' out of window down the street, with 
 Httle Tommy Harris in her arms, as calls me his own Gammy, 
 and truly calls, for bless the mottled little legs of that there 
 precious child (like Canterbury Brawn his own dear father 
 says, which so they are) his own I have been, ever since I 
 found him, Mr. Westlock, with his small red worsted shoe a 
 gurglin' in his throat, where he had put it in his play, a chick, 
 wile they was leavin' of him on the ffoor a looking for it 
 through the ouse and him a choakin' sweetly in the parlor ! 
 Oh, Betsey Prig, what wickedness you've showed this night, 
 but never shall you darken Sairey's doors agen, you twining 
 serpiant ! " 
 
 " You were always so kind to her, too ! " said John, con- 
 solingly. 
 
 "That's the cutting part. That's where it hurts me, Mr. 
 Westlock," Mrs. Gamp replied ; holding out her glass uncon- 
 sciously, while Martin filled it. 
 
 " Chosen to help you with Mr. Lewsome ! " said John. 
 " Chosen to help you with Mr. Chuffey ! " 
 
 " Chose once, but chose no more," cried Mrs. Gamp. 
 " No pardnership with Betsey Prig agen, sir ! " 
 
 " No, no," said John. "That would never do." 
 
 " I don't know as it ever would have done, sir," Mrs. 
 Gamp replied, with the solemnity peculiar to a certain stage 
 of intoxication. "Now that the marks," by which Mrs. Gamp 
 is supposed to have meant mask, " is off that creatur's face, I 
 do not think it ever would have done. There are reagions in 
 families for keeping things a secret, Mr. Westlock, and havin' 
 only them about you as you knows you can repoge in. Who 
 could repoge in Betsey Prig, arter her words of Mrs. Harris, 
 setting in that chair afore my eyes ! " 
 
 " Quite true," said John ; " quite. 1 hope you have time 
 to find another assistant, Mrs. Gamp? " 
 
 Between her indignation and the tea-pot, her powers of 
 comprehending what was said to her began to fail. She 
 looked at John with tearful eyes, and murmuring the well 
 remembered name which Mrs. Prig had challenged — as if it 
 were a talisman against all earthly sorrows — seemed to 
 wander in her mind. 
 
 "I hope," repeated John, "that you have time to tind 
 another assistant .? " 
 
 "Which short it is, indeed," cried Mrs. Gamp, turning up 
 her laughing eyes, and clasping Mr. Westlock's wrist with
 
 7S6 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 matronly afifection. " To-morrow evenin', sir, I waits upon 
 his friends. Mr. Cliuzzlewit apinted it from nine to ten." 
 
 " From nine to ten," said John, with a significant glance 
 at Martin ; " and then Mr. Chuffey retires into safe keeping, 
 does he .-* " 
 
 " He needs to be kep safe, I do assure you," Mrs. Gamp 
 replied, with a mysterious air. " Other people besides me 
 has had a happy deliverance from Betsey Prig. I little 
 know'd that woman. She'd have let it out ! " 
 
 " Let him out, you mean," said John. 
 
 " Do I ! " retorted Mrs. Gamp. " Oh ! " 
 
 The severely ironical character of this repl}' was strength- 
 ened by a very slow nod, and a still slower drawing down of 
 the corners of Mrs. Gamp's mouth. She added with extreme 
 stateliness of manner, after indulging in a short doze : 
 
 " But I am a keepin' of you gentlemen, and time is pre- 
 cious." 
 
 Mingling with that delusion of the tea-pot which inspired 
 her with the belief that they wanted her to go somewhere 
 immediately, a shrewd avoidance of any further reference to 
 the topics into which she had lately strayed, Mrs. Gamp rose ; 
 and putting away the tea-pot in its accustomed place, and 
 locking the cupboard with much gravity, proceeded to attire 
 herself for a professional visit. 
 
 This preparation was easily made, as it required nothing 
 more than the snuffy black bonnet, the snuffy black shawl, 
 the pattens, and the indispensable umbrella, without which 
 neither a lying-in nor a laying-out could by any possibility be 
 attempted. When Mrs. Gamp had invested herself with 
 these appendages she returned to her chair, and sitting down 
 again, declared herself quite ready. 
 
 " It's a appiness to know as one can benefit the poor sweet 
 creetur," she observed, " I'm sure. It isn't all as can. The 
 torters Betsey Prig inflicts is frightful ! " 
 
 Closinsf her eves as she made this remark, in the acute- 
 ness of her commiseration for Betsey's patients, she forgot to 
 open them again until she dropped a patten. Her nap was 
 also broken at intervals, like the fabled slumbers of Friar 
 Bacon, by the dropping of the other patten, and of the um- 
 brella. But when she had got rid of those incumbrances, her 
 sleep was peaceful. 
 
 The tv/o young men looked at each other, ludicrously 
 enough ; and Martin, stifling his disposition to laugh, whis- 
 pered in John Westlock's ear.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 757 
 
 " What shall we do now ? " 
 
 " Stay here," he replied. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp was heard to murmur "Mrs. Harris " in hei 
 sleep : 
 
 " Rely upon it," whispered John, looking cautiously to- 
 wards her, " that you shall question this old clerk, though 
 you go as Mrs. Harris herself. We know quite enough to 
 carry her our own way now, at all events ; thanks to this quar- 
 rel, which confirms the old saying, that when rogues fall out, 
 honest people get what they want. Let Jonas Chuzzlewit look 
 to himself ; and let her sleep as long as she likes. We shall 
 gain our end in good time." 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 SURPRISES TOM PINCH VERY MUCH, AND SHOWS HOW CERTAIN 
 CONFIDENCES PASSED BETWEEN HIM AND HIS SISTER. 
 
 It was the next evening ; and Tom and his sister were 
 sitting together before tea, talking, in their usual quiet way, 
 about a great many things, but not at all about Lewsome's 
 story or anything connected with it ; for John Westlock — 
 really John, for so young a man, was one of the most con- 
 siderate fellows in the world — had particularly advised Tom 
 not to mention it to his sister just yet, in case it should dis- 
 quiet her. "And I wouldn't, Tom," he said, with a little 
 hesitation, " I wouldn't have a shadow on her happy face, or 
 an uneasy thought in her gentle heart, for all the wealth and 
 honors of the universe ! " Really John was uncommonly 
 kind ; extraordinarily kind. If he had been her father, Tom 
 said, he could not have taken a greater interest in her. 
 
 But although Tom and his sister were extremely conversa- 
 tional, they were less lively, and less cheerful, than usual. 
 Tom had no idea that this originated with Ruth, but took it 
 for granted that he was rather dull himself. In truth he was ; 
 for the lightest cloud upon the Heaven of her quiet mind, 
 cast its shadow upon Tom. 
 
 And there was a cloud on little Ruth that evening. Yes, 
 indeed. When Tom was looking in another direction, her
 
 758 MA R TIN C NUZZLE WIT. 
 
 bright eyes, stealing on towards his face, would sparkle still 
 more brightly than their custom was, and then grow dim. 
 \\'hen Tom was silent, looking out upon the summer weather, 
 she would sometimes make a hasty movement, as if she were 
 about to throw herself upon his neck ; then check the im- 
 pulse, and when he looked round, show a laughing face, and 
 speak to him, very merrily ; when she had anything to give 
 Tom, or had any excuse for coming near him, she would flutter 
 about him, and lay her bashful hand upon his shoulder, and not 
 be willing to withdraw it ; and would show by all such means 
 that there was something on her heart which in her great love 
 she longed to say to him, but had not the courage to utter. 
 
 So they were sitting, she with her work before her, but not 
 working, and Tom with his book beside him, but not reading, 
 when Martin knocked at the door. Anticipating who it was, 
 Tom went to open it : and he and Martin came back into the 
 room together. Tom looked surprised, for in answer tp his 
 cordial greeting Martin had hardly spoken a word. 
 
 Ruth also saw that there was something strange in the 
 manner of their visitor, and raised her eyes inquiringly to 
 Tom's face, as if she were seeking an explanation there. Tom 
 shook his head, and made the same mute appeal to Martin. 
 
 Martin did not sit down, but walked up to the window, and 
 stood there, looking out. He turned round after a few moments 
 to speak, but hastily averted his head again, without doing so. 
 
 " What has happened, Martin ? " Tom anxiously inquired. 
 " My dear fellow, what bad news do you bring ? " 
 
 " Oh Tom ! " replied Martin, in a tone of deep reproach. 
 " To hear you feign that interest in anything that happens to 
 me, hurts me even more than your ungenerous dealing." 
 
 " My ungenerous dealing, Martin ! My — " Tom could say 
 no more. 
 
 " How could you, Tom, how could you suffer me to thank 
 you so fervently and sincerely for your friendship, and not tell 
 me, like a man, that you had deserted me ! Was it true, Tom ! 
 Was it honest ! Was it worthy of what you used to be : of 
 what I am sure you used to be : to tempt me, when you had 
 turned against me, into pouring out my heart ! Oh lorn ! " 
 
 His tone was one of such strong injury and yet of so much 
 grief for the loss of a friend he had trusted in ; it expressed 
 such high past love for Tom, and so much sorrow and com- 
 passion for his supposed -unworthiness ; that Tom, for a mo- 
 ment, put his hand before his face, and had no more powei
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 759 
 
 of justifying himself, than if he had been a monster of deceit 
 and falsehood. 
 
 " I protest, as I must die," said Martin, " that I grieve 
 over the loss of what I thought you ; and have no anger in 
 the recollection of my own injuries. It is only at such a time, 
 and after such a discovery, that we know the full measure of 
 our old regard for the subject of it. I swear, little as I showed 
 it ; little as I know I showed it ; that when I had the least 
 consideration for you, Tom, I loved you like a brother." 
 
 Tom was composed by this time, and might have been the 
 Spirit of Truth, in a homely dress — it very often wears a 
 homely dress, thank God ! — when he replied to him. 
 
 " Martm," he said, " I don't know what is in your mind, 
 or who has abused it, or by what extraordinary means. But 
 the means are false. There is no truth whatever in the im- 
 pression under which you labor. It is a delusion from first 
 to last ; and I warn you that you will deeply regret the wrong 
 you do me. I can honestly say that I have been true to you, 
 and to myself. You will be very sorry for this. Indeed, you 
 will be very sorry for it, Martin." 
 
 " I am sorr}'," returned Martin, shaking his head. " I 
 think I never knew what it was to be sorry in my heart, until 
 
 now." 
 
 "At least," said Tom, "if I had always been what you 
 charge me with being now, and had never had a place in your 
 regard, but had always been despised by you, and had always 
 deserved it, you should tell me in what you ha\'e found me to 
 be treacherous ; and on what grounds you proceed. I do not 
 entreat you, therefore, to give me that satisfaction as a favor, 
 Martin, but I ask it of you as a right." 
 
 " My own eyes are my witnesses," returned Martin. " Am 
 I to believe them ? " 
 
 " No," said Tom, calmly. " Not if they accuse me." 
 
 "Your own words. Your own manner," pursued Martin. 
 " Am I to belie\e them /" 
 
 " No," replied Tom, calmly. " Not if they accuse me. 
 But they never have accused me. Whoever has preverted 
 them to such a purpose, has wronged me, almost as cruelly : 
 his calmness rather failed him here ; " as you have done." 
 
 " I came here," said Martin ; " and I appeal to your good 
 sister to hear me — " 
 
 " Not to her," interrupted Tom. " Tray, do not appeal to 
 her. She will never believe you."
 
 7 
 
 6o MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 He drew her arm through his own, as he said it. 
 
 •' /believe it, Tom ! " 
 
 "No, no," cried Tom, "of course not. I said so. Why, 
 tut, tut, tut. What a silly little thing you are ! " 
 
 " I never meant," said Martm, hastily, to appeal to you 
 against your brother. Do not think me so unmanly and un- 
 kind. I merely appealed to you to hear my declaration, that 
 I came here for no purpose of reproach — I have not one re- 
 proach to vent — but in deep regret. You could not know in 
 what bitterness of regret, unless you knew how often I have 
 thought of Tom ; how long in almost hopeless circumstances, 
 I have looked forward to the better estimation of his friend- 
 ship ; and how steadfastly I have believed and trusted in 
 him." 
 
 "Tut, tut," said Tom, stopping her as she was about to 
 speak. " He is mistaken. He is deceived. Why should you 
 mind ? He is sure to be set right at last." 
 
 " Heaven bless the day that sets me right I " cried Martin, 
 " if it could ever come ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " said Tom. " And it will ! " 
 
 Martin paused, and then said in a still milder voice : 
 
 " You have chosen for yourself, Tom, and will be relieved 
 by our parting. It is not an angr}' one. There is no anger 
 on my side — " 
 
 " There is none on mine," said Tom. 
 
 " — it is merely what you have brought about, and worked 
 to bring about. I say again, you have chosen for yourself. 
 You have made the choice that might have been expected in 
 most people situated as you are, but which I did not expect 
 in you. For that, perhaps, I should blame my own judgment 
 more than you. There is wealth and favor worth having, on 
 one side ; and there is the worthless friendship of an aban- 
 doned, struggling fellow, on the other. You were free to make 
 your election, and you made it ; and the choice was not diffi- 
 cult. But those who have not the courage to resist such 
 temptations, should have the courage to avow that they have 
 yielded to them ; and I do blame you for this, Tom : that you 
 received me with a show of warmth, encouraged me to be 
 frank and plain-spoken, tempted me to confide in you, and 
 professed that you were able to be mine ; when you had sold 
 yourself to others. I do not believe," said Martin, with emo- 
 tion : " hear me say it from my heart ; I cannot believe, Tom, 
 now that I am standing face to face with you, that it would
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. jSl 
 
 have been in your nature to do me any serious harm, even 
 though I had not discovered, by chance, in whose employment 
 you were. But I should have encumbered you ; I should have 
 led you into more double-dealing ; 1 should have hazarded 
 your retaining the favor for which you have paid so high a 
 price, bartering away your former self ; and it is best for both 
 of us that I have found out what you so much desired to keep 
 secret." 
 
 " Be just," said Tom ; who had not removed his mild gaze 
 from Martin's face since the commencement of this last ad- 
 dress ; " be just even in your injustice, Martin. You forget. 
 You have not yet told me what your accusation is ! " 
 
 " Why should I ? " returned' Martin, wa\ing his hand, and 
 moving towards the door. "You could not know it the better 
 for my dwelling on it, and though it would be really none the 
 worse, it might seem to me to be. No, Tom. Bygones shall 
 be bygones between us. I can take leave of you at this moment, 
 and in this place ; in which you are so amiable and so good ; 
 as heartily, if not as cheerfully, as ever I have done since we 
 first met. All good go with you, Tom !— I — " 
 
 " You leave me so ? You can leave me so, can you ? " 
 said Tom. 
 
 " I — you — you have chosen for yourself, Tom ! I — I hope 
 it was a rash choice," Martin faltered. " I think it was. I 
 am sure it was ! Good-by ! " 
 
 And he was gone. 
 
 Tom led his little sister to her chair, and sat down in his 
 own. He took his book, and read, or seemed to read. Pres- 
 ently he said aloud : turning a leaf as he spoke : " He will 
 be very sorry for this," and a tear stole down his face, and 
 dropped upon the page. 
 
 Ruth nestled down beside him on her knees, and clasped 
 her arms about his neck. 
 
 " No, Tom ! No, no ! Be comforted ! Dear Tom ! " 
 
 " I am quite — comforted," said Tom. " It will be set 
 right." 
 
 " Such a cruel, bad return ! " cried Ruth. 
 
 " No, no," said Tom. " He believes it. I cannot imagine 
 why. But it will be set right." 
 
 More closely yet she nestled down about him ; and wept 
 as if her heart would break. 
 
 " Don't. Don't," said Tom. " Why do you hide your face, 
 my dear ? "
 
 762 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Then in a burst of tears, it all broke out at last. 
 
 *' Oh Tom, dear Tom, I know your secret heart. I have 
 found it out ; you couldn't hide the truth from me. Why 
 didn't you tell me ? I am sure I could have made you happier, 
 if you had ! You love her Tom, so dearly ! " 
 
 Tom made a motion with his hand as if he would have put 
 his sister hurriedly away ; but. it clasped upon hers, and all his 
 little history was written in the action. All its pathetic elo- 
 quence was in the silent touch. 
 
 "In spite of that," said Ruth, "you have been so faithful 
 and so good, dear ; in spite of that, you have been so true and 
 self-denying, and have struggled with yourself ; in spite of 
 that, you have been so gentle and so kind, and even-tempered, 
 that I have never seen you give a hasty look, or heard you 
 say one irritable word. In spite of all, you have been so cruelly 
 mistaken. Oh Tom, dear Tom, will this be set right too ! 
 Will it, Tom ? Will you always have this sorrow in your 
 breast ; you who deserve to be so happy : or is there any 
 hope ! " 
 
 And still she hid her face from Tom, and clasped him 
 round the neck, and wept for him, and poured out all her 
 woman's heart and soul in the relief and pain of this dis- 
 closure. 
 
 It was not very long before she and Tom were sitting side 
 by side, and she was looking with an earnest quietness in 
 Tom's face. Then Tom spoke to her thus : cheerily, though 
 gravely. 
 
 " I am very glad, my dear, that this has passed between 
 us. Not because it assures me of your tender affection (for I 
 was well assured of that before), but because it relieves my 
 mind of a great weight." 
 
 Tom's eyes glistened when he spoke of her affection ; and 
 he kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 " My dear girl," said Tom: "with whatever feeling I re- 
 gard her ; " they seemed to avoid the name by mutual consent ; 
 " I have long ago — I am sure I may say from the very first 
 — looked upon it as a dream. As something that might pos- 
 sibly have happened under very different circumstances, but 
 which can never be. Now, tell me. What would you have 
 set right ? " 
 
 Siie gave Tom such a significant little look, that he was 
 oblised to take it for an answer whether he would or no ; and 
 
 to go on.
 
 MA R TIN C MUZZLE WI T. 763 
 
 " By her own choice and free consent, my love, she is be- 
 trothed to Martin ; and was, long before either of them knew 
 of my existence. You would have her betrothed to me ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said directly. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Tom, " but that might be setting it wrong, 
 instead of right. Do you think," said Tom, with a grave 
 smile, " that even if she had never seen him, it is very likely 
 she would have fallen in love with Me ? " 
 
 " Why not, dear Tom ? " 
 
 Tom shook his head, and smiled again. 
 
 " You think of me, Ruth," said Tom, " and it is very 
 natural that you should, as if I were a character in a book ; 
 and you make it a sort of poetical justice that I should, by 
 some impossible means or other, come, at last, to marry the 
 person 1 love. But there is a much higher justice than poeti- 
 cal justice, my dear, and it does not order events upon the 
 same principle. Accordingly people who read about heroes 
 in books, and choose to make heroes of themselves out 
 of books, consider it a very fine thing to be discontented 
 and gloomy, and misanthropical, and perhaps a little blas- 
 phemous, because they cannot have everything ordered 
 for their individual accommodation. Would you like me to 
 become one of that sort of people ? " 
 
 " No, Tom. But still 1 know," she added timidly, " that 
 this is a sorrow to you in your own better way." 
 
 Tom thought of disputing the position. But it would 
 have been mere folly, and he gave it up. 
 
 " My dear," said Tom, " I will repay your affection with 
 the Truth, and all the Truth. It is a sorrow to me. I have 
 proved it to be so sometimes, though I have always striven 
 against it. But somebody who is precious to you may die, 
 and you may dream that you are in lieaven with the departed 
 spirit, and you may find it a sorrow to wake to the life on 
 earth, which is no harder to be borne than when you fell 
 asleep. It is sorrowful to me to contemplate my dream, 
 which I always knew was a dream, even when it first pre- 
 sented itself ; but the realities about me are not to blame. 
 They are the same as they were. My sister, my sweet com- 
 panion, who makes this place so dear, is she less devoted to 
 me, Ruth, than she would have been, if this vision had never 
 troubled me? My old friend John, who might so easily have 
 treated me with coldness and neglect, is he less cordial to me ? 
 The world about me, is there less good in that ? Are my
 
 764 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 words to be harsh and my looks to be sour, and is my heart 
 to grow cold, because there has fallen in my way a good and 
 beautiful creature, who but for the selfish regret that 1 cannot 
 call her my own, would, like all other good and beautiful 
 creatures, make me happier and better ! No, mv dear sister. 
 No," said Tom stoutly. " Remembering all my means of 
 happiness, I hardly dare to call this lurking something, a sor- 
 row ; but whatever name it may justly bear, I thank Heaven 
 that it renders me more sensible of affection and attachment, 
 and softens me in fifty ways. Not less happy. Not less 
 happy, Ruth ! " 
 
 She could not speak to him, but she loved him, as he well 
 deserved. Even as he deserved, she loved him. 
 
 " She will open Martin's eyes," said Tom, with a glow of 
 pride, " and that (which is indeed wrong) will be set right. 
 Nothing will persuade her, I know, that I have betrayed him. 
 It will be set right through her, and he will be \e.xy sorry for 
 it. Our secret, Ruth, is our own, and lives and dies with us. 
 I don't believe I ever could have told it you," said Tom, 
 with a smile, "but how glad I am to think you have found it 
 out ! " 
 
 They had never taken such a pleasant walk as they took 
 that night. Tom told her all so freely, and so simply, and 
 was so desirous to return her tenderness with his fullest con- 
 fidence, that they prolonged it far beyond their usual hour, 
 and sat up late when they came home. And when they 
 parted for the night there was such a tranquil, beautiful ex- 
 pression in Tom's face, that she could not bear to shut it out, 
 but going back on tip-toe to his chamber-door, looked in and 
 stood there till he saw her, and then embracing him again, 
 withdrew. And in her prayers, and in her sleep — -good times 
 to be remembered with such fervor, Tom ! — his name was up- 
 permost. 
 
 When he was left alone, Tom pondered very much on this 
 discovery of hers, and greatly wondered what had led her to 
 it. "Because," thought Tom, " I have been so very careful. 
 It was foolish and unnecessary in me, as I clearly see now, 
 when I am so relieved by her knowing it ; but I have been so 
 very careful to conceal it from her. Of course I knew that 
 she was intelligent and quick, and for that reason was more 
 upon my guard ; but I was not in the least prepared for this. 
 I am sure her discovery has been sudden too. Dear me ! " 
 said Tom. " It's a most singular instance of penetration ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 765 
 
 Tom could not get it out of his head. There it was, when 
 his head was on his pillow. 
 
 " How she trembled when she began to tell me she knew 
 it ! " thought Tom, recalling all the little incidents and cir- 
 cumstances ; " and how her face flushed ! But that was 
 natural ! Oh, quite natural ! That needs no accounting 
 for." 
 
 Tom little thought how natural it was. Tom little knew 
 that there was that in Ruth's own heart, but newly set there, 
 which had helped her to the reading of his myster\-. Ah, 
 Tom ! He didn"t understand tl.e whispers of the Temple 
 Fountain, though he passed it eveiy day. 
 
 Who so lively and cheerful as busy Ruth next morning ! 
 Her early tap at Tom's door, and her light foot outside, 
 would have been music to him though she had not spoken. 
 But she said it was the brightest morning ever seen ; and so 
 it was ; and if it had been otherwise, she would have made it 
 so to Tom. 
 
 She was ready with his neat breakfast when he went 
 down stairs, and had her bonnet ready for the early walk, 
 and was so full of news, that Tom was lost in wonder. 
 She might have been up all night, collecting it for his enter- 
 tainment. There was Mr. Nadgett not come home yet, and 
 there was bread down a penny a loaf, and there was twice as 
 much strength in this tea as in the last, and the milkwoman's 
 husband had come out of the hospital cured, and the curly- 
 headed child over the way had been lost all yesterday, and 
 she was going to make all sort of preserves in a desperate 
 hurry, and there happened to be a saucepan in the house 
 which was the very saucepan for the purpose ; and she knew 
 all about the last book Tom had brought home, all through, 
 though it was a teazer to read ; and she had so much to tell 
 him that she had finished breakfast first. Then she had her 
 little bonnet on, and the tea and sugar locked up, and the 
 keys in her reticule, and the flower, as usual, in 1 om's coat, 
 and was, in all respects, quite ready to accompany him, be- 
 fore Tom knew she had begun to prepare. And in short, as 
 Tom said, with a confidence in his own assertion which 
 amounted to a defiance of the public in general, there never 
 was such a little woman. 
 
 She made Tom talkative. It was impossible to resist her. 
 She put such enticing questions to him ; about books, and 
 about dates of churches, and about organs, and about the
 
 766 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Temple, and about all kinds of things. Indeed, she lightened 
 the way (and Tom's heart with it) to that degree, that the 
 Temple looked quite blank and solitary when he parted from 
 her at the gate. 
 
 " No Mr. Fips's friend to day, I suppose," thought Tom, 
 as he ascended the stairs. 
 
 Not yet, at any rate, for the door was closed as usual, and 
 Tom opened it with his key. He had got the books into 
 perfect order now, and had mended the torn leaves, and had 
 pasted up the broken backs, and substituted neat labels for 
 the worn-out letterings. It looked a different place, it was 
 so orderly and neat. Tom felt some pride in contemplating 
 the change he had wrought, though there was no one to ap- 
 prove or disapprove of it. 
 
 He was at present occupied in making a fair copy of his 
 draught of the catalogue ; on which, as there was no hurry, 
 he was painfully concentrating all the ingenious and laborious 
 neatness he had ever expended on map or plan in Mr. Peck- 
 sniff's workroom. It was a very marvel of a catalogue ; for 
 Tom sometimes thought he was really getting his money too 
 easily, and he had determined within himself that this docu- 
 ment should take a little of his superfluous leisure out of 
 him. 
 
 So, with pens and ruler, and compasses and india-rubber, 
 and pencil and black ink, and red ink, Tom worked away all 
 the morning. He thought a good deal about Martin, and 
 their interview of yesterday, and would have been far easier in 
 his mind if he could have resolved to confide it to his friend 
 John, and to have taken his opinion on the subject. But be- 
 sides that he knew what John's boiling indignation would be, 
 he bethought himself that he was helping Martin now in a 
 matter of great moment, and that to deprive the latter of his 
 assistance at such a crisis of affairs, would be to inflict a seri- 
 ous injur}' upon him. 
 
 " So I'll keep it to myself," said Tom, with a sigh. " I'll 
 keep it to myself." 
 
 And to work he went again, more assiduously than ever, 
 with the pens, and the ruler, and the india-rubber, and the 
 pencil, and the black ink, and the red ink, that he might for- 
 get it. 
 
 He had labored away for another hour or more, when he 
 heard a footstep in the entry, down below. 
 
 "Ah! " said Tom, looking towards the door; "time was,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 767 
 
 not long ago either, when that would have set me wondering 
 and expecting. But I have left off now." 
 
 The footstep came on, up the stairs. 
 
 " Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight," said Tom, count- 
 ing. " Now you'll stop. Nobody e\er comes past the thirty- 
 eight stair." 
 
 The person did stop, certainly, but only to take breath \ 
 for up the footstep came again. Forty, forty-one, forty-two, 
 and so on. 
 
 The door stood open. As the tread advanced, Tom 
 looked impatiently and eagerly towards it. When a figure 
 came upon the landing, and arriving in the doorway, stopped 
 and gazed at him, he rose up from his chair, and half believed 
 he saw a spirit. 
 
 Old Martin Chuzzlewit ! The same whom he had left at 
 Mr. Pecksniff's, weak and sinking ! 
 
 The same \ No, not the same, for this old man, though 
 old, was strong, and leaned upon his stick with a vigorous 
 hand, while with the other he signed to Tom to make no 
 noise. One glance at the resolute face, the watchful eye, the 
 vigorous hand upon the staff, the triumphant purpose in the 
 figure, and such a light broke in on Tom as blinded him. 
 
 "You have expected me," said Martin, "a long time." 
 
 " I was told that my employer would arrive soon," said 
 Tom; "but—" 
 
 " I know. You were ignorant who he was. It was my de- 
 sire. I am glad it has been so well observed. I intended to 
 have been with you much sooner. I thought the time had come. 
 I thought I could know no more, and no worse, of him, than 
 I did on that day when I saw you last. But I was wrong." 
 
 He had by this time come up to Tom, and now he grasped 
 his hand. 
 
 " I have lived in his house, Pinch, and had him fawning 
 on me days and weeks, and months. You know it. I have 
 suffered him to treat me like his tool and instrument. \'ou 
 know it ; you have seen me there. I have undergone ten 
 thousand times as much as I could have endured if I had 
 been the miserable weak old man he took me for. You know 
 it. I have seen him offer love to Mar\^ You know it ; who 
 better — who better, mv true heart ! I have had his base son 
 bare before me, day by day, and have not betrayed myself 
 once. T never could have undergone such torture but for 
 looking forward to this time."
 
 768 MARTTX CHUZZLEWir. 
 
 He stopped, even in the passion of his speech ; if that 
 can be called passion which was so resolute and steady ; to 
 press Tom's hand again. Then he said, in great excite- 
 ment : 
 
 " Close the door, close the door. He will not be long 
 after me, but may come too soon. The time now drawing 
 on," said the old man, hurriedly : his eyes and whole face 
 brightening as he spoke ; " will make amends for all. I 
 wouldn't have him die or hang himself, for millions of golden 
 pieces ! Close the door ! " 
 
 Tom did so, hardly knowing yet whether he was awake, or 
 in a dream. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 SHEDS NEW AND BRIGHTER LIGHT UPON THE VERY DARK 
 PLACE ; AND CONTAINS THE SEQUEL OF THE ENTER- 
 PRISE OF MR. JONAS AND HIS FRIEND. 
 
 The night had now come, when the old clerk was to be 
 delivered over to his keepers. In the midst of his guilty dis- 
 tractions, Jonas had not forgotten it. 
 
 It was a part of his guilty state of mind to remember it ; 
 for on his persistence in the scheme depended one of his pre- 
 cautions for his own safety. A hint, a word, from the old 
 man, uttered at such a moment in attentive ears, might fire 
 the train of suspicion, and destroy him. His watchfulness of 
 every avenue by which the discovery of his guilt might be 
 approached, sharpened with his sense of the danger by which 
 he was encompassed. With murder on his soul, and its in- 
 numerable alarms and terrors dragging at him night and day, 
 he would have repeated the crime, if he had seen a path of 
 safety stretching out beyond. It was in his punishment ; it 
 was in his guilty condition. The very deed which his fears 
 rendered insupportable, his fears would have impelled him to 
 commit again. 
 
 But keeping the old man close, according to his design, 
 would serve his turn. His purpose was, to escape, when the 
 first alarm and wonder had subsided : and when he could 
 make the attempt without awakening instant suspicion. In
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 769 
 
 the meanwhile these women would keep hun quiet j and if 
 the talking humor came upon him, would not be easily startled. 
 He knew their trade. 
 
 Nor had he spoken idly when he said the old man should 
 be gagged. He had resolved to ensure his silence ; and he 
 looked to the end, not the means. He had been rough and 
 rude and cruel to the old man all his life ; and violence was 
 natural to his mind in connection with him. " He shall be 
 gagged if he speaks, and pinioned if he writes," said Jonas, 
 looking at him ; for they sat alone together. " He is mad 
 enough for that ; I'll go through with it ! " 
 
 Hush I 
 
 Still listening ! To every sound. He had listened ever 
 since, and it had not come yet. The exposure of the Assur- 
 ance office ; the flight of Crimple and Bullamy with the 
 plunder, and among the rest, as he feared, with his own bill, 
 which he had not found in the pocket-book of the murdered 
 man, and which with Mr. Pecksniff's money had probably 
 been remitted to one or other of those trusty friends for safe 
 clesposit at the banker's : his immense losses, and peril of 
 being still called to account as a partner in the broken firm \ 
 all these things rose in his mind at one time and always, but 
 he could not contemplate them. He was aware of their 
 presence, and of the rage, discomfiture, and despair, they 
 brought along with them ; but he thought — of his own con- 
 trolling power and direction he thought — of the one dread 
 question only. When they would find the body in the wood. 
 
 He tried — he had never left off trying — not to forget it was 
 there, for that was impossible, but to forget to weary himself 
 by drawing vivid pictures of it in his fancy : by going softly 
 about it and about it among the leaves, approaching it nearer 
 and nearer through a gap in the boughs, and startling the 
 very flies that were thickly sprinkled all ovei it, like heaps of 
 dried currants. His mind was fixed and fastened on the dis- 
 covery, for intelligence of which he listened inteftitly to every 
 cry and shout ; listened when any one came in, or went out ; 
 watched from the window the people who passed up and down 
 the street ; mistrusted his own looks and words. And the 
 more his thoughts were set upon the discoverv, the stronger 
 was the fascination which attracted them to the thing itself : 
 lying alone in the wood. He was for ever showing and 
 presenting it, as it were, to every creature whom he saw. 
 " Look here ! Do you know of this 1 Is it found >. Do you 
 
 49
 
 770 
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 suspect mcl " If he had been condemned to bear the body 
 in his arms, and lay it down for recognition at the feet of every 
 one he met, it could not have been more constantly with him, 
 or a cause of more monotonous and dismal occupation than it 
 was in this state of his mind. 
 
 Still he was not sorry. It was no contrition or remorse 
 for what he had done that moved him ; it was nothing but 
 alarm for his own security. The vague consciousness he 
 possessed of having wrecked his fortune in the murderous 
 venture, intensified his hatred and revenge, and made him set 
 the greater store by what he had gained. The man was dead ; 
 nothing could undo that. He felt a triumph yet, in the 
 reflection. 
 
 He had kept a jealous watch on Chufifey, ever since the 
 deed ; seldom leaving him but on compulsion, and then for as 
 short intervals as possible. They were alone together now. 
 It was twilight, and the appointed time drew near at hand, 
 Jonas walked up and down the room. The old man sat in his 
 accustomed corner. 
 
 The slightest circumstance was matter of disquiet to the 
 murderer, and he was made uneasy at this time by the absence 
 of his wife, who had left home early in the afternoon, and had 
 not returned yet. No tenderness for her was at the bottom 
 of this ; but he had a misgiving that she might have been 
 waylaid, and tempted into saying something that would 
 criminate him when the news came. For anything he knew, 
 she might have knocked at the door of his room, while he 
 was away, and discovered his plot. Confound her, it was like 
 her pale face, to be wandering up and down the house ! 
 Where was she now ? 
 
 " She went to her good friend, Mrs. Todgers," said the old 
 man, when he asked the question with an angry oath. 
 
 Ay ! To be sure ! Always stealing away into the com- 
 pany of that woman. She was no friend of his. Who could 
 tell what devil's mischief they might hatch together ! Let her 
 be fetched home directly. 
 
 The old man, muttering some words softly, rose as if he 
 would have gone himself, but Jonas thrust him back into his 
 chair with an impatient imprecation, and sent a servant-girl 
 to fetch her. When he had charged her with her errand he 
 walked to and fro again, and never stopped till she came 
 back, which she did pretty soon : the way being shprt, and the 
 woman having made good haste.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 771 
 
 Well. Where was she? Had she come? 
 
 No. She had left there, full three hours. 
 
 " Left there ! Alone ? " 
 
 The messenger had not asked ; taking that for granted. 
 
 " Curse you for a fool. Bring candles ! " 
 
 She had scarcely left the room, when the old clerk, who 
 had been unusually observant of him ever since he had asked 
 about his wife, came suddenly upon him. 
 
 " Give her up ! " cried the old man. " Come ! Give her 
 up to me ! Tell me what you have done with her. , Quick ! 
 I have made no promises on that score. Tell me what you 
 have done with her." 
 
 He laid his hands upon his collar as he spoke, and grasped 
 it : tightly too. 
 
 " You shall not leave me ! " cried the old man. " I am 
 strong enough to cry out to the neighbors, and 1 will, unless 
 you give her up. Give her up to me ! " 
 
 Jonas was so dismayed and conscience-stricken, that he 
 had not even hardihood enough to unclench the old man's 
 hands with his own ; but stood looking at him as well as he 
 could in the darkness, without moving a finger. It was as 
 much as he could do to ask him what he meant. 
 
 " I will know what you have done with her ! " retorted 
 Chufifey. " If you hurt a hair of her head, you shall answer 
 it. Poor thing ! Poor thing ! Where is she ? " 
 
 " Why, you old madman ! " said Jonas, in a low voice, and 
 with trembling, lips. " What Bedlam fit has come upon you 
 now ? " 
 
 " It is enough to make me mad, seeing what I have seen 
 in this house ! " cried Chuffey. " Where is my dear old 
 master ! Where is his only son that I have nursed upon my 
 knee, a child ! Where is she, she who was the last ; she that 
 I've seen pining day by day, and heard weeping in the dead 
 of night ! She was the last, the last of all my friends ! 
 Heaven help me, she was the very last ! " 
 
 Seeing that the tears were stealing down his face, Jonas 
 mustered courage to unclench his hands, and push him off 
 before he answered : 
 
 "Did you hear me ask for her? Did you hear me send 
 for her? How can I give you up what I haven't got, idiot! 
 Ecod, I'd give her up to you and welcome, if I could ; and a 
 precious pair you'd be ! " 
 
 " If she has come to any harm," cried Chuffey, " mind !
 
 772 
 
 MA K TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 I'm old and silly ; but I have my memory sometimes ; and if 
 she has come to any harm — " 
 
 " Devil take you," interrupted Jonas, but in a suppressed 
 voice still ; " what harm do you suppose she has come to ? 
 I know no more where she is than you do ; I wish I did. 
 Wait till she comes home, and see ; she can't be long. Will 
 that content you ? " 
 
 " Mind ! " exclaimed the old man. " Not a hair of her 
 head ! not a hair of her head ill-used ! I won't bear it. I — I 
 have boi;ae it too long, Jonas. I am silent but I — I — I can 
 speak. I — I — I can speak — " he stammered, as he crept back 
 to his chair, and turned a threatening, though a feeble, look 
 upon him. 
 
 " You can speak, can you ! " thought Jonas. " So, so, we'll 
 stop your speaking. It's well I knew of this in good time. 
 Prevention is better than cure." 
 
 He had made a poor show of playing the Bully and 
 evincing a desire to conciliate at the same time, but was so 
 afraid of the old man that great drops had started out upon 
 his brow ; and they stood there yet. His unusual tone of 
 voice and agitated manner had sufficiently expressed his fear ; 
 but his face would have done so now, without that aid, as he 
 had again walked to and fro, glancing at him by the candle- 
 light. 
 
 He stopped at the window to think. An opposite shop 
 was lighted up ; and the tradesman and a customer were read- 
 ing some printed bill together across the counter. The sight 
 brought him back, instantly, to the occupation he had forgotten. 
 " Look here ! Do you know of this .'' Is it found ? Do you 
 suspect me ? " 
 
 A hand upon the door. " What's that ! " 
 
 " A pleasant evenin'," said the voice of Mrs. Gamp, 
 " though warm, which, bless you, Mr. Chuzzlewit, we must 
 expect when cowcumbers is three for two-pence. How does 
 Mr. Chuffey find his self to-night, sir ? " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp kept particularly close to the door in saying 
 this, and curtseyed more than usual. She did not appear to 
 be quite so much at her ease as she generally was. 
 
 " Get him to his room," said Jonas, walking up to her. and 
 speaking in her ear. " He has been raving to-night — stark 
 mad. Don't talk while he's here, but come clown again." 
 
 " Poor sweet dear ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, with uncommon 
 tenderness. " He's all of a tremble."
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLEWTT. 773 
 
 " Well he may be," said Jonas " after the mad fit he has 
 had. Get him up stairs." 
 
 She was by this time assisting him to rise. 
 
 " There's my blessed old chick ! " cried Mrs. Gamp, in a 
 tone that was at once soothing and encouraging. " There's 
 my darlin' Mr. Chufifey ! Now come up to your own room, 
 sir, and lay down on your bed a bit ; for you're a shakin' all 
 over, as if your precious jints was hung upon wires. That's 
 a good creetur ! Come with Sairey ! " 
 
 " Is she come home ? " inquired the old man. 
 
 " She'll be here directly minnit," returned Mrs. Gamp. 
 " Come with Sairey, Mr. Chuffey. Come with your own 
 Sairey ! " 
 
 The good woman had no reference to any female in the 
 world in promising this speedy advent of the person for whom 
 Mr. Chuffey inquired, but merely threw it out as a means of 
 pacifying the old man. It had its effect, for he permitted her 
 to lead liim away : and they quitted the room together. 
 
 Jonas looked out of the window again. They were still 
 reading the printed paper in the shop opposite, and a third 
 man had joined in the perusal. What could it be, to interest 
 them so ? 
 
 A dispute or discussion seemed to arise among them, for 
 they all looked up from their reading together, and one of the 
 three, who had been glancing over the shoulder of another, 
 stepped back to explain or illustrate some action by his ges- 
 tures. 
 
 Horror! How like the blow he had struck in the wood ! 
 
 It beat him from the window as if it had lighted on him- 
 self As he staggered into a chair he thought of the cnange 
 in Mrs. Gamp, exhibited in her new-born tenderness to her 
 charge. Was that because it was found ? — because she knew 
 of it ? — because she suspected him ? 
 
 " Mr. Chuffey is a lyin'down," said Mrs. Gamp, returning, 
 "and much good may it do him, Mr. Chuzzlewit, which harm 
 it can't and good it may, be joyful ! " 
 
 " Sit down," said Jonas, hoarsely, " and let us get this 
 business done. Where is the other woman ? " 
 
 "The other person's with him now," she answered. 
 
 "That's right," said Jonas. " He is not fit to be left to 
 himself. Why, he fastened on me to-night ; here, upon my 
 coat ; like a savage dog. Old as he is, and feeble as he is 
 usually, I had .some trouble to shake him off. You — Hush !
 
 774 
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 — It's nothing. You told me the other woman's name. I for- 
 get it." 
 
 " I mentioned Betsey Prig,'" said Mrs. Gamp. 
 
 " She is to be trusted, is she ?" 
 
 " That she ain't ! " said Mrs. Gamp ; "nor have I brought 
 her, Mr. Chuzzlevvit. I've brouglit another, which engages to 
 give every satisfaction." 
 
 " What is her name ? " asked Jonas. 
 
 Mrs. Gamp looked at him in an odd way without return- 
 ing any answer, but appeared to understand the question too. 
 
 " What is her name ? " repeated Jonas. 
 
 "Her name," said Mrs. Gamp, "is Harris." 
 
 It was extraordinary how much effort it cost Mrs. Gamp to 
 pronounce the name she was commonly so ready with. She 
 made some three or four gasps before she could get it out ; 
 and, when she had uttered it, pressed her hand upon her side, 
 and turned up her eyes, as if she were going to faint away. 
 But, knowing her to labor under a complication of internal 
 disorders, which rendered a few drops of spirits indispensable 
 at certain times to her existence, and which came on very 
 strong when that remedy was not at hand, Jonas merely sup- 
 posed her to be the victim of one of these attacks. 
 
 " Well ! " he said, hastily, for he felt how incapable he 
 was of confining his wandering attention to the subject. 
 " You and she have arranged to take care of him, have you .'"' 
 
 Mrs. Gamp replied in the affirmative, and softly discharged 
 herself of her familiar phrase. " Turn and turn about ; one 
 off, one on." But she spoke so tremulously that she felt called 
 upon to add, " which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my 
 nerves this night ! " 
 
 Jonas stopped to listen. Then said, hurriedly : 
 
 " We shall not quarrel about terms. Let them be the same 
 as they were before. Keep him close, and keep him quiet. 
 He must be restrained. He has got it in his head to-night 
 that my wife's dead, and has been attacking me as if I had 
 killed her. It's — it's common with mad people to take the 
 worst fancies of those they like best. Isn't it .'' " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp assented with a short groan. 
 
 " Keep him close, then, or in one of his lits he'll be doing 
 me a mischief. And don t trust him at any time ; for when 
 he seems most rational, he's wildest in his talk. But that you 
 know already. Let me see the other." 
 
 "The t'other person, sir .'' " said Mrs. Gamp.
 
 MA R TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 in 
 
 " Ay! Go you to him and send the other. Quick ! I'm 
 busy." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp took two or three backward steps towards the 
 door, and stopped there. 
 
 "It is your wishes, Mr. Cliuzzlewit," she said, in a sort 
 of quavering croak, " to see the t'other person. Is it .? " 
 
 But the ghastly change in Jonas told her that the other 
 person was already seen. Before she could look round to- 
 wards the door, she was put aside by old Martin's hand ; and 
 Chuffey and John Westlock entered with him. 
 
 "Let no one leave the house," said Martin. "This man 
 is my brother's son. Ill-met, ill-trained, ill-begotten. If he 
 moves from the spot on which he stands, or speaks a word 
 above his breath to any person here, open the window, and 
 call for help ! " 
 
 " What right have you to give such directions in this 
 house? " asked Jonas faintly. 
 
 " The right of your wrong-doing. Come in there ! " 
 
 An irrepressible exclamation burst from the lips of Jonas, 
 as Lewsome entered at the door. It was not a groan, or a 
 shriek, or a word, but was wholly unlike any sound that had 
 ever fallen on the ears of those who heard it, while at the 
 same time it was the most sharp and terrible expression of 
 what was working in his guilty breast, that nature could have 
 invented. 
 
 He had done murder for this! He had girdled himself 
 about with perils, agonies of mind, innumerable fears, for this ! 
 He had hidden his secret in the wood ; pressed and stamped 
 it down into the bloody ground ; and here it started up when 
 least expected, miles upon miles away ; known to many ; pro- 
 claiming itself from the lips of an old man who had renewed 
 his strength and vigor as by a miracle, to give it voice against 
 him ! 
 
 He leaned his hand on the back of a chnir, and looked 
 at them. It was in vain to try to do so, scornfully ; or with 
 his usual insolence. He required the chair for his support. 
 But he made a struggle for it. 
 
 " I know that fellow," he said, fetching his breath at every 
 word, and pointing his trembling finger toward Lewsome. 
 " He's the greatest liar alive. What's his last tale ? Ha, ha I 
 You're rare fellows too ! Why, that uncle of mine is childish ; 
 he's even a greater child than his brother, my father, was, in 
 his old age ; or than CJhufl'ey is. What the dc\ il do you
 
 -^5 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 mean," he added, looking fiercely at John Westlock and Mark 
 
 Tapley (the latter had entered with Lewsome), "by coming 
 here, and bringing two idots and a knave with you to take my 
 house by storm. Hallo, there ! Open the door ! Turn these 
 strangers out ! " 
 
 " I tell you what," cried Mr. Tapley, coming forward, "if 
 it wasn't for your name, I'd drag you through the streets of 
 my own accord, and single-handed, I would ! Ah, I would ! 
 Don"t try and look bold at me. You can't do it ! Now go 
 on, sir," this was to old Martin. " Bring the murderin' waga- 
 bond upon his knees ! If he wants noise, he shall have 
 enough of it ; for as sure as he's a shivering from head to foot, 
 I'll raise a uproar at this winder that shall bring half London 
 in. Go on, sir ! Let him try me once, and see whether I'm a 
 man of my word or not." 
 
 With that, Mark folded his arms, and took his seat upon 
 the window-ledge, with an air of general preparation for any- 
 thing, which seemed to imply that he was equally ready to 
 jump out himself, or to throw Jonas out, upon receiving the 
 slightest hint that it would be agreeable to the company. 
 
 Old Martin turned to Lewsome : 
 
 "This is the man," he said, extending his hand towards 
 
 Jonas. " Is it ? " 
 
 " You need do no more than look at him to be sure of that, 
 or of the truth of what I have said. He is my witness." 
 
 " Oh, brother ! " cried old Martin, clasping his hands and 
 lifting up his eyes. " Oh, brother, brother ! Were we strangers 
 half our lives that you might breed a wretch like this, and I 
 make life a desert by withering every flower that grew about 
 me ! Is it the natural end of your precepts and mine, that 
 this should be the creature of your rearing, training, teaching, 
 hoarding, striving for : and I the means of bringing him to 
 punishment, when nothing can repair the wasted past ! " 
 
 He sat down upon a chair as he spoke, and turning away 
 his face, was silent for a few moments. Then with recovered 
 energy he proceeded : 
 
 " Biit the accursed harvest of our mistaken lives shall be 
 trodden down. It is not too late for that. You are confronted 
 with this man, yon monster there ; not to be spared, but to be 
 dealt with justily. Hear what he says ! Reply, be silent, 
 contradict, repeat, defy, do what you please. My course will 
 be the same. Go on ! And you," he said to Chuffey, "for 
 the love of your old friend, speak out, good fellow ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 777 
 
 " I have been silent for his love ! " cried the old man. 
 " He urged me to it. He made me promise it upon his dying 
 bed. I never would have spoken, but for you finding out so 
 much. I have thought about it ever since : I couldn't help 
 that : and sometimes I have had it all before me in a dream : 
 but in the day-time, not in sleep. Is there such a kind of 
 dream ? " said Chuffey. looking anxiously in old Martin's face 
 
 As Martin made him an encouraging reply, he listened at- 
 tentively to his voice ; and smiled. 
 
 "Ah, ay ! " he cried "He often spoke to me like that. 
 We were at school together, he and I. I couldn't turn against 
 his son, you know — his only son, Mr. Chuzzlewit ! " 
 
 " I would to heaven you had been his son ! " said Martin. 
 
 " You speak so like my dear old- master," cried the old 
 man with a childish delight, " that I almost think I hear 
 him. I can hear you quite as well as fused to hear him. It 
 makes me young again. He never spoke unkindly to me, 
 and I always understood him. I could always see him too, 
 though my sight was dim. Well, Well! He's dead, he's 
 dead. He was very good to me, my dear old master ! " 
 
 He shook his head mournfully over the brother's hand. 
 At this moment Mark, who had been glancing out of the win- 
 dow, left the room. 
 
 "I couldn't turn against his only son, you know," said 
 Chuffey. " He has nearly driven me to do it sometimes ; he 
 very nearly did it to-night. Ah !" cried the old man, with a 
 sudden recollection of the cause. " Where is she ! She's not 
 come home ! " 
 
 " Do you mean his wife ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I have removed her. She is in my care, and will be 
 spared the present knowledge of what is passing here. She 
 has known miser)' enough, without that addition." 
 
 Jonas heard this with a smking heart. He knew that they 
 were on his heels, and felt that they were resolute to run him 
 to destruction. Inch by inch the ground beneath him was 
 sliding from his feet ; faster and faster the encircling ruin con- 
 tractetl and contracted towards himself, its wicked centre, until 
 it should close in and crush him. 
 
 And now he heard the voice of his accomplice stating to 
 his face, with every circumstance of time and place and in- 
 cident ; and openly proclaiming, with no reserve, suppression, 
 passion, or concealment ; all the truth. The truth, which
 
 778 
 
 MAR77N CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 nothing would keep down ; which blood would not smother, 
 and earth would not hide ; the truth, whose terrible inspira- 
 tion seemed to change dotards into strong men ; and on whose 
 avenging wings, one whom he had supposed to be at the ex- 
 tremest corner of the earth came swooping down upon him. 
 
 He tried to deny it, but his tongue would not move. He 
 conceived some desperate thought of rushing away, and tear- 
 ing through the streets ; but his limbs would as little answer 
 to his will as his stark, stiff, staring face. All this time the 
 voice went slowly on, denouncing him. It was as if every 
 drop of blood in the wood had found a voice to jeer him with. 
 
 When it ceased, another voice took up the tale, but 
 strangely ; for the old clerk, who had watched, and listened 
 to the whole, and had wrung his hands from time to time, as 
 if he knew its truth and could confirm it, broke in with these 
 words : 
 
 "No, no, no ! you are wrong; you're wrong — all wrong to- 
 gether ! Have patience, for the truth is only known to me ! " 
 
 "How can that be," said his old master's brother, "after 
 what you have heard ? Besides, you said just now, above 
 stairs, when I told you the accusation against him, that you 
 knew he was his father's murderer." 
 
 " Ay, yes ! and so he was ! " cried Chufifey wildly. " But 
 not as you suppose — not as you suppose. Stay ! Give me a 
 moment's time. I have it all here — all here ! It w^as foul, 
 foul, cruel, bad ; but not as you suppose. Stay, Stay ! " 
 
 He put his hands up to his head, as if it throbbed or pained 
 him. After looking about him in a wandering and vacant 
 manner for some moments, his eyes rested upon Jonas, when 
 they kindled up with sudden recollection and intelligence. 
 
 " Yes ! " cried old Chuffey, " yes ! That's how it was. It's 
 all upon me now. He — he got up from his bed before he 
 died, to be sure, to say that he forgave him, and he came 
 down with me into this room ; and when he saw him — his only 
 son, the son he loved — his speech forsook him : he had no 
 speech for what he knew — and no one understood him except 
 me. But I did— I did ! " 
 
 Old Martin regarded him in amazement ; so did his com- 
 panions. Mrs Gamp, who had said nothing yet ; but had 
 kept two-thirds of herself behind the door, ready for escape, 
 and one-third in the room, ready for siding with the strongest 
 party ; came a little further in and remarked, with a sob, that 
 Mr. Chuffey was "the sweetest old creetur goin'. 
 
 n
 
 A/A A" TLV CHUZZLE WTT. 779 
 
 " He bought the stuff," said Chuffey, stretching out his 
 arm towards Jonas, while an unwonted fire shone in his eye, 
 and lightened up his face ; " he bought tiie stuff, no doubt, as 
 you have heard, and brought it home. He mixed the stuff 
 —look at him ! — with some sweetmeat in a jar, exactly as the 
 medicine for his father's cough was mixed, and put it in a 
 drawer ; in that drawer yonder in the desk ; he knows which 
 drawer I mean ! He kept it there locked up. But his cour- 
 age failed him, or his heart was touched — my God ! I hope 
 it was his heart ! He was his only son ! — and he did not put 
 it in the usual place, where my old master would have taken 
 it twenty times a-day." 
 
 The trembling figure of the old man shook with the strong 
 emotions that possessed him. But, with the same light in his 
 eye, and with his arm outstretched, and with his gray hair 
 stirring on his head, he seemed to grow in size, and was like 
 a man inspired. Jonas shrunk from looking at him, and cow- 
 ered down into the chair by which h.e had held. It seemed 
 as if this tremendous Truth could make the dumb speak. 
 
 " I know it every word now ! " cried Chuffey. " Every 
 word ! He put it in that drawer, as I ha\e said. He went 
 so often there, and was so secret, that his father took notice 
 of it ; and when he was out had it opened. We were there 
 together, and we found the mixture — Mr. Chuzzlewit and I. 
 He took it into his possession, and made light of it at the 
 time ; but in the night he came to my bed-side, weeping, and 
 told me that his own son had it in his mind to poison him. 
 ' Oh, Chuff,' he said, 'oh, dear old Chuff ! a voice came into 
 my room to-night, and told me that this crime began with me. 
 It began when I taught him to be too covetous of what I ba\e 
 to leave, and made the expectation of it his great business ! ' 
 Those were his words ; ay, they are his very words ! If he 
 was a hard man now and then, it was for his only son. He 
 loved his only son, and he was always good to me ! " 
 
 Jonas listened with increased attention. Hope was break- 
 ing in upon him. 
 
 " ' He shall not weary for my death. Chuff : ' that was 
 what he said next," pursued the old clerk, as he wiped his 
 eyes ; " that was what he said next, crying like a little child : 
 ' He shall not weary for my death. Chuff. He shall have it 
 now ; he shall marry where he has a fanc}^ Chuff, although it 
 don't please me ; and you and 1 will go away and li\e upon a 
 little. I always loved him ; perhaps he'll lo\e mc then. It's
 
 780 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 a dreadful thing to htive my own child thirsting for my death. 
 But I might have known it. I have sown, and I must reap. 
 He shall believe that I am taking this ; and when I see that 
 he is sorry, and has all he wants, I'll tell him that I found it 
 out, and I'll forgive him. He'll make a better man of his 
 own son, and be a better man himself, perhaps, Chutf ! ' " 
 
 Poor Chuffey paused to dry his eyes again. Old Martin's 
 face was hidden in his hands. Jonas listened still more 
 keenly, and his breast heaved like a swollen water, but with 
 hope. With growing hope. 
 
 " My dear old master made believe next day," said Chuf- 
 fey, " that he had opened the drawer by mistake with a key 
 from the bunch, which happened to fit it (we had one made 
 and hung upon it) ; and that he had been surprised to find 
 his fresh supply of cough medicine in such a place, but sup- 
 posed it had been put there in a hurry when the drawer stood 
 open. We burnt it ; but his son believed that he was taking 
 it — he knows he did. Once Mr. Chuzzlewit to try him took 
 heart to say it had a strange taste ; and he got up directly, 
 and went out." 
 
 Jonas gave a short, dry cough ; and, changing his position 
 for an easier one, folded his arms without looking at them, 
 though they could now see his face. 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit wrote to her father ; I mean the father 
 of the poor thing who's his wife ; " said Chuffey ; " and got 
 him to come up : intending to hasten on the marriage. But 
 his mind, like mine, went a little wrong through gnef, and 
 then his heart broke. He sank and altered from "the time 
 when he came to me in the night ; and never held up his head 
 again. It was only a few days, but he had never changed so 
 much in twice the years. ' Spare him. Chuff ! ' he said, before 
 he died. They were the only words he could speak. ' Spare 
 him. Chuff!' I promised him I would. I've tried to do it. 
 He's his only son." 
 
 In his recollection of the last scene in his old friend's life, 
 poor Chuffey's voice, which had grown weaker and weaker, 
 quite deserted him. Making a motion with his hand, as if 
 he would have said that Anthony had taken it, and had died 
 with it in his, he retreated to the corner where he usually con- 
 cealed his sorrows ; and was silent. 
 
 Jonas could look at his company now, and vauntingly too. 
 " Well ! " he said, after a pause. " Are you satisfied t Or 
 have you any more of your plots to broach t Why that fellow,
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 781 
 
 Lewsome, can invent 'em for you by the score. Is this all ? 
 Have you nothing else ? " 
 
 Old Martin looked at him steadily. 
 
 "Wliether you are what you seemed to be at Pecksniff's, 
 or are something else and a mountebank, I don't know and I 
 don't care," said Jonas, looking downward with a smile, " but 
 I don't want you here. You were here so often w-hen your 
 brother was alive, and were always so fond of him (your dear, 
 dear brother, and you would have been cuffing one another 
 before this, ecod !), that I am not surprised at your being at- 
 tached to the place ; but the place is not attached to you, and 
 you can't leave it too soon, though you may leave it too late. 
 And for my wife, old man, send her home straight, or it will 
 be the worse for her. Ha ha ! You carry it with a high 
 hand too I But it isn't hanging yet for a man to keep a 
 penn'orth of poison for his own purposes, and have it taken 
 from him by two old crazy jolter-heads who go and act a 
 play about it. Ha, ha ! Do you see the door ? " 
 
 His base triumph, struggling with his cowardice, and 
 shame, and guilt, was so detestable, that they turned away 
 from him, as if he were some obscene and filthy animal, repug- 
 nant to the sight. And here that last black crime was busy 
 with him too ; working within him to his perdition. But for 
 that, the old clerk's story might have touched him, though 
 never so lightly ; but for that, the sudden removal of so great 
 a load might have brought about some wholesome change 
 even in him. With that deed done, however ; with that un- 
 necessaiy wasteful danger haunting him ; despair was in his 
 very triumph and relief; wild, ungovernable, raging despair, 
 for the uselessness of the peril into which he had plunged ; 
 despair that hardened him and maddened him, and set his 
 teeth a grinding in a moment of his exultation. 
 
 " My good friend ! " said old Martin, laying his hand on 
 Chuffey's sleeve. " This is no place for you to remain in. 
 Come with me." 
 
 " Just his old way ! " cried Chuffey, looking up into his 
 face. " I almost believe it's Mr. Chuzzlewit alive again. 
 Yes ! Take me with you I Stay, though, stay." 
 
 " For what ? " asked old Martin. 
 
 " I can't leave her, poor thing ! " said Chuffey. "• She 
 has been very good to me. I can't leave her, Mr. Chuzzlewit. 
 Thank you kindly. I'll remain here. I haven't long to re- 
 main \ it's no great matter."
 
 7 82 ^1/^-^^ TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 As he meekly shook his poor, gray head, and thanked old 
 Martin in these words, Mrs. Gamp, now entirely in the room, 
 was affected to tears. 
 
 " The mercy as it is ! " she said, " as sech a dear, good, 
 reverend creetur, never got into the clutches of Betsey Prig, 
 which but for me he would have done, undoubted, facts bein' 
 stubborn and not easy drove ! " 
 
 " You heard me speak to you just now, old man," said 
 Jonas to his uncle, " I'll have no more tampering with my 
 people, man or woman. Do you see the door.? " 
 
 " Do yoH see the door t " returned the voice of Mark, com 
 ing from that dirction. " Look at it I " 
 
 He looked, and his gaze was nailed there. Fatal, ill- 
 omened, blighted threshold, cursed by his father's footsteps 
 in his dying hour, cursed by his young wife's sorrowing tread, 
 cursed by the daily shadow of the old clerk's figure, cursed by 
 the crossing of his murderer's feet — what men were standing 
 in the doorway ! 
 
 Nadgett foremost. 
 
 Hark ! It came on, roaring like a sea ! Hawkers burst 
 into the street, crying it up and down ; windows were thrown 
 open that the inhabitants might hear it ; people stopped to 
 listen in the road and on the pavement ; the bells, the same 
 bells, began to ring : tumbling over one another in a dance of 
 boisterous joy at the discovery (that was the sound they had 
 in his distempered thoughts), and making their airy playground 
 rock. 
 
 " That is the man," said Nadgett. " By the window !'' 
 
 Three others came in, laid hands upon him, and secured 
 him. It was so quickly done, that he had not lost sight of the 
 informer's face for an instant when his wrists were manacled 
 together. 
 
 " Murder," said Nadgett, looking round on the astonished 
 group. " Let no one interfere." 
 
 The sounding street repeated Murder ,• barbarous and 
 dreadful Murder ; Murder, Murder, Murder. Rolling on from 
 house to house, and echoing from stone to stone, until the 
 voices died away into thedistant hum, which seemed to mutter 
 the same word ! 
 
 They all stood silent : listening, and gazing in each other's 
 faces, as the noise passed on. 
 
 Old Martin was the first to speak. " What terrible history 
 is this ? " he demanded.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWfT. 7S3 
 
 " Ask him,^ said Nadgett. " You're his friend, sir. He 
 can tell you, if he will. He knows more of it than I do, though 
 1 know much." 
 
 " How do you know much ? " 
 
 " I have not been watching him so long for nothing," re- 
 turned Nadgett. " I never watched a man so close as I 
 have watched him." 
 
 Another of the phantom forms of this terrific Truth ! An- 
 other of the many shapes in which it started up about him, out 
 of vacancy. This man, of all men in the world, a spy upon 
 him ; this man, changing his identity : casting oil his shrinking, 
 purblind, unobservant character, and springing up into a 
 watchful enemy ! The dead man might have come out of his 
 grave, and not confounded and appalled him more. 
 
 The game was up. The race was at an end ; the rope was 
 woven for his neck. If, by a miracle, he could escape from 
 this strait, he had but to turn his face another way, no matter 
 where, and there would rise some new avenger front to front 
 with him ; some infant in an hour grown old, or old man in an 
 hour grown young, or blind man with his sight restored, or 
 deaf man with his hearing given him. There was no chance. 
 He sank down in a heap against the wall, and never hoped 
 again from that moment. 
 
 " I am not his friend, although I have the dishonor to be 
 his relative," said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " You may speak to me. 
 Where have you watched, and what have you seen .'' " 
 
 " I have watched in many places," returned Nadgett, 
 " night and day. I have watched him lately, almost without 
 rest or relief ; " his anxious face and bloodshot eyes confirmed 
 it. " I little thought to what my watching was to lead. As 
 little as he did when he slipped out in the night, dressed in 
 those clothes which he afterwards sunk in a bundle at London 
 Bridge ! " 
 
 Jonas moved upon the ground like a man in bodily torture. 
 He uttered a suppressed groan, as if he had been wounded by 
 some cruel weapon ; and plucked at the iron band upon his 
 wrists, as though (his hands being free) he would have torn 
 himself. 
 
 " Steady, kinsman ! " said the chief officer of the party. 
 " Don't be violent." 
 
 " Whom do you call kinsman ? " asked old Martin sternly. 
 
 " You," said the man, " among others." 
 
 Martin turned his scrutinizing gaze upon him. He was
 
 y^^ MARTIN CHUZZLEWir. 
 
 sitting lazily across a chair with his arms restiiVa; on the back ; 
 eating nuts, and throwing the shells out of window as he 
 cracked them ; which he still continued to do while speaking. 
 
 " Ay," he said, with a sulky nod. You may deny your 
 nephews till you die, but Chevy Slyme is Chevy Slyme still, all 
 the world o\er. Perhaps even you may feel it some disgrace 
 to your own blood to be employed in this way. I'm to be 
 bought off." 
 
 " At every turn ! " cried Martin. " Self, self, self. Every 
 one among them for himself ! " 
 
 " You had better save one or two among them the trouble 
 then, and be for them as well as j'(7//;'self," replied his nephew. 
 " Look here at me ! Can you see the man of your family who 
 has more talent in his little finger than all the rest in their 
 united brains, dressed as a police officer without being 
 ashamed .'' I took up with this trade on purpose to shame you. 
 I didn' t think I should have to make a capture in the family, 
 though." 
 
 " If your debauchery, and that of your chosen friends, has 
 really brought you to this level," returned the old man, " keep 
 it. You are living honestly, I hope, and that's something." 
 
 " Don't be hard upon my chosen friends," returned Slyme, 
 " for they were sometimes your chosen friends too. Don't 
 say you never employed my friend Tigg, for I know better. 
 We quarrelled upon it." 
 
 " I hired the fellow," retorted Mr. Chuzzlewit, " and I 
 paid him." 
 
 " It's well you paid him," said his nephew, " for it would 
 be too late to do so now. He has given his receipt in full — 
 or had it forced from him rather." 
 
 The old man looked at him as if he were curious to know 
 what he meant, but scorned to prolong the conversation. 
 
 " I have always expected that he and I would be brought 
 together again in the course of business," said Slyme, taking 
 a fresh handful of nuts from his pocket ; " but I thought he 
 would be wanted for some swindling job : it never entered my 
 head that I should hold a warrant for the apprehension of his 
 murderer." 
 
 " His murderer ! " cried Mr. Chuzzlewit, looking from one 
 to another. 
 
 " His or Mr. Montague's," said Nadgett. " They are the 
 same, I am told. I accuse him yonder of the murder of Mr. 
 Montague, who was found last night, killed in a wood. You
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 78s 
 
 will ask me why I accuse him, as you have already asked me how 
 I know so much. I'll tell you. It can't remain a secret long." 
 
 The ruling passion of the man expressed itself even then, 
 in the tone of regret in which he deplored the approaching 
 publicity of what he knew. 
 
 " I told you I had watched him," he proceeded. " I was 
 instructed to do so by Mr. Montague, in whose employment I 
 have been for some time. We had our suspicions of him ; 
 and you know what they pointed at, for you have been discuss- 
 ing it since we have been waiting here, outside the room. If 
 you care to hear now it's all over, in what our suspicions be- 
 gan, I'll tell you plainly : in a quarrel (it first came to our 
 ears through a hint of his own) between him and another 
 office in which his father's life was insured, and which had so 
 much doubt and distrust upon the subject, that he compounded 
 with them, and took half the money ; and was glad to do it. 
 Bit by bit, I ferreted out more circumstances against him, 
 and not a few. It required a little patience, but it's my call- 
 ing. I found the nurse — here she is to confirm me ; I found 
 the doctor, I found the undertaker, I found the undertaker's 
 man. I found out how the old gentleman there, Mr. Chuffey 
 had behaved at the funeral ; and I found out what this man," 
 touching Lewsome on the arm, " had talked about in his fever. 
 I found out how he conducted himself before his father's 
 death, and how since, and how at the time ; and writing it all 
 down, and putting it carefully together, made case enough for 
 Mr. Montague to tax him with the crime, which (as he himself 
 believed until to-night) he had committed. I was by when 
 this was done. You see him now. He is only worse than he 
 was then." 
 
 Oh, miserable, miserable fool ! oh, insupportable, excrucia- 
 ting torture ! To find alive and active — a party to it all — the 
 brain and right-hand of the secret he had thought to crush ! 
 In whom, though he had walled the murdered man up, by 
 enchantment in a rock, the story would have lived and walked 
 abroad ! He tried to stop iiis ears with his fettered arms, 
 that he might shut out the rest. 
 
 As he crouched upon the floor, they drew away from him 
 as if a pestilence were in his breath. They fell off, one by 
 one. from that part of the room, leaving him alone upon the 
 ground. Even those who had him in their keeping shunned 
 him, and (with the exception of Slyme, who was still occupied 
 with his nuts) kept apart. 
 
 50
 
 786 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WTT. 
 
 " From that garret-window opposite," said Nadgett, point- 
 ing across the narrow street, " I have watched this house and 
 him for days and nights. From that garret-window opposite I 
 saw him return liome, alone, from a journey on which he had 
 set out with Mr. Montague. That was my token that Mr. 
 Montague's end was gained ; and I might rest easy on my 
 watch, though I was not to leave it until he dismissed me. 
 But, standing at the door opposite, after dark that same night, 
 I saw a countryman steal out of this house, by a side-door in 
 the court, who had never entered it. I knew his walk, and 
 that it was himself, disguised. I followed him immediately. 
 1 lost him on the western road, still travelling westward." 
 
 Jonas looked up at him for an instant, and muttered an 
 oath. 
 
 " I could not comprehend what this meant," said Nadgett ; 
 " but, having seen so much, I resolved to see it out, and 
 through. And I did. Learning, on inquiry at his house 
 from his wife, that he was supposed to be sleeping in the room 
 from which I had seen him go out, and that he had given 
 strict orders not to be disturbed, I knew that he was coming 
 back ; and for his coming back I watched. I kept my watch 
 in the street — in doorways, and such places — all that night ; 
 at the same window, all next day ; and when night came on 
 again, in the street once more. For I knew he would come 
 back, as he had gone out, when this part of the town was 
 empty. He did. Early in the morning, the same country- 
 man came creeping, creeping, creeping home." 
 
 " Look sharp! " interposed Slyme, who had now finished 
 his nuts. " This is quite irregular, Mr. Nadgett." 
 
 " I kept at the window all day," said Nadgett, without 
 heeding him. " I think 1 never closed my eyes. At night, I 
 saw him come out with a bundle. I followed him again. He 
 went down the steps at London Bridge, and sunk it in the 
 river. I now began to entertain some serious fears, and 
 made a communication to the Police, which caused that 
 bundle to be — " 
 
 " To be fished up," interrupted Slyme. " Be alive, Mr. 
 Nadgett." 
 
 " It contained the dress I had seen him wear," said 
 Nadgett ; " stained with clay, and spotted with blood. In- 
 formation of the murder was received in town last night. 
 The wearer of that dress is already known to have been seen 
 near the place ; to have been lurking in that neighborhood ;
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 787 
 
 and to have alighted from a coach coming from that part of 
 the country, at a time exactly tallying with the very minute 
 when I saw him returning home. The warrant has been out, 
 and these officers have been with me, some hours. We chose 
 our time ; and seeing you come in, and seeing this person at 
 the window — " 
 
 " Beci oned to him," said Mark, taking up the thread of 
 the narrc dvc, on hearing this allusion to himself, " to open 
 the door; v hich he did with a deal of pleasure." 
 
 "That"':, all at present," said Nadgett, putting up his 
 great poc) i:-book, which from mere habit he had produced 
 when he ve'gan his revelation, and had kept in his hand all 
 the tim'. ; 'but there is plenty more to come. You asked 
 me for ti ,-- facts, so far I have related them, and need not 
 detain ti- r..e gentlemen any longer. Are you ready, Mr. 
 Sly me?', r- 
 
 "An ssomething more," replied that worthy rising. "If 
 you wa' round to the office, we shall be there as soon as 
 you. 'J n ! Get a coach ! " 
 
 The jfficer to whom he spoke departed for that purpose. 
 Old Martin lingered for a few moments, as if he would have 
 address( \ some words to Jonas ; but looking round, and 
 . seeing him still seated on the floor, rocking himself in a 
 savage jnanner to and fro, took Chuffey's arm, and slowly 
 followed Nadgett out. John Westlock and Mark Tapley 
 acconp' nied them. Mrs. Gamp had tottered out first, for the 
 better aisplay of her feelings, in a kind of walking swoon ; 
 for Mr Gamp performed swoons of different sorts, upon a 
 moden lC notice, as Mr. Mould did Funerals. 
 
 " Ha ! " muttered Slyme, looking after them. " Upon my 
 soul 1 As insensible of being disgraced, by having such a 
 nephew as myself, in such a situation, as he was of my being 
 an honor and a credit to the family ! That's the return I get 
 for having humbled my spirit — such a spirit as mine — to earn 
 a livelihood, is it ? " 
 
 He got up from his chair, and kicked it away indignantly. 
 
 " And such a livelihood too ! When there are hundreds 
 of men, not fit to hold a candle to me rolling in carriages and 
 living on their fortunes. • Upon my soul it's a nice world ! " 
 
 His eyes encountered Jonas, who looked earnestly towards 
 him, and moved his lips as if he were whispering. 
 
 " Eh ? " said Slyme. 
 
 Jonas glanced at the attendant whose back was towards
 
 788 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 him, and made a clumsy motion with his bound hands towards 
 the door. 
 
 " Humph ! " said Slyme, thoughtfully. " I couldn't hope 
 to disgrace him into anything when you have shot so far 
 ahead of me though. I fore:ot that." 
 
 Jonas repeated the same look and gesture. 
 
 "Jack! " said Slyme. 
 
 " Hallo ! " returned his man, 
 
 " Go down to the door, ready for the coach. Call out 
 when it comes. I'd rather have you there. Now then," he 
 added, turning hastily to Jonas, when the man was gone. 
 " What's the matter t " iv, 
 
 Jonas essayed to rise. 
 
 "Stop a bit," said Slyme. "It's not so easy when your 
 wrists are tight together. Now then ! Up ! What is it ? " 
 
 " Put your hand in my pocket. Here ! The breast 
 pocket, on the left ! " said Jonas. i 
 
 He did so ; and drew out a purse. 
 
 " There's a hundred pound in it," said Jonas, whose words 
 were almost unintelligible ; as his face, in its pallor and 
 agony, was scarcely human. 
 
 Slyme looked at him ; ga\'e it into his hands ; and shook 
 his head. 
 
 " I can't. I daren't. 1 couldn't if I dared. Those fel- 
 lows below — " 
 
 " Escape's impossible," said Jonas. " I know it. One 
 hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room ! " 
 
 " What to do ! " he asked. 
 
 The face of his prisoner as he advanced to whisper in his 
 ear, made him recoil inxoluntarily. But he stopped and lis- 
 tened to him. The words were few, but his own face changed 
 as he heard them. 
 
 " I have it about me," said Jonas, putting his hands to 
 his throat, as though whate\er he referred to, were hidden in 
 his neck-kerchief. " How should you know of it ? How 
 could you know ? A hundred pound for only five minutes in 
 the next room ! The time's passing. Speak ! " 
 
 " It would be more — more creditable to the family," ob- 
 served Slyme, with trembling lips. • " I wish you hadn't told 
 me half so much. Less would have served your purpose. 
 You might have kept it to yourself." 
 
 "A hundred pounds for only five minutes in the next 
 room ! Speak ! " cried Jonas, desperately.
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 789 
 
 He took the purse. Jonas, with a wild unsteady step, 
 retreated to the door in the glass partition. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Slyme, catching at his skirts. " I don't 
 know about this. Yet it must end so at last. Are you 
 guilty ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " said Jonas. 
 
 " Are the proofs as they were told just now ? 
 
 " Yes ! " said Jonas. 
 
 " Will you — will you engage to say a — a Prayer, now, or 
 something of that sort 1 " faltered Slyme. 
 
 Jonas broke from him without replying, and closed the 
 door between them. 
 
 Slyme listened at the keyhole. After that, he crept away 
 on tiptoe, as far off as he could ; and looked awfully towards 
 the place. He was roused by the arrival of the coach, and 
 their letting down the steps. 
 
 " He's getting a few things together," he said, leaning out 
 of window, and speaking to the two men below, who stood in 
 the full light of a street-lamp. " Keep your eye upon the 
 back, one of you, for form's sake." 
 
 One of the men withdrew into the court. The other, 
 seating himself on the steps of the coach, remained in conver- 
 sation with Slyme at the window ; who perhaps had risen to 
 be his superior, in virtue of his old propensity (one so much 
 lauded by the murdered man) of being always round the 
 corner. A useful habit in his present calling. 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked the man. 
 
 Slyme looked into the room for an instant and gave his 
 head a jerk, as much as to say, " Close at hand. I see him." 
 
 " He's booked," observed the man. 
 
 " Through," said Slyme. 
 
 They looked at each other, and up and down the street. 
 The man on the coach-steps took his hat off, and put it on 
 again and whistled a little. 
 
 '* I say ! He's taking his time ! " he remonstrated. 
 
 " I allowed him five minutes," said Slyme. " Time's more 
 than up, though. I'll bring him down." 
 
 He withdrew from the window accordingly, and walked 
 on tiptoe to the door in the partition. He listened. There 
 was not a sound within. He set the candles near it, that 
 they might shine through the glass. 
 
 It was not easy, he found, to make up his mind to the 
 opening of the door. But he tiung it wide open suddenly,
 
 y fjo ^^--^ ^^ TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 and M'ith a noise ; then retreated. After peeping in and lis- 
 tening again, he entered. 
 
 He started back as his eyes met those of Jonas, standing 
 in an angle of the wall, and staring at him. His neck-ker- 
 chief was off ; his face was ashy pale. 
 
 "You're too soon," said Jonas, with an abject whimper. 
 " I've not had time. I have not been able to do it. I — five 
 minutes more — two minutes more ! — Only one ! " 
 
 Slyme gave him no reply, but thrustmg the purse upon him 
 and forcing it back into his pocket, called up his men. 
 
 He whined, and cried, and cursed, and entreated them, 
 and struggled, and submitted, in the same breath, and had no 
 power to stand. They got him away and into the coach, 
 where they put him on a seat ; but he soon fell moaning down 
 among the straw at the bottom, and lay there. 
 
 The two men were with him ; Slyme being on the box 
 with the driver ; and they let him lie. Happening to pass a 
 fruiterer's on their way, the door of which was open, though 
 the shop was' by this time shut, one of them remarked how 
 faint the peaches smelt. 
 
 The other assented at the moment, but presently stooped 
 down in quick alarm, and looked at the prisoner. 
 
 " Stop the coach ! He has poisoned himself ! The smell 
 comes from this bottle in his hand ! " 
 
 The hand had shut upon it tight. With that rigidity of 
 grasp with which no living man, in the full strength and 
 energy of life, can clutch a prize he has won. 
 
 They dragged him out, into the dark street ; but jury, 
 judge, and hangman, could have done no more, and could do 
 nothing now. Dead, dead, dead. 
 
 CHAPTER LH. 
 
 IN WHICH THE TABLES ARE TURNED COMPLETELY UPSIDE 
 
 DOWN. 
 
 Old Martin's cherished projects, so long hidden in his 
 own breast, so frequently \i\ danger of abrupt disclosure 
 through the bursting forth of the indignation he had hoarded
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 79 1 
 
 up, during his residence with Mr. Pecksniff, were retarded, 
 but not beyond a few hours, by tlie occurrences just now 
 related. Stunned, as he had been at first by the inteUigence 
 conveyed to him through Tom Pinch and John Westlock, of 
 the supposed manner of his brother's death ; overwhelmed as 
 he was by the subsequent narratives of Chuffey and Nadgett, 
 and the forging of that chain of circumstances ending in the 
 death of Jonas, of whicli catastrophe he was immediately in- 
 formed ; scattered as his purposes and hopes were for the 
 moment, by the crowding in of all these incidents between 
 hini and his end ; still their very intensity and the tumult of 
 their assemblage nerved him to the rapid and unyielding 
 execution of his scheme. In every single circumstance, 
 whether it were cruel, cowardly, or false, he saw the flowering 
 of the same pregnant seed. Self ; grasping, eager, narrow- 
 ranging, over-reaching self ; with its long train of suspicions, 
 lusts, deceits, and all their growing consequences ; was the 
 root of the vile tree. Mr. Pecksniff had so presented his 
 character before the old man's eyes, that he— -the good, the 
 tolerant, enduring Pecksniff — had become the incarnation of- 
 all selfishness and treachery ; and the more odious the shapes 
 in which those vices ranged themselves before him now, the 
 sterner consolation he had in his design of setting Mr. Peck- 
 sniff right, and Mr. Pecksniff's victims too. 
 
 To this work he brought, not only the energy and determi- 
 nation natural to his character (which, as the reader may 
 have observed in the beginning of his or her acquaintance 
 with this gentleman, was remarkable for the strong develop- 
 ment of those qualities) but all the forced and unnaturally 
 nurtured energy consequent upon their long suppression. And 
 these two tides of resolution setting into one and sweeping on, 
 became so strong and vigorous, that, to prevent themselves 
 from being carried away before it. Heaven knows where, was 
 as much as John Westlock and Mark Tapley together (though 
 they were tolerably energetic too) could manage to effect. 
 
 He had sent for John Westlock immediately on his arrival ; 
 and John, under the conduct of Tom Pinch, had waited on 
 him. Having a lively recollection of Mr. Tapley, he had 
 caused that gentleman's attendance to be secured, through 
 John's means, without delay ; and thus, as we have seen, they 
 had all repaired, together, to the City. But his grandson he 
 had refused to see until to-morrow, when Mr. Tapley was in- 
 structed to summon him to the Temple at ten o'clock in the
 
 792 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 
 
 forenoon. Tom he would not allow to be employed in any- 
 thing, lest he should be wrongfully suspected ; but he was a 
 party to all their proceedings, and was with them until late at 
 night — until after they knew of the death of Jonas ; when he 
 went home to tell all these wonders to little Ruth, and to pre- 
 pare her for accompanying him to the Temple in the morning, 
 agreeably to Mr. Chuzzlewit's particular injunction. 
 
 It was characteristic of old Martin, and his looking on to 
 something which he had distinctly before him, that he com- 
 municated to them nothing of his intentions, beyond such hints 
 of reprisal on Mr. Pecksniff as they gathered from the game 
 he had played in that gentleman's house, and the brightening 
 of his eyes whenever his name was mentioned. Even to John 
 Westlock, in whom he was evidently disposed to place great 
 confidence (which may indeed be said of every one of them), 
 he gave no explanation whatever. He merely requested him 
 to return in the morning ; and with this for their utmost satis- 
 faction, they left him, when the night was far advanced, alone. 
 
 The events of such a day might ha\'e worn out the body 
 . and spirit of a much younger man than he, but he sat in deep 
 and painful meditation until the morning was bright. Nor 
 did he even then seek any prolonged repose, but merely slum- 
 bered in his chair, until seven o'clock, when Mr. Tapley had 
 appointed to come to him by his desire : and came — as fresh 
 and clean and cheerful as the morning itself. 
 
 " You are punctual," said Mr. Chuzzlewit, opening the 
 door to him in reply to his light knock, which had roused him 
 instantly. 
 
 " My wishes, sir," replied Mr. Tapley, whose mind would 
 appear from the context to have been running on the matri- 
 monial service, " is to love, honor, and obey. The clock's a- 
 striking now, sir." 
 
 "Come in ! " 
 
 " Thank'ee, sir, rejoined Mr. Tapley, " what could I do 
 for you first, sir.? " 
 
 " You gave my message to Martin t " said the old man, 
 bending his eyes upon him. 
 
 " I did, sir," returned Mark ; " and you never see a gentle- 
 man more surprised in all your born days than he was." 
 
 " What more did you tell him .? " Mr. Chuzzlewit inquired. 
 
 " Why, sir," said Mr. Tapley, smiling, " I should have 
 liked to tell him a deal more, but not being able, sir, I didn't 
 tell it him."
 
 MARTIN- CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 793 
 
 You told him all you knew?" 
 
 "But it was precious little, sir," retorted Mr. Tapley. 
 "There was very little respectin' you that I was able to tell 
 him, sir. I only mentioned my opinion that Mr. Pecksniff 
 would find himself deceived, sir, and that you would find your- 
 self deceived, and that he would find himself deceived, sir." 
 
 " In what .'' " asked Mr. Chuzzlewit. 
 
 " Meaning him, sir ? " 
 
 " Meaning both him and me." 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mr. Tapley. " In your own opinions of 
 each other. As to him, sir, and his opinions, I know he's a 
 altered man. I know it. I know'd it long afore he spoke to 
 you t'other day, and I must say it. Nobody don't know half 
 as much of him as I do. Nobody can't. There was always a 
 deal of good in him, but a little of it got crusted over, some- 
 how. I can't say who rolled the paste of that 'ere crust my- 
 self, but " 
 
 " Go on," said Martin. " Why do you stop ? " 
 
 " But it — well ! I beg your pardon, but I think it may 
 have been you sir. Unintentional I think it may have been 
 you. I don't believe that neither of you gave the other quite 
 a fair chance. There ! Now I've got rid on it," said Mr. 
 Tapley in a fit of desperation : " I can't go a carryin' it about 
 in my own mind, bustin' myself with it ; yesterday was quite 
 long enough. It's out now. I can't help it. I'm sorry for it, 
 Don't wisit it on him, sir, that's all." 
 
 It was clear that Mark expected to be ordered out imme- 
 diately, and was quite prepared to go. 
 
 " So you think," said Martin, " that his old faults are, in 
 some degree, of my creation, do you ?" 
 
 " Well, sir," retorted Mr. 'I'apley, " I'm werry sorry, but 
 I can't unsay it. It's hardly fair of you, sir, to make a igno- 
 rant man conwict himself in this way, but I do think so. I 
 am as respectful disposed to you, sir, as a man can be ; but I 
 do think so." 
 
 The light of a faint smile seemed to break through the dull 
 steadiness of Martin's face, as he looked attentively at him, 
 without replying. 
 
 " Yet you are an ignorant man, you say," he observed after 
 a long pause. 
 
 " Wery much so," Mr. Tapley replied. 
 
 " And I a learned, well-instructed man, you think .■' " 
 
 " Likewise wery much so," Mr. Tapley answered.
 
 yfj4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 The old man, with his chin resting on his hand, paced the 
 room twice or thrice before he added : 
 
 " You have left him this morning ? " 
 
 " Come straight from him now, sir." 
 
 " For what : does he suppose ? " 
 
 " He don't know what to suppose, sir, no more than my- 
 self. I told him jest wot passed yesterday, sir, and that you 
 had said to me, ' Can you be here by seven in the morning? ' 
 and that you had said to him, through me, ' Can you be here 
 by ten in the morning .-' ' and that I had said ' Yes ' to both. 
 That's all, sir." 
 
 His frankness was so genuine that it plainly was all. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Martin, " he may think you are going to 
 desert him, and to serve me } " 
 
 " I have served him in that sort of way, sir," replied Mark, 
 without the loss of any atom of his self-possession ; " and we 
 have been that sort of companions in misfortune, that my 
 opinion is, he don't believe a word on it. No more than you 
 do, sir." 
 
 " Will you help me to dress ? and get me some breakfast 
 from the hotel ? " asked Martin. 
 
 " With pleasure, sir," said Mark. 
 
 "And by and by," pursued Martin, "remaining in the 
 room, as I wish you to do, will you attend to the door yortder 
 — give admission to visitors, I mean, when they knock .-' " 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Mr. Tapley. 
 
 " You will not find it necessary to express surprise at their 
 appearance," Martin suggested. 
 
 "Oh dear no, sir! " said Mr. Tapley, "not at all." 
 
 Although he pledged himself to this with perfect confi- 
 dence, he was in a state of unbounded astonishment even 
 now. Martin appeared to observe it, and to have some sense 
 of the ludicrous bearing of Mr. Tapley under these perplexing 
 circumstances; for in spite of the composure of his voice and 
 the gravity of his face, the same indistinct light flickered on 
 the latter several times. Mark bestirred himself, however, to 
 execute the offices with which he was entrusted ; and soon 
 lost all tendency to any outward expression of his surprise, in 
 the occupation of being brisk and busy. 
 
 But when he had put Mr. Chuzzlewit's clothes in good 
 order for dressing, and when that gentleman was dressed and 
 sitting at his breakfast, Mr. Tapley's feelings of wonder began 
 to return upon him with great violence ; and, standing beside
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 795 
 
 the old man with a napkin nnder his arm (it was as natural 
 and easy a joke to Mark to be a butler in the Temple, as it 
 had been to volunteer as cook on board tlie Screw), he found 
 it difficult to resist the temptation of casting sidelong glances 
 at him very often. Nay, he found it impossible ; and accord- 
 ingly yielded to this impulse so often, that Martin caught him 
 in the fact some fifty times. The extraordinary things Mr. 
 Tapley did with his own face when any of these detections 
 occurred ; the sudden occasions he had to rub his eyes or his 
 nose or his chin ; the look of wisdom with which he immedi- 
 ately plunged into the deepest thought, or became intensely 
 interested in the habits and customs of the flies upon the 
 ceiling, or the sparrows out of doors ; or the overwhelming 
 politeness with which he endeavored to hide his confusion by 
 handing the muffins ; may not unreasonably be assumed to 
 have exercised the utmost power of feature that even Martin 
 Chuzzlewit the elder possessed. 
 
 But he sat perfectly quiet and took his breakfast at his leis- 
 ure, or made a show of doing so, for he scarcely ate or drank, 
 and frequently lapsed into long intervals of musing. When he 
 had finished, Mark sat down to his breakfast at the same 
 table ; and Mr. Chuzzlewit, quite silent still, walked up and 
 down the room. 
 
 Mark cleared away in due course, and set a chair out for 
 him, in which, as the time drew on towards ten o'clock, he 
 took his seat, leaning his hands upon his stick, and clench- 
 ing them upon the handle, and resting his chin on them again. 
 All his impatience and abstraction of manner had vanished 
 now ; and as he sat there, looking, with his keen eyes, steadily 
 towards the door, Mark could not help thinking what a firm, 
 square, powerful face it was ; or exulting in the thought that 
 Mr. PecksniiT, after playing a pretty long game of bowls with 
 its owner, seemed to be at last in a very fair way of coming 
 in for a rubber or two. 
 
 Mark's uncertainty in respect of what was going to be 
 done or said, and by whom to whom, would have excited him 
 in itself. But knowing for a certainty besides, that young 
 Martin was coming, and in a very few minutes must arrive, he 
 found it by no means easy to remain quiet and silent. But, 
 excepting that he occasionally coughed in a hollow and un- 
 natural manner to relieve himself, he behaved with great de- 
 corum through the longest ten minutes he had ever known. 
 
 A knock at the door. Mr. Westlock. Mr. Tapley, in ad-
 
 796 MA R ThV CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 initting him, raised his eyebrows to the highest possible pitch, 
 implying thereby that he considered himself in an unsatisfac- 
 tory position. Mr. Chuzzlewit received him very courteously. 
 
 Mark waited at the door for Tom Pinch and his sister, 
 who were coming up the stairs. The old man went to meet 
 them ; took their hands in his ; and kissed her on the cheek. 
 As this looked promising, Mr. Tapley smiled benignantly. 
 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit had resumed his chair, before young Mar- 
 tin, who was close behind them, entered. The old man, 
 scarcely looking at him, pointed to a distant seat. I'his was 
 less encouraging ; and Mr. Tapley's spirits fell again. 
 
 He was quickly summoned to the door by another knock. 
 He did not start, or cr)% or tumble down, at sight of Miss 
 Graham and Mrs. Lupin, but he drew a very long breath, and 
 came back perfectly resigned, looking on them and on the rest 
 with an expression which seemed to say, that nothing could 
 surprise him any more ; and that he was rather glad to have 
 done with that sensation for ever. 
 
 The old man received Mary no less tenderly than he had 
 received Tom Pinch's sister. A look of friendly recognition 
 passed between himself and Mrs. Lupin, which implied the 
 existence of a perfect understanding between them. It en- 
 gendered no astonishment in Mr. Tapley ; for, as he after- 
 wards observed, he had retired from the business, and sold 
 ofT the stock. 
 
 Not the least curious' feature in this assemblage was, that 
 everybody present was so much surprised and embarrassed 
 by the sight of everybody else, that nobody ventured to speak. 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit alone broke silence. 
 
 " Set the door open, Mark ! " he said ; " and come here." 
 Mark obeyed. 
 
 The last appointed footstep sounded now upon the stairs. 
 They all knew it. It was Mr. Pecksniff's ; and Mr. Peck- 
 sniff was in a hurry too, for he came bounding up with such 
 uncommon expedition that he stumbled twice or thrice. 
 
 " Where is my venerable friend 1 " he cried upon the up- 
 per landing ; and then with open arms came darting in. 
 
 Old Martin merely looked at him ; but Mr. Pecksniff 
 started back as if he had received the charge of an electric 
 batterv. 
 
 " My venerable friend is well } " cried Mr. Pecksniff. 
 
 " Quite well." 
 
 It seemed to reassure the anxious inquirer. He clasped
 
 MA R TIN CIIUZZL E WIT. 
 
 797 
 
 his hands, and, looking upwards with a pious joy, silently 
 expressed his gratitude. He then looked round on the as- 
 sembled group, and shook his head reproachfully. For such 
 a man severely, quite severely. 
 
 " Oh, vermin ! " said Mr. Pecksniff. "Oh, bloodsuckers ! 
 Is it not enough that you have embittered the existence of an 
 individual, wholly unparalleled ni the biographical records of 
 amiable persons ; but must you now, even now, when he has 
 made his election, and reposed his trust in a Numble, but at 
 least sincere and disinterested relative ; must you now, ver- 
 min and swarmers (I regret to make use of the strong ex- 
 pressions, my dear sir, but there are times when honest indig- 
 nation will not be controlled), must you now, vermin and 
 swarmers (for I will repeat it), taking advantage of his un- 
 protected state, assemble round him from all quarters, as 
 wolves and vultures, and other animals of the feathered tribe 
 assemble round — I will not say round carrion or a carcass, for 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit is quite the contrary — but round their prey — 
 their prey — to rifle and despoil \ gorging their voracious 
 maws, and staining their offensive beaks, with every descrip- 
 tion of carnivorous enjoyment ! " 
 
 As he stopped to fetch his breath, he waved them off, in a 
 solemn manner, with his hand. 
 
 " Horde of unnatural plunderers and robbers ! " he con- 
 tinued ; " leave him ! leave him, I say ! Begone ! Abscond ! 
 You had better be off ! Wander over the face of the earth, 
 young sirs, like vagabonds as you are, and do not presume to 
 remain in a spot which is hallowed by the gray hairs of the 
 patriarchal gentleman to whose tottering limbs 1 have the 
 honor to act as an unworthy, but I hope an unassuming, prop 
 and staff. And you, my tender sir," said Mr. Pecksniff", ad- 
 dressing himself in a tone of gentle remonstrance to the old 
 man, " how could you ever leave me, though even for this short 
 period! You have absented yourself, I do not doubt, upon 
 some act of kindness to me ; bless you for it : but you must 
 not do it ; you must not be so venturesome. I should really 
 be angry with you if I could, my friend ! " 
 
 He advanced with outstretched arms to take the old man's 
 hand. But he had not seen how the hand clasped and 
 clutched the stick within its grasp. As he came smiling on, 
 and got within his reach, old Martin, with his burning indig- 
 nation crowded into one vehement burst, and flasliing out of 
 every line and wrinkle in his face, rose up, and struck him 
 down upon the ground.
 
 798 MARTTJV CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 With such a well-directed nervous blow, that down he 
 went as heavily and true as if the charge of a Life-Guardsman 
 had tumbled him out of a saddle. And whether he was 
 stunned by the shock, or only confused by the wonder and 
 novelty of this warm reception, he did not offer to get up 
 again ; but lay there, looking about him, with a disconcerted 
 meekness in his face so enormously ridiculous, that neither 
 Mark Tapley nor John Westlock could repress a smile, though 
 both were actively interposing to prevent a repetition of the 
 blow ; which the old man's gleaming eyes and vigorous 
 attitude seemed to render one of the most probable events in 
 the world. 
 
 "Drag him away! Take him out of my reach !" said 
 Martin ; "or I can't help it. The strong restraint I have put 
 upon my hands has been enough to palsy them. I am not 
 master of myself, while he is within their range, Dra"; him 
 away ! ' 
 
 Seeing that he still did not rise, Mr. Tapley, without any 
 compromise about it, actually did drag him away, and stick 
 him up on the lioor, with his back against the opposite wall. 
 
 " Hear me, rascal ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " I have sum- 
 moned you here to witness your own work. I have summoned 
 you here to witness it, because I know it will be gall and 
 wormwood to you ! I have summoned you here to witness it, 
 because I know the sight of everybody here must be a dagger 
 in your mean false heart ! What ! do you know me as f am, 
 at last ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff had cause to stare at him, for the triumph 
 in his face and speech and figure was a sight to stare at. 
 
 '' Look there ! " said the old man, pointing at him, and 
 appealing to the rest. " Look there ! And then — come hither, 
 my dear Martin — look here ! here ! here ! " At every repeti- 
 tion of the word he pressed his grandson closer to his breast. 
 ■ _ " The passion I felt, Martin, when 1 dared' not do this," he 
 said, "was in the blow I struck just now. Why did we ever 
 part ! How could we ever part ! How could you ever fly 
 from me to him ! " 
 
 Martin was about to answer, but he stopped him, and 
 went on. 
 
 " The fault was mine no less than yours. Mark has told 
 me so to-day, and I have known it long ; though not so long 
 as I might have done. Mary, my love, come here." 
 
 And she trembled and was veiy pale, he sat her in his
 
 MARTIN CIIUZZLEIVIT. 799 
 
 own chair, and stood beside it with her hand in his ; and 
 Martin standing by him. 
 
 "The curse of our house," said the old man, looking 
 kindly down upon her, " has been the love of self ; has ever 
 been the love of self. How often have I said so, when I 
 never knew that I had wrought it upon others ! " 
 
 He drew one hand through Martin's arm, and standing so, 
 between them, proceeded thus : 
 
 " You all know how I bred this orphan up, to tend me. 
 None of you can know by what degrees I have come to regard 
 her as a daughter ; for she has won upon me, by her self- 
 forgetfulness, her tenderness, her patience, all the goodness 
 of her nature, when Heaven is her witness that I took but 
 little pains to draw it forth. It blossomed without cultivation, 
 and it ripened without heat. I cannot find it in my heart to 
 say that I am sorry for it now, or yonder fellow might be 
 holding up his head." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff put his hand into his waistcoat, and slightly 
 shook that part of him to which allusion had been made ; as 
 if to signify that it was still uppermost. 
 
 "There is a kind of selfishness," said Martin: "I have 
 learned it in my own experience of my own breast: which is 
 constantly upon the watch for selfishness in others ; and 
 holding others at a distance by suspicions and distrusts, 
 wonders why they don't approach, and don't confide, and 
 calls that selfishness in them. Thus I once doubted those 
 about me — not without reason in the beginning — and thus 1 
 once doubted you, Martin." 
 
 " Not without reason," Martin answered ; " either." 
 " Listen, hypocrite ! Listen, smooth-tongued, servile, 
 crawling knave ! " said Martin. " Listen, you shallow dog. 
 What ! When I was seeking him, you had already spread 
 your nets ; you were already fishing for him, were ye ? When 
 I lay ill in this good woman's house, and your meek spirit 
 pleaded for my grandson, you had already caught him, had 
 ye .'' Counting on the restoration of the love you knew I bore 
 him, you designed him for one of your two daughters, did \e ? 
 Or failing that, you traded in him as a speculation which at 
 any rate should blind me with the lustre of your charity, and 
 found a claim upon me ! Why, even then I knew you, and I 
 told you so. Did I tell you that I knew you, even then ? " 
 
 "I am not angry, sir," said Mr. I'ocksniff, softy. " I can 
 bear a great deal from you. 1 will never contradict you, Mr. 
 Chuzzlcwit."
 
 8 oo MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " Observe ! " said Martin, looking round. " I put myself 
 in that man's hands on terms as mean and base, and as de- 
 grading to himself as 1 could render them in words. I stated 
 them at length to him, before his own children, syllable by 
 syllable, as coarsely as I could, and with as much offence, 
 and with as plain an exposition of my contempt, as words — 
 not looks and manner merely — could convey. If I had only 
 called the angry blood into his face, I would have wavered in 
 my purpose. If I had only stung him into being a man for a 
 minute I would have abandoned it. If he had offered me 
 c ne word of remonstrance, in favor of the grandson whom he 
 supposed I had disinherited ; if he had pleaded with me, 
 though never so faintly, against my appeal to him to abandon 
 him to misery and cast him from his house ; I think I could 
 have borne with him for ever afterwards. But not a word, 
 not a word. Pandering to the worst of human passions was 
 the office of his nature ; and faithfully he did his work ! " 
 
 " I am not angry," observed Mr. Pecksniff. "I am hurt, 
 Mr, Chuzzlewit : wounded in my feelings : but I am not 
 angry, my good sir." 
 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit resumed. 
 
 "Once resolved to try him, I was resolute to pursue the 
 trial to the end ; but while I was bent on fathoming the depth 
 of his duplicity, I made a sacred compact with myself tliat I 
 would give him credit on the other side for any latent spark 
 of goodness, honor, forbearance — any virtue — that might 
 glimmer in him. From first to last, there has been no such 
 thing. Not once. He cannot say I have not given him 
 opportunity. He cannot say I have ever led him on. He 
 cannot say I have not left him freely to himself in all things ; 
 or that I have not been a passive instrument in his hands, 
 which he might have used for good as easily as evil. Or if 
 he can, he lies ! And that's his nature too." 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit," interrupted Pecksniff, shedding tears. 
 " I am not angry, sir. I cannot be angry with you. But did 
 you never, my dear sir, express a desire that the unnatural 
 young man who by his wicked arts has estranged your good 
 opinion from me, for the time being: only for the time being: 
 that your grandson, Mr. Chuzzlewit, should be dismissed my 
 house ? Recollect yourself, my Christian friend." 
 
 " I have said so, have I not ? " retorted the old man, 
 sternly. '* I could not tell how far your specious hypocrisy 
 had deceived him, knave ; and knew no better way of opening
 
 MAI? TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 80 1 
 
 his eyes than by presenting you before him in your own ser- 
 vile cliaracter. Yes. I did express that desire. And you 
 leaped to meet it ; and you met it ; and turning in an instant 
 on the hand you had licked and beslavered, as only such 
 hounds can, you strengthened, and confirmed, and justified me 
 in my scheme." 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff made a bow : a submissive, not to say, a 
 grovelling and an abject bow. If he had been complimented 
 on his practice of the loftiest virtues, he never could have 
 bowed as he bowed then. 
 
 " The wretched man who has been murdered," Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit went on to say : " then passing by the name of " 
 
 " Tigg," suggested Mark. 
 
 " Of Tigg — brought begging messages to me, on behalf of 
 a friend of his, and an unworthy relative of mine ; and finding 
 him a man well enough suited to my purpose, I employed him 
 to glean some news of you, Martin, for me. It was from him 
 I learned that you had taken up your abode wdth yonder fellow. 
 It was he, who meeting you here, in town, one evening— you 
 remember where ? " 
 
 " At the pawnbroker's shop," said Martin. 
 
 " Yes ; watched you to your lodging, and enabled me to 
 send you a Bank note." 
 
 " I little thought," said Martin, greatly moved, " that it 
 had come from you. I little thought that you were interested 
 in my fate. If I had " 
 
 " If you had," returned the old man, sorrowfully, " you 
 would have shown less knowledge of me as I seemed to be, 
 and as I really was. I hoped to bring you back, Martin, 
 penitent and humbled. I hoped to distress you into coming 
 back to me. Much as I loved vou, I had that to acknowledge 
 which I could not reconcile it to myself to avow, then, unless 
 you made submission to me, first. Thus it was I lost you. 
 If I have had, indirectly, any act or part in the fate of that 
 unhappy man, by putting means, however small, within his 
 reach ; Heaven forgive me 1 I might have known, perhaps, 
 that he would misuse money ; that it was ill-bestowed upon 
 him ; and that sown by his hands, it could engender miscliief 
 only. But I never thought of him at that time, as having the 
 disposition or ability to be a serious impostor, or otherwise 
 than as a thoughtless, idle-humored, dissipated spendthrift, 
 sinning more against himself than others, and frequenting low 
 haunts and indulging vicious tastes, to his own ruin only," 
 
 51
 
 8o2 MARTIN CITUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Mr. Tapley, who had 
 Mrs. Lupin on his arm by this time, quite agreeably : "' if I 
 may make so bold as say so, my opinion is, as you was quite 
 correct, and that he turned out perfectly nat'ral for all that. 
 There's a surprisin' number of men, sir, who as long as they've 
 only got their own shoes and stockings to depend upon, will 
 walk down-hill, along the gutters quiet enough, and by them- 
 selves, and not do much harm. But set any on 'em up with 
 a coach and horses, sir ; and it's wonderful what a knowledge 
 of drivin' he'll show, and how he'll fill his wehicle with pas- 
 sengers, and start off in the middle of the road, neck or 
 nothing, to the Devil ! Bless your heart, sir, there's ever so 
 many Tiggs a passing this here Temple-gate any hour in the 
 day, that only want a chance, to turn out full-blown Monta- 
 gues every one ! " 
 
 " Your ignorance, as you call it, Mark," said Mr. Chuz- 
 lewit, " is wiser than some men's enlightenment, and mine 
 among them. You are right ; not for the first time to-day. 
 Now hear me out, my dears. And hear me, you, who, if what 
 I have been told be accurately stated, are Bankrupt in pocket 
 no less than in good name ! And when you have heard me, 
 leave this place, and poison my sight no more ! " 
 
 Mr. Pecksniff" laid his hand upon his breast, and bowed 
 
 agam 
 
 " The penance I have done in this house," said Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit, " has carried this reflection with it constantly, above 
 all others. That if it had pleased Heaven to visit such in- 
 firmity on my old age as really had reduced me to the state in 
 which I feigned to be, I should have brought its misery upon 
 myself. Oh you whose wealth, like mine, has been a source 
 of continual unhappiness, leading you to distrust the nearest 
 and dearest, and to dig yourself a living grave of suspicion and 
 reserve ; take heed that, having cast off all whom you might 
 have bound to you, and tenderly, you do not become in your 
 decay the instrument of such a man as this, and waken in an- 
 other world to the knowledge of such wrong, as would embit- 
 ter Heaven itself, if wrong or you could ever reach it ! " 
 
 And then he told them, how he had sometimes thought, in 
 the beginning, that love might grow up between Mary and 
 Martin ; andhow he had pleased his fancy with the picture 
 of- observing it when it was new, and taking them to task, 
 apart, in counterfeited doubt, and then confessing to them that 
 it had been an object dear to his heart ; and by his sympathy
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 803 
 
 with them, and generous provision for their young fortunes, 
 establishing a claim on their affection and regard which nothing 
 should wither, and which should surround his old age with 
 means of happiness. How in the first dawn of this design, 
 and when the pleasure of such a scheme for the happiness of 
 others was new and indistinct within him, Martin had come to 
 tell him that he had already chosen for himself ; knowing that 
 he, the old man, had some faint project on that head, but 
 io-norant whom it concerned. How it was little comfort to 
 him to know that Martin had chosen Her, because the grace 
 of his design was lost, and because finding that she had re- 
 turned his love, he tortured himself with the reflection that 
 they, so young, to whom he had been so kind a benefactor, 
 were already like the world, and bent on their own selfish, 
 stealthy ends. How in the bitterness of this impression, and 
 of his past experience, he had reproached Martin so harshly 
 (forgetting that he had never invited his confidence on such a 
 point, and confounding what he had meant to do with what he 
 had done), that high words sprung up between them, and they 
 separated in wrath. How he loved him still, and hoped he 
 would return. How on the night of his illness at the Dragon 
 he had secretly written tenderly of him, and made him his 
 heir, and sanctioned his marriage with Mary ; and how, after 
 his interview with Mr. Pecksniff, he had distrusted liim again, 
 and burnt the paper to ashes, and had lain down in his bed 
 distracted by suspicions, doubts, and regrets. 
 
 And then he told them how, resohed to probe this Peck- 
 sniff, and to prove the constancy and truth of Mar}' (to himself 
 no less than Martin), he had conceived and entered on his 
 plan ; and how, beneath her gentleness and patience, he had 
 softened more and more ; still more and more beneath the 
 goodness and simplicity, the honor and the manly faith of Tom. 
 And when he spoke of Tom, he said God bless him ; and the 
 tears were in his eyes : for he said that Tom, mistrusted and 
 disliked by him at first, had come like summer rain upon his 
 heart ; and had disposed it to believe in better things. And 
 Martin took him by the hand, and Mary too, and John, his 
 old friend, stoutly too : and Mark, and Mrs. Lupin, and his 
 sister, little Ruth. And peace of mind, deep, tranquil peace 
 of mind was on Tom Pinch. 
 
 The old man then related how nobly Mr. Pecksniff had 
 performed the duty in which he stood indebted to society, in 
 the matter of Tom's dismissal ; and how, having often heard
 
 8o4 MARTIN CHUZZLEWn. 
 
 disparagement of Mr. Westlock from Pecksniffian lips, and 
 knowing him to be a friend to Tom, he had used, through his 
 confidential agent and solicitor, that little artifice which had 
 kept him in readiness to receive his unknown friend in Lon- 
 don. And he called on Mr. Pecksniff (by the name of 
 Scoundrel) to remember that there again he had not trapped 
 him to do evil, but that he had done it of his own free will 
 and agency ; nay, that he had cautioned him against it. And 
 once again he called on Mr. Pecksniff by the name of Hang- 
 dog) to remember that when Martin coming home at last, an 
 altered man, had sued for the forgiveness which awaited him, 
 he, Pecksniff, had rejected him in language of his own, and 
 had remorselessly stepped in between him and the least touch 
 of natural tenderness. " For which," said the old man, " if 
 the bending of my finger would remove a halter from your 
 neck, I wouldn't bend it ! " 
 
 "Martin," he added, "your rival has not been a danger- 
 ous one, but Mrs. Lupin here, has played duenna for some 
 weeks ; not so much to watch your love as to watch her lover. 
 For that Ghoule " — his fertility in finding names for Mr. 
 Pecksniff was astonishing — " would have crawled into her 
 daily walks otherwise, and polluted the fresh air. What's 
 this ? Her hand is trembling strangely. See if you can hold 
 it." 
 
 Hold it ! If he clasped it half as tightly as he did her 
 waist Well, well ! 
 
 But it was good in him that even then, in his high fortune 
 and happiness, with her lips nearly printed on his own, and 
 her proud young beauty in his close embrace, he had a hand 
 still left to stretch out to Tom Pinch. 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! Dear Tom ! I saw you, accidentally coming, 
 here. Forgive me ! " 
 
 " Forgive ! " cried Tom. " FU never forgive you as long 
 as I live, Martin, if you say another syllable about it. Joy to 
 you both ! Joy, my dear fellow, fifty thousand times." 
 
 Joy ! There is not a blessing on earth that Tom did not 
 wish them. There is not a blessing on earth that Tom would 
 not have bestowed upon them, if he could. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Tapley, stepping for- 
 ward, " but you was mentionin', just now, a lady of the name 
 of Lupin, sir." 
 
 " I was," returned old Martin. 
 
 "Yes, sir. It's a pretty name, sir? "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 805 
 
 " A very good name," said Martin. 
 
 " It seems a'most a pity to change such a name into Tap- 
 ley. Don't it, sir t " said Mark. 
 
 " Tliat depends upon the lady. What is her opinion ? " 
 
 "Why, sir," said Mr. Tapley, retiring, with a bow, towards 
 the buxom hostess, " her opinion is as the name ain't a change 
 for the better, but the indiwidual may be, and therefore, if 
 nobody ain't acquainted with no jest cause of impediment, et 
 cetrer, the Blue Dragon, will be con-werted into the Jolly 
 Tapley. A sign of my own inwention, sir. Wery new, con- 
 wivial, and expressive ! " 
 
 The wjiole of these proceedings were so agreeable to Mr, 
 Pecksniff, that he stood with his eyes fixed upon the floor 
 and his hands clasping one another alternately, as if a host of 
 penal sentences were being passed upon him. Not only did 
 his figure appear to have shrunk, but his discomfiture seemed 
 to have extended itself, even to his dress. His clothes seemed 
 to have grown shabbier, his linen to have turned yellow, his 
 hair to have become lank and frowsy ; his very boots looked 
 villanous and dim, as if their gloss had departed with his own. 
 
 Feeling, rather than seeing, that the old man now point- 
 ed to the door, he raised his eyes, picked up his hat, and thus 
 addressed him : 
 
 " Mr. Chuzzlewit, sir ! you have partaken of my hospi- 
 tality." 
 
 " And paid for it," he observed. 
 
 " Thank you. That savors," said Mr. Pecksniff, taking 
 out his pocket handkerchief, " of your old familiar frankness. 
 You have paid for it. I was about to make the remark. You 
 have deceived me, sir. Thank you again. I am glad of it. 
 To see you in the possession of your health and faculties on 
 any terms, is, in itself, a sufficient recompense. To have 
 been deceived, implies a trusting nature. Mine is a trusting 
 nature. I am thankful for it. I would rather have a trusting 
 nature, do you know, sir, than a doubting one ! " 
 
 Here Mr. Pecksniff, with a sad smile, bowed, and wiped 
 his eyes. 
 
 "There is hardly any person present, Mr. Chuzzlewit," 
 said Pecksniff, " by whom I have not been deceived. I have 
 forgiven those persons on the spot. That was my duty ; and, 
 of course, I have done it. Whether it was worthy of you to 
 partake of my hospitality, and to act the part you did act in 
 my house, that, sir, is a question which I leave to your own
 
 8b6 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 conscience. And your conscience does not acquit you. No, 
 sir, no ! " 
 
 Pronouncing these last words in a loud and solemn voice, 
 Mr. Pecksniff was not so absolutely lost in his own fervor as 
 to be unmindful of the expediency of getting a little nearer to 
 the door. 
 
 "I have been struck this day," said Mr. Pecksniff, "with 
 a walking-stick (which I have every reason to believe has 
 knobs upon it), on that delicate and exquisite portion of the 
 human anatomy, the brain. Several blows have been inflicted, 
 sir, without a walking stick, upon that tenderer portion of my 
 frame : my heart. You have mentioned, sir, my being bank- 
 rupt in my purse. Yes, sir, I am. By an unfortunate specu- 
 lation, combined with treachery, I find myself reduced to 
 poverty ; at a time, sir, when the child of my bosom is wid- 
 owed, and affliction and disgrace are in 'my family." 
 
 Here Mr. Pecksniff wiped his eyes again, and gave himself 
 two or three little knocks upon the breast, as if he were an- 
 swering two or three other little knocks from wdthin, given by 
 the tinkling hammer of his conscience, to express " Cheer up, 
 my boy !" 
 
 " I know the human mind, although I trust it. That is 
 my weakness. Do I not know, sir ; " here he became exceed- 
 ingly plaintive, and was observed to glance towards Tom 
 Pinch ; " that my misfortunes bring this treatment on me ? 
 Do I not know, sir, that but for them 1 never should have 
 heard what I have heard to-day? Do I not know, that in the 
 silence and the solitude of night, a little voice will whisper in 
 your ear, Mr. Chuzzlewit, ' This was not well. This was not 
 well, sir ! ' Think of this, sir (if you will have the goodness), 
 remote from the impulses of passion, and apart from the 
 specialities, if I may use that strong remark, of prejudice. 
 And if you ever contemplate the silent tomb, sir, which you 
 will excuse me for entertnining some doubt of your doing, 
 after the conduct into which you have allowed yourself to be 
 betrayed this day ; if you ever contemplate the silent tomb, 
 sir, think of me. If you find yourself approaching to the 
 silent tomb, sir, think of me. If you should wish to have 
 anything inscribed upon your silent tomb, sir, let it be, that I 
 — ah, my remorseful sir ! that I — the humble individual who 
 has now the honor of reproaching you, forgave you. That I 
 forgave you when my injuries were fresh, and when my bosom 
 was newly wrung. It may be bitterness to you to hear it now,
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEIVIT. 807 
 
 sir, but you will live to seek a consolation in it. May you find 
 a consolation in it when you want it, sir ! Good morning ! " 
 With this sublime address, Mr. Pecksniff departed. But 
 the effect of his departure was much impaired by his being 
 immediately afterwards run against, and nearly knocked down 
 by, a monstrously-excited little man in velveteen shorts and a 
 ver)' taU hat ; who came bursting up the stairs, and straight 
 into the chambers of Mr. Chuzzlewit, as if he were deranged. 
 
 " Is there anybody here that knows him ? " cried the little 
 man. " Is there anybody here that knows him ? Oh, my 
 stars, is there anybody here that knows him ! " 
 
 They looked at each other for an explanation ; but nobody 
 knew anything more than that here was an excited little man 
 with a very tall hat on, running in and out of the room as 
 hard as he could go ; making his single pair of bright blue 
 stockings appear at least a dozen ; and constantly repeating 
 in a shrill voice, ' ' Is there anybody here that knows him ? " 
 
 If your brains is not turned topjy turjey, Mr. Sweedle- 
 pipes ! " exclaimed another voice, " hold that there nige of 
 yourn, I beg you, sir." 
 
 At the same time Mrs. Gamp was seen in the doorway ; 
 out of breath from coming up so many stairs, and panting 
 fearfully ; but dropping curtseys to the last. 
 
 " Excuge the weakness of the man," said Mrs. Gamp, 
 eyeing Mr.Sweedlepipe with great indignation ; " and well I 
 might expect it, as I should have know'd, and wishin' he was 
 drownded in the Thames afore I had brought him here, which 
 not a blessed hour ago he nearly shaved the noge off from the 
 father of as lovely a family as ever, Mr. Chuzzlewit, was born 
 three sets of twins, and would have done it, only he see it a 
 goin' in the glass, and dodged the rager. And never, Mr. 
 Sweedlepipes, I do assure you, sir, did I so well know what a 
 misfortun it was to be acquainted with you, as now I do, 
 which so I say, sir, and I don't deceive you ! " 
 
 " I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen all," cried the 
 little barber, taking off his hat, " and yours too, Mrs. Gamp. 
 But — but," he added this, half-laughing and half-crying, 'Is 
 there anybody here that knows him ! " 
 
 As the barber said these, words, a something in top-boots, 
 with its head bandaged up, staggered into the room, and 
 began going round and round, and round apparently under the 
 impression that it was walking straight forward. 
 
 "• Look at him ! " cried the excited little barber. " Here
 
 8o8 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 he is ! That'll soon wear off, and then he'll be all right again. 
 He's no more dead than I am. He's all alive and hearty. 
 Ain't you Bailey ? " 
 
 " R — r— reether so, Poll ! " replied that gentleman. 
 
 " Look here ! " cried the little barber, laughing and crying 
 in the same breath, " When I steady him he comes all right. 
 There ! He's all right now. Nothing's the matter with'him 
 now, except that he's a little shook and rather giddy ; is there 
 Bailey .? " 
 
 "R — r — reether shook, Poll — reether so!" said Mr. 
 Bailey. " What, my lovely Sairey ! There you air ! " 
 
 " What a boy he is ! " cried the tender-hearted Poll, 
 actually sobbing over him. " I never see sech a boy ! It's 
 all his fun. He's full of it. He shall go into the business 
 along with me. I am determined he shall. We'll make it 
 Sweedlepipe and Bailey. He shall have the sporting branch 
 (what a one he'll be for the matches !) and me the shavin'. 
 I'll make over the birds to him as soon as ever he's well 
 enough. He shall have the little bullfinch in the shop, and 
 all. He's sech a boy! I ask your pardon, ladies and gentle- 
 men, but I thought there might be some one here that know'd 
 him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Gamp had observed, not without jealousy and scorn, 
 that a favorable impression appeared to exist in behalf of 
 Mr. Sweedlepipe and his young friend : and that she had 
 fallen rather into the background in consequence. She now 
 struggled to the front, therefore, and stated her business. 
 
 " Which, Mr. Chuzzlewit," she said, "is well beknown to 
 Mrs. Harris as has one sweet infant (though she do not wish it 
 known) in her own family by the mother's side, kep in spirits 
 in a bottle ; and that sweet babe she see at Greenwich Fair, a 
 travelling in company with the pink-eyed lady, Prooshan 
 dwarf, and livin' skelinton, which judge her feelins wen the 
 barrel organ played, and she was showed her own dear sister's 
 child, the same not bein' expected from the outside picter, where 
 it was painted quite contrairy in a li\in' state, a many sizes 
 larger, and performing beautiful upon the Arp, which never 
 did that dear child know or do : since breathe it never did, to 
 speak on, in this wale ! And Mrs. Harris, Mr. Chuzzlewit, 
 has knowed me many year, and can give you information that 
 the lady which is widdered can't do better and may do worse, 
 than let me wait upon her, which I hope to do. Permittin' the 
 sweet faces as I see afore me."
 
 MA R TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 809 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr Chuzzlewit. " Is that your business ? 
 Was this good person paid for the trouble we gave her ? " 
 
 " I paid her, sir," returned Mark Taplay ; " Hberal." 
 
 "The young man's words is true," said Mrs. Gamp, " and 
 thank you kindly." 
 
 " Then here we will close our acquaintance, Mrs. Gamp," 
 retorted Mr. Chuzzlewit. "And Mr. Sweedlepipe — is that 
 your name ? " 
 
 " That is my name, sir," replied Poll, accepting with a pro- 
 fusion of gratitude, some chinking pieces which the old man 
 slipped into his hand. 
 
 " Mr. Sweedlepipe, take as much care of your lady-lodger 
 as you can, and give her a word or two of good advice now 
 and then. Such," said old Martin, looking gravely at the 
 astonished Mrs. Gamp, " as hinting at the expediency of a 
 little less liquor, and a little more humanity, and a little less 
 regard for herself, and a little more regard for her patients, 
 and perhaps a trifle of additional honesty. Or when Mrs. 
 Gamp gets into trouble, Mr. Sweedlepipe, it had better not be 
 at a time when I am near enough to the Old Bailey, to volun- 
 teer myself as a witness to her character. Endeavor to im- 
 press that upon her at your leisure, if you please." 
 
 Mrs. Gamp clasped her hands, turned up her eyes until 
 they were quite uivisible, threw back her bonnet for the admis- 
 sion of fresh air to her heated brow ; and in the act of saying 
 faintly — " Less liquor ! — Sairey Gamp — Bottle on the chimney- 
 piece, and let me put my lips to it, when I am so dispoged ! " 
 — fell into one of the walking swoons ; in which pitiable state 
 she was conducted forth by Mr. Sweedlepipe, who, between 
 his two patients, the swooning Mrs. Gamp and the revolving 
 Bailey, had enough to do, poor fellow. 
 
 The old man looked about him, with a smile, until his eyes 
 rested on Tom Pinch's sister ; when he smiled the more. 
 
 " We will all dine here together," he said ; " and as you 
 and Mary have enough to talk of, Martin, you shall keep house 
 for us until the afternoon, with Mr. and Mrs. Tapley. I must 
 see your lodgings in the meanwhile, Tom." 
 
 Tom was quite delighted. So was Ruth. She would go 
 with them. 
 
 " Thank you, my love," said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " But 1 am 
 afraid I must take Tom a little out of the way, on business. 
 Suppose you go on first, my dear ? " 
 
 Pretty little Ruth was equally delighted to do that.
 
 8 1 o MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " But not alone," said Martin, " not alone. Mr. Westlock, 
 I dare say, will escort you." 
 
 Why, of course he would : what else had Mr. Westlock in 
 his mind .'' How dull these old men are ! 
 
 " You are sure you have no engagement ? " he persisted. 
 
 Engagement ! As if he could have any engagement ! 
 
 So they went ofif arm in arm. When Tom and Mr. Chuz- 
 zlewit went off arm in arm a few minutes after them, the 
 latter was still smiling : and really, for a gentleman of his 
 habits, in rather a knowing manner. 
 
 CHAPTER LIH. 
 
 WHAT JOHN WESTLOCfK SAID TO TOM PINCH's SISTER; WHAT 
 TOM pinch's SISTER SAID TO JOHN WESTLOCK ; WHAT 
 TOM PINCH SAID TO BOTH OF THEM ; AND HOW THEY 
 ALL PASSED THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY. 
 
 Brilliantly the Temple Fountain sparkled in the sun, 
 and laughingly its liquid music played, and merrily the idle 
 drops of water danced and danced, and peeping out in sport 
 among the trees, plunged lightly down to hide themselves, as 
 little Ruth and her companions came towards it. 
 
 And why they came towards the Fountain at all is a 
 mystery ; for they had no business there. It was not in their 
 way. It was quite out of their way. They had no more to 
 do with the Fountain, bless you, than they had with — with 
 Love, or any out of the way thing of that sort. 
 
 It was all very well for Tom and his sister to make ap- 
 pointments by the Fountain, but that was quite another affair. 
 Because, of course, when she had to wait a minute or two, it 
 would have been very awkward for her to have had to wait in 
 any but a tolerably quiet spot ; and that was as quiet a spot, 
 everything considered, as they could choose. But when she 
 had John Westlock to take care of her, and was going home 
 with her arm in his (home being in a different direction al- 
 together), their coming anywhere near that Fountain, was 
 quite extraordinary. 
 
 However, there they found themselves. And another ex-
 
 MAR TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 8 1 1 
 
 traordinaty part of the matter was, that they seemed to have 
 come there, by a silent understanding. Yet when they got 
 here, they were a Httle confused by being there, which was the 
 strangest part of all ; because there is nothing naturally con- 
 fusing in a Fountain. We all know that. 
 
 What a good old place it was ! John said. With quite an 
 earnest affection for it. 
 
 " A pleasant place indeed," said little Ruth. " So 
 shady!" • ' 
 
 Oh wicked little Ruth ! 
 
 They came to a stop when John began to praise it. The 
 day was exquisite ; and stopping at all, it was quite natural — 
 nothing could be more so — that they should glance down 
 Garden Court ; because Garden Court ends in the Garden, 
 and the Garden ends in the River, and that glimpse is very 
 bright and fresh and shining on a summer's day. Then, oh 
 little Ruth, why not look boldly at it ! Why fit that tiny pre- 
 cious, blessed little foot into the cracked corner of an insensi- 
 ble old flagstone in the pavement ; and be so veiy anxious to 
 adjust it to a nicety ! 
 
 If the Fiery-faced matron in the crunched bonnet could 
 have seen them as they walked away, how many years' pur- 
 chase, might Fiery Face have been disposed to take for her 
 situation in Furnival's Inn as laundress to Mr. Westlock ! 
 
 They went away, but not through London's streets ! 
 Through some enchanted cit}^ where the pavements were 
 of air ; where all the rough sounds of a stirring town were 
 softened into gentle music ; where ever^' thing was happy ; 
 where there was no distance, and no time. There were two 
 good-tempered burly draymen letting down big butts of beer 
 into a cellar, somew'here ; and when John helped her — almost 
 lifted her — the lightest, easiest, neatest thing you ever saw — 
 across the rope, they said he owed them a good turn for 
 giving him the chance. Celestial draymen ! 
 
 Green pastures in the summer tide, deep-littered straw- 
 yards in the winter, no stint of corn and clover, ever, to that 
 noble horse who would dance on the pavement with a gig 
 behind him, and who frightened her, and made her clasp his 
 arm with both hands (both hands : meeting one upon the 
 other, so endearingly !), and caused her to implore him to 
 take refuge in the pastry-cook's ; and afterwards to peep out 
 at the door so shrinkingly ; and then : looking at him with 
 those eyes : to ask him was he sure — now was he sure — they
 
 8 1 2 MARTIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 might go safely on ! Oh for a string of rampant horses ! For 
 a lion, for a bear, for a mad bull, for anything to bring the 
 little hands together on his arm, again ! 
 
 They talked, of course. They talked of Tom, and all 
 these changes, and the attachment Mr. Chuzzlewit had con- 
 ceived for him, and the bright prospects he had in such a 
 friend, and a great deal more to the same purpose. The 
 more they talked, the more afraid this fluttering little Ruth 
 became of any pause : and sooner than have a pause she 
 would say the same things over again ; and if she hadn't 
 courage or presence of mind enough for that (to say the 
 truth she very seldom had), she was ten thousand times more 
 charming and irresistible than she had be^n before. 
 
 " Martin will be married very soon now, I suppose ? " said 
 John. 
 
 She supposed he would. Never did a bewitching little 
 woman suppose anything in such a faint voice as Ruth sup- 
 posed that. 
 
 But feeling that another of those alarming pauses was ap- 
 proaching, she remarked that he would have a beautiful wife. 
 Didn't Mr. Westlock think so.? 
 
 " Ye — yes," said John ; "oh, yes." 
 
 She feared he was rather hard to please — he spoke so 
 coldly. 
 
 " Rather say already pleased," said John. " I have 
 scarcely seen her. I had no care to see her. I had no eyes 
 for hct% this morning." 
 
 Oh, good gracious ! 
 
 It was well they had reached their destination. She never 
 could have gone any further. It would have been impossible 
 to walk in such a tremble. 
 
 Tom had not come in. They entered the triangular parlor 
 together, and alone. Fiery Face, Fiery Face, how many years' 
 purchase now ! 
 
 She sat down on the little sofa, and untied her bonnet- 
 strings. He sat down by her side, and very near her: very, 
 very near her. Oh, rapid, swelling, bursting little heart, you 
 knew that it would came to this, and hoped it would. Why 
 beat so wildly, heart ! 
 
 " Dear Ruth ! Sweet Ruth ! If I had loved you less, I 
 could have told you that I loved you, long ago. I have loved 
 you from the first. There never was a creature in the world 
 more truly loved than you, dear Ruth, by me ! "
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 813 
 
 She clasped her little hands before her face. The gushing 
 tears of joy, and pride, and hope, and innocent affection, 
 would not be restrained. Fresh from her full young heart 
 they came to answer him. 
 
 '" My dear love ! If this is — I almost dare to hope it is, 
 now — not painful or distressing to you, you make me happier 
 than I can tell, or you imagine. Darling Ruth ! My own 
 good, gentle, winning Ruth ! I hope I know the value of 
 your heart, I hope I know the worth of your angel nature. 
 Let me try and show you that I do ; and you will make me 
 
 happier, Ruth " 
 
 "Not happier," she sobbed, "than you make me. No 
 one can be happier, John, than you make me ! " 
 
 Fiery Face, provide yourself ! The usual wages or the 
 usual warning. It's all over, Fiery Face. We needn't trouble 
 you any further. 
 
 The little hands could meet each other now, without a 
 rampant horse to urge them. There was no occasion for 
 lions, bears, or mad bulls. It could all be done, and infinitely 
 better, without their assistance. No burly draymen or big 
 butts of beer, were wanted for apologies. No apology at all 
 was wanted. The soft light touch fell coyly, but quite natur- 
 ally upon the lover's shoulder ; the delicate waist, the drooping 
 head, the blushing cheek, the beautiful eyes, the exquisite 
 mouth itself, were all as natural as possible. If all the horses 
 in Araby had run away at once, they couldn't have improved 
 upon it. 
 
 They soon began to talk of Tom again. 
 " I hope he will be glad to hear of it ! " said John, with 
 sparkling eyes. 
 
 Ruth drew the little hands a little tighter when he said it, 
 and looked up seriously into his face. 
 
 " I am never to leave him, am I, dear ? I could never 
 leave Tom. I am sure you know that." 
 
 " Do you think I would ask you ? " he returned, with a — 
 well ! Never mind with what. 
 
 " I am sure you never would," she answered, the bright 
 tears standing in her eyes. 
 
 " And I will swear it, Ruth, my darling, if you please. 
 Leave Tom ! That would be a strange beginning. Leave 
 Tom, dear ! If Tom and we be not inseparable, and Tom 
 (God bless him) have not all honor and all love in our home, 
 my little wife, may that home never be ! And that's a strong 
 oath, Ruth."
 
 8 1 4 MA R TIN CHUZZL E WIT. 
 
 Shall it be recorded how she thanked him ? Yes, it shall. 
 In all simplicity and innocence and purity of heart, yet with a 
 timid, graceful, half-determined hesitation, she set a little rosy 
 seal upon the vow, whose color was reflecting in her face, and 
 flashed up to the braiding of her dark brown hair. 
 
 " Tom will be so happy, and so proud, and glad," she said, 
 clasping her little hands. " But so surprised ! I am sure he 
 has never thought of such a thing." 
 
 Of course John asked her immediately — because you know 
 they were in that foolish state when great allowances must be 
 made — when she had begun to think of such a thing, and this 
 made a little diversion in their talk ; a charming diversion to 
 them, but not so interesting to us ; at the end of which, they 
 came back to Tom again. 
 
 " Ah ! dear Tom ! " said Ruth. " I suppose I ought to 
 tell you everything now. I should have no secrets from you. 
 Should I, John, love ? " 
 
 It is of no use saying how that preposterous John answered 
 her, because he answered in a manner which is untranslatable 
 on paper, though highly satisfactoiy in itself. But what he 
 conveyed was. No, no no, sweet Ruth ; or something to that 
 effect. 
 
 Then she told him Tom's great secret ; not exactly saying 
 how she had found it out, but leaving him to understand it if 
 he liked ; and John was sadly grieved to hear it, and was full 
 of sympathy and sorrow. But they would tr}% he said, only 
 the more, on this account, to make him happy, and to beguile 
 him with his favorite pursuits. And then, in all the confi- 
 dence of such a time, he told her how he had a capital oppor- 
 tunity of establishing himself in his old profession in the 
 country ; and how he had been thinking, in the event of that 
 happiness coming upon him which had actually come — there 
 was another slight diversion here — how he had been thinking 
 that it would afford occupation to Tom, and enable them to 
 live together in the easiest manner, without any sense of de- 
 pendence on Tom's part : and to be as happy as the day was 
 long. And Ruth receiving this with joy, they went on cater- 
 ing for Tom to that extent that they had already purchased 
 him a select library and built him an organ, on v/hich he was 
 performing with the greatest satisfaction : when they heard 
 him knocking at the door. 
 
 Though she longed to tell him what had happened, poor 
 little Ruth was greatly agitated by his arrival ; the more so
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 815 
 
 because she knew that Mr. Chuzzlewit was with him. So she 
 said, all in a tremble : 
 
 " What shall 1 do, dear John ! I can't bear that he should 
 hear it from any one but me, and I could not tell him, unless 
 we were alone." 
 
 "Do, my love," said John, "whatever is natural to you on 
 the impulse of the moment, and I am sure it will be right." 
 
 He had hardly time to say thus much, and Ruth had hardly 
 time to— just to get a little farther off — upon the sofa, when 
 Tom and Mr. Chuzzlewit came in. Mr. Chuzzlewit came first, 
 and Tom was a few seconds behind him. 
 
 Now Ruth had resolved that she would beckon Tom up 
 stairs after a short time, and would tell him in his little bed- 
 room. But when she saw his dear old face come in, her heart 
 was so touched that she ran into his arms, and laid her head 
 down on his breast, and sobbed out, " Bless me, Tom ! My 
 dearest brother ! " 
 
 Tom looked up, in surprise, and saw John Westlock close 
 beside him, holding out his hand. 
 
 " John ! " cried' Tom. " John ! " 
 
 "Dear Tom," said his friend, "give me your hand. We 
 are brothers, Tom." 
 
 Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fer- 
 vently, and put her in John Westlock's arms. 
 
 " Don't speak to me John. Heaven is very good to us. 
 
 I " Tom could find no further utterance, but left the room ; 
 
 and Ruth went after him. 
 
 And when they came back, which they did by and by, she 
 looked more beautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that 
 were possible) than ever. And though Tom could not speak 
 upon the subject even now, being yet too newly glad, he puf 
 both his hands in both of John's with emphasis sufficient for 
 the best speech ever spoken. 
 
 " I am glad you chose to-day," said Mr. Chuzzlewit to 
 John, with the same knowing smile as when they had left 
 him. " I thought you would. I hope Tom and I lingered 
 behind a discreet time. It's so long since 1 had any practi- 
 cal knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, I 
 assure you." 
 
 "Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir," returned 
 John laughing, " if it led you to foresee what would happen 
 to-day." 
 
 " Why, I am not sure, Mr. Westlock," said the old man,
 
 8j6 martin chuzzlewit. 
 
 ''that any great spirit of prophecy was needed, after seeing 
 you and Ruth together. Come hither, pretty one. See what 
 Tom and I purchased this morning, while you were deaHng in 
 exchange with that young merchant there." 
 
 The old man's way of seating her beside him, and humor- 
 ing his voice as if she were a child, was whimsical enough, but 
 full of tenderness, and not ill adapted, somehow, to little 
 Ruth. 
 
 " See here ! " he said, taking a case from his pocket, " what 
 a beautiful necklace. Ah ! How it glitters ! Earrings, too, 
 and bracelets, and a zone for your waist. This set is yours, 
 and Mary has another like it. Tom couldn't understand whv 
 I wanted two. What a short-sighted Tom ! Earrings and 
 bracelets, and a zone for your waist ! Ah ! beautiful ! Let 
 us see how brave they look. Ask Mr. Westlock to clasp 
 them on." 
 
 It was the prettiest thing to see her holding out her round, 
 white arm ; and John (oh deep, deep John !) pretending that 
 the bracelet was very hard to fasten ; it was the prettiest thing 
 to see her girding on the precious little zone, and yet obliged 
 to have assistance because her fingers were in such terrible 
 perplexity : it was the prettiest thing to see her so confused 
 and bashful, with the smiles and blushes playing brightly on 
 her face, like the sparkling light upon the jewels ; it was the 
 prettiest thing that you would see, in the common experiences 
 of a twelvemonth, rely upon it. 
 
 "The set of jewels and the wearer are so well matched," 
 said the old man, " that I don't know which becomes the 
 other most. Mr. Westlock could tell me, I have no doubt, 
 ,but I'll not ask him, for he is bribed. Health to wear them 
 my dear, and happiness to make you forgetful of them, except 
 as a remembrance from a loving friend ! " 
 
 He patted her upon the cheek, and said to Tom : 
 
 " I must play the part of a father here, Tom, also. There 
 are not many fathers who marry two such daughters on the 
 same day ; but we will overlook the improbability for the grat- 
 fication of an old man's fancy. I may claim that much in- 
 dulgence," he added, " for I have gratified few fancies enough 
 in my life tending to the happiness of others, Heaven knows ! " 
 
 These various proceedings had occupied so much time, 
 and they fell into such a pleasant conversation now, that it 
 was within a quarter of an hour of the time appointed for din- 
 ner before any of them thought about it. A hackney-coach
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 8 
 
 17 
 
 soon carried them to the Temple, however, and there they 
 found everything prepared for their reception. 
 
 Mr. Tapley iiaving been furnished with unUmited creden- 
 tials relative to the ordering of dinner, had so exerted himself 
 for the honor of the party, that a prodigious banquet was 
 served, under the joint direction of himself and his intended. 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit would have had them of the party, and Martin 
 urgently seconded his wish, but Mark could by no means be 
 persuaded to sit down at table ; observing, that in having the 
 honor of attending to their comforts, he felt himself, indeed, 
 the landlord of the Jolly Tapley, and could almost delude 
 himself into the belief that the entertainment was actually be- 
 ing held under the Jolly Tapley's roof. 
 
 For the better encouragement of himself in this fable, Mr. 
 Tapley took it upon him to issue divers general directions to 
 the waiters from the hotel, relative to the disposal of the dishes 
 and so forth ; and as they were usually in direct opposition to 
 all precedent, and were always issued in his most facetious 
 form of thought and speech, they occasioned great merriment 
 among those attendants ; in which Mr*. Tapley pardcipated, 
 with an infinite enjoyment of his own humor. He likewise 
 entertained them with short anecdotes of his travels, appro- 
 priate to the occasion ; and now and then with some comic 
 passage or other between himself and Mrs. Lupin ; so that 
 explosive laughs were constantly issuing from the side-board, 
 and from the backs of chairs ; and the head-waiter (who wore 
 powder, and knee-smalls, and was usually a grave man) got to 
 be a bright scarlet in the face, and broke his waistcoat-strings, 
 audibly. 
 
 Young Martin sat at the head of the table, and Tom Pinch 
 at the foot ; and if there were a genial face at that board, it 
 was Tom's. They all took their tone from Tom. Everybody 
 drank to him, everybody looked to him, eveiybody thought of 
 him, everybody loved him. If he so much as laid down his 
 knife and' fork, somebody put out a hand to shake with him. 
 Martin and Mary had taken him aside before dinner, and 
 spoken to him so heartily of the time to come, laying such 
 fervent stress upon the trust they had in his completion of 
 their felicit}', by his society and closest friendship, that Tom 
 was positively moved to tears. He couldn't bear it. His 
 heart was full, he said, of happiness. And so it was. Tom 
 spoke the honest truth. It was. Large as thy heart was, 
 dear Tom Pinch, it had no room that day, for anything but 
 happiness and sympathy ! 52
 
 8 1 8 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 And there was Fips, old Fips of Austin Friars, present at 
 the dinner, and turning out to be the joUiest old dog that ever 
 did violence to his convivial sentiments by shutting himself 
 up in a dark office. " Where is he ! " said Fips, when he 
 came in. And then he pounced on Tom, and to.d him that 
 he wanted to relieve himself of all his old constraint : and in 
 the first place shook him by one hand, and in the second place 
 shook him by the other, and in the third place nudged him in 
 the waistcoat, and in the fourth place, said " How are you ! " 
 and in a great many other places did a great many other things 
 to show his friendliness and joy. And he sang songs, did 
 Fips ; and made speeches, did Fips ; and knocked off his wine 
 pretty handsomely, did Fips ; and in short, he showed himself 
 a perfect Trump, did Fips, in all respects. 
 
 But ah ! the happiness of strolling home at night — obsti- 
 nate little Ruth, she wouldn't hear of riding ! — as they had 
 done on that dear night, from Furnival's Inn ! The happiness 
 of being able to talk about it, and to confide their happiness 
 to each other ! The happiness of stating all their little plans 
 to Tom, and seeing his bright face grow brighter as they 
 spoke ! 
 
 When they reached home, Tom left John and his sister in 
 the parlor, and went up stairs to his own room, under pre- 
 tence of seeking a book. And Tom actually winked to him- 
 self, when he got up stairs, he thought it such a deep thing 
 to have done. 
 
 " They like to be by themselves, of course," said Tom ; 
 " and I came away so naturally, that I have no doubt they are 
 expecting me, every moment to return. That's capital ! " 
 
 But he had not sat reading very long, when he heard a tap 
 at his door. 
 
 " May I come in ? " said John. 
 
 " Oh, surely ! " Tom replied. 
 
 " Don't leave us, Tom. Don't sit by yourself. We want 
 to make you merry ; not melancholy." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Tom, with a cheerful smile. 
 
 " Brother, Tom. Brother." 
 
 " My dear brother," said Tom ; " there is no danger of 
 my being melancholy, how can I be melancholy, when I know 
 that you and Ruth are so blest in each other ! I think I can 
 find my tongue to-night, John," he added, after a moment's 
 pause. " But I never can tell you what unutterable joy this 
 day has given me. It would be unjust to you to speak of your
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. S19 
 
 having chosen a portionless girl, for I feel that you know her 
 worth ; I am sure you know her worth. Nor will it diminish 
 in your estimation, John, which money might." 
 
 " Which money would, Tom," he returned. " Her worth } 
 Oh, who could see her here, and not love her ! Who could 
 know her, Tom, and not honor her ! Who could ever stand 
 possessed of such a heart as hers, and grow indifferent to the 
 treasure ! Who could feel the rapture that I feel to-day, and 
 love as I love her, Tom, without knowing something of her 
 worth ! Your joy unutterable ! No, no, Tom. It's mine, it's 
 mine." 
 
 " No, no, John," said Tom. " It's mine, it's mine." 
 
 Their friendly contention was brought to a close by little 
 Ruth herself, who came peeping in at the door. And oh, the 
 look, the glorious, half-proud, half-timid look she gave Tom, 
 when her lover drew her to his side ! As much as to say, 
 " Yes indeed, Tom, he will do it. But then he has a right, 
 you know. Because I am fond of him, Tom." 
 
 As to Tom, he was perfectly delighted. He could have 
 sat and looked at them, just as they were, for hours. 
 
 " I have told Tom, love, as we agreed, that we are not 
 going to permit him to run away, and that we cannot possibly 
 allow it. The loss of one person, and such a person as Tom, 
 too, out of our small household of three, is not to be endured ; 
 and so I have told him. Whether he is considerate, or whether 
 he is only selfish, I don't know. But he needn't be consider- 
 ate, for he is not the least restraint upon us. Is he, dearest 
 Ruth .? " 
 
 Well ! He really did not seem to be any particular re- 
 straint upon them. Judging from what ensued. 
 
 Was it folly in Tom to be so pleased by their remembrance 
 of him, at such a time ? Was their graceful love a folly, were 
 their dear caresses follies, was their lengthened parting folly ? 
 Was it folly in him to watch her window from the street, and 
 rate its scantiest gleam of lifrht above all diamonds : follv in 
 her to breathe his name upon her knees, and pour out her 
 pure heart before that Being, from whom such hearts and such 
 affections come t 
 
 If these be follies, then Fiery Face go on and prosper ! If 
 they be not, then Fiery Face avaunt ! But set the crunched 
 bonnet at some other single gentleman, in any case, for one is 
 lost to thee for ever !
 
 8 2 o MAH TIN C MUZZLE WIT. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 GIVES THE AUTHOR GREAT CONCERN. FOR IT IS THE LAST 
 
 IN THE BOOK. 
 
 ToDGERs's was in high feather, and mighty preparations 
 for a late breakfast were astir in its commercial bowers. The 
 blissful morning had arrived when Miss Pecksniff was to be 
 united, in holy matrimony, to Augustus. 
 
 Miss Pecksniff was in a frame of mind, equally becoming 
 to herself and the occasion. She was full of clemencv and 
 conciliation. She had laid in several chaldrons of live coals, 
 and was prepared to heap them on the heads of her enemies. 
 She bore no spite nor malice in her heart. Not the least. 
 
 Quarrels, Miss Pecksniff said, were dreadful things in 
 families ; and though she never could forgive her dear papa, 
 she was willing to receive her other relations. They had been 
 separated, she observed, too long. It was enough to call down 
 a judgment upon the family. She believed the death of Jonas 
 was a judgment on them for their internal dissensions. And 
 Miss Pecksniff was confirmed in this belief, by the lightness 
 with which the visitation had fallen on herself. 
 
 By way of doing sacrifice — not in triumph ; not, of 
 course, in triumph, but in humiliation of spirit — this amiable 
 young person wrote, therefore, to her kinswoman of the strong 
 mind, and informed her, that her nuptials would take place on 
 such a day. That she had been much hurt by the unnatural 
 conduct of herself and daughters, and hoped they might not 
 have suffered in their consciences. That being desirous to 
 forgive her enemies, and make her peace with the world be- 
 fore entering into the most solemn of covenants with the most 
 devoted of men, she now held out the hand of friendship. 
 That if the strong-minded woman took that hand, in the tem- 
 per in which it was extended to her, she. Miss Pecksniff, did 
 invite her to be present at the ceremony of her marriage, and 
 did furthermore invite the three red-nosed spinsters, her 
 daughters (but Miss Pecksniff did not particularize their 
 noses) to attend as bridesmaids. 
 
 The strong-minded woman returned for answer, that her- 
 self and daughters were, as regarded their consciences, in the
 
 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 82 x 
 
 enjoyment of robust health, which she knew Miss Pecksnift 
 would be glad to hear. That she had received Miss Peck- 
 sniff's note with unalloyed delight, because she never had 
 attached the least importance to the paltry and insignificant 
 jealousies with which herself and circle had been assailed ; 
 otherwise than as she found them, in the contemplation, a 
 harmless source of innocent mirth. That she would joyfully 
 attend Miss Pecksniff's bridal ; and that her three dear 
 daughters would be happy to assist, on so interesting, and so 
 very unexpected — which the strong-minded woman underlined 
 — so very unexpected an occasion. 
 
 On the receipt of this gracious reply. Miss Pecksniff ex- 
 tended her forgiveness and her invitations to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Spottletoe ; to Mr. George Chuzzlewit the bachelor cousin ; 
 to the solitary female who usually had the tooth-ache ; and to 
 the hairy young gentleman with the outline of a face ; sur- 
 viving remnants of the party that had once assembled in Mr. 
 Pecksniff's parlor. After which Miss Pecksniff remarked, 
 that there was a sweetness in doing our duty, which neutral- 
 ized the bitter in our cups. 
 
 The wedding guests had not yet assembled, and indeed it 
 was so early that Miss Pecksniff herself was in the act of 
 dressing at her leisure, when a carriage stopped near the 
 Monument ; and Mark, dismounting from the rumble, assisted 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit to alight. The carriage remained in waiting ; 
 so did Mr. Tapley. Mr. Chuzzlewit betook himself to 
 Todgers's. 
 
 He was shown, by the degenerate successor of Mr. Bailey, 
 into the dining-parlor ; where — for his visit was expected — • 
 Mrs. Todgers immediately appeared. 
 
 " You are dressed, I see, for the wedding," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Todgers, who was greatly flurried by the preparations, 
 replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " It goes against my wishes to have it in progress just 
 now, I assure you, sir," said Mrs. Todgers; " but Miss Peck- 
 sniff's mind was set upon it, and it really is time that Miss 
 Pecksniff was married. That cannot be denied, sir." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Chuzzlewit, " assuredly not. Her sister 
 takes no part in the proceedmgs ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no, sir. Poor thing ! " said J.Irs. Todgers, 
 shaking her head, and dropping her voice. " Since she has 
 known the worst, she has never left my room ; the next 
 room."
 
 82 2 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 
 
 " Is she prepared to see me ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Quite prepared, sir." 
 
 " Then let us lose no time." 
 
 Mrs. Todgers conducted him into the little back chamber 
 commanding the prospect of the cistern ; and there, sadly 
 different from when it had first been her lodging, sat poor 
 Merry, in mourning weeds. The room looked very dark and 
 sorrowful ; and so did she ; but she had one friend beside her, 
 faithful to the last, Old Chuffey. 
 
 When Mr. Chuzzlewit sat down at her side, she took his 
 hand and put it to her lips. She was in great grief. He too 
 was agitated ; for he had not seen her since their parting in 
 the churchyard. 
 
 " I judged you hastily," he said, in a low voice. " I fear 
 I judged you cruelly. Let me know that I have your for- 
 giveness." 
 
 She kissed his hand again ; and retaining it in hers, 
 thanked him, in a broken voice, for all his kindness to her, 
 since. 
 
 " Tom Pinch," said Martin, "has faithfully related to me 
 all that you desired him to convey ; at a time when he deemed 
 it very improbable that he would ever have an opportunity of 
 delivering your message. Believe me, that if I ever deal again 
 with an ill-advised and unawakened nature, hiding the strength 
 it thinks its weakness, I will have long and merciful consider- 
 ation for it." 
 
 " You had for me ; even for me," she answered. " I quite 
 believe it. I said the words you have repeated, when my dis- 
 tress was very sharp and hard to bear ; I say them now for 
 others ; but I cannot urge them for myself. You spoke to me 
 after you had seen and watched me day by day. There was 
 great consideration in that. You might have spoken, perhaps, 
 more kindly ; you might have tried to invite my confidence by 
 greater gentleness ; but the end would have been the same." 
 
 He shook his head in doubt, and not without some inward 
 self-reproach. 
 
 " How can I hope," she said, " that your interposition 
 would have prevailed with me, when I know how obdurate I 
 was ! I never thought at all ; dear Mr. Chuzzlewit, I never 
 thought at all ; I had no thought, no heart, no care to find 
 one ; at that time. It has grown out of my trouble. I have felt 
 it in my trouble. I wouldn't recall my trouble, such as it is, 
 and has been — and it is light in comparison with trials which
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 823 
 
 hundreds of good people suffer every day, I know — I wouldn't 
 recall it to-morrow, if 1 could. It has been my friend, for 
 without it, no one could have changed me ; nothing could 
 have changed me. Do not mistrust me because of these tears ; 
 I cannot help them. I am grateful for it, in my soul. In- 
 deed I am !" 
 
 " Indeed she is ! " said Mrs. Todgers. " I believe it, sir." 
 
 " And so do I ! " said Mr. Chuzzlewit. " Now, attend to 
 me, my dear. Your late husband's estate, if not wasted by 
 the confession of a large debt to the broken office (which doc- 
 ument, being useless to the runaways, has been sent over to 
 England by them : not so much for the sake of the creditors 
 as for the gratification of their dislike to him, whom they sup- 
 pose to be still living), will be seized upon by law ; for it is 
 not exempt, as I learn, from the claims of those who have 
 suffered by the fraud in which he was engaged. Your father's 
 property was aH, or nearly all, embarked in the same trans- 
 action. If there be any left, it will be seized on, in like man- 
 ner. There is no home thcre.^'' 
 
 " I couldn't return to him," she said, with instinctive ref- 
 erence to his having forced her marriage on. " I could not 
 return to him ! " 
 
 " I know it," Mr. Chuzzlewit resumed : " and I am here, 
 because I know it. Come with me ! From all who are about 
 me, you are certain (I have ascertained it) of a generous wel- 
 come. But until vour health is re-established, and vou are 
 sufficiently composed to bear that welcome, you shall have 
 your abode in any quiet retreat of your own chosing, near 
 London ; not so far removed but that this kind-hearted lady 
 may still visit you as often as she pleases. You have suffered 
 much ; but you are young, and ha\e a brighter and a better 
 future stretching out before you. Come with me. Your sister 
 is careless of you, I know. She hurries on and publishes her 
 marriage, in a spirit which (to say no more of it) is barely de- 
 cent, is unsisterly, and bad. Leave the house before her 
 guests arrive. She means to give you pain. Spare her the 
 offence, and come with me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Todgers, though most unwilling to part with her, 
 added her persuasions. Even poor old Chuffey (of course in- 
 cluded in the project) added his. She hurriedly attired her- 
 self, and was ready to depart, when Miss Pecksniff dashed 
 into the room. 
 
 Miss Pecksniff dashed in so suddenly, that she was placed
 
 824 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 in an embarrassing position. For, though she had completed 
 her bridal toilette as to her head, on which she wore a bridal 
 bonnet with orange flowers, she had not completed it as to 
 her skirts, which displayed no choicer decoration^ than a 
 dimity bedgown. She had dashed in, in fact, about half way 
 through, to console her sister in her affliction with a sight of 
 the aforesaid bonnet ; and being quite unconscious of the 
 presence of a visitor, until she found Mr. Chuzzlewit standing 
 face to face with her, her surprise was an uncomfortable one. 
 
 " .So, young lady I " said the old man, eyeing her with 
 strong disfavor. " You are to be married to-day 1 " 
 
 " Yes, sir," returned Miss Pecksniff, modestly. "lam. I 
 — my dress is rather — really, Mrs. Todgers ! " 
 
 "Your delicacy," said old Martin, "is troubled, I per- 
 ceive. I am not surprised to find it so. You have chosen 
 the period of your marriage, unfortunately." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr. Chuzzlewit," retorted Cherry; 
 very red and angry in a moment : " but if you have anything 
 to say on that subject, I must beg to refer you to Augustus. 
 You will scarcely think it manly, I hope, to force an argument 
 on me, when Augustus is at all times ready to discuss it with 
 you. I have nothing to do with any deceptions that may have 
 been practised on my parent," said Miss Pecksniff, pointedly; 
 " and as I wish to be on good terms with everybody at such 
 a time, I should have been glad if you would have favored 
 us with your company at breakfast. But I will not ask you 
 as it is, seeing that you have been prepossessed and set 
 against me in another quarter. I hope I have my natural 
 affections for another quarter, and my natural pity for another 
 quarter ; but I cannot always submit to be subservient to it, 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit. That would be a little too much. I trust I 
 have more respect for myself, as well as for the man who 
 claims me as his Bride." 
 
 "Your sister, meeting — as I think, not as she says, for 
 she has said nothing about it — with little consideration from 
 you, is going away with me," said Mr. Chuzzlewit. 
 
 "I am very happy to find that she has some good fortune 
 at last," returned Miss Pecksniff, tossing her head. " I con- 
 gratulate her, I am sure. I am not surprised that this event 
 should be painful to her — painful to her — but I can't help 
 that, Mr. Chuzzlewit. It's not my fault." 
 
 " Come, Miss Pecksniff ! " said the old man, quietl3\ I 
 should like to see a better parting between you. I should
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 825 
 
 like to see a better parting on your side, in such circum- 
 stances. It would make me your friend. You may want a 
 friend one day or other." 
 
 " Every relation of life, I\Ir. Chuzzlewit, begging your 
 pardon, and every friend in life," returned Miss Pecksniff 
 with dignity, "is now bound up and cemented in Augustus. 
 So long as Augustus is my own, I cannot want a friend. 
 When you speak of friends, sir, I must beg, once for all, to 
 refer you to Augustus. That is my impression of the religious 
 ceremony in which I am so soon to take a part at that altar 
 to which Augustus will conduct me. I bear no malice at any 
 time, much less in a moment of triumph, towards any one ; 
 much less towards my sister. On the contrary, I congratulate 
 her. If you didn't hear me say so, I am not to blame. And 
 as I owe it to Augustus, to be punctual on an occasion when 
 he may naturally be supposed to be — to be impatient — really, 
 Mrs. Todgersl^^I must beg your leave, sir, to retire." 
 
 After these words the bridal bonnet disappeared ; with as 
 much state, as the dimity bedgown left in it. 
 
 Old Martin gave his arm to the younger sister without 
 speaking, and led her out. Mrs. Todgers, with her holiday 
 garments fluttering in the wind, accompanied them to the car- 
 riage, clung round Merry's neck at parting, and ran back to 
 her own dingy house, crying the whole way. She had a lean 
 lank body, Mrs. Todgers, but a well-conditioned soul within. 
 Perhaps the Good Samaritan was lean and lank, and found it 
 hard to live. Who knows ! 
 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit followed her so closely with his eves, that, 
 until she had shut her own door, they did not encounter Mr. 
 Tapley's face. 
 
 *' Why, Mark ! " he said, as soon as he observed it, " what's 
 the matter ! " 
 
 " The wonderfullcst ewent, sir ! " returned Mark, pump- 
 ing at his voice in a most laborious manner, and hardly able 
 to articulate with all his efforts. " A coincidence as never 
 was equalled ! I'm blessed if here ain't two old neighbors of 
 ourn, sir ! " 
 
 " What neighbors ! " cried old Martin, looking out of win- 
 dow. " Where ? " 
 
 "/was a walkin' up and down not five yards from this 
 spot," said Mr. Tapley, breathless, " and they come upon me 
 like their own ghosts, as I thought they was ! It's the won- 
 derfullcst ewent that ever happened. Bring a feather, some- 
 body, and knock me down with it ! "
 
 826 MARTIN CHUZZLEWTT. 
 
 " What do you mean ! " exclaimed old Martin, quite as 
 much excited by the spectacle of Mark's excitement, as that 
 strange person was himself. " Neighbors, where ! " 
 
 " Here, sir ! " replied Mr. Tapley. " Here in the city of 
 London ! Here upon these very stones ! Here they are, 
 sir ! Don't I know 'em ? Lord love their welcome faces, 
 don't I know 'em !" 
 
 With which ejaculations Mr. Tapley not only pointed to a 
 decent-looking man and woman standing by, but commenced 
 embracing them alternately, over and over again, in Monu- 
 ment Yard. 
 
 " Neighbors, where ! " old Martin shouted, almost mad- 
 dened by his ineffectual efforts to get out at the coach-door. 
 
 '• Neighbors in America ! Neighbors in Eden ! " cried 
 Mark. " Neighbors in the swamp, neighbors in the bush, 
 neighbors in the fever. Didn't she nurse us ! Didn't he help 
 us ! Shouldn't we both have died \\dthout 'em ! Hav'n't they 
 come a stnigglin' back, without a single child for their conso- 
 lation ! And talk to me of neighbors ! " 
 
 Away he went again, in a perfectly wild state, hugging 
 them, and skipping round them, and cutting in between them, 
 as if he were performing some frantic and outlandish dance. 
 
 Mr. Chuzzlewit no sooner gathered who these people were, 
 than he burst open the coach-door somehow or other, and 
 came tumbling out among them ; and as if the lunacy of Mr. 
 Tapley were contagious, he immediately began to shake hands 
 too, and exhibit ever)'^ demonstration of the liveliest joy. 
 
 " Get up behind ! " he said. " Get up in the rumble. 
 Come along with me ! Go you on the box, Mark. Home ! 
 Home ! " 
 
 " Home ! " cried Mr. Tapley, seizing the old man's hand 
 in a burst of enthusiasm. " Exactly my opinion, sir. Home, 
 for ever ! Excuse the libert\-, sir, I can't help it. Success to 
 the Jolly Tapley ! There's nothin' in the house they shan't 
 have for the askin' for, except a bill. Home to be sure ! 
 Hurrah ! " 
 
 Home they rolled accordingly, when he had got the old 
 man in again, as fast as they could go ; Mark abating nothing 
 of his fervor by the way, but allowing it to vent itself as unre- 
 strainedly as if he had been on Salisbur)- Plain. 
 
 And now the wedding party began to assemble at Tod- 
 gers's. Mr. Jinkins, the only boarder invited, was on the 
 ground first. He wore a white favor in his button-hole, and
 
 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 827 
 
 a bran new extra super doubled-milled blue saxony dress coat 
 (that was its description in the bill), with a variety of tortuous 
 embellishments about the pockets, invented by the artist to do 
 honor to the day. The miserable Augustus no longer felt 
 strongly even on the subject of Jinkins. He hadn't strength 
 of mind enough to do it. " Let him come ! " he had said, in 
 answer to Miss Pecksniff, when she urged the point. " Let 
 him come ! He has ever been my rock ahead through life. 
 'Tis meet he should be there. Ha, ha ! Oh, yes ! let Jinkins 
 come ! " 
 
 Jinkins had come, with all the pleasure in life ; and there 
 he was. For some few minutes he had no companion but the 
 breakfast, which was set forth in the drawing-room, with 
 unusual taste and ceremony. But Mrs. Todgers soon joined 
 him ; and the bachelor-cousin, the hairy young gentleman, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Spottletoe, arrived in quick succession. 
 
 Mr. Spottletoe honored Jinkins with an encouraging bow. 
 " Glad to know you, sir," he said. " Give you joy ! " Under 
 the impression that Jinkins was the happy man. 
 
 Mr. Jinkins explained. He was merely doing the honors 
 for his friend Moddle, who had ceased to reside in the house, 
 and had not yet arrived. 
 
 " Not arrived, sir ! " exclaimed Spottletoe, in a great heat. 
 
 " Not yet," said Mr. Jinkins. 
 
 " Upon my soul ! " "cried Spottletoe, " He begins well ! 
 Upon my life and honor this young man begins well ! But I 
 should very much like to know how it is that every one who 
 comes into contact with this family is guilty of some gross 
 insult to it. Death ! Not arrived yet. Not here to receive 
 us!" 
 
 The nephew with the outline of a countenance, suggested 
 that perhaps he had ordered a new pair of boots, and they 
 hadn't come home. 
 
 " I^on't talk to me of Boots, sir ! " retorted Spottletoe, 
 with immense indignation. " He is bound to come here in 
 his slippers then ; he is bound to come here barefoot. Don't 
 offer such a wretched and evasive plea to me on behalf of 
 your friend, as Boots, sir." 
 
 " He is not my friend," said the nephew. " I never saw 
 him." 
 
 " Very well, sir," returned the fiery Spottletoe. " Then 
 don't talk to me ! " 
 
 The door was thrown open at this juncture, and Miss
 
 828 MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
 
 Pecksniff entered, tottering, and supported by her three brides- 
 maids. The strong-minded woman brought up the rear ; hav- 
 ing waited outside until now for the purpose of spoihng the 
 effect. 
 
 " How do you do, ma'am ! " said Spottletoe to the strong- 
 minded woman in a tone of defiance. " I beUeve you see 
 Mrs. Spottletoe, ma'am 1 " 
 
 The strong-minded woman with an air of great interest in 
 Mrs. Spottletoe 's health, regretted that she was not more 
 easily seen. Nature erring, in that lady's case, upon the slim 
 side. 
 
 " Mrs. Spottletoe is at least more easily seen than the 
 bridegroom, ma'am," returned that lady's husband. " That 
 is, unless he has confined his attentions to any particular part 
 or branch of this family, which would be quite in keeping with 
 its usual proceedings." 
 
 " If you allude to me, sir — — " the strong-minded woman 
 began. 
 
 " Pray," interposed Miss Pecksniff, " do not allow Augustus, 
 at this awful moment of his life and mine, to be the means of 
 disturbing that harmony which it is ever Augustus's and my 
 wish to maintain. Augustus has not been introduced to any 
 of my relations now present. He preferred not." 
 
 " Why, then, I venture to assert," cried Mr. Spottletoe, 
 " that the man who aspires to join this family, and ' prefers 
 not ' to be introduced to its members, is an impertinent Puppy. 
 That's my opinion of him f' 
 
 The strong-minded woman remarked with great suavity, 
 that she was afraid he must be. Her three daughters observed 
 aloud that it was " shameful ! " 
 
 "You do not know Augustus," said Miss Pecksniff, tear- 
 fully, " indeed you do not know him. Augustus is all mild- 
 ness and humility. Wait 'till you see Augustus, and I am 
 sure he will conciliate your affections." 
 
 " The question arises," said Spottletoe, folding his'arms : 
 " How long we are to wait. I am not accustomed to wait ; 
 that's the fact. And I want to know how long we are ex- 
 pected to wait." 
 
 " Mrs. Todgers ! " said Charity, " Mr. Jinkins ! I am afraid 
 there must be some mistake. I think Augustus must have 
 gone straight to the Altar! " 
 
 As such a thing was possible, and the church was close at 
 hand, Mr. Jinkins ran off to see : accompanied by Mr. George
 
 MARTTN CHUZZLEWIT. 829 
 
 Chuzzlewit, the bachelor cousin, who preferred anything to 
 the aggravation of sitting near the breakfast, without being 
 able to eat it. But they came back with no other tidings than 
 a familiar message from the clerk, importing that if they 
 wanted to be married that morning they had better look sharp, 
 as the curate wasn't going to wait there all day. 
 
 The bride was now alarmed ; seriously alarmed. Good 
 Heavens, what could have happened! Augustus! Dear 
 Augustus ! 
 
 Mr. Jinkins volunteered to take a cab, and seek him at 
 the newly-furnished house. The strong-minded woman ad- 
 ministered comfort to Miss Pecksniff. " It was a specimen 
 of what she had to expect. It would do her good. It would 
 dispel the romance of the affair." The red-nosed daughters 
 also administered the kindest comfort. " Perhaps he'd come," 
 they said. The sketchy nephew hinted that he might have 
 fallen off a bridge. The wrath of Mr. Spottletoe resisted all 
 the entreaties of his wife. Ever)'body spoke at once, and 
 Miss Pecksniff, with clasped hands, sought consolation every- 
 where and found it nowhere, when Jinkins, having met the 
 postman at the door, came back with a letter : which he put 
 into her hand. 
 
 Miss Pecksniff opened it ; glanced at it ; uttered a pierc- 
 ing shriek ; threw it down upon the ground ; and fainted 
 away. 
 
 They picked it up ; and crowding around, and looking 
 over one another's shoulders, read, in the words and dashes 
 following, this communication : 
 
 " Off Gravesend. 
 " Clipper Schooner, Cupid, 
 " Wednesday flight. 
 
 "Ever Injured Miss Pecksniff, 
 
 " Ere this reaches you, the undersigned will be — if not a 
 corpse — on the way to Van Dieman's Land. Send not in 
 pursuit. I never will be taken alive ! 
 
 " The burden — 300 tons per register — forgive, if in my dis- 
 traction, I allude to the ship — on my mind — has been truly 
 dreadful. Frequently— when you have sought to soothe my 
 brow with kisses — has self-destruction flashed across me. 
 Frequently — incredible as it may seem — have I abandoned 
 the idea.
 
 8 ^ o MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 " I love another. She is Another's. Everything appears 
 to be somebody else's. Nothing in the world is mine — not 
 even my Situation — which I have forfeited — by my rash con- 
 duct — in running away. 
 
 " If you ever loved me, hear my last appeal ! The last 
 appeal of a miserable and blighted exile. Forward the in- 
 closed — it is the key of my desk — to the office — by hand. 
 Please address to Bobbs and Cholberry — I mean to Chobbs 
 and Bolberry — but my mind is totally unhinged. I left a 
 penknife — with a buckhorn handle — in your work-box. It will 
 repay the messenger. May it make him happier than ever it 
 did me ! 
 
 " Oh, Miss Pecksniff, why didn't you leave me alone ! 
 Was it not cruel, cruel ! Oh, my goodness, have you not been 
 a witness of my feelings — have you not seen them flowing 
 from my eyes — did you not, yourself, reproach me with weep- 
 ing more than usual on that dreadful night when last we met 
 — in that house — where I once was peaceful — though blighted 
 — in the society of Mrs. Todgers ! 
 
 " But it was written — in the Talmud — that you should in- 
 volve yourself in the inscrutable and gloomy Fate which it is 
 my mission to accomplish, and which wreathes itself — e'en 
 now — about my — temples. I will not reproach, for I have 
 wronged you. May the Furniture make some amends ! 
 
 " Farewell ! Be the proud bride of a ducal coronet, and 
 forget me ! Long may it be before you know the anguish 
 with which I now subscribe myself — amid the tempestuous 
 bowlings of the — sailors, 
 
 " Unalterably, never yours, 
 
 " Augustus.' 
 
 They thought as little of Miss Pecksniff, while they 
 greedily perused this letter, as if she were the ver)' last person 
 on earth whom it concerned. But Miss Pecksniff really had 
 fainted away. The bitterness of her mortification ; the bitter- 
 ness of having summoned witnesses, and such witnesses, to 
 behold it ; the bitterness of knowing that the strong-minded 
 woman and the red-nosed daughters towered triumphant in 
 this hour of their anticipated overthrow ; was too much to be 
 borne. Miss Pecksniff had fainted away in earnest
 
 MARTIM CHVZZLE WIT. 83 1 
 
 What sounds are these that fall so grandly on the ear ! 
 What darkening room is this ! 
 
 And that mild figure seated at an organ, who is he ? Ah, 
 Tom, dear Tom, old friend ! 
 
 Thy head is prematurely gray, though Time has passed 
 between thee and our old association, Tom. But, in those 
 sounas with which it is thy wont to bear the twilight company, 
 the music of thy heart speaks out : the story of thy life relates 
 itself. 
 
 Thy life is tranquil, calm, and happy, Tom. In the soft 
 strain which ever and again comes stealing back upon the ear, 
 the memory of thine old love may find a voice perhaps ; but 
 it is a pleasant, softened, whispering memory, like that in 
 which we sometimes hold the dead, and does not pain or 
 grieve thee, God be thanked ! 
 
 Touch the notes lightly, Tom, as lightly as thou wilt, but 
 never will thine hand fall half so lightly on that Instrument 
 as on the head of thine old tyrant brought down very, very 
 low ; and never will it make as hollow a response to any touch 
 of thine, as he does always. 
 
 For a drunken, squalid, begging-letter-writing man, called 
 Pecksniff (with a shrewish daughter), haunts thee, Tom ; and 
 when he makes appeals to thee for cash, reminds thee that he 
 built thy fortunes better than his own ; and when he spends 
 it, entertains the alehouse company with tales of thine ingrati- 
 tude and his munificence towards thee once upon a time ; and 
 then he shows his elbows worn in holes, and puts his soleless 
 shoes upon a bench, and begs his auditors look there, while 
 thou art comfortably housed and clothed. All known to thee, 
 and yet all borne with, Tom ! 
 
 So, with a smile upon thy face, thou passest gently to an- 
 other measure — to a quicker and more joyful one — and little 
 feet are used to dance about thee at the sound, and bright 
 young eyes to glance up into thine. And there is one slight 
 creature, Tom — her child ; not Ruth's — whom thine eyes 
 follow in the romp and dance : who, wondering sometimes to 
 see thee look so thoughtful, runs to climb upon thy knee, and 
 put her cheek to thine : who loves thee, Tom, above the rest, if 
 that can be : and falling sick once, chose thee for her nurse, 
 and never knew impatience, Tom, when thou w^ert by her 
 side. 
 
 Thou glidest now, into a graver air ; an air devoted to old 
 friends and byegone times ; and in thy lingering touch upon
 
 832 MAR TIN CHUZZLE WIT. 
 
 the keys, and the rich swelling of the mellow harmony, they 
 rise before thee. The spirit of that old man dead, who de- 
 lighted to anticipate thy wants, and never ceased to honor 
 thee, is there, among the rest : repeating, with a face composed 
 and calm, the words he said to thee upon his bed, and bless- 
 ing thee ! 
 
 And coming from a garden, Tom, bestrewn with flowers 
 by children's hands, thy sister, little Ruth, as light of foot and 
 heart as in old days, sits down beside thee. From the Pres- 
 ent, and the Past, with which she is so tenderly entwined in 
 all thy thoughts, thy strain soars onward to the Future. As 
 it resounds within thee and without, the noble music, rolling 
 round ye both, shuts out the grosser prospect of an earthly 
 parting, and uplifts ye both to Heaven ! 
 
 THE END.
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 At a Public Dinner given to me on Saturday, the i8th of 
 April, i86S, in the City of New York, by two hundred repre- 
 sentatives of the Press of the United Slates of America, I 
 made the following observations among others : — 
 
 " So much of my voice has lately been heard in the land, 
 that I might have been contented with troubling you no fur- 
 ther from my present standing-point, were it not a duty with 
 which I henceforth charge myself, not only here, but on every 
 suitable occasion, whatsoever and wheresoever, to express my 
 high and grateful sense of my second reception in America, 
 and to bear my honest testimony to the national generosity 
 and magnanimity. Also, to declare how astounded I have 
 been by the amazing changes I have seeji around me on every 
 side, — changes moral, changes physical, changes in the 
 amount of land subdued and peopled, changes in the rise of 
 vast new cities,- changes in the growth of older cities almost 
 out of recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of life, 
 changes in the Press, without whose advancement no advance- 
 ment can take place anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, so 
 arrogant as to suppose that in five-and-twenty years there 
 have been no changes in me, and that I had nothing to learn 
 and no extreme expressions to correct when I was here first. 
 And this brings me to a point on which I have, ever since I 
 landed in the United States last November, observed a strict 
 silence, though sometimes tempted to break it, but in refer- 
 ence to which I will, with your good leave, take you into my 
 confidence now. Even the Press, being human, may be some- 
 times mistaken or misinformed, and I rather think that I have 
 in one or two rare instances observed its information to be 
 not strictly accurate with reference to myself. Indeed, I 
 
 '833
 
 834 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 have, now and again, been more surprised by printed news 
 that I have read of myself, than by any printed news that I 
 have ever read in my present state of existence. Thus, the 
 vigor and perseverance with which I have for some months past 
 been collecting miterials for, and hammering away at, a new 
 book on America has much astonished me ; seeing that all that 
 time my declaration has been perfectly well known to my pub- 
 lishers on both sides of the Atlantic, that no consideration on 
 earth would induce me to write one. But what 1 have in- 
 tended, what I have resolved upon (and this is the confidence 
 I seek to place in you) is, on my return to England, in my 
 own person, in my own Journal, to bear, for the behoof of my 
 countrymen, such testimony to the gigantic changes in this 
 country as I have hinted at to-night. Also, to record that 
 wherever I have been, in the smallest places equally with the 
 largest, I have been received with unsurpassable politeness, 
 delicacy, sweet temper, hospitality, consideration, and with 
 unsurpassable respect for the privacy daily enforced upon me 
 by the nature of my avocation here, and the state of my 
 health. This testimony, so long as I live, and so long as my 
 descendants have any legal right in my books, I shall cause 
 to be republished, as an appendix to every copy of those two 
 books of mine in which I have referred to America. And 
 this I will do and cause to be done, not in mere love and 
 thankfulness, but because I regard it as an act of plain justice 
 and honor." 
 
 I said these words with the greatest earnestness that I 
 could lay upon them, and I repeat them in print here with 
 equal earnestness. So long as this book shall last, I hope 
 that they will form a part of it, and will be fairly read as in- 
 separable from my experiences and impressions of America. 
 
 Charles Dickens. 
 May, 1868.
 
 CHARLES DICKENS' 
 
 COMPLETE WORKS 
 
 The following Index contains the names of all the writings 
 of Mr. Charles Dickens, the numbers referring to the volume 
 in which they will be found, in the order mentioned, as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 1. Pickwick Papers. 
 
 2. David Copperfield. 
 
 3. Martin Chuzzlewit. 
 
 4. Nicholas Nickleby. 
 
 5. Bleak House. 
 
 6. Little Dorrit. 
 
 7. Dombey & Son. 
 
 8. Our Mutual Friend. 
 
 9. Oliver Twist, Pictures from 
 Italy, and American Notes. 
 
 10. Old Curiosity Shop and 
 Hard Times. 
 
 11. Tale of Two Cities and 
 Sketches by Boz. 
 
 12. Barnaby Rudge and Myst- 
 ery OF Edwin Drood. 
 
 13. Great E.xpectations, Un 
 commercial Traveller, and 
 Miscellaneous. 
 
 14. Christmas Stories and Re- 
 printed Pieces. 
 
 15. Child's History OF England 
 AND Miscellaneous. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Aboard Ship 13 
 
 AUdit. Christmas Stories 14 
 
 Barlow, Mr 13 
 
 Barnaby Rudge 12 
 
 Battle of Life, The 14 
 
 Beadle, The 11 
 
 Begging-Letter Writer... 14 
 
 Bill-Sticking 14 
 
 Birth-Day Celebrations.. 13 
 
 A. 
 
 American Notes g 
 
 Anecdotes, Three Detec- 
 tive 14 
 
 B. 
 
 Births 14 
 
 Black Veil, The 11 
 
 P.leak House 5 
 
 Bloomsbury Christmas, 
 
 The II 
 
 Boarding House, The.. 11 
 
 Boiled lieef of N. Engl'd 13 
 
 Arcadian London 13 
 
 Astleys 11 
 
 Bound for the Great Salt 
 
 Lake 13 
 
 Boy at Mugby, The.. -. 14 
 
 Boz, Sketches by 11 
 
 Broker's Man, The 11 
 
 Brokers' & Marine-Store 
 
 Shops II 
 
 (835)
 
 836 
 
 IN'DEX. 
 
 Calais Night Mail, The.. 13 
 
 Chambers 13 
 
 Characters 11 
 
 Chatham Dockyard 13 
 
 Child's Dream of a Star. 14 
 Child's History of Ene- 
 
 land 15 
 
 Child's Story, The 14 
 
 Chimes, The 14 
 
 Christmas Carol, A. ... 14 
 Christmas Dinner, A 11 
 
 Dancing Academy, The., n 
 
 Detective Anecdotes 14 
 
 Detective Police, The.. 14 
 
 C. 
 
 Christmas Stories 14 
 
 Christmas Tree, A 14 
 
 Christmas Stories, Addi- 
 tional 14 
 
 Cluizzlewit, Martin 3 
 
 City of London Chnrches 13 
 City of the Absent, The 13 
 Clock, Master Humph- 
 rey's 15 
 
 Contradictory Couple. ... 13 
 Cool Couple, The 13 
 
 D. 
 
 Doctor's Commons 11 
 
 Dombev & Son 7 
 
 Down vk'ith the Tide ... 14 
 
 Copperfield, David ^ 
 
 Couple who coddle them- 
 selves. The ^3 
 
 Couple who dote upon 
 their Children, The... 13 
 
 Couples, young. Sketches 
 
 of 13 
 
 Cricket in the Hearth, 
 
 The ,4 
 
 Crimmal Courts 11 
 
 Curate, The 11 
 
 Drood,Edwin, Mystery of 12 
 Drunkard's Death, The. 1 1 
 Dullborough Town 13 
 
 Early Coaches n 
 
 Edwin Drood, Mystery of 12 
 Egotistical Couple, The 13 
 
 Fairy Tale, Prince Bull.. 14 
 
 First of May, The n 
 
 First Omnibus Cad ii 
 
 E. 
 
 Election for Beadle n 
 
 England, History of. 
 Child's 15 
 
 F. 
 
 Flight, A 14 
 
 Fly-Leaf in a Life, A.... 13 
 Formal Couple, The ... 13 
 
 English Watering Place, 
 
 Our 14 
 
 Expectations, Great 13 
 
 Four Sisters, The 11 
 
 French Flemish Country. 13 
 French Watering Place. 14 
 
 Ghost of Art, The 14 
 
 Ghost Stories, Two 14 
 
 Ghost's Bargains, The . . 14 
 
 Hackney Coach Stand.. 11 
 Hal f- Pay Captain, The . . 11 
 
 Hard Times 10 
 
 Haunted House, The... 15 
 Haunted Man, The 14 
 
 G. 
 
 Gin Shops II 
 
 Cnjing into Society 15 
 
 Great Expectations 13 
 
 H. 
 
 His General Line of Bust' 
 iiess 13 
 
 History of England, 
 Child's 15 
 
 Great Tasmania's Cargo 13 
 Great Winglebury Duel, 11 
 Greenwich Fair 11 
 
 Holiday Romance 15 
 
 Holly Tree Inn 10 
 
 Horatio Sparkins 11 
 
 Hospital Patient, The.. 11 
 Humphrey, Mast'r, clock 15 
 
 I. 
 
 Inspector Field, On Duty | Italian Prisoner, The., 
 with 14 
 
 13 I Italy, Pictures from 9 
 
 Ladies' Societies, The.. 
 Last Cab Driver, The.. 
 Lirriper's, Mrs., Lodg- 
 ings 
 
 '4 
 
 Lirriper's, Mrs., Legacy 14 
 Little Dinner in an Hour, 
 
 A i3 
 
 Little Dorrit 6 
 
 London Recreations. . . . 
 
 Long Voyage, The 
 
 Loving Couple, The 
 
 Lying Awake 
 
 II 
 
 '4 
 13 
 14 
 
 Making a Night of It 11 
 
 Marigold, Dr 14 
 
 Master Humphrey's 
 
 Clock 15 
 
 Midicine Men of Civil- 
 ization 13 
 
 M. 
 
 Meditations in Monmouth 
 Street 11 
 
 Meek, Mrs., of a Son... 14 
 
 Minns, Mr., and his 
 cousin II 
 
 Mispl.iced Attachment of 
 
 Mr. John Dounce 11 
 
 Mistaken Milliner, The.. 11 
 Miss Evans and the Eagle 1 1 
 Monument of French 
 
 Folly. A... _ 14 
 
 M udfog Association, The 15
 
 INDEX. 
 
 837 
 
 New Uncommercial Sam- 
 ples 13 
 
 New Year, Tlic 11 
 
 Newgate, A Visit to 11 
 
 Old Couple, The 13 
 
 Old Curiosity Shop 10 
 
 Old Lady, The 11 
 
 Old Stage Coaching 
 
 House 13 
 
 Oliver Twist 9 
 
 Omnibuses 11 
 
 On an Amateur Beat 13 
 
 Parish Engine, The 11 
 
 Parish, Our 11 
 
 Parliamentary Sketch, A 11 
 
 Parlor Orator, The si 
 
 Passage in the Life of Mr. 
 
 Watkins Tottle 11 
 
 Pawnbroker's Shop, The 1 1 
 
 Pieces, Reprinted 14 
 
 Perils of certain English 
 
 Refreshments for Travel- 
 lers 13 
 
 Samples, New Uncom- 
 mercial 13 
 
 Scenes 11 
 
 Schoolboy's Story, The 14 
 
 Schoolmaster, The 11 
 
 Scotland Yard 11 
 
 Sentiment 11 
 
 Seven Poor Travellers, 
 
 The 14 
 
 Tale of Two Cities 11 
 
 Tales II 
 
 Thoughts about People.. 11 
 Three Detective Anec- 
 dotes 14 
 
 Uncommercial Samj^les, 
 New 13 
 
 Walk in a Workhouse, A 14 
 Wapping Workhouse .... 13 
 Workhouse, A Walk in a 14 
 
 N 
 
 Nice Little Couple, The 13 
 
 Nickleby, Nicholas 4 
 
 Night Walks 13 
 
 Noble Savage, The 14 
 
 O. 
 
 On duty with Inspector 
 Field 14 
 
 Our Bore 14 
 
 Our English Watering 
 Place 14 
 
 Our French Watering 
 Place 14 
 
 P. 
 
 Travellers 15 
 
 Pickwick Papers i 
 
 Pictures from Italy 9 
 
 Plated Article, A 14 
 
 Plausible Couple, The.. 13 
 Plea for Total Abstin- 
 ence 13 
 
 Poor Man's Tale of a 
 Patent 14 
 
 R. 
 
 Reprinted Pieces 14 
 
 River, The 11 
 
 S. 
 
 Seven Dials 11 
 
 Shabby Genteel People.. 11 
 
 Shipwreck, The 13 
 
 Shops and their Tenants 1 1 
 
 Shy Neighborhoods 13 
 
 Signal Man, The 14 
 
 Silverman's, George, Ex- 
 planation 15 
 
 Sketches by Boz 11 
 
 T. 
 
 Titbull's ."Mms-houses . . 13 
 Tom Tiddler's Ground. . 15 
 
 Tramps 13 
 
 Traveller, Uncommercial 13 
 
 Travelling Abroad 13 
 
 Trial for Murder, The.. 14 
 
 U. V. 
 
 Uncommercial Traveller 13 
 Visit to Newgate ii 
 
 Nobody's Story 14 
 
 No Thoroughfare 15 
 
 Notes, American g 
 
 Nurse's Stories 13 
 
 Our Honorable Friend.. 14 
 
 Our Mutual Friend 8 
 
 Our Next Door Neighbor n 
 
 Our Parish 11 
 
 Our School 14 
 
 Our Vestry 14 
 
 Out of the Season 14 
 
 Out of Town 14 
 
 Poor Mercantile Jack... 13 
 Poor Relation's Story, 
 
 The 14 
 
 Porter, Mrs, Joseph 11 
 
 Prince Bull, a Fairy 
 
 Tale 14 
 
 Private Theatres 11 
 
 Prisoners' Van, The.... 11 
 
 Public Dinners 11 
 
 I Romance, Holiday 15 
 
 I Rudge, Barnaby 12 
 
 Sketch esof Young 
 
 Couples .... 13 
 
 Small Star in the East, A 13 
 
 Somebody's Luggage.. .. 14 
 Some Recollections of 
 
 Mortality 13 
 
 Steam Excursion, The. . 11 
 
 Streets — Morning ir 
 
 Streets — Evening 11 
 
 Twist, Oliver q 
 
 Two Ghost Stories 14 
 
 Two Views of a Cheap 
 
 Theatre 13 
 
 Tugg's at Ramsgate, The 1 1 
 
 Wreck of 
 Mary . . . 
 
 W. Y. 
 
 the Golden 
 
 Vaiixliall Gardens by 
 Day '. II 
 
 Young Couple, The 13 
 
 15 I Young Couples, Sketches 
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