LI B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 v.l 
 
 Rare Book 8i Special 
 Collections Library 
 
 4 
 
 c^ 
 

Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 witin funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/posthumouspapers01dicken 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 In bringing before the American readers, " The 
 Pickwick Papers," the publishers cannot introduce 
 them with a better description of their nature, than 
 the following, from the London Examiner, and 
 other periodicals. The author under the fictitious 
 name of Boz, is Mr. Charles Dickens, whose series 
 of sketches of " Watkins Tottle," " Tuggs's at 
 Ramsgate," ''Life of Mr. Tulrumble," "Oliver 
 Twist," &c., has acquired for himself a high place 
 in the ranks of comic literature. 
 
 "The idea worked out is that of a ' faithful record of the pe- 
 rambulations, perils, travels, adventures, and sporting transac- 
 tions, of the corresponding- members of a cockney club, found- 
 ed by Mr. Pickwick, for the promotion of science, the advance- 
 ment of knowledg-e, and the diffusion of learning-.' The cor- 
 responding- members consist of the illustrious founder himself, 
 whose character is sustained throughout with a very romantic 
 g-ravity, and of Messrs. Tupman, Snodgrass, and Winkle, who 
 are respectfully distinguished by the admiration of the fair sex, 
 a taste for poetry, and a sporting- turn. The different parties 
 play upon one another's fiiilings, and into one another's hands; 
 the plot of their adventures is kept up with infinite liveliness, 
 bustle, point, and interest — and many rich sources of the truly 
 ludicrous are opened." — Examiner. 
 
 " The idea of this publication is a very happy one. It pur- 
 ports to contain the transactions of a club of orig-inals — thorough 
 Cockneys, with knowledge and ideas confined within the boun- 
 daries of London, and profoundly ignorant of every thing beyond. 
 The work is thus made the vehicle for a series of most amusing 
 .idventures and lively descriptions full of the truth and humour 
 of Fielding and SmoUet, and skilfully mingled with scenes of 
 powerful interest and deep pathos." — Morning Chronicle 
 1 
 
•' There is as much genuine humour, and as much real fun, in 
 the Pickwick Papers, as in these days generally fall to the share 
 of half a dozen hooks of the same size. If they keep up to their 
 present level, they will in conclusion, assume a high place in 
 the ranks of comic literature." — John Bull. 
 
 " Heaven help the man who gets hold of this book in the midst 
 of business, for if it do not cause him to neglect it, he can have 
 no taste for the ludicrous, for the truly comic both in situation 
 and conduct. The characters are nicely discriminated, and 
 when we derive so much amusement even on the threshold, we 
 cannot possibly conjecture the store of fun and good things that 
 await us as we travel through the remainder of the work." — 
 Tyne Mercury. 
 
 "To the laughter-loving, reader, the Pickwick Papers must 
 prove a rich acquisition; and we defy the owner of the most 
 frigid visage to scan over them without a violent excitement of 
 his risible faculties." — Lincoln Gazette. 
 
 "The existence of this original and amusing periodical can 
 be no news to any of our readers, for it is every where received 
 (in theatrical phrase) with ' shouts of laughter and applause.' 
 It well deserves such a reception. 'Boz ' is a writer of a very 
 uncommon cast; his genius seems to belong to a former age of 
 English literature; his spirit is akin to that of our Fieldingsand 
 Smollets. 
 
 "The hint of this book seems to have been taken and impro- 
 ved upon from the whimsical descriptions of various clubs, con- 
 sisting of humourists of diflTcrent kinds, given in the * Spectator.' 
 The Pickwick Club is a felicitous creation in itself, and a con- 
 venient vehicle for an unlimited variety of satire^ narrative, and 
 description. The members of the club are a set of Cockneys, 
 ardent in the pursuit of knowledge, which they seek under the 
 auspices of their President, the illustrious Samuel Pickwick, a 
 great plulosopher in little things, who, after having directed their 
 researches into the wonders of nature and art in the regions of 
 Hornsey, Highgate, Brixton, and Camberwell, — after having 
 traced to their source the mighty ponds of Hamstead, and agi- 
 tated the scientific world witl\ his theory of titlebats, — suggests 
 to his followers the advantages which must result from carrying 
 his speculations into a wider field. He is accordingly placed 
 at the head of a corresponding deputation, the membei-s of 
 which are excellently chosen for our author's purpose." — New_ 
 Monthly Magazine. 
 
POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 CONTAINING A FAITHFUL RECORD OF THE 
 
 PERAMBULATIONS, PERILS, ADVENTURES AND SPORTING 
 TRANSACTIONS 
 
 CORRESPONDING MEMBERS 
 
 EDITED BY ^'BOZ.' 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD. 
 
 1837, 
 
»«ia&s & CO- pniNTEns. 
 
''■'' INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Teie Pickwick Club, so renowned in the annals 
 of Huggin Lane, and so closely entwined with the 
 thousand interesting associations connected with 
 Lothbury and Cateaton Street, was founded in the 
 vear One Thousand Eight Hundred and Twenty- 
 two, by Mr. Samuel Pickwick — the great travel- 
 ler, whose fondness for the useful arts prompted his 
 celebrated journey to Birmingham in the depth of 
 winter; and whose taste for the Beauties of Na- 
 ture, even led him to penetrate to the very borders 
 of Wales in the height of summer. 
 
 This remarkable man would appear to have in- 
 fused a considerable portion of his restless and in- 
 quiring spirit into the breasts of other Members 
 .^of the Club, and to have awakened in their minds 
 I'the same insatiable thirst for travel, which so emi- 
 — nently characterized his own. The whole surface 
 >~of Middlesex, a part of Surrey; a portion of Es- 
 ^sex, and several square miles of Kent, were in their 
 turns examined, and reported on. In a rapid 
 Steamer, they smoothly navigated the placid 
 Thames ; and, in an open boat, they fearlessly 
 crossed the turbid Medway. High-roads and by- 
 roads, towns and villages, public conveyances and 
 their passengers, first-rate inns and road-side pub- 
 lic houses, races, fairs, regattas, elections, meetings, 
 market-days — all the scenes that can possibly occur, 
 to enliven a country place, and at which different 
 traitsof character may be observed and recognised, 
 were alike visited and beheld by the ardent Pick- 
 wick, and his enthusiastic followers. 
 
VI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Pickwick Travels, the Pickwick Diary, the 
 Pickwick Correspondence — in short, the whole of 
 the Pickwick Papers — were carefully preserved 
 and duly registered by the Secretary, from time to 
 time, in the voluminous Transactions of the Pick- 
 wick Club. These Transactions have been pur- 
 chased, from the Patriotic Secretary, at an immense 
 expense, and placed in the hands of " Boz," the au- 
 thor of " Sketches Illustrative of Every Day Life, 
 and Every Day People " — a gentleman whom the 
 publishers consider highly qualified for the task of 
 arranging these important documents, and placing 
 them before the public in an attractive form. 
 
 London, 1836. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page 
 THE PICKWICKIANS. ----- 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FIRST day's JOURNEY, AND THE FIRST EVEN- 
 
 ING'sADVENTURESJ WITH THEIR CONSEqUENCES. 20 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE— THE STROLLEr's TALE 
 
 A disagreeable interruption; and AN UN- 
 PLEASANT RENCONTRE. - - - - 57 
 
 CHAPTER rV. 
 
 A FIELD-DAY AND BIVOUAC MORE NEW FRIENDS^ 
 
 AND AN INVITATION TO THE COUNTRY. - 73 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SHORT ONE SHOWING, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, 
 
 HOW MR. PICKWICK UNDERTOOK TO DRIVE, AND 
 MR. WINKLE TO RIDEJ AND HOW THEY BOTH DID 
 IT. ------- 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN OLD-FASHIONED CARD PARTY THE CLERGY- 
 MAN'S VERSES THE STORY OF THE CONVICT's 
 
 90 
 
 RETURN. 
 
 104 
 
Vin CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW MR. WINKLE, INSTEAD OF SHOOTING AT THE 
 PIGEON AND KILLING THE CROW, SHOT AT THE 
 
 CROW AND WOUNDED THE PIGEON HOW THE 
 
 DINGLEY DELL CRICKET CLUB PLAYED ALL MUG- 
 GLETON, AND HOW ALL MUGGLETON DINED AT 
 THE DIXGLEY DELL EXPENSE WITH OTHER IN- 
 TERESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE MATTERS. - 125 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 STRONGLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE POSITION, THAT 
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE IS NOT A RAILWAY. 145 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DISCOVERY AND A CHASE. - - _ Igg 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CLEARING UP ALL DOUBTS (iF ANY EXISTED) OF 
 THE DISINTERESTEDNESS OF MR. JINGLe's CHA- 
 RACTER. - - - - - - 176 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MNVOLVING ANOTHER JOURNEY, AND AN ANTIQUA- 
 RIAN DISCOVERY, RECORDING MR. PICKWICk's 
 DETERMINATION TO BE PRESENT AT AN ELEC- 
 TION; AND CONTAINING A MANUSCRIPT OF THE 
 OLD clergyman's. - - - - 195 
 
peSTHUMOlIS-PAPERS^ &e, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PICKWICKIAN^. 
 
 The first ray of light which ilhi mines the gloom, 
 and converts into a dazzling brilliancy that obscu- 
 rity in which the earlier history of the public career 
 of the immortal Pickwick would appear to be in- 
 volved, is derived from the perusal of the following 
 entry in the Transactions of the Pickwick Ckib, 
 which the editor of these papers feels the highest 
 pleasure in laying before his readers, as a proof of 
 the careful attention, indefatigable assiduity, and 
 nice discrimination, with which his search among 
 the multifarious documents confided to him has 
 been conducted. 
 
 " May 12, 1817. Joseph Smiggers, Esq., P. Vc 
 P. M. P. C* presiding. The following resolutions 
 ■ unanimously agreed to. 
 
 " That this Association has heard read, with 
 Teelings of unmingled satisfaction, and unqualified 
 approval, the paper communicated by Samuel 
 Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P. C.f entitled " Specu- 
 lations on the Source of the Hampstead Ponds, 
 with some observations on the Theory of Tittle- 
 bats;'* and that this Association does hereby return 
 
 * Perpetual Vice President — Member Pickwick Club. — Eo. 
 :|- Genei-al Chairman — Member Pickwick Club. — Ed. 
 
 2 
 
14 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 its warmest thanks to the said Samuel Pickwick, 
 Esq., G. C. M. P. C. for the same. 
 
 "That while this Association is deeply sensible 
 of the advantages which must accrue to the cause 
 of science, from the production to which the)^ have 
 just adverted, no less than from the unwearied re- 
 searches of Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P.O. 
 in Hornsey, Highgate, Brixton, and Camberwelh 
 they cannot but entertain a lively sense of the in- 
 estimable benefits which must inevitably result 
 from carrying the speculations of that learned man 
 into a wider field, from extending his travels, and 
 consequently enlarging his sphere of observations to 
 the advancement of knowledge, and the diffusion 
 of learning. 
 
 " That with the view, just mentioned, this Asso- 
 ciation has taken into its serious consideration a 
 proposal, emanating from the aforesaid Samuel 
 Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P. C, and three other 
 Pickwickians, hereinafter named, for forming a 
 new branch of United Pickwickians, under the ti- 
 tle of The Corresponding Society of the Pickwick 
 €lub. 
 
 " That the said proposal has received the sanc- 
 tion and ap|3roval of this Association. 
 
 "That the Corresponding Society of the Pick- 
 wick Club, is therefore hereby constituted ; and 
 that Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G". C. M. P. C, Tracy 
 Tupman, Esq., M. P. C, Augustus Snod^rass, Esq., 
 M. P. C, and Nathaniel Winkle, Esq., M. P. C, are 
 hereby nominated and appointed members of the 
 same: and that they be requested to forward, from 
 time to time, authenticated accounts of their jour- 
 neys and investigations; of their observations of 
 character and manners; and of the whole of their 
 adventures, together with all tales and papers, to 
 which local scenery or associations may give rise, 
 to the Pickwick Club, stationed in London. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 15 
 
 "That this Association cordially recognises the 
 principle of every member of the Corresponding 
 Society defraying his own travelling expenses; and 
 that it" sees no objection whatever to the members 
 of the said society pursuing their inquiries for any 
 length of time they please, upon the same terms. 
 
 "That the members of the aforesaid Correspond- 
 ing Society, be, and are, hereby informed, that 
 their proposal to pay the postage of their letters, 
 and the carriage of their parcels, has been delibe- 
 rated upon, by this Association. That this Asso- 
 ciation considers such proposal worthy of the great 
 minds from which it em.anated ; and that it hereby 
 signifies its perfect acquiescence therein." 
 
 A casual observer, adds the secretary, to whose 
 notes we are indebted for the following account — 
 a casual observer might possibly have remarked 
 nothing extraordinary in the bald head, and circu- 
 lar spectacles, which were intently turned towards 
 his (the secretary's) face, during the reading of 
 the above resolutions. To those who knew that 
 the gigantic brain of Pickwick was working be- 
 neath that forehead, and that the beaming eyes of 
 Pickwick were twinkling behind those glasses, the 
 sight was indeed an interesting one. There sat 
 the man who had traced to their source the mighty 
 ponds of Hampstead, and agitated the scientific 
 world with his Theory of Tittlebats, as calm and 
 unmoved as the deep waters of the one on a frosty 
 day, or as a solitary specimen of the other, in the 
 inmost recesses of an earthen jar. And how much 
 more interesting did the spectacle become, when, 
 starting into full life and animation, as a simulta- 
 neous call for " Pickwick" burst from his followers,, 
 that illustrious man slowly mounted into 1 he Wind- 
 sor chair, on which he had been previously seated, 
 and addressed the club himself had founded. 
 What a study for an artist did that exciting scene 
 
16 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 present ! The eloquent Pickwick, with one hanci 
 gracefully concealed behind his coat tails, and the 
 other waving in air to assist his glowing declama- 
 tion : his elevated position revealing those tights 
 and gaiters, which had they clothed an ordinary 
 man, might have passed without observation, but 
 which, when Pickwick clolhed them — if we may 
 use the expression — inspired involuntary awe and 
 respect; surrounded by the men who had volun- 
 teered to share the perils of his travels, and who 
 were destined to participate in the glories of his 
 discoveries. On his right hand, sat Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman ; the too susceptible Tupman, who to the 
 wdsdom and experience of maturer years super- 
 added the enthusiasm and ardour of a boy, in the 
 most interesting and pardonable of human weak- 
 nesses—love. Time and feeding had expanded 
 that once romantic form, the black silk waist-coat 
 had become more and more developed ; inch by 
 inch had the gold watch-chain beneath it disap- 
 peared from within the range of Tupman's vision; 
 and gradually had the capacious chin encroached 
 Upon the borders of the white cravat, but the soul 
 of Tupman had known no change — admiration of 
 the fair sex was still its ruling passion. On the 
 left of his great leader sat the poetic Snodgrass, 
 and near him again the sporting Winkle, the for- 
 mer poetically enveloped in a mysterious blue cloak 
 with a canine skin collar^ and the latter commu- 
 nicating additional lustre to a new green shooting 
 coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely fitted drabs. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's oration upon this occasion, to- 
 gether with the debate thereon, is entered on the 
 Transactions of the Club. Both bear a strong 
 affinity to the discussions of other celebrated bo- 
 dies; and, as it is always interesting to trace a re- 
 semblance between the proceedings of great men. 
 w(^ transfer the entry to these pages. 
 
TETE PTCXWICK CLUB. 1^ 
 
 -* Mr. Pickwick observed (says the Secretary) 
 diat fame was dear to the heart of every man. 
 Foetic fame was dear to the heart of his friend' 
 Snodgrass, the fame of conquest was equally dear 
 to his friend Tupman ; and the desire of earning 
 fame, in the sports of the field, the air, and the 
 water, was uppermost in the breast of his friend 
 Winkle. He (Mr. Pickwick) would not deny, that 
 he was influenced by human passions, and human 
 feelings, (cheers) — possibly b}^ human weaknesses 
 (loud cries of *'No;") but this he would say, that 
 if ever the fire of seli-importance broke out in his 
 bosom, the desire to benefit' the human race in pre- 
 ference, eftectually quenched it. The praise of 
 mankind was his swing; philanthropy was his in- 
 surance office. (Vehement cheering.) He had 
 felt some pride — he acknowledged it freely; and 
 let his enemies make the most of it — he had felt 
 some pride when he presented his Tittlebatian 
 Theory to the world ; it might be celebrated or it 
 might not. (A cry of " It is," and great cheering.) 
 He would take the assertion of that honourable 
 Pickwickian whose voice he had just heard — it 
 was celebrated; but if the fame of that treatise 
 were, to extend to the farthest confines of the 
 known. world, the pride with which he should re- 
 flect on the authorship of that production, would 
 be as nothing compared with the pride with which 
 he looked around him, on this, the proudest mo- 
 ment of his existence. (Cheers.) He was an hum- 
 ble individual. (No, no.) Still he could not but 
 feel that they had selected him for a service of 
 great honour, and of some danger. Travelling was 
 in a troubled state, and the minds of coachmen 
 were unsettled. Let them look abroad, and con- 
 template the scenes which were enacting around, 
 them. Stage coaches were upsetting in all direc- 
 tions, horses were bolting, boats were overturning, 
 
 2* 
 
i8'5 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 and boilers were bursting. (Cheers — a voice 
 "No." No! (Cheers.) Let that honourable 
 Pickwickian who cried " No " so loudly, come for- 
 ward and deny it, if he could. (Cheers.) Who 
 was it that cried "No?' (Enthusiastic cheering.) 
 Was it some vain and disappointed man — he would 
 not say haberdasher— (loud cheers) — who, jealous 
 o£the praise which had been— perhaps undeserved- 
 ly—bestowed on his (Mr. Pickwick's) researches, 
 and smarting under the censure which had been 
 heaped upon his own feeble attempts at rivalry, 
 noyvr took this vile and calumnious mode of 
 
 " Mr. Blottoiv, (of Aldgate,) rose to order. Did 
 the honourable Pickwickian allude to him? (Cries 
 of "Order," "Chair," "Yes," "No," "Go on," 
 " Leave off," &c) 
 
 Mr. Pickwick would not be put up to be put down 
 by, clamour. He had alluded to the honourable 
 gentleman. (Great excitement.) 
 
 " Mr. Blotton would only say then, that he re= 
 pelled the.hon. gent's, false and scurrilous accusa- 
 tiofi, with profound contempt. (Great cheering.) 
 The hon. gent, was a humbug. (Immense confu- 
 sion, and loud cries of "chair" and '' order.") ^^ 
 
 " Mr. A. Snodgrass rose to order. He lhrev,r 
 himself upon the chair. (Hear.) He ^vished to 
 know, whether this disgraceful contest between 
 twp members of that club, should be allowed to 
 continue. (Hear, hear.) 
 
 "The Chairman was quite sure the hon. Pick- 
 wickian would withdraw the expression lie had 
 just made use of. 
 
 *'Mr. Blotton, with all possible respect for the 
 chair, was quite sure he would not. 
 
 " The Chairman felt it his imperative duty to 
 de^nand of the honourable gentleman, whether he 
 had used the expression which had just escaped 
 him, in a common sense. 
 
THC PICKWICK CLU«. ID 
 
 " Mr. Blotton had no hesitation in sayingv that 
 he had nf>t-^he had used the word in its Pick- 
 wickian sense. (Hear, hear.) He was bound to 
 acknowledge, that, personally, he entertained the 
 highest regard and esteem for the honourable 
 gentleman; he had merely considered him a hum- 
 bug in a Pickwickian point of view. (Hear, hear.) 
 
 '• Mr. Pickwick felt much gratified by the fair, 
 candid, and full explanation of his honourable 
 friend. He begged it to be at once understood, 
 that his own observations had been merely intended 
 to bear a Pickwickian construction. (Cheers.)" 
 
 Here the entry terminates, as we have no doubt 
 the debate did also, after arriving at such a highly 
 satisfactory and intelligible point. We have no 
 official statement of the facts, which the reader 
 will find recorded in the next chapter, but they 
 have been carefully collated from letters and other 
 MS. authorities, so unquestionably genuine, as to 
 justify their narration in a connected form. 
 
20 POSTHUxMOUS PAPERS OF: 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 the first day s journey, and the first evex-- 
 ing's adventures; with their consequences. 
 
 That punctual servant of all work, the sun, had 
 just risen, and began to strike a lii^ht on the mora- 
 ing of the thirteenth of May, one thousand eight 
 hundred .and twenty-seven, when Mr. Sannuel 
 Pickwick burst like another sun from his slumbers.; 
 threw open his chamber window, and looked out 
 upon the world beneath. Goswell street was at 
 his feet, Goswell street was on his rigjit hand ; as 
 far as tiie eye could reach, Goswell street extend- 
 ed on his left; and the opposite side of Goswell 
 street was over the way. " Such," thought Mr. 
 Pickwick, " are the narrow views of those philo- 
 sophers who, content Vv'ith oxamining the things 
 that lie before them, look not to the truths which 
 are hidden beyond. As well might 1 be content 
 to gaze on Goswell street for ever, without one ef- 
 fort to penetrate to the hidden countries which on 
 every side surround it." And having given vent 
 to this beautiful reflection, Mr. Pickwick proceed- 
 ed to put himself into his clothes; and his clothes 
 into his portmanteau. Great men are seldom 
 over scrupulous in the arrangement of their at- 
 tire : the operation of shaving, dressing, and cof- 
 fee-imbibing, was soon performed ; and, in another 
 hour, Mr. Pickwick,^ with his portmanteau in his 
 hand, his telescope in his great coat pockel, and 
 bis note- book, in his vTaistcoat, ready for the re- 
 
THE HCKWICK CLUB. 21 
 
 ceptlon of any discoveries worthy of being noted 
 down, had arrived at the coach-stand in Saint 
 Martin's-le-Grand. 
 
 *' Cab !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Here you are, sir," shouted a strange speci- 
 men of the human race, in a sackcloth coat, and 
 apron of the same, who, with a brass label and 
 number round his neck, looked as if he were cata- 
 logued in some collection of rarities. This was 
 the waterman. " Here you are, sir. Now, then, 
 fust cab !" And the first cab having been fetched 
 from the public house, where he had been smoking 
 his first pipe, Mr. Pickwick and his portmanteau 
 were thrown into the vehicle. 
 
 "Golden Cross," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Only a bob's vorth, Tommy," cried the driver, 
 sulkily, for the information of his friend the water- 
 man, as the cab drove off. 
 
 " How old is that horse, my friend, inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick, rubbing his nose with the shilling he had 
 reserved for the fare. 
 
 "Forty-two," replied the driver, eyeing him 
 askant. 
 
 "What?" ejaculated Mr. Pickwnck, . laying his 
 hand upon his; note-book. The driver reiterated 
 his former statement. Mr. Pickwick looked very 
 hard at the man's face, but his features were im- 
 moveable, so he noted down the fact forthwith. 
 
 " And how long do you keep him out at a time V 
 inquiredi Mr. Pickwick, searching for farther in- 
 formation. 
 
 "Two or three veeks," replied the man. 
 
 " Weeks!" said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment— 
 and out came the note-book again. 
 
 " He lives at Pentonwill when he's at home," 
 observed the driver, coolly ; " but we seldom takes 
 him home^ on account of his veakaesso" 
 
22 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " On account of his weakness ;" reiterated the 
 perplexed Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 '• He always falls down, when he's took out o' 
 the cab," continued the driver, "but when he's in 
 it, we bears him np werry tight, and takes hini- in 
 werry short, so as he can't werry well fall down, 
 and we've got a pair o' precious large wheels on ; 
 so w^hen he does move, they run after him, and he 
 must go on ; he can't help it." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick entered every word of this state- 
 ment in his note-book, wdth the view of communi- 
 cating it to the club, as a singular instance of the 
 tenacity of life in horses, under trying circum- 
 stances. The entry was scarcely completed when 
 they reached the Golden Cross. Down jumped 
 the driver, and out got Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Tup- 
 man, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, who had 
 been anxiously waiting the arrival of their illus- 
 trious leader, crowded to welcome him. 
 
 "Here's your fare," said Mr. Pickwick, holding 
 out the shilling to the driver. 
 
 What was the learned man's astonishment, when 
 tliat unaccountable person flung the money on the 
 pavement, and requested in figurative terms to be 
 allowed the pleasure of fighting him (Mr. Pick- 
 wick,) for the amount ! 
 
 "You are mad," said Mr. Snodgrass.. 
 
 "Or drunk," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Or both," said Mr. Tupman,, 
 
 " Come on," said the cab-driverj spa-rring avv+xy 
 like clock-work. "Come on, all four on you." 
 
 "Here's a lark 1" shouted half a dozen hackney 
 coachmen. " Go to vork, Sam," and they crowd- 
 ed with great glee round the party. 
 
 " What's the row, Sam ?" inquired one gentle- 
 rpan in black calico sleeves.. 
 
 "Row!" replied the cabman;, " what did. he 
 \v,ant my number, fpr?^' 
 
THE FICKWICK CLUB. QS 
 
 *^I didn't want your number," said the astonish- 
 ed Mr. Pickwick, 
 
 " What did you take it for, then?'' inquired the 
 cabman. 
 
 " I didn't take it," said Mr. Pickwick, indignant- 
 ly- 
 
 " Would any body believe," continued the cab- 
 driver, appealing to the crowd ; " would any body 
 believe as an informer 'ud go about in a man's 
 cab, not only takin' down his number, but ev'ry 
 word he says into the bargain," (a light ilashecl 
 upon Mr. Pickwick — ^it was the note-book.) 
 
 "Did he, though?" inquired another cabman. 
 
 "Yes, did he," replied the first; "and then ar- 
 ter aggerawatin' me to assault him, gets three wit- 
 nesses here to prove it. But I'll give it him, if I've 
 six months for it. Come on," and the cabman 
 dashed his hat upon the ground, with a reckless 
 disregard of his own private property, and knocked 
 Mr. Pickwick's spectacles off, and followed up the 
 attack with a blow on Mr. Pickwick's nose, and 
 another on Mr. Pickwick's chest, and a third in 
 Mr. Snodgross's eye, and a fourth,' by way of va- 
 riety, in Mr. Tupman's waistcoat, and then danced 
 into tlie road, and tlien back again to the pavement, 
 and finally dashed the whole temporary supply of 
 breath out of Mr. Winkle's body ; and all in half 
 a dozen seconds. 
 
 "Where's an officer," said Mr. Snodgrass.^ 
 
 " Put 'em under the pump," suggested a hot pie- 
 man. 
 
 " You shall smart for this," gasped Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 " Informers," shouted the crowd. 
 
 "Come on," cried , the cabman, who had been 
 sparring without cessation the whole time. 
 
 The mob had hitherto been passive spectators of 
 the scene, but as the intelligence of the Pickwick- 
 
24 'POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ians being inrormers was spread among them, 
 they began to canvffss with considerable vivacity 
 the propriety of enforcing the healed pastry ven- 
 der's proposition: and there is no saying what 
 acts of personal aggression they might have com- 
 mitted, had not theliffray been unexpectedly ter- 
 minated by the interposition of a new comer. 
 
 " What's the fun t" said a rather tall thin young 
 man, in a green coat, emerging suddenly from the 
 coach-yard. 
 
 *' Informers !" shouted the crowd again. 
 " We are not," roared Mr. Pickwick, in a tone 
 which, to any dispassionate listener, carried con- 
 viction with it. 
 
 " Ain't you though ; ain't you '(" said the young 
 man, appealing to Mr. Pickwick, and making his 
 way through the crowd, by the infallible process 
 of elbowing the countenances of its component 
 members. 
 
 That learned man, in a few hurried words, ex- 
 plained the real state of the case. 
 
 " Come along then," said he of the green coat, 
 higging Mr. Pickwick after him by main force, 
 and talking the whole way. *^ Here, No. 924, tuke 
 your fare, and take yourself ofF— respectable gen- 
 tleman — know him well — none of your nonsense — 
 this way, sir — where's your friends? — all a mis- 
 take, I see — never mind — accidents will happen 
 in best regulated families — never say die — down 
 upon your luck — pull him up — put that in his pipe 
 — like the flavour — great rascals." And with 
 a lengthened string of similar broken sentences, 
 delivered with extraordinary volubility, the stran- 
 ger led the way to the traveller's waiting room, 
 whither he was closely followed by Mr. Pickwick 
 and his disciples. 
 
 " Here, waiter," shouted the stranger, ringii^ 
 ^he bell with tremendous '-violence, '^glasses rotirffi 
 
THE PICKWIGK CLUB. 25 
 
 — brandy and water, hot and strong, and sv*'eet, 
 and plenty — eye damaged, sir? Waiter; raw 
 beef-steak for the gentleman's eye— nothing like 
 raw beef-steak for a bruise, sir ; cold lamp-post 
 very good, but lamp-post inconvenient — very odd 
 standing in the open street half an hour, with 
 your eye against a lamp-post — eh — very good — 
 ha ! ha !" And the stranger, without stopping to 
 take breath, swallowed at a draught full half a 
 pint of the reeking brandy and water, and flung 
 himself into a chair with as much ease as if no- 
 thing uncommon had occurred. 
 
 Whilst his three companions were busily en- 
 gaged in proffering their thanks to their new ac- 
 quaintance, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to examine 
 his costume and appearance. 
 
 He was about the middle height; but the thin- 
 ness of his body, and the length of his legs, gave 
 him the appearance of being much taller. The 
 green coat had been a smart dress garment iii 
 the days of swallow-tails, but had evidently in 
 those times adorned a much shorter man than the 
 stranger, for the soiled and faded sleeves scarcely 
 reached to his wrists. It was buttoned closely up 
 to his chin, at the imminent hazard of splitting 
 the back ; and an old stock, without a vestige of 
 shirt collar, ornamented his neck. His scanty 
 black trousers displayed here and there those shiny 
 patches which bespeak long service, and were 
 strapped very tightly over a pair of patched and 
 mended shoes, as if to conceal the dirty white 
 stockinf]js, which were, nevertheless, distinctly visi- 
 ble. His long black hair escaped in negligent 
 waves from beneath each side of his old pinched 
 up hat; and glimpses of his bare wrist might be 
 observed between the tops of his gloves, and the 
 cuffs of his coat sleeves. His face was thin and 
 haggard; but an indescribable air of jaunty irnpu- 
 3 
 
26 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 dence and perfect self-possession pervaded the 
 whole man. 
 
 Such was the individual, on whom Mr. Pick- 
 wick gazed through his spectacles, (whicli he had 
 fortunately recovered,) and to whom he proceed- 
 ed, when his friends had exhausted themselves, to 
 return, in chosen terms, his warmest thanks for his 
 recent assistance. 
 
 *' Never mind," said the stranger, cutting the 
 address very short, '^ said enough — no more; 
 smart chap, that cabman ; handled his fives well : 
 but if I'd been your friend in the green jemmy, 
 I'd punch his head — yes, I would ; pig's whisper — 
 pieman too — no gammon." 
 
 This coherent speech was interrupted by the 
 entrance of the Rochester coachman, to announce 
 that " The Commodore " was on the point of start- 
 ing. 
 
 "Commodore!" said the stranger, starting up, 
 " my coach — place booked — one outside ; leave 
 you to pay for the brandy and water ; want 
 change for a five; bad silver; Brummagem but- 
 tons — won't do — no go, eh?' and he shook his 
 head most knowingly. 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Pickwick and his 
 three companions had resolved to make Roches- 
 ter their first halting place too; and having inti- 
 mated to their new-found acquaintance that they 
 were journeying to the same city, they agreed to 
 occupy the seat at the back of the coach, where 
 they could all sit together. 
 
 " Up with you," said the stranger, assisting Mr. 
 Pickwick on to the roof with so much precipita- 
 tion, as to impair the gravity of that gentleman's 
 deportment very materially. 
 
 " Any luggage, sir?" inquired the coachman. 
 
 " Who, I ? Brown paper parcel here, that's all, 
 other luggage gone by water ; packing-cases, nail- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 27 
 
 ed up ; big as houses ; heavy, heavy, very hea- 
 vy," replied the stranger, as he forced into his 
 pocket as much as he could of the brown paper 
 parcel, which presented most suspicious indica- 
 tions of containing one shirt and a handkerchief. 
 
 "Heads, heads, take care of your heads," cried 
 the loquacious stranger, as they came out under 
 the low archway, whicl>in those days, formed the 
 entrance to the coach-yard. " Terrible place — - 
 dangerous work ; other day, five children — mother 
 • — tall lady, eating sandwiches — forgot the arch — ■ 
 crash, knock — children look round, mother's head 
 off' — sandwich in her hand — no mouth to put it 
 in — head of a family off*; shocking, shocking. 
 Looking at Whitehall, sir — fine place — little win- 
 dow — somebody else's head off there, eh, sir? he 
 didn't keep a sharp look-out enough either — eh, 
 sir, eh V 
 
 " I was ruminating," said Mr. Pickwick, '' on 
 the strange mutability of human affairs." 
 
 " Ah ! I see ; in at the palace door one day, out 
 at the window the next. Philosopher, sir?' 
 
 " An observer of human uature, sir," said Mr 
 Pickwick. 
 
 "Ah, so am I. Most people are when they've 
 httle to do and less to get. Poet, sir ?" 
 
 " My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic 
 turn," said JMr. Pickwick. 
 
 " So have I," said the stranger. " Epic poem, 
 ten thousand lines— revolution of July ; composed 
 it on the spot ; Mars by day, Apollo by night — - 
 bang the field-piece, twang the lyre." 
 
 "You were present at that glorious scene, sir?" 
 said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Present ! think I was ; fired a musket — fired 
 with an idea — rushed into wine shop — wrote it 
 down — back again — whiz, bang; another idea — 
 wine shop again — pen and ink — back again — cut. 
 
28 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP • 
 
 and slash— noble lime, sir. Sportsman, sir?" ab- 
 ruptly turning to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "A little, sir," replied that gentleman. 
 
 "Fine pursuit, sir; fine pursuit. Dogs, sir?" 
 
 "Not just now," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Ah! you should keep dogs; fine animals — sa- 
 gacious creatures — dog of my own once — Pointer 
 — surprising instinct; out shooting one day — en- 
 tering enclosure — whistled — dog stopped — whistled 
 again — Ponto — no go: stock still — called him — 
 Ponto, Ponto; wouldn't move — dog transfixed, 
 staring at a board; looked up, saw an inscription, 
 * Gamekeeper has orders to shoot all dogs found in 
 this enclosure ;' wouldn't pass it — wonderful dog — 
 valuable dog that, very." 
 
 "Singular circumstance that," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick. " Will you allow me to make a note of 
 it?"* 
 
 "Certainly, sir, certainly; hundred more anec- 
 dotes of the same animal. Fine girl, sir," (to Mr. 
 Tracy Tupman, who had been bestowing sundry 
 anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the 
 road-side.) 
 
 "Very!" said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "English girls not so fine as Spanish; noble 
 creatures — ^jet hair — black eyes — lovely forms — ■ 
 sweet creatures — beautiful." 
 
 "You have been in Spain, sir?" said Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman. 
 
 " Lived there — ages.'' 
 
 "Many conquests, sir?" inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Conquests! Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizz- 
 
 * Althoug'h we find this circumstance recorded as a " singu- 
 lar" one, in Mr. Pickwick's note-book, we cannot refrain from 
 humbly expressing our dissent from that learned authority. 
 The strang-cr's anecdote is not one quarter so wonderful as 
 some of Mr. Jesse's "Gleanings." Ponto sinks into utter in- 
 significance before the dogs whose actions he records.—En. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 29 
 
 gig — Grandee — only daughter, Donna Christina 
 — splendid creature — loved me to distraction — - 
 jealous father — high-souled daughter — handsome 
 Englishman — Donna Christina in despair — prussic 
 acid — stomach pump in my portmanteau — opera- 
 tion performed — old Bolaro in ecstasies — consent 
 to our union — ^join handsj and floods of tears; ro- 
 mantic story, very.'^ 
 
 " Is the lady in England now, sir?" inquired Mr 
 Tupman, on whom the description of her charms 
 had produced a powerful impression. 
 
 " Dead, sir, dead," said the stranger, applying 
 to his right eye the brief remnant of a very old 
 cambric handkerchief. "Never recovered the 
 stomach pump ; undermined constitution ; fell a 
 victim." 
 
 " And her father ?" inquired the poetic Snod- 
 grass. 
 
 " Remorse and misery," replied the stranger. 
 " Sudden disappearance — talk of the whole city ; 
 search made every where, without success ; pub- 
 lie fountain in the great square suddenly ceased 
 playing — weeks elapsed, still a stoppage — work- 
 men employed to clean it — water drawn off — fa- 
 ther-in-law discovered sticking head first in the 
 main pipe, with a full confession in his right boot 
 — took him out, and the fountain played away 
 agaiii, as well as even^' 
 
 " Will you allow me to note that little romance 
 down, sir?" said Mr. Snodgrass, deeply affected. 
 
 "Certainly, sir, certainly; fifty more, if you 
 like to hear 'em : strange life mine — rather cu- 
 rious history — not extraordinary^ but singular." 
 
 In this strain, with an occasional glass of ale, 
 by way of parenthesis, when the coach changed 
 horses, did the stranger proceed, until they reached. 
 Rochester bridge, by which time the note-books, 
 both of JMr. Pickwick and Mr. Snodgrass, were 
 3* 
 
30 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 completely filled with selections from his adven- 
 tures. 
 
 "Magnificent ruin;" said Mr. Agustiis Snod- 
 grass, with all the poetic fervour that distinguish- 
 ed him when they came in sight of the fine old 
 castle. 
 
 " What a study for an antiquarian," were the 
 very words which fell from Mr. Pickwick's rnouth, 
 as he applied his tolescope to his eye. 
 
 '* Ah ! fine place," said the stranger, " glorious 
 
 pile frowning walls tottering arches dark 
 
 nooks — crunibling staircases; old cathedral too — 
 earthy smell — pilgrims' feet worn away the old 
 steps — little Saxon doors — confessionals like money- 
 takers' boxes at theatres — queer customers, those 
 monks — popes, and lord treasurers, and all sorts of 
 old fellows, with great red faces, and broken noses, 
 turning up every day — ^buffjerkinstoo — matchlocks 
 —Sarcophagus — fine place — old legends too — 
 strange stories — capital ;" and the stranger con- 
 tinued to soliloquize until they reached the Bull 
 Inn, in the high street, where the coach stopped. 
 
 "Do you remain here, sir?" inquired Mr. Na- 
 thaniel Winkle. 
 
 *' Here — not I; but you'd better: good house — 
 nice beds — Wright's, next house, — dear — very 
 dear — half a crown in the bill, if you look at the 
 waiter — charge jou more if you dine at a friend's 
 than they would if you dined in the coffee-room ; 
 rum fellows — very." 
 
 Mr. Winkle turned to Mr. Pickwick, and mur- 
 mured a few words; a whisper from Mr. Pickwick 
 to Mr. Snodgrass, from Mr. Snodgrass to Mr. Tup- 
 man, and nods of assent were exchanged. Mr. 
 Pickwick addressed the stranger. 
 
 "You rendered us a very important service this 
 morning, sir," said he ; " w'ilj vou allow us to offer 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 31 
 
 a slight mark of our gratitude by begging the fa- 
 vour of your company at dinner?" 
 
 " Great pleasure — not presume to dictate, but 
 broiled fowl and mushroms — capital thing ! What 
 time?' 
 
 " Let me see," replied Mr. Pickwick, referring 
 to his watch, " it is now nearly three. Shall we 
 say five?' 
 
 " Suit me excellently," said the stranger, " five 
 precisely— till then — care of yourselves ;" and lift- 
 ing the pinched up hat a few inches from his head, 
 ajid carelessly replacing it very much on one side, 
 the stranger, with half the brown paper parcel 
 sticking out of his pocket, walked briskly up the 
 yard, and turned into the high street. 
 
 " Evidently a traveller in many countries, and 
 a close observer of men and things,'^ said Mr, 
 Pickwicko 
 
 " I should like to see his poem," said Mr. Snod- 
 grass, 
 
 " I should like to have seen that dog," said Mr. 
 Winkle. 
 
 Mr. Tupman said nothing; but he thought of 
 Donna Christina, the stomach pump, and the foun- 
 tain ; and his eyes filled with tears. 
 
 A private sitting-room having been engaged, bed-, 
 rooms inspected, and dinner ordered, the party 
 walked out to view the city, and adjoining neigh-, 
 bourhood. 
 
 We do not find, from a careful perusal of Mr. 
 Pickwick's notes on the four towns, Stroud, Ro- 
 chester, Chatham, and Brompton, that his impres- 
 sions of their appearance ditfer in any material point, 
 from those of other travellers who have gone over 
 the sanie ground. His general description is easily 
 abridged. 
 
 "The principal productions of these towns,'* says 
 Mr. Pickwick, "appear to be soldiers, sailors, Jews, 
 
22 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 chalk, shrimps, officers, and dock-yard men. The 
 commodities t^hiefly exposed for sale in the public 
 streets, are marine stores, hard-bake, apples, flat- 
 fish and oysters. The streets present a lively and 
 animated appearance, occasioned chiefiy by the 
 conviviality of the military. It is truly delightful 
 to a philanthropic mind, to see these gallant men, 
 staggering along under the influence of an over- 
 flow, both of animal and ardent spirits ; more espe- 
 cially when we remember that the following them 
 about, and jesting with them, affords a cheap and 
 innocent amusement for the boy population. No- 
 thing (adds Mr. Pickwick) can exceed their good 
 humour. It was but the day before my arrival, that 
 one of them had been most grossly insulted in the 
 house of a publican. The bar-maid had positively 
 refused to draw him any more liquor; in return 
 for which, he had (merely in playfulness) drawn 
 his bayonet, and wounded the girl in the shoulder. 
 And yet this fine fellow was the very first to go 
 down to the house next morning, and express his 
 readiness to overlook the matter, and forget what 
 had occurred ! 
 
 *' The consumption of tobacco in these towns 
 (continues Mr. Pickwick) must be very great: and 
 the smell which pervades the streets must be ex- 
 ceedingly delicious to those who are extremely 
 fond of smoking. A superficial traveller might 
 object to the dirt w^hich is their leading, charac- 
 teristic ; but to those who view it as an indication 
 of traflic, and commercial prosperity, it is truly 
 gratifying." 
 
 Punctual to five o'clock, came the stranger, and 
 shortly afterwards the dinner. He had divested 
 himself of his brown paper parcel, but had made 
 no alteration in his attire; and was, if possible, 
 more loquacious than ever. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 33 
 
 " What's that V he iiK^uired, as the waiter re- 
 moved one of the covers. 
 
 " Soles, sh\" 
 
 " Soles— ah I— capital fish — all come from Lon- 
 don—stage-coach proprietors get up political din- 
 ners — carnage of soles — dozens of baskets — cun- 
 ning fellows. Glass of wine, sir?' 
 
 *' With pleasure," said Mr. Pickwick— and the 
 stranger took wine ; first with him, and then with 
 Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. Tupman, and 
 then with Mr. Winkle, and then with the whole 
 party together, almost as rapidly as he talked. 
 
 " Strange mess on the staircase, waiter," said 
 the stranger, '' forms going up — carpenters coming 
 down — lamps, glasses, harps. What's going for- 
 ward." 
 
 " Ball, sir," said the waiter. 
 
 " Assembly— eh T" 
 
 " No, sir, not assembly, sir. Ball for the benefit 
 of a charity, sir." 
 
 " Many fine women in this town, do you know, 
 sir?" inquired Mr. Tupman, with great interest. 
 
 '^Splendid — capital. Kent, sir — every body 
 knows Kent — apples, cherries, hops, and women. 
 Glass of wine, sir?" 
 
 " With great pleasure," replied Mr. TupmaUo 
 The stranger filled, and emptied. 
 
 " 1 should very much like to go," said Mr. Tup- 
 man, resuming the subject of the ball, " very 
 much." 
 
 " Tickets at the ball, sir," interposed the waiter, 
 " half-a-guinea each, sir." 
 
 Mr. Tupman again expressed an earnest wish 
 to be present at the festivity; but meeting with 
 no response in the darkened eye of Mr. Snod- 
 grass, or the abstracted gaze of Mr. Pickwick, 
 he applied himself with great interest to the port 
 wine and dessert which had just been placed on 
 
34 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the table. The waiter withdrew, and the party 
 were left to enjoy the cosy couple of hours suc- 
 ceeding dinner. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir," said the stranger, "bot- 
 tle stands — pass it round — way of the sun — through 
 the button-hole — no heeltaps," and he emptied his 
 glass, which he had filled about two minutes be- 
 fore ; and poure(^ out another, with the air of a man 
 who was used to it. 
 
 The wine was passed, and a fresh supply ordered. 
 The visiter talked, the Pickwickians listened. Mr. 
 Tupman felt every moment more disposed for the 
 ball. Mr. Pickwick's countenance glowed with 
 an expression of universal philanthropj^ : and INIr. 
 Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, fell fast asleep. 
 
 " They're beginning upstairs," said the stranger, 
 " hear the company — fiddles tuning — now the harp 
 —there they go." The various sounds which found 
 their way dov\'n stairs, announced the commence- 
 ment of the first quadrille. 
 
 " How I should like to go," said Mr. Tupman, 
 again. 
 
 " So should I," said the stranger, — " confounded 
 luggage — heavy smacks — nothing to go in — odd, 
 an't it?" 
 
 Now general benevolence was one of the lead- 
 ing features of the Pickwickian theory, and no one 
 was more remarkable for the zealous manner in 
 which he observed so noble a principle, than Mr. 
 Tracy Tupman. The number of instances, re- 
 corded on the Transactions of the Society, in 
 which that excellent man referred objects of cha- 
 rity to the houses of other members for left-off 
 garments, or pecuniary relief, is almost incredible. 
 
 *' I should be very happy to lend you a change 
 of apparel for the purpose," said Mr. Tracy Tup- 
 man, " but you are rather slim, and I am — " 
 
 "Rather fat — grown up Bacchus — cut the leaves 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 35 
 
 —dismounted from the tub, and adopted kersey, 
 eh? — not doubled distilled, but doubled milled — ha. ! 
 ha ! — pass the wine." 
 
 Whether Mr. Tupman was sc^mewhat indignant 
 at the peremptory tone in which he w^as desired to 
 pass the wine which the stranger passed so quickly 
 away; or whether he felt very pVoperly scandal- 
 ized, at an influential member of the Pickwick 
 club being ignominiously compared to a dismount- 
 ed Bacchus, is a fact not yet completely ascer- 
 tained. He passed the w^ine, coughed twice, and 
 looked at the stranger for several seconds with a 
 stern intensity ; as that individual, however, ap- 
 peared perfectly collected, and quite calm under 
 his searching glance, he gradually relaxed, and 
 reverted to the subject of the balk 
 
 " I was about to observe, sir," he said, ^^that 
 though my apparel would be too large, a suit of 
 my friend Mr. Winkle's would, perhaps, fit you 
 better." 
 
 The stranger took Mr. Winkle's measure with 
 his eye; and that feature glistened with satisfac- 
 tion as he said — " Just the thing !" 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked round him. The wine 
 which had exerted its somniferous influence over 
 Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, had stolen upon 
 the senses of Mr. Pickwick. That gentleman had 
 gradually passed through the various stages which 
 precede the lethargy produced by dinner, and its 
 consequences. He had undergone the ordinary 
 transition from the height of conviviality, to the 
 depth of misery, and from the depth of misery, to 
 the height of conviviality. Like a gas lamp in 
 the street, with the wine in the pipe, he had exhi- 
 bited for a moment, an unnatural brilliancy; then 
 sunk so low as to be scarcely discernible: after a 
 short interval he had burst out again to enlighten 
 for a moment, then flickered with an uncertain, 
 
36 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 staggering sort of light, then gone out altogether. 
 His head was sunk upon his bosonn ; and perpetual 
 snoring, with a partial choke, occasionally, were 
 the only audible indications of the great man's 
 presence. 
 
 The temptation to be present at the ball, and to 
 form his first impressions of the beauty of the 
 Kentish ladies, was strong upon Mr. Tupman. 
 The temptation to take the stranger with him, was 
 equally great. He was wholly unacquainted with 
 the place and its inhabitants; and the stranger 
 seemed to possess as great a knowledge of both, 
 as if he had lived there from his infancy. Mr. 
 Winkle was asleep, and Mr. Tupman had had 
 sufficient experience in such matters to know, that 
 the moment he awoke, he would, in the ordinary 
 course of nature, roll heavily to bed. He was un- 
 decided. "Fill your glass, and pass the wine/' 
 said the indefatigable visiter. 
 
 Mr. Tupman did as he was requested ; and the 
 additional stimulus of the last glass settled his de- 
 termination. 
 
 " Winkle's bed-room is inside of mine," said Mr. 
 Tupman ; " I couldn't make him understand what 
 I wanted, if I woke him now, but 1 know he has a 
 dress suit, in a carpet bag; and supposing you 
 Avore it to the ball, and took it off when you re- 
 turned, I could replace it without troubling him at 
 all about the matter." 
 
 -^"Capital," said the stranger, ^'famous plan — 
 very odd situation — fourteen coats in the pack- 
 ing cases and obliged to wear another man's — 
 very good notion that — very." 
 
 " We must purchase our ticket," said Mr. Tup- 
 man. 
 
 "Not worth while splitting a guinea," said the 
 stranger, " toss who shall pay for both — I call ; 
 you spin— first time — woman — woman — bewitch- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 37 
 
 ing woman," and down came the sovereign with 
 the Dragon (called by courtesy a woman) upper- 
 most. 
 
 Mr. Tupman rang the bell, purchased the tick- 
 ets, and ordered chamber-candlesticks. In another 
 quarter of an hour, the stranger was completely 
 arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nathaniel Winkle's.'* 
 
 *' It's a new coat," said Mr. Tupman, as the 
 stranger surveyed himself with great complacency 
 in a cheval glass. "The first that's been made 
 with our club button," — and he called his com- 
 panion's attention to the large gilt button which 
 displayed a bust of Mr. Pickwick in the centre, 
 and the letters " P. C." on either side. 
 
 "P. C." said the stranger, — "Queer set out — 
 old fellow's likeness, and * P. C— What does P. C. 
 stand for — peculiar coat, ehl" Mr. Tupman, with 
 rising indignation, and great importance, explained 
 the mystic device. 
 
 "Rather short in the waist, a'n'fc it?" said the 
 stranger, screwing himself round to catch a glimpse 
 in the glass of the waist buttons which were half 
 way up his back. '^Like a general postman's 
 coat — queer coats those — made by contract — no 
 measuring — mysterious dispensations of Provi- 
 dence — all the short men get long coats — all the 
 long men short 'ones." Running on in this way, 
 Mr. Tupman's new companion adjusted his dress, 
 or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle ; and, accompa- 
 nied by Mr. Tupman, ascended the staircase lead- 
 ing to the ball room. 
 
 "What names, sir?' said the man at the door. 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman was stepping forward to an- 
 nounce his own titles, when the stranger prevented 
 him. 
 
 " No names at all,"-^and then he whispered Mr. 
 Tupman, "Names won't do — not known — very 
 good names in their way, but not great ones — ca- 
 
38 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 pital names for a small party, but won't make an 
 impression in public assemblies — iticog. the thing — 
 Gentlemen from London — distinguished foreigners 
 -r—any thing." The door was thrown open ; and 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman, and the stranger, entered the 
 ball room. 
 
 It was a long room, with crimson-covered bench- 
 es, and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The 
 musicians were securely confined in an elevated 
 den, and quadrilles were being s^-stematically got 
 through by two or three sets of dancers. Two 
 card-tables were made up in the adjoining card- 
 room, and two pair of old ladies, and a correspond- 
 ing number of stout gentlemen, were executing 
 whist therein. 
 
 The finale concluded, the dancers promenaded 
 the room, and Mr. Tupman, and his companion 
 stationed themselves in a corner, to observe the 
 company. 
 
 ^' Charming woman," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ^' Wait a minute," said the stranger, " fun pre- 
 sently — nobs notcomeyet — queer place— dock-yard 
 people of upper rank don't know^ dock-yard people 
 of lower rank — dock-yard people of lower rank 
 don't know small gentry — small gentry don't know 
 trades-people — Commissioner don't know anv 
 body." 
 
 " Who's that little boy with the light hair and 
 pink eyes, in a fancy dress?' inquired Mr. Tup- 
 man. 
 
 "Hush, pray — pink eyes — fancy dress — little boy 
 — nonsense — ^Ensign 97th. — Honourable Wilmot 
 Snipe — great family — Snipes — very." 
 
 *' Sir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the 
 Miss Clubbers !" shouted the man at the door in a 
 stentorian voice. A great sensation was created 
 throughout the room, by the entrance of a tall gen- 
 tleman in a blue coat and bright buttons, a large 
 lady in blue satin, and two young ladies on a 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 39 
 
 similar scale, in fashionably-made dresses of the 
 same hue. 
 
 '' Commissioner — head of the yard — great man 
 — remarkably great man," whispered the stranger 
 in Mr. Tupman's ear, as the charitable committee 
 ushered Sir Thomas Clubber and family to the top 
 of the room. The Honourable Wilmot Snipe, and 
 other distinguished gentlemen crowded to render 
 homage to the Miss Clubbers; and Sir Thomas 
 Clubber stood bolt upright, and looked majesti- 
 cally over his black neckerchief at the assembled 
 company. 
 
 " Mr. Smithie, Mrs. Smithie, and the Misses 
 Smithie," were the next announcement. 
 
 "What's Mr. Smithie," inquired Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman. 
 
 *' Something in the yard," replied the stranger. 
 Mr. Smithie bowed deferentially to Sir Thomas 
 Clubber,- and Sir Thomas Ci«bber acknowledged 
 the salute with conscious condescension. Lady 
 Clubber took a telescope view of Mrs. Smithie and 
 family, through her eye-glass, and Mrs. Smithie, 
 stared in her turn, at Mrs. Somebody else, whose 
 husband was not in the dock-yard at all. 
 
 "Colonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss 
 Bulder," were the next arrivals. 
 
 " Head of the garrison," said the stranger, in 
 reply to Mr. Tupman's inquiring look. 
 
 Miss Bulder was warmly welcomed by the Miss 
 Clubbers ; the greeting between Mrs. Colonel Bul- 
 der, and Lady Clubber, was of the most affection- 
 ate description ; Colonel Bulder and Sir Thomas 
 Clubber exchanged snuff-boxes, and looked very 
 much like a pair of Alexander Selkirks; — " mon- 
 archs of all they surveyed." 
 
 While the aristocracy of the place — the Bulders, 
 and Clubbers, and Snipes — were thus preserving, 
 their dignity at the upper end of the rooni, the 
 
40 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Other classes of society were imitating their exam- 
 ple in other parts of it. The less aristocratic offi- 
 cers of the 97lh devoted themselves to the families 
 of the less important functionaries from the dock- 
 yard. The solicitors' wives, and the wine mer- 
 chant's wife, headed another grade, (the brewer's 
 wife visited the Bulders:) and Mrs, Tomlinson, the 
 post-office keeper, seemed by mutual consent to 
 have been chosen the leader of the trade party. 
 
 One of the most popular personages, in his own 
 circle, present, was a little fat man, with a ring of 
 upright black hair round his head, and an exten- 
 sive bald plain on the top of it — Doctor Slammer,, 
 surgeon to the 97th. The doctor took snuff with 
 every body, chatted with every body, laughed, 
 danced, made jokes, played whist, did every thing, 
 and was every where. To these pursuits, multifa- 
 rious as they were, the little doctor added a more 
 important one than any — he was indefatigable ia 
 paying the most unremitting and devoted attention 
 to a little old widow, whose rich dress and profu- 
 sion of ornament bespoke her a most desirable ad- 
 dition to a limited income. 
 
 Upon the doctor, and the widow, the eyes both 
 of Mr. Tupman and his companion had been fixed 
 for some time, when the stranger broke silence." 
 
 " Lots of money — old girl — pompous doctor — not 
 a bad idea — good fun," were the intelligible sen- 
 tences which issued from his lips. Mr. Tupman 
 looked inquisitely in his face. 
 
 " I'll dance with the widow," said the stranger^ 
 
 "Who is she?" inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Don't know — never saw lier in all my life — • 
 cut out the doctor — -here goes." And the stranger 
 forthwith crossed the room; and leaning againsl a 
 mantel-piece, commenced gazing with an air of 
 respectful and melancholy admiration on the fat 
 countenance of the little old ladv. Mn Tupmaa 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 41 
 
 looked on in mute astonishment. The stranger 
 progressed rapidly ; the Httle doctor danced with 
 another lady — the widow dropped her fan ; the 
 stranger picked it up, and presented it, — a smile — 
 a bow — a courtesy — a few words of conversation. 
 The stranger walked boldly up to, and returned 
 with, the master of the ceremonies ; a little intro- 
 ductory pantomime ; and the stranger and Mrs. 
 Budger took their places in a quadrille. 
 
 The surprise of Mr. Tupman at this summary pro- 
 ceeding, great as it was, was immeasurably exceed^ 
 ed by the astonishment of the doctor. The stran- 
 ger was young and the widow was flattered. The 
 doctor's attentions were unheeded by the widow; and 
 the doctor's indignation was wholly lost on his im- 
 perturbable rival. Doctor Slammer was paralyzed. 
 He, Doctor Slammer of the 97th, to be extinguish- 
 ed in a moment, by a man whom nobody had ever 
 seen before, and whom nobody knew even now ! 
 Doctor Slammer — Doctor Slammer of the 97th 
 rejected ! Impossible ! It could not be ! Yes, it 
 was; there they were. What! introducing his 
 friend! Could he believe his eyes! He looked 
 again, and was under the painful necessity of ad- 
 mitting the veracity of his optics; Mrs. Budger 
 W'as dancing with Mr. Tracy Tupman; there was 
 no mistaking the fact. There was the widow be- 
 fore him, bouncing bodily, here and there, with un- 
 wonted vigour; and Mr. Tracy Tupman hopping 
 about, with a face expressive of the most intense 
 solemnity, dancing (as a good many people do) as if 
 a quadrille were not a thing to be laughed at, but 
 a severe trial to the feelings, which it requires in- 
 flexible resolution to encounter. 
 
 Silently and patiently did the doctor bear all 
 
 this, and all the handings of negus, and watching 
 
 for glasses, and darting for biscuits, and coquetting, 
 
 that ensued ; but, a few seconds aftef the stranger 
 
 4* 
 
42 POSTHUMOUS PAFER3.07' 
 
 had disappeared to lead Mrs. Budger to her car-« 
 riage, he darted swiftly from the room with every 
 particle of his hitherto-bottled-up indignation effer- 
 vescing, from all parts of his countenance, in n 
 perspiration of passion. 
 
 The stranger was returning, and Mr. Tupman 
 was beside him. He spoke in a low tone, and 
 laughed. The little doctor thirsted for his life. 
 He was exulting. He had triumphed. 
 ■ "Sir!" said the doctor, in an awful voice, pro- 
 ducing a card, and retiring into an angle of the 
 passage, " my name is Slammer, Doctor Slammer, 
 sir — 97th regiment — Chatham Barracks — my card, 
 sir, my card." He would have added more, but 
 his indignation choked him. 
 
 "Ah!" replied the stranger, coolly. Slammer — 
 much obliged — polite attention — not ill now, Slam- 
 mer — but when I am — knock you up." 
 
 " You— youVe a shuffler, sir," gasped the furious 
 doctor, " a poltroon — a coward — a liar — a — a — 
 will nothing induce you to give me your card, 
 sir.'' 
 
 " Oh ! I see," said the stranger, half aside, " ne- 
 gus too strong here — liberal landlord — very fool- 
 ish — very — lemonade much better — hot rooms — 
 elderly gentlemen — sutler for it in the morning — 
 cruel — cruel ;" and he moved on a step or two. 
 
 "You are stopping in this house, sir," said the 
 indignant little man; "you are intoxicated now, 
 sir; you shall hear from me in the morning, sir. 
 I shall find you out, sir; I shall find you out." 
 
 "Rather you found me out, than found me at 
 home," replied the unmoved stranger. 
 
 Doctor Slammer looked unutterable ferocity, as 
 he fixed his hat on his head wit»h an indignant 
 knock ; and the stranger and Mr. Tupman ascend- 
 ed to the bed-room of the latter to restore the bor- 
 rowed plumage to the unconscious Winkle. 
 
 That geqtleman was fast asleep ; the restoration 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 43 
 
 was soon made. The stranger was extremely- 
 jocose ; and Mr, Tracy Tupman, being quite be- 
 wildered with wine, negus, lights and ladies, thought 
 the whole affair an exquisite joke. His new friend 
 departed; and, after experiencing some slight diffi- 
 culty in finding the orifice in his night-cap, origi- 
 nally intended for the reception of his head, and 
 finally overturning his candlestick in his struggles 
 to put it on, Mr. Tracy Tupman managed to get 
 into bed, by a series of complicated evolutions, and 
 shortly afterwards sank into repose. 
 
 Seven o'clock had hardly ceased striking on the 
 following morning, when Mr. Pickwick's compre- 
 hensive mind was aroused from the state of un- 
 consciousness, in which slumber had plunged it, by 
 a loud knocking at his chamber door. 
 
 " Who's there?' said Mr. Pickwick, starting up 
 in bed. 
 
 " Boots, sir." 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " Please, sir, can you tell me which gentleman 
 of your party wears a bright blue dress coat, with 
 a gilt button with p. c. on if?" 
 
 " It's been given out to brush," thought Mr. 
 Pickwick ; and the man has forgatten Vv'hom it be- 
 longs to — " Mr. Winkle," he called out, " next 
 room but two, on the right hand." 
 
 "Thank'ee, sir," said the boots, and away he 
 went. 
 
 " What's the matter?" cried Mr. Tupman, as a 
 loud knocking at his door roused him from his ob- 
 livious repose. 
 
 ''Can I speak to Mr. Winkle, sir?" replied the 
 boots, from the outside. 
 
 '' Winkle— Winkle," shouted Mr. Tupman, call- 
 ing into the inner room. 
 
 " Hallo !" replied a faint roice from within the 
 tlie bed-clothes. 
 
44 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " You're wanted — some one at the door — " and 
 having exerted himself to articulate thus much, 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman turned round and fell fast 
 asleep again. 
 
 "Wanted!" said Mr. Winkle, hastily jumping 
 out of bed, and putting on a few articles of cloth- 
 ing : " wanted ! at this distance from town — who on 
 earth can want me ! 
 
 " Gentleman in the coffee room, sir," replied 
 boots, as Mr. V/inkle opened the door, and con- 
 fronted him; "gentleman says he'll not detain you 
 a moment, sir, but he can take no denial." 
 
 " Very odd !" said Mr. Winkle ; I'll be dowii di- 
 rectly." 
 
 "He hurriedly wrapped himself in a travelling- 
 shawl, and dressing-gown, and proceeded down 
 stairs. An old woman and a couple of waiters 
 were cleaning the coffee room, and an officer in 
 undress uniform was looking out of the window. 
 He turned round as Mr. Winkle entered, and made 
 a stiff inclination of the head. Having ordered 
 the attendants to retire, and closed the door very 
 carefully^ he said, " Mr. Winkle, I presume?" 
 
 " My name is Winkle, sir B'^ 
 
 "You will not be surprised, sir, when I inform 
 you, that I liave called here this morning on be- 
 half of my friend, Dr. Slammer, of the Ninety-se- 
 venth." 
 
 " Doctor Slammer !" said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Doctor Slammer. He begged me to express 
 his opinion that yoilr conduct of last evening was 
 of a description which no gentleman could endure ; 
 and (he added) which no one gentleman would 
 pursue towards another." 
 
 Mr. Winkle's astonishment was too real, and too 
 evident, to escape the observation of Doctor Slam*- 
 mer's friend; he therefore proceeded. "My friend, 
 Doctor Slammer, requested me to add, that he is- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 45 
 
 firmly persuaded you were intoxicated during a 
 portion of the evening, and possibly unconscious of 
 the extent of the insult you were guilty of. He 
 commissioned me to say, that should this be plead- 
 ed as an excuse for your behaviour, he will con- 
 sent to accept a written apology, to be penned by 
 you from my dictation." 
 
 " A written apology !" repeated Mr. Winkle, in 
 the most emphatic tone of amazement possible. 
 
 " Of course you know the alternative," replied 
 the visiter, coolly. 
 
 " Were you intrusted with this message to me 
 by name?' inquired Mr. Winkle, whose intellects 
 were hopelessly confused by this extraordinary 
 conversation. 
 
 " I was not present myself,^' replied the visiter, 
 " and in consequence of your firm refusal to give 
 your card to Dr. Slammer, I was desired by that 
 gentleman to identify the wearer of a very uncom- 
 mon coat — a bright blue dress coat, with a gilt 
 button, displaying a bust, and the letters ' p. c' " 
 
 Mr. Winkle actually staggered with astonish- 
 ment, as he heard his own costume thus minutely 
 described. Dr. Slammer's friend proceeded : 
 
 " From the inquiries I made at the bar, just 
 now, I was convinced that the owner of the coat 
 in question arrived here, with three gentlemen, 
 yesterday afternoon. I immediately sent up to 
 the gentleman who was described as appearing 
 the head of the party ; and he, at once, referred 
 me to you." 
 
 If the principal tower of Rochester Castle had 
 suddenly walked from its foundation, and stationed 
 itself opposite the coflfee-room window, Mr, Win- 
 kle's surprise would have been as nothing, com- 
 pared with the profound astonishment with which 
 lie had heard this address. His first impression was 
 
46 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 that his coat had been stolen. " Will you allow 
 me to detain you one moment ?" said he. 
 
 "Certainly," replied the unwelcome visiter. 
 
 Mr. Winkle ran hastily up stairs, and with a 
 trembling hand opened the bag. There was the 
 coat in its usual place, but exhibiting, on a close 
 inspection, evident tokens of having been worn on 
 the preceding night. 
 
 " It must be so," said Mr. Winkle, letting the 
 coat fall from his hands;" I took too much wine 
 after dinner, and have a very vague recollection 
 of walking about the streets, and smoking a cigar 
 afterwards. The fact is, I was very drunk : 1 
 must have changed my coat — gone somewhere — 
 and insulted somebody ; I have no doubt of it ; 
 and this message is the terrible consequence. Say- 
 ing which, Mr. VVnkle retraced his steps in the 
 direction of the coffee-room, with the gloomy and 
 dreadful resolve of accepting the challenge of the 
 warlike Doctor Slammer, and abiding by the worst 
 consequences that might ensue. 
 
 To this determination Mr. Winkle was urged by 
 a variety of considerations ; the first of which 
 was, his reputation with the club. He had always 
 been looked up to as a high authority on all mat- 
 ters of amusement and dexterity, whether offen- 
 sive, defensive, or inoffensive ; and if, on this very 
 first occasion of being put to the test, he shrunk 
 back from the trial, beneath his leader's eye, his 
 name and standing were lost for ever. Besides, 
 he remembered to have heard it frequently sur- 
 mised by the uninitiated in such matters, that by 
 an understood arrangement between the seconds, 
 the pistols were seldom loaded with ball; and, fur- 
 thermore he reflected that if he applied to Mr. 
 Snodgrass to act as his second, and depicted the 
 danger in glowing terms, that gentleman might 
 possibly communicate the intelligence to Mr. Pick' 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 47 
 
 wick, who would cerlainlj lose no time in trans- 
 mitting it to the local authorities, and thus prevent 
 the kiihng or maiming of his follower. 
 
 Such were his thoughts when he returned to the 
 coffee-room, and intimated his intention of accept- 
 ing the Doctor's challenge. 
 
 " Will you refer me to a friend, to arrange the 
 time and place of meeting?" said the officer. 
 
 "Quite unnecessary," replied Mr. Winkle, -"name 
 them to me, and I can procure the attendance of 
 a friend afterwards.'^ 
 
 " Shall we say— sunset, this evening?" inquired 
 the officer, in a careless tone. 
 
 "Very good," replied Mr. Winkle; thinking in 
 his heart it was very bad. 
 , "You know Fort Pitt ?" 
 
 "Yes; I saw it yesterday." 
 
 " If you will take the trouble to turn into the 
 field which borders the trench, take the foot-path 
 to the left, when you arrive at an angle of the 
 fortification; and keep straight on till you see 
 me: 1 will precede you to a secluded place, where 
 the affair can be conducted without fear of inter- 
 ruption." 
 
 ^^ Fear of interruption !" thought Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Nothing more to arrange, 1 think," said the 
 officer. 
 
 " I am not aware of any thing more," replied 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Good morning." 
 
 " Good morning :" and the officer whistled a 
 lively air, as he strode away. 
 
 That morning's breakfast passed heavily off. 
 Mr. Tupman was not in a condition to rise, after 
 the unwonted dissipation of the previous night; 
 Mr. Snodgrass appeared to labour under a poetical 
 depression of spirits; and even Mr. Pickwick 
 evinced an unusual attachment to silence and soda 
 
48 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 water. Mr. Winkle eagerly watched his opportu- 
 nity. It was not long wanting. Mr. Snodgrass 
 proposed a visit to the castle, and as Mr. Winkle 
 was the only other member of the party disposed 
 to walk, they went out together. 
 
 " Snodgrass," said Mr. Winkle, when they had' 
 turned out of the public street ; " Snodgrass, my 
 dear fellow, can I rely upon your secrecy?' As 
 he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped 
 he could not. 
 
 " You can," repUed Mr. Snodgrass. " Hear me 
 swear — " 
 
 "No, no;'^ interrupted Winkle, terrified at the 
 idea of his companion's unconsciously pledging 
 himself not to give information : " don't swear, 
 don't swear ; it's quite unnecessary. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, 
 in the spirit of poesy, raised towards the clouds, as 
 he made the above appeal, and assumed an attitude 
 of attention^ 
 
 " I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an 
 affair of honour," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "You shall have it," replied Mr. Snodgrass, 
 clasping his friend's hand. 
 
 " With a doctor — Doctor Slammer, of the Nine- 
 ty-seventh," said Mr. Winkle, wishing to make 
 the matter appear as solemn as possible; " an affair 
 with an officer, seconded by another officer, at 
 sunset this evening, in a lonely tield beyond Fort 
 Pitt." 
 
 " I will attend you," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 He was astonished, but by no means dismayed. 
 It is extraordinary how cool any party but the 
 principal can be in such cases. Mr. Winkle had 
 forgotten this. He had judged of his friend's feel- 
 ings by his own. 
 
 " The consequences may be dreadful," said Mr^ 
 Winkle. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 49 
 
 " I hope not," said Mr. Snodgmss. 
 
 " The doctor, I believe, is a very good shot," 
 said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Most of these military men are," observed 
 Mr. Snodgrass, calml)' ; " but so are vou, an't 
 you?" 
 
 Mr. Winkle replied in the affirmative ; and per- 
 ceiving that he had not alarmed his companion 
 sufficientl}^ changed his ground. 
 
 " Snodgrass," he said, in a voice tremulous with 
 emotion, " if I fall, you will find in a packet which 
 I shall place in your hands a note for mv— for mv 
 father.'' 
 
 This attack was a failure also. Mr. Snodgrass 
 was affected, but he undertook the delivery of the 
 note, as readily as if he had been a Twopenny 
 Postman. 
 
 "If I fall," said Mr. Winkle, "or if the doctor 
 falls, you, my dear friend, will be tried as an ac- 
 cessory before the fact. Shall I involve my friend 
 in transportation — possibly for life !" 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass winced a little at this, but his 
 heroism was invincible. " In the cause of friend- 
 ship," he fervently exclaimed, " I would brave all 
 dangers." 
 
 How Mr. Winkle cursed his companion's de- 
 voted friendship internally, as they walked silently 
 along, side by side, for some minutes, each im- 
 mersed in his own meditations ! The morning was 
 wearing away ; he grew desperate. 
 
 "Snodgrass," he said, stopping suddenly, "do 
 hiot let me be balked in this matter — do 7iot give 
 information to the local authorities — do not obtain 
 the assistance of seVeral peace officers, to take 
 either me or Doctor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh 
 regiment, at present quartered in Chatham Bar- 
 racks, into custody, and \hm ptevcui this dud;-^ 
 I say, do 7/0/." 
 5 
 
50 POSTHUxMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass seized his friend's hand warmly, 
 as he enthusiastically replied, "Not for worlds!" 
 
 A thrill passed over Mr. Winkle's frame, as the 
 conviction that he had nothing to hope frona his 
 friend's fears, and that he was destined to beconne 
 an animated target, riislied forcibly upon him. 
 
 The state of the case having been formally ex- 
 plained to JMr. Snodgrass, and a case of satisfac- 
 tion pistols, with the satisfactory accompaniments 
 of powder, bail, and caps, having been hired from 
 a manufacturer in Rociiester, the two friends re- 
 turned to their inn: Mr. Winkle, (o rutninate on the 
 approaching struggle; and Mr. Snodgrass, to ar- 
 range the weapons of war, aiid put them into pro- 
 per order for immediate use. 
 
 It was a dull and heavy evening, when ihcy 
 again sallied forth on their awkward errand. Mr. 
 Winkle was muffled up in a huge cloak to escape 
 observation : and Mr. Snodgrass bore under his the 
 instruments of destruction. 
 
 "Have you got ev'ry thing?" said Mr. Winkle, 
 in an agitated tone. 
 
 " Ev'ry thing," replied ]Mr. Snodgrass ; " plenty 
 of ammunition, in case the shots don't take effect. 
 There's a quarter of a pound of powder in the case, 
 and 1 have got two nev\'spapers in my pockel, for 
 the loadings." 
 
 These were instances of friendship, for which 
 any man might reasonably feel most grateful. The 
 presumption is, that the gratitude of Mr. Winkle 
 was too powerful for utterance, as he said nothing, 
 but continued to walk on — rather slowly. 
 
 "We are in excellent time," said Mr. Snod- 
 grass, as they climbed the fence of the first field : 
 ♦' the sun is just going down." Mr. Winkle looked 
 up at the declining orb, and painfully thought of 
 the probability of his " going down'' himself, be- 
 fore long. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, 51 
 
 "There's the officer," exclaimed Mr. Winkle, 
 after a few minutes' walking, 
 
 "Where?" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "There; — the gentl-eman in the bhie cloak." 
 Mr. Snodgrass looked in the direction indicated by 
 the forefinger of his friend, and observed a figure, 
 muffled up, as he- had described. The officer 
 evinced his consciousness of their presence by 
 slightly beckoning with his hand; and the two 
 friends followed him, at a little distance, as he 
 walked awaj'. 
 
 The evening 2;rew more dull every moment, and 
 a melancholy wind sounded through the deserted 
 fields, like a distant giant whistling for his house 
 dog. The sadness of the scene imparted a sombre 
 tinge to the feelings of Mr. Winkle. He started as 
 they passed the angle of the trench — it looked like 
 a colossal grave. 
 
 The officer turned suddenly from the path; and 
 after climbing a paling and scaling a hedge, enter- 
 ed a secluded field. Two gentleman were wait- 
 ing in it ; one was a little fat man, with black hair; 
 and the other — a portly personage in a braided 
 surtout — was sitting with perfect equanimity on a 
 camp-stool. 
 
 " The other party, and a surgeon, I suppose," 
 said Mr. Snodgrass; " take a drop of brandy." 
 Mr. Winkle seized the wicker bottle which his 
 friend proffered, and took a lengthened pull at the 
 exhilarating liquid. 
 
 " My friend, sir, Mr. Snodgrass," said Mr. Win- 
 kle as the officer approached. Doctor Slammer's 
 friend bowed, and produced a case similar to that 
 which Mr. Snodgrass carried. 
 
 " We have noUiing farther to say, sir, I think," 
 he coldly remarked, as he opened the case ; " an. 
 apology has been resolutely declined." 
 
52 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 '^ Nothing, sir," said Mr. Snodgrass, who began 
 to feel rather uncomfortable himself. 
 
 <' Will you step forward ?" said the officer. 
 
 '^ Certauily," replied Mr. Shodgrass. The 
 ground was measured, and preliminaries ar- 
 ranged. 
 
 " You will find these better than your own." 
 said the opposite second producing his pistols. 
 "You saw me load them. Do vou object to use 
 them?' 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Mr. Snodgrass. The 
 offer relieved him from considerable embarrass- 
 iTient ; for his previous notions of loading a pistol 
 were rather vague and undefined. 
 
 " We may place our men, then, I think," ob- 
 served the officer, with as much inditference as if 
 the principals were chess-men, and the seconds 
 players. 
 
 "I think we may,'' replied Mr. Snodgrass; who 
 would have assented to any proposition, because 
 he knew nothing about the matter. The officer 
 crossed to Doctor Slammer, and Mr. Snodgrass 
 went up to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " It's all ready," he said, offering the pistol. 
 " Give me your cloak." 
 
 "You have got the packet, my dear fellow," 
 said poor Winkle. 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Snodgrass. "Be steady, 
 and wing him." 
 
 It occurred to Mr. Winkle that this advice was 
 very like that which by-standers invariably give 
 to the smallest boy in a street fight: namely, " Go 
 in, and win ;" an admirable thing to recommend, 
 if you only know how to do it. He took oiT his 
 cloak, however, in silence— it always took a long 
 time to undo that cloak — and accepted the pistol. 
 The seconds retired, the gentleman on the camp- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 5S' 
 
 stool did the same, and the belligerents approach-* 
 ed each other. 
 
 Mr, Winkle was always remarkable for extreme 
 humanity. It is conjectured that his unwillingness 
 to hurt a fellow-creature intentionally, was the 
 cause of his shutting his^ eyes when he arrived at 
 the fatal spot; and that the circumstance of his* 
 eyes being closed, prevented his observing the very 
 extraordinary and unaccountable demeanour of 
 Doctor Slammer. That gentleman started, stared; 
 retreated, rubbed his eyes, stared again; and^ 
 finally, shouted "Stop, stop!" 
 
 "What's all this?' said Doctor Slammer, as his 
 friend and Mr. Snodgrass came running up — 
 " That's not the man." 
 
 *^'Not the man !" said Doctor Slammer's second. 
 
 " Not the man 1" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "N'otthe man!" said the gentleman with the 
 camp-stool in his hand. 
 
 "Certainly not," replied the little doctor. ^'That's 
 not the person who insulted me last night." 
 
 " Very extraordinary 1" exclaimed the officer. 
 
 "Very," said the gentleman with the camp- 
 stool. " The only question is, whether the gentle- 
 man, being on the ground, must not be considered, 
 as a matter of form, to be the individual who in- 
 sulted our fi'iend, Doctor Slam.mer, yesterday even- 
 ing, whether he is really that individual or not:" 
 and having delivered this suggestion with a very 
 sage and mysterious air, the man with the camp- 
 stool took a large pinch of snnftV and looked pro- 
 foundly round, with the air of an authority in suck- 
 matters. ~ 
 
 Now Mr. Winkle had opened his eyes, and his 
 ears too, wlien he heard his adversary call out for 
 a cessation of hostilities ; and perceiving by what 
 he had afterwards said, that there was, beyond all 
 q^uestion, some mistake in the matter, he at once 
 5* 
 
5^ POSTHUMOUS PAPfiRSvCWr 
 
 foresaw the increase of reputation he should in 3-v it-, 
 ably acquire, by concealing the real motive of his 
 coming out: he therefore stepped boldly forward,. 
 a,nd said — 
 
 "I am not the person. I know it." 
 
 " Then, that," sai(j[ the man with the camp-stool, 
 ''■is an afTront to Doctor Slammer, and a sufficient 
 reason for proceeding immediatel3^" 
 
 "Pray be quiet, Payne," said the Doctor's se- 
 cond. " Why did you not communicate this fact 
 to me this morning, sir r' 
 
 '^ To be sure — to be sure," said the man with 
 the camp-stool, indignantly. 
 
 '' I entreat you to be quiet, Payne," said the 
 other. " May I repeat my question, sir?" 
 
 "Because, sir," replied Mr. Winkle, who had 
 had time to deliberate upon his answer — "because 
 sir, you described an intoxicated and ungentleman- 
 ly person as weaving a coat, which I have the ho- 
 nour, not only to wear, but to have invented — the 
 proposed uniform, sir, of the Pickwick Club in 
 London. The honour of that uniform 1 feel bound 
 to maintain, and I therefore, without inquiry, ac- 
 cepted the challenge which you ofiered me." 
 
 "My dear sir," said the good-humoured little 
 doctor, advancing with extended hand, '' I honour 
 your gallantry. Permit me to say, sir, that I high- 
 ly admire your conduct, and extremely regret 
 having caused you the inconvenience of this meet- 
 ing, to no purpose." 
 
 "I beg you won't mention it, sir," said Mr. Win- 
 kle. 
 
 " I shall feel proud of your acquaintance, sir," 
 said the little doctor. 
 
 "It will atlbrd me the greatest pleasure to know 
 you, sir," replied Mr. Winkle. Thereupon the 
 doctor and Mr. Winkle shook hands, and then Mr. 
 Winkle and Lieutenant .Tappleton, (the doctorls. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 55 
 
 second,) and then Mr. Winkle and the man with 
 the camp-stool; and, finally, Mr. Winkle and Mr. 
 Snodgrass : the last named gentleman in an excess 
 of admiration at the noble conduct of his heroic 
 friend. 
 
 *' I think we may adjourn," said Lieutenant Tap- 
 ptleton. 
 
 "Certainly,'^ added the doctor. 
 
 "Unles^?," interposed the man with the camp-- 
 stool, '''unless Mr. Winkle feels himself aggrieved 
 by the challenge; in which case, I submit, he has 
 a right la satisiaction." 
 
 Mr. Winkle, with great self-denial, expressed 
 himself quite satisfied already. 
 
 ''Or, possibly," said the man with the camp- 
 stool, " the gentleman's second may feel himself af- 
 fronted with some observations which fell from me 
 at an early period of this meeting: if so, I shall be 
 happy to give him satisfaction immediately." 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass hastily professed himself very 
 much obliged with i\\Q handsome offer of the gen- 
 tleman who had spoken last, which he was only 
 induced to decline, by his entire contentment with 
 the whole proceedings. The two seconds adjust- 
 ed the cases, and the whole party left the ground 
 in a much more lively manner than they had pro- 
 ceeded to it. 
 
 "Do you remain long here?" inquired Doctor 
 Slammer of Mr. Winkle, as they walked on most 
 amicably together. 
 
 " I thiuk we shall leave here the day after to= . 
 morrow,'^ was the reply. 
 
 " I trust I shall have the pleasure of seeing you 
 and your friend at my rooms, and of spending a 
 pleasant evening v/ith you, after this awkward mis-, 
 take," said the little doctor: "are, yoadiseiigcig^ed^ 
 this evening ]" 
 
 ^'-We. h.^ye. some friends here," replied M^v. 
 
56 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Winkle, " and I should not like io leavp them to- 
 night. Perhaps you. and your friend will join us 
 at the Bull/' 
 
 ^' With great pleasure," said the little doctor; 
 " will ten o'clock be too late to look in for half an 
 hour?' 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said Mr. Winkle. " I shall be 
 most happy to introduce you to my friends, Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Tupman. 
 
 '•It wl!l give me great pleasure, I am sure," re- 
 Dlied Doctor Slammer, little suspecting who ]\Ir. 
 Tupman was. 
 
 " You will be sure to come V^ said Mr. Snod- 
 grass. 
 
 " Oh certainly." 
 
 By this time they had reached the road. Cor- 
 dial farewells were exchanged, and the party se- 
 parated. Doctor Slammer and his friends repaired 
 to the barracks, and Mr. Winkle, accompanied bv 
 his friend, Mr. Snodgrass, returned to their inn. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 57 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A NEW 
 
 DISAGREEABLE INTERRUPTION; AND AN UNPLEASANT 
 RENCONTRE. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had felt some apprehensions in 
 cunseqnoncG of the unusual absence of his twcL 
 friends, which their mysterious behaviour during 
 the whole morning had by no means tended to 
 diminish. It was, therefore, with more than ordi- 
 nary pleasure that he rose to greet them when 
 they again entered, and with more than ordinary 
 interest that he inquired what had occurred to de- 
 tain them from his society. In reply to his ques- 
 tions on this point, Mr. Snodgrass was about to 
 ofibr an historical account of the circumstances 
 just now detailed, when he was suddenly checked, 
 by observing that there were present, not only 
 Mr. Tupman and their stage coach companion of 
 the preceding day, but another stranger of equally 
 singular appearance. It was a care-worn looking 
 nian, whose sallow face, and deeply sunken eyes, 
 were rendered still more striking than nature had 
 made them, by the straight black hair which hung 
 in matted disorder half way down his face. His 
 eyes were almost unnaturally bright and piercing; 
 his cheek bones were high and prominent ; and his 
 jaws were so long and lank, that an observer would, 
 have supposed he was drawing the flesh off his face 
 in, for a moment, by some contraction of the mus- 
 cles, if his half-opened mouth and immoveable ex- 
 pression had not announced that it was his ordi- 
 
58 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 nary appearance. Round his neck he wore a 
 green shawl, with the large ends straggling over 
 his chest, and making their appearance occasion- 
 ally, beneath the worn button-holes of his old waist- 
 coat. His upper garment was a long black sur- 
 tout; and below it, he wore wide drab trousers,* 
 and large boots, running rapidly to seed. 
 
 It was on this uncouth-looking personagCj that 
 Mr. Winkle's eye rested, and it was towards him 
 that Mr. Pickwick extended his hand, when he said 
 "A friend of our friend's here. We discovered this 
 morning that our friend was connected with the 
 theatre in this place, though he is not desirous to 
 haye it generally known, and this gentleman is a 
 member of the same profession. He was about to 
 favour us with a little anecdote connected with it, 
 when you entered.'^ 
 
 " Lots of anecdote," said the green coated stran- 
 ger of the day before, advancing to Mr. Winkle, 
 and speaking in a low conhdential tone. "Rum 
 fellow — does the heavy business — no actor — 
 strange man — all sorts of miseries — dismal Jem- 
 my, we call him on the cirrAiit." Mr. Winkle and 
 Mr. Snodgrass politely welcomed the gentleman, 
 elegantly designated as "Dismal Jemmy;" and 
 calling for brandy and water, in imitation of the 
 remainder of the company, seated themselves at 
 the table. 
 
 " Now, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, '• will you oblige 
 us with proceeding with what vou were going to 
 relate?" 
 
 The dismal individual took a dirty roll of paper 
 from his pocket, and turning to Mr. Snodgrass, Vv'ho 
 had just taken out his note- book, said in a hollow 
 voice, perfectly in keeping with his outward man 
 . — " Are you the poet?" 
 
 " I— I do a little in that way," replied Mr. Snod. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 59 
 
 grass, rather taken aback by the abruptness of the 
 question. 
 
 "Ah! poetry makes life, what lights and music 
 do the stage. Strip the one of its false embellish'- 
 ments, and the other of its illusions, and what is 
 tliere real in either, to live or care for?" 
 
 " Very true, sir," replied Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "To be before the footlights," continued the dis- 
 mal man, "is like sitting at a grand court show, 
 and admiring the silken dresses of the gaudy 
 throng — to be behind them, is to be the people who 
 make that finery, uncared for and unknown, and 
 left to sink or swim, to starve or live, as fortune 
 wills it." 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Snodgrass : for the sunken 
 eye of the dismal man rested on him, and he felt 
 it necessary to say something. 
 
 "Go on, Jemmy," said the Spanish traveller, 
 "like black-eyed Susan — all in the Downs— no 
 croaking, speak out — look livel}^'^ 
 
 " Vvill you take another glass before you be- 
 gin, sir?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 The dismal man took the hint, and having 
 mixed a glass of brandy and water, and slowly 
 swallowed half of it. opened the roll of paper, and 
 proceeded, partly to read and partly to relate, the 
 foilowing incident, which we hnd recorded on the 
 Transactions of the Club, as "The Stroller't? 
 Tale." 
 
 " There is nothing of the marvellous in what 1 
 am going to relate." said the dismal man ; '• there 
 is nothing even uncommon in it. Want and sick- 
 ness are too common in many stations of life, to 
 deserve more notice than is usually bestowed on 
 the most ordinary vicissitudes of human nature. I 
 have thrown these few notes together, because the 
 subject of them was well known to me for many 
 vears. I traced his progress downwards, step by 
 
'60 POSTHUMOUS rAPERS OF 
 
 step, until at last he reached that excess of destitu- 
 tion from which he never rose again. 
 
 *' The man of whom I speak was a low panto- 
 mime actor; and, like many people of his class, an 
 habitual drunkard. In his better days, before he 
 had become enfeebled by dissipation and emaciated 
 by disease, he had been in tlie receipt of a good 
 salary, which, if he had -been careful and prudent, 
 he might have continued to receive for some years 
 -^not many ; because these men either die early, 
 or, by unnaturally taxing their bodily energies, lose 
 prematurely, those physical powers on which alone 
 they can depend for subsistence. His besetting sin 
 gained so fast upon him, however, that it was 
 found impossible to employ him in the situations in 
 which he really was useful to the theatre. The pub- 
 lic-house had a fascination for him which he could 
 not resist. Neglected disease and hopeless poverty 
 were as certain to be his portion as death itself, if 
 he persevered in the same course ; yet he did per- 
 severe, and the result may be guessed. He could 
 obtain ito engagement, and he wanted bread. 
 
 " Every body who is at all acquainted with the- 
 atrical matters, knows what a host of shabby, 
 poverty-stricken men, hang about the stage of a 
 large establishment — not i-egularly engaged ac- 
 tors, but ballet people, procession men, tumblers, 
 and so forth, who are taken on during the run of a 
 pantomime, or an Easter piece, and are then dis- 
 charged, until the production of some heavy spec- 
 tacle occasions a new demand for their services. 
 To this mode of life the man wa^ compelled to re- 
 sort; and taking the •chair every night, at some 
 low theatrical house, at once put him in possession 
 of a few more shillings weekly, and enabled him to 
 gratify his old propensity. Even this resource 
 shortly failed him ; his irregularities were too great 
 to admit of his earning the wretched pittance he 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. ^1 
 
 might thus have procured, and he was actually re- 
 duced to a state bordering on starvation, only pro- 
 curing a trifle occasionally by borrowing it of some 
 old companion, or by obtaining an appearance at 
 one or other of the commonest of the minor thea- 
 tres; and when he did earn any thing, it was spent 
 in the old way. 
 
 " About this time, and when he had been exist- 
 ing for upwards of a year no one knew how, I had 
 a short engagement at one of the theatres on the 
 Surrey side of the w.ater, and here 1 saw this man, 
 whom I had lost sight of for some time ; for I had 
 been travelling in the provinces, and he had been 
 skulking in the lanes and alleys of London. I was 
 dressed to leave the house, and was crossing the 
 stage on my way out, when he tapped me on the 
 shoulder. Never shall I forget the repulsive sight 
 that met my eye when I turned round. He was 
 dressed for the pantomime, in all the absurdity of a 
 clown's costume. The spectral figures in the Dance 
 of Death, the most frightful shapes that the ablest 
 painter ever portrayed on canvass, never presented 
 an appearance half so ghastly. His bloated body 
 and shrunken legs — their deformity enhanced a 
 hundred fold by the fantastic dress — the glassy 
 eyes, contrasting fearfully with the thick white 
 paint with which the face was besmeared: the 
 grotesquely-ornamented head, trembling with para- 
 lysis, and the long skinny hands, rubbed with white 
 chalk — all gave him a hideous and unnatural ap- 
 pearance, of which no description could convey an 
 adequate idea, and which, to this day, I shudder to 
 think of. His voice was hollow and tremulous, as 
 he took me aside, and in broken words recounted a 
 long catalogue of sickness and privations, termina- 
 ting, as usual, with an urgent request for the loan 
 ef a trifling sum of nfiorlev. I put a few shillings 
 6 
 
63 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 in his hand, and, as I turned away, I heard the 
 roar of laughter which followed his .first tumble on 
 to the stage. 
 
 "A few nights afterwards, a boy put a dirty 
 scrap of paper in my hand, on which were scrawled 
 a few words in pencil, intimating that the man 
 was dangerously ill, and begging me, after the per- 
 formance, to see him at his lodgings in some street 
 — I forget the name of it now — at no great dis- 
 tance from the theatre. I promised to comply, as 
 soon as I could get away; and, after the curtain 
 fell, sallied forth on my melancholy errand. 
 
 " It was late, for I had been playing in the last 
 piece.; and, as it was a benefit night, tlie perform- 
 ances had been protracted to an unusual length. 
 It was a dark cold night, with a chill damp wind, 
 which blew the rain heavily against the windows and 
 house-fronts. Pools of water had collected in the 
 narrow and little-frequented streets, and as many 
 of the thinly-scattered oil-lamps had been blown 
 out by the violence of the wind, the walk was not 
 only a comfortless, but most uncertain one. I had 
 fortunately taken the right course, however, and 
 45ucceeded, after a little difficulty, in finding the 
 house to which I had been directed — a co.al shed, 
 with one story above it, in the back room of which 
 lay the object of my search. 
 
 ."A wretched-looking woman, the man's wife, 
 met me on the stairs, and, telling me that he had 
 just fajlen into a kind of doze, led me softly in, and 
 placed a chair for me at the bed-side. The sick 
 man was lying with his face turned towards the 
 wall; and as he took no heed of my presence, I had 
 leisure to observe the place in which I found my- 
 self. 
 
 "He was lying on an old bedstead which turned 
 «p during the day. The tattered remains of a 
 ♦checked curtain were drawn round the bed's head, 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 63 
 
 to exclude the wind, which however niadc its way 
 into the comfortless room through the numerous 
 chinks in the door, and blew it to and fro every in- 
 stant. There was a low cinder-fire in a rusty un- 
 fixed grate; and an old three-cornered stained table, 
 with some medicine-bottles, a broken glass, and a 
 few other domestic articles, was drawn out before 
 it. A little child was sleeping on a temporary bed 
 which had been made for it on the floor, and the 
 woman sat on a chair by its side. There were a 
 couple of shelves, with a few plates and cups and 
 saucers: and a pair of stage shoes and a couple of 
 foils hung beneath them. With the exception of 
 little heaps of rags and bundles which had been 
 carelessly thrown into the corners of the room, 
 these were the only things in the apartment. 
 
 " I had had time to note these little particulars, 
 and to mark the heavy breathing and feverish start- 
 ings of the sick man, before he was aware of my 
 presence. In his restless attempts to procure some 
 easy resting-place for his head, he tossed his hand 
 out of the bed, and it fell on mine. He started 
 up, and stared eagerly in my face. 
 
 '"Mr. Hutley, John,' said his wife; *Mr. Hut- 
 ley, that you sent for to-night, you know.' 
 
 '"Ah !' said the invalid, passing his hand across 
 his forehead ; ' Hutley — Hutley — let me see.' He 
 seemed endeavouring to collect his thoughts for a 
 few seconds, and then grasping me tightly by the 
 wrist, said, ' Don't leave me — don't leave me, old 
 fellow. She'll murder me; I know she will.' 
 
 "'Has he been long so?' said I, addressing his 
 weeping wife. 
 
 " ' Since yesterday night,' she replied. ' John, 
 John, don't you know me? 
 
 ''Don't let her come near me,' said the man, 
 with a shudder, as she stooped over him. ' Drive 
 her away; I can't bear her near me.' Ha stared 
 
64 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 wildly at her, with a look of deadly apprehension, 
 and then whispered in my ear, "I beat her, Jenn; 
 I beat her yesterday and many times before. 1 
 have starved her and the boy too; and now I am 
 weak and helpless, Jem, she'll murder me for it; I 
 know she will. If you'd seen her cry, as I have, 
 you'd know it too. Keep her off.' He relaxed 
 his grasp, and sunk back exhausted on the pillow. 
 
 "I knew but too well what all this meant. If I 
 could have entertained any doubt of it for one in- 
 stant, one glance at the woman's pale face and 
 wasted form would have sufticiently explained the 
 real state of the case. 'You had better stand 
 aside,' said I to the poor creature. ' You can do 
 him no good. Perhaps he will be calmer, if he 
 does not see you.' She retired out of the man's 
 sight. He opened his eyes, after a few seconds, 
 and looked anxiously round. 
 
 " ' Is she gone V he eagerly inquired. 
 
 Yes — yes,' said 1; she shall not hurt you.' 
 I'll tell you what, Jem,' said the man, in a 
 low voice, 'she does hurt me. There's something 
 in her eyes wakes such a dreadful fear in my heart, 
 that it drives me mad. All last night, her large 
 staring eyes and pale face were close to mine ; 
 wherever I turned, they turned; and whenever I 
 started up from my sleep, she was at the bed-side 
 looking at me.' He drew me closer to him, as he 
 said in a deep, alarmed whisper — ' Jem, she must 
 be an evil spirit— a devil !' Hush ! I know she 
 is. If she had been a woman, she would have 
 died long ago. No woman could have borne what 
 she has." 
 
 " I sickened at the thought of the long course 
 of cruelty and neglect which must have occurred 
 to produce such an impression on such a man, I 
 could say nothing in reply; for who could offei' 
 
 
THE PICKWICK CtUB. 65 
 
 hope, or consolation, to tlie abject being before 
 nne? 
 
 "I sat there for upwards of two hours, during 
 which time he tossed about, murmuring exclama- 
 tions of pain or impatience, restlessly throwing his 
 arms here and there, and turning constantly from 
 side to side. At length he fell into that state of 
 partial unconsciousness, in which the mind wan- 
 ders uneasily from scene to scene, and from place 
 to place, without the control of reason, but still 
 without being able to divest itself of an indescriba- 
 ble sense of present suffering, Finding, from his 
 incoherent wanderings that this was trie case, and 
 knowing that in all probability the fever would 
 not grow immediately worse, 1 left him, promising 
 his miserable wife that I would repeat my visit 
 next evening, and if necessary sit up with the 
 patient during the night. - 
 
 " 1 kept my promise. The last four and twen- 
 ty hours had produced a frightful altt^ration. The 
 eyes, though deeply sunk and heavy, shone with a 
 lustre, frightful to behold. The lips were parched, 
 and cracked in many places: the dry hard skin 
 glowed with a burning heat, and there was an al- 
 most unearthly air of wild anxiety in the man's 
 face, indicating even more strongly the ravages of 
 the disease. The fever was at its height- - 
 
 " I took the seat I hadoecnpied the-night before, 
 and there I sat for hours listening to sounds which 
 must strike deep to the heart of the most callous 
 among human beings — the awful ravings of a dy- 
 ing man. From what I had heard of the medical 
 attendant's opinion, I knew there was no hope for 
 him: I was sitting by his? death-bed. I saw the 
 wasted limbs which a few hours before hati' been 
 distorted for the amuser/ient of a boisterous gallery, 
 writhing under the tortures^ of a burning feveir^—l 
 
^Q POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 heard the clown's shrill laugh blending with the 
 low murmurings of the dying man. 
 
 " It is a touching thing to hear the mind revert- 
 ing to the ordinary occupations and pursuits of 
 health when the body lies before you weak and 
 helpless ; but when those occupations are of a cha- 
 racter the most strongly opposed to any thing we 
 associate with grave or solemn ideas, the impres- 
 sion produced is intinitely more powerful. The 
 theatre, and the public-house were the chief themes 
 of the wretched man's wanderings. It was even- 
 ing, he fancied ; he had a part to play that night ; 
 it was late, and he must leave home instantly. 
 Why did they hold him, and prevent his going — he 
 should lose the money — he must go. No ! they 
 would not let him. He hid his face in his bur^ning 
 hands, and feebly bemoaned his own weakness, 
 and the cruelly of his persecutors. A short pause, 
 and he shouted out a few doggerel rhymes— the 
 last he had ever learned. He rose in bed, drew up 
 his withered limbs, and rolled about in uncouth 
 positions; he was acting — he was at the theatre. 
 A minute's silence, and he murmured the burden 
 of some roaring song. He had reached the old 
 house at last; how^ hot the room was. He had 
 been ill, very ill; but he was well now, and happy. 
 Fill up his glass. Who was that, that dashed it 
 from his lips? It was the same persecutor that 
 had followed him before. He fell back upon his 
 pillow and moaned aloud. A short period of ob- 
 livion, and he was wandering Ihrougii a tedious 
 maze of low arched rooms — so low, sometimes, 
 that he must creep upon his hands and knees to 
 make his way along; it was close and dark — and 
 every way he turned, some obstacle impeded his 
 progress. There were insects too; hideous crawl- 
 ing things, with eyes that stared upon him, and 
 filled the very air around: glistening horribly 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 67 
 
 amidst the thick darkness of the place. The walls 
 and ceiling were alive with reptiles — the vault ex- 
 panded to an enormous size — frightful figures flitted 
 to and fro — and the faces of men he knew, ren- 
 dered hideous by gibing and mouthing, peered out 
 from among them ; they were searing him with 
 heated irons, and binding his head with cords till 
 the blood started ; and he struggled madlv for 
 life. 
 
 " At the close of one of these paroxysm, wheii- 
 I had with great difficulty held him down in his 
 bed, he sank into what appeared to be a slumber. 
 Overpowered with watching and exertion, I had 
 closed my eyes for a few minutes, when I felt a 
 violent clutch on my shoulder. I awoke instantly. 
 He had raised himself up, so as to seat himself in 
 bed — a dreadful change had come over his face, 
 but consciousness had returned, for he evidently 
 knew me. The child, who had been long since 
 disturbed by his ravings, rose from its little bed, 
 and ran towards its father, screaming with fright 
 — the mother hastily caught it in her arms, lest he 
 should injure it in (he violence of his insanity ; but, 
 terrified by the alteration of his features, stood 
 transfixed by the bed-side. He grasped my shoul- 
 der convulsively ; and striking his breast with the 
 other hand, made a desperate attempt to articu- 
 late. It was unavailing; he extended his arm to- 
 wards them, and made another violent efibrt. 
 There was a rattling noise in the throat — a glare 
 of the eve — a short stifled groan — and he fell back 
 —dead!" 
 
 It would afford us the highest gratification to be 
 enabled to record Mr. Pickwick's opinion of the 
 foregoing anecdote. We have little doubt that we 
 should have been enabled to present it to our read- 
 ers, but for a most unlbrtunate occurrence. 
 
08 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Mri Pickwick had replaced on tlie (able the 
 glass which, during the last few sentences of the 
 tale, he had retained in his hand ; and had just 
 made up his mind to speak — indeed we have the 
 authority of Mr. Snodgrass's note-book for stating, 
 that he had actually opened his mouth — when the 
 Vv'aiter entered the room, and said — 
 
 "Some gentlemen, sir." 
 
 It has been conjectured that Mr. Pickwick was 
 on the point of delivering some remarks which 
 would have enlightened the world, if not the 
 Thames, when he was thus interrupted : for he gazed 
 sternly on the waiter's countenance, and then look- 
 ed round on the company generally, as if seeking 
 for information relative to the new comers. 
 
 " Oh I" said Mr. Winkle, rising, " some friends 
 of mine — show them in. Very pleasant fellows," 
 added Mr. Winkle, after the waiter had retired — 
 " Officers of the 97th, whose acquaintance I made 
 rather oddly this morning. You will like them 
 very much.'' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's equanimity was at once re- 
 stored. The waiter returned, and ushered three 
 gentlemen into the room. 
 
 " Lieutenant Tappleton, said Mr. Winkle, "Lieu- 
 tenant Tappleton, Mr. Pickwick — Doctor Payne, 
 Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Snodgrass, you have seen be- 
 fore: my friend Mr. Tupman, Doctor Payne — 
 Doctor Slammer, Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Tupman, 
 Doctor Slam '? 
 
 Here Mr. Winkle suddenly paused ; for strong 
 emotion was visible on the countenance both of 
 Mr. Tupman, and the Doctor. 
 
 "I have mci this gentleman before," said the 
 Doctor with marked emphasis. . 
 
 «' Indeed !" said Mr. Winkle. . 
 
 '* And — and th«t person, too, if I am not mis- 
 taken, said the Doctor, bestowing a scrutinizing 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 6& 
 
 glance on the green-coated stranger. "I think I 
 gave that person a very pressing invitation last 
 night, which he thought proper to decline." Say- 
 ing which, the Doctor scowled magnanimously on 
 the stranger, and whispered his friend Lieutenant- 
 Tappleton. 
 
 "You don't say so," said that gentleman, at the 
 conclusion of the whisper. 
 
 " I do, indeed," replied Doctor Slammer. 
 
 "You are bound to kick him on the spot," mur- 
 mured the owner of the camp stool, wiih great 
 importance. 
 
 " /)o be quiet, Payne," interposed the Lieute- 
 nant. "Will you allow me to ask you, sir," he 
 said, addressing Mr. Pickwick, who was conside-, 
 rably mystified by this very unpolite by-play — -. 
 " Will you allow me to ask you, sir, whether that, 
 person belongs to your party?" 
 
 " No, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, " he is a guest- 
 of ours." 
 
 "He is a member of your club, or I am mis--- 
 taken?" said the lieutenant, inquiringly. 
 
 " Certainly not," responded Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " And never wears your club-button?" said the 
 Lieutenant. 
 
 "No — never!' replied the astonished Mr. Pick-, 
 wick. 
 
 Lieutenant Tappleton turned round to his friend 
 Doctor Slammer, with a scarcely perceptible shrug 
 of the shoulder, as if implying some doubt of the 
 accuracy of his recollection. The little Doctor 
 looked wrathful, but confounded; and Mr. Payne 
 gazed with a ferocious aspect on the beaming . 
 countenance of the unconscious Pickwick. 
 
 " Sir," said the Doctor, suddenly addressing 
 Mr. Tupman, in a tone which made that gentle- 
 man start as perceptibly as if a pin had been cun- - 
 
70 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ninglj inserted in the calf of his leg — "you were 
 at the ball here last night?' 
 
 Mr. Tupman gasped a faint affirmative ; look- 
 ing very hard at Mr. Pickwick all the while. 
 
 " That person was your companion, '^ said the 
 Doctor, pointing to the still unmoved stranger. 
 
 Mr. Tupman admitted ihe fact. 
 
 *'No\v, sir," said tlie Doctor to the stranger, "I 
 ask you once again, in the presence of these gen- 
 tlemen, whether you choose to give me your card, 
 and to receive the treatment of a gentleman ; or 
 whether you impose upon me the necessity of per- 
 sonally chastising you on the spot. 
 
 " Stay, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " really I can- 
 not allow this matter to go any farther w'ithout 
 some explanation,- Tupman, recount the circum- 
 stances.'^ 
 
 Mr. Tupman, thus solemnly adjured, stated the 
 case in a few words; touched slightly on the bor- 
 rowing of the coat ; expatiated largely on its havins; 
 been done " after dinner ;" wound up with a little 
 penitence on his own account; and left the stranger 
 to clear himself as he best could. 
 
 He was apparently about to proceed to do so, 
 when Lieutenant Tappleton, who had been eyeirkg 
 him with great curiosity, said witli considerable 
 scorn — "Haven't I seen you at the theatre, sir?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied the unabashed stranger. 
 
 "He is a strolling actor," said the lieutenant 
 contemptuously: turning to Dr. Slammer — "He 
 acts in the piece that the officers of the 52nd get 
 up at the llochcster theatre to-morrow night. You 
 cannot proceed in this afljiir, Slamm.er— imnossi- 
 ble!" 
 
 "Quite!" said the dignified Payne. 
 
 "Sorry to have placed you in this disagreeable 
 situation," said Lieutenant Tappleton, addressing 
 Mr. Pickwick, "allow me to suggest, that the best 
 Wiiy of avoiding a recurrence of such scenes: 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 71 
 
 in future, will be to be more select in the choice 
 of your companions. Good evening, sir !" and the 
 lieutenant bounced out of the room. 
 
 "And allow me to say, sir," said the irascible 
 Doctor Payne, " that if I had been Tappleton, or 
 if I had been Slammer, I would have pulled your 
 nose, sir, and the nose of every man in this com- 
 pany. I would, sir, — every man. Payne is my 
 name, sir — Doctor Payne of the 43rd. Good even- 
 ing, sir." Having concluded this speech, and ut- 
 tered the three last words in a loud key, he stalked 
 majestically after his friend, closely followed by 
 Doctor Slammer, who said nothing, but contented 
 himself by withering the company with a look. 
 
 Rising "rage and extreme bewilderment had 
 swelled the noble breast of Mr. Pickwick, almost 
 to the bursting of his waistcoat, during the delivery 
 of the above detiance. He stood transfixed to the 
 spot, gazing on vacancy. The closing of the door 
 recalled him to himself. Pie rushed forward with 
 fury in his looks, and fire in his eye. His hand 
 was upon the lock of the door; in another instant 
 it would have been on the throat of Doctor Payne 
 of the 43rd, had not Mr, Snodgrass seized his re- 
 vered leader by the coat tail, and dragged him 
 backwards. 
 
 "Restrain him," cried Mr. Snodgrass, "Winkle, 
 Tupm'an — he must not peril his distinguished life in 
 such a cause as this." 
 
 " Let me go," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Hold him tight," shouted Mr. Snodgrass; and 
 by the united efforts of the whole company, Mr. 
 Pickwick was forced into an arm chair. 
 
 " Leave him alone," said the green- coated stran- 
 ger — " brandy and water — jolly old gentleman — 
 lots of pluck — swallow tliis — ah ! — capital stuff." 
 Having previously tested the virtues of a bumper, 
 which had been mixed by the dismal man, the 
 
"72 rosTHUxMOUs papers of 
 
 stranger applied the glass to Mr. Pickwick's mouth; 
 and the remainder of its contents rapidly disap- 
 peared. 
 
 There was a short pause ; the brandy and wa- 
 ter had done its work ; the amiable countenance of 
 Mr. Pickwick was fast recovering its customary 
 •expression. 
 
 "■ They are not w^ortb your notice," said the dis- 
 mal man. 
 
 " You are right, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 " they are not. I am ashamed to have been be- 
 trayed into this warmth of feeling. Draw your 
 chair up to the table, sir." 
 
 The dismal man readily complied; a circle was 
 again formed ^round the table, and harmony once 
 more prevailed. Some lingering irritability ap- 
 peared to find a resting place in Mr. Winkle's 
 bosom, occasioned possibly by the temporary ab- 
 straction of bis coat — though it is scarcely reason- 
 able to suppose, that so slight a circumstance can 
 have excited even a passing feeling of anger in a 
 Pickwickian breast. With this exception, their 
 good humour was completely restored ; and the 
 evening concluded with the convivality with which 
 It had begun. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 73 
 
 CHAPTEtl IV. 
 
 A FIELD-DAY AND BIVOUAC MORE NEW FRIENDS; AND 
 
 AN INVITATION TO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Many authors entertain, not only a foolish, but 
 a really dishonest objection, to acknowledge the 
 sources from whence they derive much valuable 
 information. We have no such feeling. We are 
 merely endeavouring to discharge in an upric^ht 
 manner, the responsible duties of our editorial 
 functions; and whatever ambition we might have 
 Jelt under other circumstances, to lay claim to tbe 
 authorship of these adventures, a regard for truth 
 forbids us to do more, than claim the merit of their 
 judicious arrangement, and impartial narration. 
 The Pickwick papers are our New River Head ; 
 and we maybe compared to the New River Com- 
 pany. The labours of others, have raised for us 
 an immense reservoir of important facts. We 
 merely lay them, on, and communicate them in a 
 clear and gentle stream, through the medium of 
 these numbers, to a world thirsting for Pickwickian 
 knowledge. 
 
 Acting in this spirit, and resolutely proceeding 
 on our determination to avow our obligations to 
 tlie authorities we have consulted, we frankly say, 
 that to the note book of Mr. Snodgrass are we in- 
 debted for the particulars recorded in this and the 
 succeeding chapter — particulars, which, now that 
 we have disburdened our conscience, we shall pro- 
 ceed to detail without farther comment. 
 
 The whole population of Rochester, and the ad- 
 ■7 
 
74 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 joining towns, rose from their beds at an early hour 
 of the following morning, in a state of the utmost 
 bustle and excitement. A grand review was to take 
 place upon the lines. The manoeuvres of half a 
 dozen regiments were to be inspected by the eagle 
 eye of the commander-in-chief; temporary fortifica- 
 tions had been erected, the citadel was to be at- 
 tacked and taken, and a mine was to be sprung. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was, as our readers may have 
 gathered from the slight extract we gave from his 
 description of Chatham, an enthusiastic admirer of 
 the army. Nothing could have been more de- 
 lightful to him — nothing could have harmonized so 
 well with the peculiar feeling of each of his com- 
 panions — as this sight. Accordingly they were 
 soon a-foot, and walking in the direction of the 
 scene of action, towards which crowds of people 
 w^ere already pouring, from a variety of quarters. 
 
 The appearance of every thing on the lines, de- 
 noted that the approaching ceremony was one of the 
 utmost grandeur and importance. There were 
 sentries posted to keep the ground for the troops, 
 and servants on the batteries keeping places for 
 the ladies, and sergeants running to and fro, with 
 vellum covered books under their arnis, and Colo- 
 nel Bulder, in full military uniform, on horseback, 
 galloping first to one place and then to another, and 
 backing his horse am.ong the people, and prancing, 
 and curvetting, and shouting in a most alarming 
 manner, and making himself very hoarse in the 
 voice, and very red in tlie face, without any as- 
 signable cause or reason whatever. Ofiiccrs were 
 running backwards and forwards, first commnni- 
 cating with Co'onel Bulder, and then ordering the 
 sergeants, and then running away altogether: and 
 even the very privates themiselves looked from be- 
 hind their glazed stocks with an air of mysterious 
 solemnity, which sufficiently bespoke the special 
 nature of the occasion. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 7£) 
 
 Mi% Pickwick and his three companions station- 
 ed themseivcs in the front rank of the crowd, and 
 patiently awaited the comn^iencement of the pro- 
 ceedings. The throng was increasing every nao- 
 ment; and the efforts they were compelled to make, 
 to retain th.e position they had gained, sufficiently 
 occupied their attention during the two hours that 
 ensued. At one time there was a sudden pressure 
 from behind; and thcnlSIr.Pickwick was jerked for- 
 ward for several yards, with a degree of speed and 
 elasticity highly inconsistent with the general gra- 
 vity of his dismeanour ; at another moment there 
 was a request to " keep back" from the front, and 
 then the butt end of a musket v;ns either dropped 
 upon Mr. Pickwick's toe, to remind him of the de- 
 mand, or thrust into his chest to ensure its being- 
 complied with. . Then some f^icetious gentlemen on 
 the left, after pressing sideways in a body, and 
 squeezing Mr. Snodgrass into the very last extreme 
 of human torture, would request to know" verehe 
 vos a slsovin' to," and wdien Mr. Winkle had done 
 expressing his excessive indignation at witnessing 
 this unprovoked assault, some person behind v^'ould 
 knock his hat over his eyes, and beg the favour of 
 his putting his head in his pocket. These, and 
 other practical witticisms, coupled with the unac- 
 countable absence of Mr. Tupman (who had sud- 
 denly di.^appeared, and was no where to be found,) 
 rendered their situation upon the whole rather more 
 uncomfortable, than pleasing or desirable. 
 
 At length that low roar of many voices ran 
 through the crowd, which usually announces the 
 arrival of whatever they have been waiting for. 
 All eyes were turned in the direction of the sally- 
 port. A few moments of eager expectation, and 
 colours were seen fluttering gaily in the air, arms 
 glistened brightly in the sun : column after column 
 poured, an to the plain. The troops halted and. 
 
76 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 formed; the word of command rung through the 
 line, there was a general clash of muskets, as arms 
 were presented ; and tlie commander-in-chief, at- 
 tended by Colonel Bulder and numerous olhcers, 
 cantered to the front. The military bands struck 
 up ahogether: the horses stood upon tw^o legs each, 
 cantered backwards, and whisked their tails about 
 in all directions: the dogs barked, the mob scream- 
 ed, the troops recovered, and nothing was to be 
 seen on either side, as far as the eye could reach, 
 but a long perspective of red coats and white 
 trousers, fixed and motionless. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had been so fully occupied in fall- 
 ing about and disentangling himself, miraculously, 
 from betvv^een the legs of horses, that he had not 
 enjoyed sufficient leisure to observe the scene be- 
 fore him until it assumed the appearance we have 
 just described. When he was at last enabled to 
 stand firmly on his legs, his gratification and de- 
 light were unbounded. 
 
 "Can any thing be finer, or more delightful?' 
 he inquired of Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Nothing," replied that gentleman, who had had 
 a short man standing on each of his (cct, for the 
 quarter of an hour in}mediatcly preceding. 
 
 "It is indeed a noble and brilliant sight," said 
 Mr. Snodgrass, in whose bosom a blaze of poetry 
 was rapidly bursting forth, " to see the gallant de- 
 fenders of their country, drawn up in brilliant ar- 
 ray before its peaceful citizens: their faces beam- 
 ing — not with warlike ferocity, but w^ith civilized 
 gentleness: their eyes flashing — not with the rude 
 fire of rapine or revenge, but with the soft light of 
 humanity and intelligence." 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirit of this 
 eulogium, but he could not exactly re-echo its 
 terms; for the soft light of intelligence burnt rather 
 feebly in the eyes of the warriors, inasnriuch as the. 
 
THE PICKWICK club;- 77 
 
 command "eyes front" had been given; and all 
 the spectator saw before him was several thou- 
 sand pair of optics, staring straight forward, wholly 
 divested of any expression whatever. 
 
 " We are in a capita] situation, now," said Mr. 
 Pickwick, looking round him. The crowd' had 
 gradually dispersed from their immediate vicinity, 
 and they w^ere nearly alone. 
 
 "Capital!" echoed both Mr. Snodgrass and 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "What are they doing now?' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick, adjusting his spectacles. 
 
 " I — I rather think," said Mr. Winkle, changing 
 colour — "1 rather Ihink they're going to fire." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. 
 
 " I — I— really think they are," urged Mr. Snod- 
 grass, somewhat alarmed. 
 
 "Impossible," replied Mr. Pickwick. He had 
 hardly uttered the word, when the whole half dozen, 
 regiments levelled their muskets as if they had but 
 one common object, and that object the Pickwick- 
 ians; and burst forth with the most awful and tre- 
 mendous discharge, that ever shook the earth to its 
 centre, or an elderly gentleman oft' his. 
 
 It was in this trying situation, exposed to a 
 galling fire of blank cartridges, and harassed bj 
 the operations of' the military, a fresh body of 
 whom had begun to faH in, on the opposite, side, 
 that Mr. Pickwick displayed that perfect coolness 
 and self-possession, which are the indispensable ac- 
 companiments of a great mind. He seized Mr. 
 Winkle by the arm, and placing himself between 
 that gentleman and Mr. Snodgrass, earnestly be- 
 sought them to remember that beyond the possi- 
 bility of being rendered deaf by the noise, there 
 was no immediate danger to be apprehended from- 
 the firing. 
 
 it'But^ — but— suppose some of the men should 
 7* 
 
78 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS or^ 
 
 happen to have ball cartridges by mi.'^take," re-- 
 monstrated Mr. Winkle, pallid at the supposition ^ 
 he was himself conjuring up. " I heard something 
 whistle through the air just now — so sharp: close 
 to my ear.'' 
 
 " We had better throw ourselves on our faces, 
 hadn't weT" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ''No, no— it's over now," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 His lip might quiver, and his cheek might blanch, 
 but no expression of fear or concern escaped the 
 lips of that immortal man. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick w^as right; the firing: ceased : but 
 he had scarcely time to congratulate himself on 
 the accuracy of his. opinion, when a quick move- 
 ment was visible in 4he].ine: the hoarse shout of 
 the word of com.ma'nd> ran along it — and before 
 either of the party could form a guess a I the meaning 
 of this new mancKuvre, the wd^ole of the half dozen 
 regiments, with fixed bayonets, charged at double 
 quick time down upon the very spot on which Mr. 
 Pickwick and his friends were stationed. 
 
 Man is but mortal ; and "there is a point beyond 
 which human courage cannot extend. Mr. Pick- 
 wick gazed through his spectacles for an instant on 
 the advancing mass; and then fairly turned his 
 back, and — we will not say fled; first, because it 
 is aii ignoble term, and, secondly, because Mr. 
 Pickwick's figure was by no m.eans adapted for 
 that mode of retreat — he trotted away, at as quick 
 a rate as his legs would convey him; so quickly, 
 indeed, that he did not perceive the awkwardness 
 of his situation, to the. full extent, until too late. 
 
 The opposite troops, whose falling in had per- 
 plexed Mr. Pickwick a few seconds before, were 
 drawn up to repel the mimic- attack of the sham 
 besiegers of the citadel ; . and the consequence 
 w^as, that Mr. Pickwick and his two companions 
 faund themselves suddenly^ enclosed, between two 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 79 
 
 lines of great length; the one advancuig at a rapid 
 pace, and the other tirmly waiting the colHsion in 
 hostile array. 
 
 "Hoi!" shouted the officers of the advancinn- 
 line. 
 
 "Get out of the way," cried the officers of the 
 stationary one. 
 
 "Where are we to go to!" s-creamed the agi- 
 tated Pickwickians. 
 
 "Hoi — hoi — hoi," was the only reply. There 
 was a moment of intense bewilderment, a heavy 
 tramp of footsteps, a violent concussion, a smo- 
 thered laugh — the half dozen regiments were half 
 a thousand yards OiT; and the soles of Mr. Pick- 
 wick's boots were elevated in the air. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass and Mtr- Winkle had each per- 
 formed a compulsory somerset with remarkable 
 agility, when the first object that met the eyes of 
 the latter as he sat on the ground, stanching with a 
 yellow silk handkerchief the stream of life which 
 issued from his nose, was his venerated leader at 
 some distance off, running after his own haf, 
 which was gambolling playfuHy away in perspec- 
 tive. 
 
 There are very few moments in a man's exist- 
 ence, when he experiences so much ludicrous dis- 
 tress, or meets with so little charitable commisera- 
 tion, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat. A 
 vast deal of coolness, and a peculiar degree of 
 judgment, are requisite in catching a hat. A man 
 must not be precipitate, or he runs over it : he must 
 not rush into the opposite extreme, or he loses it 
 altogether. The best way is, to keep gently up 
 with the object of pursuit, to be wary and cau- 
 tious, to watch your opportunity well, get gradu- 
 ally before it — and then make a rapid dive, seize 
 it by the crown, and stick it firmly on your head ; 
 
80 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 smiling pleasantly all the lime, as if you thought 
 it as good a joke as any body else. 
 
 There was a fine gentle wind, and JMr. Pick- 
 wick's hat rolled sportively before it. The wind 
 puffed, and Mr. Pickwick puffed, and the hat rolled 
 over and over as merrily as a lively porpoise in a 
 strong tide; and on it might have rolled, far be- 
 yond Mr. Pickwick's reach, had not its course 
 been providentially stopped, just as that gentle- 
 man was on. the point of resigning it to its fate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, we say, was completely exhaust- 
 ed, and about to give up the chase, when the hat 
 W'as blowMi with some violence against the wheel 
 of a carriage, which was drawn up in a line with 
 half-a-dozen other vehicles on the spot to which 
 his steps had been dii'ected. JNIr. Pickwick, per- 
 ceiving his advantage, darted briskly forward, 'se- 
 cured his property, planted it on his head, and 
 paused to take breath. He had not been station- 
 ary half a minute, when he heard his own name 
 eagerly pronounced by a voice, which he at once 
 recognised as Mr. Tupman's, and, looking up- 
 wards, he beheld a sight which filled him with sur- 
 prise and pleasure. 
 
 In an open barouche, the horses of which had 
 been taken out, the better to accommodate it to 
 the crowded place, stood a stout old gentleman, in 
 a blue coat and bright buttons, corduroy breeches 
 and top boots, two young ladies in scarfs and fea- 
 thers, a young gentleman apparently enamoured 
 of one of the young ladies in scarfs and feathers, 
 fi-lady of doubtful a^e, probably the aunt of the 
 aforesaid, and Mr. Tupman, as easy and uncon- 
 cerned as if he had belonged to the family from 
 the. first moments of his infancy. Fastened up 
 behind the barouche was a hamper of spa<:ious di- 
 mensions — one of those hampers which always 
 awakens, in a contemplative mind, associations 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 81" 
 
 connected witli cold fowls, tongue, and bottles of 
 wine— and on the box sat a fat and red-faced 
 boy, in a s(ate of somnolency, whom no specula- 
 tive observer could have regarded for an instant 
 without setting down as the official dispenser of the 
 contents of the before- mentioned hamper, when 
 the proper time for their consumption should ar- 
 rive. 
 
 Mr. Pickvi'ick had bestowed a hasty glance on 
 these interesting objects, when he was again greet- 
 ed by his faithful disciple. 
 
 ^'Pickwick— Pickwick,'^ said Mr. Tupman ; 
 "come up here. Make haste." 
 
 ''Come along, sir. Pray, come up," said the 
 stout gentleman. "Joe! Joe! — why, has the boy 
 gone to sleep again 1 Joe, let down the steps.'^ " 
 The fat boy rolled slowly otF the box, let down 
 the steps, and held the carriage door invitingly, 
 open. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle came up 
 at the moment. 
 
 "Room for you all, gentleman," said the stout 
 man. "Two inside, and one out. Joe, make 
 room for one of these gentlemen on the box. 
 Now, sir, come along;" and the stout gentleman 
 extended his arm, and pulled tirst Mr. Pickwick, 
 and then -\Ir. Snodgrass, into the barouche by main 
 force. Mr. Winkle m.ounted to the box, the fat 
 boy waddled to the sixme perch, and fell fast asleep 
 instantly. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said the stout man, " very 
 glad to see you. Know you very well, gentlemen, 
 though you mayn't remember me. I spent some 
 ev'nings at your club last winter — picked up my 
 friend Mr. Tupman here this morning, and very 
 glad I was to see him. Well, sir, and how are 
 you ? You do look uncommon well, to be sure." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment, 
 
82 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 and cordially shook hands with the stout gentle- 
 man in the top boots. 
 
 " Well, and how are you, sir?" said the stout gen- 
 tleman, addressing Mr. Snodgrass with paternal 
 anxiety. "Charming, eh? Well, that's right — 
 that's right. And how are you, sir? (to Mr. Win- 
 kle.) Well, 1 am glad to hear you say you are 
 well; very glad I am, to be sure. My daughters, 
 gentlemen — my gals, these are ; and that's my 
 sister, Miss Rachael Wardle. She's a Miss, she 
 is; and yet she an't a Miss — eh, sir — eh?" And 
 the stout gentleman playfully inserted his elbow 
 between the ribs of Mr. Pickwick, and laughed 
 very heartily. 
 
 "*0h, broiler!" said Miss Wardle, with a de- 
 precating smile. 
 
 " True, true," said the stout gentleman ;. " no 
 one can deny it. Gentlemen, I beg your pardon; 
 this is my friend Mr. Trundle. And now you all 
 know each other, let's be comfortable and happ}^ 
 and see what's going forward ; that's what I say." 
 So the stout gentleman" put on his spectacles, and 
 Mr. Pickwick pulled out his glass, and every body 
 stood up in the carriage, and looked over some- 
 body else's shoulder at the evolutions of the mili- 
 tary. 
 
 Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing 
 over the heads of another rank, and then running 
 awfiy ; and then the other rank firing over the 
 heads of another rank, and running aw^ay in their 
 turn; and then forming squares with officers in 
 the centre; and then descending the trench on 
 one side with scaling ladders, and ascending it on 
 the other again by the same means; and knocking 
 down barricades of baskets, and behaving in the most 
 gallant manner j^ossible. Thenthere wassucharajn-. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 88 
 
 ming down of the contents of enormous guns on 
 the battery, with instruments like magnified mops; 
 such a preparation before they were let off, and 
 such an awful noise when they did go, that the air 
 resounded with the screams of ladies. The young 
 Miss Wardles were so frightened, that Mr. Trun- 
 dle was actually obliged to hold one of them up in 
 the carriage, while Mr. Snodgrass supported the 
 other; and Mr. Wardle's sister sutfered under 
 such a dreadful state of nervous alarm, that Mr. 
 Tupman found it indispensably necessar}' to put his 
 arm round her waist, to keep her up at all. Every 
 body was excited except the fat boy, and he slept 
 as soundly as if the roaring of cannon were his 
 ordinary lullaby. 
 
 "Joe, Joe!" said the stout gentleman, when the 
 citadel was taken, and the besiegers and besieged 
 sat down to dinner. "Why, that boy has gone 
 to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him, sir 
 — in the leg, if you please ; nothing else wakes 
 him : thank yon. Undo the hamper, Joe. 
 
 The tat boy, who had been effectually roused 
 by the compression of a portion of his leg, be- 
 tween the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, rolled 
 oir the box once again, and proceeded to unpack 
 the hamper with more expedition than could have 
 been expected from his previous inactivity. 
 
 •' Now, we must sit close," s^id the stout gentle- 
 man. After a great many jokes about squeezing 
 the ladies' sleeves', and a vast quantity of blushing 
 at sundry jocose proposals, that the ladies should 
 sit in the gentlemen's laps, the whole party were 
 stowed down in the barouche, and the stout gen- 
 tleman proceeded to hand the things from the fat 
 boy (who had mounted up behind for the purpose) 
 into the carriage. 
 
 " Now, Joe, knives and forks." The knives and 
 forks were handed in, and the ladies and gentle- 
 
84 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 men inside, and Mr. Winkle on the box, were each 
 furnished with those useful implements. 
 
 " Plates, Joe. plates." A similar process em- 
 ployed in the distribution of the crockery. 
 
 *' Now, Joe, the fowls. Joe !" (Sundry taps on 
 the head with a stick, and the fat boy, with some 
 difficulty, roused from his lethargy,) " Come, hand 
 in the eatables. 
 
 There was something in the sound of the last 
 word, which roused the unctuous boy. He jump- 
 ed up; and the leaden eyes, which twinkled behind 
 -"his mountainous cheeks, leered horribly u^on the 
 food as he unpacked it from the basket. 
 
 " Now, make haste," said Mr. Wardle; for the 
 ifat boy was hanging fondly over a capon, which-:^ 
 he seemed wholly unable to part with. The boy 
 sighed deeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze 
 upon its plumpness, unwillingly consigned it to his 
 master. 
 
 " That's right — look sharp. Now tile tongue-^ 
 now the pigeon-pie. Take care of that veal and 
 ham — mind the lobsters — take the salad out of the 
 cloth — give me the dressing." Such were the 
 hurried orders which issued from the lips of Mr. 
 Wardle, as he handed in the different articles de- 
 scribed, and placed dishes in every body's hands, 
 and on every body's knees, in endless number. 
 
 "Now, ain't this capital?" inquired that jolly 
 personage, when the work of destruction had com- 
 menced. 
 
 "Capital!" said Mr. Winkle, who v>'as carving 
 a fowl on the box. 
 *^ Glass of wine ?'^ 
 " With the greatest pleasure." 
 " You'd better have a bottle to yourself, up tliere. 
 ^hadn't you?" 
 
 " You're very good." 
 " Joe !" 
 

 THE FICKWICK CLUB. 85 
 
 " Yes, sir." (He wasn't asleep this time, having 
 just succeeded in abstracting a veal patty.) 
 
 " Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. 
 Glad to see you, sir." 
 
 " Thankee." Mr. Winkle emptied his glass, 
 and placed the bottle on the coach-box, by his 
 side. 
 
 ,Will you permit me to have the pleasure, s'lrV 
 Trundle to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " W^ith great pleasure," replied Mr. Winkle to 
 Mr. Trundle ; and then the two gentlemen took 
 wine, after which they took a glass of wine round, 
 ladies and all. 
 
 " How dear Emily is flirting with the stran'ge 
 gentleman," whispered the spinster aunt, with true 
 spinster-aunt-like envv, to her brother Mr. War- 
 die. 
 
 "Oh! I don't know," said the jolly old gentle- 
 mali ; '• all very ^atural, I dare say — nothincr un- 
 usual. Mr. Pickwick, some wine, sir ?' Mr. Pick- 
 wick, who had been deeply investigating the in- 
 terior of the pigeon-pie, readly assented. 
 
 '• Emily, my dear," said the spinster aunt, with 
 a patronising air, " don't talk so loud, love." 
 
 '' Lor, aunt !" 
 
 " Aunt and the little aid gentleman want to have 
 it all to themselves, I think," whispered Miss Isa- 
 bella Wardle to her sister Emily. The young la- 
 dies laughed heartily, and the old one tried to look 
 amiable, but could not manage it. 
 
 " Toung crirls have such spirits," said Miss War- 
 die to Mr. Tupman, with an air of gentle commi- 
 seration, as if animal spirits were contraband, and 
 their possession without a permit, a high crime and 
 n:iisdeameanor. 
 
 " Oh, they have," replied Mr. Tupman, not ex- 
 actly making the sort of reply that was expe-cted 
 from him. " It's quite delightfuk" 
 8 
 
86 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Hem !" said Miss Wardle, rather dubiously. 
 
 " Will you permit me," said Mi-. Tupman, in his 
 blandest manner, touching the enchanting Rachael's 
 wrist with one hand, and gently elevating the 
 bottle with the other. " Will you permit me ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir !" Mr. Tupman looked most impressive ; 
 and Rachael expressed her fear that more guns 
 were going off, in which case, of course, she would 
 have required support again. 
 
 '' Do you think my dear nieces pretty ?" whis- 
 pered their affectionate aunt to Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " I should, if their aunt wasn't here," replied the 
 ready Pickwickian, with a passionate glance. 
 
 " Oh, you naughty man — but really, if their 
 complexions were a little better, don't you think 
 they would be nice-looking girls — by candle- 
 light'?" 
 
 " Yes ; 1 think they would ;" said Mr. Tupman, 
 with an air of indifference. 
 
 "Oh)Vou quiz — I know what you were going to 
 say." 
 
 " What t" inquired Mr. Tupman, who had not 
 precisely made up his mind to say any thing at 
 all. 
 
 *' You were going to say, that Isabella stoops — I 
 know you were — you men are such observers. 
 Well, so she does ; it can't be denied ; and, cer- 
 tainly, if there is one thing more than another that 
 makes a girl look ugly, it is stooping. I often tell 
 her, that when she gets a little older, she'll be quite 
 frightful. Well, you are a quiz !" 
 
 Mr. Tupman had no objection to earning the re- 
 putation at so cheap a rate: so he looked very 
 knowing, and smiled mysteriously. 
 
 *' What a sarcastic smile," said the admiring 
 Rachael ; " I declare I'm quite afraid of you." 
 
 " Afraid of me !" 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 87 
 
 *'0h, you can't disguise any thing from me — I 
 know what that smile means, very well." 
 
 "What?" said Mr. Tupman, who had not the 
 slightest notion himself. 
 
 "You mean," said the amiable aunt, sinking her 
 voice still lower-^" You mean, that you don't 
 think Isabella's stooping is as bad as Emily's bold- 
 ness. Well, she is bold! You cannot think how 
 wretched it makes me sometimes — I'm sure I cry 
 about it for hours together — my dear brother is so 
 good, and so unsuspicious, that he never sees it; if 
 he did, I'm quite certain it would break his heart. 
 I wish I could think it was only manner — I hope 
 it may be — " (here the affectionate relative heaved 
 a deep sigh, and shook her head despondingly.) 
 
 "I'm sure aunt's talking about us," whispered 
 Miss Emily Wardle to her sister — " I'm quite cer- 
 tain of it— she looks so malicious." 
 
 " Is she ?" replied Isabella — " Hem ! aunt, dear!" 
 
 " Yes, my dear love !" 
 
 " I'm so afraid you'll catch cold, aunt — have a 
 silk handkerchief to tie round your dear old head 
 — you really should take care of yourself — consider 
 your age!" 
 
 However w-ell deserved this piece of retaliation 
 might have been, it was as vindictive a one as 
 could well have been resorted to. There is no 
 guessing in what form of reply the aunt's indigria- 
 tion would have vented itself, had not Mr. Wardle 
 unconsciously changed the subject, by calling em- 
 phatically for Joe. 
 
 " D — n that boy," said the old gentleman, " he's 
 gone to sleep again.'' 
 
 " Very extraordinary boy, that^" said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, "does ho always sleep in this way'?" 
 
 *^ Sleep !" said the old gen.tleman,." he's always 
 asleep. Goes on errands fast asleep, and snores as 
 he waits at table/' 
 
88 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ''How very odd !" said Mr. Pickwick. . 
 
 ''Ah ! odd indeed," returned the old gentleman ; 
 " I'm proud of that boy — wouldn't part with him 
 on any account — why, he's a natural curiosity ! 
 Here, Joe — Joe — take these things away, and open 
 another bottle — d'ye hear?" 
 
 The fat boy rose, opened his eyes, swallowed the 
 iuige piece of pie he had been in the act of masti- 
 cating when he last fell asleep, and slowly obeyed 
 his master's orders — gloating languidly over the 
 remains of the feast, as he removed the plates, and 
 deposited them in the hamper. The fresh bottle 
 was produced, and speedily emptied: the hamper 
 was made fast in its old place — the fat boy once 
 more mounted the box — the spectacles and pocket- 
 glass were again adjusted — and the evolutions of 
 the military re-commenced. There was a great 
 fizzing and banging of guns, and startling of ladies 
 — and then a mine was sprung, to the gratification 
 of every body — and when the mine had gone ofl^, 
 the military and the company followed its exam- 
 ple, and went off too. 
 
 "Now, mind," said the old gentleman, as he 
 shook hands with Mr. Pickwick at the conclusion 
 of a conversation which had been carried on at 
 intervals, during the conclusion of the proceedings 
 — " \Ye shall see you all to-morrow." 
 
 " Most certainly/' replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "You have got the address?" 
 
 "Manor Farm, Dingley Dell," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, consulting liis pocket-book. 
 
 " That's it," said the old gentleman. " I don't 
 let you off, mind, under a week; and undertake 
 that you shall see every thing worth seeing. If 
 you've come down for a country life, come to me, 
 and I'll give you plenty of it. Joe— d — n that boy, 
 he's gone to sleep again— -Joe, help Tom put in. 
 the horses." . 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 89 
 
 The horses were put in — the driver mounted — 
 the fat boy clambered up by his side — farewells 
 were exchanged — and the carriages rattled off. 
 As the Pickwickians turned around to take a last 
 glimpse of it, the setting sun cast a rich glow on 
 the faces of Iheir entertainers, and fell upon the 
 form of the fat boy. His head was sunk upon his 
 bosom; and he slumbered again. 
 
90 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS, OFt 
 
 CHAPTER V: 
 
 A'SHORT ONE — SHOWING, A?JONG OTHER MATTERS, HOW 
 MR. PICKWICK UNDERTOOK TO DRIVE, AND MR. ^YlN- 
 KLE TO ride; and HOW THEY BOTH DID IT. 
 
 Bright and pleasant was (he sky, balmy the 
 air, and beautiful the appearance of every object 
 around, as Mr. Pickwick leaned over the balus- 
 trades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, 
 and waiting for breakfast. The scene was in- 
 deed one, which might well have chlarmed a far 
 less reflective mind than that to which it was pre- 
 sented. 
 
 On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, 
 broken in many places; and, in some, overhang- 
 ing the narrow beach below in rude and heavy 
 masses. Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the 
 jagged and pointed stones, trembhng in .. every 
 breath of wind ; and tho green ivy clung mourn- 
 fully round the dark and ruindd battlements. Be- 
 hind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, 
 and its massive wails crumbling away, but telling 
 us proudly of its old might and strength, as when, 
 seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of 
 arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and 
 revelry. On either side, the banks of theMed- 
 way, covered with corn-fields and pastures, with 
 here and there a windmill, or a distant church, 
 stretched away as far as the eye could see, present- 
 ing a rich and varied landscape, rendered more 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 91 
 
 beautiful by the changing shadows which passed 
 swiftly across it, as the thin and half-formed clouds 
 skimmed away in the light of the morning sun. 
 The river, reflecting the clear blue of the sky, 
 glistened and sparkled as it flowed noiselessly on; 
 and the oars of the hshermen dipped into the water 
 with a clear and liquid sound, as their heavy, but 
 picturesque, boats glided slowly down the stream. 
 
 Mn Pickwick was roused from the agreeable 
 reverie into which he had been led by the objects 
 before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch on his 
 shoulder. He turned round: and the dismal man 
 was at his side. 
 
 " Contemplating the scene ?" inquired the dismal 
 man. 
 
 *' I was," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "And congratulating yourself on being up so 
 soon?" Mr. Pickwick nodded assent. 
 
 " Ah ! people need to rise early, to see the sun 
 in all his splendour, for his brightness seldom lasts 
 the day through. The morning of day and the 
 morning of life are but too much alike." 
 
 " You speak truly", sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "How common the saying," continued the dis- 
 mal man, " 'The morning's too fine to last.' How 
 well might it be applied to our every-day existence. 
 Ah ! what would 1 forfeit to have the days of my 
 childhood restored, or to be able to forget them 
 for ever !" 
 
 " You have seen much trouble, sir," said Mr. 
 Pickwick, compassionately. 
 
 " I have," said the dismal man, hurriedly ; " I 
 have. More than those who see me now would 
 believe possible." He paused for an instant, and 
 then said, abruptly, 
 
 " Did it ever strike you, on such a morning 
 as this, that drowning would be happiness and 
 peace ?' 
 
92 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 " Why, bless me, no !" replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 edging a little from the balustrade, as the possibility 
 of the dismal man's tipping him over, by way of 
 experiment, occurred to him rather forcibly. 
 
 " / have thought so, often," said the dismal man, 
 without noticing the action. " The calm, cool 
 water seems to me to murmu>r an invitation to re- 
 pose and rest. A bound, a splash, a brief struggle; 
 there is an eddy for an instant, it gradually sub- 
 sides into a gentle ripple : the waters have closed 
 above your head, and the world has closed upon 
 your miseries and misfortunes for ever. The 
 sunken eye of the dismal man flashed brightly as 
 he spoke, but the momentary excitement quickly 
 subsided ; and he turned calmly away, as he said — 
 
 "There — enough of that. 1 wished to' see you 
 on another subject. You invited me to read that 
 paper the night before last, and listened attentively 
 while I did so." 
 
 " I did," replied Mr. Pickwick ; ^' and I certainly 
 thought-. " 
 
 " I asked for no opinion," said the dismal man, 
 interrupting him, "and I want none. You are 
 travelling for amusement and ' instruction. Sup- 
 pose I forwarded you a curious manuscript— ob- 
 serve, not curious because wild or improbable, but 
 curious as a leaf from the romance of real life. 
 Would you communicate it to the club, of which 
 you have spoken so frequently ?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, "if you 
 wished it ; and it would be entered on their trans- 
 actions." 
 
 "You shall have it," replied the dismal man. 
 " Your address :" and Mr. Pickwick having com- 
 municated their probable route, the dismal man 
 carefully noted it down in a greasy pocket-book, 
 and, resisting Mr. Pickwi<ik's pressing invitatkl)!!' 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 93 
 
 to breakfast, left that gentleman at his inn, and 
 walked slowly away. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick found that his three companions 
 had risen, and were waiting his arrival to com- 
 mence breakfast, which was ready laid in tempt- 
 ing display. They sat down to the meal ; and 
 broiled ham, eggs, tea, coffee, and sundries, began 
 to disappear with a rapidity which at once bore 
 testimony to the excellence of the fare, and the 
 appetites of its consumers. 
 
 " Now, about Manor Farm," said Mn Pick- 
 wick. "How shall we go?" 
 
 "We had better consult the waiter, perhaps," 
 said Mr. Tupman ; and the waiter was summoned 
 accordingl3\ 
 
 " Dingley Dell, gentlemen — fifteen miles, gen- 
 tlemen — cross road — post-chaise, sir?' 
 
 " Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " True, sir — beg your pardon, sir. Very nice 
 four-wheel chaise, sir — seat for two behind — one 
 in front for the gentleman that drives. Oh ! beg 
 your pardon, sir — that'll only hold three." 
 
 '•"What's to be done?" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "Perhaps one of the gentlemen like to ride, sir," 
 suggested the waiter, looking towards Mr. Winkle ; 
 " very good saddle horses, sir — any of Mr. War- 
 die's men coming to Rochester, bring 'em back, 
 sir." 
 
 " The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. " Win- 
 kle, will you go on horseback ?" 
 
 Now Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable mis- 
 givings in the very lowest recesses of his own 
 heart, relative to his equestrian skill ; but, as he 
 would not have them even suspected on any ac- 
 count, he at once replied with great hardihood, 
 ^.^ Certainly. I should enjoy it, of all things." 
 
 Mr, Winkle had rushed upon his fate; there was 
 
94 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 RO resource. " Let them be at the door by ele- 
 ven," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Very well, sir," replied the waiter. 
 
 The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; 
 and the travellers ascended to their respective bed- 
 rooms, to prepare a change of clothing, to take 
 v?ith them oi] their approaching expedition. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrange- 
 ments, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds 
 at the passengers in the street, when the waiter 
 entered, and announced that the chaise was ready 
 — an announcement which the vehicle itself con- 
 firmed, by forthwith appearing before the coffee- 
 room blinds aforesaid. 
 
 It was a curious little green box on four wheels, 
 with a low place like a wine bin for two behind, 
 and an elevated perch for one in front, drawn by 
 an immense brown horse, displaying great symme- 
 try of bone. An hostler stood near it, holding by 
 the bridle another immense horse — apparently a 
 near relative of the animal in the chaise — ready 
 saddled for Mr. Winkle. 
 
 '' Bless my soul 1" said Mr. Pickwick, as they 
 stood upon the pavement while the coats were be- 
 ing put in, ''Bless my soul! who's to drive? I 
 never thought of that.'' 
 
 " Oh ! you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Of course," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " I !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hos- 
 tler. "Warrant him quiet, sir; a hinfant in arms 
 might drive him." 
 
 "He don't shy, does he?" inquired Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 " Shy, sir? He wouldn't shy if he was to meet 
 a vaggin-load of monkeys, with their tails burnt 
 off." 
 
 The last recommondation was indisputable, Mr? 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 95 
 
 Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass got into the bin ; Mr. 
 Pickwick ascended to his perch, and deposited his 
 feet on a floor-clothed shelf, erected beneath it for 
 that purpose. 
 
 "Now, shiny Villiam," said the hostler to the 
 deputy hostler, " " give the gen'I'm'n the ribbins." 
 "Shiny Viliiam" — so called, probably, from his 
 sleek hair and oily countenance — placed the reins 
 in Mr. Pickwick's left hand ; and the upper hos- 
 tler thrust a whip into his right. 
 
 " Woo," cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall qua- 
 druped evinced a decided inclination to back into 
 the coffee-room window. 
 
 " Wo— o," echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snod- 
 grass, from the bin. 
 
 "Only his playfulness, gen'I'm'n," said-the head 
 hostler, encouragingly — "jist kitch liold on him, 
 Villiam.'' The deputy restrained th-e animal's im- 
 petuosity, and the principal ran to assist Mr. Win- 
 kle in mounting. 
 
 "T'other side, sir, if you please." 
 
 " Plowed if the gen'I'm'n worn't a gettin' up on 
 the wrong side," whispered a grinning post-boy, to 
 the inexpressibly gratified waiter. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his 
 saddle, with about as much difficulty as he would 
 have experienced in getting up the side of a first 
 rate man-of-Xvar.'' 
 
 "All right/?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an 
 inward presentiment that it was all wrong. 
 
 " All right," replied Mr. Winkle faintly. 
 
 " Let 'em go," cried the hostler. " Hold him in, 
 sir ;" and away went the chaise, and the saddle- 
 horse, with Mr. Pickwick on the box of the one, 
 and Mr. Winkle on the back of the other, to the 
 delight and gratification of the whole inn yard. 
 
 "What makes him go sideways?" said Mr. 
 
96 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Snodgrass, in the bin, to Mr. Winkle in the sad- 
 dle. 
 
 *' I can't imagine," replied ]\lr. Winkle. His 
 horse was going up the street in the most myste- 
 rious manner — side first, with his head towards 
 one side of the way, and his tail to the other. 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either 
 this or any other particular, the whole of his fa- 
 culties being concentrated in the management of 
 the animal attached to the chai.se, who displayed 
 various peculiarities, highly interesting to a by- 
 stander, but by no means equally amusing to any 
 one seated behind him. Besides constantly jerk- 
 ing his head up, in a very unpleasant and uncom- 
 fortable manner, and tugging at the reins to an ex- 
 tent which rendered it a matter of great difficulty 
 for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular 
 propensity for darting suddenly, avery now and 
 then, to the side of the road, then stopping short, 
 and tlien rushing forward for some minutes, at a 
 speed which it was wholly impossible to control. 
 
 " What ca?i he mean by this?" said Mr. Snod- 
 gi'ass, when the iiorse had executed this m.anoeu- 
 vre for the twentieth time. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. Tupman ; ^' it looks very- 
 like shying, don't it ?' Mr. Snodgrass was about to 
 reply, when he was interrupted by a shout trom 
 Mr. PickwicK. 
 
 "Woo," said that gentleman, "I have dropped 
 my whip." 
 
 ^' Winkle," cried Mr. Snodgrass, as the eques- 
 trian came trotting up on the tall horse, with his 
 hat over his ears; and shaking all over, as if he 
 would shake to pieces, with the violence of the 
 exercise. " Pick up the whip, there's a good fellow." 
 Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the tall horse 
 till he was black in the foce ; and having at length 
 succeeded in stopping him, dismounted, handed the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 97 
 
 whip to Mr. Pickwick, and grasping the reins, pre- 
 pared to remount. 
 
 Now whether ihe tall horse, in the natural play- 
 fulness of his disposition, was desirous of having a 
 little innocent recreation with Mr. Winkle, or 
 whether it occurred to him that he could perform 
 the journey as much to his own satisfaction with- 
 out a rider as with one, are points upon which, of 
 course, we can arrive at no definite and distinct 
 conclusion. By wfjatever motives the animal was 
 actuated, certain it is that Mr. Winkle had no 
 sooner touched the reins, than he slipped them over 
 his head, and darted backwards to their full 
 length. 
 
 " Poor fellow," said Mr. Wrinkle, soothingly, — 
 "poor fellow — good old horse." The " poor fel- 
 low" was proof against flattery: the more Mr. 
 Winkle tried to get nearer him, the more he sidled 
 away: and, notwithstanding all kinds of coaxing 
 and wheedling, thqre were Mr. Winkle and the 
 horse going round and round each other for ten 
 minutes, at the end of which time each was at pre- 
 cisely the same distance from the other as when 
 they first commenced — an unsatisfactory sort of 
 thing under any circumstances, but particularly so 
 in a lonely road, where no assistance can be pro- 
 cured. 
 
 " What am I to do?" shouted Mr. Winkle, after 
 the dodging had been prolonged for a considera- 
 ble time. " What am I to do? I can't get on 
 him ?" 
 
 " You had better lead him till we come to a 
 turnpike," replied Mr. Pickwick from the chaise. 
 
 " But he won't come," roared Mr. Winkle. "Do 
 come, and hold him." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kind- 
 ness and humanity: he threw the reins on the 
 horse's back, and having descended from his seat, 
 9 
 
98 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest any 
 thing should come along the road, and stepped 
 back to the assistance of his distressed conr^panion, 
 leaving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the 
 vehicle. 
 
 The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick ad- 
 vancing towards him, with the chaise whip in hi& 
 hand, than he exchanged the rotary motion in 
 which he had previously indulged, for a re- 
 trograde movement of so very determined a cha- 
 racter, that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was 
 still at the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker 
 rate than fast walking in the direction from which 
 they had just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his as- 
 sistance, but the faster Mr. Pickwick ran forward, 
 the faster the horse ran backward. There was a 
 great scraping; of feet, and kicking up of the dust; 
 and at last Mr. Winkle, his arms being nearly 
 pulled out of their sockets, fairly let go his hold. 
 The horse paused, stared, shook his head, turned 
 round, and quietly trotted home toRochester, leaving 
 Mr. Winkle and Mr. Pickwick gazing on each other 
 ■with countenances of blank dismay. A rattling 
 noise at a little distance attracted their attention. 
 They looked up. 
 
 "Bless my soul!" exclaimed the agonized Mr, 
 Pickwick, " there's the other horse running away !'* 
 
 It was but too true. The animal was startled 
 by the noise, and the reins were on his back. The 
 result may be guessed. He tore off with the four- 
 wheeled chaise behind him, and Mr. Tupman and 
 Mr. Snodgrass in the four-wheeled chaise. The 
 heat was a short one. Mr. Tupman threw hinh- 
 self into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass followed his ex- 
 ample, the horse dashed the four-wheeled chaise 
 against a wooden bridge, separated the wheels from 
 the body, and the bin from the perch; and finally 
 stood stock still, to gaze upon the ruin he had 
 made. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 99 
 
 The first care of the two unspilt friends was to 
 tjxtricate their unfortunate companions from their 
 bed of quickset — a process which gave them the 
 unspeakable satisfaction of discovering that they 
 had sustained no injury, beyond sundry rents in 
 their garments, and various lacerations from the 
 brambles. The next thincr to be done was, to un- 
 harness the horse. This complicated process 
 having been effected, the party walked slowly for- 
 ward, leading the horse among them, and aban- 
 doning (he ciraise to its fate. 
 
 "An hour's walking brous^ht the travellers to a 
 little road-side public house, with two elm-trees, a 
 horse trough and a sign-post, in front; one or two 
 deformed hay-ricks behind, a kitchen garden at the 
 side, and rotten sheds and moulclering out-houses, 
 jumbled, in strange confusion, all about it. A red- 
 headed man was workinsj in the garden ; and to 
 him Mr. Pickwick called lustily— «'' Hallo there!" 
 
 The red-headed man raised his body, shaded his 
 eyes, with his hands, and stared, long and coolly, 
 at Mr. Pickwick and his companions. 
 
 "Hallo there!" repeated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Hallo!" was the red-headed man's reply. 
 
 " How far is it to Dingley DelH" 
 
 "Better er seven mile." 
 
 ** Is it a good road T" 
 
 "No, t'ant." Having uttered this brief reply, 
 and apparently satisfied himself with another scru- 
 tiny, the red-headed man resumed his work. 
 
 " We want to put this horse up here," said Mr. 
 Pickwick ; " I suppose we can, can't we?' 
 
 "Want to put that ere horse up, do ee?' re- 
 peated the red-headed man, leaning on his spade. 
 
 " Of course," replied Mr. Pickwick, who had by 
 this time advanced horse in hand, to the garden 
 rails. 
 
 "Missus" — roared the raan with the red head, 
 
100 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 emerging from the garden, and looking very hard 
 at the horse — "Missus." 
 
 A tall bony wonnan — straight all the way down 
 —■in a coarse blue pelisse, with the waist an inch 
 or two below her arnn-pits, responded to the call. 
 
 "Can we put this horse up here, my good wo- 
 man?" said Mr. Tupman, advancing, and speaking 
 in his most seductive tones. The woman looked 
 very liard at the whole party ; and the red-headed 
 man whispered something in her ear. 
 
 *'No," replied the \Noman, after a little conside- 
 ration, "I am afeerd on it. 
 
 *' Afraid !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, ^' what's 
 the woman afraid of!" 
 
 " It got us in trouble last time," said the woman, 
 turning into the house ; " I won't have nothin' to 
 say to 'un." 
 
 "Most extraordinary tliini:!; 1 ever met with in 
 my life," said the astonislied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I — I — really believe," whispered Mr. Winkle, 
 as his friends gathered round him, " that they think 
 we have come by this horse in some dishonest 
 manner." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in a storm 
 of indignation. Mr. Winkle modestly repeated his 
 suggestion. 
 
 "Hallo, you fellow!" said the angry Mr. Pick- 
 wick, " do you think we stole this horse?" 
 
 "Pm sure ye did," replied the red-headed man, 
 with a grin which agitated his countenance from 
 one auricular organ to the other. Saying which, 
 he turned into the house, and banged the door af- 
 ter him. 
 
 "It's like a dream," ejaculated Mr. Pickwick — 
 "a hideous dream. The idea of a man's walking 
 about, all day, with a dreadful horse, that he can't 
 get rid of!" The depressed Pickwickians turned 
 moodily away, with the tall quadruped, for which 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 101 
 
 t^ey all felt the most unmitigated disgust, folloW" 
 ing slowly at their heels. 
 
 It was late iti the afternoon, when the four friends 
 and their four-footed companion turned into the 
 lane leading to Manor Farm; and even when 
 they were so near their place of destination, the 
 pleasure they would otherwise have experienced, 
 was materially damped as they reflected on the 
 singularity of Iheir appearance, and the absurdity 
 of their situation. Torn clothes, lacerated faces, 
 dusty shoes, exhausted looks, and, above all, the 
 horse. Oh, how Mr. Pickwick cursed that horse: 
 he had eyed the noble animal from time to time 
 with looks expressive of hatred and revenge ; more 
 than once he had calculated the probable amount 
 of the expense he would incur by cutting his 
 throat ; and now the temptation to destroy him, 
 or to cast him loose upon the world, rushed upon 
 his mind with ten-fold force. He was roused from 
 a meditation on these dire imaginings, by the sud- 
 den appearance of two figures, at a turn of the 
 lane. It was Mr. Wardle, and his faithful atten- 
 dant, the fat boy. 
 
 ^' Why, where have you been?" said the hospi- 
 table old gentleman. " I've been waiting for you 
 all day. Well, you do look tired. What! Scratch- 
 es ! Not hurt, i hope — eh? Well, 1 am glad to 
 hear that — very. So, you've been spilt, eh t Ne- 
 ver mind. Common accident in these parts. Joe 
 — why, the boy, he's asleep again — Joe, take 
 that horse from the gentleman, and lead it into the 
 stable." 
 
 The fat boy sauntered heavily behind them with 
 the animal; and the old gentleman, condoling with 
 his guests in homely phrase, on so much of the day's 
 adventures as they thought proper to communicate, 
 led the way to the kitchen. 
 
 "We'll have you put to rights here," said the 
 9* 
 
102 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 old gentleman, "and then I'll introduce you to the 
 people in the parlour. Emma, bring out the cherry- 
 brandy ; now, Jane, a needle and thread here — 
 towels and water, Mary. Come, girls, bustle 
 about." 
 
 Three or four buxom girls speedily dispersed in 
 search of the different articles in requisition, while 
 a couple of large-headed, circular-visaged males 
 rose from their seats in the chimney corner, (for, 
 although it was a May evening, their attachment 
 to the wood fire appeared as cordial as if it were 
 Christmas,) and dived into some obscure recesses, 
 from which they speedily produced a bottle of 
 blacking, and some half a dozen brushes. 
 
 "Bustle," said the old gentleman again; but 
 the admonition was quite unnecessary, for one of 
 the girls poured out the cherry brandy, and another 
 brought in the towels, and one of the men sud- 
 denly seizing Mr. Pickwick by the leg, at the immi- 
 nent hazard of throwing him off his balance, 
 brushed away at his boot, till his corns were red 
 hot ; while the other shampoo'd Mr. Winkle with 
 a heavy clothes brush, indulging, during the ope- 
 ration, in that hissing sound, which hostlers are 
 wont to produce, when engaged in rubbing down 
 a horse. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass, having concluded his ablutions, 
 took a survey of the room, while standing with his 
 back to the fire, sipping his cherry brandy with 
 heart-felt satisfaction. JfJe describes it, as a large 
 apartment, with a red brick floor, and a capacious 
 chimney; the ceiling garnished with hams, sides 
 of bacon, and ropes of onions. The walls were 
 decorated with several hunting-whips, two or three 
 bridles, a saddle, and an old rusty blunderbuss, 
 with an inscription below it, intimating that it was 
 "Loaded," — as it had been, on the same authority, 
 for half a century at least. An old eight-day 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 103 
 
 clock, of solemn and sedate demeanour, ticked 
 gravelj in one corner; and a silver walch, of equal 
 antiquity, dangled from one of the many hooks 
 which ornamented the dresser. 
 
 " Ready ?" said the old gentleman, inquiringly, 
 when his guests had been washed, mended, brush- 
 ed, and brandied. 
 
 " Quite," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Come along then;" and the party having tra- 
 versed several dark passages, and being joined by 
 Mr. Tupman, who had lingered behind to snatch 
 a kiss from Emma, for which he had been duly re- 
 warded with sundry pushings and scratching?, ar- 
 rived at the parlour door. 
 
 " Welcome," said their hospitable host, throwing 
 it open, and stepping forward to announce them— ^ 
 =' Welcome, gentlemen, to Manor Farm," 
 
104 POSTHUMOUS FAFERS OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AN OLD-FASniONED CARD PARTY THE CLERGYMAN'* 
 
 VERSES THE STORY OF THE CONVICT's RETURN. 
 
 Several guests, who were assembled in the old 
 parlour, rose to greet Mr. Pickwick and his friends 
 upon iheir entrance; and during the performance 
 of the ceremony of introduction, with all due for- 
 malities, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to observe the 
 appearance, and speculate upon the characters 
 and pursuits, of the persons by whom he was sur- 
 rounded — a habit in which he, in common with 
 many other great men, delighted to indulge. 
 
 A very old lady, in a lofty cap and faded silk 
 gown — no less a personage than Mr. Wardle's mo- 
 ther — occupied the post of honour on the right- 
 hand corner of the chimney-piece; and various 
 certificates of her having been brought up in the 
 way she should go when young, and of her not 
 having departed from it when old, ornamented the 
 walls, in the forms of samplers of ancient date, 
 worsted landscapes of equal antiquity, and crim- 
 son silk tea-kettle holders of a more modern pe- 
 riod. The aunt, the two young ladies, and Mr. 
 Wardle, each vicing with the other in paying 
 zealous and unremitting attentions to the old lady, 
 crowded round her easy chair, one holding her ear- 
 trumpet, another an orange, and a third a smell- 
 ing-bottle, while a fourth was busily engaged in 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 105 
 
 patting and punching the pillows which were ar- 
 ranged fur her support. On the opposite side, sat 
 a bald-headed old gentleman, with a good-humour- 
 ed, benevolent face — the clergyman of Dingley 
 Dell; and next him sat his wife, a stout, blooming 
 old lady, who looked as if she were well skilled, 
 not only in the art and mystery of manufacturing 
 home-made cordials greatly to other people's sa- 
 tisfaction, but of tasting them occasionally very 
 much to her own. A little hard-headed, Ri|)stone, 
 pippin-faced man, was conversing with a fat old 
 gentleman in one corner; and two or three more 
 old gentlemen, and two or three more old ladies, sat 
 bolt-upright and motionless on their chairs, staring 
 very hard at Mr. Pickwick and his fellow-voyagers, 
 
 ""Mr. Pickwick, mother," said Mr. Wardle at 
 the very top of his voice. 
 
 " Ahl" said the old lady, shaking her head; "I 
 can't hear you." 
 
 "Mr. Pickwick, grandma !" screamed both the 
 young ladies together. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the old lady. "Well; it 
 don't much matter. He don't care for an old 
 ooman like me, I dare say." 
 
 "I assure you, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 grasping the old lady's hand ; and speaking so loud 
 that the exertion imparted a crimson hue to his 
 benevolent countenance; " I assure you, ma'am, 
 that nothing delights me more, than to see a lady 
 of your time of life heading so fine a family, and 
 looking so young and well." 
 
 "Ah!" said the old lady, after a short pause, 
 "it's all very fine, I dare say; but I can't hear 
 him." 
 
 " Grandma's rather put out now," said Miss Isa- 
 bella Wardle, in a low tone; but she'll talk to 
 you presently." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded his readiness to humour 
 
106 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 the infirmities of age, and entered into a general 
 conversation with the other nnembers of the circle. 
 
 "DeHghtful situation, this," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Dcli^htfui !" echoed Messrs. Snodgrass, Tup- 
 man, and Winkle. 
 
 "Well, 1 think it is," said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 *' There ain't a better spot o' ground in all Kent, 
 sir," said the hard-headed man with the pippin- 
 face ; "there ain't, indeed, sir — Pm sure there 
 ain't, sir;" and the hard-headed man looked tri- 
 umphantly round, as if he had been very much 
 contradicted by.sannebody, but had got the better 
 of him at last. 
 
 "There ain't a better spot o' ground in all Kent," 
 said the hard-headed man again, after a pause. 
 
 ^^'Cept Mullins' Meadows," observed the fat 
 man, solemnly. 
 
 " Miilliris' Meadows !" ejaculated the other, with 
 profound contempt. 
 
 "Ah. Mullins' Meadows," repeated the fat man. 
 
 "Reg'lar good land, that," interposed another 
 fat man. 
 
 "And so it is, surely," said a third fat man. 
 
 "Every body knows that," said the corpulent 
 host. 
 
 The hard-headed man looked dubiously round, 
 but finding himself in a minority, assumed a, com- 
 passionate air, and said no more. 
 
 "What are they talking about?" inquired the 
 old lady of one of her giand-daughters, in a very 
 audible voice; for, like many deaf people, she ne- 
 ver seemed to calculate on the pos^^ibility of other 
 persons hearing wdiat she said herself. 
 
 "About the land, grandmai' 
 
 ^' What about the land ? Nothing the matter, vt 
 there?" 
 
 " No, no. Mr. Miller was saying our land was 
 better than Mullins' Meadows." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 107 
 
 "How should he know any thing about it?" in- 
 quired the old lady, indignantly. " Miller's a con- 
 ceited coxcomb, and you may tell him 1 said so." 
 Saying which, the old lady, quite unconscious that 
 she had spoken above a whisper, drew herself up, 
 and looked carving knives at the hard-headed de- 
 linquent. 
 
 "Come, come," said the bustling host, with a 
 natural anxiety to change the conversation, — 
 "What say you to a rubber, Mr. Pickwick?" 
 
 '^1 should like it of all things," replied that gen- 
 tleman ; " but pray don't make up one on my ac- 
 count." 
 
 "Oh, 1 assure you, mother's very fond of a rub- 
 ber," said Mr. Wardle; "ain't you, mother?" 
 
 The old lady, who was much less deaf on this 
 subject than on any other, replied in the affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 "Joe, Joe," -said the old gentleman — ''Joe — 
 oh, here he is; put out the card-tables." 
 
 The lethargic youth contrived, without any ad- 
 ditional rousing, to set out two card tables; the 
 one for Pope Joan, and the otiier for whist. The 
 whist-players were, Mr. Pickwick and the old 
 lady; Mr. Miller and the fat gentleman. The 
 round game comprised the rest of the company. 
 
 The rubber was conducted with all that gravity 
 of deportment, and sedateness of demeanour, which 
 befit the pursuit entitled " whist " — a solemn obser- 
 vance, to which, as it appears to us, the title of 
 " game" has been very irreverently and ignomini- 
 ously applied. The round-game table, on the other 
 hand, was so boisterously merry, as materially to 
 interrupt the contemplations of Mr. Miller, who 
 not being quite so much absorbed as he ought to 
 have been, contrived to commit various high crimes 
 and misdemeanors, which excited the wrath of 
 
108 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the fat gentleman to a very great extent, and called 
 forth the good-humour of the old lady in a propor- 
 tionate degree. 
 
 " There !" said the criminal Miller triumphantly, 
 as he took up the odd trick at the conclusion of a 
 hand; "that could not have been played better, I 
 flatter myself; — impossible to have made another 
 trick !" 
 
 "Miller ought to have trumped the diamond, 
 oughtr'/t he, sir?" said ihe old lady. 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded assent. 
 *' Ou^ht I, though?' said the unfortunate, with a 
 doubtful appeal to fiis partner. 
 
 " You ought, sir," said the fat gentleman in an 
 awful voice. 
 
 "Very sorry," said the crest-fallen Miller. 
 *'Much use that," growled the fat gentleman. 
 "Two by honours — makes us eight," said Mr. 
 t*ickwick. 
 
 Another hand. "Can you one?" inquired the 
 old lady. 
 
 <'l can," replied Mr. Pickwick. "Double, single, 
 and the rub." 
 
 "Never was such luck," said Mr. Miller. 
 "Never was such cards," said the fat gentle- 
 man. 
 
 A solemn silence; Mr. Pickwick humorous, the 
 old lady serious, the fat gentleman captious, and 
 Mr. Miller timorous. 
 
 "Another double," said the old lady: triumphant- 
 ly making a memorandum of the circumstance, by 
 placing one sixpence and a battered halfpenny, 
 under Ihe candlestick. 
 
 "A double, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 "Quite axVare of the fact, sir," replied the fat 
 gentleman, sharply. 
 
 Another game, with a similar result, was follow- 
 ed by a revoke from the unlucky Miller; on which 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 109 
 
 the fnt gentleman burst into a state of high per- 
 sonal excitement which lasted until the conclusion 
 of the game, when he retired into a corner, and re- 
 mained perfectly mute for one hour and twentjr^ 
 seven minutes; at the end of which time, he emerged 
 from his retirement, and offered Mr. Pickwick a 
 pinch of snuff with the air of a man who had 
 made up his mind to a Christian forgiveness of in- 
 juries sustained. The old lady's hearing decidedly 
 improved, and the unlucky Miller felt as much out 
 of his element, as a dolphin in a sentry-box. 
 
 Mean while the round game proceeded right 
 merrily. Isabella VVardle and Mr. Trundle "went 
 partners," and Emily Wardle and Mr. Snodgrass 
 did the same; and even Mr. Tupman and the spin- 
 ster aunt, established a joint-stock company of fish 
 and flattery. Old Mr. Wardle was in the very 
 height of his jollity ; and he was so funny in his 
 management of ihe board, and the old ladies were so 
 sharp after their winnings, that the whole table was 
 in a perpetual roar of merriment and laughter. 
 There was one old lady who always had about 
 half a dozen cards to pay for, at which every bod}^ 
 laughed regularly every round ; and when the oM 
 lady looked cross at having to pay, they laughed 
 louder than ever ; on which the old lady's face 
 gradually brightened up, till at last she laughed 
 louder than any of them. Then, when the spinster 
 aunt got " matrimony," the young ladies lauglied 
 afresh, anci fhe spinster aunt seemed disposed to 
 be pettish ; till, feeling Mr. Tupman squeezing her 
 hand under the table, she brightened up too, and 
 looked rather knowing as if matrimony in reality 
 were not quite so far off as some people thought 
 for; whereupon every body laughed again, and 
 especially old Mr. Wardle, who enjoyed a joke as 
 much as the youngest. As to Mr. Snodgrass he 
 did nothing but whisper poetical sentiments into 
 10 
 
110 POSTHUMOUS TAPERS OF 
 
 his partner's ear, \vhich made one old gentleman fa- 
 cetiously sly, about partnerships at cards, and part- 
 nerships for life, and caused the aforesaid old gen- 
 tleman to make some remarks thereupon, accom- 
 panied with divers winks and chuckles, which 
 made the company very merry and the old gentle- 
 iTian's wife especially so. And Mr. Winkle came 
 out with jokes which are very well known in town, 
 but are not at all known in thecountr)^; and as every 
 body laughed at them very heartily and said they 
 were very capital, Mr. Winkle was in a state of 
 great honour and glory. And the benevolent clergy- 
 man looked pleasantly on; for the happy iaces 
 which surrounded the table made the good old man 
 feel happy too; and though the n;erriment was 
 rather boisterous, still it came from the heart and 
 not from the lips : and this is the riglu sort of mer- 
 riment, after ail. 
 
 The evening glided swiftly away, in these clieer- 
 f'ul recreations; and when the substantial, though 
 homely supper had been despatched, and the little 
 party formed a social circle round tlic fire, Mr. 
 rickwick thought he had never felt so haj)py in 
 his life, and at no time so much disposed to enjoy, 
 mid. make the most of, tlie passing moments. 
 
 "Now this," said the hospitable host, who was 
 sitting in great state next the old lady's arrfl chair, 
 with her hand fast clasped in his — " This is just 
 what I like — the happiest moments of my life have 
 been passed at this old fire-side: and 1 am so at- 
 tached to it, that I keep up a blazing fire here 
 every evening, until it actually grows too hot to 
 bear it. Why my poor old mother, here, used to 
 sit before this fire-place upon that little stool, when 
 she was a girl — didn't you mother?" 
 
 The tear which starts unbidden to the eye when 
 the recollection of old times and the happiness of 
 many years ago, is suddenly recalled, stole down the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. HI 
 
 old lady's face, as she shook her head with a me- 
 lancholy smile. 
 
 '' You must excuse my talking about this old 
 place, Mr. Pickwick," resumed the host, after a 
 short pause — " for I love it dea rly, and know no other 
 — -the old houses and fields seetn like living friends 
 to me: and so does our little church with the ivy, 
 about which by-the-by» our excellent friend there, 
 made a song when he first came amongst us. Mr. 
 Snodgrass have you any thing in your glass?' 
 
 " Plenty, thank you," replied that gentleman, 
 whose poetic curiosity had been greatly excited 
 by the last observation of his entertainer. *' I beg- 
 your pardon, but you were talking about the song 
 of the Ivy." 
 
 "You must ask our friend opposite about that," 
 said the host knowingly: indicating the clergyman 
 by a nod o( his head. 
 
 "May I say that I should like to hear you re- 
 peat it, sir?' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "Why really," replied the clergyman, "il'sa^ 
 very slight affair; and the only excuse I have for 
 having ever perpetrated it, is, that I was a young 
 man at the time. Such as it is, however, you 
 shall hear it if you wish." 
 
 A murmur of curiosity was of course the reply ; 
 and the old gentleman proceeded to recite, with 
 the aid of sundry promptmgs from his wife, the 
 lines in question. " I call them," said he, 
 
 THE IVY GREEN. 
 
 Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy greSn, 
 
 That creepeth o'er ruins old! 
 
 Of right ciioice food are his meals, I weenj 
 
 In his cell so lone and cold. 
 
 The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,. 
 
 Xq pleagure his dainty whim;. 
 
112 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 And the mouldering' dust that years have made, 
 
 I^ a merry meal for him. 
 
 Creeping- where no life is seen, 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Fast he stealeth on tliotigh he wears no wings. 
 
 And a staunch old heart has he. 
 
 How closely he twineth, how tight he clings, 
 
 To his friend the huge Oak Tree! 
 
 And slily he IraiK th along the ground. 
 
 And his leaves he gf ntly waves, 
 
 As he joyously hugs and crawleth round 
 
 The rich mould of deaM men's graves. 
 
 Creeping where grim death has been, 
 A rare old ])lant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Wliole ages have fled and their woiks decayed. 
 
 And nations have scattered been; 
 
 But the stout old Ivy siiall never fade, 
 
 From its hale and hearty green. 
 
 The brave old plant in its lonely days, 
 
 Shall flitten upon the past: 
 
 For the stateliest bu Uhng man can raise. 
 
 Is the Ivy's food at last. 
 
 Creefdng on, where time has been, 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 While the old geiitleman repealed these lines a 
 second time, to enabic Mr. Snodgrass to note tlieni 
 down, Mr. Pickwick perused the lineaments of his 
 face with an expression of great interest. The old 
 gentleman having concluded his dictation, and Mr. 
 Snodgrass having returned his note-book to his 
 pocket, Mr. Pickwick said, — 
 
 "Excuse me, sir, for making the remark on so 
 short an acquaintance; but a gentleman like your- 
 self cannot iail, I should think, to have observed 
 many scenes and incidents worth recording, in the 
 course of your experience as a minister of the 
 Gospel." 
 
 "I have witnessed some certainly," replied the 
 old gentleman ; "but the incidents and characters 
 have been of a homely and ordinary nature, my 
 sphere of action, beingso very limited." 
 
iME PiCKWicir club: 113^ 
 
 '* You did make some notes, T think, about John 
 Edmunds, did you not?" inquired Mr. Wardle who 
 appeared very desirous to draw his friend out, for 
 the edification of his new visiters. 
 
 The old gentleman slightly nodded his head in 
 token of assent, and was proceeding to change the 
 subject, when Mr. Pickwick said, — • 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir ; but pray, if I may ven- 
 ture to inquire, who was John Edmunds?' 
 
 " The vei^y thing I was about to ask," said Mr. 
 Snodgrass, eagerly.. 
 
 " You are fairly in for it," said the jolly host. 
 " You must, satisfy the curiosity of these gentle- 
 men, sooner or later; so you had better take ad- 
 vantage of this favourable opportunity, and do so 
 at once." 
 
 The old gentleman smiled good-humouredly a's 
 he drew his chair forward; — the remainder of the 
 party drew their chairs closer together, especially 
 Mr. Tupman and the spinster aunt, who were pos- 
 sibly rather hard of hearing ; and the old lady's ear- 
 trumpet having been duly adjusted, and Mr. Mil- 
 ler (who had fallen asleep during the recital of the 
 verses) roused from his slumbers by an admoni- 
 tory pinch, administered beneath the table by his 
 ex-partner the solemn fat man, the old gentleman, 
 without further preface, commenced the following 
 tale, to which we have taken the liberty of prefix- 
 insf the title of 
 
 THE CONVICT'S RETURN. 
 
 "When 1 first settled in this village," said the 
 old gentleman, " which is now just five-and-twenty 
 years ago, the most notorious person among my 
 parishioners was a man of the name of Edmunds, 
 who leased a small farm near this spot. He was 
 10* 
 
114 PO- : JMOUS PAPEHIS (>¥> 
 
 a^ morose, savaiic-hcartccl, bad man: idle and: dis-- 
 solute in his habit- ; cruel and ferocious in his dis- 
 position. Beyond ihe few lazy and reckless vaga- 
 bonds with whom iic sauntered away his time in 
 the fields, or sotted in the ale-house, he had not a 
 single friend or acquaintance; no one cared to 
 speak to the man w horn many feared, and every 
 one detested — and Edmunds was shunned by all. 
 
 "This man had a wife and one son, who, when 
 P first came here, ivas about twelve years old. Of 
 the acuteness of that woman's sufferings, of the 
 gentle and enduring manner in which she bore 
 them, of the agony of solicitude with which she 
 reared that boY, no one can form an adequate con- 
 ception. Heaven forgive me the supposition, if it 
 be an uncharitable one, but I do firmly and in my 
 soul believe, that the man systematically tried for 
 many years to break her heart; but she bore it 
 ^11 for her child's sake, and, however strange it 
 may" seem to many, for his father's too; for brute 
 j^s he was, and cruelly as he treated her, she had 
 loved him once; and the recollection of what he 
 had been to her, awakened feelings of forbear- 
 ance and meckricss under suffering in her bosom, 
 tp which all Goi-Vs creatures, but women, are 
 stransjers. 
 
 " They were poor — they could not be otherwise 
 when the man pursued such courses; but the wo- 
 man's unceasing and unwearied exertions, early 
 and late, morning, noon, and nijzht, kept them 
 above actual want. Those exertions were but ill 
 r^epaido People who passed the spot in the evening 
 -^sometimes at a late hour of the night — reported 
 that they had heard the moans and sobs of a wo- 
 man in distress, and the sound of blows; and more 
 than once, when it was past midnight, the boy 
 knocked softly at the door of a neighbour's house,^ 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 115 
 
 whither he had been sent, to escape the drunken 
 fury of his unnatural father. 
 
 "During the whole of this time, and when the 
 poor creature often bore about her marks of ill 
 usage and violence which she could not w^holly 
 conceal, she was a constant attendant at our little- 
 church. Regularly every Sunday, morning and 
 afternoon, she occupied the same seat with the boy 
 at her side ; and though they were both poorly, 
 dressed, — much mote so than many of their neigh-, 
 hours who were in a lower station— they were al-. 
 ways neat and clean. Everyone had a friendly 
 nod and a kind word for 'poor Mrs. Edmunds;' 
 and sometimes, when she stopped to exchange a, 
 few words with a neighbour at- the conclusion of 
 the service in the little row of elm trees which leads 
 to the church porch, or lingered behind to gaze 
 wnth a mother's pride and fondness upon her heahhy 
 boy, as lie sported before her with some little com- 
 panions, her care-worn face would lighten up with 
 an expression of heartfelt gratitude; and she would 
 look, if not cheerful and happy, at least tranquil, 
 and contented. 
 
 "Five or six years passed away; the boy had 
 become a robust and well-grown youth, . The time 
 that had strengthened the child's slight frame, and 
 knit his weak limbs into the strength of manhood, 
 had bowed his mother's form, and enfeebled her 
 steps : but the arm that should have supported her> 
 was no longer locked in hers; the face that should 
 have cheered her, no more looked upon her own. 
 She occupied her old seat, but there was a vacant 
 one beside her. The Bible was kept as carefully 
 as ever, the places were found and folded down as 
 they used to be; but there was no one to read it 
 with her — and the tears fell thick and fast upon. 
 1h$ book, and blotted the words from -her eyeso. 
 
116 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Neighbours were as kind as lliey were wont to be 
 of old, but she shunned their greetings with avert- 
 ed licad. There was no lingering among the old 
 elm trees now — no cheering anticipations of happi- 
 ness yet in store. The desolate woman drew her 
 bonnet closer over her face, and walked hurriedly 
 away. 
 
 '' Shall I tell you, that the young. man, who, look- 
 ing back to the earliest of his childhood's days to 
 which memory and consciousness extended, and 
 carrying his recollection down to that moment, 
 Gould remember nothing which was not in some 
 way connected with, a long series of voluntary 
 privations suffered by his m.other for his sake, with 
 ill usage,. and insult, and violence, and all endured 
 for him; — shall I tell you, that he, with a reckless 
 disregard of her breaking heart, and a sullen wilful 
 forgetfulness of all she had done and borne for 
 him, had linked himself with depraved and aban- 
 doned men, and was madly pursuing a headlong 
 career, which must bring death to him, and shame 
 to her? Alas for human nature ! You have an- 
 ticipated it long since. 
 
 " The measure of the unhappy woman's misery 
 and misfortune was about to be completed. Nu- 
 merous offences had been committed in the neigh- 
 bourhood: the perpetrators remained undiscovered, 
 and their boldness increased. A robbery of a 
 daring and aggravated nature occasioned a vigi- 
 lance of pursuit, and a strictness of search, they 
 had not calculated on.. Young Edmunds was sus- 
 pected with three companions. He was appre- 
 hended — committed— tried — condemned to die. 
 
 "The wild and piercing shriek from a woman's 
 voice, which resounded through the court when tlie 
 solemn sentence was pronounced, rings in my ears 
 JVt.this moment. That cry struck a terror to the. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 117 
 
 culprit's heart, which trial, condemnation, the ap- 
 proach of death itself, had failed to awaken. The 
 lips, which had been compressed in dogged suH'en- 
 ness throughout, quivered and parted involuntarily; 
 the face turned ashy pale, as the cold perspiration, 
 broke forth from every pore ; the sturdy limbs of 
 the felon trembled, and he staggered in the dock. 
 
 " In the tirst transports of her mental anguish, 
 the suffering mother threw herself upon her knee& 
 at my feet, and fervently besought the Almighty 
 Being, who had hitherto supported her in all her 
 troubles, to release her from a world of wo and 
 misery, and to spare the life of her only child. A 
 burst of grief, and a violent struggle, such as I 
 hope 1 may never have to witness again, succeed- 
 ed. I knew that her heart was breaking from that 
 hour; but I never once heard complaint or murmur 
 escape her lips. 
 
 "It was a piteous spectacle to see that woman 
 in the prison-yard from day to day, eagerly, and: 
 fervently attempting, by affection and entreaty, to- 
 soften the hard heart of her obdurate son. It was 
 in vain. He remained moody, obstinate, and un- 
 moved. Not even the unlooked-for commutation, 
 of his sentence to transportation for fourteen years*, 
 softened for an instant the sullen hardihood of his 
 dem.eanour. 
 
 "But the spirit of resignation and endurance 
 that had so long upheld her, was unable to contend 
 against bodily weakness and infirmity. She fell 
 sick. She dragged her tottering limbs from the 
 bed to visit her son once more, but her strength 
 failed her, and she sunk powerless on the ground. 
 
 " And now the boasted coldness and indiirerence 
 of the young man were tested indeed ; and the re- 
 tribution that fell heavily upon him, nearly drove 
 him. mad, A day passed, away, and his nriother 
 
118 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 was not there; aaother flew by, and she came not 
 Hear him ; a third evening arrived, and yet he had 
 not seen her; and in four-and-tvventy hours, he 
 was to be separated from her — perhaps for ever. 
 Oh ! how the long forgotten thoughts of former 
 days rushed upon his mind, as he almost ran up and 
 down the narrow yard— as if intelligence would ar- 
 rive the sooner for kis hurrying; and how^ bitterly 
 a sense of his helplessness and desolation rushed 
 upon him, when he heard the truth ! His mother, 
 the only parent he had ever known, lay ill — it 
 might ho, dying — within one mile of the ground 
 he stood on ; were he free and unfettered, a few^ 
 minutes would place him by her side. He rushed 
 to the gate, and, grasping the iron rails with the 
 energy of desperation, shook it till it rang again, 
 and threw himself against the thick wall as if to 
 force a passage through the stone; but the strong 
 building mocked his feeble efforts, and he beat his 
 hands together and wept like a child. 
 
 "I bore the mother's forgiveness and blessing to 
 her son in prison; and I carried his solemn as- 
 surance of repentance, and his fervent supplica- 
 tion for pardon, to her sick bed. 1 heard, with 
 pity and compassion, the repentant man devise a 
 thousand little plans for her comfort and support, 
 when he returned; but I knew that many months 
 before he could reach his •J)lace of destination, his 
 mother would be no longer of this world. 
 
 " He was removed by night. A few weeks af- 
 terwards the poor woman's soul took its flight, I 
 confidently hope, and solemnly believe, to- a place 
 of eternal happiness and rest. I performed the 
 burial service over her remains. She lies in our 
 little church-yard. There is no stone at her 
 grave's head. Her sorrows were known to man ; 
 her virtues to God,. 
 
THE PIOKWIGK CLUB. 1 19 
 
 " It had been arranged previously to the con- 
 vict's departure, that he should write to his mother 
 as soon as he could obtain permission, and that the 
 letter should be addressed to me. The father had 
 positively refused to see his son from the moment 
 of his apprehension; and it was a matter of in- 
 difference to him whether he lived or died. Many 
 years passed over without any intelligence of him ; 
 and when more than half his term of transporta- 
 tion had expired, and I had received no letter, I 
 concluded him to be dead, as, indeed, I almost 
 hoped he might be. 
 
 " Edmunds, however, had been sent a considei-^ 
 able distance up the country, on his arrival at the 
 settlement ; and to this circumstance, perhaps, may 
 be attributed the fact, that though several letters 
 were despatched, none of them ever reached my 
 hands. He remained in the same place during the 
 whole fourteen years. At the expiration of the 
 term, steadily adhering to his old resolution, and 
 the pledge he gave his mother, he made his way 
 back to England amidst innumerable difficulties, 
 and returned, on foot, to his native place. 
 
 '^ On a fine Sunday evening, in the month of 
 August, John Edmunds set foot in the village he 
 had left with shame and disgrace seventeen years 
 before. His nearest way lay through the church- 
 yard. The man's heart sw^elled as he crossed the 
 stile. The tall old elms, through whose branches 
 the declining sun cast here and there a rich ray of 
 hght upon the shady path, awakened the associa- 
 tions of his earliest days. He pictured himself as 
 he was then, clinging to his mother's hand, and 
 walking peacefully to church. He remembered 
 how he used to look up into her pale face ; and how 
 her eyes would sometimes fill with tears as she 
 gazed upon his features — tears, which fell hot upon 
 
120 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 his forehead as she stooped to kiss him, and made 
 him weep too, aUhough he Uttle knew ttien what 
 bitter tears hers were. He thought how often he 
 had run merril}^ down that path with some child- 
 ish playfellow, looking back, ever and again, to 
 catch his mother's smile, or hear her gentle voice; 
 and then a veil seemed lifted from his memory, and 
 words of kindness unrequited, and warnings^ de- 
 spised, and promises broken, thronged upon his re- 
 collection till his heart failed him, and he could 
 bear it no longer. 
 
 " He entered the church. The evening service 
 was concluded, and the congregation had dispersed; 
 but it was not yet closed. His steps echoed through 
 the low building with a hollow sound, and he al- 
 most feared to be alone, it was so still and quiet. 
 He looked round him. Nothing was changed. The 
 place seemed smaller than it used to be; but 
 there were the old monuments on which lie had 
 gazed with childish awe a thousand times; the 
 little pulpit, with its faded cushion; the Commu- 
 nion table, before which he had so often repeated 
 the Commandments he had reverenced as a child, 
 and forgotten as a man. He approached the old 
 seat ; it looked cold and desolate. The cushion 
 had been removed, and the Bible was not there. 
 Perhaps his mother now occupied a poorer seat, or 
 possibly she had grown infirm, and could not reach 
 the church alone. He dared not think of what he 
 feared. A tiold feeling crept over him, and he 
 trembled violently, as he turned away. " An old 
 man entered the porch just as he reached it. Ed- 
 munds started back, for he knew him well ; many 
 a time had he watched him digging graves in the 
 church-yard. What would he say to the returned 
 convict 'i The old man raised his eyes to the stran- 
 ger's face, bid him ' good evening,' and walked 
 slowly on. He had forgotten him. 
 
THE PICKWrCK CLUB. 121 
 
 ** He walked down the hill, and through the vil- 
 lage. The weather was warm, and the people 
 were sitting at their doors, or strolling in their little 
 gardens, as he passed, enjoying the serenity of the 
 evening, and their rest from labour. Many a look 
 was turned towards him, and many a doubtful 
 glance he cast on either side, to see whether any 
 knew and shunned him. There were strange faces 
 in almost every house ; in some, he recognised the 
 burly form of some old school-fellow, — a boy when 
 he last saw him, — -surrounded by a troop of merry 
 children : in others he saw, seated in an easy- 
 chair at the cottage door, a feeble and infirm old 
 man, whom he only remembered as a hale and 
 hearty labourer : but they had all forgotten him, 
 and he passed on unknown. 
 
 " The last soft light of the setting sun had fallen 
 on the earth, casting a rich glow on the yellow 
 corn sheavG-3, and lengthening the shadows of the 
 orchard trees, as he stood before the old house — 
 the home of his infancy, to which his heart had 
 yearned with an intensity of affection not to be de- 
 scribed, through long and weary years of captivity 
 and sorrow. The paling was low — though he well 
 remembered the time when it had seemed a high 
 wall to him; and he looked over into the old gar- 
 den. There were more seeds and gayer flowers 
 than there used to be, but there were the old trees 
 still — the very tree, under which he had lain a 
 thousand times when tired with playing in the sun, 
 and felt the soft mild sleep of happy boyhood steal 
 gently upon him. There were voices within the 
 house. He listened, but they fell strangely upon 
 his ear ; he knew them not. They were merry, 
 too ; and he well knew that his poor old mother 
 could not be cheerful, and he away. The door 
 opened, and a group of little children bounded out, 
 11 
 
122 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 shouting and romping. The father, with a litllc 
 boy in his arnns, appeared at tfie door, and they 
 crowded round hinn, clapping their tiny hands, and 
 dragging him out, to join their joyous sports. The 
 convict thought on the many times he had shrunk 
 from his father's sie;ht in that very place. He re- 
 membered how often he had buried iiis trembling 
 head beneath the bed-clothes, and heard the harsh 
 word, and the hard stripe, and his mother's wail- 
 ing; and though the man sobbed aloud with agony 
 of mind as he left the spot, his fist was clenched, 
 and his teeth were set, in fierce and deadly pas- 
 sion. 
 
 ** And such was the return to which he had look- 
 ed through the weary perspective of many years, 
 and for which he had undergone so much suffering ! 
 No face of welcome, no look of forgiveness, no 
 house to receive, no hand to help him — and this, 
 too, in the old village. What was his loneliness in 
 the wild thick woods where man was never seen, 
 to this ! 
 
 «*He felt that, in the distant land of his bondage 
 and infamy, he had thought of his native place as 
 it was when he left it — not as it would be, when he 
 returned. The sad realit}^ struck coldly at his 
 heart, and his spirit sank within him. He had not 
 courage to make inquiries, or to present himself to 
 the only person who was likely to receive him with 
 kindness and compassion. He walked slowly on; 
 and shunning the road-side, like a guilty man, 
 turned into a meadow ho well remembered ; and, 
 covering his face with his hands, threw himself 
 upon the grass. 
 
 "He had not observed that a man was lying on 
 the bank beside him ; his garments rustled as he 
 turned round to steal a look at the new comer ; 
 and Edmunds raised his head. 
 
 "The man had moved into a sitting posture. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 123 
 
 His body was much bent, and his face was wrin- 
 kled and yellow. His dress denoted him an in- 
 mate of the workhouse: he had the appearance 
 of being very old, but it looked more the effect 
 of dissipation or disease, than length of years. He 
 was staring hard at the stranger — and though his 
 eyes were lustreless and heavy at first, they appear- 
 ed to glow with an unnatural and alarmed expres- 
 sion after they had been fixed upon him for a short 
 time, until they seemed to be starting from their 
 sockets. Edmunds gradually raised himself to his 
 knees, and looked more and more earnestly upon 
 the old man's face. They gazed upon each other 
 in silence. 
 
 "The old man w'as ghastly pale. He shudder- 
 ed and tottered to his feet. Edmunds sprang to 
 his. He stepped back a pace or two. Edmunds 
 advanced. 
 
 " ' Let me hear you speak,' said the convict, in 
 a thick, broken voice. 
 
 '•" ' Stand off,' cried the old man, with a dreadful 
 oath. The convict drew closer to him. 
 
 " ' Stand off,' shrieked the old man. Furious 
 with terror he raised his stick, and struck Ed- 
 munds a heavy blow across the face. 
 
 "'Father — devil,' murmured the convict, be- 
 tween his set teeth. He rushed wildly forward, 
 and clenched the old man by the throat — but he 
 was his father; and his arm fell powerless by his 
 side. 
 
 " The old man uttered a loud yell which rang 
 through the lonely fields like the liowl of an evil 
 spirit. His face turned black ; the gore rushed 
 from his mouth and nose, and dyed the grass a 
 deep dark red, as he staggered and fell. He had 
 ruptured a blood vessel : and he was a dead man 
 before his son could raise him from that thick, 
 sluggish pool. 
 
1^4 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS^ OF 
 
 "In that corner of the church-yard," said the 
 old gentleman, after a silence of a few moments — 
 " In that corner of the church-yard, of which 1 
 have before spoken, there lies buried a man, who 
 was in my employment for three years after this- 
 event; and who was truly contrite, penitent, and 
 humbled, if ever man was. No one save myself 
 knew, in that man's lifetime, who he was, or 
 whence he came. It was John Edmunds, the re- 
 turned convict." 
 
T»E PICKWICK CLUB. 125 
 
 CHAP lER VIL 
 
 HOW MR. WINKLE, INSTEAD OF SHOOTING AT THE 
 PIGEON AND KILLING THE CROW, SHOT AT THE CROW 
 AND WOUNDED THE PIGEON ; HOW THE DINGLEY 
 DELL CRICKET CLUB PLAYED ALL MUGGLETON, AND 
 HOW ALL MUGGLETON DINED AT THE DINGLEY DELL 
 EXPENSE : WITH OTHER INTERESTING AND INSTRUC- 
 TIVE MATTERS. 
 
 The fatiguing adventures of the day or the som- 
 niferous influence of the clergyman's tale, operated 
 so strongly on the drowsy tendencies of Mr. Pick- 
 wick, that, in less than five minutes after he had 
 been shown to his comfortable bed-room, he fell 
 into a sound and dreamless sleep, from which he 
 was only awakened by the morning sun darting 
 his bright beams reproachfully into the apartment, 
 Mr. Pickwick was no sluggard; and he sprang 
 like an ardent warrior from his tent- — bedstead. 
 
 " Pleasant, pleasant country," sighed the enthu- 
 siastic gentleman, as he opened his lattice window. 
 •' Who could live to gaze from day to day on bricks 
 and slates, who had once felt the influence of a 
 scene like this? Who could continue to exist, 
 where there are no cows but the cows on the chim- 
 ney-pots; nothing redolent of Pan but pan-tiles; 
 no crop but stone crop? Who could bear to drag 
 out a life in such a spot? Who, I ask, could en- 
 dure it ?" and, having cross-examined solitude aftei: 
 11* 
 
\2Q POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the most approved precedents, at considerable 
 length, Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of the lat- 
 tice, and looked around him. 
 
 The rich, sweet snnell of the hay-ricks rose to his 
 chamber window ; the hundred perfumes of the 
 little flower-garden beneath scented the air around ; 
 the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew 
 that glistened on every leaf, as it trembled in the 
 gentje air; and the birds sang as if every sparkling 
 drop were to them a fountain of inspiration. Mr. 
 Pickwick fell into an enchanting and delicious re- 
 verie. 
 
 " Hallo !^' was the sound that roused him. 
 
 He looked to the right, but he saw nobody; his 
 eyes wandered to the left, and pierced the prospect; 
 he stared into the sky, but he wasn't wanted there; 
 and then he did what a common mind would have 
 done at once — looked into the garden, and there 
 saw Mr. Wardle. 
 
 " How are you?" said that good-humoured indi- 
 vidual, out of breath with his own anticipations of 
 pleasure. *' Beautiful morning, ain't it? Glad to 
 see you up so early. Make haste down, and come 
 out I'll wait for you here." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick needed no second invitation. Ten 
 minutes sufficed for the completion of his toilet, and 
 at the expiration of that time he was by the old 
 gentleman's side. 
 
 "Hallo!" said Mr. Pickwick in his turn: seeing 
 that his companion was armed with a gun, and that 
 another lay ready on the grass. " What's going 
 forward ?" 
 
 " Why, your friend and I," replied the host, "are 
 going out rook-shooting before breakfast. He's 
 a very good shot, ain't he?" 
 
 " Pve heard him say he's a capital one," replied 
 Mr. Pickwick ; " but I never saw him aim at any 
 thing." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 127 
 
 ^ Well," said the host, " I wish hfi'd come. Joe — 
 Joe." 
 
 The fat boy, who under the exciting influence 
 of the nnorning did not appear to be more than 
 three parts and a fraction asleep, emerged from the 
 house. 
 
 " Go up and call the gentleman, and tell him 
 he'll find me and Mr. Pickwick in the rookery. 
 Show the gentleman the way there; d'ye hear?' 
 
 The boy departed to execute his commission; 
 and the host, carrying both guns like a second 
 Robinson Crusoe, led the way from the garden. 
 
 "This is the place,'' said the old gentleman, 
 pausing alter a few minutes walking, in an avenue 
 of trees. The information was unnecessary; for 
 the incessant cawing of the unconscious rooks, suf- 
 ficiently indicated their whereabout. 
 
 The old gentleman laid one gun on the ground, 
 and loaded the other. 
 
 " Here they are," said Mr. Pickwick ; and as 
 he spoke, the forms of Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snod- 
 grass, and Mr. Winkle appeared in the distance. 
 The fat boy, not being quite certain which gentle- 
 man he was directed- to call, had with peculiar 
 sagacity, and to prevent the possibility of any mis- 
 take, called them all. 
 
 "Come along," shouted the old gentleman, ad- 
 dressing Mr. Winkle; "a keen hand like you ought 
 to have been up long ago, even to such poor work 
 as this." 
 
 Mr. Winkle responded with a forced smile, and 
 took up the spare gun with an expression of coun- 
 tenance which a metaphysical rook, impressed 
 with a foreboding of his approaching death by vio- 
 lence, may be supposed to assume. It might 
 have been keenness, but it looked remarkably like 
 misery. 
 
 The old gentleman nodded ; cind two ragged 
 
128 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 boys who had been marshalled to the spot under 
 the direction of the infant Lambert, forthwith com- 
 menced climbing up two of the trees. 
 
 " What are those lads for?" inquired Mr. Pick- 
 wick abruptly. He was rather alarmed; for he 
 was not quite certain but that the distress of the 
 agricultural interest, about which he had often 
 heard a great deal, might have compelled the 
 small boys, attached to the soil, to earn a pre- 
 carious and hazardous subsistence by making 
 marks of themselves for inexperienced sportsmen. 
 
 " Only to start the game," replied Mr. Wardle, 
 laughing. 
 
 "To what?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why, in plain English, to frighten the rooks." 
 
 "Ohi Is that all?" 
 
 " You are satisfied ?'' 
 
 "Quite." 
 
 "Very well. Shall I begin?" 
 
 " If you please," said Mr. Winkle, glad of any 
 respite. 
 
 " Stand aside, then. Now for it." 
 
 The boy shouted, and shook a branch with a 
 nest on it. Plalf a dozen young rooks in violent 
 conversation, flew out to ask what the matter was. 
 The old gentleman fired by way of reply. Down 
 fell one bird, and off flew the others. 
 
 " Take him up, Joe," said the old gentleman. 
 
 There was a smile upon the youth's face as he 
 advanced. Indistinct visions of rook-pie floated 
 through his imagination. He laughed as he re- 
 tired with the bird — it was a plump one. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Winkle," said the host, reloading 
 his own gun ; " fire away.'' 
 
 Mr. Winkle advanced, and levelled his gun. Mr. 
 Pickwick and his friends cowered involuntarily to 
 escape damage from the heavy fall of rooks, which 
 they felt quite certain would be occasioned by the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 129 
 
 devastating barrel of iheir friend. There was a 
 solemn pause — a shout — a flapping of wings — a 
 faint click. 
 
 " Hallo !" said the old gentleman. 
 
 " Won't it go?" inquired Mr, Pickwick. 
 
 " Missed fire," said Mr. Winkle, who was very 
 pale, probably from disappointment. 
 
 " Odd," said the okl gentleman, taking the gun. 
 " Never knew one of them to miss fire before. 
 Why, I don't see any thing of the cap.'^ 
 
 "Bless my soul," said Mr. Winkle. "I declare 
 I forgot the cap !" 
 
 The slight omission was rectified. Mr. Pick- 
 wick crouched again. Mr. Winkle stepped for- 
 ward with an air of determination and resolution; 
 and Mr. Tupman looked out from behind a tree. 
 The boy shouted ; — four birds flew out. Mr. 
 Winkle fired. There was a scream as of an indi- 
 vidual — not a rook — in corporeal anguish, Mr. 
 Tupman had saved the lives of innumerable unof- 
 fending birds, by receiving a portion of the charge 
 in his left arm. 
 
 To describe the confusion that ensued would be 
 impossible. To tell how Mr. Pickwick in the first 
 transports of his emotion called Mr. Winkle 
 " Wretch !" how Mr. Tupman lay prostrate on the 
 ground ; and how Mr. Winkle knelt horror-stricken 
 beside him ; how Mr. Tupman called distractedly 
 upon some feminine Christian name, and then 
 opened first one eye, and then the other, and then 
 fell back and shut them both ; — all this would be 
 as difl[icult to describe in detail, as it would be to 
 depict the gradual recovering of the unfortunate 
 individual, the binding up his arm with pocket- 
 handkerchiefs, and the conveying him back by 
 slow degrees supported by the arms of his anxious 
 friends. 
 
 They drew near the house.^ The ladies were at 
 
130 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the garden-g^ate, waiting for their arrival and their 
 breakfast. The spinster aunt appeared ; she smiled ; 
 and beckoned them to walk quicker. 'Twas evi- 
 dent she knew not of the disaster. Poor thing! 
 There are times when ignorance is bliss indeed. 
 
 They approached nearer. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter with the little old 
 gentleman'?" said Isabelle Wardle. The spinster 
 aunt heeded not the remark ; slie tliouclit it applied 
 to Mr. Pickwick. In her eyes Tracy Tupman was 
 a youth ; she viewed his years through a diminish- 
 ing glass. 
 
 "Don't be frightened," called out the old host 
 fearful of alarming his daughters. The little party 
 had crowded so completely round Mr. Tupman, 
 that they could not yet clearly discern the nature 
 of the accident. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," said the host. 
 
 "What's the matter?" screamed the ladies. 
 
 "Mr. Tupman has met with a little accident; 
 that's all." 
 
 The spinster aunt utterred a piercing scream, 
 burst into an hysteric laugh, and fell backwards in 
 the arms of her nieces. 
 
 " Throw some cold water over her," said the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 "No, no," murmured the spinister aunt: "I am 
 better now. Bella, Emily — a surgeon ! Is he 
 wounded? — Is he dead? — Is he — ha, ha, ha, ha!" 
 Here the spinster aunt burst into a fit number two, 
 of hysteric laughter, interspersed with screams. 
 
 " Calm yourself," said Mr. Tupman, affected 
 almost to tears by this expression of sympathy 
 with his sufferings. " Dear, dear madam, calm 
 yourself." 
 
 "It is his voice!" exclaimed the spinster aunt; 
 and strong symptoms of fit number three developed 
 themselves forthwith. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 131 
 
 *' Do not agitate yourself I entreat you, dearest 
 madam," said Mr/Tupman, soothingly. "I am 
 very little hurt, I assure you." 
 
 *' Then you are not dead!" ejaculated the hyste- 
 rical lady. " Oh, say you are not dead !" 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Rachael," interposed Mr. War- 
 die, rather more roughly than was quite consistent 
 with the poetic nature of the scene. " What the 
 devil's the use of his saying he isn't dead ?" 
 
 "No, no, I am not," said Mr. Tupman. *« I re- 
 quire no assistance but yours. Let me lean on 
 your arm," he added in a whisper, " oh Miss 
 Ilachael!" The agitated female advanced, and 
 offered her arm. They turned into the breakfast 
 parlour. Mr. Tracy Tupman gently pressed her 
 hand to his lips, and sank upon the sofa. 
 
 "Are you faint?" inquired the anxious Rachael. 
 
 "No,"' said Mr. Tupman. *' It is nothing. I 
 shall be better presently." He closed his eyes. 
 
 " He sleeps," murmured the spinster aunt. (His 
 organs of vision had been closed nearly twenty 
 seconds,) " Dear — dear — Mr. Tupman." 
 
 Mr. Tupman jumped up — "Oh, say those words 
 again !" he exclaimed. 
 
 The lady started. " Surely you did not hear 
 them!" she said bashfully. 
 
 " Oh yes I did," replied Mr. Tupman; " repeat 
 them. If you would have me to recover, repeat 
 them." 
 
 "Hush !" said the lady. "My brother." 
 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman resumed his former position ; 
 and Mr. Wardie accompanied by a surgeon, en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 The arm was examined, the wound dressed, and 
 pronounced to be a very slight one; and the minds 
 of the company having been thus satisfied, they 
 proceeded to satisfy their appetites with counte- 
 nances to which an expression of cheerfulness was 
 
132 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 again restored. Mr. Pickwick alone was silent 
 and reserved. Doubt and distrust were exhibited 
 in his countenance. His confidence in Mr. Winkle 
 had been shaken — greatly shaken — by the proceed- 
 ings of the morning. 
 
 " Are you a cricketer!" inquired Mr. Wardle of 
 the marksman. 
 
 At any other time, Mr. Winkle would have re- 
 plied in the affirmative. He felt the delicacy of 
 his situation, and modestly replied, " No." 
 
 "Are you, sir?" inquired Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ''I was once upon a time," replied the host: 
 "but I have given it up now, I subscribe to the 
 club here, but I don't play." 
 
 "The grand match is played to-day, 1 believe." 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " It is," replied the host. " Of course you would 
 like to see it," 
 
 " I, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, "am delighted 
 to view any sports which may be safely indulged 
 in, and in which the impotent eflects of unskilful 
 people do not endanger human life." Mr. Pick- 
 wick paused, and looked steadily on Mr. Winkle, 
 who quailed beneath his leader's searching glance. 
 The great man withdrew his eyes after a few 
 minutes and added: "Shall we be justified in leaving 
 our wounded friend to the care of the ladies'?" 
 
 *'You cannot leave me in better hands," said 
 Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Q,uite impossible," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 It was therefore settled that Mr. Tupman should 
 be left at home in charge of the females; and that 
 the remainder of the guests under the guidance of 
 Mr. Wardle should proceed to the spot, where was 
 to be held (hat (rial of skill, which had roused 
 all Muggleton from its torpor, and inocculated Ding- 
 ley dell with a fever of excitement. 
 
 As their walk which was not above two miles long, 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 133 
 
 lay through shady lanes and sequestered footpaths; 
 and as their conversation turned upon the delight- 
 ful scenery by which they were on every side sur- 
 rounded, Mr. Pickwick was almost inclined to re- 
 gret the expedition they had used, when he found 
 himself in the main street of the town of Muggle- 
 ton. 
 
 Every body whose genius has a topographical 
 bent, knows perfectly well, that Muggleton is a 
 corporate town, with a mayor, burgesses, and 
 freemen; and any body who has consulted the a'd- 
 dresses of the mayor to the freemen, or the free- 
 men to the mayor, or both to the cor^poration, or 
 all three to parliament, will learn from thence 
 what they ought to have known before, that Mug- 
 gleton is an ancient and loyal borough., mingling 
 a zealous a,dvocacy of Christian principles wiUi a 
 devoted attachment to commercial rights; in de- 
 monstration whereof, the mayor, corporation, and 
 other inhabitants, have presented at divers times, 
 no fewer than one thousand four hundred and 
 twenty petitions, against the continuance of negro 
 slavery abroad, and an equal numbe'fr against any 
 interference with the factory system at homc; 
 sixty-eight for permitting the sale of benefices in 
 the church, and eighty-six for abolishing Sunday 
 trading in the streets. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stood in the principal street of this 
 illustrious town, and gazed with an air of curiosity 
 not unmixed with interest, on the objects around 
 him. There was an open square for the market- 
 place; and in the centre of it^ a large inn with a 
 sign-post in front, displaying an object very com- 
 mon in art, but rarely met with in nature— to wit, 
 a blue lion with three bow legs in the air, balancing 
 himself on the extreme point of the centre claw of 
 his fourth foot. There were within sight, an auc- 
 tioneer's and fire-agency office, a corn-factor's,- a 
 12 
 
134 POSTHUMOUS TAPERS OF 
 
 linen draper's, a saddler's, a distiller's, a grocer's, 
 and a shoe shop — the last-mentioned warehouse 
 being also appropriated to the diffusion of hats, 
 bonnets, wearing apparel, cotton umbrellas, and 
 useful knovvledge. There was a red-brick house 
 with a small- paved court-yard in front, which any 
 body might have known belonged to the attorney : 
 and there, was, moreover, another red- brick house 
 with Venetian blinds, and a large brass door-plate, 
 with a very legible announcement that it belonged 
 tT) the surgeon. A few boys were making their 
 way to the cricket field ; and two or three shop- 
 keepers who were standing at their doors, looked 
 as if they should like to be making their way to the 
 same spot, as indeed to all appearance they might 
 have done, v/ithout losing any great amount of cus- 
 tom thereby. Mr. Pickwick having paused to make 
 these observations, to be noted down at a more con- 
 venient period, hastened to rejoin his friends, who 
 had turned out of the main street, and v.ere al- 
 ready wdthin sight of the field of battle. 
 
 The wickets were pitched, and so were a couple 
 of marqueef for the rest and refreshment of the 
 contending parties. The game had not yet com- 
 TOcnced. Two or three Dingley Dellers, and All- 
 Muggletonians, were amusing themselves with a 
 majestic air by throwing the ball carelessly from 
 hand to hand ; and several other gentlemen dressed 
 like them, in straw hats, flannel jackets, and white 
 trowsers, — a costume in which they looked very 
 much like amateur stone-masons^ — w'cre sprinkled 
 about the tents, tow\ards one of which Mr. Wardlc 
 conducted the party. 
 
 Several dozen of " How-are-yoas?" hailed th-e 
 old 2;entleman's arrival ; and a general raising of 
 the straw hats, and bending forward of the flannel 
 jackets, followed his introduction of his guests fts 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 135 
 
 gentlemen from London, who were extremely 
 anxious to witness the proceedings of the day, with 
 which, he had no doubt, they would be greally de- 
 lighted. 
 
 *'.You had better stejp into the marquee.l think, 
 sir," said one very stout gentleman, whose body 
 and legs looked like half a gigantic roll of -flannel, 
 elevated on a couple of inflated pillow-cases. 
 
 " You'll And it much pleasanter, sir," urged 
 another stout gentleman, who strongly resembled 
 the other half of the roil of flannel aforesaido 
 
 " You're very good," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " This way," said tlie first speaker ; " they notch 
 in here — it's the hest place in the whole field ;" and 
 the cricketer, panting on before, proceeded them to 
 the tent. 
 
 "Capital game — smart sport — fine exercise — 
 very," were the words which fell upon Mi*. Pick- 
 wick's ear as he entered the iont; and the first ob- 
 ject that met his eyes, v*^as his green coated /n'^liij 
 of the Rochester coach, holding forth to the no 
 small delight and edification of a select circle cf 
 the chosen of All-Muggleton. His dress was 
 slightly improved, and he wore boots ; but there 
 was no mistaking him. 
 
 The stranger recognised his friends inin^^ediately : 
 and, darting forward and seizing Mr. Pickwick by 
 the hand, dragged him to a seat with his usual im- 
 petuosity, talking all the while as if the whole of 
 the arrangements were under his especial patronage 
 and direction. 
 
 " This way — this way — capital fun — lots of beer 
 —hogsheads ; rounds of beef— bullocks ; mustard 
 — cart loads ; glorious day — down with you — make 
 yourself at home — glad to see you — very." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick sat down as he was bid, and Mr, 
 Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass also complied with the 
 
136 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 directions'of their mysterious friend. Mr. Wardle 
 looked on in silent wonder. 
 
 '' Mr. Wardlc— a friend of mine," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 " Fricjid of yours ! — My dear sir, how are you ? 
 — Friend of my friend's — give me your Iiand, sir" 
 — and the stranger grasped Mr, Wardle's hand 
 with all the fervour of a close intimacy of many 
 years, and then stepped back a pace or two as if 
 to take a full survey of his face and figure, and then, 
 shook hands wuth him again, if possible more warm- 
 ly than before. 
 
 "Well; and how came you here?" said JNIr. 
 Pickwick, with a smile in which benevolence strug- 
 gled wdth surprise. 
 
 " Come.'^ replied the stranger — "stopping at 
 Crown— Crown at Miiggleton — met a party — 
 flannel jackets — white trowsers— anchovy sand-^ 
 vviches — devilled kidneys — splendid fellows — glo- 
 
 Mr. Pickwick wJis sufficiently versed in the . 
 stranger's system of stenography to infer from this, 
 rapid and disjointed communication that he had, 
 somehow or other, contracted an acquaintance with 
 the Ali-Muggletons, which he had converted, by a 
 process peculiar to bimseif, into that extent of good 
 fellowship on which a general invitation may be 
 easily founded. His curiosity was therefore satis- 
 fied, and putting on his spectacles, he prepared 
 himself to watch the play which was just com- 
 mencing. 
 
 All-Muggleton had the first innings; and the in- 
 terest became intense when Mr. Dumkins, and Mr. 
 Fodder, two of the most renowned members of that 
 most distinguished club, walked, bat in hand, to 
 their respective wickets. Mr. Luffey the high- 
 est ornament of Dingley Dell was pitched to bowl 
 against the redoubtable Dumkins, and Mr, Strug-. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. IST 
 
 gles was selected to do the same kind office for the 
 hitherto unconquered Podder. Several players 
 were stationed to " look out," in different parts of 
 the field, and each fixed himself into the proper 
 attitude by placing one hand on each knee, and 
 stooping very much as if he were " making a back" 
 for some beginner at leap-frog. All the regular 
 players do thfs sort of thing ; — indeed it's generally 
 supposed that it is quite impossible to look out pro- 
 perly in any other position. 
 
 The umpires were stationed behind the wickets; 
 the scorers were prepared to notch the runs ; a 
 breathless silence ensued. Mr. Luffey retired a few 
 paces behind the wicket of the passive Podder, and 
 applied the ball to his right eye for several seconds. 
 Dumkins confidently awaited its coming, with#iis 
 eyes fixed on the motions of Luffey. 
 
 " Play," suddenly cried the bowler. The ball 
 flew from his hand straight and swift towards the 
 centre stump of the wicket. The wary Dumkins 
 was on the alert ; it fell upon the tip of the bat, 
 :dnd bounded far away over the heads of the scouts, 
 who had just stooped low enough to let it fly over 
 them. 
 
 "Run — run — another. Now, then, throw her 
 up — up with her — slop there — another — no— yes 
 — no — throw her up, throw her up." Such were 
 the shouts which followed the stroke; and, at the 
 conclusion of which, All-Muggleton had scored 
 two. Nor was Podder behind hand in earning lau- 
 rels wherewith to garnish himself and INIuggle- 
 ton. He blocked the doubtful balls, missed the bad 
 ones, took the good ones, and sent them flying to ail 
 parts of the field. The scouts were hot and tired; 
 the bowlers were changed, and bowled till their 
 arms ached : but Dumkins and Podder remained 
 unconquered. Did an elderly gentleman essay to 
 12* 
 
138 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS Oi*^ 
 
 stop the progress of the ball, it rolled between Ial^ 
 iegSj or slipped between his fingers. Did a slini 
 gentlen^an try to catch it, it struck him on the 
 nose, and bounded pleasantly off with redoubled 
 violence, while the slim gcnlleman^s eyes filled 
 with water, and his form writhed with anguish. 
 Was it thrown straight up to the wicket, Dumkins 
 had reaclied it before the ball. In short, whea 
 Dumkins was caught out, and Fodder stumped out, 
 Ali-Muggleton bad notched some fifty-four, while 
 the score of the Dingley Dellers was as blank as 
 their faces. Th^ advantage was too great to be 
 recovered. In vain did the eager Luffey, and the 
 enthusiastic Struggles, do all that skill and expe- 
 rience could suggest, to regain the ground Dingley 
 Dill had lost in the contest ; it was of no avail : 
 and in an early period of (he winnhig game Din- 
 gley Dell gave in, and allowed the superior prow- 
 ess of All-Muggleton, 
 
 The stranger, meanwhile, had been eating, drink- 
 ing, and talking, without cessation. At every good 
 stroke he expressed his satisfaction and approval 
 of the player in a most condescending and patro- 
 nizinor manner, v.^hich could not fail to have been 
 highlv gratifying to the party concerned; while at 
 every bad attempt at a catch, and every failure to 
 stop the ball, he launched his personal displeasure 
 at the head of the devoted individual in such de- 
 nunciations as — "Ah, ah! — stupid"— ♦" Now but- 
 ter-fingers" — " Mufi" — " Humbug" — and so forth 
 -^ejaculations which seemed to establish him in the 
 opinion of all around, as a most excellent and un- 
 deniable judge of the whole art and mystery of the 
 noble game of cricket. 
 
 "Capital game — well played — some strokes ad- 
 mirable," said the stranger, as both sides crowded 
 into the tent, at the conclusion of the game. 
 
THE FICKWICK CLUB. 139 
 
 ^^ You have played it, sir?" inquired Mr. Wardle, 
 wiio had been much amused by his loquacity. 
 
 " Played it ! Think I have — thousands of times 
 — not here — West Indies — exciting thing ; hot work 
 ^ — very." 
 
 " It-must be rather a warm pursuit in such a cli- 
 mate," observed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '•Warm ! — red hot — scorching — glowing. Play- - 
 ed a match once — single wicket — friend, the colo- 
 nel — Sir Thomas Blazo — v^^ho should get the great- 
 est number of runs. Won the toss — first innings 
 seven o'clock, a. m. Six natives to look out — v^'cnt 
 in; kept in — heat intense — natives all fainted— 
 taken away : fresh half-dozen ordered — fainted 
 also — Blazo bowling — supported by two natives — • 
 couldn't bowl me out — fainted too — cleared aw^ay 
 the colonel — wouldn't give in — faithful attendant 
 — Quanko Samba — last man left— sun so hot, bat 
 in blisters, ball scorched brown — five hundred and 
 seventy runs — rrUher exhausted— Q,uanko mustered 
 up last remaining strength — bowled me out — had 
 a bath, and went out to dinner." 
 
 "And what became of what's-his-namcj sir?'^ 
 inquired an old gentleman. 
 
 " Blazo ?" 
 
 " No — the other gentleman,'' 
 
 "Quanko Samba?' 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Poor Quanko — never recovered it — bowled 
 on, on my account — bowled off, on his own — died, 
 sir." Here the stranger buried his countenance 
 in a brown jug; but whether to hide his emotion, 
 or imbibe its contents, we cannot distinctly affirm. 
 We only know that he paused suddenly, drew a 
 long and deep breath, and looked anxiously on, as 
 two of the principal members of the Dingley Dell 
 Club approached Mr. Pickwick, and said— 
 » " We are about to partake of a plain dinner at 
 
140 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the Blue Lion, sir; we hope you and your friends 
 will join us." 
 
 "Of course," said Mr. Wardle, "among our 
 friends we include Mijj :" and he looked to- 
 wards the stranger. 
 
 " Jingle," said that versatile gentleman, taking 
 the hint at once. " Jingle— Alfred Jingle, Esq., of 
 N(»iall, Nowhere." 
 
 " I shall be very happy, I am sure," said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 "So shall I," said Mr. Alfred Jingle, drawing 
 one arm through Mr. •Pickwick's, and another 
 through Mr. Wardle's, as he whispered confiden- 
 tially in the ear of the former gentleman: 
 
 "Devilish good dinner— cold, but capital— peeped 
 into the room this morning — fowls and pies, and 
 all that sort of thing — pleasant fellows, theic — well 
 behaved, too — very," 
 
 There being no further preliminaries to arrange, 
 the company straggled into the town in little knots 
 of twos and threes; and within a quarter of an 
 hour were all seated in th.e great room of the Blue 
 Lion Inn, Muggleton — Mr. Dumkins acting as 
 chairman, and Mr. Luffey officiating as vice. 
 
 There was a vast deal of talking, and rattling of 
 knives and forks, aitd plates; a great running about 
 ofthreeponderousheaded waiters, and a rapid disap- 
 pearance of the substantial viands on the table; to 
 each and every of which item of confusion, the fa- 
 cetious Mr. Jingle lent the aid of half-a-dozen ordi- 
 nary men at least. When every body had eat as 
 much as they could, the cloth was removed, bot- 
 tles, glasses, and dessert were placed ou the table: 
 and the waiters withdrev/ to clear "away," or, in 
 other words, to appropriate to their own private 
 use, and emolument, whatever remnants of the 
 eatables and drinkables they could contrive to lay 
 their hands on. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, 141 
 
 Amidst the general hum of mirth and conversa- 
 tion that ensued, there was a little man with a 
 pufly Say-notliing-to-me,-or-ril-contradict-you sort 
 of countenance, who remained very quiet ; occa- 
 sionally looking round him when the conversation 
 slackened, as if he contemplated putting in some- 
 thing very weighty : and now and then bursting 
 into a short cough of inexpressible grandeur. At 
 length, during a moment of comparative silence^ 
 the little man called out in a very loud, solemn 
 voice. 
 
 ''Mr. Luffey.'' 
 
 Every body was hushed into a profound stillness 
 as the individual addressed, replied^ 
 
 " Sir." 
 
 " I wish to address a few words to you sir, if 
 you will entreat the gentlemen to fill their glasses.'^ 
 
 JNIr. Jingle uttered a patronising " hear, hear," 
 which was responded* to, by the remainder of the 
 company : and the glasses having been filled, the 
 vice-president assumed an air of wisdom in a state 
 of profound attention; and said, 
 
 ^' Mr. Staple.'^ 
 
 ^' Sir,^' said the little man, rising, "I wish to ad- 
 dress what I have to say to you and not to our wor- 
 thy chairman, because our worthy chairman is in 
 some measure — I may say in a great degree — the 
 subject of what I have to say, or 1 m,ay say to — to — 
 
 " State," suggested Mr. Jingle. 
 
 "Yes, to state," said the little man, " I thank - 
 my honourable friend, if he will allow me to' call 
 him so — (four hears, and one certainly from Mr. 
 Jingle) — for the suggestion. Sir, I am a Deller — 
 a Dingley Deller, (cheers). I cannot lay claim to 
 the honour of forming an item in the population of 
 Muggleton ; nor, sir, I will frankly admit, do I 
 coyet thc\t honour : and I will tell you why, sir, 
 
142 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 (hear;) to Muggleton I will readily concede all 
 those honours and distinctions to which it can fairly 
 lay claim — they are too nunnerous and too well 
 known to require aid or recapitulation from me. 
 But, sir, while we remember that Muggleton has 
 given birth to a Dumkins and a Fodder, let us 
 never forget that Dingley Dell can boast a Luffey 
 and a Struggles. (Vociferous cheering.) Let me 
 not be considered as wishing to detract from the 
 merits of the former gentlemen. Sir, I envy them 
 the luxury of their own feelings, on this occasion. 
 (Cheers.) Every gentleman who hears me, is pro- 
 bably acquainted with the reply made by an indi- 
 vidual, who — to use an ordinary figure of speech 
 — ' hung out' in a tub, to the Emperor Alexander: 
 — < If I were not Diogenes,' said he, ' I would be 
 Alexander.' I can well imagine these gentlemen 
 to sa}^, ' If I were not Dumkins I would be Luffey; 
 if I were not Fodder I w^ould be Struggles.' (En- 
 thusiasm.) But gentlemen of Muggleton is it in 
 cricket alone that your fellow-townsmen stand 
 pre-eminent ? Have you never heard of Dumkins- 
 and determination ? Have you never been taught 
 to associate Fodder with property? (Great ap- 
 plause.) Have you never, when struggling for 
 your rights, your liberties, and your' privileges, 
 been reduced, if only for an instant, to misgiving 
 and despair ? And when you have been thus de- 
 pressed, has not the name of Dumkins laid afresh 
 within your breast, the fire which had just gone 
 out; and lias not a word from that man, lighted it 
 again as brightly as if it had never expired? 
 (Great cheering.) Gentlemen, I beg you to sur- 
 round with a rich halo of enthusiastic cheering, 
 the united names of 'Dumkins and Fodder.'" 
 
 Here the little man ceased, and here the company 
 commenced a raising of voices, and thumping oi 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 143 
 
 tables, which lasted with little intermission during 
 the remainder of the evening. Other toasts were 
 drunk. Mr. LufFey and Mr. Struggles, Mr. Pick- 
 wick and Mr. Jingle, were, each in his turn, the 
 subject of unqualified eulogium ; and each in due 
 course returned thanks for the honour. 
 
 Enthusiastic as we are in the noble cause to 
 which we have devoted ourselves, we should have 
 felt a sensation of pride which we cannot express, 
 and a consciousness of having done something to 
 merit immortality of which we are now deprived, 
 could w^e have laid the faintest outline of these 
 addresses before our ardent readers. Mr. Snod- 
 gvass, as usual, took a great mass of notes, which 
 would no doubt have aflbrded most useful and 
 valuable information, had not the burning elo- 
 quence of the words, or the feverish influence pf 
 the wine made that gentleman's hand so extremely 
 unsteady, as to render his writing nearly unintelli- 
 gible^ and his style wdioily so. By dint of patient 
 investigation, we have been enabled to trace some 
 characters hearing a faint resemblance to the 
 names of the speakers ; and we can also discern an 
 entry of a song (supposed to have been sung by 
 Mr. Jingfe,) in which the words " bowl " " spark- 
 ling" " ruby" " bright," and " wine" are frequently 
 repeated at short intervals. We fiincy too, that we 
 can discern at the very end of the notes, some in- 
 distinct reference to " broiled bones ;" and then the 
 words " cold" " without" occur: but as any hypo- 
 thesis we could found upon them must necessarily 
 rest upon mere conjecture, we are not disposed to 
 indulge in any of the speculations to which they 
 may give rise. 
 
 We will therefore return to Mr. Tupman; merely 
 adding that within some few minutes before twelve 
 o'clock that night, the convocation of worthies of 
 
144 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Dingley Dell and Muggleton, were heard to sing 
 with great feeling and emphasis, the beautiful and 
 pathetic national air, of 
 
 We~ won't go liome 'till morning", 
 We won't g-o home 'till morning-, 
 % We won't go home 'till niorning, 
 
 •'Till daylight cloth appear. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 145 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 STRON'GLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE POSlTIOiV, THAT THB 
 COURSE OF TRUE LOVE IS NOT A RAILWAY. 
 
 The quiet seclusion of Dingley Dell, the pre- 
 sence of so many of the gentler sex, and the solici- 
 tude and anxiety they evinced in his behalf, were 
 all favourable to the growth and development 
 of those softer feelings which nature had implanted 
 deep in the bosom of Mr. Tracy Tupman, and 
 which now appeared destined to centre in one 
 lovely object. The young ladies were pretty, their 
 manners winning, their dispositions unexceptiona- 
 ble : but there was a dignity in the air, a touch-me- 
 notishness in the walk, a majesty in the eye of the 
 spinster aunt, to which, at their time of life they 
 could lay no claim, which distinguished her 
 from any female on whom Mr. Tupman had ever 
 gazed. That there was something kindred in their 
 nature, something congenial in iheir souls, some- 
 thing mysteriously sympathetic in their bosoms, 
 was evident. Her name was the first that rose to 
 Mr. Tupman's lips as he lay wounded on the grass; 
 and her hysteric laughter, vv^as the first sound that 
 fell upon his ear when he was supported to the 
 house. But had her agitation arisen from an ami- 
 able and feminine sensibility which would have 
 been equally irrepressible in any case; or had it been 
 called forth by a more ardent and passionate feel- 
 ing, which he, of all men living, could alone awa- 
 ken ? These were the doubts which racked his 
 13 
 
146 POSTHUMOUS papers or 
 
 brain as he lay extended on the sofa : these were 
 the doubts which he determined should be at once 
 and for ever resolved. 
 
 " It was evening. Isabella and Emily had strol- 
 led out with Mr. Trundle; the deaf old lady had 
 fallen asleep in her chair ; the snoring of the fat 
 boy, penetrated in a low and monotonous sound 
 from the distant kitchen; the buxom servants were 
 lounging at the side-door, enjoyiog the pleasant- 
 ness of the hour, and the delights of a flirtation, on 
 first principles, wnth certain unwieldy animals at- 
 tached to the farm ; and there sat the interesting 
 pair, uncared for by all, caring for none, and dream- 
 ing only of themselves: there they sat, in short, 
 like a pair of carefully-folded kid-gloves — bound 
 up in each other. 
 
 ^' I have forgotten my flowers," said the spinster 
 aunt. 
 
 " Water them now," said Mr. Tupman, in ac- 
 cents of persuasion. 
 
 '' You will take cold in the evening air," urged 
 the spinster aunt, alTectionately. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Tupman, rising ; " it will do 
 me good. Let me accompany you." 
 
 The lady paused to adjust the sling in which the 
 left arm of the youth was placed, and taking his 
 right arm led him to the garden. 
 
 There was a bower at the farther end, with 
 honeysuckle, jessamine, and creeping plants — one 
 of those sweet retreats, which humane men erect 
 for the accommodation of spiders. 
 
 The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot 
 which lay in one corner, and was about to leave 
 the arbour. Mr. Tupman detained her, and drew 
 her to a scat beside him. 
 
 " Miss Wardle !" said he. 
 
 The spinster aunt trembled, till some pebbles 
 which had accidentally found their way into the 
 large watering-pot, shook like an infant's rattle. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUE- 147 
 
 "Miss Wardle," said Mr, Tupman, "you are 
 an angel.*' 
 
 "Mr, Tupman!" exclaimed Rachael, blushing as 
 red as the watering-pot itself. 
 
 " JVaj," said the eloquent Pickwickian — "I know 
 it but too well." 
 
 " Ail women are angels, they say," murmured 
 the lady, playfully. 
 
 '^ Then what can you be; Or to what, without pre- 
 sumption can I compare you?' replied Mr. Tupman. 
 " Where .was the woman ever seen who resembled 
 you'l Where else could I hope to find so rare a 
 combination of excellence and beauty? Where else 
 
 coiild I seek to Oh!" Here Mr. Tupman paused 
 
 and presse'd the hand which clasped the handle of 
 the happy watering-pot. 
 
 The lady turned aside her head. " Men are 
 such deceivers,^' she softly whispered. 
 
 " They are, they are," ejaculated Mr. Tupman; 
 "but not all men. There lives at least one being 
 who can never change — one being who would be 
 content to devote his whole existence to your 
 happiness — who lives but in your eyes — who 
 breathes but in your smiles — who bears the heavy 
 burden of life itself only for you." 
 
 "Could such an individual be found," said the 
 lady— - 
 
 "But he ca7i be found," said the ardent Mr. 
 Tupman, interposing. . He is found. He is here, 
 Miss Wardle." And ere the lady was aware of 
 his intention, Mr. Tupman had sunk upon his knees 
 at her feet. 
 
 "Mr. Tupman, rise," said Rachael 
 
 "Never!" was the valorous reply. "Oh, Ra- 
 chael !" — He seized her passive hand, and the wa- 
 tering-pot fell to the ground as he pressed it to his 
 lips. — "Oh, Rachael! say you love me." 
 *'Mr. Tupman," said thespinsterauntj with Averts- 
 
14S POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ed head — "I can hardly speak the words; but — 
 but — you are not wholly indifferent lo me." 
 
 Mr. Tupman no sooner heard this avowal, than 
 he proceeded to do what his enthusiastic emotions 
 prompted, and what, for aught w^e know, (for we 
 are but little acquainted with such matters,) peo- 
 ple so circumstanced always do. He jumped up, 
 and, throwing his arm round the neck of the spin- 
 ster aunt, imprinted upon her lips numerous kisses, 
 which after a due show of struggling and resistance, 
 she received so passively, that there is no telling 
 how many more Mr. Tupman might have bestow-. 
 ed, if the lady had not given a very unafTected start 
 and exclaimed in an affrighted tone, — 
 
 " Mr. Tupman, we are observed ! — we are dis- 
 covered 1" 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked round. There was the fat . 
 boy, perfectly motionless, with his large circular 
 eyes staring into the arbour, but without the 
 slightest expression on his face that the most ex- 
 pert physiognomist could have referred to astonish- 
 ment, curiosity, or any other known passion that 
 agitates the human breast. Mr. Tupman gazed on 
 the fat boy, and the fat boy stared at him ; and the 
 longer Mr. Tupman observed the utter vacancy of 
 the fat boy's countenance, the more convinced he 
 became that he either did not know or did not un- 
 derstand any thing that had been ^oing forward. 
 Under this impression, he said with great firm- 
 ness, — 
 
 " What do you want here, sir?" 
 
 " Supper's ready, sir," was the prompt reply. 
 
 " Have you just come here, sir?" inquired Mr. 
 Tupman with a piercing look. 
 
 " Just," replied the fat boy. 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard again t 
 but there was not a wink in his eye, or a curve in 
 his face. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 149 
 
 _ Mr. Tupman look the arm of the spinster aunt, 
 and walked towards the house ; the fat boy follow- 
 ed behind. 
 
 " He knows nothing of what lias happened," he 
 whispered. 
 
 "Nothing," said the spinster aunt. 
 
 There was a sound behind them, as of an im- 
 perfectly suppressed chuckle. Mr. Tupman turned 
 sharpiy round. No; it could not hav^e been the 
 fat boy; there was not a gleam of mirth, or any 
 thing but feeding, in his whole visage. 
 
 " He must have been A^st asleep," whispered Mr. 
 Tupman. 
 
 "I have not the least doubt of it," replied the 
 spinster aunt. 
 
 They both laughed heartily. 
 
 Mr. Tupman was wrong. The fat boy, for 
 once, had not been fast asleep. He was awake — 
 wide awake — to what had been going forward. 
 
 The supper passed off without any attempt at a 
 general conversation. The old lady had gone to 
 bed; Isabella VVardle devoted herself exclusively 
 to Mr. Trundle ; the spinster aunt^s attentions were 
 reserved for Mr. Tupman; and Emily's thoughts 
 appeared to be engrossed by som.e distant object 
 — possibly they were with the absent Snodgrass. 
 
 Eleven — twelve— one o'clock had struck, and 
 the gentlemen had not arrived. Consternation sat 
 on every face. Could they have been waylaid and 
 robbed'^ Should they send men and lanterns in 
 every direction by which they could be supposed 
 likely to have travelled home? or should they — 
 Hark ! there they were. What could have made 
 them so late? A strange voice, too! To whom 
 could it belong? They rushed into the kitchen 
 whither the truants had repaired, and at once ob- 
 tained rather more than a glimmering of the real 
 state of the case. 
 
 13* 
 
150 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS Og 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, with his hands in his pockets and 
 his hat cocked completely over his left eye, was 
 leaning against the dresser, s^haking his head from 
 side to side, and producing a constant succession 
 of the blandest and most benevolent smiles with- 
 out being moved thereunto by any discernible 
 cause or pretence whatsoever; old Mr. Wardle, 
 with a highly inflamed countenance, was grasping 
 the hand of a strange gentleman, muttering pro- 
 testations of eternal friendship; Mr. Winkle, sup- 
 porting himself by the eight-day clock, was feebly 
 invoking destruction upon the head of any member 
 of the family who should suggest the propriety of 
 his retiring for the night ; and Mr. Snodgrass had 
 sunk into a chair, with an expression of the most 
 abject and hopeless misery that the human mind 
 can imagine, portrayed in every lineament of his 
 expressive face. 
 
 "Is any thing the matter?' inquired the three 
 ladies. 
 
 "Nothin' the matter," replied Mr. Pickwick. — 
 " We — we're — all right. I say, Wardle, we're all 
 right, ain't we?" 
 
 " 1 should think so," replied the jolly host. "My 
 dears, here's my friend Mr. Jingle — Mr. Pickwick's 
 friend, Mr* Jingle — come 'pon little visit.'* 
 
 " Is any thing the matter with Mr. Snodgrass, 
 sir?" inquired Emily, with great anxiety. 
 
 "Nothing the matter, ma'am," replied the stran- 
 ger. "Cricket dinner— glorious parly — capital 
 songs — old port — claret — good — very good — wine, 
 ma'am — wine." 
 
 " It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass, 
 m a broken voice. " It was the salmon." (Some- 
 how or other, it never is the wine, in these cases.) 
 
 " Hadn't they better go to bed, ma'am ?" inquired 
 Emma. " Two of the boys will carry the gentle- 
 men up stairs." 
 
THE PICKWICK CL.UB. 151 
 
 ^'1 won't go to bed," said Mr. Winkle, firmly. 
 
 '* No living boy shall carry me," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, stoutly; — and he went on smiling as before. 
 
 " Hurrah !" gasped Mr. Winkle, faintly. 
 
 "Hurrah!" echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off' his 
 hat and dashing it on the floor, and insanely cast- 
 ing his spectacles into the middle of the kitchen. — 
 At this humorous feat he laughed outright. 
 
 '•Let's — have — 'nother — bottle,'^ cried Mr. Win- 
 kle, commencing in a very loud key, and ending in 
 a very faint one. His head dropped upon his 
 breast ; and muttering his invincible determination 
 not to go to his bed, and a sanguinary regret that 
 he had not 'done for old Tupman' in the morning, 
 he fell fast asleep; in which condition he was borne 
 to his apartment by two young giants, under the 
 personal superintendence of the fat boy, to whose 
 protecting care Mr. Snodgrass shortly afterwards 
 confided his own person. Mr, Pickwick accepted 
 the proffered arm of Mr. Tupman, and quietly 
 disappeared, smiling more than ever; and Mr. 
 Wardle, after taking as affectionate a leave of the 
 whole family as if he were ordered for immediate 
 execution, consigned to Mr. Trundle the honour of 
 conveying him up stairs, and retired, with a very 
 futile attempt to look impressively solemn and dig- 
 nified. 
 
 " What a shocking scene !" said the spinster 
 aunt. 
 
 " Disgusting !" ejaculated both the young ladies. 
 
 "Dreadful — dreadful !" said Jingle looking very 
 grave: he was about a bottle and a half ahead of 
 any of his companions. " Horrid spectacle — 
 very.'' 
 
 " What a nice man !" whispered the spinster aunt 
 to Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Good-looking, too!" whispered Emily Wardle. 
 
 " Oh, decidedly," observed the spinster aunt. 
 
152 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 Mr. Tupman thought of the widow of Roches- 
 ter; and liis mind was troubled. The succeeding 
 half-hour's conversation was not of a nature to 
 calm his perturbed spirit. The new visiter was 
 very talkative, and the number of his anecdotes 
 was only to be exceeded by the extent of his po- 
 liteness. Mr. Tupman felt, that, as Jingle's popu- 
 larity increased, he (Tupman) retired farther into 
 the shade. His laughter was forced — his merriment 
 feigned ; and when at last he laid his aching tem- 
 ples between the sheets, he thought, with horrid 
 delight, on the satisfiictioTi it would alFoi'd him, to 
 have Jingle's head at that moment between the 
 feather bed and the mattress. 
 
 The indefatigable stranger rose betimes next 
 morning, and, although his companions remained 
 in bed overpowered with the dissipation of the pre- 
 vious night, exej-tcd himself most successfully to 
 promote the hilarity of the breakfast-table. So 
 successful were his eflbrts, that even the deaf old 
 lady insisted on having one or two of his best jokes 
 retailed through the trumpet; and even she con- 
 descended to observe to the spinster aunt, that, "he" 
 (meaning Jingle) " w'as an impudent young fellow" 
 — a sentiment in which all her relations then and 
 there present thoroughly coincided. 
 
 It was the old lady's habit on the fine summer 
 mornings to repair to the arbour in which Mr. 
 Tupman had already signalized himself in form 
 and manner following: — first, the lat boy fetched 
 from a peg behind the old lady's bed-room door, a 
 close black satin bonnet, a warm cotton shawl, and 
 a thick stick with a capacious handle; and the old 
 lady having put on the bonnet and shawl at her 
 leisure, would lean one ha«d on the stick and the 
 other on the fat boy's shoulder, and walk leisurely 
 to the arbour, where the fat boy would leave her 
 to enjoy the fresh air for the space of half an hour ; 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 153 
 
 at the expiration of which time he would return 
 and re-conduct her back to the house. 
 
 The old hidy was very precise and very parti- 
 cular; and as this ceremony had been observed for 
 three successive summers without the slightest de- 
 viation from the accustomed form, she was not a 
 little surprised on this particular morning, to see 
 the fat boy, instead of leaving the arbour, walk a 
 few paces out of it, look carefully round him in 
 every direction, and return towards her with great 
 stealth and an air of the most profound mystery. 
 
 The old lady was timorous — most old ladies are 
 - — and her first impression was that the bloated lad 
 was about to do her some grievous bodily harm 
 with the view of possessing himself of her loose 
 coin. She would have cried for assistance, but age 
 and infirmity had long ago deprived her of the 
 power of screaming; she, therefore, watched his 
 motions with feelings of intense terror, which were 
 in no degree diminished by his coming up close to 
 her, and shouting in her ear in an agitated, and as 
 k,seemed to her, a threatening tone,— - 
 
 "Missus!" 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Jingle was walk- 
 ing in the garden close to the arbour at this mo- 
 ment. He too heard the shout of "Missus," and 
 stopped to h^ar more. There were three reasons 
 for his doing so. In the first place he was idle and 
 curious ; secondly, he was by no means scrupulous; 
 thirdly, and lastly, he was concealed from view by 
 some flowering shrubs. So there he stood, and 
 there he listened. 
 
 "Missus," shouted the fat boy. 
 
 " Well Joe," said the trembling old lady. " Fm 
 sure I have been a good mistress to you, Joe. You 
 have invariably been treated very kindly. You 
 have never had too much to do; and you have al- 
 ways had enough to eat." 
 
154 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 This last was an appeal to the fat boy's most 
 sensitive feelings. He seemed touched as he re- 
 plied, emphatically, — 
 
 " I knows I has." 
 
 " Then what can you want to do now?" said the 
 old lad}^ gaining courage. 
 
 " I wants to make your flesh creep," replied the 
 boy. 
 
 This sounded like a very blood-thirsty mode of 
 showing one's gratitude; and as the old lady did 
 not precisely understand the process by which such 
 a result was to be attained, all her former horrors 
 returned. 
 
 " What do you think I see in this very arbour 
 last night?" inquired the boy. 
 
 "Bless us! What?" exclaimed the old lady, 
 alarmed at the solemn manner of the corpulent 
 youth. 
 
 " The strange gentleman — him as had his arm 
 hurt — a kissin' and huggin' " 
 
 "Who, Joe — who? None of the servants, I 
 hope." 
 
 " Worser than that," roared the fat boy, in the 
 old lady's ear. 
 
 " Not one of my grand-da'aters ?" 
 
 " Worser than that." 
 
 "Worse than that, Joe!" said the old lad}^ who 
 had thought this the extreme limit of human atro- 
 city. "Who w-as it, Joe? I insist upon know- 
 ing." 
 
 Tlie f\it boy looked cautiously round, and having 
 concluded liis survey, shouted in the old lady's 
 ear, — 
 
 " Miss Rachael." 
 
 '^ W^hat ?" said the old lady, in a shrill tone. 
 " Speak louder." 
 
 " Miss Rnchael," roared the fat boy. 
 
 "Myda'aler!" 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 155 
 
 The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way 
 of assent, communicated 3. bla7ic-mange Wke motion 
 to liis fat cheeks. 
 
 " And she suffered him !" exclaimed the old 
 lady. 
 
 A grin stole over the fat boy's features as he 
 said, — 
 
 " I see her a kissin' of him agin." 
 
 If Mr. Jingle from his place of concealment, 
 could have beheld the expression wliich the old 
 lady's face assumed at this communication, the pro- 
 bability is that a sudden burst of laughter would 
 have betrayed his close vicinity to the summer- 
 house. He listened attentively. Fragments of angry 
 sentences such as, " Without my pcrm.ission !" — 
 '' At her time of life ''^ — " Miserable old 'ooman like 
 me" — "Might have waited till I was dead," and 
 so fortfi, reached his ear ; and then he heard the 
 heels of the fat boy's boots crunching the gravel, 
 as he retired and left the old lady alone. 
 
 It was a remarkable coincidence perhaps, but it 
 was nevertheless a fact that Mr. Jingle, within five 
 minutes after his arrival at Manor Farm on the 
 preceding night, had inwardly resolved to lay siege 
 to the heart of the spinster aunt, without delay. 
 He had observation enough to see, that hisofF-hand 
 manner was by no means disagreeable to the fair 
 object of his attack; and he had more than a strong 
 suspicion that she possessed that most desirable of 
 all requisites, a small independence. The impera- 
 tive necessity of ousting his rival by some means 
 or other, flashed quickh^ upon him, and he imme- 
 diately resolved to adopt certain proceedings tend- 
 ing to that end and object, without a moment's de- 
 lay. Fielding tells us that man is fire, and woman 
 tow, and the Prince of Darkness sets a light to 
 ^em. Mr. Jingle knew that young men, to spin- 
 ster aunts, areas lighted gas to gunpowder, and he 
 
156 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 determined to essay the effect of an explosion with- 
 out loss of time. 
 
 Full of reflection upon this important decision,, 
 he crept from his place of concealment, and, under 
 cover of the shrubs before mentioned, approached 
 the house. Fortune seemed determined to favour 
 his design. Mr. Tupman and (he rest of the gen- 
 tlemen left the garden by the side gate just as he 
 obtained a view of it; and the young ladies, he 
 knew, had walked out alone, soon after breakfast. 
 The coast was clear. 
 
 The breakfast-parlour door was partially open. 
 He peeped in. The spinster aunt was knitting. 
 He coughed ; she looked up and smiled. Hesita- 
 tion formed no part of Mr. Alfred Jingle's charac- 
 ter. He laid his finger on his lips mysteriously, 
 walked in, and closed the door. 
 
 " Miss Wardle," said Mr. Jingle, with affected 
 earnestness, " forgive intrusion — short acquaintance 
 -^no time for ceremony — all discovered." 
 
 " Sir!" said the spinster aunt, rather astonished 
 by the unexpected apparition and somewhat doubt- 
 ful of Mr. Jingle's sanity. 
 
 " Hush !" said Mr. Jingle, in a stage whisper; — 
 "large boy — dumpling face — round eyes — rascal!" 
 Here he shook his head expressively, and the spin- 
 ster aunt trembled wnth agitation. 
 
 "I presume you allude to Joseph, sir?" said the 
 lady, making an effort to appear composed. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am — d — n that Joe ! — treacherous 
 dog, Joe — told the old lady — old lady furious — 
 wild — raving — arbour — Tupman — kissing and 
 hugging — all that sort of thing — eh, ma'am — eh?" 
 
 "Mr. Jingle," said the spinster aunt, " if you 
 come here sir, to insult me " 
 
 " Not at all — by no means," replied the una- 
 bashed Mr. Jingle: — "overheard the tale — came 
 to warn you of your danger — tender my service* 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 157 
 
 — prevent the hubbub. Never mind — think it an 
 insult — leave the room" — and lie turned, as if to 
 carry the threat into execution. 
 
 " What shall I do !" said the poor spinster, burst- 
 ing into tears. •' My brother will be furious!" 
 
 "Of course he will," said Mr. Jingle, pausing-^ 
 "outrageous." 
 
 " Oh Mr. Jingle, wbatta7^ 1 say !" exclaimed the 
 spinster aunt, in another flood of despair. 
 
 " Say he dreamt it," replied Mr. Jingle, coolly. 
 
 A ray of comfort darted across the mind of the 
 spinster aunt at this suggestion. Mr. Jingle per- 
 ceived it, and followed up his advantage. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! — nothing more easy — blackguard 
 boy — lovely woman — fat boy horsewhipped — you 
 believed — end of the matter — all comfortable." 
 
 Whether the probability of escaping from the 
 consequences of this ill-timed discovery was de- 
 lightful to the spinster's feelings, or whether the 
 hearing herself described as a "lovely woman" 
 softened the asperity of her grief, we know not. 
 She blushed slightly, and cast a grateful look on 
 Mr. Jingle. 
 
 That insinuating gentleman sighed deeply, fixed 
 his eyes on the spinster aunt's face for a couple of 
 minutes, started melo-dramalically, and suddenly 
 withdrew them. 
 
 " You seem unhappy, Mr. Jingle," said the lady, 
 in a plaintive voice. " May I show my gratitude 
 for your kind interference, by inquiring into the 
 cause, with a view, if possible, to its removaH" 
 
 "Hal" exclaimed Mr. Jingle, with another start 
 — "removal! remove my unhappiness, and your 
 love bestowed upon a man who is insensible to the 
 blessing — who even now contemplates a design 
 upon the affections of the niece of the creature 
 who — but no; he is my friend; I will not expose 
 his vices. Miss Wardle — farewell !" At the con- 
 14 
 
153 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 elusion of this address, the most consecutive lie 
 was ever known to utter, Mr. Jingle applied to his 
 eyes the renanant of a handkerchief before noticed, 
 and turned towards the door. 
 
 " Stay, Mr. Jingle !" said the spinster aunt em- 
 phatically. "You have made an allusion to Mr. 
 Tupman — explain it." 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed Jingle, with a professional 
 (i. e. theatrical) air. "Never!" and, by way of 
 showing that he had no desire to be questioned 
 farther, he drew a chair close to that of the spins- 
 ter aunt and sat down. 
 
 "Mr. Jingle," said the aunt, "I entreat — I im- 
 plore you, if there is any dreadful mystery con- 
 nected with Mr. Tupman, reveal it." 
 ^"Can I," said Mr. Jingle, fixing his eyes on the 
 aunt's face — "Can I see — lovely creature — sacri- 
 ficed at the shrine — heartless avarice!" He ap- 
 peared to be struggling with various conflicting 
 emotions for a few seconds, and then said in a low 
 deep voice — "Tupman only wants your money." 
 "The wretch!" exclaimed the spinster, with 
 energetic indignation. (Mr. Jingle's doubts were 
 resolved. She had money.) 
 
 " More than that," said Jingle — " loves another." 
 "Another!" ejaculated the spinster. "Who?" 
 " Short girl — black eyes — niece Emily." 
 There was a pause. 
 
 Now if there were one individual in the whole 
 world, of whom the spinster aunt entertained a 
 mortal and deeply-rooted je;ilousy, it was this 
 identical niece. The colour rushed over licr face 
 and neck, and she tossed her head in silence with 
 an air of ineffable contempt. At last biting her 
 thin lips, and bridling up, she said, — 
 " It can't be. I won't believe it." 
 " Watch 'em," said Jingle. 
 "I will," said the aunt. 
 
THE PLCKVVICK CLUB. 159 
 
 " Watch his looks." 
 
 ''I will." 
 
 " His whispers." 
 
 "I will." 
 
 '' He'll sit next her at table." 
 
 "Let him." 
 
 " He'll flatter her." 
 
 '' Let him." 
 
 '•' He'll pay her every possible attention." 
 
 " Let him." 
 
 "And he'll cut you." 
 
 "Cut me/" screamed the spinster aunt. "He 
 cut me — will he !" and she trembled with rage and 
 disappointment. 
 
 " You will convince yourself!" said Jingle. 
 
 '«I will.'^ 
 
 " You'll show your spirit?" 
 
 "I will." 
 
 " You'll not have him afterwards ?' 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " You'll take somebody else ?' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You shall." 
 
 Mr. Jingle fell on his knees, remained thereupon 
 for five minutes thereafter; and rose the accepted 
 lover of the spinster aunt — conditionally upon Tup- 
 man's perjury being made clear and manifest. 
 
 The burden of proof lay with Mr. Alfred Jin- 
 gle ; and he produced his evidence that very day 
 at dinner. The spinster aunt could hardly believe 
 her eyes. Mr. Tracy Tupman was established at 
 Emily's side, ogling, whispering, and smiling, in 
 opposition to Mr. Snodgrass. Not a word, not a 
 look, not a glance, did he bestow upon his heart's 
 pride of the evening before. 
 
 " D — n that boy !" thought old Wardle to him- 
 self. He had heard the story from his mother. 
 
160 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " D — n that boy ! He must have been asleep. It's 
 all imagination.'^ 
 
 "Traitor!'' thought the spinster aunt to herself. 
 *Dear Mr. Jingle was not deceiving me. Oh ! how 
 I hate the wretch !" 
 
 The following conversation may serve to explain 
 to our readers this apparently unaccountable alter- 
 ation of deportment on the part of Mr. Tracy Tup- 
 man. 
 
 The time was evening ; the scene the garden. 
 There were two figures walking in a side path ; 
 one was rather short and stout — the other rather 
 tall and slim. They were Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Jingle. The stout figure commenced the dia- 
 logue. 
 
 " How did I do it V he inquired. 
 
 " Splendid— capital — couldn't act better myself. 
 You must repeat the part to morrow — every even- 
 ing, till farther notice." 
 
 "Does Rachael still wish it?" 
 
 " Of course — she don't like it — but must be done 
 — avert suspicion — afraid of her brother — says 
 there's no help for it— only few days more — when 
 old folks blinded crown your happiness." 
 
 " Any message?" 
 
 "Love — best love — kindest regards — unaltera- 
 ble affection. Can I say any thing for you?" 
 
 " My dear fellow," replied the unsuspicious Mr. 
 Tupman, fervently grasping his " friend's " hand — 
 " carry my best love — say how hard I find it to 
 dissemble — say any thing that's kind ; but add 
 how sensible 1 am of the necessity of the sugges- 
 tion she made to me, through you, this morning. 
 Say 1 applaud her wisdom, and admire her discre- 
 tion." 
 
 " I will. Any thing more !" 
 
 ^' Nothing ; only add how ardently I long for 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 161 
 
 the time when I may call her mine, and all dissi- 
 mulation may be unnecessary." 
 
 '•Certainly, certainly. Any thing more?" 
 
 "Oh, my friend !" said poor Mr. Tupman, again 
 grasping the hand of his companion; "receive my 
 warmest thanks for your disinterested kindness; 
 and forgive me if I have ever, even in thought, 
 done you the injustice of supposing that you could 
 stand in my way. My dear friend, can I ever re- 
 pay you T" 
 
 "Don't talk of it," replied Mr. Jingle. He 
 stopped short, as if suddenly recollecting some- 
 thing, and said — "By-the-by, you can't spare ten 
 pounds, can you? — very particular purpose — pay 
 you in three days." 
 
 " I dare say J can," replied Mr. Tupman, in the 
 fulness of his heart. " Three days, you say?" 
 
 " Only three days — all over then— no more diffi- 
 culties." 
 
 Mr. Tupman counted the money into his compa- 
 nion's hand, and he dropped it piece by piece into 
 his pocket, as they walked towards the house. 
 
 "Be careful," said Mr. Jingle — "not a look." 
 
 "Not a wink," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Not a syllable.'' 
 
 " Not a whisper." 
 
 " All your attentions to the niece — rather rude, 
 than otherwise, to the aunt — only way of deceiving 
 the old ones." 
 
 "I'll take care," said Mr. Tupman, aloud. 
 
 " And I'll take care," said Mr. Jingle, internally; 
 and they entered the house. 
 
 The scene of that afternoon was repeated that 
 evening, and on the three afternoons and eveninsjs 
 next ensuing. On the fourth, the host was in high 
 spirits, for he had satisfied himself that there was 
 no ground for the charge against Mr. Tupman. So 
 was Mr. Tupman, for Mr. Jingle had told him that 
 14* 
 
162, POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 liis affair would soon be brought to a crisis. So 
 was Mr. Pickwick, for he was seldom otherwise. 
 So was not Mr. Snodgrass, for he had grown jealous 
 of Mr. Tupman. So was the old lady, for she had 
 been winning at whist. So were Mr. Jingle and 
 Miss Wardle, for reasons of sufficient importance 
 in this eventful history, to be narrated in another 
 chapter. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 1.63 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DISCOVERY AND A CHASE.. 
 
 The supper was ready laid, the chairs were 
 drawn round the table, bottles, jugs and glasses 
 were arranged upon the sideboard, and every thing 
 betokened the approach of the most convivial pe-. 
 riod in tlie whole four and twenty hours. 
 
 "Where's Rachaen" said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 "Ay, and Jingle?' added Mi% Pickwick. 
 
 " Dear me," said the host, "I wonder I haven't 
 rnissed him before. Why, I don't think Pve heard 
 his voice for (wo hours at least. Emily, my dear, 
 ring the bell." 
 
 The bcli was rung, and the fat boy appeared. 
 
 '•' Vv here's Miss Rachael?' He couldn't say. 
 
 '' Where's Mr. Jingle, then ?" He didn't kno\v. 
 
 Every body looked surprised.- It was late — 
 past eleven o'clock. Mr. Tupman laughed in his. 
 sleeve. They were loitering some where, talking 
 about him. Ha, ha ! capital notion that — funny. 
 
 " Never mind," said VVardle, after a short pause, 
 "they'll turn up presently, 1 dare say. 1 never 
 wait supper for any body.'* 
 
 " Excellent rule,' that,'' said Mr. Pickwick, " ad-, 
 mirablc." 
 
 "Pray, sit down," said the host. 
 
 " Certainly," said JMr. Pickwick : and down they 
 sat. 
 
 There was a gigantic round of cold Keef on tho 
 
1G4 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 table, and Mi\ Pickwick was supplied with a plen- 
 tiful portion of it. He had raised his fork to his 
 lips, and was on the very point of opening his 
 mouth for the reception of a piece of beef, when 
 the hum of many voices suddenly arose in the 
 kitchen. He paused, and laid down his fork. Mr. 
 Wardle paused too, and insensibly released his 
 hold of the carving-knife, which remained inserted 
 in the beef. He looked at Mr. Pickwick. Mr. 
 Pickwick looked at him. 
 
 Heavy footsteps were heard in the passage; the 
 parlour door was suddenly burst open; and the 
 man who had cleaned Mr. Pickwick's boots on his 
 first arrival, rushed into the room,, followed by the 
 fat boy, and all the domestics. 
 
 "What's the meaning of all this?" exclaimed 
 the host. 
 
 '• The kitchen chimney ain't a-fire, is it, Emma?" 
 inquired the old lady. 
 
 '* Oh, grandma ! no," screamed both the young 
 ladies. 
 
 "What's the matter?" roared the master of the 
 house. 
 
 The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejacu- 
 lated— 
 
 "They ha' gone, mas'r!^ — gone right clean off, 
 sir!"- (At this juncture, Mr. Tupman was ob- 
 served to lay down his knife and fork, and to turn 
 very pale.) 
 
 " Who^s ^one?"said Mr. Wardle fiercely. 
 
 " Mus'r Jingle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, 
 from Blue Lion, Muggleton. I was there; but 
 I couldn't stop 'em: so I run off to tell 'ee." 
 
 ^' I paid his expenses !" said Mr. Tupman, jump- 
 ing up frantically. " He's got ten pounds of mine I 
 stop him ! — he's swindled me ! — I wont bear it ! — 
 ril have justice, Pickwick ! — I wont stand it I" 
 and with ^sundry incoherent exclamations of the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 165 
 
 like nature, the unhappy gentleman spun round and 
 round the apartment, in a trans-port of frenzy. 
 
 "Lord preserve LIS !" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, 
 eyeing the extraordinary gestures of his friend 
 with terrified surprise. "He's gone mad! What 
 shall we do?' 
 
 " Do !" said the stout old host, who regarded 
 only the last words of the sentence. "Put the 
 horse in the gig ! Pll get a chaise at the Lion, 
 and follow 'em instantly. "Where" — he exclaimed, 
 as the man ran out to execute the commission — 
 "Where's that villain, Joe?" 
 
 "Here I am ; but I han't a villain," replied a 
 voice. It was the fat boy's. 
 
 "Let me get at him, Pickwick!" cried Wardle, 
 as he rushed at <he ill-starred youth. " He was 
 bribed by (hat scoundrel, Jingle, to put me on a 
 wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-a-bull story of 
 my sister and your friend Tnpman !" (Here Mr. 
 Tupman sunk into a chair.) " Let me get at him!" 
 
 " Don't let him !" screamed all the women, above 
 whose exclamations, the blubbering of the fat boy 
 was distinctly audible. 
 
 " I won't be held !" cried the old man. " Mr. 
 Winkle, take your hands off! Mr. Pickwick, let 
 me go, sir!" 
 
 It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of tur- 
 moil and confusion, to behold the placid and phi- 
 losophical expression of Mr. Pickwick's face, albeit 
 somewhat flushed with exertion, as he stood with 
 his arms firmly clasped round the extensive waist 
 of their corpulent host, thus restraining the im- 
 petuosity of his passion, while the fat boy was 
 scratched, and pulled, and pushed from the room 
 by all the females congregated therein, He had 
 no sooner released his hojd, than the man entered 
 to announce that the gig was ready. 
 
616 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 '' Don't let him go alone !'' screamed the females. 
 *a-Je'll kill somebody!" 
 
 <'?!! go with him," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' You're a good fellow, Pickwick," said the host, 
 grasping his liaiid. '-Emma, give Mr. Pickwick a 
 shawl to tie round his neck — make haste. Look 
 after your grandmother, girls; she's fainted away. 
 Now then, are you ready?" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick*s mouth and chin, having been 
 hastily enveloped \u a large shawl : his hat having 
 been put on his head, and his great coat thrown 
 over his arm, he replied in the affirmative. 
 
 They jumped into the gig. "Give her, her 
 head, Tom," cried the host; and away they went, 
 down the narrow lanes : jolting in and out of the 
 cart-ruts, and bumping up against the hedges on 
 either side, as if tliey would go to pieces every 
 moment. 
 
 "How much are they a-head?" shouted Wardle, 
 as they drove up to the door of the Blue Lion, 
 round which a little crowd had collected, late as 
 it was. 
 
 "Not above three quarters of an hour," was 
 every body's reply. 
 
 "Chaise and four directly! — out with 'em! Put 
 up the gig afterwards." 
 
 " Now, boys !" cried the landlord — " chaise and 
 four out — make haste — look alive there!" 
 
 Away ran the hostlers and the boys. The lan- 
 terns glimmered, as the men ran to and fro; the 
 horses' hoofs clattered on the uneven paving of the 
 yard; the chaise rumbled as it was drawn out of 
 the coachhouse ; and all was noise and bustle. 
 
 "Now then ! — Is that chaise coming out to- 
 night?' cried Wardle. 
 
 "Coming down the yard now, sir," replied the 
 hostler. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 167 
 
 Out came the chaise — in went the horses — on 
 sprung the boys — in got the travellers. 
 
 " Mind — the seven-mile stage in less than half an 
 hour!" shouted Wardle. 
 
 "Off with you!'' 
 
 The boys applied whip and spur, the waiters 
 shouted, the hostler cheered, and away they went, 
 fast and furiously. 
 
 " Pretty situation,*' thought Mr. Pickwick, wjien 
 he had had a moment's time for reflection. " Pret- 
 ty situation for the General Chairman of the Pick- 
 wick Club. Damp chaise — strange horses — fifteen 
 miles an hour, and twelv^e o'clock at night I'' 
 
 For the first three or four miles, not a word was 
 spoken by either of the gentlemen, each being too 
 much immersed in his own refiections, to address 
 any observations to his companion. When they 
 had gone over that much ground, however, and 
 the horses, getting thoroughly warmed, began to 
 do their work in really good style, Mr. Pickwick 
 became too much exhilarated with the rapidity of 
 the motion, to remain any longer perfectly mute. 
 
 *' We're sure to catch them, 1 think," said he. 
 
 " Hope so," replied his companion. 
 
 "Fine night," said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at 
 the moon, which was shining brightly. 
 
 "So much the worse," returned Wardle; "for 
 they'll have had all the advantage of the mooniight- 
 to get the start of us, and we shall lose it. it \\\\\ 
 have gone dow!i in another hour." 
 
 "It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate 
 in the dark, won't it?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "I dare say it will," replied his friend, drily. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's temporary excitement began to 
 sober down a little, as he reflected upon the incon- 
 veniences and dangers of the expedition in which 
 lie had so thoughtlessly embarked. He was roused 
 by a loud shouting of the post-boy on the leader. 
 
168 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 *' Yo, yo^ yo, yo, yce !" went the fir&t boy. 
 
 " Y'o, yo, yo, yoe !" went the second. 
 
 " Yo, yo, yo, yoel" chimed in old Wardle him- 
 self, most lustily', with his head and half his body 
 out of the coach window. 
 
 " Yo, yo, yo, yoe !" shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking 
 up the burden of the cry, though he had not the 
 slightest notion of its meaning or object. And 
 amidst the yo yoing of the whole four, the chaise 
 stopped. 
 
 " What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " There's a gate here," replied old Wardle. " We 
 shall hear something of the fugitives." 
 
 After a lapse of five minutes, cotisumed in in- 
 cessant knocking and shouting, an old man in his 
 shirt and trousers emerged from the turnpike- 
 house, and opened the gate. 
 
 " How long is it since a post-chaise went through 
 here?' inquired Mr. Wardle. 
 
 '^ How long?' 
 
 u Ah !" 
 
 " Why, I don't rightly know. It worn't a long 
 time ago, nor it worn't a short time ago — ^just be- 
 tween the two, perhaps." 
 
 " Has any chaise been by at all?' 
 
 '•Oh yes, there's been a chay by." 
 
 " How long ago, my friend," interposed Mr. 
 Pickvk'ick ; " an hour?' 
 
 " Ah, I dare say it might be," replied the man. 
 
 " Or two hours?' inquired the post-boy on the 
 wheeler. 
 
 "Well, I shoiildn't wonder if it was," returned 
 the old man, doubtfully. 
 
 "Drive on, boys," cried the testy old gentle- 
 man; "don't waste any more time with that old 
 idiot !" 
 
 " Idiot!" exclaimed the old man, with a grin, as 
 he stood in the middle of the road, with the gale 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 16«J 
 
 half closed, watching the chaise, which rapidly di- 
 minished in the increasing distance. "No — not 
 much o' that either; you've lost ten miiiates here, 
 and gone away as wise as you came arter all. If 
 every man on the line as has" a guinea give him 
 earns it half as well you, v/on't catch t'other chay 
 this side J.liclrhiias, old short and fat.'' And, with 
 another prolonged grin, the old man closed the 
 gate, re-entered his house, and bolted the door after 
 him. 
 
 Mean while the chaise proceeded, without any 
 slackening of pace, towards the conclusion of the 
 stage. The moon, as^ Wardle had foretold, was 
 rapidly on the wane; large tiers of dark heavy 
 clouds which had been gradually overspreading 
 the sky for some time past, now formed one hlack 
 mass overhead ; and large drops of rain which 
 pattered every now and then against the win- 
 dows of the chaise, seemed to warn the travel- 
 lers of the rapid aj^proach of a stormy night. The 
 wind, too, which was directly against them, swept 
 in furious gusts down the narrow road, and howled 
 dismally through the trees v>'hich skirted the path- 
 way. Mr. Pickwick drew his coat closer about 
 him, coiled himself more snugly up into the cor- 
 ner of the chaise, and fell into a sound sleep, from 
 which he was only awakened by the stopping of 
 the vehicle, the sound of the hostler's bell, and a 
 loud cry of" Horses on directly !" 
 
 But here another delay occurred. The boys 
 were sleeping with such mysterious soundness, that 
 it took five minutes a-pie€e to wake them. The 
 hostler had somjchow or other mislaid the key of 
 the stable, and even when that was found, two 
 sleepy helpers put the wrong harness on the wrong 
 horses, and the whole process of harnessing had to 
 be gone through afresh. Had Mr. Pickwick beert 
 15 
 
170 POSTHUMOUS papeus of 
 
 nionc, these multiplied obstacles would have com- 
 .pletely put an end to the pursuit at once, but old 
 Waidle was not to be so easily daunted; and he laid 
 about hinn with such hearty good will, cuffing this 
 man, and pushing that; strapping a buckle here, and 
 taking in a link there, that the cliaise was ready in 
 a much shorter tinne than could reasonably have 
 been expected, under so many difficulties. 
 
 They re&um^ed their journey ; and certainly the 
 prospect before them was by no means en- 
 couraging. The stage was (ifteen miles long, 
 •the night was dark, the wind high, and the rain 
 ])ouringin torrents. It was impossible to make 
 any great way against such obslacles united: it 
 w^as hard upon one o'clock already; and nearly two 
 liours were consum.ed in getting to the end of the 
 stage. Here however an object presented itself, 
 which re-kindled their hopes, and re-animated their 
 drooping t<pirits. 
 
 " When did this chaise come in ?" cried old War- 
 die, leaping out of his own vehicle, and pointing to 
 one covered with Vvxt mud, which was standing in 
 the yard. 
 
 " Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir;" replied the 
 hostler to whom the question was addressed. 
 
 "Lady and gentleman?" inquired Wardle, al- 
 most breathless with impatience. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 •' Tall gentleman — dress coat — long legs — ihiri 
 body V 
 
 " Yes, sir," 
 
 " Elderly lady — thin face — rather skinny — eh V 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "By heavens, it's them, Pickwick," exclaimed 
 the old gentlem.an. 
 
 " Would have been here before," said the hostler, 
 " but they broke a trace." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 17 1 
 
 •''Tis them," said Wardle, "it is, by Jove! 
 Cliaise and four instantly. We shall catch them 
 yet, before they reach the next stage. A guinea 
 a-piece,boys— be alive there — bustle about— there's 
 good fellows." 
 
 And with such admonitions as thes-e, the old 
 gentleman ran up and down the 3^ard,and bustled 
 to and fro, in a state of excitement which comniu- 
 nicated itself to Mr. Pickwick also; and under the 
 influence of which that gentleman got himself into 
 complicated entanglements with harness, and mixed 
 up with horses and wheels of chaises, in the most 
 surprising manner, firmly believing that by so 
 doing, he was materially forwarding the prepara- 
 tions for their resuming their journey. 
 
 "Jump in — ^jump inl" cried old Wardle, climb- 
 ing into the chaise, p^jilling up the steps, and slam- 
 mino^ the door after him. "Come alons^ make 
 haste." And before Mr. Pickwick knew precisely 
 what he w^as about, he felt himself forced in at 
 the other door, by one pull from the old gentleman, 
 and one push from the hostler; and off they were 
 again. 
 
 ,r "Ah ! we are movmg now," said the old gentle- 
 man exuitingly. They were, indeed, as was sufS= 
 ciently testified to Mr. Pickwick, by his constant 
 collisions either with the hard wood-work of the 
 chaise, or the body of his companion. 
 
 "Hold up!" said the stout old Mr. Wardle, as 
 Mr. Pickwick dived head foremost into his capa- 
 cious waistcoat. 
 
 " I never did feel such a jolting in my life," said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Never mind," replied his companion, " it'll sooi"j 
 be over. Steady, steady." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his owm cor- 
 ner, as firmly as he could ; and on whirled the chais® 
 faster then ever. 
 
172 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " They had travelled in this way about three 
 miles, when Mr. Wardic, wlio had been looking 
 out of the window for two or three niinutes, sud- 
 denly drew in his face, covered with splashes, and 
 exclaimed in breathless eagerness — 
 
 " Here fhcy arc 1^' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of his win- 
 dow. Ycs*t 'there was a chaise and four, a short 
 distance before th'enr), dashing along at full gallop. 
 
 "Go on, go on," almost shrieked the old gentle- 
 man. "Two.:guineas a-piece, boys — don't let 'em 
 gain on us — keep it up — keen it up." 
 
 The horses in the tirst chaise started on at their 
 utmost speed ,' and those in JMr. Wardle's galloped 
 furiously behind them. 
 
 " I see his head," exclaimed the choleric old 
 man, " damme, I sec his head." 
 
 " So do I,"- said Mr. Pickwick, " that's he." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The counte- 
 nance of Mr. Jingle, completely coated with mud 
 thrown up by the wheels, was plainly discernible 
 at the window of his chaise ; and the motion of his 
 arm, which he was waving violently towards the 
 postillions, denoted tliat he was encouraging them 
 t2 increased exertion. 
 
 The interest was infcnse.. Fields, trees, and 
 hedges, seemed to rush past them with the velocity 
 of fV whirlwind, so rapid was the pace at which 
 ;they tore along. They were close by the side of 
 the first chaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly 
 heard, even above the din of the wheels, urging on 
 the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed with rage and 
 excitement, lie roared out scoundrels and villains 
 by the dozen, clenched his fist and shook it expres- 
 sively at the object of his indignation ; but Mr. 
 Jingle only answered with a contemptuous smile, 
 and replied to his menaces by a shout of triumph. 
 
THE" PICKWICK CLUB. 173 
 
 as his horses, answering to the increased applica- 
 tion of whip and spur, broke into a foster gallop, 
 and left the pursuers behind.. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick liad just drawn in his head, and 
 Mr. Wardlc, exhausted with shouting, had done 
 the same, when a tremendous jolt threw them for- 
 ward against the front of the vehicle. There was 
 a sudden bump — a loud crash — a\yay rolled a 
 wheel, and over went the chaise. 
 
 After a very few seconds of bewilderment vnd 
 confusion, in which nothing but tHie plunging of 
 horses, and breaking of glass could be" made out, 
 Mr. Pickwick felt himself violently pulled out from 
 among the ruins of the chaise; and.as soon as he 
 had gained his feet, and extricated his head front 
 the skirts of his great coat, which materially im- 
 peded the usefulness of his spectacles, the full dis- 
 aster of the case n^et his view. 
 
 "Old Mr. Ward'lc without a hat, arid his clothes 
 torn in several places, stood by his side, and the 
 fragments of the chaise lay scattered at their feet 
 The post-boys, who h^d succeeded in cutting the 
 traces, were standing, disfigured with mud and 
 disordered by hard riding, l^y the horses' heads. 
 About a hundred yards in advance was the other 
 chaise, which had pulled up on hearing the crash. 
 Tlie postillions, each with a broad grin convulsing 
 his countenance, were viewing the adverse- party 
 from their saddles, and Mr. Jingle was'contem^ 
 plating the wreck from the coach-window, with 
 evident satisfaction. The day was just breaking, 
 and the wliole scene was rendered perfectly visible 
 by the gray light of the morning. 
 
 "Hallo!" shouted -the shameless Jingle, "any 
 body damnged? — elderly gentlemen — no light 
 weights — dangerous work — very." 
 15* 
 
174 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " You're a rascal !" roared WardJe. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" replied Jingle; and then he added, 
 with a knowing wink, and a jerk of the thunnb to- 
 wards the interior of the chaise — " I say — she's 
 very well — desires her complinnents — begs you 
 won't trouble yourself — love to Tuppy — won't you 
 get up behind 'i — drive on, boys." 
 
 The postillions resumed their proper attitudes, 
 and away rattled the chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering 
 in derision a white handkerchief from the coach 
 windovv^. 
 
 Nothing in the whole adventure, not even the 
 upset, had disturbed the calm and equable current 
 of Mr. Pickwick's temper. The viliany, however, 
 which could first borrow money of his Aiithful fol- 
 lower, and then abbreviate his name to " Tuppy," 
 was more than he could patiently bear. He drew 
 his breath hard, and coloured up to the very tips 
 of his spectacles, as he said, slowly and emphati- 
 cally — 
 
 "If ever I meet that man again, I'll — " 
 
 " Yes, yes," interrupted Wardle, " that's all very 
 well: but while we stand talking here, they'll get 
 their license, and be married in London." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up bis vengeance, 
 and corked it down. 
 
 " How far is it to the next st;ig€?" inquired Mr 
 ¥/ardle of one of the boys. 
 
 " Six mile, ain't it, Tom ?" 
 
 " Rayther better." 
 
 "Rayther better nor six mile, sir." 
 
 "Can't be helped," said Wardle ; we must walk 
 it, Pickwick," 
 
 "No he^p for it," replied that truly great maH. 
 
 So sending forward one of the boys on horse- 
 back, to procure a fresh chaise and horses, and 
 leaving the other behind to take care of the broken 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 175 
 
 one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfully 
 forward on the walk, first tying their shawls round 
 their necks, and slouching down their hats to 
 escape as much as possible from the deluge of rain, 
 which after a slight cessation, had agnin begun to 
 pour heavily down. 
 
176 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CLEARING UP ALL DOUBTS (iF AJfY EXISTED) OF THE 
 DISINTERESTEDNESS OF MR. JINGLE'S CHARACTEE. 
 
 There are in London several old inns, once the 
 head quarters of celebrated coaches in the days 
 when coaches performed their journeys in a graver 
 and nnore solemn manner than they do in these 
 times; but which have now degenerated into httle 
 more than the abiding and booking places of coun- 
 try wagons. The reader. would look in vain for 
 any of these ancient hostelries, among the Golden 
 Crosses and Bull and Mouths, which rear their 
 stately fronts in the improved streets of London. 
 If he would light upon any of these old places, he 
 must direct his steps to the obscurer quarters of 
 the town; and there in some secluded nooks he 
 will find several, still standing with a kind of 
 gloomy sturdiness, amidst the modern innovations 
 which surround them. 
 
 In the borough especially, there still remain some 
 half dozen old inns, vv'hich have preserved their 
 external features unchanged, and which have es- 
 caped alike the rage for public improvement, and 
 the encroachments of private speculations. Great, 
 rambling, queer old places they arc, with galleries, 
 and passages and stair-cases, wide enough and ai> 
 liquated enough, to furnish materials for a hundred 
 ghost stories, supposing we should ever be reduced 
 to the lamentable necessity of inventing any, and 
 
THE ncxvvicK club. 177 
 
 that the world should exist long enough to exhaust 
 the innumerable veracious legends connected with 
 old London Bridge, and its adjacent neighbourhood 
 on the Surrey side. 
 
 It was in the yard oi one of those inns — of no 
 less celebrated a one than the White "Hart — that a 
 man was busiiy employed in brushing the dirt oii 
 a pair of boots, early on the morning succeeding 
 the events narrated in the last chapter. He was 
 habited in a coarse striped waistcoat, with black 
 calico sleeves, and blue glass buttons: drab brceclies 
 and leggings. A bright red handkerchief was 
 wound in a very loose and unstudied style round 
 his neck, and an old wliite hat was carelessly 
 thrown on one side of his head. There were two 
 rows of boots before him, one cleaned and (he 
 other dirty, and at every addition he made to the 
 clean row, he paused from his work, and contem- 
 plated its results with evident satisfaction. 
 
 The yard presented none of that bustle and ac- 
 tivity which are the usual cliaracteristics of a large 
 coach inn. Three or four lumbering wagons, each 
 with a pile of goods beneath its am.ple canopy, 
 about the height of the second-floor window ^f '^^^^ 
 crdlr.ary house, were stowed away beneath a lofty 
 roof wiiich extended over one end of the yard ;_ and 
 another, which was probably to commence its 
 journey that morning, was dravv'n out into the 
 open space. A double tier of bed-room galleries, 
 with old clumsy balustrades, ran round two sides-, 
 of the straggling area, and a double row of bells 
 to correspond, sheltered from the weather by a lit- 
 tle sloping roof, hung over the door leading to the 
 bar and coffee-room. Two or three gigs and 
 chaise-carts were wheeled up under different little 
 sheds and pent-houses; and the occasional heavy 
 tread of a cart-horse, or rattling of a chain at the 
 farther end of the vard, announced to any body 
 
178 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 who cared about the matter, that the stable lay in 
 that direction. When we add that a few boys in 
 smock frocks, were lying asleep on heavy pack- 
 ages, woolpacks, and other articles that were 
 scattered about on heaps of straw, wc have de- 
 scribed as fidly as need be, the general appearance 
 of the yard of the White Hart Inn, High Street, 
 Borough, on the particular morning in question. 
 
 A loud ringing of one of the bells was followed 
 by the appearance of a smart chambermaid in the 
 upper sleeping gallery, who, after tapping at one 
 of the doors, and receiving a request from vviihin, 
 called over the balustrades — 
 
 " Sam !" 
 
 *' Hallo," replied the man with tlie white hat. 
 
 " Number twenty-two wants his boots." 
 
 •' Ask number twenty-two, vether he'll have 'em 
 now, or vait 'till he gets 'em," was the reply. 
 
 "Come, don't be a fool, Sam," said the girl, 
 coaxingly; "the gentleman wants his boots di- 
 rectly." 
 
 " Well, you are a iiice young 'ooman for a mu- 
 sical party, you are," said the boot-cleaner. " Look 
 at these here boots — eleven pair 'o boots; and one 
 shoe as b'longs to number six, wiili the wooden le;^. 
 The eleveri boots is to be called at half-past eight, 
 and the shoe at nine. Wiio's number twenty-two, 
 that's to put all the others out ? No, no; reg'lar 
 rotation, as Jack Ketch said, ven he tied the men 
 up. Sorry to keep you a waltin', sir, but I'll attend 
 to you directly." 
 
 Saying which, the man in the white hat set to 
 work upon a top-boat with increased assiduity. 
 
 There w-as another loud ring; and the bustling 
 old landlady of the White Hart made her appear- 
 ance in the opposite gallery. 
 
 "Sam," cried the landlady, " where's.that lazy, 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 179 
 
 idle — why Sam — oh, there you are; why don't 
 you answer?" 
 
 " Vouldn't be gen-teel to ansv;er, 'till you'd done 
 talking," replied Sam, gruffly. 
 
 " Here, clean them shoes for number seventeen 
 directly, and take 'em to private sitting-room, num- 
 ber five, first floor." 
 
 The landlady flung a pair of lady's shoes into 
 the yard, and bustled away. 
 
 "Number 5," said Sam, as he picked up the 
 shoes — and taking a piece of chalk from his pocket, 
 made a memorandum of their destination on the 
 soles — " Lady's shoes, and private sittin'-room ! I 
 suppose slie didn't come in the vaggin." 
 
 '"' She came in early this morning," cried the 
 girl, who was still leaning over the railing of the 
 gallery, "with a gentleman in a hackney-coach, 
 and it's him as wants his boots — and you'd better 
 do 'em, and that's all about it." 
 
 " Vy didn't you say so before," said Sam, with 
 great indignation, singling out the hoots in ques- 
 tion from the heap before him. " For all I know'd, 
 he vas one o' the regular three-pennies. Private 
 room ! and a lady, too ! If he's any thing of a gen- 
 'I'm'n, he's vorLh a shillin' a day, let alone the ar- 
 rands." 
 
 Stimulated by the inspiring reflection, Mr. S;i- 
 muel brushed away with such hearty good will, 
 that in a few minutes the boots and shoes, with a 
 polish which would have struck envy to the soul 
 of the amiable Mr. Warren, (for they used Day and 
 Martin at the White Hart,) had arrived at the door 
 of number five. 
 
 " Come in," said a man's voice, in reply to Sam's 
 rap at the door. 
 
 Sam made his best bow, and stepped into the 
 presence of a lady and gentleman, seated at break- 
 fast. Having ofliciously deposited the gentleman's 
 
ISO POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 boots right and left at Iks feet, and the lady's shoes 
 right and left at hers, he backed towards the door. 
 
 " Boots," ^aid the gentleman. 
 
 '' Sir,'^ said Sam, closing the door, and keeping 
 his hand on Ihe knob of the Jock. 
 
 '' Do you know — what's a-narne — Doctors' Com- 
 mons f 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 ''Where is itf 
 
 "Paul's Ch.urch-yard, sir; low archway on (he 
 <;arriage-side, bookseller's at one corner, hot-el on 
 the other, and two porters in the middle as louts Lr 
 licenses." 
 
 " Touts for licenses !" said the gentleman. 
 
 " Touts for hcenses," replied Sam. " Two coves 
 fn vhite aprons — touches their hats ven you w\ilk 
 in — 'License, sir,- license?' Queer sort, them, 
 and their mas'rs, too, sir — Old ];ailey Proctors — 
 and no nHt^'ake." 
 
 " Wiiat do they do'(" inquired the gentleman. 
 
 "Do! You sir! That ain't the worst on it, 
 neither. . Tliey puts things in old gen'l'm'ns heads 
 as they never dreamed of. My father, sir, vos a 
 coaclirnan. A vidower be vos, ai^.d fat enough for 
 any thing — uncommon fat, to be sure. His mis- 
 sus dies, and leaves him four hundred pound. 
 Down he goes to the Commons, to see the lawyer, 
 and draw the blunt — worry smart — top boots on — 
 nosegay in liis button-hole— broad-brimmed tile- 
 green shawl — quite the geo'i'm'n. Goes through 
 the archvay, thinking how he should inwcst the 
 money; up comes the toutcr, touches his hat — 
 * License, sir, license? ^What's that?' says my 
 father. 'License, sir,' says he. '\^'hat license?' 
 says my father. * Marriage license,' says the 
 touter. 'Dash my veskit,' says my father, 'I 
 never thought o' that.' ' I think you wants one, sir,' 
 says the toutcr. My father pulls up, and thinks a 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 181 
 
 bit. * No,' says he, * d e, I'm too old ; b'sides, I'm 
 
 a many sizes loo large,' says he. 'Not a bit on it, 
 sir,' says the touter. 'Think not?' says my father. 
 ' I'm sure not,' says he ; * we married a gen'l'm'n 
 twice your size, last Monday.' • Did you, though,' 
 says my father. 'To be sure, ve did,' §ays the 
 touter — 'you're a baby to him— this vay, sir — this 
 vay !' — and sure enough my Mher walks arter him 
 like a tame monkey behind a horgan, into a little 
 back office, vere a feller sat among dirty papers 
 and tin boxes, making believe he was busy. 'Pray 
 take a seat, vile I makes out the affidavit, sir,' says 
 the lawyer. 'Thankee, sir,' says my father, and 
 down he sat, and stared vith all his eyes, and his 
 mouth vide open, at the names on the boxes. — 
 ' What's your name, sir,' says the lawyer. ' Tony 
 Weller,' says my father. ' Parish? says the lawyer. 
 ' Belle Savage,' says my father, for he stopped there 
 vcn he drove up, and he knovv'd nothing about 
 parishes, he did'nt. ' And what's the lady's name? 
 says the lawyer. My father was struck all of a 
 heap. 'Blessed if I know,' says he. ' Not know!' 
 says the lawyer. 'No more nor you do,' says my 
 father — 'can't I put that in afterwards V ' Impossi- 
 ble !' says the lawyer. ' Werry well,' says my la- 
 ther, after he'd thought a moment, ' put down ^Trs. 
 Clarke.' ' What Clarke? says the lawyer, dipping 
 his pen in the ink. ' Susan Clarke, Markis o' Gran- 
 by, Dorking,' says my father ; ' she'll have me, if I 
 ask her, I dare say: I never said nothing to her, 
 but she'll have me, I know.' The licefise was made 
 out, and she (/io? have him — and what's more, she's 
 got him now; and I never had any of the four 
 hundred pound, worse luck. Beg your pardon, 
 sir," said Sam, when he had concluded, " but vhen 
 I s;ets on this here grievance, I runs on like a new 
 barrow vith the vheel greased." Having said 
 which, and having paused for an instant to See 
 16 
 
182 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 whether he was wanted for any thing more, Sam 
 left the room. 
 
 " Half-past nine — ^just the lime — off at once?" 
 said the gentleman, whom we need hardly intro- 
 duce as Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " Time for what ?" said the spinster aunt, coquet- 
 tishly. 
 
 " License, dearest of angels — give notice at ihe 
 church — call you mine to-morrow" — said Mr. 
 Jingle, and he squeezed the spinster aunt's hand. 
 
 " The license !" said Rachael, blushing. 
 
 "The license," repeated Mr. Jingle — 
 
 "In hurry, post-haste for a license, 
 In hurry, ding- dong I come back.'* 
 
 " How you run on,'' said Rachael. 
 
 " Run on — nothing to the hours, days, weeks, 
 months, years, when we're united — run on — they'll 
 fly on — bolt — mizzle — steam-engine- — thousand- 
 horse power — nothing to it." 
 
 "Can't — can't we be married before to-morrow 
 morning?" inquired Rachael. 
 
 " Impossible — can't be — notice at the church — 
 leave the license to-day — ceremony come off to- 
 row." 
 
 I am so terrified, lest my brother should dis- 
 cover us !" said Rachael. 
 
 " Discover — nonsense — too much shaken by the 
 break down — besideSj extreme caution — gave up 
 the post-chaise — walked on- — took a hackney- 
 coach — came to the borough — last place in the 
 world that he'd look in — ha! ha! — capital notion 
 that — very." 
 
 " Don't be long," said the spinster, affectionately, 
 as Mr. Jingle stuck the pinched up hat on his head. 
 
 " Long away from you ? — Cruel charmer," and 
 Mr. Jingle skipped playfully up to the spinster 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 183 
 
 aunt, imprinted a chaste kiss upon her lips, and 
 danced out of the room. 
 
 " Dear man !" said the spinster, as the door closed 
 after him. 
 
 '•Rum old girl," said Mr. Jingle, as he walked 
 down the passage. 
 
 It is painful to reflect upon the perfidy of our 
 species ; and we will not, tlierefore, pursue the 
 thread of Mr. Jingle's meditations, as he wended 
 his way to Doctors' Commons. It will be sufficient 
 for our purpose to relate, that escaping the snares 
 of the dragons in white aprons, who guard the en- 
 trance of that enchanted region, he reached the 
 Vicar General's office in safety, and having pro- 
 cured a highly flattering address on parchment^ 
 from the Archbishop of Canterbury, to his " trusty 
 and weil-beloved Alfred Jingle and Rachael War- 
 die, greeting," he carefully deposited the mystic 
 document in his pocket, and retraced his steps in 
 triumph to the borough. 
 
 He was yet on his way to the White Hart, when 
 two plump gentlemen, and one thin one, entered the 
 yard, and looked round in search of some authorized 
 person of whom they could make a few inquiries. 
 Mr. Samuel Weller happened to be at tha,t moment 
 engaged in burnishing a pair of painted tops, the 
 personal property of a farmer, who was refresh- 
 ing himself with a slight lunch of two or three 
 pounds of cold beef, and a pot or two of porter, 
 after the fatigues of the borough market; and to 
 him the thin gentleman straightway advanced—: 
 
 " jNIy friend," said the thin gentleman. 
 
 ** You're one o* the adwice gratis order," thought 
 Sam, "or you wouldn't be so werry fond o' me all 
 at once." But he only said — "Well, sir." 
 
 "My friend," said the thin gentleman, with a 
 conciliatory hem — " Have you got many people 
 stoppiag here, now 1 Pretty busy. Eh '?" 
 
184 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a lit- 
 tle high-dried man, with a dark squeezed up face 
 and small restless black eyes, that kept winking 
 and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive 
 nose, as if they were playing a perpetual game of 
 peep-ho with that feature. He w^as dressed all in 
 black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, a low white 
 neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. A 
 gold watch-chain, and seals, depended from his fob. 
 He carried his black kid gloves i?i his hands, not 
 on them, and as he spoke,thrust bis wrists beneath 
 his coat-tails, with the air of a man who was in 
 the babit of propounding some regular posers. 
 
 "Pretty busy, eh?" said the little man. 
 
 '' Oh, worry well, sir," replied Sam, " we shan't 
 be bankrupts, and we shan't make our forl'ns. We 
 eats our boiled mutton without capers, and don't 
 care for horse-radish ven ve can get beef." 
 
 "Ah," said the little man, "you're a wag, a'n't 
 you ?" 
 
 ^'My eldest brother w^as troubled with that com- 
 plaint," said Sam, "it may be catching — I used to 
 sleep with him." 
 
 ^' This is a curious old house of yours," said the 
 little man, looking round him. 
 
 " If you'd sent word you vras a coming, we'd 
 lia'had it repaired," replied the imperturbable Sam. 
 
 The little man seemed rather baffled by these 
 several repulses, and a short consultation took place 
 between him and the two plum gentlemen. At 
 its conclusion, the little man took a pinch of snuff 
 from an oblong, silver box, and was apparently on 
 the point of renewing the conversation, when one 
 of the plump gentlemen, who, in addition to a be- 
 nevolent countenance, possessed a pair of specta- 
 cles, and a pair of black gaiters, interfered — 
 
 " The fact of the matter is," said the benevolent 
 gentleman, " that my friend here (pointing to the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 185 
 
 other plumpgentleman) will give you half a guinea 
 if you'll answer one or two. " 
 
 "Now, my clear sir, my dear sir," said the little 
 man, " pray allow me ; my dear sir, the very first 
 prineiple to be observed in these cases, is this : If 
 you place a matter in the hands of a professional 
 man, you must in no way interfere in the prog^ress 
 of the business ; you must repose implicit confi- 
 dence in him. Really, Mr. (he turned to the other 
 plump gentleman, and said,) — I forget your friend's 
 name." 
 
 ^' Pickwick," said Mr. Wardle, for it was no 
 other than that jolly personage. 
 
 ''Ah, Pickwick — really Mr. Pickwick, my dear 
 sir, excuse me — I shall be happy to receive any 
 priv^ate suggestions of yours, as amicus curice, but 
 you must see the impropriety of your interfering 
 with my conduct in this case, with such an ad cap- 
 ta?idum argument as the offer of half a guinea, 
 Really, my dear sir, really;" and the little man took 
 an argumentative pinch of snufF, and looked very 
 profound. 
 
 " My only wish, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " was 
 to bring this very unpleasant matter to as speedy a 
 close as possible." 
 
 "Quite right — quite right," said the little man. 
 
 *' With which view," continued Mr. Pickwick, 
 "I made use of the argument which, my expe- 
 rience of men has taught me is the most likely to 
 succeed in any case." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the little man, ** very good, very 
 good, indeed; but you should have suggested it to 
 me. My dear sir, I'm. quite certain, you cannot be 
 ignorant of the extent of confidence which must 
 be placed in professional men. If any authority 
 can be necessary on such a point, my dear sir, let 
 me refer vou to the well-known case in Barnwell, 
 and— ^" 
 
186 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 "Never mind George Barnvell," interrupted 
 Sam, who had remained a wondering listener during 
 this short colloquy; "every body knows vhat sort 
 of a case his was, tho' it's always been my opinion, 
 mind you, that the young 'ooman deserved scrag- 
 ging a precious sight more than he did. Hows'- 
 ever, that's neither here nor there. You want me 
 to except of half a guinea. Worry well, I'm 
 agreeable: I can't say no fairer than that, can I, 
 sir ? (Mr. Pickwick smiled.) Then the next ques- 
 tions is, what the d — 1 do you want with me, as the 
 man said when he seed the ghost?" 
 
 "We want to know" said Mr. VVardle. 
 
 "Now, my dear sir — my dear sir," interposed 
 the busy little man. 
 
 Mr. Wardle shrugged his shoulders, and was si- 
 lent. 
 
 " We want to know," said llie little man, solemn- 
 ly ;" and we ask the question of you in order that 
 we m.ay not awaken apprehensions inside — we 
 want to know who you've got m this house, at pre- 
 sent." 
 
 ''Who there is in the house!" said Sam, in 
 whose mind the inmates were always represented 
 by that particular article of tlieir costume, which 
 came under his immediate superintendence. — 
 "There's a vooden leg in number six, there's a 
 pair of Hes^^ians in thirteen, there's two pair of 
 halves in the commercial, there's these here painted 
 tops in the snuggery inside the bar, and five more 
 tops in the coftee-room.'* 
 
 " Nothing more?" said the little man. 
 
 " Stop a bit," replied Sam, suddenly recollecting 
 himself. "Yes; there's a pair of Vellingtons, a 
 good deal vorn, and a pair o' lady's shoes, in num- 
 ber five." 
 
 " What sort of shoes?'' hastily inquired Wardle, 
 who, together with Mr. Pickwick, had been lost 
 
THE FICKWICK CLUB. 1S7 
 
 in bewilderment at the singular catalogue of visit- 
 ers. 
 
 "Country make," replied Sam. 
 
 "Any maker's name?" 
 
 '^ Brown.'"' 
 
 ''Where off" 
 
 '' Muggleton." 
 
 " It is them," exclaimed V/ardle. '' By heaven's, 
 we've found them." 
 
 ^' Hush !" said Sam. " The Vellingtons has gone 
 to Doctors' Commons." 
 
 "No!" said the little man. 
 
 " Yes, for a license." 
 
 " We're in time," exclaimed Wardle. " Sliow us 
 the room ; not a moment is to be lost." 
 
 " Pray, my dear sir — pray," said the little man ; 
 "caution, caution." He drew from his pocket a 
 red silk purse, and looked very hard at Sam, as he 
 drew out a sovereign. 
 
 Sam grinned expressively. 
 
 «' Show us into tlie room at once, without an- 
 nouncing us," said the little man, "and it'syours." 
 
 Sam threw the painted tops into a corner, and 
 led the way threw a dark passage, and up a wide 
 staircase. He paused at the end of a second pas- 
 sage, and held out his Jiand. 
 
 "Here it is," whispered the attorney, as he de- 
 posited the money in the hand of their guide. 
 
 The man stepped forward for a few paces, fol- 
 lowed by the two friends and tircir legal adviser. 
 He stopped at a door. 
 
 "Is this the roomT" murmured the little gentle- 
 man. 
 
 8am nodded assent. 
 
 Old Wardle opened the door; and the wiiole 
 three walked into the room just as Mr. Jingle, who 
 had that moment returned, had produced tlie li- 
 cense to the spinster aiuit. 
 
 The spinster uttered a loud shriek, and, throw- 
 
188 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 ing herself in a chair, covered her face with her 
 hands. Mr. Jingle crumpled up the license, and 
 thrust it into his coat-pocket. The unwelcome 
 visiters advanced into the middle of the room. 
 
 *' You— you are a nice rascal, ar'n't you?" ex- 
 claimed Wardle, breathless with passion. 
 
 "My dear sir, my dear sir," said the little man, 
 laying his hat on the table. "Pray, consider — 
 pray. Scandalum mag?iatu?n, defamation of cha- 
 racter, action for damages. Calm yourself, my 
 dear sir, pray — " 
 
 " How dare you drag my sister from my house?" 
 said the old man. 
 
 " Ay-:-ay — very good," said the little gentleman, 
 *• you may ask that. How dare you, sir? — eh, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Who the d — 1 are you ?" inquired Mr. Jingle, 
 in so tierce a tone, that the little gentleman invo- 
 luntarily fell back a step or two. 
 
 " Who is he, you scoundrel," interposed Wardle. 
 "He's my lawyer, Mr. Perker, of Gray's Inn. 
 Perker, ril have this fellow prosecuted — indicted — 
 I'll — I'll — d c, PU ruin him. And you," con- 
 tinued Mr. Wardle, turning abruptly round to his 
 sister, " you, Rachael, at a time of hfe when you 
 ought to know better, what do you mean by run- 
 ninf'- away with a vagabond, disgracing your fami- 
 ly, and making yourself miserable. Get on your 
 bonnet, and come back. Call a hackney-coach 
 there, directly, and bring this lady's bilb.d'j^e hear 
 — d'ye hear?" 
 
 ♦' Cert'nly, sir," replied Sam, who had answered 
 Wardle's violent ringing of the bell with a degree 
 of celerity, which must have appeared marvellous 
 to any body who didn't know that his eye had been 
 applied to the outside of the key-hole during the 
 whole interview. 
 
 " Get on your bonnet," repeated Wardle. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 189 
 
 " Do nothing of the kind," said Jingle. " Leave 
 the room, sir — no business here — lady's (rcc lo act 
 as she pleases — more than one-and-twenty." 
 
 "More than one-and-twenty!" ejaculated War- 
 die, contemptuously. "More than one-and-forty !" 
 
 "I a'nt," said the spinster aunt, her indignation 
 getting the better of her determination to faint. 
 
 "You are," replied Wardle, "you're fifty if 
 you're an hour." 
 
 Here the spinster aunt uttered a loud shriek, and 
 became senseless. 
 
 "A glass of water," said the humane Mr. Pick- 
 wick, summoning the landlady. 
 
 " A glass of water !" said the passionate Wardle. 
 " Bring a bucket, and throw it all over her ; it'll do 
 her good, and she richly deserves it." 
 
 "Ugh, you brute!" ejaculated the kind-hearted 
 landlady. " Poor dear." And with sundry ejacu- 
 lations, of " Come now, there's a dear — -drink a 
 little of this — it'll do you good — don't give way so 
 —there's a love," &c. &c., the landlady, assisted 
 by a chambermaid, proceeded to vinegar the fore- 
 head, beat the hands, titillate the nose, and unlace 
 tlie stays of the spinster aunt, and to administer 
 such other restoratives as are usually applied by 
 compassionate females to ladies who are endea- 
 vouring to ferment themselves into hysterics. 
 
 "Coach is ready, sir," said Sam, appearing at 
 the door. 
 
 "Come along," cried Wardle. "Pll carry her 
 down stairs." 
 
 At this proposition, the hysterics came on with 
 redoubled violence. 
 
 The landlady was about to enter a very violent 
 protest against this proceeding, and had already 
 given vent to an indignant iisquiry whether Mr, 
 Wardle considered himself a lord of the creation, 
 vAkx] Mr. Jingle interposed-— 
 
100 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Boots," said he, " get me an officer." 
 
 " Stay, stay,"^ said little Mr. Perker. Consider 
 sir, consider." 
 
 " I'll 7iot consider," replied Jingle, ^' she's her 
 own mistress — see who dares to take her away — 
 unless she wishes it." 
 
 " 1 2i'o?iU be taken away," murmured the spinster 
 aunt. " I don''t wish it." (Here there was a fright- 
 ful relapse.) 
 
 *'My dear sir," said the little man, in a low 
 tone, taking Mr. Wardie and Mr. Pickwick apart: 
 " My dear sir, we^^e in a very awkward situation. 
 It's a distressing case — very; I never knew one 
 more so; but really, my dear sir,, really we have 
 no power to control this lady's actions. I warned 
 you before we came, my dear sir, that there was 
 nothing to look to but a compromise. 
 
 There was a short pause. 
 
 " What kind of compromise would yo,u recom- 
 mend ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, our friend's in an unplea- 
 sant position — very much so. We must be content 
 to suffer some pecuniary loss." 
 
 " I'll suffer any, rather than submit to this dis- 
 grace, and let her, fool as she is, be made miser- 
 able for life," said Wardie. 
 
 " I rather think it can be done," said the bustling 
 little man. " Mr. Jingle, will you step with us 
 into the next room for a moment ^'''^ 
 
 Mr. Jingle assented, and the quartette walked 
 into an empty apartment. 
 
 "Now^ sir," said the little man, as he carefully 
 closed the door, "is there no way of accommo- 
 dating this matter — step this way^ sir, for a mo- 
 ment — into this window, sir, where we can be 
 alone — there, sir, there, pray sit down, sir. Now, 
 my dear sir, between you and I, we know very 
 well, my dear sir, that vou have run ofl' with this 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 191 
 
 Jady for the sake of her money. Don*t frown, sir, 
 don't frown ; I say, between you and I, we know it. 
 We are both men of the world, and we know very 
 well that our friends here, are not — eh f 
 
 Mr. Jingle's face gradually relaxed ; and some- 
 thing distantly resembling a wink, quivered for an 
 instant in his left eye. 
 
 "Very good, very good," said the little man, 
 observing the impression he had made. " Now 
 the fact is, that beyond a few hundreds, the lady 
 has little or nothing till the death of her mother — 
 fine old lady, my dear sir." 
 
 ^' Old,'' said Mr. Jingle, briefly but emphatically. 
 
 " Why, yes," said the attorney, with a slight 
 cough. " You are right; my dear sir, she is rather 
 old. She comes of an old family though, my dear 
 sir ; old in every sense of the word. The founder 
 of that family came into Kent, when Julius Caesar 
 invaded Britain; — only one member of it, cince, 
 who hasn't lived to eighty-five, and he was be- 
 headed by one of the Henrys. The old lady is not 
 seventy-three now, my dear sir." The Httle man 
 paused, and took a pinch of snuft'. 
 
 '- Well," cried Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " Well, my dear sir — you don't take snuff"? — 
 ah! so much the better — expensive habit- — well, my 
 dear sir, you're a fine young man, man of the 
 world — able to push your fortune, if vou had capi- 
 tal, eh?" " . 
 
 '• Well," said Mr. Jingle again. 
 
 " Do you comprehend me ?" 
 
 " Not quite." 
 
 " Don't you think — now, my dear sir, I put it to 
 you, do?i't you think — that fifty pounds, and liberty, 
 would be better than Miss Wardle and expec'ta- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " Won't do — not half enough?" said Mr. Jingle, 
 
192 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Nay, nay, my dear sir," remonstrated the lit- 
 tle attorney, seizing him by the button. ''Good 
 round sum — a man like you could treble it in no 
 time — great deal to be done with tifty pounds, my 
 dear sir." 
 
 "More to be done with a hundred and fifty," re- 
 plied Mr. Jingle, coolly. 
 
 " Well, my dear sir, we won't waste time in 
 splitting straws," resumed the little man, " say — 
 say — seventy." 
 
 "Won't do," said Mr. Jingle. 
 "Don't go away, my dear sir—pray don't hur- 
 ry," said the little man. " Eighty; come; I'll write 
 you a cheque at once." 
 
 " Won't do," said Mr. Jingle, 
 " Well, my dear sir, well," said the little man, 
 still detaining him ; "just tell me what zvill do." 
 
 "Expensive afFair," said Mr. Jingle. " Money 
 out of pocket — posting, nine pounds; license, three 
 — that's twelve — compensation, a hundred — hun- 
 dred and twelve — breach of honoiir — and loss of 
 the lady—" 
 
 " Yes, my dear sir, yes," said the little man, with 
 a knowing look, ^' never mind the last two items. 
 That's a hundred and twelve — say a hundred — 
 come." 
 
 "And twenty," said Mr. Jingle. 
 "Come, come, I'll w^rite you a cheque," saitl 
 the little man; and down he sat at the table for 
 that purpose. 
 
 "I'll make it payable the day after to-morrow," 
 said the little man, with a look tow^ards Mr. War- 
 die; " and we can get the lady away, meanwhile." 
 Mr. Wardle sullenly nodded assent. 
 "A hundred," said the little man. 
 " And twenty," said Mr. Jingle. 
 " My dear sir," remonstrated the little man. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 193 
 
 " Give it him," interposed Mr. Wardle, " and let 
 him go." 
 
 The cheque was written by the little gentlenian, 
 and pocketed by Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " Now, leave this house instantly !" said Wardle, 
 starting up. 
 
 "My dear sir," urged the little nnan. 
 
 "And mind," said Mr. Wardle, "that nothing 
 should have induced me to make this compromise 
 — not even a regard for my family — if I had not. 
 known, that the moment you got any money in 
 that pocket of yours, you'd go to the devil faster, 
 if possible, than you would without it — " 
 
 " My dear sir," urged the little man again. 
 
 " Be quiet, Perker," resumed Wardle. " Leave 
 the room, sir." 
 
 " Oif directly,'' said the unabashed Jingle. "' Bye 
 — bye — Pickwick.'' 
 
 If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld 
 the countenance of the illustrious man, whose name 
 forms the leading feature of the title of this work, 
 during the latter part of this conversation, he would 
 have been almost induced to wonder that the in- 
 dignant tire which flashed from his eyes, did not 
 melt the glasses of his spectacles — so majestic was 
 his wrath. His nostrils dilated, and his lists clench- 
 ed involuntarily, as he heard himself addressed by 
 the villain. But he restrained himself again — he 
 did not pulverise him. 
 
 "Here," continued the hardened traitor, tossing 
 the license at Mr. Pickwick's feet; "get the name 
 altered — take home the lady — do for Tuppy." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was a philosopher, but philoso- 
 phers are only men in armour, after all. The shaft 
 had reached him, penetrated through his philoso- 
 phical harness, to his very heart. In the frenzy of 
 his rage, he hurled the inkstand madly forward, 
 17 
 
194 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 07 
 
 and followed it up himself. But Mr. Jingle htid 
 disappeared, and he found himself caught in the 
 arms of Sam. 
 
 " Hallo," said that eccentric functionary, " fur- 
 niter's cheap vere you come from. Self-actin^^ 
 ink, that 'ere ; it's wrote your mark upon the wall, 
 old gen'l'm'n. Hold still, sir : wot's^the use o' run- 
 nin' arter a man as has made his lucky, and got to 
 t'other end of the borough by this time." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's mind, like those of all truly great 
 men, was open to conviction. He was a quick^ 
 and powerful reasoner ; and a moment's reflection 
 sufticed to remind him of the impotcncy of his rage. 
 It subsided as c^uickly as it had been roused. He 
 panted for breath unS looked benignantly round 
 upon his friends. 
 
 Shall we tell the lamentations that ensued, when 
 Miss Wardle found herself deserted by the faith- 
 less Jingle? Shall we extract Mr. Pickwick's mas- 
 terly description of that heart-rending scene l His 
 note-book, blotted with the tears of sympathizing 
 humanity, lies open before us; one word, and it is 
 in the printer's hands. But, no! we will be reso- 
 lute! We will not wring the public bosom, with 
 the delineation of such sutFering. 
 
 Slowly and sadly did the two friends and the 
 deserted lady, return next day in the Muggleton 
 heavy coach. Dimly and darkly had the sombre 
 shadows of a summer's night fallen upon all around, 
 when they again reached Dingley Dell, and stood 
 within the entrance of Manor Farm. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, 195 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 INVOLVING ANOTHER JOURIVEY, AND AN ANTIQUARIAN' 
 
 DiscovEay, recording mr. pickwick's determina- 
 tion TO BE PRESENT AT AN ELECTION ; AND CON- 
 TAINING A MANUSCRIPT OF THE OLD CLERGyMAN'&. 
 
 A NIGHT of quiet and repose in the profound 
 silence of Dingley Dell, and an hour's breathing 
 of its fresh and fragrant air on the ensuing morn- 
 ing, completely recovered Mr. Pickwick from the 
 effects of his late fatigue of bod}^ and anxiety of 
 mind. That illustrious man had been separated 
 from his friends and followers, for two whole days: 
 and it was with a degree of pleasure and delight, 
 which no common imagination can adequately 
 conceive, that he stepped forward to greet MPi 
 Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass, as he encountered 
 those gentlemen on his return from his early walk. 
 The [)leasure was mutual; for who could ever gaze 
 on Mr. Pickwick's beaming face without experi- 
 encing the sensation ? But still a cloud seemed to 
 hang over his companions, wdiich that great man 
 could not but be sensible of, and was wholly at a 
 loss to account for. There was a mysterious ai;- 
 about them both, as unusual as it was alarming. 
 
 " And how," said Mr. Pickwick, when he had 
 grasped his followers by the hand, and exchanged 
 warm salutations of welcome ; " how is Tupmanr' 
 
 Mr. Winkle, to whom the question was more 
 peculiarly addressed, made no reply. He turned 
 away his head, and appeared absorbed in melan- 
 choly reflection. 
 
196 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Snodgrass," said Mr. Pickwick, earnestly, 
 *^ how is our friend — he is not ill?' 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Snodgrass ; and a tear trem- 
 bled on his sentimental eye-lid, like a rain-drop on 
 a window-frame. No; he is not ill." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stopped, and gazed on each of 
 his friends in turn. 
 
 " Winkle — Snodgrass,'^ said Mr. Pickwick ; 
 *' what does this mean? Where is our friend? 
 What has happened ? Speak — I conjure, I entreat 
 — nay, I command you, speak." 
 
 There was a solemnity — a dignity — in Mr. 
 Pickwick's manner, not to be withstood. 
 
 " He is gone," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Gone !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, " gone !" 
 
 " Gone," repeated Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 ''Where?" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ''We can only guess, from that communica- 
 tion/' replied Mr. Snodgrass, taking a letter from 
 his pocket, and placing it in his friend's hand. 
 "Yesterday morning, when a letter was received 
 from Mr. Wardle, stating that you would be home 
 with his sister at night, the melancholy which had 
 hung over our friend during the whole of the pre- 
 vious day, was observed to increase. He shortly 
 afterw^ards disappeared : he was missing during the 
 whole day, and in the evening this letter was 
 brought by the hostler from the Crown, at Mug- 
 gleton. It had been left in his charge in the morn- 
 ing, with a strict injunction thot it should not be 
 delivered until nighl." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick opened the epistle. It was in his 
 friend's hand-writing, and these were its contents: 
 
 "My dear Pickwick, 
 
 " You, my dear friend, are placed far be- 
 yond the reach of many mortal frailties and weak- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 197 
 
 nesses which ordinary people cannot overconne. 
 You do not know what it is, at one blow, to be de- 
 serted by a lovely and fascinating creature, and to 
 fall a victim to the artifices of a villain, who hid 
 the grin of cunning beneath the mask of friend- 
 ship. I hope you never may. 
 
 "Any letter, addressed to me at the Leather 
 Bottle, Cobham, Kent, will be forwarded — sup- 
 posing I still exist. I hasten from the sight of that 
 world, which has become odious to me. Should I 
 hasten from it altogether, pity — forgive me. Life, 
 my dear Pickwick, has become insupportable to 
 me. The spirit which burns within us, is a por- 
 ter's knot, on which to rest the heavy load of 
 worldly cares and troubles; and when that spirit 
 fails us, the burden is too heavy to be borne. We 
 sink beneath it. You may tell Rachael — Ah, that 
 name I— 
 
 " Tracy Tupman." 
 
 " We must leave this place directly," said Mr. 
 Pickwick, as he refolded the note. " It would not 
 have been decent for us to remain here, under any 
 circumstances, after what has happened; and, now, 
 we are bound to follow in search of our friend." 
 And so saying, he led the way to the house. 
 
 His intentions was rapidly communicated. The 
 entreaties to remain were pressing, but Mr. Pick- 
 wick was inflexible. Business, he said, required 
 his immediate attendance. 
 
 The old clergyman was present. 
 
 " You are not really going f said he, taking Mr. 
 Pickwick aside. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick reiterated his former determina- 
 tion. 
 
 " Then here," said the old gentleman, " is a lit- 
 tle manuscript, which I had hoped to have the 
 17* 
 
198 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP- 
 
 pleasure of reading to you myself. I found it on 
 the death of a friend of mine — a nnedical man, en- 
 gaged in our County Lunatic Asylum — among a 
 variety of papers, which I had the option of de- 
 stroying or preserving, as I thought proper. I can 
 hardly believe that the manuscript is genuine, 
 though it certainly is not in my friend's hand. 
 How'ever, whether it be the genuine production of 
 a maniac, or founded upon the ravings of some 
 unhappy being, which 1 think more probable, read 
 it, and judge for yourself." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick received the manuscript, and 
 parted from the benevolent old gentleman with 
 many expressions of good wall and esteem. 
 
 It was a more difficult task to take leave of the 
 inmates of Manor Farm, from whom they had re- 
 ceived so much hospitality and lundness. Mr, 
 Pickwick kissed the young ladies — we were going 
 to say, as if they were his own daughters, only as 
 he might possibly have infused a little more warmth 
 into the salutation, the comparison would not be 
 quite appropriate — hugged the old lady with filial 
 cordiality : and patted the rosy cheeks of the fe- 
 male servants in a most patriarchal manner, as he 
 slipped into the hands of each, some more substan- 
 tial expressions of his approval. The exchange of 
 cordialities with their fine old host and Mr. Trun- 
 dle, were even more hearty and prolonged ; and it 
 was not until Mr. Snodgrass had been several 
 times called for, and at last emerged from a dark 
 passage followed soon after by Emily (whose bright 
 eyes looked unusually dim) that the three friends 
 were enabled to tear themselves from their friendly 
 entertainers. Many a backward look they gave 
 at the Farm, as they walked slowly away : and 
 many a kiss did Mr. Snodgrass waft in the air, in 
 acknowledgment of something very like a lady's 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 199 
 
 handkerchief, which was waved from one of the 
 upper windows, until a turn of the lane hid the old 
 house from their sight. 
 
 At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to 
 Rochester. By the time they reached the last- 
 named place, the violence of their grief had suf- 
 ficiently abated to admit of their making a very 
 excellent early dinner; and having procured the 
 necessary information relative to the road, the three 
 friends set forward again in the afternoon to walk 
 to Cob ham. 
 
 A delightful walk it w^as: for it was a pleasant 
 afternoon in June, and their way lay through a 
 deep and shady wood, cooled by the light wind 
 which gently rustled the thick foliage, and en- 
 livened by the songs of the birds that perched 
 upon the boughs. The ivy and the moss crept in 
 thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft green 
 turf overspread the ground like a silken mat. They 
 emerged upon an open park, with an ancient iiall, 
 displaying the quaint and picturesque architecture 
 of Elizabeth's time. Long vistas of stately oaks 
 and e\m trees appeared on every side; iarge herds 
 of deer were cropping the fresh grass; and occa- 
 sionally a startled hare scoured along the ground, 
 with the speed of the shadows thrown by the light 
 clouds which sweep across a sunny landscape like 
 a passing breavh of summer. 
 
 "If this," said Mr. Pickwick, looking about 
 him; "if this were the place to which all who are 
 troubled with our friend's complaint came, I fancy 
 their old attachment to this world would very soon 
 return." 
 
 " I think so, too," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "And really," added Mr. Pickwick, after half an^ 
 hour's walking had brought them to the village, 
 "really, for a misanthrope's choice, this is one of 
 
^00 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the prettiest and most desirable places of residence 
 I ever met with." 
 
 In this opinion, also, both Mr. Winkle and Mr. 
 Snodgrass expressed their concurrence ; and having 
 been directed to the Leather Bottle, a clean and 
 commodious vilbge ale-house, the three travellers 
 entered, and at once inquired for a gentleman of 
 the name of Tupman. 
 
 " Show the gentlemen into the parlour, Tom," 
 said the landlady. 
 
 A stout country lad opened a door at the end 
 of the passage, and the three friends entered a long, 
 low-roofed room, furnished with a large number 
 of high-backed, leather- cushioned cliairs of fan- 
 tastic shapes, and embellished with a great variety 
 of old portraits and roughly coloured prints of some 
 antiquity. At the upper end of the room was a 
 table, with a white cloth upon it, well covered 
 w'ith a roast fowl, bacon, ale, and et ceteras; and 
 at the table sat Mr. Tupman, looking as unlike a 
 man, who had taken his leave of the w'orld, as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 On the entrance of his friends, that gentleman 
 laid down his knife and fork, and with a mournful 
 air advanced to meet them. 
 
 '•' I did not expect to see you here," he said, as he 
 grasped Mr. Pickwick's hand. " It's very kind." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mr. Pickwick, sitting down, and 
 wiping from his forehead the perspiration which 
 the walk had engendered. "Finish your dinner, 
 and walk out with me, I wish to speak to you 
 alone.'^ 
 
 Mr. Tupman did as he was desired ; and Mr. 
 Pickwick, having refreshed himself w^ith a copious 
 draught of ale, waited his friend's leisure. The 
 dinner was quickly despatched, and they vvalked 
 out together, . 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 
 
 201 
 
 For half an hour their forms might have been 
 seen pacing the church-yard to and fro, while Mr. 
 Pickwick was engaged in combating his compa- 
 nion's resolution. Any repetition of his arguments 
 would be useless; for what language could con- 
 vey to them that energy and force which their 
 great originator's manner communicated ? Whe- 
 ther Mr. Tupman was already tired of retirement, 
 or whether he was wholly unable to resist the elo- 
 quent appeal which was made to him, matters 
 not ; he did not resist it at last. 
 
 "It mattered little to him," he said, '< whither 
 he drao-o'ed out the miserable remainder of his 
 
 on 
 
 days ; and since his friend laid so much stress upon 
 his humble companionship, he was willing to share 
 his adventures." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick smiled ; they shook liands ; and 
 walked back to rejoin their companions. 
 
 It was at this moment that Mr. Pickwick made 
 that immortal discovery, which has been the pride 
 and boast of his friends, and the envy of every 
 antiquarian in this or any other country. They 
 had passed the door of their inn, and walked a lit- 
 tle way down the village, before they recollected 
 the precise spot in which it stood. As they turned 
 back, Mr. Pickwick's eye fell upon a small broken 
 stone, partially buried in the ground, in front of a 
 cottage door. He paused. 
 
 '< This is very strange," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " What is strange ?" inquired Mr. Tupman, 
 staring eagerly at every object near him but the 
 right one. " Why, bless me, what's the matter?' 
 
 This last was an ejaculation of irrepressible asto- 
 nishment, occasioned by seeing Mr. Pickwick, in 
 his enthusiasm for discovery, fall on his knees be- 
 fore the little stone, and commence wiping the dust 
 off it with his pocket-handkerchief. 
 
202 POSTHUMOUS TAPERS OF 
 
 " Tiiere is an inscription here," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick- 
 
 " Is it possible !" said Mr. Tupman. 
 "I can discern," continued Mr. Pickwick, rub- 
 bing away with all his might, and gazing intently 
 through his spectacles ; " I can discern a cross, 
 and a B, and then a T. This is important," con- 
 tinued Mr. Pickwick, starting up. "This is some 
 very old inscription — existing, perhaps, long before 
 ancient alms-houses in this place. It must not be 
 lost. 
 
 He tapped at the cottage-door A labouring 
 man opened it. 
 
 " Do you know how this stone came here, my 
 friend?" inquired the benevolent Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "No, I doan't sir," replied the man, civilly. " It 
 was here long" afore I war born, or any on us." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick glanced triumphantly at his com- 
 panion. 
 
 "You — you — are not particularly attached to 
 it, I dare say," said Mr. Pickwick, trembling with 
 anxiety. " You wouldn't mind selling it now?" 
 
 " Ah ! but who'd buy it ?" inquired the man, with 
 an expression of face he probably meant to be very 
 cunning. 
 
 " I'll give you ten shillings for it at once," said 
 Mr. Pickwick, "if you would take it up for me." 
 The astonishment of the village may be easily 
 imagined, when (the little stone bavin": been raised 
 with one wrench of a spade,) Mr. Pickwick, by 
 dint of great personal exertion, bore it with his own 
 hands to the inn, and after having carefully wash- 
 ed it, deposited it on the table. 
 
 The exultation and joy of the Pickwickians 
 knew no bounds, when their patience and assiduity, 
 their washing and scraping, were crowned with 
 success. The stone was uneven and broken, and 
 the letters were straggling and irregular, but the 
 
TilE PICKWICK CLUB. 2(J3 
 
 following fragment of an inscription was clearly 
 to be deciphered : 
 
 U M 
 P S H I 
 
 S. M. 
 ARK 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's eyes sparkled with delight, as 
 he sat and gloated over the treasure he had dis- 
 covered. He had attained one of the greatest ob- 
 jects of his ambition. In a county known to abound 
 in remains of the early ages; in a village in which 
 there still existed some memorials of the olden 
 time, he — he the Chairman of the Pickwick Club — • 
 had discovered a strange and curious inscription of 
 unquestionable antiquity, which had wholly escaped 
 the observation of many learned men who had pre- 
 ceded^him. He could hardly trust the evidence 
 of his senses* 
 
 '• This— this," said he, " determines me. We 
 return to town, to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow!" exclaimed his admiring follow- 
 ers. 
 
 " To-morrow," said Mr. Pickwick. " This trea- 
 sure must be at once deposited v/here it can be 
 thoroughly investigated, and properly understood. 
 I have another reason for this step. In a few days, 
 an election is to take place for the borough of 
 Eatanswill, at which Mr. Perker, a gentleman 
 whom 1 lately m.et, is the agent of one of the can- 
 didates. We will' behold, and minutely examine, a 
 scene so interesting to every Englishman." 
 
 "We will," was the animated cry of three 
 voices. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick looked round him. The attach- 
 
204 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ment aud fervour of his followers, lighted up a 
 glow of enthusiasm withia him. He was their 
 leader, and he felt it. 
 
 *' Let us celehrate this happy meeting, with a 
 convivial glass," said he. This proposition, like the 
 other, was received with unanimous applause. And 
 having himself deposited the important stone in a 
 small deal box, purchased from the landlady for 
 the purpose, he placed himself in an arm-chair at 
 the head of the table; and the evening was devo- 
 ted to festivity and conversation. 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock — a late hour for the 
 little village of Cobham — when Mr. Pickwick re- 
 tired to the bed-room which had been prepared 
 for his reception. He threw open the lattice-win- 
 dow, and setting his light upon the table, fell into a 
 train of meditation on the hurried events of the 
 two preceding days. 
 
 The hour and the place were both favourable to 
 contemplation ; Mr. Pickwick was roused, by the 
 church-clock striking twelve. The first stroke of 
 the hour sounded solemnly in his ear, but when the 
 bell ceased, the stilness seemed insupportable; — he 
 almost felt as if he had lost a companion. He was 
 nervous and excited ; and hastily undressing him- 
 self, and placing his light in the chimney, got into 
 bed. 
 
 Every one has experienced that disagreeable 
 state of mind, in which a sensation of bodily wea- 
 riness in vain contends against an inability to sleep. 
 It was Mr. Pickwick's condition at this moment ; 
 he tossed first on one side and then on the other; 
 and persevcringly closed his eyes as if to coax 
 himself to slumber. It was of no use. Whether 
 it was the unwonted exertion he had undergone, 
 or the heat, or the brandy and water, or the strange 
 bed — whatever it was, his thoughts kept reverting 
 very uncomfortably to the grim pictures down 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 205 
 
 stairs, and the old stories to which they had given 
 rise in the course of the evening. After half an 
 hour's tumbling about, he came to the unsatisfac- 
 tory conclusion, that it was of no use trying to 
 sleep ; so he got up and partially dressed himself. 
 Any thing, he thought, was better than lying there 
 fancying all kind of horrors. He looked out of the 
 window — it was very dark. He walked about the 
 room — it was very lonely. 
 
 He had taken a few turns from the door to 
 the w'indow and from the window to the door, 
 when the clergyman's manuscript for the first 
 time entered his head. It was a good thought. 
 If it failed to interest him it might send him to 
 sleep. He took it from his coat-pocket, and draw- 
 ing a small table towards his bed-side, trimmed 
 the light, put on his spectacles, and composed 
 himself to read. It was a strange hand- writing, 
 and the paper was much soiled and blotted. The 
 title gave him a sudden start, too ; and he could not 
 avoid casting a wistful glance round the room. Re- 
 flecting on the absurdity of giving way to such 
 feelings, however, he trimmed the light again, and 
 read as follows: 
 
 A MADMAN'S MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 -' Ves ! — a madman's ! How that word would 
 have struck to my heart, many years ago ! How it 
 would have roused the terror that used to come 
 upon me sometimes; sending the blood hissing and 
 tingling through my veins, 'till the cold dew of fear 
 stood in large drops upon my skin, and my knees 
 knocked together with fright! 1 like it now, 
 though. It's a fine name. Show me the monarch 
 whose angry frown was ever feared like the glare 
 of a madman's eye — whose cord and axe were 
 18 
 
206 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ever half so sure as a madman's gripe. Ho! ho! 
 It's a grand thing to be mad ! to be peeped at like 
 a wild lion through the iron bars — to gnash one's 
 teeth and howl,, through the long still night, to the 
 merry ring of a heavy chain — and to roll and 
 twine among the straw, transported with such 
 brave music. Hurrah for the madhouse ! Oh, it's 
 a rare place I 
 
 " I remember days when I was afruid of being 
 mad ; when I used to start from my sleep, and fall 
 upon my knees, and pray to be spared from the 
 curse of my race ; when I rushed from the sight 
 of merriment or happiness, to iiide myself in some 
 lonely place, and spend the weary hours in watch- 
 ing the progress of the fever that was to consume 
 my brain. I knew that madness was mixed up 
 with my very blood, and the marrow of my bones ; 
 that one generation had passed away without the 
 pestilence appearing among them, and that 1 was 
 the first in w^hom it would revive. I knew it must 
 be so; that so it always had been, and so it ever 
 would be : and when I cowered in some obscure 
 corner of a crowded room, and saw men whisper, 
 and point, and turn their eyes towards me, I knew 
 they were telling each other of the doomed mad- 
 man; and I slunk away again to mope in soli- 
 tude. 
 
 "I did. this for years; long, long years they 
 were. The nights here are long sometimes — very 
 long; but they are nothing to tlie restless nights, 
 and dreadful dreams, I had at that time. It makes 
 me cold to remember them. Large dusky forms, 
 with sly and jeering faces, crouched in the cor- 
 ners of the room, and bent over my bed at night, 
 tempting me to madness. They told me, in low 
 whispers, that the floor of tlie old house in which 
 my father's father diedj was stained with his own 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 207 
 
 blood, shed by his own hand in raging madness. 1 
 drove my fingers into my ears, but Ihey screamed 
 into my head 'lill the room rang with it, that in 
 one generation before him the madness slumbered, 
 but that his grandfather had lived for years with 
 his hands fettered to the ground, to prevent his 
 tearing himself to pieces. I knew they told the 
 truth — I knew it well. I had found it out years 
 before, though they had tried to keep it from me. 
 Ha! ha ! I was too cunning for them, madman as 
 they thought me. 
 
 " At last it came upon me, and I wondered how 
 1 could ever have feared it. I could go into the 
 world now, and laugh and shout with the best 
 among them. I knew 1 was mad, but they did 
 not even suspect it. How I used to hug myself 
 with delight, when I thought of the fine trick I 
 was playing them after their old pointing and leer- 
 ing, when I was not mad, but only dreading that 
 I might one day become so ! And how I used to 
 laugh for joy, when I was alone, and thought how 
 well I kept my secret, and how quickly my kind 
 friends would have fallen from me, if they had 
 known the truth. I could have screamed with 
 .ecstacy when I dined alone with some fine roaring 
 fellow, to think how pale he would have turned, 
 and how fiist he would have run, if he had known 
 that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharp- 
 ening a bright glittering knife was a madman, with 
 all the power and half the will, to plunge it in his 
 heart. Oh, it was a merry life ' 
 
 "Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon 
 me, and I rioted in pleasures, enhanced a thousand 
 fold to me by the consciousness of my well-kept 
 secret. I inherited an estate. The law — the eagle- 
 eyed law itself—had been deceived, and had 
 hp,nded over disputed thousands to a madman's 
 
208 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 hands. Where was the wit of ihc sharp sighted 
 men of sound mind? Where the dexterity of the 
 lawyers, eager to discover a flaw ? The madman's 
 cunning had over-reached them all. 
 
 '' I had money. How I was courted ! I spent 
 it profusely. How I was praised ! How those 
 three proud overbearing brothers humbled them- 
 selves before me! The old white-headed father, 
 toor^such deference — such respect- — such devoted 
 friendship — why, he w^orshipped me. The old man 
 had a daughter, and the ^-oung men a sister; and 
 all the five were poor. I was rich ; and when I 
 married the girl, I saw a smile of triumph play 
 upon the faces of her needy relatives, as they 
 thought of their well-planned schemes, and their 
 fine prize. It was for me to smile. To smile! 
 To laugh outright, and tear my hair, and roll upon 
 the ground with shrieks of meriment. They little 
 thought they had married her to a madman. 
 -|.i, " Stay. If they had known it, would they have 
 saved her? A sister's happiness against her lius- 
 band's gold. The lightest feather I blow^ into the 
 air, against the gay chain that ornaments my body ! 
 
 "In one thing Iwas deceived, with all my cun- 
 ning. If I had not been mad, — for though we 
 madman are sharp-witted enough, we get bevN'il- 
 dered sometimes, — I should have know-n that tlie 
 girl would rather have been placed, stiff and cold, 
 in a dull leaden coffin, than borne aji envied bride 
 to my rich glittering house. I should have known 
 that her heart was with the dark-eyed boy, wdiose 
 name I once heard her breathe in her troubled 
 sleep; and that she had been sacrificed to me, to 
 relieve the poverty of the old white-headed man, 
 and the haughty brothers, 
 
 " I don't remember forms or faces now, but I 
 l<;now the girl was beautiful. I knoxv she was; 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 209 
 
 for in the bright moonlight nights, when I start 
 up from my sleep, and all is quiet about me, I see, 
 standing still and motionless in one corner of this 
 cell, a slight and wasted figure, with long black 
 hair, which, streaming down her back, stirs with 
 no earthly wind, and eyes that fix their gaze on 
 me, and never wink or close. Hush! the blood 
 chills at my heart as I write it down — that form is 
 her^s ; the face is very pale, and, the eyes are 
 glassy bright : but I know them well. Tha*^t figure 
 never moves ; it never frowns and mouths as others 
 do, that fill this place sometimes ; but it is much 
 more dreadful to me, even than the spirits that 
 tempted me many years ago — it comes fresh from 
 the ^rave; and is so very death-like. 
 
 " For nearly a year I saw that face grow paler : 
 for nearly a year, I saw the tears steal down the 
 mournful cheeks, and never knew the cause. I 
 found it out at last though. They could not keep 
 it from me long. She had never liked me ; I had 
 never thought she did : she despised my wealth, and 
 hated the splendour in which she lived ; — I had not 
 expected that. She loved another. This I had 
 never thoutrht of. Stranoje feelinsrs came over me, 
 and thoughts forced upon me by some secret pow- 
 er, whirled round and round my brain. I did not 
 hate her, though 1 hated the boy she still wept for. 
 I pitied — yes, I pitied — the wretched life to which 
 her cold and selfish relations had doomed her. I 
 knew that she could not live long, but the thought 
 that before her death she might give birth to some 
 ill-fated being, destined to hand down madness to 
 its offspring, determined me. I resolved to kill 
 her. 
 
 *^ For many weeks I thought of poison, and then 
 of drowning, and then of fire. A fine sight the 
 grand house in flames, and the madman's wife 
 18* 
 
2l0 POSTHUMOUS i>AI*ER5 Of 
 
 siliouldering away to cinders. Think of the jest 
 of a large reward, too, and of some sane man 
 swinging in the wind, for a deed he never did, and 
 all through a madman's cunning ! I thought often 
 of this, but I gave it up at last. Oh I the pleasure 
 of stropping the razor day after day, feeling, the 
 sharp edge, and .thinking of the gash one stroke of 
 its thin bright point would make! 
 
 " At last the old spirits who had beer? with me so 
 often before, whispered in my ear that the time 
 was come, and thrust the open razor into my hand. 
 1 grasped it firmly, rose softly from the bed, and 
 leaned over my sleeping wife. Her face was bu- 
 ried in her hands. I withdrew them softly, and 
 the}' fell li-stlessly on her bosom. She had been 
 w'^eeping, for the traces of the tears were still wet 
 upon her cheek. Her face was calm and- placid; 
 and even as I looked upon it, a tranquil smile light- 
 ed up her pale features. I laid my hand softly on 
 her shoulder. She started — it was only a passing 
 dream. I leaned forward again. She screamed, 
 apd woke. 
 
 " One motion of my hand, and she would never 
 again have uttered cry or sound. But 1 was start- 
 led, and drew back. Her eyes were fixed on mine. 
 I know not how it was, but they cowed and friglu- 
 eaed me; and I quailed beneath them. She rose 
 from the bed, still gazing fixedly and steadily on 
 me. Itrembled ; tlie razor was in my hand, but I 
 Gould not move. She made towards the door. 
 As she neared it, she turned, and withdrew her eyes 
 from my face. The spell was broken. I 
 bounded forward, and clutched her by the arm. 
 Uttering shriek upon shriek, she sunk upon the 
 gt'ound. 
 
 *«Now 1 could have killed her without a strug- 
 gle; but the house was alarmed. I heard the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 211 
 
 tfead of footsteps on the stairs. I jeplaced the 
 razor in its usual drawer, unfastened, the door, and 
 called loudly for assistance. 
 
 " The}" came and raised her, and placed her on 
 the bed. She lay bereft of animation for hours; 
 and when life, look, and speech returned, her sen- 
 ses had deserted her, and she raved wildly and fu- 
 riously. 
 
 '• Doctors were called in— rgreat men who rolled 
 up to my door in easy carriages, with fine horses and 
 gaudy servants. They were at her bedside for weeks. . 
 They had a great meeting, and consulted together in 
 low and solemn voices in another room. One, the 
 cleverest and most celebrated among them, took me. 
 aside and biddiiig.me prepare for the worst, told me, 
 — me, the madman!— that my wife was mad. He 
 stood close beside me at an open v»'indow, his eyes 
 looking in my face, and his hand laid upon my 
 arm. With one eifort, I could have hurled hifn 
 into the street beneatli. It would have been rare 
 sport to have done it ; b"t .my secret was at 
 stake, and I let him go. A few. days after, they 
 told me I must place her under some restraint: I 
 must provide a keeper for her. // I went into the 
 open fields where none could hear me, and laugh- 
 ed till the air resounded with my shouts! 
 
 '■ She died' next d'<-^y' The white-headed old 
 man followed her to the grave, and the proud bro- 
 thers dropped a tear over the insensible corpse of 
 her whose sufFerings they had I'egarded in her life- 
 time with muscles of iron. All this was food for 
 my secret mirth, and I laughed behind the white 
 handkerchief which I held up to my face as we 
 rode home, 'till the tears came into my eyes. 
 
 " But though I had carried my object and killed 
 her, I was restless and disturbed, and I felt that 
 before long my secret must be known. I could not 
 
212 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS or 
 
 hide the wild mirth and joy which boiled within me, 
 and made me when I was alone, at home, jump up 
 and beat my hands together, and dance round and 
 round, and roar aloud. When I went out, and saw 
 the busy crowds hurrying about the streets: or to 
 the theatre, and heard the sound of music, and be- 
 held the people dancing, 1 felt suchglee, that I could 
 have rushed among them, and torn them to pieces 
 limb from limb, and howled in transport. But I 
 ground my teeth, and struck my feet upon the 
 floor, and drove *my sharp nails into my hands. 1 
 kept it down; and no one knew that I was a mad- 
 man yet. 
 
 ''J remember — though it is one of the last things 
 I can remember: for now I mix realities with my 
 dreams, and having so much to do, and being al- 
 ways hurried here, have no lime to separate the 
 two, from some strange confusion in which they 
 get involved — I remember how I let it out at last. 
 Ha ! ha ! I think I see their frightened looks now, 
 and feel the ease with which I flung them from 
 me, and dashed my clenched fists into their white 
 faces, and then flew like the wind, and left them 
 screaming and shouting far behind. The strength 
 of a giant comes upon me when I think of it. There 
 — see how this iron bar bends beneath my furious 
 wrench. I could snap it like a twig, only there 
 are long galleries here with many doors — I don't 
 think I could find my way along them : and even 
 if I could, I know there are iron gates below which 
 they keep locked and barred. They know what 
 a clever madman I have been and they are proud 
 to have me here to show. 
 
 "Let me see; — yes, I had been out. It was 
 late at night when 1 reached home, and found the 
 pi'oudest of the three proud brothers, waiting to 
 see me — urgent business he said: I recollect it 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 
 
 213 
 
 well. I hated that man with all a madman's hate. 
 Many and many a time had my fingers longed to 
 tear him. They told me he was there. I ran 
 swiftly up stairs. He had a word to say to me. I 
 dismissed the servants. It was late, and we were 
 alone together— ^/br thejirst time. 
 
 " I kept my ej^es carefully from him at first, for 
 I knev/ what he little thought— and I gloried in 
 the knowledge — that the light of madness gleamed 
 from them lilvC fire. We sat in silence for a few 
 minutes. Hespokeatlast. My recent dissipation, 
 and strange rem.arks, made so soon after his sis-; 
 ter's death, were ar^ insult to her memory. Coupling 
 together maiiy circumstances which had at first 
 escaped his observation, he thought I had not 
 treated her well. He wished to know whether he 
 was right in inferring that I meant to cast a re- 
 proach upon her memory, and a disrespect upon 
 her family. It was due to the uniform he wore, 
 to demand this explanation. 
 
 " This man had a commission in the army — a 
 commission, purchased with my money, and his 
 sister's miser}^ This was the man who had been 
 foremost in the plot to ensnare me, and grasp my 
 wealth. This was the man who had been the main 
 instrument in forcing his sister to wed me ; well 
 knowing that her heart was given to that puling 
 boy. Due ! Due to Ids unifoi-m ! .The livery of 
 his degradation ! I turned my eyes upon him— 
 1 could not help it — but I spoke not a word. 
 
 " I saw the sudden change that came upon him, 
 beneath my gaze. He was a bold man, but the 
 colour faded from his face, and he drew back his 
 chair. I dragged mine nearer to him; and as I 
 laughed— I was very merry then— I saw him 
 shudder. I felt the madness rising within me, He 
 W^s afraid of me., 
 
214 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " ' You were very fond of your sister when she 
 was alive' — I said ' Very.' 
 
 "He looked uneasily round him, and I saw his 
 hand grasp the back of his chair: but he said 
 nothing. 
 
 *'* You villain,' said I, '1 found you out; I dis- 
 covered your hellish plots against me ; I know her 
 heart was fixed on some one else before you com- 
 pelled her to marry me. 1 know it — 1 know it.' 
 
 " He jumped suddenly from his chair, "brandished 
 it aloft, and bid me stand back — for I took care to 
 be getting closer to him, all the time I spoke. 
 
 "I screamed rather than talked, for I felt tu- 
 multuous passions eddying through my veins, and 
 the old spirits whispering and taunting me to tear 
 his heart out. 
 
 *' ' Damn you,' said I, starting up, and rushing 
 upon him ; ' I killed her. lama madman. Down 
 with you. Blood, blood, I will have it.' 
 
 ^' I turned aside with one blow, the chair he 
 hurled at me in his terror, and closed with him ; 
 and with a heavy crash, we rolled upon the floor 
 together. 
 
 " It was a fine struggle that, for he was a tall 
 strong man, fighting for his life; and I, a powerful 
 madman, thirsting to destroy him. I knew no 
 strength could equal mine, and I was right. Right, 
 again, though a madman ! His struggles grew faint- 
 er. I knelt upon his chest, and clasped his brawny 
 throat, firmly with both hands. His face grew 
 purple; his eyes were starting from his head, and 
 with protruded tongue, he seemed to mock me. I 
 squeezed the tighter. 
 
 *' The door was suddenly burst open with a loud 
 noise, and a crowd of people rushed forward, cry- 
 ing aloud to each other, to secure the madman. 
 
 ^'My secret was out ; and my on\j struggle now 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 215 
 
 was for liberty and freedom. 1 gained my feet 
 before a hand was on me, threw myself among my 
 assailants, and cleared my way with my strong 
 arm as if I bore a hatchet in my hand, and hewed 
 them down before me. I gained the door, dropped 
 over the banisters, and in an instant was in the 
 street. 
 
 "Straight and swift I ran, and no one dared to 
 stop me. I heard the noise of feet behind, and re- 
 doubled my speed. It grew fainter and fainter in 
 the distance, and at length died away altogether; 
 but on I bounded, through marsh and rivulet, over 
 fence and wall, with a wild shout which was taken 
 up by the strange beings that flocked around me 
 on every side, and swelled the sound, till it pierced 
 the air. I was borne upon the arms of demons 
 who swept along upon the wind, and bore down 
 bank and hedge before them, and spun me round 
 and round with a rustle and a speed that made my 
 head swim, until at last they threw me from them 
 with a violent shock, and 1 fell heavily upon the 
 earth. When I awoke I found myself here — here 
 in this gay cell where the sun-light seldom comes, 
 and the moon steals in, in rays which only serve 
 to show the dark shadows about me, and that silent 
 figure in its old corner. When 1 lie awake, I can 
 sometimes hear strange shrieks and cries from dis- 
 tant parts of this large place. What they are, I 
 know not; but they neither come from that pale 
 form, nor does it regard them. For from the first 
 shades of dusk 'till the earliest light of morning, it 
 still stands motionless in the same place, listening 
 to the music of my iron chain, and watching my 
 gambols on my straw bed." 
 
 At the end of the manuscript, was written, in 
 another hand, this note : — 
 
 [The unhappy man whose ravings are recorded 
 
216 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 above, was a melancholy instance of the baneful 
 results of energies misdirected in early life, and 
 excesses prolonged until their consequences could 
 never be repaired. The thoughtless riot, dissipa- 
 tion, and debauchery of his younger days, pro- 
 duced fever and delirium. The first effects of the 
 latter, Vv^as the strange delusion, founded upon a well- 
 known medical thcor}^, strongly contended for by 
 some, and as strongly contested by others, that an 
 hereditary madness existed in his family. This 
 produced a settled gloom, which in time developed 
 a morbid insanity, and finally terminated in raving 
 madness. There is every re'ason to believe that 
 the events he detailed, though distorted in the de- 
 scription by his diseased imagination, really hap- 
 pened. It is only matter of wonder to those who 
 were acquainted with the vices of his early career, 
 that his passions, when no longer controlled by 
 reason, did not lead him to the commission of sti.ll 
 more frightful deeds.] 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's candle was just expiring in ihe 
 socket, as he concluded the perusal of the old cler- 
 gyman's manuscript; and when the light went sud- 
 denly out, v.'ithout any previous flicker by way of 
 warning, it communicated a very considerable 
 start to his excited frame. Hastily throwing off 
 such articles of clothing as he had put on when he 
 rose from his uneasy bed, and casting a fearful 
 glance around, he once more scrambled hastily 
 between the sheets, and soon fell fiist asleep. 
 
 The sun was shining brilliantly into his chamber 
 when he awoke, and the morning was far ad- 
 vanced. The gloom, which had oppressed him on 
 the previous night, had disappeared with the dark 
 shadows which shrouded the landscape, and his 
 thoughts and feelings were as light and gay as 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 217 
 
 the morning itself. After a hearty breakfast, the 
 four gentlemen sallied forth to walk to Gravesend, 
 followed by a man bearing the stone in its deal box. 
 They reached that town about one o'clock, (their 
 luggage they had directed to be forwarded to the 
 city, iiom Rochester,) and being fortunate enough 
 to secure places on the outside of a coach, arrived 
 in London, in sound health and spirits, on that 
 same afternoon. 
 
 The next three or four days w^ere occupied with 
 the preparations which were necessary for their 
 journey to the borough of Eatanswill. As any re- 
 ference to that most important undertaking de- 
 mands a separate chapter, we may devote the few- 
 lines which remain at the close of this, to narrate, 
 with great brevity, the history of the antiquarian 
 discovery. 
 
 It appears from the Transactions of the Club, 
 then, that Mr. Pickwick lectured upon the discovery 
 at a general Club Meeting, convened on the night 
 succeeding their return, and entered into a variety 
 of ingenious and erudite speculations on the mean- 
 ing of the inscription. It also appears that a skilful 
 artist executed a faithful delineation of the curiosi- 
 ty which was engraven on stone, and presented to 
 the Royal Antiquarian Society, and other learned 
 bodies, that heart-burnings and jealousies without 
 number were created by rival controversies which 
 were penned upon the subject — and that Mr. Pick- 
 wick himself wrote a pamphlet, containing ninety- 
 six pages of very small print, and twenty-seven 
 different readings of the inscription. That three 
 old gentlemen cut otf their eldest sons with a shil- 
 ling a-piece, for presuming to doubt the antiquity 
 of the fragment — and that one enthusiastic indivi- 
 dual cut himself off prematurely in despair at being 
 unable to fathom its meaning. That Mr. Pickwick 
 was elected an honorary member of seventeen ua- 
 
218 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 tive and foreign societies, for making the discovery ; 
 that none of the seventeen could niake any: thing 
 of it, but that all the seventeen agreed it was very 
 extraordinary. 
 
 Mr. Blotton, indeed — and the name will be 
 doomed to the undying contempt of those who cul- 
 tivate the mysterious and the sublime — Mr. Blot- 
 ton, we say, with the doubt and cavilling peculiar 
 to vulgar minds, presumed to state a view of the 
 case, as degrading as ridiculous. Mr. Blotton, 
 with a mean desire to tarnish the lustre of the im- 
 mortal name of Pickwick, actually undertook a 
 journey to Cobham in person, and on his return, 
 sarcastically observed in an oration at the club, 
 that he had seen the man from whom the stone 
 was purchased ; that the man presumed the stone 
 to be ancient, but solemnly denied the antiquity of 
 the inscription — inasmuch as he represented it to 
 have been rudely carved by himself in an idle 
 mood, and to display letters intended to bear neither 
 more nor less than the simple construction of — 
 ''Bill Stumps, his mark;" and that Mr. Stumps, 
 being little in the habit of original composition, and 
 more accustomed to be guided by the sound of 
 words than by tlie strict rules of orthography, 
 had omitted the concluding " L" of his christian 
 name. 
 
 The Pickwick Club, as might have been expect- 
 ed from so enlightened an institution, received this 
 statement with the contempt it deserved, expelled 
 the presumptuous and ill-conditioned Blotton from 
 the society, and voted Mr. Pickwick a pair of gold 
 spectacles, in token of their confidence and appro- 
 bation ; in return for which Mr. Pickwick caused 
 a portrait of himself to be painted, and hung up 
 in the club-room — which portrait, by the by, he did 
 not wish to have destroyed when he grew a few 
 years older. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 219 
 
 Mr. Blotton was ejected, but not conquerecl. He 
 also wrote a pamphlet, addressed to the seventeen 
 learned societies, containing a repetition of the 
 statement he had already made, and rather more 
 than half intimating his opinion that the seventeen 
 learned societies aforesaid were so many " hum- 
 bugs." Hereupon the virtuous indignation of the 
 seventeen learned societies being roused, several 
 fresh pamphlets appeared ; the foreign learned so- 
 cieties corresponded with the native learned socie- 
 ties, the native learned societies translated the pam- 
 phlets of the foreign learned societies into English, 
 the foreign learned societies translated the pam- 
 phlets of the native learned societies into all 
 sorts of languages: and thus commenced that ce- 
 lebrated scientitic discussion, so well known to all 
 men as the Pickwick controversy. 
 
 But this base attempt to injure Mr. Pickwick, 
 recoiled upon the head of its calumnious author. 
 The seventeen learned societies unanimously voted 
 the presumptuous Blotton an ignorant meddler ; and 
 forthwith set to work upon more treatises than 
 ever. And to this day the stone remains an illegi- 
 ble monument of Mr. Pickwick's greatness, and a 
 lasting trophy of the littleness of his enemies. 
 
 [To BE COKTINUEB.] 
 
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