';^ais^ 
 
LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 From the Libraries of 
 
 SAMUEL ARTHUR JONES, M.D. 
 
 and his son, 
 
 PROF. PAUL VAN BRUNT JONES 
 
 late of 
 
 the Dept. of History 
 
 University of IlHnois 
 
 x823 
 
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 1838a 
 
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Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
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THE 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 
 THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 BY R. SEYMOUR, PHIZ, AND CROWQUILL. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 WM. H. COLYER, 104 BEEKMAN-STREET. 
 
 1838. 
 
Ot^f 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The author's object in this work, was to place before the reader a 
 constant succession of characters and incidents ; to paint them in as 
 vivid colours as he could command ; and to render them, at the same 
 time life-like and amusing. 
 
 Deferring to the judgment of others in the outset cf the undertaking', 
 he adopted the machinery of the club, which was suggested as ihat 
 best adapted to his purpose : but, finding that it tended rather to his 
 embarrasment than otherwise, he gradually abandoned it, copsidering 
 it a matter of very little importance to the work whether strictly epic 
 justice were awarded to the club, or not. 
 
 The publication of the book in monthly numbers, containing only 
 thirty-two pages in each, rendered it an object of paramount importance 
 that while the different incidents were linked together by a chain of 
 interest strong enough to prevent their appearing unconnected or im- 
 possible, the general design should be so simple as to sustain no injury 
 from this detached and desultory form of publication, extending over 
 no fewer than twenty months. In short, it was necessary — or it ap- 
 peared so to the author — that every number should be. to a certain 
 extent, complete in itself, and yet that the whole twenty numbers, 
 when collected, should form one tolerably harmonious w^hole, each lead- 
 ing to the, other by a gentle and not unnatural progress of adventure. 
 
 It is obvious that in a work published with a view to such considera- 
 tions, no artfully interwoven or ingeniously complicated plot can with 
 reason be expected. The author ventures to express a hope that he 
 has successfully surmounted the difficulties of his undertaking. And 
 if it be objected to the Pickwick Papers, that they are a mere series 
 of adventures, in which the scenes are ever changing, and the characters 
 -come and go like the men and women we encounter in the real world, 
 he can only content himself with the reflection, that they claim to be 
 nothing else, and that the same objection has been made to the works 
 of some of the greatest novelists in the Engli&'h language. 
 
 The following pages have been written from time to time, almost as 
 the periodical occasion arose. Having been WTilten for the most part 
 in the society of a very dear young fi^end who is now no more, 
 they are connected in the author's mind at once with the happiest 
 period of his life, and with its saddest and most severe affliction. 
 
 The almost unexampled kindness and favour with which these 
 papers have been received by the public, will be a never-failing source 
 of gratifying and pleasant recollection while their author lives. He 
 trusts that, throughout this book, no incident or expression occurs 
 which could call a blu.sh into the most delicate cheek, or wound the 
 feelings of the most sensitive person. If any of his imperfect descrip- 
 tions, while they afford amusement in the perusal, should induce only 
 one reader to think better of his felluw-men, and to look upon the 
 brighter and more kindly side of human nature, he would indeed tc 
 proud and happy to have led to such a result. 
 
TO 
 
 MR. SERJEANT TALFORD, M. P. 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 My Deah Sir, 
 
 If I had not enjoyed the happiness of your private friendship, I 
 should still have dedicated this work to you, as a slight and most in- 
 adequate acknowledgment of the inestimable services you are rendering 
 to the literature of your country, and of the lasting benetits you will 
 confer upon the au,thors of this and succeeding generations, by securing 
 to them and their descendants a permanent interest in the copyright 
 of their works. 
 
 Many a fevered bead and palsied hand will gather new vigour in the 
 hour of sickness and distress from your excellent exertions ; many a 
 widowed mother and orphan child, who would otherwise reap nothing 
 from the frame of departed genias but its too frequent legacy of poverty 
 and suffering, will bear, in their altered condition, higher testimony to 
 the value of your labours than the most lavish encomiums from lip or 
 pen could ever aflbrd. 
 
 Beside such tributes, any avowal of feeling from me, on the question 
 to which you have devoted the combined advantages of your eloquence, 
 character, and genius, would be powerless indeed. Nevertheless, in 
 thus -publicLy expressing my deep and grateful cense of your efforts in 
 behalf of English literature, and of those who devote themselves to the 
 most precarious of all pursuits, I do but imperfect justice to my own 
 strong feelings on thi subject, if I do no service to you. 
 
 These few sentences would have comprised all I should have had to 
 say, if I had only known you in your public character. On the score 
 of private feeling, let me add one word more. 
 
 Accept the dedication of this book, my dear sir, as a mark of my 
 warmest regard and esteem — as a memorial of the most gratifying 
 friendship I have ever contracted, and cf some of the pleasantest hours 
 I have ever spent — as a token of my fervent admiration of every fine 
 quality of your head and heart — as an assurance of the truth and sin- 
 cerity with which I shall ever be, 
 
 My dear sir, 
 N M«st faithfully and sincerely yours, 
 
 Charles' DICKENS. 
 
 48 Doughty-street, 
 
 September 27, 1837. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 .THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Page. 
 Chapter I. — The Pickwickians 13 
 
 Chapter II. — The first day's journpy, and the first evening's adventures; 
 with their consequences 16 
 
 Chapter III. — A new acqaintance — The Stroller's Tale — A disagreeable 
 interruption ; and an unpleasant rencontre 3o 
 
 Chapter IV. — A field day and bivouac — More new friends ; and an 
 invitation to the country . , . . ' 43 
 
 Chapter V, — A s'nort one — Showing, among other matters, how Mr. 
 Pickwick undertook to drive, and Mr. Winkle to ride ; and how they both 
 didit . . . .' 51 
 
 Chapter VI -»-An old-fashioned card party — The Clergyman's verses — 
 The story of the Convict's return .58 
 
 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 
 Dinglcy Dell Cricket Club played All Muggleton, and how All ^fuggleton 
 dined at the Dingley Dell expense— With other interesting and instructive 
 matters 69 
 
 Chapter VIII. — Strongly illustrative of the position, that the course of 
 true love is not a railway 79 
 
 Chapter IX. — A discovery and a chase 86 
 
 Chapter X. — Clearing up all doubt (if any existed) of the disinterested- 
 ness of Mr. Jingle's character 94 
 
 Chapter XI. — Involving another journey, and an antiquarian discovery, 
 recording Mr. Pickwick's determination to be present at an election ; and 
 containing a manuscript of the old Clergyman's lO-l 
 
 Chapter XII. — Descriptive of a very important proceeding on the part 
 of Mr. Pickwick ; no less an epoch in his life than in his history 117 
 
 Chapter XIII. — Some account of Eatanswill ; of the .state of parties 
 therein ; and of the election of a jnember to R.?rve in Parliament for that 
 ancient, loyal, and patriotic Borough 121 
 
 Chapter XIV. — Comprising a brief description of the company at the 
 Peacock assembled ; and a tale told by a Bagman . • . 131 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter XV. — In which is given a faithful portraiture of two distin- 
 guished persons ; and an accurate description of a public breakfast In their 
 house and grounds : which public breakfast leads to the recognition of an 
 old acquaintance, and the commencement of another chapter . . 146 
 
 Chapter XVI. — Too full of adventures to be briefly described 156 
 
 Chapter XVII.— Showing that an attack of rheumatism, in some cases, 
 acts as a quickener to inventive genius 169 
 
 Chapter X VIII, — Briefly illustrative of two points : — First, the power of 
 hysterics, and secondly, the force of circumstances . . . , 175 
 
 CHAPTER' XIX. — A pleasant day, with an unpleasant termination . 182 
 
 Chapter XX. — Showing how Dodson and Fogg were men of business, 
 and their clerks men of pleasure : showing also what choice spirits assembled 
 at the Magpie and Stump, and what a capital chapter the next one will be 
 
 192 
 
 Chapter XXI. — In which the old man launches forth into his favourite 
 theme, and relates a story about a Queer Client .... 204 
 
 Chapter XXII. — Mr. Pickwick journeys to Ipswich, and meets with a 
 romantic adventure with a middle-aged lady in yellow curl papers . 216 
 
 Chapter XXIII. — In which Mr. Samuel Weller begins to devote his 
 energies to the return match between himself and Mr. Trotter . . 227 
 
 Chapter XXIV. — Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the 
 middle-aged lady apprehensive, which brings the Pickwickians within the 
 grasp of the law 233 
 
 Chapter XXV. — Showing, among a variety of pleasant matters, how 
 majestic and impartial Mr. Nupkins was ; and how Mr. Weller returned Mr. 
 Job Trotter's shuttlecock as heavily as it came ; with another matter, which 
 will be found in its place 244 
 
 Chapter XXVI. — -Which contains a brief account of the progress of the 
 action of Bardell against Pickwick . . ' 257 
 
 Chapter XXVII. — Samuel Weller makes a pilgrimage to Dorking, and 
 beholds his mother-in-law .... 262 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. — A good-humoured Christmas chapter, containing an 
 account of a wedding, and some other sports beside, which although in their 
 way, even as good customs as marriage itself, are not quite so religiously 
 kept up in these degenerate times 269 
 
POSTHUMOUS PAPERS, &C. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PICKWICKIAXS. 
 
 Th2 first ray of light which illumines the gloom, and converts into 
 a dcizzling brilliancj that obscurity in which the earher history of the 
 pubhc career of fhc immortal Pickwick would appear to be involved, is 
 derived from tlie perusal of the following entry in the Transactions of 
 the Pickwick Club, which the editor of these papers feels the highest 
 pleasure in laying before his readers, as a proof of the careful attention, 
 indefatigable assiduity, and nice discrimination, with which his search 
 among the multifarious documents confided to him has been conducted. 
 
 "May 12, 1817. Joseph Smiggers, Esq., P. V. P. M. P. C* pre- 
 siding. The following resolutions unanimously agreed to. 
 
 '• That this Association has heard read, with feehngs of unraingied 
 satisfaction, and unqualified approval, the paper communicated by 
 Samutl Pickwick, Esq., G. C M. P. Ct entitled " Speculations on 
 the Source of the Hampstead Ponds, with some Observations on the 
 Theory of Tittlebats;" and that this Association does hereby return 
 its warmest thanks to the said Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P. C, 
 for the same. 
 
 '« That while this Association is deeply sensible of the advantages 
 which must accrue to the cause of science, from the production to 
 which they have just adverted, no less than from the unwearied re- 
 searches of Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P. C, in Hornsey, High- 
 gate, Brixton, and CamberAvell ; they cannot but entertain a lively 
 sense of the inestimable benetits which must inevitably result frooa 
 carrying the speculations of that learned man into a wider field, from 
 extending his travels, and consequently enlarging; his sphere of obser- 
 vation ; to the advancement of knowledge, and the diiTusion of learning. 
 
 "That with the view just mentioned, this Association has taken 
 into its serious consideration a proposal, emanating from the aforesaid 
 Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. P C, and three other Pickwickian;;, 
 hereinafter named, for forming a new branch of United Pickwickianc, 
 under the title of The Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Club 
 
 " That the said proposal has received the sanction and approval of 
 this Association. 
 
 " That the Corresponding Society of the Pickwick Ciub is there- 
 fore hereby constituted; and that Samuel Pickwick, Esq., G. C. M. 
 
 ♦ Perpetual Vice President— Member Pickwick Club.— Ed. 
 t General Chairman — Member Pickwick Club. — Ed. 
 Vol. I.— 2 
 
1) POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 07 
 
 i*. C, Tracy Tupman, Esq., M. P. C, Augustus Snodgrass, Esq., 
 M. P. C,, and Mathaniel Winkle, Esq., M. P. C, are hereby nominated 
 and appointed members of the same ; and that they be requested to 
 forward, from time to time, authenticated accounts of their journeys 
 and investigations : of their observations of character and manners ; 
 and of the whole of their adventures, together with all tales and papers 
 to which local scenery or associations may give rise, to the Pickwick 
 Club, stationed in London. 
 
 "That this Association cordially recognises the principle of every 
 member of the Corresponding Society defraying his own travelling 
 expenses ; and that it sees no objection whatever to the members of 
 the said society pursuing their inquiries for any length of time they 
 please, upon the same terms. 
 
 " That the members of the aforesaid Corresponding Society, be, and 
 are hereby informed, that their proposal to pay the postage of their 
 letters, and the carriage of their parcels, hag been deliberated upon by 
 this Association. That this Association considers such proposal 
 worthy of the great minds from v^-hich it emanated ; and that it hereby 
 signifies its perfect acquiescence therein." 
 
 A casual observer, adds the secretary, to whose notes we afe indebted 
 for the following account — a casual observer might possibly have 
 remarked nothing extraordinary in the bald head, and circular specta- 
 cles, which were intently turned towards his (the secretary's) face, 
 during the reading of the above resolutions. To those who knew that 
 the giganlic brain of Pickwick was working beneath that forehead, and 
 that the beaming eyes of Pickw'ick 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 un- 
 moved 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 simultaneous call for " Pickwick" 
 burst froi.'» his followers, that illustrious man slowly mounted into the 
 Winds^or chair, on which he had been previously seated, and addressed 
 the club himself had founded. What a study for an artist did that 
 exciting scene present ! The eloquent Pickwick, with one hand 
 gracefully concealed behind his coat tails, and the other waving in air 
 to assist his glowing declamation : his elevated position revealing those 
 tights and gaiters, which, had they clothed an ordinary man, might have 
 passed without observation, but which, when Pickwick clothed them — 
 if we may use the expression — inspired involuntary awe and respect ; 
 surrounded by the men who had volunteered to share the perils of his 
 travels, and who were destined to participate in the glories of his dis- 
 coveries. On his right hand, sat Mr. Tracy Tupman ; the too sus- 
 ceptible Tupman, who to the wisdom and experience of maturer years 
 superadded the enthusiasm and ardour of a boy, in the most interesting 
 and pardonable of human weaknesses — love. Time and feeding had 
 expanded that once romantic form, the black silk waistcoat had become 
 more and moie developed ; inch by inch had the gold watch-chain 
 beneath it dis^appeared 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 — admira- 
 tion of the fair sex was still its ruling passion. On the left of his great 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 15 
 
 leader sat the poetic Snodgrass, and near him again the sporting Winkle, 
 the former poetically enveloped in a mysterious blue cloak with a canine 
 skin collar, and the latter communicating additional lustre to a new 
 green shooting coat, plaid neckerchief, and closely fitted drabs. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's oration upon this occasion, together with the debate 
 thereon, is entered on the Transactions of the Club. Both bear a 
 strong affinity to the discussions of other celebrated bodies ; and, as it 
 is always interesting to trace ,a resemblance between the proceedings of 
 great men, we transfer the entry to these pages. 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick observed (says the Secretary) that fame was dear to 
 the heart of every man. Poetic fame was dear to the heart of his 
 frienJ 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 by human weaknesses 
 (loud cries of " No ;'") but this he would say, that if ever the fire of 
 self-importance broke out in his bosom, the desire to benefit the human 
 race in preference effectually quenched it. The praise of mankind 
 was his suing ; philanthropy was his insurance office. (Vehement 
 cheering.) He had felt some pride — he acknowledged it freely ; and 
 let his enemies make the most of it — he had fell some pride when he 
 presented his Tittlebatian Theory to the ^vorld ; it might be celebrated 
 or it might not. (A cr>" 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 reflect on the authorship of that production, would be 
 as nothing compared with the pride with which he looked around him, 
 on this, the proudest moment of his existence. (Cheers.) He was an 
 humble individual. (No, no.) Still he could not but feel that they 
 had selected him for a service of great honor, and of some danger. 
 Travelling was in a troubled state, and the minds of coachmen were 
 unsettled. Let them look abroad, and contemplate the scenes which 
 were enacting around them. Stage coaches were upsetting in all 
 directi.>ns^ horses were bolting, boats were overturning, and boilers 
 were bursting. (Cheers — a voice "No.") No I (Cheers.) Let that 
 honourubh; Pickwickian who cried *' No" so loudly, come forward and 
 deny it, if he could. (Cheers.) Who was it that cried " No V (En- 
 thusiastic cheering.) Was it some vain and disappointed man — ho 
 would not say haberdasher — (loud cheers) — who, jealous of the praise 
 which had been — perhaps undeservedly — bestowed on his (Mr. Pick- 
 wick's) researches, and smarting under the censure which had been 
 heaped upon his own feeble attempts at rivalry, now took this vile and 
 calumnious mode of 
 
 " Mr. Bt.uTTON, (of Aldgate,) ra^e to order. Did the honourable 
 Pickwickian allude to him! (Cries of "Order," "Chair,'' " Ves,** 
 " No," " Go on," " Leave otf," &c.) 
 
 " .Mr. PicKwicK would not put up to be put down by clamour. He 
 had alluded to the honourable gentleman. (Cireat excitement.) 
 
 " Mr. Blotto.n would only say then, that he repelled the hon. gent's, 
 false and scurrilous accusation, with profound contempt. (Great cheer- 
 ing.) The hon. gent, was a humbug. (Immense confusion, and loud 
 cries of" chair" and " order.'') 
 
16 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 "Mr. A. SxonopAss rosp to order. He threw himself upon the 
 Chair. (Hear.) He wished to know, whether this di.sgraccful contest 
 between two members of that club should be allowed to continue. 
 (Hear, hear.) 
 
 •' The CllA^p.M^N was quite sure the hon. Pickwickian would with- 
 draw the expression he had just made use of. 
 
 ".Mr. Blottov, with all •,^ossiblc respect for the chair was quite 
 sure he woujd not. 
 
 '* I he CuAiRM.\N felt it his imperative duty to demand of the honour- 
 able gentleman, wheihef he had used the expression which had just 
 escaped liim, in a common sense. 
 
 •' Mr. Blotton had no he.sitation in sayintr, that he had not — he had 
 used the word in its Pickv.ickian sense. (Hear, hear.) He was bound 
 toackno'.vledtje, that, personally, he entertained the highest regard and 
 esteem for the honourable gentleman : he had merely considered him 
 a humbug in a Pickwickian point of view. (Hear, hear.) 
 
 ♦' Mr. Pickwick felt much gratified by the fair, candid, and full ex- 
 planation of his honourable friend. lie begged it to be at once under- 
 stood, that his own observations had been merely intended to bear a 
 Pickwickian constniction. (Cheers.)" 
 
 Here the entry terminates, as we have no doubt the debate did also, 
 after arriving at such a highly satisfactory and intelligible point. Wo 
 have no otntnal statement of the facts. v;hich the reader will find 
 recorded in the next chapter, but they have been carefully collated frona 
 letters and other MS. authorities, so unquestionably genuine, as to 
 justify their narration in a connected form. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE FIRST day's JOURXEV, AND THE FIRST EVEMXQ's ADVENTURES ; 
 WITH THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 That punctual servant of all work the sun, had just risen, and 
 began to strike a light on the morning of the thirteenth of May, ono 
 thousand eiirht hundred and twenty-seven, when Mr. Samuel Pick- 
 wick burst like another sun from his slumbers ; threw open his cham- 
 ber window, and looked out upon the world bent ath. Goswell street 
 was at his feet ; Goswell street was on his riorht hand ; as far as the 
 eye could reach, Goswell street extended on his left; and the opposite 
 side of Goswell street was over the way. " Such," thought Mr. Pick- 
 wick, "are the narrow views of those philosophers who, content with 
 examining the things that lie before them, look not to the truths which 
 are bidden beyond. As well mii^ht I be content to gaze on Goswell 
 street for ever, without one effort to penetrate to the hidden countries 
 which on every side surround it." And having given vent to this 
 beautiful reflection, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to put him.self into hi» 
 clothes : and his clothes into his portmanteau. Great men are seldom 
 over scrupulous in the arrangement of their attire : the operation of 
 •having, dressing, and coflee^imhibing, was soon performed : and, in 
 ooother hour, Mr. Pickwick, with his portmanteau in his hand, Hi 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 17 
 
 t«}e«cope in his great coat pocket, and his note book in his waistcoat, 
 ready for the reception of any discoveries worthy of being noted 
 down, had arrived at the coach-sland in Saint MartinVle-Grand. 
 
 "Cab !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Here you are, sir," shouted a strange specimen of the human rac*, 
 in a sackcloth coat, and apron of the same, who. with a brass label and 
 number round his neck, looked as if he were catalogued in some col- 
 lection of rarities. This was the waterman, ^' Htere you are, sir. 
 Now, then, fust cab I" And the first cab having been fetched from the 
 public house, where he had been smoking his first pipe, Mr. Pickwick 
 and his portmanteau were thrown into the vehicle. 
 
 ••Golden Cross," said .Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '•Only a bob's vorth, Tommy," cried the driver, sulkily, for the 
 information of his friend the waterman, as the cab drove off 
 
 •' How old is thai horse, my friend ]" inquired .Mr. Pickwick, rubbing 
 hi< nose with the shilling he had reserved for the fare. 
 
 '• Forty-two," replied the driver', eying him askant. 
 
 ♦* What!*^ ejaculated .Mr. Pickwick, laying his hand upon his note- 
 hook. The driver reiterated his former statement. Mr. Pickwick 
 Jooked very hard at the man's face, bi;t his features were immoveable, 
 #o he noted down the fact forthwith. 
 
 '■'And how long do you ke^ him out at a time 1" inquired Mr- 
 Pickwick, searching for farther information. 
 
 ♦' Two or three veeks," replied the man. 
 
 "Weeks 1" said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment — and out came the 
 note-book again. 
 
 '* He lives at Pentonwil when he's at home," observed the driver, 
 coolly : " but v/e seldom takes him home, on account of his veakness." 
 
 "On accountof his weakness!" reUeraled the perplexed .Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "He always falls down, when he's took out o' the cab," continued 
 the driver, " but when he's in it, we bears him up werry tight, and 
 takes him in werry short, so he can't werry well fall down, and we've 
 got a padr o' precious large wheels on ; so when he docs move, they 
 run after him, and he must go on : he can't help it." 
 
 Mr Pickwick entered every word of this statement in his note-book, 
 with the view o/ communicating it to the club, as a singular instance 
 of the tenacity of life in horses, under trying circumstances. The en- 
 try was scarcely completod when they reached the Golden Cross. Down 
 jumped the driver, and out got NIr. Pickwick. Mr Tupman, Mr. 
 Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, who ha<} been anxiou:!y waiting the arri- 
 val of their illustrious leader, crowded to welcome him. 
 
 '^Here's y«ur fare," said Mr, Pickwick, holding out the shilling to 
 the driver. 
 
 What was the learned man's astonishment, when that unaccountable 
 person flung the money on the pavement, and reque.'^tetl in figurative 
 ttrms to be allowed the pleasure o{ fighting him (.Mr. Pickwick,) fur the 
 amount ! 
 
 " You are mad,"' said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Or drunk," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Or both,'' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Come on," said the cab-driver, sparring away like clock-work. 
 "Come on, all four on you.'' 
 
 "Here's a lark I" shouted half-a-dozen hackney coachmen. "Go 
 to work, Sam," and they crowded with great gl«e around the party. 
 
 2* 
 
18 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 " Wliat's tlie row, Sam?" inquired one gentleman in black caliex> 
 sieeves. 
 
 " Row !" replieJ the cabman ; " what did he want my number fori" 
 
 " I didn't want your number," said llie astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "What did vou take it lor then?" inquired the cabman. 
 
 *' I didn't take it," said Mr. Pickwick, indignantly. 
 
 " Would any body believe," continued the cab-drrver, appealinjr to 
 the crowd ; " would any body believe as an informer 'ud j^o about in a 
 man's cab. not only takjn' down his number, but ev'ry word he says into 
 the bargain," (a light flashed upon Mr Pickwick — it was the note-book.) 
 
 " Did he, though ?" inquired another cabman. 
 
 " Yes, did he," replied the first; "and then arter aggcrawatin' me 
 to assault him, gels three witnesses here to prove it. But I'l) 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 pro- 
 perty, and knocked Mr. Pickwick's spectacles off", and followed up the 
 attack with a blow on Mr. Pickwick'.s nose, and another on Mr. Pick- 
 wick's chest, and a tliird in Mr. Snodgrass's eye, and a fourth, by way 
 of variety, in Mr. Tupman's waistcoat, and then danced into the road, 
 and then back ajiain to the pavement, and finally dashed the whole 
 temporary supply of breath out of Mr. W^inkle's body ; and all in a 
 half-a-dozen seconds. - 
 
 "Where's an otlicer?" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Put 'cm under the pump !" sutrgesicd a hut pie-man. 
 
 " You shall smart for this," gasped Mr. Pickwick. • 
 
 " Informers," shouted the crowd. 
 
 " Come on," crietl the cabman, who had been sparring without ces- 
 sation the whole t'lme. 
 
 The mob had hitherto been passive spectators of the scene, but as 
 the intelligence of the Pickwickians being informers was spread among 
 them, they began to canvass with consiilerable vivacity the propriety 
 of enforcing the heated pastry vender's proposition : and there is no 
 saying what acts of personal aggression they n>ight have comuiittcd, 
 had not the alFray been unexpectedly terminated by the interposition 
 of anew comer. 
 
 "What's the fun?" said a rather tall thin young man, in a green 
 coat, emerging suddenly from the coach-yard. 
 
 '' Informers !" shouted the crowd again. 
 
 " W^e are not," roared Mr. Pickwick, in a tone which, to any dispas- 
 sionate listener, carried canviction 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 infalli- 
 ble process bf elbowing the countenances of its component meml)er.s. 
 
 Tl'.at learned man, in a few hurried words, explained the real state 
 of the case. 
 
 *'Come along then," said he of the green coat, lugging Mr. Pickwick 
 after him by main force, and ,talkin<j the whole way. " Here, No-. 
 924, take your fare, and take yourself off — respectable gentleman — 
 know him well — none of your nonsense — this way, sir — where's your 
 friends ? — all a mistake, I see — never mind — accidents will happen in 
 best regulated faniilies — never Sr.y 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 
 eitraordinaiy volubility, the stranger led the way to the traveller'* 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. ^ " 19 
 
 «vaiting-room, whither he was closely followed by ilr. Pickwick an^ 
 his disciples. 
 
 " Here, waiter," shouted the stranfer, rinrring the bell with tre- 
 mendous violence, "glasses round — brandy and water, hot and strong, 
 and sweet and plenty — eye damaged, sir ■ Waiter ; raw beafsteak (or 
 the gentleman's eye — nothing like raw beafsteak for a bruise, sir; cold 
 
 lamp-post very <roud, but lamp-po.st inconvenient — d d odd standing 
 
 in the open street half an hour, v,ith your eye against a lauip post — 
 eh — very good — ha I ha!"' And the stranger, without stopping to 
 take breath, swallowed at a draught full half a pint of the reekinjf 
 brandy and water, and flung him-jelf into a chair with as much ease as 
 if notliing uncommon had occurred. 
 
 Whilst his three companions were busily engaged in proffering their 
 thanks to their new acquaintance, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to examine 
 his costume and appearance. 
 
 He was about ihe middle height ; but the thinness of his body, and 
 the length of his legs, gave him the appearance of being much taller. 
 The green coat had been a smart dress garment in the days of swallow- 
 tails, but had evidently in those tiraes adorned a much shorter mau 
 than the stranger, for the soiled and faded sleeves scarcely reached lo 
 his wrists. It was buttoned closely up to his cliin, 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 stockings, which were, nevertheless, dis- 
 tinctly visible. 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 ths tops of his gloves, and the culVi 
 of his coat sleeves. His facg was thin and haggard; but an indescri- 
 bable air of jaunty impudence and perfect 6elf-pi)Sse3sion pervaded tho 
 whole man. 
 
 Such was the individual, on whom Mr. Pickwick gazed through his 
 spectacles, (which he had fortunately recovered,) and to whom ha 
 proceeded, when his friends had exhausted themselves, to return, iu 
 chosen terms, his warmest thanks for his recent assistance. 
 
 "Never mind,*' said the stran^rer, cuttintj 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 jeuuuy, d — n me, punch 
 his head — cod I would ; 'pig's whisper — pieman loo — no gammon." 
 
 This coherent speech was interrupted by the entrance of the Ro- 
 chester coachman, to announce that " The Commodore" was on the 
 point of starting. 
 
 " Commodore I" said the stranger, starting up, ''my coach — place 
 booked — one outside ; leavn you to pay for the brandy aiuJ water: want 
 change for .1 live; -bad silver; Bruinniairefa buttons — won't do — no 
 go, eh!" and he shook his head most knowingly. 
 
 Now it so happened that Mr. Pickwick and his three companions had 
 resolved to make Rochester their first halting-place too ; and having 
 intimated to their new-foiuid acquaintance that they were journeying 
 to the same city, they aL'rced 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 th« 
 
so POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 roof with so much precipitation, as to impair the gravity of that gen- 
 tleman's deportment very materially. 
 
 •' Any luggage, sirV inquifcd the coachman. 
 
 " Who, 1 1 Brown paper parcel here, that's all, other luggage gone 
 by water ; packing-cases, nailed up ; big as houses ; heavy, heavy, 
 heavy," replied the stranger, as he forced into his pocket as much at; 
 he could of the brown paper parcel, which presented most suspicious 
 indications of containing one shirt and a handkerchief 
 
 " Heads, heads, take care of your heads," cried the loquacious 
 stranger, as they came out undo.* the low archway, which in those 
 days formed the entrance to the coach-yard. *' Terrible place-^-dan. 
 gerous work ; other day, ftve children — mother — tall lady, eating sand^ 
 wiches — 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 — tine place 
 — little window — somebody else's head off there, eh, sir! he didn't 
 keep a sharp look-out enough either — eh, sir, eh 1" 
 
 " I was ruminating," said Mr. Pickwick, " on the strange mutability 
 of human affairs." 
 
 "Ah! I secy in at the palace door one duy-j out at the window the 
 next. Philosopher, sir 1" 
 
 " An observer of human nature, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Ah, so am I. Most people are when theyWe little to do and less 
 to get. Poet, sir V 
 
 *' My friend Mr.^ Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn," said Mr. Pick' 
 vick. 
 
 " So have I," said the stranger. " Epic poem, ten thousand lines — 
 revolution of July ,; composed it on the spot ; Mars by day, Apollo by 
 night— bang the field-piece, twang the lyre." 
 
 "You were present at that glorious scene, sir!" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Present ! think I was ; fired a musket — fired with an idea — rushed 
 into wine shop-;— wrote it down^^back again — whiz, bang; another idea 
 — wine shop again — pen and ink — -back again — cut and slash — noble 
 time, sir. Sportsman, sir!" abruptly turning to Mr, Winkle. 
 
 *♦ A little, .sir," replied that gentleman. 
 
 "Fine pursuit, six ; fine pursuit. Dogs, sir!" 
 
 *' Not just now," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Ah ! you should keep dogs ; fine animals-^-sagacious creatures — • 
 dog of my own once — Pointer — surprising instinct ; out shooting one 
 day — entering enclosure — whistled^-dog stopped — whistled again — 
 Ponto — no gD ; 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 — wotiderful dog — valuable dog that, very." 
 
 " Singular circumstance that," said Mr. Pickwick. " Will you allow 
 me to make a note of it 1"* 
 
 "Certainly, sir, certainly ; hundred more anecdotes of the same ani- 
 mal. Fine girl, sir," (to Mr. Tracy Tupman, who had been bestowing 
 sundry anti-Pickwickian glances on a young lady by the road-side.) 
 
 * Although we find thi!% circumstance recorded as a " singular" one, in 
 Mr. Pickwick's note-book, we cannot refrain from huml)ly expressing our 
 dissent from that learned authority. The stranger's anecdote is not one 
 quarter so wonderfid as some of Mr. Jesse's "Gleanings." Ponto sink.s 
 ialj utter insignificance Vforc the dogs whose actions he records. — Ep- 
 
 # 
 
THE PICK'A'ICK CLUB. 21 
 
 ** Very !" said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " English girls not so tine as Spanish ; noble creatures — jet hair — > 
 black eyes — lovely forms — sweet creatures — heautiful." * 
 
 "You have been in Spain, sir !" said Mr. Tracy Tupman. 
 
 " Lived there — ages." 
 
 " Many conquests, sirl" 'inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Conquests ! Thousands. Don Bolaro Fizzgig — Grandee — only 
 daughter, Donna Christina — splendid creature — loved me to distraction 
 — jealous father — high-souled daughter — handsome Englishman — 
 Donna Christina,in despair — prussic acid — stomach pump in my port- 
 manteau — operation performed — old Bolaro in ecstasies — consent tu 
 our union — join hands, and floods of tears ; romantic story, very." 
 
 " Is the lady in England nov/, 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 tho 
 brief re.mnant of a very old cambric handkerchief. •' iVever recovered 
 the stomach pump ; undermined constitution ; fell a victim." 
 
 "And her father!" inquired the poetic Snodgrass. 
 
 '* Kemorse and misery," replied the stranger. " Sudden disappear- 
 ance—talk of the whole city ; search maJe every where, without suc- 
 ces ; public fountain in the great square suddenly, ceased playing — 
 weeks elapsed, still a stoppage — workmen employed to clean it — water 
 drawn off — father-in-law discovered slicking head first in the main pipe, 
 with a full confession in his right boot — took him out, and the fountain 
 played away again, as well as ever." 
 
 " Will you allow me to note that little romance down, sir 1" said Mr. 
 Snodgrass, deeply affected. 
 
 " Certainly, sir, certainly ; fifty more, if you like to hear 'em : strange 
 life mine — rather curious history — not extraordinary, but singular." 
 
 In this strain, with an occasional glass of ale,, by way of parenthesis, 
 when the coach changed horses, did the stranger proceed, until they 
 reached Rochester bridge, by which time ^^lie note-books, both of Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Snodgrass, were completely filled with selections 
 from his adventures. 
 
 '" Magnificent ruin," said Mr. Augustus Snodgrass with all the poetic 
 fervour that distinguished him, when they came in sight of the fine old 
 dastle. 
 
 " What a study for an antiquarian !" were the very words which fell 
 from Mr. Pickwick's mouth, a.s he applied his telesct-pe to his eyes. 
 
 "Ah ! fine place," said the stranger, "glorious pile — frowning walls 
 — tottering arches — dark nooks — crumbling staircases; old cathedral 
 too — earthy smell — pilgrims" feet \Vorn away the old steps — little So.tou 
 doors — confessionals like money-takers' bo.xes at theatres — qr.eer cus- 
 tomers, those monks — popes, and lord treasurers, and all sorts of old 
 fellows, with great reil faces, and broken noses, turning up every day — 
 buff jerkins too — match locks — Sarcophagus — fine place — old legends 
 too — strange stories — capital ;" and the stranger continued to 
 soliloquize until they reached the Bull Inn, in the high street, where 
 the coach stopped. 
 
 "Do you remain here, sirl" inquired Mr. Nathaniel Winkle. 
 
 "Here — not I ; but you'd better: good house — nice beds — Wright's, 
 next house, — dear — very dear — half a crown in tbe bill, if you look^it 
 the waiter — charge you more if you dine at a friend's than they would 
 if you dined in the coffce-ruora ; rum fellows — very.'' 
 
2Z POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Mr. Winkle turned to Mr. Pickwick, and murmured, a few words ; a 
 whisper from Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Snodgrass, from Mr. Snodgras to 
 Mr. Tupman, and nods of assent were exchanged. Mr. Pickwick ad- 
 dressed the stranper. 
 
 " You rendered us a very important service this morning, sir," said 
 he ; "will you allow us to ollfer a slight mark of our gratitude by beg- 
 ging the favour of your company at dinner !" 
 
 " Great pleasure — not presume to dictate, but broiled fowl and mush- 
 rooms — capital thing ! What time 1" 
 
 "Let me see," replied Mr. Pickwick, referring to his watch, "it is 
 now nearly three. Shall we say five?' 
 
 '' Suit me excellently," said the stranger, " five precisely — till then 
 — care of yourselves ;" and lifting the pinched-up hat a few inches from 
 his head, and carelessly replacing it very much on one side, the stranger, 
 with half the brown paper parcel sticking out of his pocket, walked 
 briskly up the yard, and turned into the high street. 
 
 " Evidently a traveller in many countries, and a close obser%'er of 
 men and things," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I should like to see his poem," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " I should like to have seen that dog," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 Mr. Tupman said nothing; but he thought of Donna Christina, the 
 stomach pump, and the fountain ; and his eyes filled with tears. 
 
 A private sitting-room having been engaged, bed-rooms inspected, 
 and dinner ordered, the party walked -out to view the city, and adjoin- 
 ing neighbourhood. 
 
 We do not find, from a careful perusal of Mr. Pickwick's notes on 
 the four towns, Stroud, Rochester. Chatham, and Brompton, that his 
 impressions of their appearance differ in any material point from those 
 of other travellers who have gone over the same ground. His general 
 de."5cription is easily abridged. 
 
 " The principal productions of these towns," says Mr. Pickwick, 
 " appear to be soldiers, sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and dock- 
 yard men. The commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the public 
 streets, are marine stores, hard-bake, apples, flat-fish and oysters. The 
 streets present a lively and animated appearance, occasioned chiefly by 
 the conviviality of the military. It is truly delightful to a philanthropic 
 mind, to see these gallant men staj/gering along under the influence 
 of an overflow both of animal and ardent spirits : more especially when 
 we remember that the following them about and jesting with them, 
 affords a cheap and innocent amusement for the boy population. 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 in- 
 sulted ill 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 wa.s 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. Pick- 
 wick) must be very gnat: and the smell which pervades the streets 
 must be e.Tceedingly delicious to those who are extremely fond of 
 smoking. A superficial traveller might object to the dirt which is their 
 leading characleris'.ic ; but to those who view it as an indication of 
 traffic, and commercial prosperity, it u truly gratifying." 
 
THE PICKWICE CLCB. ^ 23 
 
 Punctual to five o'clock, came the stranger, and sbbrtly afterward the 
 dinner. He had divested himself of hia brown paper parcel, but had 
 made no alteration in his attire ; and was, if possible, more loquacious 
 than ever. 
 
 '« What's that 1" he inquired, as the waiter removed one of the covers. 
 
 " Soles, sir." 
 
 " Soles — ah I — capital fish — all come from London — stage-coach 
 •proprietors get up poUtical dinners — carriage of soles — dozens of bas- 
 kets — cunning fellows. Glass of wine, sir I" 
 
 "With pleasure," said Mr. Pickwick — and the stranger took wine; 
 first with him, and then with Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. Tup- 
 man, and then with Mr. Winkle, and then with the whole party together, 
 almost as rapidly as he talked. 
 
 " Odd mess on the staircase, waiter," said the stranger, " forms 
 going uf>— carpenters coming down — lamps, glasses, harps. What's 
 going forward." 
 
 " Ball, sir," said the waiter. 
 
 "Assembly — ehV 
 
 "No, sir,'not assembly, sir. Ball for the benefit of a charity, sir." 
 
 *'Many fijie women in this town, do you know, sir V inquired Mr. 
 Tupman, with great interest. 
 
 " Splendid — capital. Kent, sir — every body knows Kent— apples, 
 cherries, hops, and women. Glass af wine, sir I" 
 
 '• With great pleasure,'' replied Mr. Tupman. The stranger filled, 
 and emptied. 
 
 " I should very much like to go," Said Mr. Tupman, resuming the 
 subject of the ball, "very much." 
 
 "Tickets at the ball, sir," interposed the waiter. "Haifa-guinea 
 each sir." 
 
 Mr. Tupman again expressed an earnest wish to be present at the 
 festivity ; but meeting with no response in the darkened eye of Mr. 
 Snodgrass, or the abstracted gaze of .Mr Pickwick, he applied himself 
 with great interest to the port wine and dessert which had just been 
 placed on the table. The waiter withdrew, and the party were left to 
 enjoy the cosy couple of hours succeeding dinner. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir," said the stranger, " bottle stands — pass it 
 .iround — way of the sun — through the button-hole — no heeltaps," and 
 he emptied his glass, which he'had filled about two minutes before ; 
 and poured out another, with the air of a man who was used to it. 
 
 The wine was passed, and a fresh supply ordered. The visiter talked, 
 the Pickwickians listened. Mr. Tupman felt every moment more dis- 
 posed for the ball. Mr. Pickwick's countenance glowed with an ex- 
 pression of universal philanthropy : and Mr. Winkle aiid Mr. Snod- 
 grass fell fast asleep. 
 
 " They're beginning up-stairs," said the stranger, " hear the company 
 — fiddles toning — now the harp — there they go." The various sounds 
 which found their way down-stairs, announced the commencement of 
 the first quadrille. 
 
 " How I should like to go," said Mr. Tupman, r.gain. 
 
 "So should I," said the stranger, — "confounded luggage — heavj 
 emacks — nothing to go in — odd, a'n't it 1" 
 
 Now general benevolence was one of the leading features of the 
 Pickwickian theory, and no one was more remarkable for the zealous 
 manner in which he observ'ed so noble a principle, than Mr. Tracy 
 
24 POSTHUMOUS PAPEn3 OK 
 
 Tuptiian. The number of instances, recorded on the Transactions of 
 the Societ}', in which that excellent man referred objects of charity 
 to the houses of other members for left-olf garments, or pecuniary 
 relief, is almost incredible. 
 
 " I should be very happy to lend you a change of apparel for the pur- 
 pose," said Mr. Tracy Tiipman, " but you. are rather slim, and I am — " 
 
 " kather fal — grown up Bacchus — cut the leaves — dismounted fioni 
 the tub, and adopted* kersey, eh? — not double distilled, but double 
 milled, ha! ha! pass the wine." 
 
 Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory 
 tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the stranger 
 passed so quickly away ; or whether he felt very properly scandalized, 
 at an influential member of the Pickwick club being ignominiously 
 compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not yet completely ascer- 
 tained. He passed the wine, coughed twice, and looked at the stranger 
 for several seconds with a stern intensity ; as thai individual, however, 
 appeared perfectly collected, and quite calm under his searching glance, 
 he gradually relaxed, and reverted to the subject of the ball. 
 
 " I was about to observe, sir," he said, " that though my apparel 
 would be too large, a suit of my friend Mr. Winkle's would, perhapf, 
 lit you better." 
 
 The stranger took Mr. Winkle's measure with his eye ; and that 
 feature glistened with satisfaction as he said — " Just the thing !" 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked round him. The wine which had exerted its 
 somniferous influence over Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, had stolen 
 upon the senses of Mr. Pickwick. That gentleman had gradually 
 passed through the various stages which precede the lethargy produced 
 by dinner, and its consequences. He had undergone the ordinary 
 transitions from the height of conviviality, to the depth of misery, and 
 from the depth of misery, to the height of conviviality. Like a gas 
 lamp in the street, with the wind in the pipe, he had exhibited for a 
 moment an unnatural brilliancy ; then sunk so low as to be scarcely 
 discernible : after a short interval he had burst out again, to enlighten 
 for a moment, then flickered with an uncertain staggering sort of light, 
 then gone out altogether. His head was sunk upon his bosom ; and 
 perpetual snoring, with a partial choke, occasionally, were the only 
 audible indications of the great man's presence. 
 
 The temptation to be present at the ball, and to form his first im- 
 pressions 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 inhabit- 
 ants ; and the stranger seemed to possess as great a knowledge of 
 both, as if he had lived there from his infancy. Mr. Winkle was 
 asleep, and Mr. Tupman had had sufficient experience in such matters 
 to know^ that the moment he awoke, he would, in the ordinary course 
 of nature, roll heavily to bed. He was undecided. " fill your glass 
 and pass the wine," said the indefiitigable visiter. 
 
 Mr. Tupman did as he was requested ; and the additional stimulus 
 of the last glass settled his determination. 
 
 " 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 
 I know he has a dress suit in a carpet bag ; and supposing you wore it 
 to the ball, and took it oft' when we returned, I could replace it without 
 troubling him at all about the matter." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 25 
 
 ** Capital," said the stranger, " famous plan — very odd situation — 
 fourteen coats in the packing cases, and obliged to wear another man's 
 —very good notion, that — very." 
 
 " We must purchase our tickets," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Not worth while spUtiing a guinea," said the stranger, '* Toss 
 who shall pay for both — I call ; you spin — first time— woman — woman 
 — bewitching woman,'' and down came the sovereign with the Dragon 
 (called by courtesy a woman) uppermost. 
 
 Mr. Tupman rang the bell, purchased the tickets, and ordered cham- 
 ber-candlesticks. In another quarter of an hour the stranger was com- 
 pletely arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nathaniel Winkle's. 
 
 " It"s a new coat," said Mr. Tupman, as the stranger surveyed him- 
 self with great complacency in a cheval glass. " The first that's been 
 made with our club button,— and he called his companion's attention 
 to the large gilt button which displayed a bust of Mr. Pickwick in the 
 centre, and the letters " P. C." on either side. 
 
 "P. C." said the stranger. " Queer set out — old fellow's likeness, 
 and 'P. C — What docs P. C. stand for — peculiar coat, eh!" Mr. 
 Tupman, with rising indignation, and great importance, explained the 
 mystic device. 
 
 "Rather short in the waist, a'n't it !" said the stranger, screwing 
 himself round, to catch a glimpse in the glass of the waist Ijuttons 
 which were half way up his back. " Like a genera! postman's coat — 
 queer coats those — made by contract — no measuring — mysterious dis- 
 pensafion of Providence — all the short men get long coats — all the 
 long men short ones." Running on in this way, Mr. Tupman's new 
 companion adjusted his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle, and, 
 accompanied by Mr. Tupman, ascended the staircase leading to the 
 ball room. 
 
 " What names, sir 1" said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tupman 
 was stepping forward to announce his own titles, when the stranger 
 prevented him. 
 
 ♦' No names at all," — and then he whispered Mr. Tupman, '• Names 
 won't do — not known — very good names in their way, but not great 
 ones — capital names for a small party, but won't make an impression 
 in public assemblies — incog, the thing — Gentleraen from London — 
 distinguished foreigners — 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 benches, and wax candles 
 in glass chandeliers. The musicians were securely confined in an 
 elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by 
 two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made up in the 
 adjoining card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a corresponding 
 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 presently; nobs not 
 come yet — 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 tradespeople — Commis- 
 sioner don't know anvbody." 
 
 Vol. I.— 3. 
 
»0 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 "Who's that little boy with the light hair and pink eyes, in a fancy 
 dress T' inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ♦' Hush, pray — pink eyes — fancy dress — little boy — nonsense — En- 
 sign 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 gentleman 
 in a blue coat and bright buttons, a large lady in blue satin, and two 
 young ladies on a similar scale, in fashionable-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 gen- 
 tlemen crowded to render homage to the Miss Clubbers ; and Sir 
 Thomas Clubber stood bolt upright, and looked majestically over his 
 black neckerchief at the assembled company. 
 
 '* Mr. Smithie, Mrs. Smithie, and the Misses Sraithie," Wcis the 
 next announcement. 
 
 "What's Mr. Smithie?' inquired Mr. Tracy Tupman. 
 
 " Something in the yard," replied the stranger. 
 
 Mr. Smithie bowed deferentially to Sir Thomas Clubber ; and Sir 
 Thomas Clubber acknowledged the salute with conscious condescen- 
 sion. 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 ; tho 
 greeting between Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Lady Clubber was of the 
 most affectionate description ; Colonel Bulder and Sir Thomas Clubber 
 exchanged snuff-boxes, and looked very much like a pair of Alexander 
 Selkirks ; — " monarchs of all they surveyed." 
 
 While the aristocracy of the place — the Bulders, and Clubbers, and 
 Snipes — were thus preserving their dignity at the upper end of the 
 room, the other classes of society were imitating their example in other 
 parts of it. The less aristocratic officers of the 97th devoted them- 
 selves to the families of the less important functionaries from the dock- 
 yard. The solicitors' wives, and the wine merchant's wife, headed 
 another grade, (the brewer's wife visited the Bulders ;) and Mrs. Tom- 
 linson, 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 extensive bald plain on the top of it — Doctor Slammer, surgeon to 
 the 97th. The doctor took snufi'with every body, chatted with every 
 body, laughed, danced, made jokes, played whist, did every thing, and 
 was every where. To these pursuits, multifarious as they were, the 
 little doctor added a more important one than any — he was indefatiga- 
 ble in paying the most unremitting and devoted attention to a little old 
 widow, whose rich dress and profusion of ornament bespoke her a 
 most desirable addition to a limited income. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 27 
 
 Upon the doctor, and the widow, the eyes both of Mr. Tapman and 
 his companion hgid been lixcd for some time, when the stranger broke 
 •ilence. 
 
 *' Lots of money — old girl — pompous doctor — not a bad idea — good 
 fun," were the intelligible sentences which issued from his lips. Mr. 
 Tupraan looked inquisitively in his face. 
 
 " I'll dance with the widow," said the stranorer. 
 
 "Who is she V inquired Mr. Tupraan. 
 
 " Don't know — never saw her in all my life — cut out the doctor — 
 here goes." And the stranger forthwith crossed the room ; and, lean- 
 ing against a mantel-piece, commenced gazing with an air of repectful 
 and melancholy admiration on the fat countenance of the little old laJy. 
 Mr. Tupman looked on in mute astonishment. The stranger pro- 
 gressed rapidly ; the little doctor danced with another lady — the widow 
 dropped her fan ; the stranger picked it up, and presented it — a smile 
 — a bow — a curtsey — a few words of conversation. The stranger 
 walked boldly up to, and returned with, the master of the ceremonies ; 
 a little introductory pantomime ; and the stranger and Mrs. Budger 
 took their places in a quadrille. 
 
 The surprise of Mr. Tupman at this summary proceeding, great as 
 it was. was immeasurably exceeded by the astonishment of the doctor. 
 The stranger was young and the widow was flattered. The doctor's 
 attentions were unheeded by the widow ; and the doctor's indignation 
 was wholly lost on his imperturbable rival. Doctor Slammer was 
 paralyzed. He, Doctor Slammer of the 97th, to be extinguished in a 
 moment, by a man whom nobody had ever seen before, and whom 
 nobody knew even now ! Doctor Slammer — Doctor Slammer of the 
 97th, rejected ! Impossible ! It could not be I Yes, it was ; there 
 they were. What ! introducing his friend ! Could he believe his 
 eyes I He looked again, and was under the painful necessity of ad- 
 mitting the veracity of his optics ; .Mrs. Budger was dancinij with Mr. 
 Tracy Tupman ; there was no mistaking the fact. There was the 
 widow before him, bouncing bodily here and there, with unwonted 
 ■vigour ; and Mr. Tracy Tupman hopping about, with a face expressive 
 of the most intense solemnity, dancing (as a good many people do) as 
 if a quadrille were not a thing to be laughed at, but a severe trial to 
 the feelings, which it requires inflexible resolution to encounter. 
 
 Silently and patiently did the doctor bear all this, and all the hand- 
 ings of negus, and watching for glasses, and darting for biscuits, and 
 coquettinof, that ensued; but a few seconds after the stranijer had 
 disappeared to lead Mrs. Budi^er to her carriage, he darted swiftly 
 from the room with every particle of his hitherto bottled-up indii^nation 
 eflfervescing, from all parts of his countenance, in a perspiration of 
 passion. 
 
 The stranger was returning, and Mr. Tupman was beside him. — 
 He spoke in a low tone, and laucrhed. The little doctor thirsted for 
 his life. He was exulting. He had triumphed. 
 
 •' Sir !"' said the doctor, in an awful voice, producing a card, and 
 retiring into an angle of the pa.<!sa<Tp, '« my name is Slammer, Doctor 
 Slammer, sir — 97th regiment — Chatham liarracks — My card, sir, my 
 card." He would have added more, but his indignation choked him. 
 
 "Ah I" replied the stranger, coolly, "Slammer — much obliged — 
 polite attention — not ill now, Slammer — but when I am— knock you up." 
 
 '•You — you're a shuffler, sir," gasped the furious doctor, "a pol- 
 
28 POSTHUHOOS PAPERS OF 
 
 troon — a coward — a liar — a — a — Will nothing induce you to give me 
 your card, sir 1" 
 
 " Oh ! I see," said the stranger, half aside, " negfis too strong here 
 — liberal landlord — very foolish — very — lemonade — much better — hot 
 rooms — elderly gentlemen — suffer for it in the morning — cruel — 
 cruel ;" and he moved on a step or two. 
 
 " You are stopping in this house, sir," said the indignant little man ; 
 " you are intoxicated now, sir ; you shall hear from me in the morning,, 
 sir. I shall find you out, sir ; I shall find you out " 
 
 " Rather you found me out, than found me at home," replied the 
 unmoved stranger. 
 
 Doctor Slammer looked unutterable ferocity, as he fixed his hat on 
 his head with an indignant knock; and the stranger and Mr. Tupman 
 ascended to the bed-room of the latter to restore the borrowed plumage 
 to the unconscious Winkle. 
 
 That gentleman was fast asleep ; the restoration was soon made. 
 The stranger was extremely jocose ; and Mr. Tracy Tupman being 
 quite bewildered with wine, negus, lights, and ladies, thought the 
 whole affair an exquisite joke. His new friend departed ; and, after 
 experiencing some slight difficulty in finding the orifice in his night- 
 tap, originally intended for the reception of his head, and finally over- 
 turning his candlestick in his struggles to put it on, Mr. Tracy Tup- 
 man managed to get into bed, by a series of complicated evolutions, 
 and shortly afterwards sank into repose. 
 
 Seven o'clock had hardly ceased striking on the following morning, 
 when Mr. Pickwick's comprehensive mind was aroused from the state 
 of unconsciousness, in which slumber had plunged it, by a loud luiock- 
 ing at his chamber door. 
 
 " Who's there ]" said Mr. Pickwick, starting up in bed. 
 
 " Boots, sir." 
 
 " What do you want 1" 
 
 «' Please sir, can you tell me, which gentleman of your party wears 
 a briglit blue dress coat, with a gilt button with p. c. on it V 
 
 " It's been given out to brush," thought Mr. Pickw^ick ; and the man 
 has forgotten whom it belongs to — " Mr. Winkle," he called out, 
 *' next room but two, on the right hand." 
 
 " Thank'ee, sir," said the boots, and away he went. 
 
 " What's the matter?" cried Mr. Tupman, as a loud knocking at his 
 door roused him from his oblivious repose. 
 
 " Can I .speak to Mr. Winkle, sir?" replied the boots from the outside. 
 
 " Winkle — Winkle," shouted Mr. Tupman, calling into the inner 
 room. 
 
 "Hallo !" replied a faint voice from within the bed-clothes. 
 
 " You're wanted — some one at the door — " and having exerted him- 
 self to articulate thus much, Mr. Tracy Tupman turned round and fell 
 fast asleep again. 
 
 " Wanted ?" said Mr. Winkle, hastily jumping out of bed, and put- 
 ting on a few articles of clothing : " wanted ! at this distance from 
 town — who on earth can want me !" 
 
 " Gentleman in the coffee-room, sir," replied boots, as Mr. Winkle 
 opened the door, and confronted him : " gentleman says he'll not detain 
 you a moment, sir, but ho can take no denial." 
 
 " Very odd !" said Mr. Winkle ; " Pll be down directly." 
 
 •' He hurriedly wrapped himself in a travelliug-shawl, and dressing- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. Zy 
 
 gown, and proceeded down stairs. An old woman and a couple of 
 waiters were cleaning the colfee-room, and an officer in undress uni- 
 form was looking out of the window. He turned round as Mr. Winkle 
 entered, and made a stiff* inclination of the head. Having ordered the 
 attendants to retire, and closed the door very carefully, he said, " Mr. 
 Winkle, I presume ?" 
 
 " My name is Winkle, sir ?" 
 
 " You will not be surprised, sir, when I inform you, that I have 
 called here this morning on behalf of my friend, Dr. Slammer, of the 
 Ninety-seventh." 
 
 "Doctor Slammer!" said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Doctor Slammer. He begged me to express his opinion that your 
 conduct of last evening was of a description which no gentleman could 
 endure : and (he added) which no one gentleman would pursue towards 
 another." 
 
 Mr. Winkle's astonishment was too real, and too evident, to escape 
 the observation of Dr. Slammer's friend ; he therefore proceeded. " My 
 friend, Doctor Slammer, requested me to add, that he is firmly per- 
 suaded you were intoxicated during a portion of the evening, and pos- 
 sibly unconscious of the extent of the insult you were guilty of He 
 commissioned me to say, that should this be pleaded as an excuse for 
 your behaviour, he will consent to accept a written apology, to be 
 penned by you, from my dictation." 
 
 " A written apology !" repeated Mr. Winkle, in the most emphatic 
 tone of amazement possible. 
 
 " Of course you know the alternative," replied the visiter, coolly. 
 
 " Were you intrusted with this message to me by name 1" inquired 
 Mr. Winkle, whose intellects were hopelessly confused by this extra- 
 ordinary 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 uncommon coat — a 
 bright blue dress coat, with a gilt button, displaying a bust, and the 
 letters ' p. c' " 
 
 Mr. Winkle actually staggered with astonishment as he heard his own 
 costume thus minutely described. 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 gentle- 
 men, 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 coftee-room window, 
 Mr. Winkle's surprise would have been as nothing, compared with the 
 profound astonishment with which he had heard this address. His 
 first impression was that his coat had been stolen. " Will you allow 
 me to detain you one moment 1" 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 wiiie after dinner, and ha^c a very vague 
 
 3* 
 
30 POSTMOMOOS PAPER* OT 
 
 recollection of walking about the streets, and smoking a cigar after- 
 wards. The fact is, I was very drunk ; I must have changed my coat 
 — gone somewhere — and insulted somebody ; I have no doubt of it ; 
 and this message is the terrible consequence." Saying which, Mr. 
 Winkle retraced his steps in the direction of the coffee-roam, 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 consi- 
 derations ; the first of which was, his reputation with the club. He 
 had always been looked up to as a high authority on all matters of 
 amusement and dexterity, whether offensive, defensive, or 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 
 surmised by the uninitiated in such matters, that by an understood 
 arrangement between the seconds, the pistols were seldom loaded with 
 ball ; and, furthermore, he reflected that if he applied to Mr. Snodgrass 
 to act as his second, and depicted the danger in glowing terms, that 
 gentleman might possibly communicate the intelligence to Mr. Pick- 
 wick, who would certainly lose no time in transmitting it to the local 
 authorities, and thus prevent the killing or maiming of his follower. 
 
 Such were his thoughts when he returned to the coflee-room, and 
 intimated his intention of accepting the Doctor's challenge. 
 
 "Will you refer me to a friend, to arrange the time and place of 
 meeting!" said the officer. 
 
 " Quite unnecessary," replied Mr. Winkle, " name them to me, and 
 I can procure the attendance of a friend afterwards." 
 
 "Shall Vv'c say — sunset, this evening!" inquired the officer in a 
 careless tone. 
 
 " Very good," replied Mr. Wuikle ; thinking in his heart it was 
 very bad. 
 
 « You know Fort Pitt !" 
 
 " Yes ; I saw it yesterday." 
 
 " If you take the trouble to turn into the field which borders the 
 trench, take the foot-path to the left, when you arrive at an angle of the 
 fortification ; and keep straight on till you see me : I will precede you 
 to a secluded place, where the affair can be conducted without fear of 
 interruption." 
 
 " Fear of interruption !" thought Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Nothing more to arrange, I think," said the oflicer. 
 
 " 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 
 Bilence and soda water. Mr. Winkle eagerly watched his opportunity. 
 It was not long wanting. Mr. Snodgrass proposed a visit to the castle, 
 and as Mr. Winkle was the only other member of the party disposed to 
 walk, they went out together. 
 
 " Snodgrass," said Mr. Winkle, when they had turned out of the 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 31 
 
 public street ; "Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your secrecy ^" 
 As he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped he could not. 
 
 " You can," replied Mr. Snodgrass. " Hear me swear " 
 
 " No, no :" interrupted Winkle, terriried at the idea of his com- 
 panion's unconsciously pledging himself not to give infoimation ; 
 "don't swear, don't swear; it's quite unnecessary." 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, in the spirit of poesy, 
 raised towards the clouds, as he made the above appeal, and assumed 
 an attitude of attention. 
 
 " I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an affair of honour," 
 said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "You shall have it," replied Mr. Snodgrass, clasping his friend's hand. 
 
 •' With a doctor — Doctor Slammer, of the Ninety-seventii," 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 even- 
 ing, in a lonely field 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 tlie principal can be in such cases. Mr. Winkle 
 had forgotten this. He had judged of his friend's feeUngs by his own. 
 
 " The consequences may be dreadful," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " I hope not," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " The doctor, I believe, is a very good shot," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Most of these military men are," observed Mr. Snodgrass, calmly; 
 " but so are you, a'n't you !" 
 
 Mr. Winkle replied in the affirmative : and perceiving that he had 
 not alarmed his companion sufliciently, changed his ground. 
 
 " Snodgrass," he said, in a voice tremulous with emotion, " if I fall, 
 you will find in a packet which I shall place in your hands, a note for 
 my — for my father." 
 
 This attack was a failure also. Mr. Snodgrass was aflected, but he 
 undertook the delivery of the note as readily as if he had been a two- 
 penny postman. 
 
 " If I fall," said Mr. Winkle, " or if the doctor falls, you, my dear 
 friend, will be tried as an accessary 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 friendship," he fervently exclaimed, " I would brave 
 all dangers." 
 
 How Mr. Winkle cursed his companion's devoted friendshi]> inter- 
 nally, as they walked silently along, side by side, for some minutes, 
 each immersed in his own meditations ! The morning was wearing 
 away ; he grew desperate. 
 
 " Snodgrass," he said, stopping suddenly, " do not 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 Doc- 
 tor Slammer of the Ninety-seventh regiment, at present tjuartered in 
 Cliatham Barracks, into custody, and thus prevent this duel ; — I say 
 
 do 7iO/." 
 
 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 ho 
 had nothing to hope from his friend's fears, and that he was destined 
 to become an animated target, rushed forcibly upon him. 
 
SS POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 The state of the case having been formally explained to Mr. SnodgratJs, 
 and a case of satisfaction pistols, with the satisfactory accompaniments 
 of powder, hall, and caps, having been hired from a manufacturer in 
 Rochester, the two friends returned to their inn : Mr. Winkle, to 
 ruminate on the approaching struggle ; and Mr. Snodgrass, to arrange 
 the weapons of war, and put them into proper order for immediate use. 
 
 It was a dull and heavy evening, when they again sallied forth on 
 their awkward errand. Mr. Winkle was muffled up in a huge cloak to 
 escape observation ; and Mr. Snodgrass bore under his the instruments 
 of destruction. 
 
 " Have you got every thing 1" said Mr. Winkle, in an agitated tone. 
 
 " Every thing," replied Mr. Snodgrass ; " plenty of ammunition, in 
 case the shots don't take effect. There's a quarter of a pound of pow- 
 der in the case, and I have got two newspapers in my pocket, for the 
 loadings." 
 
 These were instances of friendship, for which any man might 
 reasonably feel most grateful. The presumption is that the 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. Snodgrass, 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 before long. 
 
 "There's the officer," exclaimed Mr. Winkle, after a few minutes' 
 walking. 
 
 " Where V said Mr. Snodgras.s. 
 
 ♦* There : — the gentleman in the blue 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 con- 
 sciousness of their presence by slightly beckoning with his hand ; and 
 the two friends followed him, at a little distance, as he walked away. 
 
 The evening grew more dull every moment, and a melancholy wind 
 sounded through the deserted fields, like a distant giant 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, entered a secluded field. Two gentlemen 
 were waiting in it ; one was a little fat man, with black hair ; and the 
 other — a portly personage in a braided surtout — was sitting with per- 
 fect 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. W^inkle, as the officer 
 approached. Doctor Slammer's friend bowed, and produced a case 
 similar to that which Mr. Snodgrass carried. 
 
 " We have nothing farther to say, sir, I think," he coldly remarked, 
 as he opened the case ; " an apology has been resolutely declined." 
 
 *' Nothing, sir," said Mr. Snodgrass, who began to feel rather un- 
 comfortable himself. 
 
 " Will you step forward ?" said the officer. 
 
 *' Certainly," replied Mr. Snodgrass. The ground was measured, 
 and preliminaries arranged. 
 
THE PICKWICK CI.UB. 33 
 
 "You will find these better than your own," said the opposite 
 second, producing his pistols. *' You saw me load thcin. Do yoa 
 object to use them ;"' 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Mr. Snod^rass. The ofler relieved him 
 from considerable embarrassment ; for his previous notions ol' loading 
 a pistol were rather vague and undefined. 
 
 " We may place our men, then, I think," observed the otEcer, with 
 as much inditference as if the principals were chess-men, and the 
 seconds players. 
 
 '• I think we may," repUed 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 saiJ, offering the pistol. " Give me your cloak." 
 
 •' You have got the packet, my dear fellow i" 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 off his cloak, however, in silence — it always 
 took a long time to undo that cloak — and accepted the pistol. 'J'he 
 seconds retired, the gentleman on the camp-stool did the same, and 
 the belligerents approached each other. 
 
 Mr. Winkle was always remarkable for extreme humanity. It is 
 conjectured that his unwillingness to hurt a fellow-creature intention- 
 ally, was the cause of his s^hutting his eyes when he arrived at the 
 fatal spot ; and that the circumstance of his eyes being closed, pre- 
 vented his observing the very extraordinary and unaccountable de- 
 meanour of Doctor Slammer. That gentleman started, stared, 
 retreated, rubbed his eyes, stared again ; and, finally, shouted " Stop, 
 stop I" 
 
 '« What's all this 1" 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 !" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Not the man I" said the gentleman with the camp-stool in his hand. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the Uttle doctor. " That's not the person 
 who insulted me last night." 
 
 "Very extraordinary !" exclaimed the officer. 
 
 " Very," said the gentleman with the camp-stool. " The only 
 question is, whether the gentleman, being on the ground, must not be 
 considered, as a matter of fonn, to be the individual who insulted our 
 friend, Doctor Slauuner, yesterday evening, whether he is really that 
 individual or not :" and having delivered this suggestion with a very 
 sage and mysterious air, the man with the camp-stool took a large 
 pinch of snuff, and looked profoundly round, with the air of an autho- 
 rity in such matters. 
 
 Now Mr. Winkle had opened liis eyes, and his ears too, when he 
 heard his adversary call out for a cessation of ho.stilitios ; and per- 
 ceiving by what he had afterwards said, that there was, beyond all 
 question, some mistake in the matter, he at once foresaw the increase 
 of reputation he should inevitably acquire, by concealing the real 
 notive of his coming out : he therefore stepped boldly forward, and 
 said — 
 
84 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 •' I am not the person. I know it." 
 
 " Then, that," said the man with the camp-stool, *' is an a/Tront to 
 Doctor Slammer, and a sufficient reason for proceeding immediately." 
 
 " Pray be quiet, Payne," said the doctor's second. "Why did you 
 not communicate this fact to me this mornmg, sir !" 
 
 " To be sure — to be sure," said the man with the camp-stool in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " 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 
 ungentlemanly person as wearing a coat which I have the honour not 
 only to wear, but to have invented — the proposed uniform, sir, of the 
 Pickwick Club in London. The honour of that uniform I feel bound 
 to maintain, and I therefore, without inquiry, accepted the challenge 
 which you offered 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 highly admire your conduct, and extremely regret having 
 caused you the inconvenience of this meeting, to no purpose." 
 
 ** I beg you won't mention it, sir," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " I shall feel proud of your acquaintance, sir," said the little doctor. 
 
 " It will afford me the greatest pleasure to know you, sir," replied 
 Mr. Winkle. Thereupon the doctor and Mr Winkle shook hands, 
 and then Mr. W^inkle and Lieutenant Tappleton, (the doctor's second,) 
 and then Mr. Winkle and the man with the camp-stool ; and, finally, 
 Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass : the last-named gentleman in an 
 excess of admiration at the noble conduct of his heroic friend. 
 
 *' I think we may adjourn," said Lieutenant Tappleton. 
 
 *' Certainly," added the doctor. 
 
 *' Unless," 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 to satisfaction." 
 
 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 affronted 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 the 
 handsome offer of the gentleman who had spoken last, which he was 
 only induced to decline, by his entire contentment with the whole pro- 
 ceedings. The two seconds adjusted the cases, and the whole party lefl 
 the ground in a much more lively manner than they had proceeded to it. 
 
 " Do you remain long here !" inquired Doctor Slammer of Mr. 
 Winkle, as they walked on most amicably together. 
 
 " I think I 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 
 ray rooms, and of spending a pleasant evening with you, after this awk- 
 ward mistake," said the little doctor : " are you disengaged this 
 evening 1" 
 
 " We have some friends here," replied Mr. Winkle, " and I should 
 not like to leave them to-night. Perhaps you and your friend will join 
 us at the Bull." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 85 
 
 " 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 in- 
 troduce you to my friends, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman," 
 
 " It will gi%-e me great pleasure, I am sure," replied Doctor Slammer, 
 little suspecting who Mr. Tupman was. 
 
 " You will be sure to come !" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Oh certainly." 
 
 By this time they had reached the road. Cordial farewells were 
 exchanged, and the party separated. Doctor Slammer and his friends 
 repaired to the barracks, and Mr. Winkle, accompanied by his friend, 
 Mr. Snodgrass, returned to their inn. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A NEW ACQUAlNtANCE — THE STROLLER's TALE — A DISAGREEABLE INTHR- 
 RUPTION ; AND AN UNPLEASANT RENCONTRE. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had felt some apprehensions in consequence of the 
 unusual absence of his two friends, which their mysterious behaviour 
 during the whole morning had by no means tended to diminish. It 
 was, therefore, with more than ordinary pleasure that he rose to greet 
 them when they again entered, and with more than ordinary interest 
 that he inquired what had occurred to detain them from his society. 
 In reply to his questions on this point, Mr. Snodgrass wa.'^ about to 
 offer an historical account of the circumstances just now detailed, when 
 he was suddenly checked, by observing that there were present not 
 only Mr. Tupman and their stage-coach companion of the preceding 
 day, but another stranger of equally singular appearance. It was a 
 care-worn looking man, whose sallow face, and deeply sunken eyes, 
 were rendered still more strikinir 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 drav/ing the flesh 
 of his face in, for a moment, by some contraction of the muscles, if his 
 half-opened mouth and immoveable expression had not announced that 
 it was his ordinary appearance. Round his neck he wore a green 
 3hawl with the large ends straggling over his chest, and making their 
 appearance occasionally beneath the worn button-holes of his old waist- 
 coat. His upper garment was a long black surtout ; and below it, he 
 wore wide drab trousers, and large boots running rapidly to seed. 
 
 It was on this uncouth-looking personage, 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 have it generally known, and this gentle- 
 man is a member of the same profession. He was about to favour U8 
 with a little anecdote connected with it, when you entered." 
 
 " Lots of anecdote," said the greea coated strzuiger of the day before, 
 
36 POSTHUMOCS PAPERS OV 
 
 advancing to Mr. Winkle, and speakitjg in a low confidential tone. 
 *' Rum fellow — docs the heavy business — no actor — strange man — all 
 Rorts of miseries — dismal Jemmy, we call him on the circuit." Mr. 
 Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass politely welcomed the gentleman elegantly 
 desiffnated 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 proceed- 
 ing wiih what you were going to relate 1" 
 
 The dismal individual took a dirty roll of paper from his pocket, and 
 turning to Mr. Snodgrass, who had just taken out his note-book, said 
 in a hollow voice, perfectly in keeping with his outward man — "Are 
 you the poet ]" 
 
 " I — I do a little in that way," replied Mr. Snodgrass, rather taken 
 aback by the abruptness of the question. 
 
 " Ah ! poetry makes life, what lights and music do the stage. Strip 
 the one of its false embellishments, and the other of its illusions, and 
 what is there real in either, to live or care forV 
 
 " Very true, sir," replied Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 «' To be before the footlights," continued the dismal man, " is like 
 sitting at a grand court show, and admiring the silken dresses of the 
 gaudy throng — to be behind them, is to be the people who make that 
 rinery, uncared for and unknowTi, and left to sink or swim, to starve or 
 Uve, as fortune wills it." 
 
 ** Certainly," said Mr. Snodgrass : for the sunken eye of the dismal 
 man rested on him, and he felt it necessary to say something. 
 
 ♦' Go on Jemmy," said the Spanish traveller, •' like black-eyed Susan 
 — all in the Downs — no croaking, speak out — look lively." 
 
 " Will you take another glass before you begin, sir V said Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 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 following incident, 
 which we find recorded on the Transactions of the Club, as " The 
 Stroller's Tale." 
 
 " There is nothing of the marvellous in what I am going to relate,'* 
 said the dismal man ; " there is nothing even uncommon in it. Want 
 and sickness are too common in many stations of life, to deserve more 
 notice than is usually bestowed on the most ordinary vicissitudes of 
 human nature. I have thrown these few notes together, because the 
 subject of them was well knovm to me for many years. I traced his 
 progress downward, step by step, until at last he reached that excess 
 of destitution from which he never rose again. 
 
 ** The man of whom I speak was a low pantomime actor ; and, like 
 many people of his class, an habitual drunkard. In his better days, 
 before he had become enfeebled by dissipation and emaciated by disease, 
 he had been in the receipt of a good salary, which, if he had been careful 
 and prudent, he might have continued to receive for some years — not 
 many ; because these men either die early, or, by unnaturally taxing 
 their bodily energies, lose prematurely those physical powers on which 
 alone they can depend for subsistence. His besetting sin gained so 
 fast upon him, however, that it was found impossible to employ him in 
 the situations in which he really was useful to the theatre. The pub- 
 lic-house had a fascination for him which he could not resist. Neglected 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 37 
 
 disease and hopeless poverty were as certain to be his portion as death 
 itself, if he persevered in the same course ; yet he did persevere, and 
 the result may be guessed. He could obtain ne engagement, and he 
 wanted bread. 
 
 " Every body who is at all acquainted with theatrical matter?, knows 
 what a host of shabby, poverty-stricken men, hang about ihe stacje of a 
 large establishment — nut regularly engaged actors, but ballet people, 
 procession men, tumblers, and so forth, who arc taken on during the 
 run of a pantomime, or an Easter piece, and are then discharge/J, until 
 the production of some heavy spectacle occasions a new demand for 
 their services. To this mode of life the man was compelled to resort ; 
 and taking the chair every night, at some low theatrical house, at once 
 put him in possession of a few more shillings weekl}-, and enabled him 
 to gratify his old propensity. Even this resource shortly failed him ; 
 his irregularities were too great to admit of his earning the wretched 
 pittance he might thus have procured, arsd he was actually reduced to 
 a state bordering on starvation, only procuring a trifle occasionally by 
 borrowing it of some old companion, or by obtaining an appearance at 
 one or other of the commonest of the minor theatres ; and when he 
 did earn any thing, it was spent in the old way. 
 
 •' About this time, and when he had been existing for upwards of a 
 year no one knew how, 1 had a short cn2agcment at one of the thea- 
 tres on the Surrey side of the water, and here I saw this man, whom 
 I had lost sight of for some time ; for I had been travflling in the pro- 
 vinces, 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 wav 
 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 pre.sented an appear- 
 ance half 80 ghastly. His bloated body and shrunken legs — their de- 
 formity enhanced a hundred fold by the fantastic dress — the glassy eyes, 
 contrasting fearfully with the thick white paint with which the face 
 vras besmeared ; the grotesquely-ornamented head, trembling with 
 paralysis, and the long skinny hands, rubbed with white chalk — all 
 gave him a hideous and unnatural appearance, of which no description 
 could convey an eulequate 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 priva- 
 tions, terminating, as usual, w ith an urgent request for the loan of a 
 trifling sum of money. I put a few shillings in his hand, and, as I 
 turned away, I heard the roar of laughter which followed his first tum- 
 ble 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 y)cncil, intimating that 
 the man was dangerously ill, and begging me, after the performance, to 
 see him at his lodgings in some street — I forget the name of it now — 
 at no great distance from the theatre. I promised to comply, as soon 
 as I could get away ; and after the curtaui fell, saUied forth on my 
 melancholy errand. 
 
 »• It was late, for I had been playing in the last piece ; and, as it was 
 a benefit night, the performances had been protracted to an unusual 
 length. It was a dark cold night, with a chill damp wind, which blew 
 Vol. I. — i 
 
38 POSTHUMOUS papers of 
 
 the rain heavily against the window* and house fronts. Pools of water 
 had collected in the narrow and little frequented streets, and as many 
 of the thinly-scattered oil-lamps had been blown out by the violence of 
 the wind, the walk was not only a comfortless, but most uncertain one. 
 I had fortunately taken the right course, however, and succeeded, after 
 a little difliculty, in finding the house to whijch I had been directed — a 
 coal 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 fallen 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 myself 
 
 " He was lying on an old bedstead, which turned up during the day. 
 The tattered remains of a checked curtain were drawn round the bed's 
 head, to exclude the wind, which however made its way into the com- 
 fortless room through the numerous chinks in the door, and blew it to 
 and fro every instant. There was a low cinder-fire in a rusty unfixed 
 grate ; and an old three-cornered stained table, with some medicine- 
 bottles, a broken-glass, and a few other domestic articles, was drawn 
 out before it. A little child was sleeping on a temporary bed which 
 had been made for it on the floor, and the woman sat on a chair by its 
 side. There were a couple of shelves, with a few plates and cups and 
 saucers : and a pair of stage shoes and a couple of foils hung beneath 
 them. With the exception of little heaps of rags and bundles which 
 had been carelessly thrown into the corners of the room, these were 
 the only things in the a[)artment. 
 
 '* I had had time to note these little particulars, and to mark the 
 heavy breathing and feverish startings of the sick man, before he was 
 aware of my presence. In his restless attempts to procure some easy 
 resting-place for his head, he tossed his hand out of the bed, and it fell 
 on mine. He started up, and stared eagerly in my face. 
 
 " ' Mr. Hutley, John,' said his wife ; ' Mr. Hutley, that you sent 
 for to-night, you know.' 
 
 "'Ah!' said the invalid, passing his hand across his forehead ; 
 * Hutley — Hutley — let me see.' He seemed endeavouring to collect 
 his thoughts for a few seconds, and then grasping me tightly by the 
 wrist, said, • Don't leave me — don't leave me, old fellow. She'll 
 murder me ; I know she will.' 
 
 " ' Has he been long so V said I, addressing his weeping wife. 
 
 " * Since yesterday night,' she replied. ' John, John, don't you 
 know me 1 ' 
 
 •' * Don't let her come near me,' said the man, with a shudder, as 
 she stooped over him. * Drive her away ; I can't bear her near me.' 
 He stared wildly at her, with a look of deadly apprehension, and then 
 whispered in my ear, ♦ I beat her, Jem ; I beat her yesterday and 
 many times before. I have starved her, and the boy too ; and now I 
 am weak and helpless, Jem, she'll murder me for it ; I know she will. 
 If you'd seen her cry, as I have, you'd know it too. Keep her oft".' 
 He relaxed his grasp, and sunk back exhausted on his pillow. 
 
 '♦I knew but too well what all this meant. If I could have enter- 
 tained any doubt of it for one instant, one glance at the woman's pale 
 face and wasted form would have sufficiently explained the real state 
 of the case. ' You had better stand aside,' said I to the poor creature. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 3S 
 
 * You can do him no good. Perhaps he will be calmer, if he does not 
 see you.' She retired out of the man's sight. He opened his eyes, 
 after a few seconds, and looked anxiously round. 
 
 " ♦ Is she gone !' he eagerly inquired. 
 
 " ' Yes — yes,' said I ; 'she shall not hurt you.' 
 
 <" I'll tell you what, Jem,' said the man, in a low voice, ' she does 
 hurt me. There's something in her eyes wakes such a dreadful fear 
 in my heart, that it drives me mad. All last night, her large staring 
 eyes and pale face were close to mine ; wherever I turned, they turned ; 
 and whenever I started up from my sleep, she was at the 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. I know she is. If she had been a woman, she would 
 have died long ago. No woman could have borne what she has.' 
 
 " I sickened at the thought of the long course of cruelty and neglect 
 which must have occurred to produce such an impression on such a 
 man. I could say nothing in reply ; for who could offer hope, or con- 
 solation, to the abject being before rae ! 
 
 " I sat there fur upwards of two hours, during which time he tossed 
 about, murmuring exclamations of pain or impatience, restlessly 
 throwing his arms here and there, turning constantly from side to side. 
 At length he fell into that state of partial unconsciousness, in which 
 the mind wanders 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 indescrionble scene of present suffering. Finding 
 from his incoherent wanderings that this was the case, and knowing 
 that in all probability the fever would not grow immediately worse, I 
 left him, promising his miserai)le wife that 1 would repeat my visit 
 next evening, and. if necessary, sit up with the patient during the night. 
 
 " I kept my promise. The last four-and-twcnty hours had produced 
 a frightful alteration. The eyes, though deeply sunk and heavy, shone 
 with a lustre frightful to behold. The lips were parched, and cracked 
 in many places : the dry hard skin glowed with a burning heat, and 
 there was an almost unearthly air of wild anxiety in the man's face, 
 indicating even more strongly the ravages of the disease. The fever 
 was at its height. 
 
 " I took the seat I had occupied the night before, and there I sat for 
 hours, listening to sounds which must strike deep to the heart of the 
 most callous among human beings — the awful ravings of a dying man. 
 From what I had heard of the medical attendant's opinion, I knew 
 there was no hope for him : I was sitting by his death-bed. I saw the 
 wasted limbs, which a few hours before had been distorted fur the 
 amusement of a boisterous gallery, writhing under the tortures of a 
 burning fever — I heard the clown's shrill laugh, blending with the low 
 murmurings of the dying man. 
 
 " It is a touching thing to hear the mind reverting to the ordinary 
 occupations and pursuits of health, when the body lies before you weak 
 and helpless ; but when those occupations are of a character the most 
 strongly opposed to any thing we associate with grave or solemn ideas, 
 the iinpreai^ion produced is infinitely more powerful. The theatre, 
 and the public-houses were the chief themes of the wretched man's 
 wanderings. It was evening, he fancied ; he had a part to play that 
 night ; it was late, and he must leave home instantly. Why did 
 they hold him, and prevent his going— he should lose the money — he 
 
40 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 roust go ! No f they would not let him. He hid his fece in his burn- 
 ing hands, and feebly bemoaned his own weakness, and the cruehy «rf 
 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 
 \vithered limbs, qnd rolled about in uncouih positions ; he was acting 
 — he was at the theatre. A minute's silence, and he murroured the 
 burden of some roaring song. He had reached the old house at last; 
 how hot the room wag. He had been ill, very ill ; but he was wdl 
 now, and happy. Fill up his glass. Who was that, that daslied it 
 from his lips ? It wa.s the same persecutor that had followed him be- 
 fore. He fell back -ipon his pillow, and moaned aloud.^ A short period 
 of oblivion, and he was wandering through a tedious maze of low arched 
 room.s — so low, sometimes, that he must creep upon his hands an^d 
 knees to make his way along ; it w^as close and dark — and every way 
 he turned, some obstacle impeded his progress. There were insect.s 
 too : hideous crawling things, with eyes that stared upon him, and 
 filled the very air around : glistening horribly amidst the thk-.k dark- 
 ness of the place. The walls and ceiling were alive with reptiles — tl»e 
 vault expanded to an enormous size — frightful figures flitted to and 
 fro — and the faces of men he knew, rendered hideous by gibing and 
 mouthing, peered out from among them : they were searing him with 
 heated irons, and binding his head with cords till- the blood started ; 
 and he struggled uiadly fur life. 
 
 " At the close of one of these paroxysms, when I had with great 
 difficulty held him down in his bed, he sank into what appeared to be a 
 slumber. Overpowered with watching and exertion, I had closed my 
 eyes for a few mijiutes, 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, screaminor vvith fright — the mother hastily caught it in her 
 asms, lest he should injure it in the violence of his insanity ; but, 
 terrified by the alteration iff his features, stood transfixed by the bed- 
 side. He grasped my shoulder convulsive!}' ; and striking his breast 
 ■with the other hand, made a desperate attempt to articulate. It was 
 tmavailing ; he extended his arm towards them, and made another 
 violent effort. There was a rattling noise in the throat — a glare of 
 the eye — a short stifled groan — and he fell back — dead !" 
 
 It would aflford us the highest gratification to be enabled to record 
 Mr. Pickwick's opinion of the foregoing anecdote. We have little 
 doubt that we should have been enabled to present it to our readers, 
 but for a most unfortunate occurrence. 
 
 ]\Ir. Pickwick had replaced on~the table the glass which, durint: the 
 last fcv;^ 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. 
 Snodi^rass's note-book for stating that he. had actually opened his 
 mouth — when the waiter entered the room, and said — 
 
 " Some gentlemen, sir." 
 
 It has been conjectured that Mr. Pickwick was on the point of de- 
 livering some remarks which would have enlightened the world, if not 
 the Tliames, when he was thus interrupted : for he gazed sternly on 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 41 
 
 the waiter's countenance, and then looked round on the company gen- 
 erally, 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 restored. The waiter 
 returned, and u.sheretl three gentlemen into the room. 
 
 "Lieutenant Tappleton," said Mr. Winkle, "Lieutenant Tapple- 
 ton, Mr. Pickwick — Doctor Payne, Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Siiodgrass, 
 you have seen before : 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 dt»ctor. 
 
 " I have met this gentleman before," said the doctor with marked 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Indeed !'' said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " And — and that person, too, if I am not mistaken," said the Doctor, 
 bestowing a scrutinizing glance on the green-coated stranger. " I 
 think I gave that person a very pressing invitation last night, which he 
 thought proper to decline." Saying which, the doctor scowled 
 magnanimously on the stranger, and whispered liis 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," murmured the owner of 
 the camp-stool, with great importance. 
 
 "Do be quiet, Payne," interposed the lieutenant. "Will you allow 
 me to ask you, sir," he said, addressing Mr. Pickwick, who was con- 
 siderably 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. Pickwitk, " he is a guest of ours." 
 
 " He is a member of your club, or I am mistaken 1" said the lieu- 
 tenant inquiringly. 
 
 " Certainly not," responded Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " And never wears your club-buttons :" said the lieutenant. 
 
 " No — never I" replied the astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Lieutenant Tappleton turned round to his frie-nd Doctor Slammer, 
 with a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulder, as if implying sojne 
 doubt of the accuracy of his recollection. The little doctor looked 
 wrathful, but confounded ; and Mr. Payne gazed with a ferocious 
 aspect on the beaming countenance of the unconscious Pickwick. 
 
 " Sir." said the doctor, suddenly addressing Mr. Tupman, in a tone 
 which made that gentleman start as pprceptibly as if a pin had been 
 cimningly inserted into the calf of his leg — "you were at the ball here 
 last niiiht 1" 
 
 Mr. Tupman gasped a faint affirmative ; looking very hard at Mr. 
 Pickwick all the while. 
 
 '■ That person was your companion," said the doctor, pointing to the 
 still unmoved stranger. 
 
 Mr. Tupman admitted the fact. 
 
 " Now, sir," said the doctor to the stranger, " I ask you once again 
 in the presence cf these gentlemen, whether you choose to give me 
 4* 
 
42 posTHUMons papers or 
 
 yonr card, and to receive the treatment of a gentleman ; or whether you 
 impose upon me the necessity of personally chastising you on the spot I 
 
 " Stay, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, *' really I cannot allow this matter 
 to go any further without sOme explanation. Tupman, recount the 
 circumstances." 
 
 Mr. Tupman, thus solemnly adjured, stated the case in a few words; 
 touched sliglitly on the horrowing of the coat ; expatiated largely on 
 its Having been done " after dinner ;" wound up- with a little penitence 
 on his own account ; and left the stranger to clear himself as he best 
 could. 
 
 He was apparently about to proceed to do so when Lieutenant Tap- 
 pleton, who had been eying him with great curiosity, said with consi- 
 derable scorn — " Haven't I seen you at the theatre, sirV 
 
 " Certainly,'" replied the unabashed stranger. # 
 
 "He is a strolling actor," said the lieutenant, contemptuously : turn- 
 ing to Dr. Slammer — " He acts in the piece that the officers of the 
 62d get up 'at the Rochester theatre to-morrow night. You cannot 
 proceed in this alfair, Slammer — impossible!" 
 
 " Quite !" said the dignified Payne. 
 
 '* Sorry to have placed you in this disagreeable situation," said Lieu- 
 tenant Tappleton, addressing Mr. Pickwick : " allow me to suggest, 
 that the best way of aroiding a recurrence of such scenes in future, 
 will be to be more select in the choice of your companions. Good 
 evening, sir !" and the lieutenant bounced out of the room. 
 
 " And allow me to say, sir," said the irascible Doctor Payne, '* that 
 if I had been Tappleton, or if I had been Slammer, I would have pulled 
 your nose, sir, and the nose of every man in this company. I would, 
 sir — every man. Payne is my name sir, — Doctor Payne of the 43d. 
 Good evening, sir." Having concluded this speech, and uttered the 
 three last words in a loud k'^y, he stalked majestically after his friend, 
 closely followed by Doctor Slammer, who said nothiiig, but contented 
 himself by withering the company with a look. 
 
 V Rising rage and extreme bewildefment had swelled the noble breast 
 of Mr. Pickwick, almost to the bursting of his waistcoat, during the 
 deliver}' of the above defiance. He stood transfixed to the spot, gazing 
 on vacancy. The closing of the door recalled him to himself He 
 '^rushed forward with fury in his looks, and fire in his eyes. His hand 
 was upon the lock of the door ; in another instant it would have been 
 on the throat of Dcotor Payne of the 43d, had not Mr. Snodgrass seized 
 his revered leader by the coat tail, and dragged him backwards. 
 
 " Restrain him,"" cried Mr. Snodgrass, ♦' Winkle, Tupman — he must 
 not peril his distinguished life in such a cause as this." 
 
 " Let me go," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Hold him tight." shouted Mr. vSnodgrass ; and by the united efforts 
 of the whole company, Mr. Pickwick was forced into an arm-chair. 
 
 "Leave him alone," said the green-coated stranger —''brandy and 
 water — jolly old gentleman — lots of pluck — swallow this — ah ! — capital 
 stuff." Having previously tested the virtues of a bumper, which had 
 been mixed by the dismal man, the stranger 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 water had done its work ,- 
 the amiable countenance of Mr. Pickwick was fast recovering its cus. 
 tomary expression. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 43 
 
 " They are not worth your notice,'* said the dismal man. 
 
 •' You are right, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, " they are not. I am 
 ashamed to have been betrayed into this warmth of feeling. Draw 
 your chair up to the table, sir." 
 
 The dismal man readily complied ; a circle was aj^ain formed around 
 the table, and harmony once more prevailed. Some lingering irritability 
 appeared to find a resting place in Mr. Wince's bosom, occasioned 
 possibly by the temporary abstraction of his coat — though it is scarcely 
 reasonable to suppose, that so slight a circumstance can have excited 
 even a passing feeling of anger in a Pickwickian breast. With thii* 
 exception, their good humour was completely restored ; and the even- 
 ing concluded with the convWiality with which it had begun. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A FIELD-DAT AN& OTVOCAC MORE IfEW FRIENDS ; AND AN INVITATION 
 
 TO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Manv authors entertain, not only a foorish, but a really dishonest 
 objection, to acknowledge the sources from whence they derive much 
 valuable information. We have no such feehng. We are merely 
 endeavouring to discharge in an upright manner, the resiionsible duties 
 of our editorial functions ; and whatever ambition we might have feh 
 under other circumstances, to lay claim to the authorship of these 
 adventures, a regard for truth forbids us lo do more than claim the 
 merit of their judicious arrangement, and impartial narration. The 
 Pickwick papers are our New Hiver Head ; and we may be compared 
 to the New River Company. The labours of others have raised for 
 us an immense reservoir of important facts. We merely lay them or?, 
 and communicate them in a clear and gentle stream, through llie 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 the authorities we have consulted, we 
 frankly say, that to the note-book of Mr. Snodgrass are wc indebted 
 for the particulars recorded in this and the succeeding chapter — par- 
 ticulars, which, now that we have disburdened our conscience, we 
 shall proceed to detail without farther comment. 
 
 The whole population of Rochester, and the adjoining towns, rose 
 from their beds at an early hour of the following morning, in a state o( 
 the utmost bustle and excitement. A erand review wa.'^ to take place 
 upon the line.= . The manoeuvres of half-a-dozen regiments were to be 
 inspected bv the eagle eye of the commander-in-chief; temporary for- 
 tifications had been erec'.ed, the citadel was to be attacked and taken, 
 and a mine was'to be sprung. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was, as our readers may have gathered from the slight 
 extract we gave from his description of Chatham, an enthiisiasiic 
 admirer of the army. Nothing could have been more deliL'htful to him 
 — nothing could have harmonized so well with the peculiar feeling of 
 each of his companions — as this sight. Acconlingly they were soon 
 a-foot, and walking in the direction of the scene of action, towards 
 
44 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 which crowds of people were already pouring, from a variety of 
 quarters. 
 
 The appearance of every thing on the lines denoted that the ap- 
 proaching ceremony was one of ihe utmost grandeur and importance. 
 There were sentries posted to keep the ground for the troops, and 
 servants on the batterits keeping places for the ladies, and sergeants 
 running to and fro, with vellum-covered books under their arms, and 
 Colonel Bulder, in full military unifomi, on horseback, galloping first 
 to one place and then to another, and backing his horse among the 
 people, and prancing and curvetting and shouting in a most alarming 
 manner, and making himself very hoarse in the voice and very red in 
 the face, without any assignable cause or reason whatever. Officers 
 were running backwards and forwards, first communicating with Colo- 
 nel Bulder, and then ordering the sergeants, and then running away 
 altogether : and even the very privates themselves looked from behind 
 their glazed stocks with an air of mysterious solemnity, which suffi- 
 ciently bespoke the special nature of the occasion. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and his three companions stationed themselves in the 
 front rank of the crowd, and patiently awaited the commencement of 
 the proceedings. The throng was iiicreasing every moment ; and the 
 efforts they were compelled to make, to retain the position they had 
 gained, sufficiently occupied their attention during the two hours that 
 ensued. At one time there was a sudden pressure from behind ; and 
 then Mr. Pickwick was jerked forward for several yards, with a degree 
 of speed and elasticity highly inconsistent with the general gravity of 
 his demeanour; at anothpr moment there was a request to " keep back" 
 from the front, and then the butt end of a musket was either dropped 
 upon Mr. Pickwick's toe, to remind hii;i of the demand, or thrust into 
 his chest to ensure its being complied with. Then some facetious gen- 
 tlemen on the left, after pressing sideways in a body, and squeezing 
 Mr. Snodgrass into the very last extreme of human torture, would 
 request to know " vere he vos a shovin' to," and when Mr. Winkle had 
 done expre.*ising his excessive indignation at witnessing this unpro- 
 voked assault, some person behind would knock his hat over his eyes, 
 and beg the favour of his putting his head in his pocket. These, and 
 other practical witticisms, coupled with the unaccountable absence of 
 Mr. Tupman (who had suddenly disappeared, and was nowhere to be 
 found,) rendered their i?ituation upon the whole rather more uncomfort- 
 able 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 vi-aiting for. 
 All eyes were turned in the direction of the sallyport. 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 on to 
 the plain. The troops halted and formed ; the word of command rung 
 through the line, there was a general clash of muskets, as arms were 
 presented ; and the commander-in-chief, attended by Colonel Bulder 
 and numerous officers, cantered to the front. The military bands struck 
 up all together : the horses stood upon two legs each, cantered back- 
 wards, and wh.sked their tails about in all directions : the dogs barked, 
 the mob screamed, the troops recovered, and nothing was to be seen on 
 either side, as far as the eye could reach, but a long perspective of red 
 coats and white trousers, fixed and motionless. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had becji so fully occupied in falling about, and dis- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 45 
 
 entangling himself, miraculously, from between the leers of horses, that 
 he had not enjoyed sufficient leisure to observe the scene beibre him, 
 until it assumed the appearance we have just described. When he 
 was at last enabled to stand firmly on his l^s, liis gratification and 
 delight were unbounded. 
 
 "Can any thing be finer, or more delightful V he inquired of Mr. 
 Winkle. 
 
 " Nothing," replied that gentleman, who had had a short man 
 standing oi^ each of his feet, for the quarter of an hour immediately 
 preceding. 
 
 " It is indeed a noble and a brilliant sight,'" said Mr. Snodgrass, in 
 whose bosom a blaze of poetry was rapidly bursting forth, " to see the 
 pliant defenders of their country, drawn up in brilliant array before its 
 peaceful citizens : their faces beaming — not with warlike ferocity, but 
 wilh civilized gentleness : their eyes flashing — not with the rude fire 
 of rapine or revenge, but with the soft light of humanity and intelli- 
 gence."' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick fully entered into the spirii of this eulogtum. but he 
 could not exactly re-echo its terms ; for the soft light of inteliiijence 
 burnt rather feebly in the ey'^s of the warriors, inasmuch as the com- 
 mand " eyes front" had been given ; and all the spectator saw before 
 Kim wrt» eevpra] thousand pair of optics, starlngr ctpaight forward, 
 "wholly divested of any e.\prt-»oiuii whatuvcr. 
 
 '' We are in a capital situation/ now,'" said Mr. Pickwick, looking 
 round him. The crowd had gradually dispersed from their immediate 
 vicinity, and they were nearly alone. 
 
 *' Capital I" echoed both Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " What are they doing now V inquired Mr. Pickwick, adjusting his 
 spectacles. 
 
 " I — I rathei thinlc," said Mr. Winkle, changing colour — " rather 
 think they"re a-going to fire." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. 
 
 *' I — I — really think they are," urged Mr. Snodgrass, somewhat 
 alarmed. ■ 
 
 " Impossible," replied Mr. Pickwick. He had hardly uttered the 
 word, when the whole half dozen regiments levelled their muskets as 
 if they had but one common object, and that object the Pickwickians ; 
 and burst forth with the most awful and tremendous discltarfe that 
 ever shnok the earth to its centre, or an elderly gentleman off his feet. 
 
 It was in this trj-ing situation, exposed to a gallinsj fire of blank 
 cartridges, and harassed by the operations of the military, a fre.sh 
 body of whom had begun to fall in, on the opposite side, that .Mr. Pick- 
 wick displayed that perfect coolnes.s, and self-possession, which are 
 the indispensable accompaniments of a great mind. He seized Mr. 
 Winkle by the arm. and placing himself between that gentleman and 
 Mr. Snodgrass, earnestly besought them to remember that beyond, the 
 possibility of being rendered deaf by the noise, there was no immediate 
 danger to be apprehended from the firing. ^ 
 
 " But — but — supposa^ some of the men should happen to hnve ball 
 cartridges by mistake," remonstrated .Mr. V^'inkle, }»allid at the suppo- 
 sition he was himself conjuring up. ♦' I heard something whistle 
 though the air just now — so sharp ; close to my ear." 
 
 " We had bolter throw ourselves on our faces, hadn't we •" said 
 VI r. Snodgrass. 
 
46 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 "No, no — it's over now,' said Mr. Pickwick. His lips might 
 quiver, and his cheek might blanch, but no expression of fear or con- 
 cern escaped the lips of that immortal man. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was ught ; the firing ceased: but he had scarcely 
 time to congratulate hunself on the accuracy of his opinion, when a 
 quick movement was visible in the line : the hoarse shout of the word 
 of command ran along it — and before either of the party could form a 
 guess at the meaning of this new manccuvre, the whole of the half 
 dozen regiments, with fixed bayonets, charged at double^ quick time 
 down upon the very spot on which Mr. Pickwick and his friends were 
 stationed. 
 
 Man is bul mortal ; and there is a point beyond which human 
 courage cannot extend. Mr. Pickwick gazed through his spectacles 
 for an instant on the advancing mass ; and then fairly turned his back, 
 and — we will not say fled ; first, because it is an ignoble term, and 
 secondly, because Mr. Pickwick's figure was by no means adapted for 
 that mode of retreat — he trotted away, at as quick a rate as his legs 
 would convey him ; so quickly, indeed, that he did not perceive the 
 awkwardness of his situation, to the full extent, until too late. 
 
 The opposite troops, whose falling in ftad perplexed Mr. Pickwick a 
 few seconds before, were drawn up to repel the mimic attack of the 
 sham hesifigprs of the citadel ; and the consequence was, that Mr 
 Pickwick and his two companiono found thciuselves suddenly enclosed 
 between two lines of great lengtlj ; the one advancing at a rapid pace, 
 and the other firmly waiting the collision in hostile array. 
 
 " Hoi !" shouted the officers of the advancing line. 
 
 *» Get out of the way !" cried the officers of the stationary one. 
 
 *' Where are we to go to ]" screamed the agitated Pickwickians. 
 
 *' Hoi — hoi — hoi," was the only reply. There was a moment of 
 intense bewilderment, a heavy tramp of footsteps, a violent concussion, 
 a smothered laugh — the half dozen regimeqts were half a thousand 
 yards oflf; and the soles of Mr. Pickwick's boots were elevated in 
 the air. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle had each performed a compulsory 
 somerset with remarkable agility, when the first object that met the 
 eyes of the latter as he sat on the ground, stanching with a yellow silk 
 handkerchief the stream of life which issued from his nose, was his 
 venerated leader at some distance off, running after his own hat, which 
 was gamboling playfully away in perspective. 
 
 There are very few moments in a man's existence when he ex- 
 periences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable 
 commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat. A vast deal 
 of coolness, and a peculiar degree of judgment, are requisite in catching 
 a hat. A man must not be precipitate, or he runs over it : he must 
 not rush into the opposite extreme, or he loses it altogether. The best 
 way is, to keep gently up with the object of pursuit, to bo wary and 
 cautious, to watch your opportunity well, get gradually before it— and 
 then make a rapid dive, seize it by the crown, and stick it firmly on 
 your head; smiling pleasantly all the time, as if you thought it as good 
 a joke as anybody else. 
 
 There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr. Pickwick's hat rolled sportively 
 before it. The wind puffed, and Mr. Pickwick puffed, and the hat 
 rolled over and over as merrily as a lively porpoise in a strong tide : 
 iind on it might have rolled, far beyond Mr. Pickwick's reach, had not 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 47 
 
 its course been providentially stopped, just as that gentleman was on 
 tlie point of resigning it to its fate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick we say, was completely exhausted, and about to give 
 up the chase, when the hat was blown with some violence atrainst the 
 wheel of a carriage which was drawn up in a line with half-a-dozen 
 other vehicles on the spot to which his steps had been directed. Mr. 
 Pickwick, perceiving his advantage, darted briskly forward, secured 
 his property planted it on his head, and paused to take breath. He 
 had not been stationarj' half a mini:te, when he heard his own name 
 eagerly pronounced by a voice, which he at once recognised as Mr. 
 Tupman's, and looking upwards, he beheld a sight which tilled him 
 with surprise and pleasure. 
 
 In an open barouche, the horses of which had been taken cut, the 
 better to accommodate it to the crowded place, stood a stout old gentle- 
 man, in a blue coat and bright buttons, corduroy breeches and top boots, 
 two young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a youuL' gentleman apparently 
 enamoured of one of the young ladies in scarfs and feathers, a lady of 
 "doubtful age, probably the aunt of the aforesaid, and Mr. Tupman, as 
 easy and unconcerned as if he had belonged to the family from the first 
 moments of his infancy. Fastened up behind the barouche was a 
 hamper of spacious dimensions — one of those hampers which always 
 awakens, in a contemplative mind associations connected with cold 
 fowls, tongue, and bottles of wine — and on the box sat a fat and red- 
 faced boy, in a state of somnolency, whom no speculative oli^rver 
 could have regarded for an instan* without setting down as the official 
 dispenser of the contents of the before-mentioned hamper, when the 
 proper time for their consumption should drrive. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had bestowed a hasty glance on these interesting 
 objects, when he was again greeted by his faithful disciple. 
 
 " Pickwick — Pickwick,"' said Mr. Tupman ; " come up here. 
 Make haste." 
 
 '' Come along," sir. Praj-, come up," said the stout gentleman. 
 *' Joe ! Joe I — why, has the boy gone to sleep again 1 Joe, let down 
 the steps." The fat boy rolled slowly off the box, let down the steps, 
 and held the carriage door invitingly open. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. 
 Winkle came up at the moment. 
 
 *'Room for you all, gentlemen," said the stout man. " Two inside, 
 and one outside. Joe, make room for one of these gentlemen on the 
 box. Now, sir, come along;" and the stout gentleman extended his 
 arm, and pulled first Mr. Pickwick, and then Mr. Snodgrass, into the 
 barouche by main force. Mr. Winkle mounted to the box, the fat boy 
 waddled to the same perch, and fell fast asleep instantly. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said the .'^tout 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 ? Yo do look uncommon well, to be sure." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment, and cordially shook 
 hands with the stout gentleman in the top boots. 
 
 *' Well, and how are you, sir ! " said the stout gentleman, addressing 
 Mr. Snodgrass with paternal anxiety. " Charming, eh ? Well, that's 
 right — that's right. And how arc you, sir ^ (to Mr. Winkle.) Well, 
 I am glad to hear you say you are well ; very glad I am, to be sure. 
 My daughters, gentlemen — my gals, these are ; and that's my sister. 
 
48 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Miss Rachael Warule. She's a miss, she is ; and yet she an't a-miss 
 — eh, sir — eh!" And the stout gcntleinaii playfully inserted his elbow 
 between the ribs of Mr. Pi^-kwick, and laughed very heartily. 
 
 "Oh, brother I" said Miss Wardle, with a deprecating suiilo. 
 
 " True, true," said the stout gentleman ; " no one can deny it. 
 Gentlemen, I heg your pardon ; this is my friend Mr. Trundle, And 
 now you will all know each other, let's be comfortable and happy, and 
 see what's going forward; that's what I say." So the stout gentle- 
 man put on his spectacles, and Mr. Pickwick pulled out his glass, and 
 everybody stood up in the carriage, and looked over somebody else's 
 shoulder at the evolutions of the military. 
 
 Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing over the heads of 
 another rank, and then running away ; and then the other rank firing 
 over the heads of another rank, and running away in their turn ; and 
 then forming squares with ofilcers in the centre ; and then descending 
 the trench on one side with scaling ladders, and ascending it on the 
 other again by the same means ; and knocking down barricades of 
 baskets, and behaving in the most gallant manner possible. Then 
 there was such a raimning down of the contents of enormous guns on 
 the battery, with instruments like magnified mops ; such a preparation 
 before they were let ofif, and such an awful noise when they did go, 
 that the air resounded with the screams of ladies. The young Miss 
 Wardles were so frightened, that Mr. Trundle was actually obliged to 
 hold*ne of them up in the carriage, while Mr. Snodgrass supported 
 tlie other ; and Mr. Wardle's sister suffered under such a, dreadful 
 state of nervous alarm, that Mr. Tupman found it indi.spensably neces- 
 sary to put his arm around flier 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 you. Undo the 
 hamper, Joe." 
 
 The fat boy. who had been effectually roused by the compression 
 of a portion of his leg between the finger and thumb of Mr. Winkle, 
 rolled off the box once again, and proceeded to unpack the hamper with 
 more expedition than could have been expected from his previous 
 inactivity. 
 
 '' Now we must sit close," said the stout gentleman. After a great 
 many jokes about squeeziug the ladies' sleeves, and a vast quantity of 
 blushing at .':undr)' jocose proposals, that the ladies should sit in the 
 gentlemen's laps, the whole party were stowed down in the barouche, 
 and the stout gentleman proceeded to hand the things from the fat boy 
 (who had mounted up behind for the purpose) into tihe carriagq. 
 
 -' Now, Joe, knives and forks." The knives and forks were handed 
 in, and the ladies and gentlemen inside, and Mr. Winkle on the bo\, 
 ■were each furnished with those useful implements. 
 
 " Plates, Joe, plates." A similar process euqoloyed in the distribu- 
 lion of the crocker)'." 
 
 " 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, 
 h^nd in the eatables." 
 
 There w as something in the sound of the last word, which roused 
 
THE FICKWICK. CLDB. 40 
 
 the unctuous boj- He jumped up ; and the leaden eyes which twinkled 
 behind his mountainous cheeks, leered horribly upon the food as he 
 unpacked it from the basket. 
 
 " Now, make haste,'' said Mr. Wardle ; for the fat boy was hanging 
 fondly over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to part with. The 
 boy sighed deeply, and bestowing an ardent gaze upon its plumpness, 
 unwillingly consi'jned it to his master. 
 
 " That's right — look sharp. Now the tongue — now the pigeon-pic. 
 Take care of that veal and ham — mind the lobsters — take the salaul out 
 of the cloth — give me the dressing."' Such were the hurried orders 
 which issued from the lips of Mr. Wardle, as he handed in the different 
 articles* described, and placed dishes in 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 commenced 
 
 " Capital I" said Mr. Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box. 
 
 '* Glass of wine ?" 
 
 " With the greatest of pleasure.'' 
 
 " You'd better have a bottle to yourself, up there, hadn't you 1" 
 
 *' You're very good." 
 
 "Joe!" 
 
 "Yes, sir.'' (Ke wasn't asleep this time, having just succeeded in 
 abstracting a veal pat*y.) 
 
 " Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, sir.' 
 
 "Thankee." Mr. U'inkle emptied his glass, and placed the bottle 
 on the coach-box, by his side. 
 
 " Will you permit me to have the pleasure, sir!" said Mr. Trundle 
 to Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " With great pleasure," replied I^Ir. 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 strange gentleman," whispered 
 the spinster aunt, with true spinster-aunt-like envy, to her brother Mr. 
 Wardle. 
 
 " Oh I I don't know," said the jolly old gentleman ; " all very nata- 
 ral, I dare say — nothing unusual. Mr. Pickwick, some wine, sir ^" 
 Mr. Pickwick, who had been deeply investigating the interior of the 
 pigeon-pie, readily assented. 
 
 " Emily, my dear," said the spinster aunt, with a patronising air, 
 "don't talk so loud, love." 
 
 " Lor, aunt !' 
 
 " Aunt and the little old gentleman want to have it all to themselves, 
 I think," whispered Miss Isabella Wardle to her sister Emily. The 
 young ladies laughed heartily, and the old one tried to look amiable, but 
 could not manage it. 
 
 "Young girls hsive such spirits," said Miss Wardle to Mr. Tupman, 
 with an air of gentle commiseration, a.'^ if animal spirits were contra 
 band, and their possession without a permit a high crime and misde- 
 meanor. 
 
 " Oh, they have," replied Mr. Tupman, not exactly makinj; the sort 
 of reply that was expected from him. • " It's quite delightful.'' 
 
 " Hem !'' said .Miss Wardle, rather dubiously. 
 
 " Will you permit me,'' said Mr. Tupman, in his blandest manner, 
 
 Vol. I.— 5. 
 
30 PJSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 touching the enchanting Rachael's wrist with one hand, and gently 
 elevating the bottle with the other. "Will you permit me 1" 
 
 *' Oh, sir!" Mr. Tupman looked most impressive; and Rachael 
 expressed her fear that more guns were going off, in which case, of 
 course, she would have required support again. 
 
 *' Do you think my dear nieces pretty ?" whispered their affectionate 
 aunt to Mr. Tupman. 
 
 • '' I i-hould, 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 ; I think they would," said Mr. Tupman, with an air of indif- 
 ference. 
 
 " Oh, you quiz — I know what you were going to say." 
 
 ♦'Whatl" inquired Mr. Tupman, who had not precisely made up 
 his mind to say any thing at all. 
 
 " You were going to say that Isabel stoops — I know you were — you 
 men are such observers. Well, so she does ; it can't be denied ; and, 
 certainly, if there is one thing more than another that makes a girl look 
 ugly, it is stooping. I often tell her that when she gets a little older, 
 she'll he quite frightful Well, you are a quiz !" 
 
 Mr. Tupman had no objection to earning the reputation at so cheap 
 a rcte ; so he looked very knowing, and smiled mysteriously. 
 
 " What a sarcastic smile," said the admiring Rachael ; " I declare 
 I'm quite afraid of you." » 
 
 "Afraid of me!" 
 
 " Oh, you can't disguise any thing from me — I know what that smile 
 means, very well." 
 
 " Whatl" said Mr. Tupman, who had not the sHghtest notion him 
 self 
 
 "You mean," said the amiable aunt, sinking her voice still lower — 
 ♦'You mean, that you don't think Isabella's stooping is as bad as 
 Emily's boldness. Well, she is bold ! You cannot think how wretched 
 it makes me sometimes — I'm sure I cry about it for hours together — 
 my dear brother is so good, and so unsuspicious, that he never sees it ; 
 if he did, Fm quite certain it would break his heart. I wisV I could 
 think it was only manner — I hope it may be — " (here the affectionate 
 relative heaved a deep sigh, and shook her head despondingly.) 
 
 " I'm sure aunt's talking about us," whispered Miss Emily Wardle 
 to her sister — " I'm quite certain of it — she looks so malicious." 
 
 " Is she ?" replied Isabella — " Hem ! aunt, dear !" 
 
 " Yes, my dear love I" 
 
 "I'm so afraid yo-i'U catch cold, aunt — have a silk handkerchief to 
 lie round your dear old head — you really should take care of yourself — 
 consider your age !" 
 
 However well deserved this piece of retaliation might have been, it 
 was as vindictive a OTie as could well have been resorted to. There is 
 no guessing in what form of reply the aunt's indignation would have 
 vented itself, h^d not Mr. Wardle unconsciously changed the subject, 
 by calling emphatically for Joe. • 
 
 '• D — n that buy," said the old gentleman, " he's gone to sleep again." 
 
 " Very extraordinary boy, that," said Mr. Pickwick, " does he 
 always sleep in this way !" 
 
THE P1CKV»ICK CLUB. fil 
 
 *< Sleep I" said the old gentleman, "he's always asleep. Goes on 
 errands fast asleep, and snores as he waits at table." 
 " How very odd I" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Ah I 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 I Here, Joe — Joe — take these things away, and open 
 another bottle — d'ye hearV 
 
 The fat boy rose, opened his eyes, swallowed the huge piece of pic 
 he had been in the act of masticating when he last fell asleep, and 
 slowly obeyed his master's orders — gloating languidly over the remains 
 of the feast, as he removed the plates, and deposited them in the 
 hamper. The fresh bottle was produced, and speedily emptied ; the 
 hamper was made fast in its old place — the fat boy once more mounted 
 the box — the spectacles and pocket-glass were again adjusted — and the 
 evolutions of the military recommenced. There was a great fizzing 
 and banging of guns, and startling of ladies — and then a mine was 
 sprung, to the gratification of every body — and when the mine had gone 
 off, the military and the .company followed its example, and went 
 off too. 
 
 " Now, min^," 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 — " we shall 
 see you all to-morrow." 
 
 " Most certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 *' You have got the address?' 
 
 " Manor Farm, Dingley Dell," said Mr. Pickwick, consulting his 
 pocket-book. 
 
 " That's it," said the old gentleman. " I don't let you off, mind, 
 under a week ; and undertake that you shall see 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 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 their entertainers, and 
 fell upon the form of the fat boy. His head was sunk upon his bosonp ; 
 and he slumbered again. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SHORT ONE SHOWING, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, HOW MR. PICKWICK 
 
 * UNDERTOOK TO DRIVE, A.ND MR. WINKLE TO HIDE ; AND HOW THEY BOTH 
 DID IT. 
 
 Bright and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air, and beautiful the 
 appearance of every object around, as .Mr. Pickwick leaned over the 
 balustrades of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and waiting for 
 breakfast. _ The scene was indeed one, which might well have charmed 
 a far less reflective mind than that to which it was presented. 
 
52 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, broken in many 
 places ; anJ, in some, overhanging the narrow breach l)elow in rude 
 and heas'y masses. Huge knots of seaweed hung upon the jagged and 
 pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind ; and the green ivy 
 clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it 
 rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumb- 
 ling 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 the Mcdway, covered with corn-fields and pastures, with here 
 and there a windmill, or a distant church, stretched away as far as the 
 eye could see, presenting a rich and varied landscape, rendered more 
 beautiful by the changing shadows which passed swiftly across it, as 
 the thin and half-formed clouds skimmed away in the light of the morn- 
 ing-sun. The river, reflecting the clear blue of the sky, glistened and 
 sparkled as it flowed noiselessly on ; and the oars of the fishermen 
 dipped into the water with a clear and liquid sound, as their heavy, but 
 picturesque, boats glided slowly down the stream. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was roused from the agreeable reverie into which he 
 had been led by the objects before him, by a deep sigh, and a touch on 
 his shoulder. He turned round ; and the dismal man was at his side. 
 
 *' Contemplating the scene 1" inquired the dismal man. 
 
 *' I was,"' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " And congratulating yourself on being up so soon ?" Mr. Pick- 
 wick 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 ol day 
 and the morning of life are but too much alike." 
 
 •' You speak truly, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "How common the saying," continued the dismal man, " The morn- 
 ing's too fine to last. How well might it be applied to our every-day 
 existence. Ah ! what would I forfeit to have the days of my childhood 
 restored, or to be able to forget them for ever !" 
 
 " You have seen much trouble, sir," said Mr. Pickwick compas- 
 sionately. 
 
 ■ " 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 1" 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " I have thought .%o, often," said the dismal man, without noticing the 
 action. " The calm cool water seems to me to murmur an invitation to 
 repose and rest. Abound, a splash, a brief struggle ; there is an eddy 
 for an instant, it gradually subsides into a gentle ripple ; the waters have 
 closed above your head, and the world has closed upon your miseries 
 and misfortunes for ever." The sunken eye of the dismal man flashed 
 brightly as he spoke, but the momentary excitement quickly subsided ; 
 and he turned calmly away, as he said — 
 
 " There — enough of that. I wished to see you on another subject. 
 You invited me to read that paper the night before last, and li.stened 
 attentively while I did so." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 53 
 
 ** 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. 
 Suppose I forwarded you a curious manuscript — observe, not curiouk 
 because wild or improbable, but curious as a leaf from the romance of 
 real life. Would* you communicate it to the club of which you have 
 spoken so frequently ]" 
 
 •'Certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, "if you wished it; and it would 
 be entered on their Transactions " 
 
 " You shall have it," replied the dismal man. " Your address : and 
 Mr. Pickwick having communicated their probable route, the dismal 
 roan carefully noted it down in a greasy pocket-book ; and resisting 
 Mr Pickwick's pressing invitation to breakfast, left that gentleman at 
 his inn, and walked slowly away. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick found that his three companions had risen, and were 
 waiting his arrival to commence breakfast, which was ready laid in 
 tempting display. They sat down to the meal ; and broiled ham, eggs, 
 tea, coffee, and sundries, began to disappear with a rapidity which at 
 once bore testimony to the excellence of the fare, and the appetites of 
 its consumers. 
 
 "Now, about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick. "Howshall we go ?" 
 
 " We had better consult the wai'er, perhaps," said Mr. Tupman ; and 
 the waiter was summoned accordingly. 
 
 " Dingley Dell, gentlemen — fifteen miles, gentlemen — cross road — 
 post-chaise, sir T' 
 
 " Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' True, sir — beg your pardon, sir. Very nice four-wheeled chaise, 
 sir — seat for two behind — one in front for the gentleman that drives. 
 Oh ! bcff 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 wai- 
 ter, looking towards Mr. Winkle ; " very good saddle horses, sir — any 
 of Mr. Wardle's men coming to Rochester, bring 'em back, sir." 
 
 "The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. "Winkle, will you go on 
 horseback 1" 
 
 Now Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgivings in the very 
 lowe.st recesses of his own heart, relative to his equestrian skill ; but 
 as he would not have them even suspected on any account, he at once 
 replied with great hardihood, " Certainly. I should enjoy it, of all 
 things." 
 
 Mr. Winkle had rushed upon his fate ; there was no resource. " Let 
 them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied the waiter. 
 
 The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; and the travellers 
 ascended to their respective bed-rooms, to prepare a change of cloth- 
 ing, to take with them on their approaching expedition. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had matle his preliminary arrangements, and was look- 
 ing over the coffee-room blinds at the passengers in the street, when 
 the waiter entered, and announced that the chaise was ready — an 
 announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed, by forthwith appear- 
 ing 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 immease brown horse, displaying great symmetry of bone. 
 
 5* 
 
54 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OT 
 
 An hostler stood near it, holding by the bridle another immense horse 
 — apparently a near relative of the animal in the chaise — rftady saddled 
 for Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood upon the pave- 
 ment while the coats were being put in. " Bless my soul ! who's to 
 irive] I never thought of that." 
 
 "Oh ! you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. 
 •' Of course," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 "I!" exclaimed IVIr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hostler. " Warrant him 
 quiet, sir ; a hinfant in arms might drive him." 
 " He don't shy, does he 1" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 " Shy, sir] He wouldn't shy if he was to meet a vaggin-load of 
 monkeys, with their tails burnt off." 
 
 The' last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Snodgrass got into the bin ; Mr. Pickwick ascended to his perch, and 
 deposited his feet on a floor-clothed shelf, erected beneath it for that 
 purpose. 
 
 " Now, shiny Villiam," said the hostler to the deputy hostler, ♦< give 
 the gen'Fm'n the ribbins." " Shiny Villiam" — so called jwobably, from 
 his sleek hair and oily countenance — placed the reins in Mr. Pickwick's 
 left hand ; and the upper hostler thrust a whip into his right. 
 
 '" Woo," cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided 
 incHnation to back into the coftee-room window. 
 
 " Wo — 0," echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass from the bin. 
 *' Only his playfulness, gen'l'm'n," said the head hostler encoura- 
 gingly — '' jist kitch 'old on him, Villiam " The deputy restrained the 
 animal's impetuosity, and the principal ran to assist Mr. Winkle in 
 mounting. 
 
 " T'other side, sir, if you please." 
 
 " Blowed if the gen'l'm'n wom't a gettin' up on the wrong side," 
 whispered a grinning post-boy, to the inexpressively 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-war. 
 
 "All right 1" 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 way went 
 the chaise, and tV.e 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 vvhole inn yard. 
 
 " What makes him go sideways V said Mr. Snodgrass, in the bin, to 
 Mr. Winkle in the saddle. 
 
 " I can't imagine," replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was going up 
 the street in the most mysterious manner — side first, with his head 
 towards one side of the way, and his tail to the other. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either this or any other 
 particular, the whole of his faculties being concentrated in the manage- 
 ment of the animal attached to the chaise, who displayed various 
 peculiarities, higlily interesting to a bystander, but by no means equally 
 amusing to any one seated behind him. Besides constantly jerking hi;; 
 head up, in a very unpleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging 
 iit the reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great difficulty 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, 55 
 
 for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular propensity for darting 
 suddenly, every now and then, to the side of the road, then stopping 
 short, and then rushing forwards for some minutes, al a speed which 
 it was wholly impossible to control. 
 
 " What can he mean by this V said Mr. Snodgrass, when the horse 
 had executed his manceuvre for the twentieth time. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mr. Tupman ; " it looks very like shying, don't 
 iti" Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when he was interrupted by 
 a shout from Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Woo," said that gentleman ; " I have dropped my whip." 
 
 " Winkle," cried Mr. Snodgrass, as the equestrian came trotting up 
 on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears ; and shaking all over, as 
 if he would shake to pieces, with the violence of the exercise, " Pick 
 up the whip, there's a good fellow."' Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle 
 of the tall horse till he was black in the face ; and having at length 
 succeeded in stopping him,' dismounted, handed the whip to Mr. Pick- 
 wick, and grasping the reins, prepared to remount. 
 
 Now whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness of his dispo- 
 sition, vas desirous of having a little innocent recreation with Mr. Win- 
 kle, or whether it occurred to him that he could perform the journey as 
 much to his own satisfaction without a rider as with one, are points 
 upon which, of course, we can arrive at no definite and distinct conclu- 
 sion. By whatever motives the animal was actuated, certain it is that 
 Mr. Winkle had no sooner touched the reins, than he slipped them 
 over his head, and darted backwards to their full length. 
 
 *' Poor fellow," said Mr. Winkle, soothingly, — "poor fellow — good 
 old horse." The "poor fellow" was proof against flattery : the more 
 Mr. Winkle tried to get nearer him, the more he sidled away : and, 
 notwithstanding all kinds of coaxing and wheedling, there were Mr. 
 Winkle and the horse going round and round each other for ten minutes, 
 at the end of which time each was at precisely the same distance from 
 the other as when they first commenced — an unsatisfactory sort of 
 thing under any circumstances, but particularly so in a lonely road, 
 where no assistance can be procured. 
 
 " What am I to do ?" shouted Mr. Winkle, after the dodging had 
 been prolonged for a considerable time. " Whai am I to do ] I can't 
 get on him !" 
 
 •' You had better lead him till we come to a turnpike," replied Mr. 
 Pickwick from the chaise. 
 
 " But he won't come,'" roared Mr. Winkle. " Do come and hold him."' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindness and humanity : 
 he threw the reins on the horse's back, and having descended from his 
 seat, carefully drew the chaise into the hedge, lest any thing should 
 come along the road, and stepped back to the assistance of his dis- 
 tressed companion, leaving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the 
 vehicle. 
 
 The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick advancing towards him, 
 with the chaise whip in his hand, than he exchanged the rotan.' motion 
 in which he had previously indulged, for a retrograde movement of so 
 very determined a character, that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was 
 still at the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate than fast walking 
 in the direction from which they had just come. Mr. Pickwick ran to 
 his assistance, but the fa.ster Mr. Pickwick ran forward, the faster the 
 horse ran backward. There was a great scraping of feet, and kicking 
 
56 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS or 
 
 up of the dust; and at last Mr. Winkle, his arras being nearly pulled 
 out of their sockets, fairly let go his hold. The horse paused, stared, 
 shook his head, turned n)und, and quietly trotted home to Rochester, 
 leaving Mr. Winkle and Mr. Pickwick gazing on each other with coun- 
 tenances 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 maybe guessed He tore off with 
 the four wheeled chaise behind him, and Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snod- 
 grass in the four wheeled chaise. The heat was a short one. Mr. 
 Tupman threw himself into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass followed his 
 example, the horse dashed the four wheeled chaise against a wooden 
 bridge, separated the wheels from the body, and the bin from the perch ; 
 and finally stood stock still, to gaze upon the ruin he had made. 
 
 The first care of the two unspilt friends was to extricate their un- 
 fortunate 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 Ircerations from the brambles. The next thing to be done 
 ■was, to unharness the horse. This complicated proces.s having been 
 effected, the party walked slowly forward, leading the horse among 
 them, and abandoning the chaise to its fate. 
 
 An hour's walking brought the travellers to a little road-side public 
 house, with two elm-trees, a horse trough, and a sign-post, in front ; 
 one or two deformed hay-ricks behind, a kitchen garden at the side, 
 and rotten sheds and mouldering out-houses, jumbled in strange con- 
 fusion, all about it. A red headed man was working in the garden ; 
 and to him Mr. Pickwick called lostily — " 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 ]" 
 
 " No, t'ant." Having uttered this brief reply, and apparently satis- 
 fied himself with another scrutiny, the red-headed man resumed his work. 
 
 " We want to put this horse up here," said Mr. Pickwick ; " I sup- 
 pose we can, can't we 1" 
 
 " Want to put that ere horse up, do ee I" repeated the red-headed 
 man, leaning on his spade. 
 
 " Of course," replied Mr. Pickwick, who had by this time advanced, 
 horse in hand, to the garden rails. 
 
 " Missus," — roared the man with the red head, emerging from the 
 garden, and looking very hard at the horse — " Missus." 
 
 A tall bony woman — straight all the way down — in a coarse blue 
 pelisse, with the waist an inch or two below her arm pits, responded 
 to the call. 
 
 " Can we put this horse up here, my good woman 1" said Mr. Tup- 
 man, advancing, and speaking in his most seductive tones. The 
 woman looked very hard at the whole party : and the red-headed mau 
 whispered something in her ear. 
 
THK PICKWICK CLUB. ' 57 
 
 " No," replied the woman, after a little consideration, " I am afeerd 
 on it." 
 
 •• Afraid !" exclaimed Mr. Pi(^wick, " what's the woman afraid of!" 
 
 " It got us in troulile last time," said the woman, turning into the 
 house ; " I won't have nothin' to say to 'um." 
 
 " Most e.xtraordinary thing 1 ever met with in ijny life," said the 
 astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "I — I — really believe,'' whispered Mr. Winkle, as his friends gather- 
 ed round him, " that they think we have come by this horse in some 
 dishonest manner." 
 
 •' What I" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in a storm of indignation. Mr. 
 Winkle modestly repeated his suggestion. 
 
 "Hallo, you fellow I" said the angry Mr. Pickwick, "do you think 
 we stole this horse ?" 
 
 " Fm sure ye did," replied the red-headed man, with a'grin which 
 agitated his countenance from one auricular organ to the other. 
 Saying which, he turned into the house, and banged the door after him. 
 
 " It's like a dream," ejaculated Mr. Pickwick — " a hideous dream. 
 The idea of a man's walking about, all day, with a dreadful horse, 
 that he can't get rid of!" The depressed Pickwickians turned 
 moodily away, with the tall quadruped for which they all felt the most 
 unmitigated disgust, following slowly at their heels. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, when the four friends and their four- 
 footed companion turned into the lane leading to Manor Farm ; and 
 even when they were so near their place of desiination, the pleasure 
 they would otherwise have e.x-perienced, was materially damped as they 
 reflected on the singularity of their appearance, and the absurdity of 
 their situation. Tom clothes, lacerated faces, dusty shdes, 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 ex- 
 pressive 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 sudden appearance of two 
 figures, at a turn of the lane. It was Mr. Wardle, and his faithful 
 attendant, the fat boy. 
 
 "Why, where have you been 1" said the hospitable old gentleman. 
 " I've been waiting for you all day. Well* you do look tired. What ! 
 Scratches ! Not hurt, I hope — eh ] Well, I am glad to hear that — 
 very. So, you've been spilt, eh 1 Never 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 conununicate, led the 
 way to the kitchen. 
 
 '' We'll have you put to rights here,'' said the old gentleman, » and 
 then I'll introduce you to the people in the parlour. Emma bring out 
 the cherry brandy ; now, Jane, a needle and thread here — towels and 
 water, Mary. Come, girls, busile about." 
 
 Three or four buxom girls speedily dispersed in search of the dif- 
 ferent articles in requisition, while a couple of large-headed, circiilai 
 visaged males rose from their seats in the chimney corner, (for. 
 
68 POSTHDMOUS PAPERS 0? 
 
 although it was a May evening, their attachment to the wood fire ap- 
 peared as cordial as if it were Christmas,) and dived into some obscure 
 recesses, from which they speedily pr4)duced 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 suddenly seizing- 
 Mr. Pickwick by the leg, at the imminent hazard of throwing him off 
 his balance, brushed away at his boot till his corns were red hot : while 
 the other shampoo'd Mr. Winkle with a heavy clothes' brush, indul- 
 ging, during the operation in that hissing sound, which hostlers are 
 wont to produce when engaged in rubbing down a horse. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass having concluded his ablutions, took a survey of the 
 room, while standing with his back to the fire, sipping his cherry brandy 
 with heartfelt satisfaction. He describes it as a large apartment with 
 a red brick floor, and a capacious chimney : the ceiling garnished with 
 hams, sides of bacon, and ropes of onions. The walls were decorated 
 with several hunting-whips, two or three bridles, a saddle, and an old 
 rusty blunderbuss with an inscription below it, intimating that it was 
 "Loaded," — as it had been, on the same authority, for a half century at 
 least. An old eight-day clock, of solemn and sedate demeanour, ticked 
 gravely in one corner ; and a silver watch, of equal antiquity, dangled 
 from one of the many hooks which ornamented the dresser. 
 
 " Ready '^" said the old gentleman, inquiringly, when his guests had 
 been washed, mended^ brushed, and brandied. 
 
 *'• Quite," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Come along then ;" and the party having traversed several dark 
 passages, and being joined by Mr. Tupman, who had lingered behind 
 to snatch a kiss from Emma, for which he had been duly rewarded with, 
 sundry pushings and scratches, arrived at the parlour door. 
 
 " Welcome," said the hospitable host, throwing it open and stepping 
 forward to announce them — " Welcome, gentlemen, to Manor Farm.'* 
 
 CHAPTER VI. ' 
 
 AX OLD-FASHIOXED CARD PARTY THE CLERGYMAN'S VERSES THE STOKY 
 
 OF THE convict's KETCR.V. 
 
 Several guests, who were assembled in the old parlour, rose to 
 greet Mr. Pickwick and his friends upon their entrance ; and during 
 the performance of the ct^remony of introduction, with all due formali- 
 ties, 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 per- 
 sonage than Mr. Wardle's mother — 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. h\ 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 59 
 
 the forms of samplers of ancient date, worsted landscapes of equal an- 
 tiquity, and crimson silk tea-kettle holders of a more modern period. 
 The aunt, the two young ladies, and Mr. Wardle, each vying with 
 the other in paying zealous and unremitting attentions to the old lady, 
 crowded round her easy chair, one holding her ear- trumpet, another 
 an orange, and a third a smelling-bottle, while a fourth was busily en- 
 gaged in patting and punching the pil!«ws which were arranged for 
 her support. On the opposite side, sat a bald-headed old gentleman, 
 with a good-humoured, benevolent face — the clergyman of Dingley 
 Dell ; and next him sat his wife, a stout, blooming old lady, who looked 
 as if she were well skilled, not only in the art and mystery of manu- 
 facturing home-made cordials greatly to other people's satisfaction, but 
 of tasting them occasionally very much to her own. A little hard- 
 headed, Kipstone, 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 bol!;-upright and motionless on their 
 chairs, staring very hard at .Mr. Pickwick and his fellow-voyagers. 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick," mother,"' said Mr. Wardle at the very top of his 
 voice. 
 
 " Ah !'' said the old lady shaking her head ; " I can't hear you." 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick, grandma !" screamed botji the young ladies together. 
 
 " Ah I" exclaimed the old lady. " Well ; it don't much matter. He 
 don't care for an old 'ooman like )ne, 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 >ou, ma'am, that nothing 
 delights me more, than to see a lady of your time of life heading so fine 
 a family, and looking so young and well." 
 
 " Ah '."' said the old lady, after a short pause, " it's all very fine, I 
 dare say; but I can't hear him." 
 
 " Grandma's rather put out now," said Miss Isabella Wardle, in a 
 low tone ; but she'll talk to you piesently." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded his readiness to humour the infirmities of age, 
 and entered into a general conversation with the other members of the 
 circle. 
 
 " Delightful situation, this," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Delightful I" echoed Messrs. Snodgrass, Tupman, and Winkle. 
 
 " Well, I think it is," said .Mr. Wardle. 
 
 " There ain't a better spot o' ground in all Keint, 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 triumphantly round, 
 as if he had been very much contradicted by somebody, 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," obsers'ed the fat man, solemnly. 
 
 ♦' Mullins' meadows I" 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 
 -^ minority, assumed a compassionate air, and said no more. 
 
 " What are they talking about !" inquired the old lildy of one of her 
 
60 
 
 POSTHUMODS PAPERS OT 
 
 grand-daughters, in a very audible voice ; for, like many deaf people, 
 she never seemed to calculate on the possibility of other persohs hear- 
 ing what she said herself 
 
 " About the land, grandma." 
 
 " What about the land ' Nothing the matter, is there 1" 
 
 " No, no. Mr. Miller was saying our land was better than Mullins' 
 meadows." • 
 
 " How should he know any thing abou^ it 1" inquired the old lady, 
 indignantly. " Miller's a conceited coxcomb, and you may tell him I 
 said so." Saying which, the old lady, quite unconscious that she had 
 spoken above a whisper, drew herself up, and looked carving knives at 
 the hard-headed delinquent. 
 
 " Come, come," said the bustling host, with a natural anxiety to 
 change of conversation, — " What say you to a rubber, Mr. Pickwickl" 
 
 " I should like it of all things," replied that gentleman ; " but pray 
 don't make up one on my account." 
 
 " Oh, I assure you, mother's very fond of a rubber," said Mr. Wardle ; 
 "ain't you mother]" 
 
 The old lady who was much less deaf on this subject than on any 
 other, replied in the affirmative. 
 
 • " Joe, Joe," said the old gentleman — " Joe — oh, here he is ; put out 
 the card-tables." 
 
 The lethargic youth contrived, without any additional rousing, to set 
 out two card-tables ; the one for Pope Joan, and the other for whist. 
 The whist-players weie, 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 the gravity of deportment, and 
 sedateness of demeanour, which befit the pursuit entitled " whist" — a 
 solemn observance, to which, as it appears to us, the title of " game" 
 has been very irreverently and ignominiously applied. The round- 
 game table, on the other hand, was so boisterously merry, as materially 
 to interrupt the contemplations of Mr. Miller, who not being quite so 
 much absorbed as he ought to have been, contrived to commit various 
 high crimes and misdemeanours, which excited the wrath of the fat 
 gentleman to a very great extent, and called forth the good humour of 
 the old lady in a proportionate degree. 
 
 " There !" 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 his diamond, oughtn't he sir?" said 
 the old lady. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded assent. 
 
 " iJught I, though?' said the unfortunate, with a doubtful appeal to 
 his partner. 
 
 " You ought, sir," Said the fat gentleman in an awful yoice. 
 
 *' Very sorry," said the crest fallen Miller. 
 
 "Much use that," growled the fat gentleman. 
 
 " Two, by honours — make us eight," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Another hand. " Can you one !" inquired the old lady. 
 
 •' I can," replied Mr. Pickwick. " Double, single, and the rub." 
 
 " Never was such luck,'' said Mr. Miller. 
 
 *' Never Weis stich cards," said the fat gentleman. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLtTB. 61 
 
 A solemn silence ; Mr. Pickwick humorous, the old lady serious, the 
 fat gentleman captious, and .Mr. Miller timorous. 
 
 "Another double," said the old lady: triumphantly making a 
 memorandum of the circumstance, by placing one sixpence and a 
 battered half-penny, under the candlestick. 
 
 '* A double, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •' Quite aware of the fact, sir," replied the fat gentleman sharply. 
 
 Another game, with a similar result, was followed by a revoke from 
 the unlucky Miller ; on which the fat gentleman burst into a state of 
 high personal excitement which lasted until the conclusion of the game, 
 when he retired into a corner, and remained perfectly mute for one hour 
 and twenty-seven minutes ; at the end of which time he emerged from 
 his retirement, and ofTored Mj. Pickwick a pinch of snuff with the air 
 of a man who had made up his mind to a Christian forgiveness of inju- 
 ries sustained. The old lady's hearing decidedly improved, and the un- 
 lucky .Miller felt as muchoutof his element, as adolphin in a sentry-box. 
 
 Meanvvhile the round game proceeded right merrily. Isabella 
 Wardle and .Mr. Trundle " went partners," and Emily Wardle and 
 Mr. Snodgrass did the same ; and even Mr. Tupman and the spinster 
 aunt established a joint-stock company of fish and flattery. Old Mr. 
 Wardle was in the very height of his jollity ; and he was so funny in 
 his management of the board, and the old ladies were so sharp after 
 their winnings, that the whole table wa.s in a perpetual roar of merri- 
 ment and laughter. There was one old lady who always had about 
 half-a-dozen cards to pay for, at which every body laughed regularly 
 every round ; and when the old lady looked cross at having to pay, 
 they laughed louder than ever ; on which the old lady's face gradually 
 brightened up, till at last she laughed louder than any of them. Then, 
 when the spinster aunt got •' matrimony," the young ladies laughed 
 afresh, and the spinster aunt seemed disposed to be pettish ; till, feel- 
 ing 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 his partner's ear, which made one old 
 gentleman facetiously sly, about partnerships at cards, and partner- 
 ships for life, and caused the aforesaid old gentleman to make some 
 remarks thereupon, accompanied with divers winks and chuckles, 
 which made the company very merry and the old gentleman's wife 
 esf>ecia!ly so. And Mr. Winkle came out with jokes which were very 
 well known in town, but are not at all known in the country ; and as 
 every body laughed at them very heartily and said they were \ery 
 capital, Mr. Winkle was in a state of great honour and glory. And 
 the benevolent clergyman looked pleasantly on ; for the happy fax?es 
 which surrounded the table made the good old man feel happy too ; 
 and though the merriment was rather boisterous, still it came from the 
 Iieart and not from the lips ; and this is the right sort of merriment, 
 after all. 
 
 The evening glided swiftly away, in these cheerful recreations ; and 
 when the substantial, though homely supper had been despatched, and 
 the little party formed a social circle round the fire, Mr. Pickwick 
 thought he had never felt so happy in his life, and at no time so much 
 disposed to enjoy, and make the most of the passing moments. 
 
 Vol. I.— 6 
 
63 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 •'Now this," said the hospitable host, who was sitting in great 
 «tate next the old lady's arm-chair, with her hand fast clasped in his — 
 •' This is just what I like — the happiest moments of my life have been 
 passed at this old fire-side : and I am so attached to it, that I keep up 
 a blazing fire here every evening, until it actually grows too hot to 
 bear it. Why, my poor old mother, here, used to sit before this fire- 
 place upon that Utile stool, when she was a girl — didn't you, mother 1" 
 
 The tear which starts unbidden to the eye when the recollection of 
 old times and the happiness of many years ago, is suddenly recalled, 
 stole down the old lady's face, as she shook her head with a melan- 
 choly smile. 
 
 "You must excuse my talking about this old place, Mr. Pickwick," 
 resumed the host, after a short pause — " for I love it dearly, and know 
 no other — the old houses antl fields seem like living friends to me : and 
 so docs our little church with the ivy, about which, by-the-by, our ex- 
 cellent friend there, made a song when he first came among 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, know- 
 ingly : indicating the clerjjyman by a nod of his head. 
 
 "May I say that I should liku to hear you repeat it, sirl" said Mr. 
 Snodgrass. 
 
 " Why really," replied the clergyman, "it's a very slight affair ; and 
 the only excuse I have for having ever perpetrated it is, that I was a 
 young man at the tinie. Such as it is, however, you shall hear it, if 
 jou wish." 
 
 A murmur of curiosity was of course the reply ; and the old gentle- 
 man proceeded to recite with the aid of sundry promptings from his 
 wife, the lines in question. " I call them," said he, 
 
 THE IVY GREEN. 
 
 Oh, a dainty plant is the h-y green. 
 
 That creepeth o'er ruins old ! 
 
 Of right choice food arc his meals, I ween. 
 
 In his cell so lone and cold. 
 
 The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, 
 
 To pleasure his dainty whim : 
 
 And the mouldering dust that years have made, 
 
 Is a merry meal for him. 
 
 Creeping where no life is seen, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, 
 
 And a stanch old heart has he. 
 
 How closely he twineth, how tight he clings, 
 
 To his friend the huge Oak Tree ! 
 
 And slily he trailelh along the ground, 
 
 And his leaves he gently waves. 
 
 As he joyously hugs and crawleth round 
 
 The rich mould of dead men's graves. 
 
 Creeping where grim death has been, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 Whole ages have fled and their works decayed, 
 And nations have scattered been ; 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 03 
 
 But the stout old Ivy shall never fade, 
 
 From its hale and hearty green. 
 
 The brave old plant in its lonely days, 
 
 Shall fatten upon the past : 
 
 For the stateliest b'lilding man can raise, 
 
 Is the Ivy's food at last. 
 
 Creeping on, where time has been, 
 
 A rare old plant is the Ivy green. 
 
 While the old gentleman repeated these lines a second time, to ena- 
 ble Mr. Snod^rass to note them down, Mr. Pickwick perused the linea- 
 ments of his face with an expression of great interest. The old gen- 
 tleman having concluded his dictation, and Mr. Snodgrass having 
 returned his note-book to his pocket, Mr Pickwick said, — 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, for making the remark on so short an acquaint- 
 ance ; but a gentleman like yourself cannot fail, I should think, to have 
 observed many scenes and incidents worth recording, in the course of 
 your experience ais a minister of the Gospel " 
 
 "I have witnessed some, certainly," replied the old gentleman ; "but 
 the incidents and characters have betn of a homely and ordinary 
 nature, my sphere of action being so very limited." 
 
 " You did make some notes, I think, about John Edmunds, did you 
 not !" inquired Mr. Wardle. who appeared very desirous to draw his 
 friend out, for the edification of his new 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 venture to inquire, who 
 was John Edmunds V 
 
 " The very thing I was about to ask," said Mr. Snodgrass, eagerly. 
 
 "You are fairly in for it,*' said the jolly host. "You must satisfy 
 the curiosity of these gentlemen, sooner or later ; so you had better take 
 advantage of this favourable opportunity, and do so at once " ' 
 
 The old gentleman smiled good-humourediy as he drew his chair 
 forward ; — the remainder of the party drew their chairs closer together, 
 especially Mr. Tupman and the spinster aunt, who were possibly rather 
 hard of hearing-, and the old lady's ear-trumpet having been duly 
 adjusted, and .Ntr. Miller (who had fallen asleep during the recital of 
 the verses) roused from his slumbers by an admonitory pinch, adminis- 
 tered beneath the table by his ex-partner the solemn fat man, the old 
 gentleman, without farther preface, commenced the following talc, to 
 which we have taken the liberty of prefixing the title of 
 
 THE CONVICTS RETUPvX. 
 
 *' When I first settled in this village," said the old gentleman, *' which 
 is now just five-and-twenty years ago, the most notorious perpon 
 among my {)arisliioners was a man of the name of Edmunds, who leased 
 a small farm near this spot. He was a morose, savage-hearte<l, bad 
 man : idle and dissolute in his habits ; cruel and ferocious in his dis- 
 position. Beyond the few lazy and reckless vaj^abonds with whom he 
 sauntered away his time in the fields, or sotted in the ale-house, he had 
 not a single friend or acquaintance ; no one cared to speak to the man 
 whom many feared, and every one detested — and Edmunds was shun- 
 ned by all. 
 
 '' This man had a wife and one son, who, when I first came hero, 
 
G4- POSTHUMOUS PAPERS Or 
 
 was about twelve vcars old. Of the acuteness of that woman*s suffer- 
 ings, of the gentle and enduring manner, in which she bnre them, of 
 tlie agony of solicitude with which she reared that boy, no one can form 
 an adequate conception. Heaven forgive me the supposition, if it be- 
 an uncharitable one, but I Jo firmly and in my soul believe, that the 
 man systematically tried for many years to break her heart ; but she 
 bore it all for her child's sake, and however strange it may seem to 
 many, for his father's too ; for brute as he was, and cruelly as he 
 treated her, she had loved him once ; and the recollections of what he 
 had been to her, awakened feelings of forbearance and meekness under 
 suffering in her bosom, to which all God's creatures but women are 
 strangers. 
 
 " They were poor — they could not be otherwise when the man- pur- 
 sued such courses ; but the woman's unceasing and unwearied exer- 
 tions, early and late, morning, noon, and night, kept them above actual 
 want. These exertions were but ill repaid. People who passed the 
 spot in the evening — some time at a late hour of the night — reported 
 that they had heard the moans and sobs of a woman in. distress, and 
 the sound of blows ; and more than once, when it was past midnight, 
 the boy knocked softly at the door of a neighbour's house whither he 
 had been sent, to escape the drunken fury of his unnatural father: 
 
 " During the whole of this time, and when ihe poor creature often 
 bore about her marks of ill usage and violence which she could not 
 wholly conceal, she was a constant attendant at our little church. 
 Regularly every Sunday, morning and afternoon, she occupied the 
 same seat with the boy at her side ; and though they were both poorly 
 dresseJ, — much more so than many of their neighbours who were in 
 a lower station — they wore always neat and clean. Every one had a 
 friendly riod and a kind word for ' poor Mrs. Edmunds^' and some- 
 times, when she stopped to exchange a few words with a neighbour at 
 the conclusion of the service in the little row of elm-trees which leads 
 to the church porch, or lingered behind to gaze with a mother's pride 
 and fondness upon her healthy boy, as he sported before her with 
 some little companions, her care-worn face would lighten up with an 
 expression of heartfelt gratitude ; and she would look, if not cheerful 
 and happy, at least tranquil and contented. 
 
 " Five or six years passed away ; the boy had become a robust and 
 well-grown youth. The time that had strengthened the child's slight 
 frame, and knit his weak limbs into the strength of manhood, had 
 bowed his mother's form, and enfeebled her steps : but the arm that 
 should have supported her was no longer locked in hers ; the face that 
 should have cheered her, no more looked upon her own. She occu- 
 pied her old seat, but there was a vacant one beside her. The Bible 
 was kept as carefully as ever, the places were fnmd and folded down 
 as they used to be ; but there was no one to read it with her — and the 
 tears fell thick and fast upon the book, and blotted the words from her 
 eyes. Neighbours were as kind as they were wont to be of Ai\, but 
 she shunned their greetings with averted head. There was no linger- 
 ing 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, looking back to the 
 earliest of his childhood's days to which memory and consciousness 
 wtended, and carrying bis. recollection down to that moment, could re- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLOB. 65 
 
 member nothing which was not in some way connected with a long series 
 of voluntary privations suflered by his mother for his sake, with ill 
 usage, and insult, and violence, and all endured fur him : — shall I tell 
 you, that he, with a reckless disregard of her breaking heart, and a 
 sullen wilful forgotfulness of all she had done and borne for him, had 
 linked himself with depraved and abandoned men, and was madly 
 pursuing a headlong career, which must bring death to him, and 
 shame to her ! Alas for human nature ! You have anticipated it 
 long since. 
 
 "The measure of the unhappy woman's misery and misfortune was 
 about to be completed. Numerous ofl'ences had been committed in 
 the neighbourhood : the perpetrators remained undiscovered, and their 
 boldness increased. A robbery of a daring and aggravated nature 
 occasioned a vigilance of pursuit, and a strictness of search, they had 
 not calculated on. Young Edmunds was suspected with three com- 
 panions. He was apprehended — committed — tried — condemned to die. 
 
 " The wild and piercing shriek from a woman's voice, which re- 
 sounded through the court when the solemn sentence was pronounced, 
 rings in my ears at this moment. That cry struck a terror to the 
 culprit's heart, which trial, condemnation, the approach of death itsrlf, 
 had failed to awaken. The lips, which had been compressed in 
 dogged suUenness throughout, quivered and parted involuntarily ; the 
 face turned ashy pale, as the cold perspiration broke forth from every 
 pore ; the sturdy limbs of the felon trembled, and he staggered in the 
 dock. 
 
 " In the first transports of her mental anguish, the saflfering mother 
 threw herself upon her knees at my feet, and fervently besought the 
 Almighty Being, who had hitherto supported her in all her troubles, 
 to release her from a world of wo and misery, and to spare the life of 
 her only child. A burst of grief, and a violent struggle, such as I hope 
 I may never have to witness again, succeeded. I knew ihat her heart 
 was breaking from that hour ; but I never once heard complaint or 
 murmur escape her lips. 
 
 " It was a piteous spectacle to see that woman in the prison-yard 
 from day to day, eagerly and fervently attempting, by affection and 
 entreaty, to soften the hard heart of her obdurate son. It was in vain. 
 He remained moody, obstinate, and unmoved. JN'ot even the unlook- 
 ed-for commutation of his sentence to transportation for fourteen years, 
 softened for an instant the sullen hardihood of his demeanour. 
 
 " But the spirit of resignation and endurance that had so long up- 
 held 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 indifference of the young man 
 were tested indeed ; and the retribution that fell heavily upon him, 
 jjcarly drove him mad. A day passed away, and his mother was not 
 there ; another flew by, and she came not near him ; a third evening 
 arrived, and yet he had not seen her; and in fbur-and-twenty hotn-d, 
 he was to be separated from her — perhaps for ever. Oh ! how the 
 long forgotten thoughts of former davs rushed upon his mind, as he 
 almost ran up and down the narrow yard — as if intelligence would ar- 
 rive the sooner for his hurrying ; and how bitterly a sense of his help- 
 lessness and desolation rushed upon him when he h«ard the truth ! 
 
6d POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 His mother, the only parent he had ever known, ky ill — it miglit be, 
 ilyinij — within one mile of the ground he stood on : were he free ami 
 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 assurance of repentance, and his fervent sup- 
 plication for pardon, to her side bed. I heard, with pity and compas- 
 sion, the repentant man devise a thousand little plans for her comfort 
 and support, when he returned ; but I knew that many months before 
 lie could reach his place of destination, his mother would be no longer 
 of this world. 
 
 ♦' He was removed by night. A few weeks afterwards the poor wo- 
 man'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. 
 
 *' It had been arranged previously to the convict'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 indifference to him whether he lived or died. Many 
 years passed over without any intelligence of him ; and when more 
 than half his term of transportation had expired, and I had received no 
 letter, I concluded him to be dead, as, indeed, I almost hoped he 
 might be. 
 
 " Edmunds, however, had been sent a considerable distance up the 
 country, on his arrival at the settlement ; and to this 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 dif- 
 liculties, 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 swelled as he crossed the stile. The tall old elms, through 
 whose branches the declining sun cast here and there a rich ray of light 
 upon the shady path, awakened the associations of his earliest days. 
 He pictured himself as he was then, clinging to his mother's hand, and 
 walking peacefully to churcli. He remembered how he used to look 
 up into her pale face ; and how her eyes would sometimes fill with 
 tears as she p-azcd upon his features — tears, which fell hot upon his 
 forehead as she stooped to kiss him, and made him weep too, although he 
 little knew then what bitter tears hers were. He thought how often he 
 had run merrily down that path with some childish j,layfcllow, 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 kind- 
 ness unrequited, and warnings despised, and promises broken, thronged 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 
 
 G7 
 
 upon hia recollection till bis heart failed him, and he could bear it no 
 longer. 
 
 '' He entered the church. The evening service \vas concluded, and 
 the congregation had dispersed ; but it was not yet closed. Hiii steps 
 echoed through the low building wiih a hollow sound, and he al.Tiost 
 feared to be alone, it was so still and quiet. He lookeil round him. 
 Nothing was changed. The place seemed smaller than it used to be ; 
 but there were the old monuments on which he had gazed wilii childisli 
 awe a thousand times ; the little pulpit^ with its faded cusliion ; the 
 communion table, before which he had so often repeated the Coaiujand- 
 inents he had reverenced aa a child, and forgotten as a man. He ap- 
 proached the old seat ; it looked cold and desolate. The cu.shion had 
 been removed, and the Bible was not there. Perhaps his mother now- 
 occupied a poorer seat, or possibly she had grown inhrm, and could not 
 reach the church alone. He dared not think of what he feared. A 
 cold feeling crept over him, and he trembled violently, as he turned 
 away. An old man entered the porch just as he reached it. Ed- 
 munds started back, for he knew him well ; many a time had be 
 watched him digging graves in the church-yard. What would he ssy 
 to the returned convict ■ The old man raised his eyes to the stranger" :* 
 face, baiJe him ' good evening,' and walked slowly on. He had forgot- 
 ten him. 
 
 " He walked down the hill, and through the village. The weather 
 was warm, and the people were sitting at their doors, or strolling in 
 their 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 cvery 
 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 cot- 
 tage 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, cast- 
 ing a rich glow on the yellow com sheaves, and lengthening the shadows 
 of the orchard trees as he stood before the old house — the home of his 
 infancy, to which his heart had yearned with an intensity of alTection 
 not to be described, through long and wearied years of captivity and 
 sorrow. The paling was low — though he well remembered the lime 
 when it had seemed a high wall to him ; and he looked over into the 
 old garden. There were more seeds and gayer flowers than there 
 used to be, but there were the old trees still — the very tree under which 
 he had lain a thousand limes 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 strange- 
 ly upon his ear ; he knew them not. They were merry, too j and he 
 well knew that his poor old mother could not be cheerful and he away. 
 The door opened ; and a group of little children bounded out, shouting 
 and romping. The father, with a little boy in his arms, appeared at 
 the door, and they crowded round him, clapping their tiny hands, and 
 dragging him out, to join their joyous sports. The convict lliought oa 
 the many times he had shrunk from his father's t>ight iu that very 
 place. He remembered how often he had buried lui trembling head 
 
€8 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 beneath the bed-clothes, and heard the harsh word and the hard stripe, 
 and his mother's wailing ; atid though the man sobbed aloud with 
 agony of mind as he left the spot, his fist was clenched, and his teeth 
 ■were set, in fierce and deadly passion. 
 
 "And such was the return to which he had looked through the 
 weary perspective of many years, and for which he had undergone so 
 much suffering ! No face of welcome, no look of forgiveness, no 
 house to receive, no hand to help him — and this, too, in the old village. 
 What was his loneliness in the wild thick woods where man was never 
 seen, to this ! 
 
 " He felt that, in the distant land of his bondage and infamy, he had 
 thought of his native place as it was when he left it — not as it would 
 be when he returned. The sad reality struck coldly at his heart, and 
 his spirit sank within him. He had not courage to make inquiries, or 
 to present himself to the only person who was likely to receive him 
 with kindness and compassion. He walked slowly on ; and shunning 
 the road-side, like a guilty man, turned into a meadow he well remem- 
 bered ; and, covering his face with his hands, threw himself upon the 
 grass 
 
 *' He bar] 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. His body was much 
 bent, and his face was wrinkled and yellow. His dress denoted him 
 an inmate of the workhouse : he had the appearance of being very old, 
 but it looked more the effect of dissipation or disease, than length of 
 years. He was staring hard at the stranger — and though his eyes 
 were lustreless and heavy at tirst, they appeared to glow with an un- 
 natural and alarmed expression after they had been fixed upon him for 
 a short time, until they seemed to be starting from their sockets. 
 Edmunds gradually raised himself to his knees, and looked more and 
 more earnestly upon the old man's face. They gazed upon each other 
 in silence. 
 
 " The old man was ghastly pale. He shuddered and tottered to his 
 feet. Edmunds sprang to his. He stepped' back a pace or two. 
 Edmunds advanced. 
 
 " ' Let me hear you speak,' said the convict, in a thick, broken voice. 
 " ' Stand off,' cried the old man, with a dreadful oath. The convict 
 drew closer to him. 
 
 " ' Stand oflV shrieked the old man. Furious with terror he raised 
 his stick, and struck Edmunds a heavy blow across the face. 
 
 " * Father — devil,' murmured the convict, between his set teeth. He 
 rushed wildly forward, and clenched the old man by the throat — but he 
 was his father ; and his arm fell powerless by his side. 
 
 " The old man uttered a loud yell which rang through the lonely 
 fields like the howl of an evil spirit. His face turned black ; the gore 
 rushed from his mouth and nose, and dyed the grass a deep dark red, 
 as he staggered and fell. He had ruptured a blood vessel : and he was 
 a dead man before his son could raise him from that thick, sluggish pool. 
 ****** 
 
 " 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 I have before spoken, there lies buried a man, who was in my 
 employment for three years after this event ; and who was truly con- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 6^ 
 
 trite, penitent, and humbled, if ever man was. No one pave myself 
 
 knew, in that man's lifetime, who he was, or whence be came. It was 
 John Edmunds, the returned convict." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HOW MR. WINKLE, INSTEAD OF SHOOTING AT THE P?GEnN ANT/ KILLING THE 
 CROW, SHOT AT THE CROW AND WOUNDED THK PIGEON ; HOW THE DINO- 
 LEY DELL CRICKET CLUB PLAYED ALL MUGGLETON, AND HOW ALL MUG- 
 GLETON DINED AT THE DINGLEV DELL EXPENSE : WITH OTHER INTE- 
 RESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE MATTERS. 
 
 The fatiguing adventures of the day, or the somniferous influence of 
 the clergyman's tale, operated so strongly on the drowsy tendencies 
 of Mr. Pickwick, that, in less than five minutes after he had been shown 
 to his comfortable bed-room, he fell into a sound and dreamless sleep, 
 from which he was only awakened by the morning sun darting hi» 
 bright beams reproachfully into the apartment. Mr. Pickwick was no 
 sluggard ; and he sprang like an ardent warrior from his tent — bed- 
 stead 
 
 " Pleasant, pleasant country,'' sighed the enthusiastic gentleman, as 
 he opened his lattice window. " Who could live to gaze from day to 
 day on bricks and slates, who had once felt the influence of a scene 
 like this 1 Who could continue to exist, where there are no cows but 
 the cows on the chimney-pots ; nothing redolent of Pan but pan-tiles ; 
 no crop but stone crop? Who could bear to drag out a life in such a 
 spot ! Who, I ask, could endure it :" and having cross-examined soli- 
 tude after the most approved precedents, at considerable length, Mr.. 
 Pickwick thrust his head out of the lattice, and looked round hinx 
 
 The rich, sweet smell 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 treml)led in the gentle 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 revery. 
 
 " Hallo !" was the sound that roused him. 
 
 He looked to the right, but saw nobody ; his eyes wandered to the 
 left, and pierced the prospect ; he stared into the sky, but lie 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. Wardlf. 
 
 "How are you !" said that good-humoured individual, 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 lime 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 1" 
 
70 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 •' Why, your friend and I," replied the host, «' are going out rook- 
 shooting before breakfast. He's a very good shot, ain't hel" 
 
 " I've heard him say he's a capital one," replied Mr. Pickwick ; " but 
 I never saw him aim at any thing." 
 
 " W«^ll," said the host, " I wish he'd come. Joe — Joe." 
 
 The fat boy, who under the exciting influence of the morning did not 
 appear to be more than three parts and a fraction asleep, emerged from 
 the house. 
 
 " Go up and call the gentleman, and tell him he'll find me and Mr. 
 Pickwick in the rookery. Show the gentleman the way there; d'ye 
 hear?" 
 
 The boy departed to execute his commission ; and the host, carrying 
 both guns like a second Robinson Crusoe, led the way from the garden. 
 
 " This is the place," said the old gentleman, pausing after a few 
 minutes' walking, in an avenue of trees. The information was un- 
 necessary ; 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. Snodgrass, and .Mr. Winkle, appeared in the 
 distance. The fat boy, not being quite certain which gentleman he 
 was directed to call, had, with peculiar sagacity, and to prevent the 
 possibility of any mistake, called them all. 
 
 "Come along," shouted the old gentleman, addressing Mr. Winkle, 
 " a keen hand like you ought to have been up long ago, even to such 
 poor work as this." 
 
 Mr. Winkle responded with a forced smile, and took up the spare 
 gun with an expression of countenance which a metaphysical rook, im- 
 pressed with a foreboding of his approaching death by violence, may 
 be supposed to assume. It might have been keenness, but it looked 
 remarkably like misery. 
 
 The old gentleman nodded ; and two ragged boys, who had been 
 marshallexi to the spot under the direction of the infant Lambert, forth- 
 with commenced chmbing up two of the trees. 
 
 *' What are those lads for !" inquired Mr. Pickwick, abruptly He 
 was rather alarmed ; for he was not quite certain but that the distress 
 of the agricultural interest, about which he had often heard a great 
 deal, might have compelled the small boys, attached to the soil, to earn 
 a precarious and hazardous subsistence by making marks of themselves 
 for inexperienced sportsmen. 
 
 "Only to start the game," replied Mr. Wardle, laughing. 
 
 "To what]" irKjuired l^Tr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why, in plain English, to frighten the rooks." 
 
 " Oh ! 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. Half-a-dozen 
 young rooks, in violent conversation, flew out to ask what the matter 
 was. The old gentleman fired by way of reply. Down fell one bird, 
 and oif flew the others. 
 
 " Take him up, Joe," said the old gentleman. *" 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 71 
 
 , There was a smile upon the youth's face as he advanced. Indistinct 
 visionis of rook-pic floated ihrouirh his imagination. He laughed as he 
 retired with the liird — 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 fa41 
 of rooks, whicli they felt quite certain would be occasioned by the 
 devastating barrel of their friend. There was a solemn pause — a shout 
 — a flapping of wings — a famt click. 
 
 *' Hallo I" said the old gentleman. 
 
 " Won't it go ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Missed fire," said Mr. Winkle, who was very pale, probably from 
 disappointment. 
 
 " Odil," said the old 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. Wii«kle. '• I declare I forgot the cap!" 
 
 The slight omission was rectified. Mr. Pickv.ick crouched again. 
 Mr. Winkle stepped furvvard with an air of determination and resolu- 
 tion ; and Mr. Tupinan looked out from behind a tree. The boy 
 shouted ; — four birds flew out. Mr. Winkle fired. There was a scream 
 as of an individual — not a rook — in corporeal aiiguish. Mr. Tupman 
 had saved the lives of innumerable unolTending 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 gruund; 
 and how Mr. Winkle knelt horror-stricken beside him , how Mr. Tup- 
 man called distractedly upon some feminine Chrisiian name, and then 
 opened first one eye and then the other, and then fell back and shut 
 them both ; — all this would be as difficult to describe in detail, as it 
 would be to depict the gradual recovering of the unfortunate individual, 
 the binding up his arm with pocket-handkerchiefs, and the conveying 
 him back by slow degrees^ supported by the arms of his anxiou.s friends. 
 
 They drew near the house. The ladies were at the garden-gate, 
 waiting for their arrival and their breakfast. The spinster aunt ap- 
 peared ; she smiled ; and beckoned them to walk quicker. 'Twas 
 evident she knew^ not of the disaster ! Poor thing ! There are times 
 when ignorance is bliss indeed. 
 
 They approached nearer. 
 
 '•Why, what is the matter with the little old gentleman!" said 
 Isabella W^ardle. The spinster aunt heeded not the remark ; she 
 thought it applied to Mr. Pickwick. In her eyes Tracy Tupman was 
 a youth ; she viewed his years through a diminishing glass. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," called out the old host, fearful of alarming his 
 daughters. The little party had crowded so completely round Mr. 
 Tupman, that they could not yet clearly discern the nature of the acci- 
 dent. 
 
 <' Don't be frightened," said the host. 
 
 '• What's the matter 1" screamed the ladies. 
 
 *' Mr. Tupman has met with a little accident ; that's all." 
 
 The spinster aunt uttered a piercing scream, burst into an hysteric 
 laugh, and fell backwards in the arms of her nieces. 
 
 " Throw some cold water over her," said the old gentleman. 
 
72 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 *«No, no," murmurpil the spinster aunt ; •' I am better now. Bella, 
 Emily — a surgeon ! Is ho wounded ! — Is he dead ? — Is he — ha, ha, 
 ha, ha I" Here the spinster aunt burst into fit number two of 
 hjsteric laiighter, interspersed with screams. 
 
 " Calm yourself," said Mr. Tupmati, allected almost to tears by this 
 expression of sympathy with his suifcrings. " Dear, dear madam, 
 calm yourself." 
 
 " It is his voice V exclaimed the spinster aunt ; and strong symp- 
 toms of fit number three developed themselves forthwith. 
 
 •' Do not agitate yourself, I entreat you, dearest madam," said Mr. 
 Tupman, soothingly. " I am very little hurt, I assure you." 
 
 "Then you are not dead !" ejaculated the hysterical lady. "Oh, 
 say you are not dead !" 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Rachael," interposed Mr. Wardle, rather more 
 rouirhly than was quite consistent with the poetic nature of the scene. 
 «* What the devil's the use of his saying he isn't dead !" 
 
 "No, no, I am not," said Mr. Tupman. " I require no assistance 
 but yours. Let mc lean on your arm," he added in a whisper. " Oh 
 Miss Rachael !" The agitated female advanced, and oflered her arm. 
 They turned into tlie breakfast parlour. Mr. Tracy Tupman gently 
 pressed her hand to liis lips and sank upon the sofa. 
 
 "Arc you faint!" inquired the an.s.ious Rachael. 
 
 '■ No," said Mr. Tupman. " It is nothing. I shall be better pre- 
 sently." He closed his eyes. 
 
 "He sleep.«," 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 ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 The lady started. " Surely you did not hear them !" she said bash- 
 fully. 
 
 *' Oh yes I did," replied Mr. Tupman ; " repeat them. If you would 
 wish nje to recover, repeat them." 
 
 "Hush I" said the lady. " My brother." 
 
 Mr. Tracy Tupman resumed his former position ; and Mr. Wardle, 
 accompanied by a surgeon, entered the room. 
 
 The arm was examined, the wound dressed, and pronounced to be a 
 very slight one ; and the minds of the company having been thus satis- 
 fied, they proceeded to satisfy their appetites with countenances to 
 which an expression of cheerfulness was again restored. Mr. Pick- 
 wick alone was silent and reserved. Doubt and distrust were ex- 
 hibited in his countenance. His confidence in Mr. Winkle had been 
 shaken — greatly shaken — by the proceedings of the morning. 
 
 "Are you a cricketer T' inquired Mr. Wardle of the marksman. 
 
 At any other time Mr. Winkle would have replied in the affirmatiTC. 
 He felt the delicacy of his situation, and modestly replied, " No." 
 
 "Arc 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." 
 
 " Tiie grand match is played to-day, I believe," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '♦ It i.s," 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 effects of 
 unskilful people do not endanger human life." Mr. Pickwick paused, 
 and looked steadily on Mr. Winkle, who quailed beneath his leader's 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 73 
 
 searching glance. The.' great man withdrew his eyes after a few 
 minutes, and added; "Shall we be justided in leaving our wounded 
 friend to the care of the ladies ?" 
 
 " You cannot leave me in better hands," said Mr. Tupinan. 
 
 •' Quite impossible," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 It was therefore settled that Mr. Tupman should be left at home in 
 charge of the females ; and that the remainder of the guests, under the 
 guidance of Mr. Wardle, should proceed to the spot, where was to be 
 held that trial of skill, which had roused all Mugglclon from its torpor, 
 and inoculated Dingley Dell with a fever of excitement. 
 
 As their walk which was not above two miles long, lay through 
 shady lanes and sequestered footpaths ; and as their conversation turned 
 upon the delightful scenery by which they were on every side sur- 
 rounded, Mr. Pickwick was almost inclined to regret the expedition 
 they had used, when he found himself in the main street of the town 
 of Muggleton. 
 
 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 addresses of the 
 mayor to the freemen, or the freemen 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 Muggleton is an ancient and loyal 
 borouiih, mingling a zealous advocacy '.f Christian principles with a 
 devoted attachment to commercial rights ; in demonstration 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 number 
 against any interference with the factory system at home ; 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 common in art, but rarely met with in nature — to wit, 
 a blue lion with three bow legs in the air, balancing himself on the 
 extreme point of the centre claw of his fourth foot. There were within 
 sight, an auctioneer's and fire-agency office, a corn factor's, a li.iea 
 draper's, a saddler's, a distiller's, a grocer's, and a shoe shop — the last- 
 incntioned warehouse being also appropriated to the diffusion of hats, 
 bonnets, wearing apparel, cotton umbrellas, and useful knowledge. 
 There was a red brick house with a small paved court-yard in front, 
 •which 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 belong- 
 ed to the surgeon. A few boys were making their way to the cricket 
 field ; and two or three shopkeepers who were standing at their doors, 
 looked as if they should like to be making their way to the same spot, 
 as indeed to all appearance they might have done, without losing any 
 great ajuount of custoni thereby. Mr. Pickwick having paused to make 
 these observ-ations, to be noted down at a more convenient period, 
 hastened to join his friends, v»ho had turned out of the main street, 
 and were already within sight of the field of battle. 
 
 The wickets were pitched, and so were a couple of marquess for the 
 
 Vol. I.— 7 
 
74 P08THUM0D8 PAPERS OF 
 
 rest and refreshment of the contending parties. The game had not 
 yet commenced. Two or three Dingley Dellers, and All-Muggleton- 
 ians, were amusing themselves with a majestic air by throwing the 
 hall carelessly from hnnd to hand : and several other gentlemen dressed 
 like ihem, in straw hats, fllnncl jackets, and white trousers, — a cos- 
 tume in which they looked very much like amateur stone-masons — 
 were sprinkled abjut the tents, towards one of which Mr. Wardle con- 
 ducted the party. 
 
 Several dozen of " How-are-you's ?" hailed the old gentleman's 
 arrival ; and a general raising of the straw hats, and bending forward 
 of the flannel jackets, followed his introduction of his guests as gentle- 
 men from London, who were extremely anxious to witness the proceed- 
 ing, of the day, w^th which he had no doubt, they would be greatly 
 delighted. 
 
 *' You had better step into the marquee, I think, sir,"' said one very 
 stout gentleman, whose body and legs looked like half a gigantic roll 
 of flannel, elevated on a couple of inflated pillow-cases. 
 
 " You'll find it r^uch pleasanter, sir," urged another stout gentleman, 
 who strongly resembled the other half of the roil of flannel aforesaid. 
 
 *' You're very good," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦' This way," said the first speaker ; " they notch in here — it's the 
 best place in the whole field :" and the cricketer, panting on before, 
 preceded them to the tent. 
 
 " Capital game — smart sport — fine exercise — very," were the words 
 which fell upon Mr. Pickwick's ear as he entered the tent ; and the first 
 object that met his eyes, was his green-coated friend of the Rochester 
 coach, holding forth, to the no small delight and edification of a select 
 circle of the chosen of AU-Mugglcton. His dress was slightly improved, 
 and he wore boots ; but there was no mistaking him. 
 
 The stranger recoofnwed his friends immediately ; and, darting for- 
 ward antl seizing Mr. Pickwick by the hand, dragged him to a seat 
 with his usual impetuosity, talking all the. while as if the whole of the 
 arrangements were under his special 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, 
 Sntdgrass also complied with the directions of their mysterious friend. 
 Mr. Wardle looked on in silent wonder. 
 
 *' Mr. Wardle — a friend of mine," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦' Friend of yours ! — My dear sir, how arc you 1 — Friend of my 
 friend's — give me your hand, sir," — and the stranger grasped Mr. 
 Wardle's hand with all the fervour of a close intimacy of many years, 
 and then stepped back a pace or two as if to take a full survey of his 
 face and figure, and then shook hands with him again, if possible more 
 warmly than before. 
 
 " Well ; and how came you here?" said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile 
 in which benevolence struggled with surprise, 
 
 "Gomel" replied the stranger — " stopping at Crown — Crown at 
 Muggleton — met a party — flannel jackets — white trousers — anchovy 
 sandwiches — devilled kidneys — splendid fellows — glorious." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was sufficiently versed in the stranger's system of 
 stenography to infer from this rapid and disjointed communication, that 
 he had, somehow or other, contracted an acquaintance with the All- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 75 
 
 Muggletons, which he had converted, by a process peculiar to himself, 
 into that extent of good fellowship on which a general invitation may 
 be easily founded. His curiosity was therefore satisfied, and putting 
 on his spectacles, he prepared himself to watch the play which was 
 just con^mencing. 
 
 All-Muggleton had the first innings ; and the interest became intense 
 when Mr. Dumkins, and Mr. Podder, two of the most renowned mem- 
 bers of that most distinguished club, walked, hat in hand, to their 
 respective wickets. Mr. Luffe), the highest ornament of Dingley 
 Dell, was pitched to bowl against the redoubtable Dumkins, and Mr. 
 Struggles was selected to do the same kind office for the hitherto un- 
 conqucred 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 ttooping very muci\ as if he 
 were " making a back"' for some beginner at leap-frog. All the regular 
 players do this sort of thing ; — indeed it's generally supposed that it is 
 quite impossible to look out projjerly in any other position. 
 
 The umpires were stationed behind the wickets ; the scorers were 
 prepared to notch the runs; a breatlile.'ss silence ensued. Mr. LutTey 
 retired a few paces behind the wicket of the passive Podder, and ap- 
 plied the ball to his right eye for several seconds. Dumkins confi;.iently 
 awaited its coming, with his eyes fixed on the motions of Lulfey. 
 
 ♦' 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 l^at, and bounded 
 far away over the heads of the scouts, who had jus: stooped low enough 
 to let it fly over them. 
 
 " Run — run — another. Now, then, throw her up — up with her — 
 stop there — another — no — yes — no — throw her up, throw her up." 
 Such were the shouts which followed the stroke; and, at tj\e conclu- 
 sion of which, All-Mugtrleton had scored two. Nor was Podder behind 
 hand in earning laurels wherewith to garnish himself and Mugirlelon. 
 He blocked the doubtful balls, missed th'.' bad ones, took the good ones, 
 and sent them flying to all parts of the field. i he scouts were hot 
 and tired ; the bowlers were changed, and bowled till their arms ached ; 
 but Dumkins and Podder remained unconqijered. Did an elderly gen- 
 tleman essay to stop the progress of ihe ball, il rolled between his leirs, 
 or slipped between his fuiiiers Did a t'lim gentleman try to catch it, 
 it struck him on the nose, and bounded plea.sanriy oif with redout)led 
 violence, while the slim gentleman's eyes filled with water, and his 
 form writhed with anguish. Was it thrown straight up to the wicket, 
 Dumkins had reached it before the ball. In short, when Dumkins was 
 caught out. and Podder stumped out, All .Muiri.deton had notched some 
 fifty-four, while the score of the Dingley Uellers was as blank as their 
 faces. The advantage was too great to be recovered. In vain did the 
 eajjer Lulfey, and the enthusiastic Slruggle.-j. do all that skill and ex- 
 perience could suggest, to regain the ground Uini^ley De^l had lost in 
 the contest ; it waa of no avail ; aiid in an early period of the winning 
 game Dingley Dell gave in, and allowed the superior prowess of Ail- 
 MuLTt/leton. 
 
 The stranger, meanwhile, had been eatinj/, drinkintr, and talking 
 without ces*^ation. At every good stroke he expressed his satisfaction 
 and approval of the player in a most condescenilin^j and patroni.sing 
 manner, which could not fail to have been highly gratifying to the party 
 
75 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 concerned ; while at every bad attempt at a catch, and every failure to 
 stop the ball, he launched his personal displeasure at the liea^ of the 
 devoted individual in such denunciations as — *' Ah, ha ! — stupid" — 
 "Now butter-fingers" — " Aluflf" — "Humbug" — and so forth — ejacu- 
 lations which scorned to establish him in the opinion of all around, as 
 a most excellent and undeniable judge of the whole art amX mystery of 
 the noble fjanve of cricket. 
 
 "Capital game — well played — some strokes admirable/' said the 
 strai.ger, as both sides crowded into the tent, at the conclusion of the 
 game. 
 
 "You have played it, sir?" inquired Mr. Wardlc^ who had bean 
 much amused by his loquacity. 
 
 " Played it ! — Think I havu — thousands of times— not here — West 
 Indies — exciting thing: hot wnrkt— very." 
 
 " It must be rather a warm pursuit in such a climate," observed Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 " Warm 1 — red hot — scorching — glowing. — Played a match once — 
 single wicket — friend, the colonel — Sir Thomas Blazo — who should 
 get the greatest number of runs. Won the toss — first innings seven 
 o'clock, A. M. Six natives to looli out — went in ; kept in — heat intense 
 — natives all fainted — taken away : fresh half dozen ordered — fiinted 
 jjso — Blazo bowling — supported by two )iatives — couldn't bowl me out 
 — fainted too — cleared away the colonel — wouldn't give in — faithful 
 attendant — Quanka Samba — last man left — sun so hot, bat in blisters, 
 ball scorched brpwn — five hundred and seventy runs — rather exhausted 
 — Quanko mustered up last remaining strength — bowled me out — had 
 a bath, and went out to dinner." 
 
 "And what became of w hat's-his-name, sir 1" inquired an old gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " Blazo 1" 
 
 " No — the other B;entleman.** 
 
 ♦'Quanko Samba r' 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Poor Quanko — never recovered it-^bowled on, on my account — 
 bowled off, on his own — died sir." Here the stranger buried his coun- 
 tenance 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 ai' the principal members of the Dingley Dell Club approached 
 Mr. Pickwick, and said — 
 
 " We aro about to partake of a plain dinner at the Blue Lion, sir ; 
 we hope you and your friends will join us." 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Wardle, " among our friends we mcJude Mr. 
 :" and he looked towards the stranger. 
 
 "Jingle," §aid that versatile gentleman, taking the hint at onco. 
 " Jingle— Alfred Jingle, Esq., of No hall, No where." 
 
 " I shall be very happy, I am sure," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " So shall I," said Mr. Alfred Jingle, drawing one arm fhrough Mr. 
 Pickwick's, and another through Mr. Wardle's, as he whispered con- 
 fidentially in the ear of the former gentleman : 
 
 '' D — iish good dinn(!r— KJold, but capital — peeped into the room thi.i 
 morning — fowls and pies, and all tliat sort of thing— pleasant fellows, 
 these — well behaved, too — very." 
 
 ThciQ bring no farther prcliminarijes to arrange,, the company strag- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 77 
 
 ^ed into the town in little knots of twos and threes ; and within a 
 quarter of an hour were all seated in the great room of the Blue Lion 
 Inn, Mugffleton — Mr. Dumkins acting as chairman, and Mr. Luffey 
 ofiiciating as vice. 
 
 There was a vast deal of talking, and rattling of knives and forks, 
 and plates ; a great running about of three ponderous headed wriiters, 
 and a rapid disappearance of the substantial viands on the table ; to 
 each and every of which item of confusion, the facetious Mr. Jingle 
 lent the aid of half-a-dozen ordinary men at least. When every body 
 had eat as much as they could, the cloth was removed, bottles, glasses, 
 and dessert were placed on the table ; and the waiters withdrew to 
 clear "away," or, in other words, to appropriate to their own private 
 use and emolument whatever remnants of the eatables and drinkables 
 they could contrive to lay their hands on. 
 
 Amidst the general hum of mirth and conversation that ensued there 
 •was a little man with a puffy Say-nothing-to-me,-or-ril-contradict-you 
 sort of countenance, who remained very quiet , occasionally looking 
 round him when the conversation slackened as if he contemplated 
 putting in something very weighty : and now and then bursting into a 
 short cough of inexpressible grandeur. At length, during a moment 
 of comparative silence, the little man called out in a very loud, solemn 
 voice, 
 
 " Mr. Luflfey." 
 
 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." 
 
 Mr. Jingle uttered a patronising " hear, hear," which was responded 
 to by the remainder of the company ; and the glasses having bepn 
 filled, the vice-president assumed an air of wisdom in a state of pro- 
 found attention ; and said, 
 
 Mr. Staple." 
 
 " Sir," said the little man, rising, " I wish to address what I have 
 to say to ym and not to our worthy chairman, because our worthy 
 chairman is in some measure — I may say in a great degree — the sub- 
 ject of what I have to say, or I may 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 go — (four hears, and one certainly from 
 Mr. Jingle) — for the sugL^estion. Sir, I am a Deller — a Dingley 
 Deller, (cheers.) I cannot lay claim to the honour of forming an item 
 in the population of Muggleton ; nor, sir, I will frankly admit, do I 
 covet that honour : and I will tell you why, sir, (hear ;) to Muggleton 
 I will readily concede all those honours and distinctions to which it 
 can (airly lay claim — they are too numerous and too well known to re- 
 quire aid or recapitulation from me. But, sir, while we remember 
 that Muggleton has given birth to a Duuikins and a Poddcr, let us 
 never forget that Dingley Dell can boast a LutFey and a Struggles. 
 (Vociferous cheering.) Let me not be consi lered as wishing to de- 
 tract from the merits of the former gentleniL-n Sir, I envy tlifin the 
 luxury of their own feelings, on this occasion (Cheers.) Every gen- 
 tleman who hears me, is probabi)' acquainted with the re[)ly made by an 
 individual who — to use an ordinary ligure of speech — ' hung out' in a 
 
 7* . 
 
79 P09THUMOOS PAPERS 07 
 
 tub, to the Emperor Alexander ; — ' If I were not Diogenes,' said he, 
 • I would be .Mexander.' I can well imagine these gentlemen to say, 
 ' If I were not Duinkins I would be Luliey ; if I were not Fodder I 
 would be Struggles.' (Enthusiasm.) But, gentlemen of Muggleton, 
 is it in cricket alone that your fellow-towngnicn stand pre-eminent I 
 Have you never heard of Dumkins and determination ! J^ave you 
 never been taught to associate Fodder with property 1 (Great ap- 
 plause.) Have you ncror, when straggling for your rights, your liber- 
 ties, and your privileges, been, reduced, if only for an instant, to 
 misgiving and de.5pair ! And when you have been thus depressed, has 
 notlhe name of Dumkins laid afresh within your breast, the lire which 
 had just gone out ; and has not a word frtna the man, lighted it again 
 as brightly as if it had never uxpired ' >(Great cheering) Gentlemen, 
 I bc^' vou to surround 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 
 jaising of voices, and thumping of tables, which lasted with little inter- 
 mission during the remainder of the evening. Other toasts were drunk. 
 Mr. Luffey and Mr. Stiuggles, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Jingle, were 
 each in his turn, the subject of unqualified eulogium ; and each ip dae 
 course returned thanks for the honour. 
 
 Enthusiastic as we are in the noble cause to which we have devoted 
 ourselves, we shoiild have felt a sensation of pride which we cannot 
 express, and a consciousness of having dorve something to merit im- 
 mortality of which we are now-deprived, could we have laid the faintest 
 outline of these addresses before our ardent readers. Mr. Snodgrass, as 
 usual, took a great mass of notes, which would no doubt have allbrded 
 most useful and valuable information, had not the burning eloquence of 
 the words, or the feverish influence of the wine made that gentleman's 
 hand so extremely unsteady, as to render his writing nearly unintelli- 
 gible, and his style wholly so. By dint of patient investigation, we 
 have been enabled to trace some characters bearing a faint resemblance 
 to the names of the speakers ; and we can also discern an enlry of a 
 son<T (supposed to have been sung by Mr. Jingle,) in which the words 
 " bo°wl,"' " sparkling," "ruby," *' bright," ai^ "wine,"' are frequently 
 repeated at short intervals. ' We fancy too, that we can discern at the 
 very end of the notes, some indistinct reference to "broiled bones ;" 
 and then the words "cold" "without" occur: but as any hypothesis 
 we could found upon them must necessarily rest upon mere conjecture, 
 we are not disposed to indulge in any of the speculations to which they 
 may give rise. 
 
 We will therefore turn to Mr. Tupman ; merely adding that within 
 some few minutes before twelve o'clock that night, the convocation of 
 worthies of Dingley Dell and Muggleton, were heard to sing with great 
 feeling and emphasis, the beautiful and pathetic national air, of 
 
 We won't go home 'till morning, 
 We won't go home 'till morning, 
 We won't go home 'till morning, 
 'Till daylight doth appear. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 STRONGLY ILLUSTKATIVE OV THE POSITION, THAT THE COURSE OF TRL'K 
 LOVE J8 NOT X KA1L.VVAV. 
 
 The quiet seclusron of Dingley Dell, the presence of so many of the 
 gentler sex. and the solicitude and anxiety they evinced in his behali^ 
 were all favourable to the growth and development of those softer feel- 
 ings which nature had implanted deep in the bosom of Mr. Tracy 
 Tupman, and which now appeared destined to centre in one lovely 
 object. The young ladies were pretty, their manners winning, their 
 dispositions unexceptionable : but there was a dignity in the air, a 
 touch-me-notishness in the.walk, a majesty in the eye of the spin.'^ter 
 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. Tliat there was something kindred in their nature, something 
 congenial in their souls, something mysteriously sympathetic in their 
 bosoms, was evident. Her name was the first that rose to Mr. Tup- 
 man's lips as he lay wounded on the grass ; and her hysteric laughter 
 was the first sound that fell upon his ears when he was supported to 
 the house. But had her agitation arisen from an amiable and feminine 
 sensibility, which would have been equally irrepressible in any case ? 
 or had it been called forth by a more ardent and passionate feeling, 
 which he, of all men living, could alone awaken ? These were the 
 doubts which racked his brain as he lay extended on the sofa ; these 
 were the doubts which he detennined should be at ooce and for cvi-r 
 resolved. 
 
 It was evening. Isabella and Emily had strolled out with Mr. 
 Trundle ; the deaf old lady had fallen asleep in her chair ; Vho 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, 
 enjoying tlie pleasantness of the hour, and the delights of flirtation, on 
 first principles, with certain unwieldy animals attached to the farm ; 
 and there sat the interesting pair, uncared for by all, caring for none, 
 and dreaming only for themselves ; there they sat, in short, like a pair 
 of carefully-folded kid-gloves — bound up in each other. 
 " I have forgotten my flowers," said the spinster aunt. 
 " Water them now," said Mr. Tupman, in accents of persuasion. 
 "You will take cold in the evening air," urged the spinster aunt, 
 affectionately. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Tupman, rising ; " it will do mc good. Let me 
 acrompany 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 human men 
 erect for the accommodation of spiders. 
 
 The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot winch lay in one 
 
80 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 corner, and was about to leave the arbour. Mr. Tupraan (Retained her, 
 and drew her to a seat behind him. 
 '• Miss Wardle !" said he. 
 
 The spinster aunt irenibled, till some pebbles which had accidentally 
 found their way into the large watering-pot, shook like an infant's rattle. 
 "Miss Wardle," said Mr. Tupmaii, "you are an angel." 
 " Mr. Tupman I" exclaimed Jiachael, blushing as red as the water- 
 ing-pot itself. 
 
 " Nay," said the eloquent Pickwickian — " I know it but too well." 
 
 "All women -are angles, they say," murmured the lady, playfully. 
 
 "Then what can yAi, be; or to what, without presumption can I 
 
 compare youl" replied Mr. Tupman. "Where was the woman ever 
 
 seen who resembled you 1 Where else could I hope to find so rare a 
 
 combination of excellence and beauty ? Wliere else could I seek to 
 
 Oh !" Here Mr. Tupman paused and pressed the hand which 
 
 clasped the handle of the happy watering-pot. 
 
 The lady turned aside her head. " Men are such deceivers," she 
 softly whispered. 
 
 " They are, they are," ejaculated Mr. Tupman ; " but not all men. 
 There lives at least one being who can never change — one being who 
 would be content to devote his whole existence to your happiness — 
 who lives but in your eyes — who breathes but in your smiles — who 
 bears the heavy burden of life itself only for you." 
 " Could such an individual be found-—" said the lady. 
 "But he can be found," said the ardent Mr. Tupraan, 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 I" was the valorous reply. " Oh, Rachael !" — He seized 
 her passive hand, and the watering-pot fell to the ground as he pressed 
 it to his lips. — " Oh, Rachael ! say you love me." 
 
 " Mr. Tupman," said the spinster aunt, with averted head — " I can 
 hardly speak the words; but — but — you are not wholly indifferent 
 to me." 
 
 Mr. Tupman no sooner heard this avowal, than he proceeded to do 
 what his enthusiastic emotions prompted, and what, for aught we know, 
 (for we are but little acquainted with such matters,) people so circum- 
 stanced always do. He jumped up, and, throwing his arm round the 
 neck of the spinster aunt, imprinted upon her lips numerous kisses, 
 which after a due show of struggling and resistance, she received so 
 passively, that there is no telling how many more Mr. Tupman might 
 have bestowed, if the lady had not given a very unaffected start and 
 exclaimed in an affrighted tone, — 
 
 " Mr. Tupman, we are observed ! — we are discovered "' 
 Mr. Tupman looked round. There was the fat boy, perfectly motion- 
 less, with his large circular eyes staring into the arbour, but without 
 the slightest expression on his face that the most expert physiognomist 
 could have referred to astonishment, curiosity, or any other known 
 passion that agitates the human breast. Mr. Tupman gazed on the 
 fat boy, ami the fat boy stared at him ; and the longer Mr. Tupman 
 observed the utter vacancy of the fat boy's countenance, the more con- 
 vinced he became that he either did not know or did not understand 
 any thing that had been going forward. Under this impression, he 
 said with great firmness, — 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 8i 
 
 " What do you want here, sir ?" 
 
 *' Supper's ready, sir," was tho prompt reply. 
 
 '' Have you just come here, sir ?"' inquired Mr. Tupnian with a 
 piercing look. 
 
 " Just," replied the fat boy. 
 
 Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard ag:.in ; but there was not a 
 wink in his eye, nor a curve in his face. 
 
 Mr. Tupman look the arm of the spinster aunt, and walked toward.* 
 the house; the fat boy followed behind. 
 
 "He knows nothing of what has happened," he whispered. 
 
 " Nothing," said the spinster aunt. 
 
 There was a sound behind them, as of an imperfectly suppressed 
 chuckle. Mr. Tupman turned sharply round. Ao ; it could not have 
 been the fat boy ; there was not a gleam of mirth, or any thing but 
 feeding, in his whole visage. 
 
 " He must have been fast asleep." whispered Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " I have not the least doubt of it," replied the spinster aunt. 
 
 They both laughed heartily. 
 
 M"-. 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 conversa- 
 tion. The old lady had gone to bed ; Isabella Vl'ardle devoted herself 
 CA'clusively to Mr. Trundle; the spinster aunt's attentions were 
 reserved for Mr. Tupman; and Emily's thoughts appeared to be 
 engrossed by some distant object — possibly they were with the absent 
 Snodgrass. 
 
 Eleven — twelve — one o'clock had struck, and the gentlemen had not 
 arrived. Consternation sat on every face. Could they have been 
 waylaid ajid robbed ? Should they send men and lanterns in everv 
 direction by which they could be supposed likely to have travelled 
 hon)e ? or should they — Hark ! there they were. — What could have 
 made them so late 1 A strange voice too ! To whom could it belong ? 
 They rus'hcd into the kitchen whither tho truants had repaired, and at 
 once obtained rather more than, a glimmering of the real state of the 
 case. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, with his hands in his pockets and his hat cocked 
 completely over his left eye, was leaning against the dre.sser, shaking 
 his head from side to side, and producing a constant successior\ of the 
 blandest and most benevolent smiles, without being moved thereunto 
 by any discernible cause or pretence whatsoever ; old Mr. Wardle, 
 with a highly inflamed countenance, was grasping the hand of a strange 
 gentleman, muttering protestations of eternal friendship ; Mr. Winkle 
 supporting himself by the eight-day clock, was feebly invoking destruc- 
 tion upon the head of any member of tho family who should suggest 
 the propriety of his retiring for the night ; and Mr. Snodgrass had 
 gunk into a chair, with an expression of the most abject and hopeless 
 misery that the human mind can imagine, portrayed in ever}' linea- 
 ment of his expressive face. 
 
 " Is any thing the mattrr !'' inquired the three ladies. 
 
 ♦'Nothin' ihe matter," replied .Mr. Pickwick. — '* We — we're — all 
 right. I say, Wardle, we're all right, ain't we !'' 
 
 " I should think so," replied the jolly host. " My dears, here's my 
 friend Mr. Jinylc — Mr. Pickwick's friend, Mr. Jingle — eomc 'pon 
 little visit," 
 
82 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Is any thing the matter with Mr. Snodgrass, sir?' inquired Emil)', 
 with great anxiety. 
 
 "Nothing the matter, ma'am," replied the stranger. "Cricket 
 dinner — glorious sport — capital songs — old port — claret — good — very 
 good — wine, ma'am — wine." 
 
 " It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken voice ; 
 **it was the salmon." (Somehow or other, it never is the wine, in 
 these cases.) 
 
 " Hadn't they better go to bed, ma'am ?" inquired Emma. " Two 
 of the boys will carry the gentlemen up stairs." 
 
 *' I won't go to bed," said Mr. Winkle, firmly. 
 
 " No living boy shall carry me," said Mr Pickwick, stoutly ; — and 
 he went on smiling as before. 
 
 "Hurrah !" gasped Mr. Winkle, faintly. 
 
 " Hurrah !'' echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat and dashing it 
 on the floor, and insanely casting his spectacles into the middle of the 
 kitchen. — At this humorous feat he laughed outright. 
 
 " Let's — have — 'nolher — bottle,"' cried Mr. Winkle, commencing in 
 a very loud key, and ending in a very faint one. His head dropped 
 upon his breast ; and muttering his invincible determination not to go 
 to his bed, and a sanguinary regret that he had not ' done for old Tup- 
 man' in the morning, he fell fast asleep ; in which condition he was 
 borne to his apartments by two young giants, under the personal super- 
 intenJence of the fat boy, to whose protecting care Mr. Snodgrass 
 shortly afterwards confided his own person. Mr. Pickwick accepted 
 the proffered arm of Mr. Tupman, and quietly disappeared, smiling 
 more than ever ; and Mr. Wardle, after taking as affectionate a leave 
 of the whole family as if he were ordered for immediate execution, 
 consigned to Mr. Trundle the honour of conveying him up stairs, and 
 retired, with a very futile attempt to look impressively solemn and 
 dignified. 
 
 '• What a shocking scene !" said the spinster aunt. 
 
 " 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 !" whi.'-pered the spinster aunt to Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Good-looking, too !" whispered Emily Wardle. 
 
 " Oh, decidedly," observed the spinster aunt. 
 
 Mr. Tupman thought of the widow of Rochester, and his 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 prditeness. Mr. Tupman felt, that as Jingle's popularity increased, 
 he (Tupman) retired farther into the shade. His laughter was forced 
 — his merriment feigned ; and when at last he laid his acuing temples 
 between the sheets, he thought, with horrid delight on the satisfaction 
 it would afford him, to have Jingle's head at that moment between the 
 feather-bed and the mattress. 
 
 The indefatigable stranger rose betimes next morning, and, although 
 his companions remained in bed overpowered with the dissipation of 
 the previous night, exerted himself most successfully to promote the 
 hilarity of the breakfast-table. So successful were his efforts, that 
 even tho deaf old lady insisted on having one or two of his best jokes 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 83 
 
 retailed through the trumpet ; and even she condescended to ohsenc 
 to the spirf?;ter aunt, that "he"' (meanin;T Jingle) "was an impudent 
 young fellow" — a sentiment in which all her relations then and ther^ 
 present thoroughly coincided. 
 
 It was the old lady's habit on the fine summer mornings to repair to 
 the arbour, in which Mr. Tupman ha/J already signalized himself, in 
 form and manner following : — first, the fat boy fetched from a peg 
 behind the old lady's bed-room door, a close black satin bonnet, a warm 
 cotton shawl, and a thick stick with a capacious handle ; and the old 
 lady having put on the bonnet and shawl at her leisure, would lean one 
 hand on the stick and the other on the fat boy's shoulder, and walk 
 leisurely to the arbour, where the faL boy would leave her to enjoy the 
 fresh air for the space of half an hour, at the expiration of which time 
 he would return and re-conduct her back to the house. 
 
 The old lady was very precise and very particular: and as this cere- 
 mony had been observed for three successive summers without the 
 slightest deviation from the accustomed form, she was not a little 'sur- 
 prised 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 
 ever}' direction, and return towards her v/ith great stealth and an air of 
 the most profound mystery. 
 
 The old lady was timorous — most old ladies are — and her first im- 
 pression 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 w< uld have cried for assi.stance, bul^ age and infirmity had long ago 
 deprived her of the power of screaming ; she, therefore, watched his 
 motions with feelings o( intense terror, which were in no degree 
 diminished by his comincr up close to her, and shouting in her ear in 
 an agitated, and as it seemed to her, a threatening tone — 
 
 " Missus I" 
 
 >iow it so happened that Mr. Jinffle was walking In the g:;rden 
 ck>se to the arbour at this moment. He too heard the shout of 
 •'Missus," and stopped to hear more. There were three reasons for 
 his doing so. In the first place he was idle and curious ; secondly, he 
 was by no means scrupulous ; thirdly, and lastly, he was concealed 
 from view by soni: flowering shrubs. So there he stood, and then he 
 listened. 
 
 " Missus,'' shouted the fat boy. 
 
 " Well Joe," said the trembling old lady. " I'm* sure I have been a 
 irood mistress to you, Joe. You have invariably been treated very 
 kindly. You have never had too much to do ; and jou have always 
 had enough to eat." - * 
 
 This last was an appeal to the fat boy's most sensitive feelings. He 
 seemed touched as he replied, emphatically, — 
 
 " I knows I has." 
 
 " Then what can you want to do now I' said the old lady, gaming 
 courage. 
 
 " I wants to make your flesh creep," replied the boy. 
 
 This sounded like a very blood-thirsty mode of showing one's grati- 
 tude ; and as the old lady did not precisely understand the process by 
 ■which such a result was to be attained, all her former horrors re- 
 turned. 
 
 •' What do you think I see in this'very arbour last night ?"' inquired 
 the boy. 
 
84 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 *' Bless US ! What :" exclaimed the old lady, alarmed at the solemn 
 manner of the corpulent youth. 
 
 " The strange ^rentleman— him as had his arm hurt — a kissin' and 
 l^liggin' " 
 
 ♦' Who, Joe — who 1 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 1" 
 
 " Worser than that." 
 
 *' Worse than that, Joe !" said the M lady, who had thought this the 
 extreme limit of human atrocity. " Who was it, Joe 1 I insist upon 
 knowing." 
 
 The tat boy looked cautiously round, and having concluded his sur- 
 vey, shouted in the old lady's ear, — 
 
 " Mi.«s Kachael." 
 
 " What ] said the old lady, in a shrill tone, " Speak louder." 
 
 " Miss RachacL" roared the fat boy. 
 
 " My da'ater !" 
 
 The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way of assent, com- 
 municated d hUinc-mangc like motion to liis fat cheeks. 
 
 "And she suffered him !" exclaimed the old lady. 
 
 A grill 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 
 cxpressiuti which tlie old lady's face assumed at this communication, 
 the prnbsbility is that a sudden burst of laughter would have betrayed 
 his clo--e vicinity to the summer-house. He listened attentively. 
 Fragments of angry sentences such as, " W^ithoul my permission !"' — 
 " At hf^r time of life" — " Miserable old 'ooman like me" — " .Might have 
 waited till I was dead," and so forth, 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 secthat his off-hand manner was by no means disagreeable to the 
 fair object of his attack ; and he had more than a strong suspicion that 
 8he possessed that most desirable of all requisites, a small indepen- 
 dence. The imperative necessity of ousting his rival by some means 
 or other, Hashed quickly upon him, and he immediately resolved to 
 adopt certain proceedings tending to that end and object without a 
 moment's delay. Fielding tells us thaf man is fire, and woman tow, 
 and the Prince of Darkness sets a light to 'em. Mr. Jingle knew that 
 young men, to spinster aunts, are as lighted gas to gunpowder, and he 
 determined to essay the effect of an explosion without loss of time. 
 
 Full of 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 
 'lesign. Mr. Tupman and the rest of the gentlemen left the garden by 
 the *ide 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 wds partially open. , He peeped in. 
 I'he spinster aunt was knitting. He coughed ; she looked up and 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. B5 
 
 smiled. Hesitation formed no part of Mr. Alfred Jingle's character. He 
 laid his finger on his lips mysteriously, walked in, and closed the door. 
 
 " Miss Wardle," said Mr. Jingle, with affected earnestness, " forgive 
 intrusion — short acquaintance — no time for ceremony — all discovered." 
 
 •'Sir?" said the spinster aunt, rather astonished by the unexpected 
 apparition, and somewhat doubtful of Mr. Jingle's s?nity. 
 
 "Hush !" said Mr. Jingle, in a stage whisper ; — " large boy — dump- 
 ling face — round e^es — rascal !" Here he shook his head expressively, 
 and the spinster aunt trembled with agitation. 
 
 " I presume you allude to Joseph, sir !" said the lady, making an 
 effort to appear composed. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am — d — n that Joe I — 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 spmster aunt, "if you come here sir, to 
 insult nie " 
 
 " Not at all — by no means," replied the unabashed Mr. Jingle : — 
 •'overheard the tale — came to warn you of your danger — tender my 
 services — prevent the hubbub. Never mind — think it an insult — leave 
 the room ;" and he turned, as if to carry the threat into execution. 
 
 " What sliall I do 1" said the poor spinster, bursting into tears. 
 *' My brother will be furious I" 
 
 "l)f course he will," said Mr. Jingle, pausing — "outrageous." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Jingle, what can I say !" exclaimed the spinster aunt, in 
 another flood of despair. 
 
 '• Say he dreamt it," replied Mr Jingle,- coolly. 
 
 A ray of comfort darted across the mind of the spinster aunt at thi^ 
 suggestion. Mr. Jingle perceived it, and followed up his advantage. 
 
 '•Pooh, pooh ! — nothing more easy — blackguard boy — lovely woman 
 — fat boy horsewhipped — you believed — end of the matter — all com- 
 fortable." 
 
 Whether the probability of escaping from the consequences of this 
 ill-timed discovery was delightful to the spinster's feelings, or whether 
 the hearing herself described as a " lovely woman" softened the as- 
 perity 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 minute^ started melo-dramatically, 
 and suddenly withdrew them. 
 
 '•You seem unhappy, Mr. Jingle," said the lady, in a plaintive 
 voice. " May I show my gratitude for your kind interference, by in- 
 quiring into the cause, with' a view, if possible, to its removal ?" 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Jingle, with another start — "removal! re- 
 move my unhappiness, and your love bestowed upon a man who is 
 insensible to the blessing — who even now contemplates a design upon 
 the affections of the niece of the creature who — but no ; he is my 
 friend ; I will not expose his vices. Miss Wardle — farewell !" At 
 the conclusion of this address, the most consecutive he was ever known 
 to utter, Mr. Jingle applied to his eyes the remnant of a handkerchief 
 belbre noticed, and turned towards the door. 
 
 "Stay, Mr. Jingle I" said the spinster aunt emphatically. "Yoa 
 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 bad no desire to bo que** 
 
 Vol. I.— 8 
 
86 POSTHUMOUS PAPEK8 OP 
 
 tioncd farther, he drew a chair close to that of the spinster aunt anci 
 sat clown. 
 
 " Mr. Jintjle," said the aunt, " I entreat — I implore you, if there is 
 any dreadful mystery connected with Mr. Tupman, reveal it." 
 
 "Can I," said Mr. Jingle, fixing his eyes on the aunt's face — " Can 
 I see — lovely creature — sacrificed at the shrine — heartless avarice '." 
 He appeared to he struggling with various conflicting emotions for a 
 fjw second-s, and then said in a low deep voice — " Tupman only wants 
 your money." 
 
 " The wretch !" e.'^claimed the spinster, with energetic indignation, 
 (Mr. Jingle's douhts were resolved. She hud money.) 
 
 " More than that," said Jingle — " loves another." 
 Another !" ejaculated the spinster. " Whol" 
 
 " Short girl — black eyes — niece Emily." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 Now if there were one individual in the whole world, of whom the 
 spinster aunt entertained a mortal and deeply-rooted jealousy, it was 
 this identical niece. The colour rushed over her face and neck, and 
 she tossed her head in silence with an air of ineffable contempt. ■ At 
 last biting her thin lips, and bridling up, she said, — 
 
 " It can't be. I won't believe it." 
 
 " Watcii 'em," said Jingle. 
 
 " I will," said the aunt. 
 
 " Watch his looks." 
 
 "Iwill." 
 
 •' 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 11 cut you." 
 
 Cut 771C .'" screamed the spinster aunt. "iZe cut mc — toill hel^ 
 and she trembled with rage and disappointment. 
 
 " You will convince yourself?' said Jingle. , 
 
 " 1 will." c 
 
 " YouMI show your spirit ?" 
 
 «' I will." 
 
 *' You'll not have him afterward 1" ' 
 
 ".Never." 
 
 " You'll take somebody^lse 1" 
 
 « Yes.' 
 
 "You shall." 
 
 Mr. Jingle fell on his knees, remained thereupon for five minutes 
 thereafter ; and rose the accepted lover of the spinster aunt — condition- 
 ally upon Tupman's perjury being made clear and manifest. 
 
 The burden of proof lay with Mr. 'Alfred Jingle ; 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 sid©. 
 Ogling, whispering, and smiling in opposition to Mr. Snodgrass. Not 
 a word, not a look, not a glance, did be bestow upon his heart's pride 
 of the evening before. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLITB. 87 
 
 «'!)— n that boy !" thought old Wardle to himself. He had heard 
 the story from his mother. " I) — 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 thi« 
 apparently unaccountable alteration of department on the part of Mr. 
 Tracy Tupman. 
 
 The time was evening, the scene the garden. There were two 
 figures walking in a side path ; one was rather short and stout — the 
 other rather tall and slim. They were Mr. Tupman and Mr. Jingle. 
 The stout figure commenced the dialogue. 
 
 " How did I do it T' he inquired. 
 
 " Splendid — capital — couldn't act better myself. You must repeat 
 the part to-morrow — every evening, 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 a few days more 
 — when old folks blinded, crown your happiness." 
 
 " Any message ]" 
 
 " Love — best love — kindest regard — unalterable affection. Can I 
 say arty thing for you V • 
 
 " My dear fellow," replied the unsuspicious Mr. Tupman, fenently 
 gra.sping his " friend's" hand — " carrv' my best love — say how hard I 
 find it to dissemble — say any thing that's kind ; but add how sensible 
 I am of the necessity of the suggestion she mad* to me, through you, 
 this morning. Say 1 applaud her wisdom, and admire her discretion." 
 
 " I will. Any thing more I" 
 
 ** Nothing ; only add how ardently I long for the time when I may 
 call her mine, and all dissimulation may be unnecessary." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly. Any thing^more ?" 
 
 " Oh, my friend I" said poor Mr. Tupman, again graspingr 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 repay you ]" 
 
 *' Don't talk of it," replied Mr. Jinorle. He stopped short, as if sud- 
 denly recollecting something, and said — **By-the-by, you can't spare 
 ten pounds, can you! — very particular purpose — pay you in three 
 days." 
 
 " I dare say I can," replied Mr. Tupman in the fulness of his heart. 
 "Three days, you say!" 
 
 " Only three days — all over then — no more difficulties." 
 
 Mr. Tupman counted the money into his companion's hand, and h« 
 dro{»ped it piece by piece into his pocket as they walked towards the 
 house, 
 
 " Be careful," said Mr. Jingle— "not a look." 
 
 " Xot a wink," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " IS'ot a syllable." 
 
 *' Not a whisper." 
 
 " All your attentions to the niece — rather rude, than otherwise, to th« 
 aunt — only way of deceiving the old ones." 
 
 " I'll ta.ke care," said .Mr. Tupman, aloud. 
 
88 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " And I'll take care,'' said Mr. Jingle, internally ; and they entered 
 the house. 
 
 The scene of tha't afternoon was repeated that evening, and on the 
 three afternoons and evenings next ensuing. On the fourth the host 
 "vva^ 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 this 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. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DISCOVERY AND A CHASE. 
 
 The supper wajs ready laid, the chairs were drawn round the table, 
 bottles, jug&and glasses were arranged upon the sideboard, and every 
 thing betokened the approach of the most convivial period in the whole 
 four-and-twenty hours. 
 
 "Where's Rachaefl" said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 " Ay, and Jingle 1" added Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦' Dear me," said the host, " I wonder I haven't missed him before. 
 Why, I don't think I've heard his voice for two hours at least. Emily, 
 my dear, ring the bell." 
 
 The bell was rung, and the fat boy appeared. 
 " Where's Miss Rachael ?" He couldn't say. 
 
 "Where's Mr. Jingle, then 1" He didn't know. 
 
 Every body looked surprised. It was late — past eleven o'clock. 
 Mr. Tupman laughed in his sleeve. They were loitering somewhere, 
 talking about him. Ha, ha ! capital notion that — funny. 
 
 "Never mind," said Wardle, after a short pause, " they'll turn up 
 presently, I dare say. I never wait supper for any body." 
 
 " Excellent rule, that," said Mr. Pickwick, " admirable." 
 
 '• Pray, sit down," said the host. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Pickwick : and down they sat. 
 
 There was a gigantic round of cold beef on the table, and Mr. Pick- 
 wick was supplied with a plentiful portion of it. He had raised his 
 fork to his lips, and was on the very point of opening his mouth for 
 the reception of a piece of beef, when the hum of many voices suddenly 
 arose in the kitchen. He paused, and laid down his fork. Mr. War- 
 dle paused too, and inf ensibly 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, 
 «nd all the domestics.' 
 
 <' What's the meaning of all this ?" exclaimed the host. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 60 
 
 **The kitchen chimney ain't a-fire, is it, Emmal" inquired the old 
 1-ady. 
 
 •' Oh, grandma ! no," screamed both the young ladies. 
 
 *' What's the matter T' roared the master of the house. 
 
 The man gasped for breath, and faintly ejaculated — 
 " They ha' gone, mas'r I — gone right clean off, sir !" (At this junc- 
 ture, Mr. Tupman was observed to lay down his knife and fork, and 
 to turn very pale.) 
 
 *' Who's gone ]" said Mr. Wardle fiercely. 
 
 **Mus'r Jmgle and Miss Rachael, in a po'-chay, from Blue Lion, Mug- 
 gleton. I was there ; but I couldn't stop 'em : so I run off to tell 'ee.'' 
 
 " I paid his expenses I" said Mr. Tupman, jumping up frantically. 
 •' He's got ten pounds of mine ! stop him ! — he's swindled me ! — I 
 won't bear it ! — I'll have justice, Pickwick ! — I won't stand it !" and 
 wiih sundry incoherent exclamations of the like nature, the unhappy 
 gentleman spun round and round the apartment, in a transport of 
 frenzy. 
 
 ^' Lord preserve us !" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, eying the extraordi- 
 nary gestures of his friend with terrified surprise. " He's gone mad ! 
 What shall we do V 
 
 " Do I" said the stout old host, who regarded only the last words of 
 the sentence. " Put the horse in the gig ! I'll get a chaise at the 
 Lion, and follow 'em instantly. Where'"" — he exclaimed, as the man 
 ran out to execute the commission — '• W^herc'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 the 
 ill-starred youth. "He was bribed ^y that scoundrel. Jingle, to put 
 me on a wrong scent, by telling a cock-and-a-bull story of my sister and 
 your friend Tupman I" (Here .Mr. l\ipman sunk into a chair.) '* Let 
 me get at h.^.i I" 
 
 *' Don't let him!" screamed all the women, above whose exclama- 
 tions, the blubbering of the fat boy was distinctly audible. 
 
 «« I won't be held !" cried the old man. " Mr. Winkle, take your 
 hands off! Mr. Pickwick, let me go, sir!" 
 
 It was a beautiful sight, in that moment of turmoil and confusion, 
 to behold the placid and phili)sophical expression of Mr. Pickwick's 
 face, albeit somewhat flushed with exertion, as he stood with his arms 
 firmly clasped round the extensive waist of their corpulent host, thus 
 restraining the impetuosity of his passion, while the fat boy wa* 
 scratched, and pulled, and pushed from the room by all the femalea 
 congregated therein. He had no sooner released his hold, than tha 
 man entered to announce that the gig was ready. 
 
 " Don't let him go alone !" screamed the females. " He'll kill 
 somebody !" 
 
 ♦• I'll go with him," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " You're a good follow, Pickwick," said the host, gra«:ping his hand- 
 *' Emma, rrive Mr. Pickwick a shawl to tie round his neck — make 
 haste. L<iok after your grandmother, girls ; she's fainted away. NoW 
 then, are you ready 1" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's mouth and chin having been hastily enveloped in a 
 large shawl : his hat having been put on his head, and his great coat 
 thrown over his arm, he replied in the affimalive. 
 
 They jumped into the gig. " Give her her head, Tom,'" cried the 
 8* 
 
90 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OT 
 
 Jiost ; and away they went, down the narrow lanes : jolting in and oat 
 of the cart-ruts, and bumping up against the hedges on cither side, a» 
 if they would go to pieces every moment. 
 
 " How much are they ahead !" shouted Wardb, as they drove up 
 to tlio 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 after- 
 ward. " 
 
 *' Now, boys !" cried the landlord — *' chaise and four out — make 
 haste — look alive there !" 
 
 Away ran the hostlers and the boys. The lanterns glimmered, as 
 the men ran to and fro ; the horses' hoofs clattered on the uneven 
 pavinw of the yard ; the chaise rumbled as it was drawn out of the 
 coach-house ; and all was noise and bustle. 
 
 " Now then I — Is that chaise coming out to-might 1" cried Wardle, 
 
 ♦* Coming down the yard now, sir," replied the hostler. 
 
 Out came the chaise — in went the horses — on sprung the boys — iji 
 got the travellers. 
 
 " Mind — the seven mile stage in less than half an hour !" shouted 
 Wardle. 
 
 "Oft' with you!" 
 
 Tiie boys applied whip and spur, the waiters shouted, the hostler 
 cheered, and away they went, fast and furiously. 
 
 "Pretty situation," thought Mr. Pickwick, when he had had a 
 moment's time for reflection. '' Pretty situation for the General Chair- 
 man of the Pickwick Club. Damp chaise — strange horses — fifteen 
 miles an hour, and twelve o'clock at night !" 
 
 For the first three or four miles, not a word was spoken by either of 
 the gentlemen, each being too much immersed in his own reflections, 
 to address any observations to his companion. When they had gone 
 over that much ground, however, and the horses, getting thoroughly 
 warmed, began to do their work in really good style, Mr. Pickwick 
 became too much exhilarated with the rapidity of the motion, to remain 
 any longer perfectly mute. , 
 
 " We're sure to catch tlvem, I think," said he. 
 
 "Hope so," replied his companion. 
 
 " Fine night," said Mr. Pickwick, looking up at the moon, which 
 was shining brightly. 
 
 " So much the worse," returned Wardle ; " for they'll have liad all 
 the advantage of the moonlight to get start of us, and we shall lose it. 
 It will have gone down in another hour." 
 
 " It will be rather unpleasant going at this rate in the datk, won't 
 it V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I dare say it will," replied his friend, drily. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's temporary excitement began to sober down a little, 
 as he reflected upon the inconveniences and dangers of the expedition 
 in which he had so thoughtlessly embarked. He was roused" by a loud 
 shouting of the post-boy on theieader. 
 
 " Yo, yo, yo, yo, yoe !" went the first boy. 
 " Yo, yo, yo, yoe !" went the second. 
 
 " Yo, yo, yo, yoe !"' chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, with 
 his head and half his body out of the coach window. 
 
 " Yo, yo, ya, yoe !" shouted Mr. Pickwick, taking up the burden of 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 91 
 
 the cry, though he had not the slightest notion of its meaning or object. 
 And amidst the yo yoina of the whole four, the chaise stopped. 
 
 " What's the matter ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " There's a gate here,'" replied old Wardle. " We shall hear some- 
 thing of the fugitives ■■ 
 
 After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knocking and 
 shouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged from the turn- 
 pike-house, and opened the gate. 
 
 " How long is it since a post-chaise went through herd" inquired 
 Mr. Wardle. 
 
 *' How long ?" 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Why, I don't rightly know. It wom't a long time ago, nor it 
 wom't a short time ago — just between the two, perhaps." 
 
 " Has any chaise been by at all T' 
 
 " Oh yes, there's been a chay by." 
 
 " How^ long ago, my friend." interposed Mr. Pickwick ; " an hour ■" 
 , "Ah, I dare say it might be," replied the man. 
 
 " Or two hours V inquired the post-boy on the wheeler. 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't wonder if it was,'' returned the old man, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 •' Drive on boys,"' cried the testy old gentleman ; "don't waste any 
 more time with that old idiot !"^ 
 
 " Idiot I" exclaimed the old man, with a grin, as he stood in the 
 middle of the road, with the gate half closed, watching the chaise, 
 •which rapidly diminished in the increasing distance. " No — not much 
 o' that neither; you've lost ten minutes here, and gone away as wise 
 as you came arter all. If every man on the line as has a guinea give 
 him earns it half so well, you won't catch t'other chay this side Mich'l- 
 mas, old short -and -fat." And with another prolonged grin, the old 
 man closed the gate, re-entering his house, and bolted the door after him. 
 
 Meanwhile the chaise proceeded, without any slackening of pace, 
 towards the conclusion of the stafje. The moon, as Wardle liad fore- 
 told, was rapidly on the wane ; large tiers of dark heavy clouds v.hich 
 had been gradually overspreading the sky for some time past, now- 
 formed one black mass overhead ; and large drops of rain which pat- 
 tered every now and then again.^t the windows of the chaise, seemed to 
 warn the travellers of the rapid approach of a stormy night. The wind, 
 too, which was directly against them, swept in furious gusts down the 
 narrow road, and howled dismally through the trees which skirted the 
 pathway. Mr. Pickwick drew his coat closer about him, coiled himself 
 more snugly up into the comer of the chaise, and fell into a sound 
 sleep, from which he was only awakened by the stopping of the vehicle, 
 the soufd of the hostler's bell, and a loud cry of " Horses on directly !'* 
 
 But here another delay occurred. The bovs were sleeping \flth such 
 mysterious soundness, that it took five minutes apiece to wake them. 
 The hostler had some how or other mislaid t!ie 1 ey of the stable, and 
 even when that was found, two sleepy helpers put the wrong har- 
 ness on the wrong horses, and the whole process of harnessing had to 
 be gone throagh afresh. Had Mr. Pickwick been alone, tlie.^e multi- 
 plied obstacles would have completely put an end to the pur.^uit at once, 
 but old Wardle was not to l)e so easily daunted; and he laid about 
 him with such hearty good will, culling this man, and j)ushing that ; 
 strapping a buckle here, and taking in a link there, that the chaise was 
 
Oi POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 rrady in a much shorter time than could reasonably have been expected^ 
 under so niany diflicullies. 
 
 They resumed their journey ; and certainly the prospect before them 
 was by no means encouraginir. The stage was tifteen miles long, the 
 night was dark, the wind high and the rain pouring in torrents. It 
 was impossible to make any great way against such obstacles united : 
 it was hard upon one o'clock already ; and nearly two hours were con- 
 sumed in getting to the end of the stage. Here however an object pre- 
 sented itself, which re-kindled their hopes, and re-animated their droop- 
 ing spirits. 
 
 " When did this chaise come inl" cried old Wardle, leaping out of 
 his own vehicle, and pointing to one covered with wet mud, which was 
 standing in the yard. 
 
 " Not a quarter of an hour ago, sir ;" replied the hostler to whom 
 the question was addressed. 
 
 " Lady and gentleman 1" inquired Wardle, almost breathless with 
 impatience. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Tall gentleman — dress coat — long legs- — thin bodyl" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Elderly lady — thin face — rather skinny — eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " By heavens ! it's them, Pickwick," exclaimed the old gentleman, 
 
 " Would have been here before," said the hostler, " but they broke 
 a trace." 
 
 " 'Tis them," said Wardle, it is, by Jove ! Chaise and four in- 
 stantly. We shall catch them yet, before they reach the next stage, 
 A guinea apiece, boys — be alive there — -bustle about — there's good 
 fellows." 
 
 And with such admonitions as these, the old gentleman ran up and 
 down the yard, and bustled to and fro, in a state of excitement which 
 communicated itself to .Mr. Pickwick also ; and under the influence of 
 which that gentleman got himself into 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 preparations for their resuming their journey. 
 
 " Jump in — jump in !" cried old Wardle, climbing into the chaise, 
 pulling up the steps, and slanunlng the door after him. " Come along, 
 make haste " And before Mr. Pickwick knew precisely what he waa 
 about, he felt himself forced in at the other door, by one pull from the 
 old gentleman, and one push from the hostler ; and off they were again. 
 
 "Ah! we arc moving now," said the old gentleman exultingly. 
 They were, indeed, as was sufficiently testified to Mr. Pickwick, by 
 his constant collisions either v.'ith the hard wood-work of thmchaise,. 
 or the body of his companion. 
 
 " Hold up !" said the stout old Mr. Wardle, as Mrt Pickwick dived 
 head foreniost into hii. capacious wai.stcoat. 
 
 " I never did feel such a jolting in my life," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Never mind," replied his companion, " it'll soon be over. Steady;, 
 steady." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick planted himself into his own corner, as firmly as he 
 could ; and on whirled the chaise faster than ever. 
 
 They had travelled in this way about three miles, when Mr. Wardle, 
 \rho had been looking out of the window for two or three minutes, sud- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 93 
 
 deiily drew in his face, covered with splashes, and exclaimed in breath- 
 less eagerness — 
 " Here they are !" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick thrust his head out of his window. Yes : there was 
 a chaise and four, a short distance before them, dashing along at full 
 gallop. 
 
 " Go on, go on," almost shrieked the old gentleman. " Two guineas 
 apiece, boys — don't let 'em gain on us — keep it up — keep it up." 
 
 The horses in the first chaise started on at their utmost speed ; and 
 those in Mr. Wardle's galloped furiously behind them. 
 
 "I see his head," exclaimed the choleric old man, "damme, I see 
 his head." 
 
 *' So do I," said Mr. Pickwick, "that's he." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was not mistaken. The countenance of Mr. Jingle, 
 completely coated with mud thrown up by the wheels, was plainly dis- 
 cernible at the window of his chaise ; and the motion of his arm, which 
 he was waving violently towards the postilions, denoted that he was 
 encouraging them to increased exertion. 
 
 The interest was intense. Fields, trees, and hedges, seemed to 
 rush past them with the velocity of a whirlwind, so rapid was the pace 
 at which they tore along. They were close by the side of the first 
 chaise. Jingle's voice could be plainly heard, even above the din of 
 the wheels, urging on the boys. Old Mr. Wardle foamed with rage 
 and excitement. He roared out scoundrels and villains by the dozen, 
 clenched his fist and shook it expressively at the object of his indigna- 
 t'ion ; but Mr. Jingle only answered with a contemptuous smile, and 
 replied to his menaces by a shout of triumph, as his horses, answering 
 to the increasing application of whip and spur, broke into a faster gal- 
 lop, and left the pursuers behind. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had just drawn in his head, and Mr. Wardle, exhausted 
 with shouting had done the same, when a tremendous jolt threw them 
 forward against the front of the vehicle. There was a sudden bump 
 — a loud crash — away rolled a wheel, and over went the chaise. 
 
 After a very few seconds of bewilderment and confusion, in which 
 nothing but the plunging of horses, and breaking of glass could be- 
 made out, Mr. Pickwick felt himself violently pulled out from amona 
 the ruins of the chaise ; and as soon as he had gained his feet, extri- 
 cated his head from the skirts of his great coat, which materially 
 impeded the usefulness of his spectacles, the full disaster of the case 
 met his view. 
 
 Old Mr. Wardle without a hat, and his clothes torn in several places, 
 stood by his side, and the fragments of the chaiso lay scattered at their 
 feet. The post-boys, who had succeeded in cutting the traces, were 
 standing, disfigured with mud and disordered' by hard riding, by the 
 horses' heads. About a hundred yards in advance was the other chaise, 
 which had pulled up on hearing the crash. The postilions, each with 
 a broad grin convulsing his countenance', were viewing the adverse 
 j)arty from their saddles, and .Mr. Jingle was contemplating the wreck 
 from the coach-window, with evident satisfaction. The day was just 
 breaking, and the whole scene was rendered perfectly visible by the 
 gray litrht of the morning. 
 
 "Hallo!" shouted the shameless Jingle, "any body damaged!-^ 
 elderly gentlemen — no light weights — dangerous work — very." 
 
 " You're a rascal !"' roared Wardle. 
 
94 POSTHDMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 '•Ha! ha!" replied Jingle; and then he added, with a knowing 
 wink, and a jerk of the thumb towards the interior of the chaise — " I 
 say — she's very well — desires her compliments — begs you won'ftrouble 
 yourself — love to Tnppy — won't you get up behind !— -drive on, boya." 
 
 The postilions resumed their proper attitudes, and away rattled the 
 chaise, Mr. Jingle fluttering in derision a wuite handkerchief fiom the 
 coach window. 
 
 Nothing in the whole &dventure, not even the upset, had disturbed 
 the calm and equable current of Mr. Pickwick's temper. The villany, 
 however, which could Urst borrow money of his faithful follower, and 
 then abbreviate his name to " Tuppy," was more than he could pa- 
 tiently bear. He drew his breath hard and coloured up to the very tips 
 o^his spectacles, as he said, slowly and emphatically — 
 
 *' If ever I meet that man again, I'll — " 
 
 " Yes, yes," interrupted Wardle, " that's all very well : but while 
 we stand talking here they'll get their license, and be married in Lon- 
 don." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, bottled up his vengeance, and corked it down. 
 
 •' How far is it to the next stage?' inquired Mr. Wardle of one of 
 the boys. 
 
 " Six mile, ain't it, Tom?' 
 
 <' Rayther better." 
 
 *' Rayther better nor six mile, sir." 
 
 *' Can't be helped," said Wardle ; " we must walk it, Pickwick," 
 
 " No help for it," replied that truly great man. 
 
 So sending forward one of the boys on horseback, to procure a fresh 
 chaise and horses, and leaving the other behind to take care of the bro- 
 _ken one, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Wardle set manfully forward on the 
 walk, first tying their shawls round their necks, and slouching down 
 their hats to escape as much as possible from the deluge of rain, which 
 after a slight cessation, had again begun to pour heavily down. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CLEARING UP ALL DOUBTS (iF ANY EXlSTEn) OF THE DISINTERESTEDNESS 
 OF ?.1U. jingle's CHARACTER. 
 
 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 more solemn manner than they do in these times ; but 
 which have now degenerated into little more than the abiding ^nd 
 booking places of country wagons. The reader would look in vain for 
 any of these ancient hostelri.'s, among the Golden Crosses and Bull 
 and Mouths, which rear their stately fronts in the improved streets of 
 TiOndon. 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 wi..h a kind of 
 gloomy sturdiness, amidst the modern innovations which surround 
 them. 
 
 In the Borough especially, there still remain some half dozen old 
 
THE PICKWIce CLUB. 95 
 
 inns, which have prcsen-ed their external features unchanged, and 
 which have escaped alike the rage for public improvement, and the 
 encroachments of private speculations. Great, rambling, queer old 
 places they are, with galleries, and passages and staircases, wide 
 enough and antiquated enough, to furnish materials for a hundred 
 ghost stories, supposing we should ever be reduced, to the lamentable 
 necessity of inventing any, and that the world should exist long enough 
 to exhaust the innumerable veracious legends connected with old Lon- 
 don Bridge, and its adjacent neighbourhood on the Surrey side. 
 
 It was in the yard of one of these inns — of no less celebrated a one 
 than the White Hart — that a- man was b^usily employed in brushing 
 the dirt off a pair of boots early in the morning succeeding the events 
 narrated in the last chapter. He was habited in a coarse striped waist- 
 coat, with blacji calico sleeves, and blue glass buttons : drab breeches 
 and leggings. A bright red handkerchief was wound in a very loose 
 and unstudied style round his neck, and an old white hat was carelessly 
 thrown on one side of his head. There were two rows of boots before 
 him, otie cleaned and the other dirty, and at every addition he made to 
 the clean row, he paused from his work, and contemplated its results 
 with evident satisfaction. 
 
 The yard presented none of thai bustle and activity which are the usual 
 characteristics of a large coach inn. Three or four lumbering wagons, 
 each with a pile of goods beneath its ample canopy, about the height 
 of the second-floor window of an ordinary house, were stowed away 
 beneath a lofty roof, which extended over one end of the yard ; and 
 another which was probably ti) commence its journey that morning, 
 was drawn out into the open space. A double tier of bed-room gal- 
 leries, with old clumsy balustrades, ran down two sides of the straggling 
 area, and a double row of bells to correspond, sheltered from the 
 weather by a little sloping roof, hung over the door leading to the bar 
 and colfee-room. Two or three gigs and chaise-carts were wheeled 
 up under different little sheds and pent-houses ; and the occasional 
 heavv tread of a cart-horse, or rattling of a chain at the farther end of 
 the yard, announced to any body who cared about the matter, that the 
 stable lay in that direction. When we add that a few boys in smock 
 frocks, were lying asleep on heavy packages, woolpacks, and other 
 articles that were scattered about on heaps of straw, we have described 
 as fully as need be, the general appearance of the yard of the White 
 Hart Inn. High Street, Borough, on the particular morning in question. 
 
 A loud ringing of one of the bells was followed by the appearance 
 of a smart chaml^rmaid in the upper sleeping gallery, who, after tap- 
 ping at one of the doors, and receiving a request from within, called 
 over the balustrades — 
 
 " Sam !" 
 
 •' Hallo," replied the man with the white hat. 
 
 " Number twenty-two wants his boots." 
 
 "Ask number twenty-two, 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 gentle- 
 man wants his boots directly." 
 
 " Weil, you are a nice young 'ooman for a musical party, you are," 
 said the boot-cleaner. " Look at these here boots — eleven pair o' 
 boots ; and one shoe as b'longs to number six, with the wooden leg. 
 The eleven boots is to be called at half-past eight, and the shoe at nine. 
 
96 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 Who's number twenty-two, that's to put all the others outi No, no ; 
 reg'lar rotation, as Jack Ketch said, van he tied the men up. Sorry to 
 keep you a waitin', sir, but Til attend to you directly." 
 
 Sayinff which, the man in the white hat set to work upon a top-boot 
 with increased assiduity. 
 
 There was another loud ring ; and the bustling old landlady of the 
 White Hart made her appearance in the opposite gallery. 
 
 "Sam,"' cried the landlady, " where's that lazy, idle — why Sam — 
 oh, there you are ; why don't you answer ?" 
 
 " Vouldn't be gen-teel to answer, 'till you'd done talking," replied 
 Sam, gruffly. 
 
 *' Here, clean them shoes for number seventeen directly, and take 
 'em to private sittin'-room, number five, first floor." 
 
 The landlady flung a pair of lady's shoes into the yard, and bustled 
 away. 
 
 " Number 5," said Sam, as he picked up the shoes — and taking a 
 piece of chalk from his pocket, made a memorandum of their destina- 
 tion on the soles — " Lady's shoes, and private sittin'-room ! I sup- 
 pose she 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 ffreat indignation, 
 singling out the boots in question from the heap before him. " For all 
 I knovv'd, he vas one o' the regular three-pennies. Private room ! 
 and a lady too ! If he's any thing of a genTm'n he's vorth a shillin' 
 a day, let alone the arrands." 
 
 Stimulated by the inspiring reflection, Mr. Samuel 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 number five. 
 
 " Come in," said a man's voice, in reply to Sam's rap at the door. 
 
 Sam made his best bow, and stepped into the presence of a lady and 
 gentleman, seated at breakfast. Having ofliciously deposited the gen- 
 tleman's boots, right and left at his feet, and Jthe lady's shoes right and 
 left at hers, he backed towards the door. 
 
 " Boots," said the gentleman. 
 
 '* Sir," said Sam, closing the door, and keeping his hand on the 
 knob oC the lock. 
 
 " Do you know — what's a-name — Doctors' Commons !" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where is it r' 
 
 " Paul's Church-yard, sir ; low archway on the carriage- side, book- 
 seller's at one corner, hot-el on the other, and two porters in the 
 middle as touts for licenses." 
 
 "Touts for licenses?" said the gentleman. 
 
 "Touts for licenses!" replied Sam. "Two coves in vhite aprons 
 touches their hats ven you walk in — ' License, sir. license?' Queer 
 sort, them and their mas'rs, too, sir — Old Bailey Proctors — and no 
 mistake." 
 
 " What do they dol" inquired the gentleman. 
 
 " Do ! You sir ! That am't the Worst on it, neither. They put 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. S7 
 
 things in old gen'l'm'ns heads as they never dreamed of. My father, 
 sir, vos a coachman. A vidower he vos, and fat enough for any thing 
 — uncommon fat, to be sure. His missus dies, and leaves him four 
 hundred pound. DoU-n he goes to the Commons, to see the lawyer, 
 and, draw the blunt — wearj- smart-^top boots on — nosegay in his 
 button-hole — broad-brimmed tile — green shawl — quite the gen'l'm'n. 
 Goes through the archway, thinking how he should inwest the 
 money ; up comes the touter, touches his h«it — ' License, sir, license?' 
 'What's that;' says my father. 'License, sir,' says he. 'What 
 Ucen.-;e V says my father. ' Marriage license,' says the touter. ' Dash 
 my vesk.it,' says my father, 'I never thought o' that.' 'I think yout 
 wants one, sir,' says the touter. i^iMy father piills up, and thinks a bit. 
 
 * No,' says he, ' d e, I'm too old ; b'sides, I'm a many sizes too 
 
 large,' says he. 'Not a bit on it, sir,' says the touter. 'Think notV 
 says my father. * I'm sure not,' says he ; ' we married a genTm'n 
 twice your size, last Monday.' ' Did you, though,' says my father. 
 
 * To be sure, ve did,' says the touter — ' you're a baby to him — this vay, 
 *sir — this vay I' — and sure enough my father walks arter him like a 
 
 tame monkey behind a ho?gan, into a little back office, vere a feller sat 
 among dirty papers and tin bo.^ces, making believe he was busy. ' Pray 
 take a seat while I makes out the affidavit, sir,' says the lawyer. 
 
 * Thankee, sir,' says my father, and down he sat, and stared vith all 
 Ms 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 V says the lawyer. ' Belle Savage,' says my father, 
 for he stopped there ven he drove up, and he know'd nothing about 
 pari.shes, he didn't. 'And what's the lady's name !' says the lawyer. 
 My father was struck all of a heap. ♦ Blessed if I know,' says he. 
 
 * Not know !' says the lawyer. ' No more nor you do,' says my father 
 — 'can't I put that in afterward?' 'Impossible!' says "the lawyer. 
 ' Werry well.' says my father, after he'd thought a moment, ♦ put 
 down .»Irs. Clarke.' ' What Clarke '' says the lawyer, dipping his 
 pen ip the ink. * Susan Clarke, .Markis o'Granby, 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 license was made out, and 
 she did have him — and what's more, she's got him now ; and / never 
 had any of the four hundred pounds, worse luck. Beg your pardon, 
 sir," said Sam, when he had concluded, " but vhen I gets on this here 
 grievance, I runs on like a new barrow vith the vheel greased." 
 Having said w^hich, and having paused for an instant to see whether 
 he was wanted for any thing more, Sam left the room. * 
 
 " Half-past nine — ^just the tune — off at once !" said the gentleman, 
 xvhom we need hardly introduce as Ah-. Jingle. 
 
 " Time for what !" said the spinster aunt, coquettishly. 
 
 " License, deare.st of angels— give notice at the church — call you 
 mine to-morrow ;" — said Mjr. Jingle, and he squeezed the spinster 
 aunt's hand. 
 
 " The license I" said Rachael, blushing. 
 
 •'The license," repeated Mr. Jingle — 
 
 '' In harry, post-haste for u license, 
 In hurry, ding dong 1 come back. 
 
 " How you run on," said Rachael. 
 Vol. 1.^9 
 
99 POSTHOMODS PAPERS OF 
 
 ♦' 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 1" inquired 
 Rachael 
 
 " Impossible — can't be — notice at the church — leave the license to- 
 day — ceremony come ofT to-morrow." 
 
 " I am so terrified, lest my brother should discover us !" said Rachael. 
 
 " Discover — nonsense — too much shaken by the break down — 
 
 besides extreme caution — gave up the post-chaise — walked on — took a 
 
 hackney-coach — came to the Borough — last place in the world that he'd 
 
 look in — ha I ha ! — capital notion thj^f. — very. 
 
 " Don't . be long," said the spinster, atfectionately, as Mr. Jingle 
 stuck the pinched-up hat on his head. 
 
 *' Long away from you 1 — Cruel charmer," and Mr. Jingle skipped 
 playfully up to the spinster aunt imprinted a chaste kiss upon her lips, 
 and danced out of the room. 
 
 " Dear man !" said the spinster, as the door closed after him. 
 " Rum old girl," said Mr. Jinule, as he walked down the passage. 
 It is painful to reflect upon the perfidy of our species ; and we will 
 not, therefore, pursue the thread of Mr. Jingle's meditations as he 
 wended his way to Doctors' Commons. It will be sufficient for our 
 purpose to relate, that escaping the snares of the dragons in white 
 aprons, who guard the entrance of that enchanted region, he reached 
 the Vicar General's office in safety, and having procured a highly flat- 
 tering address on parchment from, the Archbishop of Canterbury, to 
 his " trusty and well-beloved Alfred Jingle and Rachael Wardle, greet- 
 ing." he carefully deposited the mystic document in his pocket, and re- 
 traced his steps in triumph to the "borough. 
 
 He was yet on his way to the White Hart, when two plump gentle- 
 men, and one thin one entered the yard, and looked round in search of 
 some authorized person of whom they could make a few inqviiries. — 
 Mr. Samuel Weller happened to be at that moment engaged m bur- 
 nishing a pair of painted tops, the personal property of a farmer, who 
 was refreshing himself with a slight lunch of two or three pounds of 
 cold beef, and a pot or two of porter, after the fatigues of the Borough 
 market; and to him the thin gentleman straightway advanced — 
 " My friend," said the thin gentleman. 
 
 *♦ You're one o' the adwice gratis order," thought Sam, "or you 
 wouldn't be so werry fond o' me all at once." But he only said — 
 " Well, sir." 
 
 *' My friend," said the thin gentleman with a conciliatory hem — ■ 
 "Have you got many people stopping here now 1 Pretty busy. Eh?" 
 
 Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a little high-dried man, 
 with a dark squeezed-up face and small restless black eyes, that kept 
 winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive nose, as if 
 they were playing a perpetual game of peep-bo with that feature. He 
 was dressed all in black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, a low white 
 neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. A gold watch chain and 
 seals depended from his fob. He carried his black kid gloves in his 
 hands, not on them, and as he spoke thrust his wrists beneath his coat 
 tails, with the air of a man who was in the habit of propounding some 
 regular posers. 
 
 "Pretty busy, eh ?" said the little man. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 99 
 
 ** Oh, werry well, sir," replied Sam, " we shan't be bankrupts, and 
 we shan't make our fort'ns. We eats our boiled mutton without ca- 
 pers, 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 was troubled with that complaint," said Sam, " it 
 may be catching — I used to sleep with him." 
 
 " This is a curious old house of yours," said the little man, looking 
 round him. 
 
 " If you'd sent word you was a coming, we'd ha' had it repaired,'" 
 replied the imperturbable Sam. 
 
 The little man seemed rather baffled by these several repulses, and 
 a short consultation took place between him and the two plump gen- 
 tlemen. At its conclusion, the little man took a pinch of snuft" from 
 an oblong silver box, and was apparently on the point of renewing the 
 conversation, when one of the plump gentlemen, who, in addition to a 
 benevolent countenance, possessed a pair of spectacles, and a pair of 
 black gaiters, interfered — 
 
 " The fact of the matter is," said the benevolent gentleman, " that 
 my friend here (pointing to the other plump gentleman) will give you 
 
 half a guinea if you'll answer one or two " 
 
 " Now, my dear sir, my dear sir," said the little man, " pray allow 
 me, my dear sir, — the very first principle to be observed in these cases, 
 is this : If you place a matter in the hands of a professional man, you 
 must in no way interfere in the proirress of the business ; you must 
 repose implicit confidence in him. Really, Mr. (he turned to the other 
 plump gentleman, and said,) — I forget your friend's name." 
 
 " Pickwick," said Mr. Wardle, for it was no other than that jolly 
 personage. 
 
 "Ah, Pickwick — really Mr. Pickwick, my dear sir, excuse me — I 
 shall be happy to receive any private suggestions of yours, as amicus 
 curia, but you must see the impropriety of your interfering with my 
 conduct in this case, with such an ad captandum argument as the offer 
 of half a guinea. Really, my dear sir, really ;" and the little man took 
 an argumentative pinch of snuflT, and looked very profound. 
 
 •' My only wish, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " was to bring this very 
 unpleasant matter to as speedy a close as possible." 
 " Quite right — quite right," said the little man. 
 " With which view," continued Mr. Pickwick, "I made Use of the 
 argument which my experience of men has taught me is the most likely 
 to succeed in any case." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the little man, very good, very good, indeed ; but you 
 should have suggested it to me. My dear sir, I'm quite certain you 
 cannot be ignorant of the extent of confidence which must be placed in 
 professional men. If any authority can be necessary on such a point, 
 my dear sir, let me refer you to the well-known case in Barnwell 
 
 and " 
 
 " Never mind George Barnwell," interrupted Sam, who had re- 
 mained a wondering listener during this short colloquy ; "every body 
 knows vhat sort of a case his vas, tho' it's alwaysy^ been my opinion, 
 mind you, that the young 'ooman deserved scragging a precious sight 
 more than he did. Hows'evcr, that's neither here nor there. Yoa 
 want me to except of half a guinea. Werry well, I'm agreeable : I 
 can't say no fairer than that, can I, sir ? (Mr. Pickwick smiled.) Then 
 
lOD POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the next question is, what the d — 1 do you want witji me, as the man 
 said when he seed the o:host !" 
 
 " We want to know" said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 *' Now, my dear sir — my dear sir," interposed the busy httle man. 
 Mr. VN ardle shrugged his shoulders, and was silent. 
 " We want to know," said the little man, solemnly ; " and we ask 
 the question of you in order that we may not awaken apprehensions 
 inside — wc want to know who you've got in this house at present." 
 
 " Who there is in the house !"' said Sam, in whose mind the inmates 
 were always represented by that particular article of their costume, 
 which came under his immediate superintendence. " There's a vooden 
 leg In number six. there's a pair of Hessians in thirteen, there's two 
 pair of halves in the commercial, there's these here painted tops in the 
 snuguery inside the bar, and five more tops in the cofl'ee-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 vom, and a pair o' lady's 
 shoes, in number five." 
 
 " What sort of shoes," hastily inquired Wardle, who^ together with 
 Mr. Pickwick had been lost in bewilderment at the singular catalogue 
 ■ of visiters. ' 
 
 " Country make," replied Sam. 
 " Any maker's name ]" 
 '* Brown." 
 "Whereof?" 
 " Muggleton." 
 
 " It IS them," exclaimed Wardle. " By heavens, we've found them.'" 
 '' Hush I" said Sam. " The Vellingtons has gone to Doctors" Com- 
 znons " 
 
 "No I'' said the little man. 
 "Yes, for a license." 
 
 "We're in time," exclaimed W^ardle. "Show us the room ; not a 
 moment is to be lost." 
 
 " Pray, my dear sir — pray." said the little man ; " caution, caution.** 
 He drew from his pocket a red silk purse, and looked very hard at Sam, 
 as he drew out a sovereign. 
 Sam grinned expressively. 
 
 " Show us into the room at once, without announcing us," said the 
 little man, "and it's yours." 
 
 Sam threw the painted tops into a corner, and led the way through a 
 dark passage, and up a wide staircase. He paused at tiie end of a 
 •econd passage, and held out his hand. 
 
 "Here it is," whispered the attorney, as he deposited the money in 
 the hand of their guide. 
 
 The man stepped forward for a few paces, followed by the two 
 friends and their legal adviser. He stopped at a door. 
 "Is this the room?" murmured the little gentleman. 
 Sam nodded assent. 
 
 Old Wardle opened the door ; and the whole three walked into the 
 room just as .Mr. Jingle, who had that moment returned, had produced 
 the license to the .«;pinstcr aunt. 
 
 The spinster uttered a loud shriek, and throwing herself in a chair, 
 covered her face with her hands. Mr. Jingle crumpled up the license, 
 
THE PICCWICK CLCB. lOl 
 
 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?" exclaimed Wardle, breath- 
 less with passion. 
 
 " My dear sir, my dear sir," said the little man, laying his hat on the 
 table. " Pray, consider — pray. Scandalum nuigmcUum, defamation of 
 character, action for damages. Calm yourself, my dear sir, pray — " 
 
 *' How dare you drag ray sister from my house V said the old man. 
 
 -"Ay — ay — very good," said the little gentleman, ''you may ask 
 that. How dare you, sirl — eh, sir?" 
 
 " Who the d — 1 are you •" inqufred Mr. Jingle, in so fierce a tone, 
 that the little gentleman involuntarily fell back a step or two. 
 
 *' Who is he, you scoundrel," interposed Wardle. " He's my lawyer, 
 Mr. Perker, of Gray's Inn. Perker I'll have this fellow prosecuted — 
 
 indicted — I'll — I'U-^ e, I'll ruin him. And you,"' continued Mr. 
 
 Wardle, turning abruptly round to his sister, "you Rachael, at a time 
 of life when you ought to know better, what do you mean by running 
 away with a vagabond, disgracing your family, and making yourself 
 miserable. Get on your bonnet, and come back. Call a hackney- 
 coach there directly, and bring this lady's bill, d'ye hear — d'ye hear ]" 
 
 *' Cert'nly, sir,"' replied Sara, 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 appUed 
 to the outside of the key-hole during the whole interview. 
 
 "Get on your bonnet,'" repeated Wardle. 
 
 *'Do nothing of the kind.'' said Jingle. " Leave the room, sir — no 
 business here — lady's free to act as she pleases — more than one-and- 
 twenty."' 
 
 " :NIore than one-and-twenty !" ejacuated Wardle, contemptuously. 
 "More than one-and-forty I"' 
 
 " I a'n't," said the the spinster aunt, her indignation getting the 
 better of her determination to faint. 
 
 " You are,"' replied Wardle, "you're fifty if you're an hour." 
 
 Here the spinster aunt uttered a loud shriek, and became senseless. 
 
 "A glass of water," said the humane Mr. Pickwick, summoning the 
 landlady. 
 
 ♦' A glass of water !" said the passionate Wardle. " Bring a bucket 
 and throw it all over her : it'll do her good, and she richly deserves it." 
 
 "Ugh, you brute I" ejaculated the kind hearted landlady. "Poor 
 dear." And with sundry ejaculations, of " Come naw there's a dear 
 — drirrk .a little of this — it'll do you good — don't give way so — there's 
 a love," <S:c. &;c., the landlady, assisted by a chambermaid, proceeded 
 to vinegar the forehead, beat the hands, tittillate the nose, and unlace 
 the stays of the spinster aunt, and to administer such other restoratives 
 as are usually applied by compassionate females to ladies who are 
 endeavouring to ferment themselves into hysterics. 
 
 " Coach is ready, sir,' said Sam, appearing at the door. 
 
 ♦' Come along," cried Wardle.' " I'll carry her down stairs." 
 
 At this proposition the hysterics came on with redoubled violence. 
 
 The landlady was about to enter a very violent protest against this 
 proceediuL^, and had already given vent to an indignant inquiry whether 
 Mr. Wardle considered himself a lord of the creation, when Mr. Jingle 
 interposed — 
 
 "Boots,"" said he, "get me an officer."' 
 9* 
 
102 POSTHDMOUS PAPERS OV 
 
 " Stay, stay," said little Mr. Porker. Consider sir, consider.'* 
 " ril not consider,"' replied Jin<^le, " she's her own mistress — see 
 who dares to take her away — unless she wishes it." 
 
 " I ico7i'i be taken away," murmured the spinster aunt. " I don't 
 wish it." (Here there was a frightful relapse.) 
 
 '♦ My dear sir," saul the little man, in a low tone, taking Mr. Wardle 
 and Mr. Pickwick apart : " my dear sir. we're in a very awkward situa- 
 tion. Its 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 compromi'se." 
 There was a short pause. 
 
 " What kind of compromise would you recommend T' ii.quired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 " Why, my dear sir, our friend's in an unpleasant position — very 
 much so. We must be content to sulfer some pecuniary loss." 
 
 ♦' I'll sulTcr any, rather than submit to this disgrace, and let her, fool 
 as she is, be made miserable for life," said Wardle. 
 
 *' I rather think it can be done," soid t-lie bustling little man. "Mr. 
 Jingle, you will step with us into the next room for a moment T' 
 
 Mr. jingle assented, and the quartette walked into an empty apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Now sir," said the little ma», as he carefully closed the door, " is 
 there no way of accammodating this matter — step this way, sir, for a 
 moment — into this window, sir, where we can be alone — there; sir, 
 there, pray sit down, sir. Now, my dear sir, between you and I, we 
 know very well, my dear sir, that you have run off wi;.' this lady for 
 the sake of her money. Don't frown, sir, don't frown ; 1 say, between 
 you and I, icc know it. We are both men of the world, and we know 
 very well that our friends here are not — ehV 
 
 Mr. Jingle's face gradually relaxed ; and something distantly re» 
 semblino' a wink quivered for an instant in his left eye. 
 
 " Ver)' good, very good," said the liitle man, observing tke impres- 
 sion he had made. *' Now the fact is, that beyond a few hundreds, tlie 
 lady has little or nothing till the death of her mother — line old lady^ 
 my dear sir." 
 
 *' 01 .'," said Mr. Jingle, briefly but emphatically. 
 "^ " Why, yes," said the attorney, with a slight cough. " You are 
 right ; my dear sir, she is ral/ier 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, since, who hasn't lived to eighty-five, and he was 
 beheaded by one of the Henrys. The old lady is not seventy-three now, 
 my dear sir." The little man paused, and took a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " Well,'' cried iMr. Jingle. 
 • "Well, my dear sir — you don't take snulT? — ah ! so much the better 
 — expensive habit — well, my dear sir, you're a fine young man, man ol 
 the vforld — able to push your fortune, if you had capital, eh!'' 
 " Well," said Mr. Jingle again. 
 ** Do you comprehend me ?" 
 *« Not quite." 
 
 *' Don't you think — now, my dear sir, I put it to you, don't yon think 
 • — that tifiy pounds, and liberty, would be better than Miss Wardle and 
 expectation T' 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 103 
 
 "Won't do — not half enough?" said Mr. Jingle, rising. 
 
 " Naj', nay, my dear sir," remonstrated the little attorney, seizing 
 him by the button. " •' Gootl round sum — a man like you could treble 
 it in no time — great deal to be done with fifty pounds, my dear sir." 
 
 "More to be done with a hundred and fifty," replied Mr. Jingle, coolly. 
 
 '* Well, my dear sir, we won't waste lime in splitting straws," 
 resumed the little man, *' say — say — seventy." 
 
 " Won't do," said Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " Don't go away, my dear sir — pray don't hurry,"' said the little man. 
 •' Eighty ; come, I'll write you a check at once." 
 
 " Won't do," said Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " Well, my dear sir, well," said the little man. still detaining him *, 
 "just tell me what will do." 
 
 ''Expensive affair," said Mr. Jingle. "Money out of pocket — • 
 posting, nine pounds ; license, three — that's twelve — compensation, a 
 hundred — hundred and twelve — breach of honour — and loss of tlu- 
 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, III write you a check,'" said the little man ; and down 
 he sat at the table for that purpose. 
 
 " I'll make it payable the day after to-morrow," said the little man, 
 with a look towards Mr. Wardle ; " and we can get the lady away, 
 meanwhile."' 
 
 Mr. Wardle sullenly nodded assent. 
 
 " A hundred,'" said the little tn.-in. 
 
 "And twenty,'' said .Mr. Jingle. 
 
 " My dear sir," remonstrated the little man. 
 
 *• Give it him," interposed Mr. Wardle, " and let him r'^" 
 
 The check was written by the little gentleman tmd pocketed by Mr. 
 Jingle. 
 
 ♦' IVow leave this house instantly !'' said Wardle, starting up. 
 
 " My dear sir,"' urged the little man. 
 
 "And mind,'* said Mr Wardle, " that nothing should have induced 
 me to make this compromise — not even a regard for mv family — if I 
 had not known that the moment you got any money in that p -cket of 
 yours, you'd go to the devil faster, if possible, thaiir;you would without 
 it.—" 
 
 " My dear sir," urged the little man again. 
 
 " Be quiet, Perker," resumed Wardle. '* Leave the room, sir." 
 
 " Off directly," said the unabashed Jingle. " Bye-bye — Pickwick." 
 
 If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld the countenance o." 
 the illustrious man, whose name forms the leading feature of the title 
 of this work, during the latter part of this conversation, he would have 
 been almost induced to wonder that the indignant fire which flaslied 
 from his eyes did not melt the glasses of his spectacles — so majestic 
 was his wrath. His nostrils dilated,, and his fists clenched involuntii- 
 rily, as he heard himself addressed by the villain. But he restrained 
 himself HL^iin — he did n:}t pulverise him. 
 
 " Here," continued the hardened traitor, tossing the licon.se at Mr. 
 Pickwick's feet ; •' get the nzmc altered — take home the l;idy — do fur 
 Tuppy." 
 
104 posTHurroos papers of 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was a philosopher, but philosophers are only men in 
 armour, after all. The shaft had reached him, penetrated through his 
 philosophical harness, to his very heart. In the frenzy of his rage he 
 hurled the inkstand madly forward, and followed it up himself But 
 Mr Jingle had disappeared, and he found himself caught in the arms 
 of Sam. 
 
 '« Hallo," said that eccentric functionary, " furniture's cheap vere you 
 come from. • Self-acting ink, that 'ere ; it's wrote your mark upon the 
 wall, old gen'lm'n. Hold still, sir; wot's the use o' runnin' arter a man 
 as has made his lucky, and got to t'other end of the borough by this 
 time." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's mind, like those of all truly great men, was open to 
 conviction. He was a quick and powerful reasoner ; and a moment's 
 reflection sufficed to remind him of the impotcncy of his rage. It 
 subsided as quickly as it had been roused. He panted for breath, and 
 looked benignantly round upon his friends. 
 
 Shall wc tell the lamentations that ensued when Miss Wardlc found 
 herself deserted by the faithless Jingle ! Shall we extract Mr. Pick- 
 wick's masterly description of that heartrending wcene 1 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 re- 
 solute ! We will not wring the public bosom with the delineation of 
 such suffering. 
 
 Slowly and sadly did the two friends and the deserted lady return 
 the 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 aeain reached Dingley Dell, and stood within the entrance of 
 Manor Farm. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 INVOLVING ANOTHER JOURNEY, AND AN ANTIQUARIAN DISCOVERY, RECORD- 
 ING M*R. PICKWICk's DETERMINATION TO DE PRESENT AT AN ELECTION ; 
 AND CONTAINING A MANUSCRIPT OF THE OLD CLEKGVMAN's. 
 
 A NicHT of quiet and repose in the profound silence of Dingley 
 Dell, and an hour's breathing of its fresh and fragrant air on the 
 ensuing morning, completely recovered Mr. Pickwick from the effects 
 of his late fatigue of body and anxiety of mind. That illustrious man 
 had been separated from his friends and followers for two whole days ; 
 and it was with a degree of pleasure and delight, which no common 
 imarjination can adequately conceive, that he stepped forward to greet 
 Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass, as he encountered those gentlemen on 
 his return from his early walk. The pleasure was mutual ; for who 
 could ever gaze on Mr. Pickwick's beaming face without experiencing 
 the sensation 1 But still a cloud seemed to hang over his companions 
 which that great man could not but be scnsihie of, and was wholly at 
 a loss to account for. There was a mysterious air about them both, as 
 unusual as it was alarming. 
 
 "And how," said Mr. Pickwick, when he had grasped his followers 
 
THE riCKWlCK CLUB. 105 
 
 by the hand, and exchanged warm salutations of welcome ; " how ia 
 Tupmari !" . 
 
 Mr. Winkle, to whom the question was more peculiarly addressed, 
 made no reply. He turned away hia head, and appeared absorbed in 
 melancholy reflection. * 
 
 " Snodgrass," said Mr. Pickwick, earnestly, " liow iu ourTricnd — he 
 is not ill !" 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Snodgrass ; and a tear trembled on his sentimental 
 eyelid, like a rain-drop on a window-frame. " No : he is not ill," 
 
 Mr. Pickwick btopped, 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 comuaand you, speak." 
 
 There was a solemnity — a dignity — in Mr. Pickwick's manner, not 
 to be withstood. 
 
 " He is gone," said Mr. Snodgrasd. 
 
 *' Gone !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, " gone !" 
 
 " Gone," repeated Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 "Where?" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦' We can only guess, from that communication," replied Mr. Snod- 
 grass, taking a letter from his pocket, and placing K in his friend's liand. 
 "Yesterday morning, when a letter was received from Mr. Wardle, 
 statmg that you would be home with his yi.ster at night, the melancholy 
 which had hung over our friend during the whole of the previous day, 
 was observed to increase. He shortly afte/ward disappeared : he was 
 rnis.^ing during the whole day, and in th^ evening this letter was 
 brought by the hostler from the Cjrown, at Muggleton. It had been 
 left in his charge in the morning, with a strict injunction that it should 
 not be delivered until night." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick opened the epi.stle. It was in hie friend's hand- 
 writing, and these were its .contents : 
 
 " My dear Pickwick, 
 
 " You, my dear friend, arc placed far beyond the reach of many 
 mortal frailties and weaknesses which ordinary people carmot over- 
 '•ornp. You do not know what it is, at one blow, to be deserted by a 
 lovely and fascinating creature, and to fall a victim to the artifices of a 
 villain, who hid the grin of cunning heneath the mask of friendship. I 
 hope you never may. 
 
 "Any letter, addressed to me .-.t the Leather Bottle, Cobham, Kent, 
 will be forwarded — supposing I still e.xist. I hristen from the sight of 
 that world which has become odious to me. Should I hasten fr^m it 
 altogether, pity — forgive rne. Life, my dear Pickwick, has become 
 insu[>poftab!e to me. The spirit which burns within u.s is a porter's 
 knot, on which to rest the heavy load of world^' cares and troubles ; 
 rind when that spirit fails us, the birrden is too heavy to be home 
 We sink beneath it. You may tell Rachael, — Ah, that name ! — 
 
 "Tk.vcv Tukma-v." 
 
 " We must leave this place directly," said Mr. Pickwick, as he re- 
 folded the note. " It would not have been decent for us to remain 
 }»ere, under any circumstances, after what has haj)pened ; and, now 
 we are bound to follow in search of our friend " Ami sn s.iving, ho 
 led the v ay to the hou.se. 
 
106 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 His intentions were rapidly communicated. The entreaties to re- 
 main vvere poissingf, but Mr. Pickwick was inflexibJe. Business, he 
 said, required his immediate attendance. 
 
 The old clergyman was present. 
 
 "You are not really going ?" said he, taking Mr. Pickwick aside. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick reiterated his former determination. 
 
 " Then here," said the old gentleman, '' is a little manuscript, 
 which I had hoped to have the pleasure of reading to you myself. I 
 found it on the death of a friend of mine — a medical man, engaged in 
 our County Lunatic Asylum — among a variety of papers, which I had 
 the option of destroying or preserving, as I thought proper. I can 
 hardly believe that the manuscript is genuine, though it certainly is 
 not in my friend's hand. However, whether it be the genuine produc- 
 tion of a maniac, or founded upon the ravings of some unhappy being, 
 which I think more probable, read it, and judge for yourself" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick received the manuscript, and parted from the benevo- 
 lent old gentleman with many expressions of good will and esteem. 
 
 It was a more difficult task to take leave of the inmates of Manor 
 Farm, from whom they had received so much hospitality and kindness. 
 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 female servants in a most patriarchal 
 manner, as he slipped into the hand of each some more substantial 
 expressions of his approval. The exchange of cordialities with their 
 fine old host and Mr. Trundle, was- 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 handkerchief, which was waved from 
 one of the upper windows, until a turn of the lane hid the old house 
 from their sight. 
 
 At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester. By the 
 time they reached the last-named place, the violence of their grief had 
 sufficiently abated to ^dmit of their making a very excellent early din- 
 ner ; and having procured the necessary information relative to the 
 road, the three friends set forward again in the afternoon to walk to 
 Cobham. 
 
 A delightful walk it was : for it was a pleasant afternoon in June, 
 and their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the light 
 wind which gently rufllcd the thick foliage, and enlivened 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 over- 
 spread the ground like a silken mat. They emerged upon an open 
 park, with an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and picturesque archi- 
 tecture of Elizabeth's time. Long vistas of stately oaks and elm-trees 
 appeared on every side ; laro-e herds of deer were cropping the fresh 
 grass ; and occasionally a startled hare scoured along the ground, with 
 the speed of the shadows thrown by the light clouds which sweep 
 across a sunny landscape like a passing breath of summer. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 
 
 107 
 
 •' 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 M;. Pickwick, after half-an-hour's walking 
 had brought them to the village, "really, for a misanthrope's choice, 
 this is one of the prettiest and most desirable places of residence I ever 
 met with." 
 
 In- this opinion, also, both Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass expressed 
 their concurrence ; and having been directed to the Leather Bottle, a 
 clean and commodious village ale-house, the three travellers entered. 
 and at once inquired for a gentleman of the name of Tupman. 
 " Show the gentlemen into the parlour, Tom,"' said the landlady. 
 A stout country lad opened a door at the end of the passage, and the 
 thre.e friends entered a long, low-roufed room, furnished with a large 
 number of high-^iacked, leather-cushioned chairs, of fantastic shapes, 
 and embellished with a great variety of old portraits and roughly co- 
 loured prints of some antiquity. At the upper end of the room was a 
 table, with a white cloth upon it, well covered with a roast fowl, bacon, 
 ale, and ct ccteras ; and at the table sat Mr. Tupman, looking as un- 
 like a man who had taken his leave of the world as possible. 
 
 On the entrance of his friends, that gentleman laid down his knife and 
 fork, and with a mournful air advanced to meet them. 
 
 '• I did not expect to see you here,"' he said, as he grasped Mr. Pick- 
 wick's hand. " It's very kind." 
 
 '"Ah !" said Mr. Pickwick, sitting down, and wiping from his fore- 
 head the perspiration which the walk had engendered. " Finish your 
 dinner, and walk out wit% me. 1 wish to speak to you alone." 
 
 Mr Tupman did as he was desired ; and Mr. Pickwick, having re- 
 freshed himself with a copious draught of ale, waited his friend's lei- 
 sure. The dinner was quickly despatched, and they walked out together. 
 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 com- 
 panion's resolution. Any repetition of his arguments would be useless ; 
 for what language could convey to them that energy and force which 
 their great originator's manner communicated ' Whether Mr. Tup- 
 man was already tired of retirement, or whether he was wholly unable 
 to resist the eloquent appeal which was made to him, matters not ; he 
 did not resist it at last. 
 
 "It mattered little to him," he said," whither he dragged out the 
 miserable remainder of his days ; and since his friend laid so much 
 stress upon his humble companionship, he was willing to share his ad- 
 ventures." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick smiled ; they shook hands ; and walked back to rejoin 
 their companions. 
 
 It was at this moment that Mr. Pickwick made that immortal disco- 
 very, which has been the pride and boast of his friends, and tho envy 
 of every antiquarian in this or any other country. They had passed 
 the door of their inn, and walked a little way down the village, before 
 they recollected the precise spot in which it stood. As they turned 
 back, Mr. Pickwick's eye fell upon a small broken stone, partially buried 
 in the ground, in front of a cottage door. He paused. 
 "This is very strange,'' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 "What is strange!" inquired Mr. Tupman, staring eagerly at every 
 
108 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 object near him but the right one. •' GoJ bless me, what is the 
 ruatier!"' 
 
 This last was an ejaculation of irrepressible astonishment, occasioned 
 by seeing Mr. Pickwick, in his enthusiasm for discovery, rail oYi Ifis 
 knees before the little stone, and commence wiping the dust off it with 
 bis pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " There is an inscription here," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 4 '• Is it {jossible?" said Mr. Tupnian. 
 
 " I can discern," continued Mr Pickwicl;, rubbing away with all his 
 mi-iht, and gazing intently through his ;?pectacles ; "I can discern a 
 cross, and a B, and then a T.' This is important," continued Mr. 
 Pickwick, starting up. " 'i'his is some very old inscription — existing, 
 perhaps, long before the ancient alms-houses in this place. It must not 
 be lost." 
 
 He tapped at the cottage-door. A labouring man opened it. 
 "Do you know how this stone came here, my friend!" inquired tha 
 benevolent Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " No I doant sir," replied the man, civilly. " It was here long afore I 
 war bom, or any on us." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick glanced triumphantly at his companion. 
 " Vou — you — are not particularly attached to it, I dare say," said Mr. 
 Pickwick, trembling with an.xiety. " You wouldn't mind selling it 
 now V 
 
 "Ah ! but who'd buy it V inquired the man, with an expression of 
 face he probably meant to be very cunning. 
 
 *' ril give you ten shillings for it at once," said Mr. Pickwick," if you 
 vould take it up for me." 
 
 The astonishment of the village may be Asily imagined, when (the 
 little stone having been raised with one wrench of a spade,) Mr. Pick- 
 wick, by dint of great personal exertion, bore it with his own hands to 
 the inn, and after having carefully washed it, deposited it on the table. 
 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 following fragment of an inscription 
 was clearly to be deciphered : 
 
 -!- 
 B I L S T 
 U M 
 P S H I 
 
 S. M. 
 ARK 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's eyes sparkled with deligfht as he sat and gloated over 
 the treasure he had discovered. He had attained one of the greatest 
 objects of his ambition. In a country 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 
 di.scovered a strantje and fcurious inscription of unquestionable antiquity, 
 which had wholly escaped the observation of many learned men who had 
 preceded him. He could hardly trust the evidence ofhis senses, 
 
 " This — this," said he, " determines me. We return to town to- 
 morrow." 
 
THE PICK\\nCK CLUB. 109 
 
 "•♦ To-monoxv," exclaimed his admiring followers. 
 
 *' To-morrow," said Mr. Pickwick. " This trea'sure must be at once 
 depositod wher? it can be thoroughly investigated, and properly under- 
 stood. I have another reason for this step. "In a few davo an electioa 
 is to take place for the borough of Eatanswill, at which Mr. Perker, a 
 gentleman whom I lately met, is the agent of one of the candidates. 
 We will behold, and minutely examine a scene so interesting to every 
 Englishman." 
 
 ** We will," was the animated cry of three voices. 
 . Mr. Pickwick looked round him. The attachment and fervour of 
 his followers lighted up a glow of enthusiasm withm him. He was 
 their leader, and he felt it. 
 
 " Let us celebrate this happy meeting with a convivial glass," said 
 he. This proposition, like the other, was received with unanimous ap- 
 plause. And having himself deposited the important stone in a small 
 deal box, purchased from the landlady for the purpose, he placed him- 
 self in an arm-chair at the head of the table ; and the evening was de- 
 voted to festivity and conversation. 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock — a late hour for the little villatre of Cobhani 
 — when Mr. Pickwick retired to the bed-room which had been prepared 
 for his reception. He threw open the lattice-window, and setting his 
 light upon the table, fell into a train of meditation on the hurried events 
 of the two preceding days. 
 
 The hour and the place were both favourable to contemplation ; Mr. 
 Pickwick was roused by the church clock striking twelv.;. The first 
 stroke of the hour sounded solemnly in his ear, but when the bell ceased 
 the stillness seemed insupportable ;— he almost felt as if he had lost a 
 companion. He was nen,ous and excited ; and hastily undressing him- 
 self, and placing his light in ^e chimney, got into bed. 
 
 Everj' one has experienced that disagreeable state of mind, in which 
 a sensation of bodily weariness in vain contends against an inability 
 to sleep. It was Mr. Pickwick's condition at this moment : he 
 »;os6°d first on one side and then on the .other; and pert^erver- 
 ingly 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 
 <]own stairs, and the old stories to which they had given rise in the 
 ■course of the evening. After half an hour's tumbling about, he came 
 to the unsatisfactory conclusion, that it was of no Ui-e trying to sleep; 
 so he got up and partially dressed himself Any thing, he thoughtj 
 was better than lying there fancying all kinds of horrors. Ho looked out 
 of the window — it was very dark. He walked about the room — it was 
 very lonely. 
 
 He had taken a few turns from the door to the window, and from the 
 window to the door, when the clergyman's manuscript'for the first time 
 f^ntered 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 
 liim a sudden start, too ; and he could not avoid casting a wistful glance 
 round the room. Reflecting on the absurdity of giving way to sutii 
 feelings, however, he trimmed the light again, and read as follows; 
 Vol. I.— 10 
 
110 P0STHUM0D3 PAPERS OT 
 
 A MADMAN'S MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 '* Yes ! — a madman's ! IIow that word would have struck to my 
 heart, many years ago I 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 
 ray skin, and my knees knocked together with fright ! I like it now, • 
 though. Ifs a tine name. Show me the monarch whose angry frown 
 was ever feared like the glare of a madman's eye — whose cord and axe 
 were ever half so sure as a madman's grip. Ho ! ho ! It's a grand 
 thing to be mad ! to be peeped at like a wild lion through the iron bafs 
 — 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 matlhouse ! Oh, 
 it's a rare place ! 
 
 " I remember days when I was afraid of being mad : when I used to 
 start from my sleep, and fall upon my knees, and pray to be spared from 
 the curse of my race: when I rushed from the sight of merriment or 
 happiness to hide myself in some lonely place, and spend the weary hours 
 in watching the progress of the fever that was to consume my brain. 
 I knew that madness was mixed up with my very blood, and the mar- 
 row of my bones ; that one generation had passed away without the 
 pestilence appearing among them, and that I was the first in whom it 
 would revive. I knew it must be so ; that so it always had been, and 
 so it ever wx-uld be : and when I cowered in some obscure corner of a 
 crowded room, and saw men whisper, and point, and turn their eyes to- 
 wards me, I knew they were telling each other of the doomed madman ; 
 and I slunk away again to mope in solitude. 
 
 " I did this for years ; long, long years they were. The nights here 
 ate long sometimes — very long ; but they are nothing to the restless 
 nights, and dreadful dreams I had at that time. It makes me cold to re- 
 member them. Large dusky forms, with sly and jeering faces, crouched 
 in the corners of the room, and bent over my bed at night, tempting me 
 to madness. They told me, in low whispers, that the floor of the old 
 house in which my father's father died, was stained with his own blood, 
 shed by his own hand in raging madness. I drove my fingers into my 
 ears, but they screamed into my head till the room rang with it, that in 
 one generation before him the madness slumbered, but that his grand- 
 father had lived for years with his hands fettered to the ground, to pre- 
 vent 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 wopdered how I could ever have 
 feared it. I rould go into the world now, and laugh and shout with the 
 best among them. I knew I was mad, but they did not even suspect it. 
 How I used to hug myself with delight, when I thought of the fine trick 
 I was playing them after their old pointing and leering, when I was not 
 road, 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 ho 
 would have turned, and how fsist he would have run, if he had known 
 
THE PICKWICK CLtTB. Ill 
 
 that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharpening a bright glittering 
 knife, was a madman, with all the power, and half the will, to plunge it 
 in his heart. Oh, it was a merry life ! 
 
 " Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon me, and I rioted in 
 pleasures, enhanced a 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 handed over disputed thousands 
 to a madman's hands. Where was the wit of the sharp-sighted men 
 of sound mind I 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 profusely. How I 
 was praised"? How those three proud overbearing brothers humbled 
 themselves before me. The old white-headed father, too — such defer- 
 ence — suph respect — such devoted friendship — why, he worshipped me. 
 The old man had a daughter, and the young men a sister ; and all the 
 five were poor. I was rich ; and, when I married the girl, I saw a smile 
 of triumph play upon the faces of her needy relatives, as they thought 
 of their well-planned 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 merriment. They little thought they had 
 married her to a madman. 
 
 *' Sta)'. If they had known it, would they have saved her ! A 
 sister's happiness against her husband's gold. The lightest feather I 
 blow into the air. against the gay chain that ornaments my body ! 
 
 " In one thing I was deceived, with all my cunning. If I had not 
 been mad, — for though we madmen are sharp-witted enough, we get 
 bewildered sometimes, — I should have known that the girl would rather 
 have been placed, stiff and cold, in a dull leaden coffin, than borne an 
 envied bride to my rich, glittering house. I should have known that her 
 hea-t was with the dark-eyed boy, whose name I once heard her breathe 
 in her troubled sleep ; and that she had been sacrificed to me, to relievo 
 the poverty of the old white-headed man, and the haughty brothers. 
 
 *' I don't remember form or faces now, but I know the girl was 
 beautiful. I know she was ; for in the bright moonlight nights, when. 
 I start up from my sleep, and all is quiet about me, I see, standing still 
 and motionless in one 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 I the blood chills at my heart as I write it down — that 
 form is hers ; the face is very pale, and the eyes are glassy bright : 
 but I know them well. That figure never moves ; it never frowns and 
 mouths as others do, that fill this place sometimes ; but it is much more 
 dreadful to me, even than the spirits that tempted me many years ago 
 — it comes fresh from ihe grave ; and is so very death-like. 
 
 " For nearly a year I saw that face grow paler : for nearly a year I 
 eaw 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 thought of 
 Strange feelings came over me, and thouohts, forced upon me by some 
 secret power, whirled round and round my brain. I did not hate her, 
 though I hated the boy she still wept for. I pitied — yes, I pitied — the 
 wretched life to which her cold and selfish relations had doomed her. 
 
2 IS posTiiusfous PAPER» or 
 
 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 olTspring, 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 mad- 
 man's wife smouldering away to cinders. Think of the jest of a large 
 reward, too, and of some sane man swinging in the wind, fur 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 been with me so often before, 
 whispered in my ear that the time was come, and thrust the open razor 
 into my hand. I grasped it firmly, rose softly from the bed, and leaned 
 over my sleeping wife. Her face was buried in her hands. I with- 
 drew them softly, and they fell listlessly on her bosom. She had been 
 weeping, for the traces of the tears wore still wet upon her cheek. I .^r 
 face was calm and placid ; and even as I looked upon it, a tranquil 
 smile lighted up her pale features. I laid my hand softly on her 
 shoulder. She started — it was only a passing dream. I leaned for- 
 ward again. She screamed and woke. 
 
 •' One motion of my hand, and she would never again have uttered 
 cry or sound. But I was startled, and drew back. Her eyes were 
 fixed on mine. I know not how it was, but they cowed and frightened 
 me ; and I quailed beneath them. She rose from the bed, still gazing 
 fixedly and steadily on me. I trembled ; the razor was in my hand, 
 but I could not move. She made towards the door. As she neared it, 
 she turned, and withdrew her eyes from my face. The spell was 
 broken. I bounded forward, and clutched 'her by the arm. Uttering 
 shriek upon shriek, she sank upon the ground. 
 
 *' Now I could have killed her without a struggle ; but the house was 
 alarmed. I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs. I replaced the 
 razor in its usual drawer, unfastened the door, and called loudly for 
 assistance. 
 
 " They came, and raised her, and placed her on the bed. She lay 
 bereft of animation for hours ; ajid when life, look, and speech return- 
 ed, her senses had deserted her, and she raved wildly and furiously. 
 
 " Doctors w^ere called in — great men who rolled up to my door in 
 easy carriages, with fine horses and gaudy servants. They were at 
 her bedside for weeks. They had a great meeting, and consulted 
 together in low and solemn voices in another room. One, the cleverest 
 and most celebrated among them took me aside, and bidding me pre- 
 pare for the worst, told me — me, the madman ! — that my wife was mad. 
 He stood close beside me at an open windov^-, his eyes looking in my 
 face, and his hand laid upon my arm. With one effort, I could have 
 hurled him into the street beneath. It would have been rare sport to 
 have done it ; but my secret was at stake, and I let him go. A few 
 days after, they told me I must place her under some restraint : I must 
 provide a keeper for her. /.' I went into the open fields where none 
 could hear me, and laughed till the air resounded with my shouts ! 
 
 "She died next day. The white-headed old man follotved her ta 
 the grave, and the proud brothers dnipped a tear over the insensible 
 corpse of her whose suft'erings they had regarded in her life'ime with 
 muscles of iron. All this was food for Taj secret mixth, and I laughed 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 113 
 
 fe^hind the white handkerchief which I held up to my face as we rode 
 home, till the tears came into my eyes. 
 
 *' But though I had carried my object and killed her, I was restless 
 and disturbed, and I felt that before long my secret must be known. 
 I could not hide the wild mirth and joy which boiled within me, and 
 made me when I was alone, at home, jump up and beat my hands 
 together, and dance round and round, and roar aloud. When I went 
 Cful, and saw the busy crowds hurrying about the streets: or to the 
 theatre, and heard the sound of music, and beheld the people dancing, 
 I felt such glee, that I could have rushed among them, and torn them 
 to pieces limb from limb, and howled in transport. But I ground my 
 teeth, and struck my leet upon the Hoor, and drove my sharp nails into 
 my hands. I kept it down ; and no one knew that I was a madman yet. 
 
 " I 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 always hurried here, have no time to separate the two, from 
 some strange confusion in which they get involved — I remember how 
 I let it out at last. Ha ! ha ! I think I see their frightened looks now, 
 and feel the ease with which I flung them from me. and dashed my 
 clenched 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 1 could, I kndw 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 
 ahow. 
 
 " Let me see ; — yes, I had been out. It was late at night when I 
 reached home, and found the proudest of the three proud brother?, 
 waiting to see me — urgent business he said : I recollect it well. I 
 hated that man with all a madman's hate. Many and many a time 
 had my fingers loncred 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 — for the first tmif. 
 
 *' I kept my eyes carefully from him at first, for I knew what ha 
 little thoujht, and I gloried in the knowledge — that the light of mad- 
 ness gleamed from them like fire. We sat in silence for a few minutes. 
 He spoke at last. My recent dissipation, and strange remarks made 
 80 soon after his sister's death, were an insult to her memory. Coup- 
 Fmg together many circumstances which had at first escaped his obser- 
 vation, he thought I had not treated her well. He wished to know 
 whether he was right in inferring that I meant to cast a reproach upon 
 her memory, and a disrespect upon her family. It was due to the 
 uniform he wore to demand this explanation. 
 
 " This man had a commission in the army, a commission, purchased 
 with my money and his sister's misery. This was the man who had 
 been foremost in the plot to ensnare me, and grasp my wealth. This 
 was the man who had been the main instrument in forcing his sister to 
 wed me ; well knowing that her heart was given to that puling boy — 
 Due ! Due to his unifonn ! The livery of his degradation ' I turn- 
 ed my eyes upon him — I could not help it — but I spoke not a word 
 
 I saw the sudden change that came upon him, beneath my gaze — 
 He was a bold man, but the colour faded from his face, ai>d he drew 
 10* 
 
114: P0STHUMf>L'5 PAPERS 6r 
 
 back his chair. I drago^ed mine nearer to hiin ; and as I laughed— J 
 was very merry then — 1 saw him shudder. I felt the madness rising 
 within me. He was afraid of me. 
 
 " ' You were very fond of your sister when she was alive' — I said 
 — « Very.' 
 
 *' He looked uneasily round him, and I saw his hand grasp the back 
 of his chair ; but he said nothing. 
 
 " * You villain,' said I, ' I found you out ; I discovered your hellish 
 plot against m^ ; I know her heart was fi.xed on some one else before 
 you compelled her to marry me. I know it — I know it. ' 
 
 '•He jumped suddenly from his chair, brandished it aloft, and bade 
 roe stand back — for I took care to be getting closer to him all the time 
 I spoke. 
 
 " I screamed rather than talked, for I felt tumultuous pas-sions eddy- 
 ing through my veins, and the old spirits whispering and taunting me 
 to tear his heart out. 
 
 " ' Damn you,' said I, starting up, and rushing upon him ; ' I killed" 
 her. I am a madman. Down with you. Blood, Wood, I will have it.' 
 
 " I turned aside with one blow the chair he hurled at me in his ter- 
 ror, 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 strCTigth could equal mine, and I was right. Right again^ 
 though a madman I His struggles grew fainter, I knelt upon his chest, 
 and clasped his brawny throat firn)ly with both hands. His face greAv 
 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 opea with a loud noise, and a crowd 
 of people rushed forward, crying aloud to each other, to secure the 
 madman. 
 
 " My secret was out ; and my only struggle now was for liberty and 
 freedooL I gained my feet before a hand was on me, threw myself 
 axaong my assailants, and cleared my way with my strong arm its if f 
 boro 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 sv/ift I ran, and no one dared to stop me.' I heard 
 the noise of feet behind> and redoubled my speed. It grew fainter and 
 fainter in the distance, and at length died away altogether ; but 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 
 throw me from them with a violent shock, and I 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 figuro 
 iji its old corner. When I lie awake, J can sometimes hear strange 
 shrieks and cries from distant parts of this large place. V/hat they 
 are I know not ; but they neither come from that pale form, nor does 
 \i regard them. For, from the furst shades of dusk till the earliest light 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 115 
 
 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 
 
 At the end of the manuscript was written, in another hand, this 
 note : 
 
 [The unhappy man whose ravings are recorded above, was a melan- 
 choly instance of the baneful results of energies misdirected in early 
 life, and excesses prolonged until their consequences could never be 
 repaired. The thoughtless riot, dissipation, and debauchery of his 
 younger days, produced fever and delirium, The first eflects of the 
 latter was the strange delusion, founded upon a well-known medical 
 theor}'. strongly contended for by some, and as strongly contested by 
 others, that an hereditary madness existed in his family. This pro- 
 duced a settled gloom, which in time developed a morbid insanity, and 
 tinally terminated in raving madness. There is every reason to believe 
 that the events he detailed, though distorted in the description, by his 
 diseased imagination, really happened It is only matter of wonder to 
 those who were acquainted with the vices of his early career, that hi.-* 
 passions, when no longer controlled by reason, did not lead him to the 
 commission of still more frightful deeds.] 
 
 ?.Ir. Pickwick's candle was just expiring in the socket, as he conclu- 
 ded the perusal of the old clergyman's manuscript ; and when the light 
 went suddenly out, without any previous flicker by way of warning, it 
 communicated a very considerable start to his excited frame. Hastily 
 throwing oft' such articles of clothing pa he had put on when he rose 
 from his uneasy bed, and casting a fearful glance around, he once more 
 scrambled hastily between the sheets, and soon fell fast asleep. 
 
 The sun was shining brilliantly into his chamber when he awoke, 
 and the morning was far advanced. The gloom which had oppressed 
 him on the previous night had disappeared with the dark shr.dovvs 
 which shrouded the landscape, and his thoughts and feelings were a.^ 
 light and gay as the morning itself After a hearty breakfast, the four 
 gentlemen salhed forth to walk to Gravesend, followed by a man bear- 
 ing the stone in its deal box. They reached that town about one 
 o'clock, (their luggage they had directed to be forwarded to the city, 
 from Rochester,) and being fortunate enough to secure places on the 
 outside of a coach, arrived in London, in sound health and spirits, on 
 that same afternoon. 
 
 The next three or four days were occupied with the preparations 
 which were neccssarj- for their journey to the borough of E;itans\vill. 
 As any reference to that most important undertaking demands a sepa- 
 rate 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 Transaction.'? of the Club, then, that Mr. Pick- 
 wick lectured upon the discovery at a general club meeting, convened 
 on the night succeeding iheir return, and entered into a variety of in- 
 genious and erudite speculations on ib.e meaning of the inscription. 
 It also appears that a skilful artist executed a faithful delineation of 
 the curiosity, which was engraven on stone, and presented to the Royal 
 Antiquarian Society, and other learned bodies, — that heart-burnings and 
 jealousies Without number were created by rival controversies which 
 were penned upon the subject — and that Mr. Pickwick himself wrote a ' 
 
116 POSTHOMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 pamphlet, containing^ ninety-six pages of very small print, and twenty- 
 seven different readings of the inscription. That three old gentlemen 
 cut off their eldest sons with a shilling apiece, for pre«:uming to doubt 
 the antiquity of the fragment— and that o«e enthusiastic individual 
 cut himself olf prematurely in despair at being unable to fathom its 
 meaning. Thai jMr. Pickwick was elected an honorary member of 
 seventeen native and foreign societies, for making the discovery ; that 
 none of the seventeen could make any thing of it, but that all the seven- 
 teen agreed it was very extraordinary. 
 
 Mr. Blotton, indeed — and the name ^vill be doomed to the undying 
 contempt of those who cultivate the mysterious and the sublime — Mr. 
 Blotton, we say, with the doubt and cavilling peculiar to vulgar minds, 
 presumed to state a view of the case, as degrading as ridiculous. Mr. 
 Blotton, with a mean desire to tarnish the lustre of the immortal name 
 of Pickwick, actually undertook a journey to Cobham in person, and 
 on his return, sarcastically observed in an oration at the club, that he 
 had seen the man from whom the stone was purchased ; that the man 
 presumed the stone to be ancient, but solemnly denied the antiquity of 
 the inscription — inasmuch as he represented it to have been rudely 
 carved by himself in an idle mood, and to display letters intended to 
 bear neither more nor less 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 the strict rules of orthography, had omitted the con- 
 cluding "L" of his Christian name. 
 
 The Pickwick Club, as might have been expected 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 Air. Pickwick a pair of gold spectacles, in token of their 
 confidence and approbation ; in return for which Mr. Pickwick caused 
 a portrait of himself to be painted, and hung up in the club-room — 
 which portrait, by-the-by, he did not wish to have destroyed when he 
 grew a few years older. 
 
 Mr. Blotton was ejected but not conquered. He also wrote a pam- 
 phlet, addressed to the seventeen learned societies^ containing a repe- 
 tition of the statement he had already made, and rather more than 
 half intimating his opinion that the seventeen learned societies aforesaid 
 were so many "humbugs." Hereupon the virtuous indignation of 
 the seventeen learned societies being roused, several fresh pamphlet.s^ 
 appeared ; the foreign learned societies corresponded with the native 
 learned societies, the native learned societies translated the pamphlets- 
 of the foreign learned societies into English, the foreign learned socie- 
 ties translated the pamphlets of the native learned societies into all 
 s-orts of languages : and thus commenced that celebrated scientific dis- 
 cussion, so well knov.'n 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 unani- 
 mously voted the presumptuous Blotton an ignorant meddler ; and 
 forthwith set to work upon more treatises than ever. And to this day 
 the stone remains an illegible monument of Mr. Pickwick's greatness,, 
 and a lasting trophy of the littleness of his enemies. 
 
THE PICKVNICK CLXTB. 117 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF A VERY IMPORTANT PROCEEDING ON THE PART OF MK. 
 PICKWICK ; NO LESS AN EPOCH IN HIS LIFE, THAN !N THIS HISTORV. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's apartments in Goswell-street, although on a Hmited 
 tocale, were not on!}' of a very neat and comfortable description, but 
 peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius and observa- 
 tion. His sitting-room was the first floor front, his bed-room the 
 second floor front ; and thus, whether he was sitting at his desk in 
 the parlour, or standing before the dressing glass in his dormitory, he 
 had an equal opportunity of contemplating human nature in all the 
 nun^erous phases it exhibits, in that not more populous than popular 
 thoroughfare. His landlady, Mrs. Bardell — the relict and sole execu- 
 trix of a deceased custom-house officer — was a comely woman of bust- 
 ling manners and agreeable appearance, with a natural genius 
 for cooking, improved by study and long practice into an exquisite 
 talent. There were no children, no servants, no fowls. The only 
 other inmates of the house were a lame man, an 1 a small boy ; the first 
 a lodcfer, the second a production of .Mrs. Bardell's. The large man 
 was always home precisely at ten o'clock at night, at v-hich hour he 
 regularly condensed himself into the limits of a dwarfish French bed- 
 stead in the back parlour ; and the infantine sports and gymnastic 
 exercises of Master Bardell were exclusively confined to the neigh- 
 bouring pavements and gutters. Cleanliness and quiet reigned 
 throughout the house ; and in it Mr. Pickwick's will was law. 
 
 To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic economy 
 of the establishment, and conversant with the admirable regulation of 
 ]\Ir. Pickwick's mind, his appearance and behaviour on' the morning 
 previous to that which had been fixed upon for the journey to Eatan- 
 swill, would have been most mysterious and unaccountable. He paced 
 the room to and fro with hurried steps, popped his head out of the 
 window at intervals of about three minutes each, constantly referred to 
 his watch, and exhii/ited many other manifestations of impatience, 
 very unusual with him. It was evident that something of great im- 
 portance was in contemplation, but what that something was not even 
 Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to discover. 
 
 " Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick at last, as that amiable female 
 approached the termi.iation of a prolonged dusting of the apartment — 
 
 " Sir," said .Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 ♦' Your little boy is a very long time gone." 
 
 ♦' Why it's a good long way to the Borough, sir," remonstrated Mrs. 
 Bardell. 
 
 " Ah,'' said Mr. Pickwick, " very true ; so it is." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed her 
 dusting. 
 
 " Mrs. Bardell," said Mr, Pickwick, at the expiration of a few minutes. 
 
 " Sir," said Mrs. Bardell aoain. 
 
118 POSTHUMOUS PAPETIS OF 
 
 " Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people, than 
 to keep one ?" 
 
 " La, Mr Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, colouring up to the very 
 border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matrimonial 
 twinkle in the eyes of her lodger ; " La, Mr. Pickwick, what a 
 question I" 
 
 '• Well, but do you ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " That depends — " said Mrs. Bardell, approaching the duster very 
 near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table ; '« that 
 depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and 
 ■whether it's a saving and careful person, sir." 
 
 " Tliat's very true,"' said Mr. Pickwick, " but the person I have in 
 my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardejl) I think possesses 
 these qualities ; and has, moreover, a considerable knowledge of the 
 world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell ; which may be of 
 material use to me." 
 
 " La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, the crimson rising to her 
 cap-border again. 
 
 " I do," said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic, as was his wont in 
 speaking of a subject which interested him, " I do indeed ; and to tell 
 you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind." 
 
 "Dear me, sir I"' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 " You'll thmk it very strange now, said the amiable Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a good-humoured glance at his companion, " that I never con- 
 sulted you about this matter, and never even mentioned it, till I sent 
 your little boy out this morning — eh?"' 
 
 Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long worshipped 
 Mr. Pickwick at a distance, but here she was, all at once raised to a 
 pinnacle to which her wildest and most extravagant hopes had never 
 dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was going to propose — a deliberate 
 plan, too — sent her little boy to the Borough, to get him out of the way 
 — how thoughtful, how considerate ! 
 
 '• WelU" said Mr. Pickwick, " what do you think V' 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agitation, 
 "you're very kind, sir." 
 
 " It'll save you a good deal of trouble, won't iti" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Oh, I never thought any thing of the trouble, sir," replied Mrs. 
 Bardell ; " and, of course, I should take more trouble to please you 
 then, than ever ; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pickwick, to have so 
 miich consideration for my loneliness." 
 
 "Ah, to be sure," saiJ Mr. Pickwick; "I never thought of that. 
 When I am in town, you'll always have soiiiebody to sit with you. To 
 be sure, so you will." 
 
 " I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman," said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 " And your little boy — " said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Bless his heart," interposed Mrs. Bardell, with a maternal sob. 
 
 " He, loo, will have a companion," resumed Mr. Pickwick, " a lively 
 one, who'll teach him, I'll be bound, more tricks in a week, than he 
 would ever learn in a year." And Mr. Pickwick smiled placidly. 
 
 •' Oh \ou dear — " said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick started. 
 
 " Oh you kind, good, playful dear," said Mrs. Bardell ; and without 
 more ado, she rose from her chair, and flung her arms round Mr. Pick- 
 wick's neck, with a cataract of tears, and a chorus of sobs. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 119 
 
 "Bless my soul," cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick ; — " Mrs. Bar- 
 dell, my good woman — dear me, what a situation — pray consider. — 
 Mrs. Bardell, don't — if any body should come — " 
 
 " Oh, let them come," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, fraVitically ; " I'll 
 never leave you — dear, kind, good, soul ;" and, with these words, Mrs. 
 Bardell clung the tighter. 
 
 " Mercy upcfti me," said Mr. Pickwick, struggling violently, " I hear 
 somebody coming up the stairs. Don't, don't, there's a good creature, 
 don't."' But entreaty and remonstrance were alike unavailing: for 
 Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pickwick's arms ; and before he could 
 gain time to deposit her on a chair. Master Bardell entered the room, 
 ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless and speechless. He stood with 
 his lovely burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the countenances 
 of his friends, without the slightest attempt at recognition or e.vplana- 
 tion. They, in their turn, stared at him ;' and Master Bardell, in his 
 turn, stared at every body. 
 
 The astonishment o£ the Pickwickians was so absorbing, and the 
 perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might have 
 remained in exactly the same relative situations until the suspended 
 animation of the lady was restored, had it not been for a most beautiful 
 and touc'ning expression of filial affection on the part of her youthful 
 son. Clad in a tight suit of corduroy, spangled with brass buttons of 
 a very considerable size, he at first stood at the door astounded and 
 uncertain ; but by degrees, the impression that his mother must have 
 suffered some personal damage, pervaded his partially developed mind, 
 and considering Mr. Pickwick as the aggressor, he set up an appalling 
 and semi-earthly kind of howling, and butting forward with his head, 
 commenced assailing that immortal gentleman about the back and legs, 
 with such blows and pinches as the strength of his arm, and the 
 violence of his excitement, allowed. 
 
 " Take this little villain away," said the agonized Mr. Pickwick, 
 " he's mad." 
 
 ♦' What is the matter ;" said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians. 
 
 " I don't know,'' replied .Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. " Take away the 
 boy — (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and 
 struggling, to the farther end of the apartment.) — Now help me lead 
 this woman down stairs."' 
 
 ** Oh, I am better now," said Mrs. Bardell, faintly. 
 
 " Let me lead you down stairs," said the ever gallant Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Thank you, sir — thank you," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, hysterically. 
 And down stairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affec- 
 tionate son. 
 
 •' I cannot conceive — " said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returned 
 — " I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I 
 had merely announced to her my intention of keeping a man servant, 
 when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. 
 Ver\' extraordinary thing." 
 
 " Very," said his three friends. 
 
 " Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation," continued 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Very,'" was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, 
 and looked dubiously at each other. 
 
120 POSTHUMOUS PAPEUS OP 
 
 This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their 
 
 incredulity. They evidently suspected him. 
 
 '• There is a man in the passage now," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " It's the man I spoke to you about," said Mr. Pickwick, *' T sent for 
 him to the Borough this morning. Have the goodness to call him up, 
 Snodgrass." 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired : and Mr. Samuel Weller forth- 
 with presented himself. 
 
 " Oh — you remember me, I suppose ?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I should think so," replied Sam, with a patronising wink. " Queer 
 start that 'ere, but he was one too many for you, warn't he ] Up to 
 snuff and a pinch or two over — eh 1" 
 
 " Never mind that matter now," said Mr. Pickwick hastily, " I want 
 to speak to you about something else. Sit down." 
 
 '* Thanli'ee, sir," said Sam. And down he sat without farther bid- 
 ding, having previously deposited his old white hat on the landing out- 
 side the door. •' Tan't a werry good 'un to look at," said Sam, *' but 
 it's an astonishin' 'un to wear ; and afore the brim went, it was a 
 werry handsome tile. Hows'ever it's lighter without it, that's one 
 thing, and every hole lets in some air, that's another — wentilation gos- 
 samer I calls it." On the delivery of this sentiment, Mr. Weller smiled 
 agreeably upon the assembled Pickwickians. 
 
 " Now with regard to the matter on which I, with the concurrence 
 of these gentlemen, sent for you," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " That's the pint, sir," interposed Sam ; " out with it, as the father 
 said to the child, ven he swallowed a farden.'' 
 
 " We want to know, in the first place," said Mr. Pickwick, " whether 
 you have any reason to be discontented with your present situation." 
 
 "*Afore I answers that 'ere question, genTm'n," replied Mr. Weller, 
 " I should like to know, in the first place, whether you're goin' to pur- 
 wide me with a better." 
 
 A sunbeam of placid benevolence played on Mr. Pickwick's features 
 as he said, '• I have half made up my mind to engage you myself." 
 
 " Have you, though ?" said Sam. * 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded in the affirmative. 
 
 " Wages 1" inquired Sam. 
 
 " Twelve pounds a year," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *• Clothes]" 
 
 '* Two suits." 
 
 *«Work?" 
 
 " To attend upon me ; and travel about with me and these gentle- 
 men here." 
 
 " Take the bill down," said Sam, emphatically. ♦' I'm let to a single 
 gentleman and the terms is agreed upon." 
 
 "You accept the situation 1" irrquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Cert'nly," replied Sam. " If the clothes fits me half as well as the 
 place, they'll do." 
 
 " You can get a character, of course 1" said .Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '* Ask the landlady o' the White Hart about that, sir," replied Sam. 
 
 "Can you come this evening?" 
 
 " ril get into the clothes this minute, if they're here," said Sam with 
 great alacrity. 
 
 " Call at eight this evening," said Mr. Pickwick ; ♦' and if the inqui- 
 ries are satisfactory, they shall be provided." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, '121 
 
 With the single exception of one amiable indiscretion, in which an 
 assistant housemaid had equally participated, the history of Mr. Wel- 
 ler's conduct was so very blameless, that Mr. Pickwick lelt fully justi- 
 fied in Closing the eniiagemeiit that very evening. With the prompt- 
 ness and energy which characterised not only the public proceedings, 
 but all the private actions of this e.'.traordmary man, he at once led his 
 new attendant to one of those convenient emporiums where gentlemen's 
 new^ and second-hand clothes are provided, and the troublesome and 
 inconvenient* formality of measurement dispensed with ; and before 
 night had closed in, Mr. Weller was furnished with a gray coat with 
 the 'p. c " button, a black hat with a cockade to it, a pink striped waist- 
 coat, light breeches and gaiters, an4,a variety of .other necessaries, too 
 numerous to recapitulate. 
 
 " Well,'' said that suddenly transformed individual, as he took his 
 seat on the outside of the Eatanswill coach next morning; '• I won- 
 der vethcr I'm meant to be a footmin, or a groom, or a game-keeper, or 
 a seedsman. I lojks like a sort of compo of every one on 'em. Never 
 mind ; there's change of air, plenty to see, and little to do ; and all this 
 Buits my complaint uncommon, so long life to the Pickvicks, says I." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF EATANSWILL ; OF THE STATE OF PARTIES THEREIJI ; 
 AND OK THE ELECTIO.N OF A MEMBER TO SERVt IX PAELlAMi:.N i FOR 
 THAT ANCIENT, LOYaL, AND PATRIOTIC BOROUGH. 
 
 We Ydl\ frankly acknowledge, that up to the period of our being first 
 immersed in the voluminous papers of the Pickwick Club, we had ne- 
 ver heard of Eatanswill ; we will with equal candour admit, that we 
 have in vain searched for proof of the actual existence of such a place 
 at the present day. Knowing the deep reliance to be placed on every 
 note and statement of Mr. Pickwick's, and not presuming to set up our 
 recollection against the recorded declarations of that great man, we 
 have consulted every authority, bearing upon the subject, to which we 
 could possibly refer. We have traced everj' name in the schedules A 
 and B, without meeting with that of Eatanswill ; we have minutely 
 examined every corner of the Pocket County Maps issued for the ben- 
 efit of society by our distinguished publishers, and the same result has 
 attended our investigation. We are therefore led to believe, that Mr. 
 Pickwick, with that anxious desire to abstain from giving offence to 
 any, and with those dclica'e feelings for which all who knew him well 
 know he was so eminently remarkable, purposely substituted a fictitious 
 designation for the leal name of the place in which his observations 
 were made. We are confirmed in this belief by a little circumstance, 
 apparently slight and trivial in itself, but, when considered in this point 
 of viewj not undeserving of notice. In Mr. Pickwick's note-book, wo 
 can just trace an entry of the fact, that the places of himself and fol- 
 lowers were booked by the Norwich coach ; but this entry was after- 
 ward lined through, as if for the purpose of concealing even the di- 
 rection in which the borough is situated. We will not, therefore, 
 
 Vol. t— 11 
 
122 POBTHIIMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 hazard a guess upon the subject, but will at once proceed with this his- 
 tory ; content with the materials which its characters have provided 
 for us. 
 
 It appears, then, that the Eatanswill people, like the people of many 
 other small towns, considered themselves of the utmost and most 
 mighty importance, and that every man in Eatanswill, conscious of the 
 weight that attached to his example, felt himself bound to unite, heart 
 and soul, wiih one of the two great parties that divided the town — the 
 Biucs and the Buffs. Now the Blues lost no opportunity of opposing 
 the BuHrf, and the BulTs lost no opportunity of opposing the Blues ; and 
 the consequence was, that whenever the Buffs and Blues met together 
 at public meeting, town-hall, fair or market, disputes and high words 
 arose between them. With these dissensions it is almost superfluous 
 to say that every thing in Eatanswill was made a party question. If 
 the Bufls proposed to new sky-light the market-place, the Blues got up 
 public meetings and denounced the proceeding ; if the Blues proposed 
 the erection of an additional pump in the Aigh Street, the Buffs arose 
 as one man and stood aghast at the enormity. There were Bine shops 
 and Buff shops, Ulue inns and Buff inns ; — ^there was a Blue aisle 
 and a Buff aisle, in the very church itself 
 
 Of course it was essentially and indispensably necessary that each 
 of these powerful parties should have its chosen organ and representa- 
 tive : and, accordingly, there were two newspapers in the town — the 
 Eatanswill Gazette and the Eatanswill Independent ; the former ad- 
 vocating Blue principles, and the latter conducted on grounds decidedly 
 Buff Fine newspapers they were. .Such leading articles, and such 
 spinted attacks ! — " Our worthless contemporary the Gazette" — " That 
 disgraceful and dastardly journal, the Independent" — "That false and 
 scurrilous print, the Independent" — " That vile and slanderous calum- 
 niator, the Gazette;" — these and other spirit-stirring denunciations 
 were strewn plentifully over the columns of each, in every number, and 
 excited feelings of the most intense delight and indignation in the bo- 
 soms of the townspeople. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosen a 
 peculiarly desirable moment for his visit to the borough. Never wa.s 
 such a contest known. The honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey 
 Hall, was the Blue candidate ; and Horatio Fizkin, Esq., of Fizkin 
 Lodge, near Eatanswill, had been prevailed upon by his friends to 
 stand forward on the Buff interest. The Gazette warned the electors 
 of Eatanswill that the eyes not only of England, but of the whole 
 civilized world, were upon them ; and the Independent imperatively 
 demanded to know, whether the constituency of Eatanswill were the 
 grand fellows they had al\yays taken them for, or base and servile 
 tools, undeserving alike of the name of Englishmen and the.blessings 
 of freedom. Never had such a commotion agitated the town before. 
 
 It was late in the evening, when Mr. Pickwick and his companions, 
 assisted by Sam, dismoujited from the roof of the Eatanswill coach. 
 Large blue silk flags were flying from the windows of the Town Arms 
 Inn, and bills were posted in every sash, intimating, in gigantic letters, 
 that the honourable Samuel Slumkey's Committee sat there d^ily. A 
 crowd of idlers were assembled in the road, looking at a hoarse man in 
 a balcony, who was apparently talking himself very red in the face in 
 Mr. Slumkey's behalf; but the force and point of whose arguments 
 were impaired by the perpetual beating of four large drums which Mr. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLDB. 123 
 
 Fizkin's committee liad stationed at the street corner. There was a 
 busy little man beside him, thouj/h. who took off his hat at intervals 
 and motioned to the people to cheer, which they re;^ularly did, most 
 enthusiastically ; and as the red-faced gentleman went on talking till 
 he was redder in the face than ever, it seemed to answer his purpose 
 quite as well cis if any body had heard him. 
 
 The Pickwickians had no sooner dismounted, than they were sur- 
 rounded by a branch moh of the honest and independent, who forth- 
 with set up three di-afening cheers, which being responded to by the 
 main b<jdy (for it's not at all necessary for a crowd to know what thej 
 are cheering about) swelled into a tremendous roar of triumph, which 
 stopped even the red-faced man in the balcony. 
 
 "Hurrah?" shouted the mob in conclusion. 
 
 *• One cbeer more," screamed the littk' fugleman in the balcony ; and 
 out shouted the mob again, as if lungs were cast iron with steel works. 
 
 *' Slumkcy forever I" roared the honest and independent. 
 
 •*Slunikey for ever!" ech(»ed .Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat. 
 'No Fizkin," roared the crowd. 
 
 " Certainly not," shouted Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Hurrah I" And then there was another roarincr, like that of a 
 whole menagerie when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold meat. 
 
 " Who is 61umkey V whispered Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone. " Hush. 
 Don't cisk any questions. It's always best on these occasions to do 
 what the mob do." 
 
 '• But suppose there are tw'o mobs!" suggested Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Shout with the largest," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Volumes could not have said more. 
 
 They entered the house, the crowd opening right and left to let them 
 pass, and cheering vociferously. The first object of consideration wa^ 
 to secure quarters for the night. 
 
 '' Can we have beds here I" inquired Mr. Pickwick, summoning the 
 waiter. 
 
 " Don't know, sir,'' replied the man ; ♦■ afraid we're full, sir — I'll 
 inquire, sir.'' Away he went for that purpose, and presently returned 
 to ask whether the gentlemen were " Blue." 
 
 As neither .Mr. Pickwick nor his companions took any vital interest in 
 the cause of either candidate, the question was rather a diJHcult one to 
 answer. In this dilemmse, Mr. Pickwick bethought himself of his new 
 friend, Mr. Perker. 
 
 '• Do you know a gentleman of the name of Mr. Perker ?" inquired 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "('ertainly, sir : honourable Mr. Samuel Slumkev's agent." 
 
 "He ifi Blue, I think!' 
 
 " Oh yes, sir." 
 
 •'Then we are Blue," said Mr. Pickwick; but observing that the 
 man looked rather doubtful at this accommodating announcement, he 
 gave him his card, and desired him to present it to Mr. Perker forth- 
 with, if he should happen to be in the house. The waiter returned 
 almost immediately, with a rpque.-,t that Mr. Pickwick would follow hiru, 
 and led the way to a larce room on the first floor, where, seated at a 
 long tabk covered with books and papers, was Mr. Perker. 
 
 "'Ah — ah, my dear sir," said the little man, advancins; to meet him ; 
 "very happy to see you, my dear sir, very. Pray «il down. So you 
 
124 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 have carried your intention into efiect. You haye come down here to 
 see an election — eh V 
 
 Mr. Pickwick replied in the aflirmative. 
 
 " Spirited con lest, my dear sir," said the Uttle man. 
 
 "I am delighted to hear it," said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands : 
 *'I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth ; — 
 and so it's a spirited contest 1" 
 
 "Oh \cs,'' said the little man, "very much po indeed. We have 
 opened all the public houses in the place, and left our adversary nothing 
 hut the beer-shops — masterly stroke of policy that, my dear sir, eh !" — 
 and the little man smiled complacently, cind took a large pinch of snuff. 
 
 ''And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest ]"" 
 inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why doubifal, my dear sir ; rather doubtful as yet,"' repKed the 
 little man. " Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the 
 lock-up coach-house at the V,'hite Hart.*' 
 
 " In the coach-house !"' said Mr. Pickwick, considerably astonished 
 hy this second stroke of policy. 
 
 " They keep 'era locked up there, till they want 'em," resumed the 
 Hitle man. " The etfect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting at 
 them ; and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keep them 
 very drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin's agent — very smart 
 fellow indeed '' 
 
 Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing. 
 
 " We are pretty confident, though," said Mr. Perker, sinking his 
 voice almost to a whisper. '■' We had a little tea-party here, last night 
 — five-and-forty women, my dear sir — and gave every one of 'em a 
 green parasol when they weni away." 
 
 •' A parasol I" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Fact, my dear sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols, at seven 
 and six-pence apiece. AH women like finery — extraordinary the 
 eiTect of those parasol-;. Secured all their husbands, and half their 
 brothers — beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thing hollow. 
 My idea, my dear sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunsliine, you can't walk 
 half a dozen yards up the streets, without encountering half a-dozen 
 green parasols." 
 
 Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which was 
 only checked by the entrance of a third party. 
 
 This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy coloured head inclined to 
 baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended with a 
 look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a long brown 
 surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. A double 
 eye-glass dangled at his waistcoat : and on his head he wore a very 
 tow-crowned hat with a broad brim. The new comer was introduced 
 to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott, tlie editor of the F.atanswill Gazette. 
 After a few preliminary remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pick- 
 wick, and said with solemnity — 
 
 " This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?" 
 
 ♦' I believe it does," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " To which I have reason to know," said Mr. Pott, looking towards 
 Mr. Perker for coirobaration,— " to which I have reason to know ray 
 article of last Saturday in some degree contributed." 
 
 '■' Not the least doubt of that," said the little man. 
 
 " The press is a mighty QaginCi sir," said Pott. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLDB. 125 
 
 Mr. Pickwick yirlded his fullest assent to the propositiun. 
 
 *' But I trust, sir," said Pott, " thjt I have never abused the en< r- 
 tnous power I wields I trust, sir, that I have never pointed the noble 
 instrument which is placed in my hands, against the sacred bosom of 
 private life, or the tender breast of individual reputation ; — I trusi, sir, 
 that I have devoted my energies to — to endeavours — humble they may 
 be, humble I know they are — to instil those principles of — which — 
 are — " 
 
 Here the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette appearing to ramble, Mr. 
 Pickwick came to his relief, and said — 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And what, sir" — &aid Pott — '* what, sir, let me ask you as an impar- 
 tial man, is the state of the public mind in London, with reference to 
 my contest with the Independent?" 
 
 " Greatly excited, no doubt,"' interposed Mr. Perker, with a look of 
 slyness which was very likely accidental. 
 
 '♦' That contest," said Pott, " shall be prolonged so long as I have 
 health and strength, and that portion of talent with which I am gifted. 
 From that contest, sir, although it may unsettle men's minds and e.v- 
 cite their feelings, and render them incapable for the discliarge of the 
 every-day duties of ordinary life ; from that contest, sir, I will never 
 shrink, till I have set my heel upon the Eatanswill Independent. I 
 wish the people of London and the people of this country to know, sir, 
 that they may rely upon me ; — that I will not desert them, that I am 
 resolved to stand by them, sir, to the last." 
 
 "Your conduct is most noble, sir," said Mr. Pickwick; and he 
 grasped the hand of the magnanimous Pott. 
 
 <' You are, sir, I perceive, a man of sense and talent," said Mr. Pott, 
 almost breathless with the vehemenco of his patriotic declaration. '' I 
 am most happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of such a man.'' 
 
 " And I," said Mr. Pickwick, " feel deeply honoured by this ex- 
 pression of your opinion. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my 
 fellow-travellers, the other corresponding members of the club I am 
 proud to have founded." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," said Mr. Pott. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick withdrew, and returning with his three friends, pre- 
 sented them in due form to the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 " Now, my dear Pott," said little Mr. Perker, *' the question is, what 
 are we to do with our friends here ]" 
 
 " We can stop in this house, I suppose," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Not 3 spare bed in the house, my dear sir — not a single bed." 
 
 *' Extremely awkward," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Very," said his fellow-voyagers. 
 
 *' I have an idea upon this subject," said Mr. Pott, •« which I think 
 may be very successfully adopted. They have two beds at the Pea- 
 cock, and I can boldly say, on behalf of Mrs. Pott, that she will be de- 
 lighted toaccoinniodatc Mr. Pickwick and any one of his friends, if the 
 other two gentlemen and their servant do not object to shifting, as they 
 best can, at the Peacock." 
 
 After repeated pressing on the part of Mr. Pott, and repeated pro- 
 testations on that of Mr. Pickwick that he could not think of incom- 
 moding or troubling his amiable wife, it was decided that this was the 
 only feasible arrangement that could be made. So it was made ; and 
 after dining together at the Town Arms, the fricndf? separated, Mr. 
 11* 
 
126 POSTHUMOUS PAPi:n3 or 
 
 Tupma?i and Mr. Snodgrass repairing to the Peacich, and Mr. Winkle 
 proceeding to the mansion of Mr. Pott ; it having been previously ar- 
 ranged tliat they i:iiould all re-assemble at the Town Arms in the morn- 
 ing, and accompany the honourable SanMjel Slumkey's procession to 
 the place of nomination. 
 
 " Mr. Pott's domestjc circle was limited to himself and his wife. All 
 men whom mighty genius has raised to a proud eminence in the world, 
 have usually some little weakness which appears the more conspicuous 
 from the contrast it presents to their general character. If Mr. Pott 
 had a weakness, it was, perhaps, that he w as rather too submissive to 
 the somewhat control and sway of his wife. We do not feel justified 
 in laying any particular stress upon the fact, because on the present 
 occasion all Mrs. Pott'^ most winning ways were brought into requisi- 
 tion to receive the two gentlemen. 
 
 "My dear," said Mr. Pott, "Mr. Pickwick — Mr. Pickwick of London." 
 
 Mrs. Pott received Mr. Pickwick's paternal grasp of the hand with 
 enchanting sweetness : and Mr. Winkle, who had not been announced 
 at all, sidled and bowed unnoticed, in an obscure corner. ' 
 
 " P. My dear—" said Mrs. Pott. * 
 
 "My life," said Mr. Pott. 
 
 "Pray, introduce the other gentleman."' 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons," said Mr. Pott. " Permit me — 'Mrs. 
 Pott, Mr. " 
 
 " Winkle," said Mr. Pick^vick. 
 
 •' Winkle," echoed Mr. Pott ; and the ceremony of introduction .was 
 complete. 
 
 " We owe you many apologies, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, " for dis- 
 turbing your domestic arrangements at so short a notice." 
 
 " I beg you won't mention it, sir," replied the feminine Pott, witlv 
 vivacity. " It is a high treat to me, I assure you, to see any new faces ; 
 living as I do, from day to day, and week to week, in this dull place, 
 and seeing nobody." / 
 
 "Nobody, my dear!'" exclaimed Mr. Pott, archly. 
 
 " Nobody but you,'" retorted Mrs. Pott, with asperity. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Pickwick," said the host in explanation of his wife's 
 lament, " that we are in some measure cut off from many enjoyments 
 and pleasures of which we mii^ht otherwise partake. My public sta- 
 tion, as editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, the position which that paper 
 holds in the country, my constant immersion in the vortex of politics — " 
 
 " P. my dear — " interposed Mrs. Pott. 
 
 " My life — " said the editor. 
 
 '• I wish, my dear, you would endeavour to find some topic of con- 
 versation in which these gentlemen might take some rational interest." 
 " But, my love," said Mr. Pott with great humility, " Mr. Pickwick 
 does take an interest in it." 
 
 *' It's well for him if he can," said Mrs. Pott, emphatically : " I am 
 wearied out of ni}' life with your politics, and quarrels with the Inde- 
 pendent, and nonsense. I am quite astonished. P., at your making 
 such an exhibition of 'jur absurdity." 
 
 ♦' But, my dear " said Mr. Pott. 
 
 *' Oh, nonsense, don't talk to me," said Mrs. Pott. " Do you play 
 icarte, sir "?" 
 
 " I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition," replied Mr. 
 Winkle. •• 
 
THE PICKWICK C*UB. 127 
 
 "Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let me get 
 out of hearing of 'hose prosy politics." 
 
 ••Jane," said Mr. Poll, to the servant who brought in candles, "go 
 down inro the office, and bring up the file of the Gazette for Eighteen 
 Hundred and Twenty-Eight. I'll just read you — " added the iditor, 
 turning to Mr. Pickwick, " I'll just read you a few of the icaders I 
 wrote at that time, upon the Buff job of appointing a new tollman to 
 the turnpike here ; I rather think they'll amuse you." 
 
 " I should 1 ke to hear them very much indeed,'* said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 L'p came the lile, and down sat the editor, with Mr. Pickwick at his 
 side. 
 
 Vv'e have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr. Pickwick's note-book, 
 in the hope of meeting with a general summary of these beautiful com- 
 positions. We have every reason to believe that he was perfectly 
 enraptured with the vigour and freshness of the style ; indeed Mr. 
 Winkle has recorded the fact that his eyes were closed, as if with 
 excess of pleasure during the whole time of their perusal. 
 
 The announcement of supper put a otop both to the g^mie at ecarte 
 and the recapitulation of the beauties of the Eatanswill Gazette. Mrs. 
 Pott was in the highest spirits and the most agreeable humour. Mr. 
 Winkle had already made considerable progress in her good opinion, 
 and she did not hesitate to inform him. confidentially, that Mr. Pick- 
 wick was "a delightful old dear."' These terms convey a familiarity 
 of expression, in which few of those who were intimately acquainted 
 with that colossal-minded man, would have presumed to indulge. We 
 have preserved them, nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and 
 convincing proof of the estimation in which he was held by every class 
 of society, and the ease v.ith which he made to their heartsand feelinjrs. 
 
 It was a late hour of the night — long after Mr. Tupman and Mr. 
 Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the Peacock — 
 vhcn the two friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fell upon the 
 sensep of Mr. Winkle, but his feelings had been excited, and his ad.Tii- 
 ration roused ; and for many hours after sleep had" rendered him 
 insensible to earthly objects, the face and figure of the agreeable Mrs. 
 Pott presented themselves again and again to his wandering imagination. 
 
 The noise and bustle which ushered in the moniing. were sufricient 
 to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence, 
 any -associations but those which were immediately connected with the 
 rapidly approaching election. The beating of drums, the blowing of 
 horns and trumpets, the shouting of men. and trampling of horses, 
 echoed and re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of 
 day ; and an occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either 
 party, at once enlivened the preparations, and agreeably diversified 
 their ch.-iracter. 
 
 " Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bed- 
 room door, just as he was concluding his toilet ; " all alive to-day, I 
 .suppose V 
 
 " Reg'lar game, sirt" replied Mr. Weller; *' our people's a col-lecting 
 down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves hoars« 
 already." 
 
 "Ah,'' said Mr. Pickwick, '*do they seem devoted to their partv^ 
 Sam^" 
 
 "Never see such dewolion in my life, sir." 
 
 ♦♦Energetic, ehV said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
128 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Uncommon," replied Sam ; " I never see men eat and drink so 
 much afore. I wonder they a'n't afeer'd o' bustin." 
 
 " That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Werry likely," replied Sam, briefly. 
 
 " Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr. Pickwick, g'lancing 
 from the window. 
 
 " Werry fresh," replied Sam ; *' me, and the two waiters at the 
 Peacock, has been a pumpin' over the independent woters as supped 
 there last night." 
 
 " Pumping over independent voters !" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •' Yes," said his attendant, " every man slept vere he fell down ; we 
 dragged 'em out, one by one, this mornin' and put 'em under the pump, 
 and they're in reg'lar fine order, now. Shillin' a head the committee 
 paid for that 'ere job." 
 
 " Can such things be !" exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Bless your heart, sir," said Sam, " why where was you half 
 baptized ^ — that's nothin', that a'n't." 
 
 "Nothing?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Nothin' at all, sir,'" replied his attendant. " The night afore the 
 last day o' the last electioii here, the opposite party bribed the bar-maid 
 at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled 
 electors as was a stoppin' in the house." 
 
 " What do you mean by * hocussing' brandy and water!" inquired 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Puttin laud'num in it," replied Sam. " Blessed if she didn't send 
 'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. They 
 took one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experi- 
 ment, but it was no go — they wouldn't poll him ; so they brought him 
 back, and put him to bed again." 
 
 " Strange practices, these," said Mr. Pickwick; half speaking to him- 
 self, and half addressing Sam. ■ 
 
 " Not a half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to 
 my own father, at an election-time, in this werry place, sir," replied 
 Sam. 
 
 *' What was that ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why he drove a coach down here once," said Sara ; ** 'Lection 
 time came on, and was engaged by vun party to bring down woters 
 from Jjondon. Night afore he was a going to drive up, committee on 
 t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, 
 who shows him in ; — large room — lots of gen'l'm'n — heaps of papers, 
 pens, and ink, aruJ all that 'ere. ' Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n 
 in the chair, 'glad to see you, sir, how are you?' — 'Werry well, 
 thank'ee, sir,' says my father ; ' I hope you're pretty middlin,' says he — 
 ' Pretty well, thank'ee, sir,' says the gen'l'm'n ; ' sit down. Mr. Weller 
 —pray sit, down, sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n 
 looks werry hard at each other. ' You don't remember me V says the 
 gen'l'm'n ? — ' Can't say I do,' says my father — ' Oh, I know you,' says 
 the gen'l'm'n ; know'd you ven you was a boy,' says he — ' Well, I 
 don't remember you,' says my father. — ' That's werry odd,' says the 
 gen'l'm'n — ' Werry,' says my father — ' You must have a bad mem'ry, 
 Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n — ' Well, it is a werry bad 'un,' says my 
 father — ' I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him 
 out a glass o' wine, and gammons him about his driving, and gets him 
 into a reg'lar good humonr, and at last shoves a twenty pound note in 
 
THE PICUWICiC CLUB. 129 
 
 his hand. ' It's a werry bad road between this and London,' says the 
 genTm'n — 'Here and there it is a werry heavy road,' says my father — 
 ' 'Specially near the canal, I think,' says tiie genTm'n — ' Na'stv bit. 
 that 'ere,' says ray father — ' Weil, Mr. Weiler,' says the genTm'n, 
 'you're a werry good whip, and can do what you like v.ith your horses, 
 we know. We're all werry fond o' you, Mr. Weiler, so in case you 
 should have an accident when you're a bringing thet^ here woters 
 down, and should tip 'em over into the canal vilhout hurtin' 'em, this 
 is for yourself,' says be — ' GenTm'n, yna're werry kind,' says my 
 father, ' and 111 drink your health in another g!a.«!s of wine,' says he ; 
 vich he did, and then buttons up the noncy. and bows himseif nut. 
 You vou'dn't believe, sir," cimtinued Sam, wiih a look of inexpressible 
 impudence at his master, ♦' that on the werry day as he came down 
 with them woters, his coach icas upset on that 'ere werry spot, and 
 ev'ry man on 'em, was turned into the canal.'' 
 
 "And got out again?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily 
 
 "Why," replied Sim, very slowly, ••• I rather think one old gentle- 
 man was missin' ; I know his hat was found, but I aVi't quite certain 
 ■ liether his head was in it or not. But what I look at, is the he.t tra- 
 :di:)ary, and w(-nderful coincidence, that arter what that geu'l'm'n 
 said my father's coach should be upset in that werry place, and on that 
 v.erry day I" . • 
 
 '* It is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed," said 
 Mr. Pickwick. " But brush my hat, Sam, for 1 hear Mr. Winkle call- 
 ing me to breakfast." 
 
 Witli these words Mr. Pickwick descended to the parlour, where he 
 found breakfast laid and the family already assembled. The mcdl was 
 hastily despatched ; each of the j/entlemen's hats was decorat«^d with 
 an enormou.^ blue favour, made up by the fair hand.s of Mrs. Pott her- 
 self, and as Mr. Winkle had undertaken to escort that lady to a !)f)n£e- 
 top, in the immediate vicinity of the hosting, Mr. Pickwick and .Mr. 
 Pott repaired alone to the Town Arms, from the back window of wljich, 
 one of Mr Slumkey's committee was addressing si.x small boys and 
 one girl, whom he dignified, at every second sentence, with the impos- 
 ing title of " men of Eatanswill," whereat the six small boys aforesaid 
 cheered prodigiously. 
 
 The stable-yard exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the glory and 
 stu'ngth of the Eatanswill Blues. There was a regular army of blue 
 flags, some with one handle, and some with two, exhibiting appro|'ri- 
 ate devices, in goKlen characters four feet hii/h, and stout in proportion. 
 There was a grand band of trumpets, bassoons and drums, marshalled 
 four abreast, and earning their money, if ever man did, especially the 
 drum beaters, who were very muscular. There were bodies of con- 
 Btabios with blue staves, twenty cornmittee-mcn with blue .s::3rt>, and 
 a mob of voters with blue cockades. There were electors on horse- 
 back, and electors afoot. Thrre was an open carriage and four, for 
 the honourable Samuel Slumkey ; and there were four carriaqes and 
 pair, for his friends and supporters: and the flags were rustiinj, and 
 the band was playing, and the constables were swearing, and the twenty 
 conmiittee-men were squabbling, and the mob were shouting, and the 
 hoises were backing, and the post-boys perspiring ; and everv body 
 and every thing, then and there assembled, was for the sticcial use. 
 behoof, honour, and renown of the honourable Samuel Slufuk»'y, of 
 Slumkey Hall, one of the candidates for the representation of the 
 
130 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 borough of Eatanswill, in the Commons House of Parliament of tlie 
 United Kingdom. 
 
 Loud and long were the cheers, and mighty was the rustling of one 
 of the blue flags, with " Liberty of the Press" inscribed thereon, when 
 the sandy head o( Mr. Pott was discerned in one of the windows, by 
 the mob beneath; and tremendous was the enthusiasm when the 
 honourable Samuel Slumkey himself, in top-boots, and a blue necker- 
 chief, advanced and seized the hand of the said Pott, and melo-drama- 
 tically testified by gestures to the crowd, his ineffaceable obligations to 
 the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 "Is everything ready 1" said the honourable Samuel Slumkey to 
 Mr. Perker. 
 
 " Every thing, my dear sir," was the little man's reply. 
 
 " Nothing has been omitted, I hope," said the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey. 
 
 '' Nothing has been left undone, my dear sir — nothing whatever. — 
 There are twenty washed men at the street door for you to shake hands 
 with ; and six children in arms that you're to pat on the head, and 
 inquire the age of; be particular about the children, my dear sir — it 
 has always a great effect, that sort of thing." 
 
 " I'll take care," said the honourable Samuel Slumkey. 
 
 " And, perhaps, my dear sir — " said the cautious little man, " per- 
 haps if you could — I don't mean to say it's indispensable — but if you 
 co?dd manage to kiss one of 'em, it would produce a very great impres- 
 sion on the crowd." 
 
 " Wouldn't it havg as good an effect if the proposer or seconder did 
 that?" said the honourable Samuel Slumkey. 
 
 •' Why, I am afraid it wouldn't," replied the agent ; " if it were done 
 by yourself, my dear sir, I think it would make you very popular." 
 
 " Very well," said the honourable Samuel Slumkey with a resigned 
 air, "then it must be done. That's'all." 
 
 "Arrange the procession," cried the twenty committee-men. 
 
 Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the con- 
 stables, and the committee-men, and the voters, and the horsemen, and 
 the carriages, took their places — each of the two-horse vehicles being 
 closely packed with as many gentlemen as could manage to stand up- 
 right init ; and that assigned to Mr. Perker, containing Mr. Pickwick, 
 Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and about half-a-dozen of the committee 
 bodies. 
 
 There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession waited for 
 the honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his carriage. Suddenly 
 the crowd set up a great cheering. 
 
 •' He has come out," said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited ; the more 
 so as their position did not enable them to see what was going forward. 
 
 Another cheer, much louder. 
 
 " He has shaken hands with the men," cried the little agent. 
 
 Another cheer, far more vehement. 
 
 •' He has patted the babes on the head," said Mr. Perker, trembling 
 with anxiety. 
 
 A roar of applause that rent the air. 
 
 " He has kissed one of 'em I" exclaimed the delighted little man, 
 
 A second roar. 
 
 " He has kissed another," gasped the excited manager. 
 
 A third roar. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 131 
 
 "He's kissing 'em all I" gcreamed the enthusiastic little gentleman. 
 And hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude, the procession 
 moved on. 
 
 How or by what means it became mixed up with the other proces- 
 sion, and how it was ever extricated from the confusion consequent 
 thereupon, is more than we can undertake to describe, inasmuch as .Mr. 
 Pickwick's hat was knocked over his eyes, nose, and mouth, by one 
 poke of a Buif flag-staff, very early in the proceedings. He describes 
 iiimtelf a.s bping surrounded on every side, when he could catch a 
 glimpse of the scene, by angry and ferocious countenances, by a vast 
 cloud of dust, and by a dense crowd of combatants. He rejtresents 
 liiraself as being forced from the carriage by some unseen power, and 
 being personally engaged in a pugilistic encounter ; but with whom, or 
 how, or why; he is wholly unable to state. He then felt himself lorced 
 up some wooden steps by the persons from behind : and on removing 
 his hat, frjund himself surrounded by his friends, in the very front ot 
 the left hand side of the hustings. The right was reserved for the 
 Buff party, and the centre for the mayor and his officers — one of whom 
 — the fat crier of Eatanswill — was ringing an enormous bell, by wav 
 of commanding silence, while .Mr. Horatio Fizkin, and the honourable 
 Samuel Slumkey, with -heir hands upon their hearts, were bowing 
 with the utmost affability to the troubled sea of heads that inundated 
 the open space in front ; and from whence arose a storm of grroans, 
 and shouts, and yeils, and hootings, that would have done honour to 
 an earthquake. 
 
 " There's Winkle," said Mr.Tupman, pulling his friend by the sleeve. 
 
 " Where V said Mr. Pi k wick, putting on his spectacles, which he 
 had fortunately kept in his pocket hitherto. 
 
 " There," said .Mr. Tupman, '* on the top of that house.'' And there 
 sure enough, in the leaden gutter of a tiled roof, were .Mr. Winkle and 
 ^\Irs. Pott, comfortably seated in a couple of chairs, waving their hand- 
 kerchiefs in token of recognitiun — a compliment which Mr. Pickwick 
 returned by kissing his hand to tht| lady. 
 
 The proceedings had not yet comnjenced ; and as an inactive crowd 
 is generally disposed to be jocose, this very innocent action was sutS- 
 cient to awaken their facetiousness. 
 
 " Oh you wicked old rascal,'' cried one voice, *' looking artcr the 
 girl.s, are you !'' 
 
 '• Oh ! you wenerable sinner !" cried another. 
 
 " Putting on his spectacles to look at a married 'ooman I"' said a third. 
 
 *' I see him a vinkin' at her, with his vicked old eye," shouted a fourth. 
 
 '• Look arter your wife, Pott," bellowed a fifth ; — and then there waa 
 a roar of laughter. 
 
 As these taunts were accompanied with invidious comparisons between 
 Mr. Pickwick and an aged ram,' and several witticisms of the like na- 
 ture ; and as they moreover rather tended to convey reflections upon 
 the honour of an innocent lady, Mr. Pickwick's indignation was ex- 
 cessive ; but as silence was proclaimed at the moment, he contented 
 himself by scorching the mob with a look of pity for their misguided 
 minds, at which they lau^ihed more boiisterously than ever 
 
 " Silence," roared the mayor's attendants. 
 
 '' Whiffin, proclaim silence," said the mayor, with an air of pomp 
 befitting his lofty station. In obedience to this command the crier per- 
 
132 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 formed another concerto on the hell, whereupon a orenllcman in the 
 crowd called out muffins, which occasioned another lau^h. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the mayor, at as loud a pitch as he could possi- 
 bly force his voice to, " Cientlemen. Brother electors of tlie boroutrh 
 of Eatanswill. We are met here to-day for the purpose of choosin"' 
 a representative in the room of our late " 
 
 Here the ma3'or was interrupted l\y a voice in the crowd. 
 
 " Suc-cess to the mayor !" cried the voice, "and may he never desert 
 the nail and sarspan business, as he <rot his money by." ^ 
 
 This allusion to the prolfssional pursuits of the orator was received 
 wilh a storm of df^light, which, with a boll-accompaniment, rendered 
 the remainder of his s[)<'ech inaudible, with the exception of the con- 
 cludinsj sentence, in which ho thanked the meeting for the patient 
 attention with which they had heard him throughout, — an expression 
 of gratitude wliich elicited another burst of mirth, of about a quarter of 
 an hour's duration. 
 
 Next, a tall thing gentleman, in a very stiff white neckerchief, after 
 being repeatedly desired by the crowd to " send a boy home, to ask 
 whether he hadn't left his woice under the pillow," begned tonominntc 
 a fit and proper person to represent them in Parliament. And when 
 he said it was Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizldn Lodge, near Eatan- 
 swill, the Fizkinitcs applauded and the Slumkeyites groaned, so long, 
 and so loudly, that both he and the seconder mi<fht have aung comic 
 songs in lieu of speaking without any body's bring a bit the wiser. 
 
 The friends of Horatio Fizkin, Enquire, having had their inninsis, a 
 little choleric,, pink-faced man stood forward to propose ar other fit and 
 proper person to represent the electors of Eatanswill in Parliament ; 
 and very swimmingly the pink-faced gentleman would have got on, if 
 he had not been rather too choleric to entertain a sufficient percejit'on 
 of the fun of the crowd. But after a very few sentences of figurative 
 eloquence, the pink-faced gentleman got from denouncing those who 
 interrupted him in the mob, to exchanging defiances with the gentlemen 
 on the hustings; whereupon arose an uproar which reduced him to 
 the necessity of expressing his feelings by serious pantomime, whioJi 
 he did, and then left the stage to his seconder, who delivered a written 
 speech of half-an-iiour's length, and wouldn't be stopped, because he 
 had sent it all to the Eatanswill Gazette, and the Eatanswill Gazette 
 had printed it, every word. 
 
 Then Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill, 
 presented him.self for the purpose of addressing the electors ; which he 
 no sooner did, than the band employed by the honour4l>le Spmuel 
 Slumkey commenced performing, with a power to which their strength 
 in the morning was a trifle ; in return for which, the Buff crowd be- 
 laboured the head and .shoulders of the Blue crowd ; on which, the 
 Blue crowd endeavoured to dispossess themselves of their very Un- 
 pleasant neighbours the Buff crowd ; and a scene ©f struggling, and 
 pushing, and fighting succeeded, to which we can. no more do justice 
 than the Mayor could, although he issued impcrati%'e orders to twelve 
 constables to seize the ringleaders, who niight amount in number to 
 two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts. At all these encounters Horatio 
 Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, and his friends, waxed fierce and 
 furious ; until at last Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, begged 
 to ask his opponent, the honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, 
 whcthT that band played hj his consent ; wliich question the honour- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 133 
 
 aWc Samuel Slumkey (Teclining to answer, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of 
 Fizkin Lodge, shook his fist in the countenance of the honourable 
 Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, upon which the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey, his blood being up, defied Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, to mortal 
 combat. At this violation of all known rules and precedents of order, 
 the Mayor commanded another fantasia on the bell, and declared that 
 he would bung before himself, both Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin 
 Lodge, and the honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, and 
 bind fhem over to keep the peace. Upon this terrific denunciation, the 
 supporters of the two candidates interfered, and after the friends of 
 each party had quarrelled in pairs for three-quarters of an hour, 
 Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, touched his hat to the honourable Samuel 
 Slumkey : the honourable Samuel Slumkey touched his to Horatio 
 Fizkin, Esquire: the band was stopped, the crowd were partially 
 quieted, and Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, was permitted to proceed. 
 
 The speeches of the two candidates, though diifering in every ot^er 
 respect, afibrded a beautiful tribute to the merit and high worth of the 
 electors of Eatanswill. Each expressed his opinion that a more 
 independent, a more enlightened, a more public-spirited, a more noble- 
 minded, a more disinterested set of men than those who had promised 
 to vote for him, never existed on earth ; each darkly hinted his suspi- 
 cions that the electorsln the opposite interest had certain swinish and 
 besotted infuToities, which rendered them unfit for the exercise of the 
 important duties they were called upon to discharge. Fizkin expressed 
 his readiness to do any thing he was wanted ; Slumkey his determina- 
 tion to do nothing that was asked of him. Both said, that the trade, 
 the manufactures, the commerce, the prosperity of Eatanswill, would 
 ever be dearer to their hearts than any earthly object ; and each had it 
 in his power to state, with the utmost confidence, that he was the man 
 who would eventually be returned. 
 
 There was a show of hands ; the Mayor decided in favour of tlie 
 honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall. Horatio Fizkin, 
 Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, demanded a poll, and a poll was fixed accord- 
 ingly. Then a vote of thanks was moved to the Mayor for his able 
 conduct in the chair ; and the Mayor devoutly wishing that he had had 
 a chair to display his able conduct in (for he had been standing during 
 the whole proceedings) returned thanks. The processions re-formed, 
 the carriages rolled slowly through the crowd, and its member:^ 
 screeched and shouted after them as their feelings or caprice dictaied. 
 
 During the whole time of the polling, the town was in a perpetual 
 fever oi excitement. Every thing was conducted on the most liberal 
 and delightful scale. Exciseable articles were remarkably cheap at all 
 the public houses ; and spring vans paraded the streets for the accom- 
 modation of voters who were seized with any temporary dizziness in 
 the head — an epidemic which prevailed among the electors, during the 
 contest, to a most alarming extent, and under the influence of which 
 they might frequently be seen lying on the pavements in a state of 
 utter insensibility. A small body of electors remained unpolled on the 
 very last day. They were calculating and reflecting persons, who had 
 not yet been convinced by the arguments of either party, although they 
 had had frequent conferences with each. One hour before the close of 
 the poll. Mr. Perker solicited the honour of a private interview with 
 these intelligent, these noble, these patriotic men. It was granted. 
 His arguments were brief, but satisfactory. They went in a body to 
 
 Vol. I.— 12 
 
POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 the poll ; and when they returned, the honourable Samuel Slumkey, 
 of Slumkey Hall, was returned also. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 COMPRISING A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF THE COMPANY AT THE PEACOCK AS- 
 SEMBLED ; AND A TALK TOLD BY A BAGMAN. 
 
 It is pleasant to turn from contemplating tho strife and turmoil of 
 political existence, to ilie peaceful repose of private life. Although in 
 reality no {jreat partisan of either side, Mr. Pickv%-ick was sufficiently 
 llred with Mr. Putt's enthusiasm, to apply his whole time and attention 
 to the proceedings of which the last chapter ailbrds a description, com- 
 piled from his own memoranda. Nor while he was thus occupied was 
 Mr. Winkle idle, his whole time being devoted to pleasant walks and 
 short country excursions with Mrs. Pott, who never failed, when such 
 an opportunity presented itself, to seek some relief from the tedious 
 monotony she so constantly complained of Th^ two gentlemen being 
 thus completely^'domesticated in the editor's house, Mr. Tupnian and 
 Mr. Snodgrass were in a great measure cast upon their own resources. 
 Taking but little interest in public affairs, they beguiled their time 
 chiefly with such amusements as the Peacock aflTorded, which were 
 limited to a bagatelle-board in the first floor, and a. sequestered skittle- 
 ground in the back yard. In the science and nicety of both these re- 
 creations, which are far more abstruse than ordinary men suppose, they 
 were gradually initiated by Mr. Weller, who possessed a perfect know- 
 ledge of such pastimes. Thus, notwithstanding that they were in a 
 great measure deprived of the comfort and advantage of Mr. Pickwick's 
 society, they were still enabled to beguile the time, and to prevent its 
 hariging heavily on their hands. 
 
 It was in the evening, however, that the Peacock presented attrac- 
 tions which enabled the two friends to resist even the invitations of the 
 talented, though prosily inclined Mr. Pott. It was in the evening that 
 the "commercial room" was filled with a social circle, whose characters 
 and manners it was the delight of Mr. Tupnian to observe ; whose 
 sayings and doings it was the habit of Mr. Snodgrass to note down. 
 
 Most people know what sort of places commercial room? usually are. 
 That of the Peacock diflored in no material respect from the generality 
 of such apartments ;, that is to say, it was a large bare-looking room, 
 the furniture of which no doubt had been better when it was newer, 
 with a spacious table in the centre, and a variety of smaller dittos in 
 the corners ; an extensive assortment of 'ariously shaped chairs, and 
 an old Turkey carpet, bearing about the same relative proportion to the 
 size of the room, as a lady's pocket-handkerchief might to the floor of a 
 watch-box. The walls were garnished with one or two larfje maps ; 
 and several weather-beaten rough great coats, with com[)licated capes, 
 dangled from a long row of pegs in one corner. The mantle shelf was 
 ornamented with a wooden inkstand, containing one stump of a pen 
 and half a wafer, a road-book and directory, a county history, minus 
 the cover, and the mortal remains of a trout in a glass coflftn. The at- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 135 
 
 mosphere vras redolent of tobacco smoke, the fumes of which had com- 
 municated a rather dingy hue to the whole room, and more especially 
 to the dusty red curtains which shaded the windows. On the sideboard 
 a variety of miscellaneous articles were huddled together, the most 
 conspicuous of which were some very cloudy fish-sauce cruets, a couple 
 of driving-boxes, two or three whips, and as many travelling shawls, a 
 tray of knives and forks and the mustard. 
 
 Here it was that Mr. Tupraan and Mr. Snod grass were seated on the 
 evening after the conclusion of the election, with several other tempo- 
 rary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking. 
 
 " Well, gents,'" said a stout hale personage of about forty, with only 
 one eye — a very bright black eye — which twinkled with a roguish ex- 
 pression of fun and good humour, " Our noble selves, gents. I always 
 propose that toast to the company, and drink Maiy to myself. Eh, 
 Mary V 
 
 ♦• Get along with you, you wretch." said the hand-maiden, obviously 
 not ill pleased with the compliment, however. 
 
 •' Don't ^0 away, Mary,"' said the black-eyed man. 
 
 *' Let me alone, imperence," said the young lady. 
 
 " Never mind,'" said the one-eyed man, calling after the girl a.<; she 
 left the room. '• Til step out by-and-hy Mary. Keep your spirits up, 
 <lear." Here he went through the not very difficult process of winking 
 at the company with his solitary eye, to the enthusiastic delight of an. 
 elderly personage with a dirty face and a clay pipe. 
 
 " Rum creeters is women,"" said the dirty-faced man, after a pause. 
 
 '•Ah ! no mistake about that," said a very red-faced man behind a cigar. 
 
 After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause. 
 
 '' There's rummer things than women in this world though, mind 
 you,'" said the man with the black eye, slowly filling a large Dutch 
 pipe, with a most capacious bowl. 
 
 " Are you married ]" inquired the dirty- faced man. 
 
 '' Can't say I am." 
 
 " I thought not.;" Here the dirty-faced man fell into extasies of mirth 
 at his own retort, in which he was joined by a man of bland voice and 
 placid countenance, who always made it a point to agree with every 
 body. 
 
 " VVomeo after all, gentlemen," said the enthusiastic Mr. Snoigrass, 
 ** arc the great props and comforts of our existence." 
 
 " So they are," said the placid gentleman. 
 
 " When they are in good humour," interposed the dirty-faced man. 
 
 " And that"8 very true."' said the placid one. 
 
 " I repudiate that qualification," said Mr. Snodgrass, whose thoughts 
 were fast reverting to Emily Wardle, " I repudiate it with disdain — 
 with indignation. Show tne the man who says anything arrainst wo- 
 mun, as women, and I boldly declare he is not a man." And .Mr. Snod- 
 grass took his cigar Iroin his mouth, and struck the table violently with 
 hi^ c'enched fist. 
 
 " That's good sound argument," said the pl.-\cid man, 
 
 " Containing a position which I deny," interrupted he of the dirty 
 countenance. 
 
 " And there's certainly a very great deal of truth in what you ob- 
 serve too, sir," said the placid gentleman. 
 
 " Your health, sir,^' said the bagman with the lonely eye, bestowing 
 an approving nod on Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
136 POSTHUMOUS PAPER* OF 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment. 
 
 »* I always like to hear a good aro-umcnt," continued tlie batrman ; 
 ♦' a .sharp one, like this ; it's very improving ; but this littio argument 
 about women brought to my mind a story I have heard an old uncle of 
 mine tell, the recollection of which just now, made me gay there were 
 rummer things than women to be met with sometimes." 
 
 ♦' I should like to hear that same story," said the red-faced man with 
 the cigar. 
 
 " Should you 1" was the only reply of the bagman, who continued 
 to smoke with great vehemence. 
 
 "So should I," said jMr. Tupman, speaking for the first time. He 
 was always anxious to increase his stock of experience. 
 
 "Should yo;i.' Well then, ril- tell it. No, I won't. I know you 
 won't believe it," said the man with the roguish eye, making that organ 
 look more roguish than ever. 
 
 " If you say it's true, of course I shall," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Well, upon that understanding I'll tell it," replied the traveller. 
 *' Did you ever hear of the great commercial house of Bilson and Slum ? 
 But it doesn't matter though, whether you did or not, because they 
 retired from business long since. It's eighty years ago, since the cir- 
 cumstance happened to a traveller for that house, but he was ,i partici> 
 lar friend of my uncle's : and my uncle told the story to me. Its ^ 
 queer name ; but he used to call it 
 
 THE bagman's story, 
 
 and he used to tell it, something in this way- 
 
 "One winters evening, about five o'clock, just as it began to grow 
 dusk, a man in a gig might have been seen urging his tired horse along 
 the road which leads across Marlborough Downs, in the direction of 
 Bristol. I say he might have been seen, and I have no doubt he would 
 have been, if any body but a blind man had happened to pass that way ; 
 but the weather was so bad, and the night so cold and wet, that nothing 
 was out but the water, and so the traveller jogged along in the middle 
 of the road, lonesome and dreary enough. If any bagman of that day 
 could have caught sight of the little neck-or-nothing sort of gig, with a 
 clay-|^loured body and red wheels, and the vixenish ill-tempered, fast- 
 going bay mare, that looked like a cross between a butcher's horse and 
 a twopenny post-office pony, he would have known at once, that this 
 traveller could have been no other than Tom Smart, of the great house 
 of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton-strect, City. However, as there was 
 no bagman to look on, nobody knew any thing at all about the matter; 
 and so Tom Smart and his clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, and 
 the vixenish mare with the fast pace, went on together, keeping the 
 secret among them, and nobody was a bit the wiser. 
 
 " There are many plcasantcr places even in this dreary world, than 
 Marlborough Downs when it blows hard ; and if you throw in beside, 
 a gloomy winter's evening, a miry and sloppy road and a pelting fall 
 of heavy rain, and try the elTect, by way of experiment, in your own 
 proper person, you will experience the full force of this observation. 
 
 " The wind blew — not up the road or down it, though that's bad 
 enough, but sheer across it, sending the rain slanting down like the 
 lines they used to rule in the copy books at school, to make the boys 
 elope well. For a moment it would die away, and the traveller would 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 137 
 
 begin to delude himself into the belief that, exhausted with its previous 
 fury, it had quietly lain itself down to rest, — when whool he would hear 
 it growlinjj and whistling in the distance, and on it would come rush- 
 ing over the hill-tops, and sweeping along the plain, gaiheri-ig sound 
 and strength as it drew nearer, until it dashed with a heavy gust agai.ist 
 horse and man, driving the sharp rain into their ears, and its cold damp 
 breath inloUheir very bones ; and past them it would scour, far, far 
 away, with a stunning roar, as if in ridicule of their weakness, and tri- 
 umphant in the consciousness of its own strength and power. 
 
 " The bay mare splashed away through the mud and water with 
 drooping ears, now and then tossing her head as if to express her dis- 
 gust at this very ungentleinanly behaviour of the elements, but keeping 
 a good pace notwithstanding, until a gust of wind, more furious than 
 any that had yet assailed them, caused her to stop suddenly, and 
 plant her fore feet firmly against the ground, to prevent her being 
 blown over. It's a special mercy that she did this, for if she had been 
 blown over, the vixenish mare was so light, and the gig was so light, 
 and Tom Smart such a light weight into the bargain, that they must 
 infallibly have all gone rolling over and over together, until they reach- 
 ed the confines of earth, or until the wind fell ; and in either case the 
 probability is, that neither the vixenish mare, nor the clay-coloured 
 gig with rf4 wheels, nor Tom Smart, would ever have been fit for 
 service again. 
 
 " ' Well,' says Tom Smart, (Tom sometimes had an unpleasant 
 knack of swearing,) ' if ^his ain't pleasant, blow me.' 
 
 " You'll very likely ask me, why, as Tom Smart had been pretty 
 well blown already, he expressed this wish to be submitted to the same 
 process a^ain. I can't say — all I know is, that Tom Smart said so — 
 or at least he always told my uncle he said so, and it's just the same 
 thing. 
 
 " ' Blow me,' says Tom Smart ; and the mare neighed as if she 
 were precisely of the same opinion. 
 
 " 'Cheer up, old girl,' said Tom, pattinj? the bay mare on the neck 
 with the end of his whip. ' It won't do pushing on, such a night as 
 this ; the first houvse we come to we'll put up at, so the faster you go 
 the sooner it's over. Soho, old girl — gently — gently."' 
 
 " Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well acquainted with 
 the tnnos of Tom's voice to comprehend his meaning, or whether she 
 found it colder standing still than moving on, of course I can't say. 
 But I can say that Tom had no sooner finisiied speaking, tUan she 
 pricked up h^r cars, and started forward at a speed which made the 
 clay-coloure<] gig rattle, till you would have supposed every one of the 
 red spoles was going to fly out on the turf ot^ Marlborough Downs ; 
 and even Tom, whip as he was, couldn't stop or check her pace, until 
 she drew up of hor own accord, before a road-side inn on the right 
 hand side of the way, about half-a-quartcr of a mile from the end of 
 the Downs. 
 
 " Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the house as he 
 threw the reins to the hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It was 
 a strange old place, built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, with 
 cross-beams, with gable-topped windows projecting completely over the 
 pathway, and a low door with a dark porch, and a couple of steep steps 
 leading down into the houae, instead of the modern fashion of half-a- 
 <lozen shallow ones, leading up to it. It was a corr 'brtable- looking 
 12* 
 
138 POSTHUMOUS PAPEBS OF 
 
 place though, for there was a strong cheerful fight in the bar-window, 
 which shed a bright ray across the road, and even liglited up the hedge 
 on tlic other side ; and there was i\. red flickering light in the opposite 
 window, one moment faintly but discernible, and the next gleaming 
 strongly througli the ^Irawn curtains, which intimated that u rousing 
 fire was blazing within. Marking these little evidences with the eye 
 of an experienced traveller, Tom dismounted with as much agUity as' 
 his half-frozen limbs world permit, and entered the house. 
 
 " In less than five minutes' time, Tom was ensconced in the room 
 opposite the bar — the very room where he iiail imagined the fire 
 blazing — before a substantial matter-of-fact roaring fire, compo.sed of 
 something short of a bushel of coals, and wood enough to make half-a- 
 dozen decent gooseberry-bushes, piled half way up the chimney, and 
 roaring and crackling with a sound that of itself would have warmed 
 the heart of any reasonable man. This was comfortable, but this was 
 not all, for a smartly dressed girl, with a bright eye and a neat ankle, 
 was laying a very clean white cloth on the table ; and as Tom sat 
 v.'ith iiis slippered feet on the fender, and his back to the open door, 
 he saw a charming prospect of the bar reflected in the glass over the 
 chimney-piece, with delightful rows of green bottles and gold labels, 
 together with jars of pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiled 
 hams, and rounds of beef, arranged on shelves in the most tempting 
 and delicious array. Well, this was comfortable too ; but even this 
 was not all — for in the bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little 
 table, drawn close up before the brightest possible little fire, was a 
 buxom widow of somewhere about eight-and-Iorty or thereabouts, with 
 a face as comfortable as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the 
 house, and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable possession.". 
 There was only one drawback to the beauty of the whole picture, and 
 that was a tall man — a very tall man — in a brown coat and bright 
 basket buttons, and black whiskers, and wavy black hair, who was 
 seated at tea with the widow, and who it required no great penetration 
 to discover was in a fair way of persuading her to be a widow no 
 longer, but to confer upon him the privilege of sitting down in that 
 bar, for and during the whole remainder of the term of his natural life. 
 
 "Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or envious disposition, 
 but somehow ar other the tall man with the brown coat and the bright 
 basket buttons did ro-.ise what little gall he had in his composition, and 
 did make him feel extremely indignant, the more especially as he could 
 now and then observe, from his seat before the glass, certain little 
 aflfectionate familiarities pissing between the tall man and the widow, 
 "which suflfjciently denoted that tlie tall man was as high in favour as 
 he was in size. Tom was fond of hot punch — I may venture to say he 
 was very fond of hot punch— and after he had seen the vixenish mare 
 well fed and well littered down, and eaten every bit of the nice little 
 hot dinner which the widow tossed up for him with her own hands, he 
 just ordered a tumbler of it, by way of experiment. Now if there was 
 QUO thing in the whole range of domestic art, which the widow could 
 manufacture better than another, it was this identical article ; and the 
 first tumbler was adapted to Tom Smart's taste with such peculiar 
 nicety, that he ordered a second with the least possible delay. Hot 
 punch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen — an extremely pleasant thing 
 under any circumstances — but in that snug old parlour, before the roar- 
 ing fire, with thq wind blowing outside till every timber in the old house 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 133 
 
 creaked again, Tom Smart found it perfectly delightfuK He ordered 
 another tumbler, and then another — I am not quite certain whether he 
 didn't order another after that — but the more he drank of the hot punch 
 the more he ^bought of the tall man. 
 
 •"Confound his impudence/ said Tom Smart to himself, 'what 
 business has he in tlnit snug bar ? Such an ugly villain too I' said Tom. 
 ' If the widow had any taste, she might surely pick up some better 
 fellow than that.' He.-e Tom's eye wandered from the glass on the 
 chimney-piece, to the glass on the table, and as he felt himself becoming 
 gradnualiy sentimental, he emptied the fourth tumbler of pLinch, and 
 ordered a fifth. 
 
 " Tom Smart, gentlemen, had always been very much attached ta 
 the public line. It had long been his ambition to stand in a bar of his 
 own, in a green coat, knee-cords, and tops He had a great noiion of 
 taking the* chair at convivial dinners, and he had often 'thought how- 
 well he could preside in a room of his own in the talking way, and 
 what a capital example he could set to his customers in the drinking 
 department. All these things passed rapidly tlu-ough Tom's mind as 
 he sat drinking the hot punch by the roaring fire, and he felt very justly 
 and properly indignant that the tall man should be in a feir way -jI" 
 keeping such an excellent house, while he, Tom Smart, was as far oft 
 from it as ever. So, after deliberating over the last two tumblers, 
 whether he hadn't a perfect right to pick a quarrel with the tall man 
 for having contrived to get into the good graces of the buxom widow, 
 Tom Smart at last arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was a 
 very ill-used and persecuted individual, and had better go to bed. 
 
 " Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl preceded Tom, 
 shadincr the chamber candle with her hand, to protect it from the cur- 
 rents of air which in such a rambling old place might have found plentv 
 of room to disj>ort themselves in, without blowing the candle out, but 
 ■which did blow it out nevertheless ; thus- affording Tom's enemies 
 ai opportunity of asserting that it was he who extino-ui.slied the 
 candle, and not the wind, and that while he j>retended to be blowing it 
 a-light again, he was in fact kissing the girl. Be .his as it may, another 
 hght was obtained, and Tom was conducted through a maze of rooms, 
 and a labyrinth of passages, to the apartment which had been prepared 
 for his reception, where the girl bade him good night, and left him alone. 
 
 " It was a good large roon> with big closets, and a bed which might 
 have served for a whole boarding-school, to say nothing of a couple of 
 oaken presses that would have held the baggage of a small army ; but 
 what struck Tom's fancy mo.st, was a strange, grim-lookintr, high- 
 hacked chair, carved in the most fantastic manner, with a 11 jwcred 
 damask cushion, and the round knobs at the bottom of the leijs carefully 
 tied up in red cloth, as if it had got the gout iu its toes. Of any other 
 qi.ieer chair. Tom would only have thought it jcas a queer chair, and 
 there would have been an end of the matter; but there was something 
 about this particular chair, and yet he couldn't tell what it was, so odd 
 and so unlike any other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it 
 seemed to fascinate him. ' He sat down before the fire, and .Glared at 
 the old chair for half an hour : — It was such a strange old thing, ho 
 couldn't take his eves off it. 
 
 " « Well," said Tom slowly undressing himself, and staring at tho 
 old chair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by the 
 bed-side, ' I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very 
 
140 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 odd,' said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch, * Very 
 odd.' Tom shook his head with an air of profound wisdom, and h)oked 
 at lhe«chair again. He couldn't make any thing of it tliough, so he got 
 into bed, covered liinisolf uj) wirin, and fell asleep. 
 
 " In ahout half an hour, Tom woke up with a start, from a con- 
 fused dream of tall men and tumblers of punch : and the first object 
 that presented itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair. 
 
 ♦' ' I^won't look at it any more,' said Tom to l»imself, and he squeezed 
 his eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was going to 
 sleej) again. No use ; nothing but queer chairs danced before his eyes, 
 kicking up their legs, jumping over each other's backs, and playing all 
 kinds of antics. v 
 
 '• ' I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete sets of 
 false ones,' said Tom, bringing out his head from under the bed-clolhes. 
 There it was, plainly discernible by the light of the fire, looking as pro- 
 voking as ever. 
 
 " Tom gazed at the chair ; and suddenly as he looked at it, a most 
 extraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving of the back 
 gradually assumed the lineaments and expression of an old, shrivelled 
 human face ; the damask cushion became an antique, flapped waist- 
 coat ; the round knobr. grew into a couple of feet, encased in red 
 cloth slippers, and the whole chair looked like a very ugly old man, of, 
 the j)revious century, with his arms a-kimbo. Tom sat up in bed, and 
 rubbed his eyes to dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly 
 old gentleman ; and what was more, he was winking at Tom Smart. 
 
 '• Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had five 
 tumblers of hot punch into the bargain; so, although he was a little start- 
 led at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he saw the old 
 gentleman winking and leering at him with such an impudent air. 
 At length he resolved that he wouldn't stand it ; and as the old face 
 still kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said in a very angry 
 tone — 
 
 " ' What tho d — 1 are you winking at rae fori' 
 
 " * Because I4ike it, Tom Smart,' said the chair ; or the old gentle- 
 man, whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking though, 
 when Tom spoke, and began grinning like a superannuated monkey. 
 
 " ' How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face ?' inquired 
 Tom .Smart, rather staggered ; — though* he pretended to- carry it ofl' 
 SQ well. 
 
 " ' Come, come, Tom,' said the old gentleman, Hhat^s not the way 
 to address solid Spanish Mahogany. You couldn't treat me with less 
 respect if I was veneer<;d.' When the old gentleman said i.his, be look- 
 ed so fierce that Tom began to grow frightened. 
 
 *' ' I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, sir,' said Tom in a 
 much humbler tone than h.? had spoken in at first. 
 
 " ' Well, well,' said the old follow, ' perhaps not — perhaps not. 
 Tom—' 
 
 " ♦ Sir—' 
 
 "' I know every thing about you, Tom ; -every thing. You're very 
 poor, Tom.' 
 
 " * I certainly am,' said Tom Smart. ' But how came you to know- 
 that 1' 
 
 " ' Never mind that,' said the old gentleman ; ♦ you're much too fond 
 of punch, Tom.' 
 
THE PICKWICE CLUB. 141 
 
 " Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadn't tast- 
 ed a drop since his last birth-day, but when his eyes encountered those 
 of the old gentleman, he looked so , knowing that Tom blushed, and 
 was siient. 
 
 *' ' Tom," said the old gentleman, ' the widow's a fine woman — a 
 remarkable fine woman — eh, Tom ? Here the old fellow screwed up 
 his eyes, cocked up one of his wasted little legs, and looked altogether 
 so unpleasantly amsrous, that Tom was quite disgusted with the levity 
 of his behaviour ; — at his tin)e of life too I 
 
 " ' I am her guardian, Tom,' said the old gentleman. 
 
 *' ' Are you V inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 " ' I knew her mother, Tom,' said the old fellow ; « and her grand- 
 mother. She was very fond of me — made me this waistcoat, Tom.' 
 
 '' ' Did she ■' said Tom Smart. 
 
 "•'And these shoes,' said the old fellow, lifting up one of the red 
 cloth mufflers ; ' but don't mention it, Tom. I shouldn't like to have 
 it known that she was so much attached to me. It mi^ht occasion some 
 unpleasantness in the family." When the old rascal said this, he looked 
 so extremely impertinent, that, as Tom Smart afterward declared, he 
 could have sat upon him without remorse. 
 
 " ' I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, 
 Tom,' said the profligate old debauchee ; ' hundreds of fine women 
 have sat in my lap for hours together. What do you think of that, you 
 dog, eh:' The old gentleman was proceeding lo recount some other 
 exjjloits of his youth, when he was seized with such a violent fit of 
 creaking that he was unable to proceed. 
 
 " 'Just serves you right, old boy,' thought Tom Smart ; but he didn't 
 say any thing. 
 
 " ' Ah I' said the old fellow, ' I am a good deal troubled with this 
 now. I am getting old, Tc ji, and have lost nearly all my rails. I 
 have had an operation performed, too — i small piece let into my bdck 
 — and I found it a severe trial, Tom.' 
 
 "' I dare say you did, .sir," said Tom Smart. 
 
 •' ' However,' said the old gentleman, ' that's not the point. Tom, 
 I want you to marry the widdow.' 
 
 '' ' Me, sir !' said Tom. 
 
 *' • You,' raid the old gcnfleman. 
 
 *' ' Bless your reverend locks,' said Tom, (he had a few scattered 
 horse-hiirs left) — 'bless your reverend locks, she wouldn't have me.' 
 And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar. 
 
 " ♦ Wouldn't she !' said the old gentleman, firmly. 
 
 " ' No, no,' said Tom ; ' there's somebody el.«^e in the wind. A tall 
 man — a confoundedly tall man — with black whiskers.' 
 
 '• * Tom,' said the old gentleman ; ' she will never have him.' 
 
 " Won't she ]' said Tom. ' If you stood in the bar, old gentleman, 
 you'd tell another ston,'.' 
 
 '♦ ' Pooh, pooh,' said the old gentleman. * I know all about that.' 
 
 " ' About what !' said Tom. 
 
 " ' The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom,' .=<iid 
 tlie old gentleman ; and here he gave another impudent look, which 
 made Tom very wroth, because, as you all know, gentlemen, to Iumt au 
 eld fellow, who ought to know better, talking about these lhii);,'s, i^ 
 very unpleasant — nothing more so. 
 
 *' * I know all about that, Tom,' said the old gentleman. ' I have seeu 
 
142 rosTHurfous papers of 
 
 it done very often in my time, Tom, between more people than I should 
 like to mention to you ; but it never came to any thinjr after all.' 
 
 " ' You must have seen some queer things,' said Turn, with an in- 
 quisitive look. 
 
 " ♦ Yqu may say that, Tom,' repUed the old fellow, with a very com- 
 plicated wink. ' i am the last of my family, Tom,' said the old gentle- 
 man, with a melancholy sighi 
 
 *' ' Was it a large one? inquired Tom Smart. 
 
 " ' There were twelve of us, Tom,' said the old gentleman ; ' fine 
 straight-backed, handsome fellows as you'd wish to see. None of your 
 modern abortions — all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though 
 I say it that should not, which it would have done your heart good to 
 behold.' 
 
 " ' And what's become of the others, sir V asked Tom Smart. 
 
 "The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied, 
 'Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom,^nd they hadn't all 
 my constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and 
 went into kitchens and other hospitals : and one of 'em, with long 
 service and hard usaoc, positively lost his senses : — he got so crazy 
 that he was obliged to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom.' 
 
 " ' Dreadful !' said Tom Smart. 
 
 "The old fellow paused for a few minutes, apparently struggling' 
 with his feelings of emotion, and then said, 
 
 " ' However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall man, 
 Tom, is a rascally adventurer. The moment he married the widow, 
 he would sell off all tj»e furniture, and run away. What would be the 
 consequence ? She would be deserted and reduced to ruin, and I 
 should catch my death of cold in some broker's shop.' 
 
 " ' Yes, but — ' 
 
 '• ' Don't interrupt me,' said the old |t£ntleman. ' Of you, Tom, I 
 entertain a very different opinion ; for I well know that if you once 
 settled yourself in a public house, you would never leave it, as long as 
 there was any thing to drink within its walls.' 
 
 " ' T am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir,' said 
 Tom Smart. 
 
 " ' Therefore,' resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone ; ' you 
 shall have her, and he shall not.' 
 
 " ' What is to prevent it V said Tom Smart, eagerly. 
 
 '' ' This disclosure,' replied the old gentleman ; ' he is already married. 
 
 *' ' How can I prove it?' said Tom, starting half out of bed. 
 
 "The old gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and haviuji; 
 pointed to one of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it in its olf 
 posilii>n. 
 
 " ' He little thinks,' said the old gentleman, ' that in the right hand 
 pocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter, entreat- 
 ing him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six — mark me, Tom- 
 fiix babes, and all of them small ones.' 
 
 •' As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his foaturcM 
 grew less and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film camu 
 over Tom Smart's eves. The old man seemed gradually blending into 
 the chair, the damask waistcoat to resolve into a cushion, the red slip 
 pers to shrink into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently away, 
 and Tom Smart fell back on his pillow, and dropped asleep. 
 
 " Morninij roused Tein from the lethargic slumber into which he 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 143 
 
 had fallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in bed, and 
 for some minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events of the } re- 
 ceding night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He looked at the 
 chair, it was a fantastic and grim-looking piece of furniture, certainly, 
 but it must have been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, 
 that could have discovered any resemblance between it and an old man. 
 
 " 'How are you, old boy V said Tom. He was bolder in the day- 
 light — most men are. 
 
 " The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word. 
 
 " ' Miserable morring,' said Tom. No. The chair would not be 
 drawn into conversation. 
 
 " ' Which press did you point to ! — you can tell me that,' said Tom. 
 Not a word, gentlemen, the chair would say. 
 
 '♦ ' It's not much trouble to open it, any how,' said Tom, getting out 
 of bed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the pres.ses. The 
 key was in the lock ; he turned it, and opened the door. There icas a 
 pair of trousers there. He put his hand into the pocket, and drew forth 
 the identical letter the old gentleman had described ! 
 
 " ' Queer sort of thing, this,' said Tom iSmart ; looking first at the 
 chair and then at the press, and then at the letter, and then at the chair 
 again. * Very queer,' said Tom. But as there was nothing in either 
 to lessen the queerness, he thought he might as well dress himself, and 
 settle the tall man's business at once — ^just to put him out of his misery. 
 
 " Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on his way down 
 stairs, with the scrutinizing eye of a landlord ; thinking it not impos- 
 sible, that before long they and their contents would be his property. 
 The tall man was standing in the snug little bar, with his hands be- 
 hind him, quite at home. He grinned vacantly at Tom. A casual 
 observer might have supposed he did it, only to show his white teeth ; 
 but Tom Smart thought a consciousness of triumph was passing 
 through the place where the tall man's mind would have been, if he 
 had had any. Toni laughed in his face ; and summoned the landlady. 
 
 ** ' Good morning, ma'am,' said Tom Smart, closing the door of the 
 little parlour as the widow entered. 
 
 " Good morning, sir,' said the widow. * What will you take for 
 breakfast, sir !' 
 
 " Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so he made no 
 answer. 
 
 *' * There's a very nice ham,' said the widow, • and a beautiful cold 
 larded fowl. Shall I send 'em in, sir T 
 
 " These words roused Tom from his reflections. His admiration 
 of the widow increased as she spoke. Thoughtful creature ! Com- 
 fortable provider I 
 
 " • Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am T inquired Tom. 
 
 '• ' His name i.> Jinkins, sir,' said the widow, slightly blushing. 
 
 *' ' He's a tall man,' said Tom. 
 
 " ' He is a very fine man, sir,' replied the widow, * and a very nice 
 gentleman.' 
 
 " ' .\h 1' said Tom. 
 
 •* ' Is there any thing more you want, sir 1' inquired the widow, ra- 
 ther puzzled by Tom's manner. 
 
 " ' Why, yes,' said Tom. ' My dear ma'am, will you have the kind- 
 ness to sit down for one moment !' 
 
 ** The widow looked much amazed, but she sat down, and Tom sat 
 
144 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 down too, close beside her. I don't know how it happened, gentie- 
 nipn — indeed my uncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said he didn't 
 know how it happened either — but somehow or other the palm of Tom's 
 liand fell upon the back of the widow's hand, and remained there while 
 he spoke. 
 
 " ' jMy dear ma'am,' said Tom Smart — he had always a great notion 
 of committing the amiable — ' My dear ma'am, you deserve a very ex- 
 cellent husband ; — you do indeed.' 
 
 " ' Why, sir !' said the widow — as well she might ; Tom's mode of 
 commencing the conversation being rather unusual, not to say start- 
 ling, the fact of his never having set eyes upon her before the previous 
 night, being taken into consideration. ' Why, sir !' 
 
 '* ' I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am," said Tom Smart. * You de* 
 serve a very admirable husband, and whoever he is he'll be a very 
 lucky man.' As Tom said this, his eye involuntarily wandered from 
 the widow's face to the comforts around him. 
 
 " The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and made an effort 'to 
 rise. Tom gently pressed her hand, as if to detain her., and she kept 
 her seat. Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as my uncle 
 used to say. 
 
 " ' I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, for your good 
 opinion,' said the buxom landlady, half laughing ; ' and if ever I marry 
 again' — 
 
 " '//",' said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly out at the right hand 
 comer of his left eye. '//"' — 
 
 <« ' WVll,' said the widow, laughing outright this time. '■When I 
 do, I hope I shall have as good a husband as you describe.' 
 
 " ' Jinkins to wit,' said Tom. 
 
 " ' Why, sir !' exclaimed the widov?. 
 
 " ' Oh, don't tell me, said Tom, ' I know him.' 
 
 " ' I am sure nobody who knows him, knows any thing bad of him,' 
 said the widow, bridling up at the mysterious air with which Tom had 
 spoken. 
 
 " ' Hem,' said Tom Smart. 
 
 ** The widow began to think it was high time to cry, so she took out 
 her handkerchief, and inquired whether Tom wished to insult her ; 
 whether he thought it like a gentleman to take away the character of 
 another gentleman behind his back ; why, if he had got any thing to 
 say, he didn't say it to the man, like a man, instead of terrifying a poor 
 weak woman in that way ; and so forth. . 
 
 " ' I'll say it to him fast enough,' said Tom, ' only I want you to 
 hear it first.' 
 
 " ' What is it 1' inquired the widow, looking intently in Tom's coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " I'll astonish, you,' said Tom, putting his hand in his pocket. 
 
 " * If it is, that he wants money,' said the widow, ' I know that 
 already, and you needn't trouble vouself.' 
 
 " ' Pooh, nonsense, that's nothin' ' said Tom Smart ; ' I want 
 money. 'Tah't that.' 
 
 " ' Oh dear, what can it be V exclaimed the poor widow. 
 
 «' ' Don't be friirhtened,' said Tom Smart. He slowly drew forth the 
 letter, and unfolded it. ' You won't scream 1' said Tom, doubtfully. 
 
 " ♦ No, no,' replied the widow ; * let me see it.' 
 
 *' ' You won't go fainting away, or any of that nonsense V said Tom. 
 
PCSTHUMOCS PAPERS OF 
 
 •* ♦ No, no,' returned the widow, hastily. 
 
 "'And don't run out, and blow him up,' said Tom, 'because I'll 
 do ail that for you ; you had better not exert yourself.' 
 
 " ' Well, well,' said the widow, ' let me sec it.' 
 
 " ' I will,' replied Tom Smart ; and, with these words, he placed the 
 letter in the widow's hand. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I have heard n)y uncle say, that Tom Smart said the 
 wi<low's lamentations, when she heard the disclosure, would have 
 pierced a heart of stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, but 
 they pierced his, to the very core. The widow rocked herself to and 
 fro, and wrung her hands. 
 
 " ' Oh, the deception and villany of the man !' said the widow. 
 
 *' ' Frightful, my dear ma'am ; but compose yourself,' said Tom 
 Smart. 
 
 '"*0h, I can't compose myself,' shrieked the widow. <I shall 
 never find any one else I can love so much !' 
 
 " ' Oh. yes, you will, my dear soul,' said Tom Smart, letting fall a 
 shower of the largest-sized tears, in pity for the widow's misfortunes. 
 Tom Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put his arm round 
 the widow's waist ; and the widow, in a passion of grief, had clasped 
 Tom's h-ind. She looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her 
 tears. Tom looked dowm in hers, and smiled through his. 
 
 " I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not 
 kiss the widow at that particular moment. He used to tell my uncle 
 he didn't, but I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, gentle- 
 men, I rather think he did. 
 
 *' At all evenls, Tom kicked the ver\- tall man out at the front door 
 half an hour after, and married the widow a month after. And he 
 used to drive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with the 
 red wheels, and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up 
 business many years afterward, and went to France with his wife ; 
 and then the old house was pulled down." 
 
 *' Will you allow me to ask you," said the inquisitive old gentleman, 
 " what became of the chair !"' 
 
 " Why," replied the one-ey^cd bagman, " it was observed to creak 
 very much on the day of the wedding ; but Tom Smart couldn't say 
 for certain, whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He 
 rather thought it was the latter, though, for it never spoke afterward." 
 
 " Every body believed the stor}-, didn't they ?" said the dii;ty-faced 
 man, re-fillinrr his pipe. 
 
 " Except Tom'.s enemies," replied the bagman. " Some of 'em 
 «aid Tom invented it altogether ; and others said he was drunk, and 
 fancied it, and got hold of the wrong trouscr.*? by mistake before he 
 went to bed. But nobody ever minded what they said." 
 
 " Tom Smart said it was all true ?'' 
 
 *' Every word." 
 
 *' And your uncle ^" 
 
 " Every letter." 
 
 ♦' They must have been nice men, both of 'em," said the dirty-faced 
 man. 
 
 "Yes, they were, replied the bagman ; very nice men indeed !" 
 
 Vol. 1—13 
 
146 POSTH0MOU8 FAPBR8 OV 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN WHICH IS GIVEN A FAITHFUL PORTRAITURB OP TWO DISTINGUISHED 
 PERSONS ; AND AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF A PUBLIC BREAKFAST IH 
 THEIR HOUSE AND GROUNDS : WHICH PUBLIC BREAKFAST LEADS TO THB 
 RECOGNITION OF AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, AND THE COMMENCEMENT W 
 ANOTHER CHAPTER. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's conscience had been somewhat reproaching him foi 
 his recent neglect of liis friends at the Peacock ; and he was just on 
 the point of walking forth in quest of them, on the third morning after 
 the election had terminated, when his faithful valet put into hia band a 
 card, on which was engraved the following inscription. 
 
 M0. Xeo ifuntcc, 
 
 TTie Den, Eatantwill. 
 
 *' Person's a waitin'," said Sam, cpigrammatically. 
 
 " Does the person want me, Sam V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "He wants you partickler ; and no one else'll do, as the devil's pri- 
 vate secretary said, ven he fetched away Doctor Faustus," replied Mr. 
 Weller. 
 
 '♦ He. Is it a gentleman V said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " A werry good imitation o' one, if it ain't," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 •' But this is a lady's card," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Given me by a gen'l'm'n, hows'ever," replied Sam, " and he's a 
 waitin' in the drawing-room — said he'd rather wait all day, than not 
 see you." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick on hearing this determination, descended to the draw- 
 ing-room, where sat a grave man, who started up on his entrance, and 
 said with an air of profound respect 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick, I presume I" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " Allow me, sir, the honour of grasping your hand — ^permit me, sir, 
 to shake it," said the grave man. 
 
 '' Certainly," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 The stranger shook the extended hand, and then contmued. 
 
 '• We have heard of your fame, sir. The noise of your antiquariaa 
 discussion has reached the ears of Mrs. Leo Hunter — my wife, sir ; / 
 am Mr. Leo Hunter" — the stranger paused, as if he expected that Mr. 
 Pickwick would be overcome by the disclosure ; but seeing that he 
 remained perfectly caln3, proceeded. 
 
 "My wife, sir — Mrs. Leo Hunter — is proud to number among her 
 acquaintance, all those who have rendered themselves celebrated by 
 their works and talents. Permit me, sir, to place in a conspicuous part 
 of the list, the name of Mr. Pickwick, and his brother members of the 
 club that derives its name from him." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 147 
 
 " I shall be extremely happy to make the acquaintance of such a 
 lady, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " You sJudl make it, sir," said the grave man. " To-morrow morn- 
 ing, sir, we give a public breakfast — a fete champetre — to a great 
 number of those who have rendered themselves celebrated by their 
 works and talents. Permit Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir, to have the gratifica- 
 tion of seeing you at the Den." 
 
 *' With great pleasure," replied Mr. Pickvnck. 
 
 ** Mrs. Leo Hunter has many of these breakfasts, sir," resumed the 
 new acquaintance — '' ' Feasts of reason, sir, and flows of soul,' as 
 somebody who wrote a sonnet to Mrs. Leo Hunter on her breakfasts, 
 feelingly and originally observed." 
 
 *• Was he celebrated for his works, and talents ?' inquired Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 *' He was, sir," replied the grave man, " all Mrs. Leo Hunter's ac- 
 quaintance are ; it is her ambition, sir, to have no other acquaintance." 
 
 •' It is a very noble ambition," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " When I inform Mrs. Leo Hunter, that that remark fell from your 
 lips, sir, she will indeed be proud," said the grave man. " You have a 
 gentleman in your train, who has produced some beautiful little poems, 
 I think, sir." 
 
 " My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a great taste for poetry," replied Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 " So has Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir. She dotes on poetry, sir. She 
 adores it ; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up eind 
 entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces herself, sir. 
 You may have met with her ' Ode to an expiring Frog,' sir." 
 
 " I don't think I have," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "You astonish me, sir," said Mr. Leo Hunter. ♦* It created an 
 immense sensation. It was signed with an ' L' and eight stars, and 
 appeared originally in a Lady's Magazine. It commenced, 
 
 Can I view thee panting, lying 
 On thy stomach, without sighing ; 
 Can I unmoved see thee dying 
 
 On a log, 
 
 Expiring Frog !'" 
 
 *• Beautiful !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Fine," said Mr. I^eo Hunter, '* so simple." 
 
 " Verj," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' The next verse is still more touching. Shall I repeat it '" 
 
 " If you please," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' It runs thus," said the grave man still more gravely. 
 
 ' Say have fiends in shape of boys. 
 With wild halloo, and brutal noise. 
 Hunted thee from marshy joys. 
 
 With a dog. 
 Expiring frog V " 
 
 *' Finely expressed," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' All point, sir, all point," said .Mr. Leo Hunter, " but you shall hear 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter repeat it. She can do justice to it, sir. She will 
 lepeat it, in character, sir, to-morrow morning." 
 
 ^^ la character !" 
 
148 POSTHUMOOS PAPERS OF 
 
 •' As Minerva. But I forgot — it's a fancy dress dejeuns.'' 
 
 •' Dear itie," said Mr. Pickwick, glancing at his own figure — '' I can't 
 possibly" — 
 
 •' Can't, sir ; can't !" exclaimed Mr. Leo Hunter. " Solomon Lucas, 
 the Jew in the Hich Street, has thousands of fancy dresses. Con- 
 sider, sir, how many appropriate characters are open for your selection. 
 Plato, Zeno, Epicurus, Pythagoras — all founders of clubs." 
 
 " I know that,'* said Mr. Pickwick ; " but as I cannot put myself in 
 competition with those great men, I cannot presume to wear their 
 dresses." 
 
 The grave man considered deeply, for a few seconds, and then said, 
 
 '' On reflection, sir, I don't know whether it would not afford Mrs. 
 Leo Hunter greater pleasure, if her guests saw a gentleman of your 
 celebrity in his own costume, rather than in an assumed one. I may 
 venture to promise an exception in your case, sir — Yes, I am quite cer- 
 tain that on behalf of Mrs. Leo Hunter, I may venture to do so." 
 
 '' In that case," said Mr. Pickwick, " I shall have great pleasure in 
 coming." 
 
 '•But I waste your time, sir," said the grave man, as if suddenly 
 recollecting himself " I know its value, sir. I will not detain you. 
 I may tell Mrs. Leo Hunter, then, that she may confidently expect you 
 and your distinguished friends 1 Good morning, sir, I am proud to 
 have beheld so eminent a personage-^not a step, sir ; not a word.''' 
 And without giving Mr. Pickwick time to oflfer remoustratice or denial, 
 Mr. Leo Hunter stalked gravely away. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took up his hat, and repaired to the Peacock, but Mr, 
 Winkle had conveyed the intelligence of the fancy ball there, before 
 him. 
 
 " Mrs. Pott's going," were the first words with which he saluted his 
 leader. 
 
 " Is she ]" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " As Apollo," replied Mr. Winkle. " Only Pott objects to the tunic." 
 
 " He is right. He is quite right," sakl Mr. Pickwick emphatically. 
 
 •' Yes ; — so she's going to wear a white satin gown with gold 
 spano-les." 
 
 " They'll hardly know what she's meant for; wuUthey;" inquired 
 Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Of course they will," replied Mr. Winkle, indignantly. " They'll 
 see her lyre, won't they ?" 
 
 " True ; I forgot that," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 *' I shall go as a bandit," interposed Mr. Tupman. 
 
 « What ?" said Mr. Pickwick, with a sudden start. 
 
 " As a bandit," repeated Mr. Tupman, mildly. 
 
 "You don't mean to say," said Mr. Pickwick, gazing witli solemn 
 sternness at his friend, "You don't mean to say, Mr. TLij)man, that it 
 is your intention to put yourself into a green velvet jacket, with a two- 
 inch tail ]■' 
 
 " Such is my intention, sir," replied Mr. Tupman, waniily. " And 
 why not, sir V 
 
 " Because sir," said Mr. Pickwick, considerably excited — " Because 
 you arc too old, sir." 
 
 "Too old I" exclaimed Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " And if any further ground of objection be wanting," continued 
 Mr. Pickwick, '* you are too fat, sir." 
 
THE PICKWICK ''LCB. 149 
 
 **SiT," said Mr. Tupman, his face suffused with a crimson glow, 
 •*this is an insult."' 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone, " it is not half the in- 
 sult to you, that your appearance in my presence in a green velvet 
 jacket, with a two-inrh tail, would be to me." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Tupman, " you're a fellow." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " you're another !'* 
 
 Mr Tupman advanced a step or two, and glared at Mr. Pickwick. 
 Mr. Pickwick returned the glare, concentrated into a focus by means of 
 his spectacles, and breathed a boW defiance. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. 
 "Winkle looked oa petrified at beholding such a scene between two such 
 men. 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Tupman, after a short pause, speaking in a low 
 deep voice, ♦' you have called me old.** 
 
 " I have," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "And fat." 
 
 *' I reiterate the charge." 
 
 ♦« And a fellow." 
 
 "So you are !'^ 
 
 There was a fearful pause. 
 
 " My attachment to your person, sir.*' said Mr. Tupman, speaking 
 in a voice tremulous with emotion, and tucking up his wristbands mean- 
 while, '* is great — very great — but upon that person I must take sum- 
 mary vengeance." 
 
 "Gome on, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick. Stimulated by the exciting 
 nature of the dialogue, the heroic man actually threw himself into a 
 paralytic attitude, confidently supposed by the two by-standers to have 
 been intended as a posture of defence. 
 
 '' What !" exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, suddenly recovering the power 
 of speech, of which intense astonishment had previously bereft him, 
 and rushing between the two at the imminent hazard of receiving an 
 application on the temple from each. " What ! Mr. Pickwick, with 
 the eyes of the world upon you ! Mr. Tupman I who in common with 
 us all, derives a lustre from his undying name ! For shame, gentie- 
 cnea, for shame."' 
 
 The unwonted lines which momentary passion had ruled in Mr. 
 Pickwick's clear and open brow, gradually melted away, as his young 
 friend spoke, like the marks of a black-lead pencil beneath the softening, 
 influence of India rubber. His countenance had rcsunied its usual 
 benign expression ere he concluded. 
 
 "I have been hasty," said Mr. Pickwick, "very hasty. Tupman, 
 your hand." 
 
 The dark shadow f>assed from Mr. Tupman's face, as he warmly 
 grasped the hand of his friend. 
 
 " I have been hasty too," said he. 
 
 "Xo, no," interrupted .Mr. Pickwick, "the fauh was mine. You 
 will wear the green velvet jacket.'' 
 
 '•No, no,'' replied .Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " To oblige me, you will,' resumed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Well, well, I w'iU,'' said Mr. Tujiman. 
 
 It was accnrdinglv settled that .Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and .Mr. 
 Snodgrass should all wear fancy dresses. Thus Mr. Pickwick wai; led 
 hy the very >varmth of his feelings to give bis con.scnt to a procee«ling 
 ixom which his belter judgment would have recoiled — a more striking 
 
 13* 
 
150 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 illustration of his amiable character could hajdly have been conceived, 
 even if th^ events recorded in these pa^es had been wholly imaginary. 
 Mr. Leo Hunter had not exagirerated the resources of Mr. Solomon 
 Lucas. His wardrobe was extensive — very exlnnslve — not strictly 
 classical, perhaps, nor quite new, nor did it contain any one garment 
 made precisely after the fashion of any age or time, but every thing 
 was more or less spangled ; and what caji be prettier than spangles ? 
 It may be objected that they are not adapted to the day-light, but every 
 bodv knows that they would glitter if there were lamps ; and nothing 
 can be clearer than that if people give fancy balls in the day-lime, and 
 the dresses do not show quite as well as they would by. night, the fault 
 lies solely with the people who give the fancy balls, and is in nowise 
 chargeable on the spangles. Such was the convincing reasoning of Mr. 
 Solomon Lucas ; and influenced by such arguntents did Mr. Tupmao, 
 Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass engage to array themselves in cos- 
 tumes which his taste and experience induced him to recommend as 
 admirably suited to the occasion. 
 
 A carriage was hired from the Town Arms, for the accommodation 
 of the Pickwickians, and a chariot was ordered from the same reposi- 
 tory, for the purpose of conveying Mr. and Mrs. Pott to Mrs. Leo Hun- 
 ter's grounds, which Mr. Pott, as a delicate acknowledgment of having 
 received an invitation, had already confidently predicted in the Eatan- 
 swill Gazette, " would present a scene of varied and delicious ecchant- 
 ment — a bewildering coruscation of beauty and talent — a lavish and 
 prodigal display of hospitality — above all, a degree of splendour soft- 
 ened by the most exquisite taste ; and adornment refined with perfect 
 harmony and the ch?.stest good-keeping — compared with which the 
 fabled gorgeousness of Eastern Fairy Land itself would appear to be 
 clothed in as many dark and murky colours, as must be the mind of 
 the splenetic and unmanly being who could presume to taint with the 
 venom of his envy, the preparations making by the virtuous and highly 
 distinguished lady, at whose shrine this humble tribute of admiration 
 was offered." This last was a piece of biting sarcasm against the In- 
 dependent, who in consequence of not having been invited at. all, had 
 been through four numbers affecting to sneer at the whole affair, in his 
 very largest type, with all the adjectives in capital letters. 
 
 The morning came ; it was a pleasant sight to behold Mr. Tupman 
 in full brigand's costume, with a very tight jacket, sitting like a pin- 
 cushion over his back and shoulders : the upper portion of his legs en- 
 cased in the velvet shorts, and the lower part thereof swathed in the 
 complicated bandages to which all brigands are peculiarly attached. 
 It was pleasing to see his open and ingenuous countenance, well mus- 
 tached and corked, looking out from an open shirt collar ; and to 
 contemplate the sugar-loaf hat, decorated with ribands of all colours, 
 which he was compelled to carry on his knee, inasmuch as no known 
 conveyance with a top to it, would admit of any man's carrying it be- 
 tween his head and the roof Equally humorous and agreeable was 
 the appearance of Mr. Snodgrass in blue satin trunks and cloak, white 
 silk tights, and shoes, and Grecian helmet, which every body knows 
 (and if they do not, Mr. Solomon Lucas did) to have been the regular, 
 authentic, every-day costume of a troubadour, from the earliest age.s 
 down to the time of their final disappearance from the face of the earth. 
 All this was pleasant, but this was as nothing compared with the shout- 
 ing of the populace when the carriage drew up, behind Mr. Pott's cha- 
 
THE PICEWICK CLUB. 151 
 
 riot, which chariot itself drew up at Mr. Pott's door, which door itself 
 opened, and displayed the great Pott accoutred as a Russian officer of 
 justice, with a tremendous knout in his hand — tastefully typical of the 
 stern and mighty power of the Eatanswill Gazette, and the fearful lash- 
 ingslt bestowed on public oflenders. 
 
 *' Bravo !" shouted Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass from the pas- 
 sage, when they beheld the walking allegory. 
 
 ** Bravo I'' Mr. Pickwick was heard to exclaim, from the passage 
 
 " Hoo-roar Pott," shouted the populace. Amid these salutations. 
 Mr. Pott, smiling with that kind of bland dignity which sufficiently 
 testified that he felt his power, and knew how to exert it, got into the 
 chariot. 
 
 Then there emerged from the house, Mrs. Pott, who would have 
 looked very like Apollo if she hadn't had a gown on : conducted by Mr. 
 Winkle, who in his light red coat, could not possibly have been mista- 
 ken for any thing but a sportsman, if he had not borne an equal resem- 
 blance to a ^neral postman. Last of all, came Mr. Pickwick, whom 
 the boys applauded as loudly as any body, probably under the impres- 
 sion that his tights and gaiters were some remnants of the dark ages ; 
 and then the two vehicles proceeded towards Mrs, Leo Hunter's. Mr. 
 Weller (who was to assist in waiting) being stationed on the box oi 
 that in which his master was seated. 
 
 Every one of the men, women, boys, girls, and babies, who were as- 
 sembled to see the visiters in their fancy dresses, screamed with delight 
 and ecstasy, when Mr. Pickwick, with the brigand on one arm, and 
 the troubadour on the other, walked solemnly up the entrance. Xever 
 were such shouts heard, as tliose which greeted Mr. Tupman's eftbrta 
 lo fix the sugar-loaf hat on his head, by way of entering the garden in 
 style. 
 
 The preparations were on the most delightful scale ; fully realizing 
 the prophetic Pott's anticipations about the gorgeousness of Eastera 
 Fairy-land, and at once affording a sufficient contradiction to the malig- 
 nant statements of the reptile Independent. The e^rounds were more 
 than an acre and a quarter in extent, and they were filled with people ! 
 Never wa.s such a blaze of beauty, and fashion, and literature. There 
 was the young lady who "did'' the poetry in the Eatanswill Gazette-, 
 in the garb of a sultana, leaning upon the arm of the young gentle- 
 man who " did " the review department, and who was appropriately 
 habited in a field marshal's uniform — the boots excepted. There were 
 bests of these geniuses, and any reasonable person would have thofight 
 it honour enough to meet them. But more than these, there were half- 
 a-dozen lions from London — authors, real authors, who had written 
 whole books, and printed them afterward — and here you might see 
 'em, walking about, like ordinary men, smiling and talking — ay, and 
 talking pretty considerable nonsense too, no doubt with the benign in- 
 tention of rendering themselves intelligible to tltc common people about 
 them. Moreover, there was a band of niusic in pasteboard caps ; four 
 something-ean singers in the costume of their country, and a dozen 
 hired waiters in the costume of thetr country — and ver}' dirty costume 
 too. And above all, there was Mrs. Leo Hunter in the character ol 
 Minerva, receiving the con>pany, and overflowing with pride and gra- 
 tification at the notion of having called such distinguished individuals 
 together. 
 
 "Mr. Pickwick, ma'am," said a servant, as that gentleman ap- 
 
152 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS O? 
 
 proached the presiding goddess, with his hat in his hand, and the bri' 
 gand and troubadour on cither arm. 
 
 "What — where!' exclaimed Mra. Leo Hunter, starting up, in an 
 aflfected rapture of surprise. 
 
 " Here," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Is it possible that I have really the gratification of beholding Mj. 
 Pickwick liimself I" ejaculated Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 ♦' No other, ma'am," replied Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low. " Per- 
 mit me to introduce my friends — Mr. Tupman — Mr Winkle — Mr. 
 Snodgrass — to the authoress of ' The E.vpiring Frog.' '" 
 
 A'ery few people but those who have tried it, know what a difficult 
 process it is, to bow in green vt-ivet smalls, and a tight jacket and 
 high crowned-hat, or in blue satin trunks and white silks, or knee-cords 
 and top-boots that were never made for the wearer, and have been fixed 
 upon him without the remotest reference to the comparative dimensions 
 of himself and the suit. Never were such distortions as Mr. Tup- 
 man's frame undcrwentin his ellorts to appear easy a*l graceful — 
 never was such ingenious posturing, as his fancy-dressed friends ex- 
 hibited. 
 
 " Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Leo Hunter, " I must make you promise- 
 hot to stir from my side the whole day. There are hundreds of peo- 
 ple here, that I must positively introduce you to." , 
 
 '• You are very kind, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 <♦ In the first place, here are my little girls ; I had almost forgotten 
 them," said Minerva, carelessly pointing towards a couple of full-grown 
 young ladies, of whom one might be about twenty, and the other a year 
 or two older, and who were dressed in very juveniie costumes — whe- 
 ther to make them look young, or their mamma younger, Mr. Pickwick 
 docs not distinctly inform us. — 
 
 '' They are very beautiful," said Mr. Pickwick, as the juveniles 
 turned away, after being presented. 
 
 " They are very like their mamma, sir," said Mr. Pott, majestically. 
 
 "Oh! you naughty man," exclaimed Mrs. Leo Hunter, playfully 
 tapping the editor's arm with her fan. (Alinerva with a fan ') 
 
 *' Why now, my dear Mrs. Hunter," said Mr. Pott, who was trum- 
 peter in ordinary at the Den, " you know that when your picture was 
 in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, last year, ever}- body inquired 
 whether it was intended for you, or your youngest daughter ; for you 
 were so much alike, that there was no telling the diHerence between 
 you." 
 
 *' W'ell, and if they did, why need 3'ou repeat it before strangers 1" 
 said Mrs. Leo Hunter, bestowing another tap on the slumbering lioa 
 of the Eatanswill Gazette. 
 
 '^ Count, Count!" screamed Mrs. Leo Hunter to a well-whiskered 
 individual in a foreign uniform, who was passing by. 
 
 " Ah ! you want me ■'' said the count, turning back. 
 
 " I want to introduce two very clever people to each other,'' said 
 Mrs. Leo Hunter. Mr. Pickwick, I have great pleasure in introducing 
 you to Count Smorltork." She added in a hurried whisper to Mr. 
 Pickwick — "the famous foreigner — gathering materials for his great 
 work on England — hem? — Count Smorltork, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick saluted the count with all the reverence- due to so 
 great a man, and the count drew forth a set of tablets. 
 
 *' What you say, Mrs. Hunt .'" inquired the Count, smiling gra- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 133 
 
 clously on the gratified Mrs. Leo Hunter. '• Pig Vig or Big Vig — 
 what you call — lawyer, eh! I gee — that is it, BigVifr;" and the 
 count was proceeding to enter .Mr. Pickwick in .his tablets as a aen- 
 tleman of the long robe, who derived his name from the profession to 
 which he belonged, when Mrs. Leo Hunter interposed. 
 
 " No, no, Count," said the lady, " Pick-wif-lc." 
 
 "Ah, ah, I see," replied the count, "Peek — Christian name; — 
 Weeks — surname ; good, ver good. Peek Weeks. How you do, 
 Weeks 1" 
 
 " Quite well, I thank you," replied Mr. Pickwick, with all his usual 
 affability. " Have you been long in England V 
 
 *' Long — ver long time — fortnight — more." 
 * " Do you stay here long ]" 
 
 *' One week." 
 
 "You will have enough to do," said Mr. Pickwick, smilin<T, "to 
 gather all the materials you want in that time." 
 
 " Eh, they are gathered," said the count. 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mr Pickwick. 
 ? " They are here," added the count, tapping his forehead sigrniticantly. 
 "w Large book at home — full of notes — music, picture, science, poetry, 
 poltic ; all lings." 
 
 ''The word politics, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, "comprises in itself a 
 difficult study of no inconsiderable magnitude." 
 
 " Ah !" said the count, drawing out the tablets a^ain, " ver good — 
 fine words to begin a chapter. Chapter forty-seven. Poltics. The 
 word poltic surprises by himself — " And down went Mr. Pickwick's 
 remark, in Count Smoltork's tablets, with such variations and additions 
 as the count's exuberant fancy suggested, or his imperfect knowledge 
 of the lancruage occasioned. 
 
 " Count," said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 " Mrs. Hunt," replied the count. 
 
 **This is Mr. Snodgrass, a friend of Mr. Pickwick's, and a poet." 
 
 " Stop," exclaimed the count, bringing out the tablets once more. 
 "Head, poetry — chapter, literary friends — name, Snow^rass ; v«r ffood. 
 Introduced to Snowgrass — great poet, friend of Peek Weeks — by '.Mrs. 
 Hunt, which wrote other sweet ptjem — what is that name — Frog — 
 Perspiring Frog — ver good — ver good indeed." And the count put 
 up his tablets, and with sundry bows and acknowledgments walked 
 away, thoroughly .safi-efied that he had made the most important and 
 valuable additions to his stock of information. 
 
 " Wonderful man. Count Smorltork," said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 " Sound philosopher," said Pott. 
 
 " Clear-heaiJcd, strong-minded person," added Mr. Snodprass. 
 
 " A chorus of by-standers took up the shout of Count Smorltork's 
 praise, shook their heads sagely, and unanimously cried " Very." 
 
 As the enthusiasm in Count Smorltork's favour ran very high, his 
 praises might have been sung until the end of the festivities,'if the 
 four something-ean singers had not ranged themselves in front of a small 
 apple-tree, to look picturesque, and commenced singing their national 
 songs, which appeared by no means difBcjIt of execution, inasmuch as 
 the grand secret seemed to bp. that three of the something-ean sii)«,rers 
 should grunt, while the fourth howled. This interesting^ performance 
 ha\-ing concluded amidst the loud plaudits of the whole company, a bov 
 forthwith proceeded to entangle himself with the rails of a chair, ariii 
 
154 POSTHOMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 to jump over it, and to crawl under it, and fall down with it, and to 5o 
 every thing but sit upon it, and then to make a cravat of his legs, and 
 tie them round his neck, and then to illustrate the ease with which a 
 human being can be made to look like a magnified toad — all which feats 
 yielded high delight and satisfaction to the assembled spectators. After 
 which, the voice of Mrs. Pott was heard to chirp faintly forth, some- 
 thing which courtesy interpreted into a song, which was all very clas- 
 sical, and strictly in character, because Apollo was himself a composer, 
 and composers can very seldom sing their own music or any body 
 else's either. This was succeeded by Mrs. Leo Hunter's recitation of 
 her far-famed Ode to an Expiring Frog, which was encored once, and 
 ■would have been encored twice, if the major part of the guests, who 
 thought it was high time to get something to eat, had not said that it 
 was perfectly shameful to take advantage of Mrs. Hunter's good nature. 
 So, although Mrs. Leo Hunter professed her perfect willingness to 
 recite the ode again, her kind and considerate friends wouldn't hear of 
 it on any account ; and the refreshment room being thrown open, all 
 the people who had ever been there before, scrambled in with all 
 possible despatch : Mrs. Leo Hunter's usual course of proceeding 
 being, to issue cards for a hundred, and breakfast for fifty, or in other 
 words to feed only the very particular lions, and let the smaller animals 
 take care of themselves. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Potti" said Mrs. Leo Hunter, as she placed the 
 aforesaid lions around her. 
 
 " Here I am," said the editor, from the very farthest end of the room ; 
 far beyond aU hope of food, unless something was done for him by the 
 hostess. " Won't you come up here I" 
 
 " Oh pray don't mind him," said Mrs. Pott, in the most obliging 
 voice — " you give yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble, Mrs. 
 Hunter. You'll do very well there, won't you — dear." 
 
 "Certainly — love," replied the unhappy Pott, with a grim smile. 
 Alas for the knout I The nervous arm that wielded it, with such 
 gigantic force upon public characters, was paralyzed beneath the glance 
 of the imperious Mrs. Pott. 
 
 " Mrs. Leo Hunter looked round her, in triumph. Count Smorl- 
 tork was busily engaged in taking notes of the contents of the dishes ; 
 Mr. Tupman was doing the honours of the lobster salad to several 
 lionesses, with a degree of grace which no brigand ever exhibited be« 
 fore ; Mr. Snodgrass having cut out the young gen,tleman who cut up 
 the books for the Eatanswill Gazette, was engaged in an impassioned 
 argument with the young lady who did the poetry ; and Mr. Pickwick 
 was making himself universally agreeable. Nothing seemed wanting 
 to render the select circle complete, when Mr. Leo Hunter, whose de- 
 partment on these occasions was to stand about in door-ways, and talk 
 to the less important people — suddenly called out — 
 
 " My dear ; here's Mr. Charles Fitzmarshall." 
 
 " O dear," said Mrs. Leo Hunter, " how anxiously I have been ex- 
 pecting hizu ! Pray make room to let .Mr. Filzmarshail pass. Tell Mr. 
 jFitzmarshall, my dear, to come up to me directly, to be scolded for 
 coming so late." 
 
 " Coming, my dear ma'am," cried a voice, " as quick as I can — 
 crowds of people — full room — hard work — very." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's knife and fork fell from his hand. He stared across 
 the table at Mr. Tupman, who had dropped his knife and fork, and was 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 155 
 
 looking as if he were about to sink into the ground without farther 
 notice. 
 
 *• Ah !" cried the voice, as its owner pushed his way among the last 
 five-and-twenty Turks, othcers, cavaliers, and Charles the Seconds, 
 that remained between him and the table, " regular mangle — Baker's 
 patent — not a crease in my coat after all this squeezing — might have 
 ' got up my linen as I came along' — ha ! ha ! not a bad idea, that — 
 queer thing to have it mangled when it's upon one, though — tr>'ing 
 process — very." 
 
 With these broken words, a young man dressed as a naval officer 
 made his way up to the table, and presented to the astonished Pick- 
 wickians, the identical form and features of Mr. Alfred Jingle. 
 
 The offender had barely time to take Mrs. Leo Hunter's proffered 
 hand, when his eyes encountered the indignant orbs of Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Hallo !" said Jingle. " Quite forgot — no directions to postilion — 
 give 'em at once — back in a minute." 
 
 '* The servant or Mr. Hunter will do it in a moment, Mr. Fitzmar- 
 shall," said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 
 
 '* No, no — I'll do it — shan't be long — back in no time," replied Jin- 
 gle. With these words, he disappeared among the crowd. 
 
 '* Will you allow me to ask you, ma'am," said the excited Mr. Pick- 
 wick, rising from his seat, •♦ who that young man is, and where he 
 resides !" 
 
 *' He is a gentleman of fortune, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Leo Hun- 
 ter, " to whom I very much want to introduce you. The count will 
 be delighted with him." 
 
 ** Yes, yes," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily. " His residence — " 
 
 " Is at present at the Angel at Bury." 
 
 "At Bury?" 
 
 ** At Bury St. Edmunds, not many miles from here. But dear me, 
 Mr. Pickwick, you are not going to leave us : surely, Mr. Pickwick, 
 you cannot think of going so sjon." 
 
 But long before Mrs. Leo Hunter had finished speaking, Mr. Pick- 
 wick had plunged through the throng, and reached the garden, whither 
 he was shortly afterward joined by Mr. Tupman, who had followed his 
 friend closely. 
 
 '* It's of no use," said Mr. Tupman. " He has gone." 
 
 " I know it," said Mr. Pickwick, " and I will follow him." 
 
 *' Follow him. Where 1" inquired Mr. Tupman. 
 
 ♦' To the Angel at Bury," replied Mr. Pickwick, speaking very 
 quickly. " How do we know whom he is deceiving there ? He de- 
 ceived a v/orthy man once, and we were the innocent cause. He shall 
 not do it again, if I can help it ; I'll expose him. Sam ! Where's 
 my servant !" * 
 
 " Here you are, sir," said Mr. Weller, emerging from a sequestered 
 spot, where he had been engaged in discussing a bottle of Madeira, 
 which he had abstracted from the breakfast-table, an hour or two 
 before. " Here's your servant, sir. Proud o' the title, as the Living 
 Skellinton said, ven they show'd him." 
 
 ♦' P'ollow me instantly," said Mr. Pickwick. " Tupman, if I stay at 
 Bury, you ran join rac there, when I write. Till then, good-bye." 
 
 Remonstrances were useless. Mr. Pickwick was roused, and his 
 mind was made up. Mr. Tupman returned to his companions ; and in 
 another hour had drowned all present recollection of Mr. Alfred Jingle, 
 
156 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 or Mr. Charles Fitzmarshall, in an exhilarating quadrille and a bottle 
 of champatTue. By that tirno, Mr. Pickwick and Sam Waller, perched 
 on the outside of a stage coach, were every succeeding minute placing 
 a less and less distance between themselves and the good old town of 
 Bury Saint Edmunds. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TOO FULL OF ADVENTURES TO BE BRIEFLY DESCRIBED. 
 
 There is no month in the whole year in which nature wears a more 
 beautiful appearance than in the month of August. Spring has many 
 beauties, and May is a fresh and blooming month, but the charms of 
 this time of year are enhanced by their contrast with the winter season, 
 August has no such advantage. It comes when we remember nothing 
 but clear skies, green fields, and sweet-smelling flowers — when the 
 recollection of snow, and ice, and bleak winds, has faded from oux 
 minds as completely as they have disappeared from the earth, — and yet 
 what a pleasant time it is. Orchards and corn-fields ring with the 
 hum of labour ; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which 
 bow their branches to the ground ; and the corn, piled in graceful 
 .sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it 
 wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue. A mellow 
 softness appears to hang over the whole earth ; the influence of the ' 
 seasons seems to extend itself to the very wagon, whose slow motion 
 across the well-reaped field, is perceptible only to the eye, but strikes 
 with Tio harsh sound upon the ear. 
 
 As the coach rolls swiftly past the fields and orchards which skirt 
 the road, groups of women and children, piling the fruit in sieves, oi 
 gathering the scattered ears of corn, pause for an instant from their 
 labour, and shading the sun-burnt face with a slill browner hand, gaze 
 upon the passengers with curious eyes, while some stout urchin, too 
 small to work, but too mischievous to be left at homo, scrambles over 
 the side of the basket in which he has been deposited for security, and 
 kicks and screams with delight. The reaper stops in his work, and 
 Stands with folded arms, looking at the vehicle as it whirls past ; and 
 the rough cart horses bestow a sleepy glance upon the smart coach team, 
 which says, as plainly as a horse's glance can. " It's all very fine to 
 look at, but slow going, over a heavy field, is better than warm work 
 like thatfupon a dusty road, after all."' You cast a look behind you, 
 as you turn a corner of the road. The women and children have re- 
 sumed their labour, the reaper once more stoops to his work, the cart 
 horses have moved on. and all are again in motion. 
 
 The influence of a scene like this was not lost upon the well regulated 
 mind of Mr. Pickwick. Intent upon the resolution he had formed of 
 exposing the real character of the nefarious Jinule. in any quarter in 
 which he might be pursuing his fraudulent designs, he sat at first 
 taciturn and contemplative, brooding over the means by which his 
 purpose could be best attained. By degrees his attention grew more 
 and more attracted by the objects around hiin ; and at last he derived 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB, 157 
 
 as much enjoyment from the ride as if it had been undertaken for the 
 pleasantest reason in the world. 
 
 " Delightful prospect, Sara," said Mr. Pickwicli. 
 
 *' Beats the chimbly pots, sir," replied .Mr. Weller, touching his hat. 
 
 " I suppose you have hardly seen any thing but chimney-pots and 
 bricks and mortar, all your life, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. 
 
 " I worn't always a boots, sir," said Mr. Weller, with a shake of the 
 head. " I was a vagginer's boy, once." 
 
 "When was that !"' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦' When I vas first pitched neck and crop into the world, to play at 
 leap-frog with its troubles," replied Sam. " I vas a carrier's boy ^ 
 startin' : then a vagginer's, then a helper, then a boo^s. Now I'm a 
 gen'lm'n's servant. I shall be a gen'lm'n myself one of these days, 
 perhaps, with a pipe in my mouth, and a summer-house in the back 
 garden. Who knows ■ / shouldn't be surprised for one."' 
 
 "You are quite a philosopher. Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " It runs in the family, I b'lieve sir,'* replied Mr. Weller. " My 
 father's werry much in that line, now. If my mother-in-law blows him 
 up, he whistles. She flies in a passion, and breaks his pipe ; he steps 
 out and gets another. Then she screams werry loud, and falls into 
 'sterics ; and he smokes werry comfortably till she comes to again. 
 That's philosophy sir, an't it ]'' 
 
 '*' A very good substitute for it, at all events," replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 laughin-^. " It must have been of great service to you, in the course 
 of your rambling life, Sam.'* 
 
 •' Service, sir," exclaimed Sam. " You may say that. Arter I run 
 away from the carrier, and afore I took up with the vagginer, I had 
 unfurnished lodgin's for a fortnight.'' 
 
 ''Unfurnished lodgings'" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Yes — llie dry arches of Waterloo Bridge. Fine slcepin-place — 
 vithin ten minutes' walk of all the public offices — only if there is any 
 objection to it, it is that the sitivation's raythcr too airy. I see some 
 queer sights there.'' 
 
 " Ah, I suppose you did," said Mr. Pickwick, with an air of con- 
 siderable interest. 
 
 " Sights, sir,"' resumed Mr. Weller, " as *ud penetrate your benevo- 
 lent heart, and come out on the other side. You don't see the reg'lar 
 Nvagrants there ; trust 'em, they knows better than that. Young beg- 
 gars, male and ifemale, as hasn't made a rise in their profession, takei 
 up their quarters there sometimes ; but it's generally the worn-out, 
 starving, houseless creeturs as rolls themselves up in the dark corners 
 o' them lonesome places — poor creeturs as an't up to the twopenny 
 rope." 
 
 "And pray, Sam, what is the twopenny rope?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " The twopenny rope, sir,'' replied Mr. Weller, " is ju.st a cheap 
 lodgin'-house, vere the beds is two-pence a nifjht." 
 
 '* What do they call a bed a rope for ?" saidMr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Bless your innocence, sir, that a'n't it," replied Sam. " Ven the 
 lady and gen'lmn as keeps the hot-el, first begun business, they used 
 to make the beds on the floor ; but this wouldn't do at no price, 'cos 
 instead o' taking a moderate twopenn'orth o' sleep, the lodgers used to 
 lie there half the day. So now they has two ropes, 'bout six foot 
 apart, and three from the floor, which goes r'ljht down the room ; and 
 ihe beds are made of slips of coarse sacking, stretched across 'em." 
 
 Vol. I.— U 
 
168 POSTH'JMOUS PAPERS OV 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •* Well," said jMr. VV^eller, "the adwantage o' the plan's hobvioofl. 
 Al six o'clock every inornin', they lets go the ropes at one end, and 
 down falls all the lodirers. Consequence is, that being thoroughly 
 waked, they get up werry quietly, and walk away !"' 
 
 ♦• Beg your pardon, sir," said Sam suddenly breaking off in hia 
 loquacious discourse " fs this Bury Saint Edmunds'?" 
 
 " It is," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 The coach rattled through the well-paved streets of a handsome 
 little town, of thriving and cleanly appearance, and stopped before a 
 large inn situated in a wide open street, nearly facing the old abbey. 
 
 " And this," said Mr. Pickwick, looking up, " is the Angel. We 
 alight here, Sara. But some caution is necessary. Order a private 
 room, and do not mention my name. You understand." 
 
 " Right as a trivet, sir," replied Mr. Weller, with a wink of intelli- 
 gence ; and having drairged Mr. Pickwick's portmanteau from the 
 hind boot, into which it had been hastily thrown when they joined the 
 coach at Eatanswill, Mr. W'eller disappeared on his errand. A private 
 room was speedily -engaged ; and into it Mr. Pickwick was ushered 
 without delay. 
 
 " Now, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, *' the first thing to be done is to — " 
 
 " Order dinner, sir." interposed .^Ir. Weller. " It's werry late, sir." 
 
 •'Ah, sjo it is," said Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch. ''You 
 are right, Sam." 
 
 " And if I might adwise, sir," added Mr. Weller, " I'd just have a 
 good night's rest arterwards. and not begin inquiring arter this here 
 deep 'un 'till the inornin'. There's nothiu' so refreshin' as sleep, sir, 
 as the servant-girl said afore she drank the egg-cup-full o' laudanum." 
 
 " I think you are right, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. "But I must 
 first ascertain that he is in the house, and not likely to go away." 
 
 " Leave that to me, sir," said Sam. " Let me order you a snug 
 little dinner, and make my inquiries below while it's a getting ready ; 
 I could worm ev'ry secret out o' the boots' heart in five minutes." 
 
 " Do so," said Mr. Pickwick ; and Mr. Weller at once retired. 
 
 In half an hour, Mr. Pickwick was seated at a very satisfactory 
 dinner : and in three-quarters Mr. Weller returned with the intelli- 
 gence that Mr. Charles Fitzmarshall had ordered his private room to 
 be retained Car him, until farther notice. He was going to spend the 
 evening at some private house in the neighbourhood, iKid ordered the 
 boots to sit up until his return, and had taken his servant with him. 
 
 " Now, sir,'' argued Mr. Weller, when he had concluded his report, 
 '• if I can get a talk with this here servant in the mornin', he'll tell me 
 all his master's concerns." 
 
 "How do yoru know that ■?" interposed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Blesi your heart, sir, servants always do," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Oh, ah, I forgot that," said Mr. Pickwick.—" Well." 
 
 " Then you can arrange what's best to be done, sir, and we can act 
 accordingly." 
 
 As it appeared that this was the best arrangement that could be 
 made, it was finally agreed upon. Mr. Weller, by his master's per- 
 mission, retired to spend the evening in his own way ; and was shortly 
 afterward elected, by the unanimous voice of the assembled company, 
 into the tap--oom chair, in'which honourable post he acquitted himself 
 so much to the satisfaction of the gentlemen-frequenters, that their 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 159 
 
 roars of laughter and approbation penetrated to Mr. Pickwick's bed- 
 room, and shortened the term of his natural rest by at least three hours. 
 
 Early on the ensuing morninir, Mr. Weller was dispelling all the 
 feverish remains of the previous evenin'j's conviviality, thronirh the 
 instrumentality of a halfpenny shower-bath (Waving induced a young 
 -gentleman attached to the stable-department, by the offer of thra ci)in, 
 to pump over his head and face, until he was perfectly restored,) when 
 he was attracted by the appearance of a young fellow in mulberry 
 coloured livery, who was sitting on a bench in the yard, reading what 
 appeared to be a hymn-book, with an air of deep ab.straction, but who 
 occasionally stole a glance at the individual unJer the pump, as if he 
 took some interest in his proceedings, nevertheless. 
 
 " You're a rum 'un to look at, you are," thought Mr. Weller, the 
 first time his eyes encountered the glance of the stranger in the mul- 
 berry coloured suit, who had a large, sallo\r, ugly face, very sunken 
 eyes, and a gitrantic head, from which depended a quantity of lank 
 black hair. " You're a rum 'uii," thought Mr. Weller; and thinking 
 this, he went on washing himself, and thought no more about him. 
 
 Still the man kept glancing 'from his hymn-book to Sam, and from 
 Sam to his hymn-book, as if he wanted to open a conversation So 
 at last, Sam, by way of giving him an opportunity, said, with a 
 familiar nod — 
 
 " How are you, governor V 
 
 " I am Ijappy to say, I am pretty well, sir," said the man, speaking 
 with great deliberation, and closing the book. " I hope you are the 
 same, sir !" 
 
 *' Why, if if felt less like a walking brandy bottle, I shouldn't be 
 quite so slagtjery this mornin'," replied Sam. " Arc you stoppm' in 
 this house, old 'un V 
 
 The mulberry man replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "'-low was it, ynj worn't one of us, last night!" inquired Sam, 
 scrubbinfr his face with the towel, '^ You seem one of the jolly sort — 
 looks as coriwivial as a live trout in a lime-basket," added Mr. Weller 
 in an under tone. 
 
 " I was out last night with my master," replied the stangor. 
 
 "What's his name?" inquired Mr. Weller, colouring up very red 
 with suddert excitement, and the friction of the towel combined. 
 
 *' Fitzmarshall," said the mulberry man. 
 
 " Give us your hand," said .Mr Weller, advancing ; "I should like 
 to know you. I like your appearance, old fellow." 
 
 " Well, that is very strange," ^aid the mulberry man, with great 
 simplicity of manner. " I like yours so mucli, that I wanted to speak 
 to you, from tlie very first moment I saw you under the pump." 
 
 " Did you thoucrh ■'■ 
 
 *' Upon my word. Now, isn't that curious !" 
 
 " Werry sing'Ier," said Sam, inwardly congratulating himself upon 
 the softness of tlie stranger. " What's your name, ray patriarch V 
 
 " Job." 
 
 " And a werry good name it is ; only one, I know, that ain't got a 
 nickname tx) it. What's the other name ?" 
 
 "Trotter," said tha stranger. " What i* yours T' 
 
 Sam bore in mind his master's caution, and replied, 
 
 »» My name's Walker; my master's name's. Wilkins. Will you 
 take a drop o' somethin' this mornin', .Mr. Trotler ■" 
 
160 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS or 
 
 Mr. Trotter acquiesced in this agreeable proposal : and having de- 
 posited his hook in his coat-pocket, accompanied Mr. Wcller to the 
 tap, where they were .soon occupied in discussing an exhilarating com- 
 pound, formed by mixing together, in a pewter vessel, certain quanti- 
 ties of Britisli Hollands, and the fragrant essence of the clove. 
 
 "And what sort of a place have you got?" inquired Saio, as he 
 filled his conapanion's glass for the second time. 
 
 '' B.jd," said Job, smacking his lips, "very bad.'* 
 
 " You don't mean that," said Sam. 
 
 " I do, indeed. Worse than that, my master's going to be married." 
 
 ♦' No." 
 
 " Yes ; and worse than that, too, he's going to run away with an 
 immense rich heiress, from boarding-school." 
 
 *' What a dragon," said Sam, rehlling his companion's glass. " It's 
 some boarding-school in this town, I suppose, a'n't it ?" 
 
 Now, although this question was put in the most careless tone 
 imaginable, -Mr. Job Trotter plainly showed, by gestures, that he per- 
 ceived his new friend's anxiety to draw forth an answer to it. He 
 emptied his glass, looked mysteriously 'at his companion, winked both 
 of his small eyes, one after the other, and finally made a motion with 
 his arm, as if he were working an imaginary pump-handle : thereby 
 intimating that he (Mr. Trotter) considered himself as undergoing the 
 process of being pumped by Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 "No, no," said Mr. Trotter, in conclusion, "that's not to be told to 
 every body. That is a secret — a great secret, Mr. Walker." 
 
 As the mulberry man said this, he turned his glass upside down, by- 
 way of reminding his companion that he had nothing left v/herewith to 
 slake his thirst. Sam observed the hint ; and feeling the delicate man- 
 ner in which it was conveyed, ordered the pewter vessel to be refilled, 
 whereat the small eyes of the mulberry man glistened. 
 
 " And so it's a secret," said Sam. 
 
 " I should rather suspect it was," said the mulberry man, sipping his 
 liquor, with a complacent face. 
 
 " I suppose your mas'r's very rich ?" said Sam. 
 
 Mr. Trotter smiled, and holding his glass in his left hand, gave four 
 distinct slaps on the pocket of his mulberry indescribables with his 
 right, as if to intimate that his master might have done the same with- 
 out alarming any body much by the chinking of coin. 
 
 " Ah," said Sam, " that's the game, is it !" 
 
 The mulberry man nodded significantly. 
 
 « Well, and don't you think, old feller," remonstrated Mr. Weller, 
 "that if you let your master take in this here young lady, you're a pre- 
 cious rascal !" 
 
 '* I know that," said Job Trotter, turning upon his companion a 
 countenance of deep contrition, and groaning slightly. " I know that, 
 and that's what it is that preys upon my mind. But what am I to do ]" 
 
 " Do !" said Sam ; " di-wulge to the missis, and give up your master." 
 
 ♦'Who'd believe mcV replied Job Trotter. "The young lady's 
 considered the very picture of innocence and discretion. She'd deny 
 it, and so would my master. Who'd believe me ? I .-should lose my 
 place, and get indicted for a conspiracy, or some such thing ; that's all 
 I should take by my motion." 
 
 " There's so 
 tbin' in that." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCO- 
 
 161 
 
 " If I knew any respectable gentleman who would take the matter 
 up," continued Mr. Trotter, " I might have some hope of preventing 
 the elopement ; but there's the same difficulty Mr. Walker, just the 
 same. I know no gentleman in this strange place ; and ten to one if 
 I did, whether he would believe my story." 
 
 " Come this way," said Sam, suddenly jumping up, and grasping the 
 mulberry man bv the arm. *' My mas'r's the man you want, I see." 
 And after a slight resistance on the part of Job Trotter, Sam led his 
 newl3' found friend to the apartment of Mr. Pickwick, to whom he pre- 
 sented him, together with a brief summary of the dialogue we have 
 just repeated. 
 
 "I am ver}' sorry to betray my master, sir." said Job Trotter, apply- 
 ing to his eyes a pink check pocket handkerchief of about three inches 
 square. 
 
 " The feeling does you a great deal of honour," replied Mr. Pick- 
 wick, " but it is your duty nevertheless." 
 
 *' I know it is my duty, sir," replied Job, with great emotion. " We 
 should all try to discharge our duty, sir, and I humbly endeavour to 
 discharge mine, sir ; but it is a hard trial to betray a master, sir, whose 
 clothes you wear, and whose bread you eat, even though he is a scoun- 
 drel, sir." 
 
 " You are a very good fellow," said Mr. Pickwick, much affected ; 
 " an honest fellow." 
 
 " Come, come," interposed Sam, who had witnessed Mr. Trotter's 
 tears with considerable impatience, " blow this here water-cart busi- 
 ness. It won't do no good, this won't." 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, reproachfully, " I am sorry to find that 
 you have so little respect for this young man's feelings.'' 
 
 "His feelin's is all werry well, sir," replied Mr. W^eller ; *' and as 
 they're so werry fine, and it's a pity he should lose 'em, I think he'd 
 better keep 'em in his own bussum, than let 'em ewaporate in hot wa- 
 ter, 'specially as they do no good. Tears never yet wound up a clock, 
 or worked a steam ingin'. The next time you go out to a smoking 
 party, young feller, fill your pipe with that 'ere reflection ; and for the 
 present, just put that bit of pink gingham into your pocket. 'Tan't 
 so handsome that you need keep waving it about, as if you was a tight 
 rope dancer." 
 
 '' My m.an is in the right," said Mr. Pickwick, accosting Job, " al- 
 though his mode of expressing his opinion is somewhat homely, and 
 occasionally incomprehensible." 
 
 " He is, sir, very right," said Mr. Trotter, " and I will give way no 
 longer." 
 
 *' Very well," said Mr. Pickwick. " Now, where is this boarding 
 school T" 
 
 " It is a large, old, red brick house, just outside the town, sir," re- 
 plied Job Trotter. 
 
 " And when,'' said Mr. Pickwick, " when is this villanous design to 
 be carried into execution — when is this elopement to take place V 
 
 " To-niffht, sir," replied Job. 
 
 "To-niirht I'' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ** This very night, sir," replied Job Trotter. " That is what alarms 
 me so much." 
 
 " Instant measures must be taken," said Mr. Pickwick. '* I will 
 see the lady who keeps the establishment, immediate 1 v.'' 
 
 14* 
 
162 POSTHUMOUS PAPER'S Or 
 
 •« I beg your pardon, sir," said Job, " but that Gourae of proceeding 
 will never do. 
 
 " Why not V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 " My master, sir, is a very artful man." 
 ♦* I know he is," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " And he has so wound himself rcvmd the old lady's heart, sir." re- 
 sumed Job, " that she would believe nothing to his prejudice, if you 
 went down on your bare knees, and swore it ; especially as you have 
 no proof but the word of a servant, who, for any thing she knows (and 
 my master would be sure to say so,) was discharged for some fault, 
 and does this in revenge." 
 
 ♦' What had better be done, then V said Mr. Pickwick. 
 •' Nothing but take him in the very fact of eloping will convince tht 
 old lady, sir," replied Job. 
 
 " All them old cats will run their heads agin milestones," observed 
 Mr. Weller in a parenthesis. 
 
 '« But this taking him in the very act of elopement, would be a very 
 difficult thing to accomplish, I fear," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I don't know, sir,'^ said Mr. Trotter, after a few moments' reflec- 
 tion. " I think it might be very easily done." 
 •* Howl" was Mr. Pickwick's inquiry. 
 
 "Why," replied Mr. Trotter, *' my master and I, being in the confi- 
 dence of the two servants, will be secreted in the kitchen at ten o'clock. 
 When the family have retired to rest, we &hallcome out of the kitchen, 
 and the young lady out of her bed-room. A post-chaise will be wait- 
 ing, and away we go." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were waiting in the 
 garden behind, alone — " 
 
 *' Alone," said Mr. Pickwick. " Why alone ?' 
 " I thought it very natural," replied Job, '* that the old lady wouldn't 
 like such an unpleasant discovery to be made before more persons than 
 can . possibly be helped. The young lady too, sir — consider her 
 feelings." 
 
 "You are very right," said Mr. Pickwick. "The consideration 
 evinces great delicacy of feeling. Go on ; you are very right." 
 
 "Well, sir, I was thinking that if you were waiting in the back 
 garden alone, and I was to let you in, at the door which opens into it, 
 from the end of the passage, at exactly half-past eleven o'clock, you 
 would be just in the very moment of time, to assist me in frustrating 
 the designs of this bad man, by whom I have been unfortunately en- 
 snared." Here Mr. Trotter sighed deeply. 
 
 "Don't distress yourself on that account," said Mr. Pickwick, "if 
 he had one grain of the delicacy of feeling which distinguishes you, 
 humble as your station is, I should have some hopes of him." 
 
 Job Trotter bowed low ; and in spite of Mr. Weller's previous re- 
 monstrance, the tears again rose to his eyes. 
 
 " I never see such a feller," said Sam. " Blessed if I don't think 
 he's got a main in his head as is always turned on." 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, with great severity, " Hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 "^erry well, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " I don't like this plan," said Mr. Pickwick, after deep meditation. 
 "Why cannot I communicate with the young lady's friends?' 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 163 
 
 " Because they live one hundred miles from here, sir," responded 
 Job Trotter. 
 
 " That's a clincher," said Mr. Weller, aside. 
 
 " Then this garden,'' resumed Mr. Pickwick. " How am I to get 
 into it V 
 
 " The wall is verv low, sir, and your servant will gire you a leg up.*' 
 
 " My servant will give me a leg up," repeated Mr. Pickwick, me- 
 chanically. "You will be sure to be near this door, that you speak of •"' 
 
 " You cannot mistake it, sir ; it's the only one that opens into the 
 garden. Tap at it, when you hear the clock strike, and I will open it 
 instantly." 
 
 " I don't like the plan,"' said Mr. Pickwick ; " but ais I see no other, 
 and as the happiness of this young lady's whole life is at stake, I adopt 
 it. I shall be sure to be there." 
 
 Thus, for the second time, did Mr. Pickwick's innate good feeling 
 involve him in an enterprise from which he would most willingly have 
 stood aloof , 
 
 '♦ What is the name of the house 1" inquired Mr. Rckwick. 
 
 "West gate House, sir. You turn a little to the right when you jet 
 to the end of the town ; it stands by itself, some litlle distance off the 
 high road, with the name on a brass plate on the gate." 
 
 " I know it," said Mr. Pickwick. ^ I observed it once before, when 
 I was in this town. You may depend upon me." 
 
 Mr. Trotter made another bow, and turned to depart, when Mr. 
 Pickwick thrust a guinea into his hand. 
 
 " You're a fine fellow," said Mr. Pickwick, " and I admire your 
 goodness of heart. No thanks. Remerpber — eleven o'clock."' 
 
 " There is no fear of my forgetting it, sir,'' replied Job Trotter. 
 With these words he left the room followed by Sam. 
 
 " I say," said the latter, " not a bad notion that 'ere crying. I'd crj 
 like a rain-water spout in a shower, on such good terms. How do you 
 doitr' 
 
 *• It comes from the heart, Mr. Walker,'' replied Job, solemnly. 
 " Good morning, sir." 
 
 " YoCi're a soft customer, you are ; — we're got it all out o' you, any 
 how," thought Mr. Weller, as Job walked away. 
 
 We cannot state the precise nature of the thoughts which passed 
 through Mr. Trotter's mind, because we don't know what they were. 
 
 The day wore on, evening came, and at a little before *en o'clock 
 Sam Weller reported that Mr. Jingle and Job had gone out together, 
 that their luggage was packed up, and that they had ordered a chaise. 
 The plot was evidently in execution, as Mr. Trotter had foretold. 
 
 Half-past ten o'clock arrived, and it was time for Mr. Pickwick to 
 issue forth %n his delicate errand. Resisting Sam's tender of his great 
 coat, in order that he might have no incumbrance in scaling the wall, 
 he set forth, followed by his attendant. 
 
 There was a bright moon, but it was behind the clouds. It was a 
 fine dry night, but it was most uncommonly dark. Paths, hedges, 
 fields, houses, and trees, were enveloped in one deep shade. The 
 atmosphere was hot and sultry, the summer lightning quivered fainilv 
 on the verge of the horizon, and was the only sight that varied the dull 
 gloom in which every thing was wrapped — sound there was none 
 except the distant barking of some restless house-dog. 
 
 They found the house, read the brass plate, walked round the wall, 
 
164 POSTIIUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 and stopped at that portion of it which divided them from the bottom of 
 the garden. 
 
 " You will return to the inn, Sam, wlien you have assisted me over," 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Werry well, sir." 
 
 *' And you will sit up till. I return." 
 
 •• Cerl'niy, sir." 
 
 " Take hold of my leg ; and when I say ' Over,' raise me gently." 
 
 "All right, sir." 
 
 Having settled these preliminaries, Mr. Pickwick grasped r.he top of 
 the wall, and gave the word '* Over," which was very literally obeyed. 
 Whether his body partook in some degree of the elasticity of his mind, 
 or whether Mr. Weller's notions of a gentle push were of a somewhat 
 rougher description than Mr. Pickwick's, the immediate effect of his 
 assistance was to jerk that immortal gentleman completely over the 
 wall on to the bed beneath, where, after crushing three gooseberry 
 bushes and a rose-tree, he finally alighted at full length. 
 
 " You ha'n't hurt yourself, I hope, sir," said Sam, in a loud whisper, 
 as soon as he recovered from the surprise consequent upon the 
 mysterious disappearance of his master. 
 
 " I have not hurt myself, Sam, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 from the other side of the wall, " but I lather think that you have 
 hurt we." 
 
 *' I hope not, sir," said Sam. 
 
 " Never mind," said Mr. Pickwick, rising, "it's nothing but a few 
 scratches. Go away, or we shall be overheard." 
 
 " Good-bye, sir. 
 
 « Good-bye." 
 
 With stealthy steps Sam Weller departed, leaving Mr. Pickwick 
 alone in the garden. 
 
 Lights occasionally appeared in the different windows of the house, 
 or glanced from the staircases, as if the inmates were retiring to rest. 
 Not caring to go too near the door, until the appointed time, Mr. Pick- 
 wick crouched into an angle of the wall, and awaited its arrival. 
 
 It was a situation which might well have depressed the spirits of 
 many a man. Mr. Pickwick, however, felt neither depression nor 
 misgiving. He knew that his purpose was in the main a good one, 
 and he placed implicit reliance on the high-minded Job. It was dull, 
 certainly ; n<3t to say, dreary ; but a contemplative man can always 
 employ himself in meditation. Mr. Pickwick had meditated himself 
 into a doze, when he was roused by the chimes of the neighbouring 
 church ringing out the hour — half-past eleven. 
 
 " That's the time," thought Mr. Pickwick, getting cautiously on 
 his feet. He looked up at the house. The lights had Asappeared, 
 and the shutters were closed — all in bed no doubt. He walked on tip- 
 toe to the door, and gave a gentle tap. Two or three minutes passing 
 without any reply, he gave another tap rather louder, and then another 
 rather louder than that. 
 
 At length the sound of feet was audible upon the stairs, and then 
 the hght of a candle shone through the key-hole of the door. There 
 was a good deal of unchaining and unbolting, and the door was slowly 
 opened. 
 
 Now the door opened outwards : and a^s the door opened wider and 
 wider, Mr. Pickwick receded behind it more ^nd more. What was 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 165 
 
 his astonishment when he just peeped out, by way of caution, to see 
 that the person who had opened it was not Job Trotter, hut a servant- 
 girl with a candle in her hand I Mr. Pickwick drew in his he.ul again, 
 with the swiftness displayed by that admirable meio-dramatic per- 
 former, Punch, when he lies in wait for the flat-headed comedian with 
 the tin box of music. 
 
 " It must have been the cat, Sarah," said the girl, addressing her- 
 self to some one in the house. "Puss, pu.^s, puss — tit, tit, tit." 
 
 But no animal being decoyed by these blandishments, the girl slowly 
 closed the door, and refastened it ; leaving Mr. Pickwick drawn up 
 straight against the wall. 
 
 " This is very curious,"' thought Mr. Pickwick. " They are sitting 
 up beyond their usual hour, I suppose. Extremely unfortunate, that 
 they should have chosen this night of all others, for such a purpose — ' 
 exceedingly." And with these thoughts, Mr. Pickwick cautiously 
 retired to the angle of^the wall in which he bad been before ent^conced, 
 waiting until such time as he might deem it safe to repeat the signal. 
 
 He had not been here five minutes, when a vivid flash of li^ihtning 
 was followed by a loud peal of thunder that crashed and rolled away 
 in the distance with terrific noise — then nme another flash of light- 
 ning, brighter than the other, and a second peal of thunder loudei than 
 the first ; and then down came the rain wuth a force and fury that 
 swept every thing before it. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was perfectly aware that a tree is a very dangerous 
 neighbour in a thunder-storm. He had a tree on his right, a tree on 
 his left, a third before him, and a fourth behind. If he remained where 
 he was, he might fall tTie victim of an accident ; if he showed himself 
 in the centre of the garden, he might be consigned to a constable ; — 
 once or twice he tried to scale the wall, but having no other legs this 
 time than those with which nature had furnished him, the ordy ellect c4 
 his struggles was to inflict a varit;ty of very unpleasant gratings on his 
 knees and shins, and to throw him into a state of the most profuse 
 perspiration. 
 
 " What a dreadful situation," said Mr. Pickwick, pausing to wipe 
 his brow after this exercise. He looked up at the house — all was 
 dark. They must be gone to bed now. He would try the signal 
 again. 
 
 He walked on tip-toe across the moist gravel, and tapped at the door 
 He held his breath, and listened at the kay-hole. No reply ; very odd. 
 Another knock. He listened again. There was a low whispering 
 inside, and then a voice cried — 
 
 '* Who's there 1" 
 
 " That's not Job," thought Mr. Pickwick, hastily drawing himself 
 straight up against the wall again. " It's a woman." 
 
 He had scarcely had time to form this conclusion, wJien a window 
 above stairs was thrown up, and three or four female voices repealed 
 the query, " Who's there V 
 
 Mr Pickwick dared not move hand or foot. It was clear that the 
 whole establishment was roused. He made up his mind to remain 
 where he was until the alarm had subsided : and then to make a su- 
 pernatural t'fTort, and get over the wall or perish in the attempt 
 
 Like all .Mr. Pickwick's determinations, this was the best that coulJ 
 be made undf^r the circumstances ; but. unfortunately, it w-is founded 
 upon the assumption that they would not venture to open the door 
 
166 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 again. What was his discomfiture, when he heard the chain and bolJs 
 witlKlravv, and saw the door slowly opening wider and wider ! He re- 
 treated into the cornci-, step by step ; but do what he would, the inter- 
 positum of his own person, prevented its being opened to its utmost 
 width. 
 
 " Who's there ]*' screamed a numerous chorus of treble voices from 
 the stair-case ingide, consisting of the spinster lady of the establish- 
 ment, three teachers, five female servants, and thirty boarders,'all half 
 dressed and in a forest of curl pipers 
 
 Of course Mr. Pickwick didn't say who was there : and then the 
 burden of the chorus was ehanired into — " Oh ! I am so friurhtened." 
 
 " Cook," said the lady abbess, who took care to be on the top stair, 
 the very last of the group — " Cook, why don't you go a little way into 
 the a^arden T' 
 
 " Please ma'am, I don't like," responded the cook. 
 
 *' What a stupid thing that cook is," said the thirty boarders. 
 
 " Cook," said the lady abbess, with great digni-j, " don't answer mo 
 if you please. I insist upon your looking into the garden immediately." 
 
 Here the cook began to cry, and the housemaid said it was a shame, 
 for which partisanship she received a month's warning on the spot. 
 
 " Do you hear, cook !" said the lady abbess, stamping her foot impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Don't you hear your misses, cook 1" said the three teachers. 
 
 " VVliai an impudent thing that cook is !" said the thirty boarders. 
 
 The unfortunate cook thus strongly urged, advanced a step or two, 
 and holding her candle just where it prevented her seeing anything at 
 all, declared there was nothing there, and.it must have been the wind; 
 and the door was just going to be closed in consequence, when an in- 
 quisitive boarder, who had been peeping between the hinges, set up a 
 fearful ccreaming, which called back the cook and the housemaid, and 
 all the more adventurous in no time. 
 
 " What ?s tlie matter with Miss Smithers ?' said the lady abbess, as 
 the aforesaid Miss Smithers proceeded to go into hysterics of four 
 younar lady power. 
 • " Oh, Miss Smithers dear," said the other nine-and-twenty boarders. 
 
 " O, the man — the man, behind the door I" screamed Miss Smithers." 
 
 The lady abbess no sooner heard this appalling cry, than she retreat- 
 ed to her own bed-room, double-locked the door, and fainted away all 
 comforiaiily. The boarders, and the teachers,' and the servants, fell 
 back upon the staiis, and upon each other; and never was such a 
 screaming and fainting and struggling beheld. In the midst of the 
 tumult, Mr. Pickwick emerged from his concealment, and presented 
 himself amongst them. 
 
 " I.adies — dear ladies," said Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 " Oh, he savs we're dear," cried the oldest and ugliest teacher. 
 ^ Oh the wretch." 
 
 " Ladies," roared Mr. Pickwick, rendered desperate by the danger 
 of his situation. " Hear rae. I am no robber. 1 want the lady of the 
 house." 
 
 "Oh. what a ferocious monster !" screamed another teacher. *'He 
 wants Miss Tomkins." 
 
 Here there was a ireneral scream. 
 
 ** Ring the alarm bell, somebody," cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " Don't — don't," shouted Mr. Pickwick. " Look at me. Do I look 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 167 
 
 like a robber 1 My uear ladies — you may bind me hand and leg, or 
 lock me up in a closet, if you like. Only hear what I have got to say 
 — only hear me." 
 
 "How did you come in our garden !" faltered the house-maid. 
 
 "Call the lady of the house, and Til tell her every thina — every 
 thing," said Mr. Pickwick, e.Kcrting his lungs to the utmost pitch. 
 " Call her — only be quiet,^nd call her. and you shall hear every thing." 
 
 It might have been Mr. Pickwick's appearance, or it might have 
 been his manner, or it might have been the temptation — so irresistible 
 to a female mind — of hearing something at present enveloped in 
 mystery, that re(Kiced the,raore reasonable portion of the establi>hment 
 (some four individuals) to a state of comparative quiet. I^y them it 
 was proposed, as test of Mr. Pickwick's sincerity, that he should im- 
 mediately submit to personal restraint ; and that gentleman having 
 consented to hold a conference with .Miss Tomkins, from the interior 
 of a closet in which the day boarders hung their bonnets and sjndwich- 
 bags, he at once stepped into it, of his own accord, and was securely 
 locked in. This revived the others ; and Miss Tomkins having been 
 brouiiht to, and brought down, the conference began. 
 
 " What did you do in my garden, man ]" said Miss Tomkins, in a 
 faint V ice. 
 
 " I came to warn you, that one of your young ladies was going to 
 elope to-night," replied Mr. Pickwick, from the interior of the closet. 
 
 "Elope!" exclai.med .Miss Tomkins, the three teachers, the thirty 
 boarders, and the five servants. " Who with I"" 
 
 *' Your friend, .Mr Charles Fitzmarshall.'* 
 
 " My friend I T don't know any such person." 
 
 "Well: Mr. Jingle, then." 
 
 " I never heard the name in my life " 
 
 " Then I have been deceived and deluded," said Mr. Pickwick. '* I 
 have been the victim of a conspiracy — afoul and base conspiracy. 
 iSend to the Angel, my dear ma'am, if you don't believe me Send to 
 the Anoel for Mr. Pickwick's man-servant, I implore you, ma'am." 
 
 " He must be respectable — he keeps a man-servant," said Mis.s 
 Tomkins to the writing and ciphering governess. 
 
 " It's my opinion, Miss Tomkins," said the writin? and ciphering 
 governess, " that his man-servant ke?p3 him. I think he's a madman. 
 Miss Tomkins, and the other's his keeper." 
 
 "I think you are very right. Miss Gwynn," responded Miss Tom- 
 kins. " Let two of ihe servants repair to the Angel, and let the others 
 remain here to protect us." 
 
 So two of the servants were despatched to the Angel in search of 
 Mr. Samuel Weller : and the remaining three stopped behind to pro- 
 tect Mi^s Tomkins, and the three teachers, and the thirty boarders. 
 And Mr. Pickwick sat down in the closet, beneath a grove of sand 
 ■wich bags, and awaited the return of the messengers, with all the 
 philosophy and fortitude he could summon to his aid. 
 
 An hour and a half elapsed before they came back, and when they did 
 come, Mr. Pickwick recognised, in addition to the voice of Mr. Samuel 
 Weller, two other voices, the tones of which struck familiarly on his 
 ear : but whose they were, he could not for the life of him call to mind. 
 
 A very brief conversation ensued. The docv was unlocked. Mr. 
 Pickwick stepped out of the closet, and found himself in the presence 
 
I6S POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 of the whole establishment of Westgate House, Mr. Samuel Weller, 
 and — old Wardle, and his destined son-in-law. Mr. Trundle ! 
 
 '' My dear friend," said Mr. Pickwick, running forward and grasping 
 Wardle's hand, " my <lear friend, pray, for heaven's sake explain to 
 this lady the unfortunate and dreadful situation in which I am placed. 
 You must have heard it from my servant ; say, at all events, my dear 
 fellow, that I am neither a robber nor a madhian " 
 
 " I have said so, my dear friend. I have said so already," xeplied 
 Mr. Wardle, shaking the right hand of his friend, while Mr. Trundle 
 shook the left. 
 
 ''And whoever says, or has said, he is," interposed Mr. "Weller, 
 stepping forward, " says that which is not the truth, but so far from it 
 on the contrairy, quite the rewersc. And if there's any number o' 
 men on these here premises as has said so, I shall be werry happy to 
 give 'em all a v-.erry conwincing proof o' their being mistaken, in this 
 here werry room, if these werry respectable ladies '11 have the goodness 
 to retire, and order 'era up, one at a time." Having delivered this de- 
 fiance with great volubility, Mr. Weller struck his open palm empha- 
 tically with his cleTiched fist, and winked pleasantly on Miss Tomkins, 
 the intensity of whose horror at his supposing it within the bounds of 
 possibility that there could be any men on the premises of Westgate 
 House Establishment for Young Ladies, it is impossible to describe. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's explanation having been already partially made, was 
 soon concluded. But neither in the course of his walk home with his 
 friends, nor afterward when seated before a blazing fire at the supper 
 he so much needed, could a single observation be drawn from him. — 
 He .seemed bewildered and amazed. Once, and only once, he turned 
 round to Mr. Wardle and said, 
 
 " How did you come herel" 
 
 " Trundle and I came down here for some good .shooting on the 
 first," replied Wardle. " We arrived to-night, and were astonished to 
 hear from your servant that you were here too. But I am glad you 
 are," said the jolly old fellow, slapping him on the back. " I am glad 
 you are. We shall have a jolly party on the first, and we'll give Winkle 
 another chance — eh, old boy !" 
 
 Mr. Pickviick made no reply ; he did not even ask after his friends 
 at Dingley Dell, and shortly afterward retired for the night, desiring 
 Sam to fetch his candle when he rung. 
 
 The bell did ring in due course, and Mr. Weller presented himself 
 
 '♦ Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, looking out from under the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Sir," said. Mr. Weller. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, and Mr. Weller snuflfed the candle. 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick again, as if with a desperate effort. 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Weller, once more. « 
 
 " Where is that Trotter ?" 
 
 " Job, sir r' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 *' Gone, sir." 
 
 •' With his master, I suppose V 
 
 " Friend or master, whatever he is, he's gone with him," replied Mr. 
 Weller. " There's a pair on 'em, sir." 
 
 *' Jingle suspected my design, and set that fellow on you, with this 
 story, I suppose ?" said Mr. Pickwick, half choking. 
 
 " Just that, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 169 
 
 *' It was all false, of ciurse !" 
 
 ** All, sir," replied Mr. Weller. *' Reg'Iar do, sir ; artful dodge." 
 
 *' I don't think he'll escape us quite so easily the next time, Sam!" 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ♦* I don't think he will, sir." 
 
 '* Whenever I meet that Jingle again, wherever it is, said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, rai^ng himself in bed, and indenting his pillow with a tremendous 
 Wow, ♦* I'll infiict personal chastisement on him, in addition to the 
 exposure he so richly merits. I will, or my name is not Pickwick." 
 
 " And venever I catches hold o' that there melancholly chap with 
 the black hair," said Sam, " if I don't bring some real water into his 
 eyes, for once in a way, my name a'n't Weller. Good night, sir." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SHOrwlNG THAT AN ATTACK OF RHEUMATISM, IX SOME CASES, ACTS AS A 
 QXJICKENER TO INVENTIVE GENIUS. 
 
 The constitution of Mr. Pickwick, though able to sustain a very con- 
 siderable amougt of exertion and fatigue, was not proof against such a 
 combination of attacks as he had undergone on the memorable nijjht 
 recorded in the last chapter. The process of being washed in the 
 night air, and rough-dried in a close closet, is as dangerous as it is 
 peculiar. Mr. Pickwick was laid up with an attack of rheumatism. 
 
 But although the bodily powers of the great man were thus impaired, 
 his mental energies retained their pristine vigour. His spirits were 
 elastic ; his good humour was restored. Even the vexation consequent 
 upon his recent adventure had vanished from his mind ; and he could 
 join in the hearty laughter which any allusion to it excited in Mr. 
 Wardle, without anger and without embarrassment. During tho 
 two days Mr. Pick*.vick was confined to his bed, Sam was his constant 
 attendant. On the first, he endeavoured to amuse his master by- 
 anecdote and conversation ; on the second Mr. Pickwick demanded 
 bis writing-desk, and pen and ink, and was deeply engaged during 
 the whole day. On the third, being able to sit up in his bed- 
 chamber, he despatched his valet with a message to Mr. Wardle and 
 Mr. Trundle, intimating that if they would take their wine there, that 
 evening, they would greatly oblige him. The invitation was most 
 willingly accepted ; and when they were seated over their wine, Mr. 
 Pickwick with sundry blushes, produced the following little tale, as 
 having been " edited" by himself, during his recent indisposition, from 
 his notes of Mr. Weller's unsophisticated recital. 
 
 " THE PARISH clerk — A TALE OF TRUE LOVE. 
 
 ** Once upon a time, in a very small country town, at aconsidcrnblc dis- 
 tance from London, there lived a little man named Nathaniel Pipkin, who 
 was the parish clerk of the little town, and lived in a little house in the 
 little high street, within ten minutes' walk of the little church ; and who 
 was to be founAeverv day from nine till four, teaching a little learning- 
 
 Vol. I.— 15 
 
170 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 to the lifilc boys. Nathaniel Pipkin was a harmless, inoffensive, gooS- 
 nalured being, with a turned-up nose, and rather turr)ed-in leg», a cast 
 in his eye, and a halt in his gait ; and he divided his time between the 
 church and his school, verily believing that there existed not on the face 
 of the earth, so clever a man as the curate, so imposing an apartment 
 as the vestry-room, or so well ordered a seminary as his own. Once, 
 apd only once in his life, Nathaniel Pipkin had seen a bishop — a real 
 bishop, with his arms in lawn sleeves, and his head in a wig. He had 
 seen him walk, and heard him talk at a confirmation, on which moment- 
 ous occasion Nathaniel Pipkm was so overcome with reverence and 
 awe, when the aforesaid bishop laid his hand on his head, that he 
 fainted right clean away, and was borne out of church in the arms of 
 the beadle. 
 
 " This was a great event, a. tremendous era, in Nathaniel Pipkin's 
 life, and it was about the only one that had ever occurred to ruffle the 
 smooth current of his quiet existence, when happening one fme after- 
 noon, in a lit of mental abstraction, to raise his eyes from the slate on 
 which he was devising some tremendous problem in compound addi- 
 tion for an offending urchin to solve, they suddenly rested on the 
 blooming countenance of Maria Lobbs, the only daughter of old Lobbs 
 the great i^addler over the way. Now the eyes of Mr. Pipkin had 
 rested on the pretty face of Maria Lobbs many a time and oft before, at 
 church and elsewhere : but the eyes of Maria Lobbs h^d never looked 
 60 bright, the cheeks of Maria l^obbs had never looked so niddy, as 
 upon this particular occasion. No wonder then that NSthaniel Pipkin 
 was unable to take his eyes froii the countenance of Miss Lobbs ; no 
 wonder that Miss Lobbs. finding herself stared at by a young man, 
 withdrew her head from the window, out of which she had been peep- 
 ing, and shut the casement and pulled down the blind ; no wonder 
 that Nathaniel Pipkin, immediately thereafter, fell upon the young 
 urchin who had previously offended, and cuffed and knocked him to 
 his heart's content. All this was yery natural, and there's nothing at 
 all to wonder at about it. ^ 
 
 " It is matter of wonder, though, that any one of Mr. Nathaniel 
 Pipkin's retiring disposition, nervous temperament, and most particu- 
 larly diminutive income, should from this day forth, have dared to 
 aspire to the hand and heart of the only daughter of the fiery old Lobbs 
 — of old Lobbs the- great saddler,. who could have Iwught up the whole . 
 village at one stroke of his pen, and never felt the outlay — old Lobbs, 
 ■who was well known to have heaps of money in'-^sted in the bank at 
 the nearest market town — who was reported to have countless and in- 
 exhaustible treasures, hoarded up in the little iron safe with the bi^' 
 keyhole, over the chimney-piece in the back parlour — and who, it was 
 well known, on festive occasions garnished his board with a real silver 
 teapot, cream-cv7er, and sugar-basin, which he was wont, in the pride 
 of his heart, to boast should be his daughter's property when she found 
 a man to her mind. I repeat it, to be a matter of profound astonish- 
 ment and intense wooder, that Nathaniel Pipkin should have had the 
 temerity to cast his eyes in this direction. But love is blind, and 
 Nathaniel had a cast in his eye ; and perhaps these two circumstances, 
 taken together, prevented his seeing the matter in its proper light. 
 
 " Now, if old Lobbs had entertained the most remote or distant idea 
 of the state of the affections of Nathaniel Pipkin, he would just have 
 razed the school-room to the ground, or exterminated ^ts master from 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. I7l 
 
 the surface of the earth, or committed some other outrage and atrocity 
 of an equally ferocious and violent description; for he was a Jerrihlc 
 old fellow that Lobbs, when his pride was injured, or his blood was up. 
 Swear ! Such trains of oaths would come rolling and pealing over 
 the way, sometimes when he was denouncing the idleness of the bony 
 apprentice with the thin legs, that Nathaniel Pipkin would shake in 
 his shoes with horror, and the hair of the pupils' heads would stand on 
 end with fright. 
 
 " Well, day after day, when school was over, and the pupils gone, 
 did Nathaniel Pipkin sit himself down at the front window, and while, 
 he feigned to be reading a book, throw sidelong glances over the way 
 in search of the bright eyes of Maria Lobbs ; and he hadn't sat there 
 many days, before the bright eyes appeared at an upper window, ap- 
 parently deeply engeiged in reading too. This was delightful, and 
 gladdening to the heart of Nathaniel Pipkin. It was something to sit 
 there for hours together and look upon that pretty face when the eyes 
 were cast down ; but when Maria Lobbs began to raise her eyes from 
 her book, and dart their rays in the direction of Nathaniel Pipkin, his 
 delight and admiration were perfectly boundless. At last, one day 
 when he knew old Lobbs was out, Nathaniel Pipkin had the temerity 
 to kiss his hand to Maria Lobbs ; and Maria Lobbs, instead of shutting 
 the window, and pulling down the blind, kissed hers to him, and smiled. 
 Upon which Nathaniel Pipkin determined that come what might he 
 would develope the state of his feelings, without farther delay. 
 
 '• A prettier foot, a gayer heart, a more dimpled face, or a smarter 
 form, never bounded so lightly over the earth they graced, as did those 
 of Maria Lobbs, the old saddler's dauiihter. There was a roguish 
 twinkle in her sparkling eyes, that would have made its way to far less 
 susceptible bosoms than that of Nathaniel Pipkin ; and there was such 
 a joyous sound in her merry laugh, that the sternest misanthrope must 
 have smiled to hear it. Even old Lobbs himself in the very height of his 
 ferocity, couldn't resist the coaxing of hi> pretty daughter ; and when 
 she, and her cousin Kate — an arch, impudent-looking, bewitching little 
 person — made a dead set upon the old man together, as, to say the 
 truth, they very often did, he could have refused them nothing, even 
 had they asked for a portion of the countless and inexhaustible treasures, 
 which were hidden from the light, in the iron safe. 
 
 " Nathaniel Pipkin's heart beat high within him, when he saw this 
 enticing little couple some hundred yards before him, one summcT's 
 evening, in the very field in which he had many a time strolled about 
 till nin[ht-time, and pondered on the beauty of Maria Lobbs. But (hi)ngh 
 he had often thought then-how hri-skly he would walk up to Maria 
 Lobbs and tell her of his passion ;f he could only meet her, he felt, now 
 that she was unexpectedly .before him, all the blood in his body mount- 
 ing to his face, manifestly to the great detriment of his legs, which, 
 deprived of their usual portion, trembled beneath him. When they 
 stopped to gather a hedge flower, or listen to a bird, Nathaniel Pipkin 
 stopped too, and pretended to be absorbed in meditation, as indeed he 
 really was ; for he was thinking what on earth he should ever do, 
 when they turned back, as they inevitably must in time, and men him 
 face to face. But though he was afraid to make up to them, he couldn't 
 bear to lose sight of them ; so when they walked faster he walked 
 faster, when they lingered he lingered, and when they stopped he 
 stopped ; and so they might have gone on, till the darkness i)reventcd 
 
173 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 them, if Kate had not looked slyly back, and encouragingly beckoned 
 Nathaniel to advance. There was something in Kate's manner that 
 was not to be resisted, and so Nathaniel Pipkin complied with the 
 invitation : ami after a great deal of bhisliing on his part, and in»- 
 woderate laughter on that of the wicked little cousin, Natlianiel Pipkia 
 ■went down on his knees on the dewy grass and declared his res4»lulioa 
 to remain there for ever, unless he was permitted to rise the accepted 
 lover of Maria Lobbs. Upon this, the merry laughter of Maria Lobbs 
 rang throuirh the calm evening air — without seeming to disturb it, 
 thouijh ; it had such a pleasant sound — and the wicked' little cousiu 
 laughed more immoderately than before, and Nathanisl Pipkin blushed 
 deeper than e*er. At length, Maria Lobbs being more strenuously 
 urged by tlie love- worn little man, turned away her head, and whispered 
 her cousin to say,, or at all events Kate did say, that she felt much 
 honoured by Mr. Pipkin's addresses, that her hand and heart were at 
 her fatlier's disposal, but that nobody could be insensible to Mr Pip- 
 kin's merits. As all this was said with much gravity, and as Nathaniel 
 Pipkin walked home with Maria Lobbs, and strui>gled for a kiss at 
 parting, he went to bed a ha])py man, and dreamed all night long, of 
 softening old. Lobbs, openinor the strong box. and marrying Maria. 
 
 " The next day, Nathajiiel Pipkin saw old Lobbs go out upon his 
 old gray pony, and after a great many signs at the window from the 
 wicked little cousin, the object and meaning of which he could by no 
 means understand, the bony apprentice with the thin legs came over to 
 say that his master was'nt coming home all night, and that the ladies 
 expected Mr. Pipkin to tea at six o'clock precisely. How the lessons 
 were got through that day, neither Nathaniel Pipkin nor his pupils 
 knew, any more than you do ; but they were go: through somehow, 
 and, after the boys had gone, Nathaniel Pipkin took till full six o'clock 
 to dress himself to his satisfaction ; not that it took long to select the 
 garments he should wear, inasmuch as he had no choice about the mat- 
 ter, but the putting them on to the best advaniage, and touching them 
 up previously, was a task of no inconsiderable difficully or importance. 
 
 '* There w:as a very snug little party, consisting of Maria Lobbs and 
 her cousin Kate, and three or four romping, good-humoured, rosy- 
 cheeked girls. Nathaniel Pipkin had ocular demonstration of the 
 fact, that even the rumours of old Lobbs's treasures were not exajroe- 
 rated. There were the real solid silver teapot, cream-ewer and sugar 
 basin on the table, and real silver spoons to stir the tea with, and real 
 china cups to drink, it out of, and plates of the same to hold the cakes 
 and toast in. The only eyesore in the whole place was another cousia 
 of M ;ria Lobbs's, and brother of Kate, wiiom Maria Lobbs called 
 'Henry,' and who seemed to keep Maria Lobbs all to hinjself, up in one 
 corner of the table. It's a deUghtful thing to see affection in families, 
 but it may be carried rather too far, and Nathaniel Pipkin could nqt help 
 thinking that Maria Lobbs must be very p8.rticularly fond of her rela- 
 tions, if she paid aslnuch attention to all of them as to this individual 
 cousin. After tea, too^ when the wicked little cousin proposed a gam.e 
 at blind man's buff, it soaneho-w or other happened that Nathaniel Pip- 
 kin was nearly always bUnd, and whenever he laid his hand upon the 
 jnale cousin, he was sure to find that Maria Lobbs was not far off. — 
 And though the wicked little cousin and the other girls pitched him, 
 and pulled his hair, and pushed chairs in his way, and all sorts of 
 things, Maria Lobbs never seemed to come near him at all ; and once — 
 
THE PtCKWlCK CLCB. 173 
 
 once — Nathaniel Pipkin could have sworn he heard the sound of a kiss, 
 followed by a faint remonstrance from Maria Lobhs, and a half-sup- 
 pressed laugh from her fem.ile friends. All this was odd — very odd — 
 and there is no saying what Nathaniel Pipkin might or might not have 
 done, in consequence, if his thought* had not been suddenly directed 
 into a new channel. 
 
 " The circumstance which directed his thoughts into a new channel 
 was a loud knocking at the street door, and the person who made this 
 loud knocking at the street door was no other than old Ix»bbs himself, 
 who had unexpectedly returned, and was hammering away like a cof- 
 fin maker : for he wanted his supper. The alarming intelligence wa« 
 no sooner communicated by the bony apprentice with the thin legs, 
 than the girls tripped up stairs to Maria Lobbs's bed-room, and the 
 male cousin and Nathaniel Pipkin were thrust into a couple of closets 
 in the sitting room, for want of any better places of concealment ; and 
 when Maria Lobbs and the wicked little cousi;i had stowed them away 
 and put the room to rights, they opened the street door to old Lobbs, 
 who had never left off knocking since he first began. 
 
 " Now it did unfortunately happen that old Lobbs being verj' hungry 
 •was monstrous cross. Nathaniel Pipkin could hear him growling away 
 like an old mastiff with a sore throat ; and whenever the unfortunate 
 apprentice with the thin legs came into the room, so surely did old 
 Lobbs commence swearing at him in a most Saracenic and ferocious 
 manner, though apparently with no other end or object than that of 
 easing his bosom b}' the discharge of a few suj^erfluous oaths. At 
 length some supper, which had been warming up, was placed on the 
 table, and then old Lobbs fell to, in regular style ; and having made 
 clear work of it in no time, kissed his daughter and demanded his pipe. 
 
 *' Nature had placed Nathaniel Pipkin's knees in ver\- close juxta 
 position, but when he heard old Lobbs demand his pipe, they knocked 
 together as if they were going to reduce each other to powder ; for 
 depending from a couple of hooks, in the ven.- closet in which he stood 
 ■was a large brown-stemmed, silver-bowled pipe, which pipe he himself 
 had seen in the mouth of old Lobbs regularly every afternoon and 
 evening for the last five years. The two girls went down stairs for 
 the pipe, and up stairs for the pipe, and every where but where they 
 knew the pipe was, and old Lobbs stormed away mean while in the 
 most wonderful manner. At last he thought of the closet and walked 
 up to it. It was of no use a little man like Nathaniel Pipkin pulling 
 the door inwards, when a great strong fellow like old Lobbs was pull- 
 ing it outwards. Old Lol)bs just gave it one tug and open it flew, dis- 
 closing Nathaniel Pipkin standing bolt upright inside, and shaking 
 with ap|)rchension from ^ead to foot. Bless us I what an appalling 
 look old Lobbs gave him, as he dragged him out by the collar, and held 
 hixn at arm's length. 
 
 " ' Why, r.'hat do you want here V said old Lobbs, in a fearful voice. 
 
 "Nathaniel Pipkin could make no reply, so old Lobbs shook him 
 Tiackwards and forwards for two or three minutes, by way of arranging 
 his id'^as for him. 
 
 '• ' What do you want here V roared Lobbs,- ' I suppose yoit have 
 come after my daughter now.' 
 
 " Old Lobbs merely said this as a sneer ; for he did not believe that 
 mortal presumption could have carried Nathaniel Pipkin so far. 
 What was his indignation when th-it poor man replied — 
 
 15» 
 
174 poaTHUMocs papers or 
 
 " • Yes, I did, Mr. Lobbs — I did come after your daughter. I love 
 her, Mr. Lobbs.' 
 
 •' ' Why, you snivelling, wry-faced little villain,' gasped old Lobbs, 
 paralysed at the atrocious confession ; * what do you mean by that ] 
 Say this to my face ! Why, I'll throttle you.' 
 
 " It is by no means improbable that old Lobbs would have canied 
 liis threat into execution, in the excess of his rage, if his arm had not 
 been stayed by a very unexpected apparition, to wit, the male cousin, 
 who stepping out of his closet, and walking up to old Lobbs, said — 
 
 " ' I cannot allow this harmless person, sir, who has been asked here, 
 in some girlish frolic, to take upon himself, in a very noble manner, 
 the fault (if fault it is) which I am guilty of, and am ready to avow. / 
 love your daughter, sir ; and /came here for the purpose of meeting her.' 
 
 " Old Lobbs opened his eyes very wide at this, but not wider than 
 J^athaniel Pipkin. 
 
 ♦' ' You did !' said Lobbs, at last finding breath to speak. 
 
 " ' I did.' 
 
 " * And I forbade you this house, long agO:' 
 
 " ' You did, or I should not have been here, clandestinely, to-night.' 
 
 '♦ I am sorry to record it of old Lobbs, but I think he would have 
 struck the cousin, if his pretty daughter, with her bright eyes swim- 
 ming in tears, had not clung to his arm. 
 
 " ' Don't stop him, Maria,' said the young man : * if he has- the will 
 to strike me, let him. I would not hurt a hair of his gray head for 
 the riches of the wgrld.' 
 
 " The old man cast down his eyes at this reproof, and they met 
 those of his daughter. I have hinted, once or twice before that they 
 were very bright eyes, and though they were tearful now, their in- 
 fluence was by no means lessened. Old Lobbs turned his head away, 
 as if to avoid being persuaded by them, when, as fortune would have 
 it, he encountered the face of the wicked little cousin, who, half afraid 
 for her brother, and half laughing at Nathaniel Pipkin, presented as 
 bewitching an expression of countenance, with a touch of slyness in it 
 too, as any man, old or young, need look upon. She drew her arm 
 coaxingly through the old man'& and whispered something in his ear; 
 and do what he would, old Lobbs couldn't help breaking out into a 
 smile, while a tear stole down his cheek at the same time. 
 
 " Five minutes after this the girls were brought down from the bed- 
 room with a great deal of giggling and modesty ; and while the young 
 people were making themselves perfectly happy, old Lobbs got down 
 the pipe, and smoked it ; and it was a remarkable circumstance about 
 that particular pipe of tobacco, that it was the most soothing and de- 
 lightful one he ever smoked. ^ 
 
 " Nathaniel Pipkin thought it best to keep his own counsel, and by 
 so doing gradually rose in high favour with old Lobbs, who taught him 
 to smoke in time ; and they used to sit out in the garden on the fine 
 evenings for many years afterward, smoking and drinking in great 
 state. He soon recovered from the eflects of his attachment, for we find 
 his name in the parish register, as a witness to the marriage of Maria 
 Lobbs to her cousin ; and it also appears, by reference to other docu- 
 ments, that on the night of the wedding, he was incarcerated in the 
 village cage, for having in a state of extreme intoxication, committed 
 sundry excesses in the streets, in all of which he was aided and abetted 
 by the bony apprentice with the thin legs." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLDB. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BRIEFLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF TWO POINTS ; — PIEST, THE POWER OF HYS- 
 TEEICS, ASDy SECONDLY, THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 For two days after the dejcune at Mrs. Hunters, the Pickwickians 
 remained at Eatanswill, anxiously awaiting the arrival of some intelli- 
 gence from their revered leader. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snod^rass 
 were once again left to their own means of amusement ; for Mr. Winkle, 
 in compliance with a most pressing invitation, continued to reside at 
 Mr. Pott's house, and devote his time to the companionship of his 
 amiable lady. Nor was the occasional society of Mr. Pott himself, 
 wanting to complete theic felicity. Deeply immersed in the intensity 
 of his speculations for the pubHc weal, and the destruction of the 
 Independent, it was not the habit of that great man to descend from 
 Lis mental pinnacle to the humble level of ordinary minds. On this 
 occasion, however, and as if expressly in compliment to any follower 
 of Mr. Pickwick's, he unbent, relaxed, stepped down from his pedestal, 
 and walked upon the ground : benignly adapting his remarks to the 
 comprehension of the herd, and seeming in outward form, if not in 
 spirit, to be one of them. 
 
 Such having been the demeanour of this celebrated public cheraeter 
 towards Mr. Winkle, it will be readily imagined that considerable sur- 
 prise was depicted on the countenance of the latter gentleman, when, 
 as he was sitting alone in the breakfast-room, the door was hastily- 
 thrown open, and as hastily closed, on the entrance of .Mr. Pott, who, 
 stalking maiestically towards him, and thrusting aiside his protTered 
 hand, ground his teeth, as if to put a sharper edge on what he was 
 about to utter, and exclaimed, in a saw-like voice, — 
 
 " Serpent 1" 
 
 " Sir I'' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, starting from his chair 
 
 " Serpent, sir," repeated Mr. Pott, raising his voice, and then- sud- 
 denly depressing it ; "I said. Serpent, sir — make the most of it." 
 
 Now when you have parted with a man, at tvva o'clock m the morn- 
 ing, on tcFms of the utmost good fellowship, and he meets you again 
 at half-past nine, and greets you as a serpent, it is not unreasonable to 
 conclude that soH>ething of an unpleasant nature has occurred mean 
 while. So Mr. Winkle thought. He returned Mr. Pott's gaze of 
 stone, and in compliance with that gentleman's request, proceeded to 
 make the most he could of the ''serpent." The most, however, was 
 just nothing at all ; so, after a profound silence of some minutes' dura- 
 tion, he said, — 
 
 "Serpent, sir I Serpent, Mr. Pott! What can you mean, sir? — 
 this is pleasantry." 
 
 «' Pleasantry, sir I" exclaimed Pott, witk a motion of the hand, in- 
 dicative of a strong desire to hurl the Britannia-nu'fdl teajii't at the 
 head of his visiter. " Pleasantry, sir I but no* I will be calm ; I 
 
17B POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 will be calm, hit ;'' and in proof of his calmness, Mr. Pott flung himself 
 into a chair, and foamed at the mouth. 
 
 " My dear, sir," interposed Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Dear sir !" repUed Pott. " How dare you address me, as dear sir, 
 sir 1 How dare you look me in the face and do it 1" 
 
 "Well, sir, if you come to that," responded Mr. Winkle, *'how dare 
 you look mc in the face, and call me a serpent, sir?" 
 
 " Eecause you are one," replied Mr. Pott. 
 
 " Prove it, sir," said Mr. Winkle, warmly. " Prove it." 
 
 A malignant scowl passed over the profound face of the editor, as he 
 idrew from his pocket the Independent of that morning ; and laying his 
 linger on a particular paragraph, threw the journal across the table to 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 That gentleman took it up, and read as follows : — 
 
 " Our obscure and filthy contemporary, in some disgusting observa- 
 tions on the recent election for this borough, has presumed to violate 
 the hallowed sanctity of private life, and to refer, in a manner not to 
 be misunderstood, to the personal affairs of our late candidate — ay, and 
 notwithstanding his base defeat, we will add, our future member Mr. 
 Fizkin. What joes our dastardly contemporary mean 1 What would 
 the ruffian say, if we, setting at nought, like him, the decencies of social 
 intercourse, were to raise the curtain which happily conceals his private 
 life from general ridicule, not to say from general execration ! What, 
 if we were even to point out, and gomment on, facts and circumstances 
 which are publicly notorious, and beheld by every one, but our mole- 
 eyed contemporary — what if we were to print the following eflusion, 
 •which we received while we were writing the commencement of this 
 article, from a talented fellow-townsman and correspondent : — 
 
 '"LINES TO A BRASS POT. 
 
 " ' Oh Pott ! if you'd knowTi 
 
 How false she'd have grovni, 
 When you heard the marriage bell's tinkle ; 
 
 You'd have done then, I vow, 
 
 What you cannot help now. 
 And handed her over to W* ****.' " 
 
 " W^hat," said Mr. Pott, solemnly — " What rhymes to * tinkle,' 
 villain 1" 
 
 " What rhymes to tinkle?' said Mrs. Pott, whose entrance at the 
 moment forestalled the reply. " What rhymes to tinkle ] Why, 
 W inkle, I should conceive :" and saying this, Mrs. Pott smiled sweetly 
 on the disturbed Pickwickian, and extended her hand' towards him. 
 The agitated young man would have accepted it, in his confusion, had 
 not Pott indignantly interposed. 
 
 " Back, ma'am — back," said the editor. '*■ Take his hand before my 
 very face !" 
 
 *' Mr. P. !" said his astonished lady. 
 
 "Wretched woman, look here," exclaimed the husband. "Look 
 here, ma'am — 'Lines to a brass Pot,' ma'am. 'Brass pot;' — that's 
 me, ma'am. 'False she'd have grown;' — that's you, ma'am — you." 
 Wit'n th'/; ebullition of rage, which was not unaccompanied with some- 
 thing like a tremble, at the expression of his wife's face, Mr. Pott 
 dashed the current number of the Eatanswill Independent at her feet. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 177 
 
 *'Upon my word, sir," said the astonished Mrs. Pott, stooping to pick 
 up the paper. "Upon my word, sir." 
 
 Mr. Pott winced beneath the contemptuous gaze of his wife He 
 had made a desperate struggle to screw up his courage, but it was fast 
 coming unscrewed again. 
 
 There appears nothing very tremendous in this little sentence, 
 " Upon my word, sir," when it comes to be read ; but the tone of voice 
 in which it was delivered, and the look that accompanied it, both seem- 
 ing to bear reference to some revenge to be thereafter wreaked upon 
 the head of Pott, produced their full eflect upon him. The most un- 
 skilful observer could have detected in his troubled countenance, a 
 readiness to resign his Wellington boots to any etiicient substitute who 
 would have consented to stand m them at that moment. 
 
 Mrs. Pott read the paragraph, uttered a loud shriek, and threw her- 
 self at full length on the hearth-rug, screaming, and tapping it with 
 the heels of her shoes, in a maP'ier wliich could leave no doubt of the 
 propriety of her feelings on the occasion. 
 
 '• My dear," said the territied Pott, — '• I didn't say I believed it ; — • 
 I — " but the unfortunate man's voice was drowned in the screaming 
 of his partner. 
 
 " Mrs. Pott, let me entreat you, my dear ma'am, to compose your- 
 self,' said Mr. Winkle ; but the shrieks and tappings were louder and 
 more frequent than ever. 
 
 '• My dear," said Mr. Pott, " I am very sorry. If you won't con- 
 sider your own health, consider me, my dear. We^shall have a crowd 
 round the house." 
 
 But the more strenuously Mr. Pott entreated, the more vehemently 
 the screams poured forth. 
 
 Very fortunately, however, attached to Mrs. Pott's person was a 
 
 body-guard of one : a young l^ady whose ostensible emplovment 
 
 was to preside over her toilet, but who rendered herself uselul in a 
 variety of ways, and in none more so than in the particular depart,- 
 ment of constantly aiding and abetting her mistress in every wish and 
 inclination opposed to the desires of the unhappy Pott. The screams 
 reached this young lady's ears in due course, and brought her to the 
 room with a speed which threatened to derange materially the very 
 exquisite arrangement of her cap and ringlets. 
 
 " Oh, my dear, dear mistress !" exclaimed the body-guard, kneeling 
 frantically by the side of the prostrate Mrs. Pott. " Oh, my dear 
 mistress, what is the matter !" 
 
 " Your master — your brutal master," murmured the patient. 
 
 Pott was evidently giving way. 
 
 *' It's a shame," said the body-guard, reproachfully. '* I know he'll 
 be the death on you, ma'am. Poor dear thing." 
 
 He gave way more. The opposite party followed up the attack. 
 
 '• Oh, don't leave me — don't leave, GotKlwin," murmured Mrs. Pott, 
 clutching at the wrists of the said Goodwin with an hysteric jerk. 
 
 " You're the only person that's kind to me, Goodwin." 
 
 At this affecting appeal, Goodwin got up a little domestic tragedy 
 of her own, and shed tears copiou.sly. 
 
 " Never, ma'am — never,'' said Goodwin. " Oh, sir, you should bo 
 careful — you should indeed ; yuu don't know what harm you may do 
 Missis ; you'll be sorry for it one day, I know — I've always said bo.'' 
 
 The unlucky Pott looked timidly on, but said nothing. 
 
178 P0STHDM0U8 PAPERS OF 
 
 " Goodwin," said Mrs. Pott, in a soft voice. 
 
 " Ma'am,'' said Goodwin. 
 
 "Il'vou only knew how I have loved that man — " 
 
 " Don't distress yourself by recollecting it, ma'am," said the body- 
 guard. 
 
 Pott looked very frightened. It was time for a clencher. 
 
 *' And now," sobbed Mrs. Pott — " n« w, after all, to be treated in 
 this way ; to be reproached and insulted in the presence of a third 
 party, and that party almost a stranger. But I will not submit to it, 
 Goodwin," continued Mrs. Pott, raising herself in the arms of her 
 attendant. " My brother, the lieutenant, shall interfere. PU b^ 
 separated, Goodwin." 
 
 " It would certainly serve him right, ma'am," said Goodwin. 
 
 Whatever thoughts the threat of a separation might have awakened 
 in Mr. Pott's mind, he forbore to give utterance to them, and contented 
 himself by saying with great humility — 
 
 " My dear, will you hear me 1" 
 
 A fresh train of sobs was the only reply, as Mrs. Pott grew more 
 hysterical, requested to be informed why she was ever born, and re- 
 quired sundry other pieces of information of a similar description 
 
 " My dear," remonstrated Mr. Pott, "don't give way to these sensitive 
 feelings. I never believed that the paragraph had any foundation, my 
 dear — impossible. I was only angry, my dear — I may say outrageous 
 — with the Independent people, for daring to insert it ; that's all,;" and 
 Mr. Pott cast an imploring look at the innocent cause of the mischief, 
 as if to entreat him to say nothing about the serpent. 
 
 " And what steps, sir, do mean to take to' obtain redress ?" inquired 
 Mr. Winkle, gaining courage as he satv Pott losing it. 
 
 *' Oh, Goodwin," observed Mrs. Pott, ''does he mean to horsewhip 
 the editor of the Independent — does he, Goodwin ?" 
 
 '* Hush, hush, ma'am ; pray keep yourself quiet," replied the body- 
 guard. " I dare say he will, if you wish it, ma'am." 
 
 '' Certainly," said Pott, as his wife evinced decided symptoms of 
 going off again — " of course I shall." 
 
 " When, Goodwin— when I" said Mrs. Pott, still undecided about 
 the EToing off. 
 
 "Immediately, of course," said Mr. Pott; " before the day is out." 
 
 " Oh. Goodwin," resumed Mrs. Pott, *' it's the only way of meeting 
 the slanderer, and setting me right with the world." 
 
 " Certainly, ma'am," seplied Goodwin. " No man as is a man, 
 ma'am, could refuse to do it." 
 
 So as the hysterics were still hovering about, Mr. Pott said once 
 more that he would do it ; but Mrs. Pott was so overcome at the bare 
 idea of having ever been suspected, that she was half-a-dozen times 
 on the very verge of a relapse, and most unquestionably would have 
 gone off, had it not been for ihe indefatigable efforts of the assiduous 
 Goodwin, and repeated entreaties for pardon from the conquered Pott ; 
 and finally, when that unhappy individual had been frightened and 
 snubbed down to his proper level, Mrs. Pott recovered, and they went 
 to breakfast. 
 
 "You will not allow this base newspaper slander to shorten your 
 slay here, Mr. Winkle 1" said Mrs. Pott, smiling through the traces of 
 her tears. 
 
 ♦• I hope not," said Mr. Pott, actuated as he spoke by an internal 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 179 
 
 ^ish that his visitor would choke himself with the morsel of dry toast 
 which he was raising to his lips at the moment ; and so terminate his 
 stay effectually. 
 
 '• I hope not." 
 
 " You are very qood," said Mr. Winkle ; " but a letter has been re- 
 ceived from Mr. Pickwick— so I learn by a note from Mr. Tupman, 
 which was hrought up to my bed-room door this morning, in which he 
 requests us to join him at Bury to-day ; and we are to leave by tlie 
 cooch at noon." 
 
 " But you will come back," said Mrs. Pott. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " You are quite sure 1" said Mrs. Pott, stealing a tender look at her 
 visiter. 
 
 "Quite," responded .Mr. Winkle. 
 
 The breakfast passed off in silence, for each member of the party 
 was brooding over his or her own personal grievances. Mrs. Pott was 
 regretting the loss of a beau ; Mr. Pott his rash pledge to h.-rsewhip 
 the Independent; and Mr. Winkle his having placed himself in so 
 awkward a situation. Noon approached, and after many adieus and 
 promises to return, he tore himself away. 
 
 "If he ever comes hack, I'll poison him," thought Mr. Pott, as he 
 turned into the little back office where he prepared his thunderbolts. 
 
 " If I ever do come back and mix myself up with th^se people 
 again," thought Mr. Winkle, as he wended hi.s way to the Peacock, " I 
 shall deserve to be horsewhipped myself — that's al!." 
 
 His friends were ready, the coach was nearly so, and in half an 
 hour they were proceeding on their journey, along the road over which 
 Mr. Pickwick and Sam had so recently travelled, and of v.hic'a, as we 
 have already said something, we do not feel called upon to extract Mr, 
 Snodgrass's poetical and beautiful description. 
 
 Mr'. Weller was standing at the door of the Angel, ready to receive 
 them, and by that gentleman they were ushered to the apartment of 
 Mr. Pickwick, where, to the no small surprise of Mr. Winkle and Mr. 
 Snodgrass, and the no small embarrassment of Mr. Tupman, they 
 found old Wardle and Trundle. 
 
 " How are you ?" said the old man, grasping Mr. Tupman's hand. 
 " Don't hang back or look sentimental about it — it can't be helped, old 
 fellow. For her sake, I wish you'd had her ; for your own, I'm very 
 glad you have not. A young fellow like you will do better one of these 
 days — eh ?"' With this consolation old Wardle slapped Mr. Tuprnun 
 on the back and laughed heartily. 
 
 " Well, and how are you, my fine fellows ?" said the old gentleman, 
 shaking hands with Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass at the same time. 
 " I have just been telling Pickwick that we must have yoyi all down at 
 Christmas. We're going to have a wedding — a real wedding this 
 time." 
 
 " A wedding !'* exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, turning very pale. 
 
 " Yes, a weddinjj. But don't be frightened," said the good-humourel 
 old man ; " it's only Trundle there and Bella." 
 
 *' Oh, is that all !" said Mr. Snodgrass, relieved from a painful doubt 
 which had fallen heavily on his breast. " Give you jov, sir. How is 
 Joe V 
 
 ♦' Oh, he— very well," replied the old gentleman. " Sleepy as ever." 
 
 " And your mother, and the clergyman, and all of 'em ]" 
 
IBO POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ♦' Quke well." 
 
 " W here," said Mr. Tupman, with an effort — " wliere is — she, sirV 
 and he turned away his head, and covered his eves with his hand. 
 
 " She /" said the old gentleman, with a knowing shake of the head 
 " Do jou mean ray single relative — eh 1" 
 
 Mr. Tupman, by a nod, intimated that his question applied to the 
 disappointed Rachael. 
 
 *' Oh, she's gone away," said the old gentleman. " She'« living at 
 a relation's far enough off. She couldn't bear to sec the girls, so f let 
 her go. But come, here's the dinner. You must be hungry after your 
 ride. I am, without any ride at all ; so let us fall to." 
 
 Ample justice was done to the meal ; and v/hen they were seated 
 round the table after it had been disposed of, Mr Pickwick, to the in- 
 tense horror and indignation of his followers, related the adventure he 
 bad undergone, and the success which had attended the base artifices 
 of the diabolical Jingle. 
 
 "An(^,thc attack of rheumatism which I caught in that garden," 
 said Mr. Pickwick, in conclusion, "renders me lame at this moment." 
 
 " I, too, have had something of an adventure," said Mr. Winkle, 
 with a smile ; and, at the request of Mr. Pickwick, he detailed the 
 malicious libel of the Eatanswill Independent, and the consequent 
 excitement of their friend, the editor. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's brqw darkened during the recital. His friends ob- 
 served it, and, when Mr. Winkle had concluded, maintained a profound 
 silence. Mr. Pickwick struck the tabic emphatically with his clenched 
 list, and spoke as follows ; 
 
 ' " Is it not a wonderful circumstance," said Mr. Pickwick, " that we 
 Ecem destined to enter no man's house without involving him in some 
 degree of trouble ] Does it not, I ask, bespeak the indiscretion, or, 
 worse than that, the blackness of heart — that I should say so I — of my 
 followers, that, beneath whatever roof they locate, they disturb the 
 peace of mind and happiness of some confiding female ] Is it not, I 
 say ]" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick would in all probability have gone on for some time, 
 had not the entrance of Sam, with a letter, caused him to break off in 
 his eloquent discourse. He passed his handkerchief across his fore- 
 head, took off his spectacles, wiped them, and put them on again ; and 
 his voice had recovered its wonted softness of tone, when he said, — 
 
 " W^hat have you there, Sam V 
 
 " Called at the post-otfice just now, and found this here letter as has 
 laid there for two days," replied Mr. W'eller. *' It's sealed vith a 
 vafer, and directed in round hand." 
 
 " I don't know this hand," said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. 
 " Mercy on us ! what's this I It must be a jest ; it — it — can't be 
 true." 
 
 " What's the matter 1" was the general inquiry. 
 
 " Nobody dead, is there 1" said Ward-le, alarmed at the horror in 
 Mr. Pickwick's counten^-^nce. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick made no re])ly, but pushing the letter across the table, 
 and desiring Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his chair with a 
 look of vacant astonishment quite alan^jing to behold. 
 
 Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of. which the 
 following IS a copy : — 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 181 
 
 Freeman's Court,' ComkUl, August 28th, 1830. 
 Bardell against Pttkwick. 
 Sir, 
 
 Having been instructed ly Mrs. Martha Bardell, to commence ati 
 action against yoiu, for a breach of promise of marriage, for which the 
 plaintiff lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to infcnu 
 you that a wnt has been issued against you, in this suit, iJi the Court of 
 Common Picas ; and request to know, by return of post, the name of 
 your attorney in London who will accept service thereof. 
 
 We are, sir, 
 
 Your obedient servants^ 
 Dodson and Fogg. 
 Mr. Samuel Pickwick. 
 
 There was something so impressive in the mute astonishment with 
 which each man regarded his neighbour, and every man regarded Mr. 
 Pickwick, that all seemed afraid to speak. The silence was at length 
 broken by Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Dodson and Fogg," he repeated mechanically. 
 
 " Bardell and Pickwick," said Mr. Snodgrass, musing. 
 
 "Peace of mind and happiness of confiding females,'' murmured Mr. 
 Winkle, with an air of abstraction. 
 
 " It's a conspiracy," said Mr. Pickwick, at length recovering the 
 power of speech ; — " a base conspiracy between these two grasping 
 attorneys, Dodson and Fogg. Mrs. Bardell would never do it ; — she 
 hasn'f the heart to do it ; — she hasn't the case to do it. Ridiculous — 
 ridiculous." 
 
 " Of her heart," said Wardle, with a smile, "you should certainly be 
 the best judge. I don't wish to discourage you, but I should certainly 
 say of her case, Dodson and Fogg are far better judges than any of us 
 can be." v 
 
 " It's a vile attempt to extort money," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I hope it is," said Wardle with a short dr\' cough. 
 - ** Who ever heard me address her in any way but that in which a 
 lodger would address his landlady !*' continued Mr. Pickwick, with 
 great vehemence. " Who ever saw me with her ] Not even my 
 friends here — " 
 
 " Except on one occasion," said Mr. Tupiiian. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick changed colour. 
 
 ♦' Ah," said Wardle. " VV^cll, that's important. There was nothing 
 suspicious then, I suppose 1'' 
 
 Mr. Tupman glanced tir/.idly at his leader. " Why," he said, «' there 
 was nothing suspicious ; but — I don't know how it happened, mind — 
 she certainly was reclining in his arras." 
 
 "Gracious powers I" ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, as the recollection 
 of the scene in question struck forcibly upon him ; — '« what a dreadful 
 instance of the force of circumstances ! So she was — so she was." 
 
 "And our friend was soothing her anguish," said Mr. Winkle, 
 rather maliciously. 
 
 " So I was," said Mr. Pickwick ; " I won't deny it." So I was." 
 
 "Hallo!" said Wardle: " for a case in which there's nothing su»- 
 
 VoL. I— IG 
 
182 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 picious, this looks ratlier queer — eh, Pickwick — eh 1 Ah, sly dbg — «Iy 
 do^ !" and he laughed till the glasses on the sideboard rang again. 
 
 •' What a dreadful conjunction of appearances !" exclaimed Mr. Pick- 
 wick, resting his chin upon his hands. "Winkle — Tupman — I beg 
 your pardon for the observations I made just now. Wor are all the 
 victims of circumstances, and I the greatest." With this apology, Mr. 
 Pickwick buried his head in his hands, and ruminated ; while Wardle 
 measured out a regular circle of nods and winks, addressed to the other 
 members of the company. 
 
 " I'll have it explained though," said Mr. Pickwick, raising his head, 
 and hammering the table. " I'll see this Dodson and Fogg. FU go 
 to lymdon to-morrow." 
 
 ♦' Not to-morrow," said Wardle ; " you're too lame." 
 
 •' WrII then, ne.xt day." 
 
 '• Next day is the first of September, and you're pledged to ride out 
 ■with us, as far as Sir Geoffrey Manning's grounds, at all events to 
 meet us at lunch, if you don't take the field." 
 
 •• Well then, the day after," said Mr. Pickwick ; *' Thursday.— Sam." 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr."Weller. 
 
 **Take two places outside to London, on Thursday morning, for 
 yourself and me." 
 
 " Werry well, sir." 
 
 Mr. Weller left the room, and departed slowly on his errand, with his 
 hands in his pocket, and his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 " Rum feller, the hemperor," said Mr. Weller, as he walked slowly 
 up the street. " Think o' his makin' up to that ere Mrs. Bardell — vith 
 a little boy, too ! Always the vay vith these here old 'uns hows'ever, 
 as is such steady goers to look at. I didn't think he'd ha' done it, 
 though — I didn't think he'd ha' done it." After moralizing in this 
 strain, Mr. Samuel Weller bent his steps towards the booking-office. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A PLEASANT DAY, WITH AN UXPLEASANT TERMINATION. 
 
 The birds, who, happily for their own peace of mind, and personal 
 comfort, were in blissful ignorance of the preparations which had been 
 making to astonish them, on the first of September, hailed it, no doubt, 
 as one of the pleasantest mornings they had seen that season. Many 
 a young partridge who strutted complacently among the stubble, with 
 all the finicking coxcombry of youth, and many an older one who 
 watched his levity out of his little round eye, with the contemptuous 
 air of a bird of wisdom and experience, alike unconscious of their ap- 
 proaching doom, basked in the fresh morning air with lively and blithe- 
 some feelings, and a few hours afterward were laid low upon the earth. 
 But we grow affecting : let us proceed. 
 
 In plain common-place matter of fact, then, it was a fine morning — 
 80 fine that you would scarcely have believed that the few months of 
 an EngHsh summer had yet flown by. Hedges, fields, and trees, hill 
 and moorland, presented to the eye their ever-varying shades of deep 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 183 
 
 rich green : scarce a leaf had fallen, scarce a sprinkle of yellow mingled 
 with the hues of summer warned you that autumn had bei/un. The 
 sk\ was cloudless ; the sun shone out bright and warm ; the sonijs of 
 birds, and hum of myriads of summer insects, hlled the air; and the 
 cottage gardens, crowded with flowers of every rich and beautiful tint, 
 sparkled in the heavy dew, like beds of glittering jewels, Every thing 
 bore the stamp of summer, and none of its beautiful colours had yet 
 faded from the dye. 
 
 Such was the morning, when an open carriage, in which were three 
 Pickwickians, (Mr. Snodgrass having preferred to remain at home,) 
 Mr. Wardle and Mr. Trundle, with Sam Weller on the box beside the 
 driver, pulled up by a gate at the road-side, before which stood a tall, 
 raw-boned gamekeeper, and a half-booted, leather-leggined boy : each 
 bearing a bag of capacious dimensions, and accompanied by a brace of 
 pointers. 
 
 " I say," whispered Mr. Winkle to Wardle, as the man let down 
 the steps, " they don't suppose we're going to kill game enough to fill 
 those bags, do they !" 
 
 " Fill them I" exclaimed old Wardle. " Bless you, yes ! You shall 
 fill one and I the other ; and when we've done with them, the pockets 
 of our shooting-jackets will hold as much more." 
 
 Mr. Winkle dismounted without saying any thing in reply to this 
 observation ; but he thought within himself, that if the party remained 
 in the open air till he had filled one of the bags, they stood a considera- 
 ble chance of catching tolerable colds in the head. 
 
 " Hi, Juno, lass — hi, old girl ; down, Daph, down," said Wardle, 
 caressing the dogs. " Sir Geoffrey still in Scotland, of course, Martin 1" 
 
 The tall gamekeeper replied in the affirmative, and looked with some 
 surprise from Mr. Winkle, who was holding his gun as if he wished 
 his coat pocket to save him the trouble of pulling the trigger, to Mr. 
 Tupman, who was holding his as if he were afraid of it — as there is no 
 earthly reason to doubt that he really was. 
 
 " My friends are not much in the way of this sort of thing yet, 
 Martin," said Wardle, noticing the look. " Live and learn, you know. 
 They'll be gO(id shots one of these days. I beg my friend Winkle's 
 pardon, though ; he has had some practice." 
 
 Mr. Winkle smiled feebly over his blue neckerchief in acknowledg- 
 ment of the compliment, and got himself so mysteriously entangled 
 with his gun in his modest confusion, that if the piece had been loaded, 
 he must inevitably have shot himself dead U{)on the spot. 
 
 " Vou mustn't handle your piece in that ere way when you come to 
 have the charge in it, sir," said the tall gamekeeper gruffly, " or you'll 
 make cold meat of some on us." 
 
 Mr. Winkle, thus admonished, abruptly altered its position, and in 
 60 doing, contrived to bring the barrel into pretty smart contact with 
 Mr. Weller's head, 
 
 "Hallo I" said Sam, picking up hia hat, which had been knocked 
 off, and rubbing his temple. " Hallo, sir ! if you c<»mes it this vay, 
 you'll fill one o' them bags, and something to spare, at one fire." 
 
 Here the leather-leggined boy laughed very heartily, and then tried 
 to look as if it was somebody else, whereat Mr. Winkle frowned 
 majestically. 
 
 " Where did you tell the boy to roett us with the snack, ,>fartin !" 
 inquired Wardle. 
 
184 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS O? 
 
 ♦' Side of One-tree Hill, at twelve o'clock, sir." 
 
 " That's not Sir GeoHVey's land, is it?" 
 
 "No, sir; but it's close by it. It's Captcdri BoJdwiff'a laild,; but 
 there'll be nol>ody to interrupt us, and there's a fine bit of turf there.'' 
 
 " Very well," said old Wardle. " Now the sooner we're off the 
 better. Will you join us at twelve, then, Pickwick?" 
 
 iAr Pickwick was particularly desirous to view the sport, and more 
 especially as he was rather anxious in respect of Mr. Winkle's life and 
 limbs. On so inviiinw a morning, too, it was very tantalizing to turn 
 back, and leave his friends to enjoy themselves. It wa*, therefore, 
 with a very rueful air that he replied, — 
 
 '• Why, I suppose I must." 
 
 " An't the jjentleman a shot, sir ?" inquired the long gainpkeep>er. 
 
 " No," replied Wardle ; " and he's lame besides." 
 
 " I should very much like to go," said Mr. Pickwick — " very much." 
 
 There was a short pause of commiseration. 
 
 "There's a barrow t'other side the hedge," said the boy. If the 
 gentleman's servant would wheel along the paths, he could keep nigh 
 tis, and we could lift ifover the stiles and that." 
 
 "The werry tliijig," said Mr. Weller, who was a party interested, 
 inasmuch as he ardently lonoed to see the sport. " The werry thing. 
 Well said. Small-cheek ; I'll have it out in a minute." 
 
 But here a difficulty arose. The loujr gamekeeper resolutely pro- 
 tested against the introduction into a shooting-party of a gentleman in 
 a barrow, as a gross violation of all established rules and precedents. 
 
 It was a great objection, but not an insurmountable one. The game- 
 keeper having been coaxed and feed, and having, moreover, eased his 
 mind by "punching" the head of the inventive youth who had first sug- 
 gested the use of the machine, Mr. Pickwick was placed in it, and off 
 the party set ; Wardle and the long- gamekeeper leading the way, 
 and Mr. Pickwick in the barrow, propelled by Sam, bringing up the rear. 
 
 " Stop, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, when they had got half across the 
 first field. 
 
 " What's the matter now ?" said Wardle. 
 
 " I v/on't suffer this barrow to be moved another step^^" said Mr. 
 Pickwick, resolutely, " unless Winkle carries that gun of his, in a dif- 
 ferent manner." 
 
 " How am I to carry it ?" said the wretched Winkle. 
 
 " Carry it with the muzzle to the ground," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " It's so unsportsman-like," reasoned Winkle. 
 
 "I don't care whether it's unsportsman-like or not," replied Mr. 
 Pickwick ; " I am not going to be shot in a wheelbarrow, for the sake 
 of appearances, to please any body." 
 
 " I know the gentleman '11 put that ere charge into somebody afore 
 he's done," growled the long man. 
 
 " Well, well — I don't mind," said poor Mr. Winkle, turning his gun 
 stock uppermost ; — " there.'' 
 
 " Any thin' for a quiet life," said Mr. Weller ; andon they went again. 
 
 " Stop,'' said Mr. Pickwick, after- they had gone a few yards farther. 
 
 "What now?" said Wardle. 
 
 " That gun of Tupraan's is not safe : I know it isn't," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 " Eh? "What! not safe ?" said Mr. Tupman in a tone of great alarm. 
 
 ♦• IVot as you are carrying it," said Mr. Pickwick. " I am very sorry 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 185 
 
 to make any farther objection, but I cannot consent to go on, unless 
 you carry it as Winkle does his" 
 
 " 1 think you hacl better, sir," said the long gamekeeper. " or you're 
 quite as likely to lodge the charge in your own vestcoat as any body 
 else's." 
 
 Mr. Tupman, with the most obliging haste, placed his piece in the 
 position required, and the party moved on again; the two amateurs 
 marched with reversed arms, like a couple of privates at a royal luii 'ral. 
 
 The dogs suddenly came to a deatj stop, and the party advancing 
 stealthily a single pace, stopped too. 
 
 " What's the matter with the dogs' legs *" whispered Mr. Winkle. 
 *' How queer they're standing." 
 
 " Hush, can't you V* replied Wardle, softly. " Don't you see they're 
 making a point ?" 
 
 " Making a point !" said Mr. W^inkle, staring about him as if he ex- 
 pected some particular beauty in the landscape, which the sagacious 
 animals were calling special attention to. " Making a point I What 
 are they pointing at 1" 
 
 " Keep your eyes open," said Wardle, not heeding the question in 
 the excitement of the moment. " Now then." 
 
 There was a sharp whirring noise, that made Mr. Winkle start back 
 as if he had been shot himself. Bang, banw, went a couple of guns — 
 the smoke swept quickly away over the field, and curled into the air. 
 
 " Where are they ■" said Mr. Winkle, in a state of the highest ex- 
 citement, turning round and round in all directions. " Where are 
 they 1 Tell me when to fire. W here are they — where are they ] 
 
 " Where are they I" said Wardle, taking up a brace of birds which 
 the dogs had deposited at his feet. " Where are they I Why,- here 
 they are." 
 
 " IVo, no ; I mean the others," said the bewildered Winkle. 
 
 *' Far enough off, by this time," replied Wardle, coolly re-loading 
 his gun. 
 
 ♦' We shall very likely be up with another covey in five minutes," 
 said the long gamekeeper. *' If the gentleman begins to fire now, 
 perhaps he'll just get the shot out of the barrel by the time they rise." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha !" roared Mr. Weller. 
 
 *' Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, compassionating his follower's confusion 
 and embarrassment. 
 
 " Sir." 
 
 " Don't laugh." 
 
 "Certainly not, sir." So, byway of indemnification, Mr. Weller 
 contorted his features from behind the wheelbarrow, for the exclusive 
 amusement of the boy with the legorings, who thereupon burst into a 
 boisterous laugh, and was sunmiarily cuffed by the long gamekeeper, 
 who wanted a pretext for turning round to hide bis own merriment. 
 
 " Bravo, old fellow I' said Wardle to Mr. Tupman ; " you fired that 
 time at all events." 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Mr. Tupman, v.'ith conscious pride, " I let it off." 
 
 " Well done. You'll hit something next time, if you look sharp. — 
 Very easy, ain't it T' 
 
 " Yes, it's very ea.sy," said Mr Tupman. «' How it hurts one's 
 shouhler, though. It nearly knocked me backwards. I had no idea 
 these small fire-arms kicked so." 
 
 16* 
 
186 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 ♦' Ah," said the old gentleman, smiling ; " you'll get used to it in 
 time. Now then — ail ready — all right with the barrow there ?" 
 
 " All right, sir," replied Mr; Weller. 
 
 "Come alpng, then." 
 
 "Hold hard, sir," said Sam, raising the barrow. 
 
 " Ay, ay," replied Mr. Pickwick ; and on Ihey went as briskly as 
 need be. 
 
 *' Keep that bctrrow back now," cried Wardle, when it had been 
 hoisted over a stile into- another field, and Mr. Pickwick l»d been de- 
 posited in it once more. 
 
 ♦'All right, sir," replied Mr. M'eHcr, pausing. 
 
 " Now, Winkle," said the old gentleman, " follow me softly, and 
 don't be too late this time." 
 
 " Never fear," said Mr. Winkle. " Are they pointing !"• 
 
 "No, no; not now. Quietly now, quietly." On tliey crept, and 
 very (juietly they would have advanced, if .Mr. Winkle, in the per- 
 formance of some very intricate evolutions with his gun, had not ac- 
 cidentally fired, at the most critical moment, over the bi>y's head, ex- 
 actly in the very spot where the tall man's brains would have been, had 
 he been there instead. 
 
 " Why, what on earth did you do that for ?" said old Wardle, as the 
 birds flew unharmed away. 
 
 « I never saw such a gun in all my life," replied poor Winkle, looking 
 at the lock, as if that would do any good. " It goes off, of its own 
 accord. It will do it." 
 
 ♦♦ Will do it I" echoed Wardle, with something of irritation in his 
 manner. " I wish it would kill something of its own accord." 
 
 "It'll do that afore long, sir," observed the tall jnan, in a low, pro- 
 phetic voice." 
 
 "What do you mean by lliat observation, sir I" inquired Mr. Winkle, 
 angrily. 
 
 " Never mind, sir — never mind," replied the long gamekeeper ; — 
 *' I've no family myself, sir ; and this here boy's mother will gej some- 
 thing handsome from Sir (jieoffrey, if he's killed on his land. JiOad 
 again, sir — load again." 
 
 " Take away his gun," cried Mr. Pickwick from the barrow, horror 
 stricken at the long man's dark insinuations. "Take away his gun, 
 do you hear, somebody !" 
 
 Nobody, howc. er, volunteered to obey the command ; and Mr. Win- 
 kle, after darting a rebellious glance at Mr. Pickwick, reloaded his gun, 
 and proceeded onwards with the rest. 
 
 We are bound, on the authority of Mr. Pickwick, to state, that Mr. 
 Tupman's mode of proceeding evinced far more of prudcnc? and de- 
 liberation, than that adopted by Mr. Winkle. Still, this by no means 
 detracts from the great authority of the latter gentleman, on all matters 
 connected with the field ; because, as Mr. Pickwick beautifully observes, 
 it has somehow or other hajjpened, from time immemorial, that many 
 of the best and ablefet philosophers, who have been perfect lights of 
 science in matters of theory, have been wholly unable to reduce them 
 to practice. 
 
 " Mr. Tupman's process, like many of oar most sublime discoveries, 
 was extremely simple. With the quickness and penetration of a man 
 of genius, he had at once observed that the two great points to be 
 attained were — first, lo discharge his piece without injury to himself 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 1S7 
 
 and secondly, to do so, without danger to the by-standers ; — obviously, 
 the best thing to do after surmounting the difficulty of firing at all, 
 was to shut his eyes firmly, and fire into the air. 
 
 On one occdsion, after performing this feat, Mr. Tupman, on open- 
 ing his eyes, beheld a plump partridge in the very act af falling wounded 
 to the ground. He was just on the point of congratulating Wardle on 
 his invariable success, when that gentleman advanced towards hina, and 
 grasped him warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Tupman,"' said the old gentleman, •' you singled out that parucular 
 bird r' 
 
 "No," said Mr. Tupman — "no." 
 
 " You did," said Wardle. " I saw you do it— I observed you pick 
 him out — I noticed you as you raised your piece to take aim ; — and I 
 will say this, that the best shot in existence could not have done it more 
 beautifully. You are an older hand at this than I thought you, Tup- 
 man ; — you have been out before." 
 
 " It was in vain for Mr. Tupman to protest, with a smile of self- 
 denial, that he never had. The very smile was taken as evidence ta 
 the contrary ; and from that time forth his reputation was cstablislied. 
 It is not the only reputation that has been acquired as easily, nor are 
 such fortunate circumstances confined to partridge-shooting. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Winkle flashed and blazed and smoked away without 
 producing any material results worthy of being noted down ; some- 
 times expending his charge in mid-air, and at others sending it skim- 
 ming along so near the surface ground as to place the lives of the two 
 dogs on a rather uncertain and precarious tenure. As a display of 
 fancy shooting, it was extremely varied and curious ; as an exhibition 
 of firing with any precise object, it was, upon the whole, perhaps, a 
 failure. It is an established axiom, that '• every bullet has its billet." 
 If it apply in an equal degree to shots, those of Mr. Winkle were un- 
 fortunate foundlings, deprived of their natural rights, cast loose upon 
 the world, and billeted nowhere. 
 
 " Well," said Wardle, walking up to the side of the barrow, and 
 wiping the streams of perspiration from his jolly red face ; " smoking 
 day, isn't it !" 
 
 ♦' it is indeed," replied Mr. Pickwick. ** The sun is tremendously 
 hot, even to me. I don't know how you must feel it." 
 
 *' Why," said the old gentleman, "pretty hot. It's past twelve, 
 though. You see that green hill there 1" 
 
 ♦• Certainly." 
 
 ♦' That's the place whore we are to lunch ; and there's the boy with 
 the basket, punctual as clockwork." 
 
 *' So he is," said Mr. Pickwick, brightening up. " Good boy, tl^t. 
 I'M give him a shilling presently. Now then, Sam, wheel away." 
 
 •' Hold on, sir," said Mr. Weller, invigorated with the prospect of 
 refreshments. " Out of the vay, young leathers. If you wally my 
 precious life, don't upset me, as the genTman said to the driver, when 
 they was carry in' him to Tyburn." And quickening his pace to a 
 sharp run, Mr. Weller wheeled his master nimbly to the green hill, 
 shot him dextrously out by the very side of the basket, and proceeded 
 to unpack it with the utmost despatch. 
 
 ♦' Weal pie," said Mr. Weller, soliloquizing, as he arranged the 
 eatables on the grass. '* Werry good thing is a weal pie, when you 
 know the lady as made it, and is quite sure it an't kittens ; and arter 
 
POSTHUMOUS PAPKRS OF 
 
 all thouorh. wlicrc's the odds, when they're so like weal that the werry 
 picruen themselves don't know the difTerence ?" 
 
 " Don't they, Sam ]" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Not they, sir," replied Mr. Weller, touching his hat. " I lodged 
 in the same house vith a pieman once, sir, and a werry nice man he 
 was — reg'lar clever chap, too — make pies out o' any thing, he could. 
 
 * What a number o' cats you keep, Mr. Brooks,' said I, when I got in- 
 timate with him. 'Ah,' says he, 'I do — a good many,' says he. 
 
 * You must be werry fond o' cats,' says I. * Other people is,' says he, 
 a winkin' at me ; ' they an't in season till the winter though,' says he. 
 ' Not in season !' says I. ' No,' says he, ' fruits is in, cats is out.' 
 ' Why, what do you mean1' says I. 'Mean]' says he. 'That I'll 
 never be a party to the combination o' the butchers, to keep up the 
 prices o' meat,' says he. ' Mr. Weller,' says he, squeezing my hand 
 werry hard, and vispering in my ear — ' don't mention this here agin, 
 but i'/s the seasonin' as does it. They're all made o' them noble 
 animals,' says he, a pointin' to a werry nice little tabby kitten, ' and I 
 seasons 'em for beefsteak, weal, or kidney, 'cordin' to the demand ; 
 am', more than that,' says he, ' I can make a weal a beefsteak, or a 
 beef.-teak a kidney, or any one on 'em a mutton, at a minute's notice, 
 just as the market changes, and appetites wary !' " 
 
 " He must have been a very in'genious young man, that, Sam," said 
 Mr. Pi'^kwick, with a slight shudder. 
 
 " Just was, sir," replied Mr. Weller, continuing his occupation of 
 emptying the basket, " and the pies was beautiful. Tongue ; well, that's 
 a werry good thing, when it a'n't a woman's. Bread — knuckle o' ham, 
 reg'lar picter — cold beef in slices, werry good. What's in them stone 
 jars, young touch-and-go .'" 
 
 " Beer in this one," replied the boy, taking from his shoulder a couple 
 of large stone bottles, fastened together by a leathern strap — " cold 
 punch in t'other." 
 
 " And a werry good notion of a lunch it is, take it altogether," said 
 Mr. Weller, surveying his arrangement of the repast with great satis- 
 faction. " Now, genTmen, ' fall on,' as the English said to the French 
 when they fixed bagginets." 
 
 It needed no second invitation to induce the party to yield full justice 
 to the meal ; and as little pressing did it require to induce Mr. Weller, 
 the long gamekeeper, and the two boys to station themselves on the 
 grass at a little distance, and do good execution upon a decent propor- ' 
 tion of the viands. An old oak tree afforded a pleasant shelter to the 
 group, and a rich prospect of arable and meadow land, intersected with 
 luxuriant hedges, and richly ornamented with wood, lay spread out 
 below them. 
 
 " This is delightful — thoroughly delightful !" said Mr. Pickwick ; 
 the skin of whose expressive countenance was rapidly peeling off with 
 exposure to the sun. 
 
 " So it is — so it is, old fellow," replied Wardle. "Come ; a glass 
 of punch." 
 
 " With great pleasure," said Mr. Pickwick ; and the satisfaction of 
 his countenance after drinking it, bore testimony to the sincerity of the 
 reply. 
 
 " Good," said "Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips. " Very good. I'll 
 take another. Cool ; very cool. Come, gentlemen," continued Mr, 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 189 
 
 Pickwick, still retaining his hold upon the jar, " a toast. Our friends 
 at Dingley Dell." 
 
 The toast was drunk with loud acclamations. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I shall do to get up my shooting again," said 
 Mr. Winkle, who was eating bread and ham with a pocket knife " Til 
 put a stuffed partridge on the top of a post, and practise at it, beginning 
 at a short distance, and lengthening it bj- degrees. I understand it's 
 capital practice." 
 
 " I know a gen'l'man, sir," said Mr. Weller, " as did that, and begun 
 at two yards ; but he never tried it on ao^ain, for hn blowod the bird 
 right clean away at the first fire, and nobody ever seed a feather on him 
 afterward." 
 
 " Sam,'' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 "Have the goodness to reserve vonr anecdotes till tliey are called 
 for." 
 
 ** Cert'nly sir." 
 , Here Mr. Weller winked the eye which was not concealed by the 
 beer can he was raising to his lips with such exquisite facetiousness, 
 that the two hoys ^?'ent into spontaneous convulsions, and even the 
 loner man condescended to smile. 
 
 " Well, that certainly is most capital cold punch," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 looking earnestly at the stone bottle ;" and the day is extremely warm, 
 and Tupman, my dear friend, a glass of punch]"' 
 
 " With the greatest delight," replied Mr. Tupman ; and having drunk 
 that glass, Mr. Pickwick took another, just to see whether there was 
 any orange peel in the punch, because orange peel always disagreed 
 with him ; and finding that there wa$ not, Mr. Pickwick took another 
 glass to the health of their absent friend, and then felt himself imper- 
 atively called upon to propose another in honour of the punch-com- 
 pounder, unknown. 
 
 This constant succession of glasses produced considerable effect 
 upon Mr. Pickwick ; his countenance beamed with the most sunny 
 smiles, laughter played around his lips, and good-humoured merriment 
 twinkled in his eye. Yielding by degrees to the influence of the ex- 
 citing liquid, rendered more so by the heat, Mr. Pickwick expressed a 
 strong desire to recollect a song which he had heard in his infancy, and 
 the attempt proving abortive, sought to stimulate bis memory with more 
 glasses of punch, which appeared to have quite a contrary effect ; for, 
 from forgetting the words of the song, he began to forget how to arti- 
 culate any words at all ; and finally, after rising to his legs to address 
 the company in an eloquent speech, he fell into the barrow, and fast 
 asleep, aimultaneously. 
 
 Tlie basket having been repacked, and it being found perfectly im- 
 possible to awaken .Mr. Pickwick from his torpor, some discussion took 
 place whether it would be better for Mr. Weller to wheel his master 
 back again, or to leave him where he was, until they should all be ready 
 to return. The latter course was at length decided on ; and a.s their 
 farther expedition was not to exceed an hour's duration, and as Mr. 
 Weller begged very hard to be one of the party, it was determined to 
 leave Mr. Pickwick asleep in the barrow, and to call for him on their 
 return. So away they went, leaving Mr. Pickwick snoring most com- 
 fortably in the shade. 
 
 Th^t .Mr. Pickwick would have continued to snore in the shade until 
 
190 POSTHUMOUS PAl'EUS O? 
 
 his friends came back, or, in defaAalt thereof, until the shades of evening 
 had fallen on the landscape, there appccirs no reasonable cause to doubt ; 
 always supposing that he had been suffered to remain there in peace. 
 But lie was nuc suifered to remain there in peace. And this is what 
 prevented him. 
 
 Captain 13oldwi;r was a little fierce man in a stiff black neckerchief 
 and blue surtout, who, when he did condescend to walk about his pro- 
 perly, did it in company vvith a tliick rattan stick, with a brass ferrule, 
 and a gardener and sub gardener with meek faces, to whom (the gard- 
 eners, not the slick) Captain Boldwig gave his orders with all due gran- 
 deur and ferocity : for Captain Boldwig's wife's sister had married a 
 marquis, and the captain's house was a villa, and his land "grounds," 
 and it was al! very high, and mighty^ and great. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had not been asleep half an hour, when little Captain 
 Boldwig, followed by the two gardeners, came striding along as fast as 
 his si/.e and importance would let him ; and when he came near the 
 oak tree, Captain Boldwig paused, and drew a long breath, and looked 
 at the prospect, as if he thought the prospect ought to be highly grati- 
 fied at having him to take notice of it ; and then he struek the ground 
 emphatically with his stick, and summoned the head-gardener. 
 
 " Hunt,"' said Captain Boldwig. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the gardener. 
 
 " Roll this place to-morro\v morning — do you hear, Hunt?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 *' And take care that you keep me this place in good order — do you 
 hear, Hunt!" 
 
 ♦'Yes, sir." 
 
 " And remind me to have a board done about trespassers, and spring 
 guns, and all that sort of thing, to keep the common people out. Do 
 3'ou hear, Hunt : do you hear !" 
 
 " I'll not forget it, sir." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir,'' said the other man, advancing, with his 
 hand to his hat. 
 
 " Well, Wilkins, what's the matter with you ?" said Captain Boldwig, 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir — but I think there have been trespassers 
 here to-day." 
 
 'Ha I" said the captain, scowling around him. 
 
 "Yes, sir — thpy have been dining here, I think, sir." 
 
 " Why, d — their audacity, so they have," said Captain Boldwig, as 
 the crumbs and fragments that were strewn upon the grass met his eye. 
 " They have actually been devouring their food here. I wish I had the 
 vagabonds here I'' said the captain, clenching the thick stick. 
 
 " I wish I had the vagabonds here," said the Captain wrathfully. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir," said Wilkins, '• but — " 
 ' '*But what? Eh]" roared the captain; and following the timid 
 glance of Wilkins, his eyes encountered the wheelbarrow and Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 " Who are you, you rascal 1" said the captain, administering several 
 pokes to Mr. Pickwick's body with the thick stick. " What's your 
 name {" 
 
 " Cold punch," murmured Mr. Pickwick, as he sunk to sleep again. 
 
 " What !" demanded Captain Boldwig. 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " What did he say his name was ?" asked the captain. 
 
THE PICKWICK ClTJB. 191 
 
 ** Punch, I think, sir," replied Wilkins. 
 
 *• That's his irapudei.ce — that's his confounded impudence," said 
 Captain Boldwig. " He's only feigning to be asleep now," said the 
 captain, in a high passion. " He's drunk ; he's a drunken plebeian. 
 M'heel him away, Wilkins, wheel him away directly." 
 
 *' Where shall I wheel him to, sir '" inquired Wilkins, with great 
 timidity. 
 
 '' Wheel him to the Devil," replied Captain Boldwig. 
 
 *' Very well, sir,' said Wilkins. 
 
 " Stay,'' said the captain. 
 
 Wilkins stopped accordingly. 
 
 *' Wheel him," said the captain, •• wheel him to the pound ; and let 
 tis see whether he calls himself Punch, when he comes to himself He 
 shall not bully me — he shall not bully rae. Wheel him away." 
 
 Away Mr. Pickwick was wheeled in compliance with this imperious 
 rpandate ; and the great Captain Boldwig, swelhng with indignation, 
 proceeded on his walk.' 
 
 Inexpressible was the astonishment of the little party when they 
 returned, to find that Mr. Pickwick had disappeared, and taken the 
 wheelbarrow with him. It was the mjst mysterious and unaccountable 
 thing that was ever heard of. For a lame man to have got upon his 
 legs without any previous notice, and walked off, would have been 
 most extraordinary ; but when it came to his wheeling a heavy barrow 
 before him, by way of amusement, it grew positively miraculous. They 
 searched every nook and corner round, together and separately : they 
 shouted, whistled, laughed, called — and all with the same resulr. Mr, 
 Pickwick was not to be found ; and after some hours of fruitless 
 search, they .'irrivcd at the unwelcome conclusion, that they must go 
 home without him. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Pickwick had been wheeled to the pound, and 
 safely deposited tiierein, fast asleep in the wheelbarrow, to the im- 
 niea.sura!)lc delight and satisfaction, not only of all the boys in the 
 village, but three-fourths of the whole population, who had gathered 
 round in expectation of his waking. If their most intense gratification 
 had been awakened by seeing him wheeled in. how many hundred-fold 
 was their joy increased when, after a few indistinct crie.s of" Sam !' 
 he sat up in the barrow and gazed with indescribable astonishment on 
 the faces before him. 
 
 A general shout was of coyrsc the signal of his having woke up : 
 and his involuntary inquiry of " What's the matter ?" occaaioued 
 another, louder than the first, if possible. 
 
 " Here's a game," roared the populace. 
 
 " Where am I ?" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •' In the pound," replied the mob. 
 
 " How came I here ! What was J doing ? Where was I brought 
 from 1" 
 
 " Boldwig — Captain Boldwig," was the only reply. 
 
 " Ivct me out I" cried Mr. Pickwick. " Where's my servant ? 
 Where are my friends!" 
 
 "You an't got no friends. Hurrah!'' And then there came a 
 turnip, and then a potato, and then an egg, with a few other little 
 tokens of the playful disposition of the many-headed. 
 
 How long thi.s scene might have lasted, or how much Mr. Pickwick 
 might have sulTered, no one can tell, had not a carriage, which waii 
 
192 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 driving swiftly by, suddenly pulled up, from whence there descended 
 old Wardle and Samuel Weller, the former of whom, in far less time 
 than it takes to write it, if not to read it, had made his way to Mr. 
 Pickwick's side, and placed him in the vehicle, just as the latter had 
 concluded the third and last round of a single combat with the town- 
 beadle. 
 
 " Run to the justice's," cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " Ah, run avay," said Mr. Weller, jumping up on the box. " Give 
 my compliments — Mr. Veller's compliments to the justice, and tell him 
 I've spoilt his beadle, and that if he'll svear in a new 'un I'll come back 
 again to-morrow and spoil him. Drive on, old feller." 
 
 " I'll give directions for the commencement of an action for false 
 imprisonment against this Captain Boldwig, directly I get to London," 
 said Mr. Pickwick, as soon as the carriage turned out of the town. 
 
 " We were trespassing, it seems," said Wardle. 
 
 " I don't care," said Mr. Pickwick, " I'll bring the action." 
 
 *' No, you won't," said Wardle. 
 
 *' I wi4l, — " but as there was a humorous expression in W^ardle's 
 face, Mr. Pickwick checked himself, and said — " Why not 1" 
 
 " Because," said old Wardle, half-bursting with laughter, " because 
 they might turn round on some of us, and say we had taken too much 
 cold punch." 
 
 Do what he would, a smile would come into Mr. Pickwick's face : 
 the smile extended into a laugh, the laugh into a roar, and the roar 
 became general. So, to keep up their good humour, they stopped at 
 the first road-side tavern they came to, and ordered a glass of brandy 
 and water -all round, with a magnum of extra strength for Mr. Samuel 
 Weller. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SHOWING ROW BODSON AND FOGG WERE MEN OF BUSINESS, AND THEIR 
 CLERKS MEN OF PLEASURE : SHOWING ALSO WHAT CHOICE SPIRITS AS- 
 SEMBLED AT THE MAGPIE AND STU.MP, AND WH.VT A C.VPITAL CHAPTER 
 THE N2XT ONE WILL DS. 
 
 In the ground-floor front of a^ dingy' house, at the very farthest end 
 of Freeman's Court, Cornhili, s'at the four clerks of Messrs. Dodson 
 and Fogg, two of his majesty's attorneys of the courts of King's Bench 
 and Common Pleas at Westminster, and solicitors of the High Court 
 of Chancery ; the aforesaid clerks catching about as favourable glimpses 
 df heaven's light and heaven's sun, in the course of their daily labours, 
 as a man might hope to do, were he placed at the bottom of a reasona- 
 bly deep well ; and without the opportunity of perceiving the stars in 
 the day-time, which the latter secluded situation affords. 
 
 The clerk's office of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg was a dark, mould3% 
 earthy-smelling room, with a high wainscoted partition to screen the 
 clerks from the vulgar gaze : a couple of old wooden chairs, a very 
 loud-ticking clock, an almanac, and umbrella-stand, a row of hat pegs,^ 
 and a few shelves, on which were deposited several ticketed bundles of 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. l'J3 
 
 dirty papers, some old deal boxes with papjer labels, and sundry decayed 
 stone ink bottles of various shapes and sizes. .There was a glass door 
 leading into the passage which formed the entrance to the court, and 
 on the outer side of this glass door, Mr. Pickwick, closely followed by 
 Sam Weller, presented himself on the Friday morning succeeding the 
 occurrence, of which a faithful narration is given in the last chapter. 
 
 " Come in, can't you," cried a voice from behind the partition, in 
 reply to Mr. Pickwick's gentle tap at the door. And Mr. Pickwick 
 »nd Sam entered accordingly. 
 
 ".Mr. Dodson or Mr. Fogg at home, sir?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, 
 gently advancing, hat in hand, towards the partition. 
 
 *' Sir. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's j>articularly enc^acred," 
 replied the voice ; and at the same time the head to which the voice 
 belonged, with a pen behind its ear, looking over the partition, and at 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 It was a ragf ed head, the sandy hair of which, scrupulously parted 
 on one side, and flattened down with pomatum, was twisted into little 
 semi-circular tails round a flat face ornamented with a pair of small 
 eyes, and garnished with a very dirty shirt-collar, and a rusty black stock. 
 
 *' Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged," 
 said the man to whom the head belonged. 
 
 " When will Mr. Dodson be back, sir V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Can't say." 
 
 *' Will it be long before Mr. Fogg is disengaged, sir?" 
 
 *' Don't know." 
 
 Here the man proceeded to mend his pen with great deliberation. ■ 
 ■while another clerk, ^ho was mi.xing a Seidlitz powder, under cover of 
 the lid of his desk, laughed approvingly. 
 
 "I think I'll wait," said Mr. Pickwick. There was no reply ; so 
 Mr. Pickwick sat down unbidden, and listened to the loud ticking of 
 the clock and the murmured conversation of the clerks. 
 
 " That was a game, wasn't it ?'' said one of the gentlemen in a brown 
 coat and brass buttens, 'inky drabs and Bluchers, at the conclusion of 
 some inaudible relation of his previous evening's adventures. 
 
 " Devilish good — devilish good," said the Seidlitz powder man. 
 
 "Tom Cummins was in the chair," said the man with the brown 
 coat ; " it was half-past four when I got to Somers Town, and then I 
 was so precious drunk that I couldn't find the place where the latch-key 
 went in, and was obliged to knock up the old 'ooman. I say, I wonder 
 what old Fogg 'ud say if he knew it. I should get the sack, I s'pose 
 — ch ?" 
 
 At this humorous notion all the clerks laughed in concert. 
 
 " There was such a g- me with Fogg here this mornin'," said the 
 man in the brown coat, "while Jack was up stairs sorting the papers, 
 and you two were gone to the stamp-ofFice. Fogg was down here open- 
 ing the letters, when that chap as we issued the writ against at Cam- 
 berwpn, you know, came in — what's his name i)sa.'in I" 
 
 " Ramsey," said the clerk who had spoken to .Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Ah, Ramsey — a precious seedy looking customer. ' Well, sir,* 
 says old Fogg, looking at him very fierce — you know hfs way — ' well, 
 sir, have you come to settle ■' * Yes, I have, sir,' said Ramsey putting 
 his hand in his pocket and bringing out the money, * the debt's two 
 pound ten, and the costa three pound five, and here it is, sir ;' and he 
 sighed like bricks as he lugged out the monev, done up in a bit of blot- 
 
 Vol. I.— 17 
 
194 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS Op- 
 
 ting paper. Old Fogg looked first at the money, and then at him, and 
 then he coughed in his rum way, so that 1 knew something was 
 coming. ' You don't know there's a declaration filed which increases 
 the costs materially, I suppose ?' said Fogg. ' You don't say that, sir,' 
 said Ramsey starting back ; ' the time was only out last night, sir.' 
 ' I do say it though,' said Fogg; * my clerk's just gone to file it Hasn't 
 Mr. Jackson gone to file that declaration in Bullman and Ramsey, Mr. 
 Wicks V Of course I said yes, and then Fogg coughed again, and 
 looked at Ramsey. ' And here,' said Ramsey, ' have I nearly driven 
 myself mad, scraping this money together and all to no purpose.' — 
 ' j\one at all,' s^iid Fogg coolly, ' so you had better go back and scrape 
 some more together and bring it here in time.' ' I can't get it,' ex 
 claimed Ramsey, striking the desk with his fist. ' Don't bully me, sir,' 
 said Fogg, getting into a passion on purpose. ' I am not bullying you, 
 sir,' said Ramsey. 'You are,' said Fogg; 'get ^out, sir: get out ol 
 this ofllce, sir, and come back sir when you know how to behave your- 
 self.' Well, Ramsey tried to speak, but Fogg wouldn't let him ; so he 
 put the money in his pocket and sneaked out. The door was scarcely 
 shut, when old Fogg turned round to me with a sweet smile on his face, 
 and drew the declaration out of his coat pocket. 'Here Wicks,' says 
 Fogg, ' take a cab and go down to the Temple as quick as you can and 
 file that. The costs are quite safe, for he's a steady man with a large 
 famil}', at a salary of five-and-twenty shillings a week, and if he gives 
 us a warrant of attorney, as he must in the end, I know his employers 
 will see it paid ; so we may as well get all we can out of him, Mr. 
 Wicks ; it's a Christian act to do it, Mr. Wicks, for with his large fa- 
 mily and small income, he'll be all the better for% good lesson against 
 getting into debt — won't he, Mr. Wicks, won't he V — and he smiled 
 so goodnaturedly as he went away, that it was delightful to see him. 
 He is a capital i.ian of business," said Wicks, in a tone of the deepest 
 admiration. " Capital, isn't hel" 
 
 The other three cordially subscribed to this opinicm, and the anecdote 
 afforded the most unlimited satisfaction. • 
 
 "Nice men these here, sir," whispered Mr. Weller to his master ; 
 "werry nice notion of fun they has, sir." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick nodded assent, and coughed to attract the attention of 
 the young gentlemen behind the partition, who, having now relaxed 
 their minds by a little conversation among themselves, condescended 
 to take some notice of the stranger. 
 
 "I wonder whether Fogg's disengaged now!" said Jackson. 
 
 " I'll see." said Wicks, dismounting leisurely from his stool. " What 
 name shall I tell Mr. Fogg ]" 
 
 "Pickwick," replied the illustrious subjecl of these memoirs. 
 
 Mr. Jackson departed, up stairs on his errand, and immediately 
 returned with a message that Mr. Fogg would see Mr. Pickwick in 
 five minutes ; and having delivered it, returned again to his desk. 
 
 " W^hat did he say his name wasl" whispered Wicks. 
 
 "Pickwick," replied Jackson; "it's the defendant in Bardell and 
 Pickwick." 
 
 A sudden scraping of feet, mingled with the sound of suppressed 
 laughter, was heard from behind the partition. 
 
 " They're a twiggin' you, sir," whispered Mr. Weller. 
 
 '• Twigging me, Sam !" replied Mr. Pickwick ; " what do you mean 
 by twigging me ]" 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. ^ 195 
 
 Mr. Weller replied by pointing with his thumb over his shoulder ; 
 and Mr. Pickwick, on looking up, became sensible of the pleasinor.fact, 
 that all the four clerks, with countenances expressive of the utmost 
 amusement, and their heads thrust over the wooden screen, were 
 minutely inspecting the figure and'general appearance of the supposed 
 trifler with female hearts, and disturber of female happiness. On his 
 looking up the row of heads suddenly disappeared, and the sound of 
 pens travelling at a furious rate over paper, immediately succeeded. 
 
 A sudden ring at the bell which hung in the office, summoned Mr. 
 Jackson to the apartment of Fogg, from whence he came back to say 
 that he (Fogg) was ready to see Mr. Pickwick if he would step up stairs. 
 
 Up stairs Mr. Pickwick did step, accordingly, leavinfj Sam Weller 
 below. The room door (ri the one-pair back, bore inscribed in legible 
 characters the imposing* words -'Mr. Fogg;'* and, having tapped 
 thereat, and been desired to come in, Jackson ushered Mr. Pickwick 
 into the presence. 
 
 *' Is Mr. Dodson in V' inquired Mr. Fogg. 
 
 " Just come in, sir,'' replied Jackson. 
 
 " Ask him to step here." 
 
 "Yes, sir.*' Exit Jackson. 
 
 " Take a seat, sir," said Fogg ; " there is the paper, sir : my partner 
 will be here directly, and we can converse about this matter, .<5ir." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick took a seat and the paper, but, instead of readino- the 
 latter, peeped over the top of it, and took a survey of the man of busi- 
 ness, who was an elderly pimply-faced, vegetable-diet sort of man, in 
 a black coat, dark mixture trousers, and small black gaiters ; a kind of 
 being who seemed to be an essential part of the desk at which he was 
 writing, and to have about as much thought or feeling. 
 
 After a few minutes' silence, Mr. Dodson, a plump, portly, stem- 
 looking man, with a loud voice, appeared ; and the conversation com- 
 menced. 
 
 " This is Mr. Pickwick," said Fogg. 
 
 " Ah ! You are the defendant, sir, in Bardell and Pickwick 1" said 
 Dodson. 
 
 " I am, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Dodson, " and what do you propose ^" 
 . " Ah I*' said Fogg, thrustirrg his hands into his trousers' pockets, 
 and throwing himself back in his chair, " what do you propose, Mr. 
 Pickwick] 
 
 '• Hu.sh, Fogg," said Dodson, " let me hear what Mr. Pickwick has 
 to say." 
 
 " I came, gentlemen," replied Mr. Pickwick, — gazing placidly on 
 the two partners, — '' I came here, gentlemen, to expres-s the surprise 
 with which I received your letter the other day, and to inquire what 
 grounds of action you can have against me." 
 
 '• Grounds of" — Fogg had ejaculated thus much, when he was 
 stopped by Dodson. 
 
 '• .Mr. Fogg,*' said Dodson, "I am going to speak." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, .Mr. Dodson,*' said Fogg. 
 
 " P'or the grounds of action, sir," continued Dodson, with moral 
 elevation in his air, " you will consult your own conscience and your 
 own feelings. We, sir, are guided entirely by the statement of our 
 client. That statement, sir, may be true, or it may be false ; it may 
 be credible, or it may be incredible ; but, if it be true, and if it be 
 
19# POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 crcdihle, I do not hesitate to say, sir, that our grounds of action, sir, 
 are strong, and not to be shaken. You may be an unfortunate man, 
 sir, or you may be a designing one ; but if I were called upon as a 
 juryman upon my oath, sir, to express an opinion of your conduct, 
 sir, I do not hesitate to'&ssert that I should have but one opinion about 
 it." Here Dodson drew himself up, with an air of offended virtue, 
 and looked at Fo<rg, who thrust his hands farther in his pockets, and, 
 nodding his head sagely, said, in a tone of the fullest concurrence, 
 " Most certainly." 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable pain depicted in 
 his countenance, "you will permit me to assure yoa, that I am a most 
 unfortunate man, so far as this case is concerned." 
 
 "I hope you are, sir," replied Dodson ;'-*'I trust you may be, sir. 
 If you are really innocent of what is laid to your charge, you are more 
 unfortunate than I had believed any man could possibly be. What 
 do you say, Mr. Fogg ]" 
 
 " I say precisely what you say," replied Fogg, with a smile of 
 incredulity. 
 
 " The WTit, sir, which commences the action," continued Dodson, 
 *' was issued regularly. Mr. Fogg, where is i\\e protcipe book !" 
 
 " Here it is," said Fogg, handing over a square book, with a parch- 
 ment cover. 
 
 '* Here is the entry," resumed Dodson. " ' Middlesex, Capias 
 Martha Bardell, widow, v. Samuel Pickwick. Damages, £1500. Dod- 
 son and Fogg for the plaintiff, Sept. 28, 1830.' AH regular, sir ; 
 perfectly." And Dodson coughed and looked at Fogg, who said 
 " Perfectly," also. And then they both looked at Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I am to understand, then," said Mr Pickwick, " that it really is 
 your intention to proceed with this action !" 
 
 " Understand, sir ! — that you certainly may," replied Dodson, with 
 something as near a smile as his importance would allow. 
 
 *• And that the damages are actually laid at fifteen hundred pounds ?" 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " To which understanding you may add my assurance, that if we 
 could have prevailed upon our client, they would have been laid at treble 
 the amount, sir," replied Dodson. 
 
 *' I believe Mrs. Bardell specially said, however," observed Fogg, 
 glancing at Dodson, " that she would not compromise for a farthing 
 less." 
 
 " Unquestionably," replied Dodson, sternly. For the action was 
 only just begun ; and it wouldn't have done to let Mr. Pickwick com- 
 promise it then, even if he had been so disposed. 
 
 *' As you offer no terms, sir," said Dodson, displaying a slip of parch- 
 ment in his right hand, and affectionately pressing a paper copy of it 
 on Mr. Pickwick with his left, " I had better serve you witli a copy of 
 this writ, sir. Here is the original, sir." 
 
 " Very well, gentlemen, very well," said Mr. Pickwick, rising in 
 person and w rath at the same time ; " you shall hear from my solicitor, 
 gentlemen." 
 
 " We shall be ver}' happy to do so," said Fogg, nibbing his hands. 
 
 *' Very," said Dodson, opening the door. 
 
 '* And before I go, gentlemen," said the excited Mr. Pickwick, turn- 
 ing round on the landing, «' permit me to say, that of all the disgraceful 
 and rascally proceedings — " 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 197 
 
 " Stay, sir, stay,*' interposed Dodson, with great politeness. " Mr. 
 Jackson — Mr. Wicks." 
 
 *' Sir," said the two clerks, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. 
 
 ♦' I just want you to hear what this gentleman says," replied Dodson. 
 *' Pray, go on, sir — disgraceful and rascally proceedings, I think you 
 said." 
 
 " I did," said Mr. Pickwick, thoroughly roused. " I said, sir, that 
 of all the disgraceful and rascally proceedings that ever were attempted, 
 this is the most so. I repeat it, sir." 
 
 '* You hear that, Mr. Wicks !" said Dodson. 
 
 " You won't forget these expressions, Mr. Jackson," said Toss- 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to call us swindlers, sir," said Dodson. 
 *' Pray do, sir, if you feel disposed — now pray do, sir." 
 
 "I do," said Mr. Pickwick. "You are swindlers." 
 
 " Very good," said Dodson. *' You can hear down there, I hope, 
 Mr. Wicks. 
 
 ♦' Oh yes, sir," sai<l Wicks. 
 
 " You had better come up a step or two higher, if you can't," added 
 M.. Fogg. 
 
 " Go on, sir ; do go on. You had better call us thieves, sir ; or 
 perhaps youd like to assault one of us. Pray do it, sir; if you would, 
 we will not make the smallest resistance. Pray do it, sir." 
 
 As Fogg put himself very temptingly within the reach of Mr. Pick- 
 wick's clenched fist, there is little doubt that that gentleman would have 
 complied with his earnest entreaty, but for the interposition of Sam, 
 who, hearing the dispute, emerged from the office, mounted the stairs, 
 and seized his master by the arm. 
 
 " You just come avay," said Mr. Weller. *' Battledore and shuttle- 
 cock's a werry good game, vhen you an't the shuttlecock and two law- 
 yers the battledores, in vich case it gets too excitin' to be pleasant. 
 Come avay, sir. If you want to ease your mind by blowing up some- 
 body, c )me out into the court and blow up me ; but it's rather too ex- 
 pensive work to be carried on here." 
 
 And without the slightest ceremony, Mr. Wellei^hauled his master 
 down the stairs, and down the court, and having safely deposited him 
 in Cornhill, fell behind, prepared to follow whithersoever he should lead. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick walked on abstractedly, crossed opposite the Mansion 
 House, and bent his steps up Cheapside. Sam began to wonder where 
 they were going, when his master turned round, and said — 
 
 " Sam, I will go immediately to Mr. Perker's." 
 
 " That's just exactly the werry place vcre you ought to have gone 
 last niirht," replied .Mr. W^eller. 
 
 *' I think it is, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " 1 JiJtoic it is," said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Well, well, .Sain,'' replied Mr. Pickwick, '* we will go there at 
 once ; but first, as I hav? been rather ruffled, I should like a glass of 
 brandy and water, warm, Sam. Where can I have it, Sam ?" 
 
 Mr. Weller's knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar. Ho 
 replied without the slightest consideration — 
 
 " Second court on the right hand side — la.st house bat \'un on the 
 same side (he vay — take the box as stands by the first fire-place, 'cos 
 there an't no leu in the middle o' the table, vhich all the others has, 
 and it's werry incnnwenient." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick observed his valet's directions implicitly, and bidding 
 
198 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Sam follow him, entered the tavern he had pointed out, where the hot 
 brandy and water was speedily placed before him; while Mr. Weller, 
 seated at a respectful distance, though at the same table with his mas- 
 ter, was accommodated with a pint of porter. 
 
 The room was one of a very homely description, and was apparently 
 under the especial patronage of stage coachmen ; for several gentle- 
 men, who had all the appearance of belonging to that learned profes- 
 sion, were drinking and smoking in the dilferent boxes. A:nong the 
 number was one stout, red-faced, elderly man in particular, seated in 
 an opposite box, who attracted Mr. Pickwick's attention. The stout 
 man was smoking with great vehemence, but between every half-dozen 
 puffs, he took his pipe from his mouth, and looked first at Mr. Weller 
 and then at Mr. Pickwick. Then he would bury in a quart pot, as 
 much of his countenance as the dimensions of the quart-pot admitted 
 of its receiving, and take another look at Sam and Mr. Pickwick. — 
 Then he would take another half-dozen puffs with an air of profound 
 meditation, and look at them again. And at last the stout man, put- 
 ting up his legs on the seat, and leaning his back against the wall, 
 began to puff at his pipe without leaving off at all, and to stare through 
 the smoke at the new-comers, as if he had made up his mind to see 
 the most he could of thein. 
 
 At first the evolutions of the stout man had escaped Mr. Weller's 
 observation, but by degrees, as he saw Mr. Pickwick's eyes every now 
 and then turning towards him, he began to gaze in tho. same direction, 
 at the same time shading his eyes with his hand, as if be partially re- 
 cognised the object before him, and wished to make quite sure of its 
 identity. His doubts were speedily dispelled, however : for the stout 
 man having blown a thick cloud from his pipe, a hoarse voice, like 
 some strange effort of ventriloquism, emerged from beneath the capa- 
 cious shawls which muiHed his throat and chest, and slowly uttered 
 these sounds — " Vy, Sammy." 
 
 *' AVho's that, Sam?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Why, I wouldn't ha' believed it, sir." replied Mr. Weller, with as- 
 tonished eyes. " It's the old "un." 
 
 ^' Old one," said Mr. Pickwick. " What old one 1" 
 
 " My father, sir," replied Mr. Weller. '• How are you, my ancient'" 
 And with this beautiful ebullition of filial affection, Mr. Weller made 
 room on the seat beside him for the stout man, who advanced, pipe ux 
 mouth and pot in hand to greet him. 
 
 " Vy, Sammy," said the father, " I han't seen you for two years and 
 better." 
 
 " Nor more you have, old codger," replied the son. " How's mo- 
 ther-in-law ?" 
 
 " Vy, I'll tell you what, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, senior, with much 
 solemnity in his manner ; " there was never a nicer woman as a wid- 
 der than that 'ere second wentur o' mine — a sweet cretur she was, 
 Sammy ; and all I can say on her now is, that as she was such an un- 
 common pleasant widder, it's a great pity she ever changed her condi- 
 tion. She don't act as a vife, Sammy." 
 
 "Don't she though !" mquired Mr. Weller, junior. 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller shook his head, as he replied with a sigh, 
 " I've done it once too often, Sammy ; I've done it once too often. — 
 Take example by your father, my boy, and be werry careful o' widders 
 all your life, specially if they kept a public house, Sammy j" and having 
 
THE PICKWICK CLtTB. 199 
 
 delivered this parental advice with great pathos, Mr.Weller senior refilled 
 his pipe from a tin box he carried in his pocket : and, lighting his fresh 
 pipe from the ashes of the old one, commenced smoking at a great rate. 
 • "Beg your pardon, sir," he said, renewing the subject, and address- 
 ing Mr. Pickwick, after a considerable pause, " nothing personal, I 
 hope, sir ; I hope you han't got a widder, sir."- 
 
 "Not I,'" replied Mr. Pickwick, laughing; and while Mr. Pickwick 
 laughed, Sam Weller informed his parent in a whisper of the relation 
 ill which he stood towards that orentleman. 
 
 •• Beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Weller, senior, taking off his hat, 
 " I hope you've no fault to find with Sammy, sir." 
 
 •♦None whatever," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Werry glad to hear it. sir,'' replied .'he old man ; "I took a good 
 deal o' pains with his eddication. sir ; let him run in the streets when 
 he was werry young, and shift for his-self. It's the only way to make 
 a boy sharp, sir." 
 
 " Rather a dangerous process, I should imagine," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 with a smile. 
 
 ♦' And not a werry sure one, neither, added Mr. Weller : " I got 
 reg'larly done the other day." 
 
 "No I" said the father. 
 
 *' I did,'' said the son : and he proceeded to relate in as few words 
 as possible, how he had fallen a ready dupe to the stratagems of Job 
 Trotter. 
 
 Mr. W^elier, senior listened to the tale with the most profound at- 
 tention, and, at its termination, said — 
 
 " Worn't one o' these chaps slim and taU, with long hair, and the 
 gift o' the gab werry gallopin' ]" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick did not quite understand the last item of description, 
 but, comprehending the first, said " Yes," at a venture. 
 
 " T'olher's a black-haired chap in mulberr)' livery, with a werrv large 
 head?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, he is," said Mr. Pickwick and Saim, with great earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 •' Then I know where they are, and that's all about it," said Mr. 
 Weller; "they're at Ipswich, safe enough, them two." 
 
 " No !" said' Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Fact," said Mr. Weiler, " and I'll tell you how I know it. . I work 
 an Ipswich coach now and then for a friend o' mine. I worked down 
 the werr^' day arter the night as you caught the rheumatiz, and at the 
 Black Boy at Clemsford — the werry place they'd come to — I took 'nn 
 up, right through to Ipswich, where the man servant — him in the mul- 
 berries — tolJ me they was a goin' to put up for a long time.'' 
 
 " I'll follow him," said Mr. Pickwick ; " we may as well see Ipswich 
 as any other place. I'll follow him." 
 
 *• You're quite certain it was them, governor 1" inquired Mr Weller, 
 junior. 
 
 ♦• C^uite, Sammy, quite.'' replied his father, *• for their appearance 
 is werry sing'ler ; besides th;it 'ere, I v ondercd to see the gen'l'm'n so 
 familiar with his servant ; and, more than that, as they sat in front, 
 right behind the box, I heard 'em lau.ghing and saying how they done 
 old Fireworks. 
 
 " Old who ?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Old Fireworks, sir, by wliich, I've no doubt, they meant you, sir." 
 
200 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 There is nothing positively vile or atrocious in the appellation of 
 « old Fireworks," but still it is by no means a respectful or flattering 
 designation. The recollection of all the wrongs he had sustained at 
 Jingle's hands, had crowded on Mr. Pickwick's mind the moment Mr. 
 Weller began to speak ; it wanted but a feather to turn the scale, and 
 " old Fireworks" did it. 
 
 '• I'll follow him," said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the 
 tab'e. 
 
 " I shall work down to Ipswich the day arter to-morrow, sir," said 
 Mr. ^Weller, the elder, "from the Bull in Whitechapel ; and if you 
 really mean to go, you'd belter go with me." 
 
 " So we had," said Mr. Pickwick ; " very true ; I can write to 
 Burj', and tell them to meet ^e at Ipswich. We will go with ybu. 
 But don't hurry away, Mr. Weller ; won't you take any thing V 
 
 '* You're werry good, sir," replied Mr. Weller, stopping short — 
 *♦ perhaps a small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to 
 Sammy, sir, wouldn't be amiss." 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Mr. Pickwick. "A glass of brandy here.'* 
 
 The brandy was brought ; and Mr. Weller, after pulling his hair to 
 Mr. Pickwick, and nodding to Sam, jerked it down his capacious 
 throat as if it had been a small thimble-full. 
 
 " Well done, father," said Sam, " take care, old fellow, or you'll 
 have a touch of your old complaint, the gout." 
 
 " I've found a sov'rin' cure for that, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, 
 setting down tlie glass. 
 
 " A sovereign cure for the gout," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily pro- 
 ducing his note-book, " what is it ?" 
 
 " The gout, sir," replied Mr. Weller, " the gout is a complaint as 
 arises from too much ease and comfort. If ever you're attacked with 
 the gout, sir, jist you marry a widder as has got a good loud woice, 
 with a decent notion of usin' it, and you'll never have the gout agin. 
 It's a capital prescription, sir. I takes it reg'lar, and I can warrant 
 it to drive away any illness as is caused by too much jollity." Having 
 imparted this valuable secret, Mr. Weller drained his glass once more, 
 produced a laboured wink, sighed deeply, and slowly retired. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of what your father says, Saral" in- 
 quired Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. 
 
 '* Think, sir !" replied Mr. Weller ; "why, I think he's the wictim 
 o' connubiality, as Blue Beard's domestic chaplain said, with a tear of 
 pity, ven he buried him." 
 
 There was no replying to this very apposite conclusion, and, there- 
 fore, Mr. Pickwick, after settling the reckoning, resumed his walk to 
 Gray's Inn. By the time he reached its secluded groves, however, 
 eight o'clock had struck, and the unbroken stream of gentlemen in 
 muddy high-lows, soiled white hats, and rusty apparel, who were 
 pouring towards the dilTerent avenues -of egress, warned him that the 
 majority of thcofficcs had closed for that day. 
 
 Alter climbiiig two pairs of steep and dirty stairs, he found his 
 anticipations were realized. Mr. Perker's " outer door " was closed ; 
 and the dead silence which followed Mr. Weller's repeated kicks 
 thereat, announced that the oflkials had retired from business for the 
 night. 
 
 " This is pleasant, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick; " I shouldn't lose an 
 hour in seeing him ; 1 shall not be able to get one wmk of sleep to- 
 
THE PICEWICK CLUB. 201 
 
 hight, I know, unless I have the satisfaction of reflecting that I have 
 confided this matter to a professional man." 
 
 '' Here's an old 'ooman comin' up stairs, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; 
 •' p'raps she knows where we can rind somebody. Hallo, old lady, 
 vere's Mr. Perkcr's people !" 
 
 •' Mr. Perker's people," said a thin miserable looking old woman, 
 stopping to recover breath after the ascent of the staircase, " Mr. Per- 
 ker's people's gone, and I'm a goin' to do the office out." 
 
 *' Are you Mr. Perker's servant ]'' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "I am Mr. Perkers laundress,"' replied the old woman. 
 
 '* Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Sam, " it's a curious cir- 
 cumstance, Sam that they call the old woman in these inns laundresses. 
 I wonder what's that for." 
 
 " 'Cos they have a mortal awersion to washin' any thin', I suppose, 
 sir,'' replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the old woman, 
 whose appearance as well as the condition of the office, which she had 
 by this time opened, indicated a rooted antipathy to the application of 
 soap and water ; " do you know where I can find Mr. Perker, my good 
 woman I" 
 
 " JVo, I don't,:' replied the old woman, gruffly ; " he's out o' town 
 now." 
 
 " That's unfortunate," said Mr. Pickwick ; — " where's his clerk — 
 do you know ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know where he is, but he would'nt thank me for telling 
 you," replied the laundress. 
 
 " I have very particular business with him," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Won't it do in the morning !" said the woman. 
 
 " Not so well," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Well,'' said the old woman, " if it was any thing very particular, I 
 ■was to say where he was, so I suppose there's no harm in telling, if 
 you just go to the Magpie and Stump, and ask at the bar for Mr. Xow- 
 ten, they'll show you in to him, and he's .Mr. Perker's clerk." 
 
 With this direction, and having been farthermore informed that the 
 hostelry in question was situated in a court, happy in the double ad- 
 vantage of being in the vicinity of Clare Market, closely approximating 
 to the back of New Inn, Mr. Pickwick and .Sam descended the rickotty 
 staircase in safety, and issued forth in quest of the .Magpie and Stump. 
 
 This favoured tavern, s5cred to the evening orgies of Mr. Lowten 
 and his companions, was what ordinary people would desijjnate a public 
 house. That the landlord was a man of a t.ionev-makincr turn, was suf- 
 ficiently testiried by the fact of a small bulk-head beneath the tap- room 
 window, in size and shape not unlike a sedan-cair, bein? underlet to a 
 mender of shoes : and that he was a being of a philanthropic mind, was 
 evident from the protection aiiorded to a pie-man, who vended his 
 delicacies without fear of interruption, on the very door-» tep. In the lower 
 windows, which were decorated with curtains of a salfron hue, dangled 
 two or three priiUed cards, bcarin:j reference to Devonshire cider and 
 Dantzic spruce, while a large black board, announcing in white letters 
 to an enlightened public, that there were .')00,000 barrels of doultle stout 
 in the cellars of the establishment, left the mind in a state of r)ot un»- 
 pleasing doubt and uncertainty, as to the precise direction in the bowels 
 of the earth, in which this miohty cavern might be supposed to extend. 
 When we add, that the weather-beaten sign-board bore the half ol»- 
 
202 POSTHUMODS PAPERS Of 
 
 Jiteratcd semblance of a magpie intently eying a crooked streak of 
 brown paint, which the neighbours had been taught from infancy to 
 consider as the " stump," we have said all that need be said of the 
 exterior of the edifice. 
 
 On Mr. Pickwick's presenting himself at the bar, an elderly female 
 emerged from behind a screen therein, and presented herself before him. 
 
 "Is Mr. Lowtcn here, ma'am !" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Yes, he is, sir," rephed the landlady. " Here Charley, show the 
 gentleman in to Mr. Lowten." 
 
 " The gcn'l'man can't go in ju.st now," said a shambling pot-boy, 
 with a red head, " 'cos Mr. Lowten's a singing a comic song, and he'll 
 put him out. He'll be done d'rectly, sir." 
 
 The red headed pot-boy had scarcely finished speaking, when a most 
 unanimous hammering of tables and jingling of glasses, announced 
 that the song had that instant terOiinated ; and Mr. Pickwick, after 
 desiring Sam to solace himsi^lf in the tap, suffered himself to be con- 
 ducted into the presence of Mr. Lowten. 
 
 At the announcement of " a gentleman to speak to you, sir,'' a puffy 
 faced young man who filled the chair at the head of the table, looked 
 with some surprise in the direction from whence the voice proceeded ; 
 and the surprise seemed to be by no means diminished when his eyes 
 rested on an individual whom he had never soen before. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, "and I am very sorry to 
 disturb the other gentlemen too, but I come on very particular business 
 — and if you will suffer me to detain you at this end of the room for 
 five minutes, I shall be very much obliged to you."' 
 
 The puffy-faced young man rose, and drawing a chair close to Mr. 
 Pickwick in an obscure corner of the room, listened attentively to his 
 tale of woe. 
 
 "Ah," said he, when Mr. Pickwick had concluded " Dodson and 
 Fogg — sharp practice theirs — capital men of business is Dodson and 
 Fogg, sir." , _ 
 
 Mr. Pickwick admitted the sharp practice of Dodson and Fogg, and 
 Lowten resumed. 
 
 " Perker ain't in town, and he won't be neither before the end of 
 next week ; but if you want the action defended, and will leave the 
 copy with me, I can do all that's needful till he comes back." 
 
 " That's exactly what I came here for," said Mr. Pickwick, Ijanding 
 over the document. '• If any thing particiilar occurs, you can write 
 to me at the post-ofRce, Ipswich." 
 
 " That's all right," said Mr. Perker's clerk ; and then seeing Mr. 
 Pickwick's eye wandering curiously toward the table, he added, " Will 
 you join us for half an hoar or so ? We are capital company here to- 
 night. There's Samkin and Gteen's managing clerk, and Smithers and 
 Price's chancery, and Pimkin and Thomas's out o' door — sings a capi- 
 tal song, he does — and Jack Bainber, and ever so many more. You're 
 com.e out of the country, I suppose. Would you like to join us ]" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick could not resist so tempting an opportunity of study- 
 ing human nature. He suflered himself to be led to the table, where, 
 after having been introduced to the company in due form, he was ac- 
 commodated with a seat near the chairman, and called for a glass of 
 his favourite beverage. 
 
 A profound silence, quite contrary to Mr. Pickwick's expectation, 
 succeeded. 
 
 "You don't find this sort of thing disagreeable, I hope, sir ^" saiij 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 
 
 203 
 
 his right hand neighbour, a gentleman in a checked shirt and Mosaic 
 studs, with a cigar in his mouth. 
 
 " Not in the least," replied Mr. Pickwick; " I like it very much, al- 
 though I am no smoker myself." 
 
 " f should be very sorry to say I wasn't," interposed another gentle- 
 man on the opposite side of the table. " Ifs board and lodging to me, 
 is smoke.'" 
 
 Mr. Pickwick glanced at the speaker, and thought that if it were 
 washing: too, it would be all the better. ' 
 
 Here^therc was another pause. Mr. Pickwick was a stranger, and 
 his cominsr had evidently cast a damp upon the party. 
 
 " Mr. Grundy's going to oblige the company with a song," said the 
 chairman. 
 
 " Xo he ain't," said Mr. Grundy. 
 
 •* Why not ■" said the chairmEin, 
 
 "Because I can't," said Mr. Grundy. 
 
 "You had better say you won't," replied the chairman. 
 
 " Well, then, I won't,'" retorted Mr. Grundy. Mr. Grundy's posi- 
 tive refusal to gratify the company occasioned another silence. 
 
 " Won't any body enliven us !'' said the chairman, despondingly. 
 
 "Why don't you enliven us yourself, Mr. Chairman V said a young 
 man with a whisker, a squint, and an open shirt collar (dirty) from the 
 bottom of the table. 
 
 '• Hear I hear I'' said the smoking gentleman, in the Mosaic jewellery. 
 
 " Because I only know one song, and I have sung it already, and 
 it's a fine of ' glasses round ' to sing the same song twice in a night," 
 replied the chairman. 
 
 This was an unanswerable reply, and silence prevailed again. 
 
 " I have been to-night, gentlemen," said Mr. Pickwick, hoping to 
 start a subject in which all the company could take part in discussing, 
 " I have been to-night in a place which you all know very well, doubt- 
 less, but which I have not been in before, for some years, and know very 
 little of; I mean Gray's Inn, gentlemen. Curious little nooks in a 
 gre-.t place like Lond^m, these old Inns are." 
 
 " iSow," said the chairman, whispering across the table to Mr. Pick- 
 wick, " you have hit upon something that one of us, at least, would talk 
 upon for ever. You'll draw old Jack Bamber out ; he was never heard 
 to talk about any thing else but the Inns, and he has lived alone in 
 them till he's half crazy." 
 
 The individual to whom Lowten alluded, was a little yellow high- 
 shouldered man, whose count' nance, from his habit of stooping forward 
 when silent, Mr. Pickwick had not observed before. He wondered, 
 •though when the old man raised his shrivelled face, and bent his bright 
 gray eye upon him. with a keen and inquiring look, that such remarka- 
 ble features could have escaped his attention for a moment. There 
 was a fixed grim smile perpetually on his countenance ; he leant his 
 chin on a long skinny hand, with nails of extraordinary length ; and 
 as he inclined his head to one side, and looked keenly out from beneath 
 his ragged gray eye-brows, there was a strange, wild slyness in his 
 leer, quite repulsive to behold. 
 
 This was the figure that now started forward, and burst into an ani- 
 mated torrent of words. As this chapter has been a long one, how- 
 ever, and as the old man was a remarkable personage, it will be more 
 respectful to him, and more convenient to us, to let him speak for him- 
 self in a fresh one. 
 
204 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS QV 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IX WHICU THE OLD MAN LAUNCHES FOBTH INTO HIS FAVOURITE THEME, 
 AND RELATES A STOKY ABOUT A QUEER CLIENT. 
 
 " Aha !" said the old man, a brief description of whose manner and 
 appearance concluded the last chapter, "Aha! who was talking about 
 the Inns 1" 
 
 '* I was, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick — " I was observing what 
 singular old places they are." 
 
 " You .'■' said the old man contemptuously — " What do you know, 
 of the time when young men shut themselves up in those lonely rooms, 
 and read and read, hour after hour, and night after night, till their 
 reason wandered beneath their midnight studies ; till their mental 
 powers were exhausted ; till morning's light brought no freshness or 
 health to them ; and they sank beneath the unnatural devotion of their 
 youthful energies to their dry old books ? Coming down to a later 
 time, and a verj' ditferent day, what do you know of the gradual sink- 
 ing beneath consumption, or the quick wasting of fever — the grand 
 results of ' life ' and dissipation — which men have undergone in those 
 same rooms ! How many vain pleaders for mercy, do you think have 
 turned awy heart-sick, from the lawyer's office, to find a resting-pface 
 in the Thames, or a refuge in the jail ] They are no ordinary houses, 
 those. There is not a panel in the old wainscoting, but what, if it 
 were endowed with the powers of speech and memory, could start 
 from the wall, and tell its tale of horror — the romance of life, sir, the 
 romance of life. Commonplace as they may seem now, I tell yoa 
 they are strange old places, and I would rather hear many a legend 
 with a terrific-sounding name, than the true history of one old set of 
 chambers." 
 
 There was something so odd in the old man's sudden energy, and 
 the subject which had called it forth, when Mr. Pickwick was prepared 
 with no observation in reply ; and the old man checking his impetuosi- 
 ty, and resuming the leer, which had disappeared during his previous 
 excitement, said — 
 
 " Look at them in another light : their most commonplace and least 
 romantic : what fine places of slow torture they are. Think of the 
 needy man who has spent his all, beggared himself, and pinched his 
 friends, to enter the profession, which is destined never to yield a 
 morsel of bread to him. The waiting — the hope — the disappointment 
 — the fear — the misery — the poverty — the blight on his hopes, and 
 end to his career — the suicide perhaps, or better still, the shabby, slip- 
 shod drunkard. Am I not right about them, eh !" And the old man 
 rubbed his hands, and leered as if in delight at having found another 
 point of view in which to place his favourite subject. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick eyed the old man with great curiosity, and the re- 
 mainder of the company smiled, and looked on in silence. 
 
 " Talk of your German universities," said the little old man—" Pooh, 
 
THE PICI^WICK CLCB. !205 
 
 pooh! there's romance enough at home, without going half a mile for 
 it ; only people never think of it." 
 
 ** I ripver thought of the romance of this particular subject before, 
 certaink." said Mr. Pickwick, laughing. 
 
 "To be sure you didn't," said the little old man. " of course not. 
 As a friend of mine used to say to me, * Whai is there in chambers, 
 in particular I' * Queer old places,' said I. ' Not at all,' said he. 
 * Lonely,' said I. ' Not a bit of it,' said he. He died one morning 
 of apoplexy, as he was going to open his outer door. Fell with his 
 head in his own letter-bo.x, and there he lay for eighteen months. 
 Every body thought he'd gone out of town." 
 
 *• And how v.as he found at la.st V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " The benchers determined to break his door open, as he hadn't paid 
 any rent for two years. So they did. Forced the lock ; and a verj' 
 dusty skeleton in a blue coat, black knee-shorts, and silks, fell forward 
 in the arms of the porter who opened the door. Queer, that. Rather, 
 perhaps-, rather ; eh]" And the little old man put his head more on 
 one side, ami rubbed his hands with unspeakable glee. 
 
 " I know another case," said the little old man, when his chuckles 
 had in some degree subsided — " It occurred in Clifford's Inn. Tenant 
 of a top set — bad character — shut himself up in his bed-room closet, and 
 took a dose of arsenic. The steward thought he had run away : opened 
 the door, and put a bill up. Another man came, took the chambers, fur- 
 nished them, and went to live there. Somehow or other he couldn't sleep 
 — always restless and uncomfortable. ' Odd,' says he. * I'll make the 
 other room my bed-chamber, and this my sitting-room.' He made the 
 change and slept very well at night, but suddenly found that somehow 
 he couldn't read in the evening : he got nervous and uncomfortable, and 
 used to be always snuffing his candles and staring about him. ♦ I can't 
 make this out,' said he, when he came home from the play one night, 
 ond was drinking a glass of cold grog, with his back to the wall^ in 
 order that he mightn't be able to fancy there was any one behind him 
 — ' I can't make it out,' said he ; and just then his eyes rested on the 
 little closet that had been always locked up, and a shudder ran through 
 his v.ho\e frame from top to toe. 'I have felt this strange feeling 
 before,' said he — ' I cannot help thinking there's something wrong 
 -^bout th-it closet.' He made a strong effort, plucked up his courage, 
 shivered the lock with a'blow or two of the poker, opened the door, 
 iU'". there, sure enough, standing bolt upright in the corner, was the 
 last J.enant, with a little bottle clasped firmly in his hand, and his face 
 l;vid with the hue of a painful death." As the little old man concluded, 
 he look-.xl round on the attentive faces of his wondering auditory with 
 a smile 6f grim delight. 
 
 " What strange things these are you tell us of. sir,'' said Mr. Pick- 
 wick, minutely scanning the old man's countenance, by the aid of his 
 rrlasses. 
 
 "Strange?" said the little old man — "Nonsense; you think them 
 strange, because you know nothing about it. They are funny, but not 
 uncommon." 
 
 "Funny V exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, involuntarily. 
 
 " Yes, funny, are they not !"' replied the little old man, with a dia- 
 bolical leer: and then, without pausing for an answer, he continued — 
 
 " I knew another man — lot me see — it's forty years ago now — who 
 took an old damp rotten set of chambers, in one of the most ancient 
 
 Vol. I.— 18 
 
206 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 Inns, that had been shut up and empty for years and years before. 
 There were lotsof ol'l \vomei)'s stories about the place, and it certainly 
 Was very far from being a cheerful one ; but he was poor, and the rooms 
 ■were cheap, and that would have been-quite a sufficient rea;<)n for him, 
 if they had been ten times worse than they really were. He was 
 obliged to take some mouldering fixtures that were on the place, and, 
 among the rest, was a great lumbering wooden press for papers with 
 large glass doors, and a greien curtain inside ; a pretty useless thing 
 for him, for he had no papers to put in it ; and as to his clothes he 
 carried them about with him, and that wasn't very hard work, either. 
 Well, he had moved in all his furniture — it wasn't quite a trunk-full — 
 and sprinkled it about the room, so as to make the four chairs look as 
 much like a dozen as possible, and was sitting down before the fire at 
 night drinking the first glass of two gallons of whiskey he had ordered 
 on credit, wondering whether it would ever be paid for, and if so, in 
 how many years' time, when his eyes encountered the glass doors of the 
 wooden press. • Ah !' says he, — ' if I hadn't been obliged to take that 
 Ugly article at the old broker's valuation, I might have got something 
 comfortable for the money. I'll tell you what it is, old fellow,' he said, 
 speaking aloud to the press, just because he had got nothing else to 
 speak to—' If it wouldn't cost more to break up your old carcass, than 
 it would ever be worth afterward, I'd have a fire out of you, in less 
 than no time.' He had hardly spoken the words, when a sound re- 
 sembling a faint groan, appeared to issue from the interior of the case. 
 It startled him at first, but thinking, on a moment's reflection, that it 
 must be some young fellow in the next chambers, who had been dininnr 
 out, he put his feet on the fender, and raised the poker to stir the fire. 
 At that moment the sound was repeated : and one of the g\ass doors 
 slowly opening, disclosed a pale and emaciated figure in soiled and 
 "Worn apparel, standing erect in the press. The figure wa.9 tall and 
 thin, and the countenance expressive of care, and anxiety; but there 
 was something in the hue of the skin, and- gaunt and unearthly appear- 
 ance of the whole form, which no being of this world was ever seen to 
 wear. ♦ Who are you 1" said the new tenant, turning very pale, poising 
 the poker in his hand, however, and taking a very decent aim at the 
 countenance of the figure — ' Who are you !' ' Don't throw that poker 
 at me,' replied the form — ' If you hurled it with ever so sure an aim, it 
 would pass through mc, without resistance, end expend its force ovi 
 the wood behind. I am a spirit.' ♦ And pray what do you want herTel' 
 faltered the tenant. ' In this room,' replied the apparition, nny 
 worldly ruin was worked, and I and my children beggared. In this 
 press, the papers in a long, long suit, which accumulated for years, 
 were deposited. In this room, when I had died of grief, and long- 
 deferred hope, two wily harpies divided the wealth for which I had 
 contested during a wretched existence, and of which at last, not one 
 farthing was left for my unhappy descendants. I terrified them from 
 the spot, and since that day have prowled by night — the only period at 
 which I can revisit the earth — about the scenes of my long-protracted 
 misery. This apartment is mine : leave it me.' ' If you insist upon 
 making your appearance here,' said the tenant, who had had time to 
 collect his presence of mind during this prosy statement of the ghost's 
 — ' I shall give up possession with the greatest pleasure ; but I should 
 like to ask you one question, if you will allow me.' * Say on,' said the 
 apparition, sternly. ' Weil,' said the tenant, ' I don't apply the obscr- 
 
THE PirEWICK CLUB. 207 
 
 ration personally to you, because it is equally applicable to all the 
 ghosts I ever heard of; but it does appear to rae, somewhat incon- 
 sistent, that when you have an opportunity of visiting the fairest spots 
 of earth — for I suppose space is nothing to you — you should always 
 return exactly to the ver)' places where you have been most miserable.' 
 
 * That's very true ; I never thought of that bf tore,' said the ghost. 
 
 * You see, sir,' pursued the tenanf, ' this is a very uncomfortable room. 
 From the appearance of that press, I should be disposed to say that it 
 is not wholly free from bugs ; and I really think you might find much 
 more comfortable quarters : to say nothing of the climate of London, 
 which is extremely disagreeable.' * You are very right, sir,' said tho 
 ghost, politely ; ' it never struck me till now ; I'll try change of air 
 ■directly' — and, in facf, he began to vanish as he spoke ; his legs, 
 indeed, had quite disappeared." 'And if, sir,' said the tenant, calling 
 after him, * if you would have the goodness to suggest to the other ladies 
 and gentlemen who are now engaged in haunting old empty houses, 
 that they might be much more comfortable elsewhere, you will confer 
 a very great benefit on society.' « I will,' replied the gho.st ; ' we must 
 be dull fellows — very dull fellows, indeed ; I can't imagine how we 
 can have been so stupid.' With these words, the spirit disappeared; 
 and what is rather remarkable,"' added the old man with a shrewd look 
 round the table, *' he never came back again." 
 
 " That ain't bad, if it's true," said the man in the Mosaic studs, light- 
 ing a fresh cigar. 
 
 "//•'" exclaimed the old man, with a look of excessive contempt. 
 *' I suppose," he added, turning to Lowten, " he'll say next, that my 
 «tory about the queer client we had, when I was in an attorney's office, 
 is not true, either — I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 " I shan't venture to say any thing at all about it,' seeing that I never 
 heard the stor\'," observed the owner of the Mosaic decorations. 
 
 " I wish you would repeat it, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Ah, do," said Lowten : '* nobody has heard it but me, and I have 
 nearly forgotten it." 
 
 The old man looked round the table, and leered more horribly than 
 ever, as if in triumph, at the attention which was depicted in every 
 face. Then rubbmg his chin with his hand, and looking up to the 
 ceiling as if to recall the circumstances to his memorj', he began as 
 follows : — 
 
 THE OLD man's tale ABOUT THE QCEEE CLIENT 
 
 "It matters little," said the old man, "where, or how, I picked up 
 this brief history. If I were to relate it in the order in which it reached 
 me, I should commence in the middle, and when I had arrived at tho 
 conclusion, go back for a beginning. It is enough for me to sav that 
 some of its circumstances passed before niv own eyes ; for the re- 
 mainder I know them to have happened, and there are some pergona 
 yet living who will remember them but too well. 
 
 " In the Borough High Street, near Saint George's Church, and on 
 the same side of the way, stands, as most people know, the smallest of 
 our debtors' prisons — the Marshalsea. Although in later times it ha« 
 been a very diflerent place from the sink of filth and dirt it once wa«, 
 even its improved condition holds out but little temptation to the extra- 
 vagant, or consolation to the improvident. The condemned Yelon has 
 
208 P05THDMOU3 PAPERS OP 
 
 as good a yard for air and exercise in Newgate, as the insolvent debtor 
 in the Marshalsca prison. 
 
 " Ii may be my fancy, or it may be that I cannot separate the place 
 from the old recollections associated with it, but this part of London I 
 cannot bear. The street is broad, the shops are spa,cious, the noise of 
 pa<:sing vehicles, the footsteps of a perpelyal stream of people — all the 
 busy sounds of traffic, resound in it from morn till midnight, but the 
 streets around are mean and close ; poverty and debauchery lie fester- 
 ing in the crowded alleys, want and misfortune are pent up in the nar- 
 row prison ; an air of gloom and dreariness seems, in my eyes at least, 
 to hang about the scene, and to impart to it a squalid and sickly hue. 
 
 " Many eyes that have long since been closed in the grave have 
 looked round upon that scene lightly enough, when entering the gale 
 of the old Marshalsea prison for the first time : for despair seldom comes 
 with the first severe shock of misfortune. A man has confidence in 
 untried friends, he rememl^ers the many offers of service so freely made 
 by his boon companions when he wanted them not ; he has hope — the 
 hope of happy inexperience — and however he may bend beneath the 
 first shock, it springs up in his bosom, and flourishes there for a brief 
 space, until it droops beneath the blight of disappointment and neglect- 
 How soon have those same eyes, deeply sunken in the head, glared 
 from faces wasted with famine, and sallow from confinement in days 
 when it was no figure of speech to say that debtors rotted in prison, 
 with no hope of release, and no prospect of liberty ! The atrocity in 
 its full extent no longer exists, but there is enough of it left to give 
 rise to occurrences that make the heart bleed. 
 
 " Twenty years ago that pavement was worn with the footsteps of a 
 mother and child, who, day by day, so surely as the morning came, 
 presented themselves at the prison gate ; often, after a night of restless 
 misery and anxious thoughts, were they there, a full hour too soon, and 
 then the young mother turning meekly away, would lead the child to 
 the old bridge, and raising him in her arms to show him the glistening 
 water, tinted with the light of the morning's sun, and stirring with all 
 the bu.^tling preparations for business and pleasure that the river pre- 
 sents at that early hour, endeavoured to interest his thoughts in the 
 objects before him. But she would quickly set him down, and hiding 
 her face in her shawl, give vent to th? tears that blinded her, for no 
 expression of interest or amusement lighted up his thin and sickly 
 face. His recollections were few enough, but they were all of one 
 kind — all connected with the poverty and misery of his parents. Hour 
 after hour had he sat on his mother's knee, and with ciiildish sympathy 
 watched the tears that stole down her face, and then crept quietly 
 away into some dark corner, and sobbed himsolf to sleep. The hard 
 realities of the world, with many of its worst privations — hunger and 
 thirst, and cold and want — had all come home- to him, from the first 
 dawnings of reason; and though the form of childhood was there, its 
 light heart, its merry laugh, and sparkling eyes were wanting. 
 
 " The father and mother looked on upon this, and upon each other, 
 with thoughts of agony they dared not breathe in words. The healthy 
 strong made man, who could have borne almost any fatigue of active 
 exertion, was wasting beneath the close confinement and unhealthy 
 atmosphere of a crowded prison. The slight and delicate woman was 
 sinking beneath the combined effects of bodily and menial iUness ; the 
 child's young heart was breaking. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 209 
 
 ** Winter came, and with it weeks of cold and heavy rain. The 
 poor girl had removed to a wretched apartment close to the spot of her 
 husband's imprisonment ; and though the change had been rendered 
 necessary by their increasing poverty, she was happier now,- for she 
 was nearer him. For two months, she and her Uttle companion watched 
 the opening of the gate as usual. One day she failed to come for the 
 first time. Another morning arrived, and she came alone. The child 
 •WZLS dead. 
 
 " They little know, who coldly talk of the poor man's bereavements, 
 as a h:\ppy release from pnin to the departed, and a merciful relief 
 from expense to the survivor — they little know, I say, what the agony 
 of those bereavements is. A silent look of affection and regard when 
 all other eyes are turned coldly away — the consciousness that we pos- 
 sess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have de- 
 serted us — is a hold, a stay, a comfort in the deepest affliction, which 
 no wealth could purchase, or power bestow. The child had sat at its 
 parents' feet for hours together, with his little hands patiently folded in 
 €ach other, and his thin wan face raised towards them. They had seen 
 him pine away from day to day ; and though his brief existence had 
 been a joyless one, and he was now removed to that yieace and rest 
 which, child as he was, he had never known in this world, — they were 
 his parents, and his loss sunk deep into their souls. 
 
 " It was plain to those who looked upon the mother's altered 
 face, that death must soon close the scene of her adversity and trial. 
 Her husband's fellov^'-prisoners shrunk from obtruding on his grief and 
 misery, and left to himself alone the small room he had previously 
 occupied in common with two companions. She shared it with him : 
 and lingering on without pain, but without hoper, her life ebbed slowly 
 away. 
 
 " She had fainted one evening in her husband's arms, and he had 
 borne her to the open window to revive her with the air, when the light 
 of the moon falling full upon her face, showed him a change upon her 
 features, which made him stagger beneath her weight like a helpless 
 infant. 
 
 " * Set me down, George,' she said faintly. He did so, and seating 
 himself beside her, covered his face with his hands, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 *• ' It is very hurd to leave you, George,' she said, * but it's God's will, 
 and you must bear it for my sake. Oh ! how I thank him for having 
 taken our boy. He is happy and in heaven now. What would he have 
 done here without his mother ?' 
 
 " ' You shall not die, Mary, you shall not die ;' said the husband, 
 starting up He paced hurriedly to and fro, striking his head with hit* 
 clenched lists ; then reseating himself beside her, and supporting her 
 in his arms, ad<led more cahnly, ' Rouse yourself, my dtar girl— pray, 
 pray do. You will revive yet.' 
 
 "'Never again, George; never again!' — said the dying woman. 
 ' Let them lay me by my poor boy now ; but promise me, that if ever 
 you leave thisdreodlul place, and should grow rich, you will have ub 
 removed to some quiet country churcliyard, a long, long way off — 
 very far from here, where we can rest in peace. Dear George, pro- 
 mise mv yougivill.' 
 
 ** * I do, I do" — said the man, throwing himself passionately on hit 
 18* 
 
210 POSTHDMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 knees before her. ' Speak to me, Mary ; another word ; one look — 
 but one — ' 
 
 " He ceased to speak : for the arm that clasped his neck grew stifl 
 and heavy. A deep sigh escaped from the wasted form before him ; 
 the Ups moved, and a smile played upon the face, but the lips were 
 pallid, and the smile faded into a rigid and ghastly stare. He was 
 alone in the world. 
 
 *' That night, in the silence and desolation of his miserable tocm, 
 the wretched man knelt down by the dead body of his wife, and called 
 on God to witness a dreadful oath, that from that hour he devoted him- 
 self to revenge her death and that of his child ; that from thenceforth 
 to the last moment of his life, his whole energies should be directed to 
 this one object ; that his revenge should be protracted and terrible ; 
 that his hatred should be undying and unextinguishable ; and should 
 hunt its object through the world. 
 
 "The deepest despair, and passion scarcely human, had made such 
 fierce ravages on his face and form, in that one night, that his com- 
 panions in misfortune shrunk affrighted from him as he passed by. — 
 His eyes were bloodshot and heavy, his face a deadly white, and his 
 body bent as if with age. He had bitten his under lip nearly through, 
 in the violence of his mental suffering, and the blood which had flowed 
 from the wound had trickled down his chin, and stained his shirt and 
 neckerchief. iS'o tear or sound of complaint escaped him ; but the 
 unsettled look, and disordered haste with which he paced up and down 
 the yard, denoted the fever which was burning within. 
 
 " It was necessary that his wife's body should be removed from the 
 prison without delay. He received the communication with perfect 
 calmness, and acquiesced in its propriety. Nearly all the inmates of 
 the prison had assembled to witness its removal ; they fell back on 
 either side when the widower appeared ; he walked hurriedly forward, 
 and stationed himself, alone, in a little railed area close to the lodge 
 gale, from whence the crowd, with an instinctive feeling of delicacy, 
 had retired. The rude coffin was borne slowly forward on men's 
 shoulders. A dead silence pervaded the throng, broken only by the 
 audible lamentations of the women, and the shufflinii steps of the 
 bearers on the stone pavement. They reached the spot where the 
 bereaved husband stood, and stopped. He laid his hand upon the 
 coffm, mechanically adjusted the pall with which it was covered, and 
 motioned them onwards. The turnkeys in the prison lobby took off 
 their hats as it passed through, and in another moment the heavy gate 
 closed behind it. He looked vacantly upon the crowd, and fell heavily 
 to the ground. 
 
 " Althouf;h for many weeks after this, he was watched night and 
 day, in the wildest ravings of fever, neither the consciousness of his loss, 
 nor the recollection of the vow he made, ever left him for a moment. 
 Scenes changed before his eyes, place succeeded place, and event 
 followed event, in all the hurry of delirium ; but they were all con- 
 nected in some way with the great object of his mind. He was sailing 
 over a boundless expanse of sea, with a blood-red sky above, and the 
 angry waters lashed into fury beneath, boiling and eddying up on every 
 side. There was another vessel before them, toiling and labouring in 
 the howling storm ; her canvass fluttering in ribands ^om the mast, 
 and her deck thronged with figures who were lashed to the sides, over 
 which huge waves every instant burst, sweeping away some devoted 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 211 
 
 creatures Into the foaming sea. Onward they bore, amidst the roarinij 
 mass of water, with a speed and force v/hirh nothing could resist ; 
 and striking the stern of the foremobt^ vespel, crushed her benealii 
 their keel. From the huge whirlpool which the sinking wreck occa- 
 sioned, arose a shriek so loud and shrill — the death-cry of a hundred 
 drowning wretc!ies, blended into one fierce yell — that it rung far 
 above the war-cry of the elemenlj, and echoed, and re-echoed till it 
 seemed to^jierce air, sky, and ocean. But what was that — that old 
 gray-head that rose above the water's surface, and with looks of agony, 
 and screams for aid, buffeted with the waves 1 One look, and he had 
 sprung from the vessel's side, and with vigorous strokes was swim- 
 ming towards it. He reached it ; he was close upon it. They were 
 his features. The old man saw him coming, and vainly strove to 
 elude his grasp. But he clasped him tight, and dragged him beneath 
 the water. Down, down with him fifty fathoms deep ; his struggles 
 arew fainter and fainter, until they wholly ceased. He vras dead ; he 
 had killed him, and had kept his oath. 
 
 *' He was traversing the scorching sands of a mighty desert, bare- 
 footed and alone. The sand choked and blinded hiia ; its fine thin 
 grains entered the very pores of his skin, and irritated him almost to 
 madness. Gigantic masses of the same material, carried forward by 
 the wind, and shone through by the burning sun, stalked in the distance 
 like pillars of living fire. The bones of nien, who had perished in the 
 dreary waste, lay scattered at his feet ; a fearful light fell on every 
 thing around ; and so far as the eye could reach, nothing but object.-? 
 of dread and horror presented themselves. Vainly striving to utter a 
 cry of terror, with his tongue cleaving to his mouth, he rushed madly 
 forward. Armed with supernatural strength, he waded through the 
 sand, until exhausted with fatigue and thirst, he fell senseless on tiie 
 earth. M^bat fragrant coolness revived him ; what gushing sound 
 was that 1 Water I It was indeed a well ; and the clear fresh stream 
 v»as running at his feet. He drank deeply of it, and throwing his 
 aching limbs upon the bank, sunk itito a delicious trance. The sound 
 of approaching footsteps roused him. An old gray-headed man totter- 
 ed forward to slake his burning thirst. It was he again. He wound 
 his arms round the old man's body, and held him back. He struggled 
 in powerful convulsions, and shrieked for water — for but one drop of 
 water to save his life. Uut he held the old man firmly, and watched 
 his agonies with greedy eyes ; and when his lifeless head fell forward 
 on his bosom, he rolled the corpse from him with his feet. 
 
 '• When the fever left him, and consciousness returned, he awoke to 
 find himself rich and free : to hear that the parent who would have lei 
 him die in jail — xcould ! who had let those who were far dearer to him 
 thafl his own existence, die of want aud the sickness of heart that me- 
 dicine c.innot cure — had been found dead in his bed of down. He had 
 all the heart to leave his son a beggar, but proud even of his health antl 
 strength, he had put off the act till it was too late, and now might 
 gnash his teeth in the other worl-', at the thought of the wealth his 
 remissness had left him. He woke to this, and he woke to more. To 
 recollect the purpose for which he lived, and to remember that his ene- 
 my was his wife's own father — the man who had cast him into prison, 
 and who, when his daughter and her child sued at his feet (w mercy, 
 had spurned them from his door. Oh, how he cursed the weakness 
 
313 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 that prevented hira from being up, and active, in his scheme of ven- 
 geance ! 
 
 " He caused himself to be carried from the scene of hia loss and 
 misery, and conveyed to a quiet residence on the sea coast — not in the 
 hope of recovering his peace of mind or happiness, for both were fled 
 forever, but to restore his prostrate energies,"* and meditate on his 
 darling object. And here, some evil spirit cast in his way the oppor- 
 tunity fi)r his first, most horrible revenge. 
 
 " it was summer timu ; and wrapped in his gloomy thoughts, he 
 would issue from his solitary lodgings early in the evening, and, wan- 
 dering along a narrow path beneath the cliffs to a wild and lonely spot 
 that had struck his fancy in his ramblings, seat himself on some fallen 
 fragments of the rock, and burying his tace in his hands, remain there 
 for hours — sometimes until night had completely closed in, and the long 
 shadows of the frowning cliffs above his head cast a thick black dark- 
 ness on every object near him. 
 
 " He was seatfl here, one calm evening in his old position, now and 
 then raising his head, to watch the flight of a seagull, or carry his eye 
 along the glorious crimsor. path, which commencing in the middle of 
 the ocean, seemed to lead to its very verge where the sun was setting, 
 when the profound stillness of the spot was broken by a loud cry for 
 help ; he listened, doubtful of his having heard aright, when the cry 
 was repeated with even greater vehemence than before, and, starting 
 to his feet, he hastened in the direction whence it proceeded. 
 
 " The tale told itself at once : some scattered garments lay on the 
 beach ; a human head was just visible above the waves at a little dis- 
 tance from the shore ; and an old man wringing his hands in agony, 
 was runninor to and fro, shrieking for assistance The invalid, whose 
 strength was now suiheiently restored, threw off his coat, and rushed 
 towards the sea with the intention of plunging in, and dragging the 
 drowninqr man ashore. 
 
 *' ' Hasten here, sir, in God's name ; help, help, sir, for the love of 
 Heaven. He is my son, sir, my only son,' said the old man, franti- 
 cally, as he advanced to meet him. ' My only son, sir, and he is dying 
 before his father's eyes.' 
 
 " At the first word the old man uttered, the stranger checked himself 
 in his career, and, folding his arms, stood perfectly motionless. 
 
 *' ' Great God!' exclaimed the old man, recoiling — ' Heyling I' 
 
 " The stranger smiled, and was silent. 
 
 '• ' Heyling !' said the old man, 'wildly — ' My boy, Heyling, my dear 
 boy, look, look ;' and, gasping for breath, the miserable father pointed 
 to the spot whore the young man was struggling for life. 
 
 *' ' Hark !' said the old man — ' He cries once more. He is alive yet. 
 Heyling. save him, save him.' • 
 
 " The stranger smiled again, and remained immoveable as a statue. 
 
 '• ' I have wronged you,' shrieked the old man, falling on his knees, 
 and claspintj his hands together — ' Be revenged ; take my all, my life ; 
 cast me into the vi-ater at your fi^c', and, if human nature can repress 
 a struggle, I will die, without stirring hand or foot. Do it, Heyling, 
 do it. but save my boy, he is so youn?, Heyling, so young to die.' 
 
 '' Listen,' said the stranofcr, orasping the old man fiercely by the 
 wrist — ' I will have life for life, and here is one. 3/?/ child died before 
 his father's eyes, a far more agonizing and painful death than that 
 young slanderer of his sLtcr's worth is meeting while I speak. You 
 
THE PICKWICK Ct,0B. 213 
 
 laughfed — laughed in your daughter's face, where death had already set 
 his hand — at our suHerings, then. What think you of them now ] See 
 there, see there.' 
 
 "As the stranger spoke, he pointed to the sea. A faint cry died 
 away upon its surface : the last powerful struggle of the dying man 
 agitated the rippling waves for a few seconds : and the spot where he 
 had gone down into his early grave was undistinguishable from the 
 surrounding water. 
 
 * * * *r ♦ * 
 
 " Three years had elapsed when a gentleman alighted from a private 
 carriage- at the door of a London attorney, then well known to the pub- 
 lic as a man .of no great nicety in his professional dealings, and re- 
 quested a private interview on business of importance. Although evi- 
 dently not past the prime of life, his face was pale, haggard, and de- 
 jected ; and it did hot require the acute perception of the man of busi- 
 ness, to discern at a glance, that disease or suffering had done more to 
 work a change in his appearance, than the mere hand of time could 
 have accomplished in twice the period of his whole life. 
 
 " ' I wish you to undertake some legal business for me/ said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " The attorney bowed obsequiously, and glanced at a large packet, 
 which the gentleman carried in his hand. His visiter observed the 
 look, and proceeded. 
 
 ♦' ' li: is no common business,' said he ; ' nor have these papers 
 reached my hands without long trouble and great expense.' 
 
 " The attorney cast a still more anxious look at the packet : and his 
 visiter, untying the string that bound it, disclosed a quantity of promis- 
 sory notes, with some copies of deeds, and other documents. 
 
 " ' Upon these papers,' said the client, 'the man whose name they 
 bear, has raised, as you will sec, large sums of money, for some years 
 past. There was a tacit understanding between him and the men into 
 whose hands they originally went — and from whom I have by degrees 
 purchased the wht le, for treble and quadruple their nominal value — that 
 these loans should be from time to time renewed, until a given period 
 had elapsed. Such an understanding is nowhere expressed. He has 
 sustained many losses of late ; and these obligations accumulating upon 
 him at once, would crush him to the earth." 
 
 " The whole amount is some thousands of pounds," said the at- 
 torney, looking over the papers. 
 
 " U is," said the client, 
 
 '' What are we to do !" inquired the man of business. 
 
 "Do!" replied the client, with sudden vehemence — '* Put every 
 engine of the law in force, every trick that ingenuity can devise, and 
 rascality execute ; fair meuiis and foul ; the open oppression of the 
 law, aided l)y all the craft of its most ingenious practitioners. I would 
 have him die a harassing and lingering death. Ruin him, seize and 
 sell his lands and yoods, drive him from house and home, awd drag him 
 forth a beggar in his old age, to die in a common jail." 
 
 " ' But the costs, my dear sir, the costs of all this,' reasoned the 
 attorney, when he had recovered from his momentary surprise, — ' If 
 the defendant be a man of straw, who is to \>:\y the costs, sir !' 
 
 " • xS'amo any sum,' said the stranger, his liand trembling so violently 
 with e.xcitement, that he could scarcely hold the pen he seized as ho 
 
S14 POSTHUMOCS PAPERS OF 
 
 spoke. ' Any sum, and it is yours. Don't be afraid to nam^it, man. 
 I shall not think it dear, if you gain my object ' 
 
 *' The attorney named a larijo sum, at hazard, as the advance he 
 should require to secure himself against the possibility of loss : but 
 more with the view of ascertaining how far his client was really dis- 
 posed to go, than with any idea that he would comply with the demand. 
 The stranger wrote a check upon his banker for the whole amount, 
 and left him. 
 
 "The draft was duly honoured, and the attorney, finding that his 
 strange client might be safely relied upon, commenced his work in 
 earnest. For more than two years afterward, Mr. Heyling would sit 
 whole days together, in the office, poring over the papers as they ac- 
 cumulated, and reading again and again, his eyes gleaming with joy, 
 the letters of remonstrance, the prayers for a little delay, the represen- 
 tations of the certain ruin in which the opposite party must be involved, 
 which poured in, as suit aHer suit, and process after process, were 
 commenced. To all applications for a brief indulgence, there was but 
 one reply — the money must be paid. Land, house, furniture, each in 
 its turn, was taken under some one of the numerous executions which 
 were issued ; and the old man himself would have been immured in 
 prison, had he not escaped the vigilance of the officers, 'and fled. 
 
 '• The implacable animosity of Heyling, so far from being satiated 
 by the success of his persecution, increased a hundred-fold with the 
 ruin he inflicted. On being informed of the old man's flight, ids fury 
 was unbounded. He gnashed his teeth with rage, tore the hair from 
 his head, and assailed, with horrid imprecations, the men who had been 
 intrusted with the writ. He was only restored to comparative calm- 
 ness by repeated assurances of the certainty of discovering the fugitive. 
 Agents were sent in quest of him in all directions ; every stratagem 
 that could be invented was resorted to, for the purpose of discovering 
 his place of retreat ; but it was all in vain. Half a year had passed 
 over, and he was still undiscovered. 
 
 *' At length, late one night, HeyliniT, of whom nothing had been seen 
 for many weeks before, appeared at his attorney's private residence, 
 and sent up word that a gentleman wished to see him instantly. 
 Before the attorney, who had recognised his voice from above stairs, 
 could order the servant to admit him, he had rushed up the staircase, 
 and entered the drawing-room pale, and breathless. — Having closed 
 the door, to prevent being overheard, he sunk into a chair and said, in 
 a low voice — 
 
 " ' Hush ! I have found him at last.' 
 
 " ' No !' said the attorney — ' Well done, my dear sir ; well done.' 
 
 *' ' He lies concealed in a wretched lodging in Camden Town,' said 
 Heyling — ' Perhaps it is as well we did lose sight of him, for he has 
 been living alone there in the most abject misery all the time, and he 
 is poor — very poor,' 
 
 " ' Very good,' said the attorney — * You will have the caption made 
 to-morrow, of course V 
 
 " ' Yes,' replied Heyling. ' Stay ! No ! The next day. You are 
 surprised at my wishing to postpone it,' he added, with a ghastly 
 smile ; ' but I had forgotten. The next day is an anniversary in his 
 life ; let it be done then.' 
 
 •"Very good,' said the attorney — <Will you writedown instruc- 
 tions for the officer 1' 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 
 
 215 
 
 " ' No ; let him meet rac here, at eight in the evening, and I will 
 accompany him myself.' 
 
 '' They met on the appointed night, and hiring a hackney-coach, 
 directed the driver to stop at that corner of the old Pancras road, at 
 which stands the parish workhouse. By the tim6 they alighted there, 
 it was quite dark ; and, proceeding by the dead -wall in front of the 
 Veterinary Hospital, they entered a small by-street, which is, or was 
 at that lime, called Little College-street, and which, whatever it muy 
 be now, was in those days a desola*te place enough, surrounded by 
 little else than fields and ditches. 
 
 *' Having drawn the travelling cap he had on, half over his face, and 
 muffled himself in his cloak, Heyling stopped before the meanest look- 
 ing house in the street, and knocked gently at the door. It was at once 
 opened by a woman, who dropped a courtesy of recognition, and Hey- 
 linLS whispering the officer to remain below, crept gently up stairs, and 
 opening the door of the front room^ entered at once. 4 
 
 " The object of his search, and his unrelenting animosity, now a 
 decrepit old man, was seated at a bare deal table, on which stood a 
 miserable candle. He started on the entrance of the stranger, and 
 rose feebly to his feet. 
 
 *' ' What now, what now]' said the old man — 'What fresh misery 
 is this 1 What do you want here !' 
 
 " ' A word with yuu,' replied Heyling. As he spoke, he seated 
 himself at the other end of the table, and, throwing off his cloak and 
 cap, disclosed his features. 
 
 " The old man seemed instantly deprived of the power cf speech. 
 He fell backward in his chair, and, clasping his hands together, gazed 
 on the apparition with a mingled look of abhorrence and fear. 
 
 "'This day six years,' said Heyling, ' I claimed the life you owed 
 me for my child's. Beside the lifeless form of your daughter, old 
 man, I swore to live a life of revenge I have never swerved from my 
 purpose for a moment's space ; but, if I had, one thought of her uncom- 
 plaining, sufitring look, as she drooped away, or of the starving face 
 of our innocent child, would have nerved me to my task. My first act 
 of requital you well remember: this is my last.' 
 
 " The old man shivered, and his hands dropprd powerless by his side. 
 
 " ' I leave England to-morrow,' said Heyling, after a moment's 
 pause. — ' To-night I consign you to the living death to which you 
 devoted her — a hopeless prison — ' 
 
 " He raised his eyes to the old man's countenance, and paused. He 
 lifted the light to his face, set it gently down, and left the apartment. 
 
 " ' You had better see to the old man,' he said to the woman, as he 
 opened the door, and motioned the oinccr to follow him mto the street 
 — ' I think he is ill.' The woman closed the door, ran hastily up stairs, 
 and found him lifeless. He had died in a fit. 
 
 ♦ ♦ , # ♦ ♦ 
 
 " Beneath a plain grave-stone, in one of the most peaceful and se- 
 cluded church-yards in Kent, where wild flowers mingled with the 
 jjra.ss, and the soft landscape around forms the fairest spot in the gar- 
 den of England, lie the bones of the young mother and her gentle 
 child. But the ashes of the father do not mingle with theirs : nor 
 from that night forward did the attorney ever gain the remotest clew 
 to the subsequent history of his queer client." 
 
216 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 As the old man concluded his tale, he advanced to a peg in one cor- 
 ner, and taking down his hat and coat, put them on with great deliber- 
 ation ; and, without sayincj another word, walked slowly away. As 
 the gentleman w-iththe Mosaic studs had fallen asleep, and the major 
 part of the company were deeply occupied in the humorous process of 
 dropping melted tallow-grease into his brandy and water, Mr. Pickwick 
 departed unnoticed, and having settled his own score and that of Mr. 
 Weller, he issued forth, in company with that gentleman, from beneath 
 the portal of the Magpie and Stump. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIT. 
 
 MR. PlCKWICX JOURNEVS TO IPSWMCH, AND MEETS WITH A ROMANTIC AD- 
 VENTURE WITH A MIDDLE-AGED LADY, IN YELLOW CURL PAPERS. 
 
 " That 'ere vour governor's luggage, Sammy 1" inquired Mr. Wal- 
 ler, senior, of his affectionate son, as he entered the yard of the Bull 
 Inn, Whitechapel, with a travelling bag, and a small portmanteau. 
 
 '< You might ha' made a worser guess than that, old feller," replied 
 Mr. Weller'^the younger, setting dovm his burden in the yard, and 
 sitting himself down upon it cfterward. " The governor himself '11 
 be down here presently." 
 
 " He's a cabbin' it, I suppose ?" said the father. 
 " Yes, he's a havin' two mile o' danger at eight -pence," responded 
 the son. " How's mother-in-law this morn 1 
 
 *' Queer, Sammy, queer," replied the elder Mr. Weller, with im- 
 pressive gravity. •' She's been getting rather in the Methodistical 
 order lately, Sammy ; and she is uncommon pious, to be sure. She's 
 too good a creetur for me, Sammy — I feel I don't deserve her." 
 "Ah," said Mr. Samuel, "that's werry self-denyin' o' you." 
 " Werr)-," replied his parent, with a si^h. " She's got hold o' some 
 inwention for grown-up people being born again, Sammy — the new 
 birth, I thinks they call it. I should werry much like to see that sys- 
 tem in haction, Sammy. I should werry much like to see your mother- 
 in-law born again. Wouldn't I put her out to nurse V 
 
 " What do you think them women does t'other day,'* continued Mr. 
 Weller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly struck 
 the side of his %)se with his fore-finger, some half-dozen times. " What 
 do you think they does t'other day, Sammy 1" 
 " Don't know," replied Sam, " what 1" 
 
 " Goes and gets up ^ grand tea drinkin' for a feller they calls their 
 shepherd," said Mr. Weller. " I was a standing starin' in, at the pic- 
 tur shop, down at our place, when I sees a little bill about it ; • tickets 
 half-a-crown. .\11 applications to be made to the committee. Secre- 
 tary, Mrs. Weller ;' and when I got home, there was the committee a 
 sittin' in our back parlour — fourteen women ; I wish you could ha' 
 heard 'em, Sammy. There they was, a passin' resolutions, and wotin' 
 supplies, and all sorts o' games. Well, what with your mother-in-law 
 a worrying me to go, and what with my looking for'ard to seein' some 
 queer starts if I did, I put my name down for a ticket ; at six o'clock on 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 217 
 
 the Friday evenin' I dresses myself out werry smart, and off I goes with 
 the old ooman, and up we walks into a first floor, where there was tea 
 things for thirtjfe and a whole lot o' women as begins whisperin' to one 
 another, and lookin' at me, as if they'd never seen a rayther stout gen- 
 'I'm'n of eight-and-fifty afore. By and by, there comes a great bustle 
 down stairs, and a lanky chap, with a red nose and white neckcloth, 
 rushes up, and sings out, 'Here's the shepherd a coming to wisit his 
 faithful flock ;' and in comes a fat chap in black, with a great white 
 face, a smilin' avay like clock-work. Such goin's on, Sammy. ' The 
 kiss of peace,' says the shepherd ; and then he kissed the women all 
 round, and van he'd done, the man with the red jiose began. I was 
 just a thinkin' whether I hadn't better begin too — 'specially as there 
 was a werry nice lady a sittin' next nie — ven in comes the tea, and 
 • your moiher-in-Iaw, as had been makin' the kettle boil, down stairs. 
 At it they went, tooth and nail. Such a precious loud hymn, Sammy, 
 while the tea was a brewing : such a grace, such eaiin' and drinkin'. 
 I wish you could ha* seen the shepherd walkin' into the ham and muf- 
 fins. 1 never see S'lch a chap to eat and drink — never. The red-nosed 
 man warn't by no means the sort of person you'd like to grub by con- 
 tract, but he was nothin' to the shepherd- WeU, arter the tea was 
 over, they sang another hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach : 
 and werry well he did it, considerin' how heavy them muflins must 
 have lied on his chest. Presently he pulis up, all of a sudden, and 
 hollers out, 'Where is the sinner; where is the miserable sinner 1' 
 upon which, all the women looked at me, and began to groan as if they 
 was dying. I thought it was rather sing'ler, but. hows'ever, I says 
 nothing. Presently he pulls up again, and lookin' very hard at me. 
 Bays, ♦ Where is the sinner ; where is the miserable sinner !' and all 
 the women groans again, ten times louder than afore. I got rather 
 savage at this, so 1 takes a step or two for'ard and says, ' My friend,' 
 says I, 'did you apply tiiat e're obserwatioi> to me V — 'Stead of beggin' 
 my pardon as any gen'I'm'n would ha' done, he got more abusive than 
 ever; called me a wessel, Sammy — awessel of wrath — and all sorts o' 
 names. So my blood being reg'larly up, I first gave him two or three 
 for hiinsclf and then two or three more to hand over to the man with 
 the red nose, and walked olT. I wish you could ha' heard how the wo- 
 men screamed, Sammy, ven the}' picked up the shepherd from under 
 the table. Hallo ! here's the governor, the size of life." 
 
 As Mr. Weller spoke, Mr. Pickwick dismounted from a cab, and 
 entered the yard. 
 
 " Fine mornin', sir," said Mr. Weller, senior. 
 
 "Beautiful, indeed,"' — replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Beautifj^l, indeed,*' echoed a red-haired man, with an inquisitive 
 nose and blue spectacles, who had unpacked himself from a cab at the 
 same moment as Mr. Pickwick. " Going to Ipswich, sir !" 
 
 *' I am," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Extraordinary coincidence. So am I." 
 
 ?tlr. Pickwick bowed. 
 
 '• Going outside I" said the red-haired man. 
 
 Mr. Pifkwick bowed again. 
 
 "Bkse my soul, how remarkable — I am going outside, too," said 
 the red-haired man : " we are positively going together." And the 
 red-haired man, who was an important-looking, sharpcd-nosed, mys-' 
 terious-spoken personage, with a bird-like habit of giving his heacj a 
 
 Vol. I!— 19 
 
218 POSTHUMOCS PAPERS OF 
 
 jerk every time he said any thing, smiled as if he had made one of the 
 strangest discoveries that ever fell to the lot of human wisdom. 
 
 " I am happy in the prospect of your company, sir," said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 "Ah," said the new-comer, *' it's a good thing for both of us. isn't 
 it ! Company, you see — company is — is — it's a very different thing 
 from solitude — a'n't it !" 
 
 «' There's no denyin'that 'ere," said Mr. Weller, joining in the con- 
 versation, with an affable smile. " That's what I call a self-evident 
 proposition, as the dog's-meat man said, when the house-maid told 
 him he warn't a gentleman " 
 
 " Ah," said the red-haired man, surveying Mr. Weller from head tp 
 foot, with a supercilious look. " Friend of yours, sir?" 
 
 " Not exactly a friend," replied Mr. Pickwick, in a low tone. 
 
 " The fact is, he is my servant, but I allow him to take a good many 
 liberties ; for, between ourselves, I flatter myself he is an original, 
 and I am rather proud. of him." 
 
 "Ah," said the red-haired man. " that, you see is a matter of taste. 
 I am not fond of any thing original ; I don't like it ; don't see the 
 necessity for it. What's your name, sir 1" ^ 
 
 '* Here is my card, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, much amused by the 
 abruptness of the question, and the singular manner of the stranger. 
 
 '* Ah," said the red-haired man, placing the card in his pocket-book, 
 " Pickwick : very good. I like to know a man's name, it saves so 
 much trouble. That's my card, sir. Magnus, you will perceive, sir 
 — Magnus is my name. It's rather a good name, I think, sir !" 
 
 " A very good name, indeed," said Mr. Pickwick, wholly unable to 
 repress a smile. 
 
 " Yes, I think it is," resumed Mr. Magnus. " There's a good 
 name before it, too, you will observe. Permit me, sir — if you hold the 
 card a little slanting, this wray. you catch the light upon the up-stroke. 
 There — Peter Magnus — sounds well, I think, sir." 
 
 " "Very," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Curious circumstance about those initials, sir," said Mr. Magnus. 
 *' You will observe — P. M. — post meridian. In hasty notes to intimate, 
 acquaintance I sometimes sign myself ' Afternoon.' It amuses ray 
 friends very much, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 " It is calculated to afford them the highest gratification, I should 
 conceive," said Mr. Pickwick, rather envying the ease with which 
 Mr. Magnus's friends were entertained. 
 
 " Now, gen'lm'n," said the hostler, " coach is ready, if you please." 
 
 "Is all my luggage in V inquired Mr. Magnus. 
 
 " All right, sir." 
 
 " Is the red bag in?" 
 
 " All right, sir." 
 
 " And the striped bag T' 
 
 " Fore boot, sir." 
 
 " And the brown-paper parcel 1" 
 
 "Under the seat, sir." 
 
 " And the leathern hat-box 1" 
 
 "They're all in, sir." 
 
 "Now, will you get up]" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Excuse me," replied Magnus, standing on the wheel. "Excuse 
 me, Mr. Pickwick. I cannot consent to get up in this state of uncer- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 219 
 
 t&inty. I am quite satisfied from that man's manner, that that leathern 
 hat-box is not in." 
 
 The solemn protestations of the hostler bein^ wholly unavailing, the 
 leathern hat-box was obliged to be raked up from the lowest depth of 
 the boot, to satisfy him that it had been safely packed ; and after he 
 had been assured on this head, he felt a solemn presentiment, first, 
 that the red bag was mislaid, and next that the striped bag had been 
 stolen, and then that the brown paper parcel had " come untied." At 
 length, when he had received ocular demonstration of the groundless 
 nature of each and every of these suspicions, he consented to climb up 
 to the roof of the coach, observing that now he had taken every thing 
 oflfhis mind, he felt quite comfortable and happy. 
 
 *' You're given to nervousness, an't you, sir ?" inquired Mr. Weljer, 
 senior, eying the stranger askance, as he mounted to his place. 
 
 •' Yes ; I always am, rather, about the.se little matters," said the 
 stranger, "but I am all right, now, — quite rioht." 
 
 " Well, that's a blessin',"' said Mr. Weller. — " Sammy, help your 
 master up to the box ; fiither leg, sir, that's it ; give us your hand, 
 sir. Up with you. You was a lighter weight when you was a boy, 
 sir." 
 
 " True enough, that, Mr. Weller." said the breathless Mr. Pickwick, 
 good-humouredly, as he took his seat on the box beside him. 
 
 "Jump up in front, San.my," said .Mr. Weller. "Now, "\''illam, 
 run 'em oot. Take care of the archvay, gen'lm'n. ' Heads,' as the 
 pieman says. That'll do, Villam. Let 'em alone." And away went 
 the coach up Whitechapel, to the admiration of the whole population 
 of that pretty densely populated quarter. 
 
 "Not a werry nice neighbourhood this, sir," said Sam, with the 
 touch of the hat which always preceded his entering into conversation 
 with his master. 
 
 '• It is not. indeed, Sam," replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the 
 crowded and filthy street through which they were passing. 
 
 " It's a werry remarkable circumstance, sir," said Sara, " that poverty 
 and oysters always seems to go together." 
 
 " I don't understand you, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "What I mean, sir," said Sam, "is, that the poorer a place is, the 
 greater call there seems to be for oysters. Look here, sir ; here's a* 
 oyster stall to every half-dozen houses — the street's lined vith 'em. 
 Blessed if I dont think that ven a man's werry poor, he rushes out of 
 his lodgings, and eats oysters in reg'lar desperation." 
 
 " To be sure he does," said Mr. Weller, senior, "and it's just the 
 same with pickled salmon !" 
 
 " Those are two very remarkable facts, which never occurred to mo 
 before," said Mr. Pickwick, " the very first place we stop at, I'll make 
 a note of them."' 
 
 By this time they had reached the turnpike at Mile End ; a profound 
 silence prevailed, until they had got two or three miles further on, when 
 J.Ir. Weller, senior, turninir suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, said— 
 
 " Werry queer life is a pike-keeper's, sir." 
 
 " A what ?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "A pike-keeper." 
 
 " What do you mean by a pike-keeper''" inquired Mr. Peter Magnus. 
 
 "The old 'un means a turnpike keeper, gcnTraen," observed Mr. 
 Weller in explanation. 
 
220 * POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OK 
 
 ♦* Oh," said Mr. Pickwick, " I see. Yes, very curious life. Very- 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 " They're all on 'em men as has met vith some disappointment in 
 life," said Mr. Weller, seninr. 
 " Ay, ay ?" said Mr. Picksvick. 
 
 *' Yes. Consequence uf vich they retires from the world, and shuts 
 themselves up in pikes ; partly with the view of being solitary, and 
 partly to rewenge themselves on mankind by takin' lolls. 
 
 " Dear me," said .Mr. Pickwick, *' I never knew that before." W 
 " Fact, sir," said Mr. Weller, "if they was gen'lni'n, you'd call ''cm 
 misanthropes, but as it is they only takes to pike keepin'." 
 
 With such conversation, possessing the inestimable charm of blend- 
 ing amusement with in.-^truction, did Mr. Weller beguile the ledions- 
 ness of the journey, during the greater part of the day. Topics of 
 conversation were never wanting, for even when any pause occurred 
 in Mr. Weller's loquacity, it was abundantly supplied by the desire 
 evinced by Mr. Magnus to make himself acquainted with the whole 
 cf the personal histi)ry of his fellow-travellers, and his loudly express- 
 ed anxiety at every stage, respecting the safety and well-being of the 
 two bags, the leathern hat-bov, and the brown paper-J)arcel. 
 ' In the main street of Ipswich, on the left hand side of the way. a 
 short distance after you have passed through the open space fronting 
 the Town Hall, stands an inn, known far and wide by the appellation 
 of the " The Great ^Vhite Horse," rendered the more con.'picuous by 
 !& stone statue of some rampacious animal, with flowing mane and tail 
 — distantly resembling an insane cart-horse, which is elevated above 
 the principal door. The Great White Horse is famous in the neigh- 
 Lorhood, in the same degree as a prize ox, or county paper chronicled 
 turnip, or unwieldy pig — for its enormous size. Never were such la- 
 byrinths of uncarpeted passages, such clusters of mouldy, badly lighted 
 rooms, such huge nuiDbers of small dens for eating or sleeping in, be- 
 neath any one roof as are collected together between the four walls of 
 the Great White Horse at Ipswich. 
 
 It was at the door of this overgrown tavern that the I^ondon coach 
 stopped at the same hour every evening; and it was from this same 
 London coach that Mr. Pickwick, Sam Weller, and Mr. Peter Magnus 
 dismounted, on the particular evening to which this chapter of our 
 history bears reference. 
 
 " Do you stop here, sir ?" inquired Mr. Peter Magnus, when the 
 striped bag, and the red bag, and tlie brown paper parcel, and the 
 leathern hat-box, had all been deposited in the passage. " Do you 
 stop here, sir ]" 
 
 " I do," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Dear me," said Mr. Magnus, " I never knew any thing like tl>ese 
 extraordinary coincidences. Why I stop here too. I hope we dine 
 together. 
 
 " With pleasure," replied Mr. Pickwick. ' " I am not quite certain 
 whether I have any friends here or not, though. Is there any gentle- 
 man of the name of Tupman here, waiter V 
 
 A corpulent man, with a fortnight's napkin under his arm, and coeval 
 stockings on his legs, slov»ly desisted from his occupation of staring 
 down the street on this question being put to him by Mr. Pickwick ; and 
 after minutely inspecting that ijentlenjan's appearance, from the crown 
 of his hat to the Iqwest button of his gaiters, replied emphatically — 
 
THB PICKWICK CLUB. 22} 
 
 «No." 
 
 "Nor any gentleman of the name of SnodgrassT' inquired Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 «'No!" 
 
 " Nor Winkle 1" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "My friends have not ariived to-day, sir,'" said Mr. Pickwick. "We 
 will dine alone, then. '* Show us a private room, waiter." 
 
 On this request being preferred, the corpulent man condescended to 
 order the boots to b^ing in the gentleman's lui/gage, and preceding them 
 down a long dark passage, ushered them into a large, badly furnished 
 apartment, with a dirty grate, in which a small fire was making a 
 wretched attempt to be cheerful, but was fast sinking beneath the dis- 
 piriting influence of the place. After the lapse of an hour, a bit of lish 
 and a steak were served up to the travellers, and when the dinner was 
 cleared away Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Peter Magnus drew their chairs 
 up to the fire, and having ordered a bottle of the worst possible port 
 wine, at the highest possible price, for the good of the house, drank 
 brandy and water for their own. 
 
 Mr. Peter Magnus was naturally of a very communicative disposi- 
 tion, and the brandy and water operated with >*onderful effect in warm- 
 ing into life the deepest hiddeu secrets of his bosom. After sundry 
 accounts of himself, his family, his connexions, his friends, his jokes, 
 his business, and his brothers (most talkative men have a great deal to 
 say about their brothers,) Mr. Peter Magnus took a blue view of Mr. 
 Pickwick through his coloured spectacles for several minutes, and then 
 said, with an air of modesty — 
 
 " And what do you think — what do you think, Mr. Pickwick — I have 
 come down here for]" 
 
 " Upon my word," said Mr. Pickwick, " it is wholly impossible for 
 me to guess : on business, perhaps." 
 
 " Partly right, sir," replied Mr. Peter Magnus, "but partly wrong, 
 at the same time : try again, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 " Really," said Mr. Pickwick, '• I must throw myself on your mercy, 
 to tell me or not, as you may think best ; for I should never guess, if I 
 were to try all night." 
 
 " Why, then, he — he — he !" said Mr. Peter Magnus, with a bashful 
 titter, " what b*.iould you think, Mr. Pickwick, if I had come down here 
 to make a proposal, sir, eh ? he— lie — he !" 
 
 " Think 1 that you are very likely to succeed," replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 with one of his most beaming sn\iles. 
 
 "Ah !" said Mr. Magnus, but do you really think so, .Mr. Pickwick! 
 Do you, though 1" 
 
 "Certainly," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " No, but you're joking, though." 
 
 " I am not, indeed." 
 
 " Why, then," said Mr. Magnus, "to lot you into a little secret, I 
 think so too. I don't mind telling you, Mr. Pickwick, although I'm 
 dreadful jealous by nature — horrid — that the lady is in this house." 
 Here Mr. Magtjustook oil* his spectacles, on purpose to wink, and then 
 put them on again. 
 
 '* That's what you were running out of the room for, before dinner, 
 then, so often," said Mr. Pickwick, archly. 
 
222 POSTHDMOTJS PAPEKa OT 
 
 " Hush — yes, you're right, that was it ; not such a fool as to see her, 
 though." 
 
 •• No !" 
 
 " No; wouldn't do, you know, after having just come off a journey. 
 Wait till to-morrow, sir, double the chance then. Mr. Pickwick, sir, 
 there is a suit of clothes in that bag, and a hat in that box, which I 
 expect, in the effect they will produce, wiil be invaluable to me, sir." 
 
 *' Indeed !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '* Yes ; you must have observed my anxiety about them to-day. I 
 do not believe that such another suit of clothes, and such a hat, could 
 be bought for money, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick congratulated the fortunate owner of the irresistible 
 garments, on their acquisition ; and Mr. Peter Magnus remained for a 
 few moments, apparently abscrbed in contemplation. 
 
 "She's a fine creature,"' said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 "Is she ]" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Very,"" said Magnus, " very. She lives about twenty miles from 
 here, Mr. Pickwick. I heard she would be here to-night and all to-mor- 
 row forenoon, and came down to seize the opportunity. I think an inn 
 is a good sort of place to propose to a single woman in, Mr. Pickwick. 
 She is more likely to feel the loneliness of her situation in travelling, 
 perhaps, than she would be at home. What do you think, Mr. Pick- 
 wick ■" 
 
 " I think it very probable," replied that gentleman. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick," said .Mr. Peter Magnus, '' but 
 I am naturally rather curious ; what may you have come down here for ?" 
 
 " On a far less pleasant errand, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick, tho 
 colour mounting to his face at the recollection — " I have come do\/n 
 here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual, upon 
 whose truth and honour I placed implicit reliance." 
 
 " Dear me,"' saii] Mr. Peter Magnus, " that's very unpleasant. It is 
 a lady, I presume ? Eh I ah ! Sly, Mr. Pickwick, sly. Well, Mr. 
 Pickwick, sir, I wouldn't probe your feelings for the world. Painful 
 subjects, these, sir, very painful. Don't mind me, Mr. Pickwick, if 
 vou wish to give vent to your feelings. I know what it is to be jilted, 
 sir^, I have endured that sort of thing three or four times." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your condolence on what you pre- 
 sume to be my melancholy case,'' said Mr. Pickwick, winding up his 
 watch, and laying it on the table, " bat — "' 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Peter .Magnus, " not a word more : it's a painful 
 subject, I see, I see. What"s the time, Mr. Pickwick!" 
 
 " Past twelve." 
 
 "Dear me, it's time to go'tobed. It will never do sitting here. I 
 shall be pale to-morrow, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 At the bare notion of such a calamity, Mr. Peter Magnus rang the 
 bell for the chamber-maid ; and the striped bag, the red bag, the 
 leathern hat-box, and the brown pajjcr parcel, having been conveyed to 
 his bed-room, he retired in company with a japanned candlestick, to 
 one side of the house, while Mr. Pickwick and another japanned can- 
 dlestick, were conducted through a multitude of tortuous windings, to 
 another. 
 
 " This is your rooin, sir," said the chambermaid. 
 " Ver}- well," replied Mr. Pickwick, looking round him. It was a 
 tolerably large double-bedded room, with a lire ; upon the whole, a 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCD. 223 
 
 more comfortable looking apartment than Mr. Pickwick's short ex- 
 perience of the accommodations cf the Great White Horse had led him 
 to expect. 
 
 "Nobody sleeps in the other bed, of course," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Oh no, sir." 
 
 " Very good. Tell my servant to bring me up some hot water at 
 half-past eight in the morning, and that I shall not want him any more 
 to-niffht." 
 
 "Yes, sir."' And bidding Mr. Pickwick good-night, the chamber- 
 maid retired, and left him alone. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick sat himself down in a chair before the fire, and fell 
 into a train of rambling meditations. First, he thought of his friends, 
 and wondered when they would join him ; then his mind reverted to 
 Mrs. Martha Bardell ; and from that lady it wandered, by a natural 
 process, to the dingy counting-house of Dodson and Fogg. From 
 Dodson and Fogg's it flew oil at a tangent to the very centre of- the 
 history of the queer client : and then it came back to the Great VV'hite 
 Horse, at Ipswich, with sufRcient clearness to convince Mr. Pickwick 
 that he was falling asleep ; so he roused himself, and began to undress, 
 ■when he recollected he had left his watch on the table down stairs. 
 
 IVow this watch w^as a special favourite with Mr. Pickwick, having 
 been carried about, beneath the shadow of his waistcoat, for a greater 
 number of years than w^e feel called upon to state at present. The 
 possibility of going to sleep unless it were ticking gently beneath his 
 pillow, or in the watch pocket over his head, had never entered Mr. 
 Pickwick's brain. So, as it was pretty late now, and he was unwilling 
 to ring his bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his coat, of 
 which he had just divested himself, and taking the japanned candle- 
 stick in his hand, walked quietly down stairs. 
 
 The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs there 
 seemed to he to descend ; and again and again, when Mr. Pickwick got 
 into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself on hav- 
 ing gained the ground floor, did another flight of stairs appear before 
 his astonished eyes. At last he reached a stone hall, which he re- 
 membered to have seen when he entered the house. Passage after 
 passage did he explore ; room after room did he peep into ; at length, 
 just as he was on the point of giving up the search in despair, he 
 opened the door of the identical room in which he had spent the even- 
 ing, and beheld his missing property on the table. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick seized the watch in triumph, and proceeded to retrace 
 his steps to his bed-chamber. If his progress downward had been at- 
 tended with difliiculties and uncertainty, his journey back was inlinitely 
 more perplexing. Rows of doors, garnished with boots of every shape 
 make, and size, branched off in every possible direction. A dozen 
 times did he softly turn the handle of some bed-room door, which re- 
 sembled his own, when a grufl* cry from within of •' Who the devil's 
 that 1" or " What do you want here ?" caused him to steal away, on 
 tip-toe, with a perfectly marvellous celerity. He was reduced to the 
 verge of despair, when an open door attracted his attention. He peeped 
 in — right at last. There were the two beds whose situation he per- 
 fectly remembered, and the fire still burning. His candle, not a long 
 one when he first received it, had flickered away in the draughts of air 
 through wlxich he had passed, and sunk into the socket just ae he 
 
S24 POSTHOHOUS FAPEBS OF 
 
 closed the door after him. ♦' No matter," said Mr. Pickwick^ **I can 
 undress myself jast as well by the light of the fire." 
 
 The bedsteads stood, one on each side of the door ; and on the in- 
 ner side of each was a little path, terminating in a rusk-bottomed 
 chair, just wide enough to admit of a person's getting into or out of 
 bed, on that side, if he or she thought proper. Having carefully drawn 
 the curtains of his bed on the outside, Mr. Pickwick sat down on the 
 rush- bottomed chair, and leisurely divested himself of his shoes and 
 gaiters. He then took off and folded up his coat, waistcoat, and neck- 
 cloth, and slowly drawing on his tasselled night-cap, secured it firmly 
 on his head, by tying beneath his chin the strings which he always 
 had attached to that article of dress. It was at this moment that the 
 absurdity of his recent bewilderment struck upon his mind ; and throw- 
 ing himself back in the rush-bottomed chair, Mr. Pickwick laughed to 
 himself so heartily, that it would have been quite delightful to any 
 man of well-constituted mind to have watched the smiles which ex- 
 panded his amiable features as they shone forth from beneath the 
 nightcap. 
 
 " It is the best idea," said Mr. Pickwick to himself, smiling, till he 
 almost cracked the night-cap strings — " It is the best idea, my losing 
 myself in this place, and wandering about those staircases, that I ever 
 heard of Droll, droll, very droll." Here Mr. Pickwick smiled again, a 
 broader smile than before, and was about to continue the process of 
 undressing, in the best possible humour, when he was suddenly stopped 
 by a most unexpected interruption ; to wit, the entrance into the room 
 of some person with a candle, who, after locking the door, advanced to 
 the dressing table, and set down the light upon it. 
 
 The smile that played on Mr. Pickwick's features, was instanta- 
 neously lost in a look of the most unbounded and wonder-stricken sur- 
 prise. The person, whoever it was, had come in so suddenly, and 
 with so little noise, that Mr. Pickwick had had no time to call out or 
 oppose their entrance. Who could it be 1 A robber ] Some evil- 
 minded person, who had seen him come up stairs with a handsome 
 ■watch in his hand, perhaps. What was he to do 1 
 
 The only way in which Mr. Pickwick could catch a glimpse of his 
 mysterious visiter with the least danger of being seen himself, was, by 
 creeping on to the bed, and peeping out from between the curtains on 
 the opposite side. To- this mancEUvre he accordingly resorted. Keep- 
 ing the curtains carefully closed with his hand, so that nothing more 
 of him could be seen than his face and night-cap, and putting on his 
 spectacles, he nmstered up courage, and looked out. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick almost fainted with horror and dismay. Standing 
 before the dressing glass, was a middle-aged lady in yellow curl papers, 
 busily engaged hi brushing what ladies call their " black hair." How- 
 ever the unconscious middle-aged lady came into that room, it was quite 
 clear that she contemplated remaining there' for the night ; for she 
 had brought a rushlight and shade with her, which, with praiseworthy 
 precaution against fire, she had stationed in a basin on the floor, where 
 it was glimmering away, like a gigantic light-house, in a particularly 
 small piece of water. 
 
 " Bless my soul," thought Mr. Pickwick, " what a dreadful thing !" 
 
 '• Hem V said the lady ; and in went Mr. Pickwick's head, with auto- 
 maton-like rapidity. 
 
 " I never met with any thing so awful as this," thought poor Mr. 
 
THg PICKWICK CLUB. 225 
 
 Pickwick, the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his pight-cap. 
 "Never. This is fearful." 
 
 It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was 
 going forward. So out went Mr. Pickwick's head again. The pros- 
 pect was worse than before. The middle-aiipd lady had finished ar- 
 ranging her hair ; had carefully enveloped it in a muslin nitjht-cap, 
 with a small plaited border, and was gazing pensively on the lire. 
 
 "This matter is growing alarming," — reasoned Mr. Pickwick with 
 himself " I can't allow things to go on in this v.ay. By the self pos- 
 session of that lady, it's clear to me that I .nust have come into the 
 "wrong room. If I call out, she'll alann the h<)use. but if I remain here 
 the consequences will be still more frightful." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, it is quite unnecessary to say, was one of the most 
 modest and delicate-minded of mortals. The very idea of exhibitinrr 
 his niffhi-cap to a lady, overpowered him, but he had tied those con- 
 founded Strings in a. knot, and do what he would, he couldn't ^et it off. 
 The disclosure must be matle. There was only one other way uf doing 
 it. lie shrunk behind the curtains, and called out very loudly, 
 
 " Ha — urn." 
 
 That the lady started at this unexpected sound was evident, by hnr 
 falling up against the rush-light shade ; that she persuaded herself it 
 must have been the effect of imaL'ination was equally clear, for when 
 Mr. Pickwick, under the impression that she had fainted away stone 
 dead from "fright, ventured to peep out again, she was gazing pensively 
 on the fire as before. 
 
 ".Most extraordinar)' female thisj" thought Mr. Pickwick, popping 
 in again. *' Ha — um.'' 
 
 These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends informs us, the 
 ferocious uiant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion 
 that ir was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible, to be again 
 mistaken for the workings of fancy. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !" said the middle-aged lady ; " what's that !" 
 
 " It's — it's — only a gentleman, ma'am,'' said Mr. Pickwick from 
 behind the curtains. 
 
 " A gentleman I'' said the lady with a terrific scream. 
 
 " It's all over," thought Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "A strange man I" shrieked the lady. Another instant and the 
 house would be alarmed. Her garments rustled as she rushed towards 
 the door. 
 
 " .Ma'am" — said Mr. Pickwick, thrusting out his head, in the ex- 
 tremity of his desperation, " Ma'am." 
 
 Now although Mr. Pickwick was not actuated by any definite object 
 inputting out his he^d, it was instantaneously productive of a good 
 effect. The lady, as we have already stated, was near the door. She 
 must pass it, to reach the staircase, and she would most undoubtedly 
 have done so, by this lim°, had not the sudden apparition of Mr. Pick- 
 wicks night-cap driven her back, into the remotest corner of the apart- 
 ment, wher^ she stood, staring wildly at Mr. Pickwick, while -Mr. 
 Pickwick, in his turn, stared wildly at her. 
 
 •' Wretch," — said the lady, covering her eyes with her hands, " what 
 do you want here ?" 
 
 *' Nothing, ma'am — nothing whatever, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 earnestly. 
 
 ♦• Nothing I" said the lady, looking up. 
 
226 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Nothing, ma'am, upon my honour," said Mr. Pickwick, notWin;^ 
 his head so energetically, that the tassel of his night-cap danced again. 
 "I am ahiiost ready to sink, ma'am, beneath the confusion of address- 
 ing a lady in my night-cap (here the lady hastily 'snatched off hers,) 
 hut I can't get it off, ma'am, (here Mr. Pickwick gave it a tremendous 
 tug, in proof of the statement.) It is evident to me, ma'am, now, that 
 I have mistaken this bed-room for my own. I had not been here five 
 minutes, ma'am, when you suddenly entered it." 
 
 " If this improbable story be really true, sir" — said the lady, sobbmg 
 violently, " you will leave it instantly." 
 
 ♦' I will, ma'am, with the greatest pleasure" — replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Instantly, sir," said the lady. 
 
 " Certainly, ma'am," interposed Mr. Pickwick, very quickly. " Cer- 
 tainly, ma'am I— I — am very sorry, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 making his appearance at the bottom of the bed, " to have been the in- 
 nocent occasion of this alarm and emotion ; deeply sorry, ma'am." 
 
 The lady pointed to the door. One excellent quality of Mr. Pick- 
 wick's characier was beautifully displayed at this moment, under the 
 most trying circumstances. Although he had hastily put on his hat 
 over his niijht-cap, after the manner of the old patrol ; although he 
 carried his shoes and gaiters in his hand, and his coat and waistcoat 
 over his arm, nothing could subdue his native politeness. 
 
 '• I am exceedingly sorry, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low. 
 
 " If you are, sir, you will at once leave the room," said the lady. 
 
 "Immediately, ma'am; this instant, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick 
 opening the door, and dropping both his shoes, with a loud crash in so 
 doing. 
 
 '' 1 iTust, ma'am," resumed Mr. Pickwick, gathering up his shoes, 
 and turning round to bow again. "I trust, ma'am, that my unble- 
 mished character, and the devoted respect I entertain for your sex, will 
 plead as some slight excuse for this — " But before .Mr. Pickwick could 
 conclude his sentence, the lady had thrust him into the passage, and 
 locked and bolted the door behind him. 
 
 Whatever grounds of self congratulation Mr. Pickwick might have, 
 for having escaped so quietly from his late awkward situation, his pre- 
 sent position was by no means enviable. He was alone, in an open 
 passage, in a strange house, in the middle of the night, half-dressed ; 
 it was not to be supposed that he could find his way in perfect darkness 
 to a room which he had been wholly unable to discover with a light, 
 and if he, made the slightest noise in his fruitless attempts to do so, he 
 stood every chance of being shot at, and perhaps killed, by some wake- 
 ful traveller. He had no resource but to remain where he was, until 
 daylight appeared. So after groping his way at few paces down the 
 passage, and to his intinite alarm, stumbling over several pairs of boots 
 in so doing, Mr. Pickwick crouched into a little recess in the wall, to 
 ■wait for morning, as philosophically as he might. 
 
 He was not destined, however, to undergo this additional trial of pa- 
 tience ; for he had not been long ensconced in his present concealment 
 when, to his unspeakable horror, a man, bearing a light, appeared at 
 the end of the passage. His horror was suddenly converted into joy, 
 however, when he recognised the form ot his faithful attendant. It was 
 indeed Mr. Samuel Wellcr, who after sitting up thus late, in conversa- 
 tion with the Boots, who was sitting up for the mail, was now about 
 to rc'iire to rest. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 227 
 
 « Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appeanng befor« him, " Where's 
 my bed-room V 
 
 Mr, Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise ; 
 and it was not until the question had been repeated three several times, 
 that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought apartment. 
 
 " Sam," said .Mr. Pickwick, as he gut into bed. " I.have made one 
 of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night, that ever were heard of." 
 
 " Werry likely, sir," replied .Mr. Weller drily. 
 
 " But of this i am determined, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick ; " that if 
 I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself 
 about it alone, again." 
 
 " That's the werry prudentest resolution as you could come to, sir," 
 replied Mr. Weller. " You rayther want somebody to look arler you, 
 sir, ven your judgment goes out a wisitin'." 
 
 <' What do you mean by that, Sam !" saM Mr. Pickwick. He raised 
 himself in bed, and extended hishand, as if he were about to say some- 
 thing more ; but suddenly checking himself, turned round, and bade 
 his valet •* Good night." 
 
 •' Good nisht, sir," replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got 
 outside the door — shook his head — walked on — stopped — snuffed the 
 candle — shook his head again — and finally proceeded slowly to his 
 chamber, apparently buried in the profoundest meditation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 l.V WHICH MR. S.iMCEL WELLER ^GINS TO DEVOTE HIS ENERGIES TO THE 
 BETCRN MATCH BETWEEN HIMSELF AND MR. TROTTER. 
 
 In a small room in the vicinity of the stable-yard, betimes in the 
 morning which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick's adventure with the 
 middle-aged lady in 'the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr. Weller, senior, 
 preparing himself for his journey to London. He was sitting in an 
 excellent attitude for having his portrait taken ; and here it is. 
 
 It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr. Wel- 
 ler's profile might have presented a bold and determined outline. His 
 face, however, had expanded under the influence of good living, and a 
 disposition remarkable for resignation ; and its bold fleshy curs'es had 
 80 far extended beyond the limits originally assigned them, that unless 
 you took a full view of his countenance in front, it was diificult to dis- 
 tinguish more than the extreme tip of a very rubicund nose. His chin, 
 from the same cause, had acquired the grave and imposing form which 
 is generally described by prefixing the word " double" to that expres- 
 sive feature, and his complexion exhibited that peculiarly mottled com- 
 bination of colours, which is only to be seen in gentlemen of his pro- 
 fession, and underdone roast beef. Round his neck he wore a crimson 
 travelling shawl, which merged into his chin by such imperceptible- 
 gradations, that it was diflicult to distinguish the folds of the one, front 
 the folds of the other. Over this he mounted a long waistcoat of a broad 
 pink-striped pattern, and over that again, a wide-skirted green coat, 
 ornamented with large brass buttons, whereof the two which garnished 
 
228 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 the waist, were so far apart, that no man had ever beheld them both at 
 the same time. His hair, which was sliort, sieek, and black, was jnst 
 visible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crowned brown hat. His 
 legs were encased in knee cord breeches and painted top-boots : and a 
 copper watch-chain terminating in one seal, and a key of the same 
 material, dangled loosely from his capacious waistband. 
 
 We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for liis 
 journey to London — he was taking sustenance, in fact. On the table 
 before him stood a pot of ale, a cold round oi Iteef, and a very respecta- 
 ble-looking loaf, to each side of which he distributed his favours in turn, 
 with the most rigid impartiality. He had just cut a mighty slice from 
 the latter, wherj the footsteps of somebody entering the room caused 
 hhn to raise his he.id ; and he beheld his son. 
 
 " Mornin', Sammy," said the father. 
 
 The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly to his 
 parent, took a long draught by way of reply. 
 
 " VVerry good power o' suction, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, the elder, 
 looking into the pot, when his first-born had set it down half empty. 
 "You'd ha' made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born 
 in that station o' life." 
 
 " Yes, I dcs-say I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable 
 livin'," replied Sam, applying himself to the cold beef, with considerable 
 vigour. 
 
 - *' I'm werry sorry, Sarnmy," ^aid the elder Mr. Weller, shaking up 
 the ale, by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to drink- 
 ing. "I'm \verr\' sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as you let 
 yourself be gammoned by that 'ere mulberry man. T always thought, 
 up to three days ago, that the names of Veller and gammon could 
 never come into contract, Sammy — never." 
 " " Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course," said Sam. 
 
 " Widders, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour. 
 «' Widders are 'cep'ions fo ev'ry rule. I kave heerd how many ord'na- 
 ry women, one widder's equal to, in jiint o' comin' over you. I think 
 it's five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it ain't more." 
 
 " V/ell ; that's pretty well," said Sam. 
 
 "Besides," continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, 
 *' that's a werry different thing. You know what the counsel said, 
 Sammy, as defended the gen'l'm'n as beat his Vi^ife with the poker 
 venever he got jolly. ' And arter all, my lord,' says he, ' its a amiable 
 weakness.' So I says respectin' widders, Sammy, and so you'll say, 
 von you gets as old as I am." 
 
 '• I ought to ha' know'd better, I know," said Sam. 
 
 '• Ought to ha' know'd better !'' repeated Mr. Weller, striking the 
 table with his fist. " Ought to ha' know'd better ! why, I know a 
 vounor 'un as hasn't had half nor quarter your edication — as hasn't 
 slept about the markets, no, not six months ; who'd ha' scorned to be 
 Tet in, in such a vay ; scorned it, Sammy." In the excitement of feel- 
 ing produced by this agonizing reflection, Mr. Weller rang the bell, 
 and ordered an additional pint of ale. 
 
 " Well, it's no use talkin' about it now," said Sam. *' It's over, 
 and can't be helped, and that's one consolation, as they alvays says in 
 Turkey, ven they cuts the wrong man's head oflT. It's my innings 
 now, gov'rnor, and as soon as I catches hold o' this here Trotter, Til 
 have a good 'un." 
 
THE nCKWICK CLUB. 229 
 
 '* I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will," returned Mr. Wellcr 
 «* Here's your health. Sammy, and may you speedily vipe oft' the dis- 
 grace as you've inflicted on the family name." In honour of this 
 toast, Mr. Wellcr imbibed at a draught at least two-thirds of the 
 newly-arrived pint, and handed it over to his son, to dispose of the 
 remainder, which he instantaneously did. 
 
 " And now, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, consulting the large double- 
 cased silver watch that hung at the end of the copp-.^r chain. " Now, 
 it's time i was up at the oftice to get my vay-bill, and see the coach 
 loaded ; for coaches, Sammy, is like guns — they requires to he loaded 
 with vverry great care afore they go off." 
 
 At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller, junior, smiled a 
 filial smile. His reveKd parent continued in a solemn tone — 
 
 " I'm a oroin' to leave you, Samivel, my boy, and there's no telling 
 ven I shall see you asrain. Your mother-in-law may ha' been too 
 much for me, or a thousand things may have happened by the timo 
 you next hears any news o' the celebrated Mr. Veller o' th-e Bell 
 Savage. The family name depends werry much upon you, Samivcl, 
 and I hope you'll do wet's right by it. Upon all liftle pints o' breedin', 
 I know I may trust you as veil as if it was my own self So I've only 
 this here one little bit of adwice to give you. If ever you gets to up- 
 'ards of tifty, and feels disposed to go a marryin' any body — no matter 
 who — ^jist you shut yourself up in your own room, if you've got one, 
 and pisoa yourself off-hand. Hangin's wuigar, so don't you have 
 nothin' to say to that. Pison yourself, Samivel, my boy, pison your- 
 self, and you'll be glad on it arterwards." With these affecting words, 
 Mr. Weller looked steadfastly on his son, and turning slowly, upon 
 his heel, disappeared from his sight. 
 
 In the contemplative mood which these words had awakened, Mr. 
 Samuel Weller walked forth from the Great White Horse when his 
 father had left him ; and bending his steps towards Saint Clement's 
 church, endeavoured to dissipate his melancholy, by strolling among its 
 ancient precincts. He had loitered about for some time, when he 
 found himself in a retired spot — a kind of court-yard of venerable ap- 
 pearance — which he discovered had no other outlet than the turning 
 by which he had entered. He was about retracing his steps, when 
 he was suddenly transfixed to the spot by a sudden appearance ; and 
 the mode and manner of this appearance, we now proceed to relate. 
 
 Pilr. Samuel Weller had been staring up, at the old red brick houses ; 
 now and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon some 
 healthy-losking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threw open a 
 bed-room window, when the green gate of a garden at the bottom of 
 the yard, opened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed the 
 green gate very carefully after him, and walked briskly towards the 
 very spot where Mr. Weller was standing. 
 
 Now, taking this as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any attendant 
 circumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in it, because in 
 many parts of the world men do come out of gardens, close green gates 
 after them, and even walk briskly away, without attracting any parti- 
 cular share of public observation. It is clear, therefore, that there must 
 have been r.omething in the man, or in his manner, or both, to attract 
 Mr. WcUer's particular notice. Whether there was, or not, we must 
 leave the reader to determine, when we have faithfully recounted the 
 behaviour of the individual in question. 
 
 Vol. I.— 20 
 
230 P06THUM0U8 PAPERS OF 
 
 When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, as wc 
 have said twice already, with a linsk pace up the court-yard ; but he 
 no sooner cau^^'ht sight of Mr. Weller, than he faltered, and stopped, as 
 if uncertain for the moment what course to adopt. As the green gate 
 was closed behind him, and there was no other outlet but the one in 
 front, however, he was not long in perceiving that he must pass Mr. 
 Samuel Weller to get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and 
 advanced, staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing 
 about the man was, that he was contorting his face into the most fear- 
 ful and astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handi- 
 work never was disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, 
 as the man had overlaid his countenance with, in one moment. 
 
 "Well," — said Mr. Weller to himself, as«the man approached. 
 "This is werry odd. I could ha' swore it was him." 
 
 Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted 
 than ever, as he drew nearer. 
 
 " I could take my oath to that 'ere black hair, and mulberry suit,'* 
 said Mr. Weller ; " only I never see such a face as that, afore." 
 
 As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly 
 twinge, perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, 
 however, and the scrutinizing glance of that gentleman enabled him 
 to detect, under all these appalling twists of feature, something too like 
 the small eyes of Mr. Job Trotter, to be easily mistaken. 
 
 "Hallo, you sir," shouted Sam, fiercely. 
 
 The stranger stopped. 
 
 " Hallo," repeated Sam, still more gruffly. 
 
 The man with the horrible face, looked, with the greatest surprise, 
 up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the houses 
 — every where but at Sam Weller — and took another step forward, 
 when he was brought to again, by another shout; 
 
 " Hallo, you sir" — said Sam, for the third time. 
 
 There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from 
 now, so the stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam 
 Weller full in the face. 
 
 ♦♦ It won't do, Job Trotter," said Sam. " Come, none o' that 'ere 
 nonsense. You ain't so werry 'ansome that you can afford to throw 
 avay many o' your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' your'n back 
 into their proper places, or I'll knock 'em out of your head. D'ye 
 hearV 
 
 As Mr. Weller appeared ftilly disposed to act up to the spirit of this 
 address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its natural 
 expression ; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, " What do I 
 aeel Mr. Walker 1" 
 
 " Ah," replied Sam — " You're werry glad to see me, ain't youl" 
 
 " Glad !" exclaimed Job Trotter — "Oh, Mr. Walker, ifyou had but 
 known how I have looked forward to this meeting ! It is too much, 
 Mr. Walker; I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot." And with these 
 words, Mr. Trotter burst into a regular inundation of tears, and fling- 
 ing his arms round those of Mr. Weller, embraced him closely in an 
 ecstasy of joy. 
 
 " Get off," cried Sam, highly indignant at this process, and vainly 
 endeavouring to extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiastic 
 acquaintance — " Get off, I tell you. What arc you crying over me for, 
 you portable inginel" 
 
THE nCKWICK CLUB. 231 
 
 "Because I am so glad to see you," replied Job Trotter, »Trndually 
 releasing Mr. Weller, as the first symptoms of his pugnacity dis- 
 appeared. " Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much." 
 
 " Too much !" echoed Sara. " I think it is too much — rayther. 
 Now what have you got to say to me eh !" 
 
 Mr. Trotter made no reply ; for the little pink pocket handkerchief 
 was in full force. 
 
 " What have you got to say to me, afore I knock your head off!" 
 repeated Mr. Weller, in a threatening manner. 
 
 " Eh !" said Mr. Trotter, with a look of virtuous surprise. 
 " What have you got to say to me 1" 
 " I, Mr. Walker !" 
 
 "Don't call me Valker ; my name's Veller; you know that veil 
 enouirh. What have you got to 'say to me V 
 
 '• Bless you, Mr. Walker — Weller I mean — a great many thino-s, if 
 you will come away somewhere, where we can talk comfortably. If 
 you knew how I h.ive looked for you, Mr. Weller — " 
 " Werry hard, indeed, I s'pose !" said Sam, drily. 
 " Very, very, sir," replied Mr. Trotter, wiihout moving a muscle of 
 his face. "But shake hands, Mr. Weller " 
 
 Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as if actuated 
 by a sudden impulse, complied with his request. 
 
 " How,"- said Job Trotter, as they walked away — " How is your dear, 
 good master ! Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller. I hope 
 he didn't catch cold, that dreadful ni^ht, sir.'' 
 
 There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, 
 as he said this, which ran a thrill through .Mr. Weller's clenched fist 
 as he burnt with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs Sam 
 constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was ex- 
 tremely well. 
 
 '• Oh, I am so glad." replied Mr. Trotter, " is he here !" 
 '• Is your'n !" asked Sam, by way of reply. 
 
 •' Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. W^eller, he is going on 
 worse than ever. 
 
 " Ah, ah?" said Sam. 
 "Oh, shocking — terrible." 
 "At a boarding-school ]'' said Sam. 
 
 " No, not at a boarding school,'" replied Job Trotter, with the same 
 sly look which Sam had noticed before — " Not at a boarding-school." 
 
 " At the house with the green. gate !" inquired Sam, eying his com- 
 panion closely. 
 
 " No, no — oh, not there," replied Job ; with a quickness very unu- 
 sual to him, " not there." 
 
 " What was you a doin' there T' asked Sam, with a sharp glance — 
 "Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps." 
 
 " W^hy, Mr. Weller, " replied Job, " I don't mind telling you my little 
 secrets, because you know we took such a fancy for each other when 
 we first met. You recollect how plea.sant we wore that mornintT?" 
 " Oh yes," said Sam. impaMently — " I remember. Well." 
 "Well," replied Job, speaking with frreat precision, and in the low 
 tone of a man who comniuriicates an important secret—" In that house 
 with the green gate, Mr. Weller, they k«'fp a good many servants." 
 " So I should think, from the look on it," intorpo.sed -lam. 
 "Yes," continued Mr. Trotter, " and one of them is a cook, who 
 
232 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OT 
 
 has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can 
 ebtablish herself in life, to opeaa little shop in the chandlery way, you 
 see." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Weller. WelJ, sir, I rnet her at a chapel that I go to — 
 a very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing the 
 number four coileclion of hymns, which I generally carry about with 
 me, in a little book, whiich you may perhaps have seen in my hand= — 
 and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from that an ac- 
 quaintance sprung up between us ; and I may venture to say, Mr. Wel- 
 ler, that I am to be ihe chandler." 
 
 " Ah, and a werry amiable chandler you'll make,** replied S-am, eying 
 Job with a side look of intense dislike 
 
 " The irreat advantage of this, Mr. Weller," continued Job, his eyes 
 filling with tears as he spoke, " will be, that I shall be able to leave my 
 present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to devote myself to 
 a belter and more virtuous life — more like the way in whicii 1 v^as 
 brought up, Mr. Weller." 
 
 " You must ha' been werry nicely brought up," said Sam. 
 
 *' Oh, vory, Mr. Weller, very," replied Job; and at the recollection 
 of the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink 
 handkerchief, and wept copiously. 
 
 , " You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith," 
 said. Sam. 
 
 " I was, sir," replied Job, heaving a deep sigh. *' I was the idol of 
 the place." 
 
 " Ah," said Sam, " I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you must 
 ha' been to your blessed mother !" 
 
 At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink hand- 
 kerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and began to 
 weep copiously. 
 
 *' Vhat's the matter vith the man," said Sam indignantly. '• Chel- 
 Rea waterworks is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now — 
 the consciousness o' willany 1" 
 
 " I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller," said Job, after a 
 sliort pause. '• To think that my master should have suspected the 
 conversation I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a post- 
 chaise, and after persuadiug the sweet young lady to say she knew 
 nothing of him, and bribing the school-mistress to do the same, deserted 
 her for a better speculation,— oh ! Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder." 
 
 *' Oh, that was the vay, was it?" said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " To be sure it was," replied Job. 
 
 " Veil," said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, " I vant 
 to have a little bit o* talk with you. Job ; so if you're not partickler 
 engaged, I should like to see you at the Great "M^hite Horse to-night, 
 $omewheres about eight o'clock." 
 
 " I shall, be sure to come," said Job. 
 
 " Yes, you'd better," replied Sam, with a very meaning lopk, " oi 
 else I shall perhaps be askin' arter you, at the other side of the green 
 gate, and then I might cut you out, you know." 
 
 "I shall be sure to.be with you," said Mr. Trotter; and wringing 
 Sam's hand with the utmast fervour, he walked away. 
 
 ''Take care, Job Trotter, take care," said Sam, looking after him, 
 <' or I shall be one too many for you this time, I shall Indeed." Having 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB 
 
 233 
 
 Uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen no 
 more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bed-room. 
 
 ''It's all in training, sir," said Sam. 
 
 *' What's in training, Sam?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •' I have found 'em out, sir," said Sam. 
 
 "Found out who !" 
 
 '* That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chan with the 
 black hair." 
 
 " Impossible, Sam !" said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy — 
 "Where are they, Sam ; where are they ]" 
 
 "Hush, hush!" replied Mr. Wetler ; and as he assisted Mr. Pick- 
 wick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to 
 enter. 
 
 " But when is this to be done, Sam V inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "All in good time, sir," replied Sam. 
 
 Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 WHEREIN MR. P«TER MAGNUS GROWS JE.A.L0US, AND THE MIDDLE-AGED 
 LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE PICKWICKlANS WITHIN THE 
 GRASP OF THE LAW. 
 
 When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. 
 Peter Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gt.ntle- 
 man with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern 
 hat-bo.K, and the broWn paper parcel, displayed to ail possible advan- 
 tage on his person, while he himself was pacing up and down the 
 room in a state of the utmost excitement and agitation. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," said Mr. Peter Magnus. " What d» you 
 think of this, sir?" 
 
 " Very effective indeed," replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the gar- 
 ments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile. 
 
 " Yes, I think it'll do," said Mr. Magnus, " Mr. Pickwick, sir^ I 
 have sent up my card." 
 
 "H^-veyou?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *• Yes ; and the waiter brought back word that she would see me at 
 eleven — at eleven, sir ; it only wants ^^ quarter now." 
 
 " Very near the time," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Yes, it is rather near," replied Mr. Magnus, rather too near to be 
 pleasant — eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir ?" 
 
 " Confidence is a great thing in these cases,'' observed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I believe it is, sir,'' said Mr. Peter Magnus. " I am very confident, 
 sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should f^el any 
 fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, sir? There's nothing to 
 be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more. 
 Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the mat- 
 ter, Mr. Pickwick." 
 
 " It is a very philosophical one," replied Mr. Pickwick. •' But 
 breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come." 
 
 20* 
 
934 pOBTiiuMoufl PAPERS or 
 
 Down they sat to breakfast ; but it was evident, notwithstanding th«i 
 boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very consider- 
 able degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to 
 upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, and an irresistible 
 inclination to look at the clock every other second, were among the prin- 
 cipal symptoms. 
 
 a He he— he," tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting, cheerfulness, and 
 
 gasping with agitation. " It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. 
 A:n I pale, sir T' 
 
 " Not very," replied Mr. Pickwick, 
 There was a brief pause. 
 
 " r beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick; but have you ever done this sort 
 of thing in your time 1" said Mr. Magnus. 
 '' You mean proposing ?' said Mr. Pickwick. 
 '•Yes." 
 
 " Never," said Mr. Pickwick, with.great energy, " never." 
 " You have no idea, then, how it's best to begin 1" said Mr. Magnus. 
 « Why," said Mr. Pickwick, " I may have formed some ideas uppn 
 the subject, but as I have never submitted them to the test of experi- 
 ence, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your proceed- 
 ings by them." 
 
 " I should feel very much obliged to you for any advice, sir," said 
 Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was 
 verging on the five minutes past. 
 
 ♦"Well- sir," said Mr. Pickwick,, with the profound solemnity with 
 which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so 
 deeply impressive — " I should commence, sir, with a tribute to the 
 lady's beauty and excellent qualities-; from them, sir, 1 should diverge 
 to my own unworthiness." 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 ''Unworthiness for her only, mind, sir," resumed Mr. Pickwick; 
 " for to shilw that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take a 
 brief review of my past life, and present condition. I should argue 
 by analog)-, that to any body else, I must be a very desirable object. 
 I should then expiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth of my 
 devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand." 
 
 " Yes, I see," said Mr. Magnus : " that would be a very great point." 
 «' 1 should then, sir," continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as 
 the subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him — " I 
 should then, sir, come to the plain and simple question, ' Will you 
 have me]' I think I am justified in assuming, that upon this she 
 would turn away her head." 
 
 "You think that may be taken for granted 1" said Mr. Magrus ; 
 *' because, if she did not do that at the right place, it would be em- 
 barrassing." 
 
 " I think she would," said Mr. Pickwick. " Upon this, sir, I should 
 squeeze her hand, and I think — I fhink, Mr. Magnus — that after I had 
 done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away 
 the handkerchief, w"hich my shght knowledge of human nature leads 
 me to suppose tho lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment, 
 and steal a respectful kiss. I think I should kiss her, Mr. Magnus ; 
 at this particular point, I am decidedly of opinion that if the lady were 
 going to take me at all, she would murmur into my ears a bashful 
 acceptance." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 235 
 
 Mr. Magnus started : gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intellicrent face for 
 a short time in silence, and then (the dial pointing to the ten minutes 
 past) shook him warmly by the hand, and rushed desperately from the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Pickwiek bad taken a few strides to- and fro ; and the small 
 hand of the clock following the latter part of his exampl; , had arrived 
 at the figure which indicates the half hour, when the door suddenly 
 opened. He turned round to greet Mr. Peter Magnus, and encounter- 
 ed in his stead the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, the serene countenance 
 of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments of Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus tripped into 
 the room. 
 
 " My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of, Mr. Magnus/' said 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "■ Your servant, gentlemen," said Mr. Magnus, evidently in a higb 
 state of excitement ; " Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you one 
 moment, sir.". 
 
 As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. Pick- 
 wick's button hole, and drawing him into a window recess, said — 
 
 " Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick ; I followed your advice to the 
 very letter." 
 
 "And it was all correct, was iti" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " It was, sir — could not possibly have been better," replied Mr. Mdg- 
 nus ; " Mr. Pickwick, she is mine." 
 
 *' I congratulate you, with all my heart," replied Mr. Pickwi ;k, 
 warmly shaking his new friend by the hand. 
 
 "You must see her, sir," said Mr. Magnus; "this way, if you 
 please. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen." And hurrying on in 
 this way, Mr. Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. He 
 paused at the next door in the passage, and tapped gently thereat. 
 
 " Come- in," said a female voice. And in they went. 
 
 "Miss Witherfield," said Mr. Magnus, '^allow me to introduce my 
 very particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to piake 
 you knawn to Miss Witherfield." 
 
 The lady was at the upper end of the room, and as Mr. Pickwick 
 bowed, he took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, and put them 
 on, a process which he had no sooner gone through, than, uttering aa 
 e.vclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several paces, and the 
 lady with a half-suppressed scream,, hid her face in her hands, and 
 dropped into a chair; whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was struck mo- 
 tionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the other, with a counte- 
 nance expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise. 
 
 This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behaviour ; 
 but the fact was, tliat Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles, 
 than he at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into 
 wlio.'ie room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night ; 
 and the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick's nose, than the 
 lady at once identified the countenance which she had seen surrounded 
 by all the horrors of a night-cap. »So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pick- 
 wick started. 
 
 "Mr. Pickwick I" exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment, 
 "What is the meaning oflhis. sir? What is the meaning of it, sir]'* 
 added Mr. Magnus in a threatening and a louder tone. 
 
 " Six,'* said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden 
 
330 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 manner in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into the 
 imperative mood, " I decline answering that question." 
 
 *' Vou decline it, sir ?" said Mr. Magnus. 
 
 " I do, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick ; " I object to say any thing which 
 may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her 
 breast, without her consent and permission." 
 
 " Miss Witherfield," said Mr. Peter Magnus, " do you know this 
 person ?" 
 
 " Know him !" repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating. 
 
 " Yes, know him, ma'am, I said know him," replied Mr. Magnus, 
 with ferocity. 
 
 " I have seen him," replied the middle-aged lady. 
 
 *• Where T' inquired Mr. Magnus, *' Where 1" 
 
 *' That," said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting' 
 her head, *' that I would not reveal for worlds." 
 
 " I understand you, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, " and respect your 
 delicacy ; it shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it." 
 
 *' Upon ray word, ma'am," said Mr. Magnus, *' considering the situ- 
 ation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this mat- 
 ter off with tolerable coolness — tolerable coolness, ma'am." 
 
 "Cruel Mr. Magnus," said the middle-aged lady, and here she wept 
 very copiously indeed. 
 
 " Address your observations to me, sir," interposed Mr. Pickwick ; 
 " I alone am to blame, if anybody be." 
 
 "Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?" said Mr. Magnus; 
 *• I — I — sec through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, 
 do you ?" 
 
 " My determination !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Your determination, sir. Oh ! don't stare at me, sir," said Mr. 
 Magnus ; " I recolliect your words last night, sir. You came down 
 here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on 
 whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance — eh 1" Here 
 Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer : and taking off his 
 green spectacles — which he probably found superfluous in his fit of 
 jealousy — rolled his little eyes about in a manner which was frightful 
 to behold. 
 
 " Ell ?■' said Mr. Magnus ; and then he repeated the sneer with in- 
 creased effect. " But you shall answer it, sir." 
 
 " Answer what V said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Never mind, sir," replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the 
 room — " Never mind".'' 
 
 There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of 
 " Never mind," for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel 
 in the street, at the theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has 
 not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries, " Do you call 
 yourself a gentleman, sir]" — " Never mind, sir." " Did I offer to say 
 any thing to the young woman, sirl" — " Never mind, sir." " Do you 
 want your head knocked up against that wall, sir?" — "Never mind, 
 sir." It is observable, too, that there woukl appear to be some hidden 
 taunt in this universal " Never mind," which rouses more indignation 
 in the bosom of the individual addressed, than the most lavish abuse 
 could possibly awaken. 
 
 We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to him- 
 fc'elf struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul which it 
 
THE. PICKWICK CLUB L37 
 
 would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merely record the 
 fact that Mr. JPickwick opened the room door, and abruptly called out 
 " 1 upman, come here." 
 
 Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of very 
 considerable surprise. 
 
 " Tupman," said Mr. Pickwick, " a secret of some delicacy in which 
 that lady is concerned, is the cause of a diflerence which has just arisen 
 between this gentleman and myself When I assure him, in your pre- 
 sence, that it has no relation to himself, and is not in any way con- 
 nected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that if 
 he continues to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my veracily, which 
 I shall consider extremely insulting." As Mr. Pickwick said this, he 
 looked encyclopaedias at Mr. Peter Magnus. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's upright and honourable bearing, coupled with that 
 force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would 
 have carried conviction to any reasonable mind ; but unfortunately at 
 that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in any 
 thing but reasonable order. .Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. 
 Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith pro- 
 ceeded to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, 
 and to talk about what was due to his own feelings, and all that sort of 
 thing, adding 6)rce to his declamation by striding to and fro, and pull- 
 ing his hair, amusements which he would vary occasionally by shaiting 
 his fist in .Mr. Pickwick's philanthropic countenance. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and rec- 
 titude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved the middle-aged 
 lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly .Usposjed as was 
 bis wont. The consequence was, that words ran high, and voices 
 higher, and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should hear 
 from him, to which Mr. Pickwick replied with laudable politeness, that 
 the sooner he heard from him the better ; whereupon the middle-aged 
 lady rushed in terror from the room, out of which Mr. Ttfpman dragged 
 Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation. 
 
 If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or 
 profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the 
 laws and set the fashions, she weuld have known that this sort of 
 •ferocity is just the most harmless thing in nature : but as she had lived 
 for the most part in the country, and never read the parliamentary 
 debates, she was little versed in these particular refinements of civilized 
 life. Accordingly, when she had gained her bed-chamber, bolted 
 herself in, and begun to meditate on the scene she had just witnessed, 
 the most terrific pictures of slaughter and destruction presented them- 
 selves to her imagination ; among which a full length portrait of Mr. 
 Peter Magnus borne home by four men, with the embellishment of a 
 whole barrel-full of bullets in his left side, was among the very least. 
 The more the middle-aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became ; 
 and at length she determined to repair to the house of the principal 
 magistrate of the town, and request him to gecure the persons of Mr. 
 Pickwick and Mr. Tupman, without delay. 
 
 To this decision, the middle-aged- lady was impelled by a variety of 
 considerations, the chief of which was, the incontestable proof it would 
 afford of her devotion to Mr. P< tcr Magnus, and her anxiety tor his 
 (Safety. ^She was too well acquainted with his jealous temperament to 
 venture the slightest allusion to the real cause of liis agitation on 
 
239 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 beholdinor Mr. Pickwick ; and she trusted to her own influence and 
 power of persuasion with the little man, to quell his boisterous jealousy, 
 Bupposina that Mr. Pickwick were remove^d, and no fresh quarrel could 
 arise. Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed her- 
 self in her bonnet and shawl, and prepared to the mayor's dwelling 
 straightway. 
 
 Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, 
 was about as grand a personage as the fastest walker would find out, 
 between sunrise and sunset, on the twenty-first of June, which being, 
 according to the aln^anacs, the longest day in the whole year, would 
 naturally afford him the longest period for his search. On this par- 
 ticular morning, Mr. Nupkins was in a state of the utmost excitement 
 and irritation, for there had been a rebellion in the town ; all the day- 
 scholars at the largest day-school, had conspired to break the windows 
 of an obnoxious apple-seller, and had hooted the beadle, and pelted the 
 constabulary — an elderly gentleman in top-hoots, who had been called 
 on to repress the tumult ; and had been a peace-officer, man and boy, 
 for half a century at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his easy 
 chair, frowning with majesty and boiling with rage, when a lady was 
 announced on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr. Nup- 
 kins looked calmly terrible, and commanded that the lady should be 
 shown in, which command, like all the mandates of emperors, and 
 magistrates, and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith 
 obeyed ; and Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in 
 accordingly. 
 
 *' Muzzle," said the magistrate. 
 
 Muzzle was an under-sized footman, with a long body and short legs. 
 
 *' Muzzle." 
 
 " Yes, your worehip." 
 
 " Place a chair and leave the room." 
 
 *' Yes, your worship." 
 
 *'Now, ma'am, will you state jrour business 1" said the magistrate. 
 
 " It is of a very painful kind, sir," said Miss Witherfield. 
 
 ♦'Very likely, ma'am," said the magistrate. "Compose your feel- 
 ings, ma'am." Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. " And then tell 
 me what legal business brings you here, ma'am." Here the magistrate 
 triumphed over the man : and he looked stern again. 
 
 " It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information," said Miss 
 Witherfield ; '' but I fear a duel is going to be fought here." 
 
 "Here, ma"am," said the magistrate. " Where, ma'am 1" 
 
 " In Ipswich." 
 
 " In Ipswich, ma'am — a duel in Ipswich," said the magistrate, per- 
 fectly aghast at the notion. " Impossible, ma'am : nothing of the kind 
 can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, 
 ma'am ; are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy ] Do you 
 happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the 
 fourth of May last, attended by only sixty special constables ; and, at 
 the hazard of falling a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated 
 multitude, prohibited a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dump- 
 ling and the Suffolk Bantam ] A duel in Ipswich, ma'am ! I don't 
 think — I do not think," said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, 
 " that any two men can have had the hardihood to plan such a breach 
 of the peace, in this town." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 239 
 
 <*My information is, unfortunately, but too correct," said themiddle- 
 :;ged lady ; '* I was present at the quarrel." 
 
 ♦' It's a most extraordinary thing,'' said the astounded magistrate, 
 ♦• Muzzle." 
 
 ♦' Yes, your worship." 
 
 "Send Mr. Jinks here, directly — instantly." 
 
 *• Yes, your worship." 
 
 Muzzle retired ; and a pale sharp-nosed, half- fed, shabbily clad clerk, 
 of middle-ajje, entered the room. • 
 
 *' Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate — «' Mr. Jinks." 
 
 *' Sir," said Mr. Jinks. 
 
 "This lady, Mr. Jinks, has come here to give information of an in- 
 tended duel in this town." 
 
 Mr. Jinks, not exactly knowing what to do, smiled a dependant's 
 smile. . 
 
 " What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinks ?" said the magistrate. 
 
 Mr. Jinks looked strious, instantly. 
 
 "Mr. Jinks,'' said the magistrate, "you're a fool, sir." 
 
 Mr. Jinks looked humbly at the great man, and bit the top of his pen. 
 
 " You may s°e somethmg very comical in this information, sir ; but 
 I can tell you this, Mr. Jinks; that you have very little to laugh at,'* 
 said the magistrate. 
 
 The hungry looking Jinks sighed, as if he were quite aware of the 
 fact of his having ver)' little, indeed, to be merry about ; and, being 
 ordered to take the lady's information, shambled to his seat, and pro- 
 ceeded to write it down. 
 
 " 'I'his man, Pickwick, is the principal. I understand," said the ma- 
 gistrate, when the statemert was finished. 
 
 " He is," said the middle-aged lady. 
 
 " And the other rioter — what's his name, Mr. Jinks ]" 
 
 " Tupman, sir. 
 
 " Tupman is the second 1" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The other principal, you say, has absconded, ma'am V 
 
 "Yes," replied \^is3 \\'itherfield, with a short cough. 
 
 " Very ^\ell,'' said the ma jistrate. " These are two cut-throats from 
 Ix)ndon, who have come down here to destroy his majesty's popula- 
 tion, thinjiing that at this distance from the capital the arm of the law 
 is weak and paralyzed. They shall be made an example of Draw 
 up the warrants, Mr. Jinks. Muzzle." 
 
 " Yes, your worship."' 
 
 " Is Grummer down stairs !" 
 
 "Yes, your worship." 
 
 "Send him up." 
 
 The obsequious Muzzle retired, and presently returned, introducing 
 the elderly gentleman in the top boots, who was chiefly remarkable for a 
 bottle nose, a hoarse voice, snuff-coloured surtout, and a wandering eye. 
 
 " Grummer," said the magistrate. 
 
 "Your wash-up." 
 
 " Is the town quiet now!" 
 
 " Pretty well, your wash-up,," roplied Grummer. " Pop'lar feeling 
 has in a measure subsided, consekens o' tHe bova having dispersed to 
 cricket." 
 
 "Nothing bjit vigorous- measures will do in these times, Grummer," 
 
240 POSTHUMODS PAPERS OF 
 
 said the magistrate, in a determined manner. " If the authority of 
 the kmcr's officers is set at naught, we mnst have the riot act read. 
 If the civil power cannot protect these windows, Grummcr, the military 
 must protect the civil power, and the windows too. I believe that is a 
 maxim of the constitution, Mr. Jenks?" 
 " Certainly, sir," said Jenks. 
 
 *' Vrry good," said the magistrate, signing the warrants. " Grum- 
 mer, you will bring these persons before me, this afternoon. You will 
 find them at the Great White Horse. You recollect the case of the 
 Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam, Grummerl" 
 
 Mr. Grummer intimated, by a retrospective shake of the head, that 
 he should never forget it — as indeed it was not likely he would, so 
 long as it continued to be cited daily. 
 
 *' This is even more unconstitutional," said the magistrate ; " this 
 is even a greater breach of the peace, and a grosser infringement of 
 his majesty's prerogative. I believe duelling is one of his majesty's 
 most undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinks?" 
 
 " Expressly stipulated in Magna Charter, sir," said Mr. Jinks. 
 
 *' One -of the brightest jewels in the British crown, wrung from his 
 majesty by the political union of barons, I believe, Mr. Jinks?" said 
 the magistrate. 
 
 " Just so, sir," replied Mr. Jinks. 
 
 *' Very well," said the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly, " it 
 shall not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grummer^ pro- 
 cure assistance, and execute these warrants with as little delay as 
 possible. Muzzle." 
 
 "Yes, your worship." 
 
 " Show the lady out." 
 
 Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrate's 
 learning and research ; Mr. Nupkins retired to lunch ; Mr. Jinks' 
 retired within himself — that being the only retirement he had, except 
 tlie sofa-bedstead in the small parlour which was occupied by his land- 
 lady's family in the day-time— ;-and Mr. Grummer retired to wash out, 
 by his mode, of discharging his present commission, the insult which 
 had been fastened upon himseli", and the other representative of his 
 majesty — the beadle — in the course of the morning. 
 
 While these resolute and determined preparations for the conserva- 
 tion of the king's peace were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, 
 wholly unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had sat quietly 
 down to dinner ; and very talkative and companionable they all were; 
 ?.Ir. Pickv/ick was in the very act of relating his adventure of the pre- 
 ceding night, to the great amusement of his followers, Mr. Tupman 
 especially, when the door opened, and a somewhat forbidding counte- 
 nance peeped into the room. The eyes of the forbidding countenance 
 looked very earnestly at Mr. Pickwick for several seconds, and were to 
 all appearance satisfied with their investigation ; for the body to which 
 the forbidding countenance belonged, slowly brought itself into the 
 apartment, and presented the form of an elderly individual in top-boots 
 — not to keep the reader any longer in suspense, in short, the eyes were 
 the wandering eyes of Mr. Grummer, and the body was the body of 
 the same gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Grummer's mode of proceeding was professional, but peculiar. 
 His first act was to bolt the door on the inside;, his second, to polish 
 his head and countenance very carefully wlih a cotton^ handkerchief; 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. Z4l 
 
 his third, to place his hat, with the cotton handkerchief in it, on the 
 nearest chair ; and his fourth, to produce from the breast pocket of his 
 coat a shori truncheon, surmounted by a brazen crown, with which he 
 beckoned to Mr. Pickwick with a grave and ghost-like air. 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass was the first to break the astonished silence. He 
 looked steadily at Mr. Gruinraer for a brief space, and then said em- 
 phatically — '' This is a private room, sir — a private room." 
 
 Mr. Grummer shook his head, and replied — " Xo room's private to 
 his majesty, when the street door's once passed. That's law. Some 
 people maintains that an Englishman's house is his castle. That's 
 gammon."' 
 
 The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes. 
 
 " Which is Mr. Tupman ?" inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an in- 
 tuitive perception of Mr. Pickwick ; he knew him at once. 
 
 "My name's Tupman," said that gentleman. 
 
 *' My name's Law," said Mr. Grummer. 
 
 " What ]" said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Law," replied Mr. Grummer, " law, civil power and executive; 
 them's my titles ; here's ray authority. Blank Tupman, blank Pich- 
 vick — against the peace of our suflerin' lord the king — stattit in that 
 case made and provided — and all regular. I apprehend you Pickvick, 
 Tupman — the aforesaid." 
 
 *' What do you mean by this insolence V* said Mr. Tupman, starting 
 up — " Leave the room, leave the room." 
 
 " Halloo, ' said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to the 
 door, and opening it an inch or two, *■• Dubbley." 
 
 " Well," said a deep voice from the passage. 
 
 "Come for'ard, Dubbley," said Mr. Grummer. 
 
 At the word of command a dirty-faced man, something over six feet 
 high, and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through the half-open 
 door, making his face very red in the process, and entered the room. 
 
 "Is the other specials outside, Dubbley ;" inquired Mr. Grummfr. 
 
 Mr. Dubbley, who was a man of few words, nodded assent. 
 
 ''Order in the diwision under your charge, Dubbley," said Mr. 
 Grummer. 
 
 Mr. Dubbley did as he was desired ; and half-a-dozen men, each with 
 a short truncheon and a brass crown, flocked into the room. Mr. 
 Grummer pocketed his staff and looked at Mr. Dubbley, Mr. Dubbley 
 pocketed hs staff and looked at the division : and the division pocketed 
 /Jinr staves and looked at Messrs. Tupman and Pickwick. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick and his followers rose as one man. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this atrocious intrusion upon my pri- 
 vacy !" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ■'Who dares apprehend me '"' said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " What do you want here, scoundrels l" said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 Mr. Winkle said nothing, but he fixed his eyes on Grummer, and 
 bestowed a look upon him, which, if he had had any feeling, must 
 have pierced hh brain, and come out on the othar side. As it was, 
 however, it had no visible effect upon him whatever. 
 
 When the executive perceived that Mr. Pickwick and his friends 
 were disposed to resist the authority of the law, they very significantly 
 turned up their coat sleevr.s, as if knocking them down in the firtt in- 
 stance, and taking them up afterward, were a mere professional act, 
 which had onlv to be thought of to be done, aa a matter of course. 
 
 Vol. 1.-21 
 
249 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 This demonstration was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He conferred 
 a few moments with Mr. Tupman apart, and then signified his readi- 
 ness to proceed to the mayor's residence, merely begging the parties 
 then and there assembled, to take notice, that it was hi.s tirm intention 
 to resent this monstrous invasion of his privileges as an Englishman, 
 the instant he was at liberty ; whereat, the parties then and there as- 
 sembled laughed very heartily, with the single exception of Mr. Grum- 
 mer, who seemed to consider that any slight cast upon the divine right 
 of magistrates, was a species of blasphemy not to be tolerated. 
 
 But when Mr. Pickwick had signified his readiness to bow to the 
 laws of his country, and just when the waiters and hostlers, and cham- 
 bermaids, and post-boys, who had anticipated a delightful commotion 
 from his threatened obstinacy, began to turn away, disappointed and 
 disgusted, a difficulty arose which had not been foreseen. With every 
 sentiment of veneration for the constituted authorities, Mr. Pickwick 
 resolutely protested against making his appearance in the public streets 
 surrounded and guarded by the officers of justice, like a common crimi- 
 nal. Mr. Grummer, in the then disturbed state of public feeling, (for 
 it was half-holiday, and the boys had not yet gone home,) as resolutely 
 protested against walking on the opposite side of the way, and taking 
 Mr. Pickwick's parole that he would go straight to the magistrate's ; 
 and both Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman as strenuously objected to 
 the expense of a post-coach, which was the only respectable convey- 
 ance that could be obtained. The dispute ran high, and the dilemma 
 lasted long ; and just as the executive were on the point of overcoming 
 Mr. Pickwick's objection to walk to the magistrate's, by the trite expe- 
 dient of carrying him thither, it was recollected that there stood in the 
 inn yard, an old sedan chair, which having been oritrinally built for a 
 gouty gentleman, with funded property, would hold Mr. Pickwick and 
 Mr. Tupman, at least as conveniently as a modern post-chaise. The 
 chair was hired, and brought into the hall ; Mr. Pickwick and Mr. 
 Tupman squeezed themselves inside, and pulled down the blinds ; a 
 couple of chairmen were speedily found, and the prdcession started in 
 grand order. The specials surrounded the body of the vehicle. Mr. 
 Grummer and Mr. Dubbley marched triumphantly in front, Mr. Snod- 
 grass and Mr. Winkle walked arm in arm behind, and the unsoaped of 
 Ipswich brought up the rear. 
 
 The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very indistinct 
 notion of the nature of the offence, could not but be much edified and 
 gratified by this spectacle. Here was the strong arm of the law, 
 coming down with twenty gold beater force, upon two offenders from 
 the metropolis itself; the mighty engine was directed by their own 
 magistrate, and worked by their own officers ; and both the criminals, 
 by their united efforts, were securely boxed up, in the narrow compass 
 of one sedan-chair. Many were the expressions of approval and ad- 
 miration which greeted Mr. Grummer, as he headed the cavalcade, 
 staff in hand ; loud and long were the shouts which were raised by the 
 unsoaped ; and amidst these united testimonials of public approbation, 
 the procession moved slowly and majestically along. 
 
 Mr. Weller, habited in his morning jacket with the black calico 
 sleeves, was returning in a rather desponding state from an unsuccessful 
 survey of the mysterious house with the green-gate, when, raising his 
 eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the streets, surrounding an 
 object which had very much the appearance of a sedan-chair. Willing 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. ^% 
 
 to divert his thoughts from the failure of his enterprise, he stepped 
 aside to see the crowd pass ; and linding that they were cheering away, 
 very much to their own satisfaction, forthwith began (just by way of 
 raising his spirits) to cheer too, with all his might and main. 
 
 Mr. Grummer passed, and iVIr. Dubbley passed, and the sedan 
 passed, and the body-guard of specials passed, and Sam was still 
 responding to the enthusiastic cheers of the mob, and waving his hat 
 about as if he were in the very last extreme of the wildest joy (though 
 of course he had not the faintest idea of the matter in hand,) when he 
 was suddenly stopped by the unexpected appearance of iMr. Winkle 
 and Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " What's the row, genl'm'n 1" cried Sam, " Who have they got in 
 this here watch-box in mournin' ]", 
 
 Both gentlemen replied together, but their words were lost in the 
 tumult. 
 
 «' Who is it ]" roared Sam again. 
 
 Once more was a joint reply returned ; and though the words were 
 inaudible, Sam saw by the motion of the two pairs of lips that they had 
 uttered the magic word " Pickwick." 
 
 This wa*? enough. In another minute Mr. Weller had made his 
 way through the crowd, stopped the chairmen, and confronted the portly 
 Grummer. 
 
 " Hallo, old genl'm'n," said Sam, " Who have you got in this here 
 con-wayance 1" 
 
 " Stand back," said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the dignity 
 of a great many other men, had been wondrously augmented by a little 
 popularity, 
 
 "Knock him down, if he don't," said Mr. Dubbley. 
 
 " I'm werry much obliged to you, old genl'm'n," replied Sam, '< for 
 consulting my conwenience, and I'm still more obliged to the other 
 genl'm'n, who looks as if he'd just escaped frotn a giant's carrawan, 
 for his werry 'ansome suggestion ; but I should prefer your givin' me 
 a answer to my question, if it's all the same to you. How are you, 
 sir?" This last observation was addressed witli a patronizing air to 
 Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window. 
 
 Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged the 
 truncheon with the brass crown, from its particular pocket, juid 
 flourished it before Sam's eyes. 
 
 "Ah," said Sam, '-it's werry pretty, 'specially the crown, which is 
 uncommon like the real one." 
 
 " Stand back," said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of adding 
 -force to the command, he thrust the brass emblem of royalty into Sam'et 
 neckcloth with one hand, and seized Sam's collar with the other, a 
 compliment which Mr. Weller returned by knocking him down out of 
 hand, having ])reviously, with the utmost consideration, knocked down 
 a chairman for him to lie upon. 
 
 Whether Mr. W^inkle was seized with a temporary attack of that 
 species of insanity which originates in a sense of injury, or animated 
 by this display of Mr. Weller's valour, is uncertain ; but certain it is, 
 that he no sooner saw Mr. Grummer fall, than he made a terrific on- 
 slaught on a small boy who stood ne.^t him ; whereupon Mr. Snod- 
 grass, in a truly Christian spirit, and in order that he might take no 
 one unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going to be- 
 gin, and proceeded to take oil' his cout with the utmost deliberation. — 
 
'tA 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 He was immediately surrounJed and secured ; and it is but commoii 
 justice both to him and Mr. Winkle to say, that they did not make the 
 slightest attempt to rescue either themselves or Mr. Welier, who, after 
 a most vigorous resistance, was overpowered by numbers, and taken pri- 
 soner. The procession then re-formed, the chairmen resumed their 
 stations, and the march was recommenced. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceeding was 
 beyond all bounds. He could just see Sam upsetting the specials, and 
 riying about in every direction, and that was all he could see, for the 
 sedan doors wouldn't open, and the blinds wouldn't pull up. At length, 
 with the assistance of Mr. Tupman, he managed to push open the roof; 
 and mounting on the seat, and steadying himself as well as he could, 
 by placing his hand on that gentleman's shoulder, Mr. Pickwick pro- 
 ceeded to address the multitude ; to dwell upon the unjustifiable man- 
 ner in which he had been treated ; and to call upon them to take no- 
 tice that his servant had been first assaulted. And in this order they 
 reached the magistrate's house; the chairmen trotting, the prisoners 
 following, Mr. Piekwick oratorizing, and the crowd shouting. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 snOWlXG, AMONG A VARIETY OF PLEASANT MATTERS, HOW MAJESTIC AND 
 IMPARTIAL MR. NUPKINS WAS ; AND HOW MR. WELLER RETURNED MR. 
 JOB TP.OTTER's SHUTTLECOCK, AS HEAVILY AS IT CAME ; WITH ANOTHER 
 :«.<.TTER, WHICH WILL BE FOUND IN ITS PLACE. 
 
 Violent was ?rlr. Weller's indignation as he was borne along ; nu- 
 merous were the allusions to the personal appearance and demeanour 
 of Mr. Grummer and his companion ; and valorous were the defiances 
 to any six of the gentlemen present, in which he vented his dissatis- 
 faction. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle listened with gloomy respect 
 to the torrent of eloquence which their leader poured forth from the 
 sedan chair, and the rapid course of which not all Mr. Tupmaii's car- 
 nest enireaties to have the lid of the vehicle closed were able to check 
 for an instant. But Mr. Weller's anger quickly gave way to curiosity 
 when the procession turned down the identical court -yard in which he 
 had met the runaway Job Trotter : and curiosity was exchanged for a 
 feeling of the most gleeful astonishment when the all-important Mr. 
 Orammer, commanding the sedan bearers to halt, advanced with dig- 
 nified and portentous steps to the very green gate from which Job 
 Trotter had emerged, and gave a mighty pull at the bell- handle which 
 hung at the side thereof The ring was answered by a very smart and 
 pretty-faced servant girl, who, after holding up her hands in astonish- 
 ment at the rebellious appearance of the prisoners, and the ijupassion- 
 ate language of Mr. Pickwick, summoned Mr. Muzzle. Mr. Muzzle 
 opened one-half of the carriage gate to admit the sedan, the captured 
 ones, and the specials; and immediately slammed it in the faces of the 
 mob, who, indignant at being e.xcluded, and anxious to sec what fol- 
 lowed, relieved their feelings by kicking at the gate and ringing the 
 t>cH, for an hour or two afterwards. In this amusement they all took 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 245 
 
 part by turns, except three or four fortunate individuals who having 
 discovered a grating in the gate which commanded a view of nothing, 
 were staring through it with the same indefatigable perseverance with 
 which people will flatten their noses against the front windows of a 
 chemist's shop, when a drunken man who has been run over by a dog 
 cart in the street, is undergoing a surgical inspection in the back- 
 parlour. 
 
 At the foot of a flight of steps leading to the house door, which were 
 guarded on either side by an American aloe in a green tub, the sedan- 
 chair stopped ; and Mr. Pickwick and his friends were conducted into 
 the hall, from whence, having been previously announced by Muzzle, 
 and ordered in by Mr. Nupkins, they were ushered into the worshipfiil 
 presence of that public-spirited officer. 
 
 The scene was an impressive one, well calculated to strike terror to 
 the hearts of culprits, and to impress them with an adequate idea of 
 the stern majesty of the law. In front of a big bookcase, in a big 
 chair, behind a big table, and before a big volume, sat Mr. Nupkins, 
 looking a full size larger than any one of them, big as they were. The 
 table was adorned with piles of papers : and above the farther end of 
 it appeared the head and shoulders of Mr. Jinks who was busily en- 
 gaged in looking as busy as possible. The party having all entered. 
 Muzzle carefully closed the door, and placed himself behind his master's 
 chair, to await his orders ; Mr. Nu{>kins threw himself back with 
 thrilling solemnity, and scrutinized the faces of his unwilling 
 visiters. 
 
 " Now, Grummer, who is that person !*' said Mr. Nupkins, pointing 
 to Mr. Pickwick, who, as the spokesmen of his friend's, stood hat in 
 band, bowing with the utmost politeness and respect. 
 
 " This here's Pickvick, your wash-up," said Grummer. 
 
 " Come, none o' that 'ere, old Strike-a-light," interposed Mr. Wel- 
 ler, elbowing himself into the front rank — " Beg vour pardon, sir, but 
 this here officer o' youru in the gambooge tops, 'ull never earn a decent 
 livin", as a master o' the ceremonies any vere. This here, sir," con- 
 tinued Mr. Weller, thrusting Grummer aside, and addressing the 
 magistrate with pleasant familiarity — •' This here is S. Pickvick, 
 Esquire ; this here's Mr. Tupman ; that 'ere's Mr. Snodgrass ; and 
 furder on, next him on the t'other side, Mr. Winkle — all werry nice 
 gen'l'm'n, sir, as you'll be werry happy to have the acquaintance on ; 
 so the sooner you commits these here officers o' yourn to the tread- 
 mill, for a month or two, the sooner we shall begin to be on a pleasant 
 understanding. Business first, pleasure arterwards, as King Richard 
 the Third said ven he stabbed the t'other king in the Tower, afore ho 
 smothered the babbies." 
 
 At the conclusion of this address, Mr. Weller brushed his hat with 
 his right elbow, and nodded benignly to Jinks, who had heard him 
 throughout, with unspeakable awe. 
 
 " Who is this man, Grummer !" said the magistrate. 
 
 "Werry df.sp'rate character, your wa.sh-up," replied Grummer. 
 " He attempted to rescue the prisoners, and assaulted the officers — so 
 we took him into custody, and brought him here." 
 
 " You did quite right," replied the magistrate. " He is evidently a 
 desperate ruffian." 
 
 "He is my servant, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, angrily. 
 
 " Oh ! he is your servant, is he ? " said Mr. Nupkins. •' A con 
 21» 
 
"Z-li POSrHL'MOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 spiracy to tleftat the ends of justice, and murder its officers. Pick- 
 wick's servant. Put that down, Mr. Jinks." 
 Mr. Jinks did so. 
 
 *' Wiiat's your name, fellow 1" thundered Mr. Nupkins. 
 *'Veller," replied Sam. 
 
 " A very good name for the Newgate Calendar," said Mr. Nupkins. 
 This was a joke ; so Jinks, Grummer, Dubbley, all the specials, and 
 Muzzle went into fits of laughter for five minutes' duration. 
 *' Put down his name, .Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate. 
 " Two L's, old feller," said Sam. 
 
 Here an unfortunate special laughed again, whereupon the magis- 
 trate threatened to commit him instantly. It's a dangerous thing 
 laughing at the wrong man, in these cases. 
 " Where do you live ?" said the magistrate. 
 " Vere-ever I can," replied Sam. 
 
 " Put down that, Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate, who was fast 
 lising into a rage. 
 
 '' Score it under," said Sam. 
 
 *'He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate. "He is a 
 vagabond, on his own statement, is he not, Mr. Jinks V 
 '• Certainly, sir." 
 
 '* Then FU commit him — Pll commit him as such," said Mr. Nupkins. 
 " This is a werry impartial country for justice," said Sam, " There 
 ain't a magistrate going, as don't commit himself twice as often as he 
 commits other people.'" 
 
 At this sally, another special laughed, and then tried to look so su- 
 pi'tnaturally solemn, that the magistrate detected him immediately. 
 
 "Grummer," said Mr. Nupkins, reddening with passion, "how dare 
 you select such an inefficient and disreputable person for a special con- 
 stable, as that man 1 How dare you do it, sir !" 
 
 *' I am werry sorry, your wash-up," stammered Grummer. 
 "Very sorry !" said the furious magistrate. "You shall repent of 
 this neglect of duty, Mr. Grummer ; you shall be made an example of. 
 Take that fellow's staff away» He's drunk. You're drunk, fellow." 
 " I am not drunk, your worship," said the man. 
 "You are drunk," returned the magistrate. "How dare you say 
 you are not drunk, sir, when I say you are ? Doesn't he smell of 
 ypirils, Grummer ?" 
 
 " Horrid, your wash-up," replied Grummer, who had a vague im- 
 pression that there was a smell of rum somewhere. 
 
 " I knew he did," said Mr. Nupkins. " I saw he was drunk when 
 he first came into the room, by his excited eye. Did you observe his 
 excited eye, Mr. Jinks V 
 "Certainly, sir." 
 
 " I haven't touched a drop of spirits this morning," said the man, 
 who was as sober a fellow as need be. 
 
 " How dare you tell me a falsehood !" said Mr. Nupkins. " Isn't 
 he drunk at this moment, Mr. Jinks?" 
 " Certainly, sir," replied Jinks. 
 
 "Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate, "I shall commit that man for 
 contempt. Make out his committal, Mr. Jinks." 
 
 And committed the special would have been, only Jinks, who was 
 the magistrate's adviser, having had a legal education of three years, in 
 a country attorney's office, whispered the magistrate that he thought it 
 
THE PICKWICK CLWB. 247 
 
 wouldn't do ; so th? mairistratc made a speech, and said, that in con- 
 sideration of the special's family, he would merely reprimand and dis- 
 charcre him. Accordinuly, the special xvas abused vehementiy for a 
 quarter of an hour, and sent about his business ; and Grurnmer, Dud- 
 ley, Muzzle, and all the other specials murmured their admiration of 
 the magnanimity of Mr. Xupkins. 
 
 «' Now, Mr. Jinks,'" said the magistrate, " swear Grummer.'' 
 
 Grummer was swoni directly ; but as Grummer wandered, and Mr. 
 Nupkins' dinner was nearly ready, Mr. Nupkins cut the matter short, 
 by putting leading questions to Grummer, which Grummer answered 
 as nearly in the affirmative as he could. So, the examination went 
 off, all very smooth and comfortable ; and the two assaults were proved 
 against Mr. Weller, and a threat against Mr. Winkle, and a push 
 acrainst Mr. Snodgrass. And when all this was done to the magis- 
 trate's satisfaction, the magistrate and Mr. Jinks consulted in whispers. 
 
 The consultation having lasted about ten minutes, Mr. Jinks retired 
 to his end of the table ; and the magistrate, with a preparatory cough, 
 drew himself up in his chair, and was proceeding to commence his 
 address, when Mr. Pickwick interposed. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting you," said Mr. Pickwick ; 
 " but before you proceed to express, and act upon, any opinion you 
 may have formed on the statements which have been made here, I 
 must claim my right to be heard so far as I am personally concerned." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sir," said the magistrate, peremptorily. 
 
 " I must submit to you, sir," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 •* Hold your tongue, sir," interposed the magistrate, " or I shall or- 
 der an officer to remove you." 
 
 " You may order your ofiicers to do whatever you please, sir,"' said 
 Mr. Pickwick ; " and I have no doubt, from the specimen I have had 
 of the subordination preserved among them, that whatever you order 
 they will execute ; but I shall take the liberty, sir, of claiming my right 
 to be heard, until I am removed by force." 
 
 " Pickvick and principle," exclaimed -Mr. Weller, in a vcrj- audible 
 voice. 
 
 '^Sam, be quiet," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Dura as a drum vith a hole in it," replied Sam. 
 
 Mr. ISupkins looked at Mr. Pickwick with a gaze of intense astonish- 
 ment, at his displaying such unwonted temerity ; and was apparenth" 
 about to return a very angry reply, when Mr. Jinks pulled him by the 
 sleeve, and whispered something in his ear. To this the magistrate 
 returned a half-audible answer, and then the whispering was renewed. 
 Jinks was evidently remonstrating. 
 
 At length the magistrate, gulping down with a verv' bad grace his 
 disinclination to hear any thing more, turned to Mr. Pickwick, and 
 said sharply, — " What do you want to say 1" 
 
 " First," said Mr. Pickwick, sending a look through his spectacles, 
 under which even Nupkins quailed, — '• Firf^t, I wish to know what I 
 and my friend have been brought here for "' 
 
 " .Must I tell him ''.'" whispered the magistrate to Jinks. 
 
 '• I think you had belter, sir," whispered Jinks to the magistrate. 
 
 •' An information has been sworn before me," said the magistrate, 
 *'that it is apprehended you are going to fight a duel, and that the 
 other man, Tupman^ is your aider and abetter in it Therefore — eh, 
 Mr. Jinks?" 
 
248 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OP 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " Therefore, I call upon you both, to — I think that's the course, Mr. 
 Jinks r' 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 *' To — to — what, Mr. Jinks 1" said the magistrate, pettishly. 
 
 " To find bail, sir." 
 
 " Yes. Therefore. I call upon you both — as I was about to say 
 when I was interrupted by my clerk — to find bail." 
 
 "Good bail," whispered Mr. Jinks. 
 
 *' I shall require good bail," said the magistrate. 
 
 " Town's people," whispered Jinks. 
 
 " They must be town's people," said the magistrate. 
 
 " Fifty pounds each," whispered Jinks, " and householders, of course.'' 
 
 "I shall require two sureties, of fifty pounds each," said the magis- 
 trate aloud, with great dignity, " and they must be householders, of 
 course." 
 
 *' But, bless my heart, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, who, together with 
 Mr. Tupman, was all amazement and indignation ; " we are perfect 
 strangers in this town. I have as little knowledge of any householders 
 here, as I have mtention of fighting a duel with any body." 
 
 " I dare say," replied the magistrate, " I dare say — don't you, Mr 
 Jinks r' 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " Have you any thing more to say V inquired the magistrate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had a great deal more to say, which he would no doubt 
 have said very little to his own advantage, or the magistrate's satis- 
 faction, if he had not, the moment he ceased speaking, been pulled by 
 the sleeve by Mr. Weller, with whom he was immediately engaged in 
 so earnest a conversation, that he suflTered the magistrate's inquiry to 
 pass wholly unnoticed. Mr. Nu[^kins was not the man to ask a ques- 
 tion of the kind twice over ; and so, with another preparatory cough, 
 he proceeded, amidst the reverential and admiring silence of the con- 
 stables, to pronounce his decision. 
 
 He should fine Weller two pounds for the first assault, and threo 
 pounds for the second. He should fine Winkle two pounds, and Snod- 
 grass one pound, besides requiring them to enter into their own re- 
 cognizances to keep the peace towards all his Majesty's subjects, and 
 especially towards his liege servant, Daniel Grummer. Pickwick and 
 Tupman he had already held to bail. 
 
 Immediately on the magistrate ceasing to speak, Mr. Pickwick, with 
 a smile mantling on his again good-humoured countenance, stepped 
 forward, and said — 
 
 " I beg the magistrate's pardon, but may I request a few minutes' 
 private conversation with him, on a matter of deep importance to 
 himself?" 
 
 " What I" said the magistrate. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick repeated his request. 
 
 " This is a most extraordinary request," said the magistrate — " A 
 private interview !'' 
 
 ** A private interview," replied Mr. Pickwick, firmly ; *' only, as a 
 part of the information which I wish to communicate is derived from 
 my servant, I should wish him to be present." 
 
 The magistrate looked at Mr. Jinks, Mr. Jinks looked at the magis- 
 trate, and the officers looked at each other in amazement. Mr Nup- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 249 
 
 kins turned suddenly pale. Could the man "^V'eller, in a moment of 
 remorse, have divulged some secret conspiracy for his assassination"? 
 It was a dreadful thought. He was a public man ; and he turned paler, 
 as he thought of Julius Caesar and Mr. Perceval. 
 
 The magistrate looked at Mr. Pickwiclc again, and beckoned Mr. 
 Jinks. 
 
 " What do you think of this request, Mr. Jinks 1" murmured Mr. 
 Nupkins. 
 
 Mr. Jinks, who didn't e.xactly know what to think of it, and was 
 afraid he might offend, smiled feebly, after a dubious fashion, and. 
 screwing up the corners of his mouth, shook his head slowly from side 
 to side. 
 
 '•■ Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate, gravely, "you are an ass, sir." 
 At this little expression of opinion, Mr. Jinks smiled again — rather 
 more feebly than before — and edged himself, by degrees, back into his 
 own corner. 
 
 Mr. Nupkins debated the matter within himself for a few seconds, 
 and then rising from lus chair, and requesting Mr. Pickwick and Sam 
 to follow him, led the way into a small room which opened into the 
 justice parlour. Desiring Mr. Pickwick to walk to the farther end of 
 the little apartment, and holding his hand upon the half-closed door, 
 that he might be able to effect an immediate escape, in case there was 
 the least tendency to a display of hostilities, Mr. Nupkins expressed 
 his readiness to hear the communication, whatever it mitrht be. 
 
 "I will come to the point at once, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, "it 
 
 affects yourself, and your credit, materially. I have every reason to 
 
 believe, sir, that you are harbouring in your house, a gross impostor '."' 
 
 " Two," interrupted Sam, " Mulberry agin all natur', for tears and 
 
 willany." 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, " if I am to render myself intelligibk' 
 to this gentleman, I must beg you to control your feelings." 
 
 "Worry sorry, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; ''but when I think o' that 
 'ere Job, I can't help opening tlic waive an inch or two." 
 
 " In one word, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, " is my servant right in sus- 
 pecting that a certain Captain Fitzmarshall is in the habit oi' visiting 
 kere ] Because," added Mr. Pickwick, as he saw that Mr. Nupkins 
 was about to offer a very indignant interruption — " because, if he be, I 
 know that person to be a — " 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Mr. Nupkins, closing the door. " Know him to 
 be what, sir 1" 
 
 " An unprincipled adventurer — a dishonourable character — a man 
 who preys upon society, and makes easily- deceived people his dupes, 
 sir ; his absurd, his foolish, his wretched dupes, sir," said the excited 
 Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Dear mo," said Mr. Nupkins, colouring up very red, and altering 
 
 Iiitt whole manner directly. " Dear me, Mr. " 
 
 "Pickvick," said Sam. 
 
 " Pickwick," said the magistrate, " Dear me, Mr. Pickwick — pray 
 take a seat — you cannot mean this ! Captain Fitzmarshall I'' 
 
 " Don't call him a cajj'en," said Sam, " nor Kitzmar«hall neither ; he 
 ain't neither one nor t'other. He's a strolling actor, he is, atid his 
 name's Jingle ; and if ever there was a wolf in a mulberry suit, that 
 'ere Job Trotter's him." 
 
 " It is very true, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, replying to the magistrate's 
 
250 POSTHfMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 look of amazement ; '♦ my only business in this town is to expose the 
 person of whom we now speak." 
 
 And j\Ir. Pickwick proceeded to pour into the horror-stricken ear of 
 Mr. ISupkins an abridged account of all Mr. Jingle's atrocities. He 
 related how he had first met him, how he had eloped with Miss Wardle, 
 how he had cheerfully resigned the lady for a pecuniary consideratio;i, 
 how he had entrapped hiin into a lady'j boarding school at midnight, 
 and how he (Mr. Pickwick) now felt it his duty to expose his assump- 
 tion of his present name and rank. 
 
 As the narrative proceeded, all the warm blood in the body of Mr. 
 Nupkins tingled up into the very lips of his ears. He had picked up 
 the captain at a neighbouring race-course. Charmed with his long list 
 of aristocratic acquaintance, his extensive travel, and his fashionable 
 demeanour, Mrs. Nupkins and Miss Nupkins had exhibited Captain 
 Fitzmarshall, and quoted Captain Fitzmarshall, and hurled Captain 
 Fitzmarshall at the devoted heads of their select circle of acquaint- 
 ance, until their bosom friends, Mrs. Porkenham and the Miss Porken- 
 hams, and Mr. Sidney Porkenham, were ready to burst with jealousy 
 and despair. And now to hear, after all," that ho was a needy adven- 
 turer, a strolling player, and if not a swindler, something so very like 
 it that it was hard to tell the difference ! What would the Pork- 
 enhams say ] What would be the triumph of Mr. Sidney Porkenham 
 when he found that his addresses had been slighted for such a rival ! 
 How should he meet the eye of old Porkenham at the next Quarter 
 Sessions ! — and what a handle would it be for the opposition magiste- 
 rial party, if the story got abroad ! 
 
 " But after all," said Mr. Nupkins, brightening up for a moment after 
 a long pause ; " after all, this is a mere statement. Captain Fitzmar- 
 shall is a man of very engaging manners — and, I dare say, has many 
 enemies. What proof have you of the truth of these representations." 
 
 '• Confront me with him," said Mr. Pickwick, "that is all I ask, 
 and all I require. Confront him with me, and my friends here ; you 
 will want no farther proof." 
 
 " Why,"' said Mr. Nupkins, " that might be very easily done, for 
 he will be here to-night, and then there would be no occasion to make 
 the matter puMic, just — just — for the young man"s own sake, you 
 know. I — I — should like to consult Mrs. Nupkins on the propriety 
 of the step, in the lirst instance, though. At all events, Mr. Pickwick, 
 we must despatch this legal business before we can do any thing else. 
 Pray step back into the next room." 
 
 Into the next room they went. 
 
 " Grummer," said the magistrate, in an awful voice. 
 
 "Your wash-up," replied Grummer, with the smilt: of a favourite. 
 
 " Come, come, sir," said the magistrate, sternly. " Don't let me 
 see any of this levity here. It is very unbecoming, and I can assure 
 YOU that you have very little to smile at. Was the account you gave 
 me just now strictly true 1 Now be careful, sir." 
 
 " Your wash-up," stammered Grummer, "I — " 
 
 •' Oh, you are confused, are you ?" said the magistrate. " Mr. Jinks, 
 you observe his confusion ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir,'' replied Jinks. 
 
 "Now,"' said the magistrate, "just repeat your statement, Grum- 
 mer, and again I warn you to be careful. Mr. Jinks, take his words 
 «Liwn." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 251 
 
 The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to re-state his complaint, but 
 ■what between Mr. Jinks taking down his words, and the magistrate's 
 taking them up; his natural tendency to rambling, and his extreme 
 confusion, he managed to get involved, in somt-thing under three 
 minutes, in such a mass of entanglement and contradiction, that Mr. 
 IS'upkins at once declared he didn't believe him. .So the fines were 
 remitted, and Mr. Jinks found a couple of bail in no time. And all 
 these solemn proceedings having been satisfactorily concluded, Mr. 
 Grummer was ignominiously ordered out — an awful instance of the 
 instability of human greatness, and the uncertain tenure of great men's 
 favour. 
 
 Mrs. Nupkins was a majestic female in a blue gauze turban and a 
 light brown wig. Miss Nupkins possessed all her mamma's haughti- 
 ness without the turban, and all her ill-nature without the wig ; and 
 whenever the exercise of these two amiable qualities involved mother 
 and daughter in some unpleasant dilemma, as they not unfrequently 
 did, they both concurred in laying the blame on the shoulders of Mr. 
 Nupkins. Accordingly, when Mr. iSupkins sought .Mrs. Nupkins, and 
 detailed the communication which had been made by Mr. Pickwick, 
 Mr.-5. Nu[)kins suddenly recollected that she had always expected some- 
 thing of the kind ; that she had always said it would be so ; that her 
 advice was never taken ; that she really did not know what Mr. Nup- 
 kins supposed she was ; and so forth. 
 
 '* The idea !" said Miss Nupkins, forcing a tear of very scanty pro- 
 portions, into the comer of each eye, '" the idea of being made such a 
 fi>olof!" 
 
 " Ah I you may thank your papa, my dear," said Mrs. Nupkins. 
 *' How I have implored and begged that man to inquire into the cap- 
 tain's family connexions ; how I have ur^ed and entreated him to take 
 some decisive step ! I am quite certain nobody would believe it — quite." 
 
 " But my dear,'' said >ir. Nupkins. 
 
 " Don't talk to me, you aggravating thing, don't,'' said Mrs. Nupkins. 
 
 " .My love," said Mr. Nupkins, ''you professed yourself very fond 
 of Captain Fitzmarshall. You have constantly asked him here, my 
 dea.% and you have lost no opportunity of introducing him elsewhere.'' 
 
 "Didn't I say so, Henrietta!' said .Mrs. Nupkins, appealing to her 
 daughter with the air of a much injured female — '• Didn't I say that 
 your papa would turn round and lay all this at my door I Didn't I 
 say so !" Here Mrs. Nupkins sobbed. 
 
 " Oh, pa !" remonstrated Miss Nupkins. And here she sobbed, too. 
 
 " Isn't it too much, when he has brought all this disgrace and ridi- 
 cule upon us, for him to taunt me with being the caubC of it !" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Nupkins. 
 
 " How can we ever show ourselves in society I" said Miss Nupkins. 
 
 " How can we face the Porkenhams ]" said Mrs. Nupkins. 
 
 * Or the Griggs I" said .Miss Nupkins. 
 
 "Or the Slummintowkcns !" said Mrs. Nupkins. " But what does 
 your papa care ! What is it to him .'" At this dreadful reflection, .Mrs. 
 Nupkins wept with mental auiguish, and .Miss Nupkins followed on 
 the same side. 
 
 Mrs. Nupkin's tears continued to gush forth, with great velocity, 
 until she had gained a littl? time to think the matter over, when she 
 decided in her own mind that the best thing to do, would be to ask .Mr. 
 Pickwick and his friends to remain until the captain's arrival, and then 
 
252 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 to give Mr. Pickwick the opportunity he sought. If it appeared that 
 he had spoken truly, the captain could be turned out of the house 
 without noising the matter abroad, and they could easily account to the 
 Porkenhams for his disappearance, by saying that be had been ap- 
 pointed, through the court influence of his family, to the Govemor- 
 ireneralship of Sierra Leone, or Sangur Point, or any other of those 
 salubrious climates which enchant Europeans so much, that when they 
 once get there they can hardly ever prevail upon themselves to come 
 back again. 
 
 When Mrs. Nupkins dried up her tears. Miss Nupkins dried up hers^ 
 and Mr. Nupkins was very glad to settle the matter as Mrs. Nupkins 
 had proposed. So Mr. Pickwick and his friends, having washed off 
 all marks of their late encounter, were introduced to the ladies, and 
 soon afterward to their dinner ; and Mr. Wellcr, whom the magistrate 
 with his peculiar sagacity, had discovered in half an hour to be one of 
 the finest fellows alive, was consigned to the care and guardianship of 
 Mr. Muzzle, who was specially enjoined to take him below, and make 
 much of hira. 
 
 "How de do, sir r' said Mr. Muzzle, as he conducted Mr. Weller 
 down the kitchen stairs. 
 
 " Why, no con-siderable change has taken place in the state of my 
 system, since I see you cocked up behind your governor's chair in the 
 parlour, a little vile ago," replied Sam. 
 
 "You will excuse my not taking more notice of you then," said Mr. 
 Muzzle. "You see, master hadn't introduced us, then. How fond 
 he is of you, Mr. Weller, to be sure !" 
 
 "Ah." said Sam, " what a pleasant chap he is !" 
 
 "Ain't he 1" replied Mr. Muzzle. 
 
 " So much humour," said Sam. 
 
 " And such a man to speak," said Mr. Muzzle. " How his ideas 
 flow, don't they]" 
 
 " Wonderful," replied Sam ; " they comes a pouring out, knocking 
 each other's heads so fast, that they seems to stun one another ; you 
 hardly know what he's arter, do you V 
 
 " That's the great merit of his style of speaking," rejoined Mr. Muz- 
 zle. " Take care of the last step, Mr. Weller. Would you like to 
 wash your hands, sir, before we join the ladies 1 Here's a sink, with 
 the water laid on, sir, and a clean jack towel behind the door." 
 
 " Ah, perhaps I may as vel have a rinse," replied Mr. Weller, apply- 
 innr plenty of yellow soap to the towel, and rubbing away, till his face 
 shone again. " How many ladies are there I" 
 
 " Only two in our kitchen," said Mr. Muzzle, " cook and 'ousemaid. 
 We keep a boy to do the dirty work, and a gal besides, but they dine 
 in the washus." 
 
 " Oh, they dines in the wa.shus, do they ]" said Mr. Weller. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Muzzle, " we tried 'em at our table when they 
 first come, but we couldn't keep 'em. The gal's manners is dreadful 
 vulgar ; and the boy breathes so very hard while he's eating, that we 
 found it impossible to sit at table with him." 
 
 " What a young grampus !" said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Oh, dreadful," rejoined Mr. Muzzle; "but that is the worst of 
 country service, Mr. Weller ; the juniors is always so very savage. 
 This way, sir, if you please — this way." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 253 
 
 And preccfiing Mr, Weller, with the utmost politeness, Mr, Muzzle 
 conducted him into the kitchen. 
 
 "Mary," said Mr. Muzzle to the pretty servant girl, "this is Mr. 
 Weller, a gentlemanNas master has sent down to be made as comfortable 
 as possible." 
 
 '* And your master's a knowin' hand — and has just sent me to the 
 right place," said Mr. Weller, with a glance of admiration at Mary. 
 " If I was master o' this here house, I should always find the materials 
 for comfort vere Mary vas." 
 
 *' Why, Mr. Weller !" said Mary, blushing. 
 
 " Well, I never !" ejaculated the cook. 
 
 " Bless me, cook, I forgot you," said Mr, Muzzle, " Mr. Weller, let 
 me introduce you." 
 
 " How are you, ma'am," said Mr. Weller. " Werry glad to see you, 
 indeed ; and hope our acquaintance may be a long 'un, as the gen'lm'n 
 said to the fi' pun' note." 
 
 When this ceremony of introduction had been gone through, the 
 cook and Mary retired into the back kitchen to titter for ten minutes ; 
 and then returning, all giggles and blushes, they sat down to dinner. 
 
 Mr. Weller's easy manner and conversational powers had such 
 irresistible influence with his new friends, that before the dinner was 
 half over, they were on a footing of perfect intimacy, and in possession 
 of a full account of the delinquency of Job Trotter. 
 
 " I never could a-bear that Job," said Mary. 
 
 " No more you never ought to, my dear," rcpfied Mr. Weller, 
 
 "Why not?" inquired Mary. 
 
 " 'Cos ugliness and svindlen' never ought to be formillar vith elegance 
 and viriew," replied Mr. Welkr. "Ought they, Mr. Muzzle !" 
 
 " Not by no means," replied that gentleman. 
 
 Here Mary laughed, and faid the cook had made her ; and the cook 
 laughed, and said she hadn't. 
 
 " I han't got a glass," said Mary. 
 
 " Drink vith me, my dear," said Mr Weller. " Put your lips to this 
 here tumbler, and then I can kiss you by deputy." 
 
 " For shame, Mr. Weller," said Mary. 
 
 ♦' "Wliat's a shame, my dear ?" 
 
 " Talkin' in that way." 
 
 " Nonsense : it ain't no harm — its natur ; ain't it, cook ]" 
 
 " Don't ask me, imperence," replied the cook, in a high stale of 
 delight ; and hereupon the cook and Mary laughed again till what be- 
 tween theiiecr, the cold meat, and the laughter combined, the latter 
 young lady was brought to the verge of choking — an alarming crisis, 
 from which she was only recovered by sundry pats on the back, and 
 other necessary attentions, most delicately administered by Mr. Samuel 
 Weller. 
 
 In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was heard 
 at the garden gate, to which the young gentleman who took his meals 
 in the washhouse immediately responded. Mr. Weller was in the 
 height of his attentions to the pretty housemaid ; Mr. Muzzle was 
 busy doing the honours of the table ; and the cook had just paused to 
 laugh, in the very act of raising a huge morsel to her lips, when the 
 kitchen door opened, and in walked Mr. Job Trotter. 
 
 We have said, in walked Mr Job Trotter ; but the statement is not 
 distinguished by our usual scrupulous adherence to fact. The door 
 
 Vol. I.— 22 
 
254 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 opened and Mr. Trotter appeared. He would have walked in, and ws* 
 in the very act of doing so, indeed, when catching sight of Mr.Weller 
 he involuntarily shrunk back a pace or two, and stood gazing on the 
 unexpected scene before him, perfectly motionless with amazement and 
 terror. 
 
 " Here he is," said Sam, rising with great glee. _ •' Why we were 
 that worry moment a speaking o' you. How are you 1 Vere have you 
 been ! Come in." 
 
 And laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, 
 Mr. Wcller dragged him into the kitchen ; and locking the door, hand- 
 ed the key to Mr. Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in a side 
 pocket. 
 
 " Well, here's a game," cried Sara. *' Only think o' my master 
 havin' the pleasure o' meeting your'n up stairs, and me havin' the joy 
 of meetin' you down here. How are you gettin' on, and how is the 
 chandlery bus'ness likely to do ? Yel, I am so glad to see you. How 
 happy you look. It's quite a treat to see you ; ain't it, Mr. Muzzle V* 
 
 "Quite," said Mr. Muzzle. 
 
 •' So cheerful he is," said Sam. 
 
 " In such good spirits," said Muzzle. 
 
 " And so glad to see xis — that makes it so much more comfortable," 
 said Sam. " Sit down, sit down." 
 
 Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the fireside 
 He cast his small eyes first on Mr Weller and then on Mr, Muzzle, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 "Well now," said Sam, " afore these here ladies, I should just like 
 to ask you, as a sort of curiosity, vether you don't consider yourself 
 as nice and veil- behaved a young gcn'lm'n as ever used a pink check 
 pocket-handkerchief, and the number four collection?" 
 
 " And as was ever a-going to be married to a cook," said that lady, 
 indignantly, " The willin !" 
 
 " And leave off his evil ways, and set up in the chandlery line arter- 
 wards," said the housemaid. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell you what it is, young man," said Mr. Muzzle, so- 
 lemnly, enraged at the last two allusions, »• this here lady (pointing to 
 the cook) keeps company with me ; and when you presume, sir, to 
 talk of keeping chandler's shops with her, you injure me in one of the 
 most delicate points in which one man can injure another. Do you 
 understand that, sir 1" 
 
 Here Mr. Muzzle, who had a great notion of his eloquence, in which 
 he imitated his master, paused for a reply. 
 
 But Mr. Trotter made no reply. JSo Mr. Muzzle proceeded in a so- 
 lemn manner — 
 
 " It is very probable, sir, that you won't be wanted up stairs for se- 
 veral minutes, sir, because 7ny master is at this moment particularly 
 engaged in settling the hash of your master, sir, and therefore you'll 
 have leisure, sir, for a little private talk with me, sir. Do you under- 
 stand that, sir 1" 
 
 Mr. Muzzle again paused for a reply ; and again Mr. Trotter disap- 
 pointed him. 
 
 " Well, then," said Mr. Muzzle, " I'm very sorry to have to explain 
 myself before the ladies, but the urgency of the case will be my excuse." 
 
 " The back kitchen's empty, sir ; if you will step in there, sir, Mr. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 255 
 
 Weller will see fair, and we can have mutual satisfaction till the bell 
 rings. Follow me, sir." 
 
 As Mr. Muzzle uttered these words, he took a step or two towards 
 the door ; and by way of saving time, he began to pull off his coat as 
 he walked along. 
 
 IVow the cook no sooner heard the concluding words of this despe- 
 rate challenge, and saw Mr. Muzzle about to put it into execution, 
 than she uttered a loud and piercing shriek ; and rushing on Mr. Job 
 Trotter, who rose from his chair on the instant, tore and buffeted his 
 large flat face, with an energy peculiar to excited females, and twining 
 her hands in his long black hair, tore therefrom about enough to make 
 five or six dozen of the very largest-sized mourning-rings. Having 
 accomplished this feat with all the ardour which her devoted love for 
 Mr. Muzzle inspired, she staggered back; and being a lady of very 
 excitable and delicate feelings, instantly fell under the dresser, and 
 fainted away. 
 
 At this moment the bell rang. 
 
 " That's for you. Job Trotter," said Sam ; and before Mr. Trotter 
 could offier remonstrance or reply — even before he had time to stanch 
 the wounds inflicted by the insensible lady — Sam seized one arm and 
 Mr. Muzzle the other ; and one pulling before, and the other pushing 
 behind, they conveyed him up stairs, and into the parlour. 
 
 It was an impressive tableau. Alfred Jingle, Esquire, alias Captain 
 Fitzmarshall, was standing near the door with his hat on his head, and 
 a smile on his face, wholly unmoved by his very unpleasant situation. 
 Confronting him, stood Mr. Pickwick, who had evidently been incul- 
 cating some high moral lesson, for his left hand was beneath his coat 
 tail, and his right extended in air, as was his wont when delivering 
 himself of an impressive address. At a little distance stood .Mr. Tup- 
 man with indignant countenance, carefully held back by his two younger 
 friends : and at the further end of the ro mi were .Mr. Nupkins, Mrs. 
 IS'upkins, and Miss IVupkins, gloomily grand and savagely vexed. 
 
 " What prevents me," said Mr. Nupkins, with magisterial dignity, 
 as Job was brought in — " what prevents me from detaining those men 
 as roijues and imposters ? It is a foolish mercy. What prevents me ?" 
 
 " Pride, old fellow,pride," replied Jingle, quite at his ease " Would'nt 
 do — no go — caught a captain, eh? — ha! ha !— very good — husband 
 for daughter — biter bit — make it public — not for worlds — look stupid 
 — very I'' 
 
 "Wretch," said Mrs. Nupkins, "we scorn your base insinuations." 
 
 " I always hated him," added Henrietta. 
 
 " Oh, of course," said Jingle. " Tall young man — old lover — Sid- 
 ney Porkenham — rich — fine fellow — not so rich as captain, though, 
 eh 1 — turn him away — off with him — any thing for captain — nothing 
 like captain any where — all the girls raving mad — eh, Job, eh !" 
 
 Here Mr, Jingle laughed very heartily ; and Job, rubbing his hands 
 with delight, uttered the first sound he had given vent to, since he en- 
 tered the house — a low noiseless chuckle, which seemed to intimate 
 that he enjoyed his laugh too much, to let any of it escape in sounds. 
 
 " .Mr. IS'upkins," said the elder lady, "this is not a fit conversation 
 for the servants to overhear. Let these wretches be removed " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," said Mr. Nupkins. "Muzzle." 
 
 "Your worship." 
 
 " Open the front door,"' 
 
856 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OT 
 
 ♦'Yes, vour worship." 
 
 '« Leave the house," said Mr. Nupkins, waving his hand emphaticallj. 
 
 Jiriijlc smiled and moved towards the door. 
 
 " Stay," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Jingle stopped. 
 
 " I mig^frt," said Mr. Pickwick, " have taken a much greater revenge 
 for the treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of your 
 hypocriticf&l friend there." 
 
 flere Job Trotter bowed with great politeness, and laid his hand 
 upon his heart. 
 
 " I say," said Mr. Pickwick, growing gradually angry, " that I might 
 have taken a greater revenge, but I content myself with exposing you, 
 which I consider a duty I owe to society. This is a leniency, sir, 
 which I hope you will remember." 
 
 When Mr. JPickwick arrived at this point, Job Trotter, with facetious 
 gravity, applied his hand to his ear, as if desirous not to lose a syllable 
 he uttered. 
 
 '* And 1 have only to add, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, now thoroughly 
 angry, " that I ^-consider you a rascal, and a — a ruffian — and — and 
 worse than any man I ever saw, or heard of, except that very pious 
 and sanctified vagabond in the mulberry livery." 
 
 " Ha ! ha I" said Jingle, " good fellow Pickwick, — fine heart — stout 
 old boy — but must not be passionate — bad thing, very — bye, bye — see 
 you atrain some day — keep up your spirits — now Job — trot." 
 
 With these words, Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in his old fashion, and 
 strode out of the room. Job Trotter paused, looked round, smiled, and 
 then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick, and a wink to 
 Mr. Weller, the audacious slyness of which baffles all description, 
 followed the footsteps of his hopeful master. 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following. 
 
 " Sir.'- 
 
 « Stay here." 
 
 Mr. Weller seemed uncertain. 
 
 " Stay here," repeated Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Mayn't I polish that ere Job off, in the front garden?" said Mr. 
 W^eller. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 ^' Mayn't I kick him out o' the gate, sir ?" said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Not on any account," replied his master. 
 
 Fbr the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked for 
 a moment discontented and unhappy. But his countenance im- 
 mediately cleared up, for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself 
 behind the street door, and rushing violently out, at the right instant, 
 contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his attend- 
 ant, down the flight of steps, into the American aloe tubs that stood 
 her^eath. 
 
 " Having discharged my duty, sir,*' said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Nup- 
 kins, " I will with my friends, bid you farewell. While we thank you 
 for such hospitality as we have received, permit me to assure you in 
 our joint names that we should not have accepted it, or consented to 
 extricate ourselves in this way from our previous dilemma^ had we not 
 been impelled by a strong sense of duty. We return to London to- 
 morrow. Your secret is safe with us." 
 
 Having thus entered his protest agevinst their treatment of the mom- 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 257 
 
 ing, Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies ; and notwithstanding the 
 solicitations of the family, left the room with his friends. 
 
 " Get your hat, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *« It's below-stairs, sir," said Sam, and he ran (-own after it. 
 
 Now there was nobody in the kitchen but the pretty housemaid ; 
 and as Sam's hat was mislaid he had to look for it, and the pretty house- 
 maid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat ; 
 and'the pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her 
 knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a 
 little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldn't 
 get at it without shutting the door first. 
 
 " Here it is," said the pretty housemaid. " This is it, ain't it V 
 
 *' Let me look," said Sara. 
 
 The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor ; and as it 
 gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before 
 he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a re- 
 markably small corner, and so — it was nobody's fault but the man's 
 who built the house — Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily 
 very close together. 
 
 " Yes^ this is it," said Sam. " Good bye." 
 
 " Good bye," said the pretty housemaid. 
 
 " Good bye," said Sam ; and as he said it, he dropped the hat that 
 had cost so much trouble looking for. 
 
 " How awkward you are, said the pretty housemaid. " You'll lose 
 it again, if you don't take'care." 
 
 So just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him. 
 
 Whether it was that the pretty housemaid's face looked prettier still 
 when it was raised towards Sam's, or whether it was the accidental 
 consequence of their being so near each other, is matter of uncertainty 
 to this day, but Sam kissed her. 
 
 <' You don't mean to say you did that on purpose," said the pretty 
 housemaid, blushing. 
 
 " No, I didn't then," said Sam ; *• but I will now." 
 
 So he kissed her again. 
 
 " Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, calling ovejr the banisters. 
 
 * Coming, sir," replied Sam, running up stairs. 
 
 "How long you have been," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "There was something behind the door, sir, which perwented our 
 getting it open, for ever so long," replied Sam. 
 
 And this was the first passage of Mr.Weller's first love. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OV THE ACTION 
 OK BARUELL AGAINST PICKWICK. 
 
 Havino accomplished the main end and object of his journey by the 
 
 e.\posurc of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately returning 
 
 to London, with the view of becoming acquainted with the proceedings 
 
 which had been taken against him, in the mean time, by Messrs. Dod- 
 
 "2* 
 
258 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 son and Fogg. Acting upon this resdution, with all the energy and 
 decision of his character, he mounted to the back seat of the first 
 coach which left Ipswich, on the morning after the memorable occur- 
 rences detailed at le;-gth in the iwo preceding chapters ; and accom- 
 panied by his three friends and Mr. Samuel Weller, arrived in the 
 metropolis in perfect health and safety, the same evening. 
 
 Here the friends, for a short time, separated. Messrs. Tupman, 
 Winkle, and Snodgrass, repaired to their several homes, to make such 
 preparations as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit to Ding- 
 leyDell ; and Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present abode in 
 very good, old-fashioned, and comfortable quarters, to wit, the George 
 and' Vulture Tavern and Hotel, George Yard, Lombard Street. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular port, 
 
 pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the fender, 
 
 and thrown himself back in an easy chair, when the entrance of Mr. 
 
 "Weller, with his carpet bag, aroused him from his tranquil meditations. 
 
 •' Sam." said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " I have just been thinking, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, "that having 
 left a good many things at Mrs. Bardell's, in Goswell street, I ouglU 
 to arrange for taking them away, before I leave town again." 
 •• Worry good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " I could send them to Mr. Tupman's for the present, Sam," con- 
 tinued Mr. Pickwick, '• but, before we take them away, it is necessary 
 that they should be looked up, and put together. I wish you would 
 step up to Goswell street, Sam, and arrange about it." 
 " At once, sir •" inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 " At once," replied Mr. Pickwick. " And stay, Sam,** added Mr. 
 Pickwick, pulliag out his purse, " There is some rent to pay. The 
 quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done 
 with it. A month's notice terminates my tenantcy. Here it is, written 
 out. Give it, and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up as soon as 
 she likes." 
 
 " Werry good, sir." replied Mr. Weller ; *' any thin' more*, sir 1" 
 "Nothing more> Sam." 
 
 Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something 
 farther ; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it 
 within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called oat — 
 " Sam." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mr. W^eller, stepping quickly back, and closing the 
 door behind him. 
 
 " I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain how 
 Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed toward me, and whether it is 
 really probable that this vile aiid groundless action is to be carried to ex- 
 tremity. I say I do not object to your doing this, if you wish it, Sam;" 
 said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 Sam.;gave a short nod of intelligence, and left the room. Mr. Pick- 
 wick drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head, and com- 
 posed himself for a nap ; Mr. Weller promptly walked forth to execute 
 his commission. 
 
 It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell street. A cou- 
 ple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a couple of 
 caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell had got com- 
 pany. 
 
THK PICKWICX CL0B. 259 
 
 Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval — 
 occupied by the 'party without in whistling a tune, and by the party 
 within in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be li^jhled 
 — a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and Master Bardell 
 presented himself 
 
 *' Veil, young townskip," said Sam, " how's mother ?" 
 
 ** She's pretty well," replied Master Bardcll, " so am I."^ 
 
 " Veil, that's a mercy," said Sam ; '*tell her I want ta speak to her, 
 my hinfant fernomenon." 
 
 Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the 
 bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message. 
 
 The two caps reflected on the window-blind, were the respective 
 headdresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell'* most particular acquaintance, 
 who had just stepped in to have a quiet cup of tea, and a little warm 
 supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted cheese. The 
 chee*e was sin.mering and browning away most delightfully in a little 
 Dutch oven before tlie fire, and the pettitoes were getting on deliciously 
 in a little tin saucepan on the hob; and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends 
 were getting on \CTy well also, in a little quiet conv(?rsation about and 
 concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance, when Master 
 Bardell came ba^ck from answering the door, and delivered the message 
 intrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller. 
 
 " M-. Pickwick's servant !" said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale; 
 
 " Bless my soul I" .said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 •' Well, I raly would not ha' believed it, unless I had ha' happened 
 to ha' been here !" said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 Mrs. Cluppins was a little brisk, busy-looking woman : and Mrs. 
 Sanders was a big, fat, heav\'-faced personage ; and the two were the 
 company. 
 
 Mrs. Bardell felt it proper 'o be agitated ; and as none of the three 
 exactly knew whether, under existing circumstances, any communica- 
 tion, otherwise than through Dodson and Fogg, ought to be held with 
 Mr. Pickwick's servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. Ii> 
 this state of indecision, obviously the first thing to be done was ta 
 thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. So his mother 
 thumped him, and he cried iflelodiously. 
 
 " Hold your noise — do — you naughty creature," said Mrs. BardelK 
 
 "Yes, don't worrit your poor mother,"' said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 " She's quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you, Tommy,"" 
 said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathizing resignation. 
 
 " Ah I worse luck, poor lamb !" said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 At all which moral reflections. Master Bardell howled the louder. 
 
 "Now, what shall 1 do !" said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs, Cluppins. 
 
 •' / think you ought to see him," replied Mrs. Cluppins. " But oh. 
 no account without a witness." 
 
 " / think two witnesses would be more lawful," said Mrs. Sanders, 
 who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity. 
 
 '' Perhaps, he'd better come in here," said Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 '• To be sure," replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea — 
 " Walk in, young man ; and shut th^ street door first, please." 
 
 Mr. Weller immediately took the hint ; and presenting himself in 
 the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell, thus — 
 
 •' Worry sorry to 'casion any personal inconwc-nience, ma'am, as the 
 housebreaker said to the old lady vhcn he put her on the fire ; but as 
 
260 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 me and my governor's only just come to town, and is just going away 
 agin, it can't be helped you see." 
 
 " Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his master," 
 said Mrs. Cluppiiis, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and 
 conversation. 
 
 " Certainly not," chimed in Mrs. Sanders, 'who, from certain wistful 
 glances at the little tii) saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental 
 calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of Sam's 
 being asked to stop supper. 
 
 " So all I've come about, is just this here," said Sam, disregarding 
 the interruption — " First, to give my governor's notice — there* it is. 
 Secondly, to pay the rent — here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things 
 is to be put together, and given to any body as we sends for 'em. 
 Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like — and that's all." 
 
 " Whatever has happened," said Mrs. Bardell, " I always have said 
 and always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has 
 always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always 
 was as good as the bank — always." 
 
 As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes, 
 and went out of the room to get the receipt. 
 
 Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women 
 •were sure to talk ; so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the 
 toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence. 
 
 " Poor dear !" said Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 ** Ah, poor thing !" replied Mrs.' Sanders. 
 
 Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject. 
 
 " I raly cannot contain myself," said Mrs. Cluppins, '* when I think 
 of such perjury. I don't wish to say any thing to make you uncom- 
 fortable, young man, but your master's an old brute, and I wish I had 
 him here to tell him so." 
 
 " I vish you had," said Sam. 
 
 " To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and taking 
 no pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, out of charity, 
 to sit with her, and make her comfortable," resumed Mrs. Cluppins, 
 glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, " it's shocking." 
 
 " Barbareous," said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 " And your master, young man, a gentleman with money, as could 
 never feel the expense of a wife, no more than nothing," continued 
 Mrs. Cluppins, with great volubility ; '' Why there ain't the faintest 
 shade of an excuse for his behaviour. Why don't he marry her ?" 
 
 " Ah," said Sam, "to be sure ; that's the question." 
 
 '♦ Question, indeed," retorted Mrs. Cluppins ; *' she'd question him, 
 if she'd my spirits. Hows'ever, there is law for us women, mis'rable. 
 creeturs as they'd make us, if they could ; and that your master will 
 find out, young man, to his cost, afore he'b six months older." 
 
 At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up^ and smiled 
 at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again. 
 
 " The action's going on, and no mistake," thought Sam, as Mrs. 
 Bardell re-entered with the receipt. 
 
 " Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller," said Mrs. Bardell, " and here's 
 the change, and I hope you'll take a little drop of something to keep 
 the cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance' sak^, Mr. Weller." 
 
 Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced, 
 whereupon Mrs. Bardell produced from a small closet a black bottle 
 
THE PICKWICK CLCB. 261 
 
 and a wine-glass, and so great was her abstraction in her deep menLal- 
 afHiction, that, after filling Mr. Welier's glass, she brought out three 
 more wine-glasses, and filled them too. 
 
 '• Lauk, Mrs. Bardell," said Mrs. Cluppins, "see what you've been 
 and done." 
 
 '• Well, that is a good one !" ejaculated Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 " Ah, my poor head !" said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile. 
 
 Sam un<lerstood all this, of course, so he said at once, that he never 
 could drink before supper, unless a lady drank with him. A great deal 
 of laughing ensued, and then Mrs. Sanders volunteered to humour 
 him ; so she took a slight sip out of her glass. Then Sam said it must 
 go all round, so they all took a slight sip. Then little .^Irs. Cluppins 
 proposed as a toast, " Success to Bardel] against Pickwick ;" and then 
 the ladies emptied their glasses in honour of the sentiment,, and got 
 %ery talkative directly. 
 
 " I suppose you've heard what's going forward, Mr. Waller," said 
 Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 " Ive heard something on it," replied Sam. 
 
 " It's a terrible thing to be dragged before the public, in that way, 
 Mr. Weller," said Mrs Bardell; "but I see now, that it's the only 
 thing I ought to do, and my lawyers, Mr. Dodson and Fogg, tell me 
 that, with the evidence as we shall call, we m"ust succeed. I don't 
 know what I should do, Mr. Weller, if I didnt." 
 
 The mere idea of .Mrs. Bardell's failing in her action, affected Mrs. 
 Sanders so deeply, that she was under the necessity of re-fi!ling and 
 rc-emptying her glass immediately ; feeling, as she said afterward, that 
 if she hadn't had the presence of mind to have done so, she must have 
 dropped. 
 
 " Ven is it expected to come on T' inquired Sam. 
 
 " Either in February or March," replied Mrs. Bardell. ^ 
 
 " What a number of witnesses there'll be, wont thjere?" said Mrs. 
 Cluppins. 
 
 " Ah, won't there !" replied .Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 " And won't .Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiflf shouldn't 
 get it ?" added .Vlrs. Cluppins, " when they do it all on speculation !" 
 
 " Ah ! won't they !" said Mrs. Sanders. 
 
 "But the the plaintiff must get it," resumed Mrs. Cluppins. 
 
 " I hope so," said .Mrs. Bardell. 
 
 " Oh, there can't be any doubt about it," rejoined Mrs, Sanders. 
 
 "Veil," said Sam, rising and setting down his glass. "All I can 
 say is, that I vish you may get it." 
 
 " Thank'ee, Mr. Weller," said Mrs. Bardell, fervently. 
 
 " And of them Dodson and Fogg, as does these sort a' things on 
 spec," continued Mr. Weller, "as veil as for the other kind and gen'- 
 rous people o' the same purfession, as sets people by the ears free gratis 
 for nothin', and sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes 
 among their neighbours and acquaintance as vants settlin' by means o' 
 lawsuits — all I can say o' them is, that I vi.^h they had the revard I'd 
 give 'em." 
 
 " Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous heart 
 would be inclined to bestow upon them," said the gratified Mrs Bardell. 
 " Amen to that," replied Sam. " and a fat and happy livin' they'd 
 get out of it. Vish you good night, ladies. 
 
 To the grej^t relief of .\lrs. Sanders, Sam was allowed to depart, with- 
 
262 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS Of 
 
 out any reference on the part of the hostess to the pettitoes and toasted 
 cheese, to which the ladies, with such juvenile assistance as Master 
 Bardell could afford, soon afterward rendered the amplest justice — in- 
 deed they wholly vanished, hefore their strenuous exertions. 
 
 Mr. Wellcr wended his way back to the George and Vulture, and 
 faithfully recounted to his master, such indications of the sharp prac- 
 tice oCDodson and Fogg, as he had contrived to pick up in his visit to 
 Mrs Bardcll's. An interview with Mr. Pcrker next day, more than 
 confirmed Mr Wellcr's statement ; and Mr. Pickwick was fain to pre- 
 pare for his Christmas visit to Dingley Dell, with the pleasant antici- 
 pation that some two or three months afterwards, an action brought 
 against him for damages sustained hy reason of a breach of promise of 
 marriatre, would be publicly tried in the court of Common Pleas; the 
 plaintiff having all tlie advantages derivable not only from the force of 
 circumstances, but from the sharp practice of Dodson and Fogg to boot. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SAMUEL WELLER MAKES A PILGR1M.4.GE TO DORKINO, AND BEHOLDS HIS 
 MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 There still remaining an interval of two days, before the time agreed 
 upon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley Dell, Mr. Weller 
 sat himself down in the back room at the George and Vulture, after 
 eating an early dinner, to muse on the best way of disposing of his time. 
 It was a remarkably fine day ; and he had not turned the matter over 
 in his mind ten minutes, when he was suddenly struck filial and affec- 
 tionate ; and it occurred to him so strongly that he ought to go-dowm 
 to see his father, and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was 
 lost in astonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of this 
 moral obligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglect without 
 another hour's delay, he straightway walked up stairs to Air. Pickwick, 
 .and requested leave of absence for this laudable purpose. 
 
 " Certainly, Sam, certainly," said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glistening 
 with delight at xhis manifestation of good feeling on the part of his 
 attendant: " certainly, Sam." 
 
 Mr. Weller made a grateful bow. 
 
 " I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties 
 as a son, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " I always had, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 *' That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, ap» 
 provinoly. 
 
 " Werry, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; " if ever I vanted any thin' o' my 
 father, I always asked for it in a werry 'spectful and obligin' manner. 
 If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led to do any thin' 
 wrone, through not havin' it. I saved him a world o' trouble this vay, sir.'* 
 
 " That's not precisely what I meant, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, shak- 
 ing his head, with a slight smile. 
 
 *' All good feelin' sir — the werry best intentions, as the gen'lm'n said 
 ven he run away from his wife, 'cos she seemed unhappy with him," 
 replied Mr. Weller. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 263 
 
 *' You may go, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller ; and having made his best bow, 
 and put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top of the Arun- 
 del coach, and journeyed on to Dorking. 
 
 The Marquis of Granby, in 'Mrs. teller's time, was quite a model 
 of a road-side public house of the better class —just large enough to be 
 convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the 
 Toad was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head and 
 shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a redcoat, 
 with deep blue facings^nd a touch of the same over his three-cornered 
 hat, for a sky. Over rnat, again, were a paif of flags, and beneath thfi 
 last button of his coat were a couple of cannon ; and the whole formed 
 an exj)ressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis i*f Granby of glo- 
 rious memory. The bar window displayed a choice collection of gera- 
 nium plants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shut- 
 ters bore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and 
 neat wines ; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers loun- 
 ging about the stable-door and horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof 
 of the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. 
 Sam Weller paused, when he dismounted from the coach, to note all 
 these little indications of a thriving business, with the eye of an expe- 
 rienced traveller ; and having done so, stepped in at once, highly satis- 
 lied with every thing he had observed. 
 
 " Now^ then," said a shrill female voice, the instant Sam thrust in 
 his head at tlie door, "what do you want, younfj man." 
 
 Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. It 
 came from rather a stout lady, of comfortable appearance, who was 
 seated beside the fire-place in the bar, blowing the fire, to make the 
 kettle boil for tea. She was not alone, for on the other sitleof the fire- 
 place, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was a man in thread- 
 bare black clothes, with a back almost as long and stiff as that of the 
 chair itself, who caught Sam's most particular and especial attention 
 at once. 
 
 He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long thin countenance, 
 and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye — rather sharp, but decidedly bad. 
 He wore very short trousers, and black cotton stockings, which, like 
 the rest of his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were 
 starched, but his white neckerchief was not ; and its long limp ends 
 straggled over his closely-buttoned waistcoat, in a very uncouth and 
 unpicturesque fashion. A pair of old, worn, beaver gloves, a broad- 
 brimmed hat, and a faded green umbrella, with plenty of whalebone 
 sticking through the bottom, as if to counterbalance the want of a 
 handle at the top, lay on a chair beside him ; and being disposed in a 
 very tidy and careful manner, seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, 
 whoever he was, had no intention of going away in a hurry. 
 
 To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very far from 
 wise if he had entertained any such intention ; for, to judge from all 
 appearances, he must have been po.ssesscd of a mrst desirable circle of 
 acquaintance, if he could have reasonably expected to be more comfort- 
 able any where else. The fire was blazing brightly, under the influ- 
 ence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily, under the influence 
 of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table ; a 
 plate of hot buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire ; and 
 the red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large. 
 
264 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 slice of bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumental- 
 ity of a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him, stood a glass of reekinw 
 hot pine-a|)ple rum and water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every 
 time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of bread to his eye, 
 with the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two 
 of the hot |»ine-apple rum and water, and smiled upon the rather stout 
 lady, as she blew the fire, 
 
 Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene, 
 that he suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass wholly 
 unheeded. It was not until it had been twice repeated, each time in a 
 shriller tone, that he became conscious of th% impropriety of his be- 
 haviour. 
 
 " Governor in ?" inquired Sam, in reply to the question. 
 
 *' No, he isn't," replied Mrs. Weller, for the rather stout lady was 
 no other than the quondam relict and sole executrix of the dead and 
 gone Mr Clarke ; — " No, he isn't, and I don't expect him either." 
 
 *' I suppose he's a drivin' up to-day 1" said Sam. 
 
 *' He may be, or he may not," replied Mrs. Weller, buttering the 
 round of toast vvliich the red-nosed man had just finished ; '* I don't 
 know, and, what's more I don't care. Ask a blessin', Mr. Stiggins. " 
 
 The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly commenced 
 on the toast with fierce voracity. 
 
 The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at first 
 sight, to more than half suspect that he was the deputy shepherd, of 
 whom his estimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw him 
 -eat, all doubt on the subject was removed, and he percei>ted at once 
 that if he proposed to take up his temporary quarters where he was, 
 he must make his footing good without delay. He therefore com- 
 menced proceedings by putting his arm over the half-door of the bar, 
 coolly unbolting it, and leisurely walking in. 
 
 '' Mother-in-law," said Sam, " how are you 1" 
 
 " Why, I do believe he's a Weller," said Mrs. W., raising her eyes 
 to Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of countenance. 
 
 *' I rayther think he is," said the imperturbable Sam ; " and I hope 
 this here reverend gen'lm'n '11 excuse me saying that I wish that I was 
 the Weller that owns you, mother-in-law." 
 
 This was a double-barrel compliment : it implied that Mrs. Weller 
 was a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clerical 
 appearance. It made a visible impression at once ; and Sam followed 
 up his advantage by kissing his mother-in-law. 
 
 " Get along with you," said Mrs. Wellei*, pushing him away. 
 
 " For shame, young man," said the gentleman with the red nose. 
 
 "No ofTence, sir, no offence,'' replied Sam; "you're werry right, 
 though ; it ain't the right sort o' thing, ven mother-in-law is young 
 and good-looking, is it, sirl" 
 
 "It's all vanity," said Mr. Stiggins. 
 
 " Ah, so it is," said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights. 
 
 Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace. 
 
 The deputy shepherd seemed by no means best pleased with Sam's 
 arrival ; and when the first effervescence of the compliment had 
 f?ubsided, even Mrs* Weller looked as if she could have spared him 
 without the smallest inconvenience. However, there he was ; and as 
 he couldn't be decently turned out, they all three sat down to tea. 
 
 " And how's father 1" said Sam. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 265 
 
 At this inquiry Mrs. Wcller raised her hands, and tamed up her 
 eyes, as if the subject were too painful to he alluded to. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins groaned. 
 
 " What's the matter with that 'ere gen'Im'n V inquired Sam. 
 
 ' He's shocked at the way your father goes on in — '' replied Mrs. 
 Weller. 
 
 *' Oh, he is, is he I" said Sara. 
 
 "And with too good reason," added Mrs. Weller, gravely. 
 
 Mr. tjtiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily. 
 
 *'He is a dreadful reprobate,"' said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 "A man of wrath I" exclained .Mr. Stigjriiis. And he tock a large 
 semi-circular bite out of the toast, and groaned again. 
 
 Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr. Stiggins 
 something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination, and merely 
 asked, •• VV'hat's the old 'un up to, now .'"' 
 
 " Up to, indeed I" said Mrs. Weller, ''oh, he has a hard heart. 
 Night after night does this excellent man — don't frown, Mr. Stiggins, 
 I will say you are an excellent man — come and sit here for hours 
 together, ami it has not the least effect upon him.'' 
 
 " Well, that is odd,' said Sam : " It 'ud have a werry considerable 
 effect upon me, if I wos in his place, I know that." 
 
 *' The fact is, my young friend," said Mr. Stiggins, solemnly, *' he 
 has an obdurate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have 
 resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and withstood 
 their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing the 
 infant negroes in the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moral 
 pocket handkerchiefs ]" 
 
 «* What's a moral pocket ankercher ?" said Sam ; *' I never see one 
 o' them articles of furniter." 
 
 " Those which combine amusement with instruction, my young 
 friend," replied Mr. Stiggins, "blending select talcs with wood-cuts." 
 
 " Oh, I know," said Sam, " them as hangs up in the linen-drapers' 
 shops, ^ith beggars' petitions and all that "ere upon 'em 1" 
 
 Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nod<]e<l assent. 
 
 *' And he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't hel" said Sam. 
 
 " Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant negroes were — what 
 did he say the infant negroes were ?'' said .Mrs. Weller. 
 
 " Little humbugs,'' replied Mr. Stiggins, deeply affected. 
 
 " Said the infant negroes were little humbugs,"' repeated Mrs. Weller. 
 And they both groaned ah the atrocious conduct of the elder .Mr. Samuel. 
 
 A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have been 
 disclosed, only the toast being all eat, the tea having got very weak, 
 and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, .Mr. Stiggins 
 suddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appomtment with the 
 shepherd, and took himself off accordingly. 
 
 "The tea-things had been scarcely put away, and the hearth swept 
 up, when the London coach deposited Mr. Weller, senior, at the door, 
 his legs deposited him in the bar, and his eyes showed him his son. 
 
 " What, Sammy !" exclaimed the father. 
 
 " What, old Nobs I" ejaculated the son. And they shook hands 
 heartily. 
 
 " Werry glad to see you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Wcller, 
 "though how you've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a 
 mystery to me. I only vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's alL" 
 
 Vol. I.— 23 
 
266 
 
 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 " Hush !" said Sam, "she's at homo, old feller." 
 
 *' She ain't vithin hearin','' replied Mr. Wcller ; " she always goes 
 arid blows up, down-stairs, for a couple of hours arter tea ; .so we'll 
 just give ourselves a damp, Sammy." 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits and water, and 
 produced a couple of pipes ; and the father and son sitting down oppo- 
 site each other, Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed chair, 
 and Mr. Weller senior on the other, in an easy ditto, they proceeded to 
 enjoy themselves with all due gravity. ♦. 
 
 "Any body been here, Sammy!" asked Mr. Weller senior, drily, 
 after a long silence. 
 
 Sam nodded an expressive assent. 
 
 *' Red-nosed chap ]" inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 Sam nodded again. 
 
 "Amiable man that 'ere, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, smoking violently. 
 
 "Seeras so," observed Sam. 
 
 " Good hand at accounts," said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Is he V said Sara. 
 
 "Borrows eighteen-pence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for a 
 shillin' to make it up half a crown ; calls again on Vednesday for an- 
 other half crown to make it five shillin's, and goes on doubling, till he 
 •gets it up to a rive pound note in no time, like them sums in the 'rith- 
 metic book "bout the nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy." 
 
 Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded toby 
 his parent. 
 
 " So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskitsl" said Sam, after 
 another interval of smoking. 
 
 " Cert'nly not," replied Mr. Weller ; "what's the good o' flannel 
 veskits to the young niggars abroad ? But I'll tell you what it is, 
 Sammy," said Mr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across the 
 fire-place, " I'd come down werry handsome towards straight veskits 
 for some people at home." 
 
 As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position, 
 and winked at hii first born in a profound manner. 
 
 "It cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket ankechers to 
 people as don't know the use on 'em," observed Sam. 
 
 " They're alvays a doin' some gammon of that sort, Sammy," re- 
 plied his father. " T'other Sunday I vas walfLin' up the road, ven who 
 should I see a standin' at a chapel-door, with a blue soup plate in her 
 hand, but your mother-in-law. I werrily belifevc there was change for 
 a couple o' suv'rins in it then, Sammy all in ha'pence ; and as the peo- 
 ple came out, they rattled the pennies in, till you'd ha' thought that no 
 mortal plate as ever was baked could ha' stood the wear and tsar. — 
 What d'ye thind it was all for V 
 
 " For another tea-drinkin', perhaps," said Sam. 
 
 " Not a bit on it,'' replied the father ; ' for the shepherd's water-rate, 
 Sammy." 
 
 " The shepherd's water-rate !" said Sam. 
 
 " Ay," replied Mr. Weller, " there was three quarters owin', and the 
 shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he — perhaps it might be on account 
 that the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's werry little o' that 
 tap he drinks, Sammy, werry ; he knows a trick worth a good half 
 dozen of that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and so they cuts 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 267 
 
 /the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's d 
 persecuted saint, and says ho hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the 
 water otf '11 be softened, and turned in the right vay, but he rather 
 thinks he's booked for somethin' uncomfortable. Upon this, the women 
 calls a meetin', sings a hymn, wotes your mother-in-law into the chair, 
 wolunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to the shep- 
 herd. And if he ain't got enough out on 'em^ Sammy, to make him 
 free of the water company for life," said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, 
 **rm one Dutchman, and you're another, and that's all about it." 
 
 Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed ; 
 *' The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy, that they reg'larly turn 
 the heads of all the young ladies about here. Why bless their little 
 hearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better ; but they're 
 the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims o' gammon." 
 
 *' I s'pose they are," said Sam. 
 
 " Nothin' else," said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely ; " ami 
 wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see 'em a wastin' all their time and 
 labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't want 'em, 
 and taking no notice of the flesh colouied Christians as do. If I'd my 
 vay, Samivel, I'd just stick some o' these here lazy shepherds behind a 
 heavy wheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down a fourteen inch plank all 
 day. That 'ud shake the nonsense out of 'em, if any thin' vould." 
 
 Mr. Weller having delivered his gentle recipe with strong emphasis, 
 eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his 
 glass at a draught, and knocked the aches out of his pipe with native 
 dignity. 
 
 He was engaged in this operation, when a shrill voice was heard in 
 the passage. 
 
 " Here's your dear relation, Sammy," said Mr. Weller ; and Mrs. 
 W. hurried into the room. 
 
 " Oh, you've come back, have you !" said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 *' Yes, my dear," replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe. 
 
 *' Has Mr. Stiggins been back !" said Mrs. Weller. 
 
 "No, my dear, he hasn't," replied Mr. Weller, lifrhting his pipe by 
 the ingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof, between the tongs 
 a red hot coal from the adjacent fire ; " and what's more, my dear, I 
 shall manage to surwive it if he don't come back at all." 
 
 "Ugh, you wretch, said .Mrs. Weller. 
 
 " Thank'ee, my love," said Mr. Weller. 
 
 "Come, come, father," said Sam, none of these little lovin's afore 
 strangers. Here's the reverend gen'lm'n a comin' in now." 
 
 At this announcement, Mrs. Weller hastily wiped off the tears which 
 she had just begun to foremen ; and Mr. W. drew his chair sullenly 
 into th<* chimney corner. 
 
 Mr. Stiggins was easily prevailed on to take another glass of the hot 
 pineapple rum and water, and a second, and a third, and then to refresh 
 himself with a slight supper previous to beginning again. He sat on 
 the same side as Mr. Weller, senior; and every time he could contrive 
 to do so, unseen by his wife, that gentleman indicated to his son the 
 hidden emotions of his bosom, by shaking his libt over the deputy shep- 
 herd's lieatl, a process which afforded his ison the most unfningled de- 
 light and satisfaction, the more especially as Mr. Stiggins went on, 
 quietly drinking the hot pineapple rum and water, wholly unconscious 
 uf what was going forward. 
 
368 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 The major part of the conversation was confined to Mrs. Weller and 
 the reverend Mr. Stiggins ; and the topics principally descanted on 
 were the virtues of the shepherd, the worthiness of his flock, and the 
 high crimes and misdemeanors of every body beside — dissertations 
 which the elder Mr. Weller occasionally interrupted by halt-suppressed 
 references to a gentleman of the name of Walker, and other running 
 commentaries of the same kind. 
 
 At length Mr. Stiggins, with several most indubitable symptoms of 
 having quite as much pineapple rum and water about him as he could 
 comfortably accommodate, took his hat and his leave : and Sam was 
 immediately after shown to bed by his father. The respectable old 
 geiitleman wrung his hand fervently, and seemed disposed to address 
 Aomo observations to his son. but on Mrs. Weller advancing towards him 
 }ie appeared to relinquish his intention, and abruptly bade him good night. 
 
 Sara was up betimes next day, and having partaken of a hasty break- 
 fast, prepared to return to London. He had scarcely set foot without 
 the house, when his father stood before him. 
 
 *' Goin', Sammy]"' inquired Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Off at once," replied Sam. 
 
 " I vish you could muffle that 'ere Stiggins, and take him with you," 
 said Mr. Weller. 
 
 " I am ashamed o' you, old two-for-his-heels," said Sam, reproach- 
 fully, " what do you let him show his red nose in the Markis o' Granby 
 at all, for?" 
 
 Mr. Weller the elder fixed on his son an earnest look, and replied — 
 •* 'Cause I'm a married man, Samivel, 'cause I'm a married man. Yen 
 you*re a married man, Samivel, you'll understand a good many things 
 as you don't understand now ; but vether it's worth while goin' through 
 so much, to learn so little, as the charity-boy said ven he got to the end 
 of the alphabet, is a matter o' taste, /rayther think it isn't." 
 
 " Well," said Sam, " good bye." 
 
 " Tar, tar, Sammy," replied his father. 
 
 " I've only got to say this here," said Sam, stopping short, " that if 
 / was the properiator o' the Markis o' Granby, and that 'ere Stiggins 
 came and made toast in niy bar, I'd — " 
 
 "What!" interposed Mr. Weller, with great anxiety, <'^yhat?" 
 
 " — Pison his rum and water," said Sam. 
 
 "No!" said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand, 
 "would you raly, Sammy — would you, though?' 
 
 ** I would," said Sam. " I wouldn't be too hard upon him, at first : 
 I'd just drop him in the water-butt and put the lid on ; and then if I 
 found he was insensible to kindness, I'd try the other persvasion." 
 
 The elder Mr. Weller bestowed a look if deep, unspeakable admira- 
 tion on his son, and, having once more grasped his hand, walked slowly 
 .-iway, revolving in his mind the numerous reflections to which his ad- 
 \ice had given rise. 
 
 Sam looked after him, til> he turned a corner of the road, and then 
 set forward on his walk to London. He meditated at first on the pro- 
 bable consequences of his own advice, and the likelihood and unlikeli- 
 hood of his father's adopting it. He dismissed the subject from his 
 mind, however, with the consolatory reflection that time alone would 
 thow ; and this is just the reflection we would impress upon the reade?. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 X GOOD-HUHOCRED CHEISTMAS CHAPTEB, CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT ©F A 
 WEDDING, AND SOME OTHER SPORTS BESIDE, WHICH ALTHOUGH IN 
 THEIR WAY, EVEN AS OOOD CCoTOMS AS MARRIAGE ITSELF. AHZ NOT 
 QDITE SO RELIGIOCSLY KEPT UP IN THESE DEGbXBBATE TIJJES. 
 
 As brisk as bees, if not altogether as liglit as fairies, did the four 
 Pickwickians assemble on the moming of the twenty-second day of 
 December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully-recorded 
 ad^'entures, were undertaken and accomplished. Christmas was close 
 at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty ; it was the season of hos- 
 pitality, merriment, and open-heartedness ; the old year was preparing, 
 like an atncient philosopher, to call his friends around him, and amidst 
 the sound of feasUng and revelry to pass gently an;] calmly away. Gay 
 and merry was the time ; and right gay and merry were at least four 
 of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming. 
 
 And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a, 
 brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How iiiary families whose 
 members have been di.spcrsed and scattered far and wide, in the restless 
 struggles of life, are then re-united, and meet once again in that happy 
 slate of companionship and mutual good-will which is a source of such 
 pure and unalloyed delight, and one so incompatible with the carco' 
 and forrowa of the world, that the religious belief of the most civillied 
 nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it 
 among the first joys of a future state of existence, provided for the 
 blest and happy ! How many old recollections, and how many dormant 
 f.ympathies, docs Christmas-time awaken ! 
 
 We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at 
 which, year after year, we met on that day a men»y and joyous circle. 
 Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then have ceased to beat ; 
 many of the looks that shor.** so brightly then have ceased to glow ; 
 the hands we grasped have grown cold ; the eyes we sought have hid 
 their lustre in the grave ; and yet the old house, the room, the merry 
 voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivia! 
 circumstance connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our 
 mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had 
 been but yesterday. Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to 
 the delusions of our childish days, that can recall to the old man the 
 pleasures of his youth, and transport the sailor and traveller, thousand*, 
 of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home ! 
 
 But we are so taken up, and occupied, with the good qualities of 
 Christmas, who, by the way, is quite a country gentleman of the old 
 school, that we are keeping Sir. Pickwick and his friends waiting in the 
 cold, on the outside of the Mugglcton coach, which they have jast 
 attained, 'well wrapped up, in great coat, shawls, and comforters. The 
 portmanteaus arwl carpet-bags have been stowed away, and Mr. Wcller 
 and Ihe guaid are endeavouring to insinuate into the fore-boot a bage 
 
 23* 
 
270 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 cod-fish several sizes too large for it, which is snugly packed up, in a 
 long brown basket, with a layer of straw over the top, and which has been 
 left to the hst, in order that he may repose in safety on the half-dozen 
 barrels of real native oysters, all the property of Mr. Pickwick, which 
 have been arranoed in regular order, at the bottom of the receptacle. 
 The interest displayed in Mr. Pickwick's countenance i.s mo.st intense, as 
 Mr. Weller and the guard try to squeeze the cod-fish into the boot, first 
 head first, and then tail first, and then top upv/ards, and then bottom 
 upwards, and then side-ways, and then long-ways, all of which artifices 
 the implacable cod-fish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally 
 hits him in the very middle of the basket, whereupon he suddenly dis- 
 appears into the boot, and with him, the head and shoulders 'af the 
 guard himself, who, not calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the 
 passive reoistance of the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected shock, 
 to the unsmotherable delight of all the porters and by-standers. Upon 
 this Mr. Pickwick smiles with great good humour, and drawing a shil- 
 ling I'rom his waistcoat pocket, l)egs the guard, as he picks himself out 
 of the boot, to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy and water, at, 
 which the guard smiles too, and Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tup- 
 man, all smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller disappear for 
 five minutes, most probably to get the hot brandy and water, for they 
 smell very strongly of it, when they return ; the coachman mounts to 
 the box, Mr. W^eller jumps up behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats 
 round their legs, and their shawls over their noses ; the helpers pull the 
 horse-cloths off, the coachman shouts out .a cheery "All right,"' and 
 away they go. 
 
 They have rumbled through the streets, and jolted over the stones, 
 and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels skim 
 over the hard and frosty ground : and the horses, bursting into a canter 
 at a smart crack of the whip, step along the road as if the load behiml 
 them, coach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster barrels and all, were but a 
 feather at their heels. They have descended a gentle slope, and enter 
 upon a level, as compact and dry as a solid block of marble, two miles 
 long. Another crack of the whip, and on they speed at a smart gallop, 
 the horses tossing their heads and rattling the harness as if in exhilara- 
 tion at the rapidity of the motion, while the coachman holding whifi 
 and reins in one hand, takes off his hat with the other, and resting it 
 (jtn his knees, pulls out his handkerchief, and wipes his foi'-head, partly 
 because he has a habit of doing it, and partly because it's as well to 
 show the passengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to 
 drive four-in-hand, when you have had as much practice as he has. 
 Having done this very leisurely, (otherwise the eflfect would be materi- 
 ally impaired,) he replaces his handkerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts 
 his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and on they 
 speed, more merrily than before. 
 
 A few small houses scattered on either side of the road, betoken the 
 entrance to some small town or village. The lively notes of the 
 guard's key bugle vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up the old 
 gentleman inside, who carefully letting down the window-sash half 
 way, and standing sentry over the air, takes a short peep out, and 
 then carefully pulling it up again, informs the other inside that they're 
 going to change directly ; on which the other inside wakes himself 
 up, and determines to postpone his next nap until after the stoppage. 
 Again the bugle sounds lustily forth, and rouses the cottager's wife 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 271 
 
 and children, who peep out at the house-door, and v/atch the coach till 
 it turns the corner, when they once more crouch round the blazing 
 fire, and throw on another log of wood against father comes borne, 
 while father himself, a full mile off, has just exchanged a friendly nod 
 with the coachman, and turned round to take a good long starv at the 
 vehicle as it whirls away. 
 
 And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles through 
 the ill-paved streets of a countn,' town ; and the coachman, undoing 
 the buckle which keep his ribands tooether, prepr.res to throw them 
 off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, 
 and looks about him with great curiosity ; perceiving which, the coach- 
 man informs Mr. Pickwick of the name of the town, and tells him it was 
 market-day yesterday, both which pieces of information Mr. Pickwick 
 retails to his fellow-passengers, whereupon they emerge from their 
 coat collars too, and look about them also. Mr. Winkle, who sits at 
 the extreme edge with one leg dangling in the air, is nearly precipi- 
 tated into the street, as the coach twists round the sharp corner by the 
 cheesemonger's shop, and turns into the market-place ; and before 
 Mr. Snodgrass, who sits next to him, has reeovered from his alarm, 
 they have pulled up at the inn yard, where the fresh horses with cloths 
 on, are already waiting. The coachman throws down the reins and get.s 
 down himself, and the outside passengers drop down also, except those 
 who have no great confidence in their ability to get up again, and they 
 remain where they are, and stamp their feet ajjainst the coach to warm 
 them ; looking with longing eyes and red noses at the bright fire in the 
 inn bar, and the sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament the 
 window. 
 
 But the guard has delivered at the corn-dealer's shop the brown 
 paper packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his 
 shoulder by a leathern strap, and has seen the horses carefully put to, 
 and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from 
 London on the coach-roof, and has assisted in the conference between 
 the coachman and the hostler about the gray mare that hurt her off- 
 fore-leg last Tuesday, and he and Mr. Weller are all right behind, and 
 the coachman is all right in front, and the old gentleman inside, who 
 has kept the window down full two inches all this time, has pulled it 
 \ip again, and the cloths are off, ai^ they are all ready for starting, 
 except the " two stout gentlemen," whom the coachman inquires after 
 with some impatience. Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and 
 Sara Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostler?:, 
 and every one of the idlers, who are more in number than all the 
 others put together, shout for the missing gentlemen as loud as they 
 can bawl. A distant response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pick- 
 wick and Mr. Tupman come running down it. quite out of breath, for 
 they have been having a glass of ale apiece, and .Mr. Pickwick'.^ fingers 
 arc so cold that he has been full five minutes before he could find thr 
 :.iixpence to pay for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory *' Now, 
 then, genTm'n," the guard re-echoes it — the old gentleman inside, 
 thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people will get down when 
 they know there isn't time for it — Mr Pickwick struggles up on one 
 side, -Mr. Tupman on the other, Mr. Winkle cries " All ri^'ht," and off 
 they start. Shawls are pulled up. coat collars are re-adjusted, the 
 pavement ceases, the houses disappear ; and they are once again 
 dashing along the open road, with \Jt\e fresh clear air Wowing in their 
 faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them. 
 
272 P0STHUM0D6 PAPERS OF 
 
 Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the Mug- 
 gleton Telegraph, on their way to Dingley Dell ; and at three o'clock 
 that afternoon, they all stood, high and dry, safe and sound, hale and 
 hearty, upon the steps of the Blue Lion, having taken on the road quite 
 enough of ale and bi^andy, to enable them to bid defiance to the frost 
 that was binding up the earth in its iron fetters, and weaving its beau- 
 tiful net-work upon the trees and hedges. Mr. Pickwick was busily 
 engaged in counting the barrels of oysters, and superintending the dis- 
 interment of the cod-fish, when he felt himself gently pulled by the 
 skirts of the coat ; and looking round, he discovered that the individual 
 who resorted to this mode of catching his attention, was no other than 
 Mr. Wardle's favourite page, better known to the rea;.ler8 of this un- 
 varnished history by the distinguished appellation of the fat boy. 
 
 "Aha!" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Aha!" said the fat boy. 
 
 And as he said it, he glanced from the cod-fish to the oyster-barrels, 
 and chuckled joyously. He was fatter than ever. 
 
 " Well, you look ro.sy enough, my young friend," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Pve been asleep, right in the front of the lap-room fire," replied 
 the fat boy, who had heated himself to the colour of a new chimney- 
 pot, in the course of an hour's nap. " Master sent me over with the 
 ehay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house. He'd ha' sent some 
 saddle horses, but he thought you'd rather walk, being a cold day." 
 
 *' Yes, yes,"' said Mr. Pickwick, hastily, for he remembered how they 
 had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. — 
 "Yes, we would rather walk. Here Sam." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Wellcr. 
 
 "Help Mr. Wardle's servant to put the packages into the cart, and 
 then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once." 
 
 Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr. Pick- 
 wick and his three friends struck into the footpath across the fields, 
 and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller and the fat boy confronted 
 together for the first time. Sam. looked at the fat boy with great as- 
 tonishment, but without saying a word ; and began to stow the things 
 rapidly away in the cart, while the fat boy stood quietly by, and seemed 
 to think it a very interesting sort of thing to see Mr. Weller working 
 by himself. 
 
 " There," said Sam, throwing in the last carpet bag. " There they 
 are." 
 
 " Yes," said the fat boy, in a very satisfied tone. " there they arc." 
 
 =' Veil, young twenty stun," said Sam, " you're a nice specimen of a 
 prize boy, you are." 
 
 " Thank'ee," said t!ie fat boy. 
 
 " \ ou ain't got nothin' on your mind as makes you fret yourself, 
 have you ?" inquired Sam. 
 
 " Not as I knows on," replied the boy. 
 
 " I should ray ther ha' thought, to look at you, that you was a labouria - 
 under an unrequited attachment to some young 'ooman," said Sam. 
 
 The fat boy shook his head. 
 
 " Veil," said Sam. " Pm glad to hear it. Do you ever drink any thin' 1" 
 
 " I likes eating, bettj?r," replied the boy. 
 
 " Ah," said Sam, '• I shauld hu' s'posed that ; but what I mean is, 
 should you like a drop of any thin' as'd warm you 1 but I s'pose you 
 never was cold, with all tljem elastic fixtures, was you V 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 273 
 
 =* Sometimes," replied the boy. " And I likes a drop of something, 
 when it's good." 
 
 " Oh, you do, do you !" said Sam, " come this vay, then.'' 
 
 The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed a 
 glass of liquor witiiout so much as winking, — a feat which considera- 
 bly advanced him in Mr. Weller's good opinion. Mr. Weller having 
 transacted a similar piece of business on his own account, they got into 
 the cart. 
 
 " Can you drive 1" said the fat boy. 
 
 " I should rayther think so," replied Sam. 
 
 " There, then,^' said the fat boy, putting the reins in his hand, and 
 pointing up a lane, " It's as straight as yo»u can go ; you can't mips it.". 
 
 With these words the fat boy laid himself affectiona'.ely down by the 
 side of the cod-fish, and placing an oyster-barrel under his head for a 
 pillow, fell asleep instantaneously. 
 
 " Yell," said Sam, •' of all the cool boys ever I set my eyes on, this 
 here young gen'l'm'n is about the coolest. Come, vake up, young 
 dropsy." 
 
 But as young dropsy evinced no symptom of returning animation, 
 Sam Weller sat himself down in front of the cart, and starting the old 
 horse with a jerk of the rein, jogged steadily on towards Manor Farm. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends having walked their blood 
 into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on ; the paths were hard, 
 the grass was crisp and frosty, the air had a fine, dry, bracing coldness, 
 and the rapid approach of the gray twilight (slate coloured is a better 
 term in frosty weather) made them look forward with pleasant antici- 
 pation to the comforts which awaited them at their hospitable enter- 
 tciiner's. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of 
 elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off their great coats and. 
 play at leap-frog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety ; and we firmly 
 believe that had Mr. Tupman at that moment protiered a "back,'' Mr. 
 Pickwick would have accepted his oflTer with the utmost avidity. 
 
 However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any such personal accom- 
 modation, and the fi lends walked on, conversing merrily. As they 
 turned into a lane which they had to cross, the sound of many voices 
 burst upon their ears ; and before they had even had time to form a 
 guess as to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of 
 the party who were expecting their arrival — a fact which was first no- 
 tified to the Pickwickians, by the loud " Hurrah," which burst from 
 old Wardle's lips, when they appeared in sight. 
 
 " First, there was Wardfe himself, looking, if that were possible, 
 more jolly than ever ; then there were Bella and her faithful Trundle ; 
 and lastly, there were Emily and some eight or ten young ladies, who 
 had all come down to the wedding which w.-.s to take place next day, 
 and were in as happy and important a state as young ladies usually are 
 on such momentous occasions ; and they were, one and all, startling 
 the fields and lanes far and wide with their frolic and laughter. 
 
 The ceremony of introduction, under such circumstances, was very 
 soon performed, or we should rather say that the irttfoduction was soon 
 over, without any ceremony at all ; and in two minutes thereafter. .Mr. 
 Pickwick was joking with the young ladies — who wouldn't come over 
 the ftile while he looked, or who, having pretty feet and une.\c« |)Uoq- 
 q.ble ankles, preferred standing on the top rail for five minutes or so, 
 and declaring that they were too frightened to move, with as much ease 
 
274 POSTHDMODS PAPERS OK 
 
 and absence of rescr/e or constraint, as if he had known them for life. 
 It is worthy of remark too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far more 
 assistance than the absolute terrors of the stile (although it was full 
 three feet high, and had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem 
 to require ; while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair 
 of boots with fur round the top, was observed to scream very loudly, 
 when Mr. Winkle offered to help her over.. 
 
 All this was very snug and pleasant : and when the difficulties of the 
 stile were at last surmounted, and they once more entered on the open 
 field, old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they bad all been down in 
 a body to inspect the furniture and fittings-up of tKt house, which the 
 young couple were to tenant, after the Christmas holidays ; at which 
 communication Bella and Trundle both coloured up, as red as the fat 
 boy after the taproom fire ; and the young lady with the black eyes and 
 the fur round the boots, whispered something in Emily's ear, and then 
 glanced archly at Mr. Snodgrass, to which Emily responded that she 
 was a foolish girl, but turned very red notwithstanding ; and Mr. Snod- 
 grass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the 
 crimson rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly wished, in the 
 inmost recesses of his own heart, that the young lady aforesaid, with 
 her black eyes and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the 
 top, were all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county. 
 
 But, if they were social and happy outside the house, what was the 
 warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm ! 
 The very ser^'ants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr. Pickwick: 
 and Emma bestowed a half demure half impudent and all pretty look of 
 recognition on Mr. Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of 
 Bonaparte in the passage unfold his arms and clasp her within them. 
 
 The old lady was seated in customary state in the front parlour; but 
 she was rather cross, and by consequence, most particularly deaf She 
 never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the 
 same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if 
 any body else took the liberty of doing what she couldn't. So, bless 
 her old soul, she sat as upright as she could in her great chair, and 
 looked as fierce as might be — and that was benevolent after all. 
 
 " Mother," said Wardle, <' Mr. Pickwick. You recollect him." 
 
 " Never mind," replied the old lady with great dignity. " Don't 
 trouble Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares about 
 me now, and it's very natural they shouldn't." Here the old lady tossed 
 her head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress, with 
 trembling hands. 
 
 " Come, come, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, " I can't let you cut an 
 old friend m this way. I have come down expressly to have a long 
 talk, and another rubber with you ; and we'll show these boys and girls 
 how to dance a minuet before they're eight -and- forty hours older." 
 
 The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it ail 
 at once ; so she only said, " Ah ! I can't hear him." 
 
 " Nonsense, mother," said Wardle. " Come, come, don't be cross, 
 there's a good soul. Recollect Bella ; come you must keep her spirit.*; 
 up, poor girl." 
 
 The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son said it. 
 But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite, 
 brought round yet. So she smoothed down the lavender-coloured dress 
 
THE PICKWICK CLDB. 'Z t i) 
 
 again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick, said — " Ah, Mr. Pickwick, young 
 people was very different when I was a girl." 
 
 '• rso doubt of that, ma'am," eaid Mr. Pickwick, "and that's the 
 reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the 
 old stock." — and saying this, Mr. Pickwick gently pulled Bella toward 
 him, and bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit down on the 
 little stool at her grandmother's feet. Whether the expression of her 
 countenance, as it was raised towards the old lady's face, called up a 
 thouirht of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr. Pick- 
 wick's affectionate good nature, or whatever was the cause, she was 
 fairly melted ; so she threw herself on her grand-daughter's neck, and 
 all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush of silent tears. 
 
 A happy party they were, that night. Sedate and solemn were the 
 score of rubbers in which Mr. Pickwick and the old lady played to- 
 gether ; and uproarious was the mirth of the round table, liong after 
 the ladies had retired, did the hot elder wine, well qualified with brandy 
 and spice, go round and round again ; and sound was the sleep, and 
 pleasant were the dreams that followed. It "is a remarkable fact, that 
 those of Mr. Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily Wardle ; and 
 that the principal figure in Mr. Winkle's visions, was a young lady 
 with black eyes, an arch smile, and a pair of remarkably nice boot.s, 
 with fur round the tops. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was awakened early in the morning, by a hum of 
 voices and pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from 
 his heavy slumbers. He sat up in bed, and listened. The female 
 servants and female visiters were running constantly to and fro ; and 
 there were such multitudinous demands for warm water, such repeated 
 outcries for needles and thread and so many half suppressed entreaties 
 of" Oh, do come and tie me, there's a dear," that Mr. Pickwick in his 
 innocence began to imagine that something dreadful must have oc- 
 curred, when he grew .more awake, and remembered the wedding. 
 The occasion beipg an important one, he dressed himself with peculiar 
 care, and descended to the breakfast room. 
 
 There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of pink 
 rauslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about the house 
 in a state of excitement and agitation, which it would be impossible to 
 describe. The old lady was dressed out, in a brocaded gown, which had 
 not seen the light for twenty years, saving and crcepting such truant 
 rays as had stolen through the chinks in the box in which it had been 
 laid by. during the whole time. Mr. Trundle was in high feather and 
 spirits, but a little nervous withal. The hearty old landlord was tnr-ing 
 to look very cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in the 
 attempt. All the girls were in tears and white muslin, except a select 
 two or three, who were being honoured with a private view of the bride 
 and bridesmaids, up stairs. All the Pickwickians were in the most 
 blooming array ; and there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front 
 of the house, occasioned by all the men, and boys, and hobbledehoys 
 attached to the farm, each of whom had got a white bow in his button 
 hole, and all of whom were cheering with might and m.^in : being 
 incited thereto, and stimulated therein, by the precept and example of 
 Mr. Samuel Weller, who had manased to become mighty popular 
 already, and was as much at home as if he had been born on the laiid. 
 
 A wedding \s a licensed subject to joke upon, but there really is no 
 great joke in the matter after all ; we speak merely of the ceremony, 
 
276 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF 
 
 and beg it to be distinctly understood that we indulge in no hidden 
 sarcasm upon a married life. Mixed up with the pleasure and joy of 
 the occasion, are the many regrets at quitting home, the tears of parting 
 between parent and child, the consciousness of leaving the dearest and 
 kindest friends of the happiest portion of human life, to encounter its 
 cares and troubles with others still untried, and little known — natural 
 feelings which we would not render this chapter mournful by describ- 
 ing, and which, we should be still more unwilling to be supposed to 
 ridicule. 
 
 Let us briefly say, then, that the ceremony was performed by the 
 old clergyman, in the parish church of Dingley Dell, and that IVIr. 
 Pickwick's name is attached to the register, still preserved in the 
 vestry thereof; that the young lady with the black eyes signed her 
 name in a very unsteady and tremulous manner ; and that Emily's 
 signature, as the other bridesmaid, is nearly illegible ; that it all went 
 off in a very admirable style : that the young ladies, generally, thought 
 it far less shocking than they expected ; and that although the owner 
 of the black eyes, and the arch smile, informed Mr. Winkle that she 
 could never submit to any thing so dreadful, we have the very best 
 reasons for thinking she was mistaken. To all this we may add, that 
 Mr. Pickwick was the first who saluted the bride ; and that in so doing 
 he threw over her neck a rich gold watch and chain, which no mortal 
 eyes but the jeweller's had ever beheld before. Then the old church 
 bell rang as gaily as it could, and they all returned to breakfast. 
 
 " Vere does the mince-pies go, young opium eater ]" said Mr. Wel- 
 ler to the fat boy, as he assisted in laying out such articles of consump- 
 tion as had not been duly arranged on the previous night. 
 
 The fat boy pointed to the destination of the pies. 
 
 " Werry good," said Sam, " stick a bit o' Christmas in 'em. T'other 
 dish opposite. There : now ve look compact and comfortable, as the 
 father said ven he cut his little boy's head off, to cure him o' squintin'." 
 
 As Mr. Weller made the comparison, he fell back a step or two, to 
 give full effect to it, and surveyed the preparations with the utmost 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Wardle," said Mr. Pickvnck, almost as soon as they were all 
 seated, " a glass of wine, in honour of this happy occasion !" 
 
 •' I shall be delighted, my boy," said Wardle. " Joe— why he is 
 gons to sleep." 
 
 *' No, I ain't, sir," replied the fat boy, starting up from a remote 
 corner, where hke the patron saint of fat boys — the immortal Horner 
 — he had been devouring a Christmas pie, though not with the cool- 
 ness and deliberation which characterized that young gentleman's 
 proceedings. 
 
 " Fill Mr. Pickwick's glass." 
 
 •'Yes, sir." 
 
 The fat boy filled Mr. Pickwick's glass, and then retired behind his 
 master's chair, from whence he watched the play of the knives and 
 forks, and the progress of the choice morsels, from the dishes to the 
 mouths of the company, with a kind of dark and gloomy joy that was 
 most impressive. 
 
 " God bless you, old fellow," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 '* Same to you. my boy," replied Wardle ; and they pledged each 
 other heartily. 
 
 " Mrs. Wardle," said Mr. Pickwick, " we old folks must have a 
 glass of wine together, in honour of this joyful event." 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 277 
 
 The old lady was in a state of great grandeur just then, for she was 
 sitting at the top of the table in the brocaded gown, with her newly 
 married daughter on one side, and Mr. Pickwick on the other to do 
 the carving. Mr. Pickwick had not spoken in a very loud tone, but 
 she understood him at once, and drank off a full glass of wine to his 
 long life and happiness ; after which the worthy old soul launched 
 forth into a minute and particular account of her own wedding, with a 
 dissertation on the fashion of wearing high-heeled shoes, and some 
 particulars concerning the life and adventures of the beautiful Lady 
 Tollimglower, deceased, at all of which the old lady herself laughed 
 very heartily indeed, and so did the young ladies too, for they were 
 wondering among themselves what on earth grandma was talking 
 about. When they laughed, the old lady laughed ten times more 
 heartily : and said that they always had been coi\sidered capital stories, 
 which caused them all to laugh again, and put the old lady into the 
 ve-ry best of humours. Then the cake was cut, and passed through 
 the ring ; and the young ladies saved pieces to put under their pillows 
 to dream of their future husbands on ; and a great deal of blushing 
 and merririient was thereby occasioned. 
 
 " Mr. Miller," said Mr. Pickwick to his old acquaiYitance the hard- 
 headed gentleman, "a glass of wine 1" 
 
 *' Wiih great satisfaction, Mr. Pickwick," replied the hard-headed 
 gentleman, solemnly. 
 
 "You'll take me in]" said the benevolent clergyman. 
 
 "And me," interposed his wife. 
 
 "And me, and mc," said a couple of poor relations at the bottom of 
 the table, who had eaten and drank very heartily, and laughed at every 
 thing. 
 
 M r. Pickwick expressed his heart-felt delight at every additional 
 suggestiou ; and his eyes beamed with hilarity and cheerfulness. 
 
 " I..adies and gentlemen," said Mr. Pickuici, suddenly rising — 
 
 "Hear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear, hear!" said Mr. Welle r, in the 
 excitement of his feelings. 
 
 " Call in all the servants," cried old Wardle, interposing to prevent 
 the public rebuke which Mr. Weller wouW otherwise most indubitably 
 have received from his master. 
 
 " Give them a glass of wine each, to drink the toast in. Now, Pick- 
 wick." 
 
 Amidst the silence off the company, the whispering of the women 
 servants, and the awkward embarrassment of the men, Mr. Pickwick 
 proceeded : — 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen — no, I wont say ladies and gentlemen, I'll 
 call you my friends, my dear friends, if the ladies will allow me t« 
 take so great a liberty " 
 
 Here Mr. Pickwick was interrupted by immense applause from the 
 ladies, echoed by the gentlemen, during which the owner of the black eyes 
 was distinctly heard to state, that she could ki.ss that dear Mr. Pick- 
 wick, whereupon Mr. W^inkle gallantly inquired if it couldn't be done 
 by deputy, to which the young lady with the black eyes replied, " (Jo 
 away" — and accompanied the request with a look which said as plainly 
 as a look could do " if you can." 
 
 •' My dear friends," resumed Mr. Pickwick, " I am going to propo^ 
 the health of the bride and bridegroom — God bless 'em, (cheers and 
 tears.) My young friend Trundle, I believe to be a very excellent 
 
 Vol. L— 2^ 
 
278 POSTHUMOUS TAPERS OF 
 
 and manly fellow ; and his wife I know to be a very amiable and lovely 
 girl, well qualified to transfer to another sphere of action the happi« 
 ness which, for twenty years, she has diffused around her, in her 
 father's house. (Here, the fat boy burst forth into stentorian bluhber- 
 ings, and was led forth by the coat collar, by Mr. Weller.) I wish," 
 added Mr. Pickwick, " I wish I was young enough to be her sister's 
 husband, (cheers,) but, failing in that, I am happy to be old enough to be 
 her father ; for, being so, I shall not be suspected of any latent de- 
 signs when I say, that I admire, esteem, and love them both, (cheers 
 and sobs.) The bride's father, our good friend there, is a noble per- 
 son, and I am proud to know him, (great uproar.) He is a kind, excel- 
 lent, inde{)endent-.spirited, fine-hearted, hospitable, liberal man, (enthu- 
 siasiic shouts from the poor relations, at all the adjectives ; and espe- 
 cially at the two last.) That his daughter may enjoy all the happi- 
 ness, even he can desire ; and that he may derive from the conlcmpla- 
 tion of her felicity, all the gratification of heart and peace of mind 
 which he so well deserves, is, I am persuaded^ our united wish. So, 
 let us drink their healths, and wish them prolonged life, and every 
 blessing. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick concluded amidst a whirlwind of applause ; and once 
 more were the lungs of the supernumeraries, under Mr. Weller's com- 
 mand, brought into active and efficient operation. Mr. Wardle pro- 
 posed Mr. Pickwick, and Mr. Pickwick proposed the old lady. Mr. 
 Snodgrass proposed Mr. Wardle, and Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Snod- 
 grass. One of the poor relations proposed Mr. Tupraan, and the other 
 poor relation proposed Mr. Winkle ; and all was happiness and festi- 
 vity, until the mysterious disappearance of both the poor relations be- 
 'ncath the table, warned the party that it was time to adjourn. 
 
 At dinner they met again, after a five-and-twenty mile walk, under- 
 taken by the males at Wardle's recommendation, to get rid of the effecta 
 of the wine at breakfast ; the poor relations had lain in bed all day, 
 with the view of attaining the same happy consummation, but,' as they 
 had been unsuccessful they stopped there. Mr. Weller kept the do- , 
 mestics in a state of perpetual hilarity ; and the fat boy divided his 
 time into small alternate allotments of eating and sleeping. 
 
 The dinner v/as as hearty an affair as the breakfast, and wrfs quite as 
 noisy, without the tears. Then came the dessert and some more toaste. 
 Then came the tea and coffee ; and then, the ball. 
 
 The best sitting room at Manor Farm was a good, long, dark panelled 
 room with a high chimney-piece, and a capacious chimney, up which 
 you could have driven one of the new patent cabs, wheels and all. At 
 the upper end of the room, seated in a shady bower of holly and ever- 
 greens, were the two best fiddlers, and the only harp in all Muggleton. 
 In all sort? of recesses, and on all kinds of brackets, stood massive old 
 silver candlesticks with four branches each. The carpet was up, the 
 candles burnt bright, the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth ; and 
 merry voices and light-hearted laughter rang through the room. If 
 any of the old English yeomen had turned into fairies when they died, 
 it was just the place in which they would have held their revels. 
 
 If any thing could have added to the interest of this agreeable scene, 
 it would have been the remarkable fact of Mr. Pickwick's appearing 
 without his gaiters, for the first time within the memory of his oldcKt 
 friends. 
 
 " You mean to dance !" said Wardle. 
 
' THE PICKWICK CLUB. 279 
 
 " Of course I do," replied Mr Pickwick. " Don't you see I am 
 dressed for the purpose?" and Mr Pickwick called attention to his 
 speckled silk stockings, and sinar ly tied putnps. 
 
 " You in silk stockings !" exclaimed Mr. Tupman, jocosely. 
 
 " And why not, sir — why not ]" said Mr. Pickwick, turning warmly 
 upon him, 
 
 " Oh, of course there is no reason why you shouldn't wear them," 
 responded Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " I imagine not, sir — I imagine not," said Mr. Pickwick, in a very 
 peremptory tone. 
 
 Mr. Tupman had contemplated a larugh, but he found it was a serious 
 matter ; so he looked grave, and said they were a verj' pretty pattern. 
 
 " I hope they are," said Mr. Pickwick, f).\ing his eyes upon his 
 friend. *' You see nothing e.xtraordmary in these stockings, as stock- 
 ings, I trust, sir 1" 
 
 " Certainly not — oh, certainly not," repliecf Mr. Tupman. He 
 walked away ; and Mr. Pickwick's countenance resumed its customary 
 benign e.xpression. 
 
 " We are all ready, I believe," said Mr. Pickwick, who was stationed 
 •with the old lady at the top of the dance, and had already made four 
 false starts, in his excessive nnxiety to commence. 
 
 " I'hen begin at once." said Wardle. " Now.'^ 
 
 Up struck the two fiddles and the one harp, and ofTwert Mr. Pick- 
 wick into hands across, when theie was a general clapping of hands, 
 and a cry of " Stop, stop." 
 
 "What's the matter,"' said Mr. Pickwick, who was only brought to, 
 by the fiddles and harp desisting, and could have been stopped by no 
 earthly power, if the house had been on fire. 
 
 " Where's Arabella Allen !" said a dozen voices. 
 
 "And Winkle ?" added Mr. Tupman. 
 
 "Here we are I" exclaimed that gentleman, emerging with his 
 pretty companion from the corner ; and, as he did so, it would have 
 been hard to tell which was redder in the {^ce:, he or the young lady 
 with the black eyes. 
 
 '* What an extraordinary thine it is Winkle," said Mr. Pickwick, 
 rather pettishly, " that you couldn't have taken your place before." 
 
 " Not at all extraordinary," said Mr. Winkle. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Pickwick, with a very expressive smile, as his 
 eyes rested on Arabella, " well, I don't know, that it icas extraordinary, 
 either, after all." 
 
 However, there was no time to think more about the matter, for the 
 fiddles and harp began in real earnest. Away went Mr. Pickwick — 
 hands across, down the middle to the very end of the room, and half 
 way up the chimney, and back aijain to the door — poussctte every 
 where — loud stamp on the ground — ready for the next couple — off 
 again— all the figure over once more — another stamp to beat out the 
 time — next couple, and the next, and the next ai;ain — never was such 
 going ; and at last, after they had reached the bottom of the dance, 
 and full fourteen couple after the old lady had retired in an exhau.'«ted 
 state, and the clergynian's wife had been substituted in her stead, did 
 that gentleman, when there was no demand whatever on his exertions, 
 keep perpetually dancing in his ]>lace, to keep time to the music, 
 smiling on his partner all the while wll!i a blanJness of iliineanoiir 
 Which baffles all description. 
 
2S0 POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OV 
 
 Long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of dancing, the newly marriej 
 couple had retircJ from the scene. There was a glorious supj)prdown 
 stairs, notwithstanding, and a good long sitting after it ; and wiien 
 Mr. PicUwick awoke late tlie next morniag he had a confused recollec- 
 tion of having, severally and confidentially, invited somewhere about 
 llvc-arid-f().-ty people to dine with him at the (ieorge and Vulture, the 
 v.ry first time they come to London ; which Mr. Pickwick rightly- 
 considered a pretty certain indication of his having taken something 
 besides exercise on the previous night. 
 
 '* Aiid so your family has games in the kitchen to-night, my dear» 
 has they V' incjuired Sjun of Emma 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Weller," replied Emma : " we always have on Christmas 
 eve. Master wouldn't neglect to keep it up, on any account " 
 
 *' Your master's a werry pretty notion of keepin' any thin' up, my 
 drar," said Mr. Weller ; " I never see such a sensible sort o' man as 
 he is, or such a reg'lar gen'Fman." 
 
 " Oh, that he is !" said the fat boy, joirving in the conversation ; " don't 
 he breed nice pork !"' and the fat youth gave a semi-cannibalic leer at 
 Mr. Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and gravy. 
 
 " Oh, you've woke up at last, have you V said Sam. 
 
 The hi boy nodded. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what it is, young boa constructor," said Mr. Weller, 
 imjtressivi'ly, " if you don't sleep a little less, and exercise a Hltlc more, 
 yen you comes to be a man, you'll lay yourself open to the same sort 
 o' personal inconwenience a.-j was inflicted on the old gen'l'nian as wore 
 the pigtail." 
 
 " What did they do to him ?" inquired the fet boy, in a faltering voice. 
 
 " Im a goin' to tell you," replied Mr. Weller. "He was one o' the 
 largest patterns as was ever turped out — reg'lar fat man, as hadn't 
 caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty years." 
 
 " Indeed !'' exclaimed Emma. 
 
 " No, that he hadn't my dear, said Mr. Weller, " and if you'd put an 
 exact model of his own legs on the dinin' table afore him, he wouldn't 
 ha' known 'em. Well, he always walks to his office with a werry 
 handsome gold watch-chain hangin' out about a foot and a half, ar»d a 
 gold watch in his fob pocket as vvas worth — Pm afraid to say how 
 much, but as much as a watch can be — a large, heavy, round mana- 
 facter, as stout for a watch as he was for a man, and with a big face 
 in proportion. ' You'd better not carry that 'ere watch,' says the old 
 genl'man's. friends — 'you'll be robbed on it,' says they. ' Shall I ?' 
 tays he. * Y'cs, will you,' says they. ' A'ell,' says he, ' I should like 
 to see the thief as could gei, this here watch out, for Pm blessed if / 
 ever can ; it's, such a tight fit,' says he, ' and venever I vants to know 
 what's o'clock, I am obliged to stare into the bakers' shops,' ho says. 
 Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a goin' to pieces, and out he 
 walks agin with his powdered head and pigtail, and rolls down the Strand 
 vith the chain hangin' out furder than ever, and the great round watch 
 almost buBtin' through his gray kersey smalls. There warn't a pick- 
 j>ocket in all London as didn't take a pull at that chain, but the chain 
 'ud never bretik, and the watch 'ud never come out, so they soon got 
 tired a dragging such a heavy old gen'l'man along the pavement, and 
 he'd go home and laugh till the pig-tail wibrated like the pendulum of 
 a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old gen'l'man was rollin' along, and 
 hp sees a pickpocket as he kngw'd by sight Sk-comin' up, arm in arm 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUn. 291 
 
 vlth a little boy vith a wcrry large head. ' Here's a game,' says the old 
 gen'l'man to himselt"; ' they're a-goin' to have another try, but it won't 
 do." So he begins a chuckiin' werry hearty, von, all of a sudden, the 
 little boy leaves hold of the pickpocket's arm, and rushes hcadfurcniost 
 straight into the old gen'l'man's stomach, and for a momest doubled 
 him right up with the pain. ' Murder I' says the old genTmaii. ' All 
 right, sir,' says the pickjjocket, a whisperin' in his ear. And vcn he 
 comes straight agin, the watch and chain wa.«» gene, and what's worse 
 than th/it, the old geriTman's digestion was all wrong ever ar!erwards, 
 to the werry last day of his life ; so just you look about you, young 
 feller, and take care yon don't get too fat.' 
 
 As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with which the fat boy 
 appeared much affected, they all three wended their way to the large 
 kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to 
 annual custom on Christmas eve, observed by old Wardle's forefathers 
 IVora time immemorial. 
 
 From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just 
 suspended with his own hands a huge branch of mistletoe, and this 
 same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a scene of gen- 
 eral and most delightful struggling and confusion; in the midst of 
 which Mr. Pickwick, with a gallantry which would have done honour 
 to a descendant of Lady ToUimglowcr herself, took the old lady by the 
 hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy 
 and decorum. The old lady submitted to this piece of practical polite- 
 ness with all the dignity which befitted so important and serious a 
 solemnity, but the younger ladies not being so thoroughly imbued with 
 a superstitious veneration of the custom, or imagining that the value 
 of a salute is very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble to obtain it, 
 screamed and struggled, and ran into corners, and threatened and re- 
 monstrated, and did every thing but leave the room, until some of the 
 less adventurous gentlemen were on the point of desisting, when they 
 all at once found it useless to resist any longer, and submitted to be 
 ki.ssed with a good grace. Mr. Wjrdcle kissed the young lady with the 
 black eyes, and Mr. Suodgrass ki.ssed Emily ; and Mr. Weller, not being 
 particular about the form of being under the misletoe, kissed Emma 
 and the other female servants just as he caught them. As to the poor 
 relations, they ki.ssed every body, not e\cn excepting the plainer portion 
 of the young-lady visiter?, who, in their confusion, ran right under the 
 misletoe, directly it was hung up, without knowing it ! Wardle stood 
 with his back to the fire, surveying the whole scene with the utmost 
 satisfaction ; and the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating to 
 his own use, and su;nmarily devouring, a particularly fine mince-pie, 
 that had been carefully put by for somebody else. 
 
 rsow the screaming had subsided, and facrs were in a £jIow and 
 curls in a tangle, and Mr. l^ickwick, after kis.«ing the old lady as 
 before-mentiored, was standing under the mistletce, looking with a 
 very pleased coutitenance on all that was passing around him. when 
 the ^oung ladv with the black eyes, after a little whispering with the 
 other young ladicr, made a sudden dart forward, and, puttiug her arm 
 around Mr Pickwick's neck, saluted him affectionately on the left 
 cheek ; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew what was the matter, 
 Le was surrounded by the whole body, and kissed by every one of them. 
 
 It was a pleasant thing to see 51 r. Pickwick in tlie centre of iho 
 group, row pulled tliis way, and then that, and first kissed on the 
 
 24* 
 
2S3 POSTHUMOUS PAPER3 G9 
 
 cliin, and then on the nose, and then on the spectacles, and to hear the 
 peals of laughter which were raised on every side : but it was a still 
 more pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick, bhnded shortly afterward 
 with a silk handkerchief, falling up against the wall, and .scrambling 
 into corners, and going tljrough all the mysteries of blind-man's butt', 
 with the utmost relish for the game, until at last he caught one of the 
 poor relations ; and then had to evade the blind-man himself, which 
 he did with a nimbleness and agility that elicited the admiration and 
 applause of all beholders. The poor relations caught just the people 
 whom they thought would like it ; and when the game flagged, got 
 caught themselves. When they were all tired of blind-man's buff, 
 there was a great game at snap-dragon, and when fingers enough were 
 burned with that, and all the raisins gone, they sat down by the huge 
 fjre of blazing logs to a substantial supper, and a mighty bowl of was- 
 sail, something smaller than an ordinary wash-house copper, in which 
 the hot apples were hissing and bubbling with a rich look, and a jolly 
 sound, that were perfectly irresistible. 
 
 "This," said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, "this is, indeed, 
 comfort." 
 
 *' Our invariable custom," replied Mr. Wardle. " Every body sits 
 down with us on Christmas eve, as you see them now — servants and 
 all ; and here we wait till the clock strikes twelve, to usher Christmas 
 in, and while away the time with forfeits and old stories. Trundle, 
 my boy, rake up the fire." 
 
 Up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the logs were stirred, and 
 the deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow, that penetrated into the far- 
 thest corner of the room, and cast its cheerful tint on every face. 
 
 " Come," said Wardle, " a song — a Christmas song. I'll give you 
 one in default of a better." 
 
 "Bravo," said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 *' Fill up," cried Wardle. '* It will be two hours good, before you 
 see the bottom of the bowl through the deep rich colour of the wassail ; 
 fill up all around, and now for the song." 
 
 Thus saying, the merry old gentleman, in a good round sturdy voice 
 commenced, without more ado, 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 I CAKE not for Spring on his fickle wing 
 
 Let the blossom and buds be borne : 
 
 He woos ihem amain with his treacherous rain, 
 
 And he scatters them ere the morn. 
 
 An inconstant elf, he knows not himself, 
 
 Or his own changing mind an hour. 
 
 He'll smile in your face, and with wry grimace, 
 
 He'll wither your youngest flower. 
 
 Let the summer sun to his bright home run, 
 
 He sball never be sough: by me ; 
 
 When he's dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud. 
 
 And care not how sulky he be ; j 
 
 For his darling child is the madness wild 
 
 That sports in fierce fever's train ; 
 
 And when love is too strong, it don't last long. 
 
 As many have found to their pain. 
 
THE PICKWICK CLUB. 2WO 
 
 A mild harvest night, by the tranquil light 
 
 Of the modest, and gentle moon, 
 
 Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween, 
 
 Than the broad and unWushing noon. 
 
 But every leaf awakens my grief. 
 
 As it lieth beneath the tree ; 
 
 So let Autumn air be never so fair, 
 
 It by no means agrees with me. 
 
 But my song I troll out, for Christmas stout, 
 
 The hearty, the true, and the bold. 
 
 A bumper I drain, and with might and main 
 
 Give three cheers for this Christmas old. 
 
 We'll usher him in with a merr>' din 
 
 That shall gladden his joyous heart, 
 
 And we'll keep him up while there's bite or sup, 
 
 And in fellowship good we'll part. 
 
 In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide 
 
 One jot of his hard-weather scars : 
 
 They're no disgrace, for there's much the same trace 
 
 On the cheeks of our bravest tars. 
 
 Then again I sing till the roof doth ring, 
 
 And it echoes from wall to wall — 
 
 To the stout old wight, far welcome to-night, 
 
 As- the King of the Seasons all ! 
 
 This song was tumultuously applauded, for friends and dependants 
 make a capital audience ; and the poor relations especially were in per- 
 fect ecstacies of rapture. Again was the fire replenished, and again 
 went the wassail round. 
 
 *' How it snow^ !'' said one of the men, in a low tone. 
 
 •'Snows, does iti" said Wardle. 
 
 *' Rough, cold night, sir," replied the man : " and there's a wind got 
 up, that drifts it across the fields, in a thick white cloud." 
 
 "What does Jem say!" inquired the old lady. "There ain't any 
 thing the matter, is there 1" 
 
 •'No, no, mother," replied Wardle ; " he says there's a snow-drift, 
 and a wind that's piercing" cold. I should know that, by the way it 
 rumbles in the chimney." 
 
 "Ah!" said the old lady, "there was just such a wind, and just 
 sjch a fall of snow, a good many years back, I recollect — ^just five 
 years before your poor father died. It was a Christmas eve, too ; and 
 I remember that on that very night he told us the story about the gob- 
 lins that carried away old Gabriel Grub." 
 
 "The story about what ?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Oh, nothing-— nothing,'' replied Wardle. " A'oout an old sexton, 
 that the good people down here suppose to have been carried away by 
 
 ^blii 
 
 •' Suppose !" ejaculated the old lady. " Is there any body liardy 
 enough to disbelieve it ! Suppose ! Haven't you heard ever since 
 you were a child, that he was carried away by the goblins, and don't 
 you know he was !" 
 
 •'Very well, mother, he was, if you like,'' said Wardle, laughing. 
 *« He was carried away by goblins, Pickwick ; and there's an end cf 
 the matter." 
 
3)54 P08THUM0C8 PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLTJC. 
 
 " No, no," said Mr. Pickwick, " not an end of it, I assure you ; for 
 I must hear how, and why, and all about it." 
 
 Wardlc smiled, as every head was bent forward to hear ; and filling 
 out the wassail with no stinted hand, nodded a health to Mr. Pickwick, 
 and began as follows : — 
 
 But blcos our editorial heart, wliat a long chapter w^e have been be- 
 trayed into ! We had quite forgotten all such petty restrictions as 
 chapters, we solemnly declare. So here goes to give the goblin a fair 
 start in a new one. A clear stage and no favour for the goblins, ladie« 
 and gentlemen, if you please. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
!