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<title><emph>The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club Containing a Faithful Record of the Perambulations, Perils, Travels, Adventures and Sporting Transactions of the Corresponding Members. No. XVIII:</emph>
Electronic Edition.
</title><author>Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870</author>

<respStmt>
<resp>Illustrated by </resp>
<name>Pailthorpe, F. W. (Frederic W.)</name>
<name>Seymour, Robert, 1798-1836.</name>
<name>Buss, Robert William, 1804-1875.</name>
<name>Browne, Hablot Knight, 1815-1882.</name>
</respStmt>

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<respStmt><resp>Images scanned by</resp>
<name>Patricia Schefcick</name></respStmt><respStmt><resp>Text encoded by </resp>
<name>Apex Data Services, Inc., Harris Henderson, and Jill Kuhn Sexton</name></respStmt></titleStmt>
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<extent>ca. 175K</extent>
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<publisher>Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH</publisher>
<pubPlace>University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, </pubPlace><date>2002.</date>

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<p>&copy; This work is the property of the University of North Carolina 
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<title type="title page">The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club Containing a Faithful Record of the Perambulations, Perils, Travels, Adventures and Sporting Transactions of the Corresponding Members. No. XVIII</title>

<author>Boz</author>

<respStmt><resp>Illustrations by</resp>
<name>Phiz</name></respStmt>

</titleStmt>

<extent>     52 p., ill.</extent>

<publicationStmt>
<pubPlace>LONDON:</pubPlace>
<publisher>CHAPMAN &amp; HALL, 186, STRAND.</publisher>
<date>MDCCCXXXVII</date>
<authority></authority>
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<notesStmt><note>Call number  Dickens 13 pt. 18 (Rare Book Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill)</note></notesStmt>
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<text>
<front>
<titlePage>

<titlePart> No. XVIII.]</titlePart>

<docEdition>[PRICE  1<hi rend="italics">s.</hi></docEdition>


<docTitle><titlePart>THE <lb/> POSTHUMOUS PAPERS <lb/> OF THE <lb/> PICKWICK CLUB <lb/> CONTAINING A FAITHFUL RECORD OF THE <lb/> PERAMBULATIONS, PERILS, TRAVELS, ADVENTURES <lb/> AND <lb/> Sporting Transactions <lb/> OF THE CORRESPONDING MEMBERS. </titlePart></docTitle>

<docAuthor>
EDITED BY &ldquo;BOZ.&rdquo;
</docAuthor>

<docEdition>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</docEdition>

<docImprint>
<pubPlace>LONDON:</pubPlace>
<publisher>CHAPMAN &amp; HALL, 186, STRAND.</publisher>
<docDate>MDCCCXXXVII</docDate>
<seg>BRADBURY AND EVANS,]</seg>
<seg>[PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</seg>
</docImprint>
</titlePage>

<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="pii" n="ii"/>
<opener>AN IMPORTANT ADDITION TO THE PICKWICK PAPERS <lb/><hi rend="italics">Just published, price</hi> 1<hi
rend="italics">s. each, Parts I. to V. of</hi></opener><head>  WELLER'S ILLUSTRATIONS <lb/> TO <lb/> THE PICKWICK CLUB.</head>
<p>The Proprietors, encouraged by the success of the first Four Parts of Weller's Illustrations, have made arrangements to secure additional merit to the remaining portions of the Series.</p>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<opener><hi rend="italics">Just published, size</hi> 38 <hi rend="italics">inches by</hi> 19, <hi
rend="italics">printed on the best Drawing Paper,</hi></opener><head>  GILBERT'S NEW MAP OF THE WORLD.</head>
<p>The Proprietor, with confidence, begs to submit these Hemispheres to the particular notice of Scholastic Teachers, those interested in Geographical Science, and the Public generally, as a spirited attempt to delineate the present state of the known World. The Author has gleaned the discoveries in the Northern Regions from the labours of Back, Ross, Parry, Franklin, Lyon, and Scoresby; in Africa, from the Landers, Denham, Clapperton, Caillie, Oudney, and Laing; in South America and the South Seas, from Captains Kruzenstern, Weddell, Smith, Briscoe, King, Beachey, and others. Especial attention has been given to the progressive settlements in Australia; he has also availed himself of information derived from the Colonial, Ordance, and Hydrographical Offices, the Geographical Society, and the most esteemed Maps and Charts extant; and the dates of all the important discoveries of the last thousand years are added. The Map is published at the following reasonable prices:&mdash;</p>
<p>
<table rows="6" cols="3">
<row role="label">
<cell></cell>
<cell><hi rend="italics">s.</hi></cell>
<cell><hi rend="italics">d.</hi></cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>On a sheet, coloured</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>In a Case</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mounted on a Black Roller</cell>
<cell>7</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mounted on a Black Roller, and highly varnished</cell>
<cell>9</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mahogany Roller, and highly varnished</cell>
<cell>12</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<div2 type="section">
<head>CRITICISMS.</head>
<p>&ldquo;It is clearly executed, and can thus be readily consulted. The other general information, supplied on a single sheet, is also extremely useful. <hi
rend="italics">The height of the principal mountains, the length of the great rivers, the summary of the chief products of various quarters, and tabular calculations of population, language, &amp;c., &amp;c.,</hi> are all matters which should be familiar to intelligent persons.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Literary Gazette.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;We have hearty commendations to bestow upon Gilbert's Map of the World, which has just been issued at a cheap rate, in a convenient form, and in a style of execution that leaves nothing to be desired. It contains a variety of necessary information, extensive tabular computations, <hi
rend="italics">and the dates of geographical discoveries.</hi>&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Court Journal.</hi></p>
</div2>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<opener><hi rend="italics">Also just published, size</hi> 4 <hi rend="italics">feet by</hi> 4 <hi
rend="italics">feet</hi> 1 <hi rend="italics">inch, a Second Edition of</hi></opener>
<head>GILBERT'S NEW MAP OF EUROPE, <lb/> ON FOUR SHEETS.</head>
<p>The public approval of the first edition of this cheap and valuable Map has encouraged the Proprietor to add Fourteen Hundred Towns, and other improvements, to the new edition, without any extra charge to the purchaser. The Map, which is engraved in a bold and distinct character, is laid down from the best authorities, showing, in the clearest manner ever yet attempted, its physical features, political divisions, post and rail roads, steam communication, population, &amp;c. A Diagram of Hills, in profile, is introduced, and the water is clearly distinguishable from the land, by the former being engine-ruled. The prices, greatly under any hitherto published, are as follow:&mdash;</p>
<p>
<table rows="5" cols="4">
<row>
<cell>On Four Sheets, coloured</cell>
<cell>&pound;0</cell>
<cell>16</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Cloth Tuck Case, coloured</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>10</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mounted on Roller, coloured</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mounted on Roller, coloured and highly varnished</cell>
<cell>&pound;1</cell>
<cell>14</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Mounted on Roller, on Mahogany highly varnished</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>18</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<p>The First Edition, expressly prepared for Schools, <lb/> On Common Roller, &pound;1. 1<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi></p>
<p>On Common varnished, &pound;1. 6<hi rend="italics">s.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;This is an useful, valuable, elegant, and carefully-executed undertaking, embracing all the most recent improvements. It is got up on a liberal scale that does great credit to the publisher. We heartily recommend it to the traveller, and consider it an acquisition to the public seminary, equally as the private library of the gentleman.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Metropolitan Conservative Journal.</hi></p>
<p>E. GRATTAN, 51, Paternoster Row. Sold by all Booksellers, &amp;c.</p>
<p>Export Orders supplied on Liberal Terms.</p>
</div1>
</front>

<body>
<div1 type="section">
<pb id="piii" n="iii"/>
<p>
<figure id="ill1">
</figure>
</p>
</div1>
<div1 type="section">
<pb id="piv" n="iv"/>
<p>
<figure id="ill2">
</figure>
</p>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="pv" n="v"/>
<opener>186, STRAND, <lb/>
<hi rend="italics">September</hi> 29, 1837</opener>
<head>COMPLETION <lb/> OF <lb/> THE PICKWICK PAPERS.</head>
<p>THE Subscribers to this Work and the TRADE are respectfully informed that Nos. XIX. and XX. (with Titles, Contents, &amp;c.), <hi
rend="italics">will be published together</hi> on the 1st of November; and that the complete Volume, neatly bound in cloth, price One Guinea, will be ready for delivery by the 14th of that Month, and for which Country Booksellers are requested to send early orders to their respective Agents.</p>
<div2 type="section">
<head>NEW WORK BY &ldquo;BOZ.&rdquo;</head>
<p>Messrs. CHAPMAN and HALL have the pleasure of announcing that they have completed arrangements with Mr. CHARLES DICKENS, for the production of an ENTIRELY NEW WORK, (with Illustrations by PHIZ,) to be published monthly, at the same price, and in the same form, as the <hi
rend="italics">Pickwick Papers.</hi> The first Number will appear on the 31st of March, 1838.</p>
</div2><div2 type="section">
<pb n="vi" id="pvi"/>
<head>SKETCHES BY &ldquo;BOZ,&rdquo; <lb/> COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, <lb/> UNIFORM WITH THE PICKWICK PAPERS.</head>
<p><hi rend="italics">On November</hi> 1<hi rend="italics">st will be published, to be completed in Twenty Numbers, in octavo,</hi>
<lb/>
<hi rend="italics">price One Shilling each,</hi>
<lb/> SKETCHES BY &ldquo;BOZ;&rdquo; <lb/> ILLUSTRATIVE OF EVERY-DAY LIFE AND EVERY-DAY PEOPLE.</p>
<p>A New Edition, <lb/> COMPRISING BOTH THE SERIES, AND <lb/> EMBELLISHED WITH FORTY ILLUSTRATIONS <lb/> BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.</p>
<p>This Edition will be revised by the Author, and arranged as follows:&mdash;</p>
<list>
<head>SEVEN SKETCHES FROM OUR PARISH.</head>
<item>THE BEADLE.</item>
<item>THE CURATE.</item>
<item>THE PARISH ENGINE.</item>
<item>THE OLD LADY.</item>
<item>THE SCHOOLMASTER.</item>
<item>THE RETIRED CAPTAIN.</item>
<item>THE YOUR SISTERS.</item>
<item>THE BROKER'S MAN.</item>
<item>THE ELECTION FOR BEADLE.</item>
<item>THE LADIES' SOCIETIES.</item>
<item>OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS.</item>
</list>
<list>
<head>SCENES.</head>
<item>THE STREETS&mdash;MORNING, NOON, AND NIGHT.</item>
<item>SHOPS AND THEIR TENANTS.</item>
<item>SEVEN DIALS.</item>
<item>HACKNEY-COACH STANDS.</item>
<item>LONDON RECREATIONS.</item>
<item>ASTLEY'S.</item>
<item>PRIVATE THEATRES.</item>
<item>EARLY COACHES.</item>
<item>SCOTLAND YARD.</item>
<item>MONMOUTH STREET.</item>
<item>DOCTORS' COMMONS.</item>
<item>THE RIVER.</item>
<item>GREENWICH FAIR.</item>
<item>VAUXHALL GARDENS BY DAY.</item>
<item>OMNIBUSES.</item>
<item>THE LAST CAB-DRIVER AND THE FIRST OMNIBUS-CAD.</item>
<item>THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.</item>
<item>THE FIRST OF MAY.</item>
<item>GIN-SHOPS.</item>
<item>THE CRIMINAL COURT.</item>
<item>PUBLIC DINNERS.</item>
<item>BROKERS AND MARINE-STORE SHOPS.</item>
<item>THE PAWNBROKER'S.</item>
<item>NEWGATE.</item>
</list>
<list>
<head>CHARACTERS.</head>
<item>SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT SOME PEOPLE.</item>
<item>A NEW-YEAR'S PARTY.</item>
<item>THE PARLOUR ORATOR.</item>
<item>MR. DOUNCE THE WIDOWER.</item>
<item>THE DANCING ACADEMY.</item>
<item>MAKING A NIGHT OF IT.</item>
<item>A CHRISTMAS FAMILY DINNER.</item>
<item>MISS JEMIMA EVANS.</item>
<item>THE HOSPITAL PATIENT.</item>
<item>THE MISTAKEN MILLINER.</item>
<item>SHABBY-GENTEEL PEOPLE.</item>
<item>THE PRISONERS' VAN.</item>
</list>
<list>
<head>TALES.</head>
<item>THE BOARDING-HOUSE.</item>
<item>SENTIMENT.</item>
<item>HORATIO SPARKINS.</item>
<item>THE STEAM EXCURSION.</item>
<item>MRS. JOSEPH PORTER.</item>
<item>THE BLOOMSBURY CHRISTENING.</item>
<item>MR. MINNS AND HIS COUSIN.</item>
<item>THE TUGGS AT RAMSGATE.</item>
<item>THE BLACK VEIL.</item>
<item>THE GREAT WINGLEBURY DUEL.</item>
<item>MR. WATKINS TOTTLE.</item>
<item>THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH.</item>
</list><closer>LONDON: <lb/> CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186, STRAND.</closer>
</div2>
</div1>


<div1 type="text">
<pb id="p531" n="531"/>
<head>[POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF THE PICKWICK CLUB]</head>

<div2 type="chapter">

<head>CHAPTER XLIX.</head>
<head>
HOW MR. PICKWICK SPED UPON HIS MISSION, AND HOW HE WAS REINFORCED IN THE OUTSET BY A MOST UNEXPECTED AUXILIARY.
</head>
<p>THE horses were put to, punctually at a quarter before nine next morning, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller having each taken his seat, the one inside and the other out, the postilion was duly directed to repair in the first instance to Mr. Bob Sawyer's house, for the purpose of taking up Mr. Benjamin Allen.</p>
<p>It was with feelings of no small astonishment, when the carriage drew up before the door with the red lamp, and the very legible inscription of &ldquo;Sawyer, late Nockemorf,&rdquo; that Mr. Pickwick saw, on popping his head out of the coach-window, the boy in the grey livery very busily employed in putting up the shutters: the which being an unusual and rather un-business-like proceeding at that hour of the morning, at once suggested to his mind two inferences&mdash;the one, that some good friend and patient of Mr. Bob Sawyer's was dead; the other, that Mr. Bob Sawyer himself was bankrupt.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick to the boy.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing's the matter, Sir,&rdquo; replied the boy, expanding his mouth to the whole breadth of his countenance.</p>
<p>&ldquo;All right, all right,&rdquo; cried Bob Sawyer, suddenly appearing at the door, with a small leathern knapsack, limp and dirty, in one hand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm. &ldquo;I'm going, old fellow.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Bob Sawyer, &ldquo;and a regular expedition we'll make of it. Here, Sam&mdash;look out.&rdquo; Thus briefly bespeaking Mr. Weller's attention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack into the dickey, where it was immediately stowed away under the seat, by Sam, who regarded the proceeding with great admiration. This done, Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the assistance of the boy, forcibly worked himself into the rough coat, which was a few sizes too small for him, and then advancing to the coach window, thrust in his head, and laughed boisterously.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What a start it is&mdash;isn't it?&rdquo; said Bob, wiping the tears out of his eyes, with one of the cuffs of the rough coat.</p>
<p>&ldquo;My dear Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, with some embarrassment, &ldquo;I had no idea of your accompanying us.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, that's just the very thing,&rdquo; replied Bob, seizing Mr. Pickwick by the lappel of his coat. &ldquo;That's the joke.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, that's the joke, is it?&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; replied Bob. &ldquo;It's the whole point of the thing, you
<pb n="532" id="p532"/>
know&mdash;that, and leaving the business to take care of itself, as it seems to have made up its mind not to take care of me.&rdquo; With this explanation of the phenomenon of the shutters, Mr. Bob Sawyer pointed to the shop, and relapsed into an ecstacy of mirth.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Bless me, you are surely not mad enough to think of leaving your patients without anybody to attend them!&rdquo; remonstrated Mr. Pickwick in a very serious tone.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Bob, in reply. &ldquo;I shall save by it, you know. None of them ever pay. Besides,&rdquo; said Bob, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, &ldquo;they will be all the better for it, for being nearly out of drugs and not able to increase my account just now, I should have been obliged to give them calomel all round, and it would have been certain to have disagreed with some of them&mdash;so it's all for the best.&rdquo;</p>
<p>There was a philosophy and a strength of reasoning about this reply, which Mr. Pickwick was not prepared for. He paused a few moments, and added, less firmly than before&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;But this chaise, my young friend&mdash;this chaise will only hold two; and I am pledged to Mr. Allen.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Don't think of me for a minute,&rdquo; replied Bob. &ldquo;I've arranged it all; Sam and I will share the dickey between us. Look here. This little bill is to be wafered on the shop-door: &lsquo;Sawyer, late Nockemorf. Enquire of Mrs. Cripps over the way.&rsquo;&mdash;Mrs. Cripps is my boy's mother.&mdash;&lsquo;Mr. Sawyer's very sorry,&rsquo; says Mrs. Cripps, &lsquo;couldn't help it&mdash;fetched away early this morning to a consultation of the very first surgeons in the country&mdash;couldn't do without him&mdash;would have him at any price&mdash;tremendous operation.&rsquo; The fact is,&rdquo; said Bob, in conclusion&mdash;&ldquo;It'll do me more good than otherwise, I expect. If it gets into one of the local papers, it will be the making of me. Here's Ben&mdash;now then, jump in.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With these hurried words, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed the postboy on one side, jerked his friend into the vehicle, slammed the door, put up the steps, wafered the bill on the street-door, locked it, put the key in his pocket, jumped into the dickey, gave the word for starting; and did the whole with such extraordinary precipitation, that before Mr. Pickwick had well begun to consider whether Mr. Bob Sawyer ought to go or not, they were rolling away with Mr. Bob Sawyer, thoroughly established as part and parcel of the equipage.</p>
<p>So long as their progress was confined to the streets of Bristol, the facetious Bob kept his professional green spectacles on, and conducted himself with becoming steadiness and gravity of demeanour, merely giving utterance to divers verbal witticisms for the exclusive behoof and entertainment of Mr. Samuel Weller, but when they emerged upon the open road, he threw off his green spectacles and his gravity together, and performed a great variety of practical jokes, which were rather calculated perhaps to attract the attention of the passers-by, and to render the carriage and those it contained, objects of more than ordinary curiosity; the least conspicuous among these feats being a most vociferous imitation of a key-bugle, and the ostentatious display of a crimson silk pocket-handkerchief attached to a walking-stick, which
<pb n="533" id="p533"/>
was occasionally waved in the air with various gestures indicative of supremacy and defiance.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, stopping in the midst of a most sedate conversation with Ben Allen, bearing reference to the numerous good qualities of Mr. Winkle and his sister&mdash;&ldquo;I wonder what all the people we pass, can see in us to make them stare so.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;It's a neat turn-out,&rdquo; replied Ben Allen, with something of pride in his tone. &ldquo;They're not used to see this sort of thing every day, I dare say.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Possibly,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;It may be so. Perhaps it is.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick might very probably have reasoned himself into the belief that it really was, had he not, just then happening to look out of the coach window, observed that the looks of the passengers betokened anything but respectful astonishment, and that various telegraphic communications appeared to be passing between them and some persons outside the vehicle, whereupon it all at once occurred to him that these demonstrations might be, in some remote degree, referable to the humorous deportment of Mr. Robert Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, &ldquo;that our volatile friend is committing no absurdities in that dickey behind.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh dear, no,&rdquo; replied Ben Allen. &ldquo;Except when he's elevated, Bob's the quietest creature breathing.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Here a prolonged imitation of a key-bugle broke upon the ear, succeeded by cheers and screams, all of which evidently proceeded from the throat and lungs of the quietest creature breathing, or in plainer designation, of Mr. Bob Sawyer himself.</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen looked expressively at each other, and the former gentleman taking off his hat, and leaning out of the coach window till nearly the whole of his waistcoat was outside it, was at length enabled to catch a glimpse of his facetious friend.</p>
<p>Mr. Bob Sawyer was seated, not in the dickey, but on the roof of the chaise, with his legs as far asunder as they would conveniently go, wearing Mr. Samuel Weller's hat on one side of his head, and bearing in one hand a most enormous sandwich, while in the other he supported a goodly-sized case bottle, to both of which he applied himself with intense relish, varying the monotony of the occupation by an occasional howl, or the interchange of some lively <hi
rend="italics">badinage</hi> with any passing stranger. The crimson flag was carefully tied in an erect position to the rail of the dickey, and Mr. Samuel Weller, decorated with Bob Sawyer's hat, was seated in the centre thereof, discussing a twin sandwich with an animated countenance, the expression of which betokened his entire and perfect approval of the whole arrangement.</p>
<p>This was enough to irritate a gentleman with Mr. Pickwick's sense of propriety, but it was not the whole extent of the aggravation, for a stage coach full, inside and out, was meeting them at the moment, and the astonishment of the passengers was very palpably evinced. The congratulations of an Irish family, too, who were keeping up with the chaise, and begging all the time, were of rather a boisterous description; especially those of its male head, who appeared to consider the
<pb n="534" id="p534"/>
display as part and parcel of some political, or other procession of triumph.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Mr. Sawyer,&rdquo; cried Mr. Pickwick, in a state of great excitement. &ldquo;Mr. Sawyer, Sir!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; responded that gentleman, looking over the side of the chaise with all the coolness in life.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Are you mad, Sir?&rdquo; demanded Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not a bit of it,&rdquo; replied Bob, &ldquo;only cheerful.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Cheerful, Sir!&rdquo; ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Take down that scandalous red handkerchief. I beg&mdash;I insist, Sir. Sam, take it down.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Before Sam could interpose, Mr. Bob Sawyer gracefully struck his colours, and having put them in his pocket, nodded in a courteous manner to Mr. Pickwick, wiped the mouth of the case-bottle, and applied it to his own; thereby informing him, without any unnecessary waste of words, that he devoted that draught to wishing him all manner of happiness and prosperity. Having done this, Bob replaced the cork with great care, and looking benignantly down on Mr. Pickwick, took a large bite out of the sandwich, and smiled.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, whose momentary anger was not quite proof against Bob's immoveable self possession, &ldquo;pray let us have no more of this absurdity, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; replied Bob, once more exchanging hats with Mr. Weller; &ldquo;I didn't mean to do it, only I got so enlivened with the ride that I couldn't help it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Think of the look of the thing,&rdquo; expostulated Mr. Pickwick; &ldquo;have some regard to appearances.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, certainly,&rdquo; said Bob, &ldquo;it's not the sort of thing at all. All over, governor.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Satisfied with this assurance, Mr. Pickwick once more drew his head into the chaise and pulled up the glass; but he had scarcely resumed the conversation which Mr. Bob Sawyer had interrupted, when he was somewhat startled by the apparition of a small dark body, of an oblong form, on the outside of the window, which gave sundry taps against it, as if impatient of admission.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What's this!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It looks like a case-bottle;&rdquo; remarked Ben Allen, eyeing the object in question through his spectacles with some interest; &ldquo;I rather think it belongs to Bob.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The impression was perfectly accurate, for Mr. Bob Sawyer having attached the case-bottle to the end of the walking-stick, was battering the window with it, in token of his wish that his friends inside would partake of its contents, in all good fellowship and harmony.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What's to be done?&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the bottle. &ldquo;This proceeding is more absurd than the other.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think it would be best to take it in,&rdquo; replied Mr. Ben Allen; &ldquo;it would serve him right to take it in and keep it, wouldn't it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;It would,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick: &ldquo;shall I?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think it the most proper course we could possibly adopt,&rdquo; replied Ben.</p>
<pb n="535" id="p535"/>
<p>This advice quite coinciding with his own opinion, Mr. Pickwick gently let down the window and disengaged the bottle from the stick; upon which the latter was drawn up, and Mr. Bob Sawyer was heard to laugh heartily.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What a merry dog it is,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, looking round at his companion with the bottle in his hand.</p>
<p>&ldquo;He is,&rdquo; said Mr. Allen.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You cannot possibly be angry with him,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Quite out of the question,&rdquo; observed Benjamin Allen.</p>
<p>During this short interchange of sentiments, Mr. Pickwick had, in an abstracted mood, uncorked the bottle.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; enquired Ben Allen, carelessly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick, with equal carelessness. &ldquo;It smells, I think, like milk punch.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, indeed!&rdquo; said Ben.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I <hi rend="italics">think</hi> so,&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Pickwick, very properly guarding himself against the possibility of stating an untruth: &ldquo;mind, I could not undertake to say for certain, without tasting it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You had better do so,&rdquo; said Ben; &ldquo;we may as well know what it is.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Well, if you are curious to know, of course I have no objection.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Ever willing to sacrifice his own feelings to the wishes of his friend, Mr. Pickwick at once took a pretty long taste.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; enquired Ben Allen, interrupting him with some impatience.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Curious,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, smacking his lips, &ldquo;I hardly know, now. Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, after a second taste, &ldquo;it <hi
rend="italics">is</hi> punch.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Ben Allen looked at Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick looked at Mr. Ben Allen. Mr. Ben Allen smiled; Mr. Pickwick did not.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It would serve him right,&rdquo; said the last-named gentleman with some severity, &ldquo;it would serve him right to drink it every drop.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The very thing that occurred to me,&rdquo; said Ben Allen.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is it indeed!&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Then here's his health.&rdquo; With these words, that excellent person took a most energetic pull at the bottle, and handed it to Ben Allen, who was not slow to imitate his example. The smiles became mutual, and the milk-punch was gradually and cheerfully disposed of.</p>
<p>&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, as he drained the last drop, &ldquo;his pranks are really very amusing&mdash;very entertaining indeed.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You may say that,&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Ben Allen. And in proof of Bob Sawyer's being one of the funniest fellows alive, he proceeded to entertain Mr. Pickwick with a long and circumstantial account how that gentleman once drank himself into a fever and got his head shaved; the relation of which pleasant and agreeable history was only stopped by the stoppage of the chaise at the Bell at Berkeley Heath, to change horses.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I say, we're going to dine here, aren't we?&rdquo; said Bob, looking in at the window.</p>
<pb n="536" id="p536"/>
<p>&ldquo;Dine!&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Why, we have only come nineteen miles, and have got eighty-seven and a half to go.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Just the reason why we should take something to enable us to bear up against the fatigue,&rdquo; remonstrated Mr. Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, it's quite impossible to dine at half-past eleven o'clock in the day,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch.</p>
<p>&ldquo;So it is,&rdquo; rejoined Bob, &ldquo;lunch is the very thing. Hallo, you Sir! Lunch for three directly; and keep the horses back for a quarter of an hour. Tell them to put every thing they have got cold, on the table, and some bottled ale,&mdash;and let us taste your very best Madeira.&rdquo; Issuing these orders with monstrous importance and bustle, Mr. Bob Sawyer at once hurried into the house to superintend the arrangements; in less than five minutes he returned and declared them to be excellent.</p>
<p>The quality of the lunch fully justified the eulogium which Bob had pronounced, and very great justice was done to it, not only by that gentleman, but Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Pickwick also. Under the auspices of the three, the bottled ale and the Madeira were promptly disposed of; and when (the horses being once more put to) they resumed their seats, with the case-bottle full of the best substitute for milk-punch that could be procured on so short a notice, the key-bugle sounded and the red flag waved without the slightest opposition on Mr. Pickwick's part.</p>
<p>At the Hop Pole at Tewkesbury they stopped to dine; upon which occasion there was more bottled ale, with some more Madeira, and some Port besides; and here the case-bottle was replenished for the fourth time. Under the influence of these combined stimulants, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen fell fast asleep for thirty miles, while Bob and Mr. Weller sang duets in the dickey.</p>
<p>It was quite dark when Mr. Pickwick roused himself sufficiently to look out of the window. The straggling cottages by the road-side, the dingy hue of every object visible, the murky atmosphere, the paths of cinders and brick dust, the deep red glow of furnace fires in the distance, the volumes of dense smoke issuing heavily forth from high toppling chimneys, blackening and obscuring every thing around; the glare of distant lights, the ponderous waggons which toiled along the road, laden with clashing rods of iron, or piled with heavy goods&mdash;all betokened their rapid approach to the great working town of Birmingham.</p>
<p>As they rattled through the narrow thoroughfares leading to the heart of the turmoil, the sights and sounds of earnest occupation struck more forcibly on the senses. The streets were thronged with working-people. The hum of labour resounded from every house; lights gleamed from the long casement windows in the attic stories, and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery shook the trembling walls. The fires, whose lurid sullen light had been visible for miles, blazed fiercely up in the great works and factories of the town. The din of hammers, the rushing of steam, and the dead heavy clanking of the engines, was the harsh music which arose from every quarter.</p>
<pb n="537" id="p537"/>
<p>The postboy was driving briskly through the open streets and past the handsome and well-lighted shops which intervene between the outskirts of the town and the old Royal Hotel, before Mr. Pickwick had begun to consider the very difficult and delicate nature of the commission which had carried him thither.</p>
<p>The delicate nature of this commission, and the difficulty of executing it in a satisfactory manner, were by no means lessened by the voluntary companionship of Mr. Bob Sawyer: truth to tell, Mr. Pickwick felt that his presence on the occasion, however considerate and gratifying, was by no means an honour he would willingly have sought; in fact he would cheerfully have given a reasonable sum of money to have had Mr. Bob Sawyer removed to any place of not less than fifty miles' distance without delay.</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick had never held any personal communication with Mr. Winkle, Senior, although he had once or twice corresponded with him by letter, and returned satisfactory answers to his enquiries concerning the moral character and behaviour of his son; he felt nervously sensible that to wait upon him for the first time attended by Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen, both slightly fuddled, was not the most ingenious and likely means that could have been hit upon to prepossess him in his favour.</p>
<p>&ldquo;However,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, endeavouring to re-assure himself, &ldquo;I must do the best I can: I must see him to-night, for I faithfully promised to do so; and if they persist in accompanying me, I must make the interview as brief as possible, and be content to hope that, for their own sakes, they will not expose themselves.&rdquo;</p>
<p>As he comforted himself with these reflections, the chaise stopped at the door of the Old Royal. Ben Allen having been partially awakened from a stupendous sleep, and dragged out by the collar by Mr. Samuel Weller, Mr. Pickwick was enabled to alight. They were shown to a comfortable apartment, and Mr. Pickwick at once propounded a question to the waiter concerning the whereabout of Mr. Winkle's residence.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Close by, Sir,&rdquo; said the waiter, &ldquo;not above five hundred yards, Sir. Mr. Winkle is a wharfinger, Sir, at the canal, Sir. Private residence is not&mdash;oh dear no, Sir, <hi
rend="italics">not</hi> five hundred yards, Sir.&rdquo; Here the waiter blew a candle out and made a feint of lighting it again, in order to afford Mr. Pickwick an opportunity of asking any further questions, if he felt so disposed.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Take anything now, Sir?&rdquo; said the waiter, lighting the candle in desperation at Mr. Pickwick's silence. &ldquo;Tea or coffee, Sir? dinner, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing now.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Very good, Sir. Like to order supper, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not just now.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;<hi rend="italics">Very</hi> good, Sir.&rdquo; Here he walked softly to the door, and then stopping short, turned round and said with great suavity&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Shall I send the chambermaid, gentlemen?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You may if you please,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;If <hi rend="italics">you</hi> please, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
<pb n="538" id="p538"/>
<p>&ldquo;And bring some soda water,&rdquo; said Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Soda water, Sir? Yes, Sir.&rdquo; And with his mind apparently relieved from an overwhelming weight, by having at last got an order for something, the waiter imperceptibly melted away. Waiters never walk or run. They have a peculiar and mysterious power of skimming out of rooms, which other mortals possess not.</p>
<p>Some slight symptoms of vitality having been awakened in Mr. Ben Allen by the soda water, he suffered himself to be prevailed upon to wash his face and hands, and to submit to be brushed by Sam. Mr. Pickwick and Bob Sawyer having also repaired the disorder which the journey had made in their apparel, the three started forth, arm in arm, to Mr. Winkle's; Bob Sawyer impregnating the atmosphere with tobacco smoke as he walked along.</p>
<p>About a quarter of a mile off, in a quiet, substantial-looking street, stood an old red-brick house with three steps before the door, and a brass plate upon it, bearing in fat Roman capitals the words, &ldquo;Mr. Winkle.&rdquo; The steps were very white, and the bricks were very red, and the house was very clean; and here stood Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Benjamin Allen, and Mr. Bob Sawyer, as the clock struck ten.</p>
<p>A smart servant girl answered the knock, and started on beholding the three strangers.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is Mr. Winkle at home, my dear?&rdquo; enquired Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;He is just going to supper, Sir,&rdquo; replied the girl.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Give him that card if you please,&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Say I am sorry to trouble him at so late an hour; but I am anxious to see him to-night, and have only just arrived.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The girl looked timidly at Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was expressing his admiration of her personal charms by a variety of wonderful grimaces, and casting an eye at the hats and great-coats which hung in the passage, called another girl to mind the door while she went up stairs. The sentinel was speedily relieved, for the girl returned immediately, and begging pardon of the gentlemen for leaving them in the street, ushered them into a floor-clothed back parlour, half office and half dressing room, in which the principal useful and ornamental articles of furniture were a desk, a wash-hand stand and shaving glass, a boot-rack and boot-jack, a high stool, four chairs, a table, and an old eight-day clock. Over the mantel-piece were the sunken doors of an iron safe, while a couple of hanging shelves for books, an almanack, and several files of dusty papers, decorated the walls.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Very sorry to leave you standing at the door, Sir,&rdquo; said the girl, lighting a lamp, and addressing Mr. Pickwick with a winning smile, &ldquo;but you was quite strangers to me; and we have such a many trampers that only come to see what they can lay their hands on, that really&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;There is not the least occasion for any apology, my dear,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick good humouredly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not the slightest, my love,&rdquo; said Bob Sawyer, playfully stretching forth his arms, and skipping from side to side, as if to prevent the young lady's leaving the room.</p>
<pb n="539" id="p539"/>
<p>The young lady was not at all softened by these allurements, for she at once expressed her opinion that Mr. Bob Sawyer was an &ldquo;odous creetur;&rdquo; and, on his becoming rather more pressing in his attentions, imprinted her fair fingers upon his face, and bounced out of the room with many expressions of aversion and contempt.</p>
<p>Deprived of the young lady's society, Mr. Bob Sawyer proceeded to divert himself by peeping into the desk, looking into all the table-drawers, feigning to pick the lock of the iron safe, turning the almanack with its face to the wall, trying Mr. Winkle senior's boots on, over his own, and making several other humorous experiments upon the furniture, all of which afforded Mr. Pickwick unspeakable horror and agony, and yielded Mr. Bob Sawyer proportionate delight.</p>
<p>At length the door opened, and a little old gentleman in a snuff-coloured suit, with a head and face the precise counterpart of those belonging to Mr. Winkle junior, excepting that he was rather bald, trotted into the room with Mr. Pickwick's card in one hand, and a silver candlestick in the other.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Mr. Pickwick, Sir, how do you do?&rdquo; said Winkle the elder, putting down the candlestick and proffering his hand. &ldquo;Hope I see you well, Sir. Glad to see you. Be seated, Mr. Pickwick, I beg Sir. This gentleman is&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;My friend Mr. Sawyer,&rdquo; interposed Mr. Pickwick, &ldquo;your son's friend.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Mr. Winkle the elder, looking rather grimly at Bob. &ldquo;I hope <hi
rend="italics">you</hi> are well, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Right as a trivet,&rdquo; replied Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;This other gentleman,&rdquo; cried Mr. Pickwick, &ldquo;is, as you will see when you have read the letter with which I am entrusted, a very near relative, or I should rather say a very particular friend of your son's. His name is Allen.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;<hi rend="italics">That</hi> gentleman?&rdquo; enquired Mr. Winkle, pointing with the card towards Ben Allen, who had fallen asleep in an attitude which left nothing of him visible but his spine and his coat collar.</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick was on the point of replying to the question, and reciting Mr. Benjamin Allen's name and honourable distinctions at full length, when the sprightly Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the view of rousing his friend to a sense of his situation, inflicted a startling pinch upon the fleshy part of his arm, which caused him to jump up with a loud shrick. Suddenly aware that he was in the presence of a stranger, Mr. Ben Allen advanced and, shaking Mr. Winkle most affectionately by both hands for about five minutes, murmured in some half-intelligible fragments of sentences the great delight he felt in seeing him, and a hospitable enquiry, whether he felt disposed to take anything after his walk, or would prefer waiting &ldquo;till dinner-time;&rdquo; which done, he sat down and gazed about him with a petrified stare as if he had not the remotest idea where he was, which indeed he had not.</p>
<p>All this was most embarrassing to Mr. Pickwick, the more especially as Mr. Winkle, senior, evinced palpable astonishment at the eccentric&mdash;not to say extraordinary&mdash;behaviour of his two companions. To
<pb n="540" id="p540"/>
bring the matter to an issue at once, he drew a letter from his pocket, and presenting it to Mr. Winkle, senior, said&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;This letter, Sir, is from your son. You will see by its contents that on your favourable and fatherly consideration of it, depend his future happiness and welfare. Will you oblige me by giving it the calmest and coolest perusal, and by discussing the subject afterwards, with me, in the tone and spirit in which alone it ought to be discussed? You may judge of the importance your decision is of, to your son, and his intense anxiety upon the subject, by my waiting upon you without any previous warning at so late an hour; and,&rdquo; added Mr. Pickwick, glancing slightly at his two companions, &ldquo;and under such unfavourable circumstances.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With this prelude, Mr. Pickwick placed four closely written sides of extra superfine wire-wove penitence in the hands of the astounded Mr. Winkle, senior; and reseating himself in his chair, watched his looks and manner, anxiously it is true, but with the open front of a gentleman who feels he has taken no part which he need excuse or palliate.</p>
<p>The old wharfinger turned the letter over; looked at the front, back, and sides; made a microscopic examination of the fat little boy on the seal; raised his eyes to Mr. Pickwick's face; and then, seating himself on the high stool and drawing the lamp closer to him, broke the wax, unfolded the epistle, and lifting it to the light, prepared to read.</p>
<p>Just at this moment, Mr. Bob Sawyer, whose wit had lain dormant for some minutes, placed his hands upon his knees and made a face after the portraits of the late Mr. Grimaldi, as clown. It so happened that Mr. Winkle, senior, instead of being deeply engaged in reading the letter, as Mr. Bob Sawyer thought, chanced to be looking over the top of it at no less a person than Mr. Bob Sawyer himself; and rightly conjecturing that the face aforesaid was made in ridicule and derision of his own person, he fixed his eyes on Bob with such expressive sternness, that the late Mr. Grimaldi's lineaments gradually resolved themselves into a very fine expression of humility and confusion.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Did you speak, Sir?&rdquo; enquired Mr. Winkle, senior, after an awful silence.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, Sir,&rdquo; replied Bob, with no remains of the clown about him, save and except the extreme redness of his cheeks.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You are sure you did not, Sir?&rdquo; said Mr. Winkle, senior.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh dear! yes, Sir, quite,&rdquo; replied Bob.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I thought you did, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined the old gentleman, with indignant emphasis. &ldquo;Perhaps you <hi
rend="italics">looked</hi> at me, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, no! Sir, not at all,&rdquo; replied Bob, with extreme civility.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am very glad to hear it, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Winkle, senior. Having frowned upon the abashed Bob with great magnificence, the old gentleman again brought the letter to the light, and began to read it seriously.</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick eyed him intently as he turned from the bottom line of the first page to the top line of the second, and from the bottom of the second to the top of the third, and from the bottom of the third to the top of the fourth; but not the slightest alteration of countenance
<pb n="541" id="p541"/>
afforded a clue to the feelings with which he received the announcement of his son's marriage, which Mr. Pickwick knew was in the very first half-dozen lines.</p>
<p>He read the letter to the last word, folded it again with all the carefulness and precision of a man of business; and, just when Mr. Pickwick expected some great outbreak of feeling, dipped a pen in the inkstand, and said as quietly as if he were speaking on the most ordinary counting-house topic&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What is Nathaniel's address, Mr. Pickwick?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The George and Vulture, at present,&rdquo; replied that gentleman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;George and Vulture. Where is that?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sun Court, Cornhill.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;In the City?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The old gentleman methodically indorsed the address on the back of the letter; and then placing it in the desk, which he locked, said as he got off the stool and put the bunch of keys in his pocket&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I suppose there is nothing else which need detain us, Mr. Pickwick?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing else, my dear Sir!&rdquo; observed that warm-hearted person in indignant amazement. &ldquo;Nothing else! Have you no opinion to express on this momentous event in our young friend's life; no assurance to convey to him, through me, of the continuance of your affection and protection; nothing to say which will cheer and sustain him, and the anxious girl who looks to him for comfort and support? My dear Sir, consider.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I will consider,&rdquo; replied the old gentleman. &ldquo;I have nothing to say just now. I am a man of business, Mr. Pickwick; I never commit myself hastily in any affair, and from what I see of this, I by no means like the appearance of it. A thousand pounds is not much, Mr. Pickwick.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You're very right, Sir,&rdquo; interposed Ben Allen, just awake enough to know that he had spent <hi
rend="italics">his</hi> thousand pounds without the smallest difficulty. &ldquo;You're an intelligent man; Bob, he's a very knowing fellow this.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am very happy to find that <hi rend="italics">you</hi> do me the justice to make the admission, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Winkle, senior, looking contemptuously at Ben Allen, who was shaking his head profoundly. &ldquo;The fact is, Mr. Pickwick, that when I gave my son a roving license for a year or so to see something of men and manners (which he has done under your auspices), so that he might not enter into life a mere boarding-school milksop to be gulled by every body, I never bargained for this. He knows that very well, so if I withdraw my countenance from him on this account, he has no call to be surprised. He shall hear from me, Mr. Pickwick. Good night, Sir. Margaret, open the door.&rdquo;</p>
<p>All this time Bob Sawyer had been nudging Mr. Ben Allen to say something on the right side; and Ben accordingly now burst out, without the slightest preliminary notice, into a brief but impassioned piece of eloquence.</p>
<pb n="542" id="p542"/>
<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Ben Allen, staring at the old gentleman, through a pair of very dim and languid eyes, and working his right arm vehemently up and down, &ldquo;you&mdash;you ought to be ashamed of yourself.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;As the lady's brother, of course you are an excellent judge of the question,&rdquo; retorted Mr Winkle, senior. &ldquo;There; that's enough. Pray say no more, Mr. Pickwick. Good night, gentlemen.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With these words the old gentleman took up the candlestick, and opening the room door, politely motioned towards the passage.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You will regret this, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, setting his teeth close together to keep down his choler; for he felt how important the effort might prove to his young friend.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am at present of a different opinion,&rdquo; calmly replied Mr. Winkle, senior. &ldquo;Once again, gentlemen, I wish you a good night.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick walked with angry strides into the street. Mr. Bob Sawyer, completely quelled by the decision of the old gentleman's manner, took the same course; Mr. Ben Allen's hat rolled down the steps immediately afterwards, and Mr. Ben Allen's body followed it directly. The whole party went silent and supperless to bed; and Mr. Pickwick thought, just before he fell asleep, that if he had known Mr. Winkle, senior, had been quite so much of a man of business, it was extremely probable he might never have waited upon him, on such an errand.</p>
</div2>
<div2 type="chapter">
<head>CHAPTER L.</head>
<head>
IN WHICH MR. PICKWICK ENCOUNTERS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, TO WHICH FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE THE READER IS MAINLY INDEBTED FOR MATTER OF THRILLING INTEREST HEREIN SET DOWN, CONCERNING TWO GREAT PUBLIC MEN OF MIGHT AND POWER.
</head>
<p>THE morning which broke upon Mr. Pickwick's sight at eight o'clock was not at all calculated to elevate his spirits, or to lessen the depression which the unlooked-for result of his embassy inspired. The sky was dark and gloomy, the air damp and raw, the streets wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came slowly and doggedly down as if it had not even the spirit to pour. A game-cock in the stableyard, deprived of every spark of his accustomed animation, balanced himself dismally on one leg in a corner: and a donkey, moping with drooping head under the narrow roof of an outhouse, appeared from his meditative and miserable countenance to be contemplating suicide. In the street, umbrellas were the only things to be seen, and the clicking of pattens and splashing of rain-drops, the only sounds to be heard.</p>
<p>The breakfast was interrupted by very little conversation; even Mr. Bob Sawyer felt the influence of the weather, and the previous day's excitement. In his own most expressive language, he was &ldquo;floored.&rdquo; So was Mr. Ben Allen. So was Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<pb n="543" id="p543"/>
<p>In protracted expectation of the weather clearing up, the last evening paper from London was read and re-read with an intensity of interest only known in cases of extreme destitution; every inch of the carpet was walked over with similar perseverance, the windows were looked out of often enough to justify the imposition of an additional duty upon them, all kinds of topics of conversation were started, and failed; and at length Mr. Pickwick when noon had arrived without a change for the better, rang the bell resolutely and ordered out the chaise.</p>
<p>Although the roads were miry, and the drizzling rain came down harder than it had done yet, and although the mud and wet splashed in at the open windows of the carriage to such an extent that the discomfort was almost as great to the pair of insides as to the pair of outsides, still there was something in the very motion, and the sense of being up and doing, which was so infinitely superior to being pent in a dull room, looking at the dull rain dripping into a dull street, that they all agreed, on starting, that the change was a great improvement, and wondered how they could possibly have delayed making it as long as they had done.</p>
<p>When they stopped to change at Coventry, the steam ascended from the horses in such clouds as wholly to obscure the hostler, whose voice was however heard to declare from the mist, that he expected the first Gold Medal from the Humane Society on their next distribution of rewards, for taking the postboy's hat off; the water descending from the brim of which, the invisible gentleman declared must inevitably have drowned him (the postboy), but for his great presence of mind in tearing it promptly from his head, and drying the gasping man's countenance with a wisp of straw.</p>
<p>&ldquo;This is pleasant,&rdquo; said Bob Sawyer, turning up his coat collar, and pulling the shawl over his mouth to concentrate the fumes of a glass of brandy just swallowed.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wery,&rdquo; replied Sam, composedly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You don't seem to mind it,&rdquo; observed Bob.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vy, I don't exactly see no good my mindin' on it 'ud do, Sir,&rdquo; replied Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;That's an unanswerable reason, anyhow,&rdquo; said Bob.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Weller. &ldquo;Wotever is, is right, as the young nobleman sveetly remarked ven they put him down in the pension list 'cos his mother's uncle's vife's grandfather vunce lit the king's pipe vith a portable tinder box.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not a bad notion that, Sam,&rdquo; said Mr. Bob Sawyer approvingly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Just wot the young nobleman said ev'ry quarter-day arterwards for the rest of his life,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wos you ever called in,&rdquo; enquired Sam, glancing at the driver, after a short silence, and lowering his voice to a mysterious whisper, &ldquo;wos you ever called in, ven you wos 'prentice to a sawbones, to wisit a postboy?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I don't remember that I ever was,&rdquo; replied Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You never see a postboy in that 'ere hospital as you <hi
rend="italics">walked</hi> (as they says o' the ghosts), did you?&rdquo; demanded Sam.</p>
<pb n="544" id="p544"/>
<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; replied Bob Sawyer. &ldquo;I don't think I ever did.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Never know'd a churchyard vere there wos a postboy's tombstone, or see a dead postboy, did you?&rdquo; enquired Sam, pursuing his catechism.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; rejoined Bob, &ldquo;I never did.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; rejoined Sam, triumphantly. &ldquo;Nor never vill; and there's another thing that no man never see, and that's a dead donkey&mdash;no man never see a dead donkey, 'cept the gen'l'm'n in the black silk smalls as know'd the young 'ooman as kept a goat; and that wos a French donkey, so wery likely he warn't vun o' the reg'lar breed.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, what has that got to do with the postboys?&rdquo; asked Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;This here,&rdquo; replied Sam. &ldquo;Vithout goin' so far as to as-sert, as some wery sensible people do, that postboys and donkeys is both immortal, wot I say is this; that venever they feels theirselves gettin stiff and past their work, they just rides off together, vun postboy to a pair, in the usual vay; wot becomes on 'em nobody knows, but it's wery probable as they starts avay to take their pleasure in some other vorld, for there ain't a man alive as ever see either a donkey or a postboy a takin' his pleasure in this!&rdquo;</p>
<p>Expatiating upon this learned and remarkable theory, and citing many curious statistical and other facts in its support, Sam Weller beguiled the time until they reached Dunchurch, where a dry post-boy and fresh horses were procured; the next stage was Daventry, and the next Towcester; and at the end of each stage it rained harder than it had done at the beginning.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; remonstrated Bob Sawyer, looking in at the coach window, as they pulled up before the door of the Saracen's Head, Towcester, &ldquo;this won't do you know.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, just awakening from a nap, &ldquo;I'm afraid you are wet.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh you are, are you?&rdquo; returned Bob. &ldquo;Yes, I am, a little that way&mdash;uncomfortably damp, perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Bob did look dampish, inasmuch as the rain was streaming from his neck, elbows, cuffs, skirts, and knees; and his whole apparel shone so with the wet, that it might have been mistaken for a full suit of prepared oilskin.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I <hi rend="italics">am</hi> rather wet,&rdquo; said Bob, giving himself a shake, and casting a little hydraulic shower around in so doing, like a Newfoundland dog just emerged from the water.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think it's quite impossible to go on to-night,&rdquo; interposed Ben.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Out of the question, Sir,&rdquo; remarked Sam Weller, coming to assist in the conference; &ldquo;it's cruelty to animals, Sir, to ask 'em to do it. There's beds here, Sir,&rdquo; said Sam, addressing his master, &ldquo;everything clean and comfortable. Wery good little dinner, Sir, they can get ready in half an hour&mdash;pair of fowls, Sir, and a weal cutlet; French beans, 'taturs, tart, and tidiness. You'd better stop vere you are, Sir, if I might recommend. Take adwice, Sir, as the doctor said.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The host of the Saracen's Head opportunely appeared at this moment, to confirm Mr. Weller's statement relative to the accommodations of
<pb n="545" id="p545"/>
the establishment, and to back his entreaties with a variety of dismal conjectures regarding the state of the roads, the doubt of fresh horses being to be had at the next stage, the dead certainty of its raining all night, the equally mortal certainty of its clearing up in the morning, and other topics of inducement familiar to innkeepers.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, &ldquo;but I must send a letter to London by some conveyance, so that it may be delivered the very first thing in the morning, or I must go forward at all hazards.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The landlord smiled his delight. Nothing could be easier than for the gentleman to inclose a letter in a sheet of brown paper and send it on either by the mail or the night coach from Birmingham. If the gentleman was particularly anxious to have it left as soon as possible, he might write outside, &ldquo;To be delivered immediately,&rdquo; which was sure to be attended to; or &ldquo;pay the bearer half-a-crown extra for instant delivery,&rdquo; which was surer still.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, &ldquo;then we will stop here.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Lights in the Sun, John; make up the fire&mdash;the gentlemen are wet,&rdquo; cried the landlord. &ldquo;This way, gentlemen; don't trouble yourself about the postboy now, Sir; I'll send him to you when you ring for him, Sir. Now John, the candles.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The candles were brought, the fire was stirred up, and a fresh log of wood thrown on. In ten minutes' time a waiter was laying the cloth for dinner, the curtains were drawn, the fire was blazing brightly, and every thing looked (as every thing always does in all decent English inns) as if the travellers had been expected and their comforts prepared, for days beforehand.</p>
<p>Mr. Pickwick sat down at a side table and hastily indited a note to Mr. Winkle, merely informing him that he was detained by stress of weather, but would certainly be in London next day; until when he deferred any further account of his proceedings. This note was hastily made up into a parcel and despatched to the bar per Mr. Samuel Weller.</p>
<p>Sam left it with the landlady, and was returning to pull his master's boots off, after drying himself by the kitchen fire, when, glancing casually through a half-opened door, he was arrested by the sight of a gentleman with a sandy head who had a large bundle of newspapers lying on the table before him, and was perusing the leading article of one with a settled sneer which curled up his nose and all his other features into a majestic expression of haughty contempt.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;I ought to know that 'ere head and them featurs; the eye-glass, too, and the broad-brimmed tile! Eatansvill to vit, or I'm a Roman.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam was taken with a troublesome cough at once, for the purpose of attracting the gentleman's attention: and the gentleman starting at the sound, raised his head and his eye-glass, and disclosed to view the profound and thoughtful features of Mr. Pott, of the Eatanswill Gazette.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Beggin' your pardon, Sir,&rdquo; said Sam, advancing with a bow, &ldquo;my master's here, Mr. Pott.&rdquo;</p>
<pb n="546" id="p546"/>
<p>&ldquo;Hush, hush!&rdquo; cried Pott, drawing Sam into the room, and closing the door, with a countenance of mysterious dread and apprehension.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot's the matter, Sir?&rdquo; enquired Sam, looking vacantly about him.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not a whisper of my name,&rdquo; replied Pott&mdash;&ldquo;this is a buff neighbourhood. If the excited and irritable populace knew I was here, I should be torn to pieces.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No; vould you, Sir?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I should be the victim of their fury,&rdquo; replied Pott. &ldquo;Now, young man, what of your master?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;He's a stoppin' here to-night on his vay to town, vith a couple of friends,&rdquo; replied Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is Mr. Winkle one of them?&rdquo; enquired Pott, with a slight frown.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, Sir; Mr. Vinkle stops at home now,&rdquo; rejoined Sam. &ldquo;He's married.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Married!&rdquo; exclaimed Pott, with frightful vehemence. He stopped, smiled darkly, and added, in a low, vindictive tone, &ldquo;It serves him right!&rdquo;</p>
<p>Having given vent to this cruel ebullition of deadly malice and cold-blooded triumph over a fallen enemy, Mr. Pott enquired whether Mr. Pickwick's friends were &ldquo;blue;&rdquo; receiving a most satisfactory answer in the affirmative from Sam, who knew as much about the matter as Pott himself, he consented to accompany him to Mr. Pickwick's room, where a hearty welcome awaited him, and an agreement to club their dinners together was at once made and ratified.</p>
<p>&ldquo;And how are matters going on in Eatanswill?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Pickwick, when Pott had taken a seat near the fire, and the whole party had got their wet boots off, and dry slippers on. &ldquo;Is the Independent still in being?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The Independent, Sir,&rdquo; replied Pott, &ldquo;is still <sic
rend="dragging">draggiug</sic> on a wretched and lingering career, abhorred and despised by even the few who are cognizant of its miserable and disgraceful existence; stifled by the very filth it so profusely scatters: rendered deaf and blind by the exhalations of its own slime, the obscene journal, happily unconscious of its degraded state, is rapidly sinking beneath that treacherous mud which, while it seems to give it a firm standing with the low and debased classes of society, is, nevertheless, rising above its detested head, and will speedily engulf it for ever.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Having delivered this manifesto (which formed a portion of his last week's leader) with vehement articulation, the editor paused to take breath, and looked majestically at Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You are a young man, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott.</p>
<p>Mr. Bob Sawyer nodded.</p>
<p>&ldquo;So are you, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott, addressing Mr. Ben Allen.</p>
<p>Ben admitted the soft impeachment.</p>
<p>&ldquo;And are both deeply imbued with those blue principles, which so long as I live, I have pledged myself to the people of these kingdoms to support and to maintain?&rdquo; suggested Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why, I don't exactly know about that,&rdquo; replied Bob Sawyer, &ldquo;I am&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
<pb id="p547" n="547"/>
<p>&ldquo;Not buff, Mr. Pickwick,&rdquo; interrupted Pott, drawing back his chair, &ldquo;your friend is not buff, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; rejoined Bob, &ldquo;I'm a kind of plaid at present; a compound of all sorts of colours.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;A waverer,&rdquo; said Pott solemnly, &ldquo;a waverer. I should like to show you a series of eight articles, Sir, that have appeared in the Eatanswill Gazette. I think I may venture to say that you would not be long in establishing your opinions on a firm and solid basis, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I dare say I should turn very blue, long before I got to the end of them,&rdquo; responded Bob.</p>
<p>Mr. Pott looked dubiously at Bob Sawyer for some seconds, and, turning to Mr. Pickwick, said&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You have seen the literary articles which have appeared at intervals in the Eatanswill Gazette in the course of the last three months, and which have excited such general&mdash;I may say such universal attention and admiration?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick, slightly embarrassed by the question, &ldquo;the fact is, I have been so much engaged in other ways, that I really have not had an opportunity of perusing them.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You should do so, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott, with a severe countenance.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;They appeared in the form of a copious review of a work on Chinese metaphysics, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; observed Mr. Pickwick&mdash;&ldquo;from your pen I hope?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;From the pen of my critic, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined Pott with dignity.</p>
<p>&ldquo;An abstruse subject I should conceive,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Very, Sir,&rdquo; responded Pott, looking intensely sage. &ldquo;He <hi
rend="italics">crammed</hi> for it, to use a technical but expressive term; he read up for the subject, at my desire, in the <hi
rend="italics">Encyclopaedia Britannica.</hi>&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick; &ldquo;I was not aware that that valuable work contained any information respecting Chinese metaphysics.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;He read, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined Pott, laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick's knee, and looking round with a smile of intellectual superiority, &ldquo;he read for metaphysics under the letter M, and for China under the letter C; and combined his information, Sir!&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Pott's features assumed so much additional grandeur at the recollection of the power and research displayed in the learned effusions in question, that some minutes elapsed before Mr. Pickwick felt emboldened to renew the conversation; at length, as the Editor's countenance gradually relapsed into its customary expression of moral supremacy, he ventured to resume the discourse by asking&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Is it fair to enquire what great object has brought you so far from home?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;That object which actuates and animates me in all my gigantic labours, Sir,&rdquo; replied Pott, with a calm smile&mdash;&ldquo;my country's good.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I supposed it was some public mission,&rdquo; observed Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; resumed Pott, &ldquo;it is.&rdquo; Here, bending towards Mr. Pickwick, he whispered in a deep hollow voice, &ldquo;A buff ball, Sir, will take place in Birmingham to-morrow evening.&rdquo;</p>
<pb n="548" id="p548"/>
<p>&ldquo;God bless me!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, and supper,&rdquo; added Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You don't say so!&rdquo; ejaculated Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>Pott nodded portentously.</p>
<p>Now, although Mr. Pickwick feigned to stand aghast at this disclosure, he was so little versed in local politics that he was unable to form an adequate comprehension of the importance of the dire conspiracy it referred to; observing which, Mr. Pott, drawing forth the last number of the Eatanswill Gazette, and referring to the same, delivered himself of the following paragraph:&mdash;</p>
<q>
<text>
<body>
<div1 type="quote">
<head>&ldquo;HOLE-AND-CORNER BUFFERY.</head>
<p>&ldquo;A reptile contemporary has recently sweltered forth his black venom in the vain and hopeless attempt of sullying the fair name of our distinguished and excellent representative, the Honourable Mr. Slumkey&mdash;that Slumkey whom we, long before he gained his present noble and exalted position, predicted would one day be, as he now is, at once his country's brightest honour, and her proudest boast: alike her bold defender and her honest pride&mdash;our reptile contemporary, we say, has made himself merry at the expense of a superbly embossed plated coal-scuttle, which has been presented to that glorious man by his enraptured constituents, and towards the purchase of which, the nameless wretch insinuates, the Honourable Mr. Slumkey himself contributed, through a confidential friend of his butler's, more than three-fourths of the whole sum subscribed. Why, does not the crawling creature see that even if this be the fact, the Honourable Mr. Slumkey only appears in a still more amiable and radiant light than before, if that be possible? does not even his obtuseness perceive that this amiable and touching desire to carry out the wishes of the constituent body must for ever endear him to the hearts and souls of such of his fellow townsmen as are not worse than swine; or, in other words, who are not as debased as our contemporary himself? But such is the wretched trickery of hole-and-corner Buffery! These are not its only artifices. Treason is abroad. We boldly state, now that we are goaded to the disclosure, and we throw ourselves on the country and its constables for protection:&mdash;we boldly state that secret preparations are at this moment in progress for a Buff ball, which is to be held in a Buff town, in the very heart and centre of a Buff population; which is to be conducted by a Buff master of the ceremonies; which is to be attended by four ultra Buff members of parliament, and the admission to which is to be by Buff tickets! Does our fiendish contemporary wince? Let him writhe in impotent malice as we pen the words, WE WILL BE THERE.&rdquo;</p>
</div1>
</body>
</text>
</q>
<p>&ldquo;There, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott, folding up the paper quite exhausted, &ldquo;that is the state of the case.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The landlord and waiter entering at the moment with dinner, caused Mr. Pott to lay his finger on his lips in token that he considered his life in Mr. Pickwick's hands, and depended on his secrecy. Messrs. Bob Sawyer and Benjamin Allen, who had irreverently fallen asleep during the reading of the quotation from the Eatanswill Gazette and
<pb n="549" id="p549"/>
the discussion which followed it, were roused by the mere whispering of the talismanic word &ldquo;Dinner&rdquo; in their ears; and to dinner they went with good digestion waiting on appetite, and health on both, and a waiter upon all three.</p>
<p>In the course of the dinner and the sitting which succeeded it, Mr. Pott descending for a few moments to domestic topics, informed Mr. Pickwick that the air of Eatanswill not agreeing with his lady, she was then engaged in making a tour of different fashionable watering places with a view to the recovery of her wonted health and spirits; this was a delicate veiling of the fact that Mrs. Pott, acting upon her often repeated threat of separation, had, in virtue of an arrangement negociated by her brother, the Lieutenant, and concluded by Mr. Pott, permanently retired with the faithful body-guard upon one moiety or half-part of the annual income and profits arising from the editorship and sale of the Eatanswill Gazette.</p>
<p>While the great Mr. Pott was dwelling upon this and other matters, enlivening the conversation from time to time with various extracts from his own lucubrations, a stern stranger, calling from the window of a stage-coach, outward bound, which halted at the inn to deliver packages, requested to know whether if he stopped short on his journey and remained there for the night he could be furnished with the necessary accommodation of a bed and bedstead.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Sir,&rdquo; replied the landlord.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I can, can I?&rdquo; enquired the stranger, who seemed habitually suspicious in look and manner.</p>
<p>&ldquo;No doubt of it, Sir,&rdquo; replied the landlord.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said the stranger. &ldquo;Coachman, I get down here. Guard, my carpet-bag.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Bidding the other passengers good night in a rather snappish manner, the stranger alighted. He was a shortish gentleman, with very stiff black hair, cut in the porcupine or blacking-brush style, and standing stiff and straight all over his head; his aspect was pompous and threatening; his manner was peremptory; his eyes sharp and restless; and his whole bearing bespoke a feeling of great confidence in himself, and a consciousness of immeasurable superiority over all other people.</p>
<p>This gentleman was shown into the room originally assigned to the patriotic Mr. Pott; and the waiter remarked, in dumb astonishment at the singular coincidence, that he had no sooner lighted the candles than the gentleman, diving into his hat, drew forth a newspaper, and began to read it with the very same expression of indignant scorn which upon the majestic features of Pott had paralysed his energies an hour before. The man observed too, that whereas Mr. Pott's scorn had been roused by a newspaper headed The Eatanswill Independent, this gentleman's withering contempt was awakened by a newspaper entitled The Eatanswill Gazette.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Send the landlord,&rdquo; said the stranger.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined the waiter.</p>
<p>The landlord was sent, and came.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Are you the landlord?&rdquo; enquired the gentleman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I am, Sir,&rdquo; replied the landlord.</p>
<pb n="550" id="p550"/>
<p>&ldquo;Do you know me?&rdquo; demanded the gentleman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I have not that pleasure, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined the landlord.</p>
<p>&ldquo;My name is Slurk,&rdquo; said the gentleman.</p>
<p>The landlord slightly inclined his head.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Slurk, Sir,&rdquo; repeated the gentleman, haughtily. &ldquo;Do you know me now, man?&rdquo;</p>
<p>The landlord scratched his head, looked at the ceiling, and at the stranger, and smiled feebly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Do you know me, man?&rdquo; enquired the stranger, angrily.</p>
<p>The landlord made a strong effort, and at length replied, &ldquo;Well, Sir, I do <hi
rend="italics">not</hi> know you.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said the stranger, dashing his clenched fist upon the table. &ldquo;And this is popularity!&rdquo;</p>
<p>The landlord took a step or two towards the door, and the stranger fixing his eyes upon him, resumed.</p>
<p>&ldquo;This,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;this is gratitude for years of labour and study in behalf of the masses. I alight wet and weary; no enthusiastic crowds press forward to greet their champion, the church-bells are silent; the very name elicits no responsive feeling in their torpid bosoms. It is enough,&rdquo; said the agitated Mr. Slurk, pacing to and fro, &ldquo;to curdle the ink in one's pen, and induce one to abandon their cause for ever.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Did you say brandy and water, Sir?&rdquo; said the landlord, venturing a hint.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Rum,&rdquo; said Mr. Slurk, turning fiercely upon him. &ldquo;Have you got a fire anywhere?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;We can light one directly, Sir,&rdquo; said the landlord.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Which will throw out no heat till it is bed time,&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Slurk. &ldquo;Is there anybody in the kitchen?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Not a soul. There was a beautiful fire. Everybody had gone, and the door was closed for the night.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I will drink my rum and water,&rdquo; said Mr. Slurk, &ldquo;by the kitchen fire.&rdquo; So, gathering up his hat and newspaper, he stalked solemnly behind the landlord to that humble apartment, and throwing himself on a settle by the fireside, resumed his countenance of scorn, and began to read and drink in silent dignity.</p>
<p>Now some demon of discord, flying over the Saracen's Head at that moment, on casting down his eyes in mere idle curiosity, happened to behold Slurk established comfortably by the kitchen fire, and Pott slightly elevated with wine in another room; upon which the malicious demon darting down into the last-mentioned apartment with inconceivable rapidity, passed at once into the head of Mr. Bob Sawyer, and prompted him for his (the demon's) own evil purposes to speak as follows.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I say, we've let the fire out. It's uncommonly cold after the rain, isn't it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;It really is,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick, shivering.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It wouldn't be a bad notion to have a cigar by the kitchen fire, would it?&rdquo; said Bob Sawyer, still prompted by the demon aforesaid.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It would be particularly comfortable, <hi rend="italics">I</hi> think,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;Mr. Pott, what do you say?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Pott yielded a ready assent; and all four travellers, each with his
<pb n="551" id="p551"/>
glass in his hand, at once betook themselves to the kitchen, with Sam Weller heading the procession to shew them the way.</p>
<p>The stranger was still reading; he looked up and started. Mr. Pott started.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What's the matter?&rdquo; whispered Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;That reptile!&rdquo; replied Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What reptile?&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick, looking about him for fear he should tread on some overgrown black beetle, or dropsical spider.</p>
<p>&ldquo;That reptile,&rdquo; whispered Pott, catching Mr. Pickwick by the arm, and pointing towards the stranger. &ldquo;That reptile&mdash;Slurk, of the Independent!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Perhaps we had better retire,&rdquo; whispered Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Never, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined Pott,&mdash;pot-valiant in a double sense&mdash;&ldquo;never.&rdquo; With these words, Mr. Pott took up his position on an opposite settle, and selecting one from a little bundle of newspapers, began to read against his enemy.</p>
<p>Mr. Pott, of course, read the Independent, and Mr. Slurk, of course, read the Gazette; and each gentleman audibly expressed his contempt of the other's compositions by bitter laughs and sarcastic sniffs; whence they proceeded to more open expressions of opinion, such as &ldquo;absurd,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;wretched,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;atrocity,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;humbug,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;knavery,&rdquo; &mdash;&ldquo;dirt,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;filth,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;slime,&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;ditch water,&rdquo; and other critical remarks of the like nature.</p>
<p>Both Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Ben Allen had beheld these symptoms of rivalry and hatred with a degree of delight, which imparted great additional relish to the cigars at which they were puffing most vigorously. The moment they began to flag, the mischievous Mr. Bob Sawyer, addressing Slurk with great politeness, said&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Will you allow me to look at your paper, Sir, when you have quite done with it?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;You'll find very little to repay you for your trouble in this contemptible <hi
rend="italics">thing,</hi> Sir,&rdquo; replied Slurk, bestowing a Satanic frown on Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You shall have this presently,&rdquo; said Pott, looking up, pale with rage, and quivering in his speech from the same cause. &ldquo;Ha! ha! you will be amused with this <hi
rend="italics">fellow's</hi> audacity.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Terrific emphasis was laid upon &ldquo;thing&rdquo; and &ldquo;fellow;&rdquo; and the faces of both editors began to glow with defiance.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The ribaldry of this miserable man is despicably disgusting,&rdquo; said Pott, pretending to address Bob Sawyer, and scowling upon Slurk.</p>
<p>Here Mr. Slurk laughed very heartily, and folding the paper so as to get at a fresh column conveniently, said, that the blockhead really amused him.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What an impudent blunderer this fellow is,&rdquo; said Pott, turning from pink to crimson.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Did you ever read any of this man's foolery, Sir?&rdquo; enquired Slurk, of Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Never,&rdquo; replied Bob; &ldquo;is it very bad?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, shocking! shocking!&rdquo; rejoined Slurk.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Really, dear me, this is too atrocious!&rdquo; exclaimed Pott, at this juncture; still feigning to be absorbed in his reading.</p>
<p>&ldquo;If you can wade through a few sentences of malice, meanness,
<pb n="552" id="p552"/>
falsehood, perjury, treachery, and cant,&rdquo; said Slurk, handing the paper to Bob, &ldquo;you will, perhaps, be somewhat repaid by a laugh at the style of this ungrammatical twaddler.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What's that you said, Sir?&rdquo; inquired Pott, looking up, trembling all over with passion.</p>
<p>&ldquo;What's that to you, Sir?&rdquo; replied Slurk.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Ungrammatical twaddler, was it, Sir?&rdquo; said Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, it was,&rdquo; replied Slurk; &ldquo;and <hi rend="italics">blue bore,</hi> Sir, if you like that better; ha! ha!&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Pott retorted not a word to this jocose insult, but deliberately folding up his copy of the Independent, flattened it carefully down, crushed it beneath his boot, spat upon it with great ceremony, and flung it into the fire.</p>
<p>&ldquo;There, Sir,&rdquo; said Pott, retreating from the stove, &ldquo;and that's the way I would serve the viper who produces it, if I were not, fortunately for him, restrained by the laws of my country.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Serve him so, Sir!&rdquo; cried Slurk, starting up: &ldquo;those laws shall never be appealed to by him, Sir, in such a case. Serve him so, Sir!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hear! hear!&rdquo; said Bob Sawyer.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing can be fairer,&rdquo; observed Mr. Ben Allen.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Serve him so, Sir!&rdquo; reiterated Slurk, in a loud voice.</p>
<p>Mr. Pott darted a look of contempt, which might have withered an anchor.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Serve him so, Sir!&rdquo; reiterated Slurk, in a louder voice than before.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I will not, Sir;&rdquo; rejoined Pott.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, you won't! won't you, Sir?&rdquo; said Mr. Slurk, in a taunting manner; &ldquo;you hear this, gentlemen! He won't; not that he's afraid; oh, no! he <hi
rend="italics">won't.</hi> Ha! ha!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I consider you, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Pott, moved by this sarcasm, &ldquo;I consider you a viper. I look upon, Sir, you as a man who has placed himself beyond the pale of society, by his most audacious, disgraceful, and abominable public conduct. I view you, Sir, personally or politically, in no other light but as a most unparalleled and unmitigated viper.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The indignant Independent did not wait to hear the end of this personal denunciation, for, catching up his carpet-bag, which was well stuffed with moveables, he swung it in the air as Pott turned away, and letting it fall with a circular sweep on his head just at that particular angle of the bag where a good thick hair-brush happened to be packed, caused a sharp crash to be heard throughout the kitchen, and brought him at once to the ground.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; cried Mr. Pickwick, as Pott started up and seized the fire-shovel, &ldquo;gentlemen, consider for Heaven's sake&mdash;help&mdash;Sam&mdash;here&mdash;pray, gentlemen&mdash;interfere, somebody.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Uttering these incoherent exclamations, Mr. Pickwick rushed between the infuriated combatants just in time to receive the carpet bag on one side of his body, and the fire-shovel on the other; whether the representatives of the public feeling of Eatanswill were blinded by animosity, or, being both acute reasoners, saw the advantage of having a third party between them to bear all the blows, certain it is
<pb n="553" id="p553"/>
that they paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Pickwick, but defying each other with great spirit, plied the carpet bag and the fire-shovel most fearlessly. Mr. Pickwick would unquestionably have suffered severely from his humane interference, if Mr. Weller, attracted by his master's cries, had not rushed in at the moment and, snatching up a meal-sack, effectually stopped the conflict by drawing it over the head and shoulders of the mighty Pott, and clasping him tight round the elbows.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Take avay that 'ere bag from the t'other madman,&rdquo; said Sam to Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer, who had done nothing but dodge round the group, each with a tortoise-shell lancet in his hand, ready to bleed the first man stunned. &ldquo;Give it up, you wretched little creetur, or I'll smother you in it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Awed by these threats, and quite out of breath, the Independent suffered himself to be disarmed; and Mr. Weller, removing the extinguisher from Pott, set him free with a caution.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You take yourselves off to bed quietly,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;or I'll put you both in it, and let you fight it out vith the mouth tied, as I vould a dozen sich, if they played these games. And you have the goodness to come this here vay, Sir, if you please.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Thus addressing his master, Sam took him by the arm and led him off, while the rival editors were severally removed to their beds by the landlord, under the inspection of Mr. Bob Sawyer and Mr. Benjamin Allen; breathing, as they went away, many sanguinary threats, and making vague appointments for mortal combat next day. When they came to think it over, however, it occurred to them that they could do it much better in print, so they recommenced deadly hostilities without delay; and all Eatanswill rung with their boldness&mdash;on paper.</p>
<p>They had taken themselves off in separate coaches, early next morning, before the other travellers were stirring; and the weather having now cleared up, the chaise companions once more turned their faces to London.</p>
</div2>
<div2 type="chapter">
<head>CHAPTER LI.</head>
<head>
INVOLVING A SERIOUS CHANGE IN THE WELLER FAMILY, AND THE UNTIMELY DOWNFALL OF THE RED-NOSED MR. STIGGINS.
</head>
<p><sic corr="CONSIDERING">CONSIDDRING</sic> it a matter of delicacy to abstain from introducing either Bob Sawyer or Ben Allen to the young couple, until they were fully prepared to expect them; and wishing to spare Arabella's feelings as much as possible, Mr. Pickwick proposed that he and Sam should alight in the neighbourhood of the George and Vulture, and that the two young men should for the present take up their quarters elsewhere; to this they very readily agreed, and the proposition was accordingly acted upon: Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Bob Sawyer betaking themselves to a sequestered pot-shop on the remotest confines of the
<pb n="554" id="p554"/>
Borough, behind the bar-door of which their names had in other days very often appeared, at the head of long and complex calculations worked in white chalk.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Dear me, Mr. Weller,&rdquo; said the pretty housemaid, meeting Sam at the door.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Dear <hi rend="italics">me</hi> I vish it wos, my dear,&rdquo; replied Sam, dropping behind, to let his master get out of hearing. &ldquo;Wot a sweet lookin' creetur you are, Mary!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Lor, Mr. Weller, what nonsense you do talk!&rdquo; said Mary. &ldquo;Oh! <hi
rend="italics">don't,</hi> Mr. Weller.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Don't what, my dear?&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Why, that,&rdquo; replied the pretty housemaid. &ldquo;Lor, do get along with you.&rdquo; Thus admonishing him, the pretty housemaid smilingly pushed Sam against the wall, declaring that he had tumbled her cap, and put her hair quite out of curl.</p>
<p>&ldquo;And prevented what I was going to say, besides,&rdquo; added Mary. &ldquo;There's a letter been waiting here for you four days; you hadn't been gone away half an hour when it came; and more than that, it's got, immediate, on the outside.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vere is it, my love?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I took care of it for you, or I dare say it would have been lost long before this,&rdquo; replied Mary. &ldquo;There, take it; it's more than you deserve.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With these words, after many pretty little coquettish doubts and fears, and wishes that she might not have lost it, Mary produced the letter from behind the nicest little muslin tucker possible, and handed it to Sam, who thereupon kissed it with much gallantry and devotion.</p>
<p>&ldquo;My goodness me!&rdquo; said Mary, adjusting the tucker, and feigning unconsciousness, &ldquo;you seem to have grown very fond of it all at once.&rdquo;</p>
<p>To this Mr. Weller only replied by a wink, the intense meaning of which no description could convey the faintest idea of; and, setting himself down beside Mary on a window-seat, opened the letter and glanced at the contents.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; exclaimed Sam, &ldquo;wot's all this?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing the matter, I hope?&rdquo; said Mary, peeping over his shoulder.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Bless them eyes o' yourn,&rdquo; said Sam, looking up.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Never mind my eyes; you had much better read your letter,&rdquo; said the pretty housemaid, and as she said this, she made the eyes twinkle with such slyness and beauty that they were perfectly irresistible.</p>
<p>Sam refreshed himself with a kiss, and read as follows:&mdash;</p>
<q>
<text>
<body>
<div1 type="letter">
<head>&ldquo;Markis Gran <lb/> &ldquo;By dorken <lb/> &ldquo;Wensdy.</head>
<opener>
<salute>&ldquo;My dear Sammle,</salute>
</opener>
<p>&ldquo;I am wery sorry to have the plessure of bein a Bear of ill news your Mother in law cort cold consekens of imprudently settin too long on the damp grass in the rain a hearin of a shepherd who warnt able to
<pb n="555" id="p555"/>
leave off till late at night owen to his havin vound his-self up vith brandy and vater and not being able to stop his-self till he got a little sober which took a many hours to do the doctor says that if she'd svallo'd varm brandy and vater artervards insted of afore she mightn't have been no vus her veels wos immedetly greased and everythink done to set her a goin as could be inwented your farther had hopes as she vould have vorked round as usual but just as she wos a turnen the corner my boy she took the wrong road and vent down hill vith a welocity you never see and notvithstandin that the drag was put on drectly by the medikel man it wornt of no use at all for she paid the last pike at tventy minutes afore six o'clock yesterday evenin havin done the jouney wery much under the reglar time vich praps was partly owen to her haven taken in wery little luggage by the vay your father says that if you vill come and see me Sammy he vill take it as a wery great favor for I am wery lonely Samivel N. B he <hi
rend="italics">vill</hi> have it spelt that vay vich I say ant right and as there is sich a many things to settle he is sure your guvner wont object of course he vill not Sammy for I knows him better so he sends his dooty in vhich I join and am Samivel infernally yours</p>
<closer>
<signed>&ldquo;TONY VELLER.&rdquo;</signed>
</closer>
</div1>
</body>
</text>
</q>
<p>&ldquo;Wot a incomprehensible letter,&rdquo; said Sam; &ldquo;who's to know wot it means vith all this he-ing and I-ing! It ain't my father's writin' 'cept this here signater in print letters; that's his.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Perhaps he got somebody to write it for him, and signed it himself afterwards,&rdquo; said the pretty housemaid.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Stop a minit,&rdquo; replied Sam, running over the letter again, and pausing here and there to reflect as he did so. &ldquo;You've hit it. The gen'lm'n as wrote it, wos a tellin' all about the misfortun' in a proper vay, and then my father comes a lookin' over him, and complicates the whole concern by puttin' his oar in. That's just the wery sort o' thing he'd do. You're right, Mary, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Having satisfied himself upon this point, Sam read the letter all over, once more, and, appearing to form a clear notion of its contents for the first time, ejaculated thoughtfully, as he folded it up:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;And so the poor creature's dead! I'm sorry for it. She warn't a bad-disposed 'ooman if them shepherds had let her alone. I'm wery sorry for it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Weller uttered these words in so serious a manner, that the pretty housemaid cast down her eyes and looked very grave.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hows'ever,&rdquo; said Sam, putting the letter in his pocket, with a gentle sigh, &ldquo;it wos to be&mdash;and wos, as the old lady said arter she'd married the footman, can't be helped now, can it, Mary?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mary shook her head, and sighed too.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I must apply to the hemperor for leave of absence,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>Mary sighed again,&mdash;the letter was so very affecting.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good bye!&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Good bye,&rdquo; rejoined the pretty housemaid, turning her head away.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, shake hands, won't you?&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>The pretty housemaid put out a hand which, although it was a housemaid's, was a very small one, and rose to go.</p>
<pb n="556" id="p556"/>
<p>&ldquo;I shan't be wery long avay,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You're always away,&rdquo; said Mary, giving her head the slightest possible toss in the air. &ldquo;You no sooner come, Mr. Weller, than you go again.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Weller drew the household beauty closer to him, and entered upon a whispering conversation, which had not proceeded far when she turned her face round and condescended to look at him again. When they parted it was somehow or other indispensably necessary for her to go to her room, and arrange the cap and curls before she could think of presenting herself to her mistress; which preparatory ceremony she went off to perform, bestowing many nods and smiles on Sam over the bannisters as she tripped up stairs.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I shan't be avay more than a day,&mdash;or two, Sir, at farthest,&rdquo; said Sam, when he had communicated to Mr. Pickwick the intelligence of his father's loss.</p>
<p>&ldquo;As long as may be necessary, Sam,&rdquo; replied Mr. Pickwick. &ldquo;You have my full permission to remain.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam bowed.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You will tell your father, Sam, that if I can be of any assistance to him in his present situation, I shall be most willing and ready to lend him any aid in my power,&rdquo; said Mr. Pickwick.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Thankee, Sir,&rdquo; rejoined Sam. &ldquo;I'll mention it, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
<p>And with some expressions of mutual good-will and interest, master and man separated.</p>
<p>It was just seven o'clock when Samuel Weller, alighting from the box of a stage coach which passed through Dorking, stood within a few hundred yards of the Marquis of Granby. It was a cold dull evening; the little street looked dreary and dismal, and the mahogany countenance of the noble and gallant Marquis seemed to wear a more sad and melancholy expression than it was wont to do, as it swung to and fro, creaking mournfully in the wind. The blinds were pulled down, and the shutters partly closed; of the knot of loungers that usually collected about the door, not one was to be seen; the place was silent and desolate.</p>
<p>Seeing nobody of whom he could ask any preliminary questions, Sam walked softly in, and glancing round, he quickly recognised his parent in the distance.</p>
<p>The widower was seated at a small round table in the little room behind the bar, smoking a pipe, with his eyes intently fixed upon the fire. The funeral had evidently taken place that day, for attached to his hat which he still retained on his head, was a hat-band measuring about a yard and a half in length, which hung over the top rail of the chair and streamed negligently down. Mr. Weller was in a very abstracted and contemplative mood for notwithstanding that Sam called him by name several times he still continued to smoke with the same fixed and quiet countenance, and was only roused ultimately by his son's placing the palm of his hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sammy,&rdquo; said Mr. Weller, &ldquo;you're velcome.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I've been a callin' to you half a dozen times,&rdquo; said Sam, hanging his hat on a peg, &ldquo;but you didn't hear me.&rdquo;</p>
<pb n="557" id="p557"/>
<p>&ldquo;No, Sammy,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller, again looking thoughtfully at the fire. &ldquo;I wos in a referee, Sammy.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot about?&rdquo; enquired Sam, drawing his chair up to the fire.</p>
<p>&ldquo;In a referee, Sammy,&rdquo; replied the elder Mr. Weller, &ldquo;regardin' <hi
rend="italics">her,</hi> Samivel.&rdquo; Here Mr. Weller jerked his head in the direction of Dorking churchyard, in mute explanation that his words referred to the late Mrs. Weller.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I wos a thinkin', Sammy,&rdquo; said Mr. Weller, eyeing his son with great earnestness, over his pipe, as if to assure him that however extraordinary and incredible the declaration might appear, it was nevertheless calmly and deliberately uttered, &ldquo;I wos a thinkin', Sammy, that upon the whole I wos wery sorry she wos gone.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vell, and so you ought to be,&rdquo; replied Sam.</p>
<p>Mr. Weller nodded his acquiescence in the sentiment, and again fastening his eyes on the fire, shrouded himself in a cloud, and mused deeply.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Those wos wery sensible observations as she made, Sammy?&rdquo; said Mr. Weller, driving the smoke away with his hand, after a long silence.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot observations?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Them as she made arter she was took ill,&rdquo; replied the old gentleman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot was they?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Somethin' to this here effect. &lsquo;Veller,&rsquo; she says, &lsquo;I'm afeard I've not done by you quite wot I ought to have done; you're a wery kind-hearted man, and I might ha' made your home more comfortabler. I begin to see now,&rsquo; she says, &lsquo;ven it's too late, that if a married 'ooman vishes to be religious she should begin vith dischargin' her dooties at home, and makin' them as is about her cheerful and happy, and that vile she goes to church, or chapel, or wot not, at all proper times, she should be wery careful not to con-wert this sort o' thing into an excuse for idleness or self-indulgence, or vurse. I <hi
rend="italics">have</hi> done this,&rsquo; she says, &lsquo;and I've vasted time and substance on them as has done it more than me; but I hope ven I'm gone, Veller, that you'll think on me as I wos afore I know'd them people, and as I raly wos by natur.&rsquo; &lsquo;Susan,&rsquo; says I,&mdash;I wos took up very short by this, Samivel; I von't deny it, my boy&mdash;&lsquo;Susan,&rsquo; I says, &lsquo;you've been a wery good vife to me, altogether, don't say nothin' at all about it, keep a good heart my dear, and you'll live to see me punch that 'ere Stiggins's head yet.&rsquo; She smiled at this, Samivel,&rdquo; said the old gentleman, stifling a sigh with his pipe, &ldquo;but she died arter all!&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vell,&rdquo; said Sam, venturing to offer a little homely consolation after the lapse of three or four minutes, consumed by the old gentleman in slowly shaking his head from side to side, and solemnly smoking; &ldquo;vell, gov'ner, ve must all come to it, one day or another.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;So we must, Sammy,&rdquo; said Mr. Weller the elder.</p>
<p>&ldquo;There's a Providence in it all,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;O'course there is,&rdquo; replied his father with a nod of grave approval. &ldquo;Wot 'ud become of the undertakers vithout it, Sammy?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Lost in the immense field of conjecture opened by this reflection,
<pb n="558" id="p558"/>
the elder Mr. Weller laid his pipe on the table, and stirred the fire with a meditative visage.</p>
<p>While the old gentleman was thus engaged, a very buxom-looking cook, dressed in mourning, who had been bustling about in the bar, glided into the room, and bestowing many smirks of recognition upon Sam, silently stationed herself at the back of his father's chair, and announced her presence by a slight cough, the which being disregarded, was followed by a louder one.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; said the elder Mr. Weller, dropping the poker as he looked round, and hastily drew his chair away. &ldquo;Wot's the matter now?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Have a cup of tea, there's a good soul,&rdquo; replied the buxom female, coaxingly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I von't,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller, in a somewhat boisterous manner, &ldquo;I'll see you&mdash;&rdquo; Mr. Weller hastily checked himself, and added in a low tone, &ldquo;furder fust.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear, dear; how adversity does change people!&rdquo; said the lady, looking upwards.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It's the only thing 'twixt this, and the doctor as shall change <hi
rend="italics">my</hi> condition,&rdquo; muttered Mr. Weller.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I really never saw a man so cross,&rdquo; said the buxom female.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Never mind&mdash;it's all for my own good; vich is the reflection vith wich the penitent schoolboy comforted his feelin's ven they flogged him,&rdquo; rejoined the old gentleman.</p>
<p>The buxom female shook her head with a compassionate and sympathising air; and, appealing to Sam, enquired whether his father really ought not to make an effort to keep up, and not give way to that lowness of spirits.</p>
<p>&ldquo;You see, Mr. Samuel,&rdquo; said the buxom female, &ldquo;as I was telling him yesterday, he <hi
rend="italics">will</hi> feel lonely, he can't expect but what he should, Sir, but he should keep up a good heart, because, dear me, I'm sure we all pity his loss, and are ready to do anything for him; and there's no situation in life so bad, Mr. Samuel, that it can't be mended, which is what a very worthy person said to me when my husband died.&rdquo; Here the speaker, putting her hand before her mouth, coughed again, and looked affectionately at the elder Mr. Weller.</p>
<p>&ldquo;As I don't rekvire any o' your conversation just now, Mum, vill you have the goodness to re-tire?&rdquo; enquired Mr. Weller in a grave and steady voice.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Weller,&rdquo; said the buxom female, &ldquo;I'm sure I only spoke to you out of kindness.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wery likely, Mum,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller. &ldquo;Samivel, show the lady out, and shut the door arter her.&rdquo;</p>
<p>This hint was not lost upon the buxom female, for she at once left the room, and slammed the door behind her, upon which Mr. Weller, senior, falling back in his chair in a violent perspiration, said&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sammy, if I wos to stop here alone vun veek&mdash;only vun veek, my boy&mdash;that 'ere 'ooman 'ud marry me by force and wiolence afore it was over.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot, is she so wery fond on you?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<pb n="559" id="p559"/>
<p>&ldquo;Fond!&rdquo; replied his father, &ldquo;I can't keep her avay from me. If I was locked up in a fire-proof chest vith a patent Brahmin, she'd find means to get at me, Sammy.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot a thing it is to be so sought arter!&rdquo; observed Sam, smiling.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I don't take no pride out on it, Sammy,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller, poking the fire vehemently, &ldquo;it's a horrid sitiwation. I'm actiwally drove out o' house and home by it. The breath was scarcely out o' your poor mother-in-law's body, ven vun old 'ooman sends me a pot o' jam, and another a pot o' jelly, and another brews a blessed large jug o' camomile-tea, vich she brings in vith her own hands.&rdquo; Mr. Weller paused with an aspect of intense disgust, and, looking round, added in a whisper, &ldquo;They wos all widders, Sammy, all on 'em, 'cept the camomile-tea vun, as wos a single young lady o' fifty-three.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam gave a comical look in reply, and the old gentleman having broken an obstinate lump of coal, with a countenance expressive of as much earnestness and malice as if it had been the head of one of the widows last-mentioned, said&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;In short, Sammy, I feel that I ain't safe anyveres but on the box.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;How are you safer there than anyveres else?&rdquo; interrupted Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;'Cos a coachman's a privileged indiwidual,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller, looking fixedly at his son. &ldquo;'Cos a coachman may do vithout suspicion wot other men may not; 'cos a coachman may be on the very amicablest terms with eighty mile o' females, and yet nobody think that he ever means to marry any vun among 'em. And wot other man can say the same, Sammy?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vell, there's somethin' in that,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;If your gov'ner had been a coachman,&rdquo; reasoned Mr. Weller, &ldquo;do you s'pose as that 'ere jury 'ud ever ha' conwicted him, s'posin' it possible as the matter could ha' gone to that ex-tremity? They dustn't ha' done it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wy not?&rdquo; said Sam, rather disparagingly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Vy not!&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Weller; &ldquo;'cos it 'ud ha' gone agin their consciences. A reg'lar coachman's a sort o' con-nectin' link betvixt singleness and matrimony, and every practicable man knows it.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot you mean, they're gen'ral fav'rites, and nobody takes adwantage on 'em, p'raps?&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>His father nodded.</p>
<p>&ldquo;How it ever come to that 'ere pass,&rdquo; resumed the parent Weller, &ldquo;I can't say; vy it is that long-stage coachmen possess such insiniwations, and is alvays looked up to&mdash;a-dored I may say&mdash;by ev'ry young 'ooman in ev'ry town he vurks through, I don't know; I only know that so it is; it's a reg'lation of natur&mdash;a dispensary, as your poor mother-in-law used to say.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;A dispensation,&rdquo; said Sam, correcting the old gentleman.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better,&rdquo; returned Mr. Weller; &ldquo;<hi
rend="italics">I</hi> call it a dispensary, and it's alvays writ up so, at the places vere they gives you physic for nothin' in your own bottles; that's all.&rdquo;</p>
<p>With these words Mr. Weller re-filled and re-lighted his pipe, and
<pb n="560" id="p560"/>
once more summoning up a meditative expression of countenance, continued as follows:&mdash;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Therefore, my boy, as I do not see the adwisability o' stoppin' here to be married vether I vant to or not, and as at the same time I do not vish to separate myself from them interestin' members o' society altogether, I have come to the determination o' drivin' the Safety, and puttin' up vunce more at the Bell Savage, vich is my nat'ral-born element, Sammy.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;And wot's to become o' the bis'ness?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The bis'ness, Samivel,&rdquo; replied the old gentleman, &ldquo;good-vill, stock, and fixters, vill be sold by private con-tact; and out o' the money, two hundred pound, agreeable to a rekvest o' your mother-in-law's to me, a little afore she died, vill be inwested in your name in&mdash;wot do you call them things again?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wot things?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Them things as is always a goin' up and down in the City.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Omnibuses?&rdquo; suggested Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; replied Mr. Weller. &ldquo;Them things as is alvays a fluctooatin', and gettin' theirselves inwolved somehow or another vith the national debt, and the checquers bills, and all that.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh! the funds,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Weller, &ldquo;the funs; two hundred pound o' the money is to be inwested for you, Samivel, in the funs; four and a half per cent. reduced counsels, Sammy.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Wery kind o' the old lady to think o' me,&rdquo; said Sam, &ldquo;and I'm wery much obliged to her.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;The rest vill be inwested in my name,&rdquo; continued the elder Mr. Weller; &ldquo;and ven I'm took off the road, it'll come to you, so take care you don't spend it all at vunst, my boy, and mind that no widder gets a inklin' o' your fortun', or you're done.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Having delivered this warning, Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with a more serene countenance; the disclosure of these matters appearing to have eased his mind considerably.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Somebody's a tappin' at the door,&rdquo; said Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Let'em tap,&rdquo; replied his father, with dignity.</p>
<p>Sam acted upon the direction: upon which there was another tap, and another, and then a long row of taps; upon which Sam enquired why the tapper was not admitted.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; whispered Mr. Weller, with apprehensive looks, &ldquo;don't take no notice on 'em, Sammy, it's vun o' the widders, p'raps.&rdquo;</p>
<p>No notice being taken of the taps, the unseen visitor, after a short lapse, ventured to open the door and peep in. It was no female head that was thrust in at the partially opened door, but the long black locks and red face of Mr. Stiggins. Mr. Weller's pipe fell from his hands.</p>
<p>The reverend gentleman gradually opened the door by almost imperceptible degrees, until the aperture was just wide enough to admit of the passage of his lank body, when he glided into the room and closed it after him with great care and gentleness. Turning towards Sam, and raising his hands and eyes in token of the unspeakable sorrow
<pb n="561" id="p561"/>
with which he regarded the calamity that had befallen the family, he carried the high-backed chair to his old corner by the fire, and sitting himself down on the very edge of the seat, drew forth a brown pocket handkerchief, and applied the same to his optics.</p>
<p>While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat back in his chair with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on his knees, and his whole countenance expressive of absorbing and overwhelming astonishment. Sam sat opposite him in perfect silence, waiting with eager curiosity for the termination of the scene.</p>
<p>Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his eyes for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then, mastering his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket and buttoned it up. After this he stirred the fire; after that he rubbed his hands and looked at Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Oh my young friend,&rdquo; said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence in a very low voice, &ldquo;here's a sorrowful affliction.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam nodded very slightly.</p>
<p>&ldquo;For the man of wrath, too!&rdquo; added Mr. Stiggins; &ldquo;it makes a vessel's heart bleed!&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something relative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heard him not.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Do you know, young man,&rdquo; whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawing his chair closer to Sam, &ldquo;whether she has left Emanuel anything?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Who's he?&rdquo; enquired Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The chapel,&rdquo; replied Mr. Stiggins; &ldquo;our chapel; our fold, Mr. Samuel.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;She hasn't left the fold nothin', nor the shepherd nothin', nor the animals nothin',&rdquo; said Sam, decisively; &ldquo;nor the dogs neither.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Stiggins looked slyly at Sam, glanced at the old gentleman, who was sitting with his eyes closed, as if asleep; and drawing his chair still nearer, said,</p>
<p>&ldquo;Nothing for <hi rend="italics">me,</hi> Mr. Samuel?&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam shook his head.</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think there's something,&rdquo; said Stiggins, turning as pale as he could turn. &ldquo;Consider, Mr. Samuel; no little token?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Not so much as the vurth o' that 'ere old umberella o' yourn,&rdquo; replied Sam.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Mr. Stiggins, hesitatingly, after a few moments' deep thought, &ldquo;perhaps she recommended me to the care of the man of wrath, Mr. Samuel?&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;I think that's wery likely, from what he said,&rdquo; rejoined Sam; &ldquo;he wos a speakin' about you, jist now.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Was he, though?&rdquo; exclaimed Stiggins, brightening up. &ldquo;Ah! He's changed, I dare say. We might live very comfortably together now, Mr. Samuel, eh? I could take care of his property when you are away&mdash;good care, you see.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Heaving a long-drawn sigh, Mr. Stiggins paused for a response. Sam nodded, and Mr. Weller, the elder, gave vent to an extraordinary sound, which, being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a gasp, nor a growl, seemed to partake in some degree of the character of all four.</p>
<pb n="562" id="p562"/>
<p>Mr. Stiggins, encouraged by this sound, which he understood to betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him, rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walking softly across the room to a well-remembered shelf in one corner, took down a tumbler, and, with great deliberation, put four lumps of sugar in it. Having got thus far, he looked about him again and sighed grievously; with that he walked softly into the bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the rum and water, stopped for breath.</p>
<p>The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single word during these proceedings, but when Mr. Stiggins stopped for breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his hand, threw the remainder of the rum and water in his face, and the glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most furiously, accompanying every application of his top-boot to Mr. Stiggins's person with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and body.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Sammy,&rdquo; said Mr. Weller, &ldquo;put my hat on tight for me.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the street;&mdash;the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in vehemence, rather than diminishing, every time the top-boot was lifted up.</p>
<p>It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man writhing in Mr. Weller's grasp, and his whole frame quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession; it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins's head in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there, till he was all but suffocated.</p>
<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Mr. Weller, throwing all his energy into one most complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. Stiggins to withdraw his head from the trough, &ldquo;send any vun o' them lazy shepherds here, and I'll pound him to a jelly first, and drownd him artervards. Sammy, help me in, and fill me a small glass of brandy. I'm out o' breath, my boy.&rdquo;</p>
</div2>
</div1></body>
<back>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb n="vii" id="pvii"/>
<opener>TO THE NOBILITY, FAMILIES, KEEPERS OF HOTELS, SCHOOLS, AND ALL LARGE <lb/> CONSUMERS OF TEA.</opener>
<head>THE <lb/> NEW TEA WAREHOUSE,</head><p>37, &amp; 38, GRACECHURCH STREET, (Near London Bridge,) <lb/> Opened on the 2nd September, 1837.</p>
<p>In opening the above extensive premises for the Sale of TEA, we are enabled, from the large Stock on the Market, and additional Auction-Sales of recent Importations, by a judicious selection from an almost endless variety submitted to our taste, to offer to the public notice the better descriptions of TEA, at prices, from Sixpence to a Shilling per lb., cheaper than can be done by any Importer requiring only a small profit above the cost of Importation; in consequence of Importers having forced upon the Market much greater supplies than the consumption of the Country required, and thereby causing an unprecedented depression of price. We therefore invite the attention of the Public to our Establishment; convinced, that, a single Trial of the TEAs we vend, will demonstrate this fact. We have the gratification to find, that, those Families who have taken the opportunity afforded of testing the merits of our TEAS, have, without exception, given unequivocal proofs of their approbation of them, by ordering of us additional supplies. It is, therefore, with perfect confidence we solicit a Trial from those who have not yet made the experiment, and feel certain, we shall thereby secure their continued support. We also strongly recommend consumers adding to their stock of Teas, at the present very low prices, as from the improving state of the Country, an advance from the recent great depression, will, in all probability ensue.</p>
<p>TEA having become so important an Article of Consumption in the economy of every family, it must be desirable they should be made acquainted with the best Market; and as the following Scale of prices has been computed on the smallest profit, our business will be conducted on the system of <hi
rend="italics">ready money,</hi> which is the only way these advantages to the Public can be secured.</p>
<p>
<table rows="23" cols="3">
<row role="label">
<cell>Black Tea</cell>
<cell><hi rend="italics">s.</hi></cell>
<cell><hi rend="italics">d.</hi></cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Bohea,</cell>
<cell>2</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Ordinary Congou</cell>
<cell>2</cell>
<cell>10</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Sound Congou</cell>
<cell>3</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Strong Congou, mixed Blackish Leaf</cell>
<cell>3</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Fine Strong Congou, Black Leaf, with Pokoe flavor</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Fine Black wiry Leaf Congou, rich and strong Pekoe flavor</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Fine Black Leaf Congou, very strong, full and true, Pekoe flavor</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>9</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>The Finest Congou Imported, of the true sort, rich Pekoe Souchong flavor</cell>
<cell>5</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
</table><table rows="23" cols="3">
<head>Green Tea.</head>
<row>
<cell>Good small leaf Gunpowder, full flavored</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Finest Gunpowder, small bright leaf, with richest flavor</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Imperial Gunpowder</cell>
<cell>5</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Finest Imperial Gunpowder, full flavored</cell>
<cell>5</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Genuine Hyson</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Hyson</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Fine Hyson, even leaf, true flavor</cell>
<cell>5</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Superior Strong Hyson, brightish leaf</cell>
<cell>5</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Superfine Hyson, strong full rich flavor</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Finest Young Hyson</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Twankay and Hyson Skin</cell>
<cell>3</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Finest Bloom, Hyson flavor</cell>
<cell>4</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<p>COFFEE since the reduction of <hi rend="italics">duty,</hi> has greatly increased in consumption, and is become familiar to every Table; this delightful Berry has also had our most careful attention in the selection of the <hi
rend="italics">Richest Eastern Mocha, Plantation,</hi> and <hi rend="italics">Dutch Coffees.</hi> We shall deliver them from daily roasting, at the <hi
rend="italics">smallest profit.</hi></p>
<p>
<table rows="4" cols="3">
<head>COFFEE.</head>
<row>
<cell>Good Ceylon Coffee</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Good Jamaica Coffee</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>8</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Fine Flavored Jamaica, or Dutch Coffee</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>9</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Richest Mocha from the East, or Finest Jamaica Coffee</cell>
<cell>2</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<p>Our COCOA, CHOCOLATE, and SPICES are of the very best quality, and will be also supplied <hi
rend="italics">exceedingly cheap.</hi> A Card of their variety and value, to be had at the Warehouse.</p>
<p>The Orders sent us from Families residing within Six or Seven Miles of the City, will be delivered by our own Vans (free of Carriage) to the whole of London and Westminster, Daily; Chelsea, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; Kensington and Bayswater, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday; and to the environs of London, in the following Order:&mdash;</p>
<p>
<table rows="10" cols="6">
<row role="label">
<cell>MONDAY.</cell>
<cell>TUESDAY.</cell>
<cell>WEDNESDAY.</cell>
<cell>THURSDAY.</cell>
<cell>FRIDAY.</cell>
<cell>SATURDAY.</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Kent Road</cell>
<cell>Hackney</cell>
<cell>Peckham</cell>
<cell>Fulham</cell>
<cell>Holloway</cell>
<cell>Battersea</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>New Cross</cell>
<cell>Homerton</cell>
<cell>Peckham Rye</cell>
<cell>Putney</cell>
<cell>Highgate.</cell>
<cell>Wandsworth</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Deptford</cell>
<cell>Clapton</cell>
<cell>Camberwell</cell>
<cell>Shepherd's Bush</cell>
<cell>Hampstead</cell>
<cell>Clapham</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Greenwich</cell>
<cell>Tottenham</cell>
<cell>Dulwich</cell>
<cell>Parson's Green</cell>
<cell>Kentish Town</cell>
<cell>Stockwell</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Blackheath</cell>
<cell>Edmonton</cell>
<cell>Denmark Hill</cell>
<cell>Walham Green</cell>
<cell>Camden Town</cell>
<cell>Brixton</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>Lewisham</cell>
<cell>Stamford Hill</cell>
<cell>Champion Hill</cell>
<cell>Hammersmith</cell>
<cell>Islington</cell>
<cell>Tulse Hill</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Stoke Newington</cell>
<cell>Herne Hill</cell>
<cell>Turnham Green</cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Streatham</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Dalston</cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Chiswick</cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Norwood</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell></cell>
<cell>Kingsland</cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell></cell>
<cell></cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<p>LASHMAR &amp; BELLINGHAM, <lb/> 37, &amp; 38, Gracechurch Street.</p>
<p>DEALERS IN TEA</p>
<p>Refined and Raw Sugars of the Best Quality.</p>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="pviii" n="viii"/>
<p>THE HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, <lb/> WILL BE PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 30, 1837. [PRICE 1<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> No. I.]</p>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb n="ix" id="pix"/>
<head>THIERS'S <lb/> HISTORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION,</head><p>To be completed in about FORTY Numbers, at ONE SHILLING each, <lb/> EMBELLISHED WITH FORTY EXQUISITE ENGRAVINGS <lb/> OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERS, <lb/> AND VIEWS OF ALL THE GREAT EVENTS WHICH OCCURRED DURING <lb/> THAT MEMORABLE EPOCH.</p>
<div2 type="section">
<head>THE HISTORY <lb/> OF THE <lb/> FRENCH REVOLUTION.</head>
<p>BY M. A. THIERS, <lb/> LATE PRIME MINISTER OF FRANCE.</p>
<p>WITH ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES &amp; NOTES, <lb/> FROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES, <lb/> By FREDERIC SHOBERL, Esq.</p>
<p>THE time has now arrived when a dispassionate history may be given of the most stupendous political, moral, and domestic convulsion ever known in the world. The acts of regal and aristocratical despotism which, after long-suffering on the part of the people, brought about the fierce and sanguinary reaction of the mob and its demagogue leaders, were, until the present era, affairs of too recent an origin to be even calmly narrated, much less calmly discussed. In describing this fearful Revolution, a partisan of the <hi
rend="italics">ancien r&eacute;gime</hi> would represent the Republican actors in the great national tragedy as fiends destitute of any human attribute, who perpetrated the most cruel and impious atrocities for the mere wanton love of crime. Such chroniclers would refuse to admit that either Marat, or Robespierre, or Danton, could have any, even the most latent or erroneous, view of benefiting their fellow-creatures in what they did, or in what they permitted to be done, and would visit upon their heads the mad and sanguinary enormities of the <hi
rend="italics">canaille.</hi> On the other hand a Republican annalist, overlooking the vices of his party, and blindly urging impracticable theories, would dwell with exaggeration on the corrupt abuses of the French Court and the Ministry, would endeavour to justify the wickedness of the people, and exclude from commiseration the unfortunate Louis, his Queen, and all those of his adherents of whom Revenge had made victims.</p>
<p>It is in one or the other of these partial and inadequate modes that the ever-memorable Revolution of France has hitherto been described; but as there are now but very few survivors of that great event, and as the party feeling connected with it has died away, an impartial and authentic history has been written by the celebrated M. Thiers.</p>
<p>A history of so momentous an epoch, thus constructed, will surely possess an interest which no other book can emulate. Not alone must it be replete with deep instruction and awful warnings; but the startling scenes involved in it&mdash;scenes of grandeur, terror, mystery, and pathos&mdash;from pictures of desperate conflicts, in which multitudes were engaged, and in which thousands were slaughtered&mdash;of glittering and idolatrous pageants to the altar of false Liberty&mdash;of ostentatious sacrifices, without trial, of human victims&mdash;of the massacre of priests for no other reason than that they were ministers of God&mdash;and of the hideous orgies of monsters drunk with blood&mdash;to the solitary adventures, sufferings, and sometimes marvellous escapes of fugitives&mdash;the persecution of innocent women and children in the sacred precincts of home&mdash;the mute despair of the husband and father over the bodies of his murdered wife and children&mdash;and the melancholy sigh of the captive in his dungeon, dreading that every moment may herald in his sanguinary fate. These cannot fail to absorb attention, and rivet curiosity in a more intense degree than could be achieved by the finest creations of Romance, Imagination, indeed, would not dare to pourtray such striking instances of rapid vicissitude in the state of a nation, such sudden alterations in the fortune of individuals, such traits of heroism, such examples of endurance, nor such representations of enormous guilt and savage cruelty as are, in almost every page, unfolded in the History of the great Revolution of France; while to peruse them must assuredly be to enlarge our knowledge in those matters which most nearly concern our public and private happiness. The warning voice ought not to sound in vain.</p>
<p>The impartiality and correctness of the History of M. Thiers have not been disputed; but, lest even he may inadvertently have fallen into occasional inaccuracies of detail, the Editor of the present edition has availed himself of numerous other sources of information, derived from eye-witnesses, of the scenes described, and other unquestionable authorities, including a large series of curious anecdotes, the whole of which will be embodied in Notes; so that the reader, by these various testimonies, will be enabled to form just conclusions as to the character of the events narrated.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">No. I. will be published with the Magazines on the</hi> 30<hi
rend="italics">th of September,</hi>
<lb/> AND WILL BE CONTINUED WEEKLY UNTIL COMPLETED.</p>
<p>RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, <lb/> (Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty).</p>
<p>AGENTS&mdash;<hi rend="italics">Liverpool,</hi> W. GRAPEL&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Manchester,</hi> G. SIMMS&mdash;<hi rend="italics">for Ireland,</hi> JOHN CUMMING, Dublin&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">for Scotland,</hi> BELL and BRADFUTE, Edinburgh; DUNCAN CAMPBELL, Glasgow; and may be had of all Booksellers throughout the United Kingdom.</p>
</div2>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="px" n="x"/>
<head>WORKS <lb/> PUBLISHED BY <lb/> J. J. DUBOCHET AND CO.</head>
<p>75, OLD BROAD STREET, LONDON.</p>
<p>SOLD BY SIMPKIN &amp; MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT.</p>
<p>C. TILT, FLEET STREET; H. HOOPER, PALL MALL, EAST; J. CUMMING, <lb/> DUBLIN; MENZIES, EDINBURGH.</p>
<p>AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.</p>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>I. <lb/> In Monthly Parts,&mdash;Price 2<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi
rend="italics">d.</hi><lb/>A BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF</opener>
<head>DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA.</head>
<p>Translated from the Spanish of MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA, <lb/> BY CHARLES JARVIS, ESQ.</p>
<p>Carefully revised and corrected.&mdash;Embellished with Eight Hundred Engravings <lb/> AFTER ORIGINAL DESIGNS, BY TONY JOHANNOT.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">To be completed in Eighteen Monthly Parts, forming Three Volumes.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;This commences a fine edition of <hi rend="italics">Don Quixote.</hi> A work so long celebrated in all modern languages, deserved to be brought out in a superior style here. The admired embellishments of the Paris editions (eight hundred in number) are transferred to the English version of the noble romance of Cervantes, and, on this occasion, the Willoughby press has well sustained the high claims put forth to our applause in &ldquo;Gil Blas,&rdquo; which we lately noticed in terms of just panegyric. The cuts are carefully worked off; and the text, for accuracy and beauty, cannot be surpassed.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Literary Gazette, first notice.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;We have already noticed this beautiful edition of <hi rend="italics">Don Quixote,</hi> in terms of high panegyric. The engravings, though worked in with the type, are, through care and skill, as clear and distinct as plates intended for separate publication.&rdquo;</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">Literary Gazette, second notice.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;The fertile invention, the picturesque composition, and variety of character, which the extremely clever artist, Tony Johannot, has displayed in the illustrations to Moli&egrave;re's works, have found a field for exhibition in the great work of Cervantes, which, no less than the popular writings of his countrymen, have advantageously exercised his prolific pencil. Of humour there is abundance, both in the diversified situations wherein the grave and gaunt knight is discovered, and also in those which afford us a view of the rotund form of his faithful squire. These designs are executed on wood in an effective and daring manner, forming not only a pleasant pictorial accompaniment to the text, but also worthy the study of the artist as examples of taste, freedom and character.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Court Journal.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;FRENCH AND ENGLISH LITERATURE.&mdash;A novelty in the inter-communion of the two nations has lately sprung up in the publication of French and English editions of what may be deemed their common classical authors, illustrated in both from the same prints. Gil Blas has been completed in this manner, and its pages swarm with illustrations of all sorts and sizes, from an illuminated initial letter, to a sketch of nearly a foot in length; Don Quixote is succeeding, as second of its series. A comparison is almost forced on one between the English and French editions; the superiority of the former is evidenced in the admirable way in which the prints are worked, and in the typography generally.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Globe.</hi></p>
<div3 type="page of senior bio">
<p>ALSO, <lb/> L'ING&Eacute;NIEUX HIDALGO <lb/> DON QUICHOTTE DE LA MANCHE.</p>
<p>Traduction Nouvelle en Francais par M. LOUIS VIARDOT.</p>
<p>WITH THE SAME ILLUSTRATIONS.</p></div3>
</div2>
<div2 type="section">
<pb id="pxi" n="xi"/>
<opener>II. <lb/> Publishing in 12 Monthly Parts, price 4<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi
rend="italics">d.,</hi> to be completed 1st October, 1837, </opener><head> PAUL ET VIRGINIE</head><p>ET LA CHAUMI&Egrave;RE INDIENNE, <lb/> PAR BERNARDIN DE SAINT-PIERRE; <lb/> Magnificent Edition, with 450 Illustrations, in the newest and most superb style, got up under the superintendance of the First English and French Artists.</p>
<p>&ldquo;A French edition of <hi rend="italics">Paul and Virginia,</hi> corresponding with those of <hi
rend="italics">Gil Blas</hi> and <hi rend="italics">Moli&egrave;re,</hi> is publishing in parts in London: the three first are before us. It is a most charming specimen of an illustrated book: the text is inlaid with wood-engravings, in which the art is carried to a perfection that we hardly supposed it capable of; indeed it may compare with line-engraving in elaboration and force of effect. The designs themselves are full of grace and simplicity, displaying a facile invention, imbued with the spirit of the story. Initial letters, and head and tail-pieces composed of beautiful landscapes, rich with the prodigal luxuriance of tropical vegetation, and enlivened by the introduction of some incident in the story, and ornamental scrolls of fruit and foliage, designed with a degree of taste and fancy unknown in this country, are scattered through the pages in profusion: and in addition to these, are separate designs on a larger scale, which exhibit more prominently the talent and skill of the artist in drawing and grouping the figures. Who the designer or designers are, we are not informed: they are evidently of the French school; but the engravings are mostly by English artists, Williams, Orrin Smith, &amp;c.&rdquo; &mdash; <hi
rend="italics">Spectator, April</hi> 8<hi rend="italics">th,</hi> 1837.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>III. </opener><head> LE LIVRE DES ENFANTS.</head>
<p>CONTES DES F&Eacute;ES.</p>
<p>A little Book designed for Children learning French, with numerous Illustrations after Original De signs by GIGOUX, GRANDVILLE, &amp;c.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">Three Volumes&mdash;Price</hi> 2<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi
rend="italics">d. each.&mdash;Each Volume containing Six Tales, may be</hi>
<lb/>
<hi rend="italics">had separately.</hi></p>
<p>A collection of fairy tales, illustrated with numerous engravings, carefully revised by ladies of eminent literary character. This book is very well adapted for children learning French, from the attractive nature of the contents; and as it is printed in Paris it is quite free from typographical errors, a subject of much complaint in the editions of French works from our own press.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The wood-cuts in these little volumes are replete with character. Such capital giants, and frightful old women, could never have proceeded from an ordinary artist. The text also, is of the most piquant kind. To make extracts would be unfair, it would be like picking plums from a cake; but we recommend it to the friends of our little friends.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Court Journal.</hi></p>
</div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>IV. <lb/> Publishing in Ten Monthly Parts&mdash;Price 2<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi> each, </opener><head> FABLES DE LA FONTAINE.</head>
<p>ILLUSTR&Eacute;ES PAR J. J. GRANDVILLE.</p>
<p>This work is offered to the public as a specimen of typographical and pictorial embellishment, worthy of the age in which it appears, and as the only edition of the great French fabulist, worthy of the author, ever yet published. We can only announce, of the numerous large vignettes, that each of them is a perfect study, both as a specimen of the artist's skill, and as an exposition of, and commentary on the fable that it illustrates, and that an inspection of them is necessary to appreciate their merit.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<pb n="xii" id="pxii"/>
<opener>V. </opener>
<head>OEUVRES COMPL&Eacute;TES DE B&Eacute;RANGER.</head><p>With One Hundred and Fifty Illustrations, after Original Designs <lb/> BY GRANDVILLE.</p>
<p>Now complete in three Volumes, royal 8vo, price &pound;2. in boards.</p>
<p>Every body knows that B&eacute;ranger is the true national songster in France. The artist's merit, in the illustrations now offered to the public, is to have seized, in all it shades, the spirit, so varied, of the poet, and to have reproduced it in each of his designs.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section"><opener>VI. <lb/> Publishing in Nine Monthly Parts&mdash;Price 2<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi> each.</opener>
<head>LES EVANGILES,</head><p>Profusely illustrated, after original designs by Th&eacute;ophile Fragonard, and printed with a border round each page, in the style of the manuscripts of the 15th century.</p>
<p>The illustrations of this edition are entirely inspired by the christian art; they are not ornaments arbitrarily conceived by the coquetry of modern taste, and capable of being adapted to any other work nearly as well as to the gospels. There is not a detail in these illustrations which has not its analogy in the emblazoned manuscripts that remain to us as models of the art, not a figure which is not in conformity with tradition, not a subject which is not fully borne out in the science of christian symbolism. There is a correctness of thought in the varied styles which M. Fragonard has embodied in his designs; Byzantine, Gothic, Moorish, Indian, Peruvian. This tone answers to the universality of the christian religion, which should reign all over the world.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>VII. <lb/><hi rend="italics">Under the Patronage of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge.</hi><lb/> Publishing in Monthly Numbers&mdash;Price 1<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 4<hi rend="italics">d.</hi><lb/> A NEW PERIODICAL, ENTITLED</opener><head>VEILL&Eacute;ES DE FAMILLE:</head><p>Being a series of Instructive and Entertaining Tales and Dramas, chiefly original, by Authors of the highest literary eminence. Printed in the four principal Languages of Europe; French, Italian, English, and German, on the same Page, and illustrated with Engravings on Wood, by eminent Artists.</p>
<p>EDITED BY M. M. MICHAUD AND CH. NODIER.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">Of the &ldquo;Acad&eacute;mie Fran&ccedil;aise.&rdquo;</hi></p>
<p>AND M. A. DE CHAZET.</p>
<p>The work is chiefly designed for the young of both sexes, and such persons as may be engaged in acquiring or teaching a correct and critical knowledge of either of the languages in which it is written. It is adapted, however, for readers of all ages, whether for the purity of its style, the interest of its contents, or the eminence of the various authors employed in its production. As an opportunity for occasional practice, or for renewing an intimate acquaintance with any of the languages it comprises, the <hi
rend="italics">&ldquo;Veill&eacute;es de Famille&rdquo;</hi> is such a desideratum as has never before been offered the public.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>VIII.</opener><head>HISTOIRE PARLEMENTAIRE <lb/> DE LA <lb/> REVOLUTION FAN&Ccedil;AISE,</head><p>Ou, Journal des Assembl&eacute;es Nationale, depuis 1789, jusqu'en 1815, <lb/> PAR J. B. BUCHEZ &amp; P. C. ROUX.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">To be completed in</hi> 40 <hi rend="italics">Monthly Vols., price</hi> 5<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d. each.</hi> (32 <hi
rend="italics">are out.</hi>)</p>
<p>&ldquo;The authors are men of ability and repute: their expositions, as we can testify, are handsomely done; but altogether apart from these, the excerpts themselves are the valuable thing: this work bids fair to be one of the most important yet published on the History of the Revolution. No library that professes to have a collection in this sort, can dispense with it.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">London and Westminster Review.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<pb id="pxiii" n="xiii"/>
<opener>IX. <lb/> Now complete, in Two Volumes&mdash;Price &pound;1. 12<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 0<hi rend="italics">d.</hi> Cloth.</opener>
<head>THE ADVENTURES OF GIL BLAS, <lb/> OF SANTILLANE.</head>
<p>Translated from the French of LE SAGE, <lb/> BY T. SMOLLETT, M. D.</p>
<p>Embellished with Six Hundred first rate Engravings on Wood, <lb/> FROM THE ORIGINAL DESIGNS OF JEAN GIGOUX.</p>
<p>OPINION OF THE PRESS.</p>
<p>&ldquo;It is impossible to notice, without unreserved admiration, a series of Illustrated Classics, which are periodically appearing in Paris and London. One of these is Gil Blas. If we may judge by what we have seen, this will be <hi
rend="italics">the</hi> Edition of Gil Blas: there is a spirit and force in the groupes of figures which have rarely been exceeded; and the touch of French mannerism to be detected in the attitudes, arrangements of costume, &amp;c. is certainly not unpleasing. We must add, that the execution of the wood-cuts is capital for its clearness and finish; and that all the ornamental letters, vignettes, &amp;c., are in the best possible taste.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Athenoeum.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;Beautifully printed, and very cheap; but its principal recommendation consists in the quantity of forcible and spirited wood-cuts with which the text is inlaid. The designs by Gigoux, a French artist, display a freedom and mastery of style, that are rarely seen among our native artists.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Spectator.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;We pronounce M. Gigoux the best illustrator extant. The style of his outlines, the manner of his grouping, have something in them indescribably expressive of the easy style of Le Sage,&mdash;a subtle grace which we have never before seen attempted. We must ask the reader to turn to the Work itself. We had marked so many of the designs for particular description, that we must reluctantly forego describing any of them. They sparkle upon every page.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Examiner.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;One of the most beautiful books that has issued from the press for a considerable time. The wood engravings are excellent, and the ornamental capitals at the beginning of each chapter, are very tasteful. We cannot refrain from noticing the head of the Robber in the first part, which, for nobleness and breadth of shadow, we have never seen surpassed in any other wood-cut: the typographical department is extremely well managed, and we have no doubt of the success of the Work.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Halifax Guardian.</hi></p>
</div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>ALSO,</opener>
<head> HISTOIRE DE GIL BLAS DE SANTILLANE,</head><p> IN FRENCH&mdash;WITH THE SAME ILLUSTRATIONS.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">One Volume&mdash;Imperial Octavo&mdash;Price</hi> &pound;1. 0<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 0<hi rend="italics">d.</hi> Sewed.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<head>OEUVRES COMPLETES DE MOLIERE.</head>
<p>Illustrated with Six Hundred Engravings on Wood, after Original Designs <lb/> BY TONY JOHANNOT.</p>
<p>&ldquo;We have opened one of the numbers now before us, and we see, we almost hear, that wittiest and most charming of female satirists, <hi
rend="italics">Celim&egrave;rre,</hi> sketching the absurdities of her friends, while <hi
rend="italics">Alceste</hi> prepares himself for a quarrel. Equally charming is the disagreement about the letter in the fourth Act, and her repulse of his absurd proposal that she should go and live in a desert with him, though a little theatrical, is given with great force and spirit. The illustrations of the <hi
rend="italics">M&eacute;decin malgr&eacute; lui</hi> are all delicious, and gracefully romantic are the pastoral glimpses of <hi
rend="italics">M&eacute;lic&eacute;rte.</hi>&rdquo;&mdash;<hi rend="italics">Examiner.</hi></p>
</div2>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb n="xiv" id="pxiv"/>
<head>WORKS <lb/> PUBLISHED BY <lb/> JOSEPH THOMAS, <lb/> 1, FINCH LANE, LONDON.</head>
<p>SOLD BY SIMPKIN &amp; MARSHALL, STATIONERS' COURT.</p>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>I. <lb/> Splendidly Illustrated Edition of Fairy Tales, Now Publishing,</opener><head>  THE CHILD'S FAIRY LIBRARY.</head>
<p>TO BE COMPLETED IN EIGHT VOLUMES.</p>
<p>Price 2s. 6d. each.</p>
<p>This beautiful publication which is a translation of the celebrated <hi
rend="italics">&ldquo;Contes des F&eacute;es,&rdquo;</hi> will comprehend all those well known and delightful tales, which have for so many ages, inspired the imagination and formed the taste of successive generations of children.</p>
<p>It will be illustrated by about EIGHT HUNDRED exquisitely finished WOOD CUTS from designs by Messrs. <hi
rend="italics">Gigoux, Grandville</hi> and other celebrated artists whose unrivalled talents have been employed in the embellishment of the magnificent editions of <hi
rend="italics">&ldquo;Gil Blas,&rdquo; Don Quixote,&rdquo; &ldquo;Paul and Virginia&rdquo;</hi> &amp;c. now publishing in Paris and London, while it is offered at a price which it is hoped will place it within the reach of thousands of the children of Great Britain to whom it is affectionately dedicated.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>II.</opener><head>THOMAS'S BURLESQUE DRAMA.</head>
<p>ILLUSTRATED BY <lb/> GEORGE AND ROBERT CRUIKSHANK.</p>
<p>Price 1s. each.</p>
<p>THE TAILORS; Or &ldquo;QUADRUPEDS.&rdquo;</p>
<p>SUITABLY ILLUSTRATED BY ROBERT CRUIKSHANK, <lb/> With NINE such CUTS as ought to MAKE A MAN.</p>
<p>BOMBASTES FURIOSO&mdash;MIDAS&mdash;TOM THUMB&mdash;THE MAYOR <lb/> OF GARRATT&mdash;KATHERINE AND PETRUCHIO.</p>
<p>OTHERS ARE IN ACTIVE PREPARATION.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>III.<lb/>Dedicated, by permission, to the Rev. J. R. MAJOR, Head Master to King's <lb/> College School, price 6s.</opener>
<head>POPULAR GEOGRAPHY.</head>
<p>Being a Companion to Thomas's Library Atlas, or Imperial School Atlas.</p>
<p>BY ROWLAND BOND.</p>
<p>Professor of Geography and Mathematics, and Lecturer at the London Institution.</p>
<p>&ldquo;A book that well bears out its title, which can hardly be said of any other of the compendious elementary treatises on this useful and ill-taught branch of knowledge.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Spectator.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;Of all the elementary works on geography with which we are acquainted, this appears to us the best,&mdash;as a school-book, or a book for families, it will be found of rare value.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">New Monthly Magazine.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<pb n="xv" id="pxv"/>
<opener>IV. <lb/> In half-morocco, price 14s. plain, or 21s. coloured; or with the Companion, 27s.</opener>
<head>THOMAS'S LIBRARY ATLAS, <lb/> OF MODERN AND ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY.</head>
<p>Every Map is beautifully engraved, from Original Drawings, according to the most recent authorities, carefully revised by eminent Geographical Professors.</p>
<p>&ldquo;The work is well engraved, remarkably elegant and attractive, and very accurate.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">New Monthly Magazine,</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;The Divisions are distinctly and accurately delineated; the lettering is well executed, and the longitudes and latitudes are clearly marked.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">United Service Journal.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section"><opener>V. <lb/> Price 10s. plain, or 14s. coloured,</opener><head>THOMAS'S LIBRARY ATLAS.</head>
<p>MODERN.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>VI. <lb/> Price 6s. plain, or 8s. coloured,</opener><head>  THOMAS'S LIBRARY ATLAS.</head>
<p>CLASSICAL.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>VII. <lb/> Price 12s. plain, or 15s. colored,</opener><head>THOMAS'S IMPERIAL SCHOOL ATLAS,</head>
<p>Of Modern and Ancient Geography, containing 44 Maps, engraved by Lizars.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section"><opener>VIII. <lb/> Price 10s. 6d.,</opener>
<head>THE GALLERY OF PAINTINGS.</head>
<p>Of the late BENJAMIN WEST, P. R. A.</p>
<p>Engraved in Outline by H. MOSES, ESQ.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Well known subjects from Mr. West's pencil; engraved by Moses, with his equally well known firmness, correctness, and beauty of line.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Literary Gazette.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>IX. <lb/> Price 2s. 6d. Cloth, </opener>
<head>POPULAR STATISTICS <lb/> AND UNIVERSAL GEOGRAPHY;</head><p>A PERPETUAL COMPANION TO ALL THE ALMANACS.</p>
<p>Containing the Length, Breadth, Population, Chief Cities, Produce, Government, &amp;c., of every State in the World: with an engraved Chart by Mercator.</p>
<p>&ldquo;Without exaggeration, it contains a larger body of information than was ever before compressed into so small a space, or sold at so low a price.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Metropolitan Magazine.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<head>X. <lb/> THE GREATEST OBSTACLE TO LEARNING THE FRENCH LANGUAGE ENTIRELY REMOVED.<lb/>Just Published, price 1s.</head>
<head>PRIDEAUX'S CONCISE RULES <lb/> FOR ACQUIRING THE GENDERS OF FRENCH NOUNS.</head>
<p>&ldquo;The clearest and most complete of all the numerous publications on the subject.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">P. F. Merlet,</hi> Professor of French to the London University.</p>
</div2><div2 type="section">
<pb id="pxvi" n="xvi"/>
<opener>XI. <lb/> Price 3s. boards, or 3s. 6d. half-morocco,</opener><head>THE CHILD'S OWN HISTORY OF FRANCE.</head>
<p>With authentic Portraits of its Kings, from Pharamond to Louis Philippe.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XII. <lb/> Price 3s. cloth, or 3s. 6d. half-morocco,</opener>
<head> THE GODS OF HOMER AND VIRGIL; <lb/> OR, MYTHOLOGY FOR CHILDREN.</head>
<p>By the Authors of &ldquo;The Pearl.&rdquo; &ldquo;The Muses' Response.&rdquo;</p>
</div2><div2 type="section"><opener>XIII. <lb/> Also, by the same Authors, price 1s.</opener>
<p>THE PUPIL'S DAILY MEMORIAL OF CONDUCT AND <lb/> STUDIES.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XIV. <lb/> Just published price 9d.</opener>
<head>BOND'S GEOGRAPHY FOR CHILDREN.</head>
<p>This little work by the author of &ldquo;Popular Geography:&rdquo; a work in deservedly high repute, will be found to be the best existing for the use of Schools and Families. It is divided into sections, with questions at the end of each, and although written for children, is calculated to call into exercise higher intellectual faculties than mere memory.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XV. <lb/> Just Published, price 1s., <lb/>
<hi rend="italics">With Explanatory Notes and Embellished with Numerous Engravings,</hi></opener>
<head>JUVENILE ASTRONOMY;</head><p>OR, THE SOLAR SYSTEM IN VERSE.</p>
<p>BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XVI. <lb/> TOILETTE OF RANK AND FASHION;<lb/>Just Published,&mdash;Second Edition. price 3s. 6d.</opener>
<head>THE BOOK OF HEALTH AND BEAUTY.</head>
<p>BY A SURGEON.</p>
<p>Embracing the Economy of the</p>
<list>
<item>Beard</item>
<item>Breath</item>
<item>Complexion</item>
<item>Eyes</item>
<item>Eye-brows</item>
<item>Eye-lashes</item>
<item>Feet</item>
<item>Gums</item>
<item>Hair</item>
<item>Hands</item>
<item>Lips</item>
<item>Mouth</item>
<item>Nails</item>
<item>Skin</item>
<item>Teeth</item>
<item>Tongue &amp;c. &amp;c.</item></list>
<p>With Recipes and Directions for the use of safe and Salutary Cosmetics, and a variety of Select Recipes for the Dressing-Room of both sexes.</p>
<p>&ldquo;A highly useful book for the ladies. There are in it some valuable recipes, particularly one for the skin of the hands and arms, which we are sure has never been made public before. It contains besides, much valuable information, and ought to be the companion of every dressing-room.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Lady's Magazine.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XVII. <lb/> Price 5s. elegantly bound,</opener><head>TINTS OF TALENT;</head><p>FROM MANY PENCILS.</p>
<p>Consisting of Original Articles in Prose and Verse, by <list> <item>The Authoress of&ldquo;Sketches of Corfu,&rdquo;</item><item>The Authoress of&ldquo;Woman's Love,&rdquo;</item><item> Mrs. Crawford,</item><item> Miss M. L. Beevor,</item><item>Viscount Glentworth, </item><item>James Montgomery,</item><item>John Clare,</item><item> The Author of &ldquo;Brambletye House,&rdquo;</item><item> The &ldquo;Hermit in  London,&rdquo;</item><item>Maurice Harcourt,</item><item>J. E. Carpenter,</item><item> John Francis,</item><item> G. M. Bussey,</item><item>W. Law Gane,</item><item> &amp;c. &amp;c.</item></list></p>
<p>&ldquo;Very pleasing <hi rend="italics">sketches.</hi>&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Spectator.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;A very pretty volume&mdash;variety and elegance are happily combined.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Morning Advertiser.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<pb id="pxvii" n="xvii"/>
<opener>XVIII. <lb/> Price 3s. 6d. half bound in Morocco,</opener>
<head>RAINBOW SKETCHES;</head><p>IN PROSE AND VERSE: <lb/> BY JOHN FRANCIS.</p>
<p>Author of &ldquo;Sunshine, or Lays for Ladies.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;We earnestly beg the ladies to take this elegantly produced publication under their especial protection. They will find it extremely elegant light reading, mixed up with just enough of the acid of satire to prevent its sweetness from cloying.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Metropolitan Magazine.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XIX. <lb/>Dedicated, (without permission), to those consistent supporters of a LAMB Administration, Daniel O'Connell, Esq., M. P., and J. S. Buckingham, Esq.
Price 2s. 6d. Cloth, </opener><head>THE ART OF DUELLING.</head>
<p>BY A TRAVELLER.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section"><opener>XX. </opener><head> WELLS'S SHORT HAND, </head><p> with Nine Plates, Price Eightpence.</p><p>A number of low-priced Works are before the Public, professing to teach Short-Hand but which, when purchased, are found to be more calculated to confuse than assist the progress of the learner, the Author, with much confidence, submits this System, combining cheapness with REAL utility, to the attention of those desirous of learning this Valuable and Useful Art; for by its aid, and without the help of a Master, Short Hand may be more Easily Acquired, more Rapidly Written, and more Readily Deciphered, than by any other System.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XXI. <lb/> Price 1s.</opener>
<head>THE ANTISEPTIC MANUAL;</head><p>Or, the Art of Preserving every description of Alimentary Substance,&mdash;Animal and Vegetable, for any length of time in domestic use, for long voyages, and in hot climates.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XXII.</opener>
<head> THE SHAKSPEARE FORGERIES, </head><p> 8vo. price 1s. 6d.</p>
<p>VORTIGERN.</p>
<p>By the late W. H. IRELAND.</p>
<p>Represented at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, April 2nd, 1796, as a supposed newly discovered drama of Shakspeare's, with a fac-simile of the original manuscript, and an original Preface, written expressly for this edition by Mr. Ireland, shortly before his decease, and containing a very curious history of his fabrication of the Shakespeare Papers.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XXIII. <lb/> Price 1s.</opener>
<head>THE LIFE OF MADAME MALIBRAN DE BERIOT.</head>
<p>With Original Anecdotes and Critical Remarks, by J. NATHAN, <lb/> Author of &ldquo;Hebrew Melodies,&rdquo; &amp;c. &amp;c.</p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>XXIV.</opener><head> NEW SONGS.</head>
<p>MALIBRAN'S FAREWELL TO AMERICA.</p>
<p>Written and sung by herself on the eve of her departure for Europe; also <lb/> &ldquo;QUEEN OF EVENING.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The last composition she received in this country from the hands of her biographer: and a New Edition of Lord Byron's admired,</p>
<p>&ldquo;WHEN WE TWO PARTED.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Composer, J. NATHAN.&mdash;Price 2s. each.</p>
<closer>WILLOUGHBY &amp; Co., PRINTERS, 109, GOSWELL STREET, LONDON.</closer>
</div2>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="pxviii" n="xviii"/>
<opener><hi rend="italics">Shortly will be published,</hi>
<lb/> UNDER THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF MR. CHARLES HEATH</opener><head>GEMS OF BEAUTY, FOR 1838.</head><p>DISPLAYED IN A SERIES OF <lb/> TWELVE HIGHLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS OF THE PASSIONS, <lb/> FROM DESIGNS BY E. T. PARRIS, ESQ.</p>
<p>WITH FANCIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS IN VERSE <lb/> BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.</p>
<p>In Imperial 4to, price &pound;1. 11<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi
rend="italics">d.</hi></p>
</div1><div1 type="advertisement">
<head>HEATH'S PICTURESQUE ANNUAL FOR 1838.</head>
<p>CONTAINING <lb/> A Tour in Ireland, by Leitch Ritchie, Esq.</p>
<p>(WHICH COMPLETES THIS PORTION.)</p>
<p>WITH NINETEEN BEAUTIFULLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS, <lb/> FROM PICTURES BY T. CRESWICK, ESQ., AND D. M`CLISE, ESQ., A.R.A.</p>
<p>Super royal 8vo. Elegantly bound, &pound;1. 1<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> India Proofs, &pound;2, 2<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi></p>
</div1><div1 type="advertisement">
<head>THE KEEPSAKE, FOR 1838.</head>
<p>ILLUSTRATED BY A SERIES OF HIGHLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS.</p>
<p>EDITED BY F. MANSEL REYNOLDS, ESQ.</p>
<p>Super royal 8vo. Price &pound;1. 1<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> India Proofs, &pound;2. 12<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi></p>
</div1><div1 type="advertisement">
<head>BOOK OF BEAUTY, FOR 1838.</head>
<p>WITH HIGHLY-FINISHED ENGRAVINGS.</p>
<p>EDITED BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.</p>
<p>Super royal 8vo. Price, elegantly bound, &pound;1. 1<hi rend="italics">s.</hi> India Proofs, &pound;2. 12<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi></p>
<closer>London: Longman, Orme, and Co.</closer>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<opener>FIRST COMPLETE EDITION, UNIFORM WITH BYRON, SCOTT, CRABBE, <lb/> COWPER, &amp;c.
<lb/>On Monday, October 16, will be published, in foolscap 8vo, with a Portrait of the Author by Lane, and <lb/> a Vignette by Cresswick, beautifully engraved by Finden, 5<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> cloth, lettered, <lb/> VOL. I. (CONTAINING JOAN OF ARC) OF </opener><head>SOUTHEY'S POETICAL WORKS.</head>
<p>COLLECTED BY HIMSELF.</p>
<p>This Edition, which the Author has arranged and revised with the same care as if it were intended for posthumous publication, will be comprised in ten volumes, including many pieces which have either never before been collected, or have hitherto remained unpublished. Preliminary notices will be affixed to the long poems,&mdash;the whole of the notes retained,&mdash;and such additional ones incorporated as the Author, since the first publication, has seen occasion to insert. The frontispiece and vignettes will consist of views appropriate to the respective volumes.</p>
<p><hi rend="italics">The Poems will be arranged in the following order:&mdash;</hi></p>
<p>VOL. I.&mdash;JOAN OF ARC, <lb/> Carefully corrected, and with a Preface, in which the circumstances of its original composition and subsequent alterations are related. This poem has been placed first, both as a juvenile work, and as that by which the Author first became known to the public.</p>
<list>
<item>II. &amp; III. JUVENILE AND MINOR POEMS.</item>
<item>IV. THALABA THE DESTROYER.</item>
<item>V. MADOC.</item>
<item>VI. &amp; VII. BALLADS &amp; METRICAL TALES.</item>
<item>VIII. THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.</item>
<item>IX. RODERICK, THE LAST OF THE GOTHS.</item>
<item>VOL. X. THE POET'S PILGRIMAGE TO WATERLOO&mdash;LAY OF THE LAUREATE, &amp;c.&mdash; <lb/> AND THE VISION OF JUDGMENT.</item>
</list>
<closer>London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans.</closer>
</div1>
<div1 type="advertisement">
<pb id="pxix" n="xix"/>
<head>SPLENDID ANNUALS FOR 1838.</head>
<div2 type="section">
<opener>MR. TILT WILL PUBLISH EARLY IN OCTOBER,</opener><head>FINDEN'S TABLEAUX;</head><p>OR PICTURESQUE SCENES <lb/> ILLUSTRATIVE OF NATIONAL CHARACTER, BEAUTY, AND COSTUME, <lb/> WITH LARGE AND BEAUTIFULLY ENGRAVED PLATES.</p>
<p>EDITED BY MISS MITFORD, AUTHOR OF &ldquo;OUR VILLAGE,&rdquo; &amp;c. &amp;c.</p>
<p>&ldquo;An Annual of the same class to which the &lsquo;Flowers of Loveliness,&rsquo; and &lsquo;Gems of Beauty,&rsquo; belong, and it is superior to both in its plan and execution.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Spectator.</hi></p>
<p>&ldquo;The binding is so rich and tasteful as to merit a distinct notice.&rdquo;&mdash;<hi
rend="italics">Atlas.</hi></p>
<p>Imperial 4to, splendidly bound in morocco, neatly ornamented, &pound;2. 2<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> India Proofs, &pound;3. 3<hi rend="italics">s.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<head>THE AUTHORS OF ENGLAND.</head>
<p>FIFTEEN LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL PLATES, <lb/> ENGRAVED IN THE NEW BAS-RELIEF STYLE.</p>
<p>WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL SKETCHES BY HENRY F. CHORLEY, <lb/> Author of &ldquo;Memorials of Mrs. Hemans,&rdquo; &amp;c. &amp;c.</p>
<p>This splendid work consists of Portraits of the most distinguished British Authors, all carefully modelled from life, and beautifully engraved by ACHILLE COLLAS of Paris. The volume contains some of the finest specimens of this new and beautiful style of engraving which have yet been produced, including Portraits of several Writers of whom no faithful and characteristic likenesses have hitherto appeared. Each plate is surrounded by a richly ornamented frame. Royal 4to, beautifully bound, &pound;1. 11<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi></p></div2>
<div2 type="section">
<head>THE SEVEN AGES OF WOMAN, </head><p> Illustrated in a Series of Beautiful Engravings.</p>
<p>EDITED BY FREDERIC MONTAGU, <lb/> With Contributions by Miss JANE PORTER, BARRY CORNWALL, Hon. Mrs. NORTON, The AUTHOR of <lb/> &ldquo;Cavendish,&rdquo; THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, &amp;c.</p>
<p>Demy Quarto, tastefully bound and gilt, &pound;1. 1<hi rend="italics">s.</hi></p>
</div2><div2 type="section">
<head>THE ORIENTAL ANNUAL.</head>
<p>BY THE REV. HOBART CAUNTER, B.D.</p>
<p>WITH TWENTY-TWO ENGRAVINGS, <lb/> FROM DRAWINGS BY THE LATE WILLIAM DANIELL, R.A.</p>
<p>Elegantly bound in morocco, price 21<hi rend="italics">s.;</hi> or large paper, with proof plates, &pound;2. 12<hi
rend="italics">s.</hi> 6<hi rend="italics">d.</hi></p>
</div2><div2 type="section">
<head>TILT'S ALMANACKS FOR 1838.</head>
<p>
<table rows="10" cols="4">
<row>
<cell>COMIC ALMANACK, Twelve Engravings by G. Cruikshank, an Hieroglyphic, and many wood-cuts</cell>
<cell>&pound;0</cell>
<cell>2</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>TILT'S MINIATURE ALMANACK, 1&frac14; by 2&frac14; inches, gilt edges</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>6</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>TILT'S MINIATURE ALMANACK, roan tuck</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>TILT'S ALMANACK FOR THE HAT</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>NATIONAL ALMANACK, on a sheet</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>3</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>TILT'S USEFUL ALMANACK</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>PARAGON ALMANACK</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>SUNDAY ALMANACK, printed in blue, card size</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>SUNDAY ALMANACK, printed in gold</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>2</cell>
</row>
<row>
<cell>CHURCHMAN'S SUNDAY GUIDE, being the Sunday Almanack printed in a large type, for Church Prayer Books, &amp;c.</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>0</cell>
<cell>1</cell>
</row>
</table>
</p>
<closer>CHARLES TILT, FLEET STREET.<lb/>
BRADBURY AND EVANS,]<lb/>
[PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</closer>
</div2>
</div1>
</back>
</text>
</TEI.2>

