 Preface and Postscript of Life and Adventures of Martin Chesilwit. What is exaggeration to one class of minds and perceptions is plain truth to another. That which is commonly called a long sight perceives in a prospect innumerable features and bearings nonexistent to a short-sighted person. I sometimes ask myself whether there may occasionally be a difference of this kind between some writers and some readers, whether it is always the writer who colors highly or whether it is now and then the reader whose eye for color is a little dull. On this head of exaggeration I have a positive experience, more curious than the speculation I have just set down. It is this. I have never touched a character precisely from the life, but some counterpart of that character has incredulously asked me, now really, did I ever really see one like it? All the Peck-Sniff family upon earth are quite aggrieved, I believe, that Mr. Peck-Sniff is an exaggeration, and that no such character ever existed. I will not offer any plea on his behalf to so powerful and genteel a body, but will make a remark on the character of Jonas Chesilwit. I conceive that the sordid coarseness and brutality of Jonas would be unnatural if there had been nothing in his early education, and in the precept and example always before him, to engender and develop the vices that make him odious. But so born and so bred, admired for that which made him hateful, and justified from his cradle in cunning, treachery, and avarice, I claim him as the legitimate issue of the father upon whom those vices are seen to recoil. And I submit that the recoil upon that old man in his unhonored age is not a mere piece of poetical justice, but is the extreme exposition of a direct truth. I make this comment, and solicit the reader's attention to it in his or her consideration of this tale, because nothing is more common in real life than a want of profitable reflection on the causes of many vices and crimes that awaken the general horror. What is substantially true of families in this respect is true of a whole commonwealth. As we sow, we reap. Let the reader go into the children's side of any prison in England, or I grieve to add of many workhouses, and judge whether those are monsters who disgrace our streets, people are hulks and penitentiaries, and overcrowd our penal colonies, or our creatures whom we have deliberately suffered to be bred for misery and ruin. The American portion of this story is in no other respect a caricature than as it is an exhibition for the most part, Mr. Bevan accepted, of a ludicrous side only of the American character of that side which was four and twenty years ago from its nature the most obtrusive and the most likely to be seen by such travelers as young Martin and Mark Tapley. As I had never in writing fiction had any disposition to soften what is ridiculous or wrong at home, so I then hoped that the good, humored people of the United States would not be generally disposed to quarrel with me for carrying the same usage abroad. I am happy to believe that my confidence in that great nation was not misplaced. When this book was first published, I was given to understand, as some authorities, that the Watertoast Association and eloquence were beyond all bounds of belief. Therefore I record the fact that all that portion of Martin Chuzzlewood's experiences is a literal paraphrase of some reports of public proceedings in the United States, especially of the proceedings of a certain Brandywine Association, which were printed in the Times newspaper in June and July, eighteen forty-three, at about the time when I was engaged in writing those parts of the book, and which remain on the file of the Times newspaper, of course. In all my writings I hope I have taken every available opportunity of showing the want of sanitary improvements in the neglected dwellings of the poor. Mrs. Sarah Gamp was, four and twenty years ago, a fair representation of the hired attended on the poor in sickness. The hospitals of London were, in many respects, noble institutions, in others very defective. I think it not the least among the instances of their mismanagement that Mrs. Betsy Prigg was a fair specimen of a hospital nurse, and that the hospitals with their means and funds should have left it to private humanity and enterprise to enter on an attempt to improve that class of persons, since greatly improved through the agency of good women. At a public dinner given to me on Saturday the eighteenth of April, eighteen sixty-eight, in the city of New York, by two hundred representatives of the press of the United States of America, I made the following observations among others. So much of my voice has lately been heard in the land that I might have been contented with troubling you no further from my present standing point, were it not a duty with which I henceforth charge myself, not only here but on every suitable occasion, whatsoever and wheresoever, to express my high and grateful sense of my second reception in America, and to bear my honest testimony to the national generosity and magnanimity. Also to declare how astounded I have been by the amazing changes I have seen around me on every side, changes moral, changes physical, changes in the amount of land subdued and peopled, changes in the rise of vast new cities, changes in the growth of older cities almost out of recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of life, changes in the press without whose advancement no advancement can take place anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, so arrogant as to suppose that in five and twenty years there have been no changes in me, and that I had nothing to learn and no extreme impressions to correct when I was here first, and this brings me to a point on which I have ever since I landed in the United States last November, observed a strict silence, though sometimes tempted to break it, but in reference to which I will, with your good leave, take you into my confidence now. Even the press, being human, may be sometimes mistaken or misinformed, and I rather think that I have in one or two rare instances observed its information to be not strictly accurate with reference to myself. Indeed, I have, now and again, been more surprised by printed news that I have read of myself than by any printed news that I have ever read in my present state of existence. Thus, the vigor and perseverance with which I have for some months past been collecting materials for and hammering away at a new book on America has much astonished me, seeing that all that time my declaration has been perfectly well known to my publishers on both sides of the Atlantic, that no consideration on earth would induce me to write one. But what I have intended, what I have resolved upon, and this is the confidence I seek to place in you, is, on my return to England, in my own person, in my own journal, to bear for the re-hoof of my countrymen such testimony to the gigantic changes in this country as I have hinted at tonight. Also to record that wherever I have been in the smallest places equally with the largest, I have been received with unsurpassable politeness, delicacy, sweet temper, hospitality, consideration, and with unsurpassable respect for the privacy daily enforced upon me by the nature of my avocation here and of the state of my health. This testimony, so long as I live, and so long as my descendants have any legal right in my books, I shall cause to be re-published as an appendix to every copy of those two books of mine in which I have referred to America, and this I will do and cause to be done not in mere love and thankfulness, but because I regard it as an act of plain justice and honor. I said these words with the greatest earnestness that I could lay upon them, and I repeat them in print here with equal earnestness. So long as this book shall last, I hope that they will form a part of it and will be fairly read as inseparable from my experiences and impressions of America. Charles Dickens, May 1868, End of Preface and Postscript. Chapter 1 of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 1. Introductory. Concerning the pedigree of the Chuzzlewit family. As no lady or gentleman, with any claims to polite breeding, can possibly sympathize with the Chuzzlewit family without being first assured of the extreme antiquity of the race, it is a great satisfaction to know that it undoubtedly descended in a direct line from Adam and Eve and was in the very earliest times closely connected with the agricultural interest. If it should ever be urged by grudging and malicious persons that a Chuzzlewit in any period of the family history displayed an overweening amount of family pride, surely the weakness will be considered not only pardonable but laudable when the immense superiority of the house to the rest of mankind in respect of this its ancient origin is taken into account. It is remarkable that as there was in the oldest family of which we have any record a murderer and a vagabond, so we never failed to meet in the records of all old families with innumerable repetitions of the same phase of character. Indeed it may be laid down as a general principle that the more extend of the ancestry, the greater the amount of violence and vagabondism. For in ancient days those two amusements combining a wholesome excitement with the promising means of repairing shattered fortunes were at once the ennobling pursuit and the healthful recreation of the quality of this land. Consequently it is a source of inexpressible comfort and happiness to find that in various periods of our history the Chuzzlewits were actively connected with diverse slaughterous conspiracies and bloody frays. It is further recorded of them that being clad from head to heel in steel of proof they did on many occasions lead their leather-jerken soldiers to the death with invincible courage and afterwards return home gracefully to their relations and friends. There can be no doubt that at least one Chuzzlewit came over with William the Conqueror. It does not appear that this illustrious ancestor came over that monarch, to employ the vulgar phrase, at any subsequent period in as much as the family did not seem to have been ever greatly distinguished by the possession of land and estate, and it is well known that for the bestowal of that kind of property upon his favorites the liberality and gratitude of the Norman were as remarkable as those virtues are usually found to be in great men when they give away what belongs to other people. Perhaps in this place the history may pause to congratulate itself upon the enormous amount of bravery, wisdom, eloquence, virtue, gentle birth, and true nobility that appears to have come into England with the Norman invasion. An amount which the genealogy of every ancient family lends its aid to swell, and which would, beyond all question, have been found to be just as great and to the full as prolific in giving birth to long lines of chivalrous descendants boastful of their origin, even though William the Conqueror had been William the Conqueror. A change of circumstances which, it is quite certain, would have made no manner of difference in this respect. There was unquestionably a chuzzle-wit in the gun-powder plot, if indeed the arch-traitor Fawkes himself were not a scion of this remarkable stock, as he might easily have been supposing another chuzzle-wit to have emigrated to Spain in the previous generation and there intermarried with a Spanish lady by whom he had issued one olive complexion sun. This probable conjecture is strengthened, if not absolutely confirmed, by a fact which cannot fail to be interesting to those who are curious in tracing the progress of hereditary tastes through the lives of their unconscious inheritors. It is a notable circumstance that in these later times many chuzzle-wits, being unsuccessful in other pursuits, have, without the smallest rational hope of enriching themselves or any conceivable reason, set up as coal merchants, and have, month after month, continued gloomily to watch a small stock of coals without in any one instance negotiating with a purchaser. The remarkable similarity between this course of proceeding and that adopted by their great ancestor beneath the vaults of the Parliament House at Westminster is too obvious and too full of interest to stand in need of comment. It is also clearly proved by the oral traditions of the family that there existed at some one period of its history which is not distinctly stated, a matron of such destructive principles, and so familiarized to the use and composition of inflammatory and combustible engines that she was called the matchmaker by which nickname and byword she has recognized in the family legends to this day. Surely there can be no reasonable doubt that this was the Spanish lady, the mother of chuzzle-wit vaults. But there is one other piece of evidence bearing immediate reference to their close connection with this memorable event in English history which must carry conviction even to a mind, if such a mind there be, remaining unconvinced by these presumptive proofs. There was, within a few years, in the possession of a highly respectable and in every way creditable and unimpeachable member of the chuzzle-wit family, for his bitterest enemy never dared to hint at his being otherwise than a wealthy man. A dark lantern of undoubted antiquity rendered still more interesting by being in shape and pattern extremely like such as are in use at the present day. Now this gentleman since deceased was at all times ready to make oath and did again and again set forth upon his solemn inseparation that he had frequently heard his grandmother say when contemplating this venerable relic, I, I, this was carried by my fourth son on the fifth of November when he was a guy fox. These remarkable words wrought, as well they might, a strong impression on his mind, and he was in the habit of repeating them very often. The just interpretation which they bear, and the conclusion to which they lead, are triumphant and irresistible. The old lady, naturally strong-minded, was nevertheless frail and fading. She was notoriously subject to that confusion of ideas, or, to say the least, of speech, to which age and garrulity are liable. The slight, the very slight confusion apparent in these expressions is manifest and is ludicrously easy of correction. I, I, quote she, and it will be observed that no emmendation whatever is necessary to be made in these two initiative remarks, I, I. This lantern was carried by my forefather, not fourth son, which is preposterous. On the fifth of November, and he was guy fox. Here we have a remark at once consistent, clear, natural, and in strict accordance with the character of the speaker. Indeed the anecdote is so plainly susceptible of this meaning, and no other, that it would be hardly worth recording in its original state, were it not a proof of what may be, and very often is, affected not only in historical prose, but in imaginative poetry by the exercise of a little ingenious labor on the part of a commentator. It has been said that there is no instance in modern times of a chuzzle-wit having been found on terms of intimacy with the great. But here again the sneering detractors who weave such miserable figments from their malicious brains are stricken dumb by evidence. For letters are yet in the possession of various branches of the family, from which it distinctly appears, being stated in so many words, that one diggery chuzzle-wit was in the habit of perpetually dining with Duke Humphrey, so constantly was he a guest at that nobleman's table indeed, and so unceasingly were his gracious hospitality and companionship forced, as it were upon him, that we find him uneasy and full of constraint and reluctance, writing his friends to the effect that if they fail to do so and so by bearer, he will have no choice but to dine again with Duke Humphrey, and expressing himself in a very marketed and extraordinary manner as one surfited of high life and gracious company. It has been rumored, and it is needless to say the rumor originated in the same base quarters that a certain male chuzzle-wit whose birth must be admitted to be involved in some obscurity was a very mean and low descent. How stands the proof? When the son of that individual to whom the secret of his father's birth was supposed to have been communicated by his father in his lifetime, lay upon his deathbed, this question was put to him in a distinct, solemn and formal way. Toby Chuzzle-wit, who was your grandfather, to which he, with his last breath, no less distinctly solemnly and formally replied, and his words were taken down at the time and signed by six witnesses, each with his name and address in full, the Lord knows who. It may be said it has been said, for human wickedness has no limits, that there is no Lord of that name, and that among the titles which have become extinct, none at all resembling this in sound even is to be discovered. But what is the irresistible inference? Rejecting a theory broached by some well-meaning but mistaken persons, that this Mr. Toby Chuzzle-wit's grandfather to judge from his name must surely have been a Mandarin, which is wholly insupportable for there is no pretense of his grandmother ever having been out of this country, or of any Mandarin having been in it within some years of his father's birth, except those in the tea-shops, which cannot for a moment be regarded as having any bearing on the question one way or other. Rejecting this hypothesis, is it not manifest that Mr. Toby Chuzzle-wit had either received the name imperfectly from his father, or that he had forgotten it, or that he had mispronounced it, and that even at the recent period in question the Chuzzle-wits were connected by a bend sinister, or kind of heraldic over the left, with some unknown noble and illustrious house. From documentary evidence, yet preserved in the family, the fact is clearly established that in the comparatively modern days of the Diggory Chuzzle-wit before mentioned, one of its members had attained to very great wealth and influence. Throughout such fragments of his correspondence as have escaped the ravages of the moths, who in right of their extensive absorption of the contents of deeds and papers may be called the general registers of the insect world, we find him making constant reference to an uncle in respect of whom he would seem to have entertained great expectations, as he was in the habit of seeking to propitiate his favor by presence of plate, jewels, books, watches, and other valuable articles. Thus he writes on one occasion to his brother in reference to a graviespoon, the brother's property, which he, Diggory, would appear to have borrowed or otherwise possessed himself of. Do not be angry, I have parted with it to my uncle. On another occasion he expresses himself in a similar manner with regard to a child's mug which had been entrusted to him to get repaired. On another occasion he says, I have bestowed upon that irresistible uncle of mine everything I ever possessed. And that he was in the habit of paying long and constant visits to this gentleman at his mansion, if indeed he did not wholly reside there, is manifest from the following sentence, with the exception of the suit of clothes I carry about with me, the whole of my wearing apparel is at present at my uncles. This gentleman's patronage and influence must have been very extensive, for his nephew writes, his interest is too high, it is too much, it is tremendous, and the like. Still it does not appear, which is strange, to have procured for him any lucrative post at court or elsewhere, or to have conferred upon him any other distinction than that which was necessarily included in the countenance of so great a man, and the being invited by him to certain entertainments so splendid and costly in their nature that he calls them golden balls. It is needless to multiply instances of the high and lofty station, and the vast importance of the chuzzle wits at different periods. If it came within the scope of reasonable probability that further proofs were required, they might be heaped upon each other until they formed an alps of testimony beneath which the boldest skepticism should be crushed and beaten flat. As a goodly tumulus is already collected and decently battened up above the family grave, the present chapter is content to leave it as it is, merely adding, by way of a final spadeful, that many chuzzle wits, both male and female, are proved to demonstration on the faith of letters written by their own mothers to have had chiseled noses, undeniable chins, forms that might have served the sculptor for a model, exquisitely churned limbs and polished foreheads of so transparent a texture that the blue veins might be seen branching off in various directions, like so many roads on an ethereal map. This fact in itself, though it had been a solitary one, would have utterly settled and clenched the business in hand, for it is well known on the authority of all the books which treat of such matters that every one of these phenomena, but especially that of the chiseling, are invariably peculiar to, and only make themselves apparent in persons of the very best condition. This history having, to its own perfect satisfaction, and consequently to the full contentment of all its readers, proved the chuzzle wits to have had an origin, and to have been at one time or other of an importance which cannot fail to render them highly improving and acceptable acquaintance to all right-minded individuals, may now proceed in earnest with its task. And having shown that they must have had, by reason of their ancient birth, a pretty large share in the foundation and increase of the human family, it will one day become its province to submit that such of its members as shall be introduced in these pages have still many counterparts and prototypes in the great world about us. At present it contents itself with remarking, in a general way, on this head. Firstly, that it may be safely asserted, and yet without implying any direct participation in the manbado doctrine touching the probability of the human race having once been monkeys, that men do play very strange and extraordinary tricks. Secondly, and yet without trenching on the Blumenbach theory as to the descendants of Adam having a vast number of qualities which belong more particularly to swine than to any other class of animals in the creation, that some men certainly are remarkable for taking uncommon good care of themselves. CHAPTER II. PART I OF LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MARTEN CHESELWIT. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MARTEN CHESELWIT by Charles Dickens. CHAPTER II. WHERE IN CERTAIN PERSONS ARE PRESENTED TO THE READER WITH WHOM HE MAY, IF HE PLEASE, BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED. PART I. It was pretty late in the autumn of the year when the declining sun struggling through the mist which had obscured it all day looked brightly down upon a little Wiltshire village within an easy journey of the fair old town of Salisbury. Like a sudden flash of memory or spirit kindling up the mind of an old man, it shed a glory upon the scene in which its departed youth and freshness seemed to live again. The wet grass sparkled in the light, the scanty patches of verger in the hedges where a few green twigs yet stood together bravely, resisting to the last the tyranny of nipping winds and early frosts, took heart and brightened up. The stream which had been dull and sullen all day long broke out into a cheerful smile. The birds began to chirp and twidder on the naked boughs as though the hopeful creatures half believed that winter had gone by and spring had come already. The vein upon the tapering spire of the old church glistened from its lofty station in sympathy with the general gladness, and from the ivy-shaded windows such gleams of light shone back upon the glowing sky that it seemed as if the quiet buildings were the hoarding place of twenty summers and all their ruddiness and warmth were stored within. Even those tokens of the season which emphatically whispered of the coming winter graced the landscape, and for the moment tinged its livelier features with no oppressive air of sadness. The fallen leaves, with which the ground was strewn, gave forth a pleasant fragrance, and subduing all harsh sounds of distant feet and wheels, created a repose in gentle unison with the light scattering of seed hither and thither by the distant husbandman, and with the noiseless passage of the plow as it turned up the rich brown earth and wrought a graceful pattern in the stubbled fields. On the motionless branches of some trees autumn berries hung like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchards where the fruits were jewels. Others stripped of all their garniture stood, each the center of its little heap of bright red leaves watching their slow decay. Others again, still wearing theirs, had them all crunched and crackled up as though they had been burnt. About the stems of some were piled in ruddy mounds, the apples they had borne that year, while others, hardy evergreens this class, showed somewhat stern and gloomy in their vigor, as charged by nature with the admonition that it is not to her more sensitive and joyous favorites she grants the longest term of life. Still a thwart their darker boughs, the sunbeams struck out paths of deeper gold, and the red light mantling in among their swarthy branches used them as foils to set its brightness off and aid the luster of the dying day. A moment and its glory was no more. The sun went down beneath the long dark lines of hill and cloud which piled up in the west in airy city, wall heaped down wall, and battlement on battlement, the light was all withdrawn, the shining church turned cold and dark, the stream forgot to smile, the birds were silent, and the gloom of winter dwelt on everything. An evening wind up rose too, and the slider branches cracked and rattled as they moved, in skeleton dances to its moaning music. The withering leaves no longer quiet hurried to and fro in search of shelter from its chill pursuit. The laborer unyoked his horses, and with head bent down trudged briskly home beside them, and from the cottage windows lights began to glance and wink upon the darkening fields. Then the village forge came out in all its bright importance. The lusty bellows roared, ha-ha, to the clear fire which roared in turn, and bade the shining sparks dance gaily to the merry clinking of the hammers on the anvil. The gleaming iron in its emulation sparkled too, and shed its red-hot gems around profusely. The strong smith in his men dealt such strokes upon their work as made even the melancholy night rejoice, and brought a glow into its dark face as it hovered about the door and windows, peeping curiously in above the shoulders of a dozen loungers. As to this idle company there they stood, spellbound by the place, and casting now and then a glance upon the darkness in their rear, settled their lazy elbows more at ease upon the sill, and leaned a little further in, no more disposed to tear themselves away than if they had been born to cluster round the blazing hearth like so many crickets. Out upon the angry wind, how from sighing it began to bluster round the merry forge, banging at the wicket and grumbling in the chimney as if it bullied the jolly bellows for doing anything to order. And what an impotent swaggerer it was, too, for all its noise, for if it had any influence on that horse companion it was but to make him roar his cheerful song the louder, and by consequence to make the fire burn the brighter and the sparks to dance more gaily yet. At length they whizzed so madly, round and round, that it was too much for such a surly wind to bear, so off it flew with a howl, giving the old sign before the ale-house door such a cuff as it went that the blue dragon was more rampant than usual ever afterwards, and indeed before Christmas reared clean out of its crazy frame. It was small tyranny for a respectable wind to go reeking its vengeance on such poor creatures as the fallen leaves, but this wind happening to come up with a great heap of them just after venting its humor on the insulted dragon did so disperse and scatter them that they fled away pell-mell, some here, some there, rolling over each other, whirling round and round upon their thin edges, taking frantic flights into the air, and playing all manner of extraordinary gambles in the extremity of their distress. Nor was this enough for its malicious fury, for not content with driving them abroad it charged small parties of them and hunted them into the wheel-right saw-pit, and below the planks and timbers in the yard, and scattering the saw-dust in the air it looked for them underneath, and when it did meet with any few how it drove them on and followed at their heels. The scared leaves only flew the faster for all this, and a giddy chase it was, for they got into unfrequented places where there was no outlet, and where their pursuer kept them eddying round and round at his pleasure, and they crept under the eaves of houses and clung tightly to the sides of hay-ricks like bats, and tore in at open chamber windows, and cowered close to hedges, and in short went anywhere for safety. But the oddest feat they achieved was to take advantage of the sudden opening of Mr. Pecksniff's front door to dash wildly into his passage, wither the wind following close upon them and finding the back door open, incontinently blew out the lighted candle held by Miss Pecksniff, and slammed the front door against Mr. Pecksniff, who was at that moment entering, with such violence that in the twinkling of an eye he lay on his back at the bottom of the steps. Being by this time weary of such trifling performances, the boisterous rover hurried away rejoicing, roaring over moor and meadow hill and flat until it got out to sea where it met with other winds similarly disposed and made a night of it. In the meantime Mr. Pecksniff, having received from a sharp angle in the bottom step but one, that sort of knock on the head which lights up for the patient's entertainment and imaginary general illumination of very bright short sixes, lay placidly staring at his own street door. And it would seem to have been more suggestive in its aspect than street doors usually are, for he continued to lie there, rather a lengthy and unreasonable time, without so much as wondering whether he was hurt or no. Neither, when Mr. Pecksniff inquired through the keyhole in a shrill voice which might have belonged to a wind in its teens, who's there? Did he make any reply? Nor, when Mr. Pecksniff opened the door again and shading the candle with her hand peered out and looked provokingly round him and about him and over him and everywhere but at him, did he offer any remark or indicate in any manner the least hint of a desire to be picked up. I see you, cried Miss Pecksniff, to the ideal inflictor of a runaway knock. You'll catch it, sir. Still, Mr. Pecksniff, perhaps from having caught it already, said nothing. You round the corner now, cried Miss Pecksniff. She said it at a venture, but there was appropriate matter in it, too, for Mr. Pecksniff, being in the act of extinguishing the candles before mentioned pretty rapidly and of reducing the number of brass knobs on his street door from four or five hundred, which had previously been juggling of their own accord before his eyes in a very novel manner, to a dozen or so, might in one sense have been said to be coming round the corner and just turning it. With a sharply delivered warning relative to the cage and the constable and the stocks and the gallows, Miss Pecksniff was about to close the door again when Mr. Pecksniff, being still at the bottom of the steps, raised himself on one elbow and sneezed. "'That voice!' cried Miss Pecksniff. "'My parent!' At this exclamation another Miss Pecksniff bounced out of the parlor and the two Miss Pecksniffs, with many incoherent expressions, dragged Mr. Pecksniff into an upright posture. "'Pa!' they cried in concert. "'Pa! Speak! Pa! Do not look so wild, my dearest Pa!' But as the gentleman's looks in such a case of all others are by no means under his own control, Mr. Pecksniff continued to keep his mouth and his eyes very wide open and to drop his lower jaw somewhat after the manner of a toy nutcracker. And as his hat had fallen off and his face was pale and his hair erect and his coat muddy, the spectacle he presented was so very doleful that neither of the Miss Pecksniffs could repress an involuntary screech. "'That'll do,' said Mr. Pecksniff, I'm better. He's come to himself,' cried the youngest Miss Pecksniff. "'He speaks again,' exclaimed the eldest. With these joyful words they kissed Mr. Pecksniff on either cheek and bore him into the house. Presently the youngest Miss Pecksniff ran out again to pick up his hat, his brown paper parcel, his umbrella, his gloves, and other small articles. And that done in the door closed both young ladies applied themselves to tending Mr. Pecksniff's wounds in the back parlor. They were not very serious in their nature, being limited to abrasions on what the eldest Miss Pecksniff called the knobby parts of her parents' anatomy, such as his knees and elbows, and to the development of an entirely new organ unknown to phrenologists on the back of his head. These injuries, having been comforted externally with patches of pickled brown paper and Mr. Pecksniff having been comforted internally with some stiff brandy and water, the eldest Miss Pecksniff sat down to make the tea which was all ready. In the meantime the youngest Miss Pecksniff brought from the kitchen a smoking dish of ham and eggs, and setting the same before her father took up her station on a low stool at his feet, thereby bringing her eyes on a level with the teaboard. It must not be inferred from this position of humility that the youngest Miss Pecksniff was so young as to be, as one may say, forced to sit upon a stool by reason of the shortness of her legs. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool because of her simplicity and innocence, which were very great, very great. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool because she was all girlishness and playfulness and wildness and kittenish buoyancy. She was the most arch and at the same time the most artless creature was the youngest Miss Pecksniff that you can possibly imagine. It was her great charm. She was too fresh and guileless and too full of childlike vivacity, was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, to wear combs in her hair or to turn it up or to frizzle it or braid it. She wore it in a crop, a loosely flowing crop which had so many rows of curls in it that the top row was only one curl. Moderately buxom was her shape and quite womanly, too, but sometimes, yes, sometimes, she even wore a pinafore, and how charming that was. Oh, she was indeed a gushing thing, as a young gentleman had observed in verse in the poet's corner of a provincial newspaper was the youngest Miss Pecksniff. Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man, a grave man, a man of noble sentiments and speech, and he had had her christened mercy. Mercy, oh, what a charming name for such a pure-sold being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff. Her sister's name was Charity. There was a good thing. She and Charity, and Charity, with her fine strong sense and her mild yet not reproachful gravity, were so well named and did so well set off and illustrate her sister. What a pleasant sight was that, the contrast they presented, to see each loved and loving one sympathizing with and devoted to and leaning on, and yet correcting and counter-checking, and as it were antidoting the other. To behold each damsel in her very admiration of her sister, setting up in business for herself on an entirely different principle and announcing no connection with over the way, and if the quality of goods at that establishment don't please you, you are respectfully invited to favor me with a call, and the crowning circumstance of the whole delightful catalog was that both the fair creatures were so utterly unconscious of all this. They had no idea of it. They no more thought or dreamed of it than Mr. Pecksniff did. Nature played them off against each other. They had no hand in it, to Mr. Pecksniff's. It has been remarked that Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man, so he was. Perhaps there never was a more moral man than Mr. Pecksniff, especially in his conversation and correspondence. It was once said of him by a homely admirer that he had a fortunatus' purse of good sentiments in his inside. In this particular he was like the girl in the fairytale except that if they were not actual diamonds which fell from his lips they were the very brightest paste and shone prodigiously. He was a most exemplary man, fuller of virtuous precept than a copy book. Some people likened him to a direction post, which is always telling the way to a place and never goes there. But these were his enemies, the shadows cast by his brightness. That was all. His very throat was moral. You saw a good deal of it. He looked over a very low fence of white cravat, whereof no man had ever beheld the tie for he fastened it behind, and there it lay, a valley between two jutting heights of collar, serene and whiskerless before you. It seemed to say on the part of Mr. Pecksniff, there is no deception, ladies and gentlemen, all is peace, a holy calm pervades me. So did his hair, just grizzled with an iron gray which was all brushed off his forehead and stood bolt upright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with his heavy eyelids. So did his person, which was sleek, though free from corpulancy. So did his manner, which was soft and oily. In a word even his plain black suit and state of widower and dangling double eyeglass all tended to the same purpose, and cried aloud, Behold the moral Pecksniff! The brazen plate upon the door, which being Mr. Pecksniff's could not lie, wore this inscription, Pecksniff Architect, to which Mr. Pecksniff on his cards of business added, and land surveyor. In one sense, in only one, he may be said to have been a land surveyor on a pretty large scale, as an extensive prospect lay stretched out before the windows of his house. Of his architectural doings nothing was clearly known except that he had never designed or built anything. But it was generally understood that his knowledge of the science was almost awful in its profundity. Mr. Pecksniff's professional engagements, indeed, were almost, if not entirely, confined to the reception of pupils, for the collection of rents with which pursuit he occasionally varied and relieved his graver toils, can hardly be said to be a strictly architectural employment. His genius lay in ensnaring parents and guardians and pocketing premiums. A young gentleman's premium being paid, and the young gentleman come to Mr. Pecksniff's house, Mr. Pecksniff borrowed his case of mathematical instruments, if silver-mounted or otherwise valuable, and treated him from that moment to consider himself one of the family, complimented him highly on his parents or guardians as the case might be, and turned him loose in a spacious room on the two-pair front, where, in the company of certain drawing boards, parallel rulers, very stiff-legged compasses, and two or perhaps three other young gentlemen, he improved himself for three or five years according to his articles, in making elevations of Salisbury Cathedral from every possible point of sight, and in constructing in the air a vast quantity of castles, houses of parliament, and other public buildings. Perhaps in no place in the world were so many gorgeous edifices of this class erected as under Mr. Pecksniff's auspices, and if but one-twentieth part of the churches which were built in that front room, with one or other of the Ms. Pecksniff's at the altar in the act of marrying the architect, could only be made available by the parliamentary commissioners, no more churches would be wanted for at least five centuries. Even the worldly goods of which we have just disposed, said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing round the table when he had finished, even cream, sugar, tea, toast, ham, and eggs, suggested charity in a low voice, and eggs, said Mr. Pecksniff, even they have their moral. See how they come and go? Every pleasure is transitory. We can't even eat long. If we indulge in harmless fluids, we get the dropsy. If in exciting liquids we get drunk, what a soothing reflection is that? Let's say we get drunk, Pa, urged the eldest Ms. Pecksniff. When I say we, my dear, returned her father, I mean mankind in general, the human race considered as a body and not as individuals. There is nothing personal in morality, my love. Even such a thing as this, said Mr. Pecksniff, laying the forefinger of his left hand upon the brown paper patch on the top of his head, slight casual baldness, though it be, reminds us that we are but, he was going to say, worms, but recollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair, he substituted flesh and blood. Which, cried Mr. Pecksniff after a pause, during which he seemed to have been casting about for a new moral and not quite successfully, which is also very soothing. Mercy, my dear, stir the fire and throw up the cinders. The young lady obeyed, and having done so resumed her stool, reposed one arm upon her father's knee and laid her blooming cheek upon it. Miss Charity drew her chair nearer the fire as one prepared for conversation and looked towards her father. Yes, said Mr. Pecksniff after a short pause, during which he had been silently smiling and shaking his head at the fire, I have again been fortunate in the attainment of my object. A new inmate will very shortly come among us. A youth, Papa, asked Charity? Yes, a youth, said Mr. Pecksniff. He will avail himself of the eligible opportunity which now offers for uniting the advantages of the best practical architectural education with the comforts of a home and the constant association with some who, however humble their sphere and limited their capacity, are not unmindful of their moral responsibilities. Oh, pa! cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly. See, advertisement! Playful, playful warbler, said Mr. Pecksniff. It may be observed, in connection with his calling his daughter a warbler, that she was not at all vocal, but that Mr. Pecksniff was in the frequent habit of using any word that occurred to him as having a good sound and rounding a sentence well without much care for its meaning. And he did this so boldly and in such an imposing manner that he would sometimes stagger the wisest people with his eloquence and make them gasp again. His enemies asserted, by the way, that a strong trustfulness in sounds and forms was the master key to Mr. Pecksniff's character. Is he handsome, pa? inquired the younger daughter. Silly Mary, said the eldest, Mary being fond for mercy. What is the premium, pa? Tell us that. Oh, good gracious cherry! cried Miss Mercy, holding up her hands with the most winning giggle in the world. What a mercenary girl you are! O you naughty, thoughtful, prudent thing! It was perfectly charming and worthy of the pastoral age to see how the two Miss Pecksniff slapped each other after this and then subsided into an embrace expressive of their different dispositions. He is well-looking, said Mr. Pecksniff, slowly indistinctly, well-looking enough. I did not positively expect any immediate premium with him, notwithstanding their different natures, both charity and mercy concurred in opening their eyes uncommonly wide at this announcement and in looking for the moment as blank as if their thoughts had actually had a direct bearing on the main chance. But what of that, said Mr. Pecksniff, still smiling at the fire? There is disinterestedness in the world, I hope. We are not all arrayed in two opposite ranks, the offensive and the defensive. Some few there are who walk between, who help the needy as they go, and take no part with either side. There was something in these morsels of philanthropy which reassured the sisters. They exchanged glances and brightened very much. End of Chapter 2, Part 1. Chapter 2, Part 2 of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewick. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewick by Charles Dickens. Chapter 2, Part 2. Oh, let us not be forever calculating, devising, and plotting for the future, said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling more and more and looking at the fire as a man might who was cracking a joke with it. I am weary of such arts. If our inclinations are but good and open-hearted, let us gratify them boldly, though they bring upon us loss instead of profit. Eh, charity? Glancing towards his daughters for the first time since he had begun these reflections and seeing that they both smiled, Mr. Pecksniff eyed them for an instant, so jocously, though still with a kind of saintly waggishness, that the younger one was moved to sit upon his knee forthwith, put her fair arms round his neck, and kiss him twenty times. During the whole of this affectionate display, she laughed to a most immoderate extent, in which hilarious indulgence, even the prudent cherry joined. Tut, tut, said Mr. Pecksniff, pushing his latest born away, and running his fingers through his hair as he resumed his tranquil face. What folly is this? Let us take heed how we laugh without reason lest we cry with it. What is the domestic news since yesterday? On Westlock is gone, I hope. Indeed, no, said Charity. And why not? returned her father. His term expired yesterday, and his box was packed, or I know, for I saw it in the morning standing in the hall. He slept last night at the dragon, returned the young lady, and had Mr. Pinch to dine with him. They spent the evening together, and Mr. Pinch was not home till very late. And when I saw him on the stairs this morning, Pa, said mercy, with her usual sprightliness, he looked, oh goodness, such a monster, with his face all manner of colors in his eyes as dull as if they had been boiled, and his head aching dreadfully, I am sure, from the look of it, and his clothes smelling, oh, it's impossible to say how strong, oh, here the young lady shuddered of smoke and punch. Now I think, said Mr. Pecksniff, with his accustomed gentleness, though still with the air of one who suffered under injury without complaint. I think Mr. Pinch might have done better than choose for his companion one who, at the close of a long intercourse, had endeavored, as he knew, to wound my feelings. I am not quite sure that this was delicate in Mr. Pinch. I am not quite sure that this was kind in Mr. Pinch. I will go further and say I am not quite sure that this was even ordinarily grateful in Mr. Pinch. But what can anyone expect from Mr. Pinch? cried Charity, with a strong and scornful an emphasis on the name, as if it would have given her unspeakable pleasure to express it in an acted charade on the calf of that gentleman's leg. I, I, return to father, raising his hand mildly. It is very well to say what can we expect from Mr. Pinch. But Mr. Pinch is a fellow creature, my dear. Mr. Pinch is an item in the vast total of humanity, my love, and we have a right, it is our duty, to expect in Mr. Pinch some development of those better qualities, the possession of which in our own persons inspires our humble self-respect. No, continued Mr. Peck-sniff, no, heaven forbid that I should say nothing can be expected from Mr. Pinch, or that I should say nothing can be expected from any man alive, even the most degraded, which Mr. Pinch is not. No, really. But Mr. Pinch has disappointed me. He has hurt me. I think a little the worse of him on this account. But not of human nature. Oh, no, no. Hark! said Miss Charity, holding up her finger as a gentle wrap was heard at the street door. There is the creature. Now mark my words. He has come back with John Westlock for his box, and is going to help him to take it to the mail. Only mark my words if that isn't his intention. Even as she spoke the box appeared to be in progress of conveyance from the house, but after a brief murmuring of question and answer it was put down again and somebody knocked at the parlor door. Come in! cried Mr. Peck-sniff, not severely, only virtuously. Come in! An ungainly, awkward-looking man, extremely short-sighted and prematurely bald, availed himself of this permission, and seeing that Mr. Peck-sniff sat with his back towards him, gazing at the fire, stood hesitating with the door in his hand. He was far from handsome, certainly, and was dressed in a snuff-colored suit of an uncouth make at the best, which, being shrunk with long wear, was twisted and tortured into all kinds of odd shapes. But notwithstanding his attire and his clumsy figure, which a great stoop in his shoulders and a ludicrous habit he had of thrusting his head forward by no means redeemed, one would not have been disposed, unless Mr. Peck-sniff said so, to consider him a bad fellow by any means. He was perhaps about thirty, but he might have been almost any age between sixteen and sixty, being one of those strange creatures who never decline into an ancient appearance, but look their oldest when they are very young and get it over at once. By his hand upon the lock of the door he glanced for Mr. Peck-sniff to Mercy, from Mercy to Charity, and from Charity to Mr. Peck-sniff again, several times. But the young ladies, being as intent upon the fire as their father was, and neither of the three taking any notice of him, he was feigned to say at last, Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Peck-sniff, I beg your pardon for intruding, but— No intrusion, Mr. Pinch, said that gentleman very sweetly, but without looking round. Be seated, Mr. Pinch, have the goodness to shut the door, Mr. Pinch, if you please. Certainly, sir, said Pinch, not doing so, however, but holding it rather wide or open than before, and beckoning nervously to somebody without. Mr. Westlock, sir, hearing that you were come home, Mr. Pinch, Mr. Pinch, said Peck-sniff, wheeling his chair about and looking at him with an aspect of the deepest melancholy, I did not expect this from you. I have not deserved this from you. No, but upon my word, sir, urged Pinch, the less you say, Mr. Pinch, interpose the other the better. I utter no complaint, make no defense. No, but do have the goodness, sir, cried Pinch, with great earnestness, if you please. Mr. Westlock, sir, going away for good and all, wishes to leave none but friends behind him. Mr. Westlock and you, sir, had a little difference the other day, you have had many little differences. Little differences, cried Charity. Little differences, echoed Mercy. My loves, said Mr. Peck-sniff, with the same serene uprising of his hand, my dears. After a solemn pause he meekly bowed to Mr. Pinch, as who should say, proceed. But Mr. Pinch was so very much at a loss how to resume and looked so helplessly at the two Miss Peck-sniffs that the conversation would most probably have terminated there if a good-looking youth, newly arrived at man's estate, had not stepped forward from the doorway and taken up the thread of the discourse. Come, Mr. Peck-sniff, he said with a smile, don't let there be any ill blood between us, pray. I am sorry we have ever differed, and extremely sorry I have ever given you offense. Bear me no ill will at parting, sir. I bear, answered Mr. Peck-sniff mildly, no ill will to any man on earth. I told you he didn't, said Pinch, in an undertone. I knew he didn't. He always says he don't. Then you will shake hands, sir, cried Westlock, advancing a step or two, and to be speaking Mr. Pinch's close attention by a glance. Oof! said Mr. Peck-sniff, in his most winning tone. You will shake hands, sir? No, John, said Mr. Peck-sniff, with a calmness quite ethereal. No, I will not shake hands, John. I have forgiven you. I had already forgiven you, even before you ceased to reproach and taunt me. I have embraced you in the spirit, John, which is better than shaking hands. Pinch, said the youth, turning towards him with a hearty disgust of his late master, what did I tell you? Poor Pinch looked down uneasily at Mr. Peck-sniff, whose eye was fixed upon him as it had been from the first, and looking up at the ceiling again made no reply. As to your forgiveness, Mr. Peck-sniff, said the youth, I'll not have it upon such terms. I won't be forgiven. Won't you, John? retorted Mr. Peck-sniff with a smile. You must, you can't help it. Forgiveness is a high quality, an exalted virtue far above your controller influence, John. I will forgive you. You cannot move me to remember any wrong you have ever done me, John. Wrong! cried the other, with all the heat and petruosity of his age. Here's a pretty fellow. Wrong! Wrong! I have done him. He'll not even remember the five hundred pounds he had with me under false pretenses, or the seventy pounds a year for board and lodging that would have been dear at seventeen. Here's a martyr. Money, John, said Mr. Peck-sniff, is the root of all evil. I grieve to see that it is already bearing evil fruit in you, but I will not remember its existence. I will not even remember the conduct of that misguided person. And here, although he spoke like one at peace with all the world, he used an emphasis that plainly said, I have my eye upon the rascal now, that misguided person who has brought you here tonight, seeking to disturb, it is a happiness to say in vain, the hearts repose in peace of one who would have shed his dearest blood to serve him. The voice of Mr. Peck-sniff trembled as he spoke, and sobs were heard from his daughters. Sounds floated on the air, moreover, as if two spirit voices had exclaimed, one beast, the other savage. Forgiveness, said Mr. Peck-sniff, entire and pure forgiveness is not incompatible with a wounded heart. Perchance, when the heart is wounded, it becomes a greater virtue. With my breast still wrung and grieved to its inmost core by the ingratitude of that person, I am proud and glad to say that I forgive him. Nay, I beg, cried Mr. Peck-sniff, raising his voice, as pinch appeared about to speak. I beg that individual not to offer a remark. He will truly oblige me by not uttering one word just now. I am not sure that I am equal to the trial. In a very short space of time, I shall have sufficient fortitude I trust to converse with him as if these events had never happened. But not, said Mr. Peck-sniff, turning round again towards the fire and waving his hand in the direction of the door. Not now. Bah! cried John Westlock, with the utmost disgust and disdain the monosyllable is capable of expressing. Ladies, good evening. Come, pinch, it's not worth thinking of. I was right, and you were wrong. That's small matter. You'll be wiser another time. So saying he clapped that dejected companion on the shoulder turned upon his heel and walked out into the passage, wither poor Mr. Pinch, after lingering irresolutely in the parlour for a few seconds, expressing in his countenance the deepest mental misery and gloom followed him. Then they took up the box between them and sallied out to meet the male. That fleet conveyance passed every night the corner of a lane at some distance, towards which point they bent their steps. For some minutes they walked along in silence, until at length young Westlock burst into a loud laugh and at intervals into another and another. Still, there was no response from his companion. I'll tell you what, pinch, he said abruptly, after another length in silence, you haven't half enough of the devil in you. Half enough. You haven't any. Well, said Pinch, with a sigh, I don't know, I'm sure. It's compliment to say so. If I haven't, I suppose I'm all the better for it. All the better, repeated his companion tartly, all the worst you mean to say. And yet, said Pinch, pursuing his own thoughts, and not this last remark on the part of his friend, I must have a good deal of what you call the devil in me, too, or how can I make Peck sniff so uncomfortable? I wouldn't have occasioned him so much distress. Don't laugh, please. For a mine of money and heaven knows I could find good use for it, too, John, how grieved he was. He grieved, returned the other. Why didn't you observe that the tears were almost starting out of his eyes, cried Pinch? Bless my soul, John, is it nothing to see a man move to that extent, and know one's self to be the cause? And did you hear him say that he could have shed his blood for me? Do you want any blood shed for you, returned his friend with considerable irritation? Does he shed anything for you that you do want? Does he shed employment for you, instruction for you, pocket money for you? Does he shed even legs of mutton for you in any decent proportion to potatoes and garden stuff? I am afraid, said Pinch, sighing again, that I am a great eater. I can't disguise for myself that I'm a great eater. Now you know that, John. You a great eater, retorted his companion with no less indignation than before. How do you know you are? There appeared to be forcible matter in this inquiry, for Mr. Pinch only repeated in an undertone that he had a strong misgiving on the subject and that he greatly feared he was. Besides, whether I am or know, he added, that has little or nothing to do with his thinking me ungrateful. John there is scarcely a sin in the world that is in my eyes such a crying one as ingratitude, and when he taxes me with that and believes me to be guilty of it, he makes me miserable and wretched. Do you think he don't know that? End the other scornfully. But come, Pinch, before I say anything more, do you just run over the reasons you have for being grateful to him at all, will you? Change hands first, for the box is heavy. That'll do. Now go on. In the first place, said Pinch, he took me as his pupil for much less than he asked. Well, rejoined his friend, perfectly unmoved by this instance of generosity. What in the second place? What in the second place? Why, Pinch, in a sort of desperation? Why, everything in the second place. My poor old grandmother died happy to think that she had put me with such an excellent man. I have grown up in his house. I am in his confidence. I am his assistant. He allows me a salary. When his business improves, my prospects are to improve, too. All this and a great deal more is in the second place. And in the very prologue and preface to the first place, John, you must consider this, which nobody knows better than I, that I was born for much plainer and poorer things, that I am not a good hand for his kind of business and have no talent for it, or indeed for anything else but odds and ends that are of no use or service to anybody. He said this with so much earnestness and in a tone so full of feeling that his companion instinctively changed his manner as he sat down on the box, they had by this time reached the finger-post at the end of the lane, motioned him to sit down beside him and laid his hand upon his shoulder. I believe you are one of the best fellows in the world, he said, Tom Pinch. Not at all, rejoined Tom. If you only knew Peck-sniff as well as I do, you might say it of him, indeed, and say it truly. I'll say anything of him you like, returned to the other, and not another word to his disparagement. It's for my sake, then, not his, I am afraid, said Pinch, shaking his head gravely. For whose you please, Tom, so that it does please you? Oh, he's a famous fellow. He never scraped and clawed into his pouch all your poor grandmother's hard savings. She was a housekeeper, wasn't she, Tom? Yes, said Mr. Pinch, nursing one of his large knees and nodding his head, a gentleman's housekeeper. He never scraped and clawed into his pouch all her hard savings, dazzling her with prospects of your happiness and advancement, which he knew, and no man better, never would be realized. He never speculated and traded on her pride in you and her having educated you, and on her desire that you at least should live to be a gentleman, not he, Tom. No, said Tom, looking into his friend's face, as if he were a little doubtful of his meaning, of course not. So I say, return to the youth, of course he never did. He didn't take less than he had asked, because that less was all she had, and more than he expected. Not he, Tom. He doesn't keep you as his assistant because you are of any use to him, because your wonderful faith in his pretensions is of inestimable service in all his mean disputes, because your honesty reflects honesty on him, because you're wondering about this little place all your spare hours reading in ancient books and foreign tongues gets noise to broad, even as far as Salisbury, making of him Pexnip the master, a man of learning and of vast importance, he gets no credit from you, Tom, not he. Well, of course he don't, said Pinch, gazing at his friend with a more troubled aspect than before. Pexnip, get credit from me. Well, don't I say that it's ridiculous, rejoin to the other, even to think of such a thing? Why, it's madness, said Tom. Madness, returned young Westlock. Certainly it's madness. Who but a madman would suppose he cares to hear it said on Sundays that the volunteer who plays the organ in the church and practices on summer evenings in the dark is Mr. Pexnip's young man, eh, Tom? Who but a madman would suppose it is the game of such a man as he to have his name in everybody's mouth connected with a thousand useless odds and ends you do, and which, of course, he taught you. Eh, Tom? Who but a madman would suppose you advertised him hereabouts much cheaper and much better than a chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom? As well might one suppose that he doesn't on all occasions pour out his whole heart and soul to you, that he doesn't make you a very liberal and indeed, rather an extravagant allowance, or to be more wild and monstrous still, if that be possible, as well might one suppose, and here at every word he struck him lightly on the breast that Pexnip traded in your nature and that your nature was to be timid and distrustful of yourself and trustful of all other men, but most of all of him who least deserves it, there would be madness, Tom. Mr. Pinch had listened to all this with looks of bewilderment, which seemed to be in part occasioned by the matter of his companion's speech and in part by his rapid and vehement manner. Now that he had come to a close, he drew a very long breath and gazing wistfully in his face as if he were unable to settle in his own mind what expression it wore and were desirous to draw from it as good a clue to his real meaning as it was possible to obtain in the dark, was about to answer when the sound of the male guard's horn came cheerly upon their ears, putting an immediate end to the conference, greatly as it seemed to the satisfaction of the younger man who jumped up riskily and gave his hand to his companion. Both hands, Tom, I shall write to you from London, mind. Yes, said Pinch, yes, do please. Goodbye, goodbye, I can hardly believe you're going. It seems now, but yesterday that you came. Goodbye, my dear old fellow. John Westlock returned his parting words with no less heartiness of manner and sprung up to his seat upon the roof. Off went the male at a canter down the dark road, the lamps gleaming brightly and the horn awakening all the echoes far and wide. Go your ways, said Pinch, apostrophizing the coach. I can hardly persuade myself but you're alive and are some great monster who visits this place at certain intervals to bear my friends away into the world. You're more exulting and rampant than usual tonight, I think, and you may well crow over your prize for he is a fine lad, an ingenuous lad and has but one fault that I know of. He don't mean it but he is most cruelly unjust to Peck-sniff. End of chapter two. Chapter three, part one of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuselwit by Charles Dickens. Chapter three, in which certain other persons are introduced on the same terms as in the last chapter. Part one. Mention has been already made more than once of a certain dragon who swung and creaked complainingly before the village alehouse door. A faded and an ancient dragon he was and many a wintry storm of rain, snow, sleet and hail had changed his color from a gaudy blue to a faint lackluster shade of gray. But there he hung, rearing in a state of monstrous imbecility on his hind legs, waxing with every month that passed so much more dim and shapeless that as you gazed at him on one side of the signboard it seemed as if he must be gradually melting through it and coming out upon the other. He was a courteous and considerate dragon too or had been in his distinctor days, for in the midst of his rampant feebleness he kept one of his forepaws near his nose as though he would say, don't mind me, it's only my fun. While he held out the other in polite, inhospitable and treaty, indeed it must be conceded to the whole brood of dragons of modern times that they have made a great advance in civilization and refinement. They no longer demand a beautiful virgin for breakfast every morning with as much regularity as any tame single gentleman expects his hot roll. But rest content with the society of idle bachelors and roving married men, and they are now remarkable rather for holding aloof from the softer sex and discouraging their visits, especially on Saturday nights than for rudely insisting on their company without any reference to their inclinations as they are known to have done in days of yore. Nor is this tribute to the reclaimed animals in question so wide a digression into the realms of natural history as it may at first sight appear to be. For the present business of these pages, in with the dragon who had his retreat in Mr. Pexnip's neighborhood, and that courteous animal being already on the carpet, there is nothing in the way of its immediate transaction. For many years then he had swung and creaked and flapped himself about before the two windows of the best bedroom of that house of entertainment to which he lent his name. But never in all his swinging, creaking, and flapping had there been such a stir within its dingy precinct as on the evening next after that upon which the incidents detailed in the last chapter occurred. When there was such a hurrying up and down stairs of feet, such a glancing of lights, such a whispering of voices, such a smoking and sputtering of wood newly lighted in a damp chimney, such an airing of linen, such a scorching smell of hot warming pans, such a domestic bustle and to-do, in short, as never dragon, griffin, unicorn, or other animal of that species presided over since they first began to interest themselves in household affairs. An old gentleman and a young lady, traveling unattended in a rusty old chariot with post-horses, coming nobody knew whence and going nobody knew whither, had turned out of the high road and driven unexpectedly to the blue dragon, and here was the old gentleman who had taken this step by reason of his sudden illness in the carriage, suffering the most horrible cramps and spasms, yet protesting and bowing in the very midst of his pain that he wouldn't have a doctor sent for and wouldn't take any remedies with those which the young lady administered from a small medicine chest and wouldn't, in a word, do anything but terrify the landlady out of her five wits and obstinately refuse compliance with every suggestion that was made to him. Of all the five hundred proposals for his relief, which the good woman poured out in less than half an hour, he would entertain but one. That was that he should go to bed. And it was in the preparation of his bed and the arrangement of his chamber that all the stir was made in the room behind the dragon. He was, beyond all question, very ill and suffered exceedingly. Not the less, perhaps, because he was a strong and vigorous old man with a will of iron and a voice of brass, but neither the apprehensions which he plainly entertained at times for his life nor the great pain he underwent influenced his resolution in the least degree. He would have no person sent for. The worse he grew, the more rigid and inflexible he became in his determination. If they sent for any person to attend him, man, woman, or child, he would leave the house directly, so he told them, though he quitted it on foot and died upon the threshold of the door. Now there being no medical practitioner actually resident in the village, but a poor apothecary who was also a grocer and general dealer, the landlady had upon her own responsibility sent for him in the very first burst and outset of the disaster. Of course it followed as a necessary result of his being wanted that he was not at home. He had gone some miles away and was not expected home until late at night. So the landlady, being by this time pretty well beside herself, dispatched the same messenger in all haste for Mr. Pecksniff as a learned man who could bear a deal of responsibility and a moral man who could administer a world of comfort to a troubled mind. That her guest had need of some efficient services under the latter head was obvious enough from the restless expressions importing, however, rather a worldly than a spiritual anxiety to which he gave frequent utterance. From this last mention, secret errand, the messenger returned with no better news than from the first. Mr. Pecksniff was not at home. However, they got the patient into bed without him and in the course of two hours he gradually became so far better that there were much longer intervals than at first between his terms of suffering. By degrees he ceased to suffer at all, though his exhaustion was occasionally so great that it suggested a hardly less alarm than his actual endurance had done. It was in one of his intervals of repose when looking round with great caution and reaching uneasily out of his nest of pillows he endeavored with a strange air of secrecy and distrust to make use of the writing materials which he had ordered to be placed on a table beside him that the young lady and the mistress of the blue dragon found themselves sitting side by side before the fire in the sixth chamber. The mistress of the blue dragon was an outward appearance just what a landlady should be. Broad, buxom, comfortable and good-looking with a face of clear red and white which by its jovial aspect had once bore testimony to her hearty participation in the good things of the larder and cellar and to their thriving and helpful influences. She was a widow, but years ago had passed through her state of weeds and burst into flower again and in full bloom she had continued ever since and in full bloom she was now with roses on her ample skirts and roses on her bodice, roses in her cap, roses in her cheeks, eye and roses worth the gathering to on her lips, for that matter. She had still a bright black eye and jet-black hair with comely dimpled plump and tight as a gooseberry and though she was not exactly what the world calls young you may make an affidavit on trust before any mayor or magistrate in Christendom that there are great many young ladies in the world blessings on them one and all whom you wouldn't like half as well or admire half as much as the beaming hostess of the Blue Dragon. As this fair matron sat beside the fire she glanced occasionally with all the pride of ownership about the room which was a large apartment such as one may see in country places with a low roof and a sunken flooring on the ground hill from the door and a descent of two steps on the inside so exquisitely unexpected that strangers despite the most elaborate cautioning usually dived in head first as into a plunging bath. It was none of your frivolous and preposterously bright bedrooms where nobody can close an eye with any kind of propriety or decent regard to the association of ideas. But it was a good dull, ledden, drowsy place where every article of furniture that you came there to sleep and that you were expected to go to sleep. There was no wakeful reflection of the fire there as in your modern chambers which upon the darkest nights of a watchful consciousness of French polish the old Spanish mahogany winked at it now and then as a dozing cat or dog might nothing more. The very size and shape and hopeless immovability of the bedstead and wardrobe and in a minor degree of even the chairs and tables they were plainly apoplectic and disposed to snore. There were no staring portraits to remonstrate with you for being lazy. No round eyed birds upon the curtains disgustingly wide awake and insufferably prying. The thick neutral hangings and the dark blinds and the heavy heap of bedclothes were all designed to hold in sleep and act as nonconductors to the day and getting up. Even the old stuffed fox upon the top of the wardrobe was devoid of any spark of vigilance for his glass eye had fallen out and he slumbered as he stood. The wandering attention of the mistress of the blue dragon roved to these things but twice with rice and then for but an instant at a time. It soon deserted them and even the distant bed with its strange burden for the young creature immediately before her who, with her downcast eyes fixed upon the fire, sat wrapped in silent meditation. She was very young, apparently no more than seventeen, timid and shrinking in her manner and yet with a greater share of self-possession and control over her emotions than usually belongs to a far more advanced period of female life. This she had abundantly shown but now in her tending of the sick gentleman. She was short in stature and her figure was slight as became her years, her terms of youth and maidenhood set it off and clustered on her gentle brow. Her face was very pale in part, no doubt, from recent agitation. Her dark brown hair, disordered from the same cause, had fallen negligently from its bonds and hung upon her neck. For which instance of its waywardness no male observer would have had the heart to blame it. Her attire was that of a lady but extremely plain and in her manner, there was an indefinable something which appeared to be in kindred with her scrupulously unpretending dress. She had sat at first looking anxiously towards the bed but seeing that the patient remained quiet and was busy with his writing she had softly moved her chair into its present place, partly as it seemed from an instinctive consciousness that he desired to avoid observation and partly that she might, unseen by him, give some vent to the natural feeling that the two suppressed. Of all this and much more the rosy landlady of the Blue Dragon took as accurate note and observation as only woman can take of woman and at length she said in a voice too low she knew to reach the bed you have seen the gentleman in this way before miss? Is he used to these attacks? I have seen him very ill before but not so ill as he has been tonight. What a providence said the lady of the dragon that you had the prescriptions and the medicines with you miss? They are intended for such an emergency we never travel without them. Oh, thought the hostess then we are in the habit of traveling and of traveling together. She was so conscious of expressing this in her face that meeting the young lady's eyes immediately afterwards and being a very honest hostess she was rather confused. The gentleman, your grand-papa she resumed after a short pause being so bent on having no assistance must terrify you very much miss? I have been very much alarmed tonight. He is not my grandfather. Father I should have said returned the hostess sensible of having made an awkward mistake. Nor my father said the young lady nor she added slightly smiling with a quick perception of what the landlady was going to add nor my uncle we are not related. Oh, dear me returned the landlady still more embarrassed than before how could I be so very much mistaken knowing as anybody in their proper senses might that when a gentleman is ill he looks so much older than he really is that I should have called you miss too ma'am but when she had proceeded thus far she glanced involuntarily at the third finger of the young lady's left hand and faltered again for there was no ring upon it. When I told you we were not related said the other mildly but not without confusion on her own part I meant not in any way not even by marriage did you call me Martin call you cried the old man looking quickly up and hurriedly drawing beneath the cover of the paper on which he had been writing no she had moved a pace or two towards the bed but stopped immediately and went no farther no he repeated with a petulant emphasis why do you ask me if I had called you what need for such a question it was the creaking of the sign outside sir I dare say observed the landlady a suggestion by the way as she felt a moment after she had made it not at all complimentary to the voice of the old gentleman no matter what ma'am he rejoined it wasn't I why how you stand there Mary as if I had the plague afraid of me he added leaning helplessly backward on his pillow even she there is a curse upon me what else have I to look for oh dear no oh no I'm sure said the good tempered landlady rising and going towards him be of better cheer sir these are only sick fancies what are only sick fancies he retorted what do you know about fancies who told you about fancies the old story fancies only see again there how you take one up said the mistress of the blue dragon with unimpaired good humor dear heart alive there is no harm in the word sir if it is an old one folks in good health have their fancies too and strange ones every day harmless as this speech appeared to be it acted on the travelers distrust like oil on fire he raised his head up in the bed and fixing on her two dark eyes whose brightness was exaggerated by the paleness of his hollow cheeks as they in turn together with his straggling locks of long grey hair were rendered whiter by the tight black velvet skullcap which he wore he searched her face intently ah you begin too soon he said in so low a voice that he seemed to be thinking it rather than addressing her but you lose no time you do your errand and you earn your fee now who may be your client the landlady looked in great astonishment at her whom he called Mary and finding no rejoinder in the drooping face looked back again at him at first she had recoiled involuntarily supposing him disordered in his mind but the slow composure of his manner and the subtle purpose announced in his strong features and gathering most of all about his puckered mouth forbade the supposition come he said tell me who is it being here it is not very hard for me to guess you may suppose Martin interposed the young lady laying her hand upon his arm reflect how short a time we have been in this house and that even your name is unknown here unless he said you he was evidently tempted to express a suspicion of her having broken his confidence in favor of the landlady but either remembering her tender nursing or being moved in some sort by her face he checked himself and changing his uneasy posture in the bed was silent there said Mrs. Lupin for in that name the blue dragon was licensed furnished entertainment both to man and beast now you will be well again sir you forgot for the moment that there were none but friends here oh cried the old man moaning impatiently as he tossed one restless arm upon the coverlet why do you talk to me of friends can you or anybody teach me do you know who are my friends and who my enemies at least urged Mrs. Lupin gently this young lady is your friend I am sure she has no temptation to be otherwise cried the old man like one whose hope and confidence were utterly exhausted I suppose she is heaven knows there let me try to sleep leave the candle where it is as they retired from the bed he drew forth the writing which had occupied him so long and holding it in the flame of the taper burnt it to ashes that done he extinguished the light and turning his face away with a heavy sigh drew the coverlet about his head and lay quite still this destruction of the paper both as being strangely inconsistent with the labor he had devoted to it and as involving considerable danger of fire to the dragon occasioned Mrs. Lupin not a little consternation but the young lady even seeing no surprise curiosity or alarm whispered her with many thanks for her solicitude and company that she would remain there some time longer and that she begged her not to share her watch as she was well used to being alone and would pass the time in reading Mrs. Lupin had her full share and dividend of that large capital of curiosity which is inherited by her sex and at another time it might have been difficult so to impress this hint upon her to induce her to take it but now in sheer wonder and amazement at these mysteries she withdrew at once and repairing straight away to her own little parlor below stairs sat down in her easy chair with unnatural composure at this very crisis a step was heard in the entry and Mr. Pexniff looking sweetly over the half door of the bar and into the vista of snug privacy beyond murmured good evening Mrs. Lupin oh dear me sir she cried advancing to receive him I am so very glad you have come and I am very glad I have come said Mr. Pexniff if I can be of service I am very glad I have come what is the matter Mrs. Lupin a gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very bad upstairs sir said the cheerful hostess a gentleman taken ill upon the road has been so very bad upstairs has he repeated Mr. Pexniff well well now there was nothing that one may call decidedly original in this remark nor can it be exactly said to have contained any wise precept therefore unknown to mankind or to have opened any hidden source of consolation but Mr. Pexniff's manner was so bland and he nodded his head so soothingly and showed in everything such an affable sense of his own excellence that anybody would have been as Mrs. Lupin was comforted by the mere voice and presence of such a man and though he had merely said a verb must agree with its nominative case in number and person my good friend or eight times eight are sixty-four my worthy soul must have felt deeply grateful to him for his humanity and wisdom and how asked Mr. Pexniff drawing off his gloves and warming his hands before the fire as benevolently as if there were somebody else's not his and how is he now he is better and quite tranquil answered Mrs. Lupin he is better and quite tranquil said Mr. Pexniff very well very well here again though the statement was Mrs. Lupin's and not Mr. Pexniff's Mr. Pexniff made it his own and consoled her with it it was not much when Mrs. Lupin said it but it was a whole book when Mr. Pexniff said it I observe he seemed to say morality in general remarks that he is better and quite tranquil there must be weighty matters on his mind though said the hostess shaking her head for he talks sir in the strangest way you ever heard he is far from easy in his thoughts and wants some proper advice from those whose goodness makes it worth his having then said Mr. Pexniff he is the sort of customer for me but though he said this in the plainest language he didn't speak a word he only shook his head disparagingly of himself too I am afraid sir continued the landlady first looking round to assure herself that there was nobody within hearing and then looking down upon the floor I am very much afraid sir that his conscience is troubled by his not being related to or even married to a very young lady Mrs. Lupin said Mr. Pexniff holding up his hand with something in his manner as nearly approaching to severity as any expression of his mild being that he was could ever do person young person a very young person said Mrs. Lupin curtsying and blushing I beg your pardon sir but I have been so hurried tonight that I don't know what I say who is with him now who is with him now ruminated Mr. Pexniff warming his back as he had warmed his hands as if it were a widow's back or an orphan's back or an enemy's back or a back that any less excellent man would have suffered to be cold oh dear me dear me at the same time I am bound to say and I do say with all my heart observed the host as earnestly that her looks and manner almost disarmed suspicion your suspicion Mrs. Lupin said Mr. Pexniff gravely is very natural touching which remark to their confusion that the enemies of this worthy man unblushingly maintained that he always said of what was very bad that it was very natural and that he unconsciously betrayed his own nature in doing so your suspicion Mrs. Lupin he repeated is very natural and I have no doubt correct I will wait upon these travelers with that he took off his great coat and having run his fingers through his hair thrust one hand gently in the bosom of his waistcoat and meekly signed to her to lead the way end of chapter three part one chapter three part two of life and adventures of Martin Chuselwit this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org life and adventures of Martin Chuselwit by Charles Dickens chapter three part two shall I knock asked Mrs. Lupin when they reached the chamber door no said Mr. Pexnip enter if you please they went in on tiptoe or rather the hostess took that precaution for Mr. Pexnip always walked softly the old gentleman was still asleep and his young companion still sat reading by the fire I'm afraid said Mr. Pexnip at the door and giving his head a melancholy role I am afraid that this looks artful I am afraid Mrs. Lupin do you know that this looks very artful as he finished this whisper he advanced before the hostess and at the same time the young lady hearing footsteps rose Mr. Pexnip glanced at the volume she held and whispered Mrs. Lupin again if possible with increased despondency yes ma'am he said look I was fearful of that beforehand I am apprehensive that this is a very deep thing indeed what gentleman is this inquired the object of his virtuous doubts hush don't trouble yourself ma'am said Mr. Pexnip as the landlady was about to answer this young in spite of himself he hesitated when person rose to his lips and substituted another word this young stranger Mrs. Lupin asked me for replying briefly that I reside in this village it may be in an influential manner however undeserved and that I have been summoned here by you I am here as I am everywhere I hope in sympathy for the sick and sorry with these impressive words Mr. Pexnip passed over to the bedside where after patting the counter pain once or twice in a very solemn manner as if by that means he gained a clear insight into the patient's disorder he took his seat in a large arm chair and in an attitude of some thoughtfulness and much comfort waited for his waking whatever objection the young lady urged to Mrs. Lupin went no further for nothing more was said to Mr. Pexnip and Mr. Pexnip said nothing more to anybody else full half an hour elapsed before the old man stirred but at length he turned himself in bed and though not yet awake gave tokens that his sleep was drawing to an end by little and little he removed the bedclothes from about his head and turned still more towards the side where Mr. Pexnip sat in course of time his eyes opened and he lay for a few moments as people newly roused sometimes will gazing indolently at his visitor without any distinct consciousness of his presence there was nothing remarkable in these proceedings except the influence they worked on Mr. Pexnip which could hardly have been surpassed by the most marvelous of natural phenomena gradually his hands became tightly clasped upon the elbows of the chair his eyes dilated with surprise his mouth opened his hair stood more erect upon his forehead than its custom was until at length when the old man rose in bed and stared at him with scarcely less emotion than he showed himself the Pexnip doubts were all resolved and he exclaimed aloud are Martin Chuzzlewit his consternation of surprise was so genuine that the old man with all the disposition that he clearly entertained to believe it assumed was convinced of its reality I am Martin Chuzzlewit he said bitterly and Martin Chuzzlewit wishes you had been hanged before you had come here to disturb him in his sleep why I dreamed of this fellow he said lying down again and turning away his face I knew that he was near me my good cousin said Mr. Pexnip there his very first words cried the old man shaking his gray head to and throw upon the pillow and throwing up his hands in his very first words he asserts his relationship I knew he would they all do it near or distant what a calendar of deceit and lying and false witnessing the sound of any word of kindred opens before me pray do not be hasty Mr. Chuzzlewit said Pexnip in a tone that was at once in the sublimest degree compassionate and dispassionate for he had by this time recovered from his surprise and was in full possession of his virtuous self you will regret being hasty I know you will you know said Martin contemptuously yes retorted Mr. Pexnip aye aye Mr. Chuzzlewit and don't imagine that I mean to court you for nothing is further from my intention neither sir need you entertain the least misgiving that I shall repeat that obnoxious word which has given you so much offense already why should I? what do I expect or want from you there is nothing in your possession that I know of Mr. Chuzzlewit which is much to be coveted for the happiness it brings you that's true enough wondered the old man apart from that consideration said Mr. Pexnip watchful of the effect he made it must be plain to you I am sure by this time that if I had wished to insinuate myself into your good opinion I should have been of all things careful not to address you as a relative knowing your humor and being quite certain beforehand that I could not have a worse letter of recommendation Martin made not any verbal answer but he has clearly implied though only by a motion of his legs beneath the bed clothes that there was reason in this not disputed as if he had said as much in good set terms no said Mr. Pexnip keeping his hand in his waistcoat as though he were ready on the shortest notice to produce his heart for Martin Chuzzlewit's inspection I came here to offer my services to a stranger I make no offer of them to you because I know you would distrust me if I did but lying on that bed sir I regard you as a stranger and I have just that amount of interest in you which I hope I should feel in any stranger's circumstance as you are beyond that I am quite as indifferent to you Mr. Chuzzlewit as you are to me having said which Mr. Pexnip threw himself back in the easy chair so radiant with ingenuous honesty that Mrs. Lupin almost wondered not to see a stained glass glory such as the saint war in the church shining about his head a long pause succeeded the old man with increased restlessness changed his posture several times Mrs. Lupin and the young lady gazed in silence at the counter pain Mr. Pexnip toyed abstractly with his eyeglass and kept his eyes shut that he might ruminate the better eh? he said at last opening them suddenly and looking towards the bed I beg your pardon I thought you spoke Mrs. Lupin he continued slowly rising I am not aware that I can be of any service to you here the gentleman is better and you are as good a nurse as he can have eh? this last note of interrogation more reference to another change of posture on the old man's part which brought his face towards Mr. Pexnip for the first time since he had turned away from him if you desire to speak to me before I go sir continued that gentleman after another pause you may command my leisure but I must stipulate injustice to myself that you do so as to a stranger strictly as to a stranger now if Mr. Pexnip knew from anything Martin Chuzzlewood had expressed in gestures that he wanted to speak to him he could only have found it out on some such principle as prevails in melodramas and in virtue of which the elderly farmer with the comic son always knows what the dumb girl means when she takes refuge in his garden and relates her personal memoirs in incomprehensible pantomime but without stopping to make any inquiry on this point Martin Chuzzlewood signed to his young companion to withdraw which she immediately did along with the landlady leaving him and Mr. Pexnip alone together for some time they looked at each other in silence or rather the old man looked at Mr. Pexnip and Mr. Pexnip again closing his eyes on all outward objects took an inward survey of his own breast that it amply repaid him for his trouble and afforded a delicious and enchanting prospect was clear from the expression of his face you wish me to speak to you as to a total stranger said the old man do you Mr. Pexnip replied by a shrug of his shoulders and an apparent turning round of his eyes in their sockets before he opened them that he was still reduced to the necessity of entertaining that desire you shall be gratified said Martin sir I am a rich man not so rich as some supposed perhaps yet wealthy I am not a miser sir though even that charge is made against me as I hear and currently believed I have no pleasure in hoarding I have no pleasure in the possession of money the devil that we call by that name can give me nothing but unhappiness it would be no description of Mr. Pexnip's gentleness of manner to adopt the common parlance and say that he looked at this moment as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth he rather looked any quantity of butter might have been made out of him by churning the milk of human kindness as it spouted upwards from his heart for the same reason that I am not a hoarder of money said the old man I am not lavish of it some people find their gratification in storing it up and others theirs imparting with it but I have no gratification connected with the thing pain and bitterness are the only goods that ever could procure for me I hate it I am walking before me through the world and making every social pleasure hideous a thought arose in Pexnip's mind which must have instantly mounted to his face or Martin Chuzzlewitt would not have resumed as quickly and as sternly as he did you would advise me for my peace of mind to get rid of this source of misery and transfer it to someone who could bear it better even you perhaps would rid me of a burden under which I suffer so grievously what kind stranger said the old man who's every feature darkened as he spoke good Christian stranger that is a main part of my trouble in other hands I have known money do good in other hands I have known it triumphed in and boasted of with reason as the master key to all the brazen gates that close upon the paths to worldly honor, fortune and enjoyment to what man or woman to what worthy honest incorruptible creature shall I confide such a talisman now or when I die do you know any such person your virtues are of course inestimable but can you tell me of any other living creature who will bear the test of contact with myself of contact with yourself sir echoed Mr. Pexnip I returned to the old man the test of contact with me with me you have heard of him whose misery the gratification of his own foolish wish was that he turned everything he touched into gold the curse of my existence and the realization of my own mad desire is that by the golden standard which I bear about me I am doomed to try the metal of all other men and find it false and hollow Mr. Pexnip shook his head and said you think so oh yes cried the old man I think so and in your telling me I think so I recognize the true unworldly ring of your metal I tell you man he added with increasing bitterness that I have gone a rich man among people of all grades and kinds relatives friends and strangers among people in whom when I was poor I had confidence and justly for they never once deceived me then or to me wronged each other but I have never found one nature no not one in which being wealthy and alone I was not forced to detect the latent corruption that lay hid within it waiting for such as I to bring it forth treachery deceit and low design hatred of competitors real or fancy for my favor meanness falsehood baseness and servility or and here he looked closely in his cousin's eyes or an assumption of honest independence almost worse than all these are the beauties which my wealth is brought to light brother against brother child against parent friends treading on the faces of friends this is the social company by whom my way has been attended there are stories told they may be true or false of rich men who in the garb of poverty have found out virtue and rewarded it they were adults and idiots for their pains they should have made the search in their own characters they should have shown themselves fit objects to be robbed and preyed upon and plotted against and adulated by any naves who but for joy would have spat upon their coffins by their dupes and then their search would have ended as mine has done and they would be what I am Mr. Pecksniff not at all knowing what it might be best to say in the momentary pause which ensued upon these remarks made an elaborate demonstration of intending to deliver something very irracular indeed trusting to the certainty of the old man interrupting him before he should utter a word nor was he mistaken for Martin Chuzzlewitt having taken breath went on to say hear me to an end judge what profit you are like to gain from any repetition of this visit and leave me I have so corrupted and changed the nature of all those who have ever attended on me by breeding avaricious plots and hopes within them I have engendered such domestic strife and discord by tarrying even with members of my own family I have been such a lighted torch in peaceful homes with grasses and vapors in their moral atmosphere which, but for me might have proved harmless to the end that I have I may say fled from all who knew me and taking refuge in secret places have lived of late the life of one who is hunted the young girl whom you just now saw what? your eye lightens when I talk of her you hate her already do you upon my word sir said Mr. Pecksniff laying his hand upon his breast wiping his eyelids I forgot cried the old man looking at him with a keenness which the other seemed to feel although he did not raise his eyes so as to see it I ask your pardon I forgot you were a stranger for the moment you reminded me of one Pecksniff a cousin of mine as I was saying the young girl whom you just now saw is an orphan child whom with one steady purpose I have read and educated or if you prefer the word for a year or more she has been my constant companion and she is my only one I have taken as she knows a solemn oath never to leave her sixth pence when I die but while I live I make her an annual allowance not extravagant in its amount and yet not stinted there is a compact between us that no term of affectionate cajolery shall ever be addressed by either to the other but that she shall call me always by my Christian name I her by hers she is bound to me in life by ties of interest and losing by my death and having no expectation disappointed will mourn it perhaps though for that I care little this is the only kind of friend I have or will have judged from such premises what a profitable hour you have spent in coming here and leave me to return no more with these words the old man fell slowly back upon his pillow Mr. Pecksniff as slowly rose and with a prefatory hem began as follows Mr. Cheslowit there go interpose the other enough of this I am weary of you I am sorry for that sir rejoined Mr. Pecksniff because I have a duty to discharge from which depend upon it I shall not shrink no sir I shall not shrink it is a lamentable fact that as Mr. Pecksniff stood erect beside the bed in all the dignity of goodness and addressed him thus the old man cast an angry glance towards the candlestick as if he were possessed by a strong inclination to launch it at his cousin's head but he constrained himself and pointing with his finger to the door informed him that his road lay there thank you said Mr. Pecksniff I am aware of that I am going but before I go I crave your leave to speak and more than that Mr. Cheslowit I must and will yes indeed I repeat it must and will be heard I am not surprised sir at anything you have told me tonight it is natural very natural and the greater part of it was known to me before I will not say continued Mr. Pecksniff drawing out his pocket handkerchief and winking with both eyes at once as it were against his will I will not say that you are mistaken in me while you are in your present mood I would not say so for the world I most wish indeed that I had a different nature that I might repress even the slight confession of weakness which I cannot disguise from you which I feel is humiliating but which you will have the goodness to excuse we will say if you please added Mr. Pecksniff with great tenderness of manner that it arises from a cold in the head or is attributable to snuff or smelling salts or onions or anything but the real cause here he paused for an instant and filled his face behind his pocket handkerchief then smiling faintly and holding the bed furniture with one hand he resumed but Mr. Cheslowit while I am forgetful of myself I owe it to myself and to my character I sir and I have a character which is very dear to me and will be the best inheritance of my two daughters to tell you on behalf of another that your conduct is wrong unnatural, indefensible monstrous do you sir said Mr. Pecksniff powering on tiptoe among the curtains as if he were literally rising above all worldly considerations and were feigned to hold on tight to keep himself from darting skyward like a rocket I tell you without fear or favor that it will not do for you to be unmindful of your grandson young Martin who has the strongest natural claim upon you it will not do sir repeated Mr. Pecksniff shaking his head it will do but it won't you must provide for that young man you shall provide for him you will provide for him I believe said Mr. Pecksniff glancing at the pen and ink that in secret you have already done so bless you for doing so bless you for doing right sir bless you for hating me and good night so saying Mr. Pecksniff waved his right hand with much solemnity and once more inserting it in his waistcoat departed there was emotion in his manner but his step was firm subject to human weaknesses he was upheld by conscience Martin lay for some time with an expression on his face of silent wonder not unmixed with rage at length he muttered in a whisper what does this mean can the false-hearted boy have chosen such a tool as yonder fellow who has just gone out why not words of one feather a new plot oh self self self at every turn nothing but self he fell to trifling as he ceased to speak with the ashes of the burnt paper and the candlestick he did so at first in pure abstraction but they presently became the subject of his thoughts another will made and destroyed he said nothing determined on nothing done and I might have died tonight but I will never see to what foul uses all this money will be put at last he cried almost writhing in the bed after filling me with cares and miseries all my life it will perpetuate discord and bad passions when I am dead so it always is what lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men every day sowing perjury hatred and lies among near kindred where there should be nothing but love heaven help us we have much to answer for oh self self self every man for himself and no creature for me universal self was there nothing of its shadow in these reflections and in the history of martin chuzzle wit on his own showing end of chapter 3