 4. From which it will appear that if union be strength and family affection be pleasant to contemplate, the chuselwits were the strongest and most agreeable family in the world. Part 1 That worthy man, Mr. Pecksniff, having taken leave of his cousin in the solemn terms recited in the last chapter, withdrew to his own home, and remained there three whole days, not so much as going out for a walk beyond the boundaries of his own garden, lest he should be hastily summoned to the bedside of his penitent and remorseful relative, whom in his ample benevolence he had made up his mind to forgive unconditionally and to love on any terms. But such was the obstinacy and such the bitter nature of that stern old man that no repentant summons came, and the fourth day found Mr. Pecksniff apparently much farther from his Christian object than the first. During the whole of this interval he haunted the dragon at all times and seasons in the day and night, and, returning good for evil, convinced the deepest solicitude in the progress of the obdurate invalid in so much that Mrs. Lupin was fairly melted by his disinterested anxiety, for he often particularly required her to take notice that he would do the same by any stranger or pauper in the light condition, and shed many tears of admiration and delight. Meantime old Martin Chuselwit remained shut up in his own chamber, and saw no person but his young companion saving the hostess of the blue dragon, who was, at certain times, admitted to his presence. So surely as she came into the room, however, Martin feigned to fall asleep. It was only when he and the young lady were alone that he would utter a word, even an answer to the simplest inquiry, though Mr. Pecksniff could make out, by hard listening at the door, that they, too, being left together, he was talkative enough. It happened on the fourth evening that Mr. Pecksniff, walking as usual into the bar of the dragon, and finding no Mrs. Lupin there, went straight upstairs, purposing, in the fervor of his affectionate zeal, to apply his ear once more to the keyhole, and quiet his mind by assuring himself that the hard-hearted patient was going on well. It happened that Mr. Pecksniff, coming softly upon the dark passage into which a spiral ray of light usually darted through the same keyhole, was astonished to find no such ray visible. And it happened that Mr. Pecksniff, when he had felt his way to the chamber door, stooping hurriedly down to ascertain by personal inspection whether the jealousy of the old man had caused his keyhole to be stopped on the inside, brought his head into such violent contact with another head that he could not help uttering in an audible voice the monosyllable O, which was, as it were, sharply unscrewed and jerked out of him by very anguish. It happened then, and lastly, that Mr. Pecksniff found himself immediately collared by something which smelled like several damp umbrellas, a barrel of beer, a cask of warm brandy and water, and a small parlor full of stale tobacco smoke mixed, and was straightaway led downstairs into the bar from which he had lately come, where he found himself standing opposite to, and in the grasp of a perfectly strange gentleman of still stranger appearance, who, with his disengaged hand, rubbed his own head very hard and looked at him, Pecksniff, with an evil countenance. The gentleman was of that order of appearance which is currently termed shabby gentile, though in respect of his dress he can hardly be said to have been in any extremities, as his fingers were a long way out of his gloves, and the soles of his feet were at an inconvenient distance from the upper leather of his boots. His nether garments were of a bluish-gray, violent in its colors once, but sobered now by age and dinginess, and were so stretched and strained in a tough conflict between his braces and his straps that they appeared every moment in danger of flying asunder at the knees. His coat, in color blue, and of a military cut, was buttoned and frogged up to his chin. His cravat was, in hue and pattern, like one of those mantles which hairdressers are accustomed to wrap about their clients during the progress of the professional mysteries. His hat had arrived at such a pass that it would have been hard to determine whether it was originally white or black, but he wore a mustache, a shaggy mustache, too, nothing in the meek and merciful way, but quite in the fierce and scornful style, the regular satanic sort of thing, and he wore, besides a vast quantity of unbrushed hair. He was very dirty and very jaunty, very bold and very mean, very swaggering and very slinking, very much like a man who might have been something better and unspeakably like a man who deserved to be something worse. "'You were eavesdropping at that door, you vagabond,' said this gentleman. Mr. Pexnip cast him off, as St. George might have repudiated the dragon in that animal's last moments, and said, Where is Mrs. Lupin, I wonder? Can the good woman possibly be aware that there is a person here who, stay,' said the gentleman, wait a bit, she does know, what then? "'What then, sir?' cried Mr. Pexnip. "'What then? Do you know, sir, that I am the friend and relative of that sick gentleman, that I am his protector, his guardian, his—not his niece's husband,' interposed the stranger. "'I'll be sworn, for he was there before you.' "'What do you mean?' said Mr. Pexnip, with indignant surprise. "'What do you tell me, sir?' "'Wait a bit,' cried the other, "'perhaps you are a cousin. The cousin who lives in this place?' "'I am the cousin who lives in this place,' replied the man of worth. "'Your name is Pexnip,' said the gentleman. "'It is.' "'I am proud to know you, and I ask your pardon,' said the gentleman, touching his hat, and subsequently diving behind his cravat for a shirt collar, which, however, he did not succeed in bringing to the surface. "'You behold, in me, sir, one who has also an interest in that gentleman upstairs. Wait a bit.' As he said this, he touched the tip of his high nose by way of intimation that he would let Mr. Pexnip into a secret presently, and, pulling off his hat, began to search inside the crown among a mass of crumpled documents and small pieces of what may be called the bark of broken cigars, whence he presently selected the cover of an old letter begrimed with dirt and redolent of tobacco. "'Read that,' he cried, giving it to Mr. Pexnip. "'This is addressed to Chevy Slime, Esquire,' said that gentleman. "'You know Chevy Slime, Esquire, I believe,' returned to the stranger. Mr. Pexnip shrugged his shoulders as though he would say, "'I know there is such a person, and I am sorry for it.' "'Very good,' remarked the gentleman. "'That is my interest in business here.' With that he made another dive for his shirt collar and brought up a string. "'Now this is very distressing, my friend,' said Mr. Pexnip, shaking his head and smiling composately. "'It is very distressing to me to be compelled to say that you are not the person you claim to be. "'I know, Mr. Slime, my friend, this will not do. Honesty is the best policy you had better not. You had indeed.' "'Stop,' cried the gentleman, stretching forth his right arm, which was so tightly wedged into his threadbare sleeve that it looked like a cloth sausage. Wait a bit.' He paused to establish himself immediately in front of the fire with his back towards it. Then, gathering the skirts of his coat under his left arm and smoothly his mustache with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed, "'I understand your mistake, and I am not offended. Why? Because it is complementary. You suppose I would set myself up for Chevy Slime, sir, if there is a man on earth whom a gentleman would feel proud and honored to be mistaken for, that man is my friend Slime. For he is, without an exception, the highest-minded, the most independent-spirited, most original, spiritual, classical, talented, the most thoroughly Shakespearean, if not miltonic, and at the same time the most disgustingly unappreciated dog I know. But, sir, I have not the vanity to attempt to pass for Slime. Any other man in the wide world I am equal to. But Slime is, I frankly confess, a great many cuts above me. Therefore you are wrong.' "'I judged from this,' said Mr. Pexnip, holding out the cover of the letter. "'No doubt you did,' returned the gentleman. But Mr. Pexnip, the whole thing, resolves itself into an instance of the peculiarities of genius. Every man of true genius has his peculiarities, sir. The peculiarity of my friend Slime is that he is always waiting round the corner. He is perpetually round the corner, sir. He is round the corner at this instant.' "'Now,' said the gentleman, shaking his forefinger before his nose and planting his legs wider apart as he looked attentively in Mr. Pexnip's face, that is a remarkably curious and interesting trait in Mr. Slime's character. And whenever Slime's life comes to be written, that trait must be thoroughly worked out by his biographer, or society will not be satisfied. Observe me, society will not be satisfied.' Mr. Pexnip coughed. "'Slime's biographer, sir, whoever he may be,' resumed the gentleman, "'must apply to me, or if I am gone, to that what's his name from which no thingamabob comes back. He must apply to my executors for leave to search among my papers. I have taken a few notes in my poor way of some of that man's proceedings, my adopted brother, sir, which would amaze you. He made use of an expression, sir, only on the fifteenth of last month, when he couldn't meet a little bill and the other party wouldn't renew, which would have done honor to Napoleon Bonaparte in addressing the French army.' "'And pray,' asked Mr. Pexnip, obviously not quite at his ease, "'what may be Mr. Slime's business here, if I may be permitted to inquire, who am compelled by regard for my own character to disavow all interest in his proceedings?' In the first place, we turn to the gentleman, you will permit me to say that I object to that remark, and that I strongly and indignantly protest against it on behalf of my friend Slime. In the next place you will give me leave to introduce myself. My name, sir, is Tigg. The name of Montague Tigg will perhaps be familiar to you, in connection with the most remarkable events of the Peninsular War. Mr. Pexnip gently shook his head. "'No matter,' said the gentleman, that man was my father, and I bear his name. I am consequently proud, proud as Lucifer. Excuse me one moment. I desire my friend Slime to be present at the remainder of this conference.' With this announcement he hurried away to the outer door of the Blue Dragon, and almost immediately returned with a companion shorter than himself, who was wrapped in an old blue camelet cloak with a lining of faded scarlet. His sharp features being much pinched and nipped by long waiting in the cold, and his straggling red whiskers and frowsy hair being more than usually disheveled from the same cause, he certainly looked rather unwholesome and uncomfortable than Shakespearean or Miltonic. "'Now,' said Mr. Tigg, clapping one hand on the shoulder of his prepossessing friend and calling Mr. Pexnip's attention to him with the other, you two are related, and relations never did agree and never will, which is a wise dispensation and an inevitable thing, or there would be none but family parties and everybody in the world would bore everybody else to death. If you were on good terms I should consider you almost confoundedly unnatural pair, but standing towards each other as you do I look upon you as a couple of devilish, deep-thoughted fellows who may be reasoned with to any extent. Here Mr. Chevy Slime, whose great abilities seemed one and all to point towards the sneaking quarter of the moral compass, nudged his friend stealthily with his elbow and whispered in his ear. "'Chiv,' said Mr. Tigg aloud, in the high tone of one who was not to be tampered with, I shall come to that presently. I act upon my own responsibility or not at all. To the extent of such a trifling loan as a crown piece to a man of your talents I look upon Mr. Pexniff as certain.' And seeing at this juncture that the expression of Mr. Pexniff's face by no means betokens that he shared this certainty, Mr. Tigg laid his finger on his nose again for that gentleman's private and his special behoof, calling upon him thereby to take notice that the requisition of small loans was another instance of the peculiarities of genius as developed in his friend Slime, that he, Tigg, winked at the same because of the strong metaphysical interest which these weaknesses possessed, and that in reference to his own personal advocacy of such small advances he merely consulted the humor of his friend without the least regard to his own advantage or necessities. "'Oh, Chiv, Chiv,' added Mr. Tigg, surveying his adopted brother with an air of profound contemplation after dismissing this piece of pantomime, "'You are upon my life a strange instance of the little frailties that be set a mighty mind. If there had never been a telescope in the world, I should have been quite certain from my observation of you, Chiv, that there were spots on the sun. I wish I may die if this isn't the queerest state of existence that we find ourselves forced into without knowing why or where for, Mr. Pexniff.' "'Well, never mind.' "'Moralized as we will, the world goes on. As Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with his club in every possible direction, but he can't prevent the cats for making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or the dogs from being shot in the hot weather if they run about the streets un-muzzled.' "'Life's a riddle, a most infernally hard riddle to guess, Mr. Pexniff. My own opinions, like that celebrated conundrum, wise man in jail like a man out of jail, there's no answer to it. Upon my soul and body it's the queerest sort of thing altogether, but there's no use in talking about it. With which consolatory deduction from the gloomy premises recited, Mr. Tigg roused himself by a great effort and proceeded in his former strain. "'Now I'll tell you what it is. I'm a most confoundedly soft-hearted kind of fellow in my way, and I cannot stand by and see you two blades cutting each other's throats when there's nothing to be got by it. Mr. Pexniff, you're the cousin of the test-dater upstairs, and we're the nephew, I say we, meaning chiv. Perhaps in all essential points you are more nearly related to him than we are. Very good. If so, so be it. But you can't get at him, neither can we. I give you my brightest word of honor, sir, that I've been looking through that keyhole with short intervals of rest ever since nine o'clock this morning in expectation of receiving an answer to one of the most moderate and gentlemanly applications for a little temporary assistance only fifteen pounds in my security that the mind of man can conceive. In the meantime, sir, he is perpetually closeted with and pouring his whole confidence into the bosom of a stranger. Now I say decisively with regard to this state of circumstances that it won't do, that it won't act, that it can't be, and that it must not be suffered to continue. Every man, said Mr. Pexniff, has a right, an undoubted right, which I, for one, would not call in question for any earthly consideration. Oh, no. To regulate his own proceedings by his own likings and dislikings, supposing they are not immoral and not irreligious. I may feel in my own breast that Mr. Cheslowit does not regard me, for instance, say me, with exactly that amount of Christian love which should subsist between us. I may feel grieved and hurt at the circumstance. Still, I may not rush to the conclusion that Mr. Cheslowit is holy without a justification in all his coldnesses. Heaven forbid. Besides, how, Mr. Chig, continued Pexniff even more gravely and impressively than he had spoken yet, how could Mr. Cheslowit be prevented from having these peculiar and most extraordinary confidences of which you speak, the existence of which I must admit and which I cannot but deplore, for his sake? Consider my good, sir, and here Mr. Pexniff eyed him wistfully, how very much at random you are talking. Why as to that, rejoined Chig, it certainly is a difficult question. Undoubtedly it is a difficult question, Mr. Pexniff answered. As he spoke, he drew himself aloft, and seemed to grow more mindful suddenly of the moral gulf between himself and the creature he addressed. Undoubtedly it is a very difficult question, and I am far from feeling sure that it is a question anyone is authorized to discuss. Good evening to you. You don't know that the spottletoes are here, I suppose, said Mr. Chig. What do you mean, sir? What spottletoes? Asked Pexniff, stopping abruptly on his way to the door. Mr. and Mrs. Spottletoes, said Chevy Slime, Esquire, speaking aloud for the first time, and speaking very sulkily, shambling with his legs the while, Spottletoe married my father's brother's child, didn't he? And Mrs. Spottletoes chuzzled with its own niece, isn't she? She was his favorite once. You may well ask what, Spottletoes. Now, upon my sacred word, cried Mr. Pexniff, looking upwards, this is dreadful. The rapacity of these people is absolutely frightful. It's not only the Spottletoes, either, Chig, said Slime, looking at that gentleman, and speaking at Mr. Pexniff. Anthony Chuzzle went and his son have got wind of it and have come down this afternoon. I saw him not five minutes ago when I was waiting round the corner. Oh, mammon, mammon, cried Mr. Pexniff, smiting his forehead. So there, said Slime, regardless of the interruption, are his brother and another nephew for you already. This is the whole thing, sir, said Mr. Chig. This is the point and purpose at which I was gradually arriving when my friend Slime here, with six words, hit it full. Mr. Pexniff, now that your cousin and Chib's uncle has turned up, some steps must be taken to prevent his disappearing again, and, if possible, to counteract the influence which is exercised over him now by this designing favorite. Everybody who is interested feels it, sir. The whole family is pouring down to this place. The time has come when individual jealousies and interests must be forgotten for a time, sir, and union must be made against a common enemy. When the common enemy is routed, you will all set up for yourselves again. Every lady and gentleman who has a part in the game will go on in their own account and bowl away to the best of their ability at the testator's wicket, and nobody will be in a worse position than before. Think of it. Don't commit yourself now. You'll find us at the half moon and seven stars in this village at any time and open to any reasonable proposition. Chib, my dear fellow, go out and see what sort of a night it is. Mr. Slime lost no time in disappearing, and it is to be presumed in going round the corner. Mr. Tig, planting his legs as wide apart as he could be reasonably expected by the most sanguine man to keep them, shook his head at Mr. Pexnip and smiled. We must not be too hard, he said, upon the little eccentricities of our friend Slime. You saw him whisper me. Mr. Pexnip had seen him. You heard my answer, I think. Mr. Pexnip had heard it. Five shillings, eh? Said Mr. Tig thoughtfully. Ah, what an extraordinary fellow. Very moderate, too. Mr. Pexnip made no answer. Five shillings. Pursued Mr. Tig, musing, and to be punctually repaid next week. That's the best of it. You heard that. Mr. Pexnip had not heard that. No, you surprised me, cried Tig. That's the cream of the thing, sir. I never knew that man failed to redeem a promise in my life. You're not in want of change, are you? No, said Mr. Pexnip, thank you, not at all. Just so, returned Mr. Tig, if you had been, I'd have got it for you. With that he began to whistle. But a dozen seconds had not elapsed when he stopped short, and looking earnestly at Mr. Pexnip said, Perhaps you'd rather not lend Slime five shillings. I would much rather not. Mr. Pexnip rejoined. He gad, cried Tig gravely nodding his head, as if some ground of objection occurred to him at that moment for the first time. It's very possible you may be right. Would you entertain the same sort of objection to lending me five shillings now? Yes, I couldn't do it indeed, said Mr. Pexnip. Not even half a crown perhaps, urged Mr. Tig? Not even half a crown. Why then we come, said Mr. Tig, to the ridiculously small amount of eighteen pence. And that, said Mr. Pexnip, would be equally objectionable. On receipt of this assurance Mr. Tig shook him heartily by both hands, protesting with much earnestness that he was one of the most consistent and remarkable men he had ever met, and that he desired the honor of his better acquaintance. He moreover observed that there were many little characteristics about his friend Slime, of which he could by no means as a man of strict honor approve, but that he was prepared to forgive him all these slight drawbacks, and much more, in consideration of the great pleasure he himself had that day enjoyed in his social intercourse with Mr. Pexnip, which had given him a far higher and more enduring delight than the successful negotiation of any small loan on the part of his friend could possibly have imparted. With which remarks he would beg leave, he said, to wish Mr. Pexnip a very good evening, and so he took himself off, as little abashed by his recent failure as any gentleman would desire to be. Chapter 4 Part 2 of Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit The meditations of Mr. Pexnip that evening at the Bar of the Dragon and that night in his own house were very serious and grave indeed. The more especially as the intelligence he had received from Messers Chig and Slime, touching the arrival of other members of the family, were fully confirmed on more particular inquiry. For the spottletoes had actually gone straight to the dragon, where they were at that moment housed in Mounting Guard, and where their appearance had occasioned such a vast sensation that Mrs. Lupin, senting their errand before they had been under her roof half an hour, carried the news herself with all possible secrecy straight to Mr. Pexnip's house. Indeed, it was her great caution in doing so, which occasioned her to miss that gentleman, who entered at the front door of the dragon just as she emerged from the back one. Moreover, Mr. Anthony Cheslowit and his son Jonas were economically quartered at the half-moon in Seven Stars, which was an obscure ale house, and by the very next coach there came posting to the scene of action so many other affectionate members of the family, who quarreled with each other inside and out, all the way down to the utter distraction of the coachmen, that in less than four and twenty hours the scanty tavern accommodation was at a premium, and all the private lodgings in the place amounting to full four beds and sofa rose cent percent in the market. In a word, things came to that past that nearly the whole family sat down before the blue dragon and formally invested it, and Martin Cheslowit was in a state of siege, but he resisted bravely, refusing to receive all letters, messages, and parcels, obstinately declining to treat with anybody, and holding out no hope or promise of capitulation. Meantime the family forces were perpetually encountering each other in diverse parts of the neighborhood, and as no one branch of the Cheslowit tree had ever been known to agree with another within the memory of man, there was such a skirmishing and flouting and snapping off of heads in the metaphorical sense of that expression, such a bandying of words and calling of names, such an upturning of noses and wrinkling of brows, such a formal interment of good feelings and violent resurrection of ancient grievances as had never been known in those quiet parts since the earliest record of their civilized existence. At length in utter despair and hopelessness some few of the belligerents began to speak to each other in only moderate terms of mutual aggravation and nearly all addressed themselves with a show of tolerable decency to Mr. Pexniff in recognition of his high character and influential position. Thus, by little and little, they made common cause of Martin Cheslowit's objurycy until it was agreed, if such a word can be used in connection with the Cheslowits, that there should be a general counsel in conference held at Mr. Pexniff's house upon a certain day at noon which all members of the family who had brought themselves within reach of the summons were forthwith, bidden, and invited solemnly to attend. If ever Mr. Pexniff wore an apostolic look, he wore it on this memorable day. If ever his unruffled smile proclaimed to the words, I am a messenger of peace, that was its mission now. If ever man combined within himself all the mild qualities of the lamb with a considerable touch of the dove and not a dash of the crocodile or the least possible suggestion of the very mildest seasoning of the serpent, that man was he, and, oh, the two Miss Pexniff's, oh, the serene expression on the face of charity which seemed to say, I know that all my family have injured me beyond the possibility of reparation, but I forgive them for it is my duty to do so, and, oh, the gay simplicity of mercy, so charming, innocent, and infant-like that if she had gone out walking by herself and it had been a little earlier in the season, the robin-red breasts might have covered her with leaves against her will, believing her to be one of the sweet children in the wood, come out of it and issuing forth once more to look for blackberries in the young freshness of her heart. What words can paint the Pexniffs in that trying hour? Oh, none, for words have naughty company among them, and the Pexniffs were all goodness. But when the company arrived, that was the time when Mr. Pexniff, rising from his seat at the table's head with a daughter on either hand, received his guests in the best parlor and motioned them to chairs with eyes so overflowing and countenance so damp with gracious perspiration that he may be said to have been in a kind of moist meekness, and the company, the jealous, stony-hearted, distrustful company who were all shut up in themselves and had no faith in anybody and wouldn't believe anything, and would no more allow themselves to be softened or lulled asleep by the Pexniffs than if they had been so many hedgehogs or porcupines. First there was Mr. Spottletoe, who was so bald and had such big whiskers that he seemed to have stopped his hair by the sudden application of some powerful remedy in the very act of falling off his head and to have fastened it irrevocably on his face. Then there was Mrs. Spottletoe, who, being much too slim for her years and of a poetical constitution, was accustomed to inform her more intimate friends that the said whiskers were the lodestar of her existence, and who could now, by reason of her strong affection for her uncle Chuzzlewit, and the shock it gave her to be suspected of testamentary designs upon him, do nothing but cry except moan. Then there were Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son Jonas, the face of the old man so sharpened by the wariness and cunning of his life that it seemed to cut him a passage through the crowded room as he edged away behind the remotest chairs. While the son had so well profited by the precept and example of the father that he looked a year or two the elder of the twain as they stood winking their red eyes side by side and whispering to each other softly. Then there was the widow of a deceased brother of Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit, who, being almost supernaturally disagreeable and having a dreary face and a bony figure and a masculine voice, was, in right of these qualities, what is commonly called a strong-minded woman, and who, if she could, would have established her claim to the title and have shown herself, mentally speaking, a perfect Samson by shutting up her brother-in-law in a private mad-house until he proved his complete sanity by loving her very much. Beside her sat her spinster daughters, three in number, and of gentlemanly deportment who had so mortified themselves with tight stays that their tempers were reduced to something less than their wastes and sharp lacing was expressed in their very noses. Then there was a young gentleman, grand-nephew of Mr. Martin Chuzzlewit, very dark and very hairy, and apparently born for no particular purpose but to save looking-glasses the trouble of reflecting more than just the first idea and sketchy notion of a face, which had never been carried out. Then there was a solitary female cousin who was remarkable for nothing but being very deaf and living by herself and always having the toothache. Then there was George Chuzzlewit, a gay bachelor cousin who claimed to be young but had been younger, and was inclined to corpulency and rather overfed himself, to that extent indeed that his eyes restrained in their sockets as if with constant surprise, and he had such an obvious disposition to pimples that the bright spots on his cravat, the rich pattern on his waistcoat, and even his glittering trinkets seemed to have broken out upon him and not to have come into existence comfortably. Last of all there were present Mr. Chevy Slime and his friend Tigg, and it is worthy of remark that although each person present disliked the other, mainly because he or she did belong to the family, they one and all concurred in hating Mr. Tigg because he didn't. Such was the pleasant little family circle now assembled in Mr. Pexniff's best parlor, agreeably prepared to fall foul of Mr. Pexniff or anybody else who might venture to say anything whatever upon any subject. This, said Mr. Pexniff, rising and looking round upon them with folded hands, does me good. It does my daughter's good. We thank you for assembling here. We are grateful to you with our whole hearts. It is a blessed distinction that you have conferred upon us, and believe me, it is impossible to conceive how he smiled here. We shall not easily forget it. I am sorry to interrupt you, Pexniff, remarked Mr. Spottletoe, with his whiskers in a very portentious state, but you are assuming too much to yourself, sir. Who do you imagine has it in contemplation to confer a distinction upon you, sir? The general murmur echoed this inquiry and applauded it. If you are about to pursue the course with which you have begun, sir, pursued Mr. Spottletoe in a great heat, and giving a violent wrap on the table with his knuckles, the sooner you desist in this assembly separates the better. I am no stranger, sir, to your preposterous desire to be regarded as the head of this family, but I can tell you, sir. Oh, yes, indeed. He tell. He. What? He was the head, was he? From the strong-minded woman downwards, everybody fell that instant upon Mr. Spottletoe who, after vainly attempting to be heard in silence, was feigned to sit down again, folding his arms and shaking his head most wrathfully, and giving Mr. Spottletoe to understand in dumb show that that scoundrel Pexnip might go on for the present, but he would cut in presently and annihilate him. I am not sorry, said Mr. Pexnip in resumption of his address. I am really not sorry that this little incident has happened. It is good to feel that we are met here without disguise. It is good to know that we have no reserve before each other, but are appearing freely in our own characters. Here the eldest daughter of the strong-minded woman rose a little away from her seat and trembling violently from head to foot, more as it seemed with passion than timidity, expressed a general hope that some people would appear in their own characters, if it were only for such a proceeding having the attraction of novelty to recommend it, and that when they, meaning the some people before mentioned, talked about their relations, they would be careful to observe who was present in company at the time, otherwise it might come round to those relations' ears in a way they little expected. And as to red noses, she observed, she had yet to learn that a red nose was any disgrace in as much as people neither made nor colored their own noses, but had that feature provided for them without being first consulted. Though even upon that branch of the subject she had great doubts whether certain noses were redder than other noses, or indeed half as red as some. This remark being received with a shrill titter by the two sisters of the speaker, Miss Charity Pexniff begged with much politeness to be informed whether any of those very low observations were leveled at her, and receiving no more explanatory answer than was conveyed in the adage, those the cap fits, let them wear it, immediately commenced to somewhat acrimonious and personal retort, wherein she was much comforted and abetted by her sister Mercy, who laughed at the same with great hardiness, indeed far more naturally than life, and it being quite impossible that any difference of opinion can take place among women without every woman who is within hearing taking active part in it, the strong-minded lady and her two daughters and Mrs. Spotteltoe and the deaf cousin who was not at all disqualified from joining in the dispute by reason of being perfectly unacquainted with its merits, one and all plunged into the quarrel directly. The two Miss Pexniffs being a pretty good match for the three Miss Chuzzlewitz and all five young ladies having in the figurative language of the day a great amount of steam to dispose of, the altercation would no doubt have been a long one, but for the high valor and prowess of the strong-minded woman who, in right of her reputation for powers of sarcasm, did so belabor and pummel, Mrs. Spotteltoe, with taunting words that the poor lady before the engagement was two minutes old had no refuge but in tears. These she shed so plentifully and so much to the agitation and grief of Mr. Spotteltoe that that gentleman, after holding his clenched fist close to Mr. Pexniff's eyes, as if it were some natural curiosity from the near inspection whereof he was likely to derive high gratification and improvement and after offering, for no particular reason that anybody could discover, to kick Mr. George Chuzzlewitz for, and in consideration of, the trifling sum of six pence, took his wife under his arm and indignantly withdrew. This diversion, by distracting the attention of the combatants, put an end to the strife which, after breaking out of fresh some twice with thrice in certain inconsiderable spurts and dashes, died away in silence. It was then that Mr. Pexniff once more rose from his chair. It was then that the two Miss Pexniff's composed themselves to look as if there were no such beings, not to say present, but in the whole compass of the world as the three Miss Chuzzlewitz, while the three Miss Chuzzlewitz became equally unconscious of the existence of the two Miss Pexniff's. It is to be lamented, said Mr. Pexniff, with a forgiving recollection of Mr. Spotteltoe's fist, that our friend should have withdrawn himself so very hastily, though we have caused for mutual congratulation, even in that, since we are assured that he is not distrustful of us in regard to anything we may say or do while he is absent. Now that is very soothing, is it not? Pexniff, said Anthony, who had been watching the whole party with peculiar keenness from the first, don't you be a hypocrite? A what, my good sir, demanded Mr. Pexniff? A hypocrite. Charity, my dear, said Mr. Pexniff, when I take my chamber candlestick tonight, remind me to be more than usually particular in praying for Mr. Anthony Chuzzlewitz, who has done me an injustice. This was said in a very bland voice, and a side as being addressed to his daughter's private ear, was a cheerfulness of conscience prompting almost a sprightly demeanor he then resumed. All our thoughts, centering in our very dear but unkind relative, and he being, as it were, beyond our reach, we are met today really as if we were a funeral party, except a blessed exception, that there is no body in the house. The strong-minded lady was not at all sure that this was a blessed exception, quite the contrary. Well, my dear madam, said Mr. Pexniff, be that as it may, here we are, and being here we are to consider whether it is possible by any justifiable means. While you know as well as I, said the strong-minded lady, that any means are justifiable in such a case, don't you? Very good, my dear madam, very good. Whether it is possible by any means, we will say by any means, to open the eyes of our valued relative to his present infatuation. Whether it is possible to make him acquainted by any means with the real character and purpose of that young female, who's strange, whose very strange position in reference to himself, here Mr. Pexniff sunk his voice to an impressive whisper, really casts a shadow of disgrace and shame upon this family, and who, we know, here he raised his voice again, else why is she his companion? Harbour's the very basis designed upon his weakness and his property. In their strong feeling on this point, they, who agreed in nothing else, all concurred as one mind. Good heaven that she should harbour designs upon his property. The strong-minded lady was for poison. Her three daughters were for bridewell and bread and water. The cousin with the toothache advocated botany-bay. The two Miss Pexniff suggested flogging. Nobody but Mr. Tigg, who notwithstanding his extreme shabbiness, was still understood to be in some sort a ladies' man, in right of his upper lip and his frogs, indicated a doubt of the justifiable nature of these measures, and he only ogled the three Miss Chuzzlewitz with the least admixture of banter in his admiration, as though he would observe, you are positively down upon her to too great an extent, my sweet creatures, upon my soul you are. Now, said Mr. Pexniff, crossing his two four fingers in a manner which was at once conciliatory and argumentative, I will not, upon the one hand, go so far as to say that she deserves all the inflections, which have been so very forcibly and hilariously suggested, one of his ornamental sentences. Nor will I, upon the other, on any account compromise my common understanding as a man by making the assertion that she does not. What I would observe is, that I think some practical means might be devised of inducing our respected, shall I say, our revered, no, interpose the strong-minded woman in a loud voice. Then I will not, said Mr. Pexniff. You are quite right, my dear madam, and I appreciate and thank you for your discriminating objection. Our respected relative to dispose himself to listen to the promptings of nature and not to the— Go on, Pa, cried mercy. Why, the truth is, my dear, said Mr. Pexniff, smiling upon his assembled kindred, that I am at a loss for a word. The name of those fabulous animals, Pagan, I regret to say, who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me. Mr. George Chuzzlewitz suggested swans. No, said Mr. Pexniff, not swans. Very like swans, too, thank you. The nephew with the outline of accountants, speaking for the first and last time on that occasion, propounded oysters. No, said Mr. Pexniff, with his own peculiar urbanity, nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters. A very excellent idea, thank you, my dear sir, very much. Wait, sirens. Dear me, sirens, of course. I think I say that means might be devised of disposing our respected relative to listen to the promptings of nature and not to the siren-like delusions of art. Now we must not lose sight of the fact that our esteemed friend has a grandson, to whom he was until lately very much attached, and whom I could have wished to see here today, for I have a real and deep regard for him. A fine young man, a very fine young man, I would submit to you whether we might not remove Mr. Chuzzlewitz's distrust of us and vindicate our own disinterestedness by— If Mr. George Chuzzlewitz has anything to say to me, and opposed the strong-minded woman sternly, I beg him to speak out like a man and not to look at me and my daughters as if he could eat us. As to looking, I have heard it said, Mrs. Nedd, returned Mr. George angrily, that a cat is free to contemplate a monarch, and therefore I hope I have some right, having been born a member of this family, to look at a person who only came into it by marriage. As to eating, I beg to say whatever bitterness your jealousies and disappointed expectations may suggest to you that I am not a cannibal, ma'am. I don't know that, cried the strong-minded woman. At all events, if I was a cannibal, said Mr. George Chuzzlewitz, greatly stimulated by this retort, I think it would occur to me that a lady who had outlived three husbands and suffered so very little from their loss must be uncommonly tough. The strong-minded woman immediately rose. And I will further add, said Mr. George, nodding his head violently at every second syllable, naming no names and therefore hurting nobody, but those whose consciences tell them they are alluded to, that I think it would be much more decent and becoming if those who hooked and crooked themselves into this family by getting on the blind side of some of its members before marriage and manslaughtering them afterwards by crowing over them to that strong pitch that they were glad to die, would refrain from acting a part of vultures in regard to other members of this family who are living. I think it would be full as well, if not better, if those individuals would keep at home contending themselves with what they have got, luckily for them, already, instead of hovering about and thrusting their fingers into a family pie, which they flavor much more than enough, I can tell them when they are fifty miles away. I might have been prepared for this, cried the strong-minded woman, looking about her with a disdainful smile as she moved towards the door, followed by her three daughters. Indeed, I was fully prepared for it from the first. What else could I expect in such an atmosphere as this? Don't direct your half-pay officers' gaze at me, ma'am, if you please, interposed Miss Charity, for I won't bear it. This was a smart stab at a pension enjoyed by the strong-minded woman during her second widowhood and before her last coverture. It told immensely. I passed from the memory of a grateful country, you very miserable minks, said Mrs. Ned, when I entered this family. And I feel now, though I did not feel then, that it served me right and that I lost my claim upon the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland when I so degraded myself. Now, my dears, if you're quite ready and have sufficiently improved yourselves by taking to heart the gentile example of these two young ladies, I think we'll go. Mr. Peck-sniff, we are very much obliged to you, really. We came to be entertained and you have far surpassed our utmost expectations and the amusement you have provided for us. Thank you. Goodbye. With such departing words did this strong-minded female paralyze the Peck-sniffy and energies, and so she swept out of the room and out of the house, attended by her daughters, who, as with one accord, elevated their three noses in the air and joined in a contemptuous titter. As they passed the parlor window on the outside, they were seen to counterfeit a perfect transport of delight among themselves, and with this final blow and great discouragement for those within, they vanished. Before Mr. Peck-sniff or any of his remaining visitors could offer a remark, another figure passed this window, coming at a great rate in the opposite direction. And immediately afterwards Mr. Spotteltoe burst into the chamber. Compared with his present state of heat, he had gone out a man of snow or ice, his head distilled such oil upon his whiskers that there were rich and clogged with unctuous drops. His face was violently inflamed, his limbs trembled, and he gasped and strove for breath. My good sir, cried Mr. Peck-sniff. Oh, yes, returned the other. Oh, yes, certainly, oh, to be sure. Oh, of course, you hear him? You hear him, all of you? What's the matter, cried several voices? Oh, nothing, cried Spotteltoe, still gasping. Nothing at all, it's of no consequence. Ask him, he'll tell you. I do not understand our friend, said Mr. Peck-sniff, looking about him in utter amazement. I assure you that he is quite unintelligible to me. Unintelligible, sir? cried the other. Unintelligible? Do you mean to say, sir, that you don't know what has happened? That you haven't decoyed us here and laid a plot and a plan against us? Will you venture to say that you didn't know Mr. Cheslowet was going, sir, and that you don't know he's gone, sir? Gone, was the general cry. Gone, echoed Mr. Spotteltoe. Gone, while we were sitting here. Gone, nobody knows where he's gone. Oh, of course not. Nobody knew he was going. Oh, of course not. The landlady thought up to the very last moment that they were merely going for a ride. She had no other suspicion. Oh, of course not. She's not this fellow's creature. Oh, of course not. Adding to these exclamations a kind of ironical howl and gazing upon the company for one brief instant afterwards, in a sudden silence, the irritated gentlemen started off again at the same tremendous pace and was seen no more. It was in vain for Mr. Pexnip to assure them that this new and opportune evasion of the family was at least as great a shock and surprise to him as to anybody else. Of all the bullyings and denunciations that were ever heaped on one unlucky head, none can ever have exceeded in energy and heartiness those with which he was complimented by each of his remaining relatives, singly, upon bidding him farewell. The moral position taken by Mr. Tigg was something quite tremendous, and the deaf cousin who had the complicated aggravation of seeing all the proceedings and hearing nothing but the catastrophe actually scraped his shoes upon the scraper and afterwards distributed impressions of them all over the top step, in token that she shook the dust from her feet before quitting that dissembling and perfidious mansion. Mr. Pexnip had, in short, but one comfort, and that was the knowledge that all these, his relations and friends, had hated him to the very utmost extent before, and that he, for his part, had not distributed among them any more love than with his ample capital in that respect he could comfortably afford to part with. This view of his affairs yielded him great consolation, and the fact deserves to be noted as showing with what ease a good man may be consoled under circumstances of failure and disappointment. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens Chapter 5 Containing a full account of the installation of Mr. Pexnip's new pupil into the bosom of Mr. Pexnip's family with all the festivities held on that occasion and the great enjoyment of Mr. Pinch. Part 1 The best of architects and land surveyors kept a horse, in whom the enemy's already mentioned more than once in these pages, pretended to detect a fanciful resemblance to his master. Not in his outward person, for he was a raw-boned haggard horse, always on a much shorter allowance of corn than Mr. Pexnip. But in his moral character, wherein, said they, he was full of promise but of no performance. He was always, in a manner, going to go and never going. When at his slowest rate of traveling he would sometimes lift up his legs so high and display such mighty action that it was difficult to believe he was doing less than fourteen miles an hour, and he was forever so perfectly satisfied with his own speed and so little disconcerted by opportunities of comparing himself with the fastest trotters that the illusion was the more difficult of resistance. He was a kind of animal who infused into the breasts of strangers a lively sense of hope and possessed all those who knew him better with a grim despair. In what respect, having these points of character, he might be fairly likened to his master that good man's slanderers only can explain. But it is a melancholy truth and a deplorable instance of the unchartableness of the world that they made the comparison. In this horse and the hooded vehicle, whatever its proper name might be, to which he was usually harnessed, it was more like a gig with a tumor than anything else. All Mr. Pinch's thoughts and wishes centered one bright frosty morning, for with this gallant equipage he was about to drive to Salisbury alone, there to meet with the new pupil and thence to bring him home in triumph. Blessings on thy simple heart, Tom Pinch, how proudly dost thou button up that scanty coat called by a sad misnomer for these many years a great one, and how thoroughly as with thy cheerful voice thou pleasantly adjurious Sam the Hostler, not to let him go yet. Dost thou believe that quadruped desires to go and would go if he might? Who could repress a smile of love for thee, Tom Pinch, and not ingest at thy expense, for thou art poor enough already, heaven knows? To think that such a holiday as lies before thee should awaken that quick flow and hurry of the spirits, in which thou set us down again, almost untasted on the kitchen windowsill, that great white mug put by by thy own hands last night that breakfast might not hold delay, and laest yonder crust upon the seat beside thee to be eaten on the road when thou art calmer and thy high rejoicing? Who, as thou driveest off a happy man and noddest with the grateful lovingness to peck sniff in his nightcap at his chamber window, would not cry heaven speed thee, Tom, and send that thou wert going off forever to some quiet home where thou mightst live at peace and sorrow should not touch thee? What better time for driving, riding, walking, moving through the air by any means than a fresh frosty morning when hope runs cheerily through the veins with the brisk blood and tingles in the frame from head to foot? This was the glad commencement of a bracing day in early winter, such as may put the languid summer season, speaking of it when it can't be had, to the blush, and shame the spring for being sometimes cold by halves. The sheep bells rang as clearly in the vigorous air as if they felt its wholesome influence like living creatures. The trees, in lieu of leaves or blossoms, shed upon the ground a frosty rhyme that sparkled as it fell, and might have been the dust of diamonds. So it was to Tom. From cottage chimneys, smoke went streaming up high, high as if the earth had lost its grossness being so fair and must not be oppressed by heavy vapor. The crust of ice on the else rippling brook was so transparent and so thin in texture that the lively water might of its own free will have stopped, in Tom's glad mind it had, to look upon the lovely morning. Unless the sun should break this charm too eagerly, there moved between him and the ground a mist like that which waits upon the moon on summer nights, the very same to Tom, and wooed him to dissolve it gently. Tom Pinch went on, not fast, but with a sense of rapid motion which did just as well, and as he went, all kinds of things occurred to keep him happy. Thus, when he came within sight of the turnpike, and was, oh, a long way off, he saw the toleman's wife who had that moment checked a wagon, run back into the little house again like mad to say, she knew, that Mr. Pinch was coming up, and she was right. For when he drew within hail of the gate, forth rushed the toleman's children, shrieking in tiny chorus, Mr. Pinch, to Tom's intense delight. The very toleman, though an ugly chap in general, and one whom folks were rather shy of handling, came out himself to take the tole, and give him rough good morning, and that with all this, and a glimpse of the family breakfast on a little round table before the fire, the crust Tom Pinch had brought away with him acquired as rich a flavor as though it had been cut from a fairy loaf. But there was more than this. It was not only the married people and the children who gave Tom Pinch a welcome as he passed. No, no. Sparkling eyes and snowy breasts came hurriedly to many an uppercasement as he clattered by, and gave him back his greeting, not stinted, either, but sevenfold good measure. They were all merry, they all laughed, and some of the wickedest among them even kissed their hands as Tom looked back. For whominded poor Mr. Pinch, there was no harm in him. And now the morning grew so fair and all things were so wide awake and gay that the sun seeming to say, Tom had no doubt he said, I can't stand it any longer, I must have a look, streamed out in radiant majesty. The mist, too shy and gentle for such lusty company, fled off, quite scared before it, and as it swept away the hills and mounds and distant pasturelands, teeming with placid sheep and noisy crows, came out as bright as though they were unrolled brand new for the occasion. In compliment to which discovery the brook stood still no longer but ran briskly off to bear the tidings to the water mill three miles away. Mr. Pinch was jogging along full of pleasant thoughts and cheerful influences when he saw upon the path before him going in the same direction with himself a traveller on foot who walked with a light quick step and sang as he went, for certain in a very loud voice, but not unmusically. He was a young fellow of some five or six and twenty, perhaps, and was dressed in such a free and flyaway fashion that the long ends of his loose red netcloth were streaming out behind him quite as often as before. And the bunch of bright winter berries in the buttonhole of his velveteen coat was as visible to Mr. Pinch's rearward observation as if he had worn that garment wrong side foremost. He continued to sing with so much energy that he did not hear the sound of wheels until it was close behind him when he turned a whimsical face and a very merry pair of blue eyes on Mr. Pinch and checked himself directly. Why, Mark, said Tom Pinch, stopping, who'd have thought of seeing you here? Well, this is surprising. Mark touched his hat and said with a very sudden decrease of vivacity that he was going to Salisbury. And how spruce you are, too, said Mr. Pinch, surveying him with great pleasure. Really, I didn't think you were half such a tight-made fellow, Mark. Thank you, Mr. Pinch. Pretty well for that, I believe. It's not my fault, you know, with regard to being spruce, sir. That's where it is, you see. And here he looked particularly gloomy. Where what is, Mr. Pinch demanded? Where the aggravation of it is. Any man may be in good spirits in good temper when he's well dressed. There ain't much credit in that. If I was very ragged and very jolly, then I should begin to feel I had gained a point, Mr. Pinch. So you were singing just now to bear up, as it were, against being well dressed. Hey, Mark, said Pinch. Your conversation's always equal to print, sir. Rejoined Mark with a broad grin. That was it. Well, cried Pinch, you are the strangest young man, Mark, I ever knew in my life. I always thought so, but now I am quite certain of it. I am going to Salisbury, too. Will you get in? I shall be very glad of your company. The young fellow made his acknowledgments and accepted the offer, stepping into the carriage directly and seating himself on the very edge of the seat with his body half out of it to express his being there on sufferance and by the politeness of Mr. Pinch. As they went along, the conversation proceeded after this manner. I more than half believed just now, seeing you so very smart, said Pinch, that you must be going to be married, Mark. Well, sir, I've thought of that, too, he replied. There might be some credit in being jolly with a wife, especially if the children had the measles in that, and was very fractious indeed. But I'm almost afraid to try it. I don't seem away clear. You're not very fond of anybody, perhaps, said Pinch. Not particular, sir, I think. But the way would be, you know, Mark, according to your views of things, said Mr. Pinch, to marry somebody you didn't like, and who was very disagreeable. So it would, sir, but that might be carrying out a principle a little too far, mightn't it? Perhaps it might, said Mr. Pinch, at which they both laughed gaily. Lord bless you, sir, said Mark. You don't half know me, though. I don't believe there ever was a man as could come out so strong under circumstances that would make other men miserable, as I could if I could only get a chance. But I can't get a chance. It's my opinion that nobody never will know half of what's in me, unless something very unexpected turns up. And I don't see any prospect of that. I'm going to leave the dragon, sir. Going to leave the dragon, cried Mr. Pinch, looking at him with great astonishment. Why, Mark, you take my breath away. Yes, sir, he rejoined, looking straight before him in a long way off, as men do sometimes when they cogitate profoundly. What's the use of my stopping at the dragon? It anted all the sort of place for me. When I left London, I'm a Kentish man by birth, though, and took that situation here, I quite made up my mind that it was the dullest little out-of-the-way corner in England, and that there would be some credit in being jolly under such circumstances. But, Lord, there's no dullness at the dragon. Skittles, cricket, quites, nine pins, comic songs, choruses, company round the chimney corner every winter's evening. Any man could be jolly at the dragon. There's no credit in that. But if common report be true for once, Mark, as I think it is, being able to confirm it by what I know myself, said Mr. Pinch, you were the cause of half this merriment and said it going. There may be something in that too, sir, answered Mark, but that's no consolation. Well, said Mr. Pinch, after a short silence, his usually subdued tone being even now more subdued than ever, I can hardly think enough of what you tell me. Why, what will become of Mrs. Lupin, Mark? Mark looked more fixedly before him and further off still, as he answered that he didn't suppose it would be much of an object to her. There were plenty of smart young fellows as would be glad of the place he knew a dozen himself. That's probable enough, said Mr. Pinch, but I am not at all sure that Mrs. Lupin would be glad of them. Why, I always supposed that Mrs. Lupin and you would make a match of it, Mark, and so did everyone as far as I know. I never, Mark replied in some confusion, said nothing as was in a direct way courting like to her, nor she to me, but I don't know what I might do, one of these odd times in which she might say an answer. Well, so that wouldn't suit not to be landlord of the dragon, Mark, cried Mr. Pinch. No, sir, certainly not, returned to the other, withdrawing his gaze from the horizon and looking at his fellow traveler, why, that would be the ruin of a man like me. I go and sit down comfortably for life and no man never finds me out. What would be the credit of the landlord of the dragons being jolly? Why, he couldn't help it if he tried. Does Mrs. Lupin know you're going to leave her, Mr. Pinch inquired? I haven't broke it to her yet, sir, but I must. I'm looking out this morning for something new and suitable, he said, nodding towards the city. What kind of thing now, Mr. Pinch demanded? I was thinking, Mark replied, of something in the grave digging way. Good gracious, Mark, cried Mr. Pinch. It's a good, damp, warmy sort of business, sir, said Mark, shaking his head argumentatively, and there might be some credit in being jolly with one's mind in that pursuit, unless grave diggers is usually given that way, which would be a drawback. You don't happen to know how that is in general, do you, sir? No, said Mr. Pinch. I don't indeed. I never thought upon the subject. In case of that not turning out as well as one could wish, you know, said Mark, musing again. There's other businesses undertaking now. That's gloomy. There might be credit to be gained there. A broker's man in a poor neighborhood wouldn't be bad, perhaps. A jailer sees a deal of misery. A doctor's man is in the very midst of murder. A bailiff's aunt's lively office, naturally. Even a tax-gatherer must find his feelings rather worked upon at times. There's lots of trades in which I should have an opportunity, I think. Mr. Pinch was so perfectly overwhelmed by these remarks that he could do nothing but occasionally exchange a word or two on some indifferent subject and cast side-long glances at the bright face of his odd friend who seemed quite unconscious of his observation until they reached a certain corner of the road close upon the outskirts of the city when Mark said he would jump down there, if he pleased. But bless my soul, Mark, said Mr. Pinch, who in the progress of his observation just then made the discovery that the bosom of his companion's shirt was as much exposed as if it was mid-summer and was ruffled by every breath of air. Why don't you wear a waistcoat? What's the good of one, sir? asked Mark. Good of one, said Mr. Pinch, where to keep your chest warm? Lord love you, sir, cried Mark. You don't know me. My chest don't want no warming. Even if it did, what would no waistcoat bring it to? Inflammation of the lungs, perhaps? Well, there'd be some credit in being jolly with the inflammation of the lungs. As Mr. Pinch returned no other answer than such as was conveyed in his breathing very hard and opening his eyes very wide and nodding his head very much, Mark thanked him for his ride and without troubling him to stop, jumped lightly down. And away he fluttered with his red necker chiff and his open coat down a cross lane, turning back from time to time to nod to Mr. Pinch and looking one of the most careless, good-humored, comical fellows in life. His late companion with a thoughtful face pursued his way to Salisbury. Mr. Pinch had a shrewd notion that Salisbury was a very desperate sort of place and exceeding wild and dissipated city. And when he had put up the horse and given the hustler to understand that he would look in again in the course of an hour or two to see him take his corn, he set forth on a stroll about the streets with a vague and not unpleasant idea that they teamed with all kinds of mystery and bedevilment. To one of his quiet habits, this little delusion was greatly assisted by the circumstance of its being market day and the thoroughfares about the marketplace being filled with carts, horses, donkeys, baskets, wagons, garden stuff, meat, tripe, pies, poultry, and hucksters' wares of every opposite description and possible variety of character. Then there were young farmers and old farmers with smock-frocks, brown great-coats, drab great-coats, red-worsted comforters, leather leggings, wonderful-shaped hats, hunting whips and rough sticks, standing about in groups, or talking noisily together on the tavern steps, or paying and receiving huge amounts of greasy wealth with the assistance of such bulky pocketbooks that when they were in their pockets it was apoplexy to get them out, and when they were out, it was spasms to get them in again. Also, there were farmers' wives in beaver, bonnets, and red cloaks riding shaggy horses purged of all earthly passions who went soberly into all manner of places without desiring to know why and who, if required, would have stood stock still in a china shop with complete dinner service at each hoof. Also, a great many dogs who were strongly interested in the state of the market and the bargains of their masters and a great confusion of tongues, both brute and human. Mr. Pinch regarded everything exposed for sale with great delight, and was particularly struck by the itinerant cutlery, which he considered of the very keenest kind, in so much that he purchased a pocketknife with seven blades in it, and not a cut as he afterwards found out among them. When he had exhausted the marketplace and watched the farmers safe into the market dinner, he went back to look after the horse. Having seen him eat unto his heart's content, he issued forth again to wander round the town and regale himself with the shop windows, previously taking a long stare at the bank, and wondering in what direction underground the caverns might be where they kept the money. And turning to look back at one or two young men who passed him, whom he knew to be artichaled to solicitors in the town, and who had a sort of fearful interest in his eyes as jolly dogs who knew a thing or two and kept it up tremendously, but the shops. First of all, there were the jeweler's shops, with all the treasures of the earth displayed therein, and such large silver watches hanging up in every pane of glass, that if there were anything but first-rate goers, it certainly was not because the works could decently complain of want of room. In good sooth, they were big enough, and perhaps, as the saying is, ugly enough, to be the most correct of all mechanical performers. In Mr. Pinch's eyes, however, they were smaller than Geneva where, and when he saw one very bloated watch announced as a repeater, gifted with the uncommon power of striking every quarter of an hour inside the pocket of its happy owner, he almost wished that he were rich enough to buy it. But what were even gold and silver, precious stones and clockwork, to the bookshops, once a pleasant smell of paper freshly pressed, came issuing forth, awakening instant recollections of some new grammar had at school, long time ago, with Mr. Pinch, Grovehouse Academy, inscribed in faultless writing on the flyleaf, that whiff of Russia leather, too, and all those rows on rows of volumes neatly ranged within, what happiness did they suggest? And in the window, where the spic and span new works from London with the title pages, and sometimes even the first page of the first chapter laid wide open, tempting unwary men to begin to read the book, and then in the impossibility of turning over to rush blindly in and buy it. Here, too, were the dainty frontispiece and trim vignette pointing like handposts on the outskirts of great cities to the rich stock of incident beyond, and store of books with many a grave portrait and time-honored name, whose matter he knew well and would have given minds to have in any form upon the narrow shelf beside his bed at Mr. Peck Sniff's, what a heartbreaking shop it was. There was another, not quite so bad at first, but still a trying shop, where children's books were sold, and where poor Robinson Crusoe stood alone in his might with dog and hatchet, goat skin cap, and fouling pieces, calmly surveying Philip Quarn and the host of imitators round him, and calling Mr. Pinch to witness that he, of all the crowd, impressed one solitary footprint on the shore of voyaged memory, whereof the tread of generations should not stir the lightest grain of sand, and there, too, were the Persian tales with flying chests, and students of enchanted books shut up for years in caverns, and there, too, was Abadah, the merchant, with the terrible little old woman hobbling out of the box in his bedroom, and there the mighty talism and the rare Arabian knights with Kasim Baba, divided by four like the ghost of a dreadful sum hanging up all gory in the robbers' cave, which, matchless wonders, coming fast on Mr. Pinch's mind, did so rub up and chafe that wonderful lamp within him that when he turned his face towards the busy street, a crowd of phantoms waited on his pleasure, and he lived again with new delight the happy days before the peck-sniff era. He had less interest now in the chemist shops with their great glowing bottles with smaller repositories of brightness in their very stoppers, and in their agreeable compromises between medicine and perfumery in the shape of toothsome lozenges and virgin honey. Neither had he the least regard, but he never had much, for the tailors where the newest metropolitan waistcoat patterns were hanging up, which by some strange transformation always looked amazing there and never appeared at all like the same thing anywhere else. But he stopped to read the playbill at the theatre and surveyed the doorway with a kind of awe, which was not diminished when a sallow gentleman with long dark hair came out and told the boy to run home to his lodgings and bring down his broadsword. Mr. Pinch stood, rooted to the spot on hearing this, and might have stood there until dark, but that the old cathedral bell began to ring for Vesper's service on which he tore himself away. Now the organist's assistant was a friend of Mr. Pinch's, which was a good thing, for he too was a very quiet, gentle soul and had been, like Tom, a kind of old-fashioned boy at school, though well-liked by the noisy fellow, too. As good luck would have it, Tom always said he had great good luck. The assistant chanced that very afternoon to be on duty by himself with no one in the dusty organ loft but Tom. So while he played, Tom helped him with the song and Tom helped him with the stops, and finally the service being just over, Tom took the organ himself. It was then turning dark, and the yellow light that streamed in through the ancient windows in the choir was mingled with a murky red. As the grand tomes resounded through the church, they seemed to Tom to find an echo in the depth of every ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his own heart. Great thoughts and hopes came crowding on his mind as the rich music rolled upon the air, and yet among them something more grave and solemn in their purpose but the same, were all the images of that day down to its very lightest recollection of childhood. The feeling that the sounds awakened in the moment of their existence seemed to include his whole life and being, and as the surrounding realities of stone and wood and glass grew dimmer in the darkness, these visions grew so much the brighter that Tom might have forgotten the new pupil and the expectant master, and have sat there pouring out his grateful heart till midnight, but for a very earthy old verger insisting on locking up the cathedral forthwith. So he took leave of his friend with many thanks, groped his way out as well as he could into the now lamplighted streets, and hurried off to get his dinner. End of Chapter 5 Part 1 Chapter 5 Part 2 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 follow and hear, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 5 Part 2 All the farmers, being by this time jogging homewards, there was nobody in the sanded parlor of the tavern where he had left the horse. So he had his little cable drawn out close before the fire, and fell to work upon a well-cooked steak and smoking hot potatoes with a strong appreciation of their excellence, and a very keen sense of enjoyment. Beside him, too, there stood a jug of most stupendous Wiltshire beer, and the effect of the whole was so transcendent that he was obliged every now and then to lay down his knife and fork, rub his hands, and think about it. By the time the cheese and celery came, Mr. Pinch had taken a book out of his pocket and could afford to trifle with the Vians, now eating a little, now drinking a little, now reading a little, and now stopping to wonder what sort of a young man the new pupil would turn out to be. He had passed from this latter theme and was deep in his book again when the door opened and another guest came in, bringing with him such a quantity of cold air that he positively seemed at first to put the fire out. Very hard frost tonight, sir, said the newcomer, courteously acknowledging Mr. Pinch's withdrawal of the little table that he might have place. Don't disturb yourself, I beg. Though he said this with a vast amount of consideration for Mr. Pinch's comfort, he dragged one of the great leather-bottomed chairs to the very center of the hearth, notwithstanding, and sat down in front of the fire with a foot on each hob. My feet are quite numbed. Ah, bitter cold, to be sure. You have been in the air some considerable time, I daresay, said Mr. Pinch. All day, outside a coach, too. That accounts for his making the room so cool, thought Mr. Pinch, poor fellow, how thoroughly chilled he must be. The stranger became thoughtful likewise, and sat for five or ten minutes looking at the fire in silence. At length he rose and divested himself of his shawl and great coat, which, far different from Mr. Pinch's, was a very warm and thick one. But he was not a wit more conversational out of his great coat than in it, for he sat down again in the same place and attitude, and leaning back in his chair began to bite his nails. He was young, one and twenty perhaps, and handsome, with a keen dark eye and a quickness of look and manner, which made Tom sensible of a great contrast in his own bearing, and caused him to feel even more shy than usual. There was a clock in the room, which the stranger often turned to look at. Tom made frequent reference to it also, partly from a nervous sympathy with its taciturn companion, and partly because the new pupil was to inquire for him at half after six, and the hands were getting on towards that hour. Whenever the stranger caught him looking at this clock, a kind of confusion came upon Tom as if he had been found out in something, and it was a perception of his uneasiness which caused the younger man to say, perhaps with a smile. We both appear to be rather particular about the time. The fact is, I have an engagement to meet a gentleman here. So have I, said Mr. Pinch. At half past six, said the stranger, at half past six, said Tom in the very same breath, whereupon the other looked at him with some surprise. The young gentleman, I expect, remarked Tom timidly, was to inquire at that time for a person by the name of Pinch. Dear me, cried the other, jumping up, and I have been keeping the fire from you all this while. I had no idea you were Mr. Pinch. I am the Mr. Martin for whom you were to inquire. Pray, excuse me, how do you do? Oh, do draw nearer, pray. Thank you, said Tom. Thank you. I am not at all cold, and you are. And we have a cold ride before us. Well, if you wish it, I will. I am very glad, said Tom, smiling with an embarrassed frankness, peculiarly his. And which was as plainly a confession of his own imperfections, and an appeal to the kindness of the person he had dressed, as if he had drawn one up in simple language and committed it to paper. I am very glad indeed that you turn out to be the party I expected. I was thinking but a minute ago that I could wish him to be like you. I am very glad to hear it, returned Martin, shaking hands with him again, for I assure you I was thinking there could be no such luck as Mr. Pinch's turning out like you. No, really, said Tom, with great pleasure. Are you serious? Upon my word I am, replied his new acquaintance. You and I will get on excellently well, I know. Which it's no small relief to me to feel, for to tell you the truth I am not at all the sort of fellow who could get on with everybody, and that's the point on which I had the greatest doubts. But they're quite relieved now. Do me the favor to ring the bell, will you? Mr. Pinch rose and complied with great alacrity. The handle hung just over Martin's head as he warmed himself, and listened with a smiling face to what his friend went on to say. It was. If you like punch, you'll allow me to order a glass of peace as hard as it can be made, that we may usher in our friendship in a becoming manner. To let you into a secret, Mr. Pinch, I never was so much in want of something warm and cheering in my life, but I didn't like to run the chance of being found drinking it without knowing what kind of person you were. For first impressions, you know, often go a long way and last a long time. Mr. Pinch assented, and the punch was ordered. In due course it came, hot and strong. After drinking to each other in the steaming mixture, they became quite confidential. I'm a sort of relation of peck-sniffs, you know, said the young man. Indeed, cried Mr. Pinch. Yes, my grandfather is his cousin, so he's kith and kin to me somehow if you can make that out. I can't. Then Martin is your Christian name, said Mr. Pinch thoughtfully. Oh, of course it is, returned his friend. I wish it was my surname, for my own is not a very pretty one, and it takes a long time to sign. Chuzzlewood is my name. Dear me, cried Mr. Pinch, with an involuntary start. You're not surprised at my having two names, I suppose, returned to the other, setting his glass to his lips. Most people have. Oh, no, said Mr. Pinch, not at all. Oh, dear no, well. And then remembering that Mr. Peck-sniff had privately cautioned him to say nothing in reference to the old gentleman of the same name who lodged at the dragon, but to reserve all mention of that person for him, he had no better means of hiding his confusion than by raising his own glass to his mouth. They looked at each other out of their respective tumblers for a few seconds, and then put them down empty. I told them in the stable to be ready for us ten minutes ago, said Mr. Pinch, glancing at the clock again. Shall we go? If you please, returned the other. Would you like to drive, said Mr. Pinch, his whole face beaming with the consciousness of the splendor of his offer? You shall, if you wish. Why, that depends, Mr. Pinch, said Martin, laughing, upon what sort of a horse you have, because if he's a bad one, I would rather keep my hands warm by holding them comfortably in my great coat-pockets. He appeared to think this such a good joke that Mr. Pinch was quite sure it must be a capital one. Accordingly, he laughed, too, and was fully persuaded that he enjoyed it very much. Then he settled his bill, and Mr. Chuzzlewood paid for the punch, and, having wrapped themselves up to the extent of their respective means, they went out together to the front door, where Mr. Pexniff's property stopped the way. I won't drive, thank you, Mr. Pinch, said Martin, getting into the sitter's place. By the by there's a box of mine. Can we manage to take it? Oh, certainly, said Tom, put it in, Dick, anywhere. It was not precisely of that convenient size which would admit of its being squeezed into any odd corner, but Dick the Hossler got it in somehow, and Mr. Chuzzlewood helped him. It was all on Mr. Pinch's side, it was all on Mr. Pinch's side, and Mr. Chuzzlewood said he was very much afraid it would encumber him, to which Tom said, not at all, though it forced him into such an awkward position that he had much adieu to see anything but his own knees. But it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and the wisdom of the saying was verified in this instance, for the cold air came from Mr. Pinch's side of the carriage, and by interposing a perfect wall of box and man between it and the new pupil, he shielded that young gentleman effectually, which was a great comfort. It was a clear evening with a bright moon, the whole landscape was silvered by its light and by the whore frost, and everything looked exquisitely beautiful. At first the great serenity and peace through which they traveled disposed them both to silence, but in a very short time the punch within them and the healthful air without made them loquacious, and they talked incessantly. When they were halfway home and stopped to give the horse some water, Martin, who was very generous with his money, ordered another glass of punch which they drank between them, and which had not the effect of making them less conversational than before. Their principal topic of discourse was naturally Mr. Pecksniff and his family, of whom and of the great obligations they had heaped upon him, Tom Pinch, with the tears standing in his eyes, drew such a picture as would have inclined any one of common feeling almost to revere them, and of which Mr. Pecksniff had not the slightest foresight or preconceived idea, or he certainly, being very humble, would not have sent Tom Pinch to bring the pupil home. In this way they went on and on and on in the language of the story books, until at last the village lights appeared before them, and the church spire cast a long reflection on the graveyard grass as if it were a dial. Alas, the truest in the world, marking whatever light shown out of heaven the flight of days and weeks and years by some new shadow on that solemn ground. A pretty church, said Martin, observing that his companions slackened the slack pace of the horse as they approached. Is it not, cried Tom, with great pride? There's the sweetest little organ there you ever heard. I play it for them. Indeed, said Martin, it is hardly worth the trouble I should think, what do you get for that now? Nothing, answered Tom. Well, returned his friend, you are a very strange fellow. To which remarked they succeeded a brief silence. When I say nothing, observed Mr. Pinch cheerfully, I am wrong and don't say what I mean, because I get a great deal of pleasure from it, and the means of passing some of the happiest hours I know. It led to something else the other day, but you will not care to hear about that, I daresay. Oh, yes, I shall, what? It led to my seeing, said Tom, in a lower voice, one of the loveliest and most beautiful faces you can possibly picture to yourself. And yet I am able to picture a beautiful one, said his friend thoughtfully, or should be if I have any memory. She came, said Tom, laying his hand upon the other's arm, for the first time, very early in the morning, when it was hardly light, and when I saw her over my shoulder, standing just within the porch, I turned quite cold, almost believing her to be a spirit. A moment's reflection got the better of that, of course, and fortunately it came to my relief so soon that I didn't leave off playing. Why, fortunately? Why, because she stood there listening. I had my spectacles on, and saw her through the cheeks and the curtains as plainly as I see you, and she was beautiful. After a while she glided off, and I continued to play until she was out of hearing. Why did you do that? Don't you see, responded Tom, because she might suppose I hadn't seen her, and might return. And did she? Certainly she did, next morning and next evening too, but always when there were no people about, and always alone. I rose earlier and sat there later, that when she came, she might find the church door open, and the organ playing, and might not be disappointed. She strolled that way for some days, and always stayed to listen. But she is gone now, and of all unlikely things in this wide world, it is perhaps the most improbable that I shall ever look upon her face again. You don't know anything more about her? No. And you never followed her when she went away? Why should I distress her by doing that? said Tom Pinch. Is it likely that she wanted my company? She came to hear the organ, not to see me. And would you have had me scare her from a place she seemed to grow quite fond of? Now heaven bless her, cried Tom, to have given her but a minute's pleasure. Every day I would have gone on playing the organ at those times, until I was an old man, quite contented if she sometimes thought of a poor fellow like me as a part of the music. And more than recompensed, if she ever mixed me up with anything she liked, as well as she liked that. The new pupil was clearly very much amazed by Mr. Pinch's weakness, and would probably have told him so and given him some good advice, but for their opportune arrival at Mr. Peck's sniff's door, the front door this time, on account of the occasion being one of ceremony and rejoicing. The same man was in waiting for the horse who had been adjured by Mr. Pinch in the morning, not to yield to his rabid desire to start. And after delivering the animal into his charge and beseeching Mr. Chuzzlewood and a whisper never to reveal a syllable of what he had just told him in the fullness of his heart, Tom led the pupil in for instant presentation. Mr. Peck's sniff had clearly not expected them for hours to come, for he was surrounded by open books and was glancing from volume to volume with a black-led pencil in his mouth and a pair of compasses in his hand at a vast number of mathematical diagrams of such extraordinary shapes that they looked like designs for fireworks. Neither had Miss Charity expected them, for she was busy with a capacious wicker basket before her in making impracticable nightcaps for the poor. Neither had Miss Mercy expected them, for she was sitting upon her stool, tying on the, oh, good gracious, the petticoat of a large doll that she was dressing for a neighbor's child, really quite a grown-up doll which made it more confusing, and had its little bonnet dangling by the ribbon from one of her fair curls to which she had fastened it lest it should be lost or sat upon. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to conceive a family so thoroughly taken by surprise as Peck's sniffs were on this occasion. Bless my life, said Mr. Peck's sniff, looking up and gradually exchanging his abstracted face for one of joyful recognition. Here already, Martin, my dear boy, I am delighted to welcome you to my poor house. With this kind greeting Mr. Peck's sniff fairly took him to his arms and patted him several times upon the back with his right hand for a while, as if to express that his feelings during the embrace were too much for utterance. But here, he said, recovering, are my daughters, Martin, my two only children, whom, if you ever saw them, you have not beheld. Ah, these sad family divisions, since you were infants together. Name, my dears, why blush at being detected in your everyday pursuits? We had prepared to give you the reception of a visitor, Martin, in our little room of state, said Mr. Peck's sniff, smiling. But I like this better. I like this better. O blessed star of innocence, wherever you may be, how did you glitter in your home of ether when the two Miss Peck's sniffs put forth each, her lily hand, and gave the same with mantling cheeks to Martin. How did you twinkle, as if fluttering with sympathy when mercy, reminded of the bonnet in her hair, hid her fair face and turned her head aside, the while her gentle sister plucked it out and smote her with the sister's soft reproof upon her buxom shoulder. And how, said Mr. Peck's sniff, turning round after the contemplation of these passages, and taking Mr. Pinch in a friendly manner by the elbow, how has our friend used you, Martin? Very well indeed, sir. We are on the best terms, I assure you. Old Tom Pinch, said Mr. Peck's sniff, looking on him with affection at sadness. It seems but yesterday that Thomas was a boy fresh from a scholastic course. Yet years have passed, I think, since Thomas Pinch and I first walked the world together. Mr. Pinch could say nothing. He was too much moved, but he pressed his master's hand and tried to thank him. And Thomas Pinch and I, said Mr. Peck's sniff in a deeper voice, will walk it yet in mutual faithfulness and friendship, and if it comes to pass that either of us be run over in any of those busy crossings which divide the streets of life, the other will convey him to the hospital in hope and sit beside his bed in bounty. Well, well, well, he added in a happier tone as he shook Mr. Pinch's elbow hard. No more of this. Martin, my dear friend, that you may be at home within these walls, let me show you how we live and where. Come. With that he took up a lighted candle and, attended by his young relative, prepared to leave the room. At the door he stopped. You'll bear us company, Tom Pinch? I, cheerfully, though it had been to death, would Tom have followed him, glad to lay down his life for such a man. This, said Mr. Peck's sniff, opening the door of an opposite parlor, is the little room of state, I mentioned to you. My girls have pride in it, Martin. This, opening another door, is the little chamber in which my works, slight things at best, have been concocted. Portrait of myself by spiller, bust by spoker. The latter is considered a good likeness. I seem to recognize something about the left-hand corner of the nose, myself. Martin thought it was very like, but scarcely intellectual enough. Mr. Peck's sniff observed that the same fault had been found with it before. It was remarkable it should have struck his young relation, too. He was glad to see he had an eye for art. Various books you observe, said Mr. Peck's sniff, waving his hand towards the wall, connected with our pursuit. I have scribbled myself, but have not yet published. Be careful how you come upstairs. This, opening another door, is my chamber. I read here when the family suppose I have retired to rest. Sometimes I injure my health rather more than I can quite justify to myself by doing so, but art is long and time is short. Every facility you see for jotting down crude notions, even here. These latter words were explained by his pointing to a small round table, on which were a lamp, diverse sheets of paper, a piece of India rubber, and a case of instruments, all put ready, in case an architectural idea should come into Mr. Peck's sniff's head in the night, in which event he would instantly leap out of bed and fix it forever. Mr. Peck's sniff opened another door on the same floor and shut it again, all at once, as if it were a blue chamber. But before he had well done so, he looked smilingly round and said, Why not? Martin couldn't say why not, because he didn't know anything at all about it. So Mr. Peck's sniff answered himself, by throwing open the door and saying, My daughter's room, a poor first floor to us, but a bower to them. Very neat, very airy, plants you observe, hyacinths, books again, birds. These birds, by the by, comprised, in awe, one staggering old sparrow without a tail, which had been borrowed expressly from the kitchen. Such trifles as girls' love are here, nothing more, those who seek heartless splendor would seek here in vain. With that he led them to the floor above. This, said Mr. Peck's sniff, throwing wide the door of the memorable two-pair front, is a room where some talent has been developed, I believe. This is a room in which an idea for a steeple occurred to me that I may one day give to the world. We work here, my dear Martin. Some architects have been bred in this room, a few, I think, Mr. Pinch. Tom fully assented, and what is more, fully believed it. You see, said Mr. Peck's sniff, passing the candle rapidly from roll to roll of paper, some traces of our doings here, Salisbury Cathedral from the north, from the south, from the east, from the west, from the southeast, from the northwest, a bridge, an alms house, a jail, a church, a powder magazine, a wine cellar, a portico, a summer house, an ice house, plans, elevations, sections, every kind of thing, and this, he added, having by this time reached another large chamber on the same story, with four little beds in it. This is your room, of which Mr. Pinch here is the quiet sharer, a southern aspect, a charming prospect. Mr. Pinch's little library, you perceive, everything agreeable and appropriate. If there is any additional comfort you would desire to have here at any time, pray mention it, even to strangers, far less to you, my dear Martin, there is no restriction on that point. It was undoubtedly true, and may be stated, in corroboration of Mr. Peck's sniff, that any pupil had the most liberal permission to mention anything in this way that suggested itself to his fancy. Some young gentleman had gone on mentioning the very same thing for five years without ever being stopped. The domestic assistance, said Mr. Peck's sniff, sleep above, and that is all. After which, enlistening complacently as he went to the incomiums passed by his young friend on the arrangements generally, he led the way to the parlor again. Here a great change had taken place, for festive preparations on a rather extensive scale were already completed, and the two Miss Peck's sniffs were awaiting their return with hospitable looks. There were two bottles of current wine, white and red, a dish of sandwiches, very long and very slim, another of apples, another of captain's biscuits, which are always a moist and jovial sort of viand, a plate of oranges, cut up small and gritty with powdered sugar, and a highly geological homemade cake. The magnitude of these preparations quite took away Tom Pinch's breath, for though the new pupils were usually let down softly, as one may say, particularly in the wine department, which had so many stages of declension that sometimes the young gentleman was a whole fortnight in getting to the pump, still this was a banquet, a sort of Lord Mayor's feast in private life, a something to think of and hold on by afterwards. To this entertainment, which apart from its own intrinsic merits, had the additional choice quality that it was in strict keeping with the night, being both light and cool, Mr. Peck's sniffs besought the company to do full justice. Martin, he said, will seat himself between you two, my dears, and Mr. Pinch will come by me. Let us drink to our new inmate, and may we be happy together. Martin, my dear friend, my love to you, Mr. Pinch, if you spare the bottle, we shall quarrel. And trying, in his regard for the feelings of the rest, to look as if the wine were not acid and didn't make him wink, Mr. Peck's sniff did honor to his own toast. This, he said, in allusion to the party, not the wine, is a mingling that repays one for much disappointment and vexation. Let us be merry. Here he took a captain's biscuit. It is a poor heart that never rejoices, and our hearts are not poor. No. With such stimulants to merriment, did he beguile the time and do the honors of the table, while Mr. Pinch, perhaps to assure himself that what he saw and heard was holiday reality and not a charming dream, ate of everything and, in particular, disposed of the slim sandwiches to a surprising extent. Nor was he stinted in his draughts of wine, but on the contrary, remembering Mr. Peck's sniff's speech, attacked the bottle with such vigor that every time he filled his glass anew, Miss Charity, despite her amiable resolve, could not repress a fixed and stony glare as if her eyes had rested on a ghost. Mr. Peck's sniff also became thoughtful at those moments, not to say dejected, but as he knew the vintage it is very likely he may have been speculating on the probable condition of Mr. Pinch upon the morrow and discussing within himself the best remedies for colic. Martin and the young ladies were excellent friends already, in compared recollections of their childish days to their mutual liveliness and entertainment. Miss Mercy laughed immensely at everything that was said, and sometimes, after glancing at the happy face of Mr. Pinch, was seized with such fits of mirth as brought her to the very confines of hysterics. But for these bursts of gaiety, her sister, in her better sense, reproved her, observing in an angry whisper that it was far from being a theme for jest, and that she had no patience with the creature, though it generally ended in her laughing, too, but much more moderately, and saying that indeed it was a little too ridiculous and intolerable to be serious about. At length it became high time to remember the first clause of that great discovery made by the ancient philosopher for securing health, riches, and wisdom, the infallibility of which has been for generations verified by the enormous fortunes constantly amassed by chimney sweepers and other persons who get up early and go to bedby times. The young ladies accordingly rose, and having taken leave of Mr. Chuzzlewit with much sweetness, and of their father with much duty, and of Mr. Pinch with much condescension, retired to their bower. Mr. Pexnip insisted on accompanying his young friend upstairs for personal superintendents of his comforts, and taking him by the arm, conducted him once more to his bedroom, followed by Mr. Pinch, who bore the light. Mr. Pinch, said Pexnip, seating himself with folded arms on one of the spare beds, I don't see any snuffers in that candlestick. Will you oblige me by going down and asking for a pair? Mr. Pinch, only too happy to be useful, went off directly. You will excuse Thomas Pinch's want of polish, Martin, said Mr. Pexnip, with a smile of patronage and pity, as soon as he had left the room. He means well. He is a very good fellow, sir. Oh, yes, said Mr. Pexnip, yes. Thomas Pinch means well. He is very grateful. I have never regretted having befriended Thomas Pinch. I should think you never would, sir. No, said Mr. Pexnip. No, I hope not. Poor fellow, he is always disposed to do his best, but he is not gifted. You will make him useful to you, Martin, if you please. If Thomas has a fault, it is that he is sometimes a little apt to forget his position. But that is soon checked. Worthy sold. You will find him easy to manage. Good night. Good night, sir. By this time Mr. Pinch had returned with the snuffers. And good night to you, Mr. Pinch, said Pexnip, and sound sleep to you both. Bless you, bless you. Invoking this benediction on the heads of his young friends with great fervor, he withdrew to his own room, while they, being tired, soon fell asleep. If Martin dreamed it all, some clue to the matter of his visions may possibly be gathered from the afterpages of this history. Those of Thomas Pinch were all of holiday's church organs and seraphic Pexnips. It was some time before Mr. Pexnip dreamed it all, or even sought his pillow, as he sat for full two hours before the fire in his own chamber, looking at the coals and thinking deeply. But he, too, slept and dreamed at last. Thus, in the quiet hours of the night, one house shuts in as many incoherent and incongruous fancies as a madman's head.