 43 Showing how Mr. Samuel Weller got into difficulties. In a lofty room, ill-lighted and worse ventilated, situated in Portugal Street, Lincoln's infields, there sits, nearly the whole year round, one, two, three or four gentlemen in wigs, as the case may be, with little writing-desks before them, constructed after the fashion of those used by the judges of the land, barring the French polish. There is a box of barristers on their right hand, there is an enclosure of insolvent debtors on their left, and there is an inclined plain of most especially dirty faces in their front. These gentlemen are the commissioners of the insolvent court, and the place in which they sit is the insolvent court itself. It is, and has been, time out of mind, the remarkable fate of this court to be, somehow or other, held and understood by the general consent of all the destitute shabby gentile people in London as their common resort and place of daily refuge. It is always full. The steams of beer and spirits perpetually ascend to the ceiling, and being condensed by the heat roll down the walls like rain. There are more old suits of clothes in it at one time than will be offered for sale in all hounds-ditch in a twelve-month. More unwashed skins and grizzly beards than all the pumps and shaving shops between Tibern and Whitechapel could render decent between sunrise and sunset. It must not be supposed that any of these people have the least shadow of business in or the remotest connection with the place they insolventagably attend. If they had it would be no matter of surprise and the singularity of the thing would cease. Some of them sleep during the greater part of the sitting, others carry small portable dinners wrapped in pocket handkerchiefs or sticking out of their worn-out pockets, and munch and listen with equal relish. But no one among them was ever known to have the slightest personal interest in any case that was ever brought forward. Whatever they do, there they sit from the first moment to the last. When it is heavy, rainy weather, they all come in wet through, and at such times the vapors of the corridor like those of a fungus pit. A casual visitor might suppose this place to be a temple dedicated to the genius of seediness. There is not a messenger or process-server attached to it who wears a coat that was made for him. Not a tolerably fresh or wholesome-looking man in the whole establishment except a little white-headed apple-faced tip staff, and even he, like an ill-conditioned cherry preserved in brandy, seems to have artificially dried and withered up into a state of preservation to which he can lay no natural claim. The very barrister's wigs are ill-powdered and their curls lack crispness. But the attorneys who sit at a large, bare table below the commissioners are, after all, the greatest curiosities. The professional establishment of the more opulent of these gentlemen consists of a blue bag and a boy, generally a youth of the Jewish persuasion. They have no fixed offices, their legal business being transacted in the parlors of public houses or the yards of prisons, whether they repair in crowds in canvas for customers after the manner of omnibus-cads. They are of a greasy and mildewed appearance, and if they can be said to have any vices at all, perhaps drinking and cheating are the most conspicuous among them. Their residences are usually on the outskirts of the rules, chiefly lying within a circle of one mile from the obelisk in St. George's Fields. Their looks are not prepossessing and their manners are peculiar. Mr. Solomon Pell, one of this learned body, was a fat, flabby, pale man in a shirt out which looked green one minute and brown the next, with a velvet collar of the same chameleon tints. His forehead was narrow, his face wide, his head large, and his nose all on one side, as if nature, indignant with the propensity she observed in him in his birth, had given in an angry tweak which it had never recovered. Being short-knacked and at-smattic, however, he respired principally through this feature, so perhaps what it wanted in ornament it made up and useful as. I'm sure to bring him through it, said Mr. Pell. Are you, though? replied the person to whom the assurance was pledged. Certain, sure, replied Pell. But if he'd gone to any irregular practitioner, mind you, I wouldn't have answered for the consequences. Ah, said the other with open mouth. Know that I wouldn't, said Mr. Pell. And he pursed up his lips, frowned, and shook his head mysteriously. Now the place where this discourse occurred was the public house just opposite to the insolvent court, and the person with whom it was held was no other than the elder Mr. Weller, who had come there to comfort and console a friend whose petition to be discharged under the act was to be that day heard and whose attorney he was at that moment consulting. And there is George, inquired the old gentleman. Mr. Pell jerked his head in the direction of a back parlor, wither Mr. Weller at once repairing was immediately greeted in the warmest and most flattering manner by some half-dozen of his professional brethren in token of their gratification at his arrival. The insolvent gentleman who had contracted a speculative but imprudent passion for horsing long stages, which had led to his present embarrassments, looked extremely well and was soothing the excitement of his feelings with shrimps and porter. The salutation between Mr. Weller and his friends was strictly confined to the freemasonry of the craft, consisting of a jerking round of the right wrist and a tossing of the little finger into the air at the same time. We once knew two famous coachmen, they are dead now, poor fellows, who were twins, and between whom an unaffected and devoted attachment existed. They passed each other on the Dover Road every day for twenty-four years, never exchanging any other greeting than this, and yet, when one died, the other pined away and soon afterwards followed him. Pell, George, said Mr. Weller Sr., taking off his upper coat and seating himself with his accustomed gravity. How is it? All right behind and full inside? All right, old feller, replied the embarrassed gentleman. Is the gray mare made over to anybody, inquired Mr. Weller anxiously? George nodded in the affirmative. Well, that's all right, said Mr. Weller. Coach taken care, and also? Consigned in a safe quarter, replied George, wringing the heads off half a dozen shrimps and swallowing them without any more ado. Very good, very good, said Mr. Weller. All base seat of the drag when you go downhill. Is the vable all clear and straightforward? The schedule, sir, said Pell, guessing at Mr. Weller's meaning. The schedule is as plain and satisfactory as pen and ink can make it. Mr. Weller nodded in a manner which bespoke his inward approval of these arrangements. And then, turning to Mr. Pell, said, pointing to his friend George, Then do you take his cloths off? Why? replied Mr. Pell. He stands third on the opposed list. And I should think it would be his turn in about half an hour. I told my clerk to come over and tell us when there was a chance. Mr. Weller surveyed the attorney from head to foot with great admiration and said emphatically, And what will you take, sir? Why, really, replied Mr. Pell, you're very—up how my word in honor I'm not in the habit of—it's so very early in the morning that actually I am almost—well, you may bring me three penneth of rum, my dear. The officiating damsel, who had anticipated the order before it was given, set the glass of spirits before Pell and retired. Gentlemen, said Mr. Pell, looking round upon the company, Success to your friend. I don't like to boast, gentlemen, it's not my way. But I can't help saying that if your friend hadn't been fortunate enough to fall into hands that—but I won't say what I was going to say, gentlemen, my service to you. Having emptied the glass in a twinkling, Mr. Pell smacked his lips and looked complacently round on the assembled coachman, who evidently regarded him as a species of divinity. Let me see, said the legal authority. What was I a-saying, gentlemen? I think you was remarking as you wouldn't have no objection to another of the same, sir, said Mr. Weller, with grave facetiousness. Ha-ha, laughed Mr. Pell. Not bad, not bad. A professional man, too. At this time of the morning it would be rather too good a—well, I don't know. My dear, you may do that again, if you please. This last sound was a solemn and dignified cough in which Mr. Pell, observing an indecent tendency to mirth in some of his auditors, considered it due to himself to indulge. The late Lord Chancellor, gentlemen, was very fond of me, said Mr. Pell, and very creditable in him, too, interposed Mr. Weller. Here, here, assented Mr. Pell's client, why shouldn't he be? Ah, why indeed! said a very red-faced man, who had said nothing yet, and who looked extremely unlikely to say anything more. Why shouldn't he? A murmur of assent ran through the company. I remember, gentlemen, said Mr. Pell, dining with him on one occasion, there was only us two, but everything as splendid as of twenty people had been expected. The great seal, on a dumb waiter at his right hand, and a man in a bag-wig and suit of armor guarding the mace with the drawn sword and silk stockings, which is perpetually done, gentlemen, night and day. When he said, Pell, he said, no false delicacy, Pell, you're a man of talent. You can get anybody through the insolvent court, Pell, and your country should be proud of you. Those were his very words. My Lord, I said, you flatter me. Pell, he said, if I do, I'm damned. Did he say that? inquired Mr. Weller. He did, replied Pell. Well then, said Mr. Weller, I say Parliament ought to have took it up, and if he'd been a poor man, they would have done it. But my dear friend, argued Mr. Pell, it was in confidence. In what, said Mr. Weller? In confidence. Oh, very good, replied Mr. Weller, after a little reflection. If he damned his self-inconfidence, of course, that was another thing. Of course it was, said Mr. Pell. The distinction's obvious, you will perceive. There's the case entirely, said Mr. Weller. Go on, sir. No, I will not go on, sir, said Mr. Pell, in a low and serious tone. You have reminded me, sir, that this conversation was private. Private and confidential, gentlemen. Gentlemen, I am a professional man. It may be that I am a good deal looked up to in my profession. It may be that I am not. Most people know. I say nothing. Conversations have already been made in this room, injurious to the reputation of my noble friend. You will excuse me, gentlemen. I was imprudent. I feel that I have no right to mention this matter without his concurrence. Thank you, sir. Thank you. Thus delivering himself, Mr. Pell thrust his hands into his pockets, and frowning grimly around rattled three half-pents with terrible determination. This virtuous resolution had scarcely been formed when the boy and the blue bag who were inseparable companions rushed violently into the room and said, at least the boy did, for the blue bag took no part in the announcement, that the case was coming on directly. The intelligence was no sooner received than the whole party hurried across the street and began to fight their way into court, a preparatory ceremony which has been calculated to occupy in ordinary cases from twenty-five minutes to thirty. Mr. Weller being stout cast himself at once into the crowd with a desperate hope of ultimately turning up in some place which would suit him. His success was not quite equal to his expectations. For having neglected to take his hat off, it was knocked over his eyes by some unseen person upon whose toes he had alighted with considerable force. Apparently this individual regretted his impetuosity immediately afterwards. For muttering an indistinct exclamation of surprise, he dragged the old man out into the hall and after a violent struggle released his head and face. Sam of all exclaimed Mr. Weller when he was thus enabled to behold his rescuer. Sam nodded. You're a dutiful and affectionate little boy, you are, ain't you? said Mr. Weller, to come abon it in your father in his old age. How should I know who you was? replied the son. Do you suppose I was to tell you by the way to your foot? Well, that's very true, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller, mollified at once. But what are you a-doing on here? Your governor can't do no good here, Sammy. They won't pass that verdict. They won't pass it, Sammy. And Mr. Weller shook his head with legal solemnity. What a perverse old file it is, exclaimed Sam. Always a-going on about verdicts and alibis and that? Who said anything about the verdict? Mr. Weller made no reply, but once more shook his head most learnedly. Leave off, Rattle, and that of her nab a yarn, if you don't want it to come off the springs all together, said Sam impatiently, and behave reasonable. I vent all the way down to the Marcus O'Granby Artie you last night. Did you see the Marchioness O'Granby, Sammy? inquired Mr. Weller with a sigh. Yes, I did, replied Sam. How was the dear creter a-looking? Very queer, said Sam. I think she's an injuring herself, grativally, with too much of that air pineapple roam and other strong medicines of the same nator. You don't mean that, Sammy, said the senior earnestly. I do indeed, replied the junior. Mr. Weller seized his son's hand, clasped it, and let it fall. There was an expression on his countenance in doing so, not of dismay or apprehension, but partaking more of the sweet and gentle character of hope. A gleam of resignation and even of cheerfulness passed over his face, too, as he slowly said, I ain't quite certain, Sammy. I wouldn't like to say I was altogether positive in case of any subsequent disappointment, but I raider think, my boy, I raider think that the shepherds got the liver complaint. Does he look bad, inquired Sam? His uncommon pale, replied his father, sept about the nose which is redder than ever. His appetite is wary so so, but he imbibes wonderful. Some thoughts of the rom appeared to obtrude themselves on Mr. Weller's mind as he said this, for he looked gloomy and thoughtful, but he very shortly recovered, as was testified by a perfect alphabet of winks, in which he was only want to indulge when particularly pleased. Vell now, said Sam, about my affair. Just open them ears a yarn and don't say nothing till I've done. With this preface, Sam related, as succinctly as he could, the last memorable conversation he had had with Mr. Pickwick. Stop there by himself, poor creedor, exclaimed the elder Mr. Weller, without nobody to take his part. It can't be done, Samiful, it can't be done. Of course it can't, asserted Sam, I knowed that before I came. Why, they'll eat him up alive, Sammy, exclaimed Mr. Weller. Sam nodded his concurrence in the opinion. He goes in rather raw, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, metaphorically, and he'll come out done so exceeding brown that his most familiar friends won't know him. Roast pigeons, nothing to it, Sammy. Again, Sam Weller nodded. It oughtn't to be, Samiful, said Mr. Weller gravely. It mustn't be, said Sam. Certainly not, said Mr. Weller. Vell now, said Sam, you have been a prophesy in a way where he fine like a red-faced Nixon as the six-penny books gives pictures on. Who was he, Sammy, inquired Mr. Weller? Never mind who he was, retorted Sam. He warn't a coachman, that's enough for you. I knowed Ossler of that name, said Mr. Weller, musing. It warn't him, said Sam. This here gentleman was a prophet. What's a prophet, inquired Mr. Weller, looking sternly on his son. Why, a man is tells what's a-going to happen, replied Sam. I wish I'd known him, Sammy, said Mr. Weller. Perhaps he might have throwed a small light on that air-liver complaint as we was speaking on, just now. However, if he's dead and ain't left the business to nobody, there's an end in it. Go on, Sammy, said Mr. Weller with a sigh. Well, said Sam, you've been a prophesy in a way about what'll happen to the governor if he's left alone. Don't you see any way of taking care of him? No, I don't, Sammy, said Mr. Weller with a reflective visage. No way at all, inquired Sam. No way, said Mr. Weller, unless—and a gleam of intelligence lighted up his countenance as he sank his voice to a whisper and applied his mouth to the ear of his offspring. Unless it is getting him out in a turn-up bedstead, unbeknown to the turn-keys, Sammy, or dressing him up like an old woman with a green wail, Sam Weller received both of these suggestions with unexpected contempt and again propounded his question. No, said the old gentleman, if he won't let you stop there I see no way at all. It's no thoroughfare, Sammy, no thoroughfare. Well, then, I'll tell you what it is, said Sam. I'll trouble you for the loan of five and twenty pound. What good'll that do, inquired Mr. Weller? Never mind, replied Sam. Perhaps you may ask for it five minutes or two words. Perhaps I may say I won't pay and cut up rough. You won't think of arresting your own son for the money and sending him off to the fleet, will you, you unnatural vagabond? At this reply of Sam's, the father and son exchanged a complete coat of telegraph nods and gestures, after which the elder Mr. Weller sat himself down on a stone step and laughed till he was purple. What an old image it is, exclaimed Sam, indignant at this loss of time. What are you a-setting down, therefore, could worten your face into a street-door knocker when there's so much to be done? Where is the money? In the boot, Sammy, in the boot, replied Mr. Weller, composing his features. Hold my hat, Sammy. Having divested himself of this encumbrance, Mr. Weller gave his body a sudden wrench to one side, and by a dexterous twist contrived to get his right hand into a most capacious pocket. From whence, after a great deal of panting and exertion, he extricated a pocket-book of the large octavo size, fastened by a huge leathern strap. From this ledger he drew forth a couple of whip lashes, three or four buckles, a little sample bag of corn, and finally a small roll of very dirty bank notes, from which he selected the required amount which he handed over to Sam. And now, Sammy, said the old gentleman, when the whip lashes and the buckles and the samples had been all put back, and the book once more deposited at the bottom of the same pocket. Now, Sammy, I know a gentleman here, as he'll do the rest of the business for us in no time. A limb of the law, Sammy, as has got brains like the frogs, dispersed all over his body and reached into the wary tips of his fingers. A friend of the Lord Chancellorships, Sammy, who'd only have to tell him what he wanted, and he'd lock you up for life, if that was all. I say, said Sam, none of that. None of what, inquired Mr. Weller, why none of them unconstitutional ways of doing it, retorted Sam. The havest carcass next to the perpetual motion is one of the blessedest things as was ever made. I've read that here in the newspapers very often. Well, what's that got to do with it, inquired Mr. Weller? Just this here, said Sam, that I'll patronize the Invention and go in that way, no vespers to the Chancellorship. I don't like the notion. It mayn't be altogether safe with reference to getting out deferring to his son's feeling upon this point, Mr. Weller at once sought the erudite Solomon Pell, and acquainted him with his desire to issue a writ instantly for the sum of twenty-five pounds in costs of process, to be executed without delay upon the body of one Samuel Weller. The charges thereby incurred to be paid in advance to Solomon Pell. The attorney was in high glee, for the embarrassed coach horser was ordered to be discharged forthwith. He highly approved of Sam's attachment to his master, declared that it strongly reminded him of his own feelings of devotion to his friend, the Chancellor, and at once led the elder Mr. Weller down to the temple to swear the affidavit of debt which the boy, with the assistance of the blue bag, had drawn up on the spot. Meanwhile, Sam, having been formally introduced to the whitewashed gentleman and his friends as the offspring of Mr. Weller of the Bell Savage, was treated with marked distinction and invited to regale himself with them in honor of the occasion, an invitation which he was by no means backward in accepting. The mirth of gentlemen of this class is of a grave and quiet character, usually, but the present instance was one of peculiar festivity and they relaxed in proportion. After some rather tumultuous toasting of the chief commissioners and Mr. Solomon Pell, who had that day displayed such transcendent abilities, a modeled-faced gentleman in a blue shawl proposed that somebody should sing a song. The obvious suggestion was that the modeled-faced gentleman being anxious for a song should sing it himself, but this, the modeled-faced gentleman sturdily and somewhat offensively declined to do, upon which, as is not unusual in such cases, a rather angry colloquy ensued. Gentlemen, said the coach-horser, rather than disturb the harmony of this delightful occasion, perhaps Mr. Samuel Weller will oblige the company. Rally, gentlemen, said Sam, I'm not wearing much in the habit of singing without the instrument, but anathan for a quiet life, as the man said, when he took the sedivation at the lighthouse. With this prelude, Mr. Samuel Weller burst at once into the following wild and beautiful legend which, under the impression that it is not generally known, we take the liberty of quoting. We would beg to call particular attention to the monosyllable at the end of the second and fourth lines, which not only enables the singer to take breath at those points, but greatly assists the meter. Romance. One. Bold turpin vents on Houn's loheath, his bold mare best best roater. Then there he sees the bishop's coach coming along the rotor, so he gallops close to the horse's legs, and he claps his head within. And the bishop says, sure as eggs as eggs, this here's the bold turpin. Two. Says, turpin you shall eat your words with a sars of leaden bullet. So he puts a pistol to his mouth, and he fires it down his gullet. The coachman, he not liking the job, set off at full gall lop. But Dick put a couple of balls in his knob and prevailed on him to stop. Chorus, sarcastically, but Dick put a couple of balls in his knob and prevailed on him to stop. I maintain that there is no doubt in the words of him to stop. I maintain that there are songs personal to the cloths of the modeled-faced gentleman interrupting it at this point. I demand the name of that coachman. Nobody knowed, replied Sam, he hadn't got his card in his pocket. I object to the introduction of politics of the modeled-faced gentleman. I submit that in the present company there are songs political, and what's much the same, that it ain't true. I say that that coachman did not run away, but that game, game is pheasants, and it won't hear nothing said to the contrary. As the modeled-faced gentleman spoke with great energy and determination, and as the opinions of the company seemed divided on the subject, it threatened to give rise to fresh altercation when Mr. Weller and Mr. Pell most opportunally arrived. All right, Sammy, said Mr. Weller. The officer will be here at four o'clock, said Mr. Pell. I suppose you won't run away meanwhile, eh? Ha-ha. Perhaps my cruel pow relent for then, replied Sam with a broad grin. Not I, said the elder, Mr. Weller. Do, said Sam. Not on no account, replied the inexorable creditor. I'll give bills for the amount at six pence a month, said Sam. I won't take them, said Mr. Weller. Ha-ha-ha, very good, very good, said Mr. Solomon Pell. Who is making out his little bill of costs? A very amusing incident indeed. Then copy that, and Mr. Pell smiled again as he called Mr. Weller's attention to the amount. Thank you, thank you, said the professional gentleman, taking up another of the greasy notes as Mr. Weller took it from the pocketbook. Three ten and one ten is five. Much obliged to you, Mr. Weller. Your son is a most deserving young man, very much so indeed, sir. It's a very pleasant trait in a young man's character, very much so, added Mr. Pell, smiling smoothly round as he buttoned up the money. What a game it is, said the elder Mr. Weller with a chuckle. A regular prodigy son. Prodigal, prodigal son, sir, suggested Mr. Pell mildly. Never mind, sir, said Mr. Weller with dignity. I know what's o'clock, sir. When I don't, I'll ask you, sir. By the time the officer arrived, Sam had made himself so extremely popular that the congregated gentleman determined to see him to prison in a body. So off they set, the plaintiff and defendant walking arm in arm, the officer in front, and eight stout coachmen bringing up the rear. At Sargent's Inn Coffee House, the whole party halted to refresh, and the legal arrangements being completed at the procession moved on again. Some little commotion was occasioned in Fleet Street by the pleasantry of the eight gentlemen in the flank who persevered in walking for a breast. It was also found necessary to leave the model's face gentleman behind to fight a ticket porter, it being arranged that his friends should call for him as they came back. Nothing but these little incidents occurred on the way. When they reached the gate of the fleet, the cavalcade, taking the time from the plaintiff, gave three tremendous cheers for the defendant, and after having shaken hands all round, left him. Sam, having been formally delivered into the warden's custody to the intense astonishment of broker and the evident emotion of even the phlegmatic netty, passed at once into the prison, walked straight to his master's room and knocked at the door. Come in, said Mr. Pickwick. Sam appeared, pulled off his hat, and smiled. Ah, Sam, my good lad, said Mr. Pickwick, evidently delighted to see his humble friend again. I had no intention of hurting your feelings yesterday, my faithful fellow, by what I said. Put down your hat, Sam, and let me explain my meaning a little more at length. Won't presently do, sir, inquired Sam. Certainly, said Mr. Pickwick, but why not now? I'd rather not now, sir, rejoined Sam. Why, inquired Mr. Pickwick, because, said Sam, hesitating, because of what, inquired Mr. Pickwick, alarmed at his follower's manner, speak out, Sam, because, rejoined Sam, because I've got a little business as I want to do. What business, inquired Mr. Pickwick, surprised at Sam's confused manner. Nothing particular, sir, replied Sam. Oh, if it's nothing particular, said Mr. Pickwick with a smile, you can speak with me first. I think I'd better see Arthur at once, said Sam, still hesitating. Mr. Pickwick looked amazed, but said nothing. The fact is, said Sam, stopping short. Well, said Mr. Pickwick, speak out, Sam. Well, the fact is, said Sam, with a desperate effort, perhaps I'd better see Arthur my bed, before I do anything else. Your bed, exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in astonishment. Yes, my bed, sir, replied Sam. I'm a prisoner. I was arrested this year, where he uttered a name for debt. You arrested for debt, exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, sinking into a chair. Yes, for debt, sir, replied Sam. And the man has put me in, I'll never let me out till you go yourself. Plus, my heart and soul ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. What do you mean? What I say, sir, rejoined Sam. If it's forty years to come, I shall be a prisoner. And I'm very glad in it. And if it had been Newgate, it would have been just the same. Now the murder's out, and dammy, there's an end in it. With these words, which he repeated with great emphasis and violence, Sam Weller dashed his hat upon the ground, with the most unusual state of excitement. And then, folding his arms, looked firmly and fixedly in his master's face. End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 of The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Deborah Lynn. The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. Chapter 44 Treats of diverse little matters which occurred in the fleet, and of Mr. Winkle's mysterious behavior, and shows how the poor chancellery prisoner obtained his release at last. Mr. Pickwick felt a great deal too much touched by the warmth of Sam's attachment to be able to exhibit any manifestation of anger or displeasure at the precipitated course he had adopted, involuntarily consigning himself to a debtor's prison for an indefinite period. The only point on which he persevered in understanding an explanation was the name of Sam's detaining creditor. But this Mr. Weller has perseveringly withheld. It ain't a no use, sir, said Sam, again and again. He's a malicious, bad-disposed, worldly-minded, spiteful, vindictive creedor with a hard heart as there ain't no softening, as the virtuous clergyman remarked of the old gentleman with the dropsy, when he said that upon the whole he thought he'd rather leave his property to his wife than build a chapel with it. But consider, Sam, Mr. Pickwick remonstrated, the sum is so small that it can very easily be paid. And having made up my mind that you shall stop with me, you should recollect how much more useful you would be if you could go outside the walls. Very much obliged to you, sir, replied Mr. Weller gravely, but I'd rather not. Rather not do what, Sam? Why, I'd rather not let myself down to ask a favour of this here unremorseful enemy. But it is no favour asking him to take his money, Sam, reasoned Mr. Pickwick. Beg your pardon, sir, rejoined Sam, but it'd be a very great favour to pay it, and he don't deserve none. That's where it is, sir. Here, Mr. Pickwick rubbing his nose with an air of some vexation, Mr. Weller thought it prudent to change the theme of the discourse. It takes my determination on principle, sir, remarked Sam, and you takes yours on the same ground, which puts me in mind that the man has killed himself on principle, which, of course, you've heard on, sir. Mr. Weller paused when he arrived at this point and cast a comical look at his master out of the corners of his eyes. There is no, of course, in the case, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, gradually breaking into a smile in spite of the uneasiness which Sam's obstinacy had given him. The fame of the gentleman in question never reached my ears. No, sir, exclaimed Mr. Weller. You astonish me, sir. He was a clerk in a government office, sir. Was he, said Mr. Pickwick. Yes, he was, sir, rejoined Mr. Weller, and a very pleasant gentleman, too. One of the precise and tidy sword has puts their feet in little India rubber fire buckets when it's wet weather and never has no other bosom friends but hair skins. He saved up his money on principle, wore a clean shirt every day on principle, never spoke to none of his relations on principle, fear they should want to borrow money of him, and was altogether, in fact, an uncommon agreeable character. He had his hair cut on principle once a fortnight and contracted for his clothes on the economic principle three suits a year and sent back the oldens. Being a wary regular gentleman, he dined every day at the same place where it was one in nine to cut off the joint, and a wary good one in nine's worth he used to cut, as the landlord often said, with the tears of trickling down his face, let alone the way he used to poke the fire in the wintertime, which was a dead loss of four pence hay-penny a day to say nothing at all of the aggravation of seeing him do it. So uncommon grand with it, too. Post, out of the next, gentlemen, he sings out every day when he comes in. See, out of the times, Thomas, let me look at the morning herald when it's out of hand. Don't forget to be speak the chronicle, and just bring the tizer, will you? And then he'd set, with his eyes fixed on the clock, and rush out, just a quarter of a minute for the time to wailay the boy as was to come in with the evening paper, which he'd read with such intense interest and perseverance, as worked the other customers up to the where he confines the desperation and insanity, especially one irascible old gentleman, as the Vader was always obliged to keep a sharp eye on it, such times, fear he should be tempted to commit some rash act with the carving-knife. Well, sir, here he'd stop, occupying the best place for three hours, and never taken nothing out of his dinner but sleep, and then he'd go away to a coffee-house a few streets off, and have a small pot of coffee and four crumpets, out of which he'd walk home to Kensington and go to bed. One night he was took very ill, sends for a doctor. Doctor comes in a green fly with the kind of Robinson Crusoe set of steps as he could let down when he got out and pull up ardor him when he got in to prevent the necessity of the coachmen's getting down, and thereby, undiseven the public by letting them see that it was only a livery coat as he'd got on, and not the trousers to match. What's the matter, says the doctor? Wary ill, says the patient. What have you been eating on, says the doctor? Roast wheel, says the patient. What's the last thing you do, Howard, says the doctor. Crumpets, says the patient. That's it, says the doctor. I'll send you a box of pills directly, and don't you never take no more of them, he says. No more of what, says the patient. Pills? No, crumpets, says the doctor. Why, says the patient, starting up in bed. I've eaten four crumpets every night for fifteen year on principle. Well, then you'd better leave them off on principle, says the doctor. Crumpets is not wholesome, sir, says the doctor, where he fears. But they're so cheap, says the patient, coming down a little, and so where he's filling at the price. They'd be dear to you at any price, dear if you was paid to eat them, says the doctor. Four crumpets a night, he says, will do your business in six months. The patient looks him full in the face and turns it over in his mind for a long time. And at last he says, are you sure of that air, sir? I'll stake my professional reputation on it, says the doctor. How many crumpets it is sitting, do you think it'd kill me off at once, says the patient. I don't know, says the doctor. Do you think half a crown's worth it, do it, says the patient? I think it might, says the doctor. Three shillens worth it'd be sure to do it, I suppose, says the patient. Certainly, says the doctor. Very good, says the patient. Good night. Next morning he gets up, has a fire lit, orders in three shillens worth of crumpets, toasts him all, eats him all, and blows his brains out. What did he do that for? inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly, for he was considerably startled by this tragical termination of the narrative. What did he do it for, sir? reiterated Sam, why in support of his great principle that crumpets was wholesome, and to show that he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody. With such like shiftings and changings of the discourse, did Mr. Weller meet his master's questioning on the night of his taking up his residence in the fleet? Finding all gentle remonstrance useless, Mr. Pickwick at length yielded a reluctant consent to his taking lodgings by the week of a bald-headed cobbler who rented a small slip room in one of the upper galleries. To this humble apartment Mr. Weller moved a mattress and bedding which he hired of Mr. Roker, and by the time he lay down upon it at night was as much at home as if he had been bred in the prison, and his whole family had vegetated therein for three generations. Do you always smoke, or do you go to bed, old cock? inquired Mr. Weller of his landlord when they had both retired for the night? Yes, I does, young bantam, replied the cobbler. Will you allow me to inquire why you make up your bed under that erdeal table? said Sam. Because I was always used to a fore-poster before I came here, and to find the legs of the table answered just as well, replied the cobbler. You're a character, sir, said Sam. I haven't got anything of the kind belonging to me, rejoined the cobbler shaking his head, and if you want to meet with a good one I'm afraid you'll find some difficulty in suiting yourself at this register office. The above short dialogue took place when Mr. Weller lay extended on his mattress at one end of the room, and the cobbler on his at the other, the apartment being illumined by the light of a rush candle, and the cobbler's pipe which was glowing below the table like a red-hot coal. The conversation, brief as it was, predisposed Mr. Weller strongly in his landlord's favor, and raising himself on his elbow he took a more lengthened survey of his appearance than he had yet had either time or inclination to make. He was a sallow man, all cobblers are, and had a strong bristly beard, all cobblers have. His face was a queer, good-tempered, crooked-featured piece of workmanship, ornamented with a couple of eyes that must have worn a very joyous expression at one time for they sparkled yet. The man was sixty by years and heaven knows how old by imprisonment so that his having any look approaching to mirth or contentment was singular enough. He was a little man, and being half doubled up as he lay in bed, looked about as long as he ought to have been without his legs. He had a great red pipe in his mouth and was smoking and staring at the rush-light in a state of enviable placidity. Have you been here long, inquired Sam, raking the silence which had lasted for some time? Twelve-year, replied the cobbler, biting the end of his pipe as he spoke. Contempt, inquired Sam, the cobbler nodded. Well, then, said Sam with some sternness, what do you persevere in being obstinate for, based in your precious life away in this here magnified pound? Why don't you give in and tell the chancellors' ship that you're very sorry for making his court contemptible, and you won't do so no more? The cobbler put his pipe in the corner of his mouth while he smiled and then brought it back to its old place again, but said nothing. Why don't you, said Sam, urging his questions strenuously? Ah, said the cobbler, you don't quite understand these matters. What do you suppose ruined me now? Why, said Sam, trimming the rush-light, I suppose the beginning was that you got into debt, eh? Never owed a pardon, said the cobbler, try again. Well, perhaps, said Sam, you bought houses which is delicate English for going mad, or took to building, which is a medical term for being incurable. The cobbler shook his head and said, try again. You didn't go to law, I hope, said Sam suspiciously. Never in my life, replied the cobbler. The fact is I was ruined by having money left me. Come, come, said Sam, that won't do. I wish some rich enemy had tried to hurt my destruction in that airway. I'd let him. Oh, I daresay you don't believe it, said the cobbler, quietly smoking his pipe. I wouldn't if I was you, but it's true for all that. How was it? Inquired Sam, half-induced to believe the fact already by the look the cobbler gave him. Just this, replied the cobbler, an old gentleman that I worked for, down in the country, and a humble relation of whose I married, she's dead, God bless her, and thank him for it, was seized with a fit and went off. Where? inquired Sam, who was growing sleepy after the numerous events of the day. How should I know where he went? said the cobbler, speaking through his nose in an intense enjoyment of his pipe. He went off dead. Oh, that indeed, said Sam. Well? Well, said the cobbler, he left five thousand pound behind him. And where he gentile in him so to do, said Sam, one of which continued the cobbler, he left to me, because I married his relation, you see. Very good, remembered Sam. And being surrounded by a great number of nieces and nevies as was always quarreling and fighting among themselves for the property, he makes me his executor and leaves the rest to me and trust to divide it among them as the will provided. What do you mean by leaving it on trust? inquired Sam, waking up a little. If it ain't ready money, where's the use on it? It's a law term, that's all, said the cobbler. I don't think that, said Sam, shaking his head. There's very little trust at that shop. How's ever go on? Well, said the cobbler, when I was going to take out a probate of the will, the nieces and nevies who was desperately disappointed at not getting all the money enters the caveat against it. What's that? inquired Sam. A legal instrument, which is as much as to say it's no go, replied the cobbler. I see, said Sam, a sort of brother-in-law of the Havis carcass. Well, but, continued the cobbler, finding that they couldn't agree among themselves and consequently couldn't get up a case against the will, they withdrew the caveat, and I paid all the legacies. I'd hardly done it when one nevy brings an action to set the will aside. The case comes on some months afterwards for a deaf old gentleman in a back room somewhere down by Paul's churchyard, and our four councils had taken a day apiece to bother him regularly. He takes a week or two to consider and read the evidence in six volumes, and then gives his judgment that how the test-dater was not quite right in his head, and I must pay all the money back again and all the costs. I appealed. The case came on before three or four very sleepy gentlemen who had heard it all before in the other court, where their lawyers without work, the only difference being that there they're called doctors and in the other place delegates, if you understand that, and they very dutifully confirmed the decision of the old gentleman below. After that, we went into Chancery where we are still and where I shall always be. My lawyers have had all my thousand pound long ago and what between the estate, as they call it, and the costs. I'm here for ten thousand and shall stop here till I die mending shoes. Some gentlemen have talked of bringing it before Parliament and I dare say would have done it. Only they hadn't time to come to me and I hadn't power to go to them, and they got tired of my long letters and dropped the business. And this is God's truth without one word of suppression or exaggeration as fifty people, both in this place and out of it, very well know. The cobbler paused to ascertain what effect his story had produced on Sam, but finding that he had dropped asleep, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, sighed, put it down, drew the bed clothes over his head and went to sleep too. Mr. Pickwick was sitting at breakfast alone next morning, Sam being easily engaged in the cobbler's room polishing his master's shoes and brushing the black gators. When there came a knock at the door which before Mr. Pickwick could cry come in, was followed by the appearance of a head of hair and a cotton velvet cap, both of which articles of dress he had no difficulty in recognizing as the personal property of Mr. Smangle. How are you? said that worthy, accompanying the inquiry with a score or two of nods. I say, do you expect anybody this morning? Three men, devilish, gentlemanly fellows, have been asking after you downstairs and knocking at every door on the hall flight, for which they've been most infernally blown up by the collegians that had the trouble of opening them. Dear me, how very foolish of them, said Mr. Pickwick, rising. Yes, I have no doubt there are some friends whom I rather expected to see yesterday. Friends of yours, exclaimed Smangle, seizing Mr. Pickwick by the hand, say no more, curse me there. Friends of mine from this minute and friends of Mivens's too. Infernal pleasant, gentlemanly dog. Mivens, isn't he? said Smangle with great feeling. I know so little of the gentlemen, said Mr. Pickwick, hesitating, that I know you do, interrupted Smangle, clasping Mr. Pickwick by the shoulder. You shall know him better. You'll be delighted with him. That man, sir, said Smangle with a solemn countenance, as comic powers that would do honour to Drury Lane Theatre. Has he indeed? said Mr. Pickwick. Ah, by Jove he has, replied Smangle. Hear him come the four cats in the wheelbarrow. Four distinct cats, sir, I pledge you my honour. Now you know that's infernal clever. Dammit, you can't help liking a man when you see these traits about him. He's only one fault, that little failing I mentioned to you, you know. Mr. Smangle shook his head in a confidential and sympathising manner at this juncture. Mr. Pickwick felt that he was expected to say something. So he said, ah, and looked restlessly at the door. Ah, echoed Mr. Smangle with a long-drawn sigh. He's delightful company that man is, sir. I don't know better company anywhere, but he has that one drawback. If the ghost of his grandfather, sir, was to rise before him this minute, he'd ask him for the loan of his acceptance on an eight-tenny stamp. Dear me, exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. Yes, added Mr. Smangle, and if he'd the power of raising him again he would, in two months and three days from this time, to renew the bill. Those are very remarkable traits, said Mr. Pickwick, but I'm afraid that while we are talking here my friends may be in a state of great perplexity at not finding me. I'll show them the way, said Smangle, making for the door. I won't disturb you while they're here, you know. By the by, as Smangle pronounced the last three words, he stopped suddenly, re-closed the door which he had opened, and walking softly back to Mr. Pickwick, stepped close up to him on tip-toe, and said in a very soft whisper, you couldn't make it convenient to lend me half a crown till the latter end of next week, could you? Mr. Pickwick could scarcely forbear smiling, but managing to preserve his gravity he drew forth the coin and placed it in Mr. Smangle's palm upon which that gentleman, with many nods and winks implying profound mystery, disappeared in quest of the three strangers with whom he presently returned. And having coughed thrice and nodded as many times as an assurance to Mr. Pickwick that he would not forget to pay, he shook hands all round in an engaging manner, and at length took himself off. My dear friends, said Mr. Pickwick, shaking hands alternately with Mr. Tubman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, who were the three visitors in question. I am delighted to see you. The triumvirate were much affected. Mr. Tubman shook his head deploringly. Mr. Snodgrass drew forth his handkerchief with undisguised emotion, and Mr. Winkle retired to the window and sniffed aloud. Morning, gentlemen, said Sam, entering at the moment with the shoes and gaiters. Avavith Melanchali, as the little boy said when his school misses died, welcomed to the college, gentlemen. This foolish fellow, said Mr. Pickwick, capping Sam on the head as he knelt down to button up his master's gaiters, this foolish fellow has got himself arrested in order to be near me. What! exclaimed the three friends. Yes, gentlemen, said Sam, I'm a stand-steady, sir, if you please. I'm a prisoner, gentlemen, confined, as the lady said. A prisoner exclaimed Mr. Winkle with unaccountable vehemence. Hello, sir, responded Sam, looking up. What's the matter, sir? I had hoped, Sam, that— Nothing, nothing, said Mr. Winkle precipitately. There was something so very abrupt and unsettled in Mr. Winkle's manner that Mr. Pickwick involuntarily looked at his two friends for an explanation. We don't know, said Mr. Tubman, answering this mute appeal aloud. He has been much excited for two days past, and his whole demeanor very unlike what it usually is. We feared there must be something the matter, but he resolutely denies it. No, no, said Mr. Winkle, coloring beneath Mr. Pickwick's gaze. There is really nothing. I assure you there is nothing, my dear sir. It will be necessary for me to leave town for a short time on private business, and I had hoped to have prevailed upon you to allow Sam to accompany me. Mr. Pickwick looked more astonished than before. I think, faltered Mr. Winkle, that Sam would have had no objection to do so, but, of course, his being a prisoner here renders it impossible. So I must go alone. As Mr. Winkle said these words, Mr. Pickwick felt, with some astonishment, that Sam's fingers were trembling at the gators, as if he were rather surprised or startled. Sam looked up at Mr. Winkle, too, when he had finished speaking, and though the glance they exchanged was instantaneous, they seemed to understand each other. Do you know anything of this, Sam? said Mr. Pickwick sharply. No, I don't, sir, replied Mr. Weller, beginning to button with extraordinary assiduity. Are you sure, Sam? said Mr. Pickwick. Why, sir, responded Mr. Weller, I'm sure so far that I've never heard anything on the subject before this moment. If I make any guess about it, added Sam, looking at Mr. Winkle, I haven't got any right to say what it is fear it should be a wrong. I have no right to make any further inquiry into the private affairs of a friend, however intimate a friend, said Mr. Pickwick, after a short silence, at present let me merely say that I do not understand this at all. There we have had quite enough of the subject. Thus expressing himself, Mr. Pickwick led the conversation to different topics, and Mr. Winkle gradually appeared more at ease, though still very far from being completely so. They had all so much to converse about that the morning very quickly passed away, and when, at three o'clock, Mr. Weller produced upon the little dining table a roast leg of mutton and an enormous meat pie with sundry dishes of vegetables and pots of porter, which stood upon the chairs of the sofa bedstead or where they could, everybody felt disposed to do justice to the meal, notwithstanding that the meat had been purchased and dressed, and the pie made and baked at the prison cookery hard-buy. To these succeeded a bottle or two of very good wine for which a messenger was dispatched by Mr. Pickwick to the horned coffee-house in Doctor's Commons. The bottle or two, indeed, might be more properly described as a bottle or six, for by the time it was drunk and tea over the bell began to ring for the strangers to withdraw. But if Mr. Winkle's behavior had been unaccountable in the morning, it became perfectly unearthly and solemn when, under the influence of his feelings and his share of the bottle or six, he prepared to take leave of his friend. He lingered behind until Mr. Tubman and Mr. Snodgrass had disappeared and then fervently clenched Mr. Pickwick's hand with an expression of face in which deep and mighty resolve was fearfully blended with the very concentrated essence of gloom. Good night, my dear sir, said Mr. Winkle between his set teeth. Bless you, my dear fellow," replied the warm-hearted Mr. Pickwick as he returned to the pressure of his young friend's hand. Now, then, cried Mr. Tubman from the gallery. Yes, yes, directly, replied Mr. Winkle. Good night. Good night, said Mr. Pickwick. There was another good night and another and half a dozen more after that and still Mr. Winkle had fast hold of his friend's hand and was looking into his face with the same strange expression. Is anything the matter, said Mr. Pickwick at last when his arm was quite sore with shaking? Nothing, said Mr. Winkle. Well, then, good night, said Mr. Pickwick, attempting to disengage his hand. My friend, my benefactor, my honored companion, murmured Mr. Winkle, catching at his wrist, to not judge me harshly, do not, when you hear that driven to extremity by hopeless obstacles I— Now, then, said Mr. Tubman, reappearing at the door, are you coming or are we to be locked in? Yes, yes, I am ready, replied Mr. Winkle, and with a violent effort he tore himself away. As Mr. Pickwick was gazing down the passage after them in silent astonishment, Sam Weller appeared at the stair-head and whispered for one moment in Mr. Winkle's ear. Oh, certainly, depend upon me, said that gentleman aloud. Thank you, sir. You won't forget, sir, said Sam. Of course not, replied Mr. Winkle. Wish you luck, sir, said Sam, touching his hat. I should very much like to hajoin you, sir, but the Governor, of course, is paramount. This is very much to your credit that you remain here, said Mr. Winkle. With these words they disappeared down the stairs. Very extraordinary, said Mr. Pickwick, going back into his room and seating himself at the table in amusing attitude. What can that young man be going to do? He had sat ruminating about the matter for some time when the voice of Roker the turnkey demanded whether he might come in. By all means, said Mr. Pickwick. I've brought you a softer pillow, sir, said Mr. Roker, instead of the temporary one you had last night. Thank you, said Mr. Pickwick. Will you take a glass of wine? Your very good, sir, replied Mr. Roker, accepting the proper glass. Yours, sir. Thank you, said Mr. Pickwick. I'm sorry to say that your landlord's very bad tonight, sir, said Roker, setting down the glass and inspecting the lining of his hat, preparatory to putting it on again. What, the chancery prisoner? exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. He won't be a chancery prisoner very long, sir, replied Roker, turning his hat round so as to get the maker's name right side upwards as he looked into it. You make my blood run cold, said Mr. Pickwick. What do you mean? He's been consumptive for a long time past, said Mr. Roker, and he's taken very bad in the breath tonight. The doctor said six months ago that nothing but a change of air could save him. Great Heaven exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. Has this man been slowly murdered by the law for six months? I don't know about that, replied Roker, weighing the hat by the brim in both hands. I suppose he'd have been took the same wherever he was. He went into the infirmary this morning. The doctor says his strength is to be kept up as much as possible, and the warden sent him wine and brothen that from his own house. It's not the warden's fault, you know, sir. Of course not, replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. I'm afraid, however, said Roker, shaking his head, that it's all up with him. I offered Nettie two six-penners to one upon it just now, but he wouldn't take it, and quite right. Thank you, sir. Good night, sir. Stay, said Mr. Pickwick earnestly. Where is this infirmary? Just over where you slept, sir, replied Roker. I'll show you if you like to come. Mr. Pickwick snatched up his hat without speaking and followed it once. The turnkey led the way in silence and gently raising the latch of the room door motioned Mr. Pickwick to enter. It was a large, bare, desolate room with a number of stump bedsteads made of iron on one of which lay stretched the shadow of a man, one pale and ghastly. His breathing was hard and thick and he moaned painfully as it came and went. At the bedside sat a short old man in a cobbler's apron, who, by the aid of a pair of horned spectacles, was reading from the Bible aloud. It was the fortunate legatee. The sick man laid his hand upon his attendant's arm and motioned him to stop. He closed the book and laid it on the bed. Open the window, said the sick man. He did so. The noise of carriages and carts, the rattle of wheels, the cries of men and boys, all the busy sounds of a mighty multitude instinct with life and occupation blended into one deep murmur floated into the room. Above the horse, loud hum arose from time to time a boisterous laugh or a scrap of some jingling song shouted forth by one of the giddy crowd would strike upon the ear for an instant and then be lost amidst the roar of voices and the tramp of footsteps. The breaking of the billows of the restless sea of life that rolled heavily on without. These are melancholy sounds to a quiet listener at any time, but how melancholy to the watcher by the bed of death. There was no air here, said the man faintly. The place pollutes it. It was fresh round about when I walked there years ago, but it grows hot and heavy in passing these walls. I cannot breathe it. We have breathed it together for a long time, said the old man. Come, come. There was a short silence during which the two spectators approached the bed. The sick man drew a hand of his old fellow prisoner and pressing it affectionately between both his own retained it in his grasp. I hope, he gasped after a while, so faintly that they bent their ears close over the bed to catch the half-formed sounds his pale lips gave vent to. I hope my merciful judge will bear in mind my heavy punishment on earth. Twenty years, my friend, twenty years in this hideous grave. My heart broke when my child died and I could not even kiss him in his little coffin. My loneliness since then and all this noise and riot has been very dreadful. May God forgive me. He has seen my solitary lingering death. He folded his hands and murmuring something more they could not hear, fell into asleep. Only asleep at first, for they saw him smile. They whispered together for a little time and the turnkey, stooping over the pillow, drew hastily back. He has got his discharge by G, said the man. He had. But he had grown so like death in life that they knew not when he died. End of Chapter 44 A few mornings after his incarceration, Mr. Samuel Weller, having arranged his master's room with all possible care and seen him comfortably seated over his books and papers, withdrew to employ himself for an hour or two to come as he best could. It was a fine morning and it occurred to Sam that a pint of pork, and a little bit of wine, and a little bit of wine, best could. It was a fine morning and it occurred to Sam that a pint of porter in the open air would lighten his next quarter of an hour or so as well as any little amusement in which he could indulge. Having arrived at this conclusion, he betook himself to the tap. Having purchased the beer and obtained, moreover, the day but one before yesterday's paper, he repaired to the skittle-ground and seated himself on a bench, proceeded to enjoy himself in an intimate and methodical manner. First of all, he took a refreshing draft of the beer and then he looked up at a window and bestowed a platonic wink on a young lady who was peeling potatoes there at. Then he opened the paper and folded it so as to get the police reports outwards. And this being a vexatious and difficult thing to do when there is any wind stirring, he took another draft of the beer when he had accomplished it. Then he read two lines of the paper and went short to look at a couple of men who were finishing a game at rackets which, being concluded, he cried out very good in an approving manner and looked round upon the spectators to ascertain whether their sentiments coincided with his own. This involved the necessity of looking up at the windows also and as the young lady was still there it was an act of common politeness to wink again and to drink to her health in dumb show in another draft of the beer, which Sam did. And having frowned hideously upon a small boy who had noted this latter proceeding with open eyes, he threw one leg over the other and holding the newspaper in both hands began to read in real earnest. He had hardly composed himself into the needful state of abstraction when he thought he heard his own name proclaimed in some distant passage. Nor was he mistaken for it quickly passed from mouth to mouth and in a few seconds the air teemed with shouts of terror. Here, roared Sam in a stentorian voice, what's the matter? Who wants him? Has an express come to say that his country house is a fire? Somebody wants you in the hall, said a man who was standing by. Just mind that air paper in the pot, old fellow, will you, said Sam? I'm a-coming. Blessed if there was a call on me to the bar they couldn't make more noise about it. Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the young gentleman who was more noticed, who unconscious of his close vicinity to the person in request was screaming Weller, with all his might, Sam hastened across the ground and ran up the steps into the hall. Here the first object that met his eyes was his beloved father sitting on a bottom stair with his hat in his hand shouting out Weller in his very loudest tone at half-minute intervals. What are you a-roaring at? The old gentleman had discharged himself of another shout, making yourself so precious hot that you look like an aggravated glassblower. What's the matter? Aha! replied the old gentleman. I began to be a-feared that you'd gone for a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy. Come, said Sam, none of them taunts again the victim of avarice and come off that air-step. What are you a-setting down there for? I don't live there. I've got such a game for you, Sammy, said the elder Mr. Weller, rising. Stop a minute, said Sam. You're all Vite behind. That's right, Sammy, rub it off, said Mr. Weller as his son dusted him. It might look personal here if a man walked about with Vite Vosh on his clothes. Eh, Sammy? As Mr. Weller exhibited in this place unequivocal symptoms of an approaching fit of chuckling, Sammy interposed to stop it. Keep quiet, do, said Sam. There never was such an old picture-card born. You bust in the snout. Sammy, said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead. I'm a-feared that, one of these days, I shall laugh myself into a apple-plex, see, my boy. Well, then, what do you do it for? said Sam. Now, then, what have you got to say? Who do you think's come here with me, Sammable? said Mr. Weller, drawing back a pace or two, pursing up his mouth and extending his eyebrows. Pell, said Sam. Mr. Weller shook his head as his red cheeks expanded with the laughter that was endeavoring to find a vent. Modeled-faced man, perhaps, asked Sam. Again, Mr. Weller shook his head. Who, then, asked Sam? Your mother-in-law, said Mr. Weller, and it was lucky he did say it, or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked from their most unnatural distension. Your mother-in-law, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, and the red-nosed man, my boy, who-ho-ho-ho. With this Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, while Sam regarded him with a broad grin, gradually over-spreading his whole countenance. They've come to have a little serious talk with you, Sammable, said Mr. Weller, wiping his eyes. Don't let out nothing about the unnatural creditor, Sammy. What? Don't they know who it is, inquired Sam? Not a bit in it, replied his father. There are they, said Sam, the man's grins, and the snugory, rejoined Mr. Weller, catch the red-nosed man, and go on any where but where the liquors is. Not he, Sammable, not he. Feed a very pleasant ride along the road from the Marcus this morning, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in an articulate manner. I drove the old pie-balled and that-air little shake-hard as belonged to your mother-in-law's first winter, into which a harm-chir was lifted for the shepherd, said Mr. Weller, with a look of deep scorn. I'm blessed if they didn't bring a portable flight of steps out into the road in front of our door for him to get up by. You don't mean that, said Sam. I do mean that, Sammy, replied his father, and I wish you could have seen how tight he held on by the sides when he did get up as if he was a fear to be un-precipitated down full six foot, and dashed into a million hadams. He tumbled in at last, however, and a vague event. And I rave a-think, I say I rave a-think, Samuel, that he found himself a little jolted then returned the corners. What! I suppose you happen to drive up again a post or two, said Sam. I'm a-feared, replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks. I'm a-feared I took fun or two on him, Sammy. He was a-flying out of the arm-chir all the way. Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was seized with a horse internal rumbling accompanied with a violent swelling of the countenance and a sudden increase in the breadth of all his features, symptoms which alarmed his son not a little. Don't be frightened, Sammy, don't be frightened, said the old gentleman when by dint of much struggling and various convulsive stamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. It's only a kind of quiet laugh as I'm a-trying to come, Sammy. Well, if that's what it is, said Sam, you'd better not try to come it again. You'll find it rather dangerous and wenching. Don't you like it, Sammy? inquired the old gentleman. Not at all, replied Sam. Well, said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks, it'd have been a very great accommodation to me if I could have done it, and it has saved a great many birds between your mother-in-law and me sometimes. But I'm a-feared you're right, Sammy. It's too much in the Apple Plexi Line. I deal too much, Sammable. This conversation brought them three into it, Sam, pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder and cast a sly leer at his respected progenitor, who was still giggling behind, at once led the way. Mother-in-law, said Sam, politely saluting the lady, very much obliged to you for this here visit. Shepard, how are you? Oh, Samuel said, Mrs. Weller, this is dreadful. Not a bit in it, mom, replied Sam, is it, Shepard? Mr. Stiggins raised his hands and turned up his eyes until the whites, or rather the yellows, were alone visible, but made no reply in words. Is this here, gentlemen, troubled with any painful complaint, said Sam, looking to his mother-in-law for explanation? The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel, replied Mrs. Weller. Oh, that's it, is it, said Sam? It was a-feared from his manner that he might have forgotten to take pepper with that air-last cow-cumber he eat. Sit down, sir, we make no extra charge for setting down as a king remark when he blowed up his ministers. Young man, said Mr. Stiggins ostentatiously, I fear you are not softened by imprisonment. Beg your pardon, sir, replied Sam. What was you graciously pleased to observe? I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for this chastening, said Mr. Stiggins in a loud voice. Sir, replied Sam, say so. I hope my nature is not a soft one, sir, wearing much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir. At this point of the conversation, a sound, indecoriously approaching to a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the elder Mr. Weller was seated, upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty consideration of all the circumstances of the case, considered it her bound in duty to become gradually hysterical. Weller, said Mrs. W., the old gentleman was seated in a corner. Weller, come forth. Very much obliged to you, my dear, replied Mr. Weller, but I'm quite comfortable there I am. Upon this Mrs. Weller burst into tears. What's gone wrong, mom, said Sam? Oh, Samuel, replied Mrs. Weller, your father makes me wretched. Well, nothing do him good. Do you hear this here, said Sam? Lady Vance Tenova, there nothing will do you good. Very much indebted to Mrs. Weller for her polite inquiries, Sammy, replied the old gentleman. I think a pipe would benefit me a good deal. Could I be accommodated, Sammy? Here, Mrs. Weller, let fall some more tears and Mr. Stiggins groaned. Hello. Here's this unfortunate gentleman took ill again, said Sam, looking round. Where do you feel it now, sir? In the same place, young man, rejoined Mr. Stiggins, in the same place. There may that be, sir, inquired Sam with great outward simplicity. In the bosom, young man, replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his umbrella on his waistcoat. At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to suppress her feelings, sobbed aloud and stated her conviction that the red-nosed man was a saint, whereupon Mr. Weller's senior ventured to suggest, in an undertone, that he must be the representative of the United Parishes of St. Simon without and St. Walker within. I'm a feared mum, said Sam, that this here gentleman, with the twist in his countenance, feels rather thirsty with the melancholy spectacle for him. Is it the case, mum? The worthy lady looked at Mr. Stiggins for a reply. That gentleman, with many rollings of the eye, clenched his throat with his right hand and mimicked the act of swallowing to intimate that he was a thirst. I am afraid, Samuel, that his feelings have made him so indeed, said Mrs. Weller mournfully. What's your usual tap, sir? replied Sam. Oh, my dear young friend, replied Mr. Stiggins, all taps his vanities. Too true, too true indeed, said Mrs. Weller, murmuring a groan and shaking her head assentingly. Well, said Sam, I just say they may be, sir. But which is your particular vanity? Do you like the flavor on best, sir? Oh, my dear young friend, replied Mr. Stiggins, I despise them all. If, said Mr. Stiggins, if there is any one of them less odious than another, it is the liquor called rum. Warm, my dear young friend, with three lumps of sugar to the tumbler. Very sorry to say, sir, said Sam, that they don't allow that particular vanity to be sold in this here establishment. But, in the presence of heart of these inveterate men, ejaculated Mr. Stiggins, o' the accursed cruelty of these inhuman persecutors. With these words, Mr. Stiggins again cast up his eyes and wrapped his breast with his umbrella, and it is but justice to the reverend gentleman to say that his indignation appeared very real and unfaigned indeed. After Mrs. Weller and the red-nosed gentleman had commented a variety of pious and holy execrations against its authors, the latter recommended a bottle of port wine warmed with a little water, spice, and sugar as being grateful to the stomach and savoring less of vanity than many other compounds. It was accordingly ordered to be prepared, and pending its preparation the red-nosed man and Mrs. Weller looked at the elder W. and groaned. Well, Sammy, said the gentleman, I hope you'll find your spirits rose by this here lively visit where a cheerful and improved conversation ain't it, Sammy? You're a reprobate, replied Sam, and I desire you won't address no more of them ungraceful remarks to me. So far from being edified by this very proper reply the elder Mr. Weller at once relapsed into a broad grin in this inexorable conduct causing the lady and Mr. Stiggins to close their eyes and rock themselves to and fro on their chairs he furthermore indulged in several acts of pantomime indicative of a desire to pummel and ring the nose of the aforesaid Stiggins, the performance of which appeared to afford him great mental relief. The old gentleman very narrowly escaped detection in one instance for Mr. Stiggins happening to give a start on the arrival of the negus brought his head in smart contact with the clenched fist with which Mr. Weller had been describing imaginary fireworks in the air within two inches of his ear for some minutes. What are you are reaching out your hand for the tumbler in that air? Savage way for, said Sam, with great promptitude. Don't you see you've hit the gentleman? I didn't go to do it, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, in some degree abashed by the very unexpected occurrence of the incident. Try an entered application, sir, said Sam, as the red-nosed gentleman rubbed his head with a rueful visage. What do you think of that for a go of vanity warm, sir? Mr. Stiggins made no verbal answer, but his manner was expressive. He tasted the contents of the glass which Sam had placed in his hand, put his umbrella on the floor, and tasted it again, passing his hand placidly across his stomach twice or thrice. He then drank the whole at a breath and smacking his lips held out the tumbler for more. Nor was Mrs. Weller behind hand as she went back to her room. She then took a small drop, then a large drop, then a great many drops, and her feelings being of the nature of those substances which are powerfully affected by the application of strong waters, she dropped a tear with every drop of negus and so got on melting the feelings down until at length she had arrived at a very pathetic and decent pitch of misery. The elder Mr. Weller observed these signs and tokens with many manifestations of disgust, and when, after a second jug of the same, Mr. Stiggins began to sigh in a jismal manner, he plainly evinced his disapprobation of the whole proceedings by sundry incoherent ramblings of speech among which frequent angry repetitions of the word gammon were alone distinguishable to the ear. I'll tell you what it is, Samofo, my boy, whispered the old gentleman son's ear after a long and steadfast contemplation of his lady and Mr. Stiggins. I think there must be something wrong in your mother-in-law's inside as well as in that of the red-nosed man. What do you mean, said Sam? I mean this here, Sammy, replied the old gentleman, that what they drink don't seem no nourishment to them. It all turns to warm water and comes a-pouring out of their eyes. Penned upon it, Sammy, delivered the scientific opinion with many confirmatory frowns and nods, which Mrs. Weller remarking in concluding that they bore some disparaging reference either to herself or to Mr. Stiggins or to both, was on the point of becoming infinitely worse when Mr. Stiggins, getting on his legs as well as he could, proceeded to deliver an edifying discourse for the benefit of the company, but more especially of Mr. Samuel, whom he adjured in moving terms with his guard in that sink of iniquity into which he was cast. To abstain from all hypocrisy and pride of heart, and to take in all things exact pattern and copy by him, Stiggins, in which case he might calculate on arriving sooner or later at the comfortable conclusion that, like him, he was the most estimable and blameless character and that all his acquaintances and friends were hopelessly abandoned in profligate wretches. He would not but afford him the liveliest satisfaction. He furthermore conjured him to avoid, above all things, the vice of intoxication, which he likened unto the filthy habits of swine and to those poisonous and baleful drugs which, being chewed in the mouth, are said to filter away the memory. At this point of his discourse the reverend and red-nosed gentleman became singularly incoherent and staggering to and fro in the excitement of his eloquence to catch at the back of a chair to preserve his perpendicular. Mr. Stiggins did not desire his hearers to be upon their guard against those false prophets and wretched mockers of religion who, without sense to expound its first doctrines or harsh to feel its first principles, are more dangerous members of society than the common criminal, imposing, as they necessarily do, upon the weakest and worst informed, casting scorn and contempt on what should be held most sacred and bringing into partial large bodies of virtuous and well-conducted persons of many excellent sects and persuasions. But as he leaned over the back of the chair for a considerable time and closing one eye, winked a good deal with the other, it is presumed that he thought all this but kept it to himself. During the delivery of the oration Mrs. Weller sobbed and wept at the end of the paragraphs to dig it on a chair and, resting his arms on the top rail, regarded the speaker with great suavity and blandness of demeanor, occasionally bestowing a look of recognition on the old gentleman who was delighted at the beginning and went to sleep about half-way. Bravo, very pretty! said Sam, when the red-nosed man having finished pulled his worn gloves on, thereby thrusting his fingers through the broken tops till the knuckles were disclosed pretty. I hope it may do you good, Samuel, said Mrs. Weller solemnly. I think it will, Mom, replied Sam. I wish I could hope that it would do your father good, said Mrs. Weller. Thank you, my dear, said Mr. Weller, Sr. How do you find yourself harder at my love? Scoffer, exclaimed Mrs. Weller, benighted man, said the Reverend Mr. Stiggins. If I don't get no better light than that air moonshineyorn as I said the elder Mr. Weller, it's very likely as I shall continue to be a night-coach till I'm took off the road altogether. Now, Mrs. Wee, if the pie-ball stands at livery much longer, he'll stand at nothing as we go back, and perhaps that air-harmed cheer will be tipped over into some hedge or another with the shepherd in it. At this supposition, the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, in evident consternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella and proposed an immediate departure until Mr. Weller is sent in. Sam walked with them to the lodge gate and took a dutiful leave. I do, Samable, said the old gentleman. What to do, inquired Sammy. Well, goodbye then, said the old gentleman. Well, that's what your amen had, is it, said Sam? Goodbye. Sammy whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round. My duty to your governor, and tell him if he thinks better with me. Me and a cabinet-maker has devised a plan for getting him out. A pianor, Samable, a pianor, said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand and falling back a step or two. What do you mean, said Sam? A pianor forty, Samable, rejoined Mr. Weller in a still more mysterious manner, as he can have on hire, on his won't play, Sammy. And what'd be the good of that, said Sam? Let him send to my friend the cabinet-maker to fetch it back, Sammy, replied Mr. Weller. Are you of eight now? No, rejoined Sam. There ain't no works in it, whispered his father. It'll hold him easy with his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs which is holler. Have a passage ready taken for America. The American government will never give him up than once they find as he's got money to spend, Sammy. Let the governor stop there till Mrs. Bardell's dead, or Mr. Dodson and Fogg's hung, which, last he went, I think, is the most likely to happen first, Sammy. And then let him come back and write a book about the Americans, as they'll pay all his expenses and more if he blows them up enough. Mr. Weller delivered this hurried abstract of his plot with great vehemence of whisper, and then, as a fearful of weakening the effect of the tremendous communication by any further dialogue, he gave the coachman salute and vanished. Sam had scarcely recovered his usual composure of countenance, which had been greatly disturbed by the secret communication of his respected relative, when Mr. Pickwick accosted him. Sam, said that gentleman, sir, replied Mr. Weller, I am going for a walk round the prison, and I wish you to attend me. I see a prisoner we know coming this way, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. Which, sir, inquired Mr. Weller, the gentleman with the head of hair or the interest in captive in the stockings. Neither rejoined Mr. Pickwick. He is an older friend of yours, Sam. Am I, sir? exclaimed Mr. Weller. You recollect the gentleman very well, I dare say, Sam, replied Mr. Pickwick, or else you are more unmindful of your old acquaintances than I think you are. Hush, not a word, Sam, not a syllable. Here he is. As Mr. Pickwick spoke, Jingle walked up. He looked less miserable than before, being clad in a half-worn suit of clothes, which, with Mr. Pickwick's assistance, had been released from the pawnbrokers. He wore clean linen, too, and had had his hair cut. He was very pale and thin, however, and as he crept slowly up, leaning on a stick, it was easy to see that he had suffered severely from illness and want, and was still very weak. He took off his hat, as Mr. Pickwick saluted him, and seemed much humbled and abashed at the sight of Sam Weller. Following close at his heels came Mr. Job Trotter, in the catalog of whose vices want of faith and attachment to his companion, could at all events find no place. He was still ragged and squalid, but his face was not quite so hollow as on his first meeting with Mr. Pickwick a few days before. As he took off his hat to our benevolent old friend, he murmured some broken expressions of gratitude and muttered something about having been saved from starving. "'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, impatiently interrupting him. "'You can follow with Sam. I want to speak to you, Mr. Jingle. Can you walk without his arm?' "'Certainly, sir, already. Not too fast, legs shaky, head queer, round and round, earthquakey sort of feeling very. "'Here, give me your arm,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'No,' no replied Jingle, won't indeed, rather not. "'Yes,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Lean upon me, I desire, sir.' Seeing that he was confused and agitated and uncertain what to do, Mr. Pickwick cut the matter short by drawing the invalided stroller's arm through his and leading him away without saying another word about it. During the whole of this time the countenance of Mr. Samuel Weller had exhibited an expression of the most overwhelming and absorbing astonishment that the imagination can portray. After looking from Job to Jingle and from Jingle to Job in profound silence, he softly ejaculated the words "'Well, I am damned.' Which he repeated at least a score of times, after which exertion he appeared wholly bereft of speech, and again cast his eyes first upon the one and then upon the other and mute perplexity and bewilderment. "'Now, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking back. "'I'm a common, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. Mechanically following his master. And still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter who walked at his side in silence. Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time. Sam, with his glued to Job's countenance, ran up against the people who were walking about and fell over little children and stumbled against steps and railings without appearing at all sensible of it, until Job, looking stealthily up, said, "'What do you do, Mr. Weller?' "'It is him,' exclaimed Sam. And having established Job's identity beyond all doubt he smote his leg and vented his feelings in a long, shrill whistle. "'Things has altered with me, sir,' said Job. "'I should think they had,' exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying his companion's rags with undisguised wonder. "'This is rather a change for the worse, Mr. Trotter,' as the gentleman said, when he got two doubtful shillens on earth of pocket-pieces for a good half-crown. "'It is indeed,' replied Job, shaking his head. "'There is no deception now, Mr. Weller.' "'Tears,' said Job, with a look of momentary slowness. "'Tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor the best ones.' "'No, they ain't,' replied Sam, expressively. "'They may be put on, Mr. Weller,' said Job. "'I know they may,' said Sam. "'Some people indeed has them always ready laid on and can pull out the plug whenever they like.' "'Yes,' replied Job. "'But these sort of things are not so easily counter-fitted, Mr. Weller, and it is a more painful process to get them up.' As he spoke, he pointed to his salo-sunkin' cheeks and, drawing up his coat sleeve, disclosed an arm which looked as if the bone could be broken out of touch. So sharp and brittle did it appear beneath its thin covering of flesh. "'What have you been a-do unto yourself?' said Sam, recoiling. "'Nothing,' replied Job. "'Nothing,' echoed Sam. "'I have been doing nothing for many weeks past,' said Job, and eating and drinking almost as little. Sam took one comprehensive glance at Mr. Trotter's thin face and wretched apparel, and then, seizing him by the arm, commenced dragging him away with great violence. "'Where are you going, Mr. Weller?' said Job, mainly struggling in the powerful grasp of his old enemy. "'Come on,' said Sam. "'Come on.' He dained no further explanation till they reached the tap and then called for a pot of porter which was speedily produced. "'Now,' said Sam, "'drink that up, every drop in it, and then turn the pot upside down to let me see as you've took the medicine.' "'But, my dear Mr. Weller,' remonstrated Job. "'Down with it,' said Sam, peremptorily. Thus admonished Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips, and by gentle and almost imperceptible degrees tilted it into the air. He paused once and only once to draw a long breath, but without raising his face from the vessel, which, in a few moments thereafter, he held out at arm's length, bottom upward. Nothing fell upon the ground, but a few particles of froth which slowly detached themselves from the rim and trickled lazily down. "'Well done,' said Sam. "'How do you find yourself harder at it?' "'Better, sir? I think I am better,' responded Job. "'Of course you are,' said Sam, argumentatively. "'It's like putting gas in a balloon. "'I can see with the naked eye that you get stouter under the operation. "'What do you say to another of the same dimensions?' "'I would rather not. I am much obliged to you, sir,' replied Job. "'Much rather not.' "'Well then, what do you say to some whittles?' inquired Sam. "'Thanks to your worthy governor, sir,' said Mr. Trotter. "'We have half a leg of mutton baked at a quarter before three "'with the potatoes under it to save boiling.' "'What? Has he been a perwiden for you?' asked Sam emphatically. "'He has, sir,' replied Job. "'More than that, Mr. Weller. "'My master, being very ill, he got us a room. "'We were in a kennel before and paid for it, sir, "'and come to look at us at night when nobody should know.' "'Mr. Weller,' said Job, with real tears in his eyes for once, "'I could serve that gentleman till I fell down dead at his feet.' "'I say,' said Sam. "'I'll trouble you, my friend. None of that.' Job Trotter looked amazed. "'None of that,' I say, young fellow,' repeated Sam, firmly. "'No man serves him but me. "'And now we're upon it. I'll let you into another secret "'besides that,' said Sam, as he paid for the beer. "'I never hear it, mind you, or read of in storybooks, "'nor see in pictures any angel in tights and gators. "'Not even in spectacles, as I remember, "'though that may have been done for anything I know, "'to the contrary. "'But mark my words, Job Trotter. "'He's a regular, thoroughbred angel for all that, "'and let me see the man as one just to tell me he knows a better one.' "'With this defiance Mr. Weller buttoned up his change in a side pocket, "'and with many confirmatory nods and gestures, by the way, "'proceeded in search of the subject of discourse. "'They found Mr. Pickwick in company with Jingle, "'talking very earnestly, "'and not bestowing a look on the groups who were congregated "'on the racket-ground. "'There were very motley groups, too, and worth the looking at, "'only in idle curiosity.' "'Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Sam and his companion drew nigh, "'you will see how your health becomes and think about it meanwhile. "'Make the statement out for me when you feel yourself equal to the task, "'and I will discuss the subject with you when I have considered it. "'Now go to your room. "'You are tired and not strong enough to be out long.' "'Mr. Alfred Jingle, without one spark of his old animation, "'with nothing even of the dismal gaiety which he had assumed when Mr. Pickwick "'first stumbled on him in his misery, bowed low without speaking, "'and motioning to Job not to follow him just yet, crept slowly away. "'Curious seen this, is it not, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick, "'looking good-humoredly round. "'Wherey much so, sir?' replied Sam. "'Wonders will never cease,' added Sam, speaking to himself. "'I'm very much mistaken if that ere Jingle wanted doing something in the water cartway. "'The area formed by the wall in that part of the fleet in which Mr. Pickwick stood "'was just wide enough to make a good racket court, "'one side being formed, of course, by the wall itself, "'and the other by that portion of the prison which looked, "'or rather would have looked but for the wall, toward St. Paul's Cathedral. "'Sauntering, or sitting about in every possible attitude of listless idleness, "'were a great number of debtors, the major part of whom were waiting in prison "'until their day of going up before the insolvent court should arrive, "'while others had been remanded for various terms "'which they were idling away as they best could. "'Some were shabby, some were smart, many dirty, a few clean, "'but there they all lounged, and loitered, and slunk about "'with as little spirit or purpose as the beasts in a menagerie. "'Lolling from the windows, which commanded a view of this promenade, "'were a number of persons, some in noisy conversation "'with their acquaintance below, others playing at ball "'with some adventurous throwers outside, others looking on at the racket players, "'or watching the boys as they cried the game. "'Dirty slipshod women passed and repast on their way to the cooking-house "'in one corner of the yard. "'Children screamed and fought and played together in another. "'The tumbling of the skittles and the shouts of the players "'mingled perpetually with these and a hundred other sounds. "'And all was noise and tumult, save in a little miserable shed "'a few yards off, where lay, all quiet and ghastly, "'the body of the chancery prisoner who had died the night before, "'awaiting the mockery of an inquest. "'The body, it is the lawyer's term for the restless, "'whirling mass of cares and anxieties, "'affections, hopes, and griefs that make up the living man. "'The law had his body, and there it lay, "'clothed in grave clothes, an awful witness to its tender mercy.' "'Would you like to see a whistling shop, sir?' inquired Job Trotter. "'What do you mean?' was Mr. Pickwick's counter-inquiry. "'A whistling shop, sir,' interposed Mr. Weller. "'What is that, Sam, a bird fancier?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. "'Bless your heart, no, sir,' replied Job. "'A whistling shop, sir, is where they sell spirits.' "'Mr. Job Trotter briefly explained here "'that all persons being prohibited under heavy penalties "'from conveying spirits into debtor's prisons "'and such commodities being highly prized "'by the ladies and gentlemen confined therein, "'it had occurred to some speculative turnkey "'to connive for certain lucrative considerations "'at two or three prisoners retailing the favorite article "'of gin for their own profit and advantage.' "'This plan, you see, sir, has been gradually introduced "'into all the prisons for debt,' said Mr. Trotter. "'And it has this wary great advantage,' said Sam, "'that the turnkey's takes wary good care to seize hold "'to everybody but them as pays them. "'That attempts the willowny, and when it gets in the papers "'they're applauded for their vigilance, "'so it cuts two ways, frightens other people from the trade "'and elevates their own characters.' "'Exactly so, Mr. Weller,' observed Job. "'Well, but are these rooms never searched to ascertain "'whether any spirits are concealed in them?' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Certainly they are, sir,' replied Sam. "'But the turnkey's knows beforehand "'and gives the word to the whistlers, "'and you may whistle for it when you go to look.' "'By this time Job had tapped at a door "'which was opened by a gentleman with an uncombed head "'who bolted it after them when they had walked in and grinned. "'Upon which Job grinned, and Sam also, "'whereupon Mr. Pickwick, thinking it might be expected of him, "'kept on smiling to the end of the interview. "'The gentleman with the uncombed head appeared quite satisfied "'with this mute announcement of their business, "'and producing a flat stone bottle "'which might hold about a couple of quarts "'from beneath his bedstead filled out three glasses of gin, "'which Job Trotter and Sam disposed of "'in a most workman-like manner.' "'Anymore,' said the whistling gentleman. "'No more,' replied Job Trotter. "'Mr. Pickwick paid. The door was unbolted and out they came. "'The uncombed gentleman bestowing a friendly nod "'upon Mr. Roker, who happened to be passing at the moment. "'From this spot Mr. Pickwick wandered along "'all the galleries, up and down all the staircases, "'and once again round the whole area of the yard. "'The great body of the prison population appeared "'to be mivins and smangle, and the parson and the butcher "'and the leg over and over and over again. "'There were the same squalor, the same turmoil and noise, "'the same general characteristics in every corner, "'and the best and the worst alike. "'The whole place seemed restless and troubled, "'and the people were crowding and flitting to and fro "'like the shadows in an uneasy dream. "'I have seen enough,' said Mr. Pickwick "'as he threw himself into a chair in his little apartment. "'My head aches with these scenes and my heart too. "'Henceforth I will be a prisoner in my own room. "'And Mr. Pickwick steadfastly adhered to this determination. "'For three long months he remained shut up all day, "'only stealing out at night to breathe the air "'when the greater part of his fellow prisoners "'were in bed or carousing in their rooms. "'His health was beginning to suffer from the closeness "'of the confinement, but neither the often repeated "'in treaties of Perker and his friends, "'nor the still more frequently repeated warnings "'and admonitions of Mr. Samuel Weller "'could induce him to alter one jot of his inflexible resolution.'" End of chapter 45