 22. Mr. Pickwick Journeys to Ipswich and Meets with a Romantic Adventure with a Middle-Aged Lady in Yellow Curl Papers. 23. That are your Governor's luggage, Sammy, inquired Mr. Weller of his affectionate son, as he entered the yard of the bull-in-white chapel with a traveling bag and a small portmanteau. 24. You might have made a worse or guess than that, old fellow, replied Mr. Weller, the younger, setting down his burden in the yard and sitting himself upon it afterward. The Governor himself will be down here presently. 25. He's a cabinet, I suppose, said the father. 26. Yes, he's a half-and-two-mile, a danger at eight pence, responded the son, housemother-in-law, this morning. 27. Queer, Sammy, queer, replied at the elder Mr. Weller with impressive gravity. 28. She's been a-getting rather in the methodistical order lately, Sammy, and she is uncommon pious to be sure. 29. She's too good a creature for me, Sammy. 30. I feel I don't deserve her. 31. Ah, said Mr. Samuel, that's wary self-denying of you. 32. Wary, replied his parent with a sigh. 33. She's got a hold of some, in wensioned for grown people, being born again. 34. Sammy, the new birth, I think they call it. 35. I should very much like to see that system in action, Sammy. 36. I should very much like to see your mother-in-law born again. 37. Wouldn't I put her out to nurse? 37. What do you think them women does to other day, continued Mr. Weller, after a short pause, during which he had significantly struck the side of his nose, with his four fingers some half-dozen times? 37. What do you think they does to other day, Sammy? 38. Don't know, replied Sam, what? 39. Goes and gets up a grand tea-drinking, for a fellow they called their shepherd, said Mr. Weller. 40. I was a standin', starein', and at a picture shop down at our place when I sees a little bill about it. 41. Tickets, half a crown, all applications to be made to committee. 42. Secretary, Mrs. Weller. 43. When I got home, there was the committee, a sitin' in our back parlor. 44. Fourteen women. 45. I wish ya coulda heard them, Sammy. 46. There they was, a passin' resolutions, and whatin' supplies, and all sorts of games. 47. Well, what with your mother-in-law worryin' me to go, and what with my lookin' forward to seein' some queer starts, as if I did, 48. I put my name down for a ticket. 49. At six o'clock on Friday evening, I dresses myself out very smart, 49. And off I goes with old woman. 50. And up we walks into a first floor, where there was T things for thirty. 51. And a whole lotta women as begins whispering to one another, 52. And lookin' at me as if they'd never seen a rather stopped gentleman 53. Eight and fifty of four. 54. By and by, there comes a great bustle downstairs, 54. And a lanky chap with a red nose and a white neckcloth rushes up 54. And sings up, here's the shepherd a comin' to whisk his faithful flock. 55. And in comes a fat chap in black 56. And a great white face a smile and a veil at clockwork. 57. Such a goings on, Sammy. 58. The kiss apiece says the shepherd. 59. And then he kisses all the women all around, and then he done. 60. The man with the red nose began. 51. I was just to thinkin' whether I hadn't better begin to, 51. Especially as there was a very nice lady sittin' next to me. 52. Then in comes the tea. 53. And your mother-in-law, as has been makin' the kettlebile downstairs, 54. And it went tooth and nail. 55. Such a precious laudium, Sammy. 56. While the tea was a-brewin' such a grace eatin' and drinkin', 57. I wish I could have seen the shepherd walkin' into them ham and muffins. 57. I never seen such a chap to eat and drink, never. 57. The red nose man warn't by no means a sort of person 57. you'd like to grub by a contract. 57. But he was nothin' to the shepherd. 57. Well, atter'd the tea was over. 57. They sang another hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach. 57. And very well he did it, considering how heavy them muffins must have lied on his chest. 57. Presently he pulls up all of a sudden, and hollers at, 57. Where's the sinner? Where's the miserable sinner? 57. Upon which all the women looked at me, 57. and began to groan as if there was a dine. 57. I thought it was rather singular, but howsoever I says nothin'. 57. Presently he pulls up again, looks very hard at me, 57. says, Where's the sinner? Where is the miserable sinner? 57. And all the women groan'd again, ten times louder than before. 57. I got rather savage at this, so I takes a step or two forward, 57. and says, My friend says I, did you apply that air observation to me? 57. Instead of beggin' my pardon, as any gentleman would have done, 57. he got more abusive than ever. 57. Called me a weasel, Sammy, a weasel, a rock. 57. All sorts of names, so my blood bein' regularly up. 57. I first gave him two or three for himself, and then two or three more 57. to hand over to the man with a red nose, and walked off. 57. I wish you could have heard how the women screamed, Sammy, 57. then they picked up the old shepherd from underneath the table. 57. Hello, there's the governor, the size of life. 57. As Mr. Weller spoke, Mr. Pickwick dismounted from a cab 57. and entered the yard. 57. Good morning, sir, said Mr. Weller Sr. 57. Beautiful indeed, replied Mr. Pickwick. 57. Beautiful indeed, echoes a red-haired man with an inquisitive nose 57. and green spectacles who had unpacked himself from a cab 57. at the same moment as Mr. Pickwick. 57. Going to Ipswich, sir? 57. I am, replied Mr. Pickwick. 57. Extraordinary coincidence, so am I. 57. Mr. Pickwick bowed. 57. Going outside, said the red-haired man, 57. We are positively going together, 57. and the red-haired man, who was an important-looking, sharp-nosed, 57. mysterious-spoken personage, 57. with a birdlike habit of giving his head a jerk every time he said anything, 57. smiled as if he had made one of the strangest discoveries 57. that ever fell into the lot of human wisdom. 57. I am happy in the prospect of your company, 57. sir, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. Ah, said the newcomer, 57. It's a pleasure to meet you. 57. I am happy in the prospect of your company, 57. sir, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. It's a good thing for both of us, isn't it? 57. Company, you see? Company is... 57. It's a very different thing from solitude, ain't it? 57. There's no denying that, air, said Mr. Weller. 57. Join in the conversation with an affable smile. 57. That's what I call a self-evident proposition, 57. as the dog's meat man said when the housemate told him he warned a gentleman. 57. Ah, said the red-haired man, 57. surveying Mr. Weller from head to foot with a supercilious look. 57. Friend of yours, sir? 57. Not exactly a friend, replied Mr. Pickwick in a low tone. 57. The fact is, he is my servant, 57. But I allow him to take a good many liberties for between ourselves. 57. I flatter myself, he is an original, and I am rather proud of him. 57. Ah, said the red-haired man, 57. That you see is a matter of taste. 57. I am not fond of anything original. 57. I don't like it. 57. Don't see the necessity for it. 57. What's your name, sir? 57. Here is my card, sir, replied Mr. Pickwick, 57. much amused by the abruptness of the question in the singular manner of the stranger. 57. Ah, said the red-haired man, 57. placing the card in his pocketbook. 57. Pickwick, very good. 57. I like to know a man's name. 57. It saves so much trouble. 57. That's my card, sir. 57. Magnus. 57. You will perceive, sir. 57. Magnus is my name. 57. It's rather a good name, I think, sir. 57. A very good name indeed said Mr. Pickwick, 57. wholly unable to repress a smile. 57. Yes, I think it is, resumed Mr. Magnus. 57. There's a good name before it, too. 57. You will observe. 57. Permit me, sir. 57. If you hold the card a little slanting this way, 57. you catch the light upon the upstroke. 57. There. 57. Peter Magnus. 57. Sounds well, I think, sir. 57. Very, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. Curious circumstances about those initials, sir, said Mr. Magnus. 57. You'll observe P. M. Post-Meridian. 57. In hasty notes, 57. to intimate acquaintance, 57. I sometimes sign myself afternoon. 57. It amuses my friends very much, Mr. Pickwick. 57. It is calculated to afford them the highest gratification 57. I couldn't conceive, said Mr. Pickwick, 57. rather envying the ease with which Mr. Magnus's friends 57. were entertained. 57. Now, gentlemen, said the hosteler, 57. Coach is ready, if you please. 57. Is all my luggage in, inquired Mr. Magnus. 57. All right, sir. 57. Is the red bag in. 57. All right, sir. 57. And the striped bag. 57. Four boots, sir. 57. And the brown paper parcel. 57. Under the seat, sir. 57. And the leather hat box. 57. They're all in, sir. 57. Will you get up, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. Excuse me, replied Magnus, standing on the wheel. 57. Excuse me, Mr. Pickwick, I cannot consent to get up. 57. In this state of uncertainty, 57. I am quite satisfied from the man's manner 57. that the leather hat box is not in. 57. The solemn protestations 57. at the hosteler, being wholly unavailing, 57. the leather hat box was obliged 57. to be raped up from the lowest steps 57. of the boot to satisfy him 57. that it had been safely packed. 57. And after he had been assured on this head, 57. he felt a solemn presentiment, 57. first that the red bag was misled, 57. and next that the striped bag had been stolen 57. and then that the brown paper parcel 57. had come untied. 57. At length when he had received 57. ocular demonstration of the groundless nature 57. of these suspicions, 57. he consented to climb up to the roof of the coach 57. observing that now he had taken 57. everything off his mind, 57. he felt quite comfortable and happy. 57. You're given to nervousness, 57. anxious, sir, inquired Mr. Weller Sr. 57. I, in the stranger's scans, 57. as he mounted to his place. 57. Yes, I always am, rather, 57. about these little matters, said the stranger. 57. But I'm all right now, quite all right. 57. Well, that's a blessing, said Mr. Weller. 57. Sammy, help your master up to the box. 57. Tother legs, sir, that's it. 57. Give us your hands, sir. 57. Up with you. 57. You was a lighter weight when you was a boy, sir. 57. True enough that, Mr. Weller, 57. said the breathless Mr. Pickwick Good-Humidly, 57. as he took his seat on the box beside him. 57. Jump up in front, Sammy, said Mr. Weller. 57. Now, villain, run him out. 57. Take care of the archway, gentlemen. 57. Heads as the pieman says, 57. That'll do, villain. 57. Let him alone, and away went the coach to Whitechapel, 57. to the admiration of the whole population 57. of that pretty densely populated quarter. 57. Not a worry-nice neighborhood, this, sir, 57. said Sam, with a touch of a hat, 57. which always preceded his entering 57. into a conversation with his master. 57. It is not indeed, Sam, replied Mr. Pickwick, 57. surveying the crowded and filthy street 57. through which they were passing. 57. It's a worry-remarkable circumstance, 57. said Sam, that poverty and oysters 57. always seem to go together. 57. I don't understand you, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. What I mean, sir, said Sam, 57. is that the poor are places 57. that greater call there seems to be for oysters. 57. Look here, sir. Here's an oyster stall 57. to every half-dozen houses. 57. The streets lined with them. 57. Blessed if I don't think, 57. that when a man's very poor, 57. he rushes out of his lodgings 57. and eats oysters in regular desperation. 57. To be sure he does, said Mr. Weller, 57. and it's just the same 57. pickled salmon. 57. Those are two very remarkable facts 57. which never occurred to me before, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. The very first place we stop at 57. I'll make a note of them. 57. By this time they had reached the turnpike 57. at Mile End, a profound silence prevailed 57. until they had got two or three miles farther on. 57. When Mr. Weller, Sr., 57. turning suddenly to Mr. Pickwick, said, 57. Wary queer life 57. is a pike keeper, Sr. 57. A what, said Mr. Pickwick? 57. A pike keeper. 57. What do you mean by a pike keeper, 57. inquired Mr. Peter Magnus? 57. The olden means a turnpike keeper, gentlemen, 57. observed Mr. Samuel Weller 57. in exclamation. 57. Oh, said Mr. Pickwick, 57. I see, yes, a very curious life, 57. very uncomfortable. 57. They're all on a men as met 57. with some disappointment in life, 57. said Mr. Weller Sr. 57. Aye, aye, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. Yes, consequent to which, 57. they retires from the world 57. and shuts themselves up in pikes. 57. Partly with the view of being solitary 57. and partly to revenge themselves 57. on mankind by taking tolls. 57. Dear me, said Mr. Pickwick, 57. I never knew that before. 57. Fact, Sr., said Mr. Weller, 57. If they were gentlemen, 57. you'd call them misanthropes. 57. But as it is, 57. they only takes to pike-keeping. 57. With such conversation possessing 57. the inestable charm of blending 57. amusement with instruction, 57. Did Mr. Weller beguile the tediousness 57. of the journey during the greater 57. part of the day? Topics of 57. conversation were never wanting for 57. even when any pause occurred 57. in Mr. Weller's loquacity, 57. it was abundantly supplied by the 57. desire evinced by Mr. Magnus 57. to make himself acquainted with 57. the whole of the personal history 57. of his fellow travelers. 57. widely expressed anxiety at every 57. stage, respecting the safety 57. and well-being of the two bags, 57. the leather hat box, 57. and the brown paper parcel. 57. In the main street of Ipswich, 57. on the left-hand side of the way, 57. a short distance after you have passed 57. through the open space, 57. fronting the town hall, 57. stands an inn, 57. known far and wide by the 57. appellation of the great white horse, 57. rendered the moor conspicuous 57. by the stone statue of some 57. spacious animal with flowing 57. mane and tail, distantly resembling 57. an insane cart-horse, 57. which is elevated above the principal door. 57. the great white horse 57. is famous in the neighborhood 57. in the same degree as a prize ox 57. or a county paper-chronical 57. turnip, or unwieldy 57. pig for its enormous size. 57. never with such labyrinths 57. of uncarpeted passages 57. such clusters of moldy 57. ill-lighted rooms, 57. such huge numbers of small dens 57. for eating or sleeping in 57. beneath any one roof, 57. as are collected together between 57. the four walls of the great white 57. horse at Ipswich. 57. it was at the door 57. of this overgrown tavern 57. that the London coach stopped 57. at the same hour every evening 57. and it was from the same London coach 57. that Mr. Pickwick, Sam Weller, 57. and Mr. Peter Magnus dismounted 57. on the particular evening 57. do you stop here, Sir? 57. inquired Mr. Peter Magnus 57. when the striped bag and the red bag 57. and the brown paper parcel and the leather 57. hat box had all been deposited 57. in the passage. 57. do you stop here, Sir? 57. I do, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. dear me, said Mr. Magnus, 57. I never knew anything like these 57. extraordinary coincidences. 57. why I stop here, too. 57. I hope we dine together. 57. with pleasure, replied Mr. 57. I am not quite certain whether I have 57. any friends here or not, though. 57. Is there any gentleman in the name of 57. Tutman here, waiter? 57. a corpulent man with a fortnight 57. napkin under his arm and 57. co-evil stockings on his legs 57. slowly desisted from his 57. occupation of staring down the street 57. on this question being put to him 57. by Mr. Pickwick. 57. and after minutely inspecting 57. that gentleman's appearance 57. from the crown of his hat 57. emphatically, no. 57. nor any gentleman 57. of the name of Snodgrass 57. inquired Mr. Pickwick. 57. no. nor Winkle? 57. no. 57. my friends have not arrived today, 57. sir, said Mr. Pickwick, 57. we will dine alone then. 57. show us a private room, waiter. 57. on this request being preferred, 57. the corpulent man condescended 57. to order the boots 57. to bring in the gentleman's luggage 57. and captured them into a large, 57. badly furnished apartment with a dirty grate 57. in which a small fire was making 57. a wretched attempt to be cheerful. 57. but it was fast-sinking beneath 57. the dispiriting influence of the place. 57. after the lapse of an hour 57. a bit of fish and steak was served up 57. to the travelers, and when the dinner 57. was cleared away, Mr. Pickwick 57. and Mr. Peter Magnus drew 57. their chairs up to the fire 57. and having ordered a bottle 57. of the worst possible port 57. the house drank brandy and water 57. for their own. 57. Mr. Peter Magnus was naturally 57. of a very communicative disposition 57. and the brandy and water operated 57. with wonderful effect in warming into life 57. the deepest hidden secrets of his bosom. 57. after sundry accounts of himself, 57. his family, his connections, 57. his friends, his jokes, 57. his business, and his brothers 57. most talkative men have a great 57. deal to say about their brothers. 57. Mr. Peter Magnus took a view 57. of Mr. Pickwick through his 57. colored spectacles for several minutes 57. and then said with an air of modesty 57. and what do you think? 57. what do you think, Mr. Pickwick? 57. I have come down here for. 57. upon my word, said Mr. Pickwick, 57. it is wholly impossible for me to guess 57. on business, perhaps. 57. partly right, sir, replied Mr. 57. Peter Magnus, but partly wrong 57. at the same time. Try again, Mr. Pickwick. 57. really, said Mr. 57. I must throw myself on your mercy 57. and tell me or not, as you may think 57. at best, for I should never guess 57. if I were to try all night. 57. Why, then, he-he-he, said Mr. 57. Peter Magnus, with a bashful titter. 57. What did you think, Mr. Pickwick, 57. if I had come down here to make a proposal, 57. sir, eh? He-he-he. 57. Think 57. that you are very likely to 57. succeed, replied Mr. 57. Pickwick, with one of his beaming 57. smiles. Ah, said Mr. Magnus, 57. but do you really think so, Mr. 57. Pickwick, do you, though? 57. Certainly, said Mr. Pickwick. 57. No, but you're joking, though. 57. I am not, indeed. 57. Why, then, said Mr. 57. Magnus, to let you into a little 57. secret, I think so, too. 57. I don't mind telling you, Mr. 57. Pickwick, although I am dreadful jealous 57. by nature, horrid, that the lady 57. is in the house. 57. Here, Mr. Magnus took off 57. his spectacles on purpose 57. to wink, and then put them on again. 57. That's what you were running out 57. so often, said Mr. Pickwick, actually. 57. Hush, yes, you're right. 57. That was it. 57. Not such a fool as to see her, though. 57. No, no. 57. Wouldn't do, you know, after having 57. just come off a journey. 57. Wait till tomorrow, sir, double the chance, then. 57. Mr. Pickwick, sir, there's 57. a suit of clothes in that bag, 57. and a hat in that box, which I 57. expect, in the effect they will produce 57. will be invaluable to me, sir. 57. Indeed, said Mr. 57. Yes, you must have observed 57. my anxiety about them today. 57. I do not believe that such another suit 57. of clothes and such a hat 57. could be bought for money, Mr. 57. Pickwick. 57. Mr. Pickwick congratulated the 57. Fortunate owner of the irresistible 57. garments on their acquisition, 57. and Mr. Peter Magnus remaining 57. a few moments apparently absorbed 57. in contemplation. 57. She's a fine creature, said Mr. 57. Magnus. 57. Very. She lives about 20 miles 57. from here, Mr. Pickwick. 57. I heard she would be here tonight 57. an all-tomorrow forenoon 57. and came down to seize the opportunity. 57. I think an inn is a good sort of place 57. to propose to a single woman, 57. in Mr. Pickwick. 57. She is more likely to feel the 57. loneliness of her situation in traveling 57. perhaps than she would be at home. 57. What do you think, Mr. 57. Pickwick? 57. I think it is very probable, 57. Mr. Pickwick, said Mr. Peter Magnus, 57. but I am naturally rather curious. 57. What may you have come down here for? 57. On a far less pleasant errand, sir, 57. replied Mr. Pickwick, 57. the color mounting to his face 57. at the recollection, 57. I have come down here, sir, 57. to expose the treachery and falsehood 57. of an individual upon whose 57. truth and honor I placed implicit 57. reliance. 57. Dear me, said Mr. Magnus, 57. that's very unpleasant. 57. A lady I presume. 57. A? Ah? 57. Sly, Mr. Pickwick sly. 57. Well, Mr. Pickwick, sir, 57. I wouldn't probe your feelings for the world. 57. Painful subjects these, sir. 57. Very painful. 57. Don't mind me, Mr. Pickwick, 57. If you wish to give vent to your feelings, 57. I know what it is to be jilted, sir. 57. I have endured that sort of thing 57. three or four times. 57. I am much obliged to you 57. for your condolence 57. for the work winding up his watch 57. and laying it on the table. 57. But, no, no, 57. said Mr. Peter Magnus, 57. not a word more. 57. It's a painful subject. 57. I see, I see. 57. What's the time, Mr. Pickwick? 57. Past well? 57. Dear me, it's time to go to bed. 57. It will never do sitting here. 57. I shall be pale tomorrow, Mr. Pickwick. 57. At the bare notion 57. of such a calamity, 57. the headbag, the leather and hat box, 57. and the brown paper parcel, 57. having been conveyed to his bedroom, 57. he retired in company with a Japan candlestick 57. to one side of the house, 57. while Mr. Pickwick and another Japan candlestick 57. were conducted through a multitude 57. of tortuous windings to another. 57. This is your room, sir, 57. said the chambermaid. 57. Very well, replied Mr. Pickwick 57. looking around him. 57. It was a tolerably large, 57. bedded room, with a fire upon the hole, 57. a more comfortable-looking apartment 57. than Mr. Pickwick's short experience 57. of the accommodations 57. of the great white horse had led him to expect. 57. Nobody sleeps in the other bed, of course, 57. said Mr. Pickwick. 57. Oh, no, sir. 57. Very good. Tell my servant 57. to bring me up some hot water 57. at half-past eight in the morning 57. in that I shall not want him 57. any more tonight. 57. Mr. Pickwick sat himself down 57. in a chair before the fire 57. and fell into a train of rambling 57. meditations. 57. First he thought of his friends 57. and wondered when they would join him. 57. Then his mind reverted to 57. Mrs. Martha Bardall. 57. And from that lady it wandered 57. by a natural process 57. to the dingy counting-house 57. of Dodson and Fogg. 57. From Dodson and Fogg's 57. it flew off at a tangent 57. to the very center of the history 57. of the queer client. 57. And then it came back to the great white 57. horse at Ipswich with sufficient 57. clearness to convince Mr. 57. Pickwick that he was falling asleep. 57. So he roused himself and began 57. to undress when he recollected 57. he had left his watch on the table 57. downstairs. 57. Now this watch was a special 57. favorite with Mr. Pickwick 57. having been carried about 57. beneath the shadow of his waistcoat 57. then we feel called upon to state 57. at present. 57. The possibility of going to sleep 57. unless it were ticking gently beneath 57. his pillow or in a watch pocket 57. over his head had never entered 57. Mr. Pickwick's brain. 57. So as it was pretty late 57. now and he was unwilling to ring 57. the bell at that hour of the night 57. he slipped on his coat 57. of which he had just divested 57. himself and taking the 57. Japan candlestick in his hand 57. the more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down 57. the more stairs there seemed to be 57. to descend. 57. And again and again when Mr. Pickwick 57. got into some narrow passage 57. and began to congratulate 57. himself on having gained the ground floor 57. did another flight of stairs 57. appear before his astonished eyes 57. At last he reached a stone 57. hall which he remembered to have seen 57. when he entered the house 57. Passage after passage did he 57. explore room after room did he 57. forget to give up on the search and despair 57. he opened the door of the identical 57. room in which he had spent the evening 57. and beheld his missing property 57. on the table. Mr. Pickwick 57. seized the watch and triumph 57. and proceeded to retrace his steps 57. to the bed chamber. 57. If his progress downward had been attended 57. with difficulties and uncertainty 57. his journey back was infinitely 57. more perplexing. 57. rows of doors garnished with boots 57. of every shape, make and size 57. branched off in every possible direction 57. a dozen times did he softly turn 57. the handle of some bedroom door 57. which resembled his own 57. when a gruff cry came from within 57. who the devil's at? 57. what do you want here? 57. cost him to steal away on tiptoe 57. with a perfectly marvelous celerity 57. he was reduced to the verge 57. of despair when an open door 57. attracted his attention 57. he peeped in, bright at last 57. there were the two beds 57. whose situation he perfectly remembered 57. in the fire still burning 57. his candle, not a long one 57. when he first received it 57. had flickered away in the drafts of air 57. through which he passed 57. and sank into the socket as he closed 57. the door after him. 57. no matter said Mr. Pickwick 57. I can undress myself just as well 57. by the light of the fire. 57. the bedsteads stood 57. one on each side of the door 57. and on the inner side 57. a little patch, terminating 57. in a rush-bottom chair 57. just wide enough to admit 57. of a person's getting into 57. or out of bed 57. on that side if he or she thought 57. proper. 57. having carefully drawn the curtains 57. of his bed, on the outside 57. Mr. Pickwick sat down 57. on the rushed-bottom chair 57. and leisurely divested himself 57. of his shoes and gators 57. he then took off 57. the nightcap secured it firmly on his head 57. by tying beneath his chin the strings 57. which he always had attached 57. to that article of dress 57. it was at this moment that the absurdity 57. of his reason to be wilderness 57. struck upon his head 57. throwing himself back on the rush-bottom chair 57. Mr. Pickwick laughed to himself so heartily 57. that it would have been quite delightful 57. to any man of well-constituted 57. mind to have watched 57. the smiles that expanded 57. his amiable features 57. from beneath the nightcap 57. it is the best idea 57. said Mr. Pickwick to himself 57. smiling till he almost cracked 57. the nightcap strings 57. it is the best idea 57. my losing myself in this place 57. and wondering about all these staircases 57. that I ever heard of 57. droll, droll, very droll 57. here Mr. Pickwick smiled again 57. a broader smile than before 57. one is about to continue the process 57. of undressing in the best possible 57. only stopped by a most unexpected 57. interruption 57. to wit the entrance into the room 57. of some person with a candle 57. who after locking the door 57. advanced to the dressing table 57. and set down the light upon it 57. the smile that played on Mr. Pickwick's 57. features was instantaneously lost 57. in a look of the most unbounded 57. and wonder-stricken 57. surprise 57. the person whoever it was 57. had come in so suddenly 57. no time to call out or oppose their 57. entrance. who could it be? 57. a robber? some evil-minded 57. person who had seen him come 57. upstairs with a handsome watch in his hand 57. perhaps? what was he to do? 57. the only way in which Mr. Pickwick 57. could catch a glimpse of the mysterious 57. visitor, with the least 57. danger of being seen himself 57. was by creeping onto the bed 57. and peeping out from between 57. the curtains on the opposite side 57. to this maneuver he accordingly 57. resorted. keeping the curtains 57. carefully closed with his hand 57. so that nothing more of him could be seen 57. than his face and nightcap and 57. putting on his spectacles 57. he mustered up courage and looked out 57. Mr. Pickwick almost fainted 57. with horror and dismay 57. standing before the dressing glass 57. was a middle-aged lady 57. in yellow-curl papers 57. busily engaged in brushing 57. what ladies call their back hair 57. however the unconscious 57. middle-aged lady came into that room 57. it was quite clear that she contemplated 57. remaining there for the night 57. for she had brought a rush light 57. and shade with her, which 57. with praiseworthy precaution against 57. fire she had stationed in a basin 57. on the floor, where it was 57. glimmering away like a gigantic 57. lighthouse in a particularly small 57. piece of water. 57. bless my soul, thought Mr. Pickwick 57. what a dreadful thing! 57. um, said the lady 57. and in went Mr. Pickwick's head 57. with a tomaton-like rapidity 57. I never met with 57. anything so awful as this 57. thought poor Mr. Pickwick 57. the cold perspiration starting 57. in drops upon his nightcap 57. never! this is fearful 57. it was quite impossible to resist 57. the urgent desire to see what was going forward 57. so out went Mr. Pickwick's head 57. again. 57. the prospect was worse than before 57. the middle-aged lady had finished arranging 57. the fire had carefully enveloped 57. it in a muslin nightcap with a small 57. plated border and was gazing 57. pensively on the fire. 57. this matter is growing 57. alarming reason to Mr. Pickwick 57. with himself. I can't allow 57. things to go on in this way. 57. by the self-possession of that lady 57. it is clear to me that I must 57. have come into the wrong room. 57. if I call out, she'll alarm 57. the house, but if I remain here 57. the consequences will be still 57. more frightful. 57. Mr. Pickwick, it is quite 57. necessary to say, 57. was one of the most modest 57. and delicate-minded of mortals. 57. the very idea of exhibiting 57. his nightcap to a lady overpowered 57. him, and he had tied 57. those confounded strings in a knot 57. and do what he would 57. he couldn't get it off. 57. the disclosure must be made. 57. there was only one other way 57. of doing it. 57. Ahum! that the lady started 57. that this unexpected sound 57. was evident by her falling up against 57. the rush-light shade 57. that she persuaded herself 57. it must have been the effect of imagination 57. was equally clear for when 57. Mr. Pickwick, under the impression that she 57. had fainted away stone dead with fright 57. ventured to peep out again 57. she was gazing pensively 57. on the fire as before. 57. most extraordinary female 57. this thought Mr. Pickwick popping 57. again. Ahum! 57. these last sounds 57. so like those in which 57. as legend informs us 57. the ferocious giant blunderbore 57. was in the habit of expressing his opinion 57. that it was time to lay the cloth 57. were too distinctly audible 57. to again be mistaken for the workings 57. of fancy. 57. Gracious heaven said the middle-aged lady 57. what's this? 57. it's only a gentleman, ma'am 57. said Mr. Pickwick from behind the curtain 57. a gentleman, said the lady 57. with a terrific scream 57. it's all over, thought Mr. Pickwick 57. a strange man 57. shrieked the lady 57. and another instant, and the house would be 57. alarmed, her garments rustled 57. as she rushed toward the door 57. ma'am said Mr. Pickwick 57. thrusting out his head in the extremity 57. of his desperation, ma'am 57. now although Mr. Pickwick 57. was not actuated by any definite object 57. in putting out his head 57. continuously productive 57. of a good effect. 57. the lady, as we have already stated, was near 57. the door. 57. she must pass it to reach the staircase 57. and she would most undoubtedly 57. have done so by this time 57. had not the sudden apparition 57. of Mr. Pickwick's nightcap 57. driven her back into the remotest 57. corner of the apartment 57. where she stood staring wildly 57. at Mr. Pickwick 57. while Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, 57. covering her eyes with her hands, 57. what do you want here? 57. nothing, ma'am, nothing whatever 57. ma'am said Mr. Pickwick earnestly 57. nothing, said the lady, looking up 57. nothing, ma'am, upon my honor 57. said Mr. Pickwick, nodding his head 57. so energetically that the 57. tassel of his nightcap danced again 57. I am almost ready to sink, ma'am, 57. beneath the confusion of addressing 57. a lady in my nightcap 57. here the lady snatched off hers 57. but I can't get it off, ma'am 57. here Mr. Pickwick gave a tremendous 57. tug-and-proof of the statement 57. it is evident to me, ma'am, now 57. that I have mistaken this bedroom for 57. my own. I had not been here five 57. minutes, ma'am, when you suddenly entered 57. it. if this improbable 57. story be really true, sir 57. said the lady sobbing violently 57. you will leave it instantly 57. I will, madam, with the greatest 57. pleasure, said Mr. Pickwick 57. instantly, sir, said the lady 57. certainly, ma'am, interposed 57. Mr. Pickwick, very quickly 57. certainly, ma'am, I 57. I am very sorry, madam, 57. said Mr. Pickwick, making his 57. appearance at the bottom of the bed 57. to have been the innocent occasion 57. of this alarm and emotion 57. deeply sorry, ma'am. 57. the lady pointed to the door 57. one excellent quality of Mr. 57. Pickwick's character was beautifully 57. displayed at this moment 57. under the most trying circumstances 57. although he had hastily 57. patrolled, although he carried 57. his shoes and gaiters in his hand 57. and his coat and waist coat over 57. his arm, nothing could 57. do his native politeness. 57. I am exceedingly 57. sorry, ma'am, said Mr. 57. Pickwick bowing very low. 57. if you are, sir, 57. you will at once leave 57. the room, said the lady. 57. immediately, ma'am, this 57. instant, ma'am, said Mr. 57. Pickwick opening the door 57. I trust, ma'am, resumed Mr. 57. Pickwick gathering up his shoes 57. and turning round to bow again. 57. I trust, ma'am, that my unblemished 57. character and the devoted 57. respect I entertained for your 57. sex will plead as some slight 57. excuse for this, but before 57. Mr. Pickwick could conclude 57. the sentence, the lady had thrust 57. him into the passage and locked 57. and bolted the door behind him. 57. Whatever grounds 57. of self-congratulation Mr. 57. had, for escaping so quietly 57. from his late awkward situation 57. His present position 57. was by no means enviable. 57. He was alone in an open passage 57. in a strange house in the middle 57. of the night half-dressed. 57. It was not to be 57. supposed that he could find his way 57. in perfect darkness to a room 57. which he had been wholly unable 57. to discover with a light. 57. And if he made the slightest noise 57. in his fruitless attempts to do so 57. a very chance of being shot at 57. and perhaps killed by some wakeful traveler 57. He had no resource 57. but to remain where he was 57. until daylight appeared, so after 57. groping his way a few paces down 57. the passage into his infinite alarm 57. stumbling over several pairs of boots 57. in so doing, Mr. Pickwick 57. crouched into a little recess 57. in the wall to wait for morning 57. as philosophically as he might. 57. He was not destined, however, 57. to undergo this additional 57. trial of patience, for he had not 57. been long ensconced in his present 57. concealment when to his unspeakable 57. horror a man 57. bearing a light appeared at the end 57. of the passage. His horror 57. was suddenly converted to joy, 57. however, when he recognized 57. the form of his faithful attendant 57. It was indeed Mr. Samuel Weller 57. who after sitting up 57. thus late in conversation with the 57. boots, who was sitting up for the 57. mail, was now about to retire 57. to rest. 57. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing 57. before him, wears my bedroom. 57. Mr. Weller stared his master 57. with the most emphatic surprise. 57. It was not until the question had been 57. repeated several times 57. that he turned round and led 57. the way to the long sought 57. apartment. 57. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, as he got 57. into bed, I have made one of 57. the most extraordinary mistakes 57. tonight that ever was heard of. 57. Very likely, sir, replied Mr. Weller 57. dryly. 57. But if this I am determined, Sam, 57. said Mr. Pickwick, that if I were 57. to stop in this house for six months 57. I would never trust myself about it 57. alone again. 57. That's the very prudentest 57. resolution as you could come to, sir, 57. replied Mr. Weller. 57. You ratherist want somebody 57. to look after you, sir, when 57. your judgment goes a whistling. 57. What do you mean by that, Sam, 57. extended his hand, as if you were 57. about to say something more, but 57. suddenly checking himself, turned 57. round and bade his valet, good night. 57. Good night, sir, replied Mr. Weller. 57. He paused when he got outside 57. the door, shook his head, 57. walked on, stopped, 57. snuffed the candle, shook 57. his head again and finally proceeded 57. slowly to his chamber, apparently 57. buried in the profoundest 57. meditation. 57. End of Chapter 22 57. Chapter 23 57. of the Pickwick Papers 57. This is a Libervox 57. recording. All Libervox 57. recordings are in the public domain. 57. For more information or to volunteer, 57. please visit 57. Libervox.org 57. Recording by Debra Lynn 57. The Pickwick Papers 57. by Charles Dickens 57. Chapter 23 57. in which Mr. Samuel 57. Weller begins to devote his energies to the return match between himself and Mr. Trotter. In a small room in the vicinity of the stable-yard, be-times in the morning, which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick's adventure with the middle-aged lady in the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr. Weller Sr. preparing himself for his journey to London. He was sitting in an excellent attitude for having his portrait taken, and here it is. It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career Mr. Weller's profile might have presented a bold and determined outline. His face, however, had expanded under the influence of good living, and a disposition remarkable for resignation. And its bold, fleshy curves had so far extended beyond the limits originally assigned them, that unless you took a full view of his countenance in front it was difficult to distinguish more than the extreme tip of a very Rubicon's nose. His chin, from the same cause, had acquired the grave and imposing form which is generally described by prefixing the word double to that expressive feature, and his complexion exhibited that particularly model combination of colors which is only to be seen in gentlemen of his profession and in underdone roast beef. In his neck he wore a crimson traveling shawl which merged into his chin by such imperceptible gradations that it was difficult to distinguish the folds of the one from the folds of the other. Over this he mounted a long waistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern, and over that again a wide-skirted green coat ornamented with large brass buttons, whereof the two which garnished the waist were so far apart that no man had ever beheld them both at the same time. His hair, which was short, sleek, and black, was just visible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crowned brown hat. His legs were encased in necord breeches and painted top boots, and a copper watch chain terminating in one seal and a key of the same material dangled loosely from his capacious waistband. We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for his journey to London. He was taking sustenance, in fact. On the table before him stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and a very respectable-looking loaf, to each of which he distributed his favors in churn with the most rigid impartiality. He had just cut a mighty slice from the ladder when the footsteps of somebody entering the room caused him to raise his head, and he beheld his son. "'Mornin', Sammy,' said the father. The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly to his parent, took a long draft by way of reply. "'Wary good power of suction, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, the elder, looking into the pot, when his first-born had set it down half-empty. "'You'd have made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in that station of life.' "'Yes, I just say I should have managed to pick up a respectable livin,' replied Sam, applying himself to the cold beef with considerable vigor. "'Wary sorry, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, shaking up the ale, by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to drinking. "'I'm wary sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips as you let yourself be gammoned by that air-mulberry man. I always thought, up to three days ago, that the names of Veller and Gammon could never come into contract. Sammy, never. "'Always except in the case of a witter, of course,' said Sam. "'Witter's, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing color. "'Witter's areceptions to every rule. I have heard how many ordinary women one witter's equal to, and pined a coming over you. I think it's five and twenty, but I don't rightly know whether it ain't more.' "'Well, that's pretty well,' said Sam. "'Besides,' continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, "'that's a wary different thing. You know what the council said, Sammy, as defendant the gentleman has beat his wife with a poker whenever he got jolly. "'And art her all, my lord,' says he. "'That's a amiable weakness. "'So I says respect in witter's, Sammy, and so you'll save, and you get as old as me.' "'I ought to have known better, I know,' said Sam. "'Aught to have known better,' repeated Mr. Weller, striking the table with his fist. "'Aught to have known better, why I know a youngin' has hasn't had half nor quarter your education, has hasn't slept about the markets. No, not six months, who'd has scorned to be led in in such a way, scorned it, Sammy.' In the excitement of feeling produced by this agonizing reflection, Mr. Weller rang the bell and ordered an additional pint of ale. "'Well, it's no use talking about it now,' said Sam. "'It's over and can't be helped. And that's one consolation, as they always says in Turkey when they cut the wrong man's head off. "'It's my innings now, Governor, and as soon as I catch his hold of this here trotter, I'll have a gooden. "'I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will,' returned Mr. Weller. "'Here's your health, Sammy, and may you speedily wipe off the disgrace as you've inflicted on the family name.' "'In honor of this toast, Mr. Weller imbibed at a draft at least two-thirds of a newly arrived pint, and handed it over to his son to dispose of the remainder, which he instantaneously did. "'And now, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, consulting a large double-faced silver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. "'Now it's time I was up at the office to get my vey bill and see the coach loaded. For coach as Sammy is like guns, they require us to be loaded with very great care before they go off.' "'At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller, Jr., smiled a filial smile, his revered parent continued in a solemn tone. "'I'm going to leave you, Sammy, my boy, and there's no telling. "'Venice shall see you again. "'Your mother-in-law may have been too much for me, or a thousand things may have happened by the time you next hears any news of the celebrated Mr. Veller of the bell savage. "'The family name depends very much upon you, Sammy Will, and I hope you'll do what's right by it. "'Upon all little pints of reading, I know I may trust you as well as if it was my own self. "'So I've only this here one little bit of advice to give you. "'If ever you gets to upwards of fifty and feels disposed to go "'a merry in anybody, no matter who, just you shut yourself up "'in your own room if you've got one and pison yourself off hand. "'Hanging's Walgreens, so don't you have nothing to say to that. "'Pison yourself, Sam, of all my boy. "'Pison yourself, and you'll be glad on it afterwards.' "'With these affecting words Mr. Weller looked steadfastly "'on his son, and turning slowly upon his heel, disappeared "'from his sight. "'In the contemplative mood which these words had awakened, "'Mr. Samuel Weller walked forth from the great white horse "'when his father had left him, and bending his steps "'towards St. Clement's Church, endeavored to dissipate "'his melancholy by strolling among its ancient precinct. "'He had loitered about for some time when he found himself "'in a retired spot, a kind of courtyard of venerable appearance, "'which he discovered had no other outlet than the turning "'by which he had entered. "'He was about retracing his steps when he was suddenly "'transfixed to the spot by a sudden appearance, "'and the mode and manner of this appearance we now "'proceed to relate. "'Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up at the old brick houses "'now and then in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink "'upon some healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, "'or threw open a bedroom window. "'When the green gate of a garden at the bottom of the yard "'opened, and a man having emerged therefrom "'closed the green gate very carefully after him, "'and walked briskly towards the very spot where "'Mr. Weller was standing.' "'Now, taking this as an isolated fact, "'unaccompanied by any attendant circumstances, "'there was nothing very extraordinary in it, "'because in many parts of the world men do come out "'of gardens, close green gates after them, "'and even walk briskly away without attracting "'any particular share of public observation. "'It is clear, therefore, that there must have been "'something in the manner, or in his manner, "'or both, to attract Mr. Weller's particular notice. "'Whether there was or not, we must leave the reader "'to determine when we have faithfully recorded "'the behavior of the individual in question. "'When the man had shut the green gate after him, "'he walked, as we have said twice already, "'with a brisk pace up the courtyard. "'But he no sooner caught sight of Mr. Weller "'than he faltered, and stopped, as if uncertain "'for the moment what course to adopt. "'As the green gate was closed behind him, "'and there was no other outlet but the one in front, "'however, he was not long in perceiving "'that he must pass Mr. Samuel Weller to get away. "'He therefore resumed his brisk pace and advanced, "'staring straight before him. "'The most extraordinary thing about the man was, "'that he was contorting his face into the most fearful "'and astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. "'Nature's handy work never was disguised "'with such extraordinary artificial carving "'as the man had overlaid his countenance with in one moment. "'Well,' said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached, "'this is very odd. I could have swore it was him. "'Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully "'distorted than ever as he drew nearer. "'I could take my oath to that air-black here "'in Mulberry's suit,' said Mr. Weller. "'Only I never see such a face as that afore.' "'As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed "'an unearthly twinge, perfectly hideous. "'He was obliged to pass, very near Sam, however, "'and the scrutinizing glance of that gentleman "'enabled him to detect, under all these appalling twists "'of feature, something too like the small eyes "'of Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.' "'Hello, you, sir,' shouted Sam fiercely. The stranger stopped. "'Hello,' repeated Sam, still more gruffly. The man with the horrible face looked, with the greatest surprise, up the court and down the court, and in at the windows of the houses, everywhere but at Sam Weller, and took another step forward when he was brought to again by another shout. "'Hello, you, sir,' said Sam for the third time. "'There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came "'from now, so the stranger, having no other resource, "'at last looked Sam Weller, full in the face. "'I won't do, Job Trotter,' said Sam. "'Come, none of that air nonsense. "'You ain't so weary, Ansem, that you can afford "'to throw away many of your good looks. "'Bring them air eyes, yarn back into their proper "'places, or I'll knock them out of your head. "'Do you hear?' "'As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the "'spirit of this address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed "'his face to resume its natural expression, and then "'giving a start of joy, exclaimed, "'What do I see, Mr. Walker?' "'Ah,' replied Sam, "'you're very glad to see me, "'ain't you?' "'Glad,' exclaimed Job Trotter. "'Oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but known how I have "'looked forward to this meeting, it is too much, "'Mr. Walker, I cannot bear it. "'Indeed, I cannot.' "'And with these words Mr. Trotter burst into a regular "'inundation of tears, and flinging his arms around "'those of Mr. Weller embraced him closely "'in an ecstasy of joy.' "'Get off,' cried Sam, indignant at this process "'and vainly endeavoring to extricate himself from the grasp "'of his enthusiastic acquaintance. "'Get off, I tell you. "'What are you crying over me for, you portable engine? "'Cause I am so glad to see you,' replied Job Trotter, "'gradually releasing Mr. Weller as the first symptoms "'of his pugnacity disappeared. "'Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much.' "'Too much,' echoed Sam. "'I think it is too much, Rayther. "'Now what have you got to say to me, eh?' "'Mr. Trotter made no reply, "'for the little pink pocket handkerchief was in full force. "'What have you got to say to me "'before I knocked your head off?' "'Repeated Mr. Weller in a threatening manner.' "'Eh?' said Mr. Trotter, "'with a look of virtuous surprise. "'What have you got to say to me?' "'Aye, Mr. Walker, don't call me Walker. "'My name is Weller. "'You know that well enough. "'What have you got to say to me?' "'Bless you, Mr. Walker. "'Weller, I mean a great many things. "'If you will come away somewhere "'where we can talk comfortably. "'If you knew how I have looked for you, Mr. Weller, "'very hard indeed, I suppose,' said Sam dryly. "'Very, very, sir,' replied Mr. Trotter, "'without moving a muscle of his face. "'But shake hands, Mr. Weller.' Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as evacuated by a sudden impulse, complied with his request. "'How?' said Job Trotter as they walked away. "'How is your dear good master? "'Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller. "'I hope he didn't catch cold that dreadful night, sir.' "'There was a momentary look of deep slinus "'in Job Trotter's eye, as he said this, "'which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fist, "'as he burned with the desire "'to make a demonstration on his ribs. "'Sam constrained himself, however, "'and replied that his master was extremely well. "'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter. "'Is he here? "'Is Yorn?' asked Sam, by way of reply. "'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, "'he is going on worse than ever.' "'Ah, ah,' said Sam. "'Oh, shocking, terrible. "'At a boarding school,' said Sam. "'No, not at a boarding school,' replied Job Trotter, with the same sly look which Sam had noticed before. "'Not at a boarding school.' "'At the house with the green gate,' said Sam, "'ying his companion closely. "'No, no, oh, not there,' replied Job, "'with a quickness very unusual to him. "'Not there.' "'What was you doing there?' asked Sam, "'with a sharp glance. "'Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps?' "'Well, Mr. Weller,' replied Job. "'I don't mind telling you my little secrets, "'because, you know, we took such a fancy "'for each other when we first met. "'You recollect how pleasant we were that morning?' "'Oh, yes,' said Sam impatiently. "'I remember.' "'Well,' replied Job, "'speaking with great precision, "'and in the low tone of a man "'who communicates an important secret. "'In that house with the green gate, Mr. Weller, "'they keep a good many servants.' "'So I should think from the look in it,' "'interposed Sam.' "'Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter. "'And one of them is a cook "'who has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, "'and is desirous if she can establish herself in life "'to open a little shop in the chandlery way, you see?' "'Yes?' "'Yes, Mr. Weller. "'Well, sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to, "'a very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, "'where they sing the number four collection of hymns, "'which I generally carry about with me in a little book, "'which you may perhaps have seen in my hand, "'and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, "'and from that an acquaintance sprung up between us, "'and I may venture to say, Mr. Weller, "'that I am to be the chandler.' "'Ah, in a very amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam, "'eyeing Job with a side look of intense dislike.' "'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, "'his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, "'will be that I shall be able to leave "'my present disgraceful service with that bad man, "'and to devote myself to a better and more virtuous life, "'more like the way in which I was brought up, Mr. Weller.' "'You must have been wary, nicely brought up,' said Sam. "'Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very,' replied Job. "'At the recollection of the purity of his youthful days, "'Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink handkerchief "'and wept copiously.' "'You must have been an uncommon nice boy "'to go to school with,' said Sam. "'I was,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh. "'I was the idol of the place.' "'Ah,' said Sam, I don't wonder at it. "'What a comfort you must have been to your blessed mother.' "'At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end "'of the pink handkerchief into the corner of each eye, "'one after the other, and began to weep copiously.' "'What's the matter with the man?' said Sam indignantly. "'Jelsie Waterworks has nothing to you. "'What are you, Melton Vith, now, the consciousness of woollen-y? "'I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, "'after a short pause, to think that my master "'should have suspected the conversation I had with yours, "'and so dragged me away in a post-chase, "'and after persuading the sweet young lady "'to say she knew nothing of him "'and bribing the schoolmistress to do the same, "'deserted her for a better speculation. "'Oh, Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder.' "'Oh, that was the vey, was it?' said Mr. Weller. "'To be sure it was,' replied Job. "'Well,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, "'I want to have a little bit of talk with you, Job. "'So if you're not particularly engaged, "'I should like to see you at the great white horse tonight. "'Somewhere's about eight o'clock.' "'I shall be sure to come,' said Job. "'Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look. "'Or else I shall perhaps be asking out of you "'at the other side of the green gate, "'and then I might cut you out, you know. "'I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter, "'and wringing Sam's hand with the utmost fervor, "'he walked away.' "'Take care, Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, "'looking after him, "'or I shall be one too many for you this time. "'I shall indeed, having uttered this soliloquy "'and looked after Job till he was to be seen no more, "'Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bedroom.' "'It's all in training, sir,' said Sam. "'What's in training, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. "'I've found him out, sir,' said Sam. "'Found out who? "'That are a queer customer in the melancholy chap "'with the black hair.' "'Impossible, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, "'with the greatest energy. "'Where are they, Sam? Where are they?' "'Hush, hush,' replied Mr. Weller, "'and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick to dress, "'he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter. "'But when is this to be done, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. "'All in good time,' sir,' replied Sam. "'Whether it was done in good time or not "'will be seen hereafter.' End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of the Pickwick Papers This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Kirsten Ferrari The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens Chapter 24 wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous and the middle-aged lady apprehensive, which brings the Pickwickians within the grasp of the law. When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathered hat-box, and the brown paper parcel, displayed to all possible advantage on his own person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of the utmost excitement and agitation. "'Good morning, sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. "'What do you think of this, sir?' Very effective indeed,' replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile. "'Yes, I think it'll do,' said Mr. Magnus. "'Mr. Pickwick, sir, I have sent up my card.' "'Have you?' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Yes, and the way to bra back word, that she would see me at eleven. At eleven, sir, it only wants a quarter now.' "'Very near the time,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Yes, it is rather near,' replied Mr. Magnus. "'Rather too near to be pleasant, eh, Mr. Pickwick, sir?' "'Confidence is a great thing in these cases,' observed Mr. Pickwick. "'I believe it is, sir,' said Mr. Peter Magnus. "'I am very confident, sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any fear in such a case as this, sir. "'What is it, sir? There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more. Has been on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the matter, Mr. Pickwick.' "'It is a very philosophical one,' replied Mr. Pickwick. "'But breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come.' Down they sat to breakfast. But it was evident, notwithstanding the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he labored under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock every other second were among the principal symptoms. "'He he he,' tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness and gasping with agitation. It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. Am I pale, sir?' "'Not very,' replied Mr. Pickwick. There was a brief pause. "'I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick, but have you ever done this sort of thing in your time?' said Mr. Magnus. "'You mean proposing?' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Yes.' "'Never,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy. "'Never.' "'You have no idea, then, how it's best to begin?' said Mr. Magnus. "'Why?' said Mr. Pickwick. "'I may have formed some ideas upon the subject. But as I have never submitted them to the test of experience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate their proceedings by them.' "'I should feel very much obliged to you for any advice, sir,' said Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was verging on the five minutes past.' "'Well, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impressive. "'I should commence, sir, with attribute to the lady's beauty and excellent qualities. From then, sir, I should diverge to my own unworthiness.' "'Very good,' said Mr. Magnus. "'Unworthiness for her only mind, sir,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, for to show that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take a brief review of my past life and present condition. I should argue that, by analogy to anybody else, I must be a very desirable object. I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love and the depth of my devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand.' "'Yes, I see,' said Mr. Magnus. "'That would be a very great point.' "'I should then, sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as the subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him. "'I should then, sir, come to the plain and simple question. Will you have me?' "'I think I am justified in assuming that upon this, she would turn away her head.' "'Do you think that may be taken for granted?' said Mr. Magnus. "'Because if she did not do that at the right place, it would be embarrassing.' "'I think she would,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Upon this, sir, I should squeeze her hand. And I think—I think, Mr. Magnus, that after I had done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge of human nature leads me to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment and steal a respectful kiss.' "'I think I should kiss her, Mr. Magnus. And at this particular point I am decidedly of opinion that if the lady were going to take me at all, she would murmur into my ears a bashful acceptance.' Mr. Magnus started, gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intelligent face for a short time in silence, and then, the dial pointing to the ten minutes past, shook him warmly by the hand and rushed desperately from the room. Mr. Pickwick had taken a few strides to and fro, and the small hand of the clock following the latter part of his example had arrived at the figure which indicates the half-hour when the door suddenly opened. He turned round to greet Mr. Peter Magnus and encountered in his stead the joyous face of Mr. Tubman, the serene countenance of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments of Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus tripped into the room. My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of, Mr. Magnus, said Mr. Pickwick. Your servant gentleman said Mr. Magnus evidently in a high state of excitement. Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you one moment, sir. As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. Pickwick's buttonhole, and drawing him into a window recess said, Congratulations, Mr. Pickwick. I followed your advice to the very letter. And it was all correct, was it? Enquired Mr. Pickwick. It was, sir. It could not possibly have been better, replied Mr. Magnus. Mr. Pickwick, she is mine. I congratulate you with all my heart, replied Mr. Pickwick, warmly shaking his new friend by the hand. You must see her, sir, said Mr. Magnus. This way, if you please. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen. And hurrying on in this way, Mr. Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. He paused at the next door in the passage and tapped gently there at. Come in, said a female voice, and in they went. Miss Witherfield, said Mr. Magnus, allow me to introduce my very particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make you known to Miss Witherfield. The lady was at the upper end of the room, and then Mr. Pickwick bowed he took his spectacles from his west-coat pocket and put them on, a process which he had no sooner gone through than, uttering an exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several paces, and the lady with a half suppressed scream hid her face in her hands and dropped into a chair, whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was struck motionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the other, with a countenance expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise. This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behavior. But the fact was that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles, than he had once recognized, in the future Mrs. Magnus, the lady into whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night, and the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick's nose, than the lady had once identified the countenance which she had seen surrounded by all the horrors of a nightcap. So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pickwick started. Mr. Pickwick exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment. What's the meaning of this, sir? What's the meaning of it, sir? added Mr. Magnus, in a threatening and louder tone. Sir, said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner into which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself in the imperative mood, I decline answering that question. Do you decline it, sir? said Mr. Magnus. I do, sir, replied Mr. Pickwick. I object to saying anything which may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast without her consent and permission. Miss Witherfield, said Mr. Peter Magnus. Do you know this person? Know him, repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating, Yes, know him, ma'am. I said know him, replied Mr. Magnus, with ferocity. I have seen him, replied the middle-aged lady. Where, inquired Mr. Magnus, where? That, said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat and averting her head. That I would not reveal for worlds. I understand you, ma'am, said Mr. Pickwick, and respect your delicacy. It shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it. Upon my word, ma'am, said Mr. Magnus, considering the situation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off with tolerable coolness. Tolerable coolness, ma'am. Cruel, Mr. Magnus, said the middle-aged lady, and she wept very copiously indeed. Address your observations to me, sir, interposed Mr. Pickwick. I alone am to blame, if anybody be. Oh, you alone are to blame are you, sir, said Mr. Magnus. I see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you? My determination, said Mr. Pickwick. Your determination, sir. Oh, don't stare at me, sir, said Mr. Magnus. I recollect your words last night, sir. You came down here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on whose truth and honor you had placed implicit reliance, eh? Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer, and taking off his green spectacles, which he probably found superfluous in his fit of jealousy, rolled his little eyes about, in a manner which was frightful to behold. Eh, said Mr. Magnus, and then he repeated the sneer with increased effect. But you shall answer it, sir. Answer what? said Mr. Pickwick. Never mind, sir. Replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room. Never mind. There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of never mind, for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel in the street, at a theater, public room, or anywhere else, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir? Never mind. Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir? Never mind. Do you want your head knocked up against that wool, sir? Never mind. It is observable, too, that there would appear to be some hidden taunt in this universal never mind, which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individual addressed than the most lavish of use could possibly awaken. We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to himself struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul, which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merely record the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door and abruptly called out, Tupman, come here! Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself with a look of very considerable surprise. Tupman, said Mr. Pickwick, a secret of some delicacy in which that lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference which has just arisen between this gentleman and myself. When I assure him in your presence that it has no relation to himself, and is in not in any way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that, if he continues to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my veracity, which I shall consider extremely insulting. As Mr. Pickwick said this, he looked in psychopedias at Mr. Peter Magnus. Mr. Pickwick's upright and honorable bearing, coupled with that force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind. But unfortunately, at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but reasonable order. Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and to talk about what was due to his own feelings and all that sort of thing, adding force to his declination by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair, amusements which he would vary occasionally by shaking his fist in Mr. Pickwick's philanthropic countenance. Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence in rectitude and irritated by having, unfortunately, involved the middle-aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly disposed as was his want. The consequence was that words ran high and voices higher, and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should hear from him, to which Mr. Pickwick replied, with laudable politeness, that the sooner he heard from him the better, whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror from the room, out of which Mr. Tubman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation. If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the laws and set the fashions, she would have known that this sort of ferocity is just the most harmless thing in nature. But as she had lived for the most part in the country, and never read parliamentary debates, she was little versed in these particular refinements of civilized life. Accordingly, when she had gained her bed-chamber, bolted herself in, and begun to meditate on the scene she had just witnessed, the most terrific pictures of slaughter and destruction presented themselves to her imagination, among which a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus, born home by four men, with the embellishment of a whole barrel full of bullets in his left side, was among the very least. The more the middle-aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became, and at length she determined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate of the town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tubman without delay. To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a variety of considerations, the chief of which was the incontestable proof it would afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus and her anxiety for his safety. She was too well acquainted with his jealous temperament to venture the slightest illusion to the real cause of her agitation on beholding Mr. Pickwick, and she trusted to her own influence and power of persuasion with the little man, to quell his boisterous jealousy, supposing that Mr. Pickwick were removed, and no fresh quarrel could arise. Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed herself in her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the mayor's dwelling straight away. Now, George Knupkin's Esquire, the principal magistrate of Forset, was about as grand a personage as the fastest walker would find out, between sunrise and sunset on the twenty-first of June, which being, according to the Almanacs, the longest day in the whole year, would naturally afford him the longest period for his search. On this particular morning Mr. Knupkin's was in a state of the utmost excitement and irritation for there had been a rebellion in the town. All the day-scholars at the largest day-school had conspired to break the windows of an obnoxious apple-seller, and had hooted the beetle and pelted the constabulary—an elderly gentleman in top boots who had been called out to repress the tumult—and had been a peace-officer, man and boy for half a century at least. And Mr. Knupkin's was sitting in his easy chair, frowning with majesty and boiling with rage, when a lady was announced on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr. Knupkin's looked calmly terrible, and commanded that the lady should be shown in, which command, like all the mandates of emperors and magistrates and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith obeyed, and Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in accordingly. Muzzle! said the magistrate. Muzzle was an undersized footman with a long body and short legs. Muzzle! Yes, Your Worship? Place a chair and leave the room. Yes, Your Worship? Now, ma'am, will you state your business? said the magistrate. It is of a very painful kind, sir, said Miss Witherfield. Very likely, ma'am, said the magistrate. Compose your feelings, ma'am. Here Mr. Knupkin's looked benignant. And then tell me what legal business brings you here, ma'am. Here the magistrate triumphed over the man, and he looked stern again. It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information, said Miss Witherfield. But I fear a duel is going to be fought here. Here, ma'am, said the magistrate. Where, ma'am? In Ipswich. In Ipswich, ma'am. A duel in Ipswich, said the magistrate. Perfectly aghast at the notion. Impossible, ma'am. Nothing of the kind can be contemplated in this town I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma'am. Are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy? Do you happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the Fourth of May last attended by only sixty special constables, and at the hazard of falling sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude prohibited a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma'am. I do not think. I do not think, said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, that any two man can have had the hardyhood to plan such a breach of the peace in this town. My information is unfortunately but too correct, said the middle-aged lady. I was present at the quarrel. It's a most extraordinary thing, said the astounded magistrate. Muzzle! Yes, your worship? Said Mr. Jinx here, directly, instantly. Yes, your worship? Muzzle retired, and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad clerk of middle age entered the room. Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate. Mr. Jinx. Sir, said Mr. Jinx. This lady, Mr. Jinx, has come here to give information of an intended duel in this town. Mr. Jinx, not exactly knowing what to do, smiled a dependent smile. What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinx? said the magistrate. Mr. Jinx looked serious instantly. Mr. Jinx? Said the magistrate. You're a fool, sir. Mr. Jinx looked humbly at the great man and bit the top of his pen. You may see something very comical in this information, sir, but I can tell you this, Mr. Jinx, that you have very little to laugh at, said the magistrate. The hungry-looking Jinx sighed, as if he were quite aware of the fact of his having very little indeed to be merry about, and being ordered to take down the lady's information, shambled to a seat, and proceeded to write it down. This man Pickwick is the principal, I understand, said the magistrate, when the statement was finished. He is, said the middle-aged lady. And the other writer. What's his name, Mr. Jinx? Topman, sir. Topman's the second? Yes. The other principal, you say, has absconded, ma'am. Yes, replied Miss Witherfield, with a short cough. Very well, said the magistrate. These are two cup-throats from London who have come down here to destroy his majesty's population, thinking that at this distance from the capital the arm of the law is weak and paralyzed. They shall be made an example of. Draw the warrants, Mr. Jinx. Muzzle? Yes, your worship. Is Grummer downstairs? Yes, your worship. Send him up. The obsequious muzzle retired, and presently returned, introducing the elderly gentleman in the top boots, who is chiefly remarkable for a bottle-nose, a horse-voice, a snuff-coloured shirt-out, and a wandering eye. Grummer, said the magistrate. Your worship? Is the town quiet now? Pretty well, your worship, replied Grummer. Poplar Phelan has in a measure subsided, consequence of the boys having dispersed to cricket. Nothing but vigorous measures will do in this time, Grummer, said the magistrate, in a determined manner. If the authority of the king's officers is set at not, we must have the riot act read. If the civil power cannot protect these windows, Grummer, the military must protect the civil power and the windows, too. I believe that is a maxim of the Constitution, Mr. Jinx. Certainly, sir, said Jinx. Very good, said the magistrate, signing the warrants. Grummer, you will bring these persons before me this afternoon. You will find them at the great white horse. You recollect the case of the Middlesex dumpling in the Suffolk Bantam Grummer? Mr. Grummer intimated, by a retrospective shake of his head, that he should never forget, and, as indeed it was not likely he would, so long as it continued to be cited daily. This is even more unconstitutional, said the magistrate. This is an even greater breach of the peace, and a grosser infringement of his Majesty's prerogative. I believe dueling is one of his Majesty's most undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinx. Expressly stipulated in Magna Carta, sir, said Mr. Jinx. One of the brightest jewels in the British crown, wrung from his Majesty by the political union of Barons, I believe, Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate. Just so, sir, replied Mr. Jinx. Very well, said the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly. It shall not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grummer, procure assistance, and execute these warrants with as little delay as possible. Muzzle! Yes, your worship. Show the lady out. Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrate's learning and research. Mr. Knupkins retired to lunch. Mr. Jinx retired within himself. That being the only retirement he had, except the sofa bedstead in the small parlor which was occupied by his landlady's family in the daytime, and Mr. Grummer retired, to wash out, by his mode of discharging his present commission, the insult which had been fastened upon himself, and the other representative of his Majesty, the Beatle, in the course of the morning. While these resolute and determined preparations for the conservation of the King's peace were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, wholly unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had sat quietly down to dinner, and very talkative and companionable they all were. Mr. Pickwick was in the very act of relating his adventure of the preceding night to the great amusement of his followers. Mr. Tubman especially, when the door opened, and a somewhat forbidding countenance peeped into the room. The eyes in that forbidding countenance looked very earnestly at Mr. Pickwick for several seconds, and were to all appearance satisfied with their investigation, for the body to which the forbidding countenance belonged slowly brought itself into the apartment, and presented the form of an elderly individual in top boots, not to keep the reader any longer in suspense, in short, the eyes were the wandering eyes of Mr. Grummer, and the body was the body of that same gentleman. Mr. Grummer's mode of preceding was professional, but peculiar. His first act was to bolt the door on the inside, his second to polish his head and countenance very carefully with a cotton handkerchief, his third to place his hat with the cotton handkerchief in it on the nearest chair, and his fourth to produce from the breast pocket of his coat a short truncheon surmounted by a brazen crown, with which he beckoned to Mr. Pickwick with a grave and ghostlike air. Mr. Snodgrass was the first to break the astonished silence. He looked steadily at Mr. Grummer for a brief space, and then said emphatically, This is a private room, sir. A private room. Mr. Grummer shook his head, and replied, No rooms private to his majesty when the street doors once passed. That's law. Some people maintain, said an Englishman's house is his castle. That's gammon. The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes. Which is Mr. Tubman? inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an intuitive perception of Mr. Pickwick. He knew him at once. My name's Tubman, said that gentleman. My name's law, said Mr. Grummer. What? said Mr. Tubman. Law replied Mr. Grummer. Law, civil power, and executive. Them's my titles, here's my authority. Blank Tubman, blank Pickwick against the peace of our sufferin' Lord the King, stated in that case made and provided and all regular. I apprehend you, Pickwick. Tubman, near fore, said. What do you mean by this insolence, said Mr. Tubman, starting up? Leave a room, leave a room. Hallow, said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to the door and opening at an inch or two. Doubly. Well, said a deep voice from the passage. Come forward, doubly. At the word of command a dirty-faced man, something over six feet high and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through the half-open door, making his face very red in the process, and entered the room. Is the other specials outside, doubly? inquired Mr. Grummer. Mr. Doubly, who is a man of few words, nodded ascent. Order in the division under your charge, doubly, said Mr. Grummer. Mr. Doubly did as he was desired, and half a dozen men, each with a short truncheon and a brass crown, flocked into the room. Mr. Grummer pocketed his staff and looked at Mr. Doubly. Mr. Doubly pocketed his staff and looked at the division, and the division pocketed their staves and looked at Messers Tubman and Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick and his followers rose as one man. What is the meaning of this atrocious intrusion upon my privacy? said Mr. Pickwick. Who dares apprehend me? said Mr. Tubman. What do you want here, scoundrels? said Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Winkle said nothing, but he fixed his eyes on Grummer, and bestowed a look upon him, which, if he had had any feeling, must have pierced his brain and come out on the other side, as it was, however, it had no visible effect on him whatsoever. When the executive perceived that Mr. Pickwick and his friends were disposed to resist the authority of the law, they very significantly turned up their coat sleeves, as if knocking them down in the first instance, and taking them up afterwards, were a mere professional act which only had to be thought of to be done, as a matter of course. This demonstration was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He conferred a few moments with Mr. Tubman apart, and then signified his readiness to proceed to the mayor's residence, merely begging the parties then and there assembled to take notice that it was his firm intention to resent this monstrous invasion of his privileges as an Englishman. The instant he was at liberty, were at the parties then and there assembled, laughed very heartily, with the single exception of Mr. Grummer, who seemed to consider that any slight cast upon the divine right of magistrates was a species of blasphemy and not to be tolerated. But when Mr. Pickwick had signified his readiness to bow to the laws of his country, and just when the waiters and hostlers and chamber-maids and post-boys who had anticipated a delightful commotion from his threatened obstinacy began to turn away, disappointed and disgusted, a difficulty arose which had not been foreseen. With every sentiment of veneration for the constituted authorities, Mr. Pickwick resolutely protested against making his appearance in the public streets, surrounded and guarded by the officers of justice like a common criminal. Mr. Grummer, in the then disturbed state of public feeling, for it was half-holiday and the boys had not yet gone home, as resolutely protested against walking on the opposite side of the way, and taking Mr. Pickwick's parole that he would go straight to the magistrates, and both Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tubman as strenuously objected to the expense of a post-coach, which was the only respectable conveyance that could be obtained. The dispute ran high and the dilemma lasted long, and just as the executive were on the point of overcoming Mr. Pickwick's objection to walking to the magistrates by the try to expedient of carrying him thither, it was recollected that there stood in the in-yard an old sedan chair, which, having been originally built for a gouty gentleman with funded property, would hold Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tubman at least as conveniently as a modern post-chase. The chair was hired and brought into the hall. Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tubman squeezed themselves inside and pulled down the blinds. A couple of chairmen were speedily found, and the procession started in grand order. The specials surrounded the body of the vehicle. Mr. Grummer and Mr. Dudley marched triumphantly in front. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle walked arm-in-arm behind, and the unsoped of Ipswich brought up the rear. The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very indistinct notion of the nature of the offense, could not but be much edified and gratified by this spectacle. Here was the strong arm of the law, coming down with twenty gold-beater force upon two offenders from the metropolis itself. The mighty engine was directed by their own magistrate and worked by their own officers, and both the criminals by their united efforts were securely boxed up in the narrow compass of one sedan chair. Many were the expressions of approval and admiration which greeted Mr. Grummer as he headed the cavalcade staff in hand. Loud and long were the shouts which were raised by the unsoped, and amidst these united testimonials of public approbation the procession moved slowly and majestically along. Mr. Weller, habited in his morning jacket with the black calico sleeves, was returning in a rather desponding state from an unsuccessful survey of the mysterious house with the green gate, when, raising his eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the street surrounding an object which had very much the appearance of a sedan chair. Willing to divert his thoughts from the failure of his enterprise he stepped aside to see the crowd pass, and finding that they were cheering away very much to their own satisfaction, forthwith began, just by way of raising his spirits, to cheer too, with all his might and main. Mr. Grummer passed, and Mr. Dudley passed, and the sedan passed, and the bodyguard of specials passed, and Sam was still responding to the enthusiastic cheers of the mob, and waving his hat about as if he were in the very last extreme of the wildest joy, though, of course, he had not the faintest idea of the matter in hand, when he was suddenly stopped by the unexpected appearance of Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass. What's around, gentlemen? cried Sam, who they got here in this watchbox in mourning. Both the gentlemen replied together, but their words were lost in the tumult. Who is it? roared Sam again. Once more was a joint reply returned, and though the words were inaudible, Sam saw by the motion of the two pairs of lips that they had uttered the magic word, pickwick. This was enough. In another minute Mr. Weller had made his way through the crowd, stopped the chairmen, and confronted the portly Grummer. Hello, gentlemen! said Sam. What have you got in this here, conveyance? Stam back, said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the dignity of a great many other men, had been wondrously augmented by a little popularity. Knock him down if you don't, said Mr. Dovely. I'm very much obliged to you, old gentleman, replied Sam, for consulting my convenience, and I'm still more obliged to the other gentleman who looks as if he's just escaped from a joint's carry one, for he's very unsome suggestion. But I should prefer you're giving me an answer to my question if it's all the same to you. How are you, sir? This last observation was addressed with a patronising air to Mr. Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window. Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged the truncheon with the brass crown from its particular pocket and flourished it before Sam's eyes. Ah! said Sam. It's very pretty, especially the crown which is uncommon like a real one. Stam back, said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of adding force to the command he thrust the brass emblem of royalty into Sam's neckcloth with one hand, and seized Sam's collar with the other, a compliment which Mr. Weller returned by knocking him down out of hand, having previously, with the utmost consideration, knocked down a chairman for him to lie upon. Whether Mr. Winkle was seized with a temporary attack of that species of insanity which originates in a sense of injury, or animated by this display of Mr. Weller's valor, is uncertain. But certain it is that he no sooner saw Mr. Grummer fall than he made a terrific onslaught on a small boy who stood next to him, whereupon Mr. Snodgrass, in truly Christian spirit, and in order that he might take no one unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going to begin, and proceeded to take off his coat with utmost deliberation. He was immediately surrounded and secured, and it is but common justice both to him and Mr. Winkle to say that they did not make the slightest attempt to rescue either themselves or Mr. Weller, who, after a most vigorous resistance, was overpowered by numbers, and taken prisoner. The procession was then reformed, and the chairman resumed their stations, and the march was recommended. Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceedings was beyond all bounds. He could just see Sam upsetting the specials and flying about in every direction, and that was all he could see, for the sedan doors wouldn't open and the blinds wouldn't pull up. At length with the assistance of Mr. Tubman, he managed to push open the roof, and mounting on the seat and steadying himself as well as he could by placing his hand on that gentleman's shoulder, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to address the multitude, to dwell upon the unjustifiable manner in which he had been treated, and to call upon them to take notice that his servant had been first assaulted, and in this order they reached the magistrate's house, the chairman trotting, the prisoners following, Mr. Pickwick oratorizing, and the crowd shouting.