 24 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 leather and hat box, and the brown paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage on his 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? And the waiter brought 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. Husband 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. One 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. Ha, ha, ha, 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 your 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 a tribute to the lady's beauty and excellent qualities. From them, 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 by analogy that 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 colors 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. 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 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 meet 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, gentlemen, 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 to a window recess, said, Congratulations, Mr. Pickwick, I followed your advice to the very letter. When it was all correct, was it, inquired Mr. Pickwick? It was, sir. 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. 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, a beg to make you known to Miss Witherfield. The lady was at the upper end of the room. As Mr. Pickwick bowed, he took his spectacles from his waistcoat 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 hit her face in her hands and dropped into a chair, whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was stricken motionless on the spot, engaged from one to the other with accountants expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise. This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behavior. But the fact is that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles than he at 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 at once identified the countants 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 is the meaning of this, sir? What is the meaning of it, sir? That had Mr. Magnus in a threatening and a louder tone. Sir, said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into the imperative mood. I decline answering that question. You decline it, sir, said Mr. Magnus. I do, sir, replied Mr. Pickwick. I object to say anything which may compromise that lady or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast without her consent and permission. This 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. Here 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, sirs, 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 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. There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of never mind, for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed the quarrel in the street, at a theater, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir? Never mind, sir. Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir? Never mind, sir. Do you want your head knocked up against that wall, sir? Never mind, sir. 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 abuse 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, Tubman, come here. Mr. Tubman immediately presented himself with a look of very considerable surprise. Tubman, 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 not in any way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that if he continued to dispute it he expresses a doubt of my veracity which I shall consider extremely insulting. As Mr. Pickwick said this, he looked encyclopedias 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 declamation 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 and 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 had 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 the most harmless thing in nature. But as she had lived for the most part in the country and never read the 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 began 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 barrelful 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 allusion 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 straightway. Now George Knupkin's Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, was 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 who 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 majestycy? Do you happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize ring on the 4th of May last, attended by only sixty special constables, and, at the hazard of falling a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude, prohibited a pugilistic contest between the middle-sex dumpling and the suffoc-bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma'am? I don't think. I do not think, said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, that any two men 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? Send 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 knowing exactly 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 fool. 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 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 rioter? What's his name, Mr. Jinx? Topman, sir. Topman is 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 cutthroats 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 up 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 was cheaply remarkable for a bottle nose, a horse voice, a snuff-colored shirt out, and a wandering eye. Grummer, said the magistrate, your worship? Is the town quiet now? Pretty well, your worship, replied Grummer. Popular feeling has, in a measure subsided, consequence of the boys having dispersed to cricket. Nothing but vigorous measures will do in these times, Grummer, said the magistrate, in a determined manner. If the authority of the king's officers has said it 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 the head that he should never forget it, 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 even a 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 rung from his Majesty by the 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. Nupkins 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 wipe 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 and the 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 the same gentleman. Mr. Grummer's mode of proceeding 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 the 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 ghost-like 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 room's private to his majesty when the street doors once passed. That's law. Some people maintains that in Englishman's house is his castle. That's gammon. The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes. �Which is Mr. Tupman?� inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an intuitive perception of Mr. Pickwick. He knew him at once. �My name's Tupman� said that gentleman. �My name's law� said Mr. Grummer. �What?� said Mr. Tupman. �Law� replied Mr. Grummer. �Law, civil power, and executive. Them's my titles. Here's my authority. Blank Tupman, blank Pickwick, against the peace of our suffering lord the king. Statted in the case made, and provided, and all regular. �I apprehend you, Pickwick�, Tupman the aforesaid. �What do you mean by this insolence?� said Mr. Tupman, starting up. �Leave the room.� �Hello� said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to the door, and opening it an inch or two. �Dubbly? Well� said a deep voice from the passage. �Come forward, Dubbly.� 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, Dubbly?� inquired Mr. Grummer. �Mr. Dubbly, who was a man of few words, not a descent. �Order in the division under your charge, Dubbly� said Mr. Grummer. �Mr. Dubbly 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. Dubbly. Mr. Dubbly pocketed his staff and looked at the division. The division pocketed their staves and looked at Messers Tupman 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. Tupman. �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. As it was, however, it had no visible effect on him whatever. 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 had only 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. Tupman 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. Where 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 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 chambermaids 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 trite 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 gaudy 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 processions 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 shut 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. Out and long were the shouts 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, by way of raising his spirits, to cheer, too, with all his might in vain. 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 the row, gentlemen? cried Sam. Who have they gotten this here watchbox in morning? Both gentlemen replied together, but their words were lost in the tumult. Who is it? cried 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 chairman and confronted the portly Grummer. Hello, old gentleman, said Sam, who have you got in this here conveyance? Stand 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 he don't, said Mr. Dudley. 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'd just escaped from a giant's caravan for his weary-ansom 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 the patronizing 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 the real one. Stand back, said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of adding force to the command, he thrust the brass emblem of royalty into Sam's netcloth 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 the 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 a 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 the 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 most vigorous resistance, was overpowered by numbers and taken prisoner. The procession then reformed, the chairman resumed their stations, and the march was recommenced. Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceeding 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. Tutman, he managed to push open the roof, and mounting on the seat and studying 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. In this order they reached the magistrate's house, the chairman trotting, the prisoners following, Mr. Pickwick oratorizing, and the crowd shouting. CHAPTER 25 Showing among a variety of pleasant matters how majestic and impartial Mr. Nupkins was, and how Mr. Weller returned Mr. Job Trotter's shuttlecock as heavily as it came, with another matter which will be found in its place. Violent was Mr. Weller's indignation as he was born along. Numerous were the illusions to the personal appearance and demeanor of Mr. Grummer and his companion, and valorous were the defiances to any sixth of the gentleman present in which he vented his dissatisfaction. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle listened with gloomy respect to the torrent of eloquence which their leader poured forth from the sedan chair, and the rapid course of which not all Mr. Tutman's earnest entreaties to have the lid of the vehicle closed were able to check for an instant. But Mr. Weller's anger quickly gave way to curiosity when the procession turned down the identical courtyard in which he had met with the runaway Job Trotter, and curiosity was exchanged for a feeling of the most gleeful astonishment when the all important Mr. Grummer, commanding the sedan-bearers to halt, advanced with dignified and portentous steps to the very green gate from which Job Trotter had emerged, and gave a mighty pull at the bell-handle which hung at the side thereof. The ring was answered by a very smart and pretty-faced servant-girl who, after holding up her hands in astonishment at the rebellious appearance of their prisoners and the impassioned language of Mr. Pickwick, summoned Mr. Muzzle. Mr. Muzzle opened one half of the carriage gate to admit the sedan, the captured ones, and the specials, and immediately slammed it in the faces of the mob, who, indignant at being excluded and anxious to see what followed, relieved their feelings by kicking at the gate and ringing the bell for an hour or two afterwards. In this amusement they all took part by turns, except three or four fortunate individuals who, having discovered a grating in the gate which commanded a view of nothing, stared through it with the indefatigable perseverance with which people will flatten their noses against the front windows of a chemist's shop, when a drunken man who has been run over by a dog-card in the street is undergoing a surgical inspection in the back parlor. At the foot of a flight of steps leading to the house door, which was guarded on either side by an American aloe in a green tub, the sedan chair stopped. Mr. Pickwick and his friends were conducted into the hall, since having been previously announced by muzzle and ordered in by Mr. Knupkins, they were ushered into the worshipful presence of that public-spirited officer. The scene was an impressive one, well-calculated to strike terror to the hearts of culprits and to impress them with an adequate idea of the stern majesty of the law. In front of a big book-case and a big chair behind a big table and before a big volume sat Mr. Knupkins, looking a full-sized larger than any one of them, big as they were. The table was adorned with piles of papers, and above the farther end of it appeared the head and shoulders of Mr. Jinx, who was busily engaged in looking as busy as possible. The party having all entered, muzzle carefully closed the door and placed himself behind his master's chair to await his orders. Mr. Knupkins threw himself back with thrilling solemnity and scrutinized the faces of his unwilling visitors. Now, Grummer, who is that person? said Mr. Knupkins, pointing to Mr. Pickwick, who, as the spokesman of his friends, stood hat in hand, bowing with the utmost politeness and respect. This here is Pickwick, your wash-up, said Grummer. Come! None of that air, old strike-a-lite! Interposed Mr. Weller, elbowing himself into the front rank. Beg your pardon, sir, but this here officer of your own in the gambooge tops will never earn a decent living as a master of the ceremonies anywhere. This here, sir, continued Mr. Weller, thrusting Grummer aside and addressing the magistrate with pleasant familiarity. This here is Pickwick, Esquire. This here is Mr. Tupman. That air is Mr. Snodgrass. And farther on, next to him, on the other side, Mr. Winkle. All very nice gentlemen, sir, as you'll be very happy to have the acquaintance on. So the sooner you commence, these here officers are yearned to the treadmill for a month or two. The sooner we shall begin to be on a pleasant understanding. Business first, pleasure outerwards, as King Richard III said, when he stabbed Tother King in the tower afore he smothered the babies. At the conclusion of this address Mr. Weller brushed his hat with his right elbow, and nodded benignly to jinx, who had heard him throughout with unspeakable awe. Who is this man, Grummer? said the magistrate. Where are you, desperate character, you wash-up replied Grummer? He attempted to rescue the prisoners and assault of the officers, so we took him into custody and brought him here. He did quite right, replied the magistrate. He is evidently a desperate ruffian. He is my servant, sir, said Mr. Pickwick angrily. Oh, he is your servant, is he? said Mr. Nupkins. A conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice and murder its officers. Pickwick's servant. Put that down, Mr. Jinx. Mr. Jinx did so. What's your name, fellow, thundered Mr. Nupkins? Weller, replied Sam. A very good name for the Newgate calendar, said Mr. Nupkins. This was a joke, so jinx, Grummer, doubly, all the specials and muzzle went into fits of laughter of five minutes duration. Put down his name, Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate. Two Ls, old fellow, said Sam. Here an unfortunate special laughed again, whereupon the magistrate threatened to commit him instantly. It is a dangerous thing to laugh at the wrong man in these cases. Where do you live? said the magistrate. Wherever I can, replied Sam. Put down that, Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate, who is fast rising into a rage. Score it under, said Sam. He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate. He is a vagabond on his own statement. Is he not, Mr. Jinx? Certainly, sir. Then I'll commit him. I'll commit him as such, said Mr. Nupkins. This is a weary and partial country for justice, said Sam. There ain't a magistrate going as don't commit himself twice as he commits other people. At this sally, another special laughed, and then tried to look so supernaturally solemn that the magistrate detected him immediately. Grummer, said Mr. Nupkins, reddening with passion. How dare you select such an inefficient and disreputable person for a special constable as that man? How dare you do it, sir? I am very sorry, your washup, stammered Grummer. Very sorry, said the furious magistrate. You shall repent of this neglect of duty, Mr. Grummer. You shall be made an example of. Take that fellow's staff away. He's drunk. You're drunk, fellow. I am not drunk, your worship, said the man. You are drunk, returned the magistrate. How dare you say you are not drunk, sir, when I say you are. Doesn't he smell of spirits, Grummer? Horrid, your washup, replied Grummer, who had a vague impression that there was a smell of Rome somewhere. I knew he did, said Mr. Nupkins. I saw he was drunk when he first came into the room by his excited eye. Did you observe his excited eye, Mr. Jinks? Certainly, sir. I haven't touched a drop of spirits this morning, said the man who was as sober a fellow as need be. How dare you tell me a falsehood, said Mr. Nupkins. Isn't he drunk at this moment, Mr. Jinks? Certainly, sir, replied Jinks. Mr. Jinks, said the magistrate, I shall commit that man for contempt. Make out his committal, Mr. Jinks. And committed the special would have been only Jinks who was the magistrate's advisor, having had a legal education of three years in a country attorney's office, whispered the magistrate that he thought it wouldn't do. So the magistrate made a speech and said that in consideration of the special's family, he would merely reprimand and discharge him. Accordingly, the special was abused vehemently for a quarter of an hour and sent about his business. And Grummer, doubly, muzzle, and all the other specials murmured their admiration of the magnanimity of Mr. Nupkins. Now, Mr. Jinks, said the magistrate, swear Grummer. Grummer was sworn directly. But as Grummer wandered, and Mr. Nupkins' dinner was nearly ready, Mr. Nupkins cut the matter short by putting leading questions to Grummer, which Grummer answered as nearly in the affirmative as he could. So the examination went off, all very smooth and comfortable. And two assaults were proved against Mr. Weller and a threat against Mr. Winkle and a push against Mr. Snodgrass. When all this was done to the magistrate's satisfaction, the magistrate and Mr. Jinks consulted and whispers. The consultation, having lasted about 10 minutes, Mr. Jinks retired to his end of the table, and the magistrate, with a preparatory cough, drew himself up in his chair and was proceeding to commence his address when Mr. Pickwick interposed. I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting you, said Mr. Pickwick. But before you proceed to express and act upon any opinion you may have formed on the statements which have been made here, I must claim my right to be heard so far as I am personally concerned. Hold your tongue, sir, said the magistrate peremptorily. I must submit to you, sir, said Mr. Pickwick. Hold your tongue, sir, interposed the magistrate, where I shall order an officer to remove you. You may order your officers to do whatever you please, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, and I have no doubt from the specimen I have had of the subordination preserved amongst them that whatever you order they will execute, sir, but I shall take the liberty, sir, of claiming my right to be heard until I am removed by force. Pickwick and principal exclaimed Mr. Weller in a very audible voice. Sam be quiet, said Mr. Pickwick. Dumb as a drum for the hole in it, sir, replied Sam. Mr. Knupkins looked at Mr. Pickwick with a gaze of intense astonishment at his displaying such unwanted temerity, and was apparently about to return a very angry reply when Mr. Jinks pulled him by the sleeve and whispered something in his ear. To this the magistrate returned a half-oughtable answer, and then the whispering was renewed. Jinks was evidently remonstrating. At length the magistrate, gulping down with a very bad grace, his disinclination to hear anything more, turned to Mr. Pickwick and said sharply, What do you want to say? First, said Mr. Pickwick, sending a look through his spectacles under which even Knupkins quailed. First, I wish to know what I and my friend have been brought here for. Must I tell him? whispered the magistrate to Jinks. I think you had better, sir, whispered Jinks to the magistrate. An information has been sworn before me, said the magistrate, that it is apprehended you are going to fight a duel and that the other man, Tupman, is your aider and a better in it. Therefore, eh, Mr. Jinks? Certainly, sir. Therefore, I call upon you both to, I think that's the course, Mr. Jinks. Certainly, sir. To, to what, Mr. Jinks? Said the magistrate, pettishly. To find bail, sir, yes. Therefore, I call upon you both as I was about to say when I was interrupted by my clerk. To find bail, good bail, whispered Mr. Jinks. I shall require good bail, said the magistrate. Townspeople whispered Jinks. They must be townspeople, said the magistrate. 50 pounds each, whispered Jinks and householders, of course. I shall require two sureties of 50 pounds each, said the magistrate, aloud with great dignity. And they must be householders, of course. But bless my heart, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, who, together with Mr. Tupman, was all amazement and indignation. We are perfect strangers in this town. I have as little knowledge of any householders here as I have intention of fighting a duel with anybody. I dare say, replied the magistrate. I dare say, don't you, Mr. Jinks? Certainly, sir. Have you anything more to say, inquired the magistrate? Mr. Pickwick had a great deal more to say, which he would no doubt have said, very little to his own advantage or the magistrate's satisfaction, if he had not, the moment he ceased speaking, then pulled by the sleeve by Mr. Weller, with whom he was immediately engaged and so earnest a conversation that he suffered the magistrate's inquiry to pass wholly unnoticed. Mr. Nupkins was not the man to ask a question of the kind twice over. And so, with another preparatory cough, he proceeded amidst the reverential and admiring silence of the constables to pronounce his decision. He should find Weller two pounds for the first assault and three pounds for the second. He should find Winkle two pounds and Snodgrass one pound, besides requiring them to enter into their own recognizances to keep the peace towards all his majesty's subjects and especially towards his liege-servant Daniel Grummer. Pickwick and Tubman he had already held to bail. Immediately on the magistrate's ceasing to speak, Mr. Pickwick, with a smile mantling on his again good-humored countenance, stepped forward and said, I beg the magistrate's pardon, but may I request a few minutes private conversation with him on a matter of deep importance to himself? What, said the magistrate? Mr. Pickwick repeated his request. This is a most extraordinary request, said the magistrate. A private interview? A private interview, replied Mr. Pickwick firmly, only as a part of the information which I wish to communicate is derived from my servant, I should wish him to be present. The magistrate looked at Mr. Jinx. Mr. Jinx looked at the magistrate. The officers looked at each other in amazement. Mr. Knupkin's turn suddenly pale. Could the man Weller, in a moment of remorse, have divulged some secret conspiracy for his assassination? It was a dreadful thought. He was a public man, and he turned paler as he thought of Julius Caesar and Mr. Percival. The magistrate looked at Mr. Pickwick again, and beckoned Mr. Jinx. What do you think of this request, Mr. Jinx? murmured Mr. Knupkin's. Mr. Jinx, who didn't exactly know what to think of it and was afraid he might offend, smiled feebly after a dubious fashion, and screwing up the corners of his mouth and shook his head slowly from side to side. Mr. Jinx, said the magistrate gravely, you are an ass. At this little expression of opinion Mr. Jinx smiled again, rather more feebly than before, and edged himself by degrees back into his own corner. Mr. Knupkin's debated the matter within himself for a few seconds, and then, rising from his chair, and requesting Mr. Pickwick and Sam to follow him, led the way into a small room which opened into the justice parlor. He was asking Mr. Pickwick to walk to the upper end of the little apartment, and holding his hand upon the half-closed door that he might be able to affect an immediate escape, in case there was the least tendency to a display of hostilities. Mr. Knupkin's expressed his readiness to hear the communication, whatever it might be. I will come to the point at once, sir, said Mr. Pickwick. It affects yourself and your credit materially. I have every reason to believe, sir, that you are harboring in your house a gross imposter. I, too, interrupted Sam. Mulberry, again all-nader, for cheers and willy. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, if I am to render myself intelligible to this gentleman, I must beg you to control your feelings. Very sorry, sir, replied Mr. Weller. But when I think of that, Job, I can't help open in the while, the inch or two. In one word, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, is my servant right in suspecting that a certain captain Fitzmartial is in the habit of visiting here? Because, added Mr. Pickwick, as he saw that Mr. Knupkin's was about to offer a very indignant interruption. Because, if he be, I know that person to be a hush-hush, said Mr. Knupkin's, closing the door. Know him to be what, sir? An unprincipled adventurer, a dishonorable character, a man who prays upon society and makes easily deceived people his dupes, sir. His absurd, his foolish, his wretched dupes, sir, said the excited Mr. Pickwick. Dear me, said Mr. Knupkin's, turning very red and altering his whole manner directly. Dear me, Mr. Pickwick, said Sam. Pickwick, said the magistrate. Dear me, Mr. Pickwick, pray take a seat. You cannot mean this. Captain Fitzmartial? Don't call him a captain, said Sam, nor Fitzmartial, neither. He ain't neither one nor tether. He's a strolling actor, he is, and his name's Jingle. And if ever there was a wolf in a mulberry suit, that air Job trotters him. It is very true, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, replying to the magistrate's look of amazement. My only business in this town is to expose the person of whom we now speak. Mr. Pickwick proceeded to pour into the horror-stricken ear of Mr. Knupkin's and averaged account of all Mr. Jingle's atrocities. He related how he had first met him, how he had eloped with Miss Wardle, how he had cheerfully resigned the lady for a pecuniary consideration, how he had entrapped himself into a lady's boarding school at midnight, and how he, Mr. Pickwick, now felt at his duty to expose his assumption of his present name and rank. As the narrative proceeded, all the warm blood in the body of Mr. Knupkin's tingled up into the very tips of his ears. He had picked up the captain at a neighboring race course. Charmed with his long list of aristocratic acquaintance, his extensive travel, and his fashionable demeanor, Mrs. Knupkin's and Miss Knupkin's had exhibited Captain Fitzmartial and quoted Captain Fitzmartial and hurled Captain Fitzmartial at the devoted heads of their select circle of acquaintance until their bosom friends, Mrs. Porkenham and the Mrs. Porkenham's and Mr. Sidney Porkenham were ready to burst with jealousy and despair. And now to hear, after all, that he was a needy adventurer, a strolling player, and if not a swindler, something so very like it that it was hard to tell the difference. Heavens, what would the Porkenham say? What would be the triumph of Mr. Sidney Porkenham when he found that his addresses had been slighted for such a rival? How should he, Knupkin's, meet the eye of old Porkenham at the next quarter sessions? And what a handle would it be for the opposition magisterial party if the story got abroad? But after all, said Mr. Knupkin's, brightening for a moment after a long pause, after all, this is a mere statement. Captain Fitzmartial is a man of very engaging manners and I daresay has many enemies. What proof have you of the truth of these representations? Confront me with him, said Mr. Pickwick. That is all I ask and all I require. Confront him with me and my friends here. You will want no further proof. Why, said Mr. Knupkin's, that might be very easily done for he will be here tonight. And then there would be no occasion to make the matter public. Just for the young man's own sake, you know. I should like to consult Mrs. Knupkin's. I'm a propriety of the step in the first instance, though. At all events, Mr. Pickwick, we must dispatch this legal business before we can do anything else. Pray step back into the next room. Into the next room they went. Grummer, said the magistrate, in an awful voice. Your wash-up, replied Grummer with the smile of a favorite. Come, come, sir, said the magistrate sternly. Don't let me see any of this levity here. It is very unbecoming and I can assure you that you have very little to smile at. Was the account you gave me just now strictly true? Now be careful, sir. Your wash-up, the stammered Grummer, Oh, you are confused, are you, said the magistrate. Mr. Jinx, you observe this confusion? Certainly, sir, replied Jinx. Now, said the magistrate, repeat your statement, Grummer, and again I warn you to be careful. Mr. Jinx, take his words down. The unfortunate Grummer proceeded to restate his complaint. But what between Mr. Jinx's taking down his words and the magistrate's taking them up, his natural tendency to rambling and his extreme confusion, he managed to get involved in something under three minutes in such a mess of entanglement and contradiction that Mr. Knupkins at once declared he didn't believe him. So the fines were remitted and Mr. Jinx found a couple of bail in no time and all these solemn proceedings having been satisfactorily concluded, Mr. Grummer was ignominiously ordered out an awful instance of the instability of human greatness and the uncertain tenure of great men's favor. Mrs. Knupkins was a majestic female in a pink gauze turban and a light brown wig. Ms. Knupkins possessed all her momma's haughtiness without the turban and all her ill nature without the wig. And whenever the exercise of these two amiable qualities involved mother and daughter in some unpleasant dilemma, as they not infrequently did, they both concurred in laying the blame on the shoulders of Mr. Knupkins. Accordingly, when Mr. Knupkins sought Mrs. Knupkins and detailed the communication which had been made by Mr. Pickwick, Mrs. Knupkins suddenly recollected that she had always expected something of the kind, that she had always said it would be so that her advice was never taken, that she really did not know what Mr. Knupkins supposed she was, and so forth. The idea, said Mrs. Knupkins, forcing a tier of very scanty proportions into the corner of each eye, the idea of my being made such a fool of. You may thank your papa, my dear, said Mrs. Knupkins, how I have implored and begged that man to inquire into the captain's family connections, how I have urged and then treated him to take some decisive step. I am quite certain nobody would believe it, quite. But my dear, said Mr. Knupkins, don't talk to me, you aggravating thing, don't, said Mrs. Knupkins. My love, said Mr. Knupkins, you professed yourself very fond of Captain Fitzmartial. You have constantly asked him here, my dear, and you have lost no opportunity of introducing him elsewhere. Didn't I say so, Henrietta, cried Mrs. Knupkins, appealing to her daughter with the air of a much injured female. Didn't I say that your papa would turn round and lay all this at my door? Didn't I say so? Here, Mrs. Knupkins sobbed. Oh, pa, remonstrated Mrs. Knupkins, and here she sobbed, too. Isn't it too much when he has brought all this disgrace and ridicule upon us to taunt me with being the cause of it? exclaimed Mrs. Knupkins. How could we ever show ourselves in society, said Mrs. Knupkins? How can we face the pork and hams, cried Mrs. Knupkins, or the grigs, cried Mrs. Knupkins, or the slum and talcans, cried Mrs. Knupkins, but what does your papa care? What is it to him? At this dreadful reflection, Mrs. Knupkins wept mental anguish and Mrs. Knupkins followed on the same side. Mrs. Knupkins' tears continued to gush forth with great velocity until she had gained a little time to think the matter over. When she decided, in her own mind, that the best thing to do would be to ask Mr. Pickwick and his friends to remain until the captain's arrival and then to give Mr. Pickwick the opportunity he sought. If it appeared that he had spoken truly, the captain could be turned out of the house without noising the matter abroad and they could easily account to the pork and hams for his disappearance by saying that he had been appointed through the court influence of his family to the governor generalship of Sierra Leone, of Sager Point, or any other of those salubrious climates which enchant Europeans so much that when they once get there they can hardly ever prevail upon themselves to come back again. When Mrs. Knupkins dried up her tears, Mrs. Knupkins dried up hers and Mr. Knupkins was very glad to settle the matter as Mrs. Knupkins had proposed. So Mr. Pickwick and his friends, having washed off all marks of their late encounter, were introduced to the ladies and soon afterwards to their dinner and Mr. Weller, whom the magistrate with his peculiar sagacity had discovered in half an hour to be one of the finest fellows alive, was consigned to the care and guardianship of Mr. Muzzle, who was specially enjoined to take him below and make much of him. How did you, sir, said Mr. Muzzle, as he conducted Mr. Weller down the kitchen stairs. Why no considerable change has taken place in the state of my system since I see you cocked up behind your governor's chair in the parlor a little while ago, replied Sam. You will excuse my not taking more notice of you then, said Mr. Muzzle. You see, master hadn't introduced us then. Lord, how fond he is of you, Mr. Weller, to be sure. Ah, said Sam, what a pleasant chap he is. Ain't he, replied Mr. Muzzle, so much humor, said Sam. And such a man to speak, said Mr. Muzzle, how his ideas flow, don't they? Wonderful, replied Sam. There comes a pouring out, knocking each other's heads so fast that they seem to stun one another. You hardly know what is harder, do you? That's the great merit of his style of speaking, rejoined Mr. Muzzle. Take care of the last step, Mr. Weller. Would you like to wash your hands, sir, before we join the ladies? Here's a sink with the water laid on, sir, and a clean jack towel behind the door. Ah, perhaps I may as well have a rinse, replied Mr. Weller, applying plenty of yellow soap to the towel and rubbing away till his face shone again. How many ladies are there? Only two in our kitchen, said Mr. Muzzle, cook and housemaid. We keep a boy to do the dirty work and a gal besides, but they dine in the washes. Oh, they dine in the washes, do they? Said Mr. Weller. Yes, replied Mr. Muzzle. We tried him at our table when they first come, but we couldn't keep him. The gal's manners is dreadful, Volger, and the boy breathes so very hard while he's eating that we found it impossible to sit at table with him. Young Grampus, said Mr. Weller. Oh, dreadful, rejoined Mr. Muzzle. But that is the worst of country service, Mr. Weller. The juniors is always so very savage. This way, sir, if you please, this way. Preceding Mr. Weller with the utmost politeness, Mr. Muzzle conducted him into the kitchen. Mary, said Mr. Muzzle to the pretty servant girl, this is Mr. Weller, a gentleman his master has sent down to be made as comfortable as possible. And your master's a no one hand and has just sent me to the right place, said Mr. Weller with a glance of admiration at Mary. If I was master of this here house, I should always find the materials for comfort where Mary was. Lord, Mr. Weller, said Mary, blushing, well, I never ejaculated the cook. Bless me, cook, I forgot you, said Mr. Muzzle. Mr. Weller, let me introduce you. How are you, ma'am, said Mr. Weller. Very glad to see you indeed, and hope our acquaintance may be along on, as the gentleman said to the five-pun note. When this ceremony of introduction had been gone through, the cook and Mary retired into the back kitchen to titter for 10 minutes, then returning all giggles and blushes they sat down to dinner. Mr. Weller's easy manners and conversational powers had such irresistible influence with his new friends that before the dinner was half over, they were on a footing of perfect intimacy and in possession of a full account of the delinquency of Job Trotter. I never could have bear that, Job, said Mary. No more you never ought to, my dear, replied Mr. Weller. Why not, inquired Mary, because ugliness and spindle never ought to be familiar with elegance and virtue, replied Mr. Weller, ought they, Mr. Muzzle. Not by no means, replied that gentleman. Here Mary laughed and said the cook had made her and the cook laughed and said she hadn't. I hadn't got a glass, said Mary. Drink with me, my dear, said Mr. Weller, put your lips to this here tumbler and then I can kiss you by deputy. For shame, Mr. Weller, said Mary. What's a shame, my dear, talking in that way. Nonsense, it ain't no harm, it's nader, ain't it, cook? Don't ask me, imprints, replied the cook in a high state of delight. And here upon the cook and Mary laughed again till what between the beer and the cold meat and the laughter combined, the latter young lady was brought to the verge of choking, an alarming crisis from which she was only recovered by sundry pats on the back and other necessary attentions, most delicately administered by Mr. Samuel Weller. In the midst of all this jollity and conviviality, a loud ring was heard at the garden gate to which the young gentleman who took his meals in the wash house immediately responded. Mr. Weller was in the height of his attentions to the pretty housemate. Mr. Muzzle was busy doing the honors of the table and the cook had just paused to laugh in the very act of raising a huge morsel to her lips when the kitchen door opened and in walked Mr. Job Trotter. We have said in walked Mr. Job Trotter, but the statement is not distinguished by our usual scrupulous adherents to fact. The door opened and Mr. Trotter appeared. He would have walked in and was in the very act of doing so indeed when catching sight of Mr. Weller, he involuntarily shrank back a pace or two and stood gazing on the unexpected scene before him, perfectly motionless with amazement and terror. Here he is, said Sam, rising with great glee. Why, we were that weary moment of speaking to you. How are you? Where have you been? Come in. Laying his hand on the mulberry collar of the unresisting Job, Mr. Weller dragged him into the kitchen and locking the door handed to key to Mr. Muzzle, who very coolly buttoned it up in a side pocket. Well, here's a game, cried Sam. Only think of my master having the pleasure of meeting you on upstairs and me having the joy of meeting you down here. How are you getting on and how is the chandlery business likely to do? Well, I am so glad to see you. How happy you look. It's quite a treat to see you. Ain't it, Mr. Muzzle? Quite, said Mr. Muzzle. So cheerful he is, said Sam. In such good spirits, said Muzzle. And so glad to see us that makes it so much more comfortable, said Sam. Sit down, sit down. Mr. Trotter suffered himself to be forced into a chair by the fireside. He cast his small eyes first on Mr. Weller and then on Mr. Muzzle, but said nothing. Well now, said Sam, before these here ladies, I should just like to ask you as a sort of curiosity, whether you don't consider yourself as nice and well-behaved young gentleman has ever used the pink check pocket handkerchief in the number four collection. And as was ever going to be married to a cook, said that lady indignantly, the villain and leave off his evil ways and set up in the chandlery line afterwards, said the housemaid. Now, I'll tell you what it is, young man, said Mr. Muzzle, solemnly, enraged at the last two allusions. This here lady, pointing to the cook, keeps company with me. And when you presume, sir, in a talk of keeping chandler shops with her, you injure me in one of the most delicatest points in which one man can injure another. Do you understand that, sir? Here Mr. Muzzle, who had a great notion of his eloquence in which he imitated his master, paused for a reply. But Mr. Trotter made no reply, so Mr. Muzzle proceeded in a solemn manner. It's very probable, sir, that you won't be wanted upstairs for several minutes, sir, because my master is at this moment particularly engaged in settling the hash of your master, sir, and therefore you'll have leisure, sir, for a little private talk with me, sir. Do you understand that, sir? Mr. Muzzle again paused for a reply, and again Mr. Trotter disappointed him. Well, then, said Mr. Muzzle, I'm very sorry to have to explain myself before ladies, but the urgency of the case will be my excuse. The back kitchen's empty, sir. If you will step in there, sir. Mr. Weller will see fair, and we can have mutual satisfaction till the bell rings. Follow me, sir. As Mr. Muzzle uttered these words, he took a step or two towards the door, and by way of saving time, began to pull off his coat as he walked along. Now the cook no sooner heard the concluding words of this desperate challenge, and saw Mr. Muzzle about to put it into execution, then she uttered a loud and piercing shriek, and rushing on Mr. Job Trotter, who rose from his chair on the instant, tore and buffeted his large, flat face with an energy peculiar to excited females, and twining her hands in his long black hair, tore there from about enough to make five or six dozen of the very largest-sized morning rings. Having accomplished this feat with all the ardor which her devoted love for Mr. Muzzle inspired, she staggered back, and being a lady of very excitable and delicate feelings, she instantly fell under the dresser and fainted away. At this moment the bell rang. That's for you, Job Trotter, said Sam, and before Mr. Trotter could offer remonstrance or reply, even before he had time to staunch the wounds inflicted by the insensible lady, Sam seized one arm and Mr. Muzzle the other, and one pulling before and the other pushing behind, they conveyed him upstairs and into the parlor. It was an impressive tableau. Alfred Jingle Esquire, alias Captain Fitzmartial, was standing near the door with his hat in his hand and a smile on his face, wholly unmoved by his very unpleasant situation. Confronting him, stood Mr. Pickwick, who had evidently been inculating some high moral lesson, for his left hand was beneath his coattail, and his right extended in air, as was his won't when delivering himself of an impressive address. At a little distance, stood Mr. Tubman with indignant countenance, carefully held back by his two younger friends. At the farther end of the room were Mr. Knupkins, Mrs. Knupkins, and Ms. Knupkins, gloomily grand and savagely vexed. What prevents me, said Mr. Knupkins, with magisterial dignity as Job was brought in, what prevents me from detaining these men as rogues and imposters? It is a foolish mercy, what prevents me? Pride, old fellow pride, replied Jingle, quite at his ease, wouldn't do, no go. Caught a captain, eh, ha, ha, very good. Husband for daughter, bite her bit, make it public, now for worlds look stupid, very wretch, said Mr. Knupkins, we scorn your base insinuations. I always hated him, added Henrietta. Oh, of course, said Jingle, tall young man, old lovers, Sidney, Pork and Hem, rich, fine fellow, not so rich as captain, though eh, turned him away, off with him, anything for captain, nothing like captain anywhere, all the girls, raving mad, eh, Job, eh? Here Mr. Jingle laughed very hardly, and Job, rubbing his hands with delight, uttered the first sound he had given vent to, since he entered the house. A low, noiseless chuckle, which seemed to intimate that he enjoyed his laugh too much to let any of it escape in sound. Mr. Knupkins, said the elder lady, this is not a fit conversation for the servants to overhear, let these wretches be removed. Certainly, my dear, said Mr. Knupkins, muzzle, your worship, open the front door. Yes, your worship, leave the house, said Mr. Knupkins, waving his hand emphatically. Jingle smiled and moved towards the door. Stay, said Mr. Pickwick, Jingle stopped. I might, said Mr. Pickwick, have taken a much greater revenge for the treatment I have experienced at your hands, and that of your hypocritical friend there. Job trodder bowed with great politeness and laid his hand upon his heart. I say, said Mr. Pickwick, growing gradually angry, that I might have taken a greater revenge, but I content myself with exposing you, which I consider a duty I owe to society. This is a leniency, sir, which I hope you will remember. When Mr. Pickwick arrived at this point, Job trodder, with facetious gravity, applied his hand to his ear, as if desirous not to lose a syllable he uttered. And I have only to add, sir, said Mr. Pickwick, now thoroughly angry, that I consider you a rascal and a ruffian, and worse than any man I ever saw or heard of, except that pious and sanctified vagabond in the Mulberry livery. Ha-ha, said Jingle, good fellow, Pickwick, fine-heart, stout old boy, but must not be passionate, bad thing, very. Bye-bye, see you again some day, keep up your spirits. Now, Job trodder. With these words Mr. Jingle stuck on his hat in his old fashion and strode out of the room. Job trodder paused, looked round, smiled, and then with a bow of mock solemnity to Mr. Pickwick and a wink to Mr. Weller, the audacious slinus of which baffles all description, followed the footsteps of his hopeful master. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, as Mr. Weller was following, sir, stay here, Mr. Weller seemed uncertain. Stay here, repeated Mr. Pickwick. Man, I polished that at Job off in the front garden, said Mr. Weller. Certainly not, replied Mr. Pickwick. Man, I kick him out of the gate, sir, said Mr. Weller, not on any account, replied his master. For the first time since his engagement, Mr. Weller looked for a moment discontented and unhappy. But his countenance immediately cleared up, for the wily Mr. Muzzle, by concealing himself behind the street door and rushing violently out at the right instant, contrived with great dexterity to overturn both Mr. Jingle and his attendant down the flight of steps into the American aloe tubs that stood beneath. Having discharged my duty, sir, said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Nupkins, I will with my friends bid you farewell. While we thank you for such hospitality as we have received, permit me to assure you in our joint names that we should not have accepted it or have consented to extricate ourselves in this way from our previous dilemma, had we not been impelled by a strong sense of duty. We return to London tomorrow. Your secret is safe with us. Having thus entered his protest against their treatment of the morning, Mr. Pickwick bowed low to the ladies and notwithstanding the solicitations of the family left the room with his friends. Get your hat, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. It's below stairs, sir, said Sam, and he ran down after it. Now, there was nobody in the kitchen but the pretty housemaid, and as Sam's hat was mislaid, he had to look for it, and the pretty housemaid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat. The pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find, it went down on her knees and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldn't get at it without shutting the door first. Here it is, said the pretty housemaid. This is it, ain't it? Let me look, said Sam. The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor and as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkably small corner, and so it was nobody's fault but the man's who built the house. Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily very close together. Yes, this is it, said Sam. Goodbye. Goodbye, said the pretty housemaid. Goodbye, said Sam. And as he said it, he dropped the hat that had caused so much trouble in looking for. How awkward you are, said the pretty housemaid. You'll lose it again if you don't take care. So just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him. Whether it was that the pretty housemaid's face looked prettier still when it was raised towards Sam's or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near to each other is matter of uncertainty to this day. But Sam kissed her. You don't mean to say you did that on purpose, said the pretty housemaid blushing. No, I didn't then, said Sam. But I will now, so he kissed her again. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters. Coming, sir, replied Sam, running upstairs. How long you have been, said Mr. Pickwick. There was something behind the door, sir, which prevented our getting it open for ever so long, sir, replied Sam. And this was the first passage of Mr. Weller's first love. End of Chapter 25. Chapter 26 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 26, which contains a brief account of the progress of the action of Bardell against Pickwick. Having accomplished the main end and object of his journey by the exposure of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately returning to London with the view of becoming acquainted with the proceedings which had been taken against him in the meantime by Messers Dodson and Fogg. Acting upon this resolution with all the energy and decision of his character, he mounted to the back seat of the first coach which left Ipswich on the morning after the memorable occurrences detailed at length in the two preceding chapters, and accompanied by his three friends and Mr. Samuel Weller, arrived in the metropolis in perfect health and safety the same evening. Here are the friends for a short time separated. Messers Tubman, Winkle, and Snodgrass repaired to their several homes to make such preparations as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit to Dingley and Dall, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present abode in very good old-fashioned and comfortable quarters to wit the George and Vulture Tavern and Hotel George Yard Lombard Street. Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular port, pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the fender, and thrown himself back in an easy chair when the entrance of Mr. Weller with his carpet bag aroused him from his tranquil meditation. Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, Sir, said Mr. Weller, I have just been thinking, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, that having left a good many things at Mrs. Bardell's in Goswell Street, I ought to arrange for taking them away before I leave town again. Very good, Sir, replied Mr. Weller. I could send them to Mr. Tubman's for the present, Sam, continued Mr. Pickwick, but before we take them away it is necessary that they should be looked up and put together. I wish you would step up to Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange about it. At once, Sir, inquired Mr. Weller. At once, replied Mr. Pickwick, and stay, Sam, added Mr. Pickwick, pulling out his purse. There is some rent to pay. The quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it and have done with it. A month's notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, written out. Give it and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up as soon as she likes. Very good, Sir, replied Mr. Weller. And nothing more, Sir? Nothing more, Sam. Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something more. Slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a couple of inches when Mr. Pickwick called out, Sam? Yes, Sir, said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back and closing the door behind him. I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavoring to ascertain how Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really probable that this vile and groundless action is to be carried to extremity. I say, I do not object to you doing this, if you wish it, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. Sam gave a short nod of intelligence and left the room. Mr. Pickwick grew the silk handkerchief once more over his head and composed himself for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked forth to execute his commission. It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A couple of candles were burning in the little front parlor, and a couple of caps were reflected on the window blind. Mrs. Bardell had got company. Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval, occupied by the party without and whistling a tune and by the party within in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be lighted, a pair of small boots padded over the floorcloth, and Master Bardell presented himself. Well, young townskip, said Sam, how's mother? She's pretty well, replied Master Bardell. So am I. Well, that's a mercy, said Sam. Tell her I want to speak to her, will you, my infant phenomenon? Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the bottom stair and vanished into the front parlor with his message. The two caps reflected on the window blind were the respective headdresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular acquaintance, who had just stepped in to have a quiet cup of tea and a little warm supper of a couple of sets of patty-toes and some toasted cheese. The cheese was simmering and browning away most delightfully in a little dutch oven before the fire. The patty-toes were getting on deliciously in a little tin saucepan on the hob, and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends were getting on very well, also in a little quiet conversation about and concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance. When Master Bardell came back from answering the door and delivered the message entrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller. Mr. Pickwick, servant, said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale. Bless my soul, said Mrs. Cluppins. Well, I really would not have believed it unless I had happened to hub in here, said Mrs. Sanders. Mrs. Cluppins was a little brisk, busy-looking woman. Mrs. Sanders was a big, fat, heavy-faced personage, and the two were the company. Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated, and as none of the three exactly knew whether under existing circumstances any communication, otherwise than through Dodson and Fogg, ought to be held with Mr. Pickwick, servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. In this state of indecision, obviously, the first thing to be done was to thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door, so his mother thumped him, and he cried melodiously. Hold your noise, do you naughty creedor, said Mrs. Bardell. Yes, don't worry, your poor mother, said Mrs. Sanders. She's quite enough to worry at her as it is without you, Tommy, said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathizing resignation. Ah, worse luck, poor lamb, said Mrs. Sanders. At all which moral reflections Master Bardell howled alouder. Now, what shall I do, said Mrs. Bardell, to Mrs. Cluppins? I think you ought to see him, replied Mrs. Cluppins, but on no account without a witness. I think two witnesses would be more lawful, said Mrs. Sanders, who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity. Perhaps he'd better come in here, said Mrs. Bardell. To be sure, replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea, walk in young man and shut the street door first, please. Mr. Weller immediately took the hint, and presenting himself in the parlor, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus. Worry sorry to occasion any personal inconvenience, ma'am, as the housebreaker said to the old lady when he put her on the fire. But as me and my governor's only just come to town, and is just going away again, it can't be helped, you see. Of course the young man can't help the faults of his master, said Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and conversation. Certainly not, chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in the mental calculation of the probable extent of the petty toes in the event of Sam's being asked to stop to suffer. So all I've come about is just this here, said Sam, disregarding the interruption. First, to give my governor's notice, there it is. Ready to pay the rent, here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things is to be put together and give to anybody as we sense for them. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like, and that's all. Whatever has happened, said Mrs. Bardell, I always have said and always will say that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always as good as the bank, always. As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes and went out of the room to get the receipt. Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet and the women were sure to talk, so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling in profound silence. Poor dear, said Mrs. Cluppins, ah, poor thing, replied Mrs. Sanders. Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject. I really cannot contain myself, said Mrs. Cluppins, when I think of such perjury. I don't wish to say anything to make you uncomfortable, young man, but your master's an old brute, and I wish I had him here to tell him so. I wish you had, said Sam. To see how dreadful she takes on going moping about and taking no pleasure in nothing except when her friends comes in out of charity to sit with her and make her comfortable, resumed Mrs. Cluppins, glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven. It's shocking. Barbarious, said Mrs. Sanders, and your master, young man, a gentleman with money as could never feel the expense of a wife no more than nothing, continued Mrs. Cluppins with great volubility. Why, there ain't the fadest shade of an excuse for his behavior. Why don't he marry her, said Sam, to be sure. That's the question. Question indeed, retorted Mrs. Cluppins. She'd question him if she'd my spirit. How sever there is law for us women, miserable creatures as they make us, if they could, and that your master will find out, young man, to his cost before he's six months older. At this consolatory reflection Mrs. Cluppins bridled up and smiled at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again. The action's going on, and no mistake, thought Sam, as Mrs. Bardell re-entered with the receipt. Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller, said Mrs. Bardell, and here's the change. And I hope you'll take a little drop of something to keep the cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance's sake, Mr. Weller. Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced, whereupon Mrs. Bardell produced, from a small closet, a black bottle and a wine-glass, and so great was her abstraction in her deep mental affliction, that after filling Mr. Weller's glass she brought out three more wine-glasses and filled them too. Lock, Mrs. Bardell, said Mrs. Cluppins, see what you've been and done. Well, that is a good one, ejaculated Mrs. Sanders. I'm my poor head, said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile. Sam understood all this, of course, so he said at once that he never could drink before supper unless a lady drank with him. A great deal of laughter ensued, and Mrs. Sanders volunteered to humor him, so she took a slight sip out of her glass. Then Sam said it must go all round, so they all took a slight sip. Then little Mrs. Cluppins proposed, as a toast, success to Bardell again pickwick, and then the ladies emptied their glasses in honor of the sentiment, and got very talkative directly. I suppose you heard what's going forward, Mr. Weller, said Mrs. Bardell. I've heard something on it, replied Sam. It's a terrible thing to be dragged before the public in that way, Mr. Weller, said Mrs. Bardell. But I see now that it's the only thing I ought to do. And my lawyers, Mr. Dodson and Fogg, tell me that with the evidence as we shall call, we must succeed. I don't know what I should do, Mr. Weller, if I didn't. The mere idea of Mrs. Bardell's failing in her action affected Mrs. Sanders so deeply that she was under the necessity of refilling and re-emptying her glass immediately, feeling, as she said afterwards, that if she hadn't had the presence of mind to do so, she must have dropped. Then is it expected to come on, inquired Sam? Either in February or March, replied Mrs. Bardell. What a number of witnesses there'll be, won't there, said Mrs. Cluppins. I won't there, replied Mrs. Sanders. And won't Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiffs shouldn't get it, added Mrs. Cluppins, when they do it all on speculation. I won't, they said, Mrs. Sanders. But the plaintiff must get it, resumed Mrs. Cluppins. I hope so, said Mrs. Bardell. Oh, there can't be any doubt about it, rejoined Mrs. Sanders. They'll, said Sam, rising and setting down his glass. All I can say is that I wish you may get it. Thank you, Mr. Weller, said Mrs. Bardell fervently. And of them Dodson and Fogg's, as does these sort of things on spec, continued Mr. Weller, as well as for the other kind and generous people of the same profession, as sets people by the ears, free gratis for nothing, and sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes among their neighbors and acquaintances, as vants settling by means of lawsuits. All I can say of them is that I wish they had the reward I'd give them. Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous heart would be inclined to bestow upon them, said the gratified Mrs. Bardell. Amen to that, replied Sam. In a fat and happy livein' they'd get out of it. Wish you good night, ladies. To the great relief of Mrs. Saunders, Sam was allowed to depart without any reference on the part of the hostess to the petty toes and toasted cheese, to which the ladies with such juvenile assistance as Master Bardell could afford, soon afterwards rendered the amplest justice, indeed they wholly vanished before their strenuous exertions. Mr. Weller wended his way back to the Georgian vulture, and faithfully recounted to his master such indications of the sharp practice of Dodson and Fogg as he had contrived to pick up in his visit to Mrs. Bardell's. An interview with Mr. Perker next day more than confirmed Mr. Weller's statement, and Mr. Pickwick was feigned to prepare for his Christmas visit to Dingley-Dell with the pleasant anticipation that some two or three months afterwards an action brought against him for damages sustained by reason of a breach of promise of marriage would be publicly tried in the court of common pleas, the plaintiff having all the advantages derivable not only from the force of circumstances, but from the sharp practice of Dodson and Fogg to boot. End of Chapter 26. Chapter 27 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 27 Samuel Weller makes a pilgrimage to Dorking and beholds his mother-in-law. There is still remaining an interval of two days before the time agreed upon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley-Dell, Mr. Weller sat himself down in a back room at the Georgian vulture, after eating an early dinner, to muse on the best way of disposing of his time. It was a remarkably fine day, and he had not turned to the matter over in his mind ten minutes when he was suddenly stricken, filial, and affectionate, and it occurred to him so strongly that he ought to go down and see his father and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lost in astonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of this moral obligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglect without another hour's delay, he straightaway walked upstairs to Mr. Pickwick and requested leave of absence for this laudable purpose. Certainly, Sam, certainly, said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glistening with delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on the part of his attendant. Certainly, Sam. Mr. Weller made a grateful bow. I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties as a son, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. I always had, sir, replied Mr. Weller. That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick approvingly. Wary, sir, replied Mr. Weller. If ever I wanted anything of my father, I always asked for it in a very respectful and obliging manner. If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led to do anything wrong through not having it. I saved him a world of trouble this way, sir. That's not precisely what I meant, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head with a slight smile. All good feelings, sir, the wary best intentions, as the gentleman said when he ran away from his wife because she seemed unhappy with him, replied Mr. Weller. You may go, Sam, said Mr. Pickwick. Thank you, sir, replied Mr. Weller. And having made his best bow and put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top of the Orundel coach and journeyed on to dorking. The marquee of Grandby in Mrs. Weller's time was quite a model of a roadside public house of the better class, just large enough to be convenient and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the road was a large signboard on a high post representing the head and shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance in a red coat with deep blue facings and a touch of the same blue over his three-cornered hat for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags, beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon, and the whole formed an expressive and undoubted lightness of the marquee of Grandby of glorious memory. The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium plants and a well-dusted row of spirit files. The open shutters bore a variety of golden inscriptions eulogistic of good beds and neat wines, and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging about the stable door and horse-trough afforded presumptive proof of the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam Weller paused when he dismounted from the coach to note all these little indications of a thriving business with the eye of an experienced traveler, and having done so stepped in at once highly satisfied with everything he had observed. Now then, said a shrill female voice, the instant Sam thrust his head in at the door, what do you want, young man? Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. It came from a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance who was seated beside the fireplace in the bar, blowing the fire to make the kettle-boil for tea. She was not alone, for on the other side of the fireplace, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was a man in threadbare black clothes with a back almost as long and stiff as that of the chair itself, who caught Sam's most particular and a special attention at once. He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man with a long, thin countenance and a semi-rattle snake sort of eye, rather sharp but decidedly bad. He wore very short trousers and black cotton stockings, which, like the rest of his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were starched, but his white neckerchief was not, and its long, limp ends straggled over his closely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncooth and unpicturesque fashion. A pair of old-worn beaver-gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a faded green umbrella with plenty of whale-bones sticking through the bottom as if to counterbalance the wand of a handle at the top lay on her chair beside him, and being disposed in a very tidy and careful manner seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever he was, had no intention of going away in a hurry. To do the red-nosed man justice he would have been very far from wise if he had entertained any such intention, for to judge from all appearances he must have been possessed of a most desirable circle of acquaintance if he could have reasonably expected to be more comfortable anywhere else. The fire was blazing brightly under the influence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily under the influence of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table, a plate of hot-buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire, and the red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice of bread into the same agreeable edible through the instrumentality of a long-brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking-hot pineapple rum and water with a slice of lemon in it, and every time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye with the view of ascertaining how it got on he imbibed a drop or two of the hot pineapple rum and water and smiled upon the rather stout lady as she blew the fire. Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene that he suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass unheeded. It was not until it had been twice repeated, each time in a shriller tone, that he became conscious of the impropriety of his behavior. Governor Inne inquired Sam and replied to the question. No, he isn't, replied Mrs. Weller, for the rather stout lady was no other than the quantum relict and soul-executrix of the dead and gone Mr. Clark. No, he isn't, and I don't expect him either. I suppose he's driving up to-day, said Sam. He may be or he may not, replied Mrs. Weller, buttering a round of toast which the red-nosed man had just finished. I don't know, and what's more, I don't care. Ask a blessing, Mr. Stiggins. The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly commenced on the toast with fierce veracity. The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam at first sight to more than half suspect that he was the deputy shepherd of whom his estimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw him eat, all doubt on the subject was removed, and he perceived at once that if he purposed to take up his temporary quarters where he was, he must make his footing good without delay. He therefore commenced proceedings by putting his arm over the half door of the bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurely walking in. Mother-in-law, said Sam, how are you? Why, I do believe he is a Weller, said Mrs. W., raising her eyes to Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of countenance. I rather think he is, said the imperturbable Sam, and I hope this here reverend gentleman will excuse me, saying that I wish I was the Weller as owns you, Mother-in-law. This was a double-barreled compliment. It implied that Mrs. Weller was a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clerical appearance. It made a visible impression at once, and Sam followed up his advantage by kissing his Mother-in-law. Get along with you, said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. For shame, young man, said the gentleman with a red nose. No offence, sir, no offence, replied Sam, you're wary right, though. It ain't the right sort of thing, than Mother-in-law's young and good-looking, is it, sir? It's all vanity, said Mr. Stiggins. Ah, so it is, said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights. Sam thought it was. Too many held his peace. The deputy shepherd seemed by no means best pleased with Sam's arrival, and when the first effervescence of the compliment had subsided, even Mrs. Weller looked as if she could have spared him without the smallest inconvenience. However there he was, and as he couldn't be decently turned out, they all three sat down to tea. And how's Father, said Sam? At this inquiry Mrs. Weller raised her hands and turned up her eyes as if the subject were too painful to be alluded to. Mr. Stiggins groaned. What's the matter with that, Herr Gentleman? inquired Sam. He's shocked at the way your father goes on in, replied Mrs. Weller. Oh, he is, is he? said Sam. And with too good reason, added Mrs. Weller gravely. Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast and groaned heavily. He is a dreadful reprobate, said Mrs. Weller. A man of wrath, exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large semi-circular bite out of the toast and groaned again. Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the Reverend Mr. Stiggins something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination and merely asked, What's the olden up to now? Up to indeed, said Mrs. Weller. Oh, he has a hard heart. Night after night does this excellent man don't frown, Mr. Stiggins. I will say you are an excellent man. Come and sit here for hours together, and it has not the least effect upon him. Well, that is odd, said Sam. It'd have a very considerable effect upon me if I was in his place. I know that. The fact is, my young friend, said Mr. Stiggins solemnly. He has an obdurate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and was stood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing the infant negroes and the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moral pocket handkerchiefs. What's a moral pocket, anchorature, said Sam. I never see one of them articles of furniture. Those which combine amusement with instruction, my young friend, replied Mr. Stiggins, blending select tales with woodcuts. Oh, I know, said Sam, them as hangs up in the linen draper's shops with beggars petitions and all that air upon them. Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast and not a descent. And he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't he, said Sam. Sat and smoked his pipe and said the infant negroes were— What did he say the infant negroes were, said Mrs. Weller? Little humbugs, replied Mr. Stiggins, deeply affected. Said the infant negroes were little humbugs, repeated Mrs. Weller, and they both groaned at the atrocious conduct of the elder Mr. Weller. A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have been disclosed, only the toast being all eaten, the tea having got very weak and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, Mr. Stiggins suddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appointment with the shepherd and took himself off accordingly. The tea things had been scarcely put away and the hearths swept up when the London coach deposited Mr. Weller's senior at the door. His legs deposited him in the bar and his eyes showed him his son. What, Sammy! exclaimed the father. What old knobs! ejaculated the son, and they shook hands heartily. Very glad to see you, Sammy, said the elder Mr. Weller, though how you've managed to get over your mother-in-law is a mystery to me. I only wish you'd write me out the receipt, that's all. Hush, said Sam. She's at home, old fellow. She ain't within here, and replied Mr. Weller. She always goes and blows up downstairs for a couple of hours art or tea, so we'll just give ourselves a damp, Sammy. Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits and water and produced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down opposite each other, Sam on one side of the fire in the highback chair and Mr. Weller's senior on the other in an easy ditto. They proceeded to enjoy themselves with all due gravity. Anybody been here, Sammy? asked Mr. Weller's senior, dryly, after a long silence. Sam nodded an expressive assent. Red-nosed chap inquired Mr. Weller, Sam nodded again. Amiable man that air, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, smoking violently. Seems so, observed Sam. Good-handed accounts, said Mr. Weller. Is he? said Sam. Borrow's eighteen pence on Monday and comes on Tuesday for a shillen to make it up half a crown. Welles again on Wednesday for another half-crown to make it five shillens, and goes on doubling till he gets it up to a five-pun note and note time, like them sums in the arithmetic book about the nails and the horse's shoes, Sammy. Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem eluded to by his parent. So you wouldn't subscribe to the flannel vests, said Sam, after another interval of smoking. Certainly not, replied Mr. Weller. What's the good of flannel vests to the young niggers abroad? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, lowering his voice and bending across the fireplace. I'd come down wary-handsome towards straight vests for some people at home. As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position and winked at his first born in a profound manner. It certainly seems a queer start to send out pocket anchors to people who don't know the use in them, observed Sam. There always a-doing some gammon of that sort, Sammy, replied his father. Tother Sunday, I was walking up the road. When who should I see a standing at a chapel door with a blue suit played in her hand but your mother-in-law? I warily believed there was change for a couple of sovereigns in it then, Sammy, all in hay-pence. And as the people come out, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd have thought that no mortal plate as ever was bait could have stood the wear and tear. What do you think it was all for? For another tea-drinking, perhaps, said Sam? Not a bit in it, replied the father, for the shepherd's water-rate, Sammy. The shepherd's water-rate, said Sam. Eh! replied Mr. Weller. There was three-quarters on, and the shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he. Perhaps it might be on account that the water weren't a much use to him, for it's wary little of that tap he drinks, Sammy, wary. He knows a trick worth a good half-dozen of that he does. Perhaps, however, it weren't paid, and so they cut the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's a persecuted saint, and says he hopes the heart of the churned cock has cut the water off, will be softened, and turned in the right way. But he rather thinks he's booked for something uncomfortable. Upon this, the women calls the meetin', sings the hymn, woots your mother-in-law into the chair, volunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to the shepherd. And if he ain't got enough out in him, Sammy, to make him free of the water company for life, said Mr. Weller in conclusion, I'm one Dutchman and you're another, and that's all about it. Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed. The worst of these here shepherds is, my boy, that they regularly churns the heads of all the young ladies about here. Lord bless their little hearts, they think it's all right, and don't know no better, but they're the Wickums of Gammon, Sammable, they're the Wickums of Gammon. I suppose they are, said Sam. Nothing else, said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely. And what aggravates me, Sammable, is to see him a waste in all their time and labor in making clothes for copper-colored people as don't want them, and taking no notice of flesh-colored Christians as due. If I'd my vase, Sammable, I'd just stick some of these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow and run them up and down a 14-inch wide plank all day. That'd shake the nonsense out of them, if anything would. Mr. Weller, having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis, heaked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his glass at a draft and knocked the ashes out of his pipe with native dignity. He was engaged in this operation when a shrill voice was heard in the passage. Here's your dear relations, Sammy, said Mr. Weller, and Mrs. W. hurried into the room. Oh, you've come back, have you? said Mrs. Weller. Yes, my dear, replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe. Has Mr. Stiggins been back, said Mrs. Weller? No, my dear, he hasn't, replied Mr. Weller, lighting the pipe by the ingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof between the tongs a red hot coal from the adjacent fire. And what's more, my dear, I shall manage to survive it if he don't come back at all. Oh, you wretch, said Mrs. Weller. Thank you, my love, said Mr. Weller. Come, come, Father, said Sam, none of these little lovans are for strangers. Here's the reverend gentlemen are coming in now. At this announcement Mrs. Weller hastily wiped off the tears which she had just begun to force on, and Mr. W. drew his chair sullenly into the chimney corner. Mr. Stiggins was easily prevailed on to take another glass of the hot pineapple rum and water, and a second and a third, and then to refresh himself with a slight supper, previous to beginning again. He sat on the same side as Mr. Weller's senior, and every time he could contrive to do so, unseen by his wife, that gentleman indicated to his son the hidden emotions of his bosom by shaking his fist over the deputy shepherd's head, a process which afforded his son the most unmingled delight and satisfaction, the more especially as Mr. Stiggins went on quietly drinking the hot pineapple rum and water wholly unconscious of what was going forward. The major part of the conversation was confined to Mrs. Weller and the reverend Mr. Stiggins, and the topics principally to scan it on were the virtues of the shepherd, the worthiness of his flock, and the high crimes and misdemeanors of everybody beside, dissertations which the elder Mr. Weller occasionally interrupted by half-suppressed references to a gentleman of the name of Walker, and other running commentaries of the same kind. At length Mr. Stiggins with several most indubitable symptoms of having quite as much pineapple rum and water about him as he could comfortably accommodate, took his hat and his leave, and Sam was immediately afterwards shown to bed by his father. The respectable old gentleman wrung his hand fervently and seemed disposed to address some observation to his son, but on Mrs. Weller advancing towards him he appeared to relinquish that intention and abruptly bade him good night. Sam was up betimes next day and having partaken of a hasty breakfast, prepared to return to London, he had scarcely set foot without the house when his father stood before him. Going, Sammy, inquired Mr. Weller. Off at once, replied Sam, I wish you could muffle that air Stiggins and take him with you, said Mr. Weller. I am ashamed on you, said Sam reproachfully. What do you let him show his red nose in the markets of Granby at all for? Mr. Weller, the elder, fixed on his son an earnest look and replied, because I'm a married man, Sammable, because I'm a married man. When you're a married man, Sammable, you'll understand a good many things as you don't understand now. But whether it's worth while going through so much to learn so little, as the charity boy said when he got to the end of the alphabet, is a matter of taste. I rather think it isn't. Well, said Sam, good-bye. Tar-tar, Sammy, replied his father. I've only got to say this here, said Sam, stopping short. That if I was the propariator of the Marcus of Granby, and that air Stiggins came and made toast in my bar, I'd— What? interposed Mr. Weller with great anxiety. What? Pies in his rum and water, said Sam. No, said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand. Would you rally, Sammy, would you, though? I would, said Sam. I wouldn't be too hard upon him at first. I'd drop him in the water-button, put the lid on, and if I found he was insensible to kindness, I'd try the other persuasion. The elder Mr. Weller bestowed a look of deep, unspeakable admiration on his son, and, having once more grasped his hand, walked slowly away, revolving in his mind of the numerous reflections to which his advice had given rise. Sam looked after him until he turned a corner of the road, and then set forward on his walk to London. He meditated at first on the probable consequences of his own advice and the likelihood of his father's adopting it. He dismissed the subject from his mind, however, with the consolatory reflection that time alone would show, and this is the reflection we would impress upon the reader.