 36 The chief features of which will be found to be an authentic version of the legend of Prince Bladdard and a most extraordinary calamity that befell Mr. Winkle. As Mr. Pickwick contemplated a stay of at least two months in bath, he deemed it advisable to take private lodgings for himself and friends for that period. And as a favorable opportunity offered for their securing, on moderate terms, the upper portion of a house in the Royal Crescent, which was larger than they required, Mr. and Mrs. Dowler offered to relieve them of a bedroom and sitting-room. This proposition was at once accepted, and in three days' time they were all located in their new abode when Mr. Pickwick began to drink the waters with the utmost acidity. Mr. Pickwick took them systematically. He drank a quarter of a pint before breakfast, and then walked up a hill, and another quarter of a pint after breakfast, and then walked down a hill. And after every fresh quarter of a pint Mr. Pickwick declared in the most solemn and emphatic terms that he felt a great deal better, whereas his friends were very much delighted, though they had not been previously aware that there was anything to matter with him. The great pump-room is a spacious saloon ornamented with Corinthian pillars and a music gallery, and a tompian clock and a statue of Nash and a golden inscription to which all the water-drinkers should attend, for it appeals to them in the cause of a deserving charity. There is a large bar with a marble base out of which the pumper gets the water, and there are a number of yellow-looking tumblers out of which the company get it. And it is a most edifying and satisfactory sight to behold the perseverance and gravity with which they swallow it. There are baths near at hand in which a part of the company wash themselves, and a band plays afterwards to congratulate the remainder on their having done so. There is another pump-room into which infirm ladies and gentlemen are wheeled in such an astonishing variety of chairs and chases that any adventurous individual who goes in with the regular number of toes is in imminent danger of coming out without them. There is a third into which the quiet people go, for it is less noisy than either. There is an immensity of promenading on crutches and off with sticks and without and a great deal of conversation and liveliness and pleasantry. Every morning the regular water-drinkers, Mr. Pickwick among the number, met each other in the pump-room, took their quarter of a pint, and walked constitutionally. At the afternoon's promenade Lord Muttenhead and the honorable Mr. Cruston, the dowager Lady Snuffenough, Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, and all the great people and all the morning water-drinkers, met in grand assemblage. After this they walked out or drove out, or were pushed out in bath-chairs, and met one another again. After this the gentlemen went to the reading-rooms and met divisions of the mass. After this they went home. If it were theatre night perhaps they met at the theatre. If it were assembly night they met at the rooms, and if it were neither they met the next day, a very pleasant routine with perhaps a slight tinge of sameness. Mr. Pickwick was sitting up by himself after a day spent in this manner, making entries in his journal, his friends having retired to bed, when he was roused by a gentle tap at the room door. Thank your pardon, sir, said Mrs. Craddock, the landlady, peeping in, but did you want anything more, sir? Nothing more, ma'am, replied Mr. Pickwick. My young girl has gone to bed, sir, said Mrs. Craddock, and Mr. Dowler is good enough to say that he'll sit up for Mrs. Dowler, as the party isn't expected to be over till late. So I was thinking that if you wanted nothing more, Mr. Pickwick, I would go to bed. By all means, ma'am, replied Mr. Pickwick. Miss you good night, sir, said Mrs. Craddock. Good night, ma'am, rejoined Mr. Pickwick. Mrs. Craddock closed the door, and Mr. Pickwick resumed his writing. In half an hour's time the entries were concluded. Mr. Pickwick carefully rubbed the last page on the blotting paper, shut up the book, wiped his pen on the bottom of the inside of his coattail, and opened the drawer of the ink stand to put it carefully away. There were a couple of sheets of writing paper, pretty closely written over, in the ink stand drawer, and they were folded so that the title, which was in a good round hand, was fully disclosed to him. Seeing from this that it was no private document, and as it seemed to relate to Bath and was very short, Mr. Pickwick unfolded it, lighted his bedroom candle that it might burn up well by the time he finished, and drawing his chair nearer the fire read as follows. THE TRUE LEGEND OF PRINCE BLADDED Less than two hundred years ago on one of the public baths in this city, there appeared an inscription in honor of its mighty founder, the renowned Prince Bladded. That inscription is now erased. For many hundred years before that time there had been handed down from age to age an old legend that the illustrious prince being afflicted with leprosy, on his return from reaping a rich harvest of knowledge in Athens, shunned the court of his royal father and consorted moodily with husbandmen and pigs. Among the herd, so said the legend, was a pig of grave and solemn countenance with whom the prince had a fellow feeling, for he, too, was wise, a pig of thoughtful and reserved demeanor, an animal superior to his fellows whose grunt was terrible and whose bite was sharp. The young prince sighed deeply as he looked upon the countenance of the majestic swine. He thought of his royal father, and his eyes were bedewed with tears. This sagacious pig was fond of bathing in rich moist mud, not in summer as common pigs do now to cool themselves, and did even in those distant ages which is a proof that the light of civilization had already begun to dawn, no feebly. But in the cold, sharp days of winter, his coat was ever so sleek, and his complexion so clear that the prince resolved to assay the purifying qualities of the same water that his friend resorted to. He made the trial. Beneath that black mud bubbled the hot springs of bath, he washed and was cured, hastening to his father's court, he paid his best respect, and returning quickly hither, founded this city and its famous baths. He sought the pig with all the ardor of their early friendship, but alas the waters had been his death. He had imprudently taken a bath at too high a temperature, and the natural philosopher was no more. He was succeeded by Pliny, who also fell a victim to his thirst for knowledge. This was the legend. Listen to the true one. A great many centuries since, there flourished in great state the famous and renowned Lud Hudebras, king of Britain. He was a mighty monarch. The earth shook when he walked. He was so very stout. His people basked in the light of his countenance. It was so red and glowing. He was indeed every inch a king, and there were a good many inches of him, too, for although he was not very tall, he was a remarkable size round, and the inches that he wanted in height he made up in circumference. If any degenerate monarch of modern times could be in any way compared with him, I should say the venerable King Cole would be that illustrious potentate. This good king had a queen who eighteen years before had had a son who was called Bladded. He was sent to a preparatory seminary in his father's dominions until he was ten years old, and was then dispatched, in charge of a trusty messenger, to a finishing school at Athens. And as there was no extra charge for remaining during the holidays and no notice required previous to the removal of a pupil, there he remained for eight long years, at the expiration of which time the king his father sent the Lord Chamberlain over to settle the bill and to bring him home, which the Lord Chamberlain doing was received with shouts and pensioned immediately. When King Lodd saw the prince's son and found he had grown up such a fine young man, he perceived what a grand thing it would be to have him married without delay, so that his children might be the means of perpetuating the glorious race of Lodd, down to the very latest ages of the world. With this view he sent a special embassy, composed of great noblemen who had nothing particular to do and wanted lucrative employment, to a neighboring king and demanded his fair daughter in marriage for his son. Seeing at the same time that he was anxious to be on the most affectionate terms with his brother and friend, but that if they couldn't agree in arranging this marriage he should be under the unpleasant necessity of invading his kingdom and putting his eyes out. To this the other king, who was the weaker of the two, replied that he was very much obliged to his friend and brother for all his goodness and magnanimity, and that his daughter was quite ready to be married whenever Prince Bledd had liked to come and fetch her. This answer no sooner reached Britain than the whole nation was transported with joy. Nothing was heard on all sides but the sounds of feasting and revelry except the chinking of money as it was paid in by the people to the collector of the royal treasures to defray the expenses of the happy ceremony. It was upon this occasion that King Lodd, seated on the top of his throne in full counsel, rose in the exuberance of his feelings and commanded the Lord Chief Justice to order in the richest wines and the court minstrels, an act of graciousness which has been, through the ignorance of traditionary historians, attributed to King Cole, in those celebrated lines in which his majesty is represented as calling for his pipe and calling for his pot and calling for his fiddler's three, which is an obvious injustice to the memory of King Lodd and a dishonest exaltation of the virtues of King Cole. But in the midst of all this festivity and rejoicing there was one individual present who tasted not when the sparkling wines were poured forth and who danced not when the minstrels played. This was no other than Prince Bladdard himself in honor of whose happiness a whole people were at that very moment straining alike their throats and purse strings. The truth was that the Prince, forgetting the undoubted right of the minister for foreign affairs to fall in love on his behalf, had, contrary to every precedent of policy and diplomacy, already fallen in love on his own account and privately contracted himself unto the fair daughter of a noble Athenian. Here we have a striking example of one of the manifold advantages of civilization and refinement. If the Prince had lived in later days he might at once have married the object of his father's choice and then set himself seriously to work to relieve himself of the burden which rested heavily upon him. He might have endeavored to break her heart by a systematic course of insult and neglect, or if the spirit of her sex and a proud consciousness of her many wrongs had upheld her under this ill treatment he might have sought to take her life and so get rid of her effectually. But neither mode of relief suggested itself to Prince Bladded, so he solicited a private audience and told his father. It is an old prerogative of kings to govern everything with their passions. King Ludd flew into a frightful rage, tossed his crown up to the ceiling and caught it again, for in those days kings kept their crowns on their heads and not in the tower. Stamped the ground, wrapped his forehead, wondered why his own flesh and blood rebelled against him, and finally, calling in his guards, ordered the prince away to instant confinement in a lofty turret, a course of treatment which the kings of old very generally pursued towards their sons when their matrimonial inclinations did not happen to point to the same quarter as their own. When Prince Bladded had been shut up in the lofty turret for the greater part of a year, with no better prospect before his bodily eyes than a stone wall or before his mental vision than prolonged imprisonment, he naturally began to ruminate on a plan of escape, which after months of preparation he managed to accomplish, considerably leaving his dinner knife in the heart of his jailer, lest the poor fellow who had a family should be considered privy to his flight and punished accordingly by the infuriated king. The monarch was frantic at the loss of his son. He knew not on whom to vent his grief and wrath, until fortunately be thinking himself of the Lord Chamberlain who had brought him home, he struck off his pension and his head together. Meanwhile, the young prince, effectually disguised, wandered on foot through his father's dominions, cheered and supported in all his hardships by sweet thoughts of the Athenian maid who was the innocent cause of his weary trials. One day he stopped to rest in a country village and seeing that there were gay dances going forward on the green and gay faces passing to and fro ventured to inquire of a reveler who stood near him, the reason for this rejoicing. "'No, you not, O stranger,' was the reply of the recent proclamation of our gracious king. "'Proclamation? No, what proclamation?' rejoined the prince, for he had traveled along the by and little-frequented ways and knew nothing of what had passed upon the public roads such as they were. "'Why?' replied the peasant, the foreign lady that our prince wished to wed is married to a foreign noble of her own country, and the king proclaims the fact, and a great public festival besides. For now, of course, Prince Bladded will come back and marry the lady his father chose, who they say is as beautiful as the noonday's son. "'Your health, sir, God saved the king.' The prince remained to hear no more. He fled from the spot and plunged into the thickest recesses of a neighboring wood. On, on, he wandered, night and day, beneath the blazing sun and the cold pale moon, through the dry heat of noon and the damp cold of night, in the gray light of morn and the red glare of eve. So heedless was he of time or object that being bound for Athens he wandered as far out of his way as Bath. There was no city where Bath stands then. There was no vestige of human habitation or sign of man's resort to bear the name. But there was the same noble country, the same broad expanse of hill and dale, the same beautiful channel stealing on far away, the same lofty mountains which, like the troubles of life, viewed at a distance and partially obscured by the bright mist of its morning, loosed their ruggedness and asperity, and seemed all ease and softness. Moved by the gentle beauty of the scene, the prince sank upon the green turf and bathed his swollen feet in his tears. "'Oh,' said the unhappy bladdered, clasping his hands and mournfully raising his eyes towards the sky, "'Wood that my wanderings might end here. Wood, that these grateful tears with which I now mourn hope misplaced and love despised, might flow in peace forever.' The wish was heard. It was in the time of the heathen deities who used occasionally to take people at their words with a promptness, in some cases extremely awkward. The ground opened beneath the prince's feet. He sank into the chasm, and instantaneously it closed upon his head forever, save where his hot tears welled up through the earth and where they have continued to gush forth ever since. It is observable that, to this day, large numbers of elderly ladies and gentlemen who have been disappointed in procuring partners and almost as many young ones who are anxious to obtain them repair annually to bath to drink the waters from which they derive much strength and comfort. This is most complementary to the virtue of prince bladdered's tears and strongly corroborative of the veracity of this legend. Mr. Pickwick yawned several times when he had arrived at the end of this little manuscript, carefully refolded and replaced it in the ink-stand drawer, and then, with a countenance expressive of the utmost weariness, lighted his chamber candle and went upstairs to bed. He stopped at Mr. Dowler's door, according to custom, and knocked to say good night. Ah, said Dowler, going to bed, wish I was. Dismal night. Windy, isn't it? Very, said Mr. Pickwick. Good night. Good night. Mr. Pickwick went to his bed-chamber, and Mr. Dowler resumed his seat before the fire, in fulfillment of his rash promise to sit up till his wife came home. There are few things more worrying than sitting up for somebody, especially if that somebody be at a party. You cannot help thinking how quickly the time passes with them, which drags so heavily with you. And the more you think of this, the more your hopes of their speedy arrival decline. Clocks tick so loud, too, when you were sitting up alone, and you seem as if you had an undergarment of cobwebs on. First, something tickles your right knee, and then the same sensation irritates your left. You have no sooner changed your position than it comes again in the arms. When you have fidgeted your limbs into all sorts of queer shapes, you have a sudden relapse in the nose, which you rub as if to rub it off, as there is no doubt you would if you could. Eyes, too, are mere personal inconveniences, and the wick of one candle gets an inch and a half long while you are snuffing the other. These and various other little nervous annoyances render sitting up for a length of time after everybody else has gone to bed, anything but a cheerful amusement. This was just Mr. Dowler's opinion, as he sat before the fire and felt honestly indignant with all the inhuman people at the party who were keeping him up. He was not put into better humor, either, by the reflection that he had taken it into his head early in the evening to think he had got an ache there and so stopped at home. It lanked after several droppings of sleep and fallings forward towards the bars and catchings backward soon enough to prevent being branded in the face. Mr. Dowler made up his mind that he would throw himself on the bed in the back room and think, not sleep, of course. I am a heavy sleeper, said Mr. Dowler, as he flung himself on the bed. I must keep awake. I suppose I shall hear a knock here. Yes. I thought so. I can hear the watchman. There he goes. Fainter now, though, a little fainter. He's turning the corner, ah. When Mr. Dowler arrived at this point, he turned the corner at which he had been long hesitating and fell fast asleep. Just as the clock struck three, there was blown into the crescent a sedan chair with Mrs. Dowler inside, born by one short, fat chairman and one long, thin one, who had had much adieu to keep their bodies perpendicular to say nothing of the chair. But on that high ground and in the crescent, which the wind swept round and round as if it were going to tear the paving stones up, its fury was tremendous. They were very glad to set the chair down and give a good round, loud double knock at the street door. They waited some time, but nobody came. Servants is in the arms of porpoise, I think, said the short chairman, warming his hands at the attendant linked boy's torch. I wish he'd give him a squeeze and wake him, observed the long one. Knock again, will you, if you please, cried Mrs. Dowler from the chair. Knock two or three times, if you please. The short man was quite willing to get the job over as soon as possible, so he stood on the step and gave four or five most startling double knocks of eight or ten knocks apiece while the long man went into the road and looked up at the windows for a light. Nobody came. It was all as silent and dark as ever. Dear me, said Mrs. Dowler, you must knock again, if you please. There ain't a bell, is there, ma'am? said the short chairman. Yes, there is, interposed the linked boy. I've been a-ringing at it ever so long. It's only a handle, said Mrs. Dowler. The wire's broken. Wish the servant's heads was, growled the long man. I must trouble you to knock again, if you please, said Mrs. Dowler, with the utmost politeness. The short man did knock again several times without producing the smallest effect. The tall man, growing very impatient, then relieved him and kept on perpetually knocking double knocks of two loud knocks each like an insane postman. At length Mr. Winkle began to dream that he was at a club and that the members being very refractory, the chairman was obliged to hammer the table a good deal to preserve order. Then he had a confused notion of an auction room where there were no bidders and the auctioneer was buying everything in and ultimately he began to think it just within the bounds of possibility that somebody might be knocking at the street door. To make quite certain, however, he remained quiet in bed for ten minutes or so and listened. And when he had counted two or three and thirty knocks, he felt quite satisfied and gave himself a great deal of credit for being so wakeful. Wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap, went the knocker. Mr. Winkle jumped out of bed wondering very much what could possibly be the matter and hastily putting on his stockings and slippers, folded his dressing gown around him, lighted a flat candle from the rush light that was burning in the fireplace and hurried downstairs. Here's somebody coming at last, ma'am, said the short chairman. I wish I was behind him with the brad all, muttered the long one. Who's there? cried Mr. Winkle, undoing the chain. Don't stop to ask questions, cast iron head, replied the long man with great disgust, taking it for granted that the inquirer was a footman, but opened the door. Come, look sharp, timber eyelids, added the other encouragingly. Mr. Winkle, being half asleep, obeyed the command mechanically, opened the door a little and peeped out. The first thing he saw was the red glare of the Link Boy's torch. Startled by the sudden fear that the house might be on fire, he hastily threw the door wide open and holding the candle above his head, stared eagerly before him, not quite certain whether what he saw was a sedan chair or a fire engine. At this instant there came a violent gust of wind. The light was blown out. Mr. Winkle felt himself irresistibly impelled onto the steps, and the door blew too with a loud crash. Well, young man, now you have done it, said the short chairman. Mr. Winkle, catching sight of a lady's face at the window of the sedan, turned hastily round, applied the knocker with all his might and mane, and called frantically upon the chairman to take the chair away again. Take it away, take it away, Cread, Mr. Winkle. Here's somebody coming out of another house, put me into the chair, hide me, do something with me. All this time he was shivering with cold, and every time he raised his hand to the knocker, the wind took the dressing-gown in a most unpleasant manner. The people are coming down the crescent now. There are ladies with them. Cover me up with something. Stand before me, roared Mr. Winkle. But the chairman were too much exhausted with laughing to afford him the slightest assistance, and the ladies were every moment approaching nearer and nearer. Mr. Winkle gave a last hopeless knock. The ladies were only a few doors off. He threw away the extinguished candle, which all this time he had held above his head, and fairly bolted into the sedan chair where Mrs. Dowler was. Now Mrs. Craddock had heard the knocking and the voices at last, and only waiting to put something smarter on her head than her nightcap, ran down into the front drawing-room to make sure that it was the right party. Throwing up the window-sash as Mr. Winkle was rushing into the chair, she no sooner caught sight of what was going forward below than she raised a vehement and dismal shriek and implored Mr. Dowler to get up directly for his wife was running away with another gentleman. Upon this Mr. Dowler bounced off the bed as abruptly as an India rubber ball, and rushing into the front-room arrived at one window just as Mr. Pickwick threw up the other, when the first object that met the gaze of both was Mr. Winkle bolting into the sedan chair. Watchmen shouted Dowler furiously, Stop him, hold him, keep him tight. Cut him in till I come down, I'll cut his throat, give me a knife, from ear to ear, Mrs. Craddock, I will. And breaking from the shrieking landlady and from Mr. Pickwick, the indignant husband seized a small supper-knife and tore into the street. But Mr. Winkle didn't wait for him. He no sooner heard the horrible threat of the valorous Dowler than he bounced out of the sedan quite as quickly as he had bounced in, and throwing off his slippers into the road took to his heels and tore round the crescent, hotly pursued by Dowler and the watchmen. He kept ahead. The door was open as he came round the second time. He rushed in, slammed it in Dowler's face, mounted to his bedroom, locked the door, piled a wash-hand stand, chest of drawers and a table against it, and packed up a few necessaries ready for flight with the first ray of mourning. Dowler came up to the outside of the door, avowed through the keyhole his steadfast determination of cutting Mr. Winkle's throat next day, and after a great confusion of voices in the drawing room amidst which that of Mr. Pickwick was distinctly heard endeavoring to make peace, the inmates dispersed to their several bedchambers, and all was quiet once more. It is not unlikely that the inquiry may be made where Mr. Weller was all this time. We will state where he was in the next chapter. Honorably accounts for Mr. Weller's absence by describing a soiree to which he was invited and went, also relates how he was entrusted by Mr. Pickwick with a private mission of delicacy and importance. Mr. Weller said, Mrs. Craddock, upon the morning of this very eventful day, here is a letter for you. Whereby all that, said Sam, I'm afraid there must be something the matter, for I don't recollect any gentleman in my circle of acquaintance as is capable of writing one. Not something uncommon has taken place, observed Mrs. Craddock. Must be someone wary uncommon indeed as could produce a letter out of a friend of mine, replied Sam, shaking his head dubiously. Nothing less than a natural convulsion, as the young gentleman observed, than he was took with fits. It can't be from the governor, said Sam, looking at that direction. He always prints, I know, because he learned writing from the large bills in the book and offices. It's a very strange thing now where this here letter cannot come from. As Sam said this, he did what a great many people do when they are uncertain about the writer of a note, looked at the seal, and then at the front, and then at the back, and then at the sides, and then at the superscription, and as a last resource, thought perhaps as he might as well, look inside and try to find out from that. His rotol on guilt-edge, sent Sam, as he unfolded it, and sealed in bronze vaks with the top of the dorky, now fort. And with a very gray face, Mr. Weller slowly read as follows. A select company of the Bath Footmen presents their compliments to Mr. Weller, and requests the pleasure of his company this evening to a friendly soiree, consisting of a boiled leg of mutton with the usual trimmings. The soiree to be on table at half-past nine punctually. This was enclosed in another note which ran thus. Mr. John Smacker, the gentleman who had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Weller at the house of their mutual acquaintance, Mr. Bantam, a few days since, begs to enclose Mr. Weller the herewith invitation. If Mr. Weller will call on Mr. John Smacker at nine o'clock, Mr. John Smacker will have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Weller, signed John Smacker. The envelope was directed to blank Weller ESQ at Mr. Pickwick's, and in a parenthesis on the left-hand corner were the words Ari Bell. As an instruction to the bear, Bell, said Sam, this is coming, it's rather powerful, is it? I never heard of a boiled leg of mutton called a soiree before. I wonder what they call a roast one. However, without waiting to debate the point, Sam at once betook himself into the presence of Mr. Pickwick and requested leave of absence for that evening, which was readily granted. With this permission, and with the street door key, Sam Weller issued forth, a little before the appointed time, and stalled leisurely toward Queen Square, which he no sooner gained than he had the satisfaction of beholding Mr. John Smacker, leaning his powdered head against a lamp host at a short distance off, smoking his cigar through an amber tube. How do you do, Mr. Weller, said Mr. John Smacker, raising his hat gracefully with one hand, while he gently waved the other in a condescending manner? How do you do, sir? Why, reasonably convalescent, replied Sam, how do you find yourself, my dear fellow? Only so-so, said Mr. John Smacker. Ah, you've been a working too hard, observed Sam. I was fearful you would. You wouldn't do, you know. You must not give way to that air uncompromising spiritly orn. It's not so much that, Mr. Weller, replied Mr. John Smacker. As bad wine. I'm afraid I've been dissipating. Oh, that's it, is it, said Sam. That's a very bad complaint, then. And yet the temptation you see, Mr. Weller, observed Mr. John Smacker, ought to be sure, said Sam. Plunged into the very vortex of society, you know, Mr. Weller, said Mr. John Smacker with a sigh. Dreadful indeed rejoined Sam. But it's always the way, said Mr. John Smacker. If your destiny leads you into public life and public station, you must expect to be subjected to temptations which other people is free from, Mr. Weller. Precisely what my uncle said, then he went into the public line, remarked Sam, and where we ride the old gentleman was, for he drank himself to death in something less than a quarter. Mr. John Smacker looked deeply indignant at the parallel being drawn between himself and the deceased gentleman in question. But as Sam's face was in the most immovable state of calmness, he thought better of it and looked affable again. Perhaps we had better be walking, said Mr. Smacker, consulting a copper timepiece which dwelt at the bottom of a deep watch pocket and was raised to the surface by means of a black string, with a copper key at the other end. Perhaps we had, replied Sam, or they all would do the soiree, a maddle spoiled. Have you drank the waters, Mr. Weller, inquired his companion as they walked toward high street. Once, replied Sam. What did you think of them, sir? I thought they was particularly unpleasant, replied Sam. Ah, said Mr. John Smacker. You disliked the kilvite taste, perhaps. I don't know much about that air, said Sam. I thought they'd a very strong flavor of the warm flat irons. That is the kilvite, Mr. Weller. Observe, Mr. John Smacker, contemptuously. Well, if it is, it's a very inexpensive word. That's all, said Sam. It may be, but I ain't much in the chemical line myself, so I can't say. And here, to the great whore of Mr. John Smacker, Mr. Weller began to whistle. I beg your pardon, Mr. Weller, said Mr. John Smacker, agonized at the exceedingly ungentile sound. Will you take my arm? Thank you, your worry good, but I don't deprive you of it. replied Sam. I've rather a way of putting my hands in my pockets if it's all the same to you. As Sam said, this he suited the action to the word and whistled far louder than before. This way, said his new friend, apparently much relieved as they turned down a by-street. We shall soon be there. Shall we? said Sam, quite unmoved by the announcement of his close vicinity to the select footman of Bath. Yes, said John Smacker. Don't be alarmed, Mr. Weller. Oh no, said Sam. You'll see some very handsome uniforms, Mr. Weller, continued Mr. John Smacker. And perhaps you'll find some of the gentlemen rather high at first. You know, but they'll soon come round. That's wary kind on them, replied Sam. And you know, resumed Mr. John Smacker, with an air of sublime protection, you know, as you're a stranger perhaps, they'll be rather hard upon you at first. They won't be very cruel, though will they? inquired Sam. No, no, replied Mr. John Smacker, pulling forth the fox's head and taking a gentlemanly pinch. There are some funny dogs among us. And they will have their joke, you know. But you mustn't mind them, you mustn't mind them. I'll try to bear up again such a regular knockdown of talent, replied Sam. That's right, said Mr. John Smacker, putting up the fox's head and elevating his home. I'll stand by you. By this time they had reached a small green grocery shop, which Mr. Smacker entered, followed by Sam, who the moment he got behind him relapsed into a series of the very broadest and most unmitigated grins, and manifested other demonstrations of being in a highly enviable state of inward merriment. Crossing the green grocery shop and putting their hats on the stairs in a little passage behind it, they walked him to a small parlor. And here, the full splendor of the scene burst upon Mr. Weller's view. A couple of tables were put together in the middle of the parlor, covered with three or four claws of different ages and dates of washing, arranged to look as much like one as the circumstances of the case would allow. Upon these were laid knives and forks for six or eight people. Some of the knife handles were green, others red, and a few yellow. And as all the forks were black, the combination of colors was exceedingly striking. Plates, for the corresponding number of guests, were warming behind the fender. And the guests themselves were warming before it. The chief and most important of whom appeared to be the stoutish man in a bright crimson coat with long tails, vividly red breeches and a cocked hat, who was standing with his back to the fire and had apparently just entered. For beside the retaining his cocked hat on his head, he carried in his hand a high stick, such as a gentleman of his profession usually elevate in a sloping position over the roofs of carriages. Smoker, my lad, you're Finn, said the gentleman with the cocked hat. Mr. Smoker dovetailed. The top joint of his right hand, little finger, into that of the gentleman with the cocked hat and said he was charmed to see him looking so well. Why then they tell me I am looking pretty blooming, said the man with the cocked hat. And it's a wonder too. I have been following our old woman about two hours a day for the last fortnight. And if a constant contemplation of the manner in which she hooks an eyes that infernal lavender-coloured old gown of hers behind isn't enough to throw anybody into a low state of despondency for life, stop my quarter's salary. At this the assembled selections laughed very heartily and one gentleman in a yellow waistcoat with the coach trimming border whispered to a neighbour in green foil smalls that Tackle was in spirits tonight. By the by, said Mr. Tackle, smucker my boy, you the remainder of the sentence was forwarded into Mr. Smucker's ear by whisper. Oh my dear, I quite forgot, said Mr. John Smucker. Gentlemen, my good friend, Mr. Weller. Sorry to keep the fire off you, Weller, said Mr. Tackle with a familiar nod. Hope you're not cold, Weller. Not by no means blazes, replied Sam. It'd be a very chilly subject as felt cold when you stood opposite. You'd save coals if they put you behind the fender of the waiting room in a public office you would. At this retort appeared to convey rather a personal illusion to Mr. Tackle's crimson livery. That gentleman looked majestic for a few seconds, but gradually edging away from the fire, broke into a forced smile and said it wasn't bad. Where we much obliged for your good opinion, sir, replied Sam. We shan't get on by degrees I daresay. We'd better try one by and by. At this point the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman in orange-colored plush, accompanied by another selection in purple cloth with a great extent of stocking. The newcomers, having been welcomed by the old ones, Mr. Tackle put the question that supper be ordered in, which was carried unanimously. The green grosser and his wife then arranged upon the table a boiled leg of mutton, hot with capersauce, turnips, and potatoes. Mr. Tackle took the chair and was supported at the other end of the board by a gentleman in orange plush. The green grosser put on a pair of wash-leather gloves to hand the plates with and stationed himself behind Mr. Tackle's chair. Harris said Mr. Tackle in a commanding tone. Sir, said the green grosser, have you got your gloves on? Yes, sir. Then take the giver off. Yes, sir. The green grosser did as he was told, with the show of great humility and obsequiously handed Mr. Tackle the carving knife in doing which he accidentally gaped. What do you mean by that, sir? said Mr. Tackle with great asperity. I beg your pardon, sir, replied the crestful and green grosser. I didn't mean to do it, sir. I was up very late last night, sir. I tell you what my opinion of you is, Harris, said Mr. Tackle with a most impressive air. You're a wilder beast. I hope, gentlemen, Sir Harris, that you won't be severe with me, gentlemen. I'm very much obliged to you indeed, gentlemen, for your patronage and also for your recommendations, gentlemen. Whenever additional assistance in waiting is required, I hope, gentlemen, I give satisfaction. No, you don't, sir, said Mr. Tackle. Very far from it, sir. We consider you an attentive rascal, said the gentleman in the orange plush. And a low thief, added the gentleman in the green foil smalls. And an unreclaimable laggard, said the gentleman in purple. The poor green grosser bowed very humbly while these little epithets were bestowed upon him in a true spirit of the very smallest tyranny. And when everybody had said something to show his superiority, Mr. Tackle proceeded to carve the leg of mutton and to help the company. This important business of the evening had hardly commenced when the door was thrown briskly open and another gentleman in a light blue suit and leaden buttons made his appearance. Against the rules, said Mr. Tackle, too late, too late. No, no, positively I couldn't help it, said the gentleman in blue. I appeal to the company, an affair of gallantry now, an appointment at the theater. Oh, that indeed, said the gentleman in the orange plush. Yes, rally now, on our bright, said the man in blue. I made a promise to fetch our youngest daughter at half past 10, and she is such an uncommonly fine gal that I rarely had the art to disappoint her. No offense to the present company, sir. But a petticoat, sir, a petticoat is irrevocable. I began to suspect there's something in that quarter, said Tackle. As the newcomer took his seat next to Sam, I remarked once or twice that she leans very heavy on your shoulder when she gets in and out of the carriage. Oh, rally, rally, Tackle, you shouldn't, said the man in blue. It's not fair. I may have said to one or two friends that she was a very divine creature and had refused one or two offers without any obvious cause, but no, no, no. Indeed, Tackle, before strangers, too, it's not right. You shouldn't. Delicacy, my dear friend, delicacy. And the man in blue pulling up his neckerchief and adjusting his coat cuffs, nodded and frowned as if there were more behind, which he should say if he liked, but was bound in honor to suppress. The man in blue being a light-haired, stiff-necked, free and easy sort of footman, with a swaggering air and a pert face, had attracted Mr. Weller's special attention at first. But when he began to come out of his way, Sam felt more than ever disposed to cultivate his acquaintance. So he launched himself into the conversation at once with characteristic independence. Your health, sir, said Sam. I like your conversation much. I think it's very pretty. At this the man in blue smiled, as if it were a compliment he was well used to, but looked approvingly on Sam at the same time and said he hoped he should be better acquainted with him, for without any flattery at all, he seemed to have the making of a very nice fellow about him, and to be just the man after his own heart. Your very good, sir, said Sam. What a lucky fellow you are. How do you mean, inquired the gentleman in blue? That's her young lady, replied Sam. She knows what's what, she does. Ah, I see. Mr. Weller closed one eye and shook his head from side to side in a manner which was highly gratifying to the personal vanity of the gentleman in blue. I'm afraid you're a cunning fellow, Mr. Weller, said that individual. No, no, said Sam. I leave all that there to you. It's a great deal more in your way than mine, as the gentleman on the right side of the garden veil has said to the man on the wrong side when the mad bull was a coming up the lane. Well, well, Mr. Weller, said the gentleman in blue. I think she has remarked my air and manner, Mr. Weller. I think she couldn't worry well. Be off of that, said Sam. Have you any little thing of that kind in hand, sir? Inquired the favorite gentleman in blue drawing a toothpick from his waistcoat? Not exactly, said Sam. There's no daughters at my place. Else, of course, I should have made up fun on them. As it is, I don't think I can do with anything under a female marquise. I may take up with a young woman of large property as hasn't a title if she made very fierce love to me, not else. Of course not, Mr. Weller, said the gentleman in blue. One can't be troubled, you know. And we know, Mr. Weller, we who are men of the world that her good uniform must work its way with a woman sooner or later. In fact, that's the only thing between you and me that makes the service worth entering into it. Just so, said Sam. That's it, of course. When this confidential dialogue had gone this far, glasses were placed round, and every gentleman ordered what he liked best before the public house shut up. The gentleman in blue and the man in orange, who were the chief exquisites of the party, ordered cold shrub and water. But were the other's gin and water sweet appeared to be the favorite beverage? Sam called the green grocer a desperate villain and ordered a large bowl of punch, two circumstances which seemed to raise him very much in the opinion of the selections. Gentleman, said the man in blue with an air of the most consummate dandyism, I'll give you the ladies, come. Here, here, said Sam, the young Mrs. Isis. Here, there was a loud cry of order. Mr. John Smucker, as the gentleman who had introduced Mr. Weller into the company, begged to inform him that the word he had just made use of was unparliamentary. Which word was that there, sir, inquired Sam. Mrs. Isis, sir, replied Mr. John Smucker with the alarming frown. We don't recognize such distinctions here. Oh, very good, said Sam. Then I'll amend the observation and call them the deer creatures, if blazes will allow me. Sam doubt appeared to exist in the mind of the gentleman in the green foil smalls whether the chairman could be legally appealed to as blazes. But as the company seemed more disposed to stand upon their own rights than his, the question was not raised. The man with the cocked hat breathed short and looked long at Sam, but apparently thought it as well as to say nothing in the case that he should get the worst of it. After a short silence, a gentleman in an embroidered coat reaching down to his heels and a waistcoat of the same, which kept one half of his legs warm, stirred his gin and water with great energy and putting himself upon his feet all at once by a violent effort, said he was desirous of offering a few remarks to the company whereupon the person in the cocked hat had had no doubt that the company would be very happy to hear any remarks that the man in the long coat might wish to offer. I feel a great delicacy, gentlemen, in coming forward, said the man in the long coat, hovering them this fortune to be a coachman and being only admitted as an honorary member of these agreeable soirees, but I do feel myself bound, gentlemen, drove into a corner, if I may use the expression, to make known an afflicting circumstance which has come to my knowledge, which has happened, I may say, with the soap of everyday contemplation. Gentlemen, our friend, Mr. Whifers, everybody looked at the individual in orange, our friend, Mr. Whifers has resigned. Universal astonishment fell upon the hearers, each gentleman looked at his neighbor's face and then transferred his glance to the upstanding coachman. You may well be surprised, gentlemen, said the coachman. I will not venture to state the reasons of this irreparable loss to the surface, but I will beg Mr. Whifers to state them himself for the improvement and imitation of his admiring friends. The suggestion, being loudly approved of, Mr. Whifers explained. He said he certainly could have wished to have continued to hold the appointment he had just resigned. The uniform was extremely rich and expensive, the females of the family was most agreeable, and the duties of the situation was not, he was bound to say, too heavy. The principal service that was required of him being that he should look out of the whole window as much as possible, in company with the other gentlemen who had also resigned. He could have wished to have spared that company the painful and disgusting detail on which he was about to enter, but as the explanation had been demanded of him, he had no alternative but to state boldly and distinctly that he had been required to eat cold meat. It is impossible to conceive the disgust which this avowal awakened in the bosons of the hearers. Loud cries of shame mingled with groans and hisses prevailed for a quarter of an hour. Mr. Whifers then added that he feared a portion of this outrage might be traced to his own forebearing and accommodating disposition. He had a distinct recollection of having once consented to eat salt butter, and he had moreover on an occasion of sudden sickness in the house so far forgotten himself as to carry a coal shuttle up to the second floor. He trusted he had not lowered himself in the good opinion of his friends by this frank confession of his faults, and he hoped the promptness with which he had resented the last unmanly outrage on his feelings to which he had referred would reinstate him in their good opinions if he had. Mr. Whifers' address was responded to with a shout of admiration and the health of the interesting martyr was drunk in a most enthusiastic manner. For this the martyr returned thanks and proposed their visitors Mr. Weller, a gentleman whom he had not had the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with, but who was the friend of Mr. John Smokker, which was a sufficient letter of recommendation to any society of gentlemen, whatever and wherever. On this account he should have been disposed to have given Mr. Weller's health with all the honors if his friend had been drinking wine, but as they were taking spirits by way of a change and as it might be inconvenient to empty a tumbler at every toast, he should propose that the honors be understood. At the conclusion of the speech, everybody took a sip in honor of Sam, and Sam, having ladled out and drunk two-fall glasses of punch in honor of himself, returned thanks in a neat speech. "'Will we much obliged to you old fellas?' said Sam, ladling away at the punch in the most unembarrassed manner possible. "'For this here compliment, "'which, coming from such a quarter, is very overwhelming. "'I've heard a good deal on you as a body, "'but I will say I never thought you "'as such uncommon nice men as I find you ere. "'I only hope you'll take care of yourselves "'and not compromise nothing or your dignity, "'which is a very charming thing to see "'when one's out walking, "'and has always made me very happy to look at. "'Ever since I was a boy about half as high "'as the brass-headed stick "'on my very respectable friend blazes there. "'As to the victim oppression of this suit of brimstone, "'all I can say at him is that I hope "'he'll get just as good a birth as he deserves, "'in which case a very little cold soiree "'as ever he'll be troubled with again.' "'Here Sam sat down with a pleasant smile "'and his speech, having been vociferously applauded, "'the company broke up. "'Why, you don't mean to say you're a goan old fella?' "'Said Sam to his old friend Mr. John Smucker. "'I must indeed,' said John Smucker, "'I promised bunt him.' "'Oh, very well,' said Sam. "'That's another thing. "'Perhaps he'd resign if you disappointed him. "'You ain't a goan blazes.' "'Yes, I am,' said the man with the cock-tat. "'Warton, leave three-quarter the bowl of punch behind you. "'It's a nonsense. "'Sep down again.' "'Mr. Tuckle was not proof against this invitation. "'He laid aside the cock-tat and stick, "'which he had just taken up, "'and said he would have one glass for good fellowship's sake. "'As the gentleman in blue went home, "'the same way as Mr. Tuckle, "'he was prevailed upon to stop, too. "'When the punch was about half gone, "'Sam ordered in some oysters "'from the greengrocer's shop, "'and the effect of both was extremely exhilarating, "'that Mr. Tuckle, dressed up with the cock-tat and stick, "'danced the frog-horn pipe among the shells "'on the table while the gentleman in blue "'played an accompanying upon, "'an ingenious musical instrument formed "'with a hair-comb and a curl-paper. "'At last, when the punch was all gone "'and the night nearly so, "'they sallied forth to see each other home. "'Mr. Tuckle no sooner got into the open air "'than he was seized with a sudden desire "'to lie on the curb-stone. "'Sam thought it would be a pity to contradict him "'and so let him have his own way. "'As the cock-tat would have been spoiled, "'if left there, Sam very considerably flattened it down "'on the head of the gentleman in blue, "'and, putting the big stick in the hand, "'propped him up against his own street-door, "'wrang the bell, and walked quietly home. "'At a much earlier hour, next morning, "'then his usual time of rising, "'Mr. Pickwick walked downstairs completely dressed "'and rang the bell. "'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, when Mr. Weller appeared, "'in reply to the summons, shot the door. "'Mr. Weller did so. "'There was an unfortunate occurrence here last night, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, which gave Mr. Winkle "'some cause to apprehend violence for Mr. Dowler. "'So I've heard from the old lady downstairs, sir,' replied Sam. "'And I'm sorry to say, Sam,' continued Mr. Pickwick "'with the most perplexed countenance, "'that in dread of this violence Mr. Winkle has gone away. "'Gone away,' said Sam. "'Left the house early this morning "'without the slightest previous communication with me,' replied Mr. Pickwick, "'and is gone, I know not where.' "'He should have stopped and fought it out, sir,' replied Sam contemptuously. "'It would take much to settle that to Dowler, sir.' "'Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, "'I may have my doubts of his great bravery "'and determination also. "'But however that may be, Mr. Winkle is gone. "'He must be found, Sam, found and brought back to me. "'And suppose he won't come back, sir,' said Sam. "'He must be made,' said Mr. Winkle. "'Who's to do it, sir?' inquired Sam with a little smile. "'You,' replied Mr. Pickwick. "'Well, be good, sir.' "'With these words Mr. Weller left the room, "'and immediately afterwards was heard to shut the street door. "'In two hours time he returned, "'with as much coolness as if he had been dispatched "'on the most ordinary message possible, "'and brought the information "'that an individual in every respect "'and stirring to Mr. Winkle's description "'had gone over to Bristol that morning "'by the branch coach from the Royal Hotel.' "'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, grasping his hand, "'you're a capital fellow, an invaluable fellow. "'You must follow him, Sam.' "'Certainly, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. "'The instant you discover him right to me immediately, "'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'If he attempts to run away from you, "'knock him down or lock him up, "'you have my full authority, Sam.' "'I'll be very careful, sir,' rejoined Sam. "'You'll tell him,' said Mr. Pickwick, "'that I am highly excited, highly displeased, "'and naturally indignant at the very extraordinary course "'he has thought proper to pursue.' "'I will, sir,' replied Sam. "'You'll tell him,' said Mr. Pickwick, "'that if he does not come back "'to this very house with you, "'he will come back with me, for I will come and fetch him.' "'I'll mention that air, sir,' rejoined Sam. "'You think you can find him, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, "'looking earnestly in his face? "'Oh, I'll find him if he's anywhere.' "'Rejoined Sam with great confidence. "'Very well,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'Then the sooner you go, the better.' "'With these instructions, Mr. Pickwick, "'placed the sum of money in the hands of his faithful "'servitor and ordered him to start for Bristol immediately "'in pursuit of the fugitive. "'Sam put a few necessaries in a carpet bag "'and was ready for starting. "'He stopped when he had got to the end of the passage "'and walking quietly back, thrust his head in at the parlor "'door. "'Sir,' whispered Sam. "'Well,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'I fully understand my instructions. "'Do I, sir?' inquired Sam. "'I hope so,' said Mr. Pickwick. "'As regularly understood about the knock-and-down, "'is it, sir?' inquired Sam. "'Perfectly,' replied Mr. Pickwick, "'thoroughly. "'Do what you think necessary. "'You have my orders.' "'Sam gave a nod of intelligence "'and withdrawing his head from the door "'set forth on his pilgrimage with a light heart.'" End of Chapter 37 Chapter 38 of the Pickwick Papers This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Simon Evers The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens Chapter 38 How Mr. Winkle, when he stepped out of the frying-pan, walked gently and comfortably into the fire. The ill-starred gentleman who had been the unfortunate cause of the unusual noise and disturbances which alarmed the inhabitants of the royal crescent in manner and form already described, after passing a night of great confusion and anxiety, left the roof beneath which his friend still slumbered, bound he knew not whither. The excellent and considerate feelings which prompted Mr. Winkle to take this step can never be too highly appreciated or too warmly extolled. "'If,' reasoned Mr. Winkle with himself, "'if this dowler attempts, as I have no doubt he will, "'to carry into execution his threat of personal violence "'against myself, it will be incumbent on me to call him out. "'He has a wife. "'That wife is attached to and dependent on him. "'Heavens, if I shall kill him in the blindness of my wrath, "'what will be my feelings ever afterwards?' This painful consideration operated so powerfully on the feelings of the humane young man as to cause his knees to knock together and his countenance to exhibit alarming manifestations of inward emotion. Impaled by such reflections he grasped his carpet-bag and, creeping stealthily downstairs, shut the detestable street-door with as little noise as possible and walked off. Bending his steps towards the Royal Hotel, he found a coach on the point of starting for Bristol, and, thinking Bristol as good a place for his purpose as any other he could go to, he mounted the box and reached his place of destination in such time as the pair of horses who went the whole stage and back again twice a day or more could be reasonably supposed to arrive there. He took up his quarters at the bush, and, designing to postpone any communication by letter with Mr. Pickwick until it was probable that Mr. Daller's wrath might have, in some degree, evaporated, walked forth to view the city, which struck him as being a shade more dirty than any place he had ever seen. Having inspected the docks and shipping and viewed the cathedral, he inquired his way to Clifton, and being directed thither, took the route which was pointed out to him. But, as the pavements of Bristol are not the widest or cleanest upon earth, so its streets are not altogether the straightest or least intricate, and Mr. Winkle, being greatly puzzled by their manifold windings and twistings, looked about him for a decent shop in which he could apply afresh for counsel and instruction. His eye fell upon a newly painted tenement which had been recently converted into something between a shop and a private house, and which a red lamp projecting over the fan-light of the street-door would have sufficiently announced as the residence of a medical practitioner, even if the word surgery had not been inscribed in golden characters on a wainscot ground, above the window of what, in times bygone, had been the front parlour. Thinking this an eligible place wherein to make his inquiries, Mr. Winkle stepped into the little shop where the guilt-labelled drawers and bottles were, and, finding nobody there, knocked with a half-crown on the counter to attract the attention of anybody who might happen to be in the back parlour, which he judged to be the innermost and peculiar sanctum of the establishment from the repetition of the word surgery on the door, and painted in white letters this time by way of taking off the monotony. At the first knock, a sound as of persons fencing with firearms, which had until now been very audible, suddenly ceased. At the second, a studious-looking young gentleman in green spectacles, with a very large book in his hand, glided quietly into the shop, and, stepping behind the counter, requested to know the visitor's pleasure. I'm sorry to trouble you, sir," said Mr. Winkle, but will you have the goodness to direct me to— Ha-ha-ha-ha! roared the studious young gentleman, throwing the large book up into the air, and catching it with great dexterity at the very moment when it threatened to smash to atoms all the bottles on the counter. Here's a start! There was, without doubt. For Mr. Winkle was so very much astonished at the extraordinary behaviour of the medical gentleman that he involuntarily retreated towards the door and looked very much disturbed at his strange reception. What, don't you know me? said the medical gentleman. Mr. Winkle murmured in reply that he had not had that pleasure. Why, then, said the medical gentleman, there hopes were yet I may attend half the old women in Bristol if I have decent luck. Get out, you mouldy old villain, get out! With this aduration, which was addressed to the large book, the medical gentleman kicked the volume with remarkable agility to the farther end of the shop, and, pulling off his green spectacles, grinned the identical grin of Robert Sawyer Esquire, formerly of Guy's Hospital in the borough, with a private residence in Land Street. You'd have me to say you weren't down upon me, said Mr. Bob Sawyer, shaking Mr. Winkle's hand with a friendly warmth. Upon my word, I was not, replied Mr. Winkle, returning his pressure. I wonder you didn't see the name, said Bob Sawyer, calling his friend's attention to the outer door, on which, in the same white paint, were traced the words, Sawyer, late knock-em-off. It never caught my eye, returned Mr. Winkle. Lord, if I'd known who you were, I should have rushed out and caught you in my arms, said Bob Sawyer. But upon my life, I thought you were the king's taxes. No, said Mr. Winkle. I did indeed, responded Bob Sawyer, and I was just going to say that I wasn't at home, but if you'd leave a message, I'd be sure to give it to myself, for he don't know me, no more does the lighting and paving. I think the church rates guesses who I am, and I know the waterworks does, because I drew a tooth of his when I first came down here, but come in, come in! Chattering in this way, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed Mr. Winkle into the back room, where, amusing himself by boring little circular caverns in the chimney piece with a red-hot poker, sat no lesser person than Mr. Benjamin Allen. Well, said Mr. Winkle, this is indeed a pleasure I did not expect. What a very nice place you have here. Pretty well, pretty well, replied Bob Sawyer. I passed, soon after that precious party, and my friends came down with a needful for this business. So I put on a black suit of clothes and a pair of spectacles, and came down here to look as solemn as I could. And if any snug little business you have, no doubt, said Mr. Winkle knowingly. Very, replied Bob Sawyer, so snug that at the end of a few years you might put all the profits in a wine-glass and cover them over the Gruse belief. You cannot surely mean that, said Mr. Winkle, the stock itself. Dummies, my dear boy, said Bob Sawyer. Half the drawers have nothing in them, and the other half don't open. Nonsense, said Mr. Winkle. Fact, honour, returned Bob Sawyer, stepping out into the shop and demonstrating the veracity of the assertion by divers' hard pools of the little guilt knobs on the counterfeit drawers. Hardly anything real in the shop but the leeches, and they a second hand. I shouldn't have thought it, exclaimed Mr. Winkle, much surprised. I hope not, replied Bob Sawyer. Elsewhere's the use of appearances, eh? But what would you take? Do as we do? That's right. Then my fine fellow put your hand into the cupboard and bring out the patent digester. Mr. Benjamin Allen smiled, in his redness, and produced from the closet at his elbow a black bottle half full of brandy. You don't take water, of course, said Bob Sawyer. Thank you, replied Mr. Winkle. It's rather early. I should like to qualify it if you have no objection. None of the least, if you can reconcile it to your conscience, replied Bob Sawyer, tossing off as he spoke a glass of the liquor with great relish. Ben, the pipkin! Mr. Benjamin Allen drew forth from the same hiding-place a small brass pipkin, which Bob Sawyer observed he prided himself upon, particularly because it looked so business-like. But water, in the professional pipkin, having been made to boil, in course of time, by various little shovelfuls of coal, which Mr. Bob Sawyer took out of a practicable window-seat labelled soda-water, Mr. Winkle adulterated his brandy, and the conversation was becoming general when it was interrupted by the entrance into the shop of a boy in a sober grey livery and a gold-laced hat with a small covered basket under his arm, whom Mr. Bob Sawyer immediately hailed with, Don, you vagabond, come here! The boy presented himself accordingly. You've been stopping to over all the posts in Bristol, you idle young scamp, said Bob Sawyer. No, sir, I haven't, replied the boy. You better not, said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with a threatening aspect. Who do you suppose will ever employ a professional man when they see his boy playing at marbles in the gutter or flying the gutter in the horse-road? Have you no feeling for your profession, you groveler? Did you leave all the medicine? Yes, sir. The powders for the child of the large house for the new family, and the pills to be taken four times a day at the ill-tempered old gentlemen's with the gouty leg? Yes, sir. Then shut the door and mind the shop. Come, said Mr. Winkle, as the boy retired, things are not quite so bad as you would have me believe, either. There is some medicine to be sent out. Mr. Bob Sawyer peeped into the shop to see that no stranger was within hearing, and kneeling forward to Mr. Winkle said in a low tone, he leaves it all at the wrong houses. Mr. Winkle looked perplexed, and Bob Sawyer and his friend laughed. Don't you see, said Bob, he goes up to a house, rings the area bell, pokes a packet of medicine without a direction to the servant's hand, and walks off. Servant takes into the dining parlour, master opens it and reads the label, draft to be taken at bedtime, pills as before, lotion as usual, the powder, from Sawyer's late knock-em-offs, physicians, prescriptions, click-click, physicians, prescriptions, carefully preserved, and all the rest of it. Shows it to his wife, she reads the label, it goes down to the servant, they read the label. Next day, boy calls, very sorry, his mistake, immense business, great many parcels to deliver, Mr. Sawyer's compliments, late knock-em-off. The name gets known, and that's the thing, my boy, the medical way. Bless your heart, old fellow, it's better than all they advertising in the world. We've got one four-ounce bottle that's been to half the houses in Bristol and hasn't done yet. Dear me, I see, observed Mr. Winkle, what an excellent plan. Oh, Ben and I have hit upon a dozen such, replied Mr. Bob Sawyer with great glee. The lamplighter has 18 pence a week to pull the night-bell for 10 minutes every time he comes round, and my boy also rushes into the church just before the psalms, when the people have got nothing to do but look about him, and calls me out, with horror and dismay depicted on his countenance. Bless my soul, everybody says, somebody taken suddenly ill, Sawyer, late knock-em-off, sent for. What a business that young man has. At the termination of this disclosure of some of the mysteries of medicine, Mr. Bob Sawyer and his friend Ben Allen threw themselves back in their respective chairs a laughed boisterously. When they had enjoyed the joke to their heart's content, the discourse changed to topics in which Mr. Winkle was more immediately interested. We think we have hinted elsewhere that Mr. Benjamin Allen had a way of becoming sentimental after Brandy. The case is not a peculiar one as we ourselves can testify, having on a few occasions had to deal with patients who had been afflicted in a similar manner. At this precise period of his existence, Mr. Benjamin Allen had perhaps a greater predisposition to Mordinism than he'd ever known before. The cause of which, Malady, was briefly this. He'd been staying nearly three weeks with Mr. Bob Sawyer. Mr. Bob Sawyer was not remarkable for temperance, nor was Mr. Benjamin Allen for the ownership of a very strong head. The consequence was that, during the whole space of time just mentioned, Mr. Benjamin Allen had been wavering between intoxication partial and intoxication complete. My dear friend, said Mr. Ben Allen, taking advantage of Mr. Bob Sawyer's temporary absence behind-the-counter whether he had retired to dispense some of the second-hand leeches previously referred to. My dear friend, I am very miserable." Mr. Winkle professed his heartfelt regret to hear it, and begged to know whether he could do anything to alleviate the sorrows of the suffering student. Nothing, my dear boy, nothing, said Ben. You recollect Arabella, Winkle. My sister Arabella, a little girl Winkle with black eyes when we were down at Wardles. I don't know whether you happened to notice her, a nice little girl Winkle. Perhaps my features may recall her countenance to your recollection. Mr. Winkle required nothing to recall the charming Arabella to his mind, and it was rather fortunate he did not, for the features of her brother Benjamin would unquestionably have proved but an indifferent refresher to his memory. He answered with as much calmness as he could assume that he perfectly remembered the young lady referred to, and sincerely trusted she was in good health. Our friend Bob is a delightful fellow, Winkle, was the only reply of Mr. Ben Allen. Very so, Mr. Winkle, not much reddishing this close connection of the two names. I designed them for each other. They were made for each other, sent into the world for each other, born for each other, Winkle. Said Mr. Ben Allen, setting down his glass with emphasis. There's a special destiny in the matter, my dear sir. There's only five years' difference between them, and both their birthdays are in August. Mr. Winkle was too anxious to hear what was to follow to express much wonderment of this extraordinary coincidence, marvellous as it was. So Mr. Ben Allen, after a tear or two, went on to say that notwithstanding all his esteem and respect and veneration for his friend, Arabella had uncountably and undutifully evinced the most determined antipathy to his person. And I think, said Mr. Ben Allen in conclusion, I think there's a prior attachment. Have you any idea who the object of it might be? Asked Mr. Winkle with great trepidation. Mr. Ben Allen seized the poker, flourished it in a warlike manner above his head, inflicted a savage blow on an imaginary skull, and wound up by saying in a very expressive manner that he only wished he could guess that was all. To show him what I thought of him, said Mr. Ben Allen, and round went the poker again more fiercer than before. All this was, of course, very soothing to the feelings of Mr. Winkle, who remained silent for a few minutes, but at length mustered up resolution to inquire whether Mr. Allen was in Kent. No, no, said Mr. Ben Allen, laying aside the poker and looking very cunning. I didn't think Wardle was exactly the place for a headstrong girl. So, as I am her natural protector and guardian, our parents being dead, I have brought her down into this part of the country to spend a few months at an old aunt's in a nice, dull, close place. I think that will cure him, my boy. If he doesn't, I'll take her abroad for a little while and see what that'll do. The aunt is in Bristol, is it? thought of Mr. Winkle. No, no, not in Bristol, replied Mr. Ben Allen, jerking his thumb over his right shoulder. Over that way, down there, but hush, here's Bob, not a word, my dear friend, not a word! Short as this conversation was, it roused him, Mr. Winkle, the highest degree of excitement and anxiety. The suspected prior attachment rankled in his heart. Could he be the object of it? Could it be for him that the fair Arabella had looked scornfully on the sprightly Bob Sawyer, or had he a successful rival? He determined to see her cost what it might. But here an insurmountable objection presented itself. For whether the explanatory, over that way, and down there, of Mr. Bellanon, meant three miles off or thirty or three hundred, he could in no wise guess. But he had no opportunity of pondering over his love just then. For Bob Sawyer's return was the immediate precursor of the arrival of a meat pie from the bakers of which that gentleman insisted on his staying to partake. The cloth was laid by an occasional charwoman who officiated in the capacity of Mr. Bob Sawyer's housekeeper, and a third knife and fork having been borrowed from the mother of the boy in the gray livery, for Mr. Sawyer's domestic arrangements were as yet conducted on a limited scale. They sat down to dinner, the beer being served up, as Mr. Sawyer remarked, in his native pewter. After dinner Mr. Bob Sawyer ordered in the largest mortar in the shop, and proceeded to brew a reeking jorm of rum punch therein, stirring up and amalgamating the materials with a pestle in a very creditable and apothecary like manner. Mr. Sawyer, being a bachelor, had only one tumbler in the house which was assigned to Mr. Winkle as a compliment to the visitor, Mr. Ben Allen being accommodated with a funnel with a cork in the narrow end, and Bob Sawyer contented himself with other those wide-lipped crystal vessels inscribed with a variety of cabalistic characters in which chemists are going to measure out their liquid drugs in compounding prescriptions. These preliminaries adjusted, the punch was tasted and pronounced excellent, and it having been arranged that Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen should be considered at liberty to fill twice to Mr. Winkle's once, they started fair with great satisfaction and good fellowship. There was no singing, because Mr. Bob Sawyer said it wouldn't look professional. But to make amends for this deprivation there was so much talking and laughing that it might have been heard, and very likely was, at the end of the street. Which conversation materially lightened the hours and improved the mind of Mr. Sawyer's boy, who instead of devoting the evening to his ordinary occupation of writing his name on the counter and rubbing it out again, peeped through the glass door, and thus listened and looked on at the same time. The mirth of Mr. Bob Sawyer was rapidly ripening into the furious. Mr. Ben Allen was fast relapsing into the sentimental, and the punch had well and I disappeared altogether, when the boy, hastily running in, announced that a young woman had just come over, to say that Sawyer, late knock-em-off, was wanted directly a couple of streets off. This broke up the party. Mr. Bob Sawyer, understanding the message after some twenty repetitions, tied a wet cloth round his head to sober himself, and having partially succeeded, put on his green spectacles an issued fourth. Seeing all entreaties to stay till he came back, and finding it quite impossible to engage Mr. Ben Allen in any intelligible conversation on any subjects nearest his heart, or indeed on any other, Mr. Winkle took his departure and returned to the bush. The anxiety of his mind and the numerous meditations which Arabella had awakened prevented his share of the mortar of punch, producing that effect upon him which he would have had under other circumstances. So, after taking a glass of soda water and brandy at the bar, he turned into the coffee-room, dispirited rather than elevated by the occurrences of the evening. Sitting in front of the fire with his back towards him was a tallish gentleman in a great coat, the only other occupant of the room. It was rather a cool evening for the season of the year, and the gentleman drew his chair aside to afford the newcomer a sight of the fire. Not were Mr. Winkle's feelings when, in doing so, he disclosed to view the face and figure of the vindictive and sanguinary Daula. Mr. Winkle's first impulse was to give a violent pull of the nearest bell-handle, but that, unfortunately, happened to be immediately behind Mr. Daula's head. He had made one step towards it before he checked himself. As he did so, Mr. Daula very hastily drew back. Mr. Winkle, sir, be calm. Don't strike me. I won't bear it. A blow. Never!" said Mr. Daula, looking meeker than Mr. Winkle had expected in a gentleman of his ferocity. About a blow, sir? stammered Mr. Winkle. About a blow, sir! replied Daula. Compose your feelings. Sit down. Hear me. Sir! said Mr. Winkle, trembling from head to foot. Before I consented to sit down beside, or opposite you, without the presence of a weighter, I must be secured by some further understanding. You used the threat against me last night, sir, a dreadful threat, sir. Here, Mr. Winkle, turn very pale indeed, and stopped short. "'I did,' said Downer, with the countenance almost as white as Mr. Winkle's. The circumstances were suspicious. There have been explained. I respect your bravery. Your feeling is upright. Conscious innocence. There's my hand. Grasm it.' "'Really, sir,' said Mr. Winkle, hesitating whether to give his hand or not, and almost fearing that it was demanded in order that it might be taken at an advantage. "'Really, sir, I—' "'I know what you mean,' interposed Downer. "'You feel aggrieved? Very natural. So to die. I was wrong. I beg your pardon. Be friendly. Forgive me.' With this, Dialer fairly forced his hand upon Mr. Winkle, and shaking it with the utmost vehemence, declared he was a fellow of extreme spirit, and he had a higher opinion of him than ever. "'Now,' said Dialer, "'sit down. Relate it all. How did you find me? When did you follow? Be frank. Tell me.' "'It's quite accidental,' replied Mr. Winkle, greatly perplexed by the curious and unexpected nature of the interview. "'Quite. Glad of it,' said Dialer. I went this morning. I'd forgotten my fret. I laughed at the accident. I felt friendly. I said so.' "'To whom?' inquired Mr. Winkle. "'To Mrs. Dialer. You made of ours,' said she. I did, said I. It was a rash one,' said she. It was, said I. I'll apologise. Where is he?' "'Who?' inquired Mr. Winkle. "'You,' replied Dialer. I went downstairs. You were not to be found. Pickwick looked gloomy, shook his head. Hope no violence would be committed. I saw it all. You felt yourself insulted. You had gone, for a friend, perhaps, possibly for pistols. High spirit,' said I. I admired him.' Mr. Winkle coughed, and beginning to see how the land lay assumed a look of importance. "'I left a note for you,' resumed Dialer. I said, I was sorry. Said I was. Pressing business called me here. You were not satisfied. You followed. You required a verbal explanation. You were right. It's all over now. My business is finished. I go back tomorrow. Join me.' As Dialer progressed in his explanation, Mr. Winkle's countenance grew more and more dignified. The mysterious nature of the commencement of their conversation was explained. Mr. Dialer had as great an objection to dueling as himself. In short, this blustering and awful personage was one of the most egregious cowards in existence, and interpreting Mr. Winkle's absence through the medium of his own fears had taken the same step as himself, and prudently retired until all excitement of feeling should have subsided. As the real state of the case adorned upon Mr. Winkle's mind, he looked very terrible and said he was perfectly satisfied, but at the same time said so with an air that left Mr. Dialer no alternative but to infer that if he had not been something most horrible and destructive, must inevitably have occurred. Mr. Dialer appeared to be impressed with the becoming sense of Mr. Winkle's magnanimity and condescension, and the two belligerents parted for the night with many protestations of eternal friendship. About half-past twelve o'clock, when Mr. Winkle had been revelling some twenty minutes in the full luxury of his first sleep, he was suddenly awakened by a loud knocking at his chamber-door, which, being repeated with increased vehemence, caused him to start up in bed and inquire who was there and what the matter was. "'Please, sir. Here's a young man who says he must see you directly,' responded the voice of the chambermaid. "'A young man,' exclaimed Mr. Winkle. "'No mistake about that, yes, sir,' replied another voice through the keyhole, and in that worry-same, interesting young creature and let him rely, it's where possible his legs will enter before his countenance. The young man gave a gentle kick at one of the lower panels of the door after he'd given utterance to this hint, as if to add force and point to the remark. "'Is that you, Sam?' inquired Mr. Winkle, springing out of bed. "'Quite impossible to identify any gentleman with any degree of mental satisfaction without looking at him, sir,' replied the voice dogmatically. Mr. Winkle, not much doubting who the young man was, unlocked the door, which he had no sooner done than Mr. Samuel Weller, entered with great precipitation and carefully relocking it on the inside, didiberically put the key in his waistcoat pocket. And after surveying Mr. Winkle from head to foot said, "'You're a very humorous young gentleman, you are, sir?' "'What do you mean by this conduct, Sam?' inquired Mr. Winkle indignantly. "'Get out, sir, this instant. What do you mean, sir?' "'What do I mean?' retorted Sam. "'Come, sir, this is rather too rich,' as the young lady said, when she remonstrated with the pastry cook. After each sold her a pork pie as he got nothing but fat inside. "'What do I mean?' "'Well, that ain't a bad one, that ain't.' "'Unlock that door and leave this room immediately, sir,' said Mr. Winkle. "'I shall leave this here room, sir, just precisely at the very same moment as you leave it,' responded Sam, speaking in a forcible manner, and seating himself with perfect gravity. "'If I find it necessary to carry you away, pick her back, of course I shall leave it to the least bit a possible timer for you. But allow me to express a hope, as you won't reduce me to extremities.' In saying which, I merely quote what the nobleman said to the fact just pinning Winkle, for he wouldn't come out of his shell by means of a pin, and he consequently began to be a fear that he should be obliged to crack him in the pile at all. At the end of this address, which was unusually lengthy for him, Mr. Weller planted his hands on his knees and looked full in Mr. Winkle's face, with an expression of confidence which showed that he had not the remotest intention of being trifled with. "'You're aimably disposed, young man, sir, I don't think,' resumed Mr. Weller, in a tone of moral reproof. "'To go involving our present Governor in all sorts of fantees when he weighed up his mind to go through everything for principle. "'You're far worse nor dodson, sir, and as for Fogg, I consider him a born angel to you.' Mr. Weller, having accompanied this last sentiment with an emphatic slap on each knee, folded his arms with a look of great disgust, and threw himself back in his chair as if awaking the criminal's defence. "'My good fellow,' said Mr. Winkle, extending his hand, his teeth chattering all the time he spoke, for he was standing during the whole of Mr. Weller's lecture in his night gear. "'My good fellow, I respect your attachment to my excellent friend, and I am very sorry indeed to have added to his causes for disquart. There, Sam, there!' "'Well,' said Sam, rather suckily, but giving the Prophet hand a respectful shake at the same time. "'While so you ought to be, and I am very glad to find you here, for if I can help it I won't have him put upon by nobody. That's all about it.' "'Certainly not, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle. "'There, now go to bed, Sam, and we'll talk further about this in the morning.' "'Well, worry sorry,' said Sam. "'But I can't go to bed.' "'Not go to bed,' repeated Mr. Winkle. "'Now,' said Sam, shaking his head, "'can't be done.' "'You don't mean to say you're going back to-night, Sam?' urged Mr. Winkle, greatly surprised. "'Not lest you particularly wish it,' replied Sam. "'But I mustn't leave this year-room. The Governor's orders was peremptory.' "'Not since, Sam,' said Mr. Winkle. "'I must stop here two or three days, and more than that, Sam, you must stop here, too, to assist me in gaining an interview with a young lady. Miss Allen, Sam, you remember her, whom I must and will see before I leave Bristol.' But in reply to each of these positions Sam shook his head with great firmness, and energetically replied, "'It can't be done.' After a great deal of argument and representation on the part of Mr. Winkle, however, and a full disclosure of what had passed in the interview with Dauler, Sam began to waver, and at length a compromise was affected, of which the following were the main and principal conditions. That Sam should retire and leave Mr. Winkle in the undisturbed possession of his apartment, on the condition that he had permission to lock the door on the outside and carry off the key, provided always that in the event of an alarm of fire or other dangerous contingency the door should be instantly unlocked. That a letter should be written to Mr. Pickwick early next morning and forwarded per Dauler, requesting his consent to Sam and Mr. Winkle's remaining at Bristol for the purpose and with the object already assigned, and begging an answer by the next coach. If favourable, the aforesaid party is to remain accordingly, and if not to return to Bath immediately on the receipt thereof. And lastly, that Mr. Winkle should be understood as distinctly pledging himself not to resort to the window, fireplace, or other surreptitious mode of escape in the meanwhile. These stipulations have him been concluded, Sam locked the door, and departed. He had nearly got downstairs when he stopped and drew the key from his pocket. I quite forgot about the knocking down," said Sam, half turning back. The Governor's distinctly said it was to be done. Amazing, stupid of me that were. Never mind," said Sam, brightening up. Easily done to-morrow, anyways. Apparently much consoled by this reflection, Mr. Weller once more deposited the key in his pocket, and descending the remainder of the stairs without any fresh visitations of conscience, was soon, in common with the other inmates of the house, buried in profound repose.