The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 2 (of 2)

by Charles Dickens

  CHAPTER XVII

  _Descriptive of an Affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick makes a Tour of the Diminutive World he inhabits, and resolves to mix with it, in future, as little as possible._

  A few mornings after his incarceration, Mr. Samuel Weller, havingarranged his master's room with all possible care, and seen himcomfortably seated over his books and papers, withdrew to employhimself for an hour or two to come, as he best could. It was a finemorning, and it occurred to Sam that a pint of porter in the open airwould lighten his next quarter of an hour or so, as well as any littleamusement in which he could indulge.

  Having arrived at this conclusion, he betook himself to thetap. Having purchased the beer, and obtained, moreover, theday-but-one-before-yesterday's paper, he repaired to theskittle-ground, and seating himself on a bench, proceeded to enjoyhimself in a very sedate and methodical manner.

  First of all, he took a refreshing draught of the beer, and then helooked up at the window, and bestowed a Platonic wink on a young ladywho was peeling potatoes thereat. Then he opened the paper, and foldedit so as to get the police reports outwards; and this being a vexatiousand difficult thing to do, when there is any wind stirring, he tookanother draught of the beer when he had accomplished it. Then he readtwo lines of the paper, and stopped short to look at a couple of menwho were finishing a game of rackets, which being concluded, he criedout "wery good" in an approving manner, and looked round upon thespectators, to ascertain whether their sentiments coincided with hisown. This involved the necessity of looking up at the windows also; andas the young lady was still there, it was an act of common politenessto wink again, and to drink to her good health in dumb show, in anotherdraught of the beer, which Sam did; and having frowned hideously upon asmall boy who had noted this latter proceeding with open eyes, he threwone leg over the other, and holding the newspaper in both hands, beganto read in real earnest.

  He had hardly composed himself into the needful state of abstraction,when he thought he heard his own name proclaimed in some distantpassage. Nor was he mistaken, for it quickly passed from mouth tomouth, and in a few seconds the air teemed with shouts of "Weller!"

  "Here!" roared Sam, in a stentorian voice. "Wot's the matter? Who wantshim? Has an express come to say that his country-house is afire?"

  "Somebody wants you in the hall," said a man who was standing by.

  "Just mind that 'ere paper and the pot, old feller, will you?" saidSam. "I'm a comin'. Blessed, if they was a callin' me to the bar theycouldn't make more noise about it!"

  Accompanying these words with a gentle rap on the head of the younggentleman before noticed, who, unconscious of his close vicinity tothe person in request, was screaming "Weller!" with all his might, Samhastened across the ground, and ran up the steps into the hall. Here,the first object that met his eyes was his beloved father sitting on abottom stair, with his hat in his hand, shouting out "Weller!" in hisvery loudest tone, at half-minute intervals.

  "Wot are you a roarin' at?" said Sam impetuously, when the oldgentleman had discharged himself of another shout; "makin' yourself soprecious hot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. Wot's thematter?"

  "Aha!" replied the old gentleman, "I began to be afeerd that you'd gonefor a walk round the Regency Park, Sammy."

  "Come," said Sam, "none o' them taunts agin the wictim o' avarice, andcome off that 'ere step. Wot are you a settin' down there for? I don'tlive there."

  "I've got such a game for you, Sammy," said the elder Mr. Weller,rising.

  "Stop a minit," said Sam, "you're all vite behind."

  "That's right, Sammy, rub it off," said Mr. Weller, as his son dustedhim. "It might look personal here, if a man walked about with whitevashon his clothes, eh, Sammy?"

  As Mr. Weller exhibited in this place unequivocal symptoms of anapproaching fit of chuckling, Sam interposed to stop it.

  "Keep quiet, do," said Sam, "there never vos such a old picter-cardborn. What are you bustin' vith, now?"

  "Sammy," said Mr. Weller, wiping his forehead, "I'm afeerd that vun o'these days I shall laugh myself into a appleplexy, my boy."

  "Vell then, wot do you do it for?" said Sam. "Now; wot have you got tosay?"

  "Who do you think's come here with me, Samivel?" said Mr. Weller,drawing back a pace or two, pursing up his mouth, and extending hiseyebrows.

  "Pell?" said Sam.

  Mr. Weller shook his head, and his red cheek expanded with the laughterthat was endeavouring to find a vent.

  "Mottled-faced man, p'r'aps?" suggested Sam.

  Again Mr. Weller shook his head.

  "Who then?" asked Sam.

  "Your mother-in-law," said Mr. Weller; and it was lucky he did say it,or his cheeks must inevitably have cracked from their most unnaturaldistension.

  "Your mother-in-law, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, "and the red-nosed man,my boy; and the red-nosed man. Ho! ho! ho!"

  With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, whileSam regarded him with a broad grin gradually overspreading his wholecountenance.

  "They've come to have a little serious talk with you, Samivel," saidMr. Weller, wiping his eyes. "Don't let out nothin' about the unnat'ralcreditor, Sammy."

  "Wot! don't they know who it is?" inquired Sam.

  "Not a bit on it," replied his father.

  "Vere are they?" said Sam, reciprocating all the old gentleman's grins.

  "In the snuggery," rejoined Mr. Weller. "Catch the red-nosed man agoin' anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ve'd awery pleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin', Sammy,"said Mr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speakingin an articulate manner. "I drove the old piebald in that 'ere littleshay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-law's first wenter, into vicha harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and I'm blest," said Mr.Weller, with a look of deep scorn: "I'm blest if they didn't bring aportable flight o' steps out into the road a front o' our door, for himto get up by."

  "_I drove the old piebald._"]

  "You don't mean that?" said Sam.

  "I _do_ mean that, Sammy," replied his father, "and I vish you couldha' seen how tight he held on by the sides wen he did get up, as if hewos afeerd o' being precipitayted down full six foot, and dashed intoa million o' hatoms. He tumbled in at last, however, and avay ve vent;and I rayther think, I say I rayther think, Samivel, that he foundhis-self a little jolted ven ve turned the corners."

  "Wot! I s'pose you happened to drive up agin a post or two?" said Sam.

  "I'm afeerd," replied Mr. Weller, in a rapture of winks, "I'm afeerd Itook vun or two on 'em, Sammy; he wos a flyin' out o' the harm-cheerall the way."

  Here the old gentleman shook his head from side to side, and was seizedwith a hoarse internal rumbling, accompanied with a violent swellingof the countenance, and a sudden increase in the breadth of all hisfeatures; symptoms which alarmed his son not a little.

  "Don't be frightened, Sammy, don't be frightened," said the oldgentleman, when by dint of much struggling, and various convulsivestamps upon the ground, he had recovered his voice. "It's only a kindo' quiet laugh as I'm a tryin' to come, Sammy."

  "Well, if that's wot it is," said Sam, "you'd better not try to come itagin. You'll find it rayther a dangerous inwention."

  "Don't you like it, Sammy?" inquired the old gentleman.

  "Not at all," replied Sam.

  "Well," said Mr. Weller, with the tears still running down his cheeks,"it 'ud ha' been a wery great accommodation to me if I could ha' doneit, and 'ud ha' saved a good many vords atween your mother-in-law andme, sometimes; but I am afeerd you're right, Sammy: it's too much inthe appleplexy line--a deal too much, Samivel."

  This conversation brought them to the door of the snuggery, into whichSam--pausing for an instant to look over his shoulder, and cast a slyleer at his respected progenitor, who was still giggling behind--atonce led the way.

  "Mother-in-law," said Sam, politely saluti
ng the lady, "wery muchobliged to you for this here wisit. Shepherd, how air you?"

  "Oh, Samuel!" said Mrs. Weller. "This is dreadful."

  "Not a bit of it, mum," replied Sam. "Is it, shepherd?"

  Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, till thewhites--or rather the yellows--were alone visible; but made no reply inwords.

  "Is this here gen'l'm'n troubled vith any painful complaint?" said Sam,looking to his mother-in-law for explanation.

  "The good man is grieved to see you here, Samuel," replied Mrs. Weller.

  "Oh, that's it, is it?" said Sam. "I was afeerd, from his manner, thathe might a' forgotten to take pepper with that 'ere last cowcumber heeat. Set down, sir, ve make no extra charge for the settin' down, asthe king remarked ven he blowed up his ministers."

  "Young man," said Mr. Stiggins ostentatiously, "I fear you are notsoftened by imprisonment."

  "Beg your pardon, sir," replied Sam; "wot wos you graciously pleased tohobserve?"

  "I apprehend, young man, that your nature is no softer for thischastening," said Mr. Stiggins, in a loud voice.

  "Sir," replied Sam, "you're wery kind to say so. I hope my natur is_not_ a soft vun, sir. Wery much obliged to you for your good opinion,sir."

  At this point of the conversation, a sound, indecorously approachingto a laugh, was heard to proceed from the chair in which the elder Mr.Weller was seated; upon which Mrs. Weller, on a hasty consideration ofall the circumstances of the case, considered it her bounden duty tobecome gradually hysterical.

  "Weller," said Mrs. W. (the old gentleman was seated in a corner);"Weller! Come forth."

  "Wery much obleeged to you, my dear," replied Mr. Weller; "but I'mquite comfortable vere I am."

  Upon this Mrs. Weller burst into tears.

  "Wot's gone wrong, mum?" said Sam.

  "Oh, Samuel!" replied Mrs. Weller, "your father makes me wretched. Willnothing do him good?"

  "Do you hear this here?" said Sam. "Lady wants to know vether nothin''ull do you good."

  "Wery much indebted to Mrs. Weller for her po-lite inquiries, Sammy,"replied the old gentleman. "I think a pipe vould benefit me a gooddeal. Could I be accommodated, Sammy?"

  Here Mrs. Weller let fall some more tears, and Mr. Stiggins groaned.

  "Hallo! Here's this unfort'nate gen'l'm'n took ill agin," said Sam,looking round. "Vere do you feel it now, sir?"

  "In the same place, young man," rejoined Mr. Stiggins: "in the sameplace."

  "Vere may that be, sir?" inquired Sam, with great outward simplicity.

  "In the buzzim, young man," replied Mr. Stiggins, placing his umbrellaon his waistcoat.

  At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to suppressher feelings, sobbed aloud, and stated her conviction that thered-nosed man was a saint; whereupon Mr. Weller senior ventured tosuggest, in an undertone, that he must be the representative of theunited parishes of St. Simon Without and St. Walker Within.

  "I'm afeerd, mum," said Sam, "that this here gen'l'm'n, with thetwist in his countenance, feels rayther thirsty, with the melancholyspectacle afore him. Is it the case, mum?"

  The worthy lady looked at Mr. Stiggins for a reply; that gentleman,with many rollings of the eye, clenched his throat with his right hand,and mimicked the act of swallowing, to intimate that he was athirst.

  "I am afraid, Samuel, that his feelings have made him so, indeed," saidMrs. Weller, mournfully.

  "Wot's your usual tap, sir?" replied Sam.

  "Oh, my dear young friend," replied Mr. Stiggins, "all taps isvanities!"

  "Too true, too true, indeed," said Mrs. Weller, murmuring a groan, andshaking her head assentingly.

  "Well," said Sam, "I des-say they may be, sir; but which is yourpartickler wanity? Vich wanity do you like the flavour on best, sir?"

  "Oh, my dear young friend," replied Mr. Stiggins, "I despise them all.If," said Mr. Stiggins, "if there is any one of them less odious thananother, it is the liquor called rum. Warm, my dear young friend, withthree lumps of sugar to the tumbler."

  "Wery sorry to say, sir," said Sam, "that they don't allow thatpartickler wanity to be sold in this here establishment."

  "Oh, the hardness of heart of these inveterate men!" ejaculated Mr.Stiggins. "Oh, the accursed cruelty of these inhuman persecutors!"

  With these words Mr. Stiggins again cast up his eyes, and rappedhis breast with his umbrella; and it is but justice to the reverendgentleman to say, that his indignation appeared very real and unfeignedindeed.

  After Mrs. Weller and the red-nosed gentleman had commented on thisinhuman usage in a very forcible manner, and had vented a variety ofpious and holy execrations against its authors, the latter recommendeda bottle of port wine, warmed with a little water, spice, and sugar, asbeing grateful to the stomach, and savouring less of vanity than manyother compounds. It was accordingly ordered to be prepared. Pending itspreparation the red-nosed man and Mrs. Weller looked at the elder W.and groaned.

  "Well, Sammy," said that gentleman, "I hope you'll find yourspirits rose by this here lively wisit. Wery cheerful and improvin'conwersation, ain't it, Sammy?"

  "You're a reprobate," replied Sam; "and I desire you won't address nomore o' them ungraceful remarks to me."

  So far from being edified by this very proper reply, the elder Mr.Weller at once relapsed into a broad grin; and this inexorableconduct causing the lady and Mr. Stiggins to close their eyes, androck themselves to and fro on their chairs in a troubled manner, hefurthermore indulged in several acts of pantomime, indicative of adesire to pummel and wring the nose of the aforesaid Stiggins; theperformance of which appeared to afford him great mental relief. Theold gentleman very narrowly escaped detection in one instance: Mr.Stiggins happening to give a start on the arrival of the negus, broughthis head in smart contact with the clenched fist with which Mr. Wellerhad been describing imaginary fireworks in the air, within two inchesof his ear, for some minutes.

  "Wot are you a reachin' out your hand for the tumbler in that 'eresawage way for?" said Sam, with great promptitude. "Don't you seeyou've hit the gen'l'm'n?"

  "I didn't go to do it, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, in some degree abashedby the very unexpected occurrence of the incident.

  "Try an in'ard application, sir," said Sam, as the red-nosed gentlemanrubbed his head with a rueful visage. "Wot do you think o' that, for ago o' wanity warm, sir?"

  Mr. Stiggins made no verbal answer, but his manner was expressive. Hetasted the contents of the glass which Sam had placed in his hand;put his umbrella on the floor, and tasted it again: passing his handplacidly across his stomach twice or thrice; he then drank the whole ata breath, and smacking his lips, held out the tumbler for more.

  Nor was Mrs. Weller behind-hand in doing justice to the composition.The good lady began by protesting that she couldn't touch a drop--thentook a small drop--then a large drop--then a great many drops; and herfeelings being of the nature of those substances which are powerfullyaffected by the application of strong waters, she dropped a tear withevery drop of negus, and so got on, melting the feelings down, until atlength she had arrived at a very pathetic and decent pitch of misery.

  The elder Mr. Weller observed these signs and tokens with manymanifestations of disgust, and when, after a second jug of the same,Mr. Stiggins began to sigh in a dismal manner, he plainly evinced hisdisapprobation of the whole proceedings, by sundry incoherent ramblingsof speech, among which frequent angry repetitions of the word "gammon"were alone distinguishable to the ear.

  "I'll tell you wot it is, Samivel, my boy," whispered the old gentlemaninto his son's ear, after a long and steadfast contemplation of hislady and Mr. Stiggins; "I think there must be somethin' wrong in yourmother-in-law's inside, as vell as in that o' the red-nosed man."

  "Wot do you mean?" said Sam.

  "I mean this here, Sammy," replied the old gentleman, "that wot theydrink don't seem no nourishment to 'em; it all turns to warm water,and comes a pourin' out o' their eyes. 'Pend upon it, Sammy, it'
s aconstitootional infirmity."

  Mr. Weller delivered this scientific opinion with many confirmatoryfrowns and nods; which Mrs. Weller remarking, and concluding that theybore some disparaging reference either to herself or to Mr. Stiggins,or to both, was on the point of becoming infinitely worse, when Mr.Stiggins, getting on his legs as well as he could, proceeded todeliver an edifying discourse for the benefit of the company, but moreespecially of Mr. Samuel, whom he adjured in moving terms to be uponhis guard in that sink of iniquity into which he was cast; to abstainfrom all hypocrisy and pride of heart; and to take in all things exactpattern and copy by him (Stiggins), in which case he might calculateon arriving, sooner or later, at the comfortable conclusion that, likehim, he was a most estimable and blameless character, and that allhis acquaintance and friends were hopelessly abandoned and profligatewretches. Which consideration, he said, could not but afford him theliveliest satisfaction.

  He furthermore conjured him to avoid, above all things, the vice ofintoxication, which he likened unto the filthy habits of swine, and tothose poisonous and baleful drugs which, being chewed in the mouth,are said to filch away the memory. At this point of his discourse, thereverend and red-nosed gentleman became singularly incoherent, andstaggering to and fro in the excitement of his eloquence, was fain tocatch at the back of a chair to preserve his perpendicular.

  Mr. Stiggins did not desire his hearers to be upon their guard againstthose false prophets and wretched mockers of religion, who, withoutsense to expound its first doctrines, or hearts to feel its firstprinciples, are more dangerous members of society than the commoncriminal; imposing, as they necessarily do, upon the weakest and worstinformed, casting scorn and contempt on what should be held mostsacred, and bringing into partial disrepute large bodies of virtuousand well-conducted persons of many excellent sects and persuasions. Butas he leant over the back of the chair for a considerable time, andclosing one eye, winked a good deal with the other, it is presumed thathe thought all this, but kept it to himself.

  During the delivery of the oration, Mrs. Weller sobbed and wept atthe end of the paragraphs; while Sam, sitting cross-legged on a chairand resting his arms on the top-rail, regarded the speaker with greatsuavity and blandness of demeanour; occasionally bestowing a look ofrecognition on the old gentleman, who was delighted at the beginning,and went to sleep about half-way.

  "Brayvo; wery pretty!" said Sam, when the red-nosed man, havingfinished, pulled his worn gloves on: thereby thrusting his fingersthrough the broken tops till the knuckles were disclosed to view. "Werypretty."

  "I hope it may do you good, Samuel," said Mrs. Weller, solemnly.

  "I think it vill, mum," replied Sam.

  "I wish I could hope that it would do your father good," said Mrs.Weller.

  "Thankee, my dear," said Mr. Weller senior. "How do _you_ find yourselfarter it, my love?"

  "Scoffer!" exclaimed Mrs. Weller.

  "Benighted man!" said the Reverend Mr. Stiggins.

  "If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o' yourn,my worthy creetur," said the elder Mr. Weller, "it's wery likelyas I shall continey to be a night coach till I'm took off the roadaltogether. Now, Mrs. We, if the piebald stands at livery much longer,he'll stand at nothing as we go back, and p'r'aps that 'ere harm-cheer'ull be tipped over into some hedge or another, with the shepherd init."

  At this supposition, the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, in evidentconsternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella, and proposed animmediate departure, to which Mrs. Weller assented. Sam walked withthem to the lodge-gate, and took a dutiful leave.

  "A-do, Samivel," said the old gentleman.

  "Wot's a-do?" inquired Sammy.

  "Well, good-bye, then," said the old gentleman.

  "Oh, that's wot you're a aimin' at, is it?" said Sam. "Good-bye!"

  "Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round; "my duty toyour gov'ner, and tell him if he thinks better o' this here bis'ness,to commoonicate vith me. Me and a cab'net-maker has devised a planfor gettin' him out. A pianner, Samivel, a pianner!" said Mr. Weller,striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand, and fallingback a step or two.

  "Wot do you mean?" said Sam.

  "A pianner forty, Samivel," rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still moremysterious manner, "as we can have on hire; vun as von't play, Sammy."

  "And wot 'ud be the good o' that?" said Sam.

  "Let him send to my friend, the cab'net-maker, to fetch it back,Sammy," replied Mr. Weller. "Are you avake now?"

  "No," rejoined Sam.

  "There ain't no vurks in it," whispered his father. "It 'ull hold himeasy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs, vichhis holler. Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker. The 'Merrikingov'ment will never give him up, ven they find as he's got money tospend, Sammy. Let the gov'ner stop there, till Mrs. Bardell's dead, orMr. Dodson and Fogg's hung (which last ewent I think is the most likelyto happen first, Sammy), and then let him come back and write a bookabout the 'Merrikins, as'll pay all his expenses and more, if he blows'em up enough."

  Mr. Weller delivered this hurried abstract of his plot with greatvehemence of whisper; then, as if fearful of weakening the effect ofthe tremendous communication, by any further dialogue, he gave thecoachman's salute, and vanished.

  Sam had scarcely recovered his usual composure of countenance, whichhad been greatly disturbed by the secret communication of his respectedrelative, when Mr. Pickwick accosted him.

  "Sam," said that gentleman.

  "Sir?" replied Mr. Weller.

  "I am going for a walk round the prison, and I wish you to attend me.I see a prisoner we know coming this way, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick,smiling.

  "Wich, sir?" inquired Mr. Weller; "the gen'l'm'n vith the head o' hair,or the interestin' captive in the stockin's?"

  "Neither," rejoined Mr. Pickwick. "He is an older friend of yours, Sam."

  "O' mine, sir?" exclaimed Mr. Weller.

  "You recollect the gentleman very well, I dare say, Sam," replied Mr.Pickwick, "or else you are more unmindful of your old acquaintancesthan I think you are. Hush! not a word, Sam; not a syllable. Here heis."

  As Mr. Pickwick spoke, Jingle walked up. He looked less miserable thanbefore, being clad in a half-worn suit of clothes, which, with Mr.Pickwick's assistance, had been released from the pawnbroker's. He woreclean linen too, and had had his hair cut. He was very pale and thin,however; and as he crept slowly up, leaning on a stick, it was easy tosee that he had suffered severely from illness and want, and was stillvery weak. He took off his hat as Mr. Pickwick saluted him, and seemedmuch humbled and abashed at sight of Sam Weller.

  Following close at his heels, came Mr. Job Trotter, in the catalogueof whose vices, want of faith and attachment to his companion could atall events find no place. He was still ragged and squalid, but his facewas not quite so hollow as on his first meeting with Mr. Pickwick a fewdays before. As he took off his hat to our benevolent old friend, hemurmured some broken expressions of gratitude, and muttered somethingabout having been saved from starving.

  "Well, well," said Mr. Pickwick, impatiently interrupting him, "youcan follow with Sam. I want to speak to you, Mr. Jingle. Can you walkwithout his arm?"

  "Certainly, sir--all ready--not too fast--legs--shaky--head queer roundand round--earthquaky sort of feeling--very."

  "Here, give me your arm," said Mr. Pickwick.

  "No, no," replied Jingle; "won't indeed--rather not."

  "Nonsense," said Mr. Pickwick; "lean upon me, I desire, sir."

  Seeing that he was confused and agitated, and uncertain what to do, Mr.Pickwick cut the matter short by drawing the invalided stroller's armthrough his, and leading him away, without saying another word about it.

  During the whole of this time, the countenance of Mr. Samuel Wellerhad exhibited an expression of the most overwhelming and absorbingastonishment that the imagination can portray. After looking from Jobto Jingle, and from Jingle to Job, in profound silence, he softlyejaculated the
words, "Well, I _am_ damn'd!" Which he repeated at leasta score of times: after which exertion, he appeared wholly bereft ofspeech, and again cast his eyes, first upon the one and then upon theother, in mute perplexity and bewilderment.

  "Now, Sam!" said Mr. Pickwick, looking back.

  "I'm a comin', sir," replied Mr. Weller, mechanically following hismaster; and still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter, whowalked at his side, in silence.

  Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time. Sam, with hisglued to Job's countenance, ran up against the people who were walkingabout, and fell over little children, and stumbled against steps andrailings, without appearing at all sensible of it, until Job, lookingstealthily up, said:

  "How do you do, Mr. Weller?"

  "It _is_ him!" exclaimed Sam: and having established Job's identitybeyond all doubt, he smote his leg, and vented his feelings in a longshrill whistle.

  "Things has altered with me, sir," said Job.

  "I should think they had," exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying hiscompanion's rags with undisguised wonder. "This is rayther a changefor the worse, Mr. Trotter, as the gen'l'm'n said wen he got twodoubtful shillin's and sixpenn'orth o' pocket pieces for a goodhalf-crown."

  "It is indeed," replied Job, shaking his head. "There is no deceptionnow, Mr. Weller. Tears," said Job, with a look of momentary slyness,"tears are not the only proofs of distress, nor the best ones."

  "No, they ain't," replied Sam, expressively.

  "They may be put on, Mr. Weller," said Job.

  "I know they may," said Sam; "some people, indeed, has 'em always readylaid on, and can pull out the plug wenever they likes."

  "Yes," replied Job; "but _these_ sort of things are not so easilycounterfeited, Mr. Weller, and it is a more painful process to get themup." As he spoke, he pointed to his sallow, sunken cheeks, and, drawingup his coat sleeves, disclosed an arm which looked as if the bone couldbe broken at a touch: so sharp and brittle did it appear beneath itsthin covering of flesh.

  "Wot have you been a doin' to yourself?" said Sam, recoiling.

  "Nothing," replied Job.

  "Nothin'!" echoed Sam.

  "I have been doin' nothing for many weeks past," said Job; "and eatingand drinking almost as little."

  Sam took one comprehensive glance at Mr. Trotter's thin face andwretched apparel; and then, seizing him by the arm, commenced dragginghim away with great violence.

  "Where are you going, Mr. Weller?" said Job, vainly struggling in thepowerful grasp of his old enemy.

  "Come on," said Sam; "come on!" He deigned no further explanation untilthey reached the tap; and then called for a pot of porter which wasspeedily produced.

  "Now," said Sam, "drink that up, ev'ry drop on it, and then turn thepot upside down, to let me see as you've took the med'cine."

  "But, my dear Mr. Weller," remonstrated Job.

  "Down vith it!" said Sam peremptorily.

  Thus admonished, Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips, and, bygentle and almost imperceptible degrees, tilted it into the air. Hepaused once, and only once, to draw a long breath, but without raisinghis face from the vessel, which, in a few moments thereafter, he heldout at arm's length, bottom upward. Nothing fell upon the ground but afew particles of froth, which slowly detached themselves from the rim,and trickled lazily down.

  "Well done!" said Sam. "How do you find yourself arter it?"

  "Better, sir. I think I am better," responded Job.

  "O' course you air," said Sam, argumentatively. "It's like puttin' gasin a balloon. I can see with the naked eye that you gets stouter underthe operation. Wot do you say to another o' the same di-mensions?"

  "I would rather not, I am much obliged to you, sir," replied Job, "muchrather not."

  "Vell then, wot do you say to some wittles?" inquired Sam.

  "Thanks to your worthy governor, sir," said Mr. Trotter, "we have halfa leg of mutton, baked, at a quarter before three, with the potatoesunder it to save boiling."

  "Wot! Has _he_ been a purwidin' for you?" asked Sam emphatically.

  "He has, sir," replied Job. "More than that, Mr. Weller; my masterbeing very ill, he got us a room--we were in a kennel before--and paidfor it, sir; and come to look at us, at night, when nobody should know.Mr. Weller," said Job, with real tears in his eyes for once, "I couldserve that gentleman till I fell down dead at his feet."

  "I say!" said Sam, "I'll trouble you, my friend! None o' that!"

  Job Trotter looked amazed.

  "None o' that, I say, young feller," repeated Sam firmly. "Noman serves him but me. And now we're upon it, I'll let you intoanother secret besides that," said Sam, as he paid for the beer. "Inever heerd, mind you, nor read of it in story-books, nor see inpicters, any angel in tights and gaiters--not even in spectacles,as I remember, though that may ha' been done for anythin' I knowto the contrairey--but mark my vords, Job Trotter, he's a reg'larthorough-bred angel for all that; and let me see the man as wenturs totell me he knows a better vun." With this defiance, Mr. Weller buttonedup his change in a side pocket, and, with many confirmatory nods andgestures by the way, proceeded in search of the subject of discourse.

  They found Mr. Pickwick, in company with Jingle, talking veryearnestly, and not bestowing a look on the groups who were congregatedon the racket-ground; they were very motley groups too, and worth thelooking at if it were only in idle curiosity.

  "Well," said Mr. Pickwick, as Sam and his companion drew nigh, "youwill see how your health becomes, and think about it meanwhile. Makethe statement out for me when you feel yourself equal to the task, andI will discuss the subject with you when I have considered it. Now, goto your room. You are tired, and not strong enough to be out long."

  Mr. Alfred Jingle, without one spark of his old animation--with nothingeven of the dismal gaiety which he had assumed when Mr. Pickwickfirst stumbled on him in his misery--bowed low without speaking, and,motioning to Job not to follow him just yet, crept slowly away.

  "Curious scene this, is it not, Sam?" said Mr. Pickwick, lookinggood-humouredly round.

  "Wery much so, sir," replied Sam. "Wonders 'ull never cease," addedSam, speaking to himself. "I'm wery much mistaken if that 'ere Jingleworn't a doin' somethin' in the water-cart way!"

  The area formed by the wall in that part of the Fleet in which Mr.Pickwick stood was just wide enough to make a good racket-court; oneside being formed, of course, by the wall itself, and the other bythat portion of the prison which looked (or rather would have looked,but for the wall) towards St. Paul's Cathedral. Sauntering or sittingabout, in every possible attitude of listless idleness, were a greatnumber of debtors, the major part of whom were waiting in prison untiltheir day of "going up" before the Insolvent Court should arrive; whileothers had been remanded for various terms, which they were idlingaway as they best could. Some were shabby, some were smart, many dirty,a few clean; but there they all lounged, and loitered, and slunk about,with as little spirit or purpose as the beasts in a menagerie.

  Lolling from the windows which commanded a view of this promenade, werea number of persons, some in noisy conversation with their acquaintancebelow, others playing at ball with some adventurous throwers outside,others looking on at the racket-players, or watching the boys as theycried the game. Dirty, slipshod women passed and re-passed on their wayto the cooking-house in one corner of the yard; children screamed, andfought, and played together, in another; the tumbling of the skittles,and the shouts of the players, mingled perpetually with these and ahundred other sounds; and all was noise and tumult--save in a littlemiserable shed a few yards off, where lay, all quiet and ghastly, thebody of the Chancery prisoner who had died the night before, awaitingthe mockery of an inquest. The body! It is the lawyer's term for therestless whirling mass of cares and anxieties, affections, hopes, andgriefs, that make up the living man. The law _had_ his body; and thereit lay, clothed in grave-clothes, an awful witness to its tender mercy.

  "Would you like to see a whistling-shop, sir?" inquired Job Tr
otter.

  "What do you mean?" was Mr. Pickwick's counter inquiry.

  "A vistlin' shop, sir," interposed Mr. Weller.

  "What is that, Sam? A bird-fancier's?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

  "Bless your heart, no, sir," replied Job; "a whistling-shop, sir, iswhere they sell spirits." Mr. Job Trotter briefly explained here thatall persons being prohibited under heavy penalties from conveyingspirits into debtors' prisons, and such commodities being highly prizedby the ladies and gentlemen confined therein, it had occurred to somespeculative turnkey to connive, for certain lucrative considerations,at two or three prisoners retailing the favourite article of gin, fortheir own profit and advantage.

  "This plan you see, sir, has been gradually introduced into all theprisons for debt," said Mr. Trotter.

  "And it has this wery great advantage," said Sam, "that the turnkeystakes wery good care to seize hold o' ev'rybody but them as pays 'em,that attempts the willainy, and ven it gets in the papers they'reapplauded for their wigilance; so it cuts two ways--frightens otherpeople from the trade, and elewates their own characters."

  "Exactly so, Mr. Weller," observed Job.

  "Well, but are these rooms never searched to ascertain whether anyspirits are concealed in them?" said Mr. Pickwick.

  "Cert'nly they are, sir," replied Sam; "but the turnkeys knowsbeforehand, and gives the word to the wistlers, and you _may_ whistlefor it ven you go to look."

  By this time, Job had tapped at a door, which was opened by a gentlemanwith an uncombed head, who bolted it after them when they had walkedin, and grinned; upon which Job grinned, and Sam also; whereupon Mr.Pickwick, thinking it might be expected of him, kept on smiling to theend of the interview.

  The gentleman with the uncombed head appeared quite satisfied withthis mute announcement of their business, and, producing a flat stonebottle, which might hold about a couple of quarts, from beneath hisbedstead, filled out three glasses of gin, which Job Trotter and Samdisposed of in a most workmanlike manner.

  "Any more?" said the whistling gentleman.

  "No more," replied Job Trotter.

  Mr. Pickwick paid, the door was unbolted, and out they came; theuncombed gentleman bestowing a friendly nod upon Mr. Roker, whohappened to be passing at the moment.

  From this spot, Mr. Pickwick wandered along all the galleries, up anddown all the staircases, and once again round the whole area of theyard. The great body of the prison population appeared to be Mivins,and Smangle, and the parson, and the butcher, and the leg, over andover, and over again. There were the same squalor, the same turmoil andnoise, the same general characteristics, in every corner; in the bestand the worst alike. The whole place seemed restless and troubled; andthe people were crowding and flitting to and fro, like the shadows inan uneasy dream.

  "I have seen enough," said Mr. Pickwick, as he threw himself into achair in his little compartment. "My head aches with these scenes, andmy heart too. Henceforth I will be a prisoner in my own room."

  And Mr. Pickwick steadfastly adhered to this determination. For threelong months he remained shut up, all day; only stealing out at night,to breathe the air, when the greater part of his fellow-prisonerswere in bed or carousing in their rooms. His health was beginningto suffer from the closeness of the confinement, but neither theoften-repeated entreaties of Perker and his friends, nor the still morefrequently-repeated warnings and admonitions of Mr. Samuel Weller,could induce him to alter one jot of his inflexible resolution.