The Pickwick Papers 24 страница

Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any attendant circumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in it; because in many parts of the world men do come out of gardens, close green gates after them, and even walk briskly away, without attracting any particular share of public observation. It is clear, therefore, that there must have been something in the man, or in his manner, or both, to attract Mr. Weller's particular notice. Whether there was, or not, we must leave the reader to determine, when we have faithfully recorded the behaviour of the individual in question.

When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, as we have said twice already, with a brisk pace up the courtyard; but he no sooner caught sight of Mr. Weller than he faltered, and stopped, as if uncertain, for the moment, what course to adopt. As the green gate was closed behind him, and there was no other outlet but the one in front, however, he was not long in perceiving that he must pass Mr. Samuel Weller to get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and advanced, staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing about the man was, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful and astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handiwork never was disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had overlaid his countenance with in one moment.

“Well! ” said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. “This is wery odd. I could ha” swore it was him. ”

Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted than ever, as he drew nearer.

“I could take my oath to that “ere black hair and mulberry suit, ” said Mr. Weller; “only I never see such a face as that afore. ”

As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly twinge, perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, however, and the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him to detect, under all these appalling twists of feature, something too like the small eyes of Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.

“Hollo, you Sir! ” shouted Sam fiercely.

The stranger stopped.

“Hollo! ” repeated Sam, still more gruffly.

The man with the horrible face looked, with the greatest surprise, up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the houses—everywhere but at Sam Weller—and took another step forward, when he was brought to again by another shout.

“Hollo, you sir! ” said Sam, for the third time.

There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from now, so the stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam Weller full in the face.

“It won't do, Job Trotter, ” said Sam. “Come! None o” that “ere nonsense. You ain't so wery “andsome that you can afford to throw avay many o” your good looks. Bring them “ere eyes o” yourn back into their proper places, or I'll knock “em out of your head. D'ye hear? ”

As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the spirit of this address, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its natural expression; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, “What do I see? Mr. Walker! ”

“Ah, ” replied Sam. “You're wery glad to see me, ain't you? ”

“Glad! ” exclaimed Job Trotter; “oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but known how I have looked forward to this meeting! It is too much, Mr. Walker; I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot. ” And with these words, Mr. Trotter burst into a regular inundation of tears, and, flinging his arms around those of Mr. Weller, embraced him closely, in an ecstasy of joy.

“Get off! ” cried Sam, indignant at this process, and vainly endeavouring to extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiastic acquaintance. “Get off, I tell you. What are you crying over me for, you portable engine? ”

“Because I am so glad to see you, ” replied Job Trotter, gradually releasing Mr. Weller, as the first symptoms of his pugnacity disappeared. “Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much. ”

“Too much! ” echoed Sam, “I think it is too much—rayther! Now, what have you got to say to me, eh? ”

Mr. Trotter made no reply; for the little pink pocket-handkerchief was in full force.

“What have you got to say to me, afore I knock your head off? ” repeated Mr. Weller, in a threatening manner.

“Eh! ” said Mr. Trotter, with a look of virtuous surprise.

“What have you got to say to me? ”

“I, Mr. Walker! ”

“Don't call me Valker; my name's Veller; you know that vell enough. What have you got to say to me? ”

“Bless you, Mr. Walker—Weller, I mean—a great many things, if you will come away somewhere, where we can talk comfortably. If you knew how I have looked for you, Mr. Weller—”

“Wery hard, indeed, I s'pose? ” said Sam drily.

“Very, very, Sir, ” replied Mr. Trotter, without moving a muscle of his face. “But shake hands, Mr. Weller. ”

Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as if actuated by a sudden impulse, complied with his request. “How, ” said Job Trotter, as they walked away, “how is your dear, good master? Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller! I hope he didn't catch cold, that dreadful night, Sir. ”

There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, as he said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fist, as he burned with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs. Sam constrained himself, however, and replied that his master was extremely well.

“Oh, I am so glad, ” replied Mr. Trotter; “is he here? ”

“Is yourn? ” asked Sam, by way of reply.

“Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going on worse than ever. ”

“Ah, ah! ” said Sam.

“Oh, shocking—terrible! ”

“At a boarding-school? ” said Sam.

“No, not at a boarding-school, ” replied Job Trotter, with the same sly look which Sam had noticed before; “not at a boarding-school. ”

“At the house with the green gate? ” said Sam, eyeing his companion closely.

“No, no—oh, not there, ” replied Job, with a quickness very unusual to him, “not there. ”

“What was you a-doin” there? ” asked Sam, with a sharp glance. “Got inside the gate by accident, perhaps? ”

“Why, Mr. Weller, ” replied Job, “I don't mind telling you my little secrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each other when we first met. You recollect how pleasant we were that morning? ”

“Oh, yes, ” said Sam, impatiently. “I remember. Well? ”

“Well, ” replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the low tone of a man who communicates an important secret; “in that house with the green gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good many servants. ”

“So I should think, from the look on it, ” interposed Sam.

“Yes, ” continued Mr. Trotter, “and one of them is a cook, who has saved up a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can establish herself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery way, you see. ” “Yes. ”

“Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, Sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to; a very neat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing the number four collection of hymns, which I generally carry about with me, in a little book, which you may perhaps have seen in my hand—and I got a little intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from that, an acquaintance sprung up between us, and I may venture to say, Mr. Weller, that I am to be the chandler. ”

“Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make, ” replied Sam, eyeing Job with a side look of intense dislike.

“The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller, ” continued Job, his eyes filling with tears as he spoke, “will be, that I shall be able to leave my present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to devote myself to a better and more virtuous life; more like the way in which I was brought up, Mr. Weller. ”

“You must ha” been wery nicely brought up, ” said Sam.

“Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very, ” replied Job. At the recollection of the purity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pink handkerchief, and wept copiously.

“You must ha” been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith, ” said Sam.

“I was, sir, ” replied Job, heaving a deep sigh; “I was the idol of the place. ”

“Ah, ” said Sam, “I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you must ha” been to your blessed mother. ”

At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink handkerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, and began to weep copiously.

“Wot's the matter with the man, ” said Sam, indignantly. “Chelsea water-works is nothin” to you. What are you melting vith now? The consciousness o” willainy? ”

“I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller, ” said Job, after a short pause. “To think that my master should have suspected the conversation I had with yours, and so dragged me away in a post-chaise, and after persuading the sweet young lady to say she knew nothing of him, and bribing the school-mistress to do the same, deserted her for a better speculation! Oh! Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder. ”

“Oh, that was the vay, was it? ” said Mr. Weller.

“To be sure it was, ” replied Job.

“Vell, ” said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, “I vant to have a little bit o” talk with you, Job; so if you're not partickler engaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse tonight, somewheres about eight o'clock. ”

“I shall be sure to come, ” said Job.

“Yes, you'd better, ” replied Sam, with a very meaning look, “or else I shall perhaps be askin” arter you, at the other side of the green gate, and then I might cut you out, you know. ”

“I shall be sure to be with you, sir, ” said Mr. Trotter; and wringing Sam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away.

“Take care, Job Trotter, take care, ” said Sam, looking after him, “or I shall be one too many for you this time. I shall, indeed. ” Having uttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen no more, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bedroom.

“It's all in training, Sir, ” said Sam.

“What's in training, Sam? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“I've found “em out, Sir, ” said Sam.

“Found out who? ”

“That “ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the black hair. ”

“Impossible, Sam! ” said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy. “Where are they, Sam: where are they? ”

“Hush, hush! ” replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick to dress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter.

“But when is this to be done, Sam? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“All in good time, Sir, ” replied Sam.

Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter.

CHAPTER XXIV WHEREIN Mr. PETER MAGNUS GROWS JEALOUS, AND THE

MIDDLE-AGED LADY APPREHENSIVE, WHICH BRINGS THE

PICKWICKIANS WITHIN THE GRASP OF THE LAW

When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, displaying to all possible advantage on his person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of the utmost excitement and agitation.

“Good-morning, Sir, ” said Mr. Peter Magnus. “What do you think of this, Sir? ”

“Very effective indeed, ” replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile.

“Yes, I think it'll do, ” said Mr. Magnus. “Mr. Pickwick, Sir, I have sent up my card. ”

“Have you? ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“And the waiter brought back word, that she would see me at eleven—at eleven, Sir; it only wants a quarter now. ”

“Very near the time, ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Yes, it is rather near, ” replied Mr. Magnus, “rather too near to be pleasant—eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir? ”

“Confidence is a great thing in these cases, ” observed Mr. Pickwick.

“I believe it is, Sir, ” said Mr. Peter Magnus. “I am very confident, Sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, Sir? There's nothing to be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more. Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the matter, Mr. Pickwick. ”

“It is a very philosophical one, ” replied Mr. Pickwick. “But breakfast is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come. ”

Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, and an irresistible inclination to look at the clock, every other second, were among the principal symptoms.

“He-he-he, 'tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness, and gasping with agitation. “It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. Am I pale, Sir? ” “Not very, ” replied Mr. Pickwick.

There was a brief pause.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick; but have you ever done this sort of thing in your time? ” said Mr. Magnus.

“You mean proposing? ” said Mr. Pickwick. “Yes. ”

“Never, ” said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy, “never. ”

“You have no idea, then, how it's best to begin? ” said Mr. Magnus.

“Why, ” said Mr. Pickwick, “I may have formed some ideas upon the subject, but, as I have never submitted them to the test of experience, I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your proceedings by them. ”

“I should feel very much obliged to you, for any advice, Sir, ” said Mr. Magnus, taking another look at the clock, the hand of which was verging on the five minutes past.

“Well, sir, ” said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply impressive. “I should commence, sir, with a tribute to the lady's beauty and excellent qualities; from them, Sir, I should diverge to my own unworthiness. ”

“Very good, ” said Mr. Magnus.

“Unworthiness for HER only, mind, sir, ” resumed Mr. Pickwick; “for to show that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take a brief review of my past life, and present condition. I should argue, by analogy, that to anybody else, I must be a very desirable object. I should then expatiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth of my devotion. Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand. ”

“Yes, I see, ” said Mr. Magnus; “that would be a very great point. ”

“I should then, Sir, ” continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as the subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him—“I should then, Sir, come to the plain and simple question, “Will you have me? ” I think I am justified in assuming that upon this, she would turn away her head. ”

“You think that may be taken for granted? ” said Mr. Magnus; “because, if she did not do that at the right place, it would be embarrassing. ”

“I think she would, ” said Mr. Pickwick. “Upon this, sir, I should squeeze her hand, and I think—I think, Mr. Magnus—that after I had done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge of human nature leads me to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment, and steal a respectful kiss. I think I should kiss her, Mr. Magnus; and at this particular point, I am decidedly of opinion that if the lady were going to take me at all, she would murmur into my ears a bashful acceptance. ”

Mr. Magnus started; gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intelligent face, for a short time in silence; and then (the dial pointing to the ten minutes past) shook him warmly by the hand, and rushed desperately from the room.

Mr. Pickwick had taken a few strides to and fro; and the small hand of the clock following the latter part of his example, had arrived at the figure which indicates the half-hour, when the door suddenly opened. He turned round to meet Mr. Peter Magnus, and encountered, in his stead, the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, the serene countenance of Mr. Winkle, and the intellectual lineaments of Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus tripped into the room.

“My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of—Mr. Magnus, ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Your servant, gentlemen, ” said Mr. Magnus, evidently in a high state of excitement; “Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you one moment, sir. ”

As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. Pickwick's buttonhole, and, drawing him to a window recess, said—

“Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick; I followed your advice to the very letter. ”

“And it was all correct, was it? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“It was, Sir. Could not possibly have been better, ” replied Mr. Magnus. “Mr. Pickwick, she is mine. ”

“I congratulate you, with all my heart, ” replied Mr. Pickwick, warmly shaking his new friend by the hand.

“You must see her. Sir, ” said Mr. Magnus; “this way, if you please. Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen. ” Hurrying on in this way, Mr. Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. He paused at the next door in the passage, and tapped gently thereat.

“Come in, ” said a female voice. And in they went.

“Miss Witherfield, ” said Mr. Magnus, “allow me to introduce my very particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make you known to Miss Witherfield. ”

The lady was at the upper end of the room. As Mr. Pickwick bowed, he took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, and put them on; a process which he had no sooner gone through, than, uttering an exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several paces, and the lady, with a half-suppressed scream, hid her face in her hands, and dropped into a chair; whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was stricken motionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the other, with a countenance expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise. This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behaviour; but the fact is, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles, than he at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night; and the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick's nose, than the lady at once identified the countenance which she had seen surrounded by all the horrors of a nightcap. So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pickwick started.

“Mr. Pickwick! ” exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment, “what is the meaning of this, Sir? What is the meaning of it, Sir? ” added Mr. Magnus, in a threatening, and a louder tone.

“Sir, ” said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into the imperative mood, “I decline answering that question. ”

“You decline it, Sir? ” said Mr. Magnus.

“I do, Sir, ” replied Mr. Pickwick; “I object to say anything which may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast, without her consent and permission. ”

“Miss Witherfield, ” said Mr. Peter Magnus, “do you know this person? ”

“Know him! ” repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating.

“Yes, know him, ma'am; I said know him, ” replied Mr. Magnus, with ferocity.

“I have seen him, ” replied the middle-aged lady.

“Where? ” inquired Mr. Magnus, “where? ”

“That, ” said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting her head—“that I would not reveal for worlds. ”

“I understand you, ma'am, ” said Mr. Pickwick, “and respect your delicacy; it shall never be revealed by ME depend upon it. ”

“Upon my word, ma'am, ” said Mr. Magnus, “considering the situation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off with tolerable coolness—tolerable coolness, ma'am. ”

“Cruel Mr. Magnus! ” said the middle-aged lady; here she wept very copiously indeed.

“Address your observations to me, sir, ” interposed Mr. Pickwick; “I alone am to blame, if anybody be. ”

“Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir? ” said Mr. Magnus; “I—I—see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you? ”

“My determination! ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Your determination, Sir. Oh! don't stare at me, Sir, ” said Mr. Magnus; “I recollect your words last night, Sir. You came down here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance—eh? ” Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer; and taking off his green spectacles—which he probably found superfluous in his fit of jealousy—rolled his little eyes about, in a manner frightful to behold.

“Eh? ” said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer with increased effect. “But you shall answer it, Sir. ”

“Answer what? ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Never mind, sir, ” replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room. “Never mind. ”

There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of “Never mind, ” for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel in the street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. “Do you call yourself a gentleman, sir? ”—“Never mind, sir. ” “Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir? ”—“Never mind, sir. ” “Do you want your head knocked up against that wall, sir? ”—“Never mind, sir. ” It is observable, too, that there would appear to be some hidden taunt in this universal “Never mind, ” which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individual addressed, than the most lavish abuse could possibly awaken.

We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to himself, struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul, which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merely record the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door, and abruptly called out, “Tupman, come here! ”

Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of very considerable surprise.

“Tupman, ” said Mr. Pickwick, “a secret of some delicacy, in which that lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference which has just arisen between this gentleman and myself. When I assure him, in your presence, that it has no relation to himself, and is not in any way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that if he continue to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my veracity, which I shall consider extremely insulting. ” As Mr. Pickwick said this, he looked encyclopedias at Mr. Peter Magnus.

Mr. Pickwick's upright and honourable bearing, coupled with that force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind; but, unfortunately, at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but reasonable order. Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a redhot, scorching, consuming passion, and to talk about what was due to his own feelings, and all that sort of thing; adding force to his declamation by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair—amusements which he would vary occasionally, by shaking his fist in Mr. Pickwick's philanthropic countenance.

Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and rectitude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved the middle-aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly disposed as was his wont. The consequence was, that words ran high, and voices higher; and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should hear from him; to which Mr. Pickwick replied, with laudable politeness, that the sooner he heard from him the better; whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror from the room, out of which Mr. Tupman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation.

If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or had profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the laws and set the fashions, she would have known that this sort of ferocity is the most harmless thing in nature; but as she had lived for the most part in the country, and never read the parliamentary debates, she was little versed in these particular refinements of civilised life. Accordingly, when she had gained her bedchamber, bolted herself in, and began to meditate on the scene she had just witnessed, the most terrific pictures of slaughter and destruction presented themselves to her imagination; among which, a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus borne home by four men, with the embellishment of a whole barrelful of bullets in his left side, was among the very least. The more the middle-aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became; and at length she determined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate of the town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman without delay.

To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a variety of considerations, the chief of which was the incontestable proof it would afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus, and her anxiety for his safety. She was too well acquainted with his jealous temperament to venture the slightest allusion to the real cause of her agitation on beholding Mr. Pickwick; and she trusted to her own influence and power of persuasion with the little man, to quell his boisterous jealousy, supposing that Mr. Pickwick were removed, and no fresh quarrel could arise. Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed herself in her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the mayor's dwelling straightway.

Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, was as grand a personage as the fastest walker would find out, between sunrise and sunset, on the twenty-first of June, which being, according to the almanacs, the longest day in the whole year, would naturally afford him the longest period for his search. On this particular morning, Mr. Nupkins was in a state of the utmost excitement and irritation, for there had been a rebellion in the town; all the day-scholars at the largest dayschool had conspired to break the windows of an obnoxious apple-seller, and had hooted the beadle and pelted the constabulary—an elderly gentleman in top-boots, who had been called out to repress the tumult, and who had been a peaceofficer, man and boy, for half a century at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his easy-chair, frowning with majesty, and boiling with rage, when a lady was announced on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr. Nupkins looked calmly terrible, and commanded that the lady should be shown in; which command, like all the mandates of emperors, and magistrates, and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith obeyed; and Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in accordingly.

“Muzzle! ” said the magistrate.

Muzzle was an undersized footman, with a long body and short legs.

“Muzzle! ” “Yes, your Worship. ”

“Place a chair, and leave the room. ”

“Yes, your Worship. ”

“Now, ma'am, will you state your business? ” said the magistrate.

“It is of a very painful kind, Sir, ” said Miss Witherfield.

“Very likely, ma'am, ” said the magistrate. “Compose your feelings, ma'am. ” Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. “And then tell me what legal business brings you here, ma'am. ” Here the magistrate triumphed over the man; and he looked stern again.

“It is very distressing to me, Sir, to give this information, ” said Miss Witherfield, “but I fear a duel is going to be fought here. ”

“Here, ma'am? ” said the magistrate. “Where, ma'am? ”

“In Ipswich. ” “In Ipswich, ma'am! A duel in Ipswich! ” said the magistrate, perfectly aghast at the notion. “Impossible, ma'am; nothing of the kind can be contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma'am, are you aware of the activity of our local magistracy? Do you happen to have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the fourth of May last, attended by only sixty special constables; and, at the hazard of falling a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude, prohibited a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma'am? I don't think—I do not think, ” said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, “that any two men can have had the hardihood to plan such a breach of the peace, in this town. ”

“My information is, unfortunately, but too correct, ” said the middle-aged lady; “I was present at the quarrel. ”

“It's a most extraordinary thing, ” said the astounded magistrate. “Muzzle! ”

“Yes, your Worship. ”

“Send Mr. Jinks here, directly! Instantly. ”

“Yes, your Worship. ”

Muzzle retired; and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbilyclad clerk, of middle age, entered the room.

“Mr. Jinks, ” said the magistrate. “Mr. Jinks. ”

“Sir, ” said Mr. Jinks. “This lady, Mr. Jinks, has come here, to give information of an intended duel in this town. ”

Mr. Jinks, not knowing exactly what to do, smiled a dependent's smile.

“What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinks? ” said the magistrate.

Mr. Jinks looked serious instantly.

“Mr. Jinks, ” said the magistrate, “you're a fool. ”

Mr. Jinks looked humbly at the great man, and bit the top of his pen.

“You may see something very comical in this information, Sir—but I can tell you this, Mr. Jinks, that you have very little to laugh at, ” said the magistrate.

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