The Pickwick Papers 27 страница

“Wery good, sir, ” replied Mr. Weller.

“I could send them to Mr. Tupman's, for the present, Sam, ” continued Mr. Pickwick, “but before we take them away, it is necessary that they should be looked up, and put together. I wish you would step up to Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange about it. ”

“At once, Sir? ” inquired Mr. Weller.

“At once, ” replied Mr. Pickwick. “And stay, Sam, ” added Mr. Pickwick, pulling out his purse, “there is some rent to pay. The quarter is not due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done with it. A month's notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, written out. Give it, and tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, as soon as she likes. ”

“Wery good, sir, ” replied Mr. Weller; “anythin” more, sir? ”

“Nothing more, Sam. ”

Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something more; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out—

“Sam. ”

“Yes, sir, ” said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the door behind him. “I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain how Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really probable that this vile and groundless action is to be carried to extremity. I say I do not object to you doing this, if you wish it, Sam, ” said Mr. Pickwick.

Sam gave a short nod of intelligence, and left the room. Mr. Pickwick drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head, And composed himself for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked forth, to execute his commission.

It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A couple of candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a couple of caps were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell had got company.

Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval—occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be lighted—a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and Master Bardell presented himself.

“Well, young townskip, ” said Sam, “how's mother? ”

“She's pretty well, ” replied Master Bardell, “so am I. ”

“Well, that's a mercy, ” said Sam; “tell her I want to speak to her, will you, my hinfant fernomenon? ”

Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message.

The two caps, reflected on the window-blind, were the respective head-dresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular acquaintance, who had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea, and a little warm supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted cheese. The cheese was simmering and browning away, most delightfully, in a little Dutch oven before the fire; the pettitoes were getting on deliciously in a little tin saucepan on the hob; and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends were getting on very well, also, in a little quiet conversation about and concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance; when Master Bardell came back from answering the door, and delivered the message intrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller.

“Mr. Pickwick's servant! ” said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale.

“Bless my soul! ” said Mrs. Cluppins.

“Well, I raly would not ha” believed it, unless I had ha” happened to ha” been here! ” said Mrs. Sanders.

Mrs. Cluppins was a little, brisk, busy-looking woman; Mrs. Sanders was a big, fat, heavy-faced personage; and the two were the company.

Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated; and as none of the three exactly knew whether under existing circumstances, any communication, otherwise than through Dodson & Fogg, ought to be held with Mr. Pickwick's servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. In this state of indecision, obviously the first thing to be done, was to thump the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. So his mother thumped him, and he cried melodiously.

“Hold your noise—do—you naughty creetur! ” said Mrs. Bardell.

“Yes; don't worrit your poor mother, ” said Mrs. Sanders.

“She's quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you, Tommy, ” said Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathising resignation.

“Ah! worse luck, poor lamb! ” said Mrs. Sanders. At all which moral reflections, Master Bardell howled the louder.

“Now, what shall I do? ” said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs. Cluppins.

“I think you ought to see him, ” replied Mrs. Cluppins. “But on no account without a witness. ”

“I think two witnesses would be more lawful, ” said Mrs. Sanders, who, like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity.

“Perhaps he'd better come in here, ” said Mrs. Bardell.

“To be sure, ” replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea; “walk in, young man; and shut the street door first, please. ”

Mr. Weller immediately took the hint; and presenting himself in the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus—

“Wery sorry to “casion any personal inconwenience, ma'am, as the housebreaker said to the old lady when he put her on the fire; but as me and my governor “s only jest come to town, and is jest going away agin, it can't be helped, you see. ”

“Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his master, ” said Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and conversation.

“Certainly not, ” chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of Sam's being asked to stop to supper.

“So all I've come about, is jest this here, ” said Sam, disregarding the interruption; “first, to give my governor's notice—there it is. Secondly, to pay the rent—here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things is to be put together, and give to anybody as we sends for “em. Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like—and that's all. ”

“Whatever has happened, ” said Mrs. Bardell, “I always have said, and always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has always behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always as good as the bank—always. ”

As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes, and went out of the room to get the receipt.

Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women were sure to talk; so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the toasted cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence.

“Poor dear! ” said Mrs. Cluppins.

“Ah, poor thing! ” replied Mrs. Sanders. Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject.

“I raly cannot contain myself, ” said Mrs. Cluppins, “when I think of such perjury. I don't wish to say anything to make you uncomfortable, young man, but your master's an old brute, and I wish I had him here to tell him so. ” “I wish you had, ” said Sam.

“To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and taking no pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, out of charity, to sit with her, and make her comfortable, ” resumed Mrs. Cluppins, glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, “it's shocking! ”

“Barbareous, ” said Mrs. Sanders.

“And your master, young man! A gentleman with money, as could never feel the expense of a wife, no more than nothing, ” continued Mrs. Cluppins, with great volubility; “why there ain't the faintest shade of an excuse for his behaviour! Why don't he marry her? ”

“Ah, ” said Sam, “to be sure; that's the question. ”

“Question, indeed, ” retorted Mrs. Cluppins, “she'd question him, if she'd my spirit. Hows'ever, there is law for us women, mis'rable creeturs as they'd make us, if they could; and that your master will find out, young man, to his cost, afore he's six months older. ”

At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up, and smiled at Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again.

“The action's going on, and no mistake, ” thought Sam, as Mrs. Bardell re-entered with the receipt.

“Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller, ” said Mrs. Bardell, “and here's the change, and I hope you'll take a little drop of something to keep the cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance” sake, Mr. Weller. ”

Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced; whereupon Mrs. Bardell produced, from a small closet, a black bottle and a wine-glass; and so great was her abstraction, in her deep mental affliction, that, after filling Mr. Weller's glass, she brought out three more wine-glasses, and filled them too.

“Lauk, Mrs. Bardell, ” said Mrs. Cluppins, “see what you've been and done! ”

“Well, that is a good one! ” ejaculated Mrs. Sanders.

“Ah, my poor head! ” said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile.

Sam understood all this, of course, so he said at once, that he never could drink before supper, unless a lady drank with him. A great deal of laughter ensued, and Mrs. Sanders volunteered to humour him, so she took a slight sip out of her glass. Then Sam said it must go all round, so they all took a slight sip. Then little Mrs. Cluppins proposed as a toast, “Success to Bardell agin Pickwick'; and then the ladies emptied their glasses in honour of the sentiment, and got very talkative directly.

“I suppose you've heard what's going forward, Mr. Weller? ” said Mrs. Bardell.

“I've heerd somethin” on it, ” replied Sam.

“It's a terrible thing to be dragged before the public, in that way, Mr. Weller, ” said Mrs. Bardell; “but I see now, that it's the only thing I ought to do, and my lawyers, Mr. Dodson and Fogg, tell me that, with the evidence as we shall call, we must succeed. I don't know what I should do, Mr. Weller, if I didn't. ”

The mere idea of Mrs. Bardell's failing in her action, affected Mrs. Sanders so deeply, that she was under the necessity of refilling and re-emptying her glass immediately; feeling, as she said afterwards, that if she hadn't had the presence of mind to do so, she must have dropped.

“Ven is it expected to come on? ” inquired Sam.

“Either in February or March, ” replied Mrs. Bardell.

“What a number of witnesses there'll be, won't there,? ” said Mrs. Cluppins.

“Ah! won't there! ” replied Mrs. Sanders.

“And won't Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiff shouldn't get it? ” added Mrs. Cluppins, “when they do it all on speculation! ”

“Ah! won't they! ” said Mrs. Sanders.

“But the plaintiff must get it, ” resumed Mrs. Cluppins.

“I hope so, ” said Mrs. Bardell.

“Oh, there can't be any doubt about it, ” rejoined Mrs. Sanders.

“Vell, ” said Sam, rising and setting down his glass, “all I can say is, that I vish you MAY get it. ”

“Thank'ee, Mr. Weller, ” said Mrs. Bardell fervently.

“And of them Dodson and Foggs, as does these sort o” things on spec, ” continued Mr. Weller, “as vell as for the other kind and gen'rous people o” the same purfession, as sets people by the ears, free gratis for nothin”, and sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes among their neighbours and acquaintances as vants settlin” by means of lawsuits—all I can say o” them is, that I vish they had the reward I'd give “em. ”

“Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous heart would be inclined to bestow upon them! ” said the gratified Mrs. Bardell.

“Amen to that, ” replied Sam, “and a fat and happy liven” they'd get out of it! Wish you good-night, ladies. ”

To the great relief of Mrs. Sanders, Sam was allowed to depart without any reference, on the part of the hostess, to the pettitoes and toasted cheese; to which the ladies, with such juvenile assistance as Master Bardell could afford, soon afterwards rendered the amplest justice—indeed they wholly vanished before their strenuous exertions.

Mr. Weller wended his way back to the George and Vulture, and faithfully recounted to his master, such indications of the sharp practice of Dodson & Fogg, as he had contrived to pick up in his visit to Mrs. Bardell's. An interview with Mr. Perker, next day, more than confirmed Mr. Weller's statement; and Mr. Pickwick was fain to prepare for his Christmas visit to Dingley Dell, with the pleasant anticipation that some two or three months afterwards, an action brought against him for damages sustained by reason of a breach of promise of marriage, would be publicly tried in the Court of Common Pleas; the plaintiff having all the advantages derivable, not only from the force of circumstances, but from the sharp practice of Dodson & Fogg to boot.

CHAPTER XXVII SAMUEL WELLER MAKES A PILGRIMAGE TO DORKING,

AND BEHOLDS HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW

There still remaining an interval of two days before the time agreed upon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley Dell, Mr. Weller sat himself down in a back room at the George and Vulture, after eating an early dinner, to muse on the best way of disposing of his time. It was a remarkably fine day; and he had not turned the matter over in his mind ten minutes, when he was suddenly stricken filial and affectionate; and it occurred to him so strongly that he ought to go down and see his father, and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lost in astonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of this moral obligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglect without another hour's delay, he straightway walked upstairs to Mr. Pickwick, and requested leave of absence for this laudable purpose.

“Certainly, Sam, certainly, ” said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glistening with delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on the part of his attendant; “certainly, Sam. ”

Mr. Weller made a grateful bow.

“I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties as a son, Sam, ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“I always had, sir, ” replied Mr. Weller.

“That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam, ” said Mr. Pickwick approvingly.

“Wery, Sir, ” replied Mr. Weller; “if ever I wanted anythin” o” my father, I always asked for it in a wery “spectful and obligin” manner. If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led to do anythin” wrong, through not havin” it. I saved him a world o” trouble this vay, Sir. ”

“That's not precisely what I meant, Sam, ” said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his head, with a slight smile.

“All good feelin”, sir—the wery best intentions, as the gen'l'm'n said ven he run away from his wife “cos she seemed unhappy with him, ” replied Mr. Weller.

“You may go, Sam, ” said Mr. Pickwick.

“Thank'ee, Sir, ” replied Mr. Weller; and having made his best bow, and put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top of the Arundel coach, and journeyed on to Dorking.

The Marquis of Granby, in Mrs. Weller's time, was quite a model of a roadside public-house of the better class—just large enough to be convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the road was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head and shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a red coat with deep blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over his three-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags; beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and the whole formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of glorious memory.

The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium plants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shutters bore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and neat wines; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging about the stable door and horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof of the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam Weller paused, when he dismounted from the coach, to note all these little indications of a thriving business, with the eye of an experienced traveller; and having done so, stepped in at once, highly satisfied with everything he had observed.

“Now, then! ” said a shrill female voice the instant Sam thrust his head in at the door, “what do you want, young man? ”

Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. It came from a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who was seated beside the fireplace in the bar, blowing the fire to make the kettle boil for tea. She was not alone; for on the other side of the fireplace, sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was a man in threadbare black clothes, with a back almost as long and stiff as that of the chair itself, who caught Sam's most particular and especial attention at once.

He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin countenance, and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye—rather sharp, but decidedly bad. He wore very short trousers, and black cotton stockings, which, like the rest of his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were starched, but his white neckerchief was not, and its long limp ends straggled over his closely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion. A pair of old, worn, beaver gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a faded green umbrella, with plenty of whalebone sticking through the bottom, as if to counterbalance the want of a handle at the top, lay on a chair beside him; and, being disposed in a very tidy and careful manner, seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever he was, had no intention of going away in a hurry.

To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very far from wise if he had entertained any such intention; for, to judge from all appearances, he must have been possessed of a most desirable circle of acquaintance, if he could have reasonably expected to be more comfortable anywhere else. The fire was blazing brightly under the influence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily under the influence of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table; a plate of hot buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire; and the red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice of bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentality of a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hot pine-apple rum-and-water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye, with the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two of the hot pine-apple rum-and-water, and smiled upon the rather stout lady, as she blew the fire.

Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene, that he suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass unheeded. It was not until it had been twice repeated, each time in a shriller tone, that he became conscious of the impropriety of his behaviour.

“Governor in? ” inquired Sam, in reply to the question.

“No, he isn't, ” replied Mrs. Weller; for the rather stout lady was no other than the quondam relict and sole executrix of the dead-and-gone Mr. Clarke; “no, he isn't, and I don't expect him, either. ”

“I suppose he's drivin” up to-day? ” said Sam.

“He may be, or he may not, ” replied Mrs. Weller, buttering the round of toast which the red-nosed man had just finished. “I don't know, and, what's more, I don't care. —Ask a blessin”, Mr. Stiggins. ”

The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly commenced on the toast with fierce voracity.

The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at first sight, to more than half suspect that he was the deputyshepherd of whom his estimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw him eat, all doubt on the subject was removed, and he perceived at once that if he purposed to take up his temporary quarters where he was, he must make his footing good without delay. He therefore commenced proceedings by putting his arm over the half-door of the bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurely walking in.

“Mother-in-law, ” said Sam, “how are you? ”

“Why, I do believe he is a Weller! ” said Mrs. W., raising her eyes to Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of countenance.

“I rayther think he is, ” said the imperturbable Sam; “and I hope this here reverend gen'l'm'n “ll excuse me saying that I wish I was THE Weller as owns you, mother-in-law. ”

This was a double-barrelled compliment. It implied that Mrs. Weller was a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clerical appearance. It made a visible impression at once; and Sam followed up his advantage by kissing his mother-in-law.

“Get along with you! ” said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away. “For shame, young man! ” said the gentleman with the red nose.

“No offence, sir, no offence, ” replied Sam; “you're wery right, though; it ain't the right sort o” thing, ven mothers-in-law is young and good-looking, is it, Sir? ”

“It's all vanity, ” said Mr. Stiggins.

“Ah, so it is, ” said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights.

Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace.

The deputy-shepherd seemed by no means best pleased with Sam's arrival; and when the first effervescence of the compliment had subsided, even Mrs. Weller looked as if she could have spared him without the smallest inconvenience. However, there he was; and as he couldn't be decently turned out, they all three sat down to tea.

“And how's father? ” said Sam.

At this inquiry, Mrs. Weller raised her hands, and turned up her eyes, as if the subject were too painful to be alluded to.

Mr. Stiggins groaned.

“What's the matter with that “ere gen'l'm'n? ” inquired Sam.

“He's shocked at the way your father goes on in, ” replied Mrs. Weller.

“Oh, he is, is he? ” said Sam.

“And with too good reason, ” added Mrs. Weller gravely.

Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily.

“He is a dreadful reprobate, ” said Mrs. Weller.

“A man of wrath! ” exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large semi-circular bite out of the toast, and groaned again.

Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr. Stiggins something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination, and merely asked, “What's the old “un up to now? ”

“Up to, indeed! ” said Mrs. Weller, “Oh, he has a hard heart. Night after night does this excellent man—don't frown, Mr. Stiggins; I WILL say you ARE an excellent man—come and sit here, for hours together, and it has not the least effect upon him. ” “Well, that is odd, ” said Sam; “it “ud have a wery considerable effect upon me, if I wos in his place; I know that. ”

“The fact is, my young friend, ” said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, “he has an obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have resisted the pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and withstood their exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing the infant negroes in the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moral pocket-handkerchiefs? ”

“What's a moral pocket-ankercher? ” said Sam; “I never see one o” them articles o” furniter. ”

“Those which combine amusement With instruction, my young friend, ” replied Mr. Stiggins, “blending select tales with wood-cuts. ”

“Oh, I know, ” said Sam; “them as hangs up in the linen-drapers” shops, with beggars” petitions and all that “ere upon “em? ”

Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nodded assent. “And he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't he? ” said Sam.

“Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant negroes were—what did he say the infant negroes were? ” said Mrs. Weller.

“Little humbugs, ” replied Mr. Stiggins, deeply affected.

“Said the infant negroes were little humbugs, ” repeated Mrs. Weller. And they both groaned at the atrocious conduct of the elder Mr. Weller.

A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have been disclosed, only the toast being all eaten, the tea having got very weak, and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, Mr. Stiggins suddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appointment with the shepherd, and took himself off accordingly.

The tea-things had been scarcely put away, and the hearth swept up, when the London coach deposited Mr. Weller, senior, at the door; his legs deposited him in the bar; and his eyes showed him his son.

“What, Sammy! ” exclaimed the father.

“What, old Nobs! ” ejaculated the son. And they shook hands heartily.

“Wery glad to see you, Sammy, ” said the elder Mr. Weller, “though how you've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a mystery to me. I only vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's all. ”

“Hush! ” said Sam, “she's at home, old feller. ” “She ain't vithin hearin', ” replied Mr. Weller; “she always goes and blows up, downstairs, for a couple of hours arter tea; so we'll just give ourselves a damp, Sammy. ”

Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits-and-water, and produced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down opposite each other; Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed chair, and Mr. Weller, senior, on the other, in an easy ditto, they proceeded to enjoy themselves with all due gravity.

“Anybody been here, Sammy? ” asked Mr. Weller, senior, dryly, after a long silence.

Sam nodded an expressive assent.

“Red-nosed chap? ” inquired Mr. Weller.

Sam nodded again.

“Amiable man that “ere, Sammy, ” said Mr. Weller, smoking violently.

“Seems so, ” observed Sam.

“Good hand at accounts, ” said Mr. Weller. “Is he? ” said Sam.

“Borrows eighteenpence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for a shillin” to make it up half-a-crown; calls again on Vensday for another half-crown to make it five shillin's; and goes on, doubling, till he gets it up to a five pund note in no time, like them sums in the “rithmetic book “bout the nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy. ”

Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded to by his parent.

“So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskits? ” said Sam, after another interval of smoking.

“Cert'nly not, ” replied Mr. Weller; “what's the good o” flannel veskits to the young niggers abroad? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy, ” said Mr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across the fireplace; “I'd come down wery handsome towards strait veskits for some people at home. ”

As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position, and winked at his first-born, in a profound manner.

“it cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket-'ankerchers to people as don't know the use on “em, ” observed Sam.

“They're alvays a-doin” some gammon of that sort, Sammy, ” replied his father. “T'other Sunday I wos walkin” up the road, wen who should I see, a-standin” at a chapel door, with a blue soup-plate in her hand, but your mother-in-law! I werily believe there was change for a couple o” suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all in ha'pence; and as the people come out, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd ha” thought that no mortal plate as ever was baked, could ha” stood the wear and tear. What d'ye think it was all for? ”

“For another tea-drinkin”, perhaps, ” said Sam.

“Not a bit on it, ” replied the father; “for the shepherd's waterrate, Sammy. ”

“The shepherd's water-rate! ” said Sam.

“Ay, ” replied Mr. Weller, “there was three quarters owin”, and the shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he—perhaps it might be on account that the water warn't o” much use to him, for it's wery little o” that tap he drinks, Sammy, wery; he knows a trick worth a good half-dozen of that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and so they cuts the water off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's a persecuted saint, and says he hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the water off, “ll be softened, and turned in the right vay, but he rayther thinks he's booked for somethin” uncomfortable. Upon this, the women calls a meetin”, sings a hymn, wotes your mother-in-law into the chair, wolunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to the shepherd. And if he ain't got enough out on “em, Sammy, to make him free of the water company for life, ” said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, “I'm one Dutchman, and you're another, and that's all about it. ”

Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed—

“The worst o” these here shepherds is, my boy, that they reg'larly turns the heads of all the young ladies, about here. Lord bless their little hearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better; but they're the wictims o” gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims o” gammon. ”

“I s'pose they are, ” said Sam.

“Nothin” else, ” said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely; “and wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see “em a-wastin” all their time and labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't want “em, and taking no notice of flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I'd my vay, Samivel, I'd just stick some o” these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run “em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day. That “ud shake the nonsense out of “em, if anythin” vould. ”

Mr. Weller, having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis, eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his glass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe, with native dignity.

He was engaged in this operation, when a shrill voice was heard in the passage.

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