The Pickwick Papers 33 страница

“Does Mr. Sawyer live here? ” said Mr. Pickwick, when the door was opened.

“Yes, ” said the girl, “first floor. It's the door straight afore you, when you gets to the top of the stairs. ” Having given this instruction, the handmaid, who had been brought up among the aboriginal inhabitants of Southwark, disappeared, with the candle in her hand, down the kitchen stairs, perfectly satisfied that she had done everything that could possibly be required of her under the circumstances.

Mr. Snodgrass, who entered last, secured the street door, after several ineffectual efforts, by putting up the chain; and the friends stumbled upstairs, where they were received by Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been afraid to go down, lest he should be waylaid by Mrs. Raddle.

“How are you? ” said the discomfited student. “Glad to see you—take care of the glasses. ” This caution was addressed to Mr. Pickwick, who had put his hat in the tray.

“Dear me, ” said Mr. Pickwick, “I beg your pardon. ”

“Don't mention it, don't mention it, ” said Bob Sawyer. “I'm rather confined for room here, but you must put up with all that, when you come to see a young bachelor. Walk in. You've seen this gentleman before, I think? ” Mr. Pickwick shook hands with Mr. Benjamin Allen, and his friends followed his example. They had scarcely taken their seats when there was another double knock.

“I hope that's Jack Hopkins! ” said Mr. Bob Sawyer. “Hush. Yes, it is. Come up, Jack; come up. ”

A heavy footstep was heard upon the stairs, and Jack Hopkins presented himself. He wore a black velvet waistcoat, with thunder-and-lightning buttons; and a blue striped shirt, with a white false collar.

“You're late, Jack? ” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

“Been detained at Bartholomew's, ” replied Hopkins.

“Anything new? ”

“No, nothing particular. Rather a good accident brought into the casualty ward. ”

“What was that, sir? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“Only a man fallen out of a four pair of stairs” window; but it's a very fair case indeed. ”

“Do you mean that the patient is in a fair way to recover? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick. “No, ” replied Mr. Hopkins carelessly. “No, I should rather say he wouldn't. There must be a splendid operation, though, to-morrow—magnificent sight if Slasher does it. ”

“You consider Mr. Slasher a good operator? ” said Mr. Pickwick. “Best alive, ” replied Hopkins. “Took a boy's leg out of the socket last week—boy ate five apples and a gingerbread cake—exactly two minutes after it was all over, boy said he wouldn't lie there to be made game of, and he'd tell his mother if they didn't begin. ”

“Dear me! ” said Mr. Pickwick, astonished.

“Pooh! That's nothing, that ain't, ” said Jack Hopkins. “Is it, Bob? ”

“Nothing at all, ” replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

“By the bye, Bob, ” said Hopkins, with a scarcely perceptible glance at Mr. Pickwick's attentive face, “we had a curious accident last night. A child was brought in, who had swallowed a necklace. ”

“Swallowed what, Sir? ” interrupted Mr. Pickwick. “A necklace, ” replied Jack Hopkins. “Not all at once, you know, that would be too much—you couldn't swallow that, if the child did—eh, Mr. Pickwick? ha, ha! ” Mr. Hopkins appeared highly gratified with his own pleasantry, and continued—“No, the way was this. Child's parents were poor people who lived in a court. Child's eldest sister bought a necklace—common necklace, made of large black wooden beads. Child being fond of toys, cribbed the necklace, hid it, played with it, cut the string, and swallowed a bead. Child thought it capital fun, went back next day, and swallowed another bead. ”

“Bless my heart, ” said Mr. Pickwick, “what a dreadful thing! I beg your pardon, Sir. Go on. ”

“Next day, child swallowed two beads; the day after that, he treated himself to three, and so on, till in a week's time he had got through the necklace—five-and-twenty beads in all. The sister, who was an industrious girl, and seldom treated herself to a bit of finery, cried her eyes out, at the loss of the necklace; looked high and low for it; but, I needn't say, didn't find it. A few days afterwards, the family were at dinner—baked shoulder of mutton, and potatoes under it—the child, who wasn't hungry, was playing about the room, when suddenly there was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hailstorm. “Don't do that, my boy, ” said the father. “I ain't a-doin” nothing, ” said the child. “Well, don't do it again, ” said the father. There was a short silence, and then the noise began again, worse than ever. “If you don't mind what I say, my boy, ” said the father, “you'll find yourself in bed, in something less than a pig's whisper. ” He gave the child a shake to make him obedient, and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heard before. “Why, damme, it's IN the child! ” said the father, “he's got the croup in the wrong place! ” “No, I haven't, father, ” said the child, beginning to cry, “it's the necklace; I swallowed it, father. ”—The father caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital; the beads in the boy's stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and the people looking up in the air, and down in the cellars, to see where the unusual sound came from. He's in the hospital now, ” said Jack Hopkins, “and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks about, that they're obliged to muffle him in a watchman's coat, for fear he should wake the patients. ”

“That's the most extraordinary case I ever heard of, ” said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the table.

“Oh, that's nothing, ” said Jack Hopkins. “Is it, Bob? ”

“Certainly not, ” replied Bob Sawyer.

“Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, Sir, ” said Hopkins.

“So I should be disposed to imagine, ” replied Mr. Pickwick.

Another knock at the door announced a large-headed young man in a black wig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long stock. The next comer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned with pink anchors, who was closely followed by a pale youth with a plated watchguard. The arrival of a prim personage in clean linen and cloth boots rendered the party complete. The little table with the green baize cover was wheeled out; the first instalment of punch was brought in, in a white jug; and the succeeding three hours were devoted to VINGT-ET-UN at sixpence a dozen, which was only once interrupted by a slight dispute between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman with the pink anchors; in the course of which, the scorbutic youth intimated a burning desire to pull the nose of the gentleman with the emblems of hope; in reply to which, that individual expressed his decided unwillingness to accept of any “sauce” on gratuitous terms, either from the irascible young gentleman with the scorbutic countenance, or any other person who was ornamented with a head.

When the last “natural” had been declared, and the profit and loss account of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of all parties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezed themselves into corners while it was getting ready.

it was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. First of all, it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen asleep with her face on the kitchen table; this took a little time, and, even when she did answer the bell, another quarter of an hour was consumed in fruitless endeavours to impart to her a faint and distant glimmering of reason. The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent, had not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an oyster with a limp knife and a two-pronged fork; and very little was done in this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham (which was also from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in a similar predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can; and the cheese went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon the whole, perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters usually are.

After supper, another jug of punch was put upon the table, together with a paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. Then there was an awful pause; and this awful pause was occasioned by a very common occurrence in this sort of place, but a very embarrassing one notwithstanding.

The fact is, the girl was washing the glasses. The establishment boasted four: we do not record the circumstance as at all derogatory to Mrs. Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet, that was not short of glasses. The landlady's glasses were little, thin, blown-glass tumblers, and those which had been borrowed from the public-house were great, dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge gouty leg. This would have been in itself sufficient to have possessed the company with the real state of affairs; but the young woman of all work had prevented the possibility of any misconception arising in the mind of any gentleman upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every man's glass away, long before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating, despite the winks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was to be conveyed downstairs, and washed forthwith.

It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in the cloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a joke during the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity, and availed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared, he commenced a long story about a great public character, whose name he had forgotten, making a particularly happy reply to another eminent and illustrious individual whom he had never been able to identify. He enlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon divers collateral circumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote in hand, but for the life of him he couldn't recollect at that precise moment what the anecdote was, although he had been in the habit of telling the story with great applause for the last ten years.

“Dear me, ” said the prim man in the cloth boots, “it is a very extraordinary circumstance. ”

“I am sorry you have forgotten it, ” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancing eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses jingling; “very sorry. ”

“So am I, ” responded the prim man, “because I know it would have afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage to recollect it, in the course of half an hour or so. ”

The prim man arrived at this point just as the glasses came back, when Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the whole time, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so far as it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had ever heard. The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of equanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with his landlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.

“Now, Betsy, ” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing, at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl had collected in the centre of the table—“now, Betsy, the warm water; be brisk, there's a good girl. ”

“You can't have no warm water, ” replied Betsy.

“No warm water! ” exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.

“No, ” said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a more decided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed. “Missis Raddle said you warn't to have none. ”

The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted new courage to the host.

“Bring up the warm water instantly—instantly! ” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with desperate sternness.

“No. I can't, ” replied the girl; “Missis Raddle raked out the kitchen fire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle. ”

“Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don't disturb yourself about such a trifle, ” said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of Bob Sawyer's passions, as depicted in his countenance, “cold water will do very well. ”

“Oh, admirably, ” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

“My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement, ” remarked Bob Sawyer, with a ghastly smile; “I fear I must give her warning. ”

“No, don't, ” said Ben Allen.

“I fear I must, ” said Bob, with heroic firmness. “I'll pay her what I owe her, and give her warning to-morrow morning. ” Poor fellow! how devoutly he wished he could!

Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this last blow, communicated a dispiriting influence to the company, the greater part of whom, with the view of raising their spirits, attached themselves with extra cordiality to the cold brandy-andwater, the first perceptible effects of which were displayed in a renewal of hostilities between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman in the shirt. The belligerents vented their feelings of mutual contempt, for some time, in a variety of frownings and snortings, until at last the scorbutic youth felt it necessary to come to a more explicit understanding on the matter; when the following clear understanding took place. “Sawyer, ” said the scorbutic youth, in a loud voice.

“Well, Noddy, ” replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

“I should be very sorry, Sawyer, ” said Mr. Noddy, “to create any unpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours, Sawyer—very; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. Gunter that he is no gentleman. ”

“And I should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance in the street in which you reside, ” said Mr. Gunter, “but I'm afraid I shall be under the necessity of alarming the neighbours by throwing the person who has just spoken, out o” window. ”

“What do you mean by that, sir? ” inquired Mr. Noddy.

“What I say, Sir, ” replied Mr. Gunter.

“I should like to see you do it, Sir, ” said Mr. Noddy.

“You shall FEEL me do it in half a minute, Sir, ” replied Mr. Gunter.

“I request that you'll favour me with your card, Sir, ” said Mr. Noddy.

“I'll do nothing of the kind, Sir, ” replied Mr. Gunter.

“Why not, Sir? ” inquired Mr. Noddy.

“Because you'll stick it up over your chimney-piece, and delude your visitors into the false belief that a gentleman has been to see you, Sir, ” replied Mr. Gunter.

“Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning, ” said Mr. Noddy.

“Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leave particular directions with the servant to lock up the spoons, ” replied Mr. Gunter.

At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remonstrated with both parties on the impropriety of their conduct; on which Mr. Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as respectable as Mr. Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied that his father was to the full as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, and that his father's son was as good a man as Mr. Noddy, any day in the week. As this announcement seemed the prelude to a recommencement of the dispute, there was another interference on the part of the company; and a vast quantity of talking and clamouring ensued, in the course of which Mr. Noddy gradually allowed his feelings to overpower him, and professed that he had ever entertained a devoted personal attachment towards Mr. Gunter. To this Mr. Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he rather preferred Mr. Noddy to his own brother; on hearing which admission, Mr. Noddy magnanimously rose from his seat, and proffered his hand to Mr. Gunter. Mr. Gunter grasped it with affecting fervour; and everybody said that the whole dispute had been conducted in a manner which was highly honourable to both parties concerned.

“Now, ” said Jack Hopkins, “just to set us going again, Bob, I don't mind singing a song. ” And Hopkins, incited thereto by tumultuous applause, plunged himself at once into “The King, God bless him, ” which he sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded of the “Bay of Biscay, ” and “A Frog he would. ” The chorus was the essence of the song; and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he knew best, the effect was very striking indeed.

It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pickwick held up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silence was restored—

“Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling from upstairs. ”

A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr. Bob Sawyer was observed to turn pale.

“I think I hear it now, ” said Mr. Pickwick. “Have the goodness to open the door. ”

The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was removed.

“Mr. Sawyer! Mr. Sawyer! ” screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.

“It's my landlady, ” said Bob Sawyer, looking round him with great dismay. “Yes, Mrs. Raddle. ”

“What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer? ” replied the voice, with great shrillness and rapidity of utterance. “Ain't it enough to be swindled out of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused and insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men, without having the house turned out of the window, and noise enough made to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning? —Turn them wretches away. ”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, ” said the voice of Mr. Raddle, which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.

“Ashamed of themselves! ” said Mrs. Raddle. “Why don't you go down and knock “em every one downstairs? You would if you was a man. ” “I should if I was a dozen men, my dear, ” replied Mr. Raddle pacifically, “but they have the advantage of me in numbers, my dear. ”

“Ugh, you coward! ” replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. “DO you mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer? ”

“They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going, ” said the miserable Bob. “I am afraid you'd better go, ” said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his friends. “I thought you were making too much noise. ”

“It's a very unfortunate thing, ” said the prim man. “Just as we were getting so comfortable too! ” The prim man was just beginning to have a dawning recollection of the story he had forgotten.

“It's hardly to be borne, ” said the prim man, looking round. “Hardly to be borne, is it? ”

“Not to be endured, ” replied Jack Hopkins; “let's have the other verse, Bob. Come, here goes! ”

“No, no, Jack, don't, ” interposed Bob Sawyer; “it's a capital song, but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. They are very violent people, the people of the house. ”

“Shall I step upstairs, and pitch into the landlord? ” inquired Hopkins, “or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the staircase? You may command me, Bob. ”

“I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and goodnature, Hopkins, ” said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, “but I think the best plan to avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once. ”

“Now, Mr. Sawyer, ” screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, “are them brutes going? ”

“They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle, ” said Bob; “they are going directly. ”

“Going! ” said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her nightcap over the banisters just as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged from the sitting-room. “Going! what did they ever come for? ”

“My dear ma'am, ” remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, looking up.

“Get along with you, old wretch! ” replied Mrs. Raddle, hastily withdrawing the nightcap. “Old enough to be his grandfather, you willin! You're worse than any of “em. ”

Mr. Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurried downstairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Ben Allen, who was dismally depressed with spirits and agitation, accompanied them as far as London Bridge, and in the course of the walk confided to Mr. Winkle, as an especially eligible person to intrust the secret to, that he was resolved to cut the throat of any gentleman, except Mr. Bob Sawyer, who should aspire to the affections of his sister Arabella. Having expressed his determination to perform this painful duty of a brother with proper firmness, he burst into tears, knocked his hat over his eyes, and, making the best of his way back, knocked double knocks at the door of the Borough Market office, and took short naps on the steps alternately, until daybreak, under the firm impression that he lived there, and had forgotten the key.

The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the rather pressing request of Mrs. Raddle, the luckless Mr. Bob Sawyer was left alone, to meditate on the probable events of to-morrow, and the pleasures of the evening.

CHAPTER XXXIII Mr. WELLER THE ELDER DELIVERS SOME CRITICAL SENTIMENTS

RESPECTING LITERARY COMPOSITION; AND,

ASSISTED BY HIS SON SAMUEL, PAYS A SMALL INSTALMENT

OF RETALIATION TO THE ACCOUNT OF THE REVEREND

GENTLEMAN WITH THE RED NOSE

The morning of the thirteenth of February, which the readers of this authentic narrative know, as well as we do, to have been the day immediately preceding that which was appointed for the trial of Mrs. Bardell's action, was a busy time for Mr. Samuel Weller, who was perpetually engaged in travelling from the George and Vulture to Mr. Perker's chambers and back again, from and between the hours of nine o'clock in the morning and two in the afternoon, both inclusive. Not that there was anything whatever to be done, for the consultation had taken place, and the course of proceeding to be adopted, had been finally determined on; but Mr. Pickwick being in a most extreme state of excitement, persevered in constantly sending small notes to his attorney, merely containing the inquiry, “Dear Perker. Is all going on well? ” to which Mr. Perker invariably forwarded the reply, “Dear Pickwick. As well as possible'; the fact being, as we have already hinted, that there was nothing whatever to go on, either well or ill, until the sitting of the court on the following morning.

But people who go voluntarily to law, or are taken forcibly there, for the first time, may be allowed to labour under some temporary irritation and anxiety; and Sam, with a due allowance for the frailties of human nature, obeyed all his master's behests with that imperturbable good-humour and unruffable composure which formed one of his most striking and amiable characteristics.

Sam had solaced himself with a most agreeable little dinner, and was waiting at the bar for the glass of warm mixture in which Mr. Pickwick had requested him to drown the fatigues of his morning's walks, when a young boy of about three feet high, or thereabouts, in a hairy cap and fustian overalls, whose garb bespoke a laudable ambition to attain in time the elevation of an hostler, entered the passage of the George and Vulture, and looked first up the stairs, and then along the passage, and then into the bar, as if in search of somebody to whom he bore a commission; whereupon the barmaid, conceiving it not improbable that the said commission might be directed to the tea or table spoons of the establishment, accosted the boy with—

“Now, young man, what do you want? ”

“Is there anybody here, named Sam? ” inquired the youth, in a loud voice of treble quality.

“What's the t'other name? ” said Sam Weller, looking round.

“How should I know? ” briskly replied the young gentleman below the hairy cap. “You're a sharp boy, you are, ” said Mr. Weller; “only I wouldn't show that wery fine edge too much, if I was you, in case anybody took it off. What do you mean by comin” to a hot-el, and asking arter Sam, vith as much politeness as a vild Indian? ”

“Cos an old gen'l'm'n told me to, ” replied the boy.

“What old gen'l'm'n? ” inquired Sam, with deep disdain.

“Him as drives a Ipswich coach, and uses our parlour, ” rejoined the boy. “He told me yesterday mornin” to come to the George and Wultur this arternoon, and ask for Sam. ”

“It's my father, my dear, ” said Mr. Weller, turning with an explanatory air to the young lady in the bar; “blessed if I think he hardly knows wot my other name is. Well, young brockiley sprout, wot then? ”

“Why then, ” said the boy, “you was to come to him at six o'clock to our “ouse, “cos he wants to see you—Blue Boar, Leaden'all Markit. Shall I say you're comin”? ”

“You may wenture on that “ere statement, Sir, ” replied Sam. And thus empowered, the young gentleman walked away, awakening all the echoes in George Yard as he did so, with several chaste and extremely correct imitations of a drover's whistle, delivered in a tone of peculiar richness and volume.

Mr. Weller having obtained leave of absence from Mr. Pickwick, who, in his then state of excitement and worry, was by no means displeased at being left alone, set forth, long before the appointed hour, and having plenty of time at his disposal, sauntered down as far as the Mansion House, where he paused and contemplated, with a face of great calmness and philosophy, the numerous cads and drivers of short stages who assemble near that famous place of resort, to the great terror and confusion of the old-lady population of these realms. Having loitered here, for half an hour or so, Mr. Weller turned, and began wending his way towards Leadenhall Market, through a variety of by-streets and courts. As he was sauntering away his spare time, and stopped to look at almost every object that met his gaze, it is by no means surprising that Mr. Weller should have paused before a small stationer's and print-seller's window; but without further explanation it does appear surprising that his eyes should have no sooner rested on certain pictures which were exposed for sale therein, than he gave a sudden start, smote his right leg with great vehemence, and exclaimed, with energy, “if it hadn't been for this, I should ha” forgot all about it, till it was too late! ”

The particular picture on which Sam Weller's eyes were fixed, as he said this, was a highly-coloured representation of a couple of human hearts skewered together with an arrow, cooking before a cheerful fire, while a male and female cannibal in modern attire, the gentleman being clad in a blue coat and white trousers, and the lady in a deep red pelisse with a parasol of the same, were approaching the meal with hungry eyes, up a serpentine gravel path leading thereunto. A decidedly indelicate young gentleman, in a pair of wings and nothing else, was depicted as superintending the cooking; a representation of the spire of the church in Langham Place, London, appeared in the distance; and the whole formed a “valentine, ” of which, as a written inscription in the window testified, there was a large assortment within, which the shopkeeper pledged himself to dispose of, to his countrymen generally, at the reduced rate of one-and-sixpence each.

“I should ha” forgot it; I should certainly ha” forgot it! ” said Sam; so saying, he at once stepped into the stationer's shop, and requested to be served with a sheet of the best gilt-edged letterpaper, and a hard-nibbed pen which could be warranted not to splutter. These articles having been promptly supplied, he walked on direct towards Leadenhall Market at a good round pace, very different from his recent lingering one. Looking round him, he there beheld a signboard on which the painter's art had delineated something remotely resembling a cerulean elephant with an aquiline nose in lieu of trunk. Rightly conjecturing that this was the Blue Boar himself, he stepped into the house, and inquired concerning his parent.

“He won't be here this three-quarters of an hour or more, ” said the young lady who superintended the domestic arrangements of the Blue Boar.

“Wery good, my dear, ” replied Sam. “Let me have ninepenn'oth o” brandy-and-water luke, and the inkstand, will you, miss? ”

The brandy-and-water luke, and the inkstand, having been carried into the little parlour, and the young lady having carefully flattened down the coals to prevent their blazing, and carried away the poker to preclude the possibility of the fire being stirred, without the full privity and concurrence of the Blue Boar being first had and obtained, Sam Weller sat himself down in a box near the stove, and pulled out the sheet of gilt-edged letter-paper, and the hard-nibbed pen. Then looking carefully at the pen to see that there were no hairs in it, and dusting down the table, so that there might be no crumbs of bread under the paper, Sam tucked up the cuffs of his coat, squared his elbows, and composed himself to write.

To ladies and gentlemen who are not in the habit of devoting themselves practically to the science of penmanship, writing a letter is no very easy task; it being always considered necessary in such cases for the writer to recline his head on his left arm, so as to place his eyes as nearly as possible on a level with the paper, and, while glancing sideways at the letters he is constructing, to form with his tongue imaginary characters to correspond. These motions, although unquestionably of the greatest assistance to original composition, retard in some degree the progress of the writer; and Sam had unconsciously been a full hour and a half writing words in small text, smearing out wrong letters with his little finger, and putting in new ones which required going over very often to render them visible through the old blots, when he was roused by the opening of the door and the entrance of his parent.

“Vell, Sammy, ” said the father.

“Vell, my Prooshan Blue, ” responded the son, laying down his pen. “What's the last bulletin about mother-in-law? ”

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