The Pickwick Papers 55 страница

“Those wos wery sensible observations as she made, Sammy, ” said Mr. Weller, driving the smoke away with his hand, after a long silence.

“Wot observations? ” inquired Sam.

“Them as she made, arter she was took ill, ” replied the old gentleman. “Wot was they? ”

“Somethin” to this here effect. “Veller, ” she says, “I'm afeered I've not done by you quite wot I ought to have done; you're a wery kind-hearted man, and I might ha” made your home more comfortabler. I begin to see now, ” she says, “ven it's too late, that if a married “ooman vishes to be religious, she should begin vith dischargin” her dooties at home, and makin” them as is about her cheerful and happy, and that vile she goes to church, or chapel, or wot not, at all proper times, she should be wery careful not to con-wert this sort o” thing into a excuse for idleness or self-indulgence. I have done this, ” she says, “and I've vasted time and substance on them as has done it more than me; but I hope ven I'm gone, Veller, that you'll think on me as I wos afore I know'd them people, and as I raly wos by natur. ”

“Susan, ” says I—I wos took up wery short by this, Samivel; I von't deny it, my boy—”Susan, ” I says, “you've been a wery good vife to me, altogether; don't say nothin” at all about it; keep a good heart, my dear; and you'll live to see me punch that “ere Stiggins's head yet. ” She smiled at this, Samivel, ” said the old gentleman, stifling a sigh with his pipe, “but she died arter all! ”

“Vell, ” said Sam, venturing to offer a little homely consolation, after the lapse of three or four minutes, consumed by the old gentleman in slowly shaking his head from side to side, and solemnly smoking, “vell, gov'nor, ve must all come to it, one day or another. ”

“So we must, Sammy, ” said Mr. Weller the elder.

“There's a Providence in it all, ” said Sam.

“O” course there is, ” replied his father, with a nod of grave approval. “Wot “ud become of the undertakers vithout it, Sammy? ”

Lost in the immense field of conjecture opened by this reflection, the elder Mr. Weller laid his pipe on the table, and stirred the fire with a meditative visage.

While the old gentleman was thus engaged, a very buxomlooking cook, dressed in mourning, who had been bustling about, in the bar, glided into the room, and bestowing many smirks of recognition upon Sam, silently stationed herself at the back of his father's chair, and announced her presence by a slight cough, the which, being disregarded, was followed by a louder one.

“Hollo! ” said the elder Mr. Weller, dropping the poker as he looked round, and hastily drew his chair away. “Wot's the matter now? ”

“Have a cup of tea, there's a good soul, ” replied the buxom female coaxingly. “I von't, ” replied Mr. Weller, in a somewhat boisterous manner. “I'll see you—” Mr. Weller hastily checked himself, and added in a low tone, “furder fust. ”

“Oh, dear, dear! How adwersity does change people! ” said the lady, looking upwards.

“It's the only thing “twixt this and the doctor as shall change my condition, ” muttered Mr. Weller.

“I really never saw a man so cross, ” said the buxom female.

“Never mind. It's all for my own good; vich is the reflection vith vich the penitent school-boy comforted his feelin's ven they flogged him, ” rejoined the old gentleman.

The buxom female shook her head with a compassionate and sympathising air; and, appealing to Sam, inquired whether his father really ought not to make an effort to keep up, and not give way to that lowness of spirits.

“You see, Mr. Samuel, ” said the buxom female, “as I was telling him yesterday, he will feel lonely, he can't expect but what he should, sir, but he should keep up a good heart, because, dear me, I'm sure we all pity his loss, and are ready to do anything for him; and there's no situation in life so bad, Mr. Samuel, that it can't be mended. Which is what a very worthy person said to me when my husband died. ” Here the speaker, putting her hand before her mouth, coughed again, and looked affectionately at the elder Mr. Weller.

“As I don't rekvire any o” your conversation just now, mum, vill you have the goodness to re-tire? ” inquired Mr. Weller, in a grave and steady voice.

“Well, Mr. Weller, ” said the buxom female, “I'm sure I only spoke to you out of kindness. ”

“Wery likely, mum, ” replied Mr. Weller. “Samivel, show the lady out, and shut the door after her. ”

This hint was not lost upon the buxom female; for she at once left the room, and slammed the door behind her, upon which Mr. Weller, senior, falling back in his chair in a violent perspiration, said—

“Sammy, if I wos to stop here alone vun week—only vun week, my boy—that “ere “ooman “ud marry me by force and wiolence afore it was over. ”

“Wot! is she so wery fond on you? ” inquired Sam.

“Fond! ” replied his father. “I can't keep her avay from me. If I was locked up in a fireproof chest vith a patent Brahmin, she'd find means to get at me, Sammy. ”

“Wot a thing it is to be so sought arter! ” observed Sam, smiling.

“I don't take no pride out on it, Sammy, ” replied Mr. Weller, poking the fire vehemently, “it's a horrid sitiwation. I'm actiwally drove out o” house and home by it. The breath was scarcely out o” your poor mother-in-law's body, ven vun old “ooman sends me a pot o” jam, and another a pot o” jelly, and another brews a blessed large jug o” camomile-tea, vich she brings in vith her own hands. ” Mr. Weller paused with an aspect of intense disgust, and looking round, added in a whisper, “They wos all widders, Sammy, all on “em, “cept the camomile-tea vun, as wos a single young lady o” fifty-three. ”

Sam gave a comical look in reply, and the old gentleman having broken an obstinate lump of coal, with a countenance expressive of as much earnestness and malice as if it had been the head of one of the widows last-mentioned, said:

“In short, Sammy, I feel that I ain't safe anyveres but on the box. ”

“How are you safer there than anyveres else? ” interrupted Sam.

“Cos a coachman's a privileged indiwidual, ” replied Mr. Weller, looking fixedly at his son. “Cos a coachman may do vithout suspicion wot other men may not; “cos a coachman may be on the wery amicablest terms with eighty mile o” females, and yet nobody think that he ever means to marry any vun among “em. And wot other man can say the same, Sammy? ”

“Vell, there's somethin” in that, ” said Sam.

“If your gov'nor had been a coachman, ” reasoned Mr. Weller, “do you s'pose as that “ere jury “ud ever ha” conwicted him, s'posin” it possible as the matter could ha” gone to that extremity? They dustn't ha” done it. ”

“Wy not? ” said Sam, rather disparagingly.

“Wy not! ” rejoined Mr. Weller; “cos it “ud ha” gone agin their consciences. A reg'lar coachman's a sort o” con-nectin” link betwixt singleness and matrimony, and every practicable man knows it. ”

“Wot! You mean, they're gen'ral favorites, and nobody takes adwantage on “em, p'raps? ” said Sam.

His father nodded.

“How it ever come to that “ere pass, ” resumed the parent Weller, “I can't say. Wy it is that long-stage coachmen possess such insiniwations, and is alvays looked up to—a-dored I may say—by ev'ry young “ooman in ev'ry town he vurks through, I don't know. I only know that so it is. It's a regulation of natur—a dispensary, as your poor mother-in-law used to say. ”

“A dispensation, ” said Sam, correcting the old gentleman.

“Wery good, Samivel, a dispensation if you like it better, ” returned Mr. Weller; “I call it a dispensary, and it's always writ up so, at the places vere they gives you physic for nothin” in your own bottles; that's all. ”

With these words, Mr. Weller refilled and relighted his pipe, and once more summoning up a meditative expression of countenance, continued as follows—

“Therefore, my boy, as I do not see the adwisability o” stoppin here to be married vether I vant to or not, and as at the same time I do not vish to separate myself from them interestin” members o” society altogether, I have come to the determination o” driving the Safety, and puttin” up vunce more at the Bell Savage, vich is my nat'ral born element, Sammy. ”

“And wot's to become o” the bis'ness? ” inquired Sam.

“The bis'ness, Samivel, ” replied the old gentleman, “good-vill, stock, and fixters, vill be sold by private contract; and out o” the money, two hundred pound, agreeable to a rekvest o” your mother-in-law's to me, a little afore she died, vill be invested in your name in—What do you call them things agin? ”

“Wot things? ” inquired Sam.

“Them things as is always a-goin” up and down, in the city. ”

“Omnibuses? ” suggested Sam.

“Nonsense, ” replied Mr. Weller. “Them things as is alvays a-fluctooatin”, and gettin” theirselves inwolved somehow or another vith the national debt, and the chequers bill; and all that. ”

“Oh! the funds, ” said Sam.

“Ah! ” rejoined Mr. Weller, “the funs; two hundred pounds o” the money is to be inwested for you, Samivel, in the funs; four and a half per cent. reduced counsels, Sammy. ”

“Wery kind o” the old lady to think o” me, ” said Sam, “and I'm wery much obliged to her. ”

“The rest will be inwested in my name, ” continued the elder Mr. Weller; “and wen I'm took off the road, it'll come to you, so take care you don't spend it all at vunst, my boy, and mind that no widder gets a inklin” o” your fortun”, or you're done. ”

Having delivered this warning, Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with a more serene countenance; the disclosure of these matters appearing to have eased his mind considerably.

“Somebody's a-tappin” at the door, ” said Sam.

“Let “em tap, ” replied his father, with dignity.

Sam acted upon the direction. There was another tap, and another, and then a long row of taps; upon which Sam inquired why the tapper was not admitted.

“Hush, ” whispered Mr. Weller, with apprehensive looks, “don't take no notice on “em, Sammy, it's vun o” the widders, p'raps. ”

No notice being taken of the taps, the unseen visitor, after a short lapse, ventured to open the door and peep in. It was no female head that was thrust in at the partially-opened door, but the long black locks and red face of Mr. Stiggins. Mr. Weller's pipe fell from his hands.

The reverend gentleman gradually opened the door by almost imperceptible degrees, until the aperture was just wide enough to admit of the passage of his lank body, when he glided into the room and closed it after him, with great care and gentleness. Turning towards Sam, and raising his hands and eyes in token of the unspeakable sorrow with which he regarded the calamity that had befallen the family, he carried the high-backed chair to his old corner by the fire, and, seating himself on the very edge, drew forth a brown pocket-handkerchief, and applied the same to his optics.

While this was going forward, the elder Mr. Weller sat back in his chair, with his eyes wide open, his hands planted on his knees, and his whole countenance expressive of absorbing and overwhelming astonishment. Sam sat opposite him in perfect silence, waiting, with eager curiosity, for the termination of the scene.

Mr. Stiggins kept the brown pocket-handkerchief before his eyes for some minutes, moaning decently meanwhile, and then, mastering his feelings by a strong effort, put it in his pocket and buttoned it up. After this, he stirred the fire; after that, he rubbed his hands and looked at Sam.

“Oh, my young friend, ” said Mr. Stiggins, breaking the silence, in a very low voice, “here's a sorrowful affliction! ”

Sam nodded very slightly.

“For the man of wrath, too! ” added Mr. Stiggins; “it makes a vessel's heart bleed! ” Mr. Weller was overheard by his son to murmur something relative to making a vessel's nose bleed; but Mr. Stiggins heard him not. “Do you know, young man, ” whispered Mr. Stiggins, drawing his chair closer to Sam, “whether she has left Emanuel anything? ”

“Who's he? ” inquired Sam.

“The chapel, ” replied Mr. Stiggins; “our chapel; our fold, Mr. Samuel. ”

“She hasn't left the fold nothin”, nor the shepherd nothin”, nor the animals nothin', ” said Sam decisively; “nor the dogs neither. ”

Mr. Stiggins looked slily at Sam; glanced at the old gentleman, who was sitting with his eyes closed, as if asleep; and drawing his chair still nearer, said—

“Nothing for ME, Mr. Samuel? ”

Sam shook his head.

“I think there's something, ” said Stiggins, turning as pale as he could turn. “Consider, Mr. Samuel; no little token? ”

“Not so much as the vorth o” that “ere old umberella o” yourn, ” replied Sam.

“Perhaps, ” said Mr. Stiggins hesitatingly, after a few moments” deep thought, “perhaps she recommended me to the care of the man of wrath, Mr. Samuel? ”

“I think that's wery likely, from what he said, ” rejoined Sam; “he wos a-speakin” about you, jist now. ”

“Was he, though? ” exclaimed Stiggins, brightening up. “Ah! He's changed, I dare say. We might live very comfortably together now, Mr. Samuel, eh? I could take care of his property when you are away—good care, you see. ”

Heaving a long-drawn sigh, Mr. Stiggins paused for a response.

Sam nodded, and Mr. Weller the elder gave vent to an extraordinary sound, which, being neither a groan, nor a grunt, nor a gasp, nor a growl, seemed to partake in some degree of the character of all four.

Mr. Stiggins, encouraged by this sound, which he understood to betoken remorse or repentance, looked about him, rubbed his hands, wept, smiled, wept again, and then, walking softly across the room to a well-remembered shelf in one corner, took down a tumbler, and with great deliberation put four lumps of sugar in it. Having got thus far, he looked about him again, and sighed grievously; with that, he walked softly into the bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the rum-and-water, stopped for breath.

The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single word during these proceedings; but when Stiggins stopped for breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his hand, threw the remainder of the rum-and-water in his face, and the glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most furiously, accompanying every application of his top-boot to Mr. Stiggins's person, with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and body.

“Sammy, ” said Mr. Weller, “put my hat on tight for me. ”

Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly on his father's head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the street—the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in vehemence, rather than diminishing, every time the top-boot was lifted.

It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man writhing in Mr. Weller's grasp, and his whole frame quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession; it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins's head in a horsetrough full of water, and holding it there, until he was half suffocated.

“There! ” said Mr. Weller, throwing all his energy into one most complicated kick, as he at length permitted Mr. Stiggins to withdraw his head from the trough, “send any vun o” them lazy shepherds here, and I'll pound him to a jelly first, and drownd him artervards! Sammy, help me in, and fill me a small glass of brandy. I'm out o” breath, my boy. ”

CHAPTER LIII COMPRISING THE FINAL EXIT OF Mr. JINGLE AND JOB

TROTTER, WITH A GREAT MORNING OF BUSINESS IN

GRAY'S INN SQUARE—CONCLUDING WITH A DOUBLE

KNOCK AT Mr. PERKER'S DOOR

When Arabella, after some gentle preparation and many assurances that there was not the least occasion for being low-spirited, was at length made acquainted by Mr. Pickwick with the unsatisfactory result of his visit to Birmingham, she burst into tears, and sobbing aloud, lamented in moving terms that she should have been the unhappy cause of any estrangement between a father and his son.

“My dear girl, ” said Mr. Pickwick kindly, “it is no fault of yours. It was impossible to foresee that the old gentleman would be so strongly prepossessed against his son's marriage, you know. I am sure, ” added Mr. Pickwick, glancing at her pretty face, “he can have very little idea of the pleasure he denies himself. ”

“Oh, my dear Mr. Pickwick, ” said Arabella, “what shall we do, if he continues to be angry with us? ”

“Why, wait patiently, my dear, until he thinks better of it, ” replied Mr. Pickwick cheerfully.

“But, dear Mr. Pickwick, what is to become of Nathaniel if his father withdraws his assistance? ” urged Arabella.

“In that case, my love, ” rejoined Mr. Pickwick, “I will venture to prophesy that he will find some other friend who will not be backward in helping him to start in the world. ”

The significance of this reply was not so well disguised by Mr. Pickwick but that Arabella understood it. So, throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing him affectionately, she sobbed louder than before.

“Come, come, ” said Mr. Pickwick taking her hand, “we will wait here a few days longer, and see whether he writes or takes any other notice of your husband's communication. If not, I have thought of half a dozen plans, any one of which would make you happy at once. There, my dear, there! ”

With these words, Mr. Pickwick gently pressed Arabella's hand, and bade her dry her eyes, and not distress her husband. Upon which, Arabella, who was one of the best little creatures alive, put her handkerchief in her reticule, and by the time Mr. Winkle joined them, exhibited in full lustre the same beaming smiles and sparkling eyes that had originally captivated him.

“This is a distressing predicament for these young people, ” thought Mr. Pickwick, as he dressed himself next morning. “I'll walk up to Perker's, and consult him about the matter. ”

As Mr. Pickwick was further prompted to betake himself to Gray's Inn Square by an anxious desire to come to a pecuniary settlement with the kind-hearted little attorney without further delay, he made a hurried breakfast, and executed his intention so speedily, that ten o'clock had not struck when he reached Gray's Inn.

It still wanted ten minutes to the hour when he had ascended the staircase on which Perker's chambers were. The clerks had not arrived yet, and he beguiled the time by looking out of the staircase window. The healthy light of a fine October morning made even the dingy old houses brighten up a little; some of the dusty windows actually looking almost cheerful as the sun's rays gleamed upon them. Clerk after clerk hastened into the square by one or other of the entrances, and looking up at the Hall clock, accelerated or decreased his rate of walking according to the time at which his office hours nominally commenced; the half-past nine o'clock people suddenly becoming very brisk, and the ten o'clock gentlemen falling into a pace of most aristocratic slowness. The clock struck ten, and clerks poured in faster than ever, each one in a greater perspiration than his predecessor. The noise of unlocking and opening doors echoed and re-echoed on every side; heads appeared as if by magic in every window; the porters took up their stations for the day; the slipshod laundresses hurried off; the postman ran from house to house; and the whole legal hive was in a bustle.

“You're early, Mr. Pickwick, ” said a voice behind him.

“Ah, Mr. Lowten, ” replied that gentleman, looking round, and recognising his old acquaintance.

“Precious warm walking, isn't it? ” said Lowten, drawing a Bramah key from his pocket, with a small plug therein, to keep the dust out.

“You appear to feel it so, ” rejoined Mr. Pickwick, smiling at the clerk, who was literally red-hot.

“I've come along, rather, I can tell you, ” replied Lowten. “It went the half hour as I came through the Polygon. I'm here before him, though, so I don't mind. ”

Comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extracted the plug from the door-key; having opened the door, replugged and repocketed his Bramah, and picked up the letters which the postman had dropped through the box, he ushered Mr. Pickwick into the office. Here, in the twinkling of an eye, he divested himself of his coat, put on a threadbare garment, which he took out of a desk, hung up his hat, pulled forth a few sheets of cartridge and blotting-paper in alternate layers, and, sticking a pen behind his ear, rubbed his hands with an air of great satisfaction.

“There, you see, Mr. Pickwick, ” he said, “now I'm complete. I've got my office coat on, and my pad out, and let him come as soon as he likes. You haven't got a pinch of snuff about you, have you? ”

“No, I have not, ” replied Mr. Pickwick.

“I'm sorry for it, ” said Lowten. “Never mind. I'll run out presently, and get a bottle of soda. Don't I look rather queer about the eyes, Mr. Pickwick? ”

The individual appealed to, surveyed Mr. Lowten's eyes from a distance, and expressed his opinion that no unusual queerness was perceptible in those features.

“I'm glad of it, ” said Lowten. “We were keeping it up pretty tolerably at the Stump last night, and I'm rather out of sorts this morning. Perker's been about that business of yours, by the bye. ”

“What business? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick. “Mrs. Bardell's costs? ”

“No, I don't mean that, ” replied Mr. Lowten. “About getting that customer that we paid the ten shillings in the pound to the bill-discounter for, on your account—to get him out of the Fleet, you know—about getting him to Demerara. ”

“Oh, Mr. Jingle, ” said Mr. Pickwick hastily. “Yes. Well? ”

“Well, it's all arranged, ” said Lowten, mending his pen. “The agent at Liverpool said he had been obliged to you many times when you were in business, and he would be glad to take him on your recommendation. ”

“That's well, ” said Mr. Pickwick. “I am delighted to hear it. ”

“But I say, ” resumed Lowten, scraping the back of the pen preparatory to making a fresh split, “what a soft chap that other is! ”

“Which other? ”

“Why, that servant, or friend, or whatever he is; you know, Trotter. ”

“Ah! ” said Mr. Pickwick, with a smile. “I always thought him the reverse. ”

“Well, and so did I, from what little I saw of him, ” replied Lowten, “it only shows how one may be deceived. What do you think of his going to Demerara, too? ”

“What! And giving up what was offered him here! ” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

“Treating Perker's offer of eighteen bob a week, and a rise if he behaved himself, like dirt, ” replied Lowten. “He said he must go along with the other one, and so they persuaded Perker to write again, and they've got him something on the same estate; not near so good, Perker says, as a convict would get in New South Wales, if he appeared at his trial in a new suit of clothes. ”

“Foolish fellow, ” said Mr. Pickwick, with glistening eyes. “Foolish fellow. ”

“Oh, it's worse than foolish; it's downright sneaking, you know, ” replied Lowten, nibbing the pen with a contemptuous face. “He says that he's the only friend he ever had, and he's attached to him, and all that. Friendship's a very good thing in its way—we are all very friendly and comfortable at the Stump, for instance, over our grog, where every man pays for himself; but damn hurting yourself for anybody else, you know! No man should have more than two attachments—the first, to number one, and the second to the ladies; that's what I say—ha! ha! ” Mr. Lowten concluded with a loud laugh, half in jocularity, and half in derision, which was prematurely cut short by the sound of Perker's footsteps on the stairs, at the first approach of which, he vaulted on his stool with an agility most remarkable, and wrote intensely.

The greeting between Mr. Pickwick and his professional adviser was warm and cordial; the client was scarcely ensconced in the attorney's arm-chair, however, when a knock was heard at the door, and a voice inquired whether Mr. Perker was within.

“Hark! ” said Perker, “that's one of our vagabond friends—Jingle himself, my dear Sir. Will you see him? ”

“What do you think? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick, hesitating.

“Yes, I think you had better. Here, you Sir, what's your name, walk in, will you? ”

In compliance with this unceremonious invitation, Jingle and Job walked into the room, but, seeing Mr. Pickwick, stopped short in some confusion. “Well, ” said Perker, “don't you know that gentleman? ”

“Good reason to, ” replied Mr. Jingle, stepping forward. “Mr. Pickwick—deepest obligations—life preserver—made a man of me—you shall never repent it, Sir. ”

“I am happy to hear you say so, ” said Mr. Pickwick. “You look much better. ”

“Thanks to you, sir—great change—Majesty's Fleet—unwholesome place—very, ” said Jingle, shaking his head. He was decently and cleanly dressed, and so was Job, who stood bolt upright behind him, staring at Mr. Pickwick with a visage of iron.

“When do they go to Liverpool? ” inquired Mr. Pickwick, half aside to Perker.

“This evening, Sir, at seven o'clock, ” said Job, taking one step forward. “By the heavy coach from the city, Sir. ”

“Are your places taken? ”

“They are, sir, ” replied Job.

“You have fully made up your mind to go? ”

“I have sir, ” answered Job.

“With regard to such an outfit as was indispensable for Jingle, ” said Perker, addressing Mr. Pickwick aloud. “I have taken upon myself to make an arrangement for the deduction of a small sum from his quarterly salary, which, being made only for one year, and regularly remitted, will provide for that expense. I entirely disapprove of your doing anything for him, my dear sir, which is not dependent on his own exertions and good conduct. ”

“Certainly, ” interposed Jingle, with great firmness. “Clear head—man of the world—quite right—perfectly. ”

“By compounding with his creditor, releasing his clothes from the pawnbroker's, relieving him in prison, and paying for his passage, ” continued Perker, without noticing Jingle's observation, “you have already lost upwards of fifty pounds. ”

“Not lost, ” said Jingle hastily, “Pay it all—stick to business—cash up—every farthing. Yellow fever, perhaps—can't help that—if not—” Here Mr. Jingle paused, and striking the crown of his hat with great violence, passed his hand over his eyes, and sat down.

“He means to say, ” said Job, advancing a few paces, “that if he is not carried off by the fever, he will pay the money back again. If he lives, he will, Mr. Pickwick. I will see it done. I know he will, Sir, ” said Job, with energy. “I could undertake to swear it. ”

“Well, well, ” said Mr. Pickwick, who had been bestowing a score or two of frowns upon Perker, to stop his summary of benefits conferred, which the little attorney obstinately disregarded, “you must be careful not to play any more desperate cricket matches, Mr. Jingle, or to renew your acquaintance with Sir Thomas Blazo, and I have little doubt of your preserving your health. ”

Mr. Jingle smiled at this sally, but looked rather foolish notwithstanding; so Mr. Pickwick changed the subject by saying—

“You don't happen to know, do you, what has become of another friend of yours—a more humble one, whom I saw at Rochester? ”

“Dismal Jemmy? ” inquired Jingle.

“Yes. ”

Jingle shook his head.

“Clever rascal—queer fellow, hoaxing genius—Job's brother. ”

“Job's brother! ” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. “Well, now I look at him closely, there IS a likeness. ”

“We were always considered like each other, Sir, ” said Job, with a cunning look just lurking in the corners of his eyes, “only I was really of a serious nature, and he never was. He emigrated to America, Sir, in consequence of being too much sought after here, to be comfortable; and has never been heard of since. ”

“That accounts for my not having received the “page from the romance of real life, ” which he promised me one morning when he appeared to be contemplating suicide on Rochester Bridge, I suppose, ” said Mr. Pickwick, smiling. “I need not inquire whether his dismal behaviour was natural or assumed. ”

“He could assume anything, Sir, ” said Job. “You may consider yourself very fortunate in having escaped him so easily. On intimate terms he would have been even a more dangerous acquaintance than—” Job looked at Jingle, hesitated, and finally added, “than—than-myself even. ”

“A hopeful family yours, Mr. Trotter, ” said Perker, sealing a letter which he had just finished writing.

“Yes, Sir, ” replied Job. “Very much so. ”

“Well, ” said the little man, laughing, “I hope you are going to disgrace it. Deliver this letter to the agent when you reach Liverpool, and let me advise you, gentlemen, not to be too knowing in the West Indies. If you throw away this chance, you will both richly deserve to be hanged, as I sincerely trust you will be. And now you had better leave Mr. Pickwick and me alone, for we have other matters to talk over, and time is precious. ” As Perker said this, he looked towards the door, with an evident desire to render the leave-taking as brief as possible.

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