The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens

  CHAPTER XLIV. DESCRIPTIVE OF AN AFFECTING INTERVIEW BETWEEN MR. SAMUELWELLER AND A FAMILY PARTY. MR. PICKWICK MAKES A TOUR OF THE DIMINUTIVEWORLD HE INHABITS, AND RESOLVES TO MIX WITH IT, IN FUTURE, AS LITTLE ASPOSSIBLE

  A few mornings after his incarceration, Mr. Samuel Weller, havingarranged his master's room with all possible care, and seen himcomfortably seated over his books and papers, withdrew to employ himselffor an hour or two to come, as he best could. It was a fine morning, andit occurred to Sam that a pint of porter in the open air would lightenhis next quarter of an hour or so, as well as any little amusement inwhich he could indulge.

  Having arrived at this conclusion, he betook himself to the tap. Havingpurchased the beer, and obtained, moreover, the day-but-one-before-yesterday's paper, he repaired to the skittle-ground, and seatinghimself on a bench, proceeded to enjoy himself in a very sedate andmethodical manner.

  First of all, he took a refreshing draught of the beer, and then helooked up at a window, and bestowed a platonic wink on a young lady whowas peeling potatoes thereat. Then he opened the paper, and folded it soas to get the police reports outwards; and this being a vexatious anddifficult thing to do, when there is any wind stirring, he took anotherdraught of the beer when he had accomplished it. Then, he read two linesof the paper, and stopped short to look at a couple of men who werefinishing a game at rackets, which, being concluded, he cried out 'werygood,' in an approving manner, and looked round upon the spectators, toascertain whether their sentiments coincided with his own. This involvedthe necessity of looking up at the windows also; and as the young ladywas still there, it was an act of common politeness to wink again, andto drink to her good health in dumb show, in another draught of thebeer, which Sam did; and having frowned hideously upon a small boy whohad noted this latter proceeding with open eyes, he threw one leg overthe other, and, holding the newspaper in both hands, began to read inreal earnest.

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

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

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

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

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

  'Wot are you a-roarin' at?' said Sam impetuously, when the old gentlemanhad discharged himself of another shout; 'making yourself so precioushot that you looks like a aggrawated glass-blower. Wot's the matter?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Vell, then, wot do you do it for?' said Sam. 'Now, then, wot have yougot to say?'

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

  'Pell?' said Sam.

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

  'Mottled-faced man, p'raps?' asked Sam.

  Again Mr. Weller shook his head.

  'Who then?'asked Sam.

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

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

  With this, Mr. Weller launched into convulsions of laughter, while Samregarded him with a broad grin gradually over-spreading his wholecountenance.

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

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

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

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

  'In the snuggery,' rejoined Mr. Weller. 'Catch the red-nosed man a-goin'anyvere but vere the liquors is; not he, Samivel, not he. Ve'd a werypleasant ride along the road from the Markis this mornin', Sammy,' saidMr. Weller, when he felt himself equal to the task of speaking in anarticulate manner. 'I drove the old piebald in that 'ere little chay-cart as belonged to your mother-in-law's first wenter, into vich a harm-cheer wos lifted for the shepherd; and I'm blessed,' said Mr. Weller,with a look of deep scorn--'I'm blessed if they didn't bring a portableflight o' steps out into the road a-front o' our door for him, to get upby.'

  'You don't mean that?' said Sam.

  'I do mean that, Sammy,' replied his father, 'and I vish you could ha'seen how tight he held on by the sides wen he did get up, as if he wosafeerd o' being precipitayted down full six foot, and dashed into amillion hatoms. He tumbled in at last, however, and avay ve vent; and Irayther think--I say I rayther think, Samivel--that he found his-self alittle jolted ven ve turned the corners.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Not at all,' replied Sam.

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

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

  'Mother-in-law,' said Sam, politely saluting the lady, 'wery muchobliged to you for this here wisit.--Shepherd, how air yo
u?'

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

  'Not a bit on it, mum,' replied Sam.--'Is it, shepherd?'

  Mr. Stiggins raised his hands, and turned up his eyes, until the whites--or rather the yellows--were alone visible; but made no reply in words.

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

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

  'Oh, that's it, is it?' said Sam. 'I was afeerd, from his manner, thathe might ha' forgotten to take pepper vith that 'ere last cowcumber heeat. Set down, Sir, ve make no extra charge for settin' down, as theking remarked wen he blowed up his ministers.'

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

  'Beg your pardon, Sir,' replied Sam; 'wot wos you graciously pleased tohobserve?'

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

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

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

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

  'Wery much obleeged to you, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller; 'but I'm quitecomfortable vere I am.'

  Upon this, Mrs. Weller burst into tears.

  'Wot's gone wrong, mum?' said Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Vere may that be, Sir?' inquired Sam, with great outward simplicity.

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

  At this affecting reply, Mrs. Weller, being wholly unable to suppressher feelings, sobbed aloud, and stated her conviction that the red-nosedman was a saint; whereupon Mr. Weller, senior, ventured to suggest, inan undertone, that he must be the representative of the united parishesof St. Simon Without and St. Walker Within.

  'I'm afeered, mum,' said Sam, 'that this here gen'l'm'n, with the twistin his countenance, feels rather thirsty, with the melancholy spectacleafore him. Is it the case, mum?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Well, Sammy,' said the gentleman, 'I hope you'll find your spirits roseby this here lively wisit. Wery cheerful and improvin' conwersation,ain't it, Sammy?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Wot do you mean?' said Sam.

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

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

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

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

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

  'Brayvo; wery pretty!' said Sam, when the red-nosed man having finished,pulled his worn gloves on, thereby thrusting his fingers through thebroken tops till the knuckles were disclosed to view. 'Wery pretty.'

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

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

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

  'Thank'ee, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, senior. 'How do you find yourselfarter it, my love?'

  'Scoffer!' exclaimed Mrs. Weller.

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

  'If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o' yourn, myworthy creetur,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 'it's wery likely as I shallcontiney to be a night coach till I'm took off the road altogether. Now,Mrs. We, if the piebald stands at livery much longer, he'll stand atnothin' as we go back, and p'raps that 'ere harm-cheer 'ull be tippedover into some hedge or another, with the shepherd in it.'

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

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

  'Wot's a-do?' inquired Sammy.

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

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

  'Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round; 'my duty toyour gov'nor, and tell him if he thinks better o' this here bis'ness, tocom-moonicate vith me. Me and a cab'net-maker has dewised a plan forgettin' him out. A pianner, Samivel--a pianner!' said Mr. Weller,striking his son on the chest with the back of his hand, and fallingback a step or two.

  'Wot do you mean?' said Sam.

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

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

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

  'No,' rejoined Sam.

  'There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. 'It 'ull hold himeasy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs, vich hisholler. Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker. The 'Merrikin gov'mentwill never give him up, ven vunce they find as he's got money to spend,Sammy. Let the gov'nor stop there, till Mrs. Bardell's dead, or Mr.Dodson and Fogg's hung (wich last ewent I think is the most likely tohappen first, Sammy), and then let him come back and write a book aboutthe 'Merrikins as'll pay all his expenses and more, if he blows 'em upenough.'

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

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

  'Sam,' said that gentleman.

  'Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

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

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

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

  'O' mine, Sir?' exclaimed Mr. Weller.

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

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

  Following close at his heels, came Mr. Job Trotter, in the catalogue ofwhose vices, want of faith and attachment to his companion could at allevents find no place. He was still ragged and squalid, but his face wasnot quite so hollow as on his first meeting with Mr. Pickwick, a fewdays before. As he took off his hat to our benevolent old friend, hemurmured some broken expressions of gratitude, and muttered somethingabout having been saved from starving.

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

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

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

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

  'Nonsense,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'lean upon me, I desire, Sir.'

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

  During the whole of this time the countenance of Mr. Samuel Weller hadexhibited an expression of the most overwhelming and absorbingastonishment that the imagination can portray. After looking from Job toJingle, and from Jingle to Job in profound silence, he softly ejaculatedthe words, 'Well, I _am_ damn'd!' which he repeated a
t least a score oftimes; after which exertion, he appeared wholly bereft of speech, andagain cast his eyes, first upon the one and then upon the other, in muteperplexity and bewilderment.

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

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

  Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time. Sam, with his gluedto Job's countenance, ran up against the people who were walking about,and fell over little children, and stumbled against steps and railings,without appearing at all sensible of it, until Job, looking stealthilyup, said--

  'How do you do, Mr. Weller?'

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

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

  'I should think they had,' exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying hiscompanion's rags with undisguised wonder. 'This is rayther a change forthe worse, Mr. Trotter, as the gen'l'm'n said, wen he got two doubtfulshillin's and sixpenn'orth o' pocket-pieces for a good half-crown.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Nothing,' replied Job.

  'Nothin'!' echoed Sam.

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

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

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

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

  'Now,' said Sam, 'drink that up, ev'ry drop on it, and then turn the potupside down, to let me see as you've took the medicine.'

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

  'Down vith it!' said Sam peremptorily.

  Thus admonished, Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips, and, by gentleand almost imperceptible degrees, tilted it into the air. He pausedonce, and only once, to draw a long breath, but without raising his facefrom the vessel, which, in a few moments thereafter, he held out atarm's length, bottom upward. Nothing fell upon the ground but a fewparticles of froth, which slowly detached themselves from the rim, andtrickled lazily down.

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

  'Better, Sir. I think I am better,' responded Job.

  'O' course you air,' said Sam argumentatively. 'It's like puttin' gas ina balloon. I can see with the naked eye that you gets stouter under theoperation. Wot do you say to another o' the same dimensions?'

  'I would rather not, I am much obliged to you, Sir,' replied Job--'muchrather not.'

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

  'Thanks to your worthy governor, Sir,' said Mr. Trotter, 'we have half aleg of mutton, baked, at a quarter before three, with the potatoes underit to save boiling.'

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

  'He has, Sir,' replied Job. 'More than that, Mr. Weller; my master beingvery ill, he got us a room--we were in a kennel before--and paid for it,Sir; and come to look at us, at night, when nobody should know. Mr.Weller,' said Job, with real tears in his eyes, for once, 'I could servethat gentleman till I fell down dead at his feet.'

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

  Job Trotter looked amazed.

  'None o' that, I say, young feller,' repeated Sam firmly. 'No man serveshim but me. And now we're upon it, I'll let you into another secretbesides that,' said Sam, as he paid for the beer. 'I never heerd, mindyou, or read of in story-books, nor see in picters, any angel in tightsand gaiters--not even in spectacles, as I remember, though that may ha'been done for anythin' I know to the contrairey--but mark my vords, JobTrotter, he's a reg'lar thoroughbred angel for all that; and let me seethe man as wenturs to tell me he knows a better vun.' With thisdefiance, Mr. Weller buttoned up his change in a side pocket, and, withmany confirmatory nods and gestures by the way, proceeded in search ofthe subject of discourse.

  They found Mr. Pickwick, in company with Jingle, talking very earnestly,and not bestowing a look on the groups who were congregated on theracket-ground; they were very motley groups too, and worth the lookingat, if it were only in idle curiosity.

  'Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Sam and his companion drew nigh, 'you willsee how your health becomes, and think about it meanwhile. Make thestatement out for me when you feel yourself equal to the task, and Iwill discuss the subject with you when I have considered it. Now, go toyour room. You are tired, and not strong enough to be out long.'

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

  'Curious scene this, is it not, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick, looking good-humouredly round.

  'Wery much so, Sir,' replied Sam. 'Wonders 'ull never cease,' added Sam,speaking to himself. 'I'm wery much mistaken if that 'ere Jingle worn'ta-doin somethin' in the water-cart way!'

  The area formed by the wall in that part of the Fleet in which Mr.Pickwick stood was just wide enough to make a good racket-court; oneside being formed, of course, by the wall itself, and the other by thatportion of the prison which looked (or rather would have looked, but forthe wall) towards St. Paul's Cathedral. Sauntering or sitting about, inevery possible attitude of listless idleness, were a great number ofdebtors, the major part of whom were waiting in prison until their dayof 'going up' before the Insolvent Court should arrive; while others hadbeen remanded for various terms, which they were idling away as theybest could. Some were shabby, some were smart, many dirty, a few clean;but there they all lounged, and loitered, and slunk about with as littlespirit or purpose as the beasts in a menagerie.

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

  'Would you like to see a whistling-shop, Sir?' inquired Job Trotter.

  'What do you mean?' was Mr. Pi
ckwick's counter inquiry.

  'A vistlin' shop, Sir,' interposed Mr. Weller.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  'Cert'nly they are, Sir,' replied Sam; 'but the turnkeys knowsbeforehand, and gives the word to the wistlers, and you may wistle forit wen you go to look.'

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

  The gentleman with the uncombed head appeared quite satisfied with thismute announcement of their business, and, producing a flat stone bottle,which might hold about a couple of quarts, from beneath his bedstead,filled out three glasses of gin, which Job Trotter and Sam disposed ofin a most workmanlike manner.

  'Any more?' said the whistling gentleman.

  'No more,' replied Job Trotter.

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

  From this spot, Mr. Pickwick wandered along all the galleries, up anddown all the staircases, and once again round the whole area of theyard. The great body of the prison population appeared to be Mivins, andSmangle, and the parson, and the butcher, and the leg, over and over,and over again. There were the same squalor, the same turmoil and noise,the same general characteristics, in every corner; in the best and theworst alike. The whole place seemed restless and troubled; and thepeople were crowding and flitting to and fro, like the shadows in anuneasy dream.

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

  And Mr. Pickwick steadfastly adhered to this determination. For threelong months he remained shut up, all day; only stealing out at night tobreathe the air, when the greater part of his fellow-prisoners were inbed or carousing in their rooms. His health was beginning to suffer fromthe closeness of the confinement, but neither the often-repeatedentreaties of Perker and his friends, nor the still more frequently-repeated warnings and admonitions of Mr. Samuel Weller, could induce himto alter one jot of his inflexible resolution.