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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
here this morning, and very glad I was to see
him. Well, Sir, and how are you? You do look uncommon well,
to be sure.
Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment, and cordially
shook hands with the stout gentleman in the top-boots.
Well, and how are you, sir? said the stout gentleman,
addressing Mr. Snodgrass with paternal anxiety. Charming, eh?
Well, thats right--thats right. And how are you, sir (to Mr.
Winkle)? Well, I am glad to hear you say you are well; very glad
I am, to be sure. My daughters, gentlemen--my gals these are;
and thats my sister, Miss Rachael Wardle. Shes a Miss, she is;
and yet she aint a Miss--eh, Sir, eh? And the stout gentleman
playfully inserted his elbow between the ribs of Mr. Pickwick, and
laughed very heartily.
Lor, brother! said Miss Wardle, with a deprecating smile.
True, true, said the stout gentleman; no one can deny it.
Gentlemen, I beg your pardon; this is my friend Mr. Trundle.
And now you all know each other, lets be comfortable and
happy, and see whats going forward; thats what I say. So the
stout gentleman put on his spectacles, and Mr. Pickwick pulled
out his glass, and everybody stood up in the carriage, and looked
over somebody elses shoulder at the evolutions of the military.
Astounding evolutions they were, one rank firing over the
heads of another rank, and then running away; and then the
other rank firing over the heads of another rank, and running
away in their turn; and then forming squares, with officers in the
centre; and then descending the trench on one side with scaling-
ladders, and ascending it on the other again by the same means;
and knocking down barricades of baskets, and behaving in the
most gallant manner possible. Then there was such a ramming
down of the contents of enormous guns on the battery, with
instruments like magnified mops; such a preparation before they
were let off, and such an awful noise when they did go, that the
air resounded with the screams of ladies. The young Misses
Wardle were so frightened, that Mr. Trundle was actually obliged
to hold one of them up in the carriage, while Mr. Snodgrass
supported the other; and Mr. Wardles sister suffered under such
a dreadful state of nervous alarm, that Mr. Tupman found it
indispensably necessary to put his arm round her waist, to keep
her up at all. Everybody was excited, except the fat boy, and he
slept as soundly as if the roaring of cannon were his ordinary lullaby.
Joe, Joe! said the stout gentleman, when the citadel was
taken, and the besiegers and besieged sat down to dinner. Damn
that boy, hes gone to sleep again. Be good enough to pinch him,
sir--in the leg, if you please; nothing else wakes him--thank you.
Undo the hamper, Joe.
The fat boy, who had been effectually roused by the
compression of a portion of his leg between the finger and thumb of
Mr. Winkle, rolled off the box once again, and proceeded to
unpack the hamper with more expedition than could have been
expected from his previous inactivity.
Now we must sit close, said the stout gentleman. After a
great many jokes about squeezing the ladies sleeves, and a vast
quantity of blushing at sundry jocose proposals, that the ladies
should sit in the gentlemens laps, the whole party were stowed
down in the barouche; and the stout gentleman proceeded to
hand the things from the fat boy (who had mounted up behind
for the purpose) into the carriage.
Now, Joe, knives and forks. The knives and forks were
handed in, and the ladies and gentlemen inside, and Mr. Winkle
on the box, were each furnished with those useful instruments.
Plates, Joe, plates. A similar process employed in the
distribution of the crockery.
Now, Joe, the fowls. Damn that boy; hes gone to sleep again.
Joe! Joe! (Sundry taps on the head with a stick, and the fat boy,
with some difficulty, roused from his lethargy.) Come, hand in
the eatables.
There was something in the sound of the last word which
roused the unctuous boy. He jumped up, and the leaden eyes
which twinkled behind his mountainous cheeks leered horribly
upon the food as he unpacked it from the basket.
Now make haste, said Mr. Wardle; for the fat boy was
hanging fondly over a capon, which he seemed wholly unable to
part with. The boy sighed deeply, and, bestowing an ardent gaze
upon its plumpness, The Pickwick Papers page 24 The Pickwick Papers page 26 |