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disgraceful
contest between two members of that club should be allowed to
continue. (Hear, hear.)
The CHAIRMAN was quite sure the hon. Pickwickian would
withdraw the expression he had just made use of.
Mr. BLOTTON, with all possible respect for the chair, was quite
sure he would not.
The CHAIRMAN felt it his imperative duty to demand of the
honourable gentleman, whether he had used the expression which
had just escaped him in a common sense.
Mr. BLOTTON had no hesitation in saying that he had not--he
had used the word in its Pickwickian sense. (Hear, hear.) He was
bound to acknowledge that, personally, he entertained the
highest regard and esteem for the honourable gentleman; he had
merely considered him a humbug in a Pickwickian point of view.
(Hear, hear.)
Mr. PICKWICK felt much gratified by the fair, candid, and full
explanation of his honourable friend. He begged it to be at once
understood, that his own observations had been merely intended
to bear a Pickwickian construction. (Cheers.)
Here the entry terminates, as we have no doubt the debate did
also, after arriving at such a highly satisfactory and intelligible
point. We have no official statement of the facts which the reader
will find recorded in the next chapter, but they have been carefully
collated from letters and other MS. authorities, so unquestionably
genuine as to justify their narration in a connected form.
CHAPTER II THE FIRST DAYS JOURNEY, AND THE FIRST EVENINGS ADVENTURES; WITH THEIR CONSEQUENCES That punctual servant of all work, the sun, had just risen, and begun to strike a light on the morning of the thirteenth of May, one thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven, when Mr. Samuel Pickwick burst like another sun from his slumbers, threw open his chamber window, and looked out upon the world beneath. Goswell Street was at his feet, Goswell Street was on his right hand--as far as the eye could reach, Goswell Street extended on his left; and the opposite side of Goswell Street was over the way. Such, thought Mr. Pickwick, are the narrow views of those philosophers who, content with examining the things that lie before them, look not to the truths which are hidden beyond. As well might I be content to gaze on Goswell Street for ever, without one effort to penetrate to the hidden countries which on every side surround it. And having given vent to this beautiful reflection, Mr. Pickwick proceeded to put himself into his clothes, and his clothes into his portmanteau. Great men are seldom over scrupulous in the arrangement of their attire; the operation of shaving, dressing, and coffee-imbibing was soon performed; and, in another hour, Mr. Pickwick, with his portmanteau in his hand, his telescope in his greatcoat pocket, and his note-book in his waistcoat, ready for the reception of any discoveries worthy of being noted down, had arrived at the coach-stand in St. Martins-le-Grand. Cab! said Mr. Pickwick. Here you are, sir, shouted a strange specimen of the human race, in a sackcloth coat, and apron of the same, who, with a brass label and number round his neck, looked as if he were catalogued in some collection of rarities. This was the waterman. Here you are, sir. Now, then, fust cab! And the first cab having been fetched from the public-house, where he had been smoking his first pipe, Mr. Pickwick and his portmanteau were thrown into the vehicle. Golden Cross, said Mr. Pickwick. Only a bobs vorth, Tommy, cried the driver sulkily, for the information of his friend the waterman, as the cab drove off. How old is that horse, my friend? inquired Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his nose with the shilling he had reserved for the fare. Forty-two, replied the driver, eyeing him askant. What! ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, laying his hand upon his note-book. The driver reiterated his former statement. Mr. Pickwick looked very hard at the mans face, but his features were immovable, so he noted down the fact forthwith. And how long do you keep him out at a time?inquired Mr. Pickwick, searching for further information. Two or three veeks, replied the man. Weeks! said Mr. Pickwick in astonishment, and out came the note-book again. He lives at Pentonwil when hes at home, observed the driver coolly, but we seldom takes him home, on account of his weakness. On account of his weakness! reiterated the perplexed Mr. Pickwick. He always falls down when hes took out o the cab, continued the driver, but when hes in it, we bears him up The Pickwick Papers page 2 The Pickwick Papers page 4 |