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The Pickwick Papers 359







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Martin Eden

The Pickwick Papers

The Sea Wolf




a welocity you never see and notvithstandin that the drag wos put on directly by the medikel man it wornt of no use at all for she paid the last pike at twenty minutes afore six oclock yesterday evenin havin done the journey wery much under the reglar time vich praps was partly owen to her haven taken in wery little luggage by the vay your father says that if you vill come and see me Sammy he vill take it as a wery great favor for I am wery lonely Samivel n. b. he VILL have it spelt that vay vich I say ant right and as there is sich a many things to settle he is sure your guvner wont object of course he vill not Sammy for I knows him better so he sends his dooty in which I join and am Samivel infernally yours TONY VELLER. Wot a incomprehensible letter, said Sam; whos to know wot it means, vith all this he-ing and I-ing! It aint my fathers writin, cept this here signater in print letters; thats his. Perhaps he got somebody to write it for him, and signed it himself afterwards, said the pretty housemaid. Stop a minit, replied Sam, running over the letter again, and pausing here and there, to reflect, as he did so. Youve hit it. The genlmn as wrote it wos a-tellin all about the misfortun in a proper vay, and then my father comes a-lookin over him, and complicates the whole concern by puttin his oar in. Thats just the wery sort o thing hed do. Youre right, Mary, my dear. Having satisfied himself on this point, Sam read the letter all over, once more, and, appearing to form a clear notion of its contents for the first time, ejaculated thoughtfully, as he folded it up-- And so the poor creeturs dead! Im sorry for it. She warnt a bad-disposed ooman, if them shepherds had let her alone. Im wery sorry for it. Mr. Weller uttered these words in so serious a manner, that the pretty housemaid cast down her eyes and looked very grave. Howsever, said Sam, putting the letter in his pocket with a gentle sigh, it wos to be--and wos, as the old lady said arter shed married the footman. Cant be helped now, can it, Mary? Mary shook her head, and sighed too. I must apply to the hemperor for leave of absence, said Sam. Mary sighed again--the letter was so very affecting. Good-bye! said Sam. Good-bye, rejoined the pretty housemaid, turning her head away. Well, shake hands, wont you? said Sam. The pretty housemaid put out a hand which, although it was a housemaids, was a very small one, and rose to go. I shant be wery long avay, said Sam. Youre always away, said Mary, giving her head the slightest possible toss in the air. You no sooner come, Mr. Weller, than you go again. Mr. Weller drew the household beauty closer to him, and entered upon a whispering conversation, which had not proceeded far, when she turned her face round and condescended to look at him again. When they parted, it was somehow or other indispensably necessary for her to go to her room, and arrange the cap and curls before she could think of presenting herself to her mistress; which preparatory ceremony she went off to perform, bestowing many nods and smiles on Sam over the banisters as she tripped upstairs. I shant be avay more than a day, or two, Sir, at the furthest, said Sam, when he had communicated to Mr. Pickwick the intelligence of his fathers loss. As long as may be necessary, Sam, replied Mr. Pickwick, you have my full permission to remain. Sam bowed. You will tell your father, Sam, that if I can be of any assistance to him in his present situation, I shall be most willing and ready to lend him any aid in my power, said Mr. Pickwick. Thankee, sir, rejoined Sam. Ill mention it, sir. And with some expressions of mutual good-will and interest, master and man separated. It was just seven oclock when Samuel Weller, alighting from the box of a stage-coach which passed through Dorking, stood within a few hundred yards of the Marquis of Granby. It was a cold, dull evening; the little street looked dreary and dismal; and the mahogany countenance of the noble and gallant marquis seemed to wear a more sad and melancholy expression

The Pickwick Papers page 358        The Pickwick Papers page 360