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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
Mr. Jingle--Mr. Pickwicks friend, Mr. Jingle, come pon
--little visit.
Is anything the matter with Mr. Snodgrass, Sir? inquired
Emily, with great anxiety.
Nothing the matter, maam, replied the stranger. Cricket
dinner--glorious party--capital songs--old port--claret--good
--very good--wine, maam--wine.
It wasnt the wine, murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken
voice. It was the salmon. (Somehow or other, it never is the
wine, in these cases.)
Hadnt they better go to bed, maam? inquired Emma. Two
of the boys will carry the gentlemen upstairs.
I wont go to bed, said Mr. Winkle firmly.
No living boy shall carry me, said Mr. Pickwick stoutly; and
he went on smiling as before.
Hurrah! gasped Mr. Winkle faintly.
Hurrah! echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat and dashing
it on the floor, and insanely casting his spectacles into the middle
of the kitchen. At this humorous feat he laughed outright.
Lets--have--nother--bottle,cried Mr. Winkle, commencing
in a very loud key, and ending in a very faint one. His head
dropped upon his breast; and, muttering his invincible determination
not to go to his bed, and a sanguinary regret that he had
not done for old Tupman in the morning, he fell fast asleep; in
which condition he was borne to his apartment by two young
giants under the personal superintendence of the fat boy, to
whose protecting care Mr. Snodgrass shortly afterwards confided
his own person, Mr. Pickwick accepted the proffered arm of
Mr. Tupman and quietly disappeared, smiling more than ever;
and Mr. Wardle, after taking as affectionate a leave of the whole
family as if he were ordered for immediate execution, consigned
to Mr. Trundle the honour of conveying him upstairs, and
retired, with a very futile attempt to look impressively solemn
and dignified.
What a shocking scene! said the spinster aunt.
Dis-gusting! ejaculated both the young ladies.
Dreadful--dreadful! said Jingle, looking very grave: he was
about a bottle and a half ahead of any of his companions.
Horrid spectacle--very!
What a nice man! whispered the spinster aunt to Mr. Tupman.
Good-looking, too! whispered Emily Wardle.
Oh, decidedly, observed the spinster aunt.
Mr. Tupman thought of the widow at Rochester, and his mind
was troubled. The succeeding half-hours conversation was not
of a nature to calm his perturbed spirit. The new visitor was very
talkative, and the number of his anecdotes was only to be
exceeded by the extent of his politeness. Mr. Tupman felt that as
Jingles popularity increased, he (Tupman) retired further into the
shade. His laughter was forced--his merriment feigned; and
when at last he laid his aching temples between the sheets, he
thought, with horrid delight, on the satisfaction it would afford
him to have Jingles head at that moment between the feather bed
and the mattress.
The indefatigable stranger rose betimes next morning, and,
although his companions remained in bed overpowered with the
dissipation of the previous night, exerted himself most successfully
to promote the hilarity of the breakfast-table. So successful
were his efforts, that even the deaf old lady insisted on having one
or two of his best jokes retailed through the trumpet; and even
she condescended to observe to the spinster aunt, that He
(meaning Jingle) was an impudent young fellow: a sentiment in
which all her relations then and there present thoroughly
coincided.
It was the old ladys habit on the fine summer mornings to
repair to the arbour in which Mr. Tupman had already signalised
himself, in form and manner following: first, the fat boy fetched
from a peg behind the old ladys bedroom door, a close black
satin bonnet, a warm cotton shawl, and a thick stick with a
capacious handle; and the old lady, having put on the bonnet and
shawl at her leisure, would lean one hand on the stick and the
other on the fat boys shoulder, and walk leisurely to the arbour,
where the fat boy would leave her to enjoy the fresh air for the
space of half an hour; at the expiration of which time he would
return and reconduct her to the house.
The old lady was very precise and very particular; and as this
ceremony had been observed for three successive summers
without the slightest deviation from the accustomed form,
she was not a little surprised on this particular morning to see
the fat boy, instead of leaving the arbour, walk a few paces out
of it, look carefully round him in every direction, and return
towards her with great stealth and an air of the most profound mystery.
The old lady was timorous--most old ladies are--and her first
impression was that the bloated lad was about The Pickwick Papers page 48 The Pickwick Papers page 50 |