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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
say, it was a
large, bare-looking room, the furniture of which had no doubt
been better when it was newer, with a spacious table in the centre,
and a variety of smaller dittos in the corners; an extensive
assortment of variously shaped chairs, and an old Turkey carpet,
bearing about the same relative proportion to the size of the
room, as a ladys pocket-handkerchief might to the floor of a
watch-box. The walls were garnished with one or two large
maps; and several weather-beaten rough greatcoats, with
complicated capes, dangled from a long row of pegs in one
corner. The mantel-shelf was ornamented with a wooden inkstand,
containing one stump of a pen and half a wafer; a road-
book and directory; a county history minus the cover; and the
mortal remains of a trout in a glass coffin. The atmosphere was
redolent of tobacco-smoke, the fumes of which had communicated
a rather dingy hue to the whole room, and more especially
to the dusty red curtains which shaded the windows. On the
sideboard a variety of miscellaneous articles were huddled
together, the most conspicuous of which were some very cloudy
fish-sauce cruets, a couple of driving-boxes, two or three whips,
and as many travelling shawls, a tray of knives and forks, and
the mustard.
Here it was that Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were seated
on the evening after the conclusion of the election, with several
other temporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking.
Well, gents, said a stout, hale personage of about forty, with
only one eye--a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a
roguish expression of fun and good-humour, our noble selves,
gents. I always propose that toast to the company, and drink
Mary to myself. Eh, Mary!
Get along with you, you wretch, said the hand-maiden,
obviously not ill-pleased with the compliment, however.
Dont go away, Mary, said the black-eyed man.
Let me alone, imperence, said the young lady.
Never mind, said the one-eyed man, calling after the girl as
she left the room. Ill step out by and by, Mary. Keep your
spirits up, dear. Here he went through the not very difficult
process of winking upon the company with his solitary eye, to
the enthusiastic delight of an elderly personage with a dirty face
and a clay pipe.
Rum creeters is women, said the dirty-faced man, after a pause.
Ah! no mistake about that, said a very red-faced man,
behind a cigar.
After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause.
Theres rummer things than women in this world though,
mind you, said the man with the black eye, slowly filling a large
Dutch pipe, with a most capacious bowl.
Are you married? inquired the dirty-faced man.
Cant say I am.
I thought not. Here the dirty-faced man fell into ecstasies of
mirth at his own retort, in which he was joined by a man of
bland voice and placid countenance, who always made it a point
to agree with everybody.
Women, after all, gentlemen, said the enthusiastic Mr.
Snodgrass, are the great props and comforts of our existence.
So they are, said the placid gentleman.
When theyre in a good humour, interposed the dirty-faced man.
And thats very true, said the placid one.
I repudiate that qualification, said Mr. Snodgrass, whose
thoughts were fast reverting to Emily Wardle. I repudiate it
with disdain--with indignation. Show me the man who says
anything against women, as women, and I boldly declare he is
not a man. And Mr. Snodgrass took his cigar from his mouth,
and struck the table violently with his clenched fist.
Thats good sound argument, said the placid man.
Containing a position which I deny, interrupted he of the
dirty countenance.
And theres certainly a very great deal of truth in what you
observe too, Sir, said the placid gentleman.
Your health, Sir, said the bagman with the lonely eye,
bestowing an approving nod on Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment.
I always like to hear a good argument,continued the bagman,
a sharp one, like this: its very improving; but this little argument
about women brought to my mind a story I have heard an
old uncle of mine tell, the recollection of which, just now, made
me say there were rummer things than women to be met with, sometimes.
I should like to hear that same story, said the red-faced man
with the cigar.
Should you? was the only reply of the bagman, who
continued to smoke with great vehemence.
So should I, said Mr. Tupman, speaking for the first time.
He was always anxious to The Pickwick Papers page 85 The Pickwick Papers page 87 |