WATCH Hottest Scene of Elisha Cuthbert
Hot Elisha Cuthbert at MrSkin
CLICK HERE for Instant Access


Elisha Cuthbert Photos
The Pickwick Papers 90







Elisha Cuthbert Photos



Books:

Martin Eden

The Pickwick Papers

The Sea Wolf




that would have held the baggage of a small army; but what struck Toms fancy most was a strange, grim-looking, high backed chair, carved in the most fantastic manner, with a flowered damask cushion, and the round knobs at the bottom of the legs carefully tied up in red cloth, as if it had got the gout in its toes. Of any other queer chair, Tom would only have thought it was a queer chair, and there would have been an end of the matter; but there was something about this particular chair, and yet he couldnt tell what it was, so odd and so unlike any other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it seemed to fascinate him. He sat down before the fire, and stared at the old chair for half an hour.--Damn the chair, it was such a strange old thing, he couldnt take his eyes off it. "Well," said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and staring at the old chair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by the bedside, "I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very odd," said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch--very odd." Tom shook his head with an air of profound wisdom, and looked at the chair again. He couldnt make anything of it though, so he got into bed, covered himself up warm, and fell asleep. In about half an hour, Tom woke up with a start, from a confused dream of tall men and tumblers of punch; and the first object that presented itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair. "I wont look at it any more," said Tom to himself, and he squeezed his eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was going to sleep again. No use; nothing but queer chairs danced before his eyes, kicking up their legs, jumping over each others backs, and playing all kinds of antics. "I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete sets of false ones," said Tom, bringing out his head from under the bedclothes. There it was, plainly discernible by the light of the fire, looking as provoking as ever. Tom gazed at the chair; and, suddenly as he looked at it, a most extraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving of the back gradually assumed the lineaments and expression of an old, shrivelled human face; the damask cushion became an antique, flapped waistcoat; the round knobs grew into a couple of feet, encased in red cloth slippers; and the whole chair looked like a very ugly old man, of the previous century, with his arms akimbo. Tom sat up in bed, and rubbed his eyes to dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly old gentleman; and what was more, he was winking at Tom Smart. Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had had five tumblers of hot punch into the bargain; so, although he was a little startled at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he saw the old gentleman winking and leering at him with such an impudent air. At length he resolved that he wouldnt stand it; and as the old face still kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in a very angry tone-- "What the devil are you winking at me for?" "Because I like it, Tom Smart," said the chair; or the old gentleman, whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking though, when Tom spoke, and began grinning like a superannuated monkey. "How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face?" inquired Tom Smart, rather staggered; though he pretended to carry it off so well. "Come, come, Tom," said the old gentleman, "thats not the way to address solid Spanish mahogany. Damme, you couldnt treat me with less respect if I was veneered." When the old gentleman said this, he looked so fierce that Tom began to grow frightened. "I didnt mean to treat you with any disrespect, Sir," said Tom, in a much humbler tone than he had spoken in at first. "Well, well," said the old fellow, "perhaps not--perhaps not. Tom--" "sir--" "I know everything about you, Tom; everything. Youre very poor, Tom." "I certainly am," said Tom Smart. "But how came you to know that?" "Never mind that," said the old gentleman; "youre much too fond of punch, Tom." Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadnt tasted a

The Pickwick Papers page 89        The Pickwick Papers page 91