HOW Mr. PICKWICK SPED UPON HIS MISSION,AND HOW HE WAS REINFORCEDIN THE OUTSET BY A MOSTUNEXPECTED AUXILIARYhe horses were put to, punctually at a quarter before ninenext morning, and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller havingeach taken his seat, the one inside and the other out, thepostillion was duly directed to repair in the first instance to Mr.
Bob Sawyer’s house, for the purpose of taking up Mr. BenjaminAllen.
It was with feelings of no small astonishment2, when thecarriage drew up before the door with the red lamp, and the verylegible inscription3 of ‘Sawyer, late Nockemorf,’ that Mr. Pickwicksaw, on popping his head out of the coach window, the boy in thegrey livery very busily employed in putting up the shutters4―thewhich, being an unusual and an unbusinesslike proceeding5 at thathour of the morning, at once suggested to his mind two inferences:
the one, that some good friend and patient of Mr. Bob Sawyer’swas dead; the other, that Mr. Bob Sawyer himself was bankrupt.
‘What is the matter?’ said Mr. Pickwick to the boy.
‘Nothing’s the matter, sir,’ replied the boy, expanding hismouth to the whole breadth of his countenance6.
‘All right, all right!’ cried Bob Sawyer, suddenly appearing atthe door, with a small leathern knapsack, limp and dirty, in onehand, and a rough coat and shawl thrown over the other arm. ‘I’mgoing, old fellow.’
‘You!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
‘Yes,’ replied Bob Sawyer, ‘and a regular expedition we’ll makeof it. Here, Sam! Look out!’ Thus briefly7 bespeaking8 Mr. Weller’sattention, Mr. Bob Sawyer jerked the leathern knapsack into thedickey, where it was immediately stowed away, under the seat, bySam, who regarded the proceeding with great admiration9. Thisdone, Mr. Bob Sawyer, with the assistance of the boy, forciblyworked himself into the rough coat, which was a few sizes toosmall for him, and then advancing to the coach window, thrust inhis head, and laughed boisterously10. ‘What a start it is, isn’t it?’
cried Bob, wiping the tears out of his eyes, with one of the cuffs12 ofthe rough coat.
‘My dear sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, with some embarrassment13, ‘Ihad no idea of your accompanying us.’
‘No, that’s just the very thing,’ replied Bob, seizing Mr.
Pickwick by the lappel of his coat. ‘That’s the joke.’
‘Oh, that’s the joke, is it?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Of course,’ replied Bob. ‘It’s the whole point of the thing, youknow―that, and leaving the business to take care of itself, as itseems to have made up its mind not to take care of me.’ With thisexplanation of the phenomenon of the shutters, Mr. Bob Sawyerpointed to the shop, and relapsed into an ecstasy15 of mirth.
‘Bless me, you are surely not mad enough to think of leavingyour patients without anybody to attend them!’ remonstrated16 Mr.
Pickwick in a very serious tone.
‘Why not?’ asked Bob, in reply. ‘I shall save by it, you know.
None of them ever pay. Besides,’ said Bob, lowering his voice to aconfidential whisper, ‘they will be all the better for it; for, beingnearly out of drugs, and not able to increase my account just now,I should have been obliged to give them calomel all round, and itwould have been certain to have disagreed with some of them. Soit’s all for the best.’
There was a philosophy and a strength of reasoning about thisreply, which Mr. Pickwick was not prepared for. He paused a fewmoments, and added, less firmly than before―‘But this chaise, my young friend, will only hold two; and I ampledged to Mr. Allen.’
‘Don’t think of me for a minute,’ replied Bob. ‘I’ve arranged itall; Sam and I will share the dickey between us. Look here. Thislittle bill is to be wafered on the shop door: “Sawyer, lateNockemorf. Inquire of Mrs. Cripps over the way.” Mrs. Cripps ismy boy’s mother. “Mr. Sawyer’s very sorry,” says Mrs. Cripps,“couldn’t help it―fetched away early this morning to aconsultation of the very first surgeons in the country―couldn’t dowithout him―would have him at any price―tremendousoperation.” The fact is,’ said Bob, in conclusion, ‘it’ll do me moregood than otherwise, I expect. If it gets into one of the local papers,it will be the making of me. Here’s Ben; now then, jump in!’
With these hurried words, Mr. Bob Sawyer pushed the postboyon one side, jerked his friend into the vehicle, slammed the door,put up the steps, wafered the bill on the street door, locked it, putthe key in his pocket, jumped into the dickey, gave the word forstarting, and did the whole with such extraordinary precipitation,that before Mr. Pickwick had well begun to consider whether Mr.
Bob Sawyer ought to go or not, they were rolling away, with Mr.
Bob Sawyer thoroughly17 established as part and parcel of theequipage.
So long as their progress was confined to the streets of Bristol,the facetious18 Bob kept his professional green spectacles on, andconducted himself with becoming steadiness and gravity ofdemeanour; merely giving utterance19 to divers20 verbal witticisms21 forthe exclusive behoof and entertainment of Mr. Samuel Weller. Butwhen they emerged on the open road, he threw off his greenspectacles and his gravity together, and performed a great varietyof practical jokes, which were calculated to attract the attention ofthe passersby23, and to render the carriage and those it containedobjects of more than ordinary curiosity; the least conspicuousamong these feats24 being a most vociferous25 imitation of a key-bugle, and the ostentatious display of a crimson26 silk pocket-handkerchief attached to a walking-stick, which was occasionallywaved in the air with various gestures indicative of supremacy27 anddefiance.
‘I wonder,’ said Mr. Pickwick, stopping in the midst of a mostsedate conversation with Ben Allen, bearing reference to thenumerous good qualities of Mr. Winkle and his sister―‘I wonderwhat all the people we pass, can see in us to make them stare so.’
‘It’s a neat turn-out,’ replied Ben Allen, with something of pridein his tone. ‘They’re not used to see this sort of thing, every day, Idare say.’
‘Possibly,’ replied Mr. Pickwick. ‘It may be so. Perhaps it is.’
Mr. Pickwick might very probably have reasoned himself intothe belief that it really was, had he not, just then happening to lookout28 of the coach window, observed that the looks of the passengersbetokened anything but respectful astonishment, and that varioustelegraphic communications appeared to be passing betweenthem and some persons outside the vehicle, whereupon itoccurred to him that these demonstrations30 might be, in someremote degree, referable to the humorous deportment of Mr.
Robert Sawyer.
‘I hope,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘that our volatile31 friend iscommitting no absurdities32 in that dickey behind.’
‘Oh dear, no,’ replied Ben Allen. ‘Except when he’s elevated,Bob’s the quietest creature breathing.’
Here a prolonged imitation of a key-bugle broke upon the ear,succeeded by cheers and screams, all of which evidentlyproceeded from the throat and lungs of the quietest creaturebreathing, or in plainer designation, of Mr. Bob Sawyer himself.
Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen looked expressively33 at eachother, and the former gentleman taking off his hat, and leaning outof the coach window until nearly the whole of his waistcoat wasoutside it, was at length enabled to catch a glimpse of his facetiousfriend.
Mr. Bob Sawyer was seated, not in the dickey, but on the roof ofthe chaise, with his legs as far asunder34 as they would convenientlygo, wearing Mr. Samuel Weller’s hat on one side of his head, andbearing, in one hand, a most enormous sandwich, while, in theother, he supported a goodly-sized case-bottle, to both of which heapplied himself with intense relish36, varying the monotony of theoccupation by an occasional howl, or the interchange of somelively badinage37 with any passing stranger. The crimson flag wascarefully tied in an erect39 position to the rail of the dickey; and Mr.
Samuel Weller, decorated with Bob Sawyer’s hat, was seated inthe centre thereof, discussing a twin sandwich, with an animatedcountenance, the expression of which betokened29 his entire andperfect approval of the whole arrangement.
This was enough to irritate a gentleman with Mr. Pickwick’ssense of propriety40, but it was not the whole extent of theaggravation, for a stage-coach full, inside and out, was meetingthem at the moment, and the astonishment of the passengers wasvery palpably evinced. The congratulations of an Irish family, too,who were keeping up with the chaise, and begging all the time,were of rather a boisterous11 description, especially those of its malehead, who appeared to consider the display as part and parcel ofsome political or other procession of triumph.
‘Mr. Sawyer!’ cried Mr. Pickwick, in a state of great excitement,‘Mr. Sawyer, sir!’
‘Hollo!’ responded that gentleman, looking over the side of thechaise with all the coolness in life.
‘Are you mad, sir?’ demanded Mr. Pickwick.
‘Not a bit of it,’ replied Bob; ‘only cheerful.’
‘Cheerful, sir!’ ejaculated Mr. Pickwick. ‘Take down thatscandalous red handkerchief, I beg. I insist, sir. Sam, take itdown.’
Before Sam could interpose, Mr. Bob Sawyer gracefully41 struckhis colours, and having put them in his pocket, nodded in acourteous manner to Mr. Pickwick, wiped the mouth of the case-bottle, and applied35 it to his own, thereby42 informing him, withoutany unnecessary waste of words, that he devoted43 that draught44 towishing him all manner of happiness and prosperity. Having donethis, Bob replaced the cork45 with great care, and lookingbenignantly down on Mr. Pickwick, took a large bite out of thesandwich, and smiled.
‘Come,’ said Mr. Pickwick, whose momentary46 anger was notquite proof against Bob’s immovable self-possession, ‘pray let us have no more of this absurdity47.’
‘No, no,’ replied Bob, once more exchanging hats with Mr.
Weller; ‘I didn’t mean to do it, only I got so enlivened with the ridethat I couldn’t help it.’
‘Think of the look of the thing,’ expostulated Mr. Pickwick;‘have some regard to appearances.’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Bob, ‘it’s not the sort of thing at all. All over,governor.’
Satisfied with this assurance, Mr. Pickwick once more drew hishead into the chaise and pulled up the glass; but he had scarcelyresumed the conversation which Mr. Bob Sawyer had interrupted,when he was somewhat startled by the apparition48 of a small darkbody, of an oblong form, on the outside of the window, which gavesundry taps against it, as if impatient of admission.
‘What’s this?’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
‘It looks like a case-bottle;’ remarked Ben Allen, eyeing theobject in question through his spectacles with some interest; ‘Irather think it belongs to Bob.’
The impression was perfectly49 accurate; for Mr. Bob Sawyer,having attached the case-bottle to the end of the walking-stick,was battering50 the window with it, in token of his wish, that hisfriends inside would partake of its contents, in all good-fellowshipand harmony.
‘What’s to be done?’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking at the bottle.
‘This proceeding is more absurd than the other.’
‘I think it would be best to take it in,’ replied Mr. Ben Allen; ‘itwould serve him right to take it in and keep it, wouldn’t it?’
‘It would,’ said Mr. Pickwick; ‘shall I?’
‘I think it the most proper course we could possibly adopt,’
replied Ben.
This advice quite coinciding with his own opinion, Mr. Pickwickgently let down the window and disengaged the bottle from thestick; upon which the latter was drawn51 up, and Mr. Bob Sawyerwas heard to laugh heartily52.
‘What a merry dog it is!’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking round at hiscompanion, with the bottle in his hand.
‘He is,’ said Mr. Allen.
‘You cannot possibly be angry with him,’ remarked Mr.
Pickwick.
‘Quite out of the question,’ observed Benjamin Allen.
During this short interchange of sentiments, Mr. Pickwick had,in an abstracted mood, uncorked the bottle.
‘What is it?’ inquired Ben Allen carelessly.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, with equal carelessness. ‘Itsmells, I think, like milk-punch.’
‘Oh, indeed?’ said Ben.
‘I think so,’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick, very properly guardinghimself against the possibility of stating an untruth; ‘mind, I couldnot undertake to say certainly, without tasting it.’
‘You had better do so,’ said Ben; ‘we may as well know what itis.’
‘Do you think so?’ replied Mr. Pickwick. ‘Well; if you arecurious to know, of course I have no objection.’
Ever willing to sacrifice his own feelings to the wishes of hisfriend, Mr. Pickwick at once took a pretty long taste.
‘What is it?’ inquired Ben Allen, interrupting him with someimpatience.
‘Curious,’ said Mr. Pickwick, smacking53 his lips, ‘I hardly know,now. Oh, yes!’ said Mr. Pickwick, after a second taste. ‘It is punch.’
Mr. Ben Allen looked at Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick looked atMr. Ben Allen; Mr. Ben Allen smiled; Mr. Pickwick did not.
‘It would serve him right,’ said the last-named gentleman, withsome severity―‘it would serve him right to drink it every drop.’
‘The very thing that occurred to me,’ said Ben Allen.
‘Is it, indeed?’ rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ‘Then here’s his health!’
With these words, that excellent person took a most energetic pullat the bottle, and handed it to Ben Allen, who was not slow toimitate his example. The smiles became mutual54, and the milk-punch was gradually and cheerfully disposed of.
‘After all,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as he drained the last drop, ‘hispranks are really very amusing; very entertaining indeed.’
‘You may say that,’ rejoined Mr. Ben Allen. In proof of BobSawyer’s being one of the funniest fellows alive, he proceeded toentertain Mr. Pickwick with a long and circumstantial accounthow that gentleman once drank himself into a fever and got hishead shaved; the relation of which pleasant and agreeable historywas only stopped by the stoppage of the chaise at the Bell atBerkeley Heath, to change horses.
‘I say! We’re going to dine here, aren’t we?’ said Bob, looking inat the window.
‘Dine!’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Why, we have only come nineteenmiles, and have eighty-seven and a half to go.’
‘Just the reason why we should take something to enable us tobear up against the fatigue,’ remonstrated Mr. Bob Sawyer.
‘Oh, it’s quite impossible to dine at half-past eleven o’clock inthe day,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, looking at his watch.
‘So it is,’ rejoined Bob, ‘lunch is the very thing. Hollo, you sir!
Lunch for three, directly; and keep the horses back for a quarter ofan hour. Tell them to put everything they have cold, on the table,and some bottled ale, and let us taste your very best Madeira.’
Issuing these orders with monstrous55 importance and bustle56, Mr.
Bob Sawyer at once hurried into the house to superintend thearrangements; in less than five minutes he returned and declaredthem to be excellent.
The quality of the lunch fully38 justified57 the eulogium which Bobhad pronounced, and very great justice was done to it, not only bythat gentleman, but Mr. Ben Allen and Mr. Pickwick also. Underthe auspices58 of the three, the bottled ale and the Madeira werepromptly disposed of; and when (the horses being once more putto) they resumed their seats, with the case-bottle full of the bestsubstitute for milk-punch that could be procured59 on so short anotice, the key-bugle sounded, and the red flag waved, without theslightest opposition60 on Mr. Pickwick’s part.
At the Hop14 Pole at Tewkesbury, they stopped to dine; uponwhich occasion there was more bottled ale, with some moreMadeira, and some port besides; and here the case-bottle wasreplenished for the fourth time. Under the influence of thesecombined stimulants61, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Ben Allen fell fastasleep for thirty miles, while Bob and Mr. Weller sang duets in thedickey.
It was quite dark when Mr. Pickwick roused himself sufficientlyto look out of the window. The straggling cottages by the road-side, the dingy62 hue63 of every object visible, the murky64 atmosphere,the paths of cinders65 and brick-dust, the deep-red glow of furnacefires in the distance, the volumes of dense66 smoke issuing heavilyforth from high toppling chimneys, blackening and obscuringeverything around; the glare of distant lights, the ponderouswagons which toiled67 along the road, laden68 with clashing rods ofiron, or piled with heavy goods―all betokened their rapidapproach to the great working town of Birmingham.
As they rattled69 through the narrow thoroughfares leading to theheart of the turmoil70, the sights and sounds of earnest occupationstruck more forcibly on the senses. The streets were thronged71 withworking people. The hum of labour resounded72 from every house;lights gleamed from the long casement73 windows in the atticstoreys, and the whirl of wheels and noise of machinery74 shook thetrembling walls. The fires, whose lurid75, sullen76 light had beenvisible for miles, blazed fiercely up, in the great works andfactories of the town. The din1 of hammers, the rushing of steam,and the dead heavy clanking of engines, was the harsh musicwhich arose from every quarter. The postboy was driving brisklythrough the open streets, and past the handsome and well-lightedshops that intervene between the outskirts77 of the town and the OldRoyal Hotel, before Mr. Pickwick had begun to consider the verydifficult and delicate nature of the commission which had carriedhim thither78.
The delicate nature of this commission, and the difficulty ofexecuting it in a satisfactory manner, were by no means lessenedby the voluntary companionship of Mr. Bob Sawyer. Truth to tell,Mr. Pickwick felt that his presence on the occasion, howeverconsiderate and gratifying, was by no means an honour he wouldwillingly have sought; in fact, he would cheerfully have given areasonable sum of money to have had Mr. Bob Sawyer removed toany place at not less than fifty miles’ distance, without delay.
Mr. Pickwick had never held any personal communication withMr. Winkle, senior, although he had once or twice correspondedwith him by letter, and returned satisfactory answers to hisinquiries concerning the moral character and behaviour of his son;he felt nervously79 sensible that to wait upon him, for the first time,attended by Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen, both slightly fuddled, wasnot the most ingenious and likely means that could have been hitupon to prepossess him in his favour.
‘However,’ said Mr. Pickwick, endeavouring to reassurehimself, ‘I must do the best I can. I must see him to-night, for Ifaithfully promised to do so. If they persist in accompanying me, Imust make the interview as brief as possible, and be content that,for their own sakes, they will not expose themselves.’
As he comforted himself with these reflections, the chaisestopped at the door of the Old Royal. Ben Allen having beenpartially awakened80 from a stupendous sleep, and dragged out bythe collar by Mr. Samuel Weller, Mr. Pickwick was enabled toalight. They were shown to a comfortable apartment, and Mr.
Pickwick at once propounded81 a question to the waiter concerningthe whereabout of Mr. Winkle’s residence.
‘Close by, sir,’ said the waiter, ‘not above five hundred yards,sir. Mr. Winkle is a wharfinger, sir, at the canal, sir. Privateresidence is not―oh dear, no, sir, not five hundred yards, sir.’
Here the waiter blew a candle out, and made a feint of lighting82 itagain, in order to afford Mr. Pickwick an opportunity of asking anyfurther questions, if he felt so disposed. ‘Take anything now, sir?’
said the waiter, lighting the candle in desperation at Mr.
Pickwick’s silence. ‘Tea or coffee, sir? Dinner, sir?’
‘Nothing now.’
‘Very good, sir. Like to order supper, sir?’
‘Not just now.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Here, he walked slowly to the door, and thenstopping short, turned round and said, with great suavity―‘Shall I send the chambermaid, gentlemen?’
‘You may if you please,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.
‘If you please, sir.’
‘And bring some soda-water,’ said Bob Sawyer.
‘Soda-water, sir! Yes, sir.’ With his mind apparently83 relievedfrom an overwhelming weight, by having at last got an order forsomething, the waiter imperceptibly melted away. Waiters neverwalk or run. They have a peculiar84 and mysterious power ofskimming out of rooms, which other mortals possess not.
Some slight symptoms of vitality85 having been awakened in Mr.
Ben Allen by the soda-water, he suffered himself to be prevailedupon to wash his face and hands, and to submit to be brushed bySam. Mr. Pickwick and Bob Sawyer having also repaired thedisorder which the journey had made in their apparel, the threestarted forth22, arm in arm, to Mr. Winkle’s; Bob Sawyerimpregnating the atmosphere with tobacco smoke as he walkedalong.
About a quarter of a mile off, in a quiet, substantial-lookingstreet, stood an old red brick house with three steps before thedoor, and a brass86 plate upon it, bearing, in fat Roman capitals, thewords, ‘Mr. Winkle.’ The steps were very white, and the brickswere very red, and the house was very clean; and here stood Mr.
Pickwick, Mr. Benjamin Allen, and Mr. Bob Sawyer, as the clockstruck ten.
A smart servant-girl answered the knock, and started onbeholding the three strangers.
‘Is Mr. Winkle at home, my dear?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘He is just going to supper, sir,’ replied the girl.
‘Give him that card if you please, rejoined Mr. Pickwick. ‘Say Iam sorry to trouble him at so late an hour; but I am anxious to seehim to-night, and have only just arrived.’ The girl looked timidly atMr. Bob Sawyer, who was expressing his admiration of herpersonal charms by a variety of wonderful grimaces87; and castingan eye at the hats and greatcoats which hung in the passage,called another girl to mind the door while she went upstairs. Thesentinel was speedily relieved; for the girl returned immediately,and begging pardon of the gentlemen for leaving them in thestreet, ushered88 them into a floor-clothed back parlour, half officeand half dressing89 room, in which the principal useful andornamental articles of furniture were a desk, a wash-hand standand shaving-glass, a boot-rack and boot-jack, a high stool, fourchairs, a table, and an old eight-day clock. Over the mantelpiecewere the sunken doors of an iron safe, while a couple of hangingshelves for books, an almanac, and several files of dusty papers,decorated the walls.
‘Very sorry to leave you standing90 at the door, sir,’ said the girl,lighting a lamp, and addressing Mr. Pickwick with a winningsmile, ‘but you was quite strangers to me; and we have such amany trampers that only come to see what they can lay theirhands on, that really―’
‘There is not the least occasion for any apology, my dear,’ saidMr. Pickwick good-humouredly.
‘Not the slightest, my love,’ said Bob Sawyer, playfullystretching forth his arms, and skipping from side to side, as if toprevent the young lady’s leaving the room.
The young lady was not at all softened91 by these allurements92, forshe at once expressed her opinion, that Mr. Bob Sawyer was an‘odous creetur;’ and, on his becoming rather more pressing in hisattentions, imprinted93 her fair fingers upon his face, and bouncedout of the room with many expressions of aversion and contempt.
Deprived of the young lady’s society, Mr. Bob Sawyerproceeded to divert himself by peeping into the desk, looking intoall the table drawers, feigning94 to pick the lock of the iron safe,turning the almanac with its face to the wall, trying on the boots ofMr. Winkle, senior, over his own, and making several otherhumorous experiments upon the furniture, all of which affordedMr. Pickwick unspeakable horror and agony, and yielded Mr. BobSawyer proportionate delight.
At length the door opened, and a little old gentleman in a snuff-coloured suit, with a head and face the precise counterpart ofthose belonging to Mr. Winkle, junior, excepting that he wasrather bald, trotted95 into the room with Mr. Pickwick’s card in onehand, and a silver candlestick in the other.
‘Mr. Pickwick, sir, how do you do?’ said Winkle the elder,putting down the candlestick and proffering96 his hand. ‘Hope I seeyou well, sir. Glad to see you. Be seated, Mr. Pickwick, I beg, sir.
This gentleman is―’
‘My friend, Mr. Sawyer,’ interposed Mr. Pickwick, ‘your son’sfriend.’
‘Oh,’ said Mr. Winkle the elder, looking rather grimly at Bob. ‘Ihope you are well, sir.’
‘Right as a trivet, sir,’ replied Bob Sawyer.
‘This other gentleman,’ cried Mr. Pickwick, ‘is, as you will seewhen you have read the letter with which I am intrusted, a verynear relative, or I should rather say a very particular friend of yourson’s. His name is Allen.’
‘That gentleman?’ inquired Mr. Winkle, pointing with the cardtowards Ben Allen, who had fallen asleep in an attitude which leftnothing of him visible but his spine97 and his coat collar.
Mr. Pickwick was on the point of replying to the question, andreciting Mr. Benjamin Allen’s name and honourable98 distinctionsat full length, when the sprightly99 Mr. Bob Sawyer, with a view ofrousing his friend to a sense of his situation, inflicted100 a startlingpinch upon the fleshly part of his arm, which caused him to jumpup with a shriek101. Suddenly aware that he was in the presence of astranger, Mr. Ben Allen advanced and, shaking Mr. Winkle mostaffectionately by both hands for about five minutes, murmured, insome half-intelligible fragments of sentences, the great delight hefelt in seeing him, and a hospitable102 inquiry103 whether he feltdisposed to take anything after his walk, or would prefer waiting‘till dinner-time;’ which done, he sat down and gazed about himwith a petrified104 stare, as if he had not the remotest idea where hewas, which indeed he had not.
All this was most embarrassing to Mr. Pickwick, the moreespecially as Mr. Winkle, senior, evinced palpable astonishment atthe eccentric―not to say extraordinary―behaviour of his twocompanions. To bring the matter to an issue at once, he drew aletter from his pocket, and presenting it to Mr. Winkle, senior,said―‘This letter, sir, is from your son. You will see, by its contents,that on your favourable105 and fatherly consideration of it, dependhis future happiness and welfare. Will you oblige me by giving itthe calmest and coolest perusal106, and by discussing the subjectafterwards with me, in the tone and spirit in which alone it oughtto be discussed? You may judge of the importance of your decisionto your son, and his intense anxiety upon the subject, by mywaiting upon you, without any previous warning, at so late anhour; and,’ added Mr. Pickwick, glancing slightly at his twocompanions―‘and under such unfavourable circumstances.’
With this prelude107, Mr. Pickwick placed four closely-writtensides of extra superfine wire-wove penitence108 in the hands of theastounded Mr. Winkle, senior. Then reseating himself in his chair,he watched his looks and manner: anxiously, it is true, but withthe open front of a gentleman who feels he has taken no partwhich he need excuse or palliate. The old wharfinger turned theletter over, looked at the front, back, and sides, made amicroscopic examination of the fat little boy on the seal, raised hiseyes to Mr. Pickwick’s face, and then, seating himself on the highstool, and drawing the lamp closer to him, broke the wax, unfoldedthe epistle, and lifting it to the light, prepared to read. Just at thismoment, Mr. Bob Sawyer, whose wit had lain dormant109 for someminutes, placed his hands on his knees, and made a face after theportraits of the late Mr. Grimaldi, as clown. It so happened thatMr. Winkle, senior, instead of being deeply engaged in reading theletter, as Mr. Bob Sawyer thought, chanced to be looking over thetop of it at no less a person than Mr. Bob Sawyer himself; rightlyconjecturing that the face aforesaid was made in ridicule110 andderision of his own person, he fixed111 his eyes on Bob with suchexpressive sternness, that the late Mr. Grimaldi’s lineamentsgradually resolved themselves into a very fine expression ofhumility and confusion.
‘Did you speak, sir?’ inquired Mr. Winkle, senior, after an awfulsilence.
‘No, sir,’ replied Bob, With no remains112 of the clown about him,save and except the extreme redness of his cheeks.
‘You are sure you did not, sir?’ said Mr. Winkle, senior.
‘Oh dear, yes, sir, quite,’ replied Bob.
‘I thought you did, sir,’ replied the old gentleman, withindignant emphasis. ‘Perhaps you looked at me, sir?’
‘Oh, no! sir, not at all,’ replied Bob, with extreme civility.
‘I am very glad to hear it, sir,’ said Mr. Winkle, senior. Havingfrowned upon the abashed113 Bob with great magnificence, the oldgentleman again brought the letter to the light, and began to readit seriously.
Mr. Pickwick eyed him intently as he turned from the bottomline of the first page to the top line of the second, and from thebottom of the second to the top of the third, and from the bottomof the third to the top of the fourth; but not the slightest alterationof countenance afforded a clue to the feelings with which hereceived the announcement of his son’s marriage, which Mr.
Pickwick knew was in the very first half-dozen lines.
He read the letter to the last word, folded it again with all thecarefulness and precision of a man of business, and, just when Mr.
Pickwick expected some great outbreak of feeling, dipped a pen inthe ink-stand, and said, as quietly as if he were speaking on themost ordinary counting-house topic―‘What is Nathaniel’s address, Mr. Pickwick?’
‘The George and Vulture, at present,’ replied that gentleman.
‘George and Vulture. Where is that?’
‘George Yard, Lombard Street.’
‘In the city?’
‘Yes.’
The old gentleman methodically indorsed the address on theback of the letter; and then, placing it in the desk, which helocked, said, as he got off the stool and put the bunch of keys in hispocket―‘I suppose there is nothing else which need detain us, Mr.
Pickwick?’
‘Nothing else, my dear sir!’ observed that warm-hearted personin indignant amazement114. ‘Nothing else! Have you no opinion toexpress on this momentous115 event in our young friend’s life? Noassurance to convey to him, through me, of the continuance ofyour affection and protection? Nothing to say which will cheer andsustain him, and the anxious girl who looks to him for comfort andsupport? My dear sir, consider.’
‘I will consider,’ replied the old gentleman. ‘I have nothing tosay just now. I am a man of business, Mr. Pickwick. I nevercommit myself hastily in any affair, and from what I see of this, Iby no means like the appearance of it. A thousand pounds is notmuch, Mr. Pickwick.’
‘You’re very right, sir,’ interposed Ben Allen, just awakeenough to know that he had spent his thousand pounds withoutthe smallest difficulty. ‘You’re an intelligent man. Bob, he’s a veryknowing fellow this.’
‘I am very happy to find that you do me the justice to make theadmission, sir,’ said Mr. Winkle, senior, looking contemptuously atBen Allen, who was shaking his head profoundly. ‘The fact is, Mr.
Pickwick, that when I gave my son a roving license116 for a year orso, to see something of men and manners (which he has doneunder your auspices), so that he might not enter life a mereboarding-school milk-sop to be gulled117 by everybody, I neverbargained for this. He knows that very well, so if I withdraw mycountenance from him on this account, he has no call to besurprised. He shall hear from me, Mr. Pickwick. Good-night, sir.―Margaret, open the door.’
All this time, Bob Sawyer had been nudging Mr. Ben Allen tosay something on the right side; Ben accordingly now burst,without the slightest preliminary notice, into a brief butimpassioned piece of eloquence118.
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Ben Allen, staring at the old gentleman, out of apair of very dim and languid eyes, and working his right armvehemently up and down, ‘you―you ought to be ashamed ofyourself.’
‘As the lady’s brother, of course you are an excellent judge ofthe question,’ retorted Mr. Winkle, senior. ‘There; that’s enough.
Pray say no more, Mr. Pickwick. Good-night, gentlemen!’
With these words the old gentleman took up the candle-stickand opening the room door, politely motioned towards thepassage.
‘You will regret this, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, setting his teethclose together to keep down his choler; for he felt how importantthe effect might prove to his young friend.
‘I am at present of a different opinion,’ calmly replied Mr.
Winkle, senior. ‘Once again, gentlemen, I wish you a good-night.’
Mr. Pickwick walked with angry strides into the street. Mr. BobSawyer, completely quelled119 by the decision of the old gentleman’smanner, took the same course. Mr. Ben Allen’s hat rolled downthe steps immediately afterwards, and Mr. Ben Allen’s bodyfollowed it directly. The whole party went silent and supperless toboarding-school milk-sop to be gulled by everybody, I neverbargained for this. He knows that very well, so if I withdraw mycountenance from him on this account, he has no call to besurprised. He shall hear from me, Mr. Pickwick. Good-night, sir.―Margaret, open the door.’
All this time, Bob Sawyer had been nudging Mr. Ben Allen tosay something on the right side; Ben accordingly now burst,without the slightest preliminary notice, into a brief butimpassioned piece of eloquence.
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Ben Allen, staring at the old gentleman, out of apair of very dim and languid eyes, and working his right armvehemently up and down, ‘you―you ought to be ashamed ofyourself.’
‘As the lady’s brother, of course you are an excellent judge ofthe question,’ retorted Mr. Winkle, senior. ‘There; that’s enough.
Pray say no more, Mr. Pickwick. Good-night, gentlemen!’
With these words the old gentleman took up the candle-stickand opening the room door, politely motioned towards thepassage.
‘You will regret this, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, setting his teethclose together to keep down his choler; for he felt how importantthe effect might prove to his young friend.
‘I am at present of a different opinion,’ calmly replied Mr.
Winkle, senior. ‘Once again, gentlemen, I wish you a good-night.’
Mr. Pickwick walked with angry strides into the street. Mr. BobSawyer, completely quelled by the decision of the old gentleman’smanner, took the same course. Mr. Ben Allen’s hat rolled downthe steps immediately afterwards, and Mr. Ben Allen’s bodyfollowed it directly. The whole party went silent and supperless tobed; and Mr. Pickwick thought, just before he fell asleep, that if hehad known Mr. Winkle, senior, had been quite so much of a manof business, it was extremely probable he might never have waitedupon him, on such an errand.
收听单词发音 |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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bespeaking
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| v.预定( bespeak的现在分词 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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passersby
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| n. 过路人(行人,经过者) | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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25
vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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26
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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27
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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28
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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29
betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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31
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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32
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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37
badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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40
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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41
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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42
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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43
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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44
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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45
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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46
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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47
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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48
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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49
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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50
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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51
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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52
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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53
smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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54
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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55
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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56
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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57
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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58
auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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59
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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60
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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61
stimulants
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| n.兴奋剂( stimulant的名词复数 )；含兴奋剂的饮料；刺激物；激励物 | |
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62
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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63
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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64
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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65
cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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66
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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67
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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68
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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71
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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73
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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74
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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75
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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76
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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78
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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79
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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80
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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81
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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83
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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84
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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85
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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86
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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87
grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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proffering
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的现在分词 ) | |
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97
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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98
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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102
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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103
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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104
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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105
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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106
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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107
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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108
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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109
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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111
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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112
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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113
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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115
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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116
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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117
gulled
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| v.欺骗某人( gull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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119
quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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