He furthermore conjured him to avoid, above all things, thevice of intoxication, which he likened unto the filthy habits ofswine, and to those poisonous and baleful drugs which beingchewed in the mouth, are said to filch away the memory. At thispoint of his discourse, the reverend and red-nosed gentlemanbecame singularly incoherent, and staggering to and fro in theexcitement of his eloquence, was fain to catch at the back of achair to preserve his perpendicular.

Mr. Stiggins did not desire his hearers to be upon their guardagainst those false prophets and wretched mockers of religion,who, without sense to expound its first doctrines, or hearts to feelits first principles, are more dangerous members of society thanthe common criminal; imposing, as they necessarily do, upon theweakest and worst informed, casting scorn and contempt onwhat should be held most sacred, and bringing into partialdisrepute large bodies of virtuous and well-conducted persons ofmany excellent sects and persuasions. But as he leaned over theback of the chair for a considerable time, and closing one eye,winked a good deal with the other, it is presumed that he thoughtall this, but kept it to himself.

During the delivery of the oration, Mrs. Weller sobbed andwept at the end of the paragraphs; while Sam, sitting cross-legged on a chair and resting his arms on the top rail, regardedthe speaker with great suavity and blandness of demeanour;occasionally bestowing a look of recognition on the old gentleman,who was delighted at the beginning, and went to sleepabout half-way.

'Brayvo; wery pretty!' said Sam, when the red-nosed manhaving finished, pulled his worn gloves on, thereby thrusting hisfingers through the broken tops till the knuckles were disclosedto view. 'Wery pretty.'

'I hope it may do you good, Samuel,' said Mrs. Weller solemnly.

'I think it vill, mum,' replied Sam.

'I wish I could hope that it would do your father good,' saidMrs. Weller.

'Thank'ee, my dear,' said Mr. Weller, senior. 'How do you findyourself arter it, my love?'

'Scoffer!' exclaimed Mrs. Weller.

'Benighted man!' said the Reverend Mr. Stiggins.

'If I don't get no better light than that 'ere moonshine o'yourn, my worthy creetur,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 'it's werylikely as I shall continey to be a night coach till I'm took off theroad altogether. Now, Mrs. We, if the piebald stands at liverymuch longer, he'll stand at nothin' as we go back, and p'rapsthat 'ere harm-cheer 'ull be tipped over into some hedge oranother, with the shepherd in it.'

At this supposition, the Reverend Mr. Stiggins, in evidentconsternation, gathered up his hat and umbrella, and proposedan immediate departure, to which Mrs. Weller assented. Samwalked with them to the lodge gate, and took a dutiful leave.

'A-do, Samivel,' said the old gentleman.

'Wot's a-do?' inquired Sammy.

'Well, good-bye, then,' said the old gentleman.

'Oh, that's wot you're aimin' at, is it?' said Sam. 'Good-bye!'

'Sammy,' whispered Mr. Weller, looking cautiously round;'my duty to your gov'nor, and tell him if he thinks better o' thishere bis'ness, to com-moonicate vith me. Me and a cab'net-maker has dewised a plan for gettin' him out. A pianner, Samivel--a pianner!' said Mr. Weller, striking his son on the chest withthe back of his hand, and falling back a step or two.

'Wot do you mean?' said Sam.

'A pianner-forty, Samivel,' rejoined Mr. Weller, in a still moremysterious manner, 'as he can have on hire; vun as von't play, Sammy.'

'And wot 'ud be the good o' that?' said Sam.

'Let him send to my friend, the cabinet-maker, to fetch it back,Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Are you avake, now?'

'No,' rejoined Sam.

'There ain't no vurks in it,' whispered his father. 'It 'ull holdhim easy, vith his hat and shoes on, and breathe through the legs,vich his holler. Have a passage ready taken for 'Merriker. The'Merrikin gov'ment will never give him up, ven vunce they findas he's got money to spend, Sammy. Let the gov'nor stop there,till Mrs. Bardell's dead, or Mr. Dodson and Fogg's hung (wichlast ewent I think is the most likely to happen first, Sammy),and then let him come back and write a book about the'Merrikins as'll pay all his expenses and more, if he blows 'emup enough.'

Mr. Weller delivered this hurried abstract of his plot withgreat vehemence of whisper; and then, as if fearful of weakeningthe effect of the tremendous communication by any furtherdialogue, he gave the coachman's salute, and vanished.

Sam had scarcely recovered his usual composure of countenance,which had been greatly disturbed by the secret communicationof his respected relative, when Mr. Pickwick accosted him.

'Sam,' said that gentleman.

'Sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'I am going for a walk round the prison, and I wish you toattend me. I see a prisoner we know coming this way, Sam,' saidMr. Pickwick, smiling.

'Wich, Sir?' inquired Mr. Weller; 'the gen'l'm'n vith the heado' hair, or the interestin' captive in the stockin's?'

'Neither,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick. 'He is an older friend ofyours, Sam.'

'O' mine, Sir?' exclaimed Mr. Weller.

'You recollect the gentleman very well, I dare say, Sam,'replied Mr. Pickwick, 'or else you are more unmindful of yourold acquaintances than I think you are. Hush! not a word, Sam;not a syllable. Here he is.'

As Mr. Pickwick spoke, Jingle walked up. He looked lessmiserable than before, being clad in a half-worn suit of clothes,which, with Mr. Pickwick's assistance, had been releasedfrom the pawnbroker's. He wore clean linen too, and had hadhis hair cut. He was very pale and thin, however; and as hecrept slowly up, leaning on a stick, it was easy to see that hehad suffered severely from illness and want, and was still veryweak. He took off his hat as Mr. Pickwick saluted him,and seemed much humbled and abashed at the sight of Sam Weller.

Following close at his heels, came Mr. Job Trotter, in thecatalogue of whose vices, want of faith and attachment to hiscompanion could at all events find no place. He was still raggedand squalid, but his face was not quite so hollow as on his firstmeeting with Mr. Pickwick, a few days before. As he took off hishat to our benevolent old friend, he murmured some brokenexpressions of gratitude, and muttered something about havingbeen saved from starving.

'Well, well,' said Mr. Pickwick, impatiently interrupting him,'you can follow with Sam. I want to speak to you, Mr. Jingle.Can you walk without his arm?'

'Certainly, sir--all ready--not too fast--legs shaky--headqueer--round and round--earthquaky sort of feeling--very.'

'Here, give me your arm,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'No, no,' replied Jingle; 'won't indeed--rather not.'

'Nonsense,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'lean upon me, I desire, Sir.'

Seeing that he was confused and agitated, and uncertain whatto do, Mr. Pickwick cut the matter short by drawing the invalidedstroller's arm through his, and leading him away, without sayinganother word about it.

During the whole of this time the countenance of Mr. SamuelWeller had exhibited an expression of the most overwhelmingand absorbing astonishment that the imagination can portray.After looking from Job to Jingle, and from Jingle to Job inprofound silence, he softly ejaculated the words, 'Well, I AMdamn'd!' which he repeated at least a score of times; after whichexertion, he appeared wholly bereft of speech, and again cast hiseyes, first upon the one and then upon the other, in muteperplexity and bewilderment.

'Now, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, looking back.

'I'm a-comin', sir,' replied Mr. Weller, mechanically followinghis master; and still he lifted not his eyes from Mr. Job Trotter,who walked at his side in silence.Job kept his eyes fixed on the ground for some time. Sam, withhis glued to Job's countenance, ran up against the people whowere walking about, and fell over little children, and stumbledagainst steps and railings, without appearing at all sensible of it,until Job, looking stealthily up, said--

'How do you do, Mr. Weller?'

'It IS him!' exclaimed Sam; and having established Job'sidentity beyond all doubt, he smote his leg, and vented hisfeelings in a long, shrill whistle.

'Things has altered with me, sir,' said Job.

'I should think they had,' exclaimed Mr. Weller, surveying hiscompanion's rags with undisguised wonder. 'This is rayther achange for the worse, Mr. Trotter, as the gen'l'm'n said, wen hegot two doubtful shillin's and sixpenn'orth o' pocket-pieces for agood half-crown.'

'It is indeed,' replied Job, shaking his head. 'There is nodeception now, Mr. Weller. Tears,' said Job, with a look ofmomentary slyness--'tears are not the only proofs of distress,nor the best ones.'

'No, they ain't,' replied Sam expressively.

'They may be put on, Mr. Weller,' said Job.

'I know they may,' said Sam; 'some people, indeed, has 'emalways ready laid on, and can pull out the plug wenever they likes.'

'Yes,' replied Job; 'but these sort of things are not so easilycounterfeited, Mr. Weller, and it is a more painful process to getthem up.' As he spoke, he pointed to his sallow, sunken cheeks,and, drawing up his coat sleeve, disclosed an arm which lookedas if the bone could be broken at a touch, so sharp and brittle didit appear, beneath its thin covering of flesh.

'Wot have you been a-doin' to yourself?' said Sam, recoiling.

'Nothing,' replied Job.

'Nothin'!' echoed Sam.

'I have been doin' nothing for many weeks past,' said Job;and eating and drinking almost as little.'

Sam took one comprehensive glance at Mr. Trotter's thin faceand wretched apparel; and then, seizing him by the arm,commenced dragging him away with great violence.

'Where are you going, Mr. Weller?' said Job, vainly strugglingin the powerful grasp of his old enemy.'Come on,' said Sam; 'come on!' He deigned no furtherexplanation till they reached the tap, and then called for a pot ofporter, which was speedily produced.

'Now,' said Sam, 'drink that up, ev'ry drop on it, and thenturn the pot upside down, to let me see as you've took the medicine.'

'But, my dear Mr. Weller,' remonstrated Job.

'Down vith it!' said Sam peremptorily.

Thus admonished, Mr. Trotter raised the pot to his lips, and,by gentle and almost imperceptible degrees, tilted it into the air.He paused once, and only once, to draw a long breath, butwithout raising his face from the vessel, which, in a few momentsthereafter, he held out at arm's length, bottom upward. Nothingfell upon the ground but a few particles of froth, which slowlydetached themselves from the rim, and trickled lazily down.

'Well done!' said Sam. 'How do you find yourself arter it?'

'Better, Sir. I think I am better,' responded Job.

'O' course you air,' said Sam argumentatively. 'It's like puttin'gas in a balloon. I can see with the naked eye that you getsstouter under the operation. Wot do you say to another o' thesame dimensions?'

'I would rather not, I am much obliged to you, Sir,' repliedJob--'much rather not.'

'Vell, then, wot do you say to some wittles?' inquired Sam.

'Thanks to your worthy governor, Sir,' said Mr. Trotter, 'wehave half a leg of mutton, baked, at a quarter before three, withthe potatoes under it to save boiling.'

'Wot! Has HE been a-purwidin' for you?' asked Sam emphatically.

'He has, Sir,' replied Job. 'More than that, Mr. Weller; mymaster being very ill, he got us a room--we were in a kennelbefore--and paid for it, Sir; and come to look at us, at night,when nobody should know. Mr. Weller,' said Job, with real tearsin his eyes, for once, 'I could serve that gentleman till I fell downdead at his feet.'

'I say!' said Sam, 'I'll trouble you, my friend! None o' that!'

Job Trotter looked amazed.

'None o' that, I say, young feller,' repeated Sam firmly. 'Noman serves him but me. And now we're upon it, I'll let you intoanother secret besides that,' said Sam, as he paid for the beer.'I never heerd, mind you, or read of in story-books, nor see inpicters, any angel in tights and gaiters--not even in spectacles, asI remember, though that may ha' been done for anythin' I knowto the contrairey--but mark my vords, Job Trotter, he's a reg'larthoroughbred angel for all that; and let me see the man aswenturs to tell me he knows a better vun.' With this defiance,Mr. Weller buttoned up his change in a side pocket, and, withmany confirmatory nods and gestures by the way, proceeded insearch of the subject of discourse.

They found Mr. Pickwick, in company with Jingle, talking veryearnestly, and not bestowing a look on the groups who werecongregated on the racket-ground; they were very motley groupstoo, and worth the looking at, if it were only in idle curiosity.

'Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, as Sam and his companion drewnigh, 'you will see how your health becomes, and think about itmeanwhile. Make the statement out for me when you feel yourselfequal to the task, and I will discuss the subject with you whenI have considered it. Now, go to your room. You are tired, andnot strong enough to be out long.'

Mr. Alfred Jingle, without one spark of his old animation--with nothing even of the dismal gaiety which he had assumedwhen Mr. Pickwick first stumbled on him in his misery--bowedlow without speaking, and, motioning to Job not to follow himjust yet, crept slowly away.

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 230325 times

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