Penny Dreadfuls, 1800 · page 15 of 400
Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 15: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1800. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A é J a a ial a, | »& - : ’ abt A, Me, ad 7 a ~~ w ty ct «4 ah a " ; * | ‘¢ a > 7 > * ‘és PICKWICK ABROAD. ¥ dalek | - ‘ _“ Madeira, by all meara,” cried Mr. Tup- mar, who had hitherto remained silent, his ‘imagination wandering to the pretty cham- bermaid. yy a ee fame i ber ise the Madeira, Sir,” na the ‘waiter, for the very simple reason t 1at there was none in the cellar. r le “Well, let us have some Sherry, then,” returned Mr. Tupman. . “Nor the Sherry, Sir,” responded the Pwaiter. » & 7 % “Tn that case we must observed Mr. Pickwick. . “¥ ge will find the Port very thick, Sir, afraid,” remonstrated the waiter. . | “What can we have, then?” demanded Mr. Pickwick, opening his eyes behind his . spectacles in undisguised astonishment. _ “Here is the card, Sir,” returned the waiter, placing a long list of Jong name into Mr. Pickwick’s hands. “T do not understand French,” said that gentleman; “but you, Tupman, I fancy, ha 42 a little in this way.” ’ “T understand—that is, when at school— oh ! “ put up with Port,” es,” staramered Mr. Tracy Tupmar far from ignorant—but these names, are new ones, I fancy.” 3 ‘Not many centuries old, Sir,” observed the waiter. “The French use the ‘word centuries for weeks,” said Mr. Tupman in a whisper to his leader. ‘* ‘ “Oh, indeed !” murmured, Mr. Pickwick, poking the fire. “After all, I think it would be better to leave it to the waiter.” | “Thank you, Sir,’ said the waiter, glid- ing almost imperceptibly away from the » room, and resolved in his own mind to fur- “nish the most expensive wine in the cellar. Mr, Weller, who had disappeared on the - entrance of the waiter, now returned tothe ~ coffee-room where his masters were seated, ~ and shuffled uneasily round the table, as if he were desirous of unburdening his mind of some oppressive weight. _ “What is the matter, Sam?” said Mr. Pickwick, at length, pitying the embarrassed situation of his domestic: “has any thing new occurred ?” | “Beg pardon, Sir,’ returned Sam, “but I’m just a-come from the kitchen—and a more curioser place I never see.” “Tndeed, Sam,’ said Mr. “what is there so remarkable ? Pickwick ; “Tn that ’ere kitchen, Sir.”’ said Sam, seriously, “ there’s nothink that’s common toa kitchen in England. Fust, Sir, there pans—all of bright copper—ranged, soldier ’ Oe eee are half-a-dozen man-cooks, vith vite night |. caps and aperns; and each appears tobe the captain o’ ten or twelve different sarse- « A vise, On a large stove: and then the con- tents o’ them ’ere sarsepans, gen’lemen, is astonishing to a degree. I opened the lid 0’ von, unbeknown to the’ cook as vos the» ” presiding diwinity o’ that quarter, and sure enough, I sees a partridge a-stooing with weggitables and sassages. Says I to my- self, ‘This is rather queer,’ as the banker observed, ven he looked at the cheque as * vos forged.—‘ P’rhaps you'd like to larn French cookery, young man?’ said von 0’ the vaiters, with a vink o’ slyness to von o’ the varming-pans.” “ To one of the warming-pans !” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, somewhat angry, for he recol- lected that the unfortunate subject of warm- | ing-pans had’ served as material evidence against him, in the mouth of Serjeant Buz- fuz on the occasion of his memorable trial. _“Hallegorical, Sir,—purely hallegorical, Sir,” returned Mr. Weller, “ as the critic said to the author, ven he cut up his writings.” “Well—to return to the kitchen, Sam,” said Mr, Pickwick, whose momentary anger was speedily subsided, and who entertained some vague idea that his domestic alluded to a chambermaid, although the synonym was at first rather obscure. | “ Tf it suit your con-wenience, Sir,” con- tinued Sam, “to listen to my wagaries, I don’t know no hobjection to my communi- cating of them. So to continue. you ’ud like to larn French cookery ? said ‘ P’rhaps the vaiter.—‘ Wery much obleeged, young lily-vite” said I; ‘but had rayther let it alone, as the monkey said of the hot poker.’ —Vould you like jist for to taste o’ this ere dish, Mr. Veller ? persewed the vaiter, for he ’d larnt my name from the top of my band-box; and, taking the kiver off von o’ the sarsepans, he showed me a piece 0’ biled beef done to rags. ‘Time to take that off, says L—‘ No sich thing, said he, look- ing at the clock, ‘must stew till six..—* And vot’s in that ’ere large kaldron ? said I, not wenturing on a look of astonishment, as I vos, afeard of ’traying my ignorance.— ‘Stewed weal, said the vaiter ; and there- upon he took off the lid of the copper sarse- pan, and showed me a piece o’ meat vith bits o' fat hanging about, it on all sides, This he called a flitch-and-go: but I s’pose ‘twas his imperence.—‘ Piay do you use per- taties in France ? said I.—‘ Certainly,’ said \ ElOOO© <S GO)