Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

S 150 “ Let ’em be, let ’em be!” roared Messrs. Porrett and Knackers. “A mill! a mill!” “Come on, will ’ee?” cried the venerable English coachman: “I'm rayther old, but wery tough, an’ can bear a great deal, as the gen’leman said ven he heard that his son wos transported for life;’ and as his mouth gave vent to this beautiful image, his fists dealt a couple of the neatest blows upon the Frenchman’s nose and chin that the most enthusiastic amateur could wish tosee. “Beautiful, ain’t it?’ said Mr. Knackers to Mr. Porrett. : “Quite a pictur,” was that gentleman’s reply. But the beautiful picture was speedily defaced by the prompt interference of Mr. ‘Samuel Weller, who rushed forward, seized his revered parent by that part of the neck which in fashionable society is denominated the “scruff,” and bestowed a kick upon the hostler, which precipitated him between the legs of one of the team. “Wot air you up to now, Sammy ?” cried the old gentleman, highly incensed at this interruption.. “I ain't half polished that feller off yet.” “It’s rayther dear vork to make a blackin’ brush o’ one’s self in this country, and to take a-man for the boot,’ returned Sam, following up the same poetic strain of east- ern allegory: “so jist you come along, an’ let them there fellers fasten their own ropes an’ leathers. Too many cooks spiles the broth, as the man said ven he married his fourth vife an’ got found out.” And with these words the excellent son dragged his father from the diligence-yard, followed by Messieurs Porrett and Knackers. “Let us jist go an’ take a quiet chop somevhere or another, Sammy,” said Mr. Weller, as, they passed along the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires; “an’ then in the evenin’ ve can pay our respects to the Gov’ner.” Mr. Weller senior’s hint was attended to: Sam conducted his father and companions to a modest restaurant in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, and by the aid of a bowl of punch after dinner, the time was easily wiled away till nine o’clock. “Vell jist have a coach, Samivel,” said Mr. Tony Weller, “and pro-ceed to the govner’s place. Wot’s the French for jar- Cocher,” returned Sam. “ Why ?” “Cos I’m determined to prac-tise French, Sammy, an’ Ill go an’ call the coach my- i PICKWICK ABROAD. self Itll do me good to seiy anythin’ to a coachman, although he is cnly a hackney von.” Sam Weller did not attempt to interfere with his father’s wishes ; and the old gentle- man stepped into the street, and hailed a hackney-coach. | “Oochon!” * cried Mr. Weller, the elder as loud as he could bawl. ) 4 The driver of the vehicle gazed vacantly aroud him, and puffed away at the short black pipe which he held in his mouth. “Cochon !” roared old W eller. The person thus strangely adjured, darted an angry glance in the direction whence the summons proceeded. “ Cochon!” reiterated Mr, Tony Weller ; . “Cochon—Cochon, I say! Cochon !” And every time he uttered the word, he bestowed an additional emphasis upon it. “Who's that bawling after me in this kind of way ?” exclaimed the driver, in his own native French. “Cochon !” was the repeated cry. “He must mean me,” said the driver ot the hackney-coach to himself, pulling up his horses, and glancing towards Mr. Weller, senior, with fire flashing from his eyes, and sparks from his pipe. , “Cochon ! vy don’t ye draw up a-von side 0’ the vay ?’ continued the veteran English coachman. “ Wot’s the use o’ letting’ me stand here and cry myself hoorse? Wery pleasant ways these Paris jarveys has about ‘em, to be sure! Cochon! Come off your coach-box or youll get into the wrong box vith me.” Very pleasant indeed was the way in which the coachman, thus appealed to, received that which he took for meditated abuse. He leapt from his dickey, alighted in the street, and then stepped up to Mr. Weller with his nose and fists prominent. “Now then, old feller, down vith the steps, an’ look alive,” said Mr. Weller. And then the man did look alive; and the symptoms of existence which he gave were manifested by.a couple of vigorous blows dealt upon Mr. Weller’s face, to the great astonishment of that unsuspicious old gentleman. In the meantime, Sam had been anxiously waiting for the return of his father; and suspecting that there was something wrong again in consequence of his protracted ab- sence, he at length determined upon seeking * Cochan signifies “a pig,’? and is generally applied as a most opprobious epithet in France. CORNIE OOO (9) (GO