Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 187: what you’re looking at

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

@ -mistaken— -5 Ww existence ts 4 Pi y English adventur who was going to ride elephants in Tarta but who had left me to pay for his supper & I accosted him; and he did not attempt to it elude me. ’ “Upon my word,” said he, “ that was a 3 tc old father who has just paid me out of prison, and I will do the thing that is right. This time I have not got play-bills in my purse instead of bank notes,” 3 _»» . “Tneed not te)l you,” caid I, “ that your ring was only gilt, and not worth two francs.” “Just as if T did not know that, my dear girl!” cried the young gentleman, laughing heartily. “ But here isa five-hundred franc note for you, and to-night Iam going to St. Omers. You shall accompany me. Be at the Messageries Gencrales this evening at five, and we will go together. [s it a bar- gain %” “Tt is,” said 1; for my mother witin a prison, and [ was sick for the moment of ' Paris life. “Well then,” returned he, “my name is Crashem— Adolphus Crashem—that is for the present—and [ am nephew to the king of the North Pole, where there is no day. _ Adieu, till five !” kt is)not necessary to say that the ap- pointment was kept, and that Mr. Tupman ied us to St. Omers, whenee he ack. s friend Mr. Pick- adventurer is in- ‘To-day, rich, -Morrow, poor, shun- ned, pon the verge of sui- cide. soaring proudly in the air p, sinking into the abyss of the ¢ t emblems of the species of 2d by individuals who, according to the usual term, “live upon their wits.” The first thing in the morning, the duns are at the door; and the last thing which is left at the porter’s lodge at night is a writ of wns or @ notice of judgment. Trades- men are obsequious at first, and impertinent | afterwards: the servants, who thrive upon the fruits cf the prosperous days of the fe- male adven‘urer, become the masters in the lounges in a gilded saloon, with costly fur- titure, flowers, silks, carpets, and jewellery around and about: to-morrow she dwells in hours of adversity. aloon wit adventurer PICKWICK ABROAD. oo »| a Sarr fine piece.of fun!, The biter bit! But: never mind—I un in the possession of funds | troduced yourself as my —— om 171 i ’ et, with a piece of a broken mirror op nantel, a party-colored counterpane on he cupboard :—now drinking the sparkling juices of Epernay from chrystal‘eaps—and pure spring water rom -handle. At one moment the adventurer sees her wardrobe filled with in all directions,—a gold watch thrown like an useless thing upon a table amongst a va- new gown for each successive day; ‘ina short time how changed is the scene! The he bed, and a herring on a broken plate in in another week, fetching the n adjacent pump in a yellow jug without comtmanings “silks and. satins lying about riety of curiosities and valuables,—and a old stuff gown alone remains,—the warm ' bed is left at an early hour to iron out the only cap snatched from the general wreck, —and two or three flights of stairs must be descended to ascertain the hour at a neigh- bor’s clock! In the day of prosperity, the last new novel is sent, immediately it is out, from the bookseller’s, and remains scarcely cut upon a side table, amidst albums, shells, work-boxes, music, pictures, China monsters, and all kinds of nack-neeks: in the time of adversity the old journal, that wraps up the , quarter of a pound of butter, which the ad- venturer fetches for her breakfast, is read and re-read a thonsand times. tudes and changes than the adventurer of The female . adventurer knows a hundred more vicissi- — = _ the opposite sex: because the latter is ab- < _solutely dependent on his own wits only. | Whereas the former chiefly relies upon the sagacity and cunning of others. Such, in a few words, is the life of the adventurer. One evening as I was walking alone in the passage Colbert, waiting for a female | friend who had appointed that place asa rendez-vous, I met the Count de Francon- “Ah, Anastasie!” said he, switéhing a horse-whip—(his groom was waiting with his thorough-bred in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs),—* I have to ask your par- don for my conduct ‘on my wedding day: but, really you were too bad, Had you in- cous‘n, or as my housekeeper’s daughter, I shodd not have eared!” “Listen, my dear Anastasie,” was his answer; and for some time he laughed so heartily, he could not continue his speech ; _—*listen! I made the very best of hus. _bands—dined at home every Thursday, be- cause on that day we received eaute vi yi’ “ * . COMmMICcoook “yw “And Madame de Franconville ?” said I Ps pany © . Com