Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 210: what you’re looking at

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‘ <a = 194 PICKWICK ABROAD. | i eyes. I am perfectly aware that there | | sides’; ve the whole. cavaleace hastened will be much hypercriticism to contend | into the ‘str eet. | properly packed up-——a basket with wine with—that many journals will be severe, if | not actually overwhelming, in their re- marks upon this new undertaking—and that even the public will look suspiciously upon the commencement of a new editor's labors. But the test of the success to be experienced by the work, shall exist in the conti uation of, the publication—it being my design to have it issued tothe world, in the first instance, In monthly parts. You] see I have arranged all’ my plans in refe- rence to this important measure ; and soon shall those friends whom I have met abrvad, hear, I hope, of my safe arrival at home.” Mr. Pickwick took off his spectieles and wiped them—and Mr. Chitty declares that he also applied his handkerchief to his eyes ere he again put on the immortal glasses. Be that as it may, a tear dimmed every eye around the table; and then hands were shaken, and vows of lasting friendship were exchanged, and promises to write letters were given, and messages to acquaintances in England were sent, and then the shaking of hands was gone through all over again. ‘You remember my invitation,” said Mr. Pickwick to M. Dumont: “I hope that in a very short time I shall have an opportu- nity of returning all the kindnesses you have shown me, in my own house at Dul- wich.” “Here is a letter for Mrs. Siff kin” cried - Mr. Scuttle, who had almost forgotten the Fs epistle which he had written the previous evening: ‘she has one child, I know—but whether it’s a boy or girl, I really forget. You can remember me to it.” ‘§ If you ever publish any of your po- ems,” said Mr. Chitty to Mr. Snodgrass, " animus—mind you send me a copy.” “And vou will write to me about Anas- tasie,” whispered Mr. Tupman to Mr. Scut- tle. To all these speeches, suitable unswers were returned. “You won't have my cheque, then, upon Aldgate and Pump for the whole,” asked Mr. Lipman. “Thad rather not, I thank you, ’ returned Mr. Snodgrass;as if he were the person obliged by the offer, “Now, then.” cried old Mr. Weller, “the he commenced a vigorous assault upon the: , Yhe luggage had all been and cold pies, ham, beef, &e., had been stowed away under one of the seats inside —and the two postillions sat like automa- tons upon their horses. Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Winkle, jumped into the chaise—Mr Samuel Wel- ler banged the door very hard—his f mounted the dickey—he followed the « ample—and the carriage rolled rapidly a away from the Rue Royale, amidst the wavinges of handkerchiefs, the shouts, and the “farewells !” of those ‘whom the trav- ellers Piacoa 9 them. . om In the next Bi apéeypnt one we shall most probably nave. to welcome ProxwicK AT HOME, = | er a4 a er 5 i he ase CHAPTER XXXIX. The Dinner at Beaune —The Hashed Rahbit.— The Mashed Potatoes.—Mr. Winkle’s Night’s Rest is disturbed ; in a most gairqordinary man- ner. Ke ee o'clock in the evening, the travel- Jers arrived at Beauvais, where they deter- mined upon dining and. passing the night, Mr. Winkle declaring that it would be quite impossible for them to travel during the darkness—not that he was by any means afraid: but it was a strange country—ard robberies had been committed—and throats had been cut—and, all things considered, prudence was the better part of valor. Mr. Snodgrass was of the same opinion: and Mr. Tupman, who had espied a pretty chamber- maid, also supported the motion. Mr. Pick wick accordingly yielded to the wishes of his friends ; and in a very short time ginties made its appear ance. “This is comfortable,” said My. Pickwick, who had. just scalded his mouth with the hot soup: “I know nothing more pleasant than a nice dinner after a tedious day’s travelling.” “ Nor 1 said Mr. Tupman. what have we here ?” “A gibelotte, Sir,” was the reply. Now Mr. Tupman was excessively fona of rabbit hashed in the French fashion, and. “ Waiter— snay is a vaitin’, an’ von 0’ the hosses is dish before him, helping himself at the same - fast asleep.” time toa quantity of mashed potatoes which “Good bye—good bye,” anoea on all , were also within his reach. £ & . salt a , Var 4 GO LaoKe) () Eo