Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 213: what you’re looking at

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

% eo © aS s Pod . , t . Nears § his slumber, a violent. perspiration, and his couch, at the: same ent, and darted into the passage ; but as Mr. Snodgrass occupied the room precisely opposite, ‘and.was ema- nating from that room just at the moment when Mr. Pickwick issued from is own, those great men came in violent. contact Me ae 0) er, and rolled heavily upon | to the total discomfiture of ava < ne hideous cries of Mr. Win- kle, and in his haste to ascertain the cause of the disturognel fell over his bw o friends as he rushed up the assage in a state of frantic alarm. ¢ % ‘The confusion was now a ) one end of a long and diml lighted passage was a gentleman r roaring W ith all his might and main; and at the other were three more, sprawling upon the ground, ‘These latter, however, soon 8 cceeded in recovering their equilibrium ; but -_ inkle did not so speedily recover his pre ence of mind; and when questioned by his friends as to the cause of lis terror, he merely. pointed towards his own room and bawled out “Fire !” louder chabert: Pa. “This is most. extraordinary !” cried Mr. Pickwick, returning to look into his young friend’s room, and seeing nothing but the darkness. é its utmost. At “Fire ! Thieves! they are ce shouted Mr. Winkle. | “Where ?” demanded Mr. Pickwick. “On my bed,” answered Mr. Winkle. “That is a curious place for thieves to choose, my dear Winkle,” remonstrated Mr. Pickwick ; and, encouraged by the lucid truth of his own observation, he stepped quietly ma cgntiousty into the room. “He rushes to death and to destruction !” exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, smacking his left breast hard with his right hand. In the meantime Mr. Pickwick stole up to the bed which Mr. Winkle had aban- doned, and the noise of a Pikwick very hard fell upon his ears. ig ickwick therefore came to the sagacious and logical conclusion that there was a living being in room. ‘Who are you, my good fellow ?” said Mr. Pickwick, in his blandest tones. A loud grunt was the only reply. “ G—d bless me |” thought Mr. Pickwick “it can’t be a real pig—and yet be. ig in England I have seen a learned pig 3 4 did very wonderful thi oss an English pig could te ] the \y ’ “ Piokwiex ABROAD. it wight | sing, as his son uttered these words, and 197 cards, a French one fs very geo es- ‘cape out of his stye ant nd hidiy ay to a, bed-room.” — Scarcely had Mr. Te ade made these very sapient reflections, when the living being turned slowly round upon the bed, and spoke in human tones. Mr. Pickwick listened attentively. : “Samivel—Samivel!” said the voice: “wot a wery undutiful little boy you air, Samivel. Here's your old father, as brought you up and eddicated you at the charity- school, a-dyin’ o’ thirst, an’ you don’t even ax him to take a drop o water. Them tumblers o’ punch as ve took a leetle toe muel operates wery strange on m brain? pen i f " ’ “Mr, Weller,” aid Mr. Pickwick, softly. « Who’s that a-takin’ my name in wain ?” cried the old coachman. “ Vy, blowed if I aint gone to bed vith my boots an’ unex- pressibles on. Ve doesn’t grow viser as ve crows older, Ti, wery much afeerd.” “Mr. Weller r, my good friend,” said Mr, Pickwick, once more apostrophising the mo alizer, “is that you ?” “Me!” ejaculated Mr. Weller ; and, after a little prudent consideration as to whether the truth consisted in a negative or affirm- ative reply, he added, . es, it be. But who air you ?” “Mr. ‘Pickwick, Mr. Weller.” answered the i immortal gentleman. “ But here comes a light.” y >» @ At hat moment Sam entered the room, bearing a candle in his hand, and followed by Mr. Winkle, Mr. Snodgrass, and Mr. Tupman. _ “Vell, here you air, old touch-an’-go,” eried Sam. “This comes o’ drinkin’ too much punch afore you goes to bed. You've got into the wrong box, old feller, for vonce in your life, as the constable said ven he locked the drapiken nobleman up in the cage.” “The wrong ‘box, Samivel,” cried Mr. Weller, senior: “wot d’ye mean ?” ¢ Vy, that you ve found your vay into © Mr. Vinkle’s room,” explained Sam ; “an’ the sooner you're ‘out on it the better, cos ve has to rise airly in the mornin’, an’ wants a good night’s rest aforehand.” Mr. Weller, senior, rose from the couch on which he had been so comfortably repo- began to stammer out a variety of apolo- gies to Mr. Winkle. Peace and tranquility were thus once more restored, and the re- GOMmilG ooo SS (S©@)