Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

~ in the preceding chapter, two letters were placed in Mr. Pickwick’s hands, as he one morning emanated from his bed-rvom in the eternal black gaiters and a coeval good humor. As the handwriting of both was perfectly unknown to his experienced eye, he did not open the epistles forthwith, but prudently turned them backwards and for- wards in his hands, and surveyed with _ peculiar sharpness the fashion of the folds. As an instance of experimental philosophy ' —being an essay as to the practicability of reading the interior through the medium of an outward inspection—the attempt was indeed a curious one; but as an ordinary and every-day pursuit, it might doubtless have met with many dissentient voices and much disapprobation. Be that as it may— for we must remind the reader of the fact that Mr. Pickwick was no common individ- ual—the letters were eventually opened and perused; and these were the contents of the first. “Sir = respected letter arrived at a hand-gallop a day or two ago, and I accord- ingly dispatch you a reply, which I hope will reach you at something better than a canter. Mr. Crashem trotted into my debt so pleasantly and quietly that he did not turn a hair, nor Ia shilling. It was about the time that my head-ostler was hanged for horse-stealing, that the bill commenced; and when my second wife ran away from me, I opened my eyes to eppaetes pace at which he was going. e elopement of my youngest daughter, Hyacintha, with The- ophilus-Lucius Grubem, the dogs-meat man, scarcely affected me more than the loss of the little filly, whose wind he broke when going to Doncaster in that lovely shay I lent him for the occasion. But that was not all, He borrowed a pair of leather breeches’ and gaiters of the groom, and forgot to restore them when the poor fellow was sent to the treadmill. He humbugged the under-ostler to accept of some squibs in return for a pair of spurs—told me I was no gentleman whén I sent in my bill—asked me to dine with him, borrowed my plate, and never restored it to me, but assured me, with allthe impudence in the world, ‘that he had lent, it to his uncle’—and at length cut me at the theatre, because I went in my top-boots and new checked neckerchief. _ Under these circumstances, sir, I cannot PICKWICK ABROAD. 59 of the no less important occurrences related } consent to take one farthing less than the amount of my bill; and remain, — “Sir, | “Your obedient, humble servant, “MICHAEL N AGSFLESH” The second and last letter ran as follows . “Sir :—I am desired by Mr. Stickemin to acknowledge your favor, and to assure you that he would willingly accede to Mr. Adol- phus Crashem’s proposition, did not two or three little circumstances prevent him. In the first place, the name of Crashem is but an assumed one, and was printed upon his card about the very time he ever put on the first pair of leather unutterables, made for him by Mr. Stickemin. In the second place, he dressed up a common horse- © chaunter as a gentleman, and introduced him to us as a nobleman of rank and fortune, whereby Mr. Stickemin was a loser to the amount of eighty-seven pounds nineteen shillings and eleven pence halfpenny. (See — Ledger, page 187.) And in the third place _ —but there are also a great many other » ’ ; ’ ¢ ie ‘ , places, if I did but choose to mention them — —this Mr. Crashem, or whatever his name may be, persuaded Mrs, Stickemin to. pur- chase a small dancing-bear, which he had himself bought for a paltry sum, at the enormous value of twenty pounds lawful money of this realm. “Your obedient servant (for A. Stickemin,) “TIMOTHY RUNNITUP.” Scarcely had Mr. Pickwick perused the contents of these letters, and made known their nature to Mr. Tupman and Mr. Winkle, when they all met at the breakfast-table, before Mr. Weller entered the room. “Vell,” said that individual, without waiting to be questioned relative to the cause of the strange smile that curled his lip, “I’m blowed if ever I see.such a go as this is. Jack-the-Giant-Killer ain’t nothin’ to it.” “ What’s the matter, Sam ?” inquired Mr. Pickwick, almost choking himself with the fear of another visit from Mr. Septimus Chitty. “Vy, sir,” responded Mr. Weller, “ there’s a wery res-spectable old chap down in the coffee-room, as keeps a public in the Bor- ough. I don’t know the name o’ the tap exactly ; but’ Poften see him ven I vos boots at the old inn from vich you took me, sir; and I heerd say ‘n those times—” COMICD@ae a e* Ae ; Lote * <S (S©)