Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 70: what you’re looking at

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60 “ But what is there extraordinary in that-?” inquired Mr. Pickwick, somewhat. sharply. “A respectable tavern-keeper has as much right to come to Meurice’s hotel as ourselves, provided he conducts himself properly.” “Yes, sur—that’s all wery vell, and no- body doesn’t come for’ard for to contrawert it, as the parson said ven he published the banns for the two Blackey-moors,” returned Mr. Weller: “ but this old gen’leman doesn’t live here at all He’s brought’a letter o’ in- troduction toa friend of his vich keeps a pub- lic in Paris; and is come to the hotel to rekvire some information touchin’ and con- sarnin’ his son.” | “Indeed,” said Mr. Pickwick, beginning to feel himself interested in that which his valet Was nalrating to him: “ And pray what is the name of the individual to whom you allude ?” “ Sugden, sir,” answered Mr. Weller: “he calls his-self honest Jack Sugden, late o’ the _ What’s-his-name, and present landlord o’ the Thing-um-bob. He’s troubled vith a short memury, sir, just for all the vorld like the ministers of his blessed Majesty.” Mr. Pickwick did not wait to hear the eonclusion of his faithful domestic’s remarks. He rose hastily from his chair as soon as the name of ‘Sugden’ met his ears, even at the risk of overturning the breakfast-table into Mr. Nathaniel Winkle’s lap, and hurried down stairs to the coffee-room as quickly as his legs could carry him. On his arrival in that sacred fane, he glanced around him in order to ascertain the locality occupied by the pro- prietor of the aristocratic nomenclature that thus had excited his energies and his curi- osity; and m a moment his eyes alighted upon a fat, red-faced, bald-headed individual, whose dress and occupation at once denoted the landlord of the respectable “ public” in the Borough, The former of those en- lightening characteristics—or in other words, the stranger's attire, was composed of a blue coat and brass buttons, a long buff waistcoat, a white neckcloth, drab trowsers, and gaiters of the same; and his occupation was the im- portant discussion of a mighty plate of cold roast beef, and his second bottle of London porter by way of breakfast. Mr. Pickwick was convinced, after he had cast one glance at the gentleman here described, and another at his agreeable avocations, that no other person in the coffee-room was worthy of bearing so distinguished a patronymic as that of Sugden. To the astonishment, therefore, of the wait- ers present, and of Mr. Weller, who had PICKWICK ABROAD. > y followed his master down stairs, and whose surprise had ere now been so considerably excited by the presence of a tavern-keeper at ~ Meurice’s hotel,—Mr. Pickwick stepped up to the individual under notice (as the reviewers - ; . : would say of a book), and accosted him with a polite bow which could be only intended as a preliminary to a farther and more inti- mate acquaintance. “I beg your pardon, sir,’ said Mr, Pick- . wick, in the blandest tone of voice he had ever yet assumed, “but, if I mistake. not, ~ your name is Sugden—Mr. Sugden, I be- heve.” “Ves, su, it is,” replied the gentleman thus addressed, as he eyed Mr. Pickwick . askance, “and you, I suppose.” continued Mr. Sugden, “are the landlord of What’s- his-name-hotel—ain’t you %” , Mr. Pickwick at once pleaded not guilty to his indictment; and in order to inspire his fellow-countryman with confidence, he declared his name and titles with as much correctness as if he were an aristocrat read- ing a genealogy aloud from Mr. Lodge’s “ Peerage.” “ Perhaps you'll jine me, then, Mr, Thing- um-bob #” suggested Mr. Sugden, glancing towards Mr. Pickwick, and indicating the half- emptied bottle of porter with a subtle jerk of his right hand. Mr. Sugden’s powers of recollection were exceedingly circumscribed ; and in order to avoid the disagreeable neces- sity of wearng them out by putting them to a too frequent test, he prudently supplied the places of real names with other com- ounds of his own invention. 5a “No, I thank you,” retumed Mr. Pick- wick,. politely declining the pra glass of porter: “my object in addressing myself to you, sir, was to ascertain if you were ac- quainted with a gentleman of the name of Crashem.” ) ey “Don’t you think, Mr. What-the-devil’s- your name,” inquired Mr. Sugden, in slow and measured terms, “that a father am’t a bein’ admirably well calculated to recognize his own son ?” | “ Certainly,” said Mr. Pickwick, hastily “and he is not the only son and heir, then, of General Crashem, of Crashem Park?’ “ All gammon,” laconically answered Mr. Sugden. “Nor engaged to be married to Miss Grinwell, of Grinwell Lodge, Somersetshire,”, added Mr. Pickwick. “No more than you are, Mr. What-is-it,” responded the stout gentleman. “ His grand- GoOmiiGbdooe “S (F©)