Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 84: what you’re looking at

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74 hot-water, his master’s first question was relative to Mr. Tupman instead of the usual topic—the weather. “Any news of Mr. Tupman, Sam ?” in- quired the great man. “Don’t you wish you may get it, Sir?” replied the faithful valet. Mr. Pickwick declared that he did, and reiterated his question. “NoSir,” returned Mr. Weller, kindly con- descending to favor his master with a direct answer ; “ there ain’t no news of him as yet, and there ain’t wery likely to be any, I should rayther think.” “Why so, Sam ?” said Mr. Pickwick. “©Oos, Sir, he’s thvarted in love—he’s crossed, as the sayin’ is—an’ I should’nt be at all sup-prised if he did’nt go and shut his-self up in some old hermitage, or turn monk with a shaved crown, or do some bther desperate deed to make a hero of nis-self. But, if I vonce caught him, as the shark said ven he saw the nigger a-swim- » min’ at a distance—vouldn’t I hold him? Dh !—no—Id just let him Joose as the yanker did the gen’leman of the svell mob m London.” “What was that, Sam?” demanded Mr. _ Pickwick. “A wery tidy little annygoat, Sir,” was the response. “You may tell it me while I dress,” said Mr. Pickwick, gliding on to the floor, as Mr. Weller did into a chair. ; “Vell, Sir,” began the domestic, “you must know that this annygoat vich [m about to relate, vos told to me by the German courier as speaks all langvidges: so there’s authority, chapter and werse, as the parson says. There’s a banker at Calais o’ the name o’ Sorely, vich made all his money by straight-for’ard dealin’ in the war-time; an’ a wery rum chap he is in every partickler sense o’ that wery expres- sive vord. Von day a gen’leman goes to him, and says, ‘Sorely—my knowin’ von— you must do asmall discount for me this blessed mornin. Here’s a hexcellent bit 0 stiff on London’—” . “A what? interrupted Mr. Pickwick. — “Oh! ony a bill, Sir”’ explained Mr. Weller. ) “Ah! I see,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Go on, Sam.” - “Ts there? says the banker—” con- tinued Mr. Weller—* vith a knowin” shrug 0 his shoulder; ‘let’s have a look at it.’— The gen’leman accordingly pro-duces a PICKWICK ABROAD. wery fine piece o paper, all cover’d over vith black and red vords and figgers—red figgers, Sir, is excellent things on.a bill— they make it look business-like—” “Indeed !” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, con- siderably edified. ie “Oh! yes, Sir—an’ soit vos appayrently in this here case; for the banker took the bill, an’ give the gen’leman fifteen hundred francs, or sixty pounds, vich vos the walley o’ the same. So the gen’leman pockets the coin, and. makes his-self so wery paride lerly scarce, that ven the bill come ba pertested, Mr. Sorely couldn’t lay hands on him not by no means. In fact, payment didn’t seem to form any part o’ that gen’le — man’s monetary, calkilations. So Mr. Sorely makes inquiries, and finds that my lord vos off for London the same day as he discounted his bill. To London Mr. Sorely follers him, and finds him a-eatin’ muffins and drinkin’ chocolate in a hot-tel at the Vest End.—‘ Ah! good mornin, Sorely, my dear feller, says the gen’leman, wery coolly.—‘ Good mornin’, Sir, returns t’other: ‘an’ about that bill o’ yourn?—‘Oh! Pl pay it directly—on’y heerd on it yesterday too late for post—mistake at my banker’s, that’s all” Mr. Sorely’s countenance cleared up, an’ he thought his customer wornt a rogue arter all. So they calls a hackney-coach, an’ avay they goes to a banker’s in the city, the gen’leman askin’ vether he’ll,have it in gold or notes, an’ old Sorely ansvering ‘In either!’"—they stops at the door o’ the bank—the gen’leman jumps out, tellin’ Sorley to vait a minit, and valks boldly into the bank. But there . he stays so precious a long time, that Sorely , gets uneasy—goes to ask about his friend —and finds that he vent slap through the bank, arter having made some ridicklous inquiry o’ the first clerk he sees, and disap- peared by a door vich led into a back street. Sorely rushes back in desperation to the hackney-coach, and orders the jarvey to drive to the hot-tel at the Vest End. As they goes along the Strand, Mr. Sorely tvigs his customer a-valkin’ as coolly as if nothin’ had happened: so, in order to lose no time, he opens the coach-door his-self, jumps out—chiveys the svell covey, who soon seed him, up the Strand; an’ avay they vent like good uns, as the Newgate chaplin said ven the prisoners vent forth to be hanged. It where a prime spree, Sir—I warrant ye: but just as Mr. Sorely, -vhose face vos red and hissi’, had Go LNOO| KS AO