Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

“4 PICKWICK ABROAD. his side-amns 1gnominiously wrested from his person. He is then drummed out of his regiment; and if his crime be very t, he is frequently handed over to other authorities to be tried and punished for his misdemeanours,’’ | “Indeed,” said Mr, Pickwick; ‘and, vray, do you happen to know for what the poor fellow in this instance is to be degraded ?” ‘‘ He is a republican,” replied Mr. Walker. ‘‘ He belongs to se- veral liberal unions—he has mutinied against his oficers—and, in addition to his other crimes, has adopted the system of never going to bed for the last eighteen months without singing the Marseillavse trom beginning to end.” “And, pray, what is the Marseillaise¥” enquired Mr. Winkle, wondering within himself whether it were a drinking or a sporting song. A National Air, my dear Sir,” answered Mr. Walker, with a smile of pity at the ignorance of his acquaintance. ‘I have a trans- lation of it at this very minute in my pocket: it was given to me by young English friend a few days ago; tor you must know that it is a part of my system to make myself acquainted with all these matters.” ‘¢ And an excellent system it is,” said Mr. Pickwick. ‘ But would you oblige me with a sight of the translation you allude to?” ‘‘ Certainly,” returned Mr. Walker. “‘ Are you particularly anxious to see the degradation ?”’ ‘¢ Not now,” rejoined Mr. Pickwick, “ since you have so kindly explained the nature of it. And, perhaps, you are in a hurry ?” ‘© My system does not allow me to remain long in the same place," said Mr, Walker. “If you will accompany me to the Café Virginiv in the Rue de la Paix close by, I will read the translation to you with much pleasure.” The offer was immediately accepted with thanks; and on their arrival at the Café, Mr. Walker opened the business by ordering an immense bow! of “ Bishop,” or burnt punch. When he had refreshed himself, according to the rules of a particular section in his system, with a couple of tumblers of the exhilarating fluid, he drew a piece of paper from one of the pockets of his black kerseymere unwhisperab.es, and read therefrom the following translation of the most populsr Na.- tional Air in France. LA MARSEILLAISE. Sons of heroes, fam’‘d in story, Onward march to death or glory - For see, the foemen’s standard waves O’er fields that soon must be their grave. Hear ye the clatter of their arms, Their shouts portending dire alarms? Eager for slaughter, on they press To make your children fatherless ! Then let each warrior grasp his vengefu. :--w+-». And shed th’ invader’s blood to fertilize the ‘> Wherefore to our peaccful coaste Rush those sanguinary hosts? a S = a JOO Ss HCA