Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

180 PICKWICK ABROAD. Mr. Chitty paused to gather breath, bestowed another smile upon Mr. Pickwick, and continued as follows. “You are doubtless acquainted with the numerous poems I have from time to time been publishing in the 7intinnabuli Vita, ‘ Bell’s Life’—the Johannes Taurus, ‘ John Bull’—TZempora, or ‘ Times ’— the Terra, ‘Globe’—the Nunctus, ‘Courier’—and a variety of other English Journals. I was also poet-laureate to a liber et facilis—or free-and-easy club—during my residence in London ; so you perceive, Mr. Pickwick, that I am some-body after all.” The gentleman thus appealed to, nodded a bland assent, wondering at the same time to what point his companion was about to direct his attention. ‘* T was, however, obliged to leave my ungrateful country,” continued Mr. Septimus Chitty, with a sigh from his poetic bosom, “ on account of events over which [ had no controul.” ‘‘ Political turmoils, I suppose?” suggested Mr. Pickwick, willing to relieve a fellow-creature from the pain of a disagreeable explanation. ‘‘ No, Sir—debts,” added Mr. Chitty, wiping a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his Parnassian garment. ‘¢ Ah !—I see,” said Mr. Pickwick, drily. ‘‘And my unfeeling creditors,’ elucidated the injured man, na- turally overcome by a deep sense of his wrongs, ‘‘ compelled me to exile myself from that land which will one day be as proud of a Chitty as it now is of a Pickwick.” Mr. Pickwick again acknowledged the compliment by a low bow; and whether his heart were softened by the narrative of his com- anion’s sufferings, or his pride flattered by that gentleman’s discourse, Is uncertain; but his countenance was again wreathed in smiles of philanthropy, and Mr. Chitty was thus encouraged to proceed. ‘To make a long story short,” said the poet, unfolding his papers, ‘*T am reduced to the necessity of procuring my livelihood—suore frontis—by the sweat of my brow; or in other words, by the exer- cise of those talents which God has endowed me with. Here, Sir, is one of the most charming and erudite productions—a Drama, Sir— that was ever offered to the inspection of man.” ‘* Ah!” said Mr. Pickwick, in great delight. _ Yes, my dear Sir,” pursued Mr. Chitty. ‘‘ But, would you believe it? I sent this glorious composition to the manager of a prin- cipal theatre in London—and, with shame he it spoken! it was no go —nullus eo J”? “God bless me!”’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. ‘‘It is a fact, my dear Sir—/factum est,” asseverated the exiled poet. ‘‘ But in order to induce you to grant the request I shall pre- sently put to your generosity, I must intrude a little upon your time, and solicit your attention to the two or three first pages of my Drama.”’ ‘‘With great pleasure,” said Mr. Pickwick.”” But, here are my fiendé—and we have not yet breakfasted. Perhaps you will join us?’ Mr. Chitty respectfully declined the invitation, and generously offered to read the first act of the Drama while Mr. Pickwick and his friends discussed their morning’s repast. This proposition was cheere fully agreed to; and an introduction having been effected between the poet and Messieurs Tupman, Winkle, and Boozie, the suggested a S 5} a 6)(0)(6) .S (c@) |