Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

PICKWICK ABROAD. 139 arnval, The mystery relative to the fish was also cleared up in an equally satisfactory manner, by the existence of a large and hand- some vason that was overlooked by the terrace in tront of the Chateau, and was well stocked with the finest carp and tench that ever met mortal eye or were intended to satiate mortal appetite. The German had a host of anecdotes connected with the palace, the water, and the fish, to relate to Mr. Pickwick and that gentleman's companions: whose only surprise was that the courier had not long ago been bound in calf and placed in some public museum as the most capacious and accurate history extant. The water-works were then visited by our persevering travellers; and after a long insp<«ction of that stupendous edifice, which has probably no rival in the world the constructions at Versailles being of a different description, they feturned to Legriel’s, where they liberally remunerated the German courier for his trouble, and sate down to as good a repast as ever was prepared within those classic cells, each of which is not above eight square. It Was about three o’clock in the afternoon, when Mr. Pickwick and his friends emerged from the petit cabinet in which they had dined, and, by the assistance of Mr. Weller, were once more precipi- tated into the hackney-coach. The driver then mounted with con- siderable difficulty into his seat, and the vehicle moved briskly on towards Paris. “Do you know,” said Mr. Pickwick, prefacing his observation with a mysterious shake of the head,—“‘ do you know that I am sadly afraid Sam has had a little—mind, I do not say much—but a small droy to drink this afternoon ?” “ He certainly pushed me into the coach with unnecessary violence,” remarked Mr, Tupman. “ And I myself noticed,” said Mr. Winkle, “that he smelt horriblv of liquor.’ ‘*T shouldn’t at all wonder, then,” continued Mr. Pickwick, still more mysteriously than ever, ‘‘if the coachman were drunk also.” “‘ And it is thus that you entrust your valuable life to such hands!” eried Mr, Winkle in a tone of indignant remonstrance; “‘ for me and Colin G OO .S (CO