Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 196: what you’re looking at

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

56 PICKWICK ABRUAD. Words of despair !” «¢ Mother, what! is that the chair— Indeed the chair ?’’ “—He by hunger was opprest ;— Sorry food could I provide ; Then his dripping clothes he dried, And obtain’d a partial rest. At length awaking from his dreams, He mark’d the tears of sorrow fail : ‘Be calm,’ he cried, ‘ for fortune beams As yet upon the land of Gaul!’ Here’s the goblet whence his lip Deign’d my humble wine to sip, Forgotten never !” ‘‘—-Mother, vou will keep it ever— Will keep it ever !’’ “‘-—-Yes! Behold—regard it well! He, whose head a Pope had blest, By his foemen was opprest— In a distant isle he fell ! France, tir’d of hope, believ’d at last He ne’er could come her rights to save; And now the ocean must be pass’d By those who wish to mark his grave. When the tidings met my ears, Frequent were my bitter tears My grief to tell !” ‘‘ Mother, Heaven keep thee well— God keep thee well !”’ M1. Walker placed his manuscnpt upon the table without comment, aud Mr. Pickwick wiped away a tear. The simplicity of this brief sketch of the life of the greatest man that ever lived—the chorus of the enthusiastic peasants at the conclusion of each stanza—and the pious veneration forthe memory of the mighty conqueror that is everywhere app ‘rent in the ‘‘ aged crone’s” narrative, were affecting in the extreme. There is no national air in the sphere of English literature that can compete with, or even approach the ‘‘ Reminiscences of the Peo- ple," * by De Berenger. In the course of the afternoon, Mr. Walker recollected that he had a visit to pay in the immediate neighbourhood of the hotel, and ac- cordingly withdrew for an hour or so to accomplish that purpose. Mr. Pickwick and his friends seized the welcome opportunity thus afforded them for writing their several letters to England; and while he was thus employed, Mr. Tupman more than once reflected within himself upon the probability of Mr. Hook Walker's return to dinner. But when all the clocks in Paris began to inform the inhabitants of that gay city that it was precisely six p. w., Mr. Hook Walker and the dinner made their appearance simultaneously. ‘‘ We propose going to the opera this evening, if it’s agreeable to you,” said Mr. Pickwick, addressing himself to Mr. Walker and to the wing of a boiled fowl at the same time. > GE Ey, © Les Souvenirs du Peuplee CONNIE OOO .S (©)