Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 313: what you’re looking at

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

PICKWICK ABKUAD. 261 ancredoolity is my besettin’ sin 1 can’t believe nothin’ [ don t see :— i's my propensity, as the cricket said ven he chirrupped in tne grate.” ‘““Comment / you not doubt de Frenchman’s vord ?” exclaimed the iriver, darting a terrible glance at the imperturbable Sam. ‘ Me tel] you dem osses only vant fe vhip to go—go—go—avay—for ever!” ‘* Vell, that is rayther too good, as the nobleman’s lady said to the butler, ven he put too much brandy in her grog: particlar as you ain t never ceased from volloping them hunfortunate dumb hanimals {som the fust moment ve left the house. Three-miles-an-hour-’uns, I calls em,” added Mr. Weller, as he gracefully suspended his left leg over the side of the dickey. ‘In France de law not allow us to run over de people as is valking in de streets,’” remonstrated the driver, showering dark looks upon his companion, and blows upon the horses. ‘* Vot are you up to now vith that ’ere gammon?” cried Mr. Wel- ler, with a contemptuous shake of the head. “ Vy, ain’t this the country like, and vere’s the crowds of foot-passengers you so wery considerately von’t run over ?”” ‘Vary well!’ returned the coachman, affecting a laugh. ‘‘ But, Monsieur Vellair, you know ve must not cut up de roads, morbleu *' ‘*The roads is paved; said Sam; ‘‘and so there ain’t no great chance o’ spilin’ them, ‘Stones-is stones—and veels on stones don’t make quvite so much himpression as a seal on hot vax. So try it again, old chap, as the nobleman said to the executioner ven he didn’t cut off his head at the fust blow.” ‘‘ Ah! vell, me see you vary ignorant, Monsieur Vellair,” said the coachman, with a long whistle; ‘‘ but you ought to know vary vell, dat me not dare break chaise.”’ ‘* That’s vot it is, eh?” said Mr. Weller, complacently.—‘“‘ Vy, von ‘ud take you for a lo-gician, vith all your excuses and rigmarole ewa- sions. But ve are all apt to aspire, now-a-days, as the pickpocket ob- served to the gallows; —so that’s vot you're a aimin’ at, eh, old dot- aid-go-von ?”” ‘‘ Me only repeat, Monsieur Vellair, dat me not dare go too vite, ‘cause me break dis damn old chaise; and den de proprietor put me in de prison for de damages.” ay prudent you air too,” said Mr. Weller, with a patronizing nod. ‘* Have you dem prisons in vour country for gentelmen vot cannot pay dere debts ?’”’ enquired the driver by way of changing the conver- sation. ‘‘T should rayther think ve had,’’ answered Sam; “ an’ a blessed thing it is, too, else vot ’ud become o’ the lawyers?” The Frenchman was apparently confounded by the wide field ot speculation opened to him by this remark ; for he did not reply to the uery; and Mr, Weller himself did not think it necessary to continue the conversation. In a short space of time from the sudden cessation of the above highly edifying discourse, the britzka entered the village of Suréne, and speedily deposited its inmates at the door of the ae tavern or auberge, where to their great delight they encountered Mr. Scuttle and his amiable niece, Mrs. Weston. -The latter was escorted by a a S 5} a 6)(0)(6) cS (c©)