Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 67 “Heavens! what is the matter, gentlemen?” exclaimed Mr. Adol- phus Crashem, suddenly issuing from his a ent, with a counte- nance expressive of the most signal alarm, just as Mr. Boozie ema- nated from the very chamber of which the cause of this disturbance had fondly deemed Mr. Pickwick to be the proprietor. ‘Treason! robbers! thieves!’ shouted r. Winkle, in vain en- deavouring to disengage himself from the mysterious cord that had entangled itself round his legs. At this crisis the door of the front bed-chamber was thrown hastily open, and Mr. Pickwick limped forth, uttering most piteous sounds of complaint. To the immortal honour of Mr. Crashem be it noted, that, even to the prejudice of his own “ lark,” did he immediately rush for- ward, trip Mr. Pickwick lightly up in the passage, and cut the cord which surrounded the dexter great toe of that illustrious man. By Some strange comcidence, as Mr. Tupman has since declared, Mr. Tims suddenly appeared amongst the confused group, and Mr. Winkle was raised on his legs in the twinkling of an eye. “Very extraordinary conduct, this!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick in the deepest indignation. ‘** Infamous!”’ shouted Mr. Adolphus Crashem. “If this be the way in which the French treat true-born Englishmen, we’ll soon show them what we are;’’—and he immediately assumed a pugilistic attitude, to the great dismay of Mr. Winkle, who retreated quietly to his bed- room. “* Let’s give them a deuced good licking, Sug—Crashem, I mean,” cried Mr. Tims, elevating his fists in imitation of his companion; whereupon Mr. Tupman declared he would come back and help them; but he probably forgot to tender his pledged assistance, as he also re- turned to his apartment, and buried himself underneath the bed- clothes for the remainder of the night. ‘‘ Very singular!” again ejaculated Mr. Pickwick, who was standing in a musing attitude, which was rendered the more interesting and re- markable from the circumstance of his being in his night-shirt. “I once knew a man,” sald Mr. Boozie —“ no, it wasn’t—she was a woman—”’ ‘‘Never mind, Sir, what you recollect, or what you knew,” ex- claimed Mr. Pickwick, sternly interrupting the discomfited Mr. Boo- zie; ‘‘ but pray let us see, Sir, if you can point out the authors of this most indecent outrage—an outrage, Sir—” ‘¢ Not I!” murmured Mr. Boozie; and with these words he imitated the prudential example of Messieurs Tupman and Winkle, and slunk back to his apartment, just as M. Cailliez and a host of waiters made their appearance in the passage. The disturbance now became gene- ral. e master of the hotel accused his tenants of creating an un- seemly and ungentlemanly noise, to the disrepute and ruin of the re- spectability of the house. Mr. Pickwick in vain endeavoured to nar- rate the injuries he had sustained; Mr. Tims called for the Police; and Mr. Crashem kindly offered to fight any half-dozen Frenchmen who chose to step forward. At this crisis a new and not unimportant actor arrived upon the stage, in the shape and guise of Mr. Samuel Weller, who, like the rest, had been disturbed by the noise which issued from the apartments occupied by his revered master and that master’s friends, - COL (©) DGe (c@