Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

— Pickwick Abroad. 119 view. The absent man had swept up the ashes in the grate with Mr. Pickwick’s hair-brush—he had stopped up a broken window with a pair of Mr. Pickwick’s tights—he had filled Mr, Pickwick’s best hat with water, and stood his rush-light in it—and lastly, he had put out the wax-candle with Mr. Pickwick’s night-cap. Human pature could not endure this complication of injuries. It seemed that Mr. Pickwick was destined never to enjoy an uninter- rupted night’s rest in the Hotel Meurice. Philanthropy—leniency— mercy—al] were forgotten: Mr. Pickwick tucked up his shirt sleeves with the utmost haste, and forthwith commenced so desperate an attack on the ribs of the absent gentleman, that sleep soon forsook his es, and, fancying himself a prize-fighter, he jumped manfully out of bed. and returned, with compound interest, the favours Mr. Pickwick was SO liberally and profusely bestowing on him. In the words ofa celebrated m ern poet*— “ the battle’s rage Was like the strife that billows wage, Where Orinoco in his pride Rolls to the main no tribute tide, But ’gainst broad ocean dashes far A rival sea of roaring war ; While, in ten thousand eddies driven, The foaming surges fly to heaven, And the pale pilot seeks in vain Where rolls the river, where the main ;’— and in all probability the desperate conflict would have been con- tinued half-an-hour longer, had not Mr. Boozie suddenly rushed into the room—for Messieurs Tupman and Winkle prudently acted as listeners instead of operators—and separated the combatants, for which unthankful act of kindness Mr. Pickwick would have pitched into him also, had not exhaustion compelled that extraordinary man, whose exploits in war are as remarkable as his proceedings in matters of peace, to sink into a chair. Mr. Scuttle took advantage of this cessation of hostilities, to gather up his clothes and decamp to his own chamber; and Mr. Boozie, having wished his friend a good night’s rest, also retired to his apartment, while Mr, Pickwick ined alone, and upon the chair, gazing with a species of grim satisfaction on the objects around, like Marius sitting amongst the ruins of Carthage. a_i CHAPTER XVI. MR. WELLER'S OPINION OF MR. ADOLPHUS CRASHEM.—A MORNING'S DEBAUCH, AND THE WAY TO DISCOUNT A BILL.—THE DEGRADATION OF A SOLDIER ON THE PLACE VENDOME.—THE MARSEILLAI8E.——A COMMUNICATION FROM M. DUMONT.—FRENCH POLITENESS. In the meantime, Mr: Weller had amused himself, in imitation of the ane @g ¢ Sir Walter Scott.—‘ Rokeby.’” q) COL DGe SS (c@