Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

132 Pickwick Abroad, SCENE, INFINITE SPACER. Enter the Four Winds. CHORUS OF WINDS. First Winp.—Birr—r—r—r—r—r—r. Seconp WIND. —Siss—s—s—s8—8s——8—8. Tainp WIND. —Whi—ou—u—u—u—u—u. Fourta Winp.—Puff— f—f—f—f—f—f.”’ And thus did the erudite Mr. Septimus Chitty set himself to work tu imitate the four winds. Human nature was not proof against this display of his vocal powers: Mr. Pickwick, with the prudence which invariably characterized all his actions, crammed an entire muffin into his mouth to suppress the rising laughter; but Messieurs Boozie, Tupman, and Winkle—whose imaginations, lacking the fertility which marked that of their great leader, did not suggest any immediate means of restraining the hilarity of their risible muscles—gave vent to a long, loud, and simultaneous shout of laughter, which might have been heard, and very probably was, in the street below. e book fell from the hands of the discomfited poet, just at the interesting moment when he was about to introduce his favourite character, ‘‘ Chaos,” upon the scene; and his countenance became livid with r. ‘If you mean to insult me, gentlemen,” at | exclaimed the irate Mr. Septimus Chitty, “ tell me so, and I'll hasten to cut my stick—scindere baculum—before I become absolutely intrusive ;’— and the poet drew himself up with the conscious innocence of & highly injured man. “‘ My dear Sir,” began Mr. Pickwick, ** pray compose yourself. I am sure, at neither myself nor friends intended to offer the slightest insult,” Mr. Chitty was actually choking with indignation. ‘“* Heavens! take care,” exclaimed Mr. Tupman, afraid of the con- sequences of his almost irrepressible mirth. ‘‘ Do compose yourself, as my friend Pickwick said—and try a little drop of wine or brandy- and-water.”’ ‘“‘ Brandy and water !” shouted the stiu angry Mr. Septimus Chitty, somewhat softening, however, at Mr. Tupman’s courteous offer. The waiter was accordingly summoned, and the necessary order immediately given. “* Hot or cold, Sir?” enquired the domestic. “** Hot with,’ calledum cum—or ‘cold without,’ frigidum sine,’’ said Mr. Chitty, deliberately, as he mused over the waiter’s demand : “‘why—if I must decide—hot, with sugar, then ;’’—and the poet at ngth deigned to smile, as he picked up his manuscripts. “Your Drama is exceedingly interesting, Sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, by way of soothing the unfortunate Mr. Chitty’s grief, while that gentleman himself imbibed, with evident relish, a recking glass of the calldum cum. *T flatter myself that it would make a good acting play, Mr. Pick- wick,” observed Mr. Chitty, very gravely: ‘‘ but on another occasion COL q) NOOO KS (c@