Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 182: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 139 arrival. The mystery relative to the fish was also cleared up in an equally satisfactory manner, by the existence of a large and hand- some bason that was overlooked by the terrace in front of the Chateau, and was well stocked with the finest carp and tench that ever met mortal eye or were intended to satiate mortal appetite. _ ‘The German had a host of anecdotes connected with the palace, the water, and the fish, to relate to Mr. Pickwick and that gentleman’s companions, whose only surprise was that the courier hed. not long ago been bound in calf and placed in some public museum as the most capacious and accurate history extant. e water-works were then visited by our persevering travellers; and after a long inspection of that stupendous edifice, which has probably no rival in the world, - THF | 1 WE _ Poe... J ~ Ss } | JP, =+4 we SS ly ( MiP ce: * a : ih > ie aA i oem y er STs the constructions at Versailles being of a different description, they returned to Legriel’s, where they liberally remunerated the German courier for his trouble, and sate down to as good a repast as ever was prepared within those classic cells, each of which is not above eight eet square. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, when Mr. Pickwick and his friends emerged from the petit cabinet in which they had dined, and, by the assistance of Mr. Weller, were once more precipi- tated into the hackney-coach. The driver then mounted with con- siderable difficulty into his seat, and the vehicle moved briskly on towards Paris. “Do you know,” said Mr. Pickwick, prefacing his observation with a mysterious shake of the head,—“ do you know that I am sadl afraid Sam has had a little—mind, I do not say much—but a small drop to drink this afternoon ?” ‘* He certainly pushed me into the coach with unnecessary violence,” remarked Mr. Tupman. ‘¢ And I myself noticed,” said Mr. Winkle, “‘ that he smelt horribly of liquor.’ “TY shouldn’t at all wonder, then,’ continued Mr. Pickwick, still more mysteriously than ever, “‘if the coachman were drunk also.” ‘‘ And it is thus that you entrust your valuable life to such hands!” cried Mr. Winkle in a tone of indignant remonstrance ; “ for me and Pigitized bY Ao ia stoolk CO