Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 239: what you’re looking at

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

190 Pickwick Abroad. ‘No, Sir,” returned Mr. Weller, kindly condescending to favour his master with a direct answer; ‘* there ain't no news of him as yet, and there ain’t wery likely to be any, I should rayther think.” “Why so, Sam?” said Mr, Pickwick. ‘¢ Cos, Sir, he’s thvarted in love—he’s crossed, as the sayin’ is— an’ I shouldn't be at all sup-prised if he didn’t go and shut his-self up in some old hermitage, or turn monk vith a shaved crown, or do some other desperate deed to make a hero of his-self. But, if I vonce caught him, as the shark said ven he saw the nigger a-svimmin’ at a distance—vouldn’t I hold him? Oh!—no—I'd just let him loose as the banker did the gen’leman of the svell mob in London.” ‘¢ What was that, Sam?” demanded Mr. Pickwick. ‘‘A wery tidy little annygoat, Sir,’”’ was the response. ‘‘ ‘You may tell it me while I dress,” said Mr. Pickwick, gliding on to the floor, as Mr. Weller did into a chair. “Vell, Sir,” began the domestic, * you must know that this anny- goat vich I’m about to relate, vos told to me by the German courier as speaks all langvidges: so there’s authority, chapter and werse, as the parson says. There’s a banker at Calais o’ the name o’ Sorely, vich made all his money by straight-for’ard dealin’ in the war-time ; an’ a wery rum chap he is in every partickler sense o’ that wery ex- pressive vord. Von day a gen’leman goes to him, and says, ‘ Sorely —my knowin’ von—you must do a small discount for me this blessed mornin’. Here’s a hexcellent bit o’ stiff on London’—” ‘A what?” interrupted Mr. Pickwick. ‘Oh! on’y a bill, Sir,” explained Mr. Weller. ‘* Ah! I see,” said Mr. Pickwick. ‘* Go on, Sam.” ‘** Is there?’ says the banker—” continued Mr. Weller—“ vith a knowin’ shrug o’ his shoulder ; ‘ let’s have a look at it.’—The gen'le- man accordingly pro-duces a wery fine piece o’ paper, all cover’d over vith black and red vords and f% —red figgers, Sir, is excellent things on a bill—they make it look business-like—”’ ‘¢ Indeed !”” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, considerably edified. **Oh! yes, Sir—an’ so it vos appayrently in this here case ; for the banker took the bill, an’ give the gen’leman fifteen hundred francs, or sixty pounds, vich vos the walley o’ the same. So the gen’leman pockets the coin, and makes his-self so wery particklerly scarce, that ven the bill come back pertested, Mr. Sorely couldn’t lay hands on him not by no means. In fact, payment didn’t seem to form any part o’ that gen’leman’s monetary calkilations, So Mr. Sorely makes en- juiries, and finds that my lord vos off for London the same day as he iscounted his bill. To London Mr. Sorely follers him, and finds him a-eatin’ muffins and drinkin’ chocolate in a hot-tel at the Vest End.—‘ Ah! good mornin’, Sorely, my dear feller,’ says the gen’le- man, wery coolly.—‘Good mornin’, Sir,’ returns t’other: ‘an’ about that bill o’ your'n ?’—‘ Oh! I'll pay it directly— on’y heerd on it yesterday too late for post—mistake at my banker’s, that’s all..—Mr. Sorely’s countenance cleared up, an’ he thought his customer worn’t a rogue arter all. So they calls a hackney-coach, an’ avay they goes to a banker’s in the city, the gen’leman askin’ vether he'll have it in gold or notes, an’ old Sorely ansverin’ ‘In either!’—they stops at the door o’ the bank—the gen’leman jumps out, tellin’ Sorely to vait a Coa stor q) SS (c@