Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 243: what you’re looking at

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

194 Pickwick Abroad, ‘What! another letter—and from Snodgrass too!’ said Mr. Pick- wick, receiving the epistle from the hands of his valet. ‘‘ Really that young man has an astonishing head,’. added Mr. Pickwick, gravely shaking his own, ‘¢ Is it in poetry again?” enquired Mr. Winkle, with evident signs of satiety of that article, which he wisely deemed to be more orna- mental than useful. , ‘‘ No—it is not,” continued the great man, carefully unfolding the etter. ‘¢ Vell, that’s a blessin’,” said Mr. Weller, deliberately. ‘* You may retire, Sam,’ gested Mr. Pickwick mildly; and, when the door had closed behind the retreating domestic, the contents of the letter were read as follows :— “March 12. “Dear Pickwick, ‘*T write to inform you that a most dreadful murder has been committed at Putney, on the person of Signora Sqorlini, an Italian singer, and that Inspector Higgs and Policeman Smill are using tremendous exertions to discover the assassins. If it were not for the expense of postage, I should send you a sweet little poem of three hun and fifty lines in running measure, which I wrote upon the occasion. “Tam delighted to hear that you and our friends have got into comfortable lodgings; as the hotel bills must have been ruinous in the extreme. Inspector Biggs and Police Smill have just passed by our house in a tax-cart at gallop, as it appears that two country- men were drinking last night at a tavern in the neighbourhood, and displayed several half-crowns when they paid their bill. The whole ir has caused a tremendous sensation, especially amongst the itinerant ballad-singers; one of whom, by the bye, is bawling under- neath my window at this very moment. A weekly paper, that would most likely have fallen last Sunday, has made its fortune by this pro- vidential circumstance; the shareholders, I understand, are elated at the news of the murder to an extraordinary degree. ‘‘ Mr, Smuggles, the spirited landlord of the tavern at which Sig- ‘nora Sqorlini was murdered, is showing her body to the public at sixpence a-head. Three hours have elapsed since I commenced this letter, and Inspector Higgs and Policeman Smill are still using tre- mendous exertions. This afternoon Mr. Smuggles had an interview with Mr. Peddlesworth the magistrate, but the result is not known. As the weekly paper, before alluded to, advertises ‘ The fullest, most correct, and most important account’ of the murder, together with an engraving of the same, to be given away ‘ gratis’ with the journal itself, I shall take care and forward you a number. ‘¢ March 13, 10 4. M. ‘‘ Inspector Higgs and Policeman Smill overtook the countrymen who were going into the country to work for a farmer by whom they were particular y . This morning they were brought up before Mr. eddlesworth, when Mr. Smuggles was also in attendance. It how- ever turned out that the poor fellows were two honest men, and that they have lost their places by this delay. Mr. Peddlesworth told COOL (©) NOOO KS (c@