Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 35 _ “How are you, Samuel?’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, who deemed it expedient to assume a harsh expression of countenance; an essay he accomplished with the same success that would be experienced by an under clerk in a Public Office endeavouring to appear like a gentle- man. “ But how came you here ?” ‘Them two wery insinivating chaps vith the pleasing faces brought me m spite o’ myself, Sir,” responded Mr. Weller, pointing to the grim-looking town-serjeants with the most perfect indifference. “Were they obliged to use force, then?” enquired Mr. Pickwick. ‘“‘Can’t wery vell make a man doa thing vot he don’t like vithout some little compulsory means, Sir,” returned Mr. Weller, touching his hat; “as the French er I heerd about said, ven he cut off his fore- finger, cos he vouldn’t be drawn in the pro-scription.”’ ‘This is a very disagreeable adventure, do you know, Sam ®’ ob- served Mr. Pickwick, ds ing with his eye-glass. “So the nobleman said, Sir,” rejoined Mr. Weller, “ ven he tore his nankeen tights at the country-ball.” “And you appear to take it very coolly, too,” continued Mr. Pick- wick, with a faint smile at the imperturbable disposition of his domestic. “No use repinin’, Sir,” answered Sam, doggedly; “’ twon’t mend matters, no more than cryin’ repaired the milk-jug vich the young gal dropped on the step o’ he: mas’er’s front-door. An’ a many wery sensible annygoats I might in-duce, Sir, to prove the truth o’ that ’ere maxim.” “Well, well, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat impatiently, for he perceived that the Commissary of Police had arranged his papers in due order before him, and was about to investigate the merits of the case now under his especial cognizance: “ you shall repeat them another time. At present more important business occupies our attention.” “ Silent, Sir, as the knoeker at Newgate,”’ said Mr. Weller laconi- cally. « Bilence, Messteurs £’ exclaimed one of the town-serjeants fiercely, while the other twirled his moustachios and looked very much like a savage bear in the Garden of Plants in Paris. “6 dppellez Vinterprete /’ cried the Commissary of Police; and in five minutes the interpreter made his appearance, having been called away from the agreeable occupation of writing an English love-letter for a French officer to an Irish lady’s-maid. Through the medium of the interpreter the case was fully investi- gated. Mr. Pickwick was put in possession of the facts, and the Com- missary of Police listened patiently to a speech of twenty minutes’ length, which Mr. Pickwick deemed it necessary to make on the occa- sion, during the recital of which Mr. Weller favoured the Commissary with sundry knowing winks, nods of the head, jerks of the hand, and other telegraphic signs eminently calculated to mystify the magistrate much more than Mr. Pickwick’s oration could possibly have done. ‘‘ And now it’s my turn,” said Sam, stepping forward, when Mr. Pickwick’s oration had been duly interpreted to the Commissa , on whom it appeared to have made a considerable impression, if one might judge by the manner in whic he shook his head, shrugged up 2 GOMICDOOo q) (c@