Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 129 CHAPTER XVII. MR. sICKWICK FORMS THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A POET.—THE CHORUS e * _ OF THE FOUR WINDS.—MR. BOOZIE.—A VISIT TO A CELEBRATED ‘FRENCHMAN, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. Mr. Pickwick slept long and placidly ; and those airy nothings which filled his extensive imagination during the night, were of a most feli- citous and exhilarating character. ‘T'o descend to vulgar parlance, he had dreamt of the renown he had already acquired, and of the future fame that would attend his memory. His countenance was therefore a map of smiles when he walked into the breakfast-parlour with all the consciousness of greatness and importance; but, to his surprise a q and momentary annoyance—seeing that the frosty air of the morning __ had sharpened his appetite—his friends had not yet emerged from their ~ dormitories. The room was not, however, untenanted when Mr. Pickwick entered it; for, in a large easy chair near the cheerful wood- - fire, sate an individual, who rose upon his two legs the moment his vision was magnetically attracted by the appearance of him who - could be no other than Samuel Pickwick, Esq., himself. .. The stranger was a tall, thin, sallow-faced individual, with light- -- ved hair and a very pointed nose. We do not say that his features ' were not commanding ; but many fastidious people entertain a strong _ antipathy to a countenance deeply indented by the ravages of the - + small-pox ; while others have violent predilections against bad teeth. _ There is, moreover, a prejudice (it cannot be denied) against a cock- eye, Inasmuch as the. possession of two straight optics has generally been deemed necessary to the distinctness of one glance. Setting aside these small defects, no more serious charge can justly be brought against the beauty of the stranger, who, clad in deep black, and with a large roll of papers under his arm, started into life from the easy _ chair, as aforesaid. “I beg you a thousand pardons, Mr. Pickwick,” said the stranger, in a solemn tone of voice, and with a low bow; “but the fame of a eae philanthropy and literary acquirements has reached me in my umble retreat —pauper domus—you see, and—” _“ Pray sit down, Sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat flattered by the stranger's discourse. “And now, may I ask with whom I have the pleasure of conversing ?” ‘* My name, Mr. Pickwick,” returned the stranger, relapsing into the easy chair, and untying the string that circumvented his papers, “is also well known to fame. You have doubtless heard of Septimus Chitty, the poet 2” The stranger suffered a cunning smile to curl his lip, while Pick- wick cleared his throat with a ‘‘ Hem!” and smiled also. “Ah!” pursued Mr, Chitty, ‘‘I see lam mow no stranger to you, Mr. Pickwick. But—nunquam animus id—never mind that: let me briefly state the object of my visit.” . K (GO) im LOO) cS (C(O)