Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 5 “The French is wery notorious for their vay 0’ takin’ leave, Sir,”’ said Mr. Weller, again joining in the conversation, and touching his hat periodically; ‘‘and p’rhaps they isn’t more partickler, as the Sayin’ is, in the vay in vich they velcomes a forinner to Frogland.” ‘But I think—indeed, I am almost sure,” suggested Mr. Pick- wick, hazarding an opinion with all his native diffidence and modesty, “that there are a great many English amongst the crowd here as- sembled.” “Singular costumes the fish-girls have!’’ observed Mr. Tupman— ** or else they would not be bad-looking.” | ‘‘Tupman, my dear fellow,” said Mr. Pickwick, sternly, “‘ let us think of our safety for the present, and talk of—but, Winkle, my good friend, what is the matter with you—are you unwell 2” “Oh! no—not at all,” returned Mr. Winkle, casting a glance of extreme horror and suspicion at the gendarmes who stood in front of the crowd. | ** Beg pardon, Sir,” said Sam, stepping forward and addressing him- self to Mr. Pickwick, ‘‘ but don’t you think ’twould be adwisable to San the skipper o’ this ’ere wessel to putt us down on t’other side 0’ the vay ?” ‘* Oh, do!” cried Mr. Winkle, imploringly. ** Why, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, in a tone of bland appeal, ‘‘ do you really think there is any danger ?” ‘‘Do you see them ’ere Johnny Darmies, with their cock-hats and black mustashes ?” demanded Mr. Weller; ‘‘ an’ if so be your wisual rays does ’appen to en-counter them gen’lemen, p’rhaps you'd also _con-sider that mob, and then assure me if there isn’t mischief meant, as the Hindian remarked to his friend ven they met the alligator.” “Are those soldiers French police officers, then?’’ enquired Mr. Pickwick, in a hurried tone of voice. “They air, Sir,” returned Mr. Weller, seriously ; ‘the man at the hel-emassured me that sich vos the fact; and a French Johnny Darmy ‘ould think as much o’ spitting a fellow-Christian through the guts as a French sugger ’ould care about running another through vith his bagginet.” “You don’t say so, Sam!” exclaimed Mr. Winkle, edging behind Mr. Tupman, and trembling violently—with the cold, as he subse- quently informed his companions. “Dear me, how they shout!” cried Mr. Pickwick, alluding to the assembled crowd, whose combined hundreds of lungs sent forth most vehement tokens of. applause, to the utter astonishment of Mr, Pick- wick and his followers. Their terror was, however, speedily dissipated by the assurances of the captain, to whom Mr. Pickwick thought it right to appeal for protection. ; “ Sir,” said the captain respectfully, “that crowd has assembled tc welcome the landing of Mr. Pickwick; and as such is your name—” * Right for vonce, old feller,” interrupted Mr. Weller. ‘‘Samivel Pickvick, Esk-vire, 0’ Dulwich Lodge.” ‘Silence, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick. « Pray proceed, Sir.” “Thave very little to say, Sir,” continued the captain, casting a look of angry defiance at the imperturbable Mr. Weller; “merely that all this row is to honour vour arrival in Calais; and those gen- CoOnniclboookKks (C(O)