Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 9 the very worst of positions, and his expressive countenance lighted up with smiles of “ pleasing pain.”” His eyes beamed with philanthropy and kindness on the respectable multitude around him; and an occa- sional sigh escaped his mighty breast, when the sight of some tatterde- malion awakened feelings of commiseration and pity in his bosom. He was not, however, doomed to be very grievously afflicted on this occasion; for we are confidently assured that out of three hundred people, twenty-seven were dressed in decent coats, and upwards of forty in fustian shooting jackets. There was, moreover, a brilliant display of gaberdines, aprons, and shirt-sleeves. A deputation, volunteered and self-elected, of about two dozen small boys, having prepared the inmates of the Hotel Meurice, for the arrival of the illustrious visitors, the whole house was immediately involved. in confusion and riot: and when the procession reached the entrance of the hotel, and precipitated Mr. Pickwick on his legs, amidst thunders of applause, an army of domestics,—cooks, waiters, chambermaids, ostlers, &c.—was drawn up to welcome the great man and his illustrious followers. Mr. Pickwick would have addressed the multitude, had not two reasons—the first of which was suggested by circumstances, and the latter by Mr. Winkle—prevented him. | ‘“‘ You are right, my dear friend,” said Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Winkle, without a moment’s reflection: ‘‘ the crowd is so noisy that I should not be heard—and, as you very properly observed, the half of it is composed of Frenchmen, who would not understand me.” ‘‘'Thank God, Arabella is not with us!” said Mr. Winkle, hastily, and turning up his eyes to heaven with an extraordinary air of piety. ‘Why so ?” demanded Mr. Pickwick, looking sternly for a moment at his young friend. ; ‘Because Tupman is really indecent in his conduct,’ responded Mr. Winkle. ‘‘ He has already entered into conversation with the pretty chambermaid in the yard of a public hotel.” “Sam!” said Mr, Pickwick, abruptly, so soon as he had satisfied himself of the truth of Mr. Winkle’s statement. “Sir !” said Mr, Weller, touching his hat. “Tell Mr. Tupman to follow us immediately into the coffee-room : the eyes of the whole town are upon us.—Waiter, show us to the Coffee-room.”’ The waiter, who had been lurking about the new-comers ever since the first moment Mr. Pickwick alighted in the yard from the shoulders of his bearers, and who happened to speak very good English, instantly obeyed the command, and ushered Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle to the coffee-room, whither they were shortly followed by Mr. Tupman, who wore a cunning smile upon his countenance, and Mr. Samuel Weller, It is almost needless to remark that the illustrious party took off their hats to the crowd that thronged the entrance of the hotel, as they withdrew from the presence of that respectable congregation ; and — it may also be perfectly well understood that the members of the said congregation were peculiarly delighted with their morning’s amuse- ment, and separated for the purpose of repairing each to the café or English pot-house he was in the habit of frequenting. The sporting character in vain looked for an invitation to dinner with Mr. Pick- wick and his friends, as a reward for his eloquent oration; and at CORNICLOOKS (C(O)