Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 371: what you’re looking at

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008 Pickwick Abroad. guests to him, whichever the reader likes, by Mr. Scuttle, the com- pany divided into little knots or groups, and hastened to visit, some the ducks, some the fowls, some the rabbits, and others the great dog. Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Weston walked into the parlour, which opened upon the garden, and sate down on a small ottoman by the window. ‘‘Hem!” said Mr. Pickwick, as he placed himself next to the attractive widow. | ‘“‘ Did you speak?” enquired Mrs. Weston, softly. ‘‘T was thinking that I ought to muster up courage, and communi- cate my views and hopes to your excellent uncle,” said Mr. Pick- wick, casting a tender glance at his companion through his immortal spectacles; ‘‘ I have determined to do so every day up to this period —-and—” ‘¢ And—what 2?” murmured the fair widow. ? ““My dear Mrs. Weston,” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, suddenly rising, and seizing his hat with a determination of manner which greatly became him: ‘‘I am resolved this very moment to communi- cate with my friend Scuttle. Excuse me for five minutes;—” and with these words the enraptured lover bounded airily from the pre- sence of his fair one, and alighted upon Mr. Kallaway’s toes at the - bottom of the steps which led into the garden. | ‘*A thousand pardons!’ cried Mr. Pickwick, shaking the hand of his new acquaintance. “Oh! it’s nothing, I assure you—upon my honour it’s nothing,” returned Mr. Kallaway, whose face was bedewed with the tears which acute anguish had wrung from his eyes. ‘“'Well—I’m glad I’ve not hurt you, my dear Sir,”’ said the good- natured Mr. Pickwick. ‘‘ But I wished particularly to speak with my friend Scuttle on a very delicate subject—’ ‘‘ There he is, then—close by that heap of manure at the corner of the stable,” cried Mr. Kallaway. ‘‘ But, if you were going to propose to some handsome young gal, you couldn’t be more lively,”’ added the late farmer and grazier. ‘‘ I recollect, when I went courting—” “Indeed!” said Mr. Pickwick, drawing very close to Mr. Kai- laway, and preparing to listen with the greatest attention ; as he hoped to obtain a hint which might judiciously direct his own proceedings in reference to Mr. Scuttle: ‘‘ Indeed! and pray, what did you do 2” en- quired Mr. Pickwick. ‘“‘ T recollect the day that I spoke to my father-in-law as well as pos- sible,” continued Mr. Kallaway. ‘‘ Of course that was when I lived in England.”’ “Ah!” said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands. ‘* Jt was an eventful day for me,’”’ proceeded Mr. Kallaway, shaking his head mysteriously. | | ‘“ God bless me! was it indeed?” cried Mr. Pickwick, a little alarmed. ) ‘Tt was, upon my honour,” said Mr. Kallaway, with another por- tentous shake of the head. ‘‘The morning was dark and gloomy—it was a Friday, too—and the butter had all turned sour over-night. My black sow had produced me, a week or so before, five as nice little pigs as ever you'd wish to see’on a summer’s day. Well—I’d en- larged my pig’s-stye about halfa foot; and this caused the building ? Gomicbooks.com