Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. | 5 yon’t vant my Services again this evening, I don’t, care if I indulges in a little innocent diwersion, as the boy said ven he run the cock- charfer through vith a brass pin.” re “T shall be most happy to accompany you,” said the obliging waiter; and in a moment he had divested himself of his apron and jacket, and endorsed a handsome black coat which an English noble- man had given him a few days before. _ © Adoo for the present, ladies,” said Mr. Weller, making a low bow to the female portion of the domestic community of’ Meurice’s hotel, “and keep up yer sperets for my sake during my absence. Come along, old stick-in-the-mud, and look alive, or ve shan’t get good places, as the father said to his son ven they vos a-going to see the chap hanged for the murder of his five babbies.”’ To the theatre Mr. Weller and the waiter accordingly repaired, and obtained two front seats in the gallery, whence their eyes commanded a view of the whole house. The first piece had already commenced ; and as it was a Comic Opera, the orchestra was playing, and the actors and the actresses were singing with all their might. *“‘ Nothink wery partickler, this ’ouse ain’t,” said Mr. Weller, in a tone of voice something louder than a whisper, to his companion. “Very good for a provincial town,” returned the waiter. ‘Don’t them chaps mean to talk at all, old feller ?” enquired Sam, alluding to the actors—* or is it all caterwauling and screeching ?” “It is nearly all singing,” answered the waiter, in a tone that bore strong evidence to the wound his feelings had received by Mr. Weller’s remarks. “Vy, von might sing a song von’s self, vith all this ’ere clatter,” observed Mr. Weller, after a moment’s pause; and, suiting the deed to the word, he commenced the following remarkably simple and affecting air for the express behoof of his companion :— ‘There vos a young ’ooman vich kep’ a tripe shop, ! In a alley o’ great Lunnun town; She’d fry ye a sassage, or grill ye a chop, And sell, unbeknown to the gagers, a drop OQ’ blue-ruin to vash the grub down- She never bought dogs as vos drown’d in the river, And the cat’s-meat she couldn’t a-bear; _ But she had the best pork as the eye could diskiver, And her shop was the cleanest ‘a At this part of the above truly beautiful effusion the music sud- denly left off, the singing of the actors ceased simultaneously, and a part of Mr. Weller’s melody distinctly met the ear of every one present. “6.4 la porte, le tapageur !? cried several voices; and a few indi- viduals in Sam’s immediate vicinity commenced a series of hissing, hooting, and ejaculation, which for a moment disturbed the usually imperturbable disposition of the cause of the confusion. In the midst of the disturbance two grim-looking figures, whose heads were surmounted each by a large cock-hat, made their appearance at the entrance of the gallery, and enquired in a terrible voice which was the EORNICLOOOKS (C(O)