Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 197: what you’re looking at

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

184 PICKWICK ABROAD. Full oft at eve the hist’ry of each fight a Has chang’d the hours to minutes, as we sate ‘% Around the board on which the wine was bright :=~= Alas! that glory’s stamp’d my present fate ! Slow be thy, &c., &c., &c. And there is one among ye who knows well we My native village. ‘Thither let him hie, = Henceforth in blest tranquillity to dwell, Nor seek those paths that haste the hour to die. In early youth, amidst my father’s lands, Devoid of care, twas mine to rove at will, Or pluck th’ inviting: fruits with eager hands :— Alas! a tender mother loves me still! Slow be thy, &c., &c., &c. Whose mourning voice my fate seems to deplore? It is the widow of my comrade slain ! From Russian snows her infant child I bore, Tended it night and day, and soothed her pain. Else had they perish’d in that cheerless land— For none was found to succour them but I ;— And now, with suppliant voice and uprais’d hand, | : She prays to heav’n to bless me ere | die ra Slow be thy, &c., &c., &c. Let not th’ accursed bandage stop my view : The warrior may not shrink—though face to face He find himself with Death !—My friends, adieu— We enter now upon the destin’d place! Mark well your aim——be sure to let your eye Rest on the glittering cross in battle won. Once more, adieu—and may the Lord on high To ev’ry mother safe restore her son! Slow be thy solemn pace— Nor weep thy comrade’s doom ; For short is now the spuce Between him and the tomb! “There,” said Mr. Scuttle, who had been standing with his left foot on Mr. Pickwick’s toes for the last quarter of an hour—“ that is in honour of you, my dear Sir. I have already desired my niece to make a fair copy of the song. Are you a musician yourself?” ‘Tam very fond of music,” replied Mr. Pickwick,” and am consi- derably indebted to Mrs. Weston for her kindness. But there is a gentleman with whom I am slightly acquainted, | think;”—-and Mr. Pickwick indicated the person of Mr, Septimus Chitty. ‘‘ Indeed,” said Mr. Scuttle: “ he is avery amusing man. I will go and bring him to you at once,’ Mr. Scuttle accordingly walked slowly across the room, exchanged — a word or two with the various guests whom he aeountered, aan stepping up to his niece’s fat poodle which lay sleeping on an ottoman, ~ he seized the unfortunate animal by the neck and tail, and returning $0 the place where Mr. Pickwick was standing , deposited the Coed ‘ in that gentleman’s arms. It was a truly interesting and beautifil — sight to witness the philanthropic ardour with which Mr. Pickwick