Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 214: what you’re looking at

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

PICKWICK AREOAD. 201 into his partner’s hand, and then cast a cursory glance over those of Mr. Pickwick and Mr. 'Tupman, the effect of which scrutiny was the immediate termination of the seventh rubber in favour of himself and partner. At this crisis, Mr. Weller made his appearance, and hastened to speak in a most mysterious tone to Mr. Pickwick. “Ten is it, Sam ?” enquired that great man, valiantly essaying to rise from his chair in spite of the conspiracy instituted against him by sundry giasses of Bordeaux-Laflitte and rum-punch. He, however, with 2 Httle difficulty, eventually performed the feat, and got upon his own, to the meflable admiration of his attentive domestic. ‘Yen it is, Sir,” sald Mr. Weller ; ‘‘ and supper’s a-vaitin’.” ‘Then in a low voice he whispered in his venerated master’s ear—* Come, now—don’t you go and get into the wrong box, as the judge said to the thief as comed to vitness in favour of another thief; cos you're rayther fresh as it is--and them new-comers is precious jokers any- hew. You'd only make a old scare-crow o' yourself.” Mr. Pickwick dealt a look of the deepest contempt, mingled with indignation, at the head of his faithful domestic, and, without deigning a reply to the aforesaid advice, requested his friends to walk mto the supper-room, an invitation that was immediately accepted, there beme a species of scuffle between the poetic Mr. Septimus Chitty and the systematic Mr. Hook Walker, with regard to precedency, a point that was speedily decided by the superior strength of the latter. When the company was seated at the table, Mr. Weller proceeded to uncover the dishes with a species of satisfaction and triumph that elicited a torrent of applauding smiles from Mr. Pickwick, and im- pelled Mr. Winkle into a perfect paroxysm of gaiety and mirth. And truly never was a more delicate assortment of provisions set upona convivial board. The first dish contained an immense beef-steak pudding, that had unfortunately burst in being extricated from the pot—the second, about six pounds of boiled tripe—the third, a pleas- ing guantum of bubble-and-squeak—the fourth, a toad-in-the-hole— the fifth, a bullock’s heart roasted—and the sixth, a dainty selection of pork-pies. Messieurs Peacock and Brandenbergh exchanged sus- picious glances—Mr. Scuttle fancied he was in an English eating- house, and desired Mr. Pickwick, in a peremptory tone, to “ fire away "—Mr. Walker commenced a desperate attack upon the boiled tripe, declaring that a good appetite was a part of his system—Mr. Chitty affirmed that it was a “‘ magnificus spargo,’ a magnificent spread—and the three founders of the feast looked aghast when the unsaintly contents of the several dishes were disclosed to view. ‘* A wery tidy dis-play it is, too,” observed Mr. Weller, ‘‘ vich vos the remark made by the gen’leman ven he see the prisoners in the King’s Bench Prison. But precious hard vork I had to make our‘’gal comprehend the nature of them dishes. I thought, however, I’d give you a riglar John Bull's turn out for vonce ina vay. So, pitch into “em gen’lemen, as the magistrate said to the soldiers ven he’d read the ‘Yiot-hact.”’ “Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, in a mysterious tone of voice. _ “Sir,” cried the faithful valet. “Let the music be introduced,” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, a glow of honest pride animating his benevolent countenance; for, as he gazed 26 Gomicboo CS (EO) =