Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 353: what you’re looking at

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

> 840 PICKWICK XEROAY, faining quickly the works they require. To prevent disappointment they will please to send a list—” “Why, you are quoting from your own prospectus,” said Mr, Snodgrass, carelessly referring to the card which had been presented to him. fw? a we ee “_,)* sy" a “ Well, I really think I am,” exclaimed Mr. Matthew Tunks, with a grin that beat all the others. ‘‘ And now, gentlemen—beg pardon, my lady—if you will allow me to send for your subscriptions to-mor- row morning, I shall be obliged. Good evening, gentlemen;” and Mr. Matthew Tunks retired with many very low bows. <¢ What sort of a fellow is that ?’”’ demanded the Count of the waiter, when the docr had closed behind Mr. Matthew ‘Tunks. “Why, Sir,” answered the waiter, ‘‘he is considered to be the greatest liar in Paris; and the Frenchman, who is the sleeping proprie- tor of the establishment to which he belongs, is the most notorious villain in existence. His nameis Jules Renard—he lives in the Rue de Tournon—and the way in which he treated a young English gen- tleman in respect to that library, was shameful in the extreme.” Neither the Countess Loveminski, Count Boloski, nor Mr, Snod- grass felt at all inclined to linger over the supper-table. They ac- cordingly abridged the loquacity of the waiter as much as possible, and desired to be shown to their respective chambers—a request that was immediately complied with on the part of a most insolent chamber- maid, who, old as she was ugly, took the liberty of chattering to them in the most familiar manner as she conducted them to their apartments in that wing which faces the coffee-room and the little garden before alluded to. nee CHAPTER XLULI. MR. SNODGRASS RECEIVES A LITTLE COMFORTABLE AND REFRESHING INFORMATION RELATIVE TO CERTAIN MATTERS IN WHICH HE WAS MORE OR LESS INTERESTED, AND WHICH THE INTEGRITY OF HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLERS WAS INTIMATELY CONNECTED WITIH.—THE GENDARME. How delicious is the downy couch, to use the high-flown phrase- ology of the fraternity of poets, after five-and-twenty hours of weary travelling! A bed is the most indispensable of mundane comforts. It is the place in which we are born and pass the happiest portion of our lives, and yet which we never wish to keep. But at one time it appears much more luxurious than another; at least, such was the opinion of Mr, Augustus Snodgrass—and he was no mean authority— on the oceasion of his retiring to one for the first time at Lawson’s Bedford Hotel. | Mr. Snodgrass did not, however, remain awake long to indulge in his reflections. He satisfied himself,with the conclusion at which he had so sagaciously arrived relative to the comforts of his couch, and — resigned the custody of his person into the care of the Genius of Sleep, In other words, he began to snore most manfully, and would doubtless : a EGOMIGcDooks Cc Th