Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 370: what you’re looking at

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

PICKWICK ABROAD. 337 “you mane?’ says Dusty Bob. ‘Och, lm not at all partickler—I takes *em for every complaint as ’appens tome. I svallowed a whole box full on ’em t’other day, as I vos in a melancholy state o’ mind, and vouldn’t rouse myself not by no means. Faith, they roused me, though!’—‘ JI des say they did,’ observes the doctor, vith a smile o’ pleasure.—‘ Vell, Sir,’ says Bob, ma wery msinivatin’ manner, ‘ von 0’ my boys had hurted his foot, and vould keep to his bed in spite o’ me svearin’ he couldn’t valk: so I poked forty-two pilis down his throat over night, and the next day, your honour—och! and didnt he valk about as vell as myself? Now,’ contmues Bob, ‘l’m sartain I’ve airned your adwertisements ; an’ I’m blowed if the clerk o’ the Lagle ever took the walley o’ von box o’ your pills in his: life ; an’if he vishes to dispute it, he has nothin’ to do but to svallow as many as I have done already, an’ then ve can start fair, your honour. Ve viil each begin a course, an’ he who gives vay, shall lose the adwertisements.’— This wery interestin’ proposal quite von the doctor's heart, and he gived the adwertisements for a whole year to Dusty Bob, upon the spot. Mouldy Joe, the clerk of the Hag/e, killed his-self in right down desperation, a fortnit arterwards.” “Mr. Dusty Robert was a very ingenious person,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘‘Oh! that’s nothin’ to vot he vould do,” said Mr. Weller, raking his budget of mendacular anecdote for a more spicey example still. *“Tsn’t it indeed 2?” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. | “Tt raly ain’t,”’ continued Sam, encouraged by his master’s observa- tion. ‘‘On another occasion he valks wery quietly into the shop o’ Missus Rafiinay, the fashionable manty-maker at the Vest-end, and tumbles head-foremost into a room vere seven or eight wery pretty young gals vos a vorking avay like vild-fire.—‘ Oh! for the love 0’ Jasus,’ says Bob, ‘ vich on ye is Missus Raffinay ?—* Neither on us,’ vos the ansvergived by a young gal vith black eyes an’ ayeller gown. ‘She’s so deeply engaged at this present speaking,’ continues the young gal, ‘that she vouldn’t see her own mother if she vos to rise from the grave. —‘ Vell, then, I’m a ruined man,’ says Bob, ‘if I can’t get to the spache o’ Missus Raffinay this blessed minnit.’-—‘ Can’t you name your business ?’ says the gal.—‘ Och, name it, is it, that you mane?’ says Bob; ‘andso I vill to her ownself. —‘ Air you then just come for a little beggin’ hexpedition, young man?’ says the young gal.‘ Beg- gin’, is it, that you mane now?’ says Bob; ‘and sure it is, my dear: but it’s beggin’ pardon for my sins; and if Missus Raffinay don’t grant it, PU jist jump into the river on my vay home, and drown myselt afore I gets there !’—‘ No, don’t do that’ere,’ says the gal; ‘ forhere comes Missus herself.’—‘ Ma’am,’ says Bob, ven he seed the great concealer o’ feminine sins approachin’ vitha wery stately air, ‘ you seesa _humble penitentiary afore you, asis terrified out o’ the small supply o’ vits vich he ever possessed, lest he shouldn’t obtain your pardon for his negleck.’—‘ Vot negleck ?’ says the lady: ‘ youain’t bein’ guilty o’ none to me,as I knows of.’—‘Och, and that’s wery kind o’ you Ma’am,’ says Dusty Bob, vith alow bow; ‘but the fact is that I forgot to put your adwertisement into the Vightimgale newspaper this mornin’, and ‘there’s likely to be rayther a kick-up about it.’—‘ But I never senés ‘no adwertisements to the Nightingale,’ says Missus Rafiinay.—‘Sure EMPMICLYOO| KS. (eC) =)