Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

&O PILKWICK ABROAD. “ Robbers of virtue——beautifully expressed!” cried Mr. Tupman, with a glance of the most profound respect at his great leader. < What: r’ said Mr. Pickwick, dubiously. “ Why—the object of my choice,” returned Mr. Tupman, fixing a look of extreme stolidity on the hero of these memoirs. “Take care you are not deceived as to the breed,” remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, mildly. “Impossible!” ejaculated Mr. Tupman. ‘‘ Her mother’is a Mar- cnioness.”’ ‘* Mr. Tupman!” cried Mr. Pickwick, with some warmth; ‘are yer bumbugeing me, Sir?” “God forbid murmured! Mr. Tupman, greatly affected. ‘“ My choice is indubitably fixed. And what do you think I have chosen /” ‘A spaniel, J should imagine,” returned Mr. Pickwick; ‘‘if I may judge by your strings, and your coilars, and your docility.”’ «No, Sir,” cried Mr. Tupman, now angry in his turn. ‘“ We have misunderstood each other, Sir—you have wilfully misinterpreted my ideas, Sir. The person, and foe the animal, Sir—to which I allude —isa la dy, Sir—do you hear me!’—and Mr. Tupman twisted his fingers in his hair w ith the estas and appearance of extreme wrath. «And so you have fallen in love again, Sir,” shouted Mr. Pickwick, a light breaking in upon him. ey have, Sir,” responded Mr. Tupman ; “and what of that /’ « What of that, Sir!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. ‘* Why, Sir— simply this—that at your time of lfe—”’ “Well, Sir—at my time of lifer” sarcastically re-echoed Mr, Tupman. «You are an ass, Sir,” cried Mr. Pickwick—‘‘ an old fool, to be humbugged by every idle girl. There, Sir!” ** Pickwick,’ murmured Mr. Tupman in a voice rendered almost inaudible by deep emotions, “do you recollect the parting between Fox and Burke in the House of Commons ?” ta | Sih heard of it, Sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, still very irate at the imagined stupidity of his follower. ‘And what then, Sir?” “Our parting must be like their’s, Pickwick,” returned Mr. Tup- man: “ our friendship is at an end—our intimacy exists no longer ;”— and with these words, which he delivered in a tone of the most de- plorable and disconsolate misery, Mr. ‘Tupman started from the chair on which he had been seated, glanced sorrowfully at the former com- panion of his toils and pleasures, sighed deeply, buried his face in his hands, and rushed out of the room in the most approved and interest- Ing state of agony commonly deemed to be in vogue amongst modern ragedians. “T have been too hasty,” said Mr. Pickwick to himself, after the lapse of five minutes. ‘“ What is to be done ?” enquired that creat man of himself. ‘* We will think of it after dinner—I dare say iD up- man is not serious !”’ And having consoled himself in this truly philosophical and exem- plary manner, Mr. Pickwick descended to the table d’hote room, where his presence was awaited by Mr. Boozie and Mr. Winkle. Gomichooks:.co