if I did, I put my name down for a ticket; at six o'clock on the Friday

evenin' I dresses myself out wery smart, and off I goes with the old

'ooman, and up we walks into a fust-floor where there was tea-things

for thirty, and a whole lot o' women as begins whisperin' to one

another, and lookin' at me, as if they'd never seen a rayther stout

gen'l'm'n of eight-and-fifty afore. By and by, there comes a great bustle

downstairs, and a lanky chap with a red nose and a white neckcloth

rushes up, and sings out, ‘Here's the shepherd a-coming to wisit his

faithful flock;’ and in comes a fat chap in black, vith a great white

face, a-smilin' avay like clockwork. Such goin's on, Sammy! ‘The kiss

of peace,’ says the shepherd; and then he kissed the women all round,

and ven he'd done, the man vith the red nose began. I was just a-

thinkin' whether I hadn't better begin too - 'specially as there was a

wery nice lady a-sittin' next me - ven in comes the tea, and your

mother-in-law, as had been makin' the kettle bile downstairs. At it

they went, tooth and nail. Such a precious loud hymn, Sammy, while

the tea was a brewing; such a grace, such eatin' and drinkin'! I wish

you could ha' seen the shepherd walkin' into the ham and muffins. I

never see such a chap to eat and drink - never. The red-nosed man

warn't by no means the sort of person you'd like to grub by contract,

but he was nothin' to the shepherd. Well; arter the tea was over, they

sang another hymn, and then the shepherd began to preach: and wery

well he did it, considerin' how heavy them muffins must have lied on

his chest. Presently he pulls up, all of a sudden, and hollers out,

‘

Where is the sinner; where is the mis'rable sinner?’ Upon which, all

the women looked at me, and began to groan as if they was a-dying. I

thought it was rather sing'ler, but howsoever, I says nothing.

Presently he pulls up again, and lookin' wery hard at me, says, ‘Where

is the sinner; where is the mis'rable sinner?’ and all the women groans

again, ten times louder than afore. I got rather savage at this, so I

takes a step or two for'ard and says, ‘My friend,’ says I, ‘did you apply

that 'ere obserwation to me?’ 'Stead of beggin' my pardon as any

gen'l'm'n would ha' done, he got more abusive than ever: - called me a

wessel, Sammy - a wessel of wrath - and all sorts o' names. So my

blood being reg'larly up, I first gave him two or three for himself, and

then two or three more to hand over to the man with the red nose, and

walked off. I wish you could ha' heard how the women screamed,

Sammy, ven they picked up the shepherd from underneath the table -

Hollo! here's the governor, the size of life.'

As Mr Weller spoke, Mr Pickwick dismounted from a cab, and entered

the yard. 'Fine mornin', Sir,' said Mr Weller, senior.

'Beautiful indeed,' replied Mr Pickwick.

Beautiful indeed,' echoes a red-haired man with an inquisitive nose

and green spectacles, who had unpacked himself from a cab at the

same moment as Mr Pickwick. 'Going to Ipswich, Sir?'

The Pickwick Papers