Chapter VI

An Old-Fashioned Card-Party - The Clergyman's Verses - The

Story Of The Convict's Return

Several guests who were assembled in the old parlour rose to greet Mr

Pickwick and his friends upon their entrance; and during the

performance of the ceremony of introduction, with all due formalities,

Mr Pickwick had leisure to observe the appearance, and speculate

upon the characters and pursuits, of the persons by whom he was

surrounded - a habit in which he, in common with many other great

men, delighted to indulge.

A very old lady, in a lofty cap and faded silk gown - no less a

personage than Mr Wardle's mother - occupied the post of honour on

the right-hand corner of the chimney-piece; and various certificates of

her having been brought up in the way she should go when young,

and of her not having departed from it when old, ornamented the

walls, in the form of samplers of ancient date, worsted landscapes of

equal antiquity, and crimson silk tea-kettle holders of a more modern

period. The aunt, the two young ladies, and Mr Wardle, each vying

with the other in paying zealous and unremitting attentions to the old

lady, crowded round her easy-chair, one holding her ear-trumpet,

another an orange, and a third a smelling-bottle, while a fourth was

busily engaged in patting and punching the pillows which were

arranged for her support. On the opposite side sat a bald- headed old

gentleman, with a good-humoured, benevolent face - the clergyman of

Dingley Dell; and next him sat his wife, a stout, blooming old lady,

who looked as if she were well skilled, not only in the art and mystery

of manufacturing home-made cordials greatly to other people's

satisfaction, but of tasting them occasionally very much to her own. A

little hard-headed, Ripstone pippin-faced man, was conversing with a

fat old gentleman in one corner; and two or three more old gentlemen,

and two or three more old ladies, sat bolt upright and motionless on

their chairs, staring very hard at Mr Pickwick and his fellow-voyagers.

Mr Pickwick, mother,' said Mr Wardle, at the very top of his voice.

Ah!' said the old lady, shaking her head; 'I can't hear you.'

Mr Pickwick, grandma!' screamed both the young ladies together.

Ah!' exclaimed the old lady. 'Well, it don't much matter. He don't care

for an old 'ooman like me, I dare say.'

'I assure you, ma'am,' said Mr Pickwick, grasping the old lady's hand,

and speaking so loud that the exertion imparted a crimson hue to his

benevolent countenance - 'I assure you, ma'am, that nothing delights

The Pickwick Papers