o . \ M^ ^ ^^ .S*"--p^^- Pleasant little faniily party at j\lr. lVck.ty, narrowly conccrnipjjf Tom. -. 233 239 Chap. XL. — The Pinches make a Nev. Ac- quaintance, and have fresh occabion for Surprise and Wonder Chap. XLI. — Mr. Jonas and his Friend, ar- riving at a Pleasant Understanding, set forth upon an Enterprise 245 Chap. XLII. — Continuation of the Enter- prise of Mr. Jonas and his Friend .... 249 Chap. XLIII, — Has an Influence on the Fortunes of several People. Mr. Peck- sniff is exhibited in the Plenitude of Power ; and wields the same with For- titude and Magnanimity 253 Chap, XLIV, — Further Continuation of the Enterprise of Mr. Jonas and his Friend 261 Chap. XLV, In which Tom Pinch and his Sister take a little Pleasure ; but quite in a Domestic Way, and with no Cere- mony about it Chap, XLVL— In which Miss Pecksniff makes Love, Mr. Jonas makes Wrath, Mrs. Gamp makes Tea, and Mr. Chut fey makes Business 268 Chap. XLVII. — Conclusion of the Enter- prise of Mr. Jonas and his Friend Chap. XL VIII.— Bears Tidings of Martin, and of Mark, as well as of a Third Per- son not quite unknown to the Reade*. Exhibits Filial Piety in an Ugly As- pect ; and casts a doubtful Ray of Light upon a very Dark Place Chap. XLIX. — In which Mrs. Harris, assist- ed by a Teapot, is the cause of a Divi- sion between Friends Chap. L. — Surprises Tom Pinch very much, and shows how certain Confidences passed between him and his Sister Chap. LI. — Sheds New and Brighter Light upon the very Dark Place ; and coiv tains the Sequel of the Enterprise of Mr. Jonas and his Friend 297 Chap. LII. — In which the Tables are Turned completely Upside Down 305 Chap. LIII. — What John Westlock said to Tom Pinch's Sister ; what Tom Pinch's Sister said to John Westlock ; what Tom Pinch said to both of them ; and how they all passed the Remainder of the Day 312 Chap. LIV.— Gives the Author great Con. cern. For it is the Last in the Book. . 31S 265 27" 281 287 292 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY, CONCERNING THE PEDIGREE OF THE CHUZZLEWIT FAMILY. As no lady or gentleman, with any claims to polite breeding', can possibly sympathise with the Chuzzlewit Family without being first as- sured of the extreme antiquity of the race, it is a great satisfaction to know that it undoubt- edly descended in a direct line from Adam and Eve; and was, in the very earliest times, closely connected with the agricultural interest. If it should ever be urged by grudging and malicious persons, that a Chuzzlewit, in any period of the family history, displayed an overweening amount of funily pride, surely the we .-kncss will be considered not only pardonable but laud- able, when the immense superiority of the house to the rest of mankind, in respect of this its ancient origin, is taken into account. It is remarkable that as there was, in the old- est family of which we have any record, a mur- derer and a vagabond, so we never fail to meet, in tlie records of all old families, witli innumer- able repetitions of the same phase of character. Indeed, it may be laid down as a general prin- ciple, that the more extended the ancestry, the greater the amount of violence and vagabond- ism ; for in ancient days, those two amusements, combining a wholesome excitement with a pro- mising means of repairing shattered fortunes, were at once the ennobling pursuit and the healthful recreation of the Quality of the land. Consequently, it is a source of inexpressible comfort and happiness to find, that in various periods of our history, the Chuzzlewits were actively connected with divers slaughterous con- spiracies and bloody frays. It is further record- ed of them, that being clad from head to heel in steel of proof, they did on many occasions lead their leather-jerk ined soldiers to the death, with invincible courage, and afterwards return home gracefully to their relations and friends. There can be no doubt that at least one Chuz- zlewit came over with William the Conqueror. It does not appear that this illustrious ancestor "came over" that monarch, to employ the vul- gar phrase, at any subsequent period : inasmuch as the Family do not seem to have been ever greatly distinguished by the possession of land- ed estate. And it is well known that for the bestowal of that kind of property upon his fi- vourites, the liberality and gratitude of tlie Nor- man were as remarkable, as those virtues are usually found to be in great men when they give away what belongs to other people. Perhaps m this place the history may pause to congratulate itself upon the enormous ainoniit of bravery, wisdom, eloquence, virtue, gentle birth, and true nobility, that appears to have come into England with the Norman Invasion : an amount wliich the genealogy of every an- cient family lends its aid to swell, and which would beyond all question have been found to be just as great, and to the full as prolific iti giving birth to long lines of chivalrous descend- ants, boastful of their origin, even though Wil- liam the Conqueror had been William the Con- quered : a change of circumstances which, it is quite certain, would have made no manner of difference in this respect. There was unquestionably a Chuzzlewit in the Gunpowder Plot, if indeed the arch-traitor, Fawkes himself, were not a scion of this re- markahle stock; as he might easily have been, supposing another Chuzzlewit to have emigrated to Spain in the previous generation, and there intermarried with a Spanish lady, by whom be had issue, one olive-complexioned son. This probable conjecture is strengthened, if not ab. solutely confirmed, by a fact which cannot fail to be interesting to those who are curious in tracing the progress of hereditary tastes through the lives of their unconscious inheritors. It is a notable circumstance that in these later times, many Chuzzlewits, being unsuccessful in other pursuits, have, without the smallest rational hope of enriching themselves, or any conceiv- able reason, set up as coal-merchants ; and have, month after month, continued gloomily to watch a small stock of coals, without, in any one in- stance, negociating with a purchaser. The remarkable similarity between this course of proceeding and that adopted by their Great An- cestor beneath the vaults of the Parliament House at Westminster, is too obvious and too full of interest, to stand in need of comment. It is also clearly proved by the oral traditions of the Family, that there existed, at some one period of its history which is not distinctly stated, a matron of such destructive principles, and so familiarised to the use and composition of inflammatory and combustible engines, that she was called " The Match Maker :" by which nickname and byword she is recog-nised in the Family legends to this day. Surely there caii be no reasonai)le doubt that this was the Span- ish lady : the mother of Chuzzlewit Fawkes. But there is one other piece of evidence, bea ing immediate reference to their close connet ion with this memorable event in English His tory, which must carry conviction, even to n mind (if such a mind there be) remaining un ''onvinced by these presumotive proois. (9> 10 LIFE AMD ADVENTURES OF There was, w ithin a few y^ei.rs, in tJie possession of a higMj respectable and in every way credible and unimpeachable member of the Chuzzkwit Family (for his bitterest enemy never dared to hint at his being otherwise than a wealthy man), % dark lantern of undoubted antiquity ; rendered still more interesting by being, in shape and pat- tern, extremely like such as are in use at tlie pres- ent day. Now this gentleman, since deceased, was at all times ready to make oath, and did again and again set forth upon his solenm asseveration, tliat he had frequently heard his grandmother sisy, when contemplating this venerable relic, " Ay, ay 1 This was carried by my fourth son on the fifth of November, when he was a Guy Favvkes." These remarkable words wrought (as well they might) a strong impression on his mind, and he was in the habit of repeating them very often. The just in- terpretation which they bear, and the conclusion to which they lead, are triumphant and irresisti- ble. The old lady, naturally strong-minded, was nevertheless frail and fading ; she was notoriously subject to that confusion of ideas, or, to say the least, of speech, to which age and garrulity are liable. The slight, the very slight confusion, ap- p?>-ent in these expressions, is manifest and is ludi- crously easy of correction. " Ay, ay," quoth she, and it will be observed that no emendation what- ever is necessary to be made in these two initia- tive remarks, "Ay, ay! This lantern was carried by my forefather" — not fourth son, which is pre- posterous — " on the fiflh of November. And he was Guy Fawkes." Here we have a remark at once consistent, clear, natural, and in strict ac- cordance with the character of the speaker. In- deed tiie anecdote is so plainly susceptible of this meaning, and no other, that it would be hardly worth recording in its original state, were it not a proof of what may be (and very often is), effected not only in historical prose but in imaginative p^,- etry, by the exercise of a little ingenious labour on the part of a commentato" It has been said that there is no instance in modern times of a Chuzzlewit having been found on terms of intimacy with the Great. But here again the sneering detractors who weave such miserable figments from their malicious brains, are stricken dumb by evidence. For letters are yet in the possession of various branches of the family, from which it distinctly appears, being stated in so many words, that one Diggory Chuz- zlewit was in the habit of perpetually dining with Duke Humphrey. So constantly was he a guest al that nobleman's table, indeed ; and so unceas- ingly were His Grace's hospitality and compan- ionship forced, as it were, upon him ; that we find him uneasy, and full of constraint and reluctance : writing his friends to the effect that if they fail to do so and so by bearer, he will have no choice but to dine again with Duke Humphrey : and express- ing himself in a very marked and extraordinary manner ns one surfeited of High Life and Gra- clous Company. It has been rumoured, and it is needless to say • he ruHinur originated in the same base quarters, '.hat a ecrlain male Chuzzlewit, whose birth must be admitted to be involved in some obscurity, was of very mean and low descent. H6w stands i'le proof? When the son of Hint Tndividml, to ihofi) the secret of his fa'hcr'e birth was suppos- ed to have been communicated by his father in his lifetime, lay upon his death-bed, this qaestion was put to him, in a distinct, solemn, and formal way : " Toby Chuzzlewit, who was your grand- father?" To which he, with his last breath, no less distinctly, solemnly, and formally replied : and his words were taken down at the time, and sign- ed by six witnesses, each with his name ar.d ad- dress in full : " The Lord No Zoo." It may be said — it has been said, for human wickedness has no limits — that there is no Lord of that name, aneC that among the titles which have become extinct, none at all resembling this, in sound even, is to be discovered. But what is the irresistible inference ? Rejecting a theory broached by some well-mean- ing but mistaken persons, that this Mr. Toby Chuz- zlewit's grandfather, to judge from his name, must surely have been a Mandarin (which is who^y insupportable, for there is no pretence of his grand- mother ever having been out of this country, or of any Mandarin having been in it within some years of his father's birth ; except those in the tea- shops, which cannot for a moment be regarded as having any bearing on the question, one way or other), rejecting this hypothesis, is it not mani- fest that Mr. Toby Chuzzlewit had either received the name imperfectly from his father, or that he had forgotten it, or that he had mispronounced it? and that even at the recent period in question, the Chuzzlewits were connected by a bend sinister, or kir i of heraldic over-the-left, \ ■.',h some unknown noble and illustrious House? From documentary evidence, yet preserved in the family, the fact is clearly established that in the comparatively modern days of the Diggory Chuzzlewit before mentioned, one of its rricmbera had attained to very great wealth and influepce. Throughout such fragments of his corresponde'hce as have escaped the ravages of the moths (who, in right of their extensive absorption of the con- tents of deeds and papers, may be called the gen- eral registers of the Insect World), we find him making constant reference to an uncle, in lespecf of whom he would seem to have entertained great expectations, as he was in the habit of seeking to propitiate his favour by presents of plate, jewels, books, watches, and other valuable articles. Thus, he writes on one occasion to his brother in refer- ence to a gravy-spoon, the brother's property which he (Diggory) would appear to have borrow- ed or otherwise possessed himself of: " Do not be angry I have parted with it — to my uncle." On another occasion he expresses himself in a similar manner with regard to a child's mug which had been entrusted to him to get repaired. On another occasion he says, " I have bestowed upon that irresistible uncle of mine everything I ever possessed." And that he was in the habit of paying long and constant visits to this gentleman at his mansion, if indeed, he did not wholly reside there, is manifest from the following sentence : "With the exception of the suit of clothes I carry about with me, the whole of my wearing apparel is at present at my uncle's." This gentleman's patronage and influence must have been vei y ex- tensive, for his nephew writes, " His intercs*. is too high" — " It is too much" — " It is tremendom" — and the like. Still it does not appear (which is strange) to have procured for him any lucratiTe post at court or elsewhere, or to hare conferred MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 11 apon him any other distinction than that which was necessarily included in the countenance of so great a man, and the being invited by hitn tocer- lain entertainments, so splendid and costly in their nature that he emphatically calls tliern " Golden Balls." It is needless to multiply instances of the high and lofty station, and the vast importance of the Chuzzlewits, at different periods. If it came with- in the scope of reasonable probability that further proofs were required, they might be heaped upon each other until they formed an Alps of testimony, beneath which the boldest scepticism should be crushed and beaten flat. As a goodly tumulus is already collected, and decently battened up above the Family grave, the present chapter is content to leave it as it is : merely adding, by way of a final spadeful, that many Chuzzlevvits, both male and female, are proved to demonstration, on the faith of letters written by their own mothers, to have had chiselled noses, undeniable chins, forms that might have served the sculptor for a model, exquisitely-turned limbs, and polished foreheads of so transparent a texture that the blue veins might be seen branching off in various directions, like so ma;.^ roads on an ethereal map. This fact in itself, though it had been a solitary one, would have utterly settled and clenched the business in hand ; for it is well known, on the authority of all the books which treat of such matters, that every #ne of these phenomena, but especially that of the chiseling, are invariably peculiar to, and only make themselves apparent in, persons of the very best condition. This history, having, to its own perfect satisfac- tion, (and, consequently, to tiie full contentment of all its readers,) proved the Chuzzlewits to have had an origin, and to have been at one time or other of an importance which cannot fail to ren- der them highly improving and acceptable ac- quaintance to all right-minded individuals, may now proceed in earnest with its task. And hav- ing shown that they must have had, by reason of their ancient birth, a pretty large share in the foundation and increase of the human family, it will one day become its province to submit, that such of its members as shall be introduced in these pages, have still many counterparts and pro- totypes in the Great World about us. At present it contents itself with remarking, in a general way, on this head : Firstly, that it may be safely asserted and yet without implying any direct par- ticipation in the Monboddo doctrine touching the probability of the human race having once been monkeys, that men do play very strange and ex- traordinary tricks. Secondly, and yet without trenching on the Blumenbach theory as to the descendants of Adam having a vast number of qualities which belong more particularly to swine than to any other class of animals in the creation that some men certainly are remarkable for tak ing uncommon good care of themselves. CHAPTER II. WHEREIN CERTAIN PERSONS ARE PRESENTED TO THE READER, WITH WHOM HE MAY, IF HE PLEASE, BECOME BETTER ACQUAINTED. It was pretty late in the autumn of the year, when the declining sun, struggling through the mist which had obscured it all day, looked bright- ly down upon a little Wiltshire village, within an easy journey of the fair old town of Salisbury. Like a sudden flash of memory or spirit kind- ling up the mind of an old man, it shed a glory upon the scene, in which its departed youth and freshness seemed to live again. The wet grass sparkled in the light ; the scanty patches of ver- dure in the hedges — where a few green twigs yet stood together bravely, resisting to the last the ty- ranny of nipping winds and early frosts — took heart and brightened up ; the stream which had been dull and sullen all day long, broke out into a cheerful smile; the birds began to chirp and twit- ter on the naked boughs, as though the hopeful creatures half believed that winter had gone by, and spring had come already. The vane upon the tapering spire of the old church glistened from its lofty station in sympathy with the general gladness ; and from the ivy-shaded windows such gleams of light shone back upon the glowing sky, that it seemed as if the quiet buildings were the hoarding-place of twenty summers, and all their ruddiness and warmth were stored within. Even those tokens of the season which emphati- cally whispered of the coming winter, graced the landscape, and, tor the moment, tinged its livelier features with no oppressive air of sadness. The Taller, leaves, with which the ground was strewn, gave forth a pleasant fragrance, and eubdumg all harsh sounds of distant feet and wheels, created a repose in gentle unison with the light scattering of seed hither and thither by the distant husDand- man, and with the noiseless passage of the plough as it turned up the rich brown earth, and wrought a graceful pattern in the stubbled fields. On the motionless branches of some trees, autumn berries hung like clusters of coral beads, as in those fabled orchards where the fruits were jewels; others, stripped of all their garniture, stood, each the cen treof its little heap of bright red leaves, watching their slow decay ; others again, still wearing theirs had them all crunched and crackled up, as though they had been burnt ; about the stems of some were piled, in ruddy mounds, the apples they had borne that year ; while others (hardy evergreens this class) showed somewhat stern and gloomy in their vigour, as charged by nature with the admo- nition that it is not to her more sensitive and joy- ous favourites she grants the longest term of life. Still athwart their darker boughs, the sun-beams struck out paths of deeper gold ; and the red light, mantling in among their swarthy branches, uned them as foils to set its brightness off, and aid tha lustre of the dying day. A moment, and its glory was no more. Tht sun went down beneath the long dark lines of hill and cloud which piled up in the west an airy city. wall heaped on wall, and battlement on battlement i the light was all withdrawn ; the shining church LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF turned cold and dark ; the stream forgot to smile; the birds were silent; and the gloom of winter dwelt on everything. An evening wind uprose too, and the slighter branches cracked and rattled as they moved, in skeleton dances, to its moaning music. The with- ering leaves no longer quiet, hurried to and fro in search of shelter from its chill pursuit ; the labour- er unyoked his horses, and vvith head bent down, trudged briskly home beside them ; and from the cotluge windows, lights began to glance and wink upon the darkening fields. Then the village forge came out in all its bright importance. The lusty bellows roared Ha ha ! to he clear fire, which roared in turn, and bade the shining sparks dance gaily to the merry clinking of the hammers on the anvil. The gleaming iron, in its emulation, sparkled too, and she'' ■*« red-hot gems around profusely. The strong sm.„i*i and his men dealt such strokes upon their work, as made even the melancholy night rejoice ; and brought a glow into its dark face as it hovered about the door and windows, peeping curiously in above the shoulders of a dozen loungers. As to this idle company, there they stood, spellbound by the place, amd, casting now and then a glance upon the dark- ness in their rear, settled their lazy elbows more at ease upon the sill, and leaned a little furtiier in : no more disposed to tear themselves away, than if they had been born to cluster round the blazing hearth like so many crickets. Out upon the angry wind ! how from sighjng, it began to bluster round the merry forge, banging 8t the wicket, 2nd grumbling in the chimney, as if it bullied the jolly bellows for doing anything *o order. And what an impotent swaggerer it was Ijo, for all its noise ! for if it had any influence on that hoarse companion, it was but to make him roar his cheerful song the louder, and by conse- quence to make the fire burn the brighter, and the sparks to dance more gaily yet : at length, they whizzed so madly round and round, that it was too much for such a surly wind to bear; so off it flew with a howl ; giving the old sign before the ale- bouse door such a cuff" as it went, that the Blue Dragon was more rampant than ustial ever after- ware s, and indeed, before Christmas, reared clean out ( C his crazy frame. It was small tyranny for a respectable wind to go wreaking its vengeance on such poor creatures as the fallen leaves, but this wind happening to come up with a great heap of them just after vent- ing its humour on the insulted Dragon, did so dis- perse and scatter them that they fled away, pell- mell, some here, some there, rollingover each other, whirling round and round upon their edges, taking Irantic flights into the air, and playing all manner of extraordinary gambols in the extremity of their distress. Nor was this enough for its malicious fury ; for not content with driving them abroad, it charged small parties of them and hunted them into the wheelwright's saw-pit, and below the uianks and timbers in the yard, and, scattering ihe saw-dust in the air, it looked for them under- neath, and when it did meet with any, whew ! how it drove them on and followed at their heels ! The scared leaves only flew the faster for all tnis; and a giddy chase it was; for they got into anfrcf|U( ntcd places, where there w;is no outlet, tiid where ihcir pursue* kept them eddying round and round at his pleasure ; and they crept under the eaves of houses, and clung tightl}' to the sides of hay-ricks, like bats ; and tore in at open cham- ber windows, and cowered close to hedges ; an^ in short went anyvi'here for safety. But the odd- est feat they achieved was, to take advantage of the sudden opening of Mr. Pecksniff's front-door, to dash wildly into his passage ; whither the wind following close upon them, and finding the back- door open, incontinently blew out the lighted can- dle held by Miss Pecksniff^, and slammed the front* door against Mr. Pecksniff who was at that mo- ment entering, with such violence, that in the twinkling of an eye he lay on his back at the bot- tom of the steps, ^ing by this time weary of such trifling ' .jormances, the boisterous rovei hurried av ^f rejoicing, roaring over moor and meado", hill and flat, until it got out to sea, where it tc€t with other winds similarly disposed, and made a night of it. In the meantime Mr. Pecksniff", having receiv ed, from a sharp angle in the bottom step but one, that sort of knock on the head which lights up, for the patient's entertainment, an imaginary gen- eral illumination of very bright short-sixes, lay placidly staring at his own street-door. And if would seem to have been more suggestive in its aspect than street-doors usually are ; for he con- tinued to lie there, rather a lengthy and unreason ab'e time, without so much as wondering whethei he was hurt or no ; neither, when Miss Pecksniff inquired through the key-hole in a shrill voice, which might have belonged to a wind in its teens, "Who's there?" did he make any reply; nor, when Miss Pecksniff opened the door again, and , shading the candle with her hand, peered out, and looked provokingly round him, and about him, and over him, and everywhere but at him, did he offer any remark, or indicate in any manner the least hint of a desire to be picked up. " / see you," cried Miss Pecksniff, to the ideai inflictor of a runaway knock. " You '11 catch it, sir !" Still Mr. Pecksniff", perhaps from having caugh* it already, said nothing. " You 're round the corner now," cried Mis!« Pecksniff. She said it at a venture, but there wa» appropriate matter in it too ; for Mr. Pecksniff, be ing in the act of extinguishing the candles before mentioned pretty rapidly, and of reducing the number of brass knobs on his street-door from four or five hundred (which had previously been juggling of their own accord before his eyes in a very novel manner) to a dozen or so, might in one sense have been said to bo coming round the cor ner, and just turning it. With a sharply-delivcrcd warning relative to the cage and the constable, and the stocks and the gallows. Miss Pecksniff was about to close the door again, when Mr. Pecksniff (being still at the bottom of the steps) raised himself on one elbow, and sneezed. " That voice !" cried Miss Pecksniff, " my pa- rent !" At this exclamation, another Miss Pecksniff bounced out of the parlour : and the two Miss Pecksniffs, with many incoherent expressions, dragged Mr. Pecksniff' into an upright posture. " Pa I" they cried in concert. " Pa ! Speak, Fa . Do not look so wild, my dearest Pa I" MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 18 But as a gentleman's looks, in such a case of all others, are by no means under his own control, Mr. Peckstiitf continued to keep his mouth and his eyes very wide open, and to drop his lower jaw, soineuhat after the manner of a toy nut- cracker ; and as his hat had fallen otf, and his face was pale, and liis hair erect, and his coat muddy, tlie spectacle he presented was so very doleful, that neither of the Miss Pecksnitfs could repress an involuntary screech. " Tliat'll do," said Mr. Pecksniff. " I 'm better." " He 's come to himself I" cried the youngest Miss Pecksniff. " He speaks again !" exdaimed the eldest. With which joyful words they kissed Mr. Pecksniff on either cheek ; and bore him into the house. Pre- sently, the youngest Miss Pecksniff ran out again to pick up his hat, his brown paper parcel, his um- brella, his gloves, and other small articles ; and that dune, and the door closed, both young ladies applied themselves to tending Mr. Pecksniff's wounds in the back parlour. They were not very ser'ous in their nature ; be- ing limited to abrasions on what the eldest Miss Pecksniff called " the knobby parts" of her pa- rent's anatomy, such as his knees and elbows, and to the development of an entirely new organ, nn- known to phrenologists, on the back of his head. These injuries having been comforted externally, with patches of piclded brown paper, and Mr. Pecksniff having been comforted internally, with some stiff brandy-and-water, the eldest Miss Peck- sniff sat down to make the tea, which was all ready. In the meantime the youngest Miss Peck- sniff brought from the kitchen a smoking dish of ham and eggs, and, setting the same before her father, took up her station on a low stool at his feet* thereby bringing her eyes on a level with the tea board. It must not be inferred from this position of hu- milit} that the youngest Miss Pecksniff was so younj as to be, as one may say, forced to sit upon a stool by reason of the shortness of her legs. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool because of her simplicity and innocence, which were very great; very great. Miss Pecksniff sat upon a stool, be- cause she was all girlishness, and playfulness, and wildness, and kittenish buoyancy. Slie was the most arch and at the same time the most artless creature, was the youngest Miss Pecksniff, that you can possibly imagine. It was her great charm. She was too fresh and guileless, and too full of child-like vivacity, was the youngest Miss Peck- sniff, to wear combs in her hair, or to turn it up, or to frizzle it, or braid it. She wore it in a crop, a loosely flowing crop, which had so many rows of curls in it, that the top row was only one curi Moderately buxom was her shape, and quite wo- manly too ; but sometimes — yes, sometimes — she even wore a pinafore; and how charming that was! Oh ! she was indeed "a gushing thing" (as a young gentleman had observed in verse, in the Poet's-corner of a provincial newspaper), was the youngest Miss Pecksniff! Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man : a grave man, a man of noble sentiments and speech ; and he had had her christenced Mercy. Mercy ! oh, what a eharming name for such a pure-souled Being as the youngest Miss Pecksniff! Her sistei* s name was Charity. There was a good thing I Mercy and Charity ! And Charity, with her fin« strong sense, and her mild, yet not reproachful gravity, was so well named, and did so well set off and illustrate her sister! What a pleasant sin-ht was that, the contrast they presented ; to see each loved and loving one sympathising with, and de- voted to, and leaning on, and yet correcting and counter-checking, and, as it were, antidoting, the other ! To behold each damsel, in her very admi- ration of her sister, setting up in business for her- self on an entirely different principle, and an- nouncing no connexion with over-tlie-way, and if the quality of goods at that establishment don't please you, you are respeclfnlly invited to favour ME with a call! And tlie cr)wning circumstance of the whole delightful catalogue was, that both the fair creatures were so utterly unconscious of all this ! They had no idea of it. They no more thought or dreamed of it, than Mr. Pecksniff did. Nature played them off against each other; they had no hand in it, the two Miss Pecksniffs. It has been remarked that Mr. Pecksniff was a moral man. So he was. Perhaps there never was a more moral man than Mr. Pecksniff; especially in his conversation and correspondence. It waa once said of him by a homely admirer, that he had a Fortunatus's purse of good sentiments in his in- side. In this particular he was like the girl in the fairy tale, except that if they were not actual dia- monds which fell from his lips, they were the very brightest p:iste, and shone prodigiously. He wa.j a most> exemplary man ; fuller of virtuous precept than a copybook. Some people likened him to a direction-post, which is always telling the way to a place, and never goes there : but these were his enemies ; the shadows cast by his brightness ; that was all. His very throat was moral. You saw i| good deal of it. You looked over a very low fence of white cravat (whereof no man had ever beheld the tie, for he fastened it behind), and there it lay, a valley between two jutting heights of collar, se- rene and whiskerless before you. It seemed to say, on the part of Mr. Pecksniff, " There is no deception, ladies and gentlemen, all is peace ; a holy calm pervades me." So did his hair, just grizzled with an iron-gray, which was all brushed off his forehead, and stood bolt upright, or slightly drooped in kindred action with his heavy eyelids-. So did his person, which was sleek though free from corpulency. So did his manner, which was soft and oily. In a word, even his plain, black suit, and state of widower, and dangling double eye-glass, all tended to the same purpose, and cried aloud, " Behold the moral Pecksniff!" The brazen plate upon the door (which being Mr. Pecksniff's, could not lie) bore this inscrip- Uca " Pecksniff, Architect," to which Mr. Peck- snffi, on his cards of business, added, "and Land Surveyor." In one sense, and only one, he m.ay be said to have been a Land Surveyor on a pretty large scale, as an extensive prospect lay stretched out before the windows of his house. Of his archi- tectural doings, nothing was clearly known, e.^scept that he had never designed or built anything ; but it was generally understood that his knowledge of the science was almost awful in its profundity. Mr, Pecksniff's professional engagements, in deed, were almost, if not entirely, confined to the reception of pupils; for the collection of rents, with which pursuit he occasionally varied and ro 14 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF lieved his graver toils, can hardly be said to be a Btrictly architectural employment. His genius lay in ensnaring parents and guardians, and in pock- eting premiums. A young gentleman's premiuKi »eing paid, and the young gentleman come to Mr. Pecksnift^'s house, Mr. Pecksniff borrowed his case of mathematical instruments (if silver-mount- cd or otherwise valuable); entreated him, from that moment, to consider himself one of the family ; complimented him highly on his parents or guar- dians, as the case might be : and turned him loose in a spacious room on the two-pair front ; where, in the company of certain drawing-boards, paral- lel rulers, very stiff-legged compasses, and two, or perhaps three, other young gentlemen, he improv- ed himself, for three or five years, according to his trticles, in making elevations of Salisbury Cathe- dral from every possible point of sight ; and in constructing in the air a vast quantity of Castles, Houses of Parliament, and other Public Buildings. Perhaps in no place in the world were so many gorgeous edifices of this class erected as under Mr. Pecksniff's auspices ; and if but one twenti- eth part of the churches which were built in that front room, with one or other of the Miss Peck- eniffs at the altar in the act of marrying the archi tect, could only be made available by the parlia- mentary commissioners, no more churches would be wanted for at least five centuries. " Even the worldly goods of which we have just disposed," said Mr. Pecksniff, glancing round the table when he had finished, " even cream, su- gar, tea, toast, ham,——" " And eggs," suggested Charity in a low voice. " And eggs," said Mr. Pecksniff, " even they have their moral. See how they come and go ! Every pleasure is transitory. We can't even eat long. If we indulge in harmless fluids, we get the dropsy ; if in exciting liquids, we get drunk. What a soothing reflection is thatl" " Don't say we get drunk, Pa," urged the eld- est Miss Pecksniff. " When I say, we, my dear," returned her fa- ther, "I mean mankind in general; the human race, considered as a body, and not as individuals. There is nothing personal in morality, my love. Even such a thing as this," said Mr. Pecksniff, laying the forefinger of his left hand upon the brown paper patch oi) the top of his head, "slight casualty, baldness, though it be, reminds us that We are but" — he was going to say " worms," but recollecting that worms were not remarkable for heads of hair, he substituted " flesh and blood." "Which," cried Mr. Pecksniff after a pause, during which he seemed to have been casting about for a new moral, and not quite successfully, " which is also very soothing. Mercy, my dear, Btir the fire and throw up the cinders." The young lady obeyed, and haviog done so, resumed her stool, reposed p,pe' ^Irri upon her fa- ther's knee, and J^jtd'IIC'f blooming cheek upon it. Miss CharJtjk'lffiPew her chair nearer the fire, as one prjQpih'ed for conversation, and looked towards '"Yes," said Mr. Pecksniff, afler a short pause, during which he had been silently smiling, and shaking his head at the fire — " I have again been fortunate in the attainment of my object. Anew inmate will very shortly come among us." " A youth, papa ?" asked Charity. " Ye-es, a youth " irtW^^tfri' i»ec*9fliff. " H« will avail himself of the eligible opportunity which now offers, for uniting the advantages of the best practical architectural ed ication, with the comforts of a home, and the constant association with some who (however humble their sphere, and limited their capacity) are not unmindful of tl^eir moral responsibilities." " Oh Pa !" cried Mercy, holding up her finger archly. "See advertisement I" " Playful— playful warbler," said Mr. Pecksniff. It may be observed in connexion with his calling his daughter " a warbler," that she was not at all vocal, but that Mr. Pecksniff was in the frequent habit of using any word that occurred to him as having a good sound, and rounding a sentence well, without much care for its meaning. And he did this so boldly, and in such an imposing man. ner, that he would sometimes stagger the wisest people with his eloquence, and make them gasp again. His^^nemies asserted, by the way, that a strong trustfulness in sounds and forms, was the maste»- key to Mr. Pecksniflf's character. " Is he handsome. Pa ?" inquired the younger daughter, j^t JHt* ^^. "Silly Merry!" s*dih6-.el heart is wouiidrd, rt bei'f.'iies a srreater virtue. With my breast still wrung and grieved to its inmost core by the ir« gratitude of that person, I am proud and glad to say, that I forgive him. Nay! 1 beg," cried Mr. Pecksniff, raising his voice, as Pinch appeared about to speak, " I beg that individual not to offer a remark: he will truly oblige me by not uttering one word: just now. I am not sure that 1 am equal to the trial. In a very short space of time, I shall have sufficient fortitude, I trust, to converse with him as if these events had never happened. But not," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning round again towards the fire, and waving his hand in the di- rection of the door, " not now." " Bah !" cried John Westlock, with the utmost disgust and disdain the monosyllable is capable of expressing. " Ladies, good evening. Come, Pinch, it's not worth thinking of I was right and you were wrong. That's a small matter;, you'll be wiser another time." So saying, he clapped that dejected companion on the shoulder, turned upon his heel, and walked out into the passage, whither poor Mr. Pinch, after lingering irresolutely in the parlour for a few seconds, expressing in his countenance the deepest mental misery and gloom, followed him. Then they took up the box between them, and sallied out to meet the mail. That fleet conveyance passed, every night, the corner of a lane at some distance; towards which point they bent their steps. For some minutes they walked along in silence, until at length young Westlock burst into a loud laugh, and at intervals into another, and another. Still there was no re- sponse from his companion. " I'll tell you what, Pinch !" he said abruptly after another lengthened silence — " You haven't half enough of the devil in you. Half enough! You haven't any." " Well !" said Pinch with a sigh, " I don't know I 'm sure. It's a compliment to say so. If 1 haven't, I suppose I'm all the better for it." "All the better I" repeated his companion tajtly: "All the worse you mean to say." " And yet," said Pinch, pursuing his own thoughts and not this last remark on the part of his friend, " I must have a good deal of what you call the devil in me, luo, or how could I make Pecksniff so uncomfortable? I wouldn't have occasioned him so much distress — don't laugh, please — for a mine of money : and Heaven knows I could find good use for it too, John. How grieved he was I" " He. grieved !" returned the other. " Why didn't you observe that the tears were almost starting out of his eyes 1" cried Pinch. " Bless my soul, John, is it nothing to see a man moved to that extent and know one's self to be the cause ! And did you hear him say that ho could have shed his blood for me ?" "Do you loant any blood shed for you?" le- turned his friend, with considerable irritation. " Does he shed anything for you that you do want? Does he shed employment for you, in- struction for you, pocket-money for you ? Docs he shed even legs of mutton for you in any decent I)roportion to potatoes and garden stuff?" " I am afraid," said Pincli, sighing again, " th»t I 'm a great eater. I can't disguise from mysell that I 'm a great eater. Now you know thaU John." Meekness^of Mr. Pecksniff and his charming daughters. MARTIN CF4UZZLE\V1T. 17 •♦yim a ^rcnt cater !" retorted his compnnion, with no less indi{,ni:ition than before, " How do you know you are ?" There appeared to be forcible matter in this inquiry, for Mr. Pinch only repeated in an under- tone tliat lie had a strontr misgivings on the pubjcct, and that he greatly feared he was: " Besides, whether I am or no," he added, "that has little or nothing to do with his thinking ine ungrateful. Jolin, tliere is scarcely a sin in the world that is in my eyes such a crying one as in- gratitude ; and when he taxes me with that, and believes nsc to be guilty of it, he makes me mis- erable and wretched." "Do you think he don't know that?" returned the other scornfully. *' But come. Pinch, before I say anything more to you, just run over the reasons you have for being grateful to him at all, will you ? change hands first, for the box is licavy. That'll do. Now, go on." " In the first place," said Pinch, "he took me as his pupil for muoli less than he asked." "Well," rejoined his friend, perfectly unmoved by this instance of generosity. " What in the second place ?" " What in the second place !" cried Pinch, in a sort of desperation, "why, everything in the second place. My poor old grandnKjther died happy to think that she iiad put me with such an excellent man. I have grown up in his house, I am in his confidence, I am his assistant, he allows me a salary: when his business improves, my prospects are to improve too. All this, and a great deal more, is in the second place. And in the very prologue and preface to the first place, John, you must consider this, which nobody knows better tlian I : that I was born for much plainer and poorer things, that I am not a good hand at his kind of business, and have no talent for it, or in- deed for anything else but odds and ends that are of no use or service to anybody." He said this with so much earnestness, and in a tone so full of feeling, that his companion in- stinctively changed his manner as he sat down on the box (they had by this time reached the finger- post at the end of the lane) ; motioned him to sit down beside him ; and laid his hand upon his siioulder. " I believe you are one of the best fellows in the world," he said, " Tom Pinch." "Not at all," rejoined Tom. "If you only knew Pecksniff as well as I do, you might say it of him, indeed, and say it truly." " I 'll say anything of him, you like," returned the other, " and not another word to his dispar- agement." "It 's for my sake then; not his, I am afraid," said Pinch, shaking his head gravely." " For whose you please, Tom, so that it does please you. Oh ! He 's a famous fellow ! He never scraped and clawed into his pouch all your poor grandmother's hard savings — she was a housekeeper, wasn't she, Tom ?" " Yes," said Mr. Pinch, nursing one of his large knees, and nodding his head: "a gentleman's housekeeper." " He never scraped and clawed into his pouch all her hard savings ; dazzling her with prospects 9f your happiness and advancement, which he knew (and no man better) never would be realized I % He never speculated and traded on her pride in you, and her having educated you, and on tier desire that you at least should live to be a gentle- man. Not he, Tom !" " No," said Tom, looking into his friend's face, as if lie were a little doubtful of his meaning " of course not." " So r say," returned the youth, " of course h« never did. He didn't take less than he had asked because that less was all she had, and more than he expected : not he, Tom ! He doesn't keep you as his assistant because you are of any use to him , because your wonderful faith in his pretensions i% of inestimable service in all his mean disputes: because your honesty reflects honesty on him ; be- cause your wandering about this little place all your spare hours, reading in ancient books, and foreign tongues, gets noised abroad, even as far as Salisbury, making of him, Pecksniff the master, a man of learning and of vast importance. H* gets no credit from you, Tom, not he." " Why, of course he don't," said Pinch, gazing at his friend \vith a more troubled aspect than be- fore. " Pecksniff get credit from me ! Well !'' " Don't I say that it 's ridiculous," rejoined tiie other, " even to think of such a thing I'' " Why, it 's madness," said Tom. "Madness!" returned young Westlock. "Cet- tainly, it's madness. Who but a madman would suppose he cares to hear it said on Sundays, that the volunteer who plays the organ in the church, and practises on summer evenings in the dark, is Mr. Pecksniff's young man, eh, Tom ? Who but a madman would suppose it is the game of such u man as he, to have his name in everybody's mouthy connected with the thousand useless odds and ends you do (and which of course he taught you), eh, Tom ? Who but a madman would suppose you advertise him hereabouts, much cheaper and much better than a chalker on the walls could, eh, Tom ? As well might one suppose that he doesn't on all occasions pour out his whole heart and soul to you ; that he doesn't make you a very liberal, and in- deed, rather an extravagant allowance; or, to be more wild and monstrous still if that be possible, as well might one suppose," and here, at every word, he struck him lightly on the breast, " thai Pecksniff traded in your nature, and that your nature was, to be timid and distrustful of yourself and trustful of all other men, but most of all, ot him who least deserves it. There would be mad- ness, Tom !" Mr. Pinch had listened to all this with looks of bewilderment, which seemed to be in part occa- sioned by the matter of his companion's speech, and in part by his rapid and vehement manner. Now that he had come to a close, he drew a very long breath ; and gazing wistfully in his face as ii he were unable to settle in his own mind what ex- pression it wore, and were desirous to draw from it as good a clue to his real meaning as it wa^ possible to obtain in the dark, was about to an- swer, when the sound of the mail-guard's horc came cheerily upon bheir ears, putting an immedi- ate end to the conference : greatly as it seemed to the satisf cction of the younger man, who jumped up briskly, and gave his hand t( his companion " Both Hands, Tom. I shall write to you froin London, mmd I" " Yes," said Pinch. " Yes. 3o, please. Go^'H B» IS LIFE ANb ADVENTURES OF bye. Good bye. I can hardly believe you 're eoing. It seems now but yesterdaj' that you tame. Good bye I my dear old fellow !" John Westlock returned his parting; words with no less heartiness of manner, and sprung up to his seat upon the roof. Off went the mail at a canter down the dark road : the lamps gleaming brightly, and the horn awakening all the echoes, fur and wide. "Go your ways," said Pinch, apostropliizing the C(jach : " I car; hardly persuade myself b«. you 're alive, and are some great monster wha visits this place at certain intervals, to bear my friends awaj' into the world. You 're more ex- ulting and rampant than usual to-night, I think • and you may well crow over your prize ; for he is a fine lad, an ingenuous lad, and has but one fault that I know of: he don't mean it, but he is most cruelly unjust to Pecksriff 1" CHAPTER III. IN WHICH CERTAIN OTHER PERSONS ARE INTRODUCED; ON THE SAME TERMS AS IN THE LAST CHAPTER. Mention has been already made more than once, of a certain Dragon who swung and creaked complainingly before the village ale-house door. A faded, and an ancient dragon he was ; and many a wintry storm of rain, snow, sleet, and hail, had changed his colour from a gaudy blue to a faint ack-lustre shade of gray. But there he hung ; earing in a state of monstrous imbecility, on his pind legs ; waxing, with every month that passed, so much more dim and shapeless, that as you gazed at him on one side of the sign-board it seemed as if he must be gradually melting through it, and coming out upon the otlier. He was a courteous and ccmsiderate dragon, too ; or had been in his distincter days : for in the midst of his rampant feebleness, he kept one of his fore paws near his nose, as though he would say, " Don't mind me — it's only my fun ;" while he held out the other, in polite and hospitable en- treaty. Indeed it must be conceded to the whole brood of dragons of modern times, that they have made a great advance in civilization and refine- ment. They no longer demand a beautiful virgin for breakfast every morning, with as much regu- larity as any tame single gentleman expects his hot roll, but rest content with the society of idle bachelors and roving married men: and they are now remarkable rather for holding aloof from the softer sex and discouraging their visits (especially on Saturday nights), than for rudely insisting on their company without any reference to their in- clinations, as they are known to have done in days of yore. Nor is this tribute to the reclaimed animals in question so wide a digression into the realms of Natural History, as it may, at first sight, appear to be : for the present business of these pages is with the dragon who had his retreat in Mr. Peck- Bnifl''8 neighbourhood, and that courteous animal being already on the carpet, there is nothing in the way of its immediate transaction. J'or m;iny years then, he had swung and creak- ed, and flapped himself about, before the two win- dows of the best bedroom in that house of enter- tainment to which he lent his name : but never, m all his swinging, creaking, and flapping, had there been such " stir within its dingy precincts, as on the evcnifig next aftgr that upon which the uicidcnts, detailed in the last chiipter, occurred ; when there was such a hurryiiin' \ip and down xtairs of feel, such a glancinq- of litrhtj, such a uihispcnng of voices, such a ttnoking and r- der in the drooping face, looked back again al him. At first she had recoiled involuntarily, sup- f)osing him disordered in his mind; but the slow composure of his manner, and the settled purpose announced in his strong features, and gathering, most of all, about his puckered mouth, forbade the supposition. "Come," he said, "tell me who is it? Being here, it is not very hard for me to guess, you may suppose." " Martin," interposed the young lady, laying her hand upon his arm ; "reflect how short a time vn' have been in this house, and that even your name is unknown here." " Unless,'' he said, " you — " He was evidently tempted to express a suspicion of her having broken his confidence in favour of the landlady, but either remembering her tender nursing, or being moved in some sort by her face, he checked himself^ and changing his uneasy ptosture in the bed, was silent " There !" said Mrs. Lupin : for in that name the Blue Dragon was licensed to furnish enter. tainment both to man and beast "Now, you I will be well again, sir. You forgot, for the mo- ment that there were none but friends here." " Oh !" cried the old man moaning impatiently i as he tossed one restless arm upoii the coverlet I " why do you talk to me of friends I Can you or anybody teach me to know who are my friends, and who my enemies I" ] " At least" urged Mrs. Lupin, gently, " this young lady is your friend, I am sure." "She has no temptation to be otherwise," cried ! the old man, like one whose hope and confidence were utterly exhausted. " I suppose she is. Heaven knows. There : let me try to sleep. Leave the candle where it is." As they retired from the bed, he drew forth the writing which had occupied him so long, and holding it in the flame of the taper burnt it to ashes. That done, he extinguibhcd the light and turning his face away with a heavy sigh, drew ; the coverlet about his head, and lay quite still. This destruction of the paper, both as being strangely inconsistent with the labour he had de- I voted to it and as involving considerable danger I of fire to the Dragon, occasioned Mrs. Lupin not a little consternation. But the young lady, evin- cing no surprise, curiosity, or alarm, whispered her, with many thanks for her solicitude and company, that she would remain tJ)cre some time longer ; and that she begged her not to share her watch, as she was well used to being alone, and would pass the time in reading. I " .Mrs. Lupin had her full share and dividena of that large capital of curiosity which is inher- ited by her sex, and at another time it might have been difficult so to impress this hint upon her ai MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 21 to indnce her to take it. But now, in sheer won- der and amazenicnt at these inj-steries, she with- drew at once, and repairing- straii^htway to her own little parlour helow-stairs, sal down in her easy-ciiair with unnatural composure. At this very crisis, a stop was heard in the entry, and Mr. Pecksnilf, lookiiiir sweetly over the halt'door of the bar, and into the vista of snuj; privacy beyond, __jyurinured : ^^^^iood evening, Mrs. Lupin !" " Oh dear nie, sir!" she cried, advancing to re- ceive him, " I am so very glad you have come." " And I am very glad 1 have come," said Mr. Pecksniff, " if I can be of service. I am very glad I have come. What is the matter, Mrs. Lupin ?" " A gentleman taken ill upon the road, has been 80 very bad up-stairs, sir," said the tearful hostess. "A gentleman taken ill upon tlie road, has been so very bad up-stairs, has he ?" repeated Mr. Peck- sniff. " Well, well I" Now there was nothing that one may call de- cidedly ori^jrinal in this remark, nor can it be ex- actly saic to li ive C()ntaii>ed any wise precept tlieretofore unknown to/inarikind, or to have opened any hidden source of consolation: but " Mr. Pecksniff's mannflT was so bland, and he nodded his head so sootliingly, and showed in every thing such an affable senue of his own ex- cellence, that anvbo(Jy would have been, as Mrs. Lupin was, cointortcd by the mere voice and pre- sence of such a man ; and, though he had merely said " a verb muijt agree with its nominative case in number and [jtrson, my good friend," or "eight times eight are> sixty-tour, my worthy soul," must have tl'it deeu^ grateful to him for his humanity and wisdoiiK " And how," asked Mr. Pecksniff, drawing off bis gloves and warming his hands betbre the fire, as benevolently as if tliey were somebody else's, not his : " and how is he now ?" " He is better, and quite tranquil," answered Mrs. Lupin. " He is better, and quite tranquil," said Mr. Pecksniff, " Very well I ve-ry well I" Here again, though the statement was Mrs. Lupin's and not Mr. Pecksniff's, Mr. Pecksniff made it his own and consoled her witii it. It was not much when Mrs. Lupin said it, but it was a whole book when Mr. Pecksniff said it. " I ob- serve," he seemed to say, " and through me, morality in general remarks, that he is better and quite tranquil." " There must be weighty matters on his mind though," said the hostess, shaking her head, " for he talks, sir, in the strangest way you ever heard. He is far from easy in his thoughts, and wants Bome proper advice from those whose goodness makes it wortli his having." " Then," said Mr. Pecksniff, " he is the sort of customer for me." But though he said this in the plainest language, he didn't speak a word. He only shook liis head : disparagingly of himself too. ** I am afraid, sir," continued the landlady, first looking round to assure herself that there was nobody within hearing, and then looking down upon the lloor, " I am very much afraid, sir, that his conscience is troubled by his not being related -or — or even married to — a very young lady — " " Mrs I upin I" said Mr. Pecksniff, holding up his hand with something in his manner as nearly approaching to severity, as any expression of his, mild being tiiat he was, could ever do. " Person I young person !" " A very young person," said Mrs. Lupin, Cdur tesying and bluoiiing : " I beg your pardon, sir, but I have been so iiurried to-iiij;ht, that 1 don't know what I saj' : who is with him now." " Who is with him now," ruminated Mr. Peck- sniff, warming his back (as he liad wanned his hands) as if it were a widow's back, or an eneinj's back, or a back that any less excellent man woqM have suffered to be cold ; "Oh dear me, dear me!" " At the same time I am bound to say, and I do say with all my heart," observed the hostess, ear- nestly, " that her looks and manner almost disarm suspicion." " Your suspicion, Mrs. Lupin," said Mr. Peek- sniff gravely, " is very natural." Touching wiiicii remark, let it be written down to their contusion, tliat the enemies of this wortliy man uiiblushingiy maintained that he always said of what was very bad, that it was very natural • and that he unconsciously betrayed his own na- ture in doing so. " Your suspicion, iMrs. Lupin, "he repeated, " i.s very natural, and I have no doubt correct. 1 will wait upon these traviUers," With that he took otf his great-coat, and having run his fingers throU!,rh his hair, thrust one hand gently in the bosom of iiis waistcoat and meekly signed to her to lead the way. "Shall I knock ?" asked Mrs. Lupin, when they reached the chamber door. " No," said Mr. Pecksniff, "enter if you please." They went in on tiptoe : or rather the hostess took that precaution, for Mr. Pecksniff always walked softly. The old gentleman was still asleep, and his young companion still sat reading by the fire. " I am afraid," said Mr. Pecksniff, pausing at the door, and giving his head a melanclioiy roll, " I am afraid that this looks artful. I am at'raid, Mrs. Lupin, do you know, that this looks very artful !" As he finished this whisper, he advanced betbre the hostess ; and at the same time the young lady, hearing footsteps, rose. Mr. Pecksniff glanced at the volume she held, and whispered Mrs. Lupin again : if possible, with increased despondency. " Yes ma'am," he said, " it is a good book. I was fearful of tiiat beforehand. I am apprehen- sive tliat this is a very deep thing indeed !" " Hush ! don't trouble yourself, ]\Ia'am," sallj Mr. Pecksniff, as the landlady was about to anA swer. " This young" — in spite of himself he hcs- itated when ' person' rose to his lips, and suhsti- ' tuted another word : " this young stranger, Mrsi. • Lupin, will excuse me for replying brielly, that I reside in this village ; it may be in an infiuential /' manner, however undeserved; and that I havci' been summoned here, by you. I am here, as I am everywhere, I hope, in sympathy for the siefe and sorry." ^ With these impressive words, Mr. Pecksnilf passed over to the bedside, where, af^er patting the counterpane once or twice in a very solemn manner, as if by that means he gained a cleai insight into the patient's disorder, he took his sca« in a large arm-chair, and in in attitude of mjine 23 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF thoughl fulness and much comfort, waited for his waking. Whatever objection the J'oung lady urged to Mrs. Lupin went no further, lor nothing more was said to Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Pecksnitf said nothing more to anybody else. Full half an hour elapsed before the old man stirred, but at length he turned himself in bed, and, though not yet awake, gave tokens that his sleep was drawing to an end. By little and little he removed the bed-clothes from about his head, and turned still more towards the side where Mr. Pecksnitf sat. In course of time his eyes opened; and he lay for a few moments as people newly roused sometimes will, gazing indolently at his visiter, without any distinct consciousness of his presence. There was nothing remarkable in these pro- ceedings, except the influence they worked on Mr. Pecksniff, which could hardly have been sur- passed by the most marvellous of natural pheno- mena. Gradually his hands became tightly clasped upon the elbows of the chair, his eyes dilated with surprise, his mouth opened, his hair stood more erect upon his forehead than its custom was, until, at length, when the old man ross in bed, and stared at him with scarcely less emotion than he showed himself, the Pecksniff doubts were all resolved, Rfid he e,xclaimed aloud : " You are Martin Chuzzlewit!" iiis consternation of surprise was so genuine, that the old man, with all the disposition that he clearly entertained to believe it assumed, was con- Tinced of its reality. " I am Martin Chuzzlewit," he said, bitterly : "and Martin Chuzzlewit wishes you had been hanged, before you had come here to disturb him in his sleep. VVhy I dreamed of this fellow !" he said, lying down again, and turning away his face, " before 1 knew that he was near me !" " My good cousin — " said Mr. Pecksniff. "There! His very first words!" cried the old man, siiaking his grey head to and fro upon the pillow, and throwing up his hands. " In his very first words he asserts his relationship! I knew he would : they all do it ! Near or distant, blood OT water, it's all one. Ugh ! What a calendar of deceit, and lying, ana false witnessing, the bound of any word of kindred opens before me !" " Pray do not be hasty, Mr. Chuzzlewit," said Pecksniff, in a tone that was at once in the sub- limest degree compassionate and dispassionate ; for he had by this time recovered from his surprise, «nd was in full possession of his virtuous self " You will regret being hasty, I know you will." " You know I" said Martin, contemptuously. " Yes," retorted Mr. Pecksniff. " Ay ay, Mr. Chuz/.lewit: and don't imagine that 1 mean to court or flatter you : for nothing is further from my intention. Neither, sir, need you entertain the least misgiving that I shall repeat that ob- noxious word which has given you so nmch of- fence already. Why should I ? What do I expect or want from you? There is nothing in your possession that I know of, Mr. Chuzzlewit, which is much to be coveted for the happiness it brings you." "Tnat's true enough," muttered the old man. " A|)art from that consideration," said Mr. r3r : " What does this mean ? Can the false-hearted boy have chosen such a tool as yonder fellow who has just gone out? Why not I He has conspired against me, like the rest, and they are but birds of one feather. A new plot! a new plot! Oh self, self, self! At every turn, nothing but self!" lie fell to triflmsr, ;)S he ceased to speak, with the ashes of the burnt paper in the candlestick. He did so, at first in pure abstraction, but they presently became the subject of his thoughts. "Another will made and destroyed," he said, " nothing determined on, nothing done, and 1 might have died to-night! I plainly see to what foul uses all this money will he put at last," he cried, almost writhing in the bed: " af^er filling me with cares and miseries all my life, it will per- petuate discord and b;ul passions wlien I am dead. So it always is. What lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day: sowing perjury, hatred, and lies among near kindred, where there should be nothing but love ! Heaven help us, we have much to answer for! Oh self, self, self ! Every man for himself, and no crc'ture for me!" Universal self! Was there no.hing of its shiid- ow in these reflections, and in the history of Mafr tin Chuzzlewit, on his own showing ? / MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. CHAPTER IV. 25 FROM WIIICFI IT WILL APPEAR, THAT IF UNION BE STRENGTH, AND FAAI- ILY AFFECTION BE PLEASANT TO CONTEMPLATE, THE CHUZZLEWITS WERE THE STRONGEST AND MOST AGREEABLE FAMILY IN THE vVORJJ). That worthy tnan, Mr. Pecksnift*, liaving taken leave of his cousin in tlie solemn terms recited in the last chapter, vvitiidrevv to liis own home, and remained tliere tiirec whole days : not so much as g'oing' out for a walk beyond the boundaries of liis own garden, lest he should he liastily sum- moned to the bedside of his penitent and remorse- ful relative, whom, in his ample benevolence, he had made up his mind to forgive unconditionally, and to love on any terms. But such was the ol)stinaey and such the bitter nature of that stern old man, that no repentant summons came; and the fourth day found Mr. Pecksniff apparently much further from hisChristian object than the first. During- the whole of tJ:ia interval, he iiaunted the Dragon at all times and seasons in the day and night, and, returning good for evil, evinced the deepest solicitude in the progress of the obdu- rate invalid ; insonmch that Mrs. Lupm was fairly melted by his disinterested anxiety (for he often particularly required her to take notice that ne would do the same by any stranger or pauper m the like condition), and shed many tears of admiration and deliglit. Meantime, old Martin Chuzzlewit remained shut U|) in his own chamber, and saw no person but his young companion, saving tlie hostess of the Blue Dragon, who was, at certain times, admitted to his presence. So surely as she came into the rooni, however, Martin feigned to fall asleep. It was only when he and the young lady were akne, that he would utter a word, even in answer to the simplest inquiry; though Mr. Pecksniff could make out, by hard listening at the door, that they two being left together, he was talkative enough. It happened on the fourth evening, that Mr. Pecksniff, walking, as usual, into the bar of the Dragon, and finding no Mrs. Lupin there, went straight up-stairs: purposing, in the fervour of his alfectionate zeal, to apply his ear once more to tlie key-hole, and quiet his mind by assuring him- self that the hard-hearted patient was going on well. It happened that Mr. Pecksniff, coming soflly upon the dark passage into which a spiral ray of light usually darted through this same key- hole, was astonished to find no such ray visible ; and it happened that Mr. Pecksniff", when he had felt his way to the chamber-door, stooping hur- riedly down to ascertain by personal inspection whether the jealousy of the old man had caused this key-hole to be stopped on the inside, brought his head into such violent contact with another head, that he could not help uttering in an audible Toice, the monosyllable " Oh 1" which was, as it were, sharply unscrewed and jerked out of him by very anguish. It happened then, and lastly, that Mr. PecksnifT found himself immediately col- .ared by something which smelt like several damp umbrellas, a barrel of beer, a cask of warm brandy-and-water, and a small piirlour-full of stale tobacco-smoke, mixed ; and was straigtitway ltd down stairs into the bar tVoni which he hud lately come, where he found himself standing opposite to, and in the grasp of, a perfectly strange gentle- man, of still stranger appearance, who, with liis disengaged liand, rubbed his own head very hard and looked at him, Pecksniff, with an evil eoun tenance. The gentleman was of that order of appearance, which is currently termed shabby-genteel, though in respect of his dress he can hardly be said to have been in any extremities, as his fingers were a long way out of his gloves, and the soles of his feet were at an inconvenient distance from the upper leather of his boots. His nether garments were of a bluish-grey — violent in its colours once, but sobered now by age and dinginess — and were so stretched and strained in a tough conflict between his braces and his straps, that they appeared every moment in danger of flying asunder at the knees. His coat, in colour blue and of a military cut, was buttoned and frogged, up to his chin. His cravat was, in hue and pat- tern, like one of those mantles which hair-dressers are accustomed to wrap about their clients, during the progress of the professional mysteries. His hat had arrived at such a pass that it would have been hard to determine whether it was originally white or black. But he wore a moustache — a shaggy moustache too: nothing in the meek and merciful way, but quite in the fierce and scornful style: the regular Satanic sort of thing — and lio wore, besides, a vast quantity of unbrushed hair He was very dirty and very jaunty; very buld and very mean; very swaggering and very slink- ing ; very much like a man who might have been something better, and unspeakably like a man who deserved to be something worse. " You were eaves-dropping at that door, you vagabond !" said this gentleman. Mr. Pecksniff cast him off, as Saint George might have repudiated the Dragon in that animal's last moments, and said : " V/liere is Mrs. Lupin, I wonder ! can the good woman possibly be aware that there is a person here who — " " Stay 1" said the gentleman. " Wait a bit. She does know. What then ?" " What then, sir ?" cried Mr. Pecksniff. " What then ? Do you know, sir, that I am the friend and relative of that sick gentleman? That I am his protector, his guardian, his — " " Not his niece's husband," interposed the stranger, " I 'II be sworn ; for he was there before you." " What do you mean ?" said Mr. Pecksniff, with indignant surprise. " What do you till me, sir ?" "Wait a bit !" cried the other. " Perhaps you are a cousin — the cousin who lives in this place ;'" " I am the cousin who lives in this place," replied the man of worth. " Your name is Pecksniff?" said the gentleman " It is." " I am proud to know you, and I ask youi pardon," said the gentleman, toucliing his hat, and subsequently diving behind his cravat for « 2(i LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF phirt-collar, which, however, he did not succeed in bring-ing- to the surface. " You hehold in me, sir, 3ne wlio lias also an interest in that gentleman jp-stairs Wait a bit." As he said this, he touched the tip of his hi^h nose, by way of intimation that he would let Mr. Pecksniff into a secret presently; and pulling off his hat, begun to search inside the crown among a mass of crumpled documents and small pieces of what may be called the bark of broken cigars: whence he presently selected the cover of an old letter, begrimed with dirt and redolent of tobacco. " Read that,' he cried, giving it to Mr. Peck- sniff. " This IS addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esquire," said that gentleman. " You know Chevy Slyme, Esquire, I believe ?" returned the stranger. Mr. Pecksniff shrugged his shoulders as though he would say " I know there is such a person, and I am sorry for it." " Very good," remarked the gentleman. " That is my interest and business here." With that he made another dive for his shirt-collar, and brought up a string. "Now this is very distressing, my friend," said Mr. Pecksniff, shaking his head and smiling com- posedly. " It is very distressing to me, to be com- pelled to say that you are not the person you claim to be. I know Mr. Slyme, my friend : this will not do : honesty is the best policy : you had better not ; you had, indeed." "Stop!" cried the gentleman, stretching forth his right arm, which was so tightly wedged into his threadbare sleeve that it looked like a cloth sausage. " Wait a bit !" He paused to establish himself immediately in front of the fip-c, with his back towards it. Then gathering tl^skirts of his coat under his left arm, and smootbing his moustache with his right thumb and forefinger, he resumed : " I understand your mistake, and T am not of- fended. Why? Because it's complimentary. You suppose I would set myself up for Chevy Slyme. Sir, if there is a man on earth whom a gentleman would feel proud and honoured to be mistaken for, that man is my friend Slyme. For he is, without an exception, the highest-minded, the most inde- pendent-spirited; most original, spiritual, classi- cal, talented ; and most thofouglily Shakspearian, if not Milton'ic; and at the same time the most disgustingly-unappreciated dog I know. But, sir, I have not the vanity to attempt to pass for Slyme. Any other man in the wide world, I am equal to ; but Slyme is, I frankly confess, a great many cuts above me. Therefore you are wrong." "I judged from this," said Mr. Pecksniff, hold- ing out the cover of a letter. " No doubt you did," returned the gentleman. "But, Mr. Pecksniff, the whole thing resolves it- self into an instance of the peculiarities of ge- nius. Every man of true genius has his pecu- liarity. Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme 'M, thiit he is always waiting round the corner. He 18 perpetually round the corner, sir. He is round the corner at this instant. Now," said the gen- tleman, shaking his forefinger bcforehis nose, and planting his legs wider apart as lie looked atten- Uvely in Mr. Pecksniff's face, " that is a remark- n'dy ■curious and interesting trait in Slyme « char- acter; and whenever Slymes life comes to Im written, that trait must be thoroughly worked out by his biographer, or society will not be satisfied Observe me, society vv-ill not be satisfied !'■ Mr. Pecksniff coughed. "Slyme's biographer, sir, whoever he may bt," resumed the gentleman, "must apply to me; or if I am gone to that what 's-his-name from which no thingumbob comes back, he must apply to mv executors for leave to search among my papers, i have taken a few notes in my poor way, of some of that man's proceedings — my adopted brother, sir, — which would amaze you. He made use of an expression, sir, only on the fifteenth of last month, when he couldn't meet a little bill and the other party wouldn't renew, which would have done honour to Napoleon Bonaparte in addressing the French army." " And pray," asked Mr. Pecksniff, obviously not quite at his ease, " what may be Mr. Slyme's business here, if I may be permitted to inquire, who am compelled by a regard for my own char- acter to disavow all interest in his proceedings ?" " In the first place," returned the gentleman, "you will permit me to say, that I object to that remark, and that I strongly and indignantly pro- test against it on behalf of my friend Slyme. In the next place, you will give me leave to introduce myself. My name, sir, is Tigg. The name of Montague Tigg will perhaps be familiar to you, in connexion with the most remarkable events of the Peninsular War?" Mr. Pecksniff gently shook his head. " No matter," said the gentleman. " That man was my father, and I bear his name. I am con- sequently proud — proud as Lucifer. Excuse mo one moment; I desire my friend Slyme to be pre- sent at the remainder of tbis conference." With this announcement he hurried away to the outer door of the Blue Dragon, and almost im. mediately returned with a companion shorter than himself, who was wrapped in an old, blue camle. cloak, with a lining of faded scarlet. His sharp features being much pinched and nipped by long waiting in the cold, and his straggling red whis- kers and frowzy hair being more than usually dishevelled from the same cause, he certainly look- ed rather unwholesome and uncomtbrtable than Shakspearian or Miltonic. "Now," said Mr. Tigg, clapping one hand on the shoulder of his pre[K)ssessing friend, and call- ing Mr. Pecksniff's attention to him with the other, " you two are related ; and relations never did agree, and never will ; which is a wise dispen- sation and an inevitable thing, or there would be none but family parties, and everybody in the world would bore everybody else to death. If you were on good terms, I should consider you a most confoundedly unnatural ]inir; but standing to- wards each other as you do, I look upon you as a couple of devilish deep-lhoughfed fellows, wlic may be reasoned with to anv extent." Here Mr. Chevy Slyme, whose great abilities seemed one and all to point towards the sneaking quarter of the moral compass, nudged his friend stealthily with liis elbow, and whispered in his ear, "Chiv," said Mr. Tigg aloud, in the high toim of one who was not to be tampered with, " I shall come to that, presently. I act upon my own re sponsibility, or not at all. To the extent of sucb i MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 27 a trifling' loan as a crownpicce to a man of your tidents, 1 look upon Mr. Pecksniff as certain :" and seeing at this juncture that the expression of Mr. Pecksi.iff's face by no means betokened tliat he sliared this certainty, Mr. Tigg laid liis finger un his nose again for that gentleman's private and especial behoof: calling upon him thereby to take notice, that tiie requisition of small loans was an- otiier instance of the peculiarities of genius as cieveloped in his friend Slyme ; that he, Tigg, winked at the same, because of the strong meta- physical interest which these weaknesses possess- ed ; and that in reference to iiis own personal ad- vocacy of such small advances, he merely con- sulted the humour of his friend, without the least regard to his own advantage or necessities. " Oh, Cliiv, Chiv 1" added Mr. Tigg, surveying his adopted brother with an air of profound con- templation after dismissing this piece of panto- mime. "You are, upon my life, a strange in- stance of the little frailties that beset a mighty jnind. If there had never been a telescope in the world, I should have been quite certain from my observation of you, Chiv, that there were spots on the sun ! I wish I may die, if this isn't the queerest state of existence that we find ourselves forced into, without knowing why or wherefore, Mr. Pecksniff! Well, never mind ! Moralise as we will, the world goes on. As Hamlet says, Her- cules may lay about him with his club in every possible direcrion, but he can't prevent the cats from making a mort intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or the dogs from being shot in the hot weather if they run about the streets uniimz- zled. Life 's a riddle : a most infernally hard rid- dle to guess, Mr. Pecksniff. My own opinion is, that like that celebrated conundrum, ' Why 's a man in jail like a man out of jail ?' there's no answer to it. Upon my soul and body, it 's the queerest sort of thing altogether — but there's no use in talking about it. Ha ! ha !" With whicii consolatory deduction from the glooniy premises recited, Mr. Tigg roused him- self by a great effort, and proceeded in his former strain. " Now I '11 tell you what it is. I 'm a most confoundedly soft-hearted kind of fellow in my 'i^'^y, and I cannot stand by, and see you two blades cutting each other's throats when there 's nothing to be got by it. Mr. Pecksniff, you're the cousin of the testator up-stairs and we 're the nephew — I say we, meaning Chiv. Perhaps in all essential points, you are more nearly related to him than we are. Very good. If so, so be it. But you can't get at him, neither can we. I give you my brightest honour, sir, that I 've been look- mg through that keyiiole, with short intervals of rest, ever since nine o'clock this morning, in ex- pectation of receiving an answer to one of the most moderate and gentlemanly applications for a little temporary assistance — only fifteen pound, and inij security— that the mind of man can con- ceive. In the mean time, sir, he is perp'tu illy closeted lyith, and pouring his whole confidence into the bosom of a stranger. Now, I say deci- sively, with regard to this state of circumstances, fhat it won't do ; that it won't act ; that it can't he; and that it must not be suffered to continue." " Every man," said Mr. Pecksniff, " has a right, fto undoubted right, (which I, tor one, would not call in question for any earthly consideration : oh no!) to regulate his own proceeding'- by his cw:> likings and dislikings, supposing '^icy are not ini moral and not irreligious. 1 may fi.cl in my own breast, that Mr. Chuzzlewit docs n^'^ regard — mc, for instance; say me — with exactly that amount of Christian love which should subsist between us; I may feel grieved and hurt at the circum. stance; still, I may not rush to the conclusion that Mr. Chuzzlewit is wholly without a justifica- tion in all his coldnesses : Heaven forbid ! Besides , how, Mr. Tigg," continued Pecksniff even more gravely and impressively than he had spoken yet, "how could Mr. Chuzzlewit be prevented from having these peculiar and most extraordinary con- fidences of which you speak ; 'he existence of wliich I must admit; and vvhich I cannot but de- plore — for his sake ? Consider, my good sir — " and here Mr. Pecksniff eyed him wistfully — "how very much at random you are talking." " Why as to that," rejoined Tigg, " it certainly is a ditficult question." " Undoubtedly it is a difficult question," Mr Pecksniff answered : and as he spoke he drew himself aloof, and-seemed to grow more mindllil, suddenly, of the moral gulf between himself and the creature he addressed. " Undoubtedly it is a very difficult question. And I am far from feel- ing sure that it is a question any one is authorised to discuss. Good evening to you." " You don't know that the Spottletoes are here I suppose ?" said Mr. Tigg. " What do you mean, sir? what Spottletoes?" asked Pecksniff, stopping abruptly on his way to the door. " Mr. and Mrs. Spottletoe," said Chevy Slyme, Esquire, speaking aloud for the first time, and speaking very sulkily: shambling with his legs the while. "Spottletoe married my father's bro- ther's child, did'nt he? and Mrs. Spottletoe is Chuzzlewit's own niece, isn't she ? She was his favourite once. You may well ask what Spottle toes." " Now, upon my sacred word !" cried Mr. Peck sniff, looking upwards. "This is dreadful. The rapacity of these people is absolutely frightful !" "It's not only the Spottletoes either, Tigg," said Slyme, looking at that gentleman and speak- ing at Mr. Pecksniff. "Anthony Chuzzlewit and his son have got wind of it, and liave come down this afternoon. I saw 'em not five minutes ago, when I was waiting round the corner." "Oh, Mammon, Mammon!" cried Mr. Peck sniff, smiting his forehead, "So there," said Slyme, regardless of the inter- ruption, " are his brother and another nephew for you, already." " This is the whole thing, sir," said Mr. Tigg, "this is the point and purpose at which I was gradually arriving, when my friend Slyme here, with six words, hit it full. Mr. Pecksniff, now that your cousin (and Chiv's uncle) has turned up, some steps must be taken to prevent his disa|i- ])e.iring again ; and, if possible, to counteract the influence which is exercised over him now, by this designing favourite. Everybody who is inte- rested feels it, sir. The whole family is pouring down to this place. The time has come when in dividual jealousies and interests nnist be forgotten for a time, sir, and unitin must be made against 28 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the common enemy. When the common enemy IS routed, you will ull set up for yourselves again ; every lady and gerJlenian wlio has a part in the game, will go in on their own uccount und bow ! away, to the best of their ability, at the testator's wicket; and nobody will he in a worse position than before Tliink of it. Don't commit your- self now. Tou'll find us at the Half-Moon and Seven Stars in this village, at any time, and open to any reasonable proposition. Hem! Chiv, my dear fellow, go out and see what sort of a night it is." Mr. Slyme lost no time in disappearing, and, it IS to be presumed, in going round the corner, Mr. Tigg, planting his legs as wide ;!p;irt as he could be reasonably expected by the most sanguine man to keep them, shook his head at Mr. Pecksniff' and smiled. " We must not be too hard," he said, " upon tlie little eccentricities of our friend Shme. You eaw him whisper me ?" Mr. Pecksniff" had seen him. " You heard my answer, 1 think ?" Mr. Pecksniff" had heard it. " Five shillings, eh ?" said Mr. Tigg, thought- fully. " Ah 1 what an extraordinary fellow ! Very moderate too I" Mr. PecksnifF made no answer. " Five shillings !" pursued Mr. Tigg, musing : '* and to be punctually repaid next week ; that 's the best of it. You heard that?" Mr. Pecksniff" had not heard that. "No! You surprise me 1" cried Tigg. "That's the cream of the thing, sir. I never knew that man fail to redeem a promise, in my life. You 're not in want of change, are you ?" " No," said Mr. Pecksniff", " thank you. Not at all." "Just so," returned Mr. Tigg. "If you had been, I'd have got it for you " With that he be- gan to whistle; but a dozen seconds had not elapsed when he stopped short, and, looking ear- nestly at Mr. Pecksniff", said : " Perhaps you'd rather not lend Slyme five sliillings V" " I would much rather not," Mr. Pecksniff" re- joined. " Egad !" cried Tigg, gravely nodding his head as if some ground of objection occurred to him at that moment for the first time, " it's very possible you may be right. Would you entertain the same sort of objection to lending me five shillings, now ?" " Yes, I couldn't do it, indeed," said Mr. Peck- snifF. " Not even half-a-crown, perhaps ?" urged Mr. Tigg. " Not even half-a-crown. "Why then we come," said Mr, Tigg, "Ir the ridiculously small amount of eighteenpence. Ha ! ha!" " Ano that," said Mr. Pecksniff", " would be equally objectionable." On receipt of this assurance, Mr. Tigg shook him he.'irtily by both hands, protesting with much earnestness, that he was one of the most consistent and remarkable men he had ever met, and that he •Jesired the iioriour of his hi-tlcr acquaintanre. He further observed that there were many little eha- cteristiea about his liiend Slime, of which he could by no means, as a man of strict honour, approve; but that he was prepared to forgive him all these slight drawbacks, and niueh more, m consideration of tlie great pleasure he himstil had that day enjoyed in his social intercourt^e witii Mr. Pecksniff", which had given him a for higher and more enduring delight than the suecessliil negotiation of any small loan on the part ot' his friend could possiblj* have imparted. With which remarks he would beg leave, he said, to wish .Mr. Pecksniff" a very good evening. And so he to» Ij himself off: as little abashed by his recent failure as any gentleman would desire to be. The meditations of Mr. PecksnitF that evening at the bar of the Dragon, and that night in his own house, were very serious and grave indeid j the more especially as the intelligence he li.id rt- ceived from Messrs. Tigg and Slyme touching tlie arrival of other members of the family, was iiilly confirmed on more particular inquiry. For the Spottletoes had actually gone straight to the Dra- gon, where they were at IJIat moment housed and mounting guard, and where their appearance had occasioned such a vast sensation, that Mrs. Lupin, scenting their errand before they had been under her ro(jt' half an hour, carried the news herself with all possible secrecy straight to Mr. Peck, snitf "s house : indeed it was her great caution in doing so which occasioned her to miss that gen- tleman, who entered at the front door of the Dra» gon, just as she emerged from the back one. Moreover, Mr. Anthony Chuzzlcwit and his son Jonas were economically quartered at the Half Moon and Seven Stars, which was an cbscure alehouse ; and by the very next coach there came posting to the scene ofaetion, so many other afi'ec tionate members of the family, (who quarrelled with each other, inside and out, all the way down, to the utter distraction of the coachman), that in less than four-and-lwenty hours the scanty tavtrii accommodation was at a premium, and all the private lodgings in the place, amounting to full four beds and a sofa, rose cent, per cent, in the market. In a word, things came to that pass tliat nearly the whole family sat down before the Blue Dragon, and tbrmally invested it ; and Martin (Chuzzlcwit was in a state of siege. But he resisted bravely ; refusing to receive all letters, messages, and par- cels, obstinately declining to treat with aiivbody ; and holding out no liope or promise of capitula- tion. Meantime the family forces were perpetually encountering each other in divers parts of tiie neighbourhood : and, as no one branch of the Chuzzlevvit tree had ever been known to agrt e with another within the memory of man, there was such a skirmishing, and ffouting, and snap- ping off of heads, in the metaphorical sense of tliat expression ; such a bandying of words and calling of names; such an upturning of noses and wiinliliiig of brows; such a formal interment of good leelings and violent resurrection of ancient grievances ; as had never been known in tho>e quiet parts since the earliest record of their c;»il- ized existence. At length in utter despair and hopelessness, some few of the belligerents began to speak to e^icli other in onl}' moderate terms of Miufual aiTL^ravali-on ; and nearly all addressed themselves w''h a sfiow ot tolerable decency to Mt PecksniiL MARTIN CIlUZZLEiVIT. 29 in rToo'nitinn of his hisfh character and influential position. Thus, by Utile and little they made -•oinnion cause of Martin Chuzzlewit's obduracy, intil it was anjreed — if such a word can be used in connexion with the Chuzzlewits — that there siioidd be a greneral council and conference held at Mr. Pecksniff's house upon a certain day at noon ; which all members of the family who had broug-ht themselves within reach of the summons, Kere forthwith bidden and invited, solemnly, to attend. If ever Mr. Pecksniff wore nn apostolic look, he wore it on this memorable day. If ever his unruffled smile proclaimed the words, " I am a messenger of peace !" that was its mission now. If ever man combined within himself all the mild ()ualities of the lamb with a considerable touch of the dove, and not a dash of the crocodile, or the least possible suggestion of the very mildest seasoning of the serpent, that man was he. And, Oh, the two Miss Pecksniffs ! Oh, the serene expression on the face of Charity, which seemed to say, " I know that all my family have injured me beyond the possibility of reparation, but I for- give them, for it is my duty so to do!" And, Oh, the gay simplicity of Mercy : so charming, inno- cent, and infant-like, that if she had gone out walking by herself, and it had been a Httle earlier in the season, the robin-redbreasts might have covered her with leaves against her will, believing her to be one of the sweet children in the wood, come out of it, and issuing forth once more to look for blackberries in the young freshness of her heart! What words can paint the Pecksniffs in that trying hour? Oh, none: for words have naughty company among them, and the Peck- sEiffs were all goodness. But when the company arrived ! That was the time. When Mr. Pecksniff, rising from his «eat at the table's head,v,'ith a daughter on either hand, received his guests in the best parlour and motioned them to chairs, with eyes so overflow- ing and countenance so damp with gracious per- spiration, that he may be said to have been in a kind of moist meekness! And the company : the jealous, stony-hearted, distrustful company, who were all shut up in themselves, and had no faith lu anybody, and wouldn't believe anything, and would no more allow themselves to be sot'tened or lulled asleep by the Pecksniffs than if they had been so many hedgehogs or porcupines ! First, there was Mr. Spottletoe, who was so bald and had such big whiskers, that he seemed to have stopped his hair, by the sudden application of some powerful remedy, in the very act of fall- ing off his iiead, and to have fistened it irrevoca- bly on his face. Then there was Mrs. Spottletoe, who being much too slim for her years, and of a poetical constitution, was accustomed to inform her more intimate friends that the said whiskers were " the lodestar of her existence ;" and who could now, by reason of her strong affection for her uncle Chuzzlewit, and the shock it gave her U> l»e suspected of testamentary designs upon him, 60 nothing but cry — except moan. Then there were Anthony Chuzzlewit, and his son Jonas : tfie face of the old man so sharpened by the wariness and cunning of his life, th;it it seemed to cut him a passage through the crowded room, as he ede-pd « way behind the remotest chairs ; while the son had so well profiled by the precept and example of the father tiiiit he lookL't is possible to make him acquainl(;d by any means with the real character and |)urpose of that j'ourg female whose strange, whose very strange piC".ition, ir MARTIN CnUZZLEVVIT. s\ reference to himself" — here Mr. PecksnifF sunk his voice to an impressive whisper — "really casts a shadow of disgrace and shame upon tiiis family; and who, we know" — here he raised his voice «gain — " else why is she his companion ? harbours the very basest designs upon his weakness and his property." In their strong- feeling on this point, they, who agreed in nothing else, all concurred as one mind. Good Heaven, that she should harbour designs upon his property ! The strong-minded lady was for poison, her three daughters were for Bride, well and bread-and-water, the cousin with the tooth-ache advocated Botany Bay, the two Miss Pecksnift's suggested flogging. Nobody but Mr. Tigg, who, notwithstanding his extreme shabbi- ness, was still understood to be in some sort a lady's-man, in right of his upper lip and his frogs, indicated a doubt of the justifiable nature of these measures; and he only ogled the three Miss Chuzzlewits with the least admixture of banter in his admiration, as though he would observe, " You are positively down upon her to too great an extent, my sweet creatures, upon my soul you are !" " Now," said Mr. PecksnifF, crossing his two fore-fingers in a manner which was at once con- ciliatory and argumentative: "I will not, upoh the one hand, go so far as to say that she deserves all the inflictions which have been so very forci- bly and hilariously suggested ;" one of his orna- mental sentences ; " nor will I, upon the other, on any account compromise my common under standing as a man by making the assertion that she does not. What I would observe is, that I think some practical means might be devised of inducing our respected — shall 1 say our rever- ed— ?" " No !" interposed the strong-minded woman in a loud voice. "Then I will not," said Mr. PecksnifF. " You are quite right, my dear madum, and I appreciate *nd thank you for your discriminating objection — our respected relative, to dispose himself to listen to the promptings of nature, and not to the—" " Go on. Pa !" cried Mercy. " Why, the truth is, my dear," said Mr. Peck- snifF, smiling upon his assembled kindred, " that I am at a loss for a word. The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to say) who used to sing in the v/ater, has quite escaped me." Mr. George Chuzzlewit suggested " Swans." " No," said Mr. PecksnifF. " Not swans. Very like swans, too. Thank you." The nephew with the outline of a countenance, speaking for the first and last time on that occa- sion, piopounded "Oysters." " No," said Mr. PecksnifF, with his own pecu- liar urbanity, " nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters ; a very excellent idea ; thank you, my dear sir, very much. Wait! Sirens. Dear me ! sirens, of course. I think, I say, that means might be devised of disposing our respected rela- tive to listen to the promptings of nature, and not to the sireu-like delusions of art. Now we must Oct lose sight of the fact that our esteemed friend has a grandson, to whom he was, until lately, Very much attanhed, and whom I could have visiied to see here to-day, for I have a real and deep regard for him. A fine yntmg man : a very fine young man! I would submit toyou, whetl»«r we might not remove Mr. Ciiuzzlewil's di.strust or us, and vindicate our ow!i disinterestedness by "' " II' Mr. George Chuzzlewit has anythirw to say to me" interposed the strong-minded woman, sternly, " I beg him to speak out, like a mar; ; and not to look at me and my daughters as if he could eat us." " As to looking, I have heard it said, Mrs. Ned," returned Mr. George, angrily, " tliat a cat is free to contemplate a monarch ; and therefore I hope I have some right, having been born a member of this family, to look at a person who only came into it by marriage. As to eating, 1 beg to say, whatever bitterness your jealousies and disappointed expectations may suggest to you, that 1 am not a cannibal, ma'am." " I don't know that I" cried the strong-minded woman. " At all events, if I was a cannibal," said Mr. George Chuzzlewit, greatly stimulated by this retort, " I think it would occur to me that a lady who had outlived three husbands and suffered so very little from their loss, must be most uncom- monly tough." The strong-minded woman immediately rose. " And I will further add," said Mr. George, nodding his head violently at every second syl- lable ; " naming no names, and therefore hurting nobody but those whose consciences tell them they are alluded to, that I think it would be much more decent and becoming, if those who hooked and crooked themselves into this family by getting on the blind side of some of its members bel'ore marriage, and manslaughtering them afterwards by crowing over them to that strong pitch that tiiey were glad to die, would refrain from acting the part of vultures in regard to other mtmbeis of this family who are living. I think it would be full as well, if not better, if those individuals would keep at home, contenting themselves with what they have got (luckily for them) already; instead of hovering about, and thrusting their fingers into, a family pie, which they flavor much more than enough, I can tell them, when they are fifty miles away." " I might have been prepared for this " crie, the strong-minded woman, looking about her with a disdainful smile as she moved towards the door, followed by her three daughters: "indeed I was fully prepared for it, from the first. What else could I expect in such an atmosphere as this I" " Don't direct your halfpay-otficer's gaze at me, ma'am, if you please," interposed Miss Charily ; " for I won't bear it." This was a smart stab at a pension enjoyed by the strong-minded woman, during her second widowhood and before her last coverture. It told immensely. " I passed from the memory of a grateful coun- try, you very miserable minx," said Mrs. Ned, " when I entered this family ; and I feel now, though I did not feel then, that it served me right, and that I lost my claim upon the United King- dom of Great Britain and Ireland when I so de- graded myself. Now my dears, if you 're 'luilt' ready, and have sufficiently improved voursehv* by taking to heart the genteel example of thes* two young laa'.es, I think we '11 ga Mi Pecfe LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF Bniff, we are very much obliged to you, really. We came to be entertained, and you have far sur- passed our utmost expectations, in the ainuse- int^nl you have provided for us. Thank you. Good bye !" With such departing' words, did this strong- minded female paralyse the P(?cksniffian energies ; and so she swept out of the room, and out of the Louse, attended by her daughters, who, as with one accord, elevated their three noses in the air, and joined in a contemptuous titter. As they pa.'.sed the parlour windiAv on the outside, they were seen to counterfeit a perfect transport of de- light among themselves ; and with this final blow and great discouragement for those within, they vanished Before Mr. Pecksniff or any of his remaining visitors could offer a remark, anotlier figure pass- ed this window, coming, at a great rate, in the opposite direction : and immediately afterwards, Mr. Spottleloe burst inio the chamber. Compared with his present state of heat, he had gone out a man of enow or ice. His head distilled such oil upon his whiskers, that they were rich and clog, ged with unctuous drops; his face was violently inflamed, his limbs trembled ; and he gasped and strove for breath. "My good sir I" cried Mr. Pecksniff. " Oh yes I" returned the other : " Oh yes, cer- tainly ! Oh to be sure ! Oh of course ! You hear him ? You hear him ? all of you !" " What 's the matter !" cried several voices. ■ "Oh nothing!" cried Spottletoe, still gasping. •Nothing at all ! It's of no consequence ! Ask n.ai ! He '11 tell you I" "I do not understand our friend," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking about him in utter amazement. " I assure you that he is quite unintelligible to me." " Unintelligible, sir !" cried the other. " Unin- telligible ' Do you mean to say, sir, that you don't know what has happened ! That you haven't decoyed us here, and laid a plot and a plan against us I Will you venture to say that you didn't know Mr. Chiizzlewit was going, sir, and that you don't know he 's gone, sir ?" " Gone I" was the sreneral cry. " Gone," ecliocd Mr. S|)ottletoe. " Gone while we were sitting here. Gone. Nobody knows where he 's gone. Oh of course not I Nobody knew he was going. Oh of course not! The landlady thouglit up to the very last moment that they were merely going for a ride ; she had no other suspicion. Uh of course not I She 's not this fellow's creature. Oh of course not!" Adding to these exclamations a kind of ironical howl, and gazing upon the company for one brief instant afterwards, in a sudden silence, the irri tated gentleman started off again at the same tremendous pace, and was seen no more. It was in vain for Mr. Pecksniff to assure them that this new and opportune evasion of the family was at least as great a shock and surprise to him. as to anybody else. Of all the bullyings and de- nunciations that were ever heaped on one unluck' head, none can ever have exceeded in energy an'd heartiness those with which he was complimentea by each of his remaining relatives, singly, upon bidding him farewell The moral position taken by Mr. Tigg was something quite tremendous ; and the deaf cousin, who had had the complicated aggravation of see- ing all the proceedings and hearing nothing but the catastrophe, actually scraped her shoes upon the scraper, and afterwards distributed impression* of them all over the top step, in token that she shook the dust from her feet before quitting that dissembling and perfidious mansion. Mr. Pecksniff had, in short, but one comfort, and that was the knowledge that all these his re- lations and friends had hated him to the very ut most extent before ; and that he, for his part, had not distributed among tliem any more love, than, with his ample capital in that respect, he could comfortably afford to part with. This view of his affairs yielded him great consolation; and the fact deserves to be noted, as showing with what ease a good man may be consoled under circum stances of failure and disappointment CHAPTER V. CONTAINING A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE INSTALLATION OF MR. PECK SNIFF'S NEW PUPIL INTO THE BOSOM OF MR. PECKSNIFF'S FAMILY W'TH ALL THE FESTIVITIES HELD ON THE OCCASION, AND THE GREAT ENJOYMENT OF MR. PINCH. The best of architects and land-surveyors kept a horse, in whom the 'l 'm a Kentish man by birth, though), and took that sitivation here, I quite made up my mind that it was the dullest little out-of-the-way corner m England, and that there would be some credit in being jolly under such circumstances. But, Lord, there's no dulness at the Dragon ! Skittles, cricket, quoits, nine-pins, comic songs, choruses, company round the chimney corner every win- ler's evening — any man could be jolly at tiie Dragon. There's no credit in that." " But if common report be true for once, Mark, .iH I think it is, being able to confirm it by what i know myself," said Mr. Pinch, "you are the rutise of half this merriuKMit, and set ii going." " TiHTc may he something in that too, sir," ouawcred Mark. " l!iil that's no consolation.'' " Weill" M.iiii .Mr. I'liic.li. iiller a soil sik-ncc, his usually subdued tone being even more sub- dued than ever. " 1 can hardly think enough of what you tell me. Why, what will become of Mrs. Lupin, Mark?" Murk looked more fixedly before him, and fir- therotf still, as he answered that he didn't sup- pose* it 'would be much of an object to her. There were plenty of smart young fellows as would be glad of the place. He knew a dozen himself. " That 's probable enough," said Mr. Pinch " but I am not at all sure that Mrs. Lupin would be glad of them. Why, I always supposed that Mrs. Lupin and you would make a match of it, Mark : and so did every one, as far as I know." "I never," Mark replied, in some confusion, "said nothing as was in a direct way courting- like to her, nor she to me, but I don't know what I mightn't do one of these odd times, and what she mightn't say in ans\^er. Well, sir, that wouldn't suit." " Not to be landlord of the Dragon, Mark ?" cried Mr. Pinch. " No sir, certainly not," returned the other, withdrawing his gaze from the horizon, and look- ing at his fellow-traveller. "Why, that would be the rnin of a man !.ke nie. I go and sit down comfortably for life, and no man never finds me out. What would be the credit of the landlord of the Dragon's being jolly ? why, he couldn't l-elp it, if he tried." " Does Mrs. Lupin know you are going to leave her?" Mr. Pinch inquired. " I haven't broke it to her yet, sir ; but I mu^t. I 'm looking out this morning for something new and suitable," he said, nodding towards the citj'. " Wiiat kind of thing now?" Mr. Pinch de- manded. "I was thinking," Mark replied, " of some- thing in the grave-diirging wa}-." " Good Gracious, Mark !" cried Mr. Pinch. " It 's a good damp, wormy sort of busincw, sir," said Mark, shaking his htaci, argunientative- ly, " and there might be some credit in being jolly, with one's mind in that pursuit, unless grave-diggers is usually given that way ; which would be a drawback. You don't happen to know how that is, in general, do you, sir ?" " No," said Mr. Pinch, " I don't indeed. I never thought upon the subject." " In case of that not turning out as well as one could wish, you know," said Alark, musing again, " there 's other businesses. Undertaking now. That's gloomy. There might be credit to be gained there. A broker's man in a poor neigh- bourhood wouldn't be bad perhaps. A jailer sees a deal of misery. A doctor's man is in the very midst of murder. A bailiff's an't a lively oflice nat'rally. Even a tax-gatherer must find his feelings rather worked ujmn at times. 'I'liere 's lots oftradcs, in which I should have an opportu- nity, I think ?" Mr. Pinch was so perfectly overwhelmed by these remarks that he could do nothing but occa- eionally exchange a word or two on some indillir ent subject, and cast sidelong glances at the brii; hi face of his odd friend (who seemed quite nncun scious of his observation), until they roaclnd a certain corner of the road, close upon the out skirts of the city, when Mark said he would jump down there, if he pleased. " But bless my soul, Mark," s-iid "•' "inch, MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 35 who m the progress of his observation just then made the discovery that the bosom of his compa- nion's shirt was as much exposed as if it were midsummer, and was ruffled by every breath of air, " why don't you wear a waistcoat?" " What's the good of one, sir?" asked Mark. "Good of one?" said Mr. Pinch. "Why, to keep your chest warm." " Lord love you, sir !" cried Mark, " you don't know me. My chest don't want no warming. Even if it did, what would no waistcoat bring it to? Inflammation of the lungs, perhaps? VVell, there 'd be some credit in being jolly, with an in- flammation of the lungs." As Mr. Pinch returned no other answer than such as was conveyed in his drawing his breath very hard, and opening his eyes very wide, and nodding his head very much, Mark thanked him for his ride, and without troubling him to stop, jumped lightly down. And away he fluttered, with his red neck-kerchief, and his open coat, down a cross lane : turning back from time to time to nod to Mr. Pineli, and looking one of the most careless, good-liumoured, comical i'cUows in life. His late companion, with a thoughtful face, pursued his way to Salisbury. Mr. Pinch had a shrewd notion that Salisbury was a very desperate sort of place; an exceeding wild and dissipated city ; and when he had put up tlie horse, and given the hostler to understand that he would look in again in the course of an hour or two to see him take his corn, he set forth on a stroll about the streets with a vague and not unpleasant idea that they teemed with all kinds of mystery and bedevilment. To one of his quiet habits this little delusion was greatly assisted by the circumstance of its being market-day, and the thoroughfares about the market-place being filled with carts, horses, donkeys, baskets, wagons, gar- den-stuff, meat, tripe, pies, poultry, and hucksters' wares of every opposite description and possible variety of character. Then there were young farmers and old farmers, with smock frocks, brown great-coats, drab great-coats, red worsted comforters, leather-leggings, wonderful shaped hats, hunting-whips, and rough sticks, standing about in groups, or talking noisily together on the tavern steps, or paying and receiving huge amounts of greasy wealth, with the assistance of such bulky pocket-books that when they were in their pockets it was apoplexy to get them out, and when they were out, it was spasms to get them in again. Also there were farmers' wives in beaver bonnets and red cloaks, riding shaggy horses purged of all earthly passions, who went soberly into all manner of places without desiring to know why, and who, if required, would have stood stock still in a china-shop, with a complete dinner-service at each hoof Also a great many dogs, who were strongly interested in the state of the market and the bargains of their masters ; and a great confu- tion pf tongues, both brute and human. Mr. Pinch regarded everything exposed for sale witn great delight, and was particularly struck by the itinerant cutlery, which he considered of the very keenest kind, insomuch that he purchased a pocket knife with seven blades in it, and not a cut (as he afterwards found out) among them. When he had exhausted the market-place, and watched the farmers safe into the market dinner, he went back to look after the horse. Having seen him eat unto his heart's content, he issued forth again, to wander round the town and legale himself with the shop windows ; previously taking a long stare at the bank, and wondering in what direction under-ground, the caverns might be, where they kept the money ; and turning to look back at one or two young men who passed him, whom he knew to be articled to solicitors in the town ; and who had a sort of fearful interest in his eyes, as jolly dogs who knew a thing or two, and kept it up tremendously. But the shops. First of all, there were the jew- ellers' shops, with all the treasures of the earth displayed therein, and such large silver vvatches hanging up in every pane of glass, that if they were anything but first-rate goers it certainly was not because the works could decently complain of want of room. In good sooth they v^ere big enough, and perhaps, as the saying is, ugly enough, to be the most correct of all mechanical performers ; in Mr. Pinch's eyes, however, they were smaller than Geneva ware; and when he saw one very bloated watch announced as a re- peater, gifted with the uncommon power of strik- ing every quarter of an hour inside the pocket of its happy owner, he almost wished that he were rich enough to buy it. But what were even gold and silver, precious stones and clockwork, to the bookshops, whence a pleasant smell of paper freshly pressed came issu- ing forth, awakening instant recollections of some new grammar had at school, long time ago, with " Master Pinch, Grove House Academy," inscrib- ed in faultless writing on the fly-leaf! That whiff of russia leather, too, and all those rows on rows of volumes, neatly ranged within — what happi ness did they suggest ! And in the window were the spick-and-span new works from London, with the title-pages, and sometimes even the first page of the first chapter, laid wide open : tempting un- wary men to begin to read the book, and then, in the impossibility of turning over, to rush blindly in, and buy it ! Here, too, were the dainty front- ispiece and trim vignette, pointing like handposts on the outskirts of great cities to the rich stock of incident beyond ; and store of books, with many a grave portrait and time-honoured name, whose matter he knew well, and would have given mines to have, in any form, upon the narrow shelf beside his bed at Mr. Pecksniff's. What a heart, breaking shop it was ! There was another ; not quite so bad at first, but still a trying shop ; where children's books were sold, and where poor Robinson Crusoe stood alone in his might, with dog and hatchet, goat- skin cap and fowling-pieces: calmly surveying Philip Quarll and the hostof imitators round him, and calling Mr. Pinch to witness that he, of all the crowd, impressed one solitary foot-print on the shore of boyish memory, whereof the tread c-t generations should not stir the lightest grain of sand. And there, too, were the Persian Tales, with flying chests, and students of enchanted books shut up for years in caverns : and there, too, was Abudah, the merchant, with the terrible little old woman hobbling out of the box m iiis bee* room : and there the mighty talisman — tne rare Arabian Nights — with Cassim Baba, divided ny four, like the ghost of a dreadful sum, hanging up, all gory, in the robbers' cave. Which match less wonders, coming fast on Mr. Pinch's mind. 36 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF did so rub up and chafe that wonderful lamp with- in him, that when he turned his face towards the busy street, a crowd of phantoms waited on his pleasure, and he lived again, with new delight, tl.e happy days before the Pecksniff era. He had less interest now in the chemists' shops, with their great glowing bottles (with smaller re- positories of brightness in their very stoppers); and in their agreeable compromises between med- icine and perfumery, in the shape of toothsome lozenges and virgin honey. Neither had he the least regard (but he never had much) for the tai- lors', where the newest metropolitan waistcoat patterns were hanging up, which by some strange transformation always looked amazing there, and never appeared at all like the same thing any- where else. But he stopped to read the playbill at the theatre, and surveyed the doorway with a kind of awe, which was not diminished when a sallow gentleman with long dark hair came out, and told a boy to run home to his lodgings and bring down hia broad-sword. Mr. Pinch stood rooted to the spot on hearing this, and might have stood tJiere until dark, but that the old ca- thedral bell began to ring for vesper service, on wiiich he tore himself away. Now, the organist's assistant was a friend of Mr. Pinch's, which was a good thing, for he too was a very quiet, gentle soul, and had been, like Tom, a kind of old-fashioned boy at school, though well-liked by the noisy fellows too. As good luck would have it (Tom always said he had great good luck) the assistant chanced that very afternoon to be on duty by himself, with no one in the dusty organ-loft but Tom : so while he played, Tom helped him with the stops ; and finally, the service being just over, Tom took the organ himself. It was then turning dark, and the yellow light that streamed in through the an- cient windows in the choir was mingled with a murky red. As the grand tones resounded through the church, they seemed to Tom, to find an echo in the depth of every ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his own heart. Great thoughts and hopes came crowding on his mind as the rich music re. led upon the air, and yet among them — something more grave and solemn in their purpose, but the same — were all the images of that day, down to its very lightest recollection of childhood. The feeling that the sounds awakened, in the moment of their exist- ence, seemed to include his whole life and being ; and as the surrounding realities of stone and wood and glass grew dimmer in the darkness, these visions grew bo much the brighter that Tom might have forgotten the new pupil and the ex- pectant master, and have sat there pouring out his grateful heart till midnight, but for a very earthy old verger insisting on locking up the ca- thedral forthwith. So he took leave of his friend, with many thanks, groped his way out, as well as he could, into the now lamp-lighted streets, and hurried off to get liis dinner. All the farmers being by this time jogging liomewards, there was nobody in the sanded par- lour of the tavern where he had left the horse ; "o ho had his little table drawn out close before (tie fire, and fell to work upon a well-cooked steak und sriK)kitig hot potatoes, with a strong appre- niatior. of their excellence, and a very keen sense of enjoyment. Beside him, too, there stood d jug of most stupendous Wiltshire beer ; and the effect of the whole was so transcendent, that he was obliged every now and then to lay down his knife and fork, rub his hands, and think about it. By the time the cliecse and celery came, Mr. Pinch had taken a book out of hie pocket, and could afford to trifle with tlie viands; now eating a little, now drinking a little, now reading a little, and now stoppuig to wonder what sort of a young man the new pupil wou'd turn out to be. He had passed from this latter theme and was deep in his book again, when the door opened, and another guest came in, bringing with him such a quantity of cold air, that he po- sitively seemed at first to put the fire out. "Very hard frost to-night, sir," said the new comer, courteously acknowledging Mr. Pinch's withdrawal of the little table, that he might have place. Don't disturb yourself, I beg." Though he said this with a vast amount of consideration for Mr. Pinch's comfort, he dragged one of the great leather-bottomed chairs to tlie very centre of the hearth, notwithstanding ; and sat down in front of the fire, with a foot on each hob. " My feet are quite numbed. Ah ! Bitter cold to be sure." " You have been in the air some considerable time, I dare say ?" said Mr. Pinch. " All day. Outside a coach, too." " That accounts for his making the rot»m so cool," thought Mr. Pinch. " Poor fellow ! How thoroughly chilled he must be I" The stranger became thoughtful, likewise, and sat for five or ten minutes looking at the fire in silence. At length he rose and divested himself of his shawl and great-coat, which (far different from Mr. Pinch's) was a very warm and thick one ; but he was not a whit more conversational out of his great-coat than in it, for he sat down again in the same place and attitude, and leaning back in his chair, ''I'gan to bite his nails. H« was young — one-!.i twenty, perhaps — and hand some; with a keen irk eye, and a quickness of look and manner wlmh made Tom sensible of a great contrast in liis own bearing, and caused bim to feel even more shy than usual. There was a clock in the room, which the stranger often turned to look at. Tom made frequent reference to it also : partly from a ner- vous sympathy with his taciturn companion ; and partly because the new pupil was to inquire for him at half after six, and the hands were getting on towards that hour. Whenever the stranger caught him looking at this clock, a kind of con fusion came upon Tom as if he had been found out in something ; and it was a perception of his uneasiness which caused theyounger jnan to say, perhaps, with a smile: " We both appear to be rather particular about the time. The fact is, I have an engagement to meet a gentleman here." "So have I," said Mr. Pinch. " At half-past six," said the stranger. " At half-past six," said Tom in the very same breath ; whereupon the otiier looked at him with some surprise. " T])e young gentleman, I expect," remarkfd Tom, timidly, " was to inquire at that time for a person of the name of Pinch." MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 37 " Dear me I" cried the other, jumping up. "And I have bee.. Ateping the fire from you all this while ! I had no idea you were Mr. Pinch. I am the Mr. Martin for wiiom you were to inquire. Pray excuse me. How do you do? Oh, do draw nearer, pray !" " Thank you," said Tom, " thank you. I am not at all cold; and you are; and we have a cold ride before us. Well, if you wish it, I will. I — I am very glad," said Tom, smiling with an em- barrassed frankness peculiarly his, and which was as plainly a confession of his own imperfections, and an appeal to the kindness of the person he addressed, as if he had drawn one up in simple language and committed it to paper : " I am very glad indeed that you turn out to be the party I expected. I was thinking, but a minute ago, that I could wish him to be like you." " I am very glad to hear it," returned Martin, shaking hands with him again ; " for I assure you, I was thinking there could be no such luck as Mr. Pinch's turning out like you." " No, really I" said Tom, with great pleasure. " Are you serious ?" " Upon my word I am," replied his new ac- quaintance. " You and 1 will get on excellently well, I know : which it's no small relief to me to feel, for to tell you the truth, I am not at all the sort of fellow who could get on with everybody, and that's the point on which I had the greatest doubts. But they're quite relieved now. — Do me the favour to ring the bell, will you ?" Mr. Pinch rose, and complied with great alac- rity — the handle hung just over Martin's head, as he warmed himself — and listened with a smiling face to what his friend went on to say. It was : " If you like punch, you'll allow me to order a glass a-piece, as hot as it can be made, that we may usher in our friendship in a becoming man- ner. To let you into a secret, Mr. Pinch, I never was so much in want of something warm and cheering in my life ; but I didn't like to run the chance of being found drinking it, without know- ing what kind of person you were ; for first im- pressions, you know, often go a long way, and last a long lime." Mr. Pinch assented, and the punch was ordered. In due course it came : hot and strong. After drinking to each other in the steaming mixture, they became quite confidential. " I'm a sort of relation of Pecksniff's, you know," said the young man. " Indeed !" cried Mr. Pinch. " Yes. My grandfather is his cousin, so he's kith and kin to me, somehow, if you can make that out. / can't." " Then Martin is your Christian name ?" said Mr. Pinch, thoughtfully. " Oh !" " Of course it is," returned his friend : " I wish it was my surname, for my own is not a very pretty one, and it takes a long time to sign. Chu7zlewit is my name." " Dear me !" cried Mr. Pinch, with an involun- tary start. "You're not surprised at my having two names, Isuppose?" returned the other, setting his glass to his lips. " Most people have." "Oh, no," said Mr. Pinch, "not at all. Oh dear no ! Well !" And then remembering that Mr. Pecksniff had p'-'vately cautioned him to say no- I thing in reference to the old gentleman of the same name who had lodged at the Dragon, but to reserve all mention of that person for him, he had no better means of hiding his confusion, than by raising his own glass to his mouth. They hrf)ked at each other out of their respective tumblers for a few seconds, and then put them, down empty. " I told them in the stable to be ready tor us ten minutes ago," said Mr. Pinch, glancing at the clock again. " Shall we go ?" " If you please," returned the other. " Would you like to drive /" said Mr. Pinch ; his whole face beaming with a consciousness oftho splendour of his offer. " You shall, if you wish." " Why, that depends, Mr. Pinch," said Martin, laughing, "upon what sort of horse you have. Because if he's a bad one, I would rather keep my hands warm by holding them comfortably in my great-coat pockets." He appeared to think this such a good joke, that Mr. Pinch was quite sure it must be a capital one. Accordingly, he laughed too, and was fully persuaded that he enjoyed it very much. Thtu he settled his bill, and Mr. Chuzzlewit paid for the punch ; and having wrapped themselves up, to the extent of their respective means, they went out together to the front door, where Mr. Pecksniff's property stopped the way. " I won't drive, thanlc you, Mr Pinch," said Martin, getting into the sitter's plice. " By the bye, there's a box of mine. Can we mauage to take it?" " Oh, certainly," said Tom. " Put it in, Dick, anywhere !" It was not precisely of that convenient size which would admit of its being squeezed into any odd corner, but Dick the hostler got it in some- how, and Mr. Chuzzlewit helped him. It was all on Mr. Pinch's side, and Mr. Chuzzlewit said lie was very much afraid it would encumber him ; to which Tom said, "Not at all;" though it forced him into such an awkward position, that he had much ado to see anything but his own knees. But it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good ; and the wisdom of the saying was verified in this in- stance ; for the cold air came from Mr. Pinch's side of the carriage, and by interposing a perfect wall of box and man between it and the new pupil, he shielded that young gentleman effecv tually : which was a great comfort. It was a clear evening, with a bright moon. The whole landscape was silvered by its light and by the hoar-frost; and everything looked exquj. sitely beautiful. At first, the great serenity ana peace through which they travelled, disposed them both to silence ; but in a very short time the puntn within them and the healthful air without, made them loquacious, and they talked incessantly. When they were half-way home, and stopped to give the horse some water, Martin (who was very generous with his money) ordered another glass of punch, which they drank between tliein, ana which had not the effect of making them less coii versational than before. Their principal topic ot discourse was naturally Mr. Pecksniff and his family ; of whom, and of the great obligations tliey had heaped upon him, Tom Pinch, with the tears standing in his eyes, drew such a picture, an would have inclined any one of common feeling almost to revere them : and of which Mr. Pec*" 38 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF sniff had not the slightest foresio;ht or precon- ceived idea, or lie certainly (being very humble) woidd not have sent Tom I'iii-ch to bring the pupil lioiiie. In this way they went on, and on, and on — in the language of the story-books — until at last the village lights appeared before them, and the church 5pire cast a long reflection on the grave-yard grass : as if it were a dial (alas, the truest in the world !) marking, whatever light shone out of Heaven, the flight of days and weeks and years, by some new shadow on that solemn ground. "A pretty church 1" said Martin, observing that his companion slackened the slack pace of the horse, as they approached. "Is it not?" cried Tom, with great pride. There 's the sweetest little organ there you ever heard. I play it for them." " Indeed ?" said Martin. " It is hardly worth the trouble, I should think. What do you get for that, now ?" "Notiiing," answered Tom. " Well," returned nis friend, " you are a very strange fellow I" To which remark there succeeded a brief si- lence. "When I say nothing," observed Mr, Pinch, cheerfully, " I am wrong, and don't say what I mean, because I get a great deal of pleasure from it, and the means of passing some of the happiest hours I know. It led to something else the other day — but you will not care to hear about that, I ^are say ?" " Oh, yes, I shall. What?" " It led to my seeing," said Tom, in a lower Voice, " one of the loveliest and most beautiful Tdces you can possibly picture to yourself" " And yet I am able to picture a beautiful one," said his friend, thoughtfully, " or should be, if I have any memory." "She came," said Tom, laying his hand upon the other's arm, " for the first time, very early in the morning, when it was hardly light; and when I saw her, over my shoulder, standing just within the porch, I turned quite cold, almost believing her to be a spirit. A moment's reflection got tiie better of that, of course, and ''ortunately it came to my relief so soon, that I didn't leave off playing." " Why fortunately ?" " Why ? Because she stood there, listening. I had niy spectacles on, and saw her through the chinks in the curtains as plainly as I see you ; and she was beautiful. After a while slie glided off, and I continued to play until she was out of hearing." " Why did you do that ?" " Don't you see ?" responded Tom, " Because she might suppose I hadn't seen her, and might return." "And did she?" "Certainly she did. Next morning, and next evening, too : but always when there was no peo- ple about, and always alone. I rose earlier and Bat there hitor, that when she came, she might find the church door open, and the organ playing, and might not be disappointed. She strolled that Way for some days, and always staid to listen. But she is gone now, and of all unlikely things in (his wide world, it is perhaps the most improbable that I shall ever look upon her face again." " You don't know anything more about her 7' " No." " And you never followed her, when she went away ?" "Why should I distress her by doing that?" said Tom Pinch. " Is it likely that she wanted my company ? She came to hear the organ, not to see me ; and would you have had me scare he? from a place she seemed to grow quite fond of/ Now, Heaven bless her I" cried Tom, " to have given her but a minute's pleasure every day, I would have gone on playing the organ at those times until I was an old man : quite contented if she sometimes thought of a poor I'ellow like me, as a part of the music; and more than recom- pensed if she ever mixed n)e up with anything she liked as well as she liked that !" The new pupil was clearly very much amazed by Mr. Pinch's weakness, and would probably have told him so, and given him some good ad- vice, but for their opportune arrival at Air. Peck- sniff's door : the front door this time, on account of the occasion being one of ceremony and rejoic- ing. The same man was in waiting for ttre horse who had been adjured by Mr. Pinch in the morn- ing not to yield to his rabid desire to start; and after delivering the animal into his charge, and beseeching Mr. Chuzzlewit in a whisper never to reveal a syllable of what he had just told him in the fulnecs of his heart, Tom led the pupil in, for iiistant presentation. Mr. Pecksniff had clearly not expected them for hours to come : for he was surrounded by open books, and was glancing from volume to volume, with a black lead-pencil in his mouth, and a pair of compasses in his hand, at a vast number of mathematical diagrams, of such extraordinary shapes that they looked like designs for fireworks. Neither had Miss Charity expected them, tor she was busied, with a capacious wicker basket before her, in making impracticable nightcaps for the poor. Neither had Miss Mercy expected them, for she was sitting upon her stool, tying on the — oh, good gracious I — the petticoat of a large doll that she was dressing for a neighbour's child: really, quite a grown-up doll, which made it more confusing: and had its little bonnet dangling by the riband from one of her fair curls, to which she had fastened it, lest it should be lost, or sat upon. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to conceive a fiiinily so thoroughly taken by surprise as the Pecksniffs were, on this occasion. "Bless my life!" said Mr. Pecksniff, looking up, and gradually exchanging his abstracted face for one of joyful recognition, " Here already '. Martin, my dear boy, I am delighted to welcome you to my poor house !" With this kind greeting, Mr. Pecksniff fairly took him to his arms, and patted hirn several times upon the back with his right hand the while, as if to express that his feelings during the embrace were too much for utterance. " But here," he said, recovering, " are my daugh- ters, Martin : my two only children, \\ hoin (if you ever saw them) you have not beheld — ah, these sad family divisions! — since you were infants to- gether. Nay, my deais, why blush at being de tected in your cvcry-day pursuits? We had pre pared to give you the reception of a visitor. Mar tin, in our lillle room of stale," said Mr. Peck- MARTIN C MUZZLE WIT. sv snifT, S5rniluig, " but I like this better — I like tins better I" Oil, blessed star of Innocence, wherever you may be, how did you jflitter in your home of ether, when the two Miss Pecksniffs put forth, each her lily hand, and g-ave the same, with mantling- cheeks, to Martin ! How did you twinkle, as if flntteriny with sympathy, when Mercy, reminded of the bonnet in her hair, hid her fair face and turned her head aside : the while her gentle sister plucked it out, and smote her, with a sister's sotl reproof, upon her buxom shoulder ! " And how," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning round after the contemplation of these passages, and taking Mr. Pinch in a friendly manner by the elbow, " how has our friend here used you, Mar- tin .'" " Very well, indeed, sir. We are on the best terms, I assure you." "Old Tom Pinch !" said Mr. Pecksniff, looking- on him with affectionate sadness. " Ah '. It seems b'Jt yesterday that Thomas was a boy, fresh from a scholastic course. Yet years have passed, I think, since Thomas Pinch and I first walked the world together !" Mr. Pinch could say nothing-. He was too much moved. But he pressed his master's hand, and tried to thank him. " And Thomas Pinch and I," said Mr. Peck- sniff, in a deeper voice, " will walk it yet, in mutual faithfulness and friendship ! And if it comes to pass that either of us be run over, in any of those busy crossings which divide the streets of life, the other will convey him to the hospital in Hope, and sit beside his bed in Bounty !" " Well, well, well !" he added, in a happier tone, as he shook Mr. Pinch's elbow, hard. "No more of this ! Martin, my dear friend, that you may be at home within these walls, let me show you how we live, and where. Come !" With that he took up a lighted candle, and, attended by his young relative, prepared to leave the room. At the door, he stopped. " You '11 bear us company, Tom Pinch ?" I Ay, cheerfully, though it had been to death, would Tom have followed him : glad to lay down his life for such a man ! " This," said Mr. Pecksniff, opening- the door of an opposite parlour, "is the little room of state, I mentioned to you. My girls have pride in it, Martin ! Tliis," opening another door, " is the little cliamber in which my works (slight things at best) have been concocted. Portrait of my- self by Spiller. Bust by Spoker. The latter is Considered a good likeness. I seem to recognise soniething about the left-hand corner of the nose, myself" Martin thought it was very like, but scarcely intellectual enough. Mr, Pecksniff observed that the same fault had been found with it before. It was remarkable it should have struck his young relation too. He was glad to see he had an eye ' for art. " Various books you observe,'' said Mr. Peck- sniff, waving his hand towards the wall, " con- nected with our pursuit. I have scribbled my- seli, but have not yet published. Be careful how you come up stairs. This," opening another dour, " is my chamber. I read nere when the fimily suppose I have retired to rest. SonictiMie.i I injure my liealtli, rather more than I cm qniie justify to myself, by doing so; but art is l^uii and time is short. Every facility you see toi jottingf down crude notions, even here." These latter words were explained by his point- ing to a small round table on which were a lamp, divers sheets of paper, a piece of India-rubb( r, and a case of instruments: all put ready, in ca.-o an architectural idea should come into Mr. Peck- snift"'s head in the night ; in which event lie would instantly leap out of bed, and fix it for ever. Mr. Pecksniff opened another door on the same floor, and shut it again, all at once, as if it were a Blue Chamber. But before he had well done so, he looked smilingly round, and said, " Why not?" Martin couldn't say why not, because he didn't know anything at all about it. So Mr. Pecksniff answered himself, by throwing open the door, and saying: " My daughters' room. A poor first-floor to us, but a bower to them. Very neat. Very airy. Plants you observe ; hyacinths ; books again ; birds." These birds, by the bye, comprised in all one staggering old sparrow without a tail, which had been borrowed expressly from the kitchen. "Such trifles as girls love, are here. Nothing more. Those who seek heartless splen dour, would seek here in vain." With that he led them to the floor above. "This," said Mr. Pecksniff, throwing wide the door of the memorable two-pair front ; " is a room where some talent has been developed, I believe. This is a room in which an idea for a slce})le occurred to me, that I may one day give to the world. We work here, my dear Martin. Some architects have been bred in this room : — a few, I think, Mr. Pinch?" Tom fully assented ; and, what is more, fully believed it. " You see," said Mr. Pecksniff, passing- tlie candle rapidly from roll to roll of paper, " some traces of our doings here. Salisbury Cathedra! from the north. From the south. From the east. From the west. From the south-east. From the nor'-west. A bridge. An alms-house. A jail A church. A powder-magazine. A wine-cellar A portico. A summer-house. An ice-house Plans, elevations, sections, every kind of thing. And this," he added, having by this time reached another large chamber on the same story with fl)ur little beds in it, " this is your room, of which Mr. Pinch here, is the quiet sharer. A southern aspect; a charming prospect; Mr. Pincn s little library, you perceive; everything agr; cable and appropriate. If there is any additional comfort you would desire to have here at any time, pray mention it. Even to strangers — fir less to you, my dear Martin — there is no restriction on that point." It was undoubtedly true, and may be stated m corroboration of Mr. Pecksniff, that any pupil had the most liberal permission to mention any thing in this way that suggested itself to his fancy. Some young gentlemen had gone on men tioning the very same thing for five years without ever being stopped. " ']"he duaiestio assistants," said Mr. Peck sniff, " sleep above ; nnd that is all." After whicti and listening complacently as he went, to me er 40 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF iMmiums passed by his young- friend on the ar- riuigenitnts generally, he led the way to the Diirlour agHiii. Here a grc;it change had taken place ; for fes- tive preparations on a rather extensive scale were already completed, and the two Miss Pecksniffs v\ere awaiting their return with hospitable looks. T liere were two bottles of currant wine — white and red ; a dish of sandwiches (very long and very slim); another of apples; another of captains' biscuits (which are always a moist and jovial sort of viand) ; a plate of oranges cut up small and gritty ; with powdered sugar, and a highly geolo- gical home-made cake. The magnitude of these preparatiotis quite took away Tom Pinch's breath : f(>r thougli the new pupils were usually let down stiftly, as one may say, particularly in the wine department, which had so many stages of declen- sion, that sometimes a young gentleman was a whole fortnight in getting to the pump; still this was a banquet: a sort of Lord Mayor's feast in private life : a something to think of, and hold on by, afterwards. To this entertainment, which, apart from its own intrinsic merits, had the additional choice quality that it was in strict keeping with the night, being botli light and cool, Mr. Pecksniff besought the company to do full justice. "Martin," he said, " will seat himself between you two, my dears, and Mr. Pinch will come by me. Let us dri)ik to our new inmate, and may we be happy fog I put it to you, Pinch, is it natural?" After a short reflection, Mr. Pinch replied, in a more subdued tone, that to be sure it was unrea- sonable to expect any such thing, and that he had no doubt Martin knew best. "Of course I know best," Martin observed. " Yes, I feel that," said Mr. i'nich, mildly. " I said so." And when he had made tuis rejoinder they fell into a blank silence again, which lasted un- til they reached home : by wiiich tinic it was dark. Now, Miss Charity Pecksnitf, in ccjiisidcration of the inconvenience of carrying tlicm with her in the coach, and the impossibility of preserving them by artificial means until the family's return, had set forth, in a couple of plates, the fragments of yesterday's feast. In virtue of which liberal arrangement, tliey had the happiness to find awaiting them in the parlour, two chaotic heaps of the remains of last night's pleasure, consisting of certain filmy bits of oranges, some mummied sandwiches, various disrupted masses of the geo- logical cake, and several entire captain's biscuits. That choice liquor in which to steep tliese dainties might not be wanting, the remains of the two bottles of currant-wine had been poured together and corked with a curl-paper ; so that every ma/, terial was at hand tor making quite a heavy night of it. Martin Chuzzlewit beheld these roystering pre- parations with infinite contempt, and stirring the fire into a blaze (to the great destruction of Mr. Pecksniff's coals), sat moodily down before it, in the most comfortable chair he could find. That he might the better squeeze himself into the small corner that was left for him, Mr. Pinch took up his position on Miss Mercy PecksnilF's stool, and setting his glass down upon the hearth-rug and putting his plate upon his knees, began to enjoy himself. If Diogenes coming to life again could have rolled himself, tub and all, into Mr. Pecksniff's parlour, and could have seen Tom Pinch as he sat on Mercy Pecksniff's stool, with his plate and glass before him, he could not have faced it out, though in his surliest mood, bnt must have smiled good-temperedly. The perfect and entire satis- faction of Tom; his surpassing appreciation of the husky sandwiches, which crumbled m his mouth like sawdust; the unspeakable relish with which he swallowed the thin wine by drops, and smacked his lips, as though it were so rich and generous that to lose an atom of its fruity flavour were a sin ; the look with whicli he paused some times, with his glass in his hand, proposing silent toasts to himself; and the anxious siiade thai came upon his contented face when after wander ing round the room, exulting in its uninvaded snugness, his glance encountered the dull brow of his companion ; no cynic in the world, though in his hatred of its men a very gritTin, could hava withstood these things in Thomas Pincii. Some men would have slapped him on the back and pledged him in a bumper of the currant-wine, though it had been the sharpest vinegar — ay, and liked its flavour too; some would have seized him by his honest hand, and thanked him for the lesson that his simple nature taught them. Some would have laughed with, and others would have laughed at him ; of whif'h last class was Martin Chuzzle- wit, who, unable to restrain himself at last laughed loud and long. " That's right," said Tom, nodding approvinp ly. "Cheer up! That 's c;ipital I" At which enconragement, young Martin lauo-lied again; and said, as soon as he had breath and gravity en '^h • 14 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " I never saw soch a fellow as you arc, Pinch." " Didn't you though ?" said Tom. " Weil, it 's very likclj' you do find me strange, because I have hardly seen anything of the world, and you have seen a good deal I dure say ?" " Pretty well for my time of lite," rejuined Mar- tin, drawing- his chair still nearer to the fire, and spreadmg his feet out on the fender. "Deuce take it, I must talk openly to somebody. I '11 talk openly to you. Pinch." " Do I" said Tom. " I shall take it as being very friendly of you." " I 'm not in your way, am I ?" inquired Mar- tin, glancing down at Mr. Pinch, who was by this time looking at the fire over his leg. " Not at all !" cried Tom. " You must know then, to make short of a long story," said Martin, beginning with a kind of ef- fort, as if the revelati in were not agreeable to him : " that I have been bred up from childhood with great expectations, and have always been taught to believe that I should be, one day, very rich. So I should have been, but for certain brief reasons which I am going to tell you, and which have led to my being disinherited." " By your father ?" inquired Mr. Pinch, with open eyes. " By my grandfather. I have had no parents these many years. Scarcely within my remem- brance." " Neither have I," said Tom, touching the young man's hand with his own and timidly withdrawing it again. " Dear me!" " Why as to that you know. Pinch," pursued the other, stirring the fire again, and speaking in his rapid, off-hand way : " it 's all very right and proper to be fond of parents when we have them, and to bear them in remembrance after they're dead, if you have ever known anything of them. But as I never did know anything about mine personally, you know, I can't be expected to be very sentimental about 'em. And I am not: that's the truth." Mr. Pinch was just then looking thoughtfully at the bars. But on his companion pausing in this place, he started, and said " Oh ! of course" — and composed himself to listen again. " In a word," said Martin, " I have been bred and reared all my life by this grandfather of whom I have just spoken. Now, he has a great many good points; there is no doubt about that; I'll not disguise the fact from you ; but he has two very great faults, which are the staple of his bad pide. In the first place, he has the most confirmed obstinacy of character you ever met with in any human creature. In the second, he is most abo- minably selfish." " Is he indeed ?" cried Tom. " In those two respects," returned the other, "there never was such a man. I have often heard from those who know, that they have been, time out of mind, the failinirs of our family; and I be- lieve there 's some trulii in if. But I can't say of my own knowledge. All I have to do, you know, is to be very thankful that they haven't descended to me, and to be very careful that I don't contract 'em.' " To be sure " said Mr. Pinch. " Very proper." ' Well, sir," resu-ned Martin, stirring the fire once more, and drawing his chair still closer to 't. "his Rclfiiiiness n'a)"-:s hini exacting, you see ; and his obstinacy makes him resolute in h;s ex actions. The consequence is that he has always exacted a great deal from me in the way of re spect, and submission, and self-denial when his wishes were in question, and so forth. I have borne a great deal from him, because I have hem under obligations to him (if one can ever be sad to be under obligations to one's own grandfather i, and because I have been really attached to him ; but we have had a great many quarrels for all that, for I could not accommodate myself to his ways very often — not out of the least reference to myself you understand, but because " he stammered here, and was rather at a loss. Mr. Pinch being about the worst man in the world to help anybody out of a dilBculty of this sort, said nothing. " Well ! as you understand me," resumed Mar- tin quickly, " I needn't hunt for the precise ex- pression I want. Now, I come to the cream of my story, and the occasion of my being here. I am in love. Pinch." Mr. Pinch looked up into his face with in- creased interest. " I say I am in love. I am in love with one of the most beautiful girls the sun ever shone upon. But she is wholly and entirely dependent upon the pleasure of my grandfather ; and if he were to know that she favoured my passion, she would lope her home and everything she possesses in the world. There is nothing very selfish in that love, I think ?" " Selfish !" cried Tom. " You have acted nobly. To love her as I am sure you do, and }'ef in consideration for her state of dependence, not even to disclose " "What are you talking about. Pinch?" said Martin pettishly : " don't make yourself ridicu- lous, my good fellow ! What do you mean by not disclosing ?" " I beg pardon," answered Tom. " I thought you meant that, or I wouldn't have said it." " If I didn't tell her I loved her, where would be the use of my being in love?" said Martin: " unless to keep myself in a perpetual state of worry and vexation ?" " That 's true," Tom answered. " Well ! I can guess what she said when you told her ?" he added, glancing at Martin's handsome face. "Why, not exactly, Pincii," he rejoined, with a slight frown : " because she has some girlish notions about duty and gratitude, and all the rest of it, which are rather hard to fathom; but in the main you arc right. Her heart was mine, I found." ".Tust what I supposed," said Tom. "Quite natural !" and, in his great satisfaction, he took a long sip out of his wine-glass. " Although I had conducted myself from tl>c first with the utmost circumspection," pursued Martin, " I had not managed matters so well hot that my grandfather, who is full of jealousy and distrust, suspected me of loving her. He said nothing to her, but straightway attacked me in private, and charged me with designing to cor rupt the fidelity to himself (there you observe his selfishness), of a young creature whom he had train,''d and educated to be his only disinterested and fiithful companion when he should have dis l>os<.d of me in marriage to his heart's content I'pon that, I took fire immediately, and told hiin that with his good leave I would dispose of my MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 45 self in marriage, and would rather not be knocked down) by him or any other auctioneer to any bid- der whomsoever." Mt. Pinch opened his eyes wider and looked at the fire harder tlian he had done yet. " You may be sure," said Martin, " that this nettled him, and that he began to be the very re- verse of complimentary to myself. Interview suc- ceeded interview ; words engendered words, as they always do ; and the upshot of it was, that 1 was to renounce her, or be renounced by him. Now you must bear in mind, Pinch, that I am not only desperately fond of her (for though she is poor, her beauty and intellect would reflect great credit on anybody, I don't care of what pretensions, who might become her husband), but that a chief ingredient in my composition is a most determin- ed " "Obstinacy," suggested Tom in perfect good faith. But the suggestion was not so well receiv- ed as he had expected ; for the young man imme- diately rejoined, with some irritation, " What a fellow you are. Pinch !" " I beg your pardon," said Tom, " I thought you wanted a word." " I didn't want that word," he rejoined. " I told you obstinacy was no part of my character, did I not ? I was going to say, if you had given me leave, that a chief ingredient in my composition is a most determined firmness." " Oh !" cried Tom, screwing up his mouth, and nodding. " Yes, yes ; I see 1" " And being firm," pursued Martin, " of course I was not going to yield to him, or give way by BO much as the thousandth part of an inch." " No, no," said Tom. " On the contrary, the more he urged, the more I was determined to oppose him," " To be sure !" said Tom. " Very well," rejoined Martin, throwing him- self back in his chair, with a careless wave of both hands, as if the subject were quite settled, and nothing more could be said about it — " There is an end of the matter, and here am I !" Mr. Pinch sat staring at the fire for some min- utes with a puzzled look, such as he might have assumed if some uncommonly difficult conundrum had been proposed, which he found it impossible to guess. At length he said : " Pecksniff^, of course, you had known before ?" " Only by name. No, I had never seen him, flir my grandfather kept not only himself but me, aloof from all his relations. But our separation took place in a town in the adjoining county. From that place I came to Salisbury, and there I saw Pecksniff's advertisement, which I answered, hav- ing always had some natural taste, I believe, in the matters to which it referred, and thinking it might suit me. As soon as I found it to be his, I was doubly bent on coming to him if possible, on account of his being " "Such an excellent man," interposed Tom, rub- bing his hands : " so he is. You were quite right." " Why not so much on that account, if the truth must be spoken," returned Martin, " as because my grandfather has an inveterate dislike to him, and after the old man's arbitrary treatment of me I had a natural desire to run as directly counter to ali his opinions as I could Weill as I said before, here I am. My engagement with the young lady I have been tilling yuu about, is likely to be a tolerably long one ; for neither her pros- pects, nor mine, are very bright ; and of course I shall not think of marrving until I am well able to do so. It would never do,, you know, for me to be plunging myself into poverty and shabbi- ness and love in one room up three pair of stairs, and all that sort of thing." " To say nothing of her," remarked Tom Pinch, in a low voice. "Exactly so," rejoined Martin, rising to warm his back, and leaning against the cljinmey-piece. " To say nothing of her. At the same time, of course it 's not very hard upon her to be obliged to yield to the necessity of the case : first, because she loves me very much; and secondly, because I have sacrificed a great deal on her account, and might have done much better, you know." It was a very long time before Tom said " Cer. tainly ;" so long, that he might have taken a nap in the interval, but he did say it at last. "Now, there is one odd coincidence connected W'ith this love-story," said Martin, " which bringi it to an end. You remember what you told ma last night as we were coming here, about your pretty visitor in the church ?" " Surely I do," said Tom, lising from his stod, and seating himself in the chair from which the other had lately risen, that he migiit see his fiice. " Undoubtedly." " That was she." " I knew what you were going to say," cried Tom, looking fixedly at him, and speaking very softly. " You don't tell me so ?" " That was she," repeated the young man. " Af- ter what I have heard from Pecksniff, I have no doubt that she came and went with my grandfa- ther. — Don't you drink too much of that sour wine, or you 'U have a fit of some sort. Pinch, I see." " It is not very wholesome, I am afraid," said Tom, setting down the empty glass he had for some time held. " So that was she, was it?" Martin nodded assent : and adding, with a rest less impatience, that if he had been a few days earlier he would have seen her ; and that now she might be, for anything he knew, hundreds of miles away ; threw himself^ after a few turns across the room, into a chair, and chafed like a spoilt child. Tom Pinch's heart was very tender, and he could not bear to see the most indifferent pierson in distress ; still less one who had awakened an interest in him, and who regarded him (either in fact, or as he supposed) with kindness, and in a spirit of lenient construction. Whatever his own thoughts had been a few moments before — and to judge from his face they must have been pretty serious — he dismissed them instantly, and gave his young fi-iend the best counsel and comfort that occurred to him. " All will be well in time," said Tom, " I have no doubt; and some trial and adversity just now will only serve to make you more attached (u each other in better days. I have always read that the truth is so, and I have a feeling within me, which tells me how natural and right it is that it should be. What never ran smooth yet," said Tom, with a smile, which despite the nome liness of his face, was pleasanter to see than man^ 46 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF a proud boauty's brightest glance : " what never ran smooth yet, can hardly be expected to change its char;.ctcr for us ; so we must take it as we find it, and f . hion it into the very best sliape we can, by patif nee and g-ood humour. I have no power at all; 1 needn't tf 11 you that; but I have an ex- cellent wiii ; and if I could ever be of use to you, m any w.iy whatever, how glad I should be !" "Thanli yon," said Martin, shaking his hand. ** You 're a good fellow, upon my word, and Bpeak very kindly. Of course, you know," he added, after a moment's pause, as he drew his chair towards the fire again, " I should not hesi- tate to avail myself of your services if you could help me at all ; but mercy on us !" — Here he rumpled his hair impatiently with his hand, and looked at Tom as if he took it rather ill that he was not somebody else — " You might as well be a toasting-iork or a frying-pan. Pinch, for any help you can render me." " Except in the inclination," said Tom, gently. "Oh ! to be sure. I meant that, of course. If inclination went for anything, I shouldn't want help. I tell you what you may do, though, if you will — at the present moment too." " What is tliat ?" demanded Tom. "Reu.d to me." " I shall be delighted," cried Tom, catching up the candle, with enthusiasm. " Excuse my leav- ing you in tlie dark for a moment, and I'll fetch a book directly. What will you like? Shak- speare ?" " Ay !" replied his friend, yawning and stretch- ing himself. " He '11 do. I am tired with the bustle of to-day, and the novelty of everything about me ; and in such a case, there's no greater luxury in the world, I think, than being read to Bleep. You won't mind my going to sleep, if I can ?" " Not at all !" cried Tom. "Then begin as soon as you like. You need n't leave off when you see me getting drowsy (unless you feel tired), for it's pleasant to wake gradually to the sounds again. Did you ever try that ?" "No, I never tried that," said Tom. " Well ! You can, you know, one of these days when we 're both in the right humour. Don't mind leaving me in the dark. Look sharp ?" Mr. Pinch lost no time in moving away, and in a minute or two returned with one of the pre. cious volumes from the shelf beside his bed. Mar- tin had in the meantime made himself as comfort- able as circumstances would permit, by construct- ing before the fire a temporary sofa of three chairs with Mercy's stool for a pillow, and lying down at full length upon it. " Don't be too loud, please," he said to Pinch. " No, no," said Tom. " You 're sure you 're not cold ?" " Not at all !" cried Tom. " I am quite ready then." Mr. Pinch accordingly, after turning over the leaves of his book with as much care as if they were living and highly cherished creatures, made his own selection, and began to read. Before he had completed fifty lines, his friend was snoring. "Poor fellow !" said Tom, softly, as he stretched out his head to peep at him over the backs of the chairs. " He is very young to have so much trouble. How trustful and generous in him to bestow all this confidence in me. And that was sue, was it !" But suddenly remembering their compact, he took up the poem at the place where he had hft off, and went on reading; always forgetting to snulT the candle, until its wick looked like a mushroom. He gradually became so much inte- rested, that he quite forgot to replenish the fire and was only reminded of his neglect by Martin Chuzzlewit starting up after the lapse of an heur or so, and crying with a shiver : " Why, it's nearly out, I declare ! No wonder I dreamed of being frozen. Do call for some coals. What a fellow you are. Pinch 1" CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH MR. CHEVY SLYME ASSERTS THE INDEPENDENCE OF HIS SPIRIT; AND THE BLUE DRAGON LOSES A LIMB. Martin bep^an to work at the grammar-school next morning, with so much vigor and expedition, that Mr. Pinch had new reason to do homage to the natural endowments of that young gentleman, and to acknowledge his infinite superiority to liimself. The new pupil received Tom's compli- ments very graciously ; and having by this time conceived a real regard for him, in his own pecu- liar way, predicted that they should always be the very best of friends, and that neither of them, he was certain (imt particularly Tom), would ever have reasoii to regret the day on which they be- came acijuaiiited. Mr. Pinch was (Relighted to hear him say this, and fell so much fluttered by his kind assurnnces of fricndshii) and protection, mat he was at a loss how to cxiircss llie jdiMsiire tiev afforded him. And indeed it iiniy he oh- served of this friendship, such as it was, that it had within it more likely materials of endurance than many a sworn brotherhood that has been rich in promise; for so long as the one party found a pleasure in patronising, and the other in being patronised (which was the very essence of their respective characters), it was of all possible events among the least probable, that the t«vir. demons. Envy and Pride, would ever arise be- tween them. So in many cases of friendship, or what passes for it, the old axiom is reversed, and like c^itigs to unlike more than to like. They were both very busy on the afternoon succeeding the family's departure — Martin with the grammar-school, and Tom in balancing cer tniii receipts of rents, and di'ducling Mr. PccV snitrs commission from the same; in which ai> MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 47 struse employment he was much distracted by a habit bis new friend had of wiiistling' aloud, while he was drawing — when they were not a little startled by the unexpected obtrusion into that sanctuary of genius, of a hum;in head, which al- though a shaggy and somewhat alarming head, in appearance, smiled atfably upon them from the doorway, in a manner that was at once waggish, conciliatory, and expressive of approbation. " I am not industrious myself, gents both," said the head, "but I know how to appreciate that quality in others. I wish I may turn gray and ugly, if it isn't, in my opinion, next to genius, one of the very charmingest qualities of the human mind. Upon my soul, I am grateful to my friend Pe( ksnitf for helping me to the contemplation of Buch a delicious picture as you present. You re- mind me of VVhittington, afterwards thrice Lord Mayor of London. 1 give you my unsullied word of honour, that you very strongly remind me of that historical character. You are a pair of VVIiit- tingtons, gents, without the cat; which is a most agreeable and blessed exception to me, for I am not attached to the feline species. My name is Tigg ; how do you do ?" Martin looked to Mr. Pinch for an explanation ; and Tom, who had never in his life set eyes on Mr. Tigg before, looked to that gentleman himself. " Chevy Sly me ?" said Mr. Tigg, interrogatively, and kissing his left, hand in token of friendship. " You will understand me when I say that I am the accredited agent of Chevy Slyme — that I am the ambassador from the court of Chiv ? Ha ha !" "Heyday 1" asked Martin, starting at the men- lion of a name he knew. " Pray, what does he tvant with me ?" " If your name is Pinch" — Mr. Tigg began. " It is not," said Martin, checking himself. ♦That is Mr. Pinch." " If that is Mr. Pinch," cried Tigg, kissing his hand again, and beginning to f )llow his head into the room, "he will permit me to say that I greatly esteem and respect his character, which has been most highly commended to me by my friend Pecksnitf ; and tliat I deeply appreciate his talent for the organ, notwithstanding that I do not, if I may use the expression, grind, myself. If that is Mr. Pinch, I will venture to express a hope that I see him well, and that he is suffering no inconve- nience from the easterly wind ?" " Thank you," said Tom. " I am very well " "That is a comfort," Mr. Tigg rejoined. " Then," he added, shielding his lips with the palm of his hand, and applying them close to Mr. Pinch's ear, " I have come for the letter." " For the letter ?" said Tom, aloud. " What letter ?" " The letter," whispered Tigg, in the same cau- tious manner as before, " which my friend Peck- sniff addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esquire, and left with you." " He dida't leave any letter with me," said Tom. "Hush!" cried the other. "It's all the same liing, though not so delicately done by my friend Pecksnitf as I could have wished — the money." "The money !" cried Tom, quite scared. "Exactly so," said Mr. Tigg. With which he Tapped Tom twice or thrice upon the breast and nodded several times, as though he would sav, that he saw thev understood each other; that it was unnecessary to mention the circumstance be- fore a third person ; and that he would take it as a particular favour if Tom would slip the amount into his hand, as quietly as possible. Mr. Pinch, however, was so very much astound- ed by tills (to him) inexplicable deportment, tli.il he at once openly declared there must be som* mistake, and that he had been entrusted with no commission whatever having any reference to Mr. 'I'igg, or to his friend either. — Mr. Tigg received this declaration with a grave request that .Mr. Pinch would have the goodness to make it again ; and on Tom's repeating it in a still more empha- tic and unmistakeable manner, checked it off, sen- tence for sentence, by nodding his head solemnly at the end of each. When it had come to a close for, the second time, Mr. Tigg sat himself down in a chair and addressed the young men as fol- lows : " Then I tell you what it is, gents both. There is at this present moment in this very place, a per- fect constellation of talent and genius, who is in- volved, through what I cannot but designate as the culpable negligence of my friend Pecksniff, in a situation as tremendous, perhaps, as the so- cial intercourse of the nineteenth century will readily admit of. There is actually at this in- stant, at the Blue Dragon in this village — an ale- house, observe ; a common, paltry, low-minded, clodhopping pipe-smoking alehouse — an indivi- dual, of whom it may be said, in the language of the Poet, that nobody but himself can in any way come up to him; who is detained there for his bill. Ha ! ha ! For his bill. I repeat it — for his bill. Now" said Mr. Tigg, "we have heard of Fox's Book of Martyrs, I believe, and we have heard of the Court of Requests, and the Star Chamber; but I fear the contradiction of no man alive or dead, when I assert that my friend Chevy Slyme being held in pawn for a bill, bea.'s any :i mount of cock-fighting with which I am ac- quainted." Martin and Mr. Pinch looked, first at each other, and afterwards at Mr. Tigg, who with his arms folded on his breast surveyed them, half in despondency and half in bitterness. " Don't mistake me, gents both," he said, stretching forth his right hand. " If it had been for anything but a bill, I could have borne it, and could still have looked upon mankind with some feeling of respect: but when such a man as my friend Slyme is detained for a score — a thing in itself essentially mean ; a low performance on a slate, or possibly chalked upon the back of a door — I do fe^ that there is a screw of such magni- tude loose sjmewhere, that the whole framework of society is shaken, and the very first principle? of things can no longer be trusted. In short, gents both," said Mr. Tigg with a passionate flourish of his hands and head, " when a i.iaii like Slyme is detained for such a thing as a bill, 1 reject the superstitions of ages, and believe no- thing. I don't even believe that I don't believe curse me if I dol" " I am very sorry, I am sure." said Tom, aftei a pause, " but Mr. Peeksnilf said nothing to mc about it, and I couldn't act without his instrue tions. Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you were t<> go to — to wherever you came t'rom — _yourselr', anc remit the money to your friend ?" 48 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " How can that be done, when I am detained also r' said Mr. Tig-g; "and when moreover, owing to the astounding, and I must add, guilty negligence of my friend Pecksniff, I iiave no nioney for coacli-liire ?" Tom thought of reminding the gentleman (who, no doubt, in his agitation had torgotten it) that there was a piost-othce in the land ; and that pos- sibly if he wrote to some friend or agent for a remittance, it might not be lost upon the road ; or at all events that the chance, however desperate, was worth trusting to. But as his good-nature presently suggested to him certain reasons for abstaining from this hint, he paused again, and tlien asked : " Did you say, Sir, that you were detained also ?" "Come here," said Mr. Tigg, rising. "You have no objection to my opening this window for A moment V" "Certainly not," said Tom. '' Very good," said Mr. Tigg, lifting the sash. " You see a fellow down tliere in a red neckcloth and no waistcoat V" " Of course I do," cried Tom. " That 's Mark Tapley." " Mark Tapley, is it ?" said the gentleman. "Then Mark Tapley had not only the great politeness to follow me to this house, but is wait- uig now, to see me home again. And for that »ct of attention. Sir," added Mr. Tigg, stroking his moustache, " I can tell you, that Mark Tapley had better in his infancy have been fed to suffoca- tion by Mrs. Tapley, than preserved to this time." Mr. Pmch was not so dismayed by this terri- ble threat, but that he had voice enough to call to Mark to come in, and up stairs ; a summons which he so speedily obeyed, that almost as soon as Tom and Mr. Tigg had drawn in their heads and closed the window again, he tho denounced appeared before them. "Come here, Mark !" said Mr. Pinch. "Good gracious me i what 's the matter between Mrs. Lupin and this gentleman ?" " What gentleman. Sir ?" said Mark. " I don't see no gentleman here, S'', excepting you and the new gentleman," to whom he made a rough kind of bow — "and there's nothing wrong be- tween Mrs. Lupin and either of you, Mr. Pinch, I am sure." • " Nonsense, Mark !" cried Tom. " You see Mr " " Tigg," interposed that gentleman. " Wait bit I shall crush him soon. All in good time I" "Oh, Aun .'" rejoined Mark, with an air of careless defiance. " Yes, I sec him. I could see him a little better, if he'd shave himself, and get his hair cut." Mr. Tigg shook his head with a ferocious look, and smote himself once ujion the breast. "It's no use," said Mark. " If you knock ever so much in that quarter, you '11 get no answer. I know better. There 's notliing there but piidding: and a greasy sort it is." "Nay, Mnrk," urged Mr. Pinch, interposing to prevent hostilities, " tell me what. I ask you. You 're not out of temper, I iiope?" "Out of temper. Sir!" cried Mark, with a prin ; " why no, Sii. There 's u little credit — not nuch — in being jolly, when such fellows as him is a going about like roaring lions: if there is any breed of lions, at least, as is all roar and mane. What is there between him and Mrs. Lupin, Sir ? Why, there 's a score betweeA him and Mrs. Lupin. And I think Mrs. Lupin lets him and his friend off very easy in not charging 'em double prices ibr being a disgrace to tlie Dragon. That 's my opinion. I wouldn't have any such Peter the Wild Boy as him in my house. Sir, not if I was paid race-week prices for it He 's enough to turn the very beer in the casks sour, with liis looks: he is! So he would, if it had judgment enough." " You 're not answering my question, you know, Mark," observed Mr. Pinch. " Well, sir," said Mark, " I don't know as there 's much to answer further than that. Him and his friend goes and stops at the Moon and Stars till they 've run a bill there ; and then comes and stops with us and does the same. The run- ning of bills is common enough, Mr. Pinch ; it an't that as we object to ; it 's the ways of this chap. Nothing 's good enough for him ; all the women is dying for iiim he thinks, and is over- paid if he winks at 'em : and all the men was made to be ordered about by him. This not be- ing aggravation enougli, he says this morning to me, in his usual captivating way, ' We 're going to-night, my man.' ' Are you, sir ?' says I. ' Per- haps you 'd like the bill got ready, sir ?' ' Oh, no, my man,' )ie says; 'you needn't mind that I'll give Pecksniff orders to see to that' In reply to which, the Dragon makes answer, ' Thankee, sir, you 're very kind to honour us eo far, but as we don't know any particular good of you, and you don't travel with luggage, and Mr. Pecksniff an't at home (which perhaps you mayni happen to be aware of, sir), we should prefer something more satisfactory ;' and that 's where the matter stands. And I ask," said Mr. Tapley. pointing, in conclusion, to Mr. Tigg, with his hat, " any lady or gentleman, possessing ordinary strength of mind, to say, whether he 's a dis- agreeable-looking chap or notl" " Let me inquire," said Martin, interposing be- tween this candid specc^i and the delivery of some blighting anathema by Mr. Tigg, "what the amount of this debt may be." " In point of money, Sir, very little," answered Mark. " Only just turned of three pounds. But it an't that; it 's the " " Yes, yes, you told us so before," said Martin " Pinch, a word with you." " What is it ?" asked Tom, retiring with him to a corner of the room. " Why, simply — 1 am ashamed to say — that tliis Mr. Slyme is a relation of mine, of whom 1 never lieard anything pleasant ; and that I don't want him here just now, and tliink he would be cheaply got rid of, perhaps, for three or four pounds. You haven't enough money to pay this bill, I suppose ?" Tom shook liis head to an extent that left no doubt of his entire sincerity. "That's unlbrtun>it;>, for I am poor too; and in ca.se you had had it, I 'd have borrowed it of you. But if we told this landlady we would aea licr paid, I suppose that would answer the saiiM purpose ?" MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 4^ " Oh dear, yes I" said Tom. " She knows me, bless you 1" " Tlien, let us go down at once and tell her so ; for the sooner we are rid of their company tlie hetler As yon have condacted the conversation vvitii this gentleman hitiierto, perliaps you'll tell hiin what we purpose doing; will you ?" .Mr. Pinch eomplying, at once imparted the intelligeiice to Mi. Tigsj, who shook him warmly by the iund in return, assuring him that his faith ill anything and everything was again restored. ll was not so much, he said, for the temporary relief of this assistance that he prized it, as for its vindication of tlie high principle that Nature's Nobs felt with Nature's Nobs, and true greatness of soul svmpalliised with true greatness of soul, uU the world over. It proved to him, he sa'd, that like him they admired genius, even when it was coupled with the alloy occasionally visible in the metal of his friend 81yme; and on behalf of that friend, he thanked them, as warmly and heartily as if the cause were his own. Being cut short ui these speeches ijy a general move towards the stairs, he took possession, at the street-door, of tlie lapel of Mr. Pinch's coat, as a security against further interruption, and entertained that gentle- man with some highly improving discourse until they reached tlie Dragon, whither they were closely followed by Mark and the new pupil. The rosy hostess scarcely needed Mr. Pinch's word as a preliminary to the release of her two visitors, of whom she was glad to be rid on any terms : indeed, their brief detention had originated mainly with Mr. Tupley, who entertained a con- stitutional dislike to gentlemen out-at-elbows who flourished on false pretences; and had conceived a particular aversion to Mr. Tigg and his friend, as choice specimens of the species. The business m hand thus easily settled, Mr. Pinch and Martin would have withdrawn immediately, bat for the tirgent entreaties of Mr. Tigg that he would allow liim the honour of presenting them to his friend Slyme, which were so very ditficull of resistance that, yielding partly to these persuasions and partly to their own curiosity, they suiFered them- selves to be usher.'d into the presence of that distinguished gentleman. He was brood inn for any exigency. But, in an evil hour, this ofF-shoot of the Chuzzlewit trunk, being lazy, and il! qualified for any regular pursuit, and hav- ing dissipated such means as he ever possessed, had formally established himself as a professor of Taste for a livelihood ; and finding, too late, that something more than his old amount of qualifica- tions was necessary to sustain him in this calling, had quickly fallen to his present level, where he retained nothing of his old sell but his boastful- ness and his bile, and seemed to have nv existence separate or apart from his friend Tigg. And now so abject and pititul was he — at once so maudlin, insolent, beggarly, and proud — that even his friend and parasite, standing erect beside him, swelled into a man by contrast. "Chiv," said Mr. Tigg, clapping him on tho back, " my friend Pecksniff not being at home, I have arranged our trifling piece of busini^ss wit!) Mr, Pinch and friend. Mr. Pinch and t'ri«;nd, Mr. Chevy Slyme — Chiv, Mr Pinch and friend 1" "These are agreeable circumstances in which to be introduced to strangers," said Chevy SlynT', turning his bloodshot eyes towards Tom Pincii. " I am the most miserable man in tho world, I believe !" Tom begged he wouldn't mention it, and find- ing him in this condition, retired, after an awk- ward pause, followed by Martin, But Mr. Tiirg so urgently conjured them, by coughs and signs, to remain in the shadow of the door, that tliey stopped there, " I swear," cried Mr, Slyme, giving the table an imbecile blow with his fist, and then feebly leaning his head upon his hand, while some drunken drops oozed trom his eyes, " that I am the wretchedcst creature on record. Society is in a conspirac}' against me, I 'm the most literary man alive. I 'm full of scholarship ; I 'in full of genius ; I 'm full of inlbrmation ; I 'm full of novel views on every subject ; yet look at my coiiaitiun ■ I 'm at this moment obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill !" Mr. Tigg replenished his friend's glass, pressed it into his hand, and nodded an intimatior. to the visitors that they would see him in a belle;- aSj)ect immediately, " Obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill, eh!" repeated Mr. Slyme, after a sulky apj-.lica. tion to his glass. " Very pretty ! And crowds of impostors, the while, becoming famous : men who are no more on a level with me than — Tigs: I take }'ou to witness that I am the most persecuted hound on the face of the earth." With a whine, not unlike the cry of t!ie animal he named, in its lowest state of humili itioii, be raised his glass to his mouth again. He tound some encouragement in it ; for when ho set it down, he laughed scornfully. Upon th.it Mr.'l'irfg gesticulated to the visitors once more, ar.d win great expression : implying that now tiie time wis come when they would see Chiv in his greatness, " Ha, ha, ha 1" laughed Mr. Slyme. " (.»)lig. d to two strangers for a tavern bill 1 Yet I think I 've a rich uncle, Tigg, who could buy up the uncles of fifty strangers? Have I, or have I not? I come of a good family, I believe? Di I, or do I not ? I 'm not a man of common cri'.nt city or accomplishments, I think. Am I, or aij- I not ?" " You are the American aloe of the humai race, my dear Chiv," said Mr. Tig-g, " which oidj blooms once in a hundred years I" " Ha, ha, ha I" laughed Mr, Slyme, airijin. " Obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill 1 1 1 Obliged to two architect's appienticos — fellows who measure earth with iron chains, and build houses like bricklayers. Give me thts names of those two apn'eniioes. How dare they cblig* I me I" 50 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF IVIr. Tigg was quite lost in admiration of this Doble trail in his friend's character; as he made known to Mr. Pinch in a neat little ballet of ac- tion, spontaneously invented f.r the purpose. " I '11 let 'em know, and I '11 let all men know," cri( d C hevj Slime, " that I 'ni none of the mean, grovelling, tame characters they meet with com- monly. I have an independent spirit. I have a heart that swells in my bosom. I have a soul that rises superior to base considerations." "O, Chiv, Cliiv," murmured Mr. Tigg, "you have a nobly independent nature, Chiv I" " You go and do your duty, sir," said Mr. Slyme, angrilj', "and borrow money for travelling ex- penses ; and whoever you borrow of, let 'cm know tliat I possess a liaughty spirit, and a proud spirit, and have infernally finely-touched chords in my nature, which won't brook patronage. Do you hear? Tell 'em I hate 'em, and that that's the way I preserve my self respect ; and tell 'em that no man ever respected himself more than I do I" He might have added that he hated two sorts of men ; all those who did him favours, and all those who were better off than himself; as in either case their position was an insult to a man of his stupendous merits. But he did not ; for with the apt closing words above recited, Mr. Slynie — of too haughty a stomach to work, to beg, to burrow, or to steal; yet mean enough to be worked or borrowed, bejiged or stolen ft, by any catspaw that would serve his turn : too insolent to Uric the hand that fed him in his need, yet cur enough to bile and tear it in the dark — vsitli these apt closing words, Mr. Slynic fell rorwar, sir — not for niy.'.elfi wlio have no claim upon you, but for my crushtd, my sensitive and independent friend, w ho has — 1 ask the loan of three half crowns. 1 ask you for the loan of three half-crowns, di>tinclly, and wifli- out a blush. 1 ask it, almost as a right. Aiid when I add that they will be returned ty jn si, this week, I feel that you will blame me foi that sordid stipulation." Mr. Pinch took from his pocket an old-fashiorv- ed red-leatlirr purse with a stetl-clasp, which had probably (jnce belonged to his deceased grandmo- ther. It held one half sovereign and no more. All Tom's worldly wealth until next quarttr-day. " Slav !" cried Mr. Tigg, w ho had watched this proceeding keenly. " I was just about to s.iy,^ that for tie convenience of posting you had bet- ter make it g(>Id. Thank you. A general direc- tion, I supiiost, to .Mr. Pinch, at Mr. Pecksniff's — will that find you ?" "That'll find n)e," said Tom. "You had Ut- ter put Esquire to Mr. Pecksniff's name, if yiu please. Direct to me, you know, at Selh Piek. snitf's. Esquire." " At Seth Pecksniff's, Esquire," repeated ;\Ir, Tigg, taking an exact note of it, with a '^tump of pencil. "We said this week, I believi' .'" "Yes: or Mond.iy will do," replied Tom. "No, no, I beg your pardon. Motiday will riot do," said Mr. Tigg. " If v\e stipulated liir this week, Saturday is the latest day. Did we stipu- late for this week ?" "Since yo" are so particular about it," said Tom, " I think wl did." Mr. Tigg added tjiis condition to his memor; n. dum ; read the entry over to him.self with a severe frown ; and that the transaction might jt the ni'.re correct and Imsiness-like, appended his initials lo the whole. That done, he assured Mr. Pinen llmt MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 51 everything' was now perfectly regular ; and, aRcr squeezing ills liiind with gTe:it lurvour, departed. Tom entertained enough suspicion that Martin might possibly turn this interview into a jest, to n nder him desirous to avoid the company of that young gentleman for the present. With this view he look a few turns up and down the skittle-ground, Hiiil did not le-enter the liouse until Mr. 'I'igg and his Iriend liad quitted it, and the new pupil and M..rk were watching their departure from one of liie windows. " I was just a saying, sir, that if one could live t')' it," observed IVIark, pointing after their late guesis, " that would be tiie sort of service for me. Wailing on sucli individuals as them, would be better than grave-digging, sir." "And staying here would be better tlian either, Mark," replied Tom. " So take my advice, and continue to swim easily in smootli water." " It's too late to take it now, sir," said Mark. " I have broke it to her, sir. I am off to-morrow morning." "Oti"!" cried Mr. Pinch, "where to?" " I shall go up to London, sir " " What to be /" asked Mr. Pinch. " Well ! 1 don't know yet, sir. Nothing turned up tha'. day I opened my mind to you, as was at all likely to suit me. All them trades I thought ol' was a deal too jolly ; there was no credit at all to be got in any of 'em. I must look for a private service I suppose, sir. I might be brought out strong, perhaps, in a serious family, Mr. Pinch." "Perhaps you mljlit come out rather loo strong for a serious family's taste, Mark." "That's possible, sir. If I could get into a wicked family, I jnijjht do myself justice : but the difficulty is to make .sure of one's ground, because a young man can't very well advertise that he wants a place, and wages an't so much an object as a wicked sitivation ; can he, sir ?" " Why, no," said Mr. Pinch, " 1 don't think he can." " An envious family," pursued Mark, with a thoughtiul face; "or a quarrelsome family, or a malicious family, or even a good out-and-out mean family, would open a field of action as I might do something in. Tiie man as would have suited me of all other men was that old gentleman as was took ill here, ibr he really was a trying customer, flowsever, I must wait and see what turns up, sir ; and hope for the worst." " You are determined to go then ?" said Mr. Pinch. " My box is gone already, sir, by the wagon, und I 'm going to walk on lo-morrow morning, and get a lift by the day coach when it overtakes me. So I wish you good b'ye, Mr. Pinch — and you too, sir, — and all good luck and happiness I" They both returned his greeting laughingly, and walked home arm-in-arm; Mr. Pinch impart- ing to his new friend, as they went, such further particulars of Mark Tapley's wliinisioal restless- ness as the reader is already acquainted with. In the liieantime Mark, having a shrewd notion that his mistress was in very low spirits, and that he could not exactly answer for the consequences of any lengthened tete a tile in tiie bar, kept him- self obstinately out of her way all the atlernoon and evening. In this piece of generalship he was Terv much assisted by the great influ.t of company into the tap-room ; for the news of his intention having gone abroad, there was a perfect throng there all the evening, and much drinking of healt.'is and clinking of mugs. At length the house wa!» closed for the night ; and there being now no lielp tor it, Mark put the best face he could upon the matter, and walked doggedly to the bar-door. " If I look at her," said Mark to hiniselli " I 'ni done. I ftel that I 'm a going fast." " You have come at last," said Mrs. Lupin. Ay, Mark said : There he was. " And you are determined to leave us, Mark," cried M'^s. Lupin. " Why, yes ; I am," said Mark; keeping his eyes hard upon tlie floor. " I thougiit," pursued the landlady, with a most engaging hesitation, "that you had been — Ibnd — of the Dragon ?" " So I am," said Mark. " Then," pursued the hostess — and it really was not an unnatural inquiry — "why do you desert it ?" But as he gave no manner of answer to this question ; not even on its being repeated ; Mrs. Lupin put his money into his hand, and asked him — not unkindly, quite the contrary — what he would take. It is proverbial that there are certain things which flesh and blood cannot bear. Such a ques- tion as tliis, propounded in such a manner, at such a time, and by such a person, proved (at least, as far as Mark's fiesh and blood were concerned) to be one of them. He looked up in spite of himself directly ; and having once looked up there was no looking down again ; for of all the tigiit, plumj), buxom, bright-eyed, dimple-faced landladies that ever shone on earth, there stood before him then, bodily in that bar, the very pink and pine-apple. " Why, I tell you what," said Mark, throwing off all his constraint in an instant, and seizing the hostess round the waist — at which she was not at all alarmed, for she knew what a g>'od young man he was — •" if I took what I liked most, I should lake you. If I only thought of what was best for me, I should take you. If I took what nineteen young fellows in twenty would be glad to take, and would take at any price, I should take you. Yes, I should," cried Mr. 'I'a[)ley, shaking his head, expressively enough, and looking (in a mo- mentary state of forgetfulness) rather hard at the hostess's ripe lips. "And no man wouldn't won- der if I did !♦' Mrs. Lupin said he amazed her. She was astonished how he could say such things. She had never thought it of jiim. " Why, I never th.'.dght it of myself till n<.w 1" said Mark, raisini; his e^'ebrows with a look of tlie merriest possible surprise. " I always expected we should part, and never have no explanation ; I meant to do it when I come in liere just now ; but there 's sometiiing about you, as makes a man sensible. Then let us have a word or two toge- ther : letting it be understood beforehand — ' he added this in a grave tone, to prevent the poss.bi lity of any mistake — " that I 'm not a going to make no love, you know." There was for just one second a shade— though not by any means a dark one — on the landlady's opc'n brow. But it passed off instantly, in a laagb that came from her very heart. " Oh, very good I'* «he said : " if there m be t« 52 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF no love-making, you had better take your arm away." "Lord, why sliould I!" cried Mark. "It's quite innocent." " Of course it 's itmocent," returned the hostess, " or 1 shouldn't allow it." " Very well !" said Mark. " Then let it be." There was so much reason in this, that the landlady laughed again, suffered it to remain, and bade him say what he had to say, and be quick about it. But he was an impudent fellow, she kidded. " Ha ha I I almost think I am I" cried Mark, "though I never thouglit so before. Why, I can suy anything to-night 1" " Say what you 're going to say if you please, and be quick," returned the landlady, "for I want to get to bed." " Why, then, my dear good soul," said Mark, "and a kinder woman than you are, never drawed breath — let me see the man as says she did — what would be tlie likely consequences of us two being — " " Oh nonsense !" cried Mrs. Lupin. " Don't talk about that any more." " No no, but it an't nonsense," said Mark ; " and I wish you'd attend. What would be the likely Consequence of us two being married ? If I can't be content and comfortable in this here lively Dragon now, is it to be looked for as I should be then ? By no means. Very good. Then you, even with your good humour, would be always en the fret and worrit, always uncomfortable in your own mind, always a thinking as you was getting too old for my taste, always a picturing me to yourself as being cliained up to the Dragon d(Jor, and wanting to brciik away. I don't know that it would be so," said Mark, " but I don't know that it mightn't be. I am a roving sort of chap, I know. I'm fond of change. I'm always a thinking that with my good health and spirits it would be more creditable in me to be jolly where tiiere 's things a going on, to make one dismal. It may be a mistake of niiin-, you see, but nothing sliort of trying how it acts, wi'l set it right. Then an't it best that I should go? particular when your free way has helped me out to say all this, and we can part as good friends as we have ever been since first'I entered this here noble Dragon, which" said Mr. Tapley in conclusion, " has my good word and my good wish, to the dav of my death !" The hostess sat quite silent for a little time, but she very souJj put both her hands in Mark's and shook them htarlily. " For you are a good man," she said ; looking into his face with a smile, which was rather se- rious for her. " And I do believe have been a better friend to me to-night than ever I have had in all my life." " Oh I as to that, you know," said Mark, " that 's nonsense. But love my heart alive 1" he added, looking at her in a sort of rapture, " if you are that way disposed, what a lot of suitable husbands there is as you may drive distracted 1" She laughed again at this compliment; and, once more shaking him by both hands, and bid- ding him, if he should ever want a friend, to re- member her, turned gaily from the little bar and up the Dragon staircase. " Humming a tune as she goes," said Mark, listenitiEf, "in case I should think she's at all put out, and should be made down-hearted. Come, here 's some credit in being jolly, at last 1" With that piece of comfort, very ruefully uttered, he went, in anything but a jolly manner, to bed. He rose early next morning, and was a-foot soon after sunrise. But it was of no use ; the whole place was up to see Mark Tapley off: tl>e bojs, the dogs, the children, the old men, the busy people and the idlers: there they were, all calling out "Good by'e, Mark," after their own manner, and all sorry he was going. Somehow he had a kind of sense that his old mistress was peeping from her chamber-window, but he couldn't make up his mind to look back. "Good by'e one, good by'e all!" cried Mark, waving his hat on the top of his walking-stick, as he strode at a quick pace up the little streeL "Hearty chaps them wlicehvrights — hurrah! Here 's tlic butcher's dng a-comingout of Ihe gar. den — down, old tellow 1 And Mr. I'inch a-going to his oigan — good by'e, sir ! And the terrier- bitch from over tiie way — hie, then, lass And children enough to hand down human natur to the latest posterity — good by'e, boys and girls. 'I'herc 's some credit in it now. I'm a-coming out strung at last. These are the circumstances as WDuld try u ordinary mind; but I'm unconi- inon jt'llv ; not quite as jolly as 1 could wish to be, but very near. Good by'e ! good by'e I" CHAPTER VIII. ACCOMPANIES MR. PECKSNIFF AND HIS CFIARMING DAUGHTERS TO THL CITY OF LONDON; AND RELATES WHAT FELL OUT, UPON THEIR WAY THITHER. as you are. And tliis, he said, was quite naturaL and a very beautiful arrangement ; not confined to coaches, but extending itself into many sooinl ramifi.-ations. "For" (he observed), "if eveiy one were warm and well-ted, we should lose the satisfaction of admiring the tbrtitude with which certain conditions of men bear cold and hunger. And if we were no better off than anybody else, what would become of our sense of gratitude which," said Mr. Pecksniff with tears in his cyei Whkn Mr. Pecksniff and the two young ladies pot into the heavy (!oacli at the end of the lane, they found it empty, which was a great comfort; particularly as the outside was quite full, and the (jusscngers looktd very frosty. For as Mr. Peck- imiff justly observed — when he and his daughters had burrowed tlieir feet deep in the straw, wrapped themselves to the chin, and pulled up both win- dows--it is always satisfactory to feel, in keen weatJier, that many other people are not as warm MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 53 8!^ i(! shook his fist at a beggar who wanted to gii up bcliind, " is one of the holiest feelings of our common nature." His children heard with becoming reverence these moral precepts from the lips of their father, and sigiiifi<'d their ac()uiescence in the same, by eniilcs. That he miglit the better feed and cher- ish tliat sacred flame of gratitude in his breast, Mr Pet^ksniff remarked that he would trouble his eldest daughter, even in this early stage of their journey, f./ I grace after meat, in ihcs*; v\orda: MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 55 " The process of dig'estion, as I have been iii- jbrined by anatomical friends, is one of tlie most wonderful works of nature. I do not know how it may be with others, but it is a great satisfac- tion to me to know, when regaling on my humble fire, tliat I am putting in motion the most beauti- ful machinery with wliich we have any acquaint- iiice. I really feel at such times as if I was doing u [lublic service. When I have wound myself up, it I may employ such a term," said Mr. Pecksnitf witli exquisite tenderness, " and know that I am Going, I feel that in the lesson afforded by tlie w )rks witiiin me, I am a Benefactor to my Kind 1" As nothing could be added to this, nothing was said ; and Mr. Pecksniff, exulting, it may be pre- «mmed, in his moral utility, went to sleep again. The rest of the night wore away in the usual manner. Mr. Pecksniff and Old Anthony kept tumbling against each other and waking up much terrified ; or crushed their heads in opposite cor- ners of the coach and strangely tattooed the surf ice of their faces — Heaven knows how — in their sleep. The coach stopped and went on, and went on and stopped, times out of number. Passengers got up and passengers got down, and fresh horses came and went and came again, with scarcely any in- terval between each team as it seemed to those who were dozing, and with a gap of a whole night between every one as it seemed to those wlio were broad awake. At length they began to jolt and rumble over horribly uneven stones, and Mr. Peck- sniff looking out of window said it was to-morrow morning, and they were there. Very soon afterwards the coach stopped at the office in the city ; and the street in whicli it was situated was already in a bustle, that fully bore out Mr. Pecksniff's words about its being morn- ing, though for any signs of day yet appearing in the sky it miglit have been midnight. Tliere was a dense fug too — as if it were a city in the clouds, which tliey had been travelling to all night up a magic beanstalk — and a thick crust upon the pavement like oil-cake ; which, one of the out- sides (mad, no doubt) said to another (his keeper, of course), was snow. Taking a confused leave of Anthony and his son, diid having the luggage of himself and daugh- ters at the othce to be culled for afterwards, Mr. Pecksniff, with one of the young ladies under each arm, dived across the street, and then across other streets, and so up the queerest courts, and down ttie strongest alleys and under the blindest archways, in a kind of frenzy : now skipping over a kennel, now running for his life from a coach and horses; now tliinking he had lost his way, now thinking he had found it; now in a state of the highest confidence, now despondent to the last dpgree, but always in a great perspiration and flurry ; until at length they stopped in a kind of pived yard near the Monument. That is to say, Mr. Pecksr.iff told them so; for as to anything they could see of the Monument, or anything else but the buildings close at hand, tliey iniwht as well nave been pliying blindman's buff at Salisbury. Mr. Pecksniff looked about him for a moment, and then knocked at the door of a very dingy tdifiee, even among the choice coUeclioti of ding-y edifices ai n.nnd ; on the front of which was a little ovai board, like a tea-trav, with this inscription — " Commercial Boarding House : M. Todyers " It seemed that M. Todgers was not up yet, for Mr. Pecksniff knocked twice and rang llirice, without riiakin;r any impression on anytiiing bul a dog (,ver the way. At last a chain and soma bolts were withdrawn with a rusty noise, us if tiio weather had made the very tastenings hoarse, and a small boy with a large red head, and no nose to speak of, and a very dirty Wellington boot on his left arm, appeared; who (being surprised) rubbed tiie nose just mentioned vvitii the back of a shoe- brush, and said nothing. "Still a-bed, my man?" asked Mr. Pecksniff. "Siill a-bed!" replied the boy. "I wish they wos still a-bed, They're very noisy a-bed ; all calling for their boots at once. I thought you wos the Paper, and wondered why you did n't shove yourself through the grating as usuaL What do you want?" Considering his years, which were tender, the youth may be said to have preferred this question sternly, and in something of a defiant manner. But Mr. Pecksniff, without taking umbrage at his bearing, put a card in his hand, and bade him take that up stairs, and show them meanwliiie into a room where there was a fire. "Or if there's one in the eating-parlour," said Mr. Pecksniff, " I can find it myself" So he led his daughters, without waiting for any further introduction, into a room on the ground floor where a table-cloth (ratiier a tight and scanty fit in reference to the table it covered) was already spread for breakfast: displaying a mighty dish of pink boiled beef; an instance of that particular style of loaf which is known to iiousekeepers as a slack-baked, crummy quartern ; a liberal provision of cups and saucers; and the usual appendages. Inside the fender were some half dozen pairs of shoes and boots, of various sizes, just cleansd and turned with the soles upward to dry ; and a pair of short black gaiters, on one of which was chalked — in sport, it would appear, by some gentleman whe had slipped down for the purpose, peiidiiitj his toilet, and gone up again — " Jinkins's Particular," while the other exhibited a sketch in profile, claiiiv ing to be the portrait of Jinkins himself M. Todgers's Commercial Boarding-House wa. a house of that sort wiiich is likely to be dark at any time ; but that morning it was especially dark. There was an odd smell in the passage, as if the concentrated essence of all the dinners that had been cooked in the kitchen since tJie liouse was built, lingered at the top of the kitchen stairs to that hour, and, like the Black Friar iu Don Juan, "wouldn't be driven away." In par ticular, there was a sensation of cabbage ; as if all the greens that had ever been boiled there were evergreens, and flourished in immortal strength. 'I'he parlour was wainscoted, and coi- mmiicated to strangers a magnetic and instiacLive consciousness of rats and mice. The staircase was very gloomy and very broad, with balustrades so thick and heavy that they would have served tfir a bridge. In a sombre corner on the lirst landing, stood a gruff old giant of a clock, with a preposterous coronet of three brass balls on hu head ; whom few had ever seen — none ever looked in the face — and who seemed to continue his heavy tick for no other reason than to warn heed less people from runninor into him accidentally. It had not been papered or painted, hadn't Ti»<» 66 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF fers's, within the memory of man. It was very black, begrimtd, and mouldy. And, at the t(,f) of the staircase, was an old, dieijciiiiii d, rickety, ill-favoured skylight, patcht d and nn tided in i.U kinds of ways, which looked distrustfully down »t everythiug that passed below, and covered Todgers's up as if it were a sort of human cu- cumher-frame, and only people of a peculiar growth were reared there. Mr. Pecksnitf and his fair daughters had not stood warming themselves at the fire ten minutes, when the sound of feet was heard upon the stairs, and the presiding deity of the establishment came hurrying in. 31. 'lodgers was a lady — rather a bony and hard-featured lady — with a row of curls in front of her head, shaped like little barrels of beer ; and on the top of it something made of net — you couldn't call it a cap exactly — which looked like a black cobweb. She had a little basket on her arm, and in it a bunch of keys that jingled as she came. In her other hand she bore a teaming tallow candle, which, after surveying Mr. Peck- Eiiilf for one instant by its light, she put down upon the table, to the end that she might receive him with the greater cordiality. " Mr. Peeksnitr," cried Mrs. Todgers. " Wei- rome to London ! Who would have thought of such a visit as this, after so — dear, dear! — so many years ! How do you do, Mr. Pecksniff?" " As well as ever ; and as glad to see you, as ever;" Mr. Pecksniff made response. "Why, you rire younger than 3-00 used to be !" " You are, I am sure !" said Mrs. Todgers. " You 're not a bit changed." "What do you say to this?" cried Mr. Peck- sniff, stretching out his hand towaj-ds the young ladies. " Does this make me no older ?" "Not your daughters I" exeluiined the lady, raising her hands and clasping them. "Oh, no, Mr. PecksnifTI Your second, and her brides- maid !" Mr. Pecksniff smiled complacently; shook his head; and said, " My daughters, Mrs, Todgers: merely my daughters." " Ah !" sighed the good lady, " I must believe yiiu, for now I look at 'em I think I should have known 'em anywhere. My dear Miss Pecksniffs, how happy your Pa has made me I" She hugged them both ; and being by this time overpowered by lier feelings or the iiicleniency of the morning, jerked a little pocket handker- chief out of the little basket, and applied the same to her face. "Now, niy good madam," said Mr. Pecksniff, "I know the rules of yr.ur establishment, and that you only receive gentlemen boarders. But it occurred to me, when I left home, that perhaps you Would give my daughters houseroorn, and ln;ike an exception in thi ir favcrr." "Perhaps?" cried Mrs. Tod^iis ecstatically. "Perhaps'" " I may say tlien, that I was sure ynii would," snid Mr. Pecksniff. "I know llial you have a little rriom of your ow'n, and that they can be r<»nirortiil)le there, v\ ithout ajipeaiing at the gen- eral tabic ' "Dear girls!" said Mrs. Todgers. "I muM take that liberty once more." ]\Irs. 'I'odgers meant by this that she mutl em brace them once more, which she accordingly did, with great ardour. But the truth was, that, the house being full with the exception of ono bed, which would now be occupied by Mr. Peck- sniff, she wanted time for consideration; and su much time too (for it was a knotty point how to dispose of them), that even when this second embrace was over, she stood for some nionienls gazing at the sisters, with affection bunaesi Was; and then she said that as the gentlemen would be down directly, and the ladies were fatigued with travelling, would they step into her room at once ? It was on the same floor ; being in fact, tne back parlour ; and had, as Mrs. Todgers said, trie great advantage (in London) of not being over- looked ; as they would see, vi'hen the fog cleared off. Nor was this a vain-glorious boast, for it commanded at a perspective of two feet, a brov. n wall with a black cistern on the top. Tlie sleep- ing apartment designed for the young hndies was approachrd from this chamber by a mightily con- venient little door, which would only open when fallen against by a strong person. It commanded from a similar point of sight another angle of the wall, and another side of the cistern. " Not t!)€ damp side," said Mrs. Todgers. " That is Mr. Jiiikins's." In the first of the.<5e sanctuaries a fire was speed- ily kindled by the youthful porter, who, whistling at liis work in the absence of Mrs. Todir-.rs (not to mention his sketching figures on his corduroys with burnt firewood), and being ai'terwards taken by that lady in the fact, was dismissed with a box on his ears. Having prepared breaklast for t!ie young ladies with her own hands, she w ithdrew to preside in the other room ; where the joke .it Mr. Jinkins's expense, seemed to be proceeding rather noisily. "I won't ask you yet, my dears," said M/. Pecksniff, looking in at the door, " how you like London. Shall I ?" " We haven't seen much of it, Pa !" cried Merry. "Nothing, I hope," said Cherry. (Both ver7 miserably.) " Indeed," said Mr. FecksnifT, " that 's tr'ie We have our pleasure, and our business too, !)<•- fore us. All in good time. All in good time l" Whether Mr. Pecksniff's bu.snus.-^ in f.oni'on was as strictly professional as he had given his new pui)il to understand, we shall see, to adopt ih.it v.orlhy mail's phraseology, "all in gt^oJ tune." MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. CHAPTER IX. TOWN AND TODGERS'S. SoRELV there never was, in any other borough, city, or iMmlcl in tiie world, such a sincular sort of a place as Todtrers's. And surely London, to ]ncige. \ron\ that part of it which hemmed Tod- gers's round, and hustled it, and crushed it, and Ftuck its brick-and-mortar elbows into it, and kept the air from it, and stood perpetually between it and the li<,rht, was worthy of Todgers's, and quali- fivid to bo on terms of close relationship and alli- ance with hundreds and thousands of the odd family to which Todgers's belonged. You couldn't walk in Todgers's neighbourhood, as you could in any other neighbourliood. You groped your way for an hour through lanes and bye-ways, and court-yards and pssatres; and never once emerged upon anything thnt might be reasonably called a street. A kind of resigned distraction came over the stranger as he trod those devious mazes, and, giving hims^elf up for lost, wenv m and out and round about, andquietky turned back again when he came to a dead wall, or was stopped by an iron railing, and felt that t!ie means of escape might possibly present ihem- Bvlves in their own good time, but that to antici- pate them was hopeless. Instances were known of people, who, being asked to dine at Todgers's, liad travelled round and round it for a weary tiuie, with its very chimney-pots in view ; and finding il, at last, impossible of attainment, had gome home again with a gentle melancholy on their spirits, tranquil and uncomphiining. Nol)ody liad ever found Todgers's on a verbnl direction, though l^.ven within a minute's walk of it.j Cautious emi- grants from Scotland or the Nnrth of England had been known to reach it safely by impressing a charity-boy, town-bred, and bringing: him along with them ; or by clinging tenaciously to the post- man; but these were rare exceptions, and only went to prove the rule, that Todgers's was in » labyrinth, whereof the mystery was known but to a chosen few. Several fruit-brokers had their marts near Todgers's; and one of the first impressions wrought upon the stranger's senses, was of aranges — of damaged oranges, with blue and green bruises on them, festering in boxes, or mouldering away in cellars. All day long, a stream of porters from the wharves beside the liver, each bearing on his back a bursting chest of oranges, poured slowly through the narrow passages ; wf)ile underneath the archway by the public-house, the knots of those who rested and regiiled within, were piled from morning until night. Strange solitary pumps were found near Todgers's, hidino- themselves for the most part in blind allf vs, and keepinn- company with fire-lad- Jers. There were churches also by dozens, with niHuy a sihosfly little church-yard, all overgrown with sucli stran-fjlirig vegetation as springs up Fpontanennsly from damp, and graves, and rub- bish. In some of these ilingv re.-fritl(!inan you were speaking of just now, Miss PecksiiirtV" " Fur goodness sake, Mrs. Todgers," interposed the lively Merry, "don't call him a gentleman. My dear Cherry, Pinch a gtmtleinan ! The idea !" "What a wicked girl you are I" cried Mrs. Todjjers, embracing her with great affection. "You're quite a quiz, I do declare! My dear Miss Pecksniff, what a happiness your sister's spirits must be to your pa and self!" " He 's the most hideous, goggle-eyed creature, Mrs. Todgers, in existence," resumed Merry : "quite an ogre. The ugliest, awkwardest, fright, fulest being, you can imagine. This is his sister; so I leave you to sujipose what she is. I shall be obliged to laugh outrijjht, I know T shall !" cried the charming girl; " I never shall be able to keep my countenance. The notion of a Miss Pinch presuming to e.xist at all, is sufficient to kill one, but to see her — oh my stars!" Mrs. Todgers laughed immensely at the dear love's humour, and dtclared she was quite afraid of her, that she was. Slie was so very severe. " VV'iio is severe?" cried a voice at the door. ** Tliere is no such thing as severity in our family, 1 hope !" And then Mr. Pecksniff peeped smil- ingly into the room, and said, "May I come in, Mrs. Todgers ?" Mrs. Todgers almost screamed, for the little door of conwnunication between that room and the inner one being wide open, there was a full disclosure of the sofa bedstead in all its monstrous impropriety. But she had the presence of mind to close this portal in the twinkling of an eye ; and having done so said, though not without con- fusion, " Oh yes, Mr. Pecksniff, you can come in, if you please." " flow are we to-day," said Mr. Pecksniff, jo- cosely ; " and what are our plans ? Are we ready to go and see Tom Pinch's sister ? Ha, ha, ha I Poor Thomas Pinch 1" "Are we ready," reftirned Mrs. Todgers, nod- ding her head with mysterious intelligence, " to send a favourable reply to Mr. Jinkins's round- robin ? That's the first question, Mr. Pecksniff." " Why Mr. Jinkins's robin, my dear madam?" \sked Mr. Pecksniff, putting one arm round Mer- y, and the other round Mrs. Todgers, whom he eemed, in the abstraction of the moment, to mis- ike for Charity. " Why Mr. Jinkins's ?" " Because he began to get it up, and indeed |iw.iys takes the lead in the house," said Mrs. odgers, playfully. "That's why, sir." "Jinkins is a man of superior talents," observed Wr. Pecksniff. " I liave conceived a great regard for Jinkins. I t.ike Jinkins's desire to pay polite tttenlJDn to my daughters, as an additional proof oi the friendly Iceling of Jinkins, Mrs. Todgers." "Well now," riiturried that ladv, "having said »o UMieh, vou must say the rest, Mr. Pecksnitf : 10 tefj '^^ '^e«r ""uncr larliee rll nbout it." I With these words, she gently eluded Mr.Peck- ! sniff's gras|), and took Miss Charity into her own j embr.ice; though whether she was impelled to this ' proceeding by the irrepressible affection she had ■ conceivi'd tor that young lady, or whether it had ; any rcfereiiee to a lowering, not to say distinctly j spiteful expression which had been visible in h( r face for some moments, has never been exactly ascertained. Be this as it may, Mr Pecksnitf 1 went on to inform his daughters of the purpurt I and liistory of the round-robin aforesaid, wliich i was in brief", that the commercial gentleman who I helped to make up the sum and substance of that noun of multitude or signifying many, called Todgers's, desired the honour of their presence at the general table, so long as they remained in the house, and besought that they would grace the board at dinner-time ftext day, the same being Sunday. He further said, that Mrs. Todgers being a consenting party to this invitation, he was will- ing, for his part, to accept it; and so left them that he might write his gracious answer, the while I they armed themselves with their best bonnets for I the utter defeat and overthrow of Miss Pinch. Tom Pinch's sister was governess in a family, a lofty fimily; perhaps the wealthiest brass and copper foimders' family known to mankind. They lived at Camberwell ; in a house so big and fierce that its mere outside, like the outside of a giant's castle, struck terror into vulgar minds and made bold persons quail. There was a great front gate; with a great bell, whose handle was in itself a note of admiration; and a great lodge; which being close to the house, rather spoilt the look-out certainly, but made the look-in, tremendous. At this entry, a great porter kept constant watch and ward ; and when he gave the visitor high leave to pass, he rang a second great bell, responsive to whose note a great footman appeared in due time at the great hall-door, with such great tags upon his liveried shoulder that he was perpetually en- tangling and hooking himself among the chairg and tables, and led a life of torment which could scarcely have been surpassed, if he had been a blue-bottle in a world of cobwebs. To this mansion, Mr. Pecksniff, accompanied by his daughters and Mrs. Todgers, drove ga' lantiv in a one-horse fly. The foregoing cerenr. nies having been all performed, they were ushered into the house ; and so, by degrees, they got at last into a small room with books in it, where Mr. Pinch's sister was at that moment, instruct- ing her eldest pupil : to wit, a premature little woman of thirteen years old, who had already ar- rived at .f which I have devoted a life, and to the promotion of whose glory and adv.ineement I have sacrificed a — a fortune — 1 shall be very much obliged U VOll" Mr. Pecksniff calls upon JNIiss Tapley. MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT, 61 "Missis's complimen'.s to Miss Pinch," s;iid tlie footman, suddenly appcariug, and spraiung ill exactly the same key as before, "and beg-s to know wot my young lady is a learning of just now." '* Oh !" said Mr. Pecksniff, " here is the young man. He will take the card. With my cotiipli- inents, if you please, young man. My dears, we are interrupting the studies. Let us go." Some confusion was occasioned for an instant by Mrs. Todgers's unstrapping her little flat hand-basket, and hurriedly entrusting the " young man" with one of her own cards, which, in ad- dition to certain detailed information relative to the terms of the commercial establishment, bore a foot-note to the effect that M. T. took that opportunity of thanking those gentlemen wlio had honoured her with tlieir favours, and beggi^d that they would have tlie goodness, if satisfied with the table, to rocommend her to their friends. Hut Mr. Pecksniff, with admirable presence of mind, recovered this document, and buttoned it up in his own pocket. Then he said to Miss Pinch — with more con- descension and kindness than ever, for it was desirable the footman should expressly under- stand that they were not friends of hers, but patrons : " Good morning. Good b3'e. God bless you ! You may depend upon my continued protection of your brother Thomas. Keep your mind quite at ease, Miss Pinch I" " Thank you," said Tom's sister heartily : " a thousand times." "Not at all," he retorted, patting her gently on the head. " Don't mention it. You will make me angry if you do. My sweet child" — to the pupil, " fiirewell ! That fairy creature," said Mr. Pecksniff, looking in his pensive mood hard at the footman, as if he meant him, '' hns shed a vision on my path, refulgent in its nature, and not easily to be obliterated, ^ly dears, are you ready ?" They were not quite ready yet, for they were still caressing the pupil. But they tore them- selves away at length ; and sweeping past Miss Pinch with each a haughty inclination of the head and a curtsey strangled in its birth, flounced into the passage. The young man had rather a long job in show- ing them out; for Mr. Pecksniff's delight in the tastefuhiess of the house was such that he could not help often stopping (particularly when they were rear the parlour door) and giving it expres- sion, in a loud voice and very learned terms. Indeed, he delivered, between the study and the hall, a fumilia' exposition of the whole science of architecture as applied to dwelling-houses, and was yet in the freshness of his eloquence when they reached the garden. " If you look," said Mr. Pecksniff, backing from the steps, with his head on one side and his eyes half-shut that he might the better take in the proportions of the exterior : " If yon look, my dears, at the cornice which supports the roof, and observe the airiness of its construction, especially where it sweeps the southern an^le of the building, you will feel with me — How do you do, sir ? I hope you 're well !" Interrupting himself with these words, he very politely bowed to a middle-aged gentli man at px\ ufiper window, to whom he spKir'g at it for some moments, as if he were not quite certain whether it was a carriage or a templo ; but, having settled this point in his mind, he got into his place, spread his hands out on his knees, and smiled upon the three beholders. But his daughters, less tranqnil-minded, burst into a torrent of indignation. This came, tiny s:iid, of cherishing such creatures as the Pinches This came of lowering themselves to their level. This came of putting themselves in the humiliut- ing position of seeming to know such bold, au- dacious, cunning, dreadful girls as that. They had expected this. They had predicted it to Mrs. Todgers, as she (Todgers) could depone, that very morning. To this they added, that the owner of the house, supposing them to be Miss Pinch's friends, had acted, in their opinion, quite correct, ly, and had done no more than, under such cir- cumstances, might reasonably have been expect- ed. To that fhej' added (with a trifling incon- sistency), that he was a brute and a beai ; and then tliey merged into a flood of tears, wtncn swept away all wandering epithets before u. Perhaps Miss Finch was scarcely so much lo blame in the matter as the Seraph, who, imme- diately on the withdrawal of the visitors, had hastened to report them at head-quarters, witli a full account of their having presumptuouslj charged her with the delivery of a message ble career. When he looks around him on the pre- sent occasion, he feels that he wants words in which to express his gratitude. One thing he will say. He hopes it has been shown that Todgers's can be true to itself; and, an opportunity arising, that it can come out quite as strong as its neii{h- bours — perhaps stronger. He reminds them, amidst thunders of encouragement, that they have heard of a somewhat similar establishment in Cannon street; and that they have heard it prai.s- ed. He wishes to draw no invidious comparisons; he would be the last man to do it ; but when that Cannon street establishment shall be able to pri>- duce such a combination of wit and beauty as has graced that board that day, and shall be able im serve up (all things considered) such a dinner an that of which they have just parUiken, he wiH be happy to talk to it. Until then, gentlemen, h« will stick to Todgers's MARTIN CriUZZLEWIT. Mnrc punch, more enthusiasm, more speeches. I Everybociy's health is - selves, and made him as co(nf^)rtable as they could, on the outside of his bed ; and when he seemed disposed to sleep, tliey left him. But before they had all gained the bottom of the staircase, a vision of xMr. Pecksniff, strangely attired, was seen to flutler on the top landing. He desired to collect their sentiments, it seemed, upon the nature of human life. " My friends," cried Mr. Pecksniff, looking over the banisters, " let us improve our minds by mutual inquiry and discussion. Let us be morak Let us contemplate existence. Where is Jinkins ?" " Here," cried that gentleman. " Go to bed again I" " To bed !" said Mr. Pecksniff. " Bed ! 'Tis ihe voice of tlie sliigcfard ; I hear him complain ; you have woke me too soon ; I must sluml)er again. If any young orphan will repeal the re^ mainder oftli.it simple piece from Doctor W'.itts's collection, an eligible opportunity now offers." Nobody volunteered. "This is very soothisisf," said Mr. Pecksnitl^ after a pause. " Extremely so. Cool and relreslv- ing; particularly to the irgs ! The legs of the human subject, my friends, are a beautiful pro- duction. Compare them with wooden legs, and observe the difference between the anatomy of nature and the anatomy of art. Do you know," said Mr. PecksnilT, leaning over the bani'ters, with an odd recollection of his familiar manner among new pupils at home, "that 1 should vt-ry much like to see Mrs. Todgers's notionofa woodi-n leg, if perfectly agreeable to herself!" As it appeared irnpossihie to entertain any rea- sonable hopes of him after this speccli, Mr. Jin- kins and Mr. Gunder went u[)-stairs again, and once more got him into bed But they had not descended to the second floor before lie wis out again; nor, when they had repeated the proei-ss, had they descended the first flight, befiite he w.is out again. In a word, as of't(m as he WdS shut op in his own room, he darted out afresh, ch irL'ed with some new moral sentiment, which he i;c.iiti- nnally repeated over the banisters, with extraor- dinary relish, and an irrepressible desire for the improvement of his fellow-creuturcs that nothing could subdue. I'nder tlieso circumstances, when they had mA him into bed for the thirtieth time or so, Mr. Jin- kins held him, while his companion went down- stairs in seareli ot" Biil'-y junior, with ivhom he presently returned. That youth, having been ap- prised of the serviei? reciuired of him, was in great spirits, and brought up a stool, a candle, and hi."i sn[»per; to the end that he might keep watch out side the bedroom door with tolerable conitbrt. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 67 When he Iiad completed his arrang-ements, thej' locked Air. FccKsiiitT in, and lett the key on the jiitside ; chiirgiiig tlie young' page to listen attcn- livtiv for svmptoiiis of an apoplectic nature, with which the patient might be troubled, and, in case of any such presenting tliemselvcs, to Rniiimon then) without dehiy : to which Mr. Bailey ni.v destly replied that he hoped he knowed wot o'clock it was in gincral, ai.-d didn't dale his let- ters to his friends, from Todgers's, for nothuig. CHAPTER X. CONTAINING STRANGE MATTER; ON WHICH MANY EVENTS IN THIS HISTORY, MAY. FOR THEIR GOOD OR EVIL INFLUENCE, CHIEFLY DE- PEND. Rut Mr. Pecksniff came to town on business. H;id he lorgntten that? Was he always taking liis pleasure with Todgers's jovial brood, unmind- ful oi the serious demands, whatever they might be, upon his calm consideration ? No. Tune and tide will wait for no man, saith the adage. But all men have to wait for time and tide. That tide which, taken at the flood, would Ie;.d Seth Pecksniff on to fortune, was marked down in the table, and about to flow. No idle Pecksniff lingered far inland, unmindful of the changes of the stream ; but there, upon the water's edge, over his shoes already, stood the wortliy creature, prepared to wallow in the very mud, so that it slid towards the quarter of his hope. The trustfulness of his two fair daughters was beautiful indeed. They had that firm reliance on their j)arcnt's nature, which taught them to feel certain that in all he did, he had his purpose straight and full before him. And that its noble end and object was himself, which almost of ne- cessity included them, they knew. The devotion of these maids was perfect. Their filial confidence was rendered the more touching, by their having no knowledge of their parent's real designs, in the present instance. All that they knew of his proceedings, was, that every morning, after the early breaklast, he repaired to the post-office and inquired for letters. That task performed, his business for tlie day was over; and he again relaxed, until the rising of another sun prnclaitned the advent of another post. This went on for four or five da vs. At length sincerely affectionate regards." The old gentle, man tore off the direction — scattering the rest in fragments to the winds — and giving it to the coachman, bade him drive as near that place as he could. In pursuance of these instructions he was driven to the Monument; where he again aliirhtcd, dismissed the vehicle, and walked to- wards Todgers's. Though the face, and form, and gait of this old man, and even his grip of the stout stick on which he leaned, were all expressive of a resolution not easily shaken, and a purpose (it matters little whether right or wrone, just now) such as in other davs might have survived the rack, and had its strongest life in weakest death ; still there were grains of hesitation in his mind, which made him now avoid tlie house he sought, and loiter to and fro in a gleam of sunlight, that brightened the little church-yard hard by. There may have been in the presence of those idle heaps of dust among the busiest stir of life, something to increase his wavcriiio'; but there he walked, awak-cning the echoes as he paced up and down, until the church clock, striking the quarters for the second time since he had been there, roused him from hi.s meditation. Shaking off his incertitude as the air parted with the sound of the bells, he walked rapidly to the house, and knocked at ll.e door. Mr. Pecksniff was seated in the landlady's lit- tle room, and his visitor found him reading — by an accident: he npolo£fised for it — an excellent theological work. There were cake and wine upon a little table — by another accident, for which one morning, Mr. Pecksniff returned with a j he also apologised. Indeed he said, he had given breathless rapidit}', strange to observe in him, at his visitor up, and was about to partake of that other times so calm ; and, seeking immediate (■peech with his daughters, shut himself up with them in private conference, for two whole hours. Of all that passed in this period, only the following Wfirds of Mr. Pecksniff's utterance are known : " Elow he has come to change so very much (if it should turn out as I expect, that he has), we needn't stop to inquire. My dears, I have my thoughts upon the subject, but I will not impart them. It is enough that we will not he proud, resentful, or unforgiving. If he wants our friend- ship, he shall have it. We know our duty, I hope!" That same day at noon, an old gentleman alighted from a hackney-coach at the post-office, and, giving his name, inquired for a letter ad- dressed to himself, and directed to be left till called for. It had been lying there, some days. The superscription was in Mr. Pecksniff's hand, and it was sealed with I\Ir. Pecksniff's seal. It was very short, containing indeed nothing more than an address "with Mr. Pecksniff's re- Bpectful and (notwithstanding what has passed) simple refreshment with his children, when he knocked at the door. " Your dai;ght( rs are well ?" said old Martin, laying down his hat and stick. Mr. Pecksniff endeavoured to conceal his agita- tion as a lather, when he answered. Yes, they were. They were good girls, he said, very good. He would not venture to recommend Mr. Chuzile- wit to take the easy ciiair, or lo keep out of the draught from the door. If he made any such suggestion, he would expose himself, he feareu, lo most unjust suspicion. He would, therefore, con- tent himself with remarking that there was an easy chair in the room ; and that the door waa far from bcinsr air-tijjht. This latter imperfection, he might perhaps venture to add, was not uncom- monly to be met with in old houses. The old man sat down in the easy chair, and after a few moments' silence, said : " In the first place, let me thank you for cominc to London so promptly, at my almost unexplainM request : I need scarcely add, at mv cost " 68 LIFE AND ADVENTfJRES OF " At your cost, my good sir I" cried Mr. Peck- BnitT, ill a tone ofgrt^at surprise. " it is not," said Miirtin, waving liis hand im- patiently, " my habit to put my — well I my rela- tives — to any personal expense to gratify my caprices." "CJaprices, my good sir!" cried Mr. Pecksniff. "Tlial is scarcely the proper word either, in tiiis instance,'' said the old man, "No. You are right." Mr. PecksniiT was mwardly very much relieved to hear it, tliough he did n't at all know why. " You are right," repeated Martin. " It is not a caprice. It is built up on reason, proof, and cool comparison. Caprices never are. Moreover, I am not a capricious man. I never was." " Most assuredly not," said Mr. Pecksniff. " How do you know ?" returned the other quickly. " You are to begin to kuow it now. You are to test and prove it, in time to come. You and yours are to find that I can be constant, and am not to be diverted from my end. Do you hear ?" "Perfectly," said Mr. Pecksniff. " I very much regret," Martin resumed, look- ing steadily at him, sad speaking in a slow and measured tone : " 1 \try much regret that you and I held such a contfersatioa together, as that which passed between us, at our last meeting. I very much regret that I laid open to you what were t.hen my thoughts of you, so freely as I did. The intentions that I bear towards you, now, are of another kind; and, deserted by all in whom I have ever trusted, hoodwinked and beset by all who should help and sustain me; I fly to you for refuge. 1 confide in you to be my ally ; to attach yourself to me by ties of Interest and Expecta- tion" — he laid great stress upon these words, though Mr. Pecksniff particularly begged him not to mention it ; " and to help me to visit the con- sequences of the very worst species of meanness, dissimulation, and subtletj, on the right heads." " .My noble sir I" cried Mr. Pecksniff, catching at his outstretched hand. " And you regret tlie having harboured unjust thougiits of me ! you with those gray hairs I" " Regrets," said Martin, " are the natural pro- prrty ot gray hairs ; and I enjoy, in common witli all other men, at least my share of such inheril- anic. And so enough oi' that. I regret having been severed from you so long. If I had known you .sooner, and sootier used you as you well de- serve, I might have been a happier man." Mr. Pecksniff looked up to the ceiling, and daspid his hands in rapture. " Your daughters," said Martin, after a short sileiif.e. "I don't know them. Are they like yuu ?" " In the nose of my eldest and the chin of my youngest, Mr. Chuzzlewit," returned the widower, "their sainted parent — not myself, their mother — lives again." " I do n't mean in person," said tlie old man. " Morally — morally." " 'T is not for me to say," retorted Mr. Peck- ■iiiff with a gentle smile. ** I have done my best, •ir " " I Could wish to see them," said Martin , "are *hey near at hand ?" Th«v were, very near; for they had, in fact, been listening at the door, from tlie beginnmg of this conversation until now, when tiiey precipi- tately retired. Having wiped the signs of weak, ness from his eyes, and so given them time to gel up stairs, Mr. Pecksniff opened the door, und mildly cried in the passage, " My own darlings, where are you ?" " Here, my dear pa I" replied the distant voice of Charity. " Come down into the back parlour, if yoa please, my love," said Mr. Pecksniff, " and bring your sister with you." " Yes, my dear pa," cried Mercy ; and down they came directly (being all obedience), singing as they came. Nothing could exceed the astonishment of the two .Miss Pecksniffs when they I'ourid a stranger with their dear papa. Nothing could sur|)js3 their mute astonishment when he said, " My children, iMr. Chuzzlewit !" But when he fold them that Mr. Chuzzlewit and he were friends, and that Mr. Chuzzlewit had said such kind and tender words as pierced his very heart, the two Miss Pecksniffs cried with one accord, "Thank Heaven for tliis 1" and fell upon the old man's neck. And when they had embraced him with such fervour of affection that no words can de- scribe it, they grouped themselves about his chair and hung over him : as figuring to themselves no ea.thly joy like that of ministering to his wants, and crowding into the remainder of his life the love they would have diffused over their whole existence, f'rom infancy, if he — dear obdurate 1— had but consented to receive the precious offer- ing. The old man looked attentively from one to the other, and then at Mr. Pecksniff, several times. " What," he asked of Mr. Pecksnitf, happening to catch his eye in its descent : for until now it h:id been piously upraised, with something of llmt expression which the poetry of iiges has attributed to a domestic bird, when bre:ithiiig its last amid the ravages of an electric storm : " What are ihrir iiipines ?" Mr. Pecksniff told him, and added, rather has- tily — his calumniators would have said, with a view to any testamentary thoughts that might be llilting through old Martin's mind — " Perhaps, my dears, you had better write them down. Your humble autograpiis are of no value in themselvea but ailection may prize them." " Affect ion," s;iid the old man, "will exjiend itself on the living originals. Do not trouble yourselves, my s.uU. I shall not so easily forj/et you, Charity and .Mercy, as to need such tokens of remembrance. Cousin I" "Sir I" said Mr. Pecksniff, with alacrity. " J)o you never sit down /" " Why — yes — occasion tlly, sir," said Mr. Peck snitf, who had been standing all this time. " Will you do so now ?" "Can you ask me," returned Mr. Pccksniflu slipping into a chair immediately, " whether 1 will do anything that you desire ?" " You talk confidently," said Martin, " and you mean well ; hut I fear you don't know what an old man's humours are. You don't know what il is to be required to court his likings and dislik- ings ; adapt yourself to his prejudices ; do his bid- ding, be it what it may ; bear with his distrust* MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. »rd jealousies; and always still be zealons in his 1 service. When I remember how numerous these fu:".ings are in me, and judge of their occasional enormity by the injurious thoughts I lately enter- tained of you, I hardly dare to claim you for my friend." " My worthy sir," returned his relative, " how cnv yon talk in such a painful strain ! What was ntort natural than that you should make one BJijrlit mistake, when in ail other respects you were so very correcf, and have had such reason — such very sess with which these latter words were spoken, Mr. Pecksniff thanked him devoutly. " Now let me go," said Martin, putting down the wine when he had merely touched it with his lips. " My dears, good morning I" But tliis distant form of farewell was by no means tender enough for the yearnings of the young ladies, who again embraced him with all Uieir hearts — with all their arms at any rate — to which parting caresses their new-found friend submitted with a better grace than might have been expected from one who, not a moment be- fore, had pledged their parent in a very uncom- fortable manner. These endearments terminated ; he took a hasty leave of Mi. Pecksniff, and with- drew, fJjllowed to the door by botb fattier and daugliters, who stood there, kissing tiieir hands, and beaming with affection until he disappeared : though, by the way, he never once looked back, after he had crossed the threshold. When they returned into the house, and were again alone in Mrs. Todgers's room, the two young ladies exhibited an unusual amount of gaiety; in- somuch that they clapped their hands, and laughed, and looked with roguish aspects and a banteriiig air upon their dear papa. This conduct was so very unaccountable, that Mr. Pecksniff (being singularly grave himself) could scarcely choose but ask them what it meant; and took them to task, in his gentle manner, for yielding to such light emotions. "If it was possible to divine any cause for this merriment, even the most remote," he said, " I should not reprove you. But when you can have none whatever — oh, really, really I" This admonition had so little effect on Mercy, that she was obliged to hold her handkerchief be- f jre her rosy lipa, and to throw herself back in her chair, with every demonstration of extreme •musemen'. ; which want of duty so offended Mr. Pecksniff that he reproved her in set terms, and gave her his parental advice to correct herself in Bolitude and contemplation. But at that juncture they were disturbed by the sound of voices in dis- pute ; and as it proceeded from the next room, the subject matter of the altercation quickly reached their ears. "1 don't cure that! Mr.^. Todgers," said tlie young gentleman who fiad be(;n the youngest gentleman in company on the day of the festival; " I don't care ikat, ma'am," said lie, snapping his fingers, " for Jinkins. Don't sujipose 1 do." '• I am quite certain you don't, sir," replied Mrs. Todgers. " You have too independent a spirit, I know, to yield to anybody. And quite right. Tliere is no reason why you should give way to any gentleman. Everybody must be well aware of that." " 1 should think no more of admitting daylight into the fellow," said the youngest gentleman, in a desperate voice, " than if he was a bull-dog." Mrs. Todgers did not stop to inquire whether, as a matter of principle, there was any particular reason for admitting daylight even into a bull- dog, otherwise than by the natural channel of his eyes : but she seemed to wring her hands : and she moaned. " Let him be careful," said the youngest gen- tleman. " I give him warning. No man sIk:1I step between me and the current of my vengeance, I know a Cove — " he used that familiar epithet in his agitation, but corrected himself, by adding, " a gentleman of property, I mean, who practises with a pair of pistols (fellows, too) of his own. If I am driven to borrow 'em, and to send a friend to Jinkins, — a tragedy will get into the papers. That's alL" Again Mrs. Todgers moaned. " I have borne this long enough," said the youngest gentleman, " but now my soul rebels against it, and I won't stand it any longer. I left home originally, because I had that within me which wouldn't be domineered over by a sistei ; and do you tiiink I 'm going to be put down by hi?n? No." " It is very wrong in Mr, Jinkins; I know it is perfectly inexcusable in Mr. Jinkins, if he intends it," observed Mrs. Todgers. "If he intends it I" cried the youngest gentle- man. "Don't he interrupt and contradict mo on every occasion? Does he ever fail to interpose himself between me and anything or anybody that he sees I have set my mind upon ? Does he make a point of always pretending to forget me, when he 's pouring out the beer ? Does he make brag- ging remarks about his razors, and insulting alia- sions to people who have no necessity to shaVB more than once a week ? But let him look out; he '11 find himself shaved, pretty close, before long and so I tell him I" The young gentleman was mistaken in this closing sentence, inasmuch as he never told it to Jinkins, but always to I\Irs. Todgers. "However," he said, "these are not proper subjects for ladies' ears. All I 've got to say to you, Mrs. Todgers, is, — a week's notice from next Saturday. The same house can't contain that miscreant and me any longer. If we get over the intermediate time without bloodshed, yovi may think yourself pretty fortunate. I don't myself expect we shall." " Dear, dear !" cried Mrs Todgers, " what would I have given to have prevented this! To lose you, sir, would be like losing the hi use's right-hand. So popular as you are ajnon^j th» 72 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF gentlemen ; so generally looked up to ; and so iiiQch liked I I do hope you '11 think better of it ; if on nobody else's account, on mine." "There's Jinkins," suid the younjjest gentle- man, moodily. " Your favourite. He'll console you and llie gentlemen too for tlie loss of twenty such as me. I 'm not understood in this house, never have been." " Don't run away with that opinion, sir !" wied Mrs. Todgers, with a show of hontst indig- nation. " Don't make such a charge as that against the establishment, I must beg of you. It is not so bad as that comes to, sir. Make any reinark you please against the gentlemen, or against me ; but don't say you 're not understood Ui this house." " I 'm not treated as if I was," said the young- est gentleman. " There you make a great mistake, sir," re- turned Mrs. Todgers, in the same strain. "As many of the gentlemen and I have often said, you are too sensitive. That's where it is. You are of too susceptible a nature ; it 's in your spirit." The young gentleman coughed. " And as," said Mrs. Todgers, " as to Mr. Jin- kins, I nmst beg of you, if^ve art tc part, to un- di Tstand that I don't abet Mr. Jinkins by any means. Fur from it. I could wish that Mr. Jinkins vi^ouid take a lower tone in tiiis establish- ment ; and would not be the means of raising differences between me and gentlemen that I cm much less bear to part with, than I could wilh him. Mr. Jinkins is not such a boarder, sir," edded Mrs. Todgers, " that all considerations of p, ivnte feeling and respect give way before him. Quite the contrary, I assure you." The young gentleman was so much mollified by these and similar speeches on the prjrt of Mrs. 'lodgers, that he and that lady gradually changed positions; so that she became the injured party, und he was understood to be the injurer ; but in t complimentary, not in an offensive sense; his cruel coiiduct being attributable to his exalted nature, and to that alone. So, in the end, the young gentleman withdrew his notice, and as- sured Mrs. Todgers of his unalterable regard : and having done so, went ba^^k to business. "Goodness me. Miss Pecksniffs 1" cried that liidy, as she came into the back room, and sat wearily down, with her basket on her knees, and liir hands folded upon it^ " what a trial of temper it is to keep a house like tliis! You must have h' ard most of what has just passed. Now did jou ever hear the like ?" " Never !" said the two Miss Pecksniffs. "Of all the ridiculous young fellows that ever I haon him sometimes, but not half as hard as he deserves. To mention such a gciitlcnian as Mr. Jinkins, in the sanie breitli vilh liim — you kivjw it's too much ! and yet he 's as jpal(ms of him, bless you, as if he was hu equal." The young ladies were greatly entertained by Mrs. Todgi^rs's account, no less than witii certain anecdotes illustrative ol the youngest gentleman's character, which she went on to tell ihcm. Hut Mr. Pecksniff looked quite stern and angry : and when she had concluded, said in a solenm voice: "Pray, Mrs. Todgers, if I may inquire, what does that young gentleman contribute towardf the support of these premises?" " Why, sir, for what he has, he pays about eighteen shillings a week," said Mrs. Todgers. " Eighteen shillings a week I" repeated Mr Pecksniff. "Taking one week with another; as near that as possible," said Mrs. Todgers. Mr. Pecksniff rose from his chair, folded h'" arms, looked at her, and sJiook his head. " And do you mean to say, ma'am — is it poss. sible, Mrs. Todgers — that lor such a misirafle consideration as eighteen shillings a week, a female of your understanding can so far demean herself as to wear a double face, even for ao instant ?" " I am forced to keep things on the square if I can, sir," faltered Mrs. Todgers. " I must pre- serve peace among them, and keep my connection together, if possible, Mr. Pecksniff. The profit is very small." "The profit!" cried that gentleman, laying great stress upon the word. "The profit, Mrs. Todgers I You amaze me !" He was so severe, that Mrs. Tcdger? shed tears. "The profit!" repeated Mr. Pi cksn iff. "The profit of dissimulation! To worship the golden calf of Baal, for eighteen shillings a week !" " Don't in your own goodness be too hard upon me, Mr. Pecksniff," cried Mrs. Todgers, taking out her handkerchief. " Oh Calf, Calf!" cried Mr. Pecksniff mourn- fully. " Oh Baal, Baal ! oh my friend Mrs. Tod- gers ! To barter away that precious jew( I, self. esteem, and cringe to any mortal creature — for eighteen shillings a week !" He Was so subdued and overcome by the ref^ec- tion, that he immediately took down his hat f>om its peg in the passage, and went out for a walk, to compose his feelings. Anybody passing him in the street might have known him for a good man at first sight; for his whole fiofure term.d with a consciousness of the moral homily he liad read to Mrs. Todgers. Eighteen shillings a week ! Just, most ji.'sf, thy censure, upright Pecksniff! Had it been tor the fiake of a ribbon, star, or garter; sleeves of lawn, a great man's smile, a seat in parlianirn', a tap upon the shoulder from a courtly sword; place, a part}', or a thriving lie, or eighteen tl i.u sand piuinds, or even eighteen liunHred ; — liiit t worsliip the golden calf fur eighteen wl.ilh'.t^;'' * week ! oh pitiful, pitiful I MARTIN CHTIZZLEVVIT. 73 CHAPTER XI. WHEREIN A CERTAIN GENTLEMAN BECOMES PARTICULAR IN HIS ATTEN- TIONS TO A CERTAIN LADY; AND MORE COMING EVENTS THAN ONE, CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE. TiiK family were within two or three days of their departure from Mrs. Todgers's, and the coinnuTcidl gentlemen were to a man despondent and not to be comforted, because of the approach- iiiij separation, when Bailey junior, at the jocund hnur of noon, presented himself before Miss Oliarity Pecksniff, then sitting with her sister in tiie li.inquet-cliamber, hemming six new pocket- i.itidla'rchiefs for Mr. Jinkins ; and having ex- preseed a hope, preliminary and pious, gave her, in his pleasant way, to understand that a visitor altended to pay his respects to her, and was at tiiat moment waiting ia the drawing-room. Per- haps this last announcement showed in a more to conceive what the ridiculous person unknown could mean by it. " Quite impossible to divine !" said Charity, with some sharpness ; " though still, at the same time, you needn't be angry, my dear." "Thank you," retorted Merry, singing at her needle. "I am quite aware of that, my love." "I am atiaid your head is turned, you silly thing," said Cherry. " Do you know, my dear," said Merry, with engaging candour, " that I have been afraid of that myself, all along ! So much incense and nonsense, and all tlie rest of it, is enougli to turn a stronger head than mine. What a relief it must striking point of view than many lengthened be to you, n)y dear, to be so very comfortable in speeches could have done, the trustfulness and frtith of Bailey's nature ; since he had, in fact, last seen the visitor upon the door-mat, vv-V.^re, after siirnifying to him that he would do w-ll to go up stairs, he had left him to the guidance of his own sfig^acity. Hence it was at least an even chance tfi:it the visitor was then vi'andering on the roof that respect, and not to be worried by those odious men I How do you do it. Cherry ?" This artless inquiry might have led to turbulent results, but for the strong emotions of delight evinced by Bjiley junior, whose relish in the turn the conversation had lately taken was so acute, that it impelled and forced him to the instantane- oft' the house, or vainly seeking to extricate him- ous performance of a dancing step, extremely self trom a maze of bedrooms; Todgers's being difficult in its nature, and only to be achieved in precisely that kind of establishment in which an a moment of ecstasy, which is commonly called unpiloted stranger is pretty sure to find liimself in ! The Frogs' Hornpipe. A manifestation so lively, some place where he least expects and least desires [ brought to their immediate recollection the great virtuous precep*, " Keep up appearances, whatever you do," in wliich they had been educated. They forbore at once, and jointly signified to Mr. Bailey that if he should presume to practise that figure any more in their presence, they would instantly acquaint Mrs. Todgers with the fact, and would demand his condign punishment at the hands of to be. " A g(;ntleman for me !" cried Charity, pausing in her work ; " m}' gracious, B^iiley !" "Ah!" said Railey. "It is my gracious, a'nt if ? Wouldr.'t 1 be gracious neither, not if I wos him !" The remark was rendered somewhat obscure in it -:elf, b}' reasrn (as the reader may hive observed) that lady. The young gentleman having ex of a redundancy of negatives ; but accompanied pressed t'le bitterness of his contrition by affecting by action expressive of a faithful couple walking arm-in-arm toward a parochial church, mutually exchanging looks of love, it clearly signified this youth's conviction that the caller's purpose was to wipe away his scalding tears with his apron, and afterwards feigning to wring a vast amount of water from that garment, held the door open while Miss Charity passed out; and so that dam- of an amorous tendency. Miss Charity affected sel went in state up stairs to receive her mysteri- l and gave Mr. Jonas Chuzzlewit her hand. " That's right," said Mr, Jonas ; " and you 'vt, got over the fitigues of the journey, have you .' I Iikelil)ond mingled with his absurd behaviour. That was the best of it! " But I don't know any gentleman, Bailey," 8;. id Miss Pecksniff. "I thitik you must have ni'.de a mistake." Mr. Biiley smiled at the extreme wildness of Buch a supposition ; and regarded the young ladies with unimpiirrd affability. "My dear Merry," s-.iid Charity, "who can it say — how 's the other one?' be? I'-ti't it odd? I have a great mind not to , "My sister is very well, I believe," returned go to him, re:illy. So very siranye, you know I" the young lady. "I have not heard her complain Tlie younger sis^ter plainly considered that this of any indisposition, sir. Perhaps you would like aojieal had its origin in the pride of being called to see her, and ask her yourself?" upon and asked for; and that this was intended "No, no, cousin !" said Mr. Jonas, sitting down as an .T^sertion of superiority, and a retaliation beside her on the window-seat. " Don't be in a upon her lor having capt'j-.'d the commercial gen- ! hurry. There's no occasion for that, you know tlfuiaii. 'I'liLrciiire, she replied, with great affec- What a cruel girl you are I" tiou and pi.lifinoss, tint it w.is, no doubt, very; " It 's impossible for you to know," said Cherry, Strange indeed ; md tiiat she was totally at a loss " whether I am or not." 10 74 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Well, perhaps it is," said Mr. Jonas. " I say — did you think I was lost ? You haven't told Die that." " I didn't think at all about it," answered Cherry. " Didn't you though ?" said Jonas, pondering U['< nas ; " it 's of no use to go puttmg one's-sclf ^'\it of the way by talking about him, I called to ask you to come and take a walk, cousin, and see some of the sights ; and to come to our h'>use at terwards, and liave a bit of sometning. Pecksniff will most likely look in in the evening, he suys, and bring you home. See, here's his writing; I made him put it down this morning; wlieii he told me he shouldn't be back before 1 came here; in case you wouldn't believe me. There 's nothing like prool, is there ? Ha, ha I I say — you 'II brii'g the other one, you know !" Miss Charity cast her eyes upon her father's autograph, which merely said — " Go, my cliildrtn, with your cousin. Let there be union among us when it is possible ;" and at'ter enough ot hesita- tion to impart a proper value to her consent, witiw drew, to prepare her sister and herself lor the ex- cursion. She soon returned, accompanied by Misa Mercy, who was by no means pleased to leave the brilliant triumphs of Todgers's for the society of Mr. Jonas and his respected father, " Aha !" cried Jonas, " There you are, are you ?" " Yes, fright," said Mercy, "here I am ; and I would much rather be anywliere else, I assure you." " You don't mean that," cried Mr. Jonas. " You car 't, you know. It isn't possible." "You can have what opinion you like, fright," retorted Mercy. " 1 am content to keep niinej and mine is that you are a very unpleasant, odi- ous, disagreeable person." Here she laughed heartily, and seemed to enjoy herself very much, "Oh, you're a sharp gal!" said Mr. Jonaa. " She 's a regular teazer, an't she, cousin ?" Miss Charity replied in effect, that slie was un- able to say what the habits and propensities of a regular teazer might lie ; and that even if she pos- sessed such information, it would ili-beconie her to admit the existence of any creature with such an unceremonious name in her family; far less in the person of a beloved sister, " whatever," add. ed Cherry with an angry glance, " whatever hef real nature may be." " Well, my dear !" said Mercy, " the onlj' ob- servation I have to make, is, that if we don't go out at once, I shall certainly take my bonnet off again, and stay at liome." This threat hud the desired effect of preventing any farther altercation, for Mr. Jonas imtnediately proposed an adjournnicnt, and the same being carried unanimously, they departed from the house straightway. On the door-step, Mr. Jonas gave an arm to each cousin; which act of gallantry being observ(>d by Bailey jnnior, from the garret window, was b}' him saluted with a loud and vio. lent fit of coughing, to which paroxysm he was still the victim when they turned the corner. Mr. Jonas inquired in the first instanoi^ il' tlh'y were good walkers, and hiiiig answered " \ n a cup of tea was given him, in which he was seen to soak his bread mechanically. There was no reason to suppose that he went to sleep at the.se seasons, or that he heard, or saw, or (elt, or thought. He remained, as it were, frozen up — if any term expressive of such a vigorous process can be ap()lied to him — until he was again ttiawed for the moment by a word or touch from Anthony. Miss Charity made tea by desire of .Mr. Jonas, and felt and looked so like the lady of the house, that she was in the prettiest confusion inriginable , the more so, from Mr. Jonas sitting close beside her, and whispering a variety of charming ex» pressions in her ear. Miss Mercy, for her part, felt the entertainment of the evening to be so dis- tinctly and exclusively theirs, that she sih ntly de- plored the commercial gentlemen — at that mo- ment, no doubt, wearying for her return — and yawned over yesterday's newspaper. As to An- thony, he went to sleep outright, so Jonas and Cherry had a clear stage to themselves as long as they chose to keep possession of it. When the tea-tray was taken away, as ii was at last, Mr. Jonas produced a dirty pack of cards, and entertained the sisters with divers small feats of dexterity: whereof the main purpose of every one was, that you were to der.oy somebody^ into laying a wager with you that you couldn't do it; and were then immediately to win and poeket his money. Mr. Jonas informed them that these accomplishments were in higii vogue in the most intellectual circles, and that large amounts were constantly changing hands on such hazards. And it may be remarked that he fully believed this ; for there is a simplicity of cunning no less than a simplicity of innocence; and in all matters where a lively faith in knavery and meanness was re- quired as the groundwork of belief, Mr. Jonas was one of the most credulous of men. His ig. norance, which was st^jpendous, may he taken into account, if the reader pleases, separately. This fine young man had all the inclination to be a profligate of the first water, and only lacked the one good trait in the common catalogue of de bauched vices — open-handedness — to be a notable vagabond. But there his griping and penurious habits stepped in ; and as one poison will somo- times neutralize another, when wholesome reme- dies would not avail, so he was restrainea by a bad passion from quaffing his full measure of evil, when virtue might have sought to nold him bac» in Viiia. LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF By the time he had unfolded all the peddling Briiemcs lie knew upon the cards, it was growing- late in the evening ; and Mr. Pecksniff not ma- iling his appearance, the young hidius expressed a vvisli to return home. But this, Mr. Jonas, in his galhmtry, would by no means allow, until they h;;d partaken of some bread and cheese and por- ter ; and even then he was excessively unwilling to allow them to depart; often beseeching Miss Charity to come a little closer, or to stop a little longer, and preferring many other complimentary pt titions of that nature, in his own hospitable and earnest way. When all his efforts to detain them were fruitless, he put on his hat and great- coat preparatory to escorting them to Todgers's ; rernarkmg that he knew they would rather walk thitlicr than ride; and that for his part he was quite of their opinion. " Good night," said Anthony. " Good night ; remember me — ha, ha, ha I — to Pecksniff. Take care of your cousin, my dears ; beware of Jonas ; he 's a dangerous fellow. Don't quarrel for him, in any case !" " Oh, the creature !" cried Mercy. " The idea of quarrelling for him! You may take him, Oierry, my love, all to yourself. I make you a present of my share." "What! I 'm a sour grape, am I, cousin?" Baid Jonas. Miss Cliarity was more entertained by this re- partee than one would have supposed likely, con- sidering its advanced age and simple character. But in her sisterly affection she took Mr. Jonas to task for leaning so very hard u[)on a broken reed, and said that he must not be so cruel to poor Mercy any more, or she (Charity) would positively be obliged to hate him. Mercy, who really had her share of good-humour, only retort- ed with a laugh ; and tliey walked home in con- sequence without any angry passages of words upon the way. Mr. Jonas being in the middle, and having a cousin on each arm, sometimes squeezed the wrong one ; so lightly too, as to cause her not a little inconvenience; but as he talked to Charity in whispers the whole time, and paid her great attention, no doubt this was an accidental circumstance. When t ey arrived at Todgers's, and the door was opened, Mercy broke hastily from them, and r;in up-stairs; but Oiarity and Jonas lingered on the steps talking togetlier for more than five minutes; so, as Mrs. Todgers observed ne.Kt mf)rning, to a third party, " It was pretty clear what was going on thfie, and she was glad of it, for it really was high time Miss Pecksniff thought of settling." And now the day was coining on, when that bright vision which had burst on Todgers's so suddenly, and made a sunshine in tiie shady breast of Jinkins, was to be seen no more; when it was to be packed like a brown paper parcel, or a fish-basket, or an oyster-barrel, or a fat gentle- man, or any other dull reality of life, in a stage- coach, and carried down into the cf)untry ! " Never, my dear Miss I^eeksniffs," said Mrs. Todgers, when thev retired to rest on the last night of their slay ; " never have I seen an establishment so perfectly broken-hearted as mine IS at tiiis present moment of lime. I don't be- lieve the gentlemen will be the gentlemen they were or anything like it — no. not for weeks to come. You have a great deal to answer for; both of you." They modestly disclaimed any wilful agency in this disastrous stale of thmgs, and regretted it very much. "Your pious Pa, too!" said Mrs. Todger*. "There's a loss! My dear Miss Pecksniffs, youi Pa is a perfect missionary of peace and love." Entertaining an uncertainty as to the parlicu lar kind of love supposed to be comprised in Mr. Pecksniff's mission, tiie young ladies received this compliment rather coldly. " If I dared," said Mrs. Todgers, perceiving this, " to violate a confidence which has been re- posed in me, and to tell you why I must beg of you to leave the little door between your room and mine open to-night, I think you would be interested. But I musn't do it, for I promised Mr. Jinkins faithfully that I would be as silent as the tomb." " Dear Mrs. Todgers ! what can you mean ?" " Why then, my sweet Miss Pecksniffs," said the lady of the house ; " my own loves, if you will allow me the privilege of taking that free- dom on the eve of our separation, Mr. Jinkins and the gentlemen have made up a little musical party among themselves, and do intend in the dead of this night to perform a serenade upon the stairs outside thfe door. I could have wislied, I own," said Mrs. Todgers, with her usual fore- si^'ht, " that it had been fixed to take place an hour or two earlier; because, when gentlemen sit up late, they drink, and when they drink, they 'ro not so musical, perhaps, as when they don't But this is the arrangement; and I know yon will be gratified, my dear Miss Pecksniffs, bj such a mark of their attention." The young ladies were at first so much excited by the news, that they vowed they couldn't think of going to bed, until the serenade was over. But half an hour of cool waiting so altered tiieir opinion thai the}' not only went to bed, but fell asleep; and were moreover not ecstatically charm- ed to be awakened sometime afterwards by cer. tain dulcet strains breaking in upon the silent watches of the nisrht. It was very affecting — very. Nothing more dismal could have been desired by the most f;vs- tidious taste. The gentleman of a vocal turn was head mute, or chief mourner ; Jinkins took the bass; and the rest took anything they cnuld get. The j'oungest gentleman blew his iiirlan- choly into a flute. He didn't blow nuich (Jiit of it, but that was nil the better. If the two Miss Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgi-rs had pi rished by spontaneous combustion, and the serenade had been in honour of their ashes, it would have been impossible to surpass the unutterable despair ex- pressed in that chorus, "Go where glory waits thee !" It was a requiem, a dirge, a moan, a howl, a wail, a lament; an abstract of everything that is sorrowful and hideous in sound. The flute of the youngest gentleman was wild and fit fill. It came and went in gusts, like the wind. For a long time together he seemed to have left off, and when it was quite settled by Mrs. Todger« and the young ladies, that, overcome by his leel- ings, he had retired in tears, he unexpectedly turned up again at the very top of the tune, gasp. ing for breath. He was a tremendous performer. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 79 T^rre was no knowing vvliere to h.ive him; and ex i( tly wiien you tlioiiijht lit' was doing nothing «t al'i, then was he doing tlie very thing tliat CMJfiht to astonish you the most. 'I'hcre were several of these concerted pieces ; perhaps two or three too many though that, as Mrs. Todcrers said, was a fault on the right side. But even then, even at that solemn moment, when the tlirilling sounds may be presumed to have penetrated into the very depths of his nature, if he had any depths, Jinkins couldn't leave the youngest gentleman alone. He asked him dis- tinctly, before the second song begun — as a per- sonal favour too, mark the villain in that — not to play. Yes ; he said so ; not to play. The brea- tliing of the youngest gentleman was heard tlirough the keyhole.of the door. He didn't play. Wliat vent was a flute for the passions swelling up within his breast? A trombone would have been a world too mild. The serenade approached its close. Its crown- ing interest was at hand. The gentleman of a literary turn had written a song on tlie departure of the ladies, and adapted it to an old tune. They all joined, except the youngest gentleman in com- pany, who, for the reasons aforesaid, maintained a fearful silence. The song (which was of a classi- cal nature) invoked the oracle of Apollo, and de- manded to know what would become of Todgers's when C'haritv and Mercv were banished from its Walls. The oracle delivered no opinion p.irticu- larly worth remembering, according to the not infrequent practice of oracles from the earliest ages down to the present time. In the absence of enlightenment on that subject, the strain de- t<>rted it, and went on to show that the Miss Pecksniff's were nearly related to Rule Britannia, and that if Great Britain hadn't been an island there could have been no Miss Pecksniffs. And being now on a nautical tack, it closed with this Verse : All hail to the vessel of Ppcksniff the sire I And favouring breezes to fan ; While Tritons tiock rniuicl it, and proudly admire The architect, artist, and man ! As they presented this beautiful picture to the imagination, the gentlemen gradually withdrew to bed to give the music the effect of distance ; and so it died away, and Todgers's was left to its rejwsc. Mr. Bailey reserved his vocal offering until the morning, when he put his head into the room as the young ladies were kneeling before their trunks, picking up, and treated them to an imita- tion of the voice of a young dog, in trying cir- cumstances: when that animal is supposed by persons of a lively fancy, to relieve his feelings l>y calling for pen and ink. "Well, young ladies," said the youth, "so you 're a going home, are you ; worse luck 7" "Yes, Bailey, we're going home,'' returned Mercy. " An't you a going to leave none of 'em a lock of your hair?" inquired the youth. "It's real, an't it ?" They laughed at this, and told him of course it Was. "Oh, is it of course, though?" said Bailey. "I know better than that, flers an't. Why, I ■ee it hanging up once, on that nail by the win- der. Besides I 've gone behind her at dinner-time and ()ulled it; and she never know'd. I say, young ladies — I 'm going to leave. I an't a going to stand being called names by her, no longer." Miss Mercy inquired what his plans for the future might be ; in reply to whom, Mr. Bailey in- timated that he thought of going either into top. boots, or into the army. " Into the army 1" cried the young ladies, with a laugh. "Ah!" said Bailey, "why not? There's a many drummers in the Tower. I'm acipiaintcd with 'em. Don't their country set a valley on 'em mind you ! Not at all I" " You '11 be shot, I see," observed Mercy. "Well!" cried Mr. Bailey, "wot if 1 am' There's something gamey in it, young l;idi..s, an't there? I 'd .sooner be hit with a cmnoii-ball than a rolling-pin, and she's always catching up something of that sort, and throwing it at mo wen the gentlemans appetites is good. Wot," said Mr. Bailey, stung by the recolkction of Ilia wrongs, " wot, if they do con-sume tiie per-vi shuns. It an't rny fault, is it ?" " Surely no one says it is," said Mercy. '• Don't they, though ?" retorted the youi.u "No, Yes. Ah! No one mayn't say it is ; but some one knows it is. But I an't a going to h ve every rise in prices wisited on me. I an't a going to be killed, because the markets is dear. I won't stop. And therefore," added Mr. Bailey, rclentmg into a smile, " wotever you mean to give mc, you'd better give me all at once, becos if ever you come back agin, I shan't be here ; and as to the other boy, he won't deserve nothing 1 know." The young ladies, on behalf of Mr. PecksnitF and themselves, acted on this thoughtful advice, and in consideration of their private triendship, presented Mr. Bailey witti a gratuity so liberal, that he could hardly do enough to show his gratis tude; which found but an imperfect vent, during the remainder of the day, in divers secret slaps upon his pocket, and other such facetious pinto- mime. Nor was it confined to these ebullitions; tor besides crushing a bandbox, with a bi'nnel in it, he seriously damaged Mr. PecksnitT's lugjrage, by ardently hauling it down from the top of t.ie house; and in short evinced, by every means in his ])ower, a lively sense of the fivours he had re- ceived from that gentleman and his fimily. Mr. Pecksniff and Mr Jinkins came home to dinner, arm-in-arm ; for the latter gentleman had made half-holiday, on purpose; thus g lining an immense advanfige over the youngest genllem.in and the rest, whose time, as it perversely chaiic d, was all bespoke, until the evening. The bottle of wine was Mr. Perksniff's treat, and they wt-re very sociable indeed; though full of lamentations on the necessity of parting. While they were in the midst of their enjoyment, old Anthony and his son were announced; much to the surprise of Mr. Pecksniff" and greatly to the discomfiture of Jenkins. " Come to say good bye, you see," said An thony, in a low voice, to Mr. Pecksniff, as they took their seats apart at the table, while the rest conversed among themselves. " Where's the use of a division between 3'ou and me ? We are two halves of a pair of scissors, when apart, Pecksniff but togetJier we are something. Eb ?" 80 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Unanimity, my good sir," rejoined Mr. Peck- enitf, " is always delightful." " 1 don't know about that," said the old man, "for there are some people I would rather ditler from than agree with. But you know my opinion of you." Mr. Pecksniff, still having "hypocrite" in his mind, only replied by a motion of his head, which was something between an affirmative bow and a negative .shake. "Complimentary," said Anthony. "Compli- mentary, upon my word. It was an involuntary tribute to your abilities, even at the time; and it was not a time to suggest compliments either. But we agreed in the coach, you know, that we quite understood each other," "Oh, (juite !" assented Mr. Pecksniff, in a man- ner which implied that he iiimself was misunder- stood most cruelly, but would not complain. Anthony glanced at his son as he sat beside Miss Charity, and then at Mr. Pecksniff, and then at his son again, very many times. It huppeoLd that Mr. Pecksniff's glances took a similar direc- tion ; but when he became aware of it, he first Cast down his eyes, and then closed them ; as if he were determined that the old man should read notliing there. " Jonas is a shrewd lad," said the old man. " He appears," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff in his most candid manner, " to be very shrewd." " And careful," said the old man. " And careful, I have no doubt," returned Mr. Pecksniff. " Lookye !" said Anthony in his ear. " I think he is sweet upon your daughter." "Tat, my good sir," said Mr. Pecksniff, with his eyes still closed; "young people — young people — a kind of cousins, too — no more sweet- ness than is in tliat, sir." " V>/]\y, there is very little sweetness in that, according to our experience," returned Anthony. "Isn't there a trifle more here ?" " Irnpossible to say," rejoined Mr. Pecksniff. "Quite impossible ! You surprise me." " Yes, I know tliat," said tlie old man, dryly. " It may last ; I mean the sweetness, not the sur- prise ; and it may die off. Supposing it should last, perhaps (yon having feathered your nest i)retty well, and I having done the SHine) we might have a mutufj interest in the matter." Mr. Pecksniff, smiling gently, was about to speak, but Anthony sto[)ped him. "I know what you are going to say. It's quite unnecessary. You iiave never thought of this for a moment; ajid in a point so nearly alfecting the happiness of your dear child, you couldn't, as a lender f.ither, exjiress an opinion ; and so forth. Yes, quite right. And like you ! But it .seems to me, my dear Pecksniff," added Anthony, laying his hand upon his sleeve, "that if you and I kept op the joke of pretending not to see this, one of UB might possibly be placed in a position of dis- tuvantagc ; and as I um very unwilling to be that party myself, you will excuse my taking the liberty of putting the matter beyond a doubt, thus early j and having it distinctly understood, as it is now, that we do see it, and do know it. Thank you for your attention. We are now upon an equal foot- ing; which is agreeable to us both, I am sure." He rose as he spoke ; and giving Mr. Pecksniff a nod of intelligence, moved away from him to where the young people were silling: leaving that good man somewliat puzzled and discomfited by such very plain-dealmg, and not quite tree from a sense of having been foiled in the exercise of iii;^ familiar weapons. But the night-coach had a punctual character, and it was time to join it at the office ; w liich woa so near at hand, that they had already sent their luggage, and arranged to walk. Thither the whole party repaired, therefore, alter no n)ore de- lay than sufficed for the equipment of the Miss Pecksniffs and Mrs. Todgers. They found the coach already at its starting-place, and the horses in ; there, too, were a large majority of the coin- mercial gentlemen, including the youngest, wlio was visibly agitated, and in a state of deep mental dejection. Nothing could equal the distress of Mrs. Tod- gers in parting from the young ladies, except tlie strong emotions with which she bade adieu to Mr. Pecksniff. Never surely was a pocket-handerchief ti'ken in and out of a flat reticule so often as Mrs. Todgers 's was, as she stood upon the pavement, by the coach door, supported on either side by a com- mercial gentleman ; and by the light of the conch- lamps caught such brief snatches and glimpses o^ the good man's face, as the constant interposition of Mr. Jinkins allowed. For Jinkins, to the last the youngest gentleman's rock-ahead in life, stood upon the coach-step talking to the ladies. L'pon the other step was Mr. Jonas, who maintained that position in right of his cousinship; whereas, the youngest gentleman who had been first upon the ground, was deep in the booking-office among the black and red placards, and the portraits of fast coaches, where he was ignominiously harassed by porters, and had to contend and strive perpetually with heavy baggage. This false position, combined with his nervous excitement, brought about the very consummation and catastrophe of his miso. ries ; tor when, in the moment of parting, he aimed a flower — a hothouse flower, that had co>t money — at the fair hand of Mercy, it reached, in- stead, the coachman of the box, who thanked him kindly, and stuck it in his button-hole. They were off now ; and Todgers's was alone again. The two young ladies, leaning back in their separate corners, resigned themselves to their own regretful thoughts. But Mr. PecksnifiEi dismissing all ephemeral considerations of social pleasure and enjoyment, concentrated his meflita^ tions on the one great virtuous purpose before him, of casting out that ingrate and deceiver, whose presence yet troubled his domestic hearth, and waa a sacrilege upon the altars of the household gudb MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 61 CHAPTER XII. WILL RE SEEN IN THE LONG RUN, IF NOT IN THE SHORT ONE, TO CONCErN MR. PINCH AND OTHERS, NEAKLY. MR. PECKSNIFF ASSERTS THE DIGNI'I Y OF OUTRA(iED VIRTUE; AND YOUNG MARTIN CIIUZZLEWiT FORMS A DFSPERATE RESOLUTION. Mr. Pinch and Mirtin, little dreaming^ of the r'oriiiy wejtlicr that impcndod, marie themselves »frj coinlbrt.ible in the PecksiiitHan lialls, and iiiipro\ed their t'rieiidship daily. Martin's facility, both of invention and execution, being remarkable, the ^rainmar-school proceeded with great vigour ; and 'I'oni repeatedly declared, that if there were anything like certainty in liuman affairs, or ini- [wrtiality in hum. in judges, a design so new and full ol' merit could not tail to carry oft' the first prize when the tjjne of competition arrived. VVith- mil being nuite so sanguine himself, Martin had his hopeful anticipations too; and they served to make him brisk and eager at his task. * " If I should turn out a great architecL, Tom," said the new pupil one day, as he stood at a little distance from his drawing, and eyed it with much complacency, " I '11 tell you what should be one ol'the things I'd build." " Ay :" cried Tom. " What ?" " VVhy, your fortune." "No 1" said Tom Pinch, quite as much delight- ed as if the thing were done. " Would you Uiough ? How kind of you to say so I" "I'u build it up, Tom," returned Martin, "on such a strong foundation, that it should last your Uth — ay, and your children's lives too, and their diildren's after them. I'd be your patron, 'I'om. I'd take you under my protection. Let me see Uie man who should give the cold shoulder to anybodj' I cliose to protect and patronize, if 1 were ut the top of the tree, Tom I" "Now, I don't think," said Mr. Pinch, " upon my word, that I was ever more gratified than by diis. I really don't." " Oh ! I mean what I say," retorted Martin, with a manner as free and easy in its condescen- non to, not to say in its compassion for, the otiier, as if he were already First Architect in Ordinary to all the Crowned Heads in Europe, " I'd do it — I'd provide tor you." " I am afraid," s.iid Tom, shaking his licad, " that I should be a mighty awkward person to provide for." " Pooh, pooh !" rejoined Martin. "Never mind that. If 1 took it in my head to say, 'Pinch is a clever fellow ; I approve of Pinch ;' I should like to know the man who would venture to put him- self in opposition to me. Besides, confound it Tom, you could be useful to me in a hundred ways." " If I were not useful in one or two, it shouldn't be for want of trying," said Tom. " For instance," pursued Martin, after a short reflection, "you'd be a capital fellow, now, to see liut my ideas were properly carried out ; and to overlook the works in their progress before they were suliiciently advanced to bo very interesting to me ; and to take all that sort of plain sailing. Then you'd be a splendid fellow to show people •ver my studio, and to talk about Art to 'em, | Wbcn I couldn't be bored myself, and all that kimi j 11 of thing. For it would be develi^h cn-dilab!.-, Tom, (I'm quite in earnest, I give you my wcni,) to have a man of your information :ib..nt one instead of some ordinary blockhead. Oh, I'd take care of you. You'd be usei'ul, rely upon it 1" To say that Tom had no idea of playing fiisl fiddle in any social orchestra, but was aU\ ays (ji.ite satisfied to be set down for the hundred and fil'iirth violin in the band, or thereabouts, is to expn ss I is modesty in very inadequate terms. He was imieh delighted, therefore, by 1-liese observations. " t should be married to her then Tom, of course," said Martin. What was that which checked Tom Pinch .'so suddenly, in the high flow of his gladness: bring- ing the blood into his honest cheekw, and a re- morseful feeling to his honest heart, as if he were unworthy of his friend's regard ! " I should be married to her then," s;iid Martin, looking with a smile toward the light: "and we should have, I hope, children about us. They 'd be very fond of you, Tom." But not a word said Mr. Pinch. The words he would have uttered, died upon his lips, and lound a life more spiritual in self-denying thong lits. " All the children hereabouts are find of you, Tom; and mine would be, of course," pursued Martin. " Perhaps I might name one ot 't m after you. Tom, eh ? Well, I don't know ; 'I'om 's net a bad name. Thomas Pinch Chuzzlevvit. T. P.<". on his pinafores ; no objection to that, I .should say ." 'i'om cleared his throat, and smiled. "iS'/ic would like you, Tom, I know," said Martin. " Ay 1" cried Tom Pinch, faintly. "I can tell exactly what she would think of you," said Martin, leaning his chin upon his hand, and looking through the window-glass as if he read there what he said ; " I know her so well. She would smile, Tom, often at first when yoii spoke to her, or when she looked at yon— nii rrily too — but you wouldn't mind that. A biii;hter smile you never saw I" "No, no,'' said Tom, "I wouldn't mind that." "She would be as tender with ytiu, 'i'om," said Martin, " as if you were a child yourstlt. So yo> are almost, in some things, an't you Tom ?" Mr. Pinch nodded his entire assent. * "She would always be kind and go(jd-hnniourcd, and glad to see you," said Martin; "and when she found out exactly what sort of fellow you were (which she'd do, very soon,) she wouli [.re- tend togiveyou little commissions to exteute, and to ask little services of you, which she knew you were burning to render; so that when she re.iily pleased you most, she would try to make you think you most pleased her. She would lake to you uncommonly, Tom; and would undi rstand you far more delicately than I ever shall ; -nd would often say, I know, that you were a harm. less, gentle, well-intentioned, good ftllow." How silent Tom Pinch was I •* In honour of old times," said Martin, " and o' 82 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ner Iiavingf lieard you play the org-an in this damp I little churcii down here — for nothing loo — \vc will h;ive one in the house. I shiill build an archi- tectural niusic-rooin on a plan of my own, and it'll look rather knowing in a recess at one end. There you shall play away, Tom, till you tire yourself'; and, as you like to do so in the dark, it eh^tll he dark; and many's the summer evening she and I will sit and listen to you, Tom ; be sure of that!" It may have required a stronger effort on Tom Pinch's part to leave the seat on which he sat, and shake his friend by both hands, with nothing but perenity and grateful feeling painted on his face; it may have required a stronger etTort to perform this simple act with a pure heart, than to achieve many and many a deed to which the doubtful trumpet blown by Fame has lustily resounded. Doubtful, because from its long hovering over scenes of violence, the smoke and steam of death have clogged the keys of that brave instrument ; and it is not always that its notes are either true or tuneful. "It's a proof of the kindness of human na- ture," said Tom, characteristically putting himself quite out of sight in the matter, " that everybody who comes here, as you have done, is more con- Biderate and affectionate to me than I should have any right to hope, if I were the most sanguine creature in the world ; or should h:ive any power to express, if I were the most eloquent. It really overpowers me. But trust me," said Tom, "that I am not ungrateful — that I never forget — and that, if I can ever prove the truth of my words to you, I will." "'I'hat's all right," observed Martin, leaning back in his chair with a hand in each pocket, and yawning drearily. " Very fine talking, Tom ; but I 'm at Pecksniff's, I remember, and perhaps a mile or so out of the high-road to fortune just at this minute. So you 've lieard again this morning from what's his name, eh ?" " Who may that be?" asked Tom, seeming to enter a mild protest on behalf of the dignity of an absent person. " You know. What is it ? Northkey." " VVestlock," rejoined Tom, in rather a louder tone than usual. " Ah I to be sure," said Martin, " Westlock. I knew it was something connected with a point of the compass and a door. Well ! and what says Westlock ?" " Oh ! he has come into his property," answered Toui, nodding his head, and smiling, k " lie's a lucky dog," said Martin. " I wish it were mine instead. Is tliat all the mystery you were to tell me ?" " No," said Tom ; " not ali.' " What is the rest ?" asked Martin. " For the matter of that," said Tom, " it 's no mystery, and you won't think much of it; but it 's very pleasant to mc. John always used to ■ay when he was here, ' Mark my words. Pinch. When my father's executors cash up' — he used •trangc expressions now and then, but that was his way." " Cash-up 's a very good expression," observed Martin, " when other people don't »|>ply it to you." Well! What a slow f. llnw you are. Pinch !'' " Yes, I am I know," said Tom ; " but you '11 make me nervous if you tell me so. I'm afraid you have put me out a little now, for I lorgel what I was going to say." " When John's father's executors casneO U|)" — said Martin imi)atiently. " Oh, yes, to be sure," cried Tom ; "yes. ' Then,' says John, ' 1 'II give you a dinner, Pinch, and come down to Salisbury on purpose.' Now, when John wrote the other day — the morning E^ccksuifF left, you know — he said his business was on tiie point of being iiiiuudiatcly settltid, and us he wan to receive his money directly, wiien could 1 meet him at Salisbury ? 1 wrote and said, any day this week; and I told him besides, that tiiere was a new pupil here, and what a fine fellow you were, and what friends we had become. Upi>n wliicli John writes back this letter" — Tom produced it — " fixes to-morrow ; sends his compliments to yuu ; and begs tliat we three may have tiie |)k'asuru of dining together — not at the house where you and I were, either ; but at the very first hotel in the town. Read what he says." " Very well," said Martin, glancing over it witl^ his customary coolness; "much obliged to him. I 'm agreeable." Tom could have wished him to be a little more astonished, a little more pleased, or in some toriri or other a little more interested in such a great event. But he was perfectly self-possessed : and, falling into his favourite sol.ice of whistlmg, look another turn at tlie grammar-school, as if nothing at all had happened.. Mr. Pecksnilf's horse being regarded in the liglit of a sacred animal, only to be driven by hiui, the chief priest ot that tcin[)le, or ly some person distinctly nominated for the time being to that high otiice by himselti the two young men agr^red to walk to Salisbury ; and so, when the time came, they set off on tiiot ; which was, altei all, a better mode of travelling tiuui in tiie gig, as the weutiiei was very cold and very dry. Better! a rare strong, hearty, healthy walk — four statute miles an hour — preferable to that rumbling, tumbling, jolting, shaking, scraping, creaking, villanous old gig? Why, the two things will not admit of comjurison. It is an insult to tiie walk, to set them side by side. Wheie is an instance of a gig having ever circulated a man's blond, unless when, putting liim in danger .if his neck, it awakened in his veins and in his ears, and all along his spine, a tingling heat, much more peculiar than agreeable? When did a gig ever siiarpen anybody's wits and oneriries, unUss it was when the horse bolted, and, crasliiug m,.dly down a steep hill with a stone wall at tiic hottoui, his desperate circumstances suggested to the only gentleman lett inside, some novel and uiilieaid-ol" mode of dropping out behind ? Better than the gig ! 'I'he air was cold, roin; so it was, there is no denying it; but would it have been more genial in the gig? The blacksmitirs fire burned very bright, and leaped up high, as th< ugh it w.mtej men to warm ; but would it have been less teiupt* ing, looked at from tlu^ clammy cushions of a gig * The wind blew keenly, nipping the features 'tl the hardy wiglil who fought his way along ; blind ing him with his own hair if he liad enough o*" it, and with wintry dust il'hc hadn't; stopping his breath as though he had been soused in a cold bath ; tearing aside his wrappings-up, and whist MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 8S f'.njr in \he very marrow of his hones ; but it would have done all this a hundred times more fiercely to a man in a gig, wouldn't it? A fig for gigs! Hetter than the gig ! When were travellers by •wheels and hoofs seen with such red-hot clieeks Hs those? when were they so good-humouredly »nd merrily bioused ? when did tlieir laughter ritiij upon ihe air, as they turned them round, wiiat time the strong gusts came sweeping up ; and facing round again as they passed by, dashed on in such a glow of ruddy health as nothing could keep pace witii, but the high spirits it en- gendered ? Better than a gig ! Why here is a man in a gig coming Ihe same way now. Look at him as he passes his whip in his left hand, chafes his numbed right fingers on his granite leg, and beats those marble fnee of his upon the footboard. Ha, hn, ha! Who would exchange this rapid hurry of the blood for yonder stagnant misery, though its pace were twenty miles for one ? Better than the gig ! No man in a gig could have snich interest in tlie milestones. No man in a gig could see, or feel, or think, like merry users of their legs. How, as the wind sweeps on, upon these breezy downs, it tracks its flights in darken- ing ripples on the grass, and smoothest shadows on the hills! Look round and round upon this bare bleak plain, and see even here, upon a win- ter's day, how beautiful the shadows are ! Alas, it IS the nature of their kind to be so. The love- liest things in life. Tern, are but shadows; and they come and go, and change, and fade away, ^s rapidly as these ! Another mile, and then begins a fall of snow, making the crow, who skims away so close above the ground to shirk the wind, a blot of ink upon the landscape. But though it drives and drifts against them as they walk, stiffening on their skirts, and freezing in the la-slies of their eyes, they wouldn't have it fall more sparingly, no, not so much as by a single flake, nithough they had to go a score of miles. And, lo ! the towers of the Old Cathedral rise before tiiem, even now ! and by and by they come into the siieltered streets, made strangely silent by their white carpet; and BO to the Inn for which they are bound; where they present such flushed and burning faces to the cold waiter, and are so brimful of vigour, that he almost feels assaulted by their presence, and, having nothing to oppose to the attack (being fresh, or rather stale, from the blazing fire in the coffee-room,) is quite put out of his pale counte- nance. A famous Inn ! the hall a very grove of dead game, and dangling joints of mutton; and in one corner an illustrious larder, with glass doors, de- veloping cold fowls and noble joints, and tarts wherein the raspberry jam coyly withdrew itself, as such a precious creature should, behind a lat- lice-work of pastry. And behold, on the first floor, at the court-end of the house, in a room with all the window-curtains drawn, a fire piled half- way up the chimney, plates warming before it, wax candles gleaming everywhere, and a table spread for three, with silver and glass enough for thirty— John Westlock ; not the old John of Peck- snifTs, but a proper gentleman : looking another and a grander person, with the consciousness of heiag bis own master and having money in the I bank ; and yet, in some respects, the old John too, for he seized Tom Pinch by both his hands tlse instant he appeared, and fairly fiugged him, in hi» cordial welcome. "And this," said John, " is Mr. Chuzzlewit. I am very glad to see him I" John had an ofi- hand manner of his own; so they shook hands warmly, and were friends in no time, " Stand off a moment, Tom," cried the old pupil, laying one hand on each of Mr. Pinch's shoulders, and holding him out at arms' length, " Let me look at you! Just the same! Not a bit changed !" " Why, it 's not so very long ago, you know," said Tom Pinch, " after all." " It seems an age to nw" cried John ; " and so it ought to seem to you, you dog." And then he pushed Tom down into the easiest cliair, and clapped him on the back so heartily, and so lika his old self in their old bed-room at old Peck- snifPs, that it was a toss-up with Tom Pinch whether he should laugh or cry. Laughter won it; and they all three laughed together. " I have ordered everything for dinner that we used to say we 'd have, Tom," observed John Westlock. " No!" said Tom Pinch, " Have you?" " Every thing. Don't laugh if you can help it before the waiters. / couldn't when I was order- ing it. It 's like a dream." John was wrong there, because nobody ever dreamed such a soup as was put upon the table directly afterwards ; or such fish ; or such side- dishes ; or such a top and bottom ; or such a course of birds and sweets ; or in short anything approaching the reality of that entertainment, at tcn-and-sixpence a head, exclusive of wines. Aa to them, the man who can dream such iced cham- pagne, claret, port, or sherry, had better go to bed and stop there. But perhaps the finest feature of the banquet was, that nobody was half bo much amazed by every thing as John himself, who, in his high de- light, was constantly bursting into fits of laughter, and then endeavouring to appear preternaturally solemn, lest the waiters should conceive he wasn't used to it. Some of the things they brought him to carve, were such outrageous practical jokes, though, that it was imfwssible to ctand it; and when Tom Pinch insisted, in spite of the deferen- tial advice of an attendant, not only on breakmg down the outer wall of a raised pie with a table spoon, but on trj'ing to eat it afterwards, John loflt all dignity, and sat behind the gorgeous dish-cover at the head of the table, roaring to that extent that he was audible in the kitchen. Nor had he the least objection to laugh at himself, as he demo^ strated when they had all tliree gathered round the fire, and the dessert was on the table ; at which period the head waiter inquired with re- spectful solicitude whether that port, being a light and tawny wine, was suited to his taste, or whe- ther he would wish to try a fruity port with greater body. To this John gravely answered, that he was well satisfied with what he had, which he esteemed, as one might say, a pretty tidy vint- age; for which the waiter thanked him and wittw drew, and then John told his friends, with a broad grin, that he supposed it was all right, but dido*, know ; and went off into a perfect shout. 64 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF They were ^ery merry and full of enjoyment the whole time, but not the least pleasant part of ;t." " He's made up of simplicity," said Martin. " Help yourself." " You, however," pursued John, filling his own gliiss, and looking at his companion with sotne curi'isity, " who arc older than the majority of Mr. Pecksniff's assistants, and have evidently had niiji'h more experience, understand him, I have n ) doubt, and see how liable he is to be imposed UfKin." " Certainly," said Martin, stretching out his legs, and holding his wine between his eye and the liaht, " Mr. Pecksniff knows that too. So do h;s diughters. Eh?" John Westlock smiled, but made no answer. " Ry the bye," said Martin, " that reminds me. What's your opinion of Pecksniff? How did he use you ? What do you think of him now? Cool- ly you know, when it's all over ?" " Ask Pinch," returned the old pupil. " He knows what my sentiments used to be upon the subject They are not'changed, I assure you." " No, no," said Martin, " I'd rather have them from you." " But Pinch says they are unjust," rrged John with a (mile. " Oh ! well ! Then I know what course tnej take beforehand," said Martin; "and, theretc>re, you can have no delicacy in speaking plainly. Don't mind me, I beg. I don't like him, I tell you frankly. I am with him because it hapjiens from particular circumstances to suit my convenienco. I have some ability, I believe, in that way ; and the obligation, if any, will moFt likely be on his side and not mine. At the lowest mark, the balance will be even and there'll be no obligation at all. So you may talk to me, as if I had no connection with him." " If you press me to give my opinion" — return- ed John Westlock. " Yes, I do," snid Martin. " You'll oblige me." " I should say," resumed the other, " that he is the most consummate scoundrel on the face of the earth." "Oh !" said Martin, as coolly as ever. " That's rather strong." "Not stronger than he deserves," said John; "and if he culled upon me to express my opinion of him to his face, I would do so in tlie very same terms, without the least qualification. His treat- ment of Pinch is in itself enough to justify them; but wlien I look back upon the five years I passed in that house, and remember the hypocrisy, the knavery, the meanness, the false pretences, the lip service of that fellow, and his trading in saintly f:;mblance for the very worst realities; when I re- member how o'len I was the vv'itness of all this, and how oflen I was made a kind of party to it by the fact of being there, with him f<:>r my teach- er ; I swear to yon, that I almost despise myself." Martin drained his glass, and looked at the fire "I don't mean to say, that it is a right feeling," pursued John Westlock, " because it was no fault of mine ; and I can quite understand — yon, for in- stance, fully appreciating him, and yet being forced by circumstances to remain there. I tell you sim- ply what my fi'cling is; and even now, when, a« you say, it's all over; and when I have thbroad ?" asked Martin, turning his cye« upon the speaker. " In search," rc|)lied John Westlock, shrugging his shoulders, " of the livelihood I c;ouldn't have earned at home. There would have been somo thing spirited in that. But, come — till your glass, and let us firget him." " As soon us yon please," said Martin. "In re- ference to myself and my conne'ction with bin-., I have only to repeat what I said bef(>re, I have taken my own way with hiin so fiir, and shall con- tinue to do so, even more than ever; lor the fact is — to tell you the truth — that I believe he looks to me to supply his defects, and couldn't afford to lose me. I had a notion of that, in going tlnjic. Your health !" " Thank you," returned young Westlock. — " Yours. And may the new pupil turn out as well as you can desire !" "What new pupil?" "The unfortunate youth, bnrn under an auspL cious star," returned John Westlock, lauyhing; " whose parents, or guardians, are destined to be MARTIN CnUZZLEWIT. 85 hook«'d by the advertisement. What ! don't you know that he has advertised again ?" " No." "Oh, yes. I read it just before dinner in the old newspaper. I know it to be his ; having some rtason to remember the style. Hush ! Here's Pincl). Strange, is it not, that the more he likes Pecksniff (if he can like him better than he does) the greater reason one has to like him? Not a word more, or we shall spoil his whole enjoy- ment." Tom entered as t!ie words were spoken, with a rndiiint smile upon his face; and rubbing his hands, more from a sense of delight than because he was cold (for he had been running fast,) sat down in his warm corner again, and was as happy as — as only Tom Pinch could be. There is no other simile that will express his state of mind. "And so," he said, when he had gazed at his friend for some time in silent pleasure, " so you really are a gentleman at last, John. Well, to be Bure !" " Trying to be, Tom ; trying to be," he rejoin- ed good-humouredly. "There is no saying what I may turn out, in time." " I suppose you wouldn't carry your own box to the mail, now," said Tom Pinch, smiling : " al- though you lost it altogether by not taking it." "Wouldn't I?" retorted John. "That's all you know about it, Pinch. It must be a very heavy box that I wouldn't carry to get away from Pecksniff's, Tom." "There!" cried Pinch, turning to Martin, "I tJd you so. The great fault in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff. You musn't mind a H'ord he says on that subject. His prejudice is inost extraordinary." "The absence of anything like prejudice on Tom's part, you know," said John Westlock, laughing heartily, as he laid his hand on Mr. Pinch's shoulder, "is perfectly wonderful. If one man ever had a profound knowledge of another, and saw him in a true light, and in his own pro- per colours, Tom has that knowledge of Mr. Peck- eniff." " Why, of course I have," cried Tom. "That's exaetl}' what I have so often said to you. If you knew him as well as I do — John, I 'd give almost any money to bring that about — you'd admire, respect, and reverence him. You couldn't help it. Oil, how you wounded his feelings when you went awiiy !" " in had known whereabout his feelings lay," retorted young Westlock, "I'd have done my best, Tom, with that end in view, you may depend upon it. But as I couldn't wound him in what he has not, and in what he knows nothing of, except in his ability to probe them to the quick in other people, I am afraid I can lay no claim to your compliment." Mr. Pinch, being unwilling to protract a dis- cufision which might possibly corrupt Martin, forbore to say anything in replv to this speech; hut John Westlock, whom nothing short of an iron gag would have silenced when Mr. Peck- sniff's merits were once in question, continued notwithstanding. " His feelings ! Oh, he 's a tender-hearted man. fft« leelings I Oh, he's a ccnsiderate, conscien- tious, self-examining, moral vagabond, he is! Hi$ feelings ! Oh ! what 's the matter, Tom !" Mr. Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug, buttoning his coat with great < : - rj;y. " I can't bear it," said Tom, shaking his liead. "No. I really cannot. You must excuse me, John. I have a great esteem and friendship for you; I love you very much ; and have been per- fectly charmed and overjoyed to-day, to tind you just the same as ever; but I cannot listen to this." "Why, it's my old way, Tom; and you say yourself that you are glad to find me unchanged." " Not in this respect," said Tom Pinch. " You must excuse me, John. I cannot, really; I «ill not. It 's very wrong ; you should be more guard- ed in your expressions. It was bad enough when you and I used to be alone together; but under existing circumstances, I can't endure it, really. No. I cannot, indeed !" "You are quite right I" exclaimed the other, exchanging looks with Martin; "and I am quite wrong, Tom. I don't know how the deuce we fell on this unlucky theme. I beg your pardon with all my heart." " You have a free and manly temper, I know," said Pinch ; " and therefore, your being so unge- nerous in this solitary instance, only grieves me the more. It's not my pardon you have to ask, John. You have done me nothing but kind- nesses." " Well ! Pecksniff's pardon, then," said younfr Westlock. " Anything, Tom, or anybody. Perk, sniff's pardon — will that do? Here, let us drink Pecksniff's health !" "Thank you," cried Tom, shaking hands wiiii him eagerly, and filling a bumper. " Thank you ; I 'II drink it with all my heart, John. Mr. Peck- sniff's health, and prosperity to him 1" John Westlock echoed the sentiment, or nearly so ; for he drank Mr. Pecksniff's health, and Something to him — but what, was not quite audi- ble. The general unanimity being then com- pletely restored, they drew their chairs closer round the fire, and conversed in perfect harmony and enjoyment until bed-tinic. No slight circumstance, perhaps, could have better illustrated the difference of character be- tween John Westlock and Martin Chuzzlewit, than the manner in which each of the young men contemplated Tom Pinch, after the little rupture just described. There was a certain amount of jocularity in the looks of both, no doubt, but there all resemblance ceased. The old pu[iil could not do enough to show Tom how cordially he felt to- ward him, and his friendly regard seemed of a graver and more thoughtful kind than before. The new one, on the other hand, had no impulse but to laugh at the recollection of Tom's e.\tre:iie absurdity ; and mingled with his anmsement there was something slighting and contemptuous, im'i- cntive, as it appeared, of his opinion that Mr Pinch was much too far gone in simplicity, tn be admitted as the friend on serious and equal terint of any r.itional man. John Westlock, who did nothing by halves, if he could help it, had provided beds for his two guests in the hotel; and after a very happy evei. ning, they retired. Mr. Pinch was sitting on the side of his bed with '.is cra^rat and shoes (j€ ru LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF minating on the manifold good qualities of his old friend, when he was interrupted by a knock at his chamber door, and the voice of John himself. *' You 're not asleep yet, are you, Tom ?" " Bless you, no 1 not I. I was thinking of you," /«plicd Tom, opening the door. " Come in." " I am not going to detain you," said John ; '*'but I have forgotten all the evening a little com- Jftission I look upon myself; and I am afraid I inay forget it again, if I. fail to discharge it at opce. You know a Mr. Tigg, Tom, I believe?" " Tigg I" cried Tom, " Tigg ! The gentleman who borrowed some money of me ?" " Exactly," said John VVestlock. " He begged nie to present his compliments, and to return it with many thanks. Here it is. I suppose it's a good one, but he is rather a doubtful kind of cus- tomer, Tom." Mr. Pincli received the little piece of gold with a face whose brightness might have shamed the metal; and said he had no fear about that. He was glad, he added, to find Mr. Tigg so prompt and honourable in his dealings; very glad. " Why, to toll you the truth, Tom," replied his friend, " he is not always so. If you '11 take my advice, you '11 avoid him as much as you can, in ihe event of your encountering him again. And by no means, Tom — pray bear this in mind, for I am very serious — by no means lend him money any more." " Ay, ay I" said Tom, with his eyes wide open. " He is very far from being a reputable ac- quaintance," returned young Westiock ; " and the more you let him know you think so, the better for you, Tom." " I say, John," quoth Mr. Pinch, as his coun- tenance fell, and he shook his head in a dejected manner, " I hope you 're not getting into bad com- pany." " No, no," he replied, laughing. " Don't be un- easy on that score," " Oh, but I am uneasy," said Tom Pinch; " I can't help it, when I hear you talking in that way. If Mr. Tiirg is what you describe him to be, you have no business to know him, John. You may langh, but 1 don't consid ,r it by any means a laughing matter, I assure you." " No, no," returned his friend, composing his features. "Quite right. It is not, certainly." "You kn6w, John," said Mr. Pinch, "your very good nature and kindness of heart make you thoughtless ; and you can't be too careful on such a point as this. Upon my word, if I thought you were falling among bad companions, I sliould be quite wretched, for I know how difficult you would find it to shake them off. I would much rather have lost this money, John, than I would have had it back again on such tfrms." " I tell you, my dear good old fellow," cried his friend, shnking him to and fro with both hands, and smiling at him with a cheerful, open counte- nance, that would have carried conviction to a •mud much more suspicious than Tom's; "I tell you there is no danger." "Well," cried Tom, "I am glad to hear it; I am overjoyed to hear it. I am sure there is not, when you say so in that maimer. You won't take rt ill, John, that I said what I did just now?" ■' 111 1" said the other, ofiving his hand a hearty squeeze ; " wliy what do you think 1 am made of? Mr. Tigg and I are not on such an intimate foot- ing that you need be at all uneasy ; I give you my solemn assurance of that, Tom. You are quite comfortable now?" "Quite," said Tom. " Then, once more, good night." " Good night I" cried Tom ; " and such pleasant dreams to you, as should attend the sleep of tha best fellow in the world I" " Except Pecksniff," said his friend, stopping at the door for a moment, and looking gayly back. " Except Pecksniff," answered Tom, with great gravity ; " of course." And thus they parted for the night ; John West- lock full of light-heartedness and good humour; and poor Tom Pinch quite satisfied, though still, as he turned over on his side in bed, he muttered to himself, " I really do wish, for all that, though, that he wasn't acquainted with Mr. Tigg I" They breakfasted together very early next morn, ing, for the two young men desired to get back again in good season; and John Westiock was to return to London by the coach that day. As he had some hours to spare, he bore them company for three cr four miles on their walk ; and only parted from them at last in sheer necessity. The parting was an unusually hearty one, not only aa between him and Tom Pinch, but on the side of Martin also, who had found in the old pupil a very uifferent sort of person from the milksop he had prepared himself to expect. Yonng Westiock stopped upon a rising ground, when he had gone a little distance, and looked back. They were walking at a brisk pace, and Tom appeared to be talking earnestly. Martin had taken off his great-coat, the wind being now behind them, and carried it upon his arm. As he looked, he saw Tom relieve him of it, after a faint resistance, and, throwing it upon his own, encum. her himself with the weight of both. This trivial incident impressed the old pupil mightily, for he stood there, gazing after them, until they were hidden from his view; when he shook his head, aa if he were troubled by some uneasy reflection, and thoughtfully retraced his steps to Salisbury. In the mean time, Martm and Tom pursued their war, until they halted, safe and sound, at Mr. Pecksniff's house, where a brief epistle from that good gentleman to Mr. Pinch, announced the fa- mily's return by that night's coach. As it would pass the corner of the lane at about six o'clock in the morning, Mr. Pecksniff requested that the gig might be in waiting at the finger-pf>st about that time, together willi a cart for the luggage. And to the end that he might be received with the greater honour, the young men agreed to rise early, and bo upon the spot themselves. It vvas the least cheerful day they had yet pass- ed together. Martin was out of spirits and out of humour, and took every opportunity of conrw paring his condition and prospects with those of young Westiock; much to his own disadvantage always. This miiod of his depressed Tom ; and neither the moriiinsr's parting, nor yesterday's din- ner, helped to mend the matter. So the hours dragged on heavily enough; and they were glad to go to bed early. They were not quite so glad to gel up ngam at half.pasf four o'clock, in all the shivering disrom fort of a dark winter's morning ; but they luruocl MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. out punf'tually, .ind were at the fin£fer-post full I)u!l-iin-hour before the appoiiittd time. It was not by any means a lively nuirning-, for the sky vv:is black and cloudy, and it rained hard ; but Martin said there was some satisfaction in seeing that brute of a horse (by this, he meant Mr. Peck- (.nifT's Arab steed) getting very wet ; and that he :ejoic*xi, on his account, that it rained so fast. Fi: ■;■ ihis it may be inferred, that Martin's spirits had not improved, as indeed they had not; for while he and Mr. Pinch stood waiting un a hedge, looking at the rain, the gig, the cart, and its reek- ing driver, he did nothing but grumble; and, but tliat it is indispensable to any dispute that there should be two parties to it, he would certainly liave picked a quarrel with Tom. At length the noise of wheels was faintly audi- ble in the distance, and presently the coach came splashing through the mud and mire, with one miserable outside passenger crouching down among wet straw, under a saturated umbrella ; and the coachman, guard, and horses in a fellow- ship of dripping wretchedness. Immediately on its stoppiTig, Mr. Pecksniff let down the window- glass and hailed Tom Pinch. " Dear me, Mr. Pinch ! is it possible that you are out upon this very inclement morning?" "Yes, sir," cried Tom, advancing eagerly, " Mr. Chuzzlewit and I, sir " " Oh !" said Mr. Pecksniff, looking.not so much at Martin as at the spot on which he stood. " Oh ! Indeed I Do me the favour to see to the trunks, if you please, Mr. Pinch." Then Mr. Pecksniff descended, and helped his daughters to alight; hut neither he nor the young ladies took the slightest notice of Martin, who had advaaced to offer his assistance, but was repulsed by Mr. Pecksniff's standing immediately before his person, with his back toward him. In the same manner, and in profound silence, Mr. Peck- sniff h.'.iuled his daughters into the gig; and fol- lowing himself and taking the reins, drove off home. Lost in astonishment, Martin stood staring at the conch ; and when the coach had driven away, at Mr. Pinch and the luggage ; until the cart mov- ed off too ; when he said to Tom : " Now, vou will have the goodness to tell me what ^/(!S portends?" "What'" a.sked Tom. "This fdlovv's behaviour — Mr. Pecksniff's I mean. You saw it?" " No. Indeed I did not," cried Tom, " I was busy with the trunks." " It is no matter," said Martin. "Come I Let us make haste back." And without another word he sliirlcd off at such a pace, that Tom had some difiiculty in keeping up with him. He had no care where he went, but walked througli little heaps of mud and little pools of wa- ter with tlie utmost indifference ; looking straigiit before liiiii, and sometimes laughing in a strange manner within himself. Tom felt that anything he could say would only render him the more obstin itp, and therefore trusted to Mr. Pecksniff's manner when they reached the house, to remove the mistaken impression under which he felt con- vinced so great a favourite as the new pupil must unquestionably be labouring. But he was not a little amazed himself, when they ('id roach it, and entered the parlour where Mr. Picksnitf was aiU ting alone before tlie fire, drinking some hot tea, t" find, that instead of taking lavonrahle notice of his relative, and keeping him, Mr. Pinch, in tbe back. ground, he did exactly the reverse, and was so lavish in his attentions that Tom was tho- roughly confounded. " Take some tea, Mr. Pinch — take some tea,** said Pecksniff, stirring the fire. " You must be very cold and damp. ■ Pray lake some lea, and come into a warm place, Mr. Pinch." Tom saw that Martin looked at Mr. Pecksniff as though he could have easily found it in his heart to give him an invitation to a very warm place; but he was quite silent, and standing ot». posite that gentleman at the table, regarded hi:n attentively. "Take a chair, Pinch," said Pecksniff. "Take a chair, if you please. How liave things gone ia our absence, Mr. Pinch ?" " You — you will be very much pleased with the grammar-school, sir," said Tom. " It 's nearly finished." "If you will have the goodness, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff, waving his hand and smiling, "we will not discuss anything connected with that question at present. What have you been doing, Thomas, humph ."' Mr. Pinch looked from master to pupil, and from pupil to master, and was so perplexed and dismayed, that he wanted presence of mind to answer the question. In this awkward interval, Mr. Pecksniff (who was perfectly conscious of Martin's gaze, though he had never once glanced toward him) poked the fire very much, and when he couldn't do that any more, drank tea, assidu. ously. "Now, Mr. Pecksniff," said Martin at last, ia a very quiet voice, "if you have sufficiently re- freshed and recovered yourself, I shall be glad to hear what you mean by this treatment of me." " And what," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning his eyes on Tom Pinch, even more plcidly and gen- tly than before, " what have you been doing, Tho- mas, humph ?" When he had repeated this inquiry, he looked round the walls of the room as if he were curi- ous to see whether any nails had been left there by accident in former times. Tom was almost at his wits' end what to say between the two, and had already made a gesture as if he would call Mr. Pecksniff's attention to the gentleman who had last addressed him, when Martin saved him further trouble, by doing so himself " Mr. Pecksniff," he said, softly rapping the table twice or thrice, and moving a step or two nearer, so that he could have touched him with his hand ; "you heard what I said just now. Do me the favour to reply, if you please. I ask you" — he raised his voice a little here — "what you mean by this ?" "I will talk to you sir," said Mr. Pecksniff in a severe voice, as he looked at him for tlie first time, " presently." " You are very obligins^," returned Martin; " presentlj' will not do. I must trouble you to talk to me at once." 88 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF Mr. Pecksniff made a fl'int of beius; deeply infcrested in his pocketbooii, but it shook in liis bands; he trembled so. "Now," retorted Martin, rappingf the tahh^ again. "Now, Presently will not do. Now!" " Do you threaten ine, sir ?" cried Mr. Peck- sniff. Martin looked at him, and made no answer; but a curious observer mig-ht have detected an ominous twitching ;it his mouth, and perhaps an involuntiiry attraction of his right hand in the tiifection of Mr. Pecksniff's cravat. " I lament to be obliged to say, sir," resumed Mr. Pecksniff, "that it would be quite in keeping with your character if you did threaten me. You have deceived me. You have imposed upon a nature which you knew to be confiding and un- suspicious. You have obtained admission, sir," suid Mr. Pecksniff rising, "to tiiis house, on per- verted statements, and on false pretences." "Go on," said Martin with a scornful smile. " I understand )'ou now. What more?" "Thus much more, sir," cried Mr. Pecksniff, trembling from head to foot, and trying to rub his liands, as tiiough he were only cold. "Thus much more, if you force me to publish your fliume before a third party, which I was unwill- {»g and indisposed to do. This lowly roof, sir, iiiust not be contaminated by the presence of one, who has deceived, and cruelly deceived, an honour- able and beloved, a venerated and venerable gen- tleman ; and who wisely suppressed that deceit from me when he sought my protection and favour, knowing that, humble as I am, I am an honest man, seeking to do my duty in this carnal universe, and setting my face against all vice and treachery. I weep for your depravity, sir," said Wr. Pecksniff, " I mourn over your corruption, I pity your voluntary withdrawal of yourself from Lie flowery paths of purity and peace ;" here he struck liimself upon his breast, or moral garden ; * but I cannot have a leper and a serpent for an inmate. (Jo forth," said Mr. Pecksniff, stretch- ing out his hand : " go forth, young man I Like ail who know you, I renounce you 1" With what intention Martin made a stride for- ward at these words, it is impossihle to say. It im enough to know that Tom Pinch caught him HI his arms, and that at the same moment Mr. Pecksniff stepped back so hastily, that he missed his footing, tumbled over a chair, and fell in a sitting posture on the ground; where he remain- fcd wiliiout an etlort to get up again, with his Lead in a corner ; perhaps considering it the Batcst ])lace. " Let me go, Pinch !" cried Martin, shaking him away. " Why do you hold me! Do you think a blow could make him a more abject crea- ture than he is? Do you think that if I spat aj«>n liim, 1 could degrade him to u lower level ti in his own 7 Look at him. Look at him, Pincli." Mr. Pinch involuntarily did so. Mr. Pecksniff sitting, as has been already mentioned, on the carpet, with his head in an acute angle of the wainscot, and all the damage and detriment of an uncomfortable journey about him, was not cxacu ly a model of all that is prepossessing and digni- fied in man, certainly. Still he was Picksmff; it was impossible to deprive him of that uni(|uo and paramount appeal to Tom. And he returned Tom's glance, as if he would have said, '• Ay Mr. Pinch, look at me I Here I am ! You know what the poet says about an honest man ; and an honest man is one of the few great works that can be seen for nothing ! Look at Me 1" "I tell you," said Martin, "that as he lies there, disgraced, bought, used ; a cloth for dirty hands; a mat for dirty feet; a lying, fawning, servile hound ; he is the very last and worst among the vermin of the world. And mark ine^ Pinch. The day will come — he knows it: see it written on his face, the while I speak — when even you will find him out, and will know him as I do, and as he knows I do ! He renounce me .' Cast your eyes on the Renouncer, Pincli, and be the wiser for the recollection !" He pointed at him as he spoke, with unutter- able contempt, and flinging his hat upon his head, walked from the room and from the house. He went so rapidly that he was already clear of the village, when he heard Tom Pinch calling breath- lessly after him in the distance. " Well ! what now ?" he said, when Tom came up. " Dear, dear !" cried Tom, " are you going ?" " Going !" he echoed. " Going 1" " I didn't so much mean that, as were you going now at once — in this bad weather — on foot — witli- out your clothes — with no money ?" cried Tom. " Yes," he answered sternly, " I am." "And where?" cried Tom. "Oh where will you go?" " I don't know," he said. "Yes I do. Pll go to America I" " No, no," cried Tom, in a kind of agony. — " Don't go there. Pray don't ! Think belter of it. Don't be so dreadfully regardless of yourself. Don't go to America !" "My mind is made up," he said. "Your friend was right. I'll go to America. God bless you, Pinch !" " Take this !" cried Tom, pressing a book upon him in great agitation. " I must make hast(" bach, and can't say anything I would. Heaven he with you. Look at the leaf I have turned down. Good bye, griod bye I" The simple fellow wrung him by the land with tears stealing down his eheelis ; and they partii hurriedly upon their separate ways. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. A9 CHAPTER XIII. BROWING WHAT BECAME OF MARTIN AND HIS DESPERATE RESOLVE, AF. TER HE LEFT MR. PECKSNIFF'S HOUSE; WHAT PERSONS HE ENCOUN- TERED; WHAT ANXIETIES HE SUFFERED; AND WHAT NEWS HE HEARD. Carrying Tom Pinch's book quite unconscious- ly under his arm, and not even buttoning' his coat a« a protection against the heavy rain, Martin went rifigiri'dly forwrrd at the same quick pace, Until lie had passed the finger-post, and was on the high road to London. He slackened very lit- tJe in his speed even then, but he began to think, and look about him, and to disengage his senses from the coil of angry passions which hitherto had held them prisoner. It must be confessed that, at that moment, he had no very agreeable employment either for his moral or his physical perceptions. Th.e day was d.iwning from a patch of watery liglit in the east, and sullen clouds came driving up before it, from which the rain descended in a thick, wet mist. It streamed from every twig and bramble in the hedge ; made little gullies in the path ; ran down a hundred channels in the road ; and punched innumerable holes into the face of every pond and gutter. It fell with an oozy, slushy sound aihong the grass; and made a muddy kennel of eirery furrow in the ploughed fields. No living creature was anywhere to be seen. The prospect Could hardly have been more desolate if animati.'d nature had been dissolved in water, and poured down upon the earth again in that form. The range of view within the solitary traveller was (]uite as cheerless as the scene witiiout. Friendless and penniless; incensed to the last de- gree ; deeply wounded in his pride and self-love ; full of independent schemes; and perfectly desti. tdte of ciny means of realizing them, his most vindictive enemy might have been satisfied with tlie extent of his troubles. To add to his other miseries, he w.is by this time sensible of being wet to the skin, and cold at his very heart. In this deplorable condition, he remembered Mr Pinch's book; more because it was rather troublesome to carry, than from any hope of being comforted by that parting gift. He looked at the dingy lettering on the back, and finding it to be nn odd volume of the " Bachelor of Salamanca," ill the Frriich tongue, cursed Tom Pinch's folly t venty times. He was on the point of throwing i' away, in his ill-hutnour and vexation, when he l.nhoiight himself that Tom had referred him to n leat^ turn 'd down; and opening it at that place, t at he might have additional cause of complaint ojf.iin-;t him for supposing that any cold scrap of the Bach' lor's wisdom could cheer him in such circi:nwtanci^s, fiuiid — Well, well! not much, but Tom's nil. The ^:di' sovi reign. He had wrapped it hastily in a piece of [)aper, nnd pinned it to the lenf. These woids were scrawled in pencil on the inside: " I d/.n't want it ; indeed, I should not know what to do wifii it, if I had it." TiK're are sonie falsehoods, Tom, on vvhiHi men nioiint, ai an 1 right wines, towards heaven. Tiierc ari' .some ti .Ui)s,coId, bitter, taunting truths, 12 wherein your worldly scholars are very apt and punctual, which bind men down to earth witu leaden chains. Who would not rather have to fan him, in his dying hour, tlie lightest feather of a falsehood such as thine, than all the quills that have been plucked from the sharp, porcupine, re- proachful truth, since time began ! Martin felt keenly for himself, and he felt this good deed of Tom's keenly. After a few minntc8 it had the effect of raising his spirits, and remind- ing him that he was not altogether destitute, as he had left a fair stock of cloth(;s behind him, and wore a gold huntitig-watch in his pocket. He found a curiotis gratification, too, in thinking what a winning fellow he must be to have made such an impression upon Tom; and in reflecting how superior he was to Tom ; and how much more likely to make his way in the world. Ani- mated by these thoughts, and strengthened in his design of endeavouring to push his fortune in anotlier country, he resolved to get to London as a rallying-point, in the best way he could; and to lose no time about iL He was ten good miles from the village made illustrious by being the abiding-plar e of Mr. Peck- sniff, when he stopped to breakfiist at a little road- side alehouse; and resting upon a higli-backed settle before the fire, pulled off his coat, and hunjj it before the cheerful blaze, to dry. It was a very different place from the last tavern in which he had regaled : boasting no greater extent of acconv modation than the brick-floored kitchen yielded : but the mind so soon accommodates itself to the necessities of the body, that this poor wagoner's house-of-caii, which he would have despised ye». terday, became now quite a choice hotel; while his dish of eggs and bacon, and his mug of beer, were not by any means the coarije fire he had sup- posed, but fully bore out the inscription on the window. shutter, which proclaimed those viands to be " Good entertainment for Travellers." He pushed away his empty plate ; and with a second mug upon the hearth before him, looked thoughtfully at the fire until his eyes ached. Then he looked at the highly-coloured scripture piec» s on the walls, in little black frames like common shar- ing glasses, and saw how the Wise Men (with a strong family likeness among them) worshipped in a pink manger; and how the Prf)digal Son came home in red rags to a purple father, and alri'Td3 feasted his imagination on a sea-green falf. 'I'htn he glanced through the window at the falling rain, coming down aslant upon the signpost over againsj the house, and overflowing the horse-trough ; and then he looked at the fire again, and seemed to descry a doubly-distant I^ondon, retreatmg among the fragments of the burning wood. He had repeated this process in just the same order, many times, as if it were a matter of tie cessity, when the sound of wheels called his at tcntion to the window, out of its regular tiim 90 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF and there he beheld a kind of light van drawn by four horses, and laden, as well as he could see (for It was covered in), with corn and straw. The driver, who was alone, stopped at the door to wa- ter his team, and presently came stamping and shi.kiiif,' the wet off his hat and coat, into the room where Martin sat. He was a red-faced burly young fellow; smart in his way, and with a good-humoured counte- nance. As lie advanced towards the fire, he touch- ed his siiining forehead with the forefinger of his stitl' leather ^love, by way of salutation ; and said (r.itlicr unnecessarily) that it was an uncommon wet day. " Very wet," said Martin. " I don't know as ever I see a wetter." " I never felt one," said Martin. The driver frlanced at Martin's soiled dress, and nis dump shirt-sleeves, and his coat hung up to dry ; and said, after a pause, as he warmed his bands : "You have been caught in it, sir?" " Yes," was the short reply. " Out riding, may be?" said the driver. "I should have been if I owned a horse; but I don't," returned Martin. "That's bad," said the driver. " And may be worse," said Martin. Now, the driver said " That's bad," not so much because Martin didn't own a horse, as because he eaid he didn't with all the reckless desperation of his mood and circumstances, and so left a great deal to be inferred. Martin put his hands In his pockets and whistled, when he had retorted on the driver : thus giving him to understand that he didn't care a pin for Fortune; thai he was above pretending to be her favourite when [ic-. ■ifas not ; and that he snaj)ped his fingers at der, ilie driver, and everybody else. The driver looked at him stealthily for a min- ute or so; and in the pauses of his warming, v-istlcd too. At length he asked, as he pointed his tliumb towards the road, " Up or down ?" " Which is up ?" said Martin. "London, of course," said the driver. " Up then," said Martin. He tossed his head in a careless manner afterwards, as if he would have added, "Now you know all about it;" put his hands deeper into his pockets; changed his tune, and whistled a little louder. " /'m going np," observed the driver ; " Houns- low, ten miles this side London." "Are you?" cried Martin, stopping short and looking at liim. The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed again, and answered, ' Ay ; to be ■ure he was.' " Why, then," said Martin, " I '11 be plain with you. You may suppose from my dress that I have money to spare. I have not. All I can af- 'oid for coacli-hire is a crown, for I have but two. If you can take me for that, and my waistcoat, or this silk iiandkcr?hief, do. If you can't, leave it aione. ' "Short and sweet," remarked the driver. "You want more?" said Martin. "Then I haven't got more, and I can't get it, so there's an end of that." Whereupon he begun to whistle •gain. " I didn't say I wanted more, did I ?" aske# the driver, with something like indignation. "You didn't say my offer was enough," tg- joined Martin. " Why how could I, when you wouldn't let nit"? In regard to the waistcoat, I wouldn't have a man's waistcoat, much less a gentleman's waist- coat, on my mind, for no consideration ; but the silk handkerchief's another thing ; and if you was satisfied when we got to Ilounslow, 1 shouldn't object to that as a gift." " Is it a bargain, then ?" said Martin. " Yes, it is," returned the other. "Then finish this beer," said Martin, hand- ing him the mug, and pulling on his coat with great alacrity ; " and let us be off as soon as you like." In two minutes more he had paid his bill, which amounted to a shilling; was lying at full length on a truss of straw, high and dry at the top of the van, with the tilt a little open in front for the convenience of talking to his new friend ; and was moving along in the right direction with a most satisfactory and encouraging briskness. The driver's name, as he soon informed Mar- tin, was William Simmons, better known as Bill; and his spruce appearance was sufficiently ex- plained by his connexion with a large stage-coach- mg establishment at Ilounslow, whilher he was cor veying his lf)ad from a farm belonging to the concern in Wiltshire. He was frequently up and down the road on such errands, he said, and to look after the sick and rest horses, of which ani- mals he had much to relate that occupied a long time in the telling. He aspired to the dignity of the regular box, and expected an appointment on the first vacancy. He was musical besides, and had a little key-bugle in his pocket, on which, whenever the conversation flagged, he played tli© first part of a great many tunes, and regularly broke down in the second. "Ah I" said Dill, with a sigh, as he drew the back of his hand across bis lips, and put this in- strument in his pocket, after screwing otT the mouthpiece to drain it; "Lummy Ned of the Light Salisbury, he was the one for musical taU ents. He iras a guard. What you may call a Guardian Angel, was Ned." " Is he dead ?" asked Martin, " Dead I" replied the other, with a contemptu- ous emphasis. " Not he. You won't catch Ned a dying easy. No, no. He knows better than that." "You spoke of liim in the past tense," ob- served Martin, " so I supposed he was no more." "He's no more in Enujland," said Bill, "if that's what you mean. He went to the U-nited States." " Did he ?" asked Martin, with sudden interest " When ?" " F'ive year ago, or thenabout," said Bill. " He had set up in the public line here, and couldn't meet his engagements, so he cut off to Liver- pool one day without saying anything abont it, and went and shipped himself for the U-nitcd States." " Well ?" said Martin. " Well I as he landed there without a jirnny to bless himself with, of rnnrse they was very glad to see him in tlie C-nited States." MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 91 "What do you mean?" asked Martin, with 4o>nc scorn. •'What do I mean?" said Dill. "Why, thot. AH men are alike in the U-nited States, an't they? It makes tie odds whether a man has a thousand piniiids, or nothin^jf, there — [mrticular 'a New York, I 'in told, where Ned landed." " New York, was it !" asked iVIartin, thought- fully. " Yes," s.iid Bill. " New York. I know that, because he sent word home that it brought Old Yurk to his mind quite wivid in consequenee of beiiiij so exactly unlike it in every respect. 1 dun't understand wot particular business Ned turned liis mind to, when he got there; but he wrote home that him and his iViends was always a singing Ale Columbia, and blowing up the Pre- eident, so I suppose it was something in the public line, or free-and-easy way, again. Any how, he made his fortune." "No!" cried Martin. " Yes he did," said Bill. " I know that, be- cause he lost it all the day after, in six-and-twenty banks as broke. He settled a lot of the notes on his (dther, when it was ascertained that they was really stopped, and sent 'em over with a dutiful letter. 1 know that, because they was shown down our yard for the old geniiernar.'s benefit, that lie might treat himself with tobacco in the work us." " He was a foolish fellow not to take care of his money when he had it," said Martin, indig- nantly. ' There vou 're ri^ht," said Bill, " especially as It was all in paper, and he might have took care of it so very easy, by folding it up in a small parcel." M^irtiii said nothing in reply, but soon after- ward fell asleep, and remained so for an hour or more. When he awoke, finding it had ceased to rain, he took his seat beside the driver, and asked him several questions, as how long had the for- tunate guard of the liight Salisbury been in cross- ing the Atlantic; at what time of the year had he sailed ; what was the name of the ship in which he made the voyage; how much had he paid for passage-money; did he sulTer greatly from sea- sickness ? and so forth. But on these points of det.iil, liis friend was possessed of little or no in- formation ; either answering obviously at random, or acknowledging that lie had never heard, or had forgotten ; nor, although he returned to the charge very often, could he obt lin any useful intelligence on these essential particulars. They jogged on all day, and slopped so often — now to refresh, now to change their team of horses, now to exchange or bring away a set of harness, now on one point of business, and now upon an- other, connected with the coaching on that line of roari — that it was midnig-ht when they reached Hounslow. A little short of the stables for which t.'ie vail was houiid, Mirtin got down, paid his crown, .ind forced iiis silk handkerchief upon his honest friend, notwithstinding the many protesta- tions that he didn't wish to deprive him of it, with which he tried to give the lie to his longing looks. That done, they parted company; and when the van had driven into its own yard, and the gates were closed, Martin stood in the dark street, with R pretty strong sense of being shut out, alone, ■pun the dreary world, without tiie key of it. But in this moment of despondency, and often afterward, the recollection of Mr. Peciisnitf ope- rated as a cordial to him, awakening in his breast an indignation ih.it was very wholesome in nerving hull to ohsliiiD'e endurance. Under the influence of this fiery dtain he started off for London with- out more ado; and, arriving there in the midille of the night, and not knowing where to find a tavern open, was fain to stroll about the streets and market-pl.ices until morning. He found himself, about an liour before dawn, in the humble regions of the Adelphi ; and ad- dressing himself to a man in a fur cap, who was taking down the shutters of an obscure public house, infornied him that he was a stranger, and inquired it' he could have a bed there. It happen, ed, by good luck, that he could. Though none of the gaudiest, it was tolerably clean, and Martin felt very glad and grateful when lie crept into it, for warmth, rest, and fbrgetf'ulness. It was quite late in the afternoon when he awoke ; and by the time he had washed, and dressed, and broken his fast, it was growing dusk again. This was all the better, for it was a matter of absolute necessity that he should part with his watch to some obliging pawn-broker ; and he would have waited until after dark lor this pur- pose, though it had been the longest day in the year, and lie had begun it without a breakfast. He passed more Golden Balls than all the jug- glers in Europe have juggled with, in the course of their united performances, before he could de- termine in favour of any particular shop where those symbols were displayed. In the end, he came back to one of the first he had seen, and entering by a side-door in a court, where the three balls, with the legend " Money Lent," were repeated in a ghastly transparency, passed into one of a series of little closets, or private boxe.s, erected for the accommodation of the more bash- ful and uninitiated customers. He bolted himself in ; pulled out his watch ; and laid it on the coun- ter. " Upon my life and soul !" said a low voice in the next box to the shopman who was in treaty with him, "you must make it more: you must make it a trifle more, you must indeed ! Yc).i must dispense with one half-quarter of an ounce in weighing out your pound of flesh, my best of friends, and make it two-and-six." Murtin drew back involuntarily, for he knew the voice at once, " You 're always full of your chaff," said the shopman, rolling up the article (which looked like a shirt) quite as a matter of course, and nib- bing his p(Ui upon the counter, " I shall never be full of my wheat," st.id Mr Tigg, " as long as I come here. Ha, ha I Not bad I Make it two-and-six, my dear friend, posi- tively for this occasion only, Halt'-a-crown is a delightful coin — Two-and-six! Going at two-and six ! For the last time, at two-and-six I" " It 'II never be the last time till it 's quite worn out," rejoined the shopman, " Its grown yellow in the service, as it is." " Its master has grown yellow in the service if you mean that, my friend," said Mr. Tigg; "iu the patriotic servce of an ungrateful country You are making it two-and-six, I think?" "1 'm making it " returned the shopman, " wliA* w LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF It always has been — two shillings. Same name as I DiHU.il, 1 suppose ?" "Still ti.e same name," said Mr. Ti^g; "my cl.:iiii to the dormant peerage not being yet esla- olislicd by the House of Lords." " The old address?" " Not at all," said Mr. Tigg ; " I have removed n\v town establishment from thirty-eight, May- fair, to number fifteen -hundred -and -forty -two, FaiU-lanc." " C'oiiie, I 'm not going to put down that, you know," said the shopman, with a grin. " You may put down what you please, my friciici," quoth Mr. Tigg. "The fact is still the (tame. The apartments for the under-butler and the fifth footman being of a most confounded low and vulgar kind at thirty-eight, Mayfair, I have been compelled, in my regard for the feelings which do them so much honour, to take on lease, fiviri,'-bearded, and patriarchal proverb, which observes that it is the duty of a man to Ix- just before he is generous. Be just now, and you can be generous presently. Do not cntn.'^e me with the man Slyme. Do not distinguish the man Slyme as a friend of mine, for he is no such tiling. I have been coiiip(;lled, sir, to ab^mdon the party whom you call Slyme. I have no knowledge of the party whom 3'ou call Slyme. "I am, sir," said Mr. Tigtf, striking liimself upon the breast, "a premium tulip, of a very different ;tiiig his hair with great composure, "will you go one way or other !" " You will allow me to remind you, sir," said Mr. Twigg, with sudden disrnitv, " tluit you — not I — that you — I say empliaticallv, yni/ — have re- duced the proceedings ol" this evening to a rold and distant matter of busim-ss, when I was (li.-<- posed to place them on a friendly (iiOting. It be- ing made a matter of business, sir, I he;.; to s:iv that I expect a trifie (whieli I shall bestow in C^harity) as commission upon the ppcuniHry ail- vance, in which I have rendered yon my Immhle services. AHer the terms in wliieli ynu liavi' ad- dressed me, sir," concluded Mr. 'I'igi:, "you will not insult me, if you please, by offering more than half a crown." Martin drew that piece of money from his pocket, and tossed it towards him. Mr. Tigg caught it, looked at it to assure himself of ill MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 93 gorwlness, spun it in the air after the manner of a piernun, and buttoned it up. Finally, he raised his hut an inch or two from hia head, with a military air, and, after pausing' a moment with dtep (rr.ivity, as to decide m which direction he nhiiuld g-n, and to what Earl or Marquis amon^ iiis friends he should g'ive the preference in his next call, stuck his hands in his skirt-pockets and swaggered round the corner. Martin took the directly opposite course ; and so, to his great con- tent, liiey part; d company. It was with a hitter sense of humiliation that he cursed, a<,rain and again, the mischance of having encountered this man in the pawnbro- ker's shop. Tlie only comfort he had in the re- collection was Mr. Tigg's voluntary avowal of a separation between himself and Slyine, that would at least prevent his circumstances (so Martin ar- gued) from being known to any member of his family, the bare possibility of which filled him with shame and wounded pride. Abstractedly, there was greater reason, perhaps, for sujiposing any declaration of Mr. Tigg's to be filse, than for attaching the least credence to it; but remem- bering the terms on which the intimacy between that gentleman and his bosom friend had sub- sisted, and tiie strong prob;ibility of Mr. Tigsj's having established an independent business of his own on Mr. Slyme's connexion, it had a reason- able appe^irance of probability : at all events, Martin hoped so ; and that went a long way. His first step, now that he had a supply of ready money for his present necessities, was to retain his bed at the public-house until farther notice, and to write a formal note to Tom Pinch {for he knew Pecksniff would see it), requesting to have liis clothes forwarded to IjOndon by coach, with a direction to be left at tlie ofrice until called fcr. These measures taken, he passed the interval before the box arrived — tliree days — in making inquiries relative to American vessels, at the offices of various shipping-agents in the city ; and in lingering about the docks and wharves, with the faint hope of stumbling upon some engage- ment for the voyage, as clerk or supercargo, or custodian of something or somebody, which would enable him to procure a free passage. But finding 80on that no such means of employment were likely to present themselves, and dreading the consequences of delay, he drew up a short ad- vertisement, stating what he wanted, and inserted it in the leading newspapers. Pending the receipt of the twenty or thirty answers which he vaguely expected, he reduced his wardrobe to the n^ir- rowest limits consistent with decent respectability, and carrif;d the overplus at different times to the pawnbroker's shop, for conversion into money. And it was strange, very strange, even to him- self, to find how, by quick though almost imper- ceptible degrees, lie lost his delicacy and self- respect, and gradually came to do that as a matter of course, without the least compunction, which but a few short days before had galled him to the quick. The first time he visited the pawnbroker's, he felt on his way there as if every person whom he passed suspected whither he was going ; and on his way back again, as if the whole human tide he stemmed knew well where he had come from. When did he care to think of their dis- oemment now ! In his firbt wanderings up and 1 down the wearj streets, he coimterfci'ed the w.ilk of one who h..d an object in view: but simii there Came upon him the sauntering, slii)-slKjd gait of listless idleness, and the lounging at slrei l-i'ornors, and plackmg and biting at stray bits .> .Iraw, and strolling up and down the same place, and looking into the same shop-windows, with a miserable inditference, fifty times a day. At first, he came out from his lodging with an uneasy sense of being observed — even by those chano3 passers-bv, on whom he had never looked before, and hundreds to one would never see again — is- suing in the morning from a public-li.mse; but now, in his comings-out and goings-in he did not mind the lounge about the door, or to stmd surv ning himself in careless thought beside the wooden stem, studded from head to heel with \j'yfi'', on which the beer-pots dangled like so m.jny boutjhs upon a pewter tree. And yet it took liut five weeks to reach the lowest round of this tall l.iddcr ! Oh, moralists, who treat of happiness ind s.-lf. respect, innate in every sphere of life, and shed, ding light on every gfrain of dust in God's high- way, so smooth below your carriage-wlicel<, so rough beneath the tread of naked feet, — bethink yourselves in looking on the swift descent of men who have lived in their own esteem, that there are scores of thousands breathing now, and bre;ith- ing thick with p linful toil, who in that high re. spect have never lived at all, or h.id a chance of life ! Go ye, who rest so placidly upon t!ie sacred Bard who had been young, and when he strung his harp was old, and had never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging their bread; go, Teachers of content and honest pride, into ti)e mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid drplhs of deepest ignorance, and uttermost abyss of man's neglect, and say can any hopeful plant spring up in air so foul that it extinguishes the soiii's bright torch as fast as it is kindled ! And, oh ! ye Pha. risees of the nineteen hundredth year of t^hristiin Knowledge, who soundingly appeal to human nature, see that it be human first. Take heed it has not been transformed, during your slumber and the sleep of generations, into the nature of the Beasts! Five weeks! Of all the twenty or thirty an- swers, not one had come. His nioney — even tire additional stock he had raised from the disposal of his spare clothes (and that was not nineh, for clothes, though dear to bnv,ar6 cheap to pawn) — was fast diminishinir. Yet what could he do ? At times an atrony came over him in which Iw darted forth again, though he Wcis but newly home, and, returning to some piace wlieie he h id been already twenty times, made soin.^ new at- tempt to gain his end, but always u i uicoi ssfully He was years and years too old tor a cibin-boy and years upon years too inexperienced to be an- cepted as a common seamm. His dress and manner, too, militated fatally agiinst a\iy such proposal as the latter; and yet he was red'ieed to making it; for even if he could have contdnplated the being set down in America, totally w iihout money, he had not enough left now for a steerage passage and the poorest provisions upon the voyage. It is an illustration of a very common tendency in the mind of man, that all this time he nevei once doubted, one may ahnust oiy tlic certaint" 91 LIFE AND ADVENTIRES OF of doirii^ ereal things in the New World, if he j C'.nM only get there. In proportion as he became niore and more dejected by his present circum- etiinces, and the means of g^ainin£f America re- Ci - to keep the rain out 7'hev had already remedied this oversight, however; and propped up the «iiu dow-sash with a bundle of firewoorl to keep it open; so that, except in being rather inflamma- tory to the eyes and choking to the lungs, the apartment was quite comfortable. Martin was in no vein to quarrel with it, if it had been in less tolerable order, especi^iUy when a gleaming pint of porter was set upon the table, and the servant-s-irl withdrew, bearing with her particular instructions relative to the prodnrtion of something hot, when he should ring the bell. The cold meat being wrapped in a play-bill, Martin laid the cloth by spreading that document on the little round table with the print downwards; and arranging the collation upon it. The foot of the bed, which was very close to the fire, answered for a sideboard ; and when he had completed these preparations, he squeezed an old arm-chair into the warmest corner, and sat down to enjoy him self. He had begun to eat with a great appetite, g'ancing round the room meanwhile with a tri- umphant anticipation of quitting it for ever on the morrow, when his attention was arrested by a stealthy footstep on the stairs, and presently by a knock at his chamber door, which although it was a gentle knock enon2:h, comrnunie:itr-d such a start to the bundle of firewood that it instantly leaped out of window, and plunged into the street. " More coals, I suppose," said Martin. "Come in !" " It an't a liberty, sir, though it seems so," rejoined a man's voice. " Your servant, sir. Hope j'ou're pretty well, sir." Martin stared at the face that was bowing in the doorway : perfectly remembering the features and expression, but quite forgetting to whom they belonged. "Taplcy, sir," said his visitor. " Him as for- merly lived at the Dragon, sir, and was forced to leave in consequence of a want of jollitv, sir." "To be sure I" cried Martin. "Why, how did you come here ?" "Right through the passage and up the stairs sir," said Mark. " How did you find me out, I mean ?" asked Martin. " Why, sir," said Mark, " I 've passed you once or twice in the street if I'm not mistaken; and when I was a looking in at the beef-and-ham shop just now, along with a himgry sweep, na was very much calculated fo make a man jolly, sir — I see you a buying that." Martin reddened as he pointed to the tabic, and said, somewhat hastily : " Wei! ! what then ?" " Why then, sir." said Mark, " I made bold to foller ; and as I told 'em down stairs that you expected me, I was let up." " Are you charged with any message, that yoo told them you were expected 7" inquired Martin MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 05 " N.., sir, I ii'n't," caid Mnrk. "That was what yiHt may call a pious fraud, sir, that was." Marlia cast an angry looi< at Inui : but there w;is soiiiciniiig in the teilow's murry face, and in his niaiiner —which with all its cheerfulness was far from bei.ig obtrusive or familiar — tiiat quite disarmed hiiK. He had lived a solitary life too, for many weeks, and the voice was pleasant in his ear. "Taploy," he isaid, " I 'II deal openly with you. From all tliat I can judge, and from all I have heard of you through Pinch, you are not a likely kind of fellow to have been brought litre by im- pertinent curiosity or any other offensive motive. Bit down. I 'm glad to see you." " Thankee, sir," said Mark. " I'daslieve stand." "If you don't sit down," retorted Martin, "I'll not talk to you." " Very good, sir," observed Mark. " Your will's a law, sir. Down it is;" and he sat down accordingly upon the bedstead. " Help yourself," said Martin, handing him the only knife. "Thankee, sir," rejoined Mark, "After you've done." " If you don't take it now, you'll not have any," said Martin. " Very good, sir," rejoined Mark. "That being your desire — now it is." With which reply he gravely helped himself, and went on eating. Martin having done the like for a short tune in silence, said, abruptly, " VV'iiat are you doing in London ?" "Nothing at all, sir," rejoined Mark. " How 's that ?" asked Martin. " I want a place," said Mirk. " I am sorry for you," said Martin. " — To attend upon a single gentleman," re- Bumed Mark. " If from the country, the more desirable. Make-shifts would be prelerred. Wages no object" He said this so pointedly, that Martin stopped in his eating, and said, " If you mearj me — " " Yes, I do, sir," interposed Mark. " Then you may judge from my style of living here, of my means of keeping a nMn-servant. Besides, I am going to America immediately." " Well, sir," returned .Vlurk, quite unmoved by this intelligence, " t'rom all tiiat ever I heard about it, I should say America 's a very likely sort of a place lor me to be jolly inl" Again Martin looked at him angrily ; and again his anger melted away in spite of himself " Lord bless you, sir," s.iid Mark, " what is the use of us a going round and roujid, and hiding behind the corner, and dodging up and down, when we can come straight to the point in six words I I've had my eye upon you any time this fortnight. I see well enough that there's a Bcrew loose in your ati'iirs. I know'd well enough the first time 1 see you down at llie L)ra- g'Mi that it must be so, sooner or later. Now, sir, here I am without a sitiwation; without any want of wages for a year to come ; fir I saved up (I didn't i.iean to do it, but I couldn't help it) at the Dragon — here am I with a liking for what's wentersome and a liking for you, and a wish to come out strong under circumstances as would keep other men down : and will yuu take me, or will you leave me ?" " How can I take you ?" cried Marlm. "When I say take," rejoined Mark, "I mean will you let ene go ; and when I say will you lei me go, I mean will you let me go along with you; for go I will, .somehow or another. Now that you've said America, I see clear at once that that 's the place for me to be jolly in. Therefore, if I don't pay my own passage in the ship you go in, sir, I '11 pay my own passage in another. And mark my words : if I go alone, it shall be, to carry out the principle, in the rottenest, craziest, leakingest tub of a vessel that a place can be got in for love or money. So, if I'm lost upun the way, sir, there '11 be a drowned n)an at yoor diior, and always a knocking double knocks at it, too, or never trust me 1" "This is mere folly," said Martin, "Very good, sir," returned Mark, " 1 'm glad to hear it, because if you don't mean to let me go, you'll be more comfortable, perhaps, on account of thinking so. Therefore, I contradict no gen- tleman. liut all I say is, that if I don't einignie to America, in that case, in the beastlier', old cocklesliell as goes out of port, I 'm — " " You don't mean what you say, I 'm sure ?" said Martiti. " Yes I do," cried Mark, " I tell you I know better," rejoined Martin, " Very good, sir," said Mark, with the same air of perfect satisfaction. " Let it stand that way at present, sir, and wait to see how it turns out. Why, love my heart alive I 'he only doubt I have is, whether there's any civ^dit in going with a gentleman like you, that's as certain to make Imis way there as a gimlet is to go through soil deal." 'i'his was touching Martin oii his weak point, and having him at a great advantage. He could not help thinking, either, what a brisk fellow tliii .Mark was, and how great a change he had wrought in the atmosphere of the dismal littki room already, " Why, certainly, Mark," he said, " I iiave hopes of doing well there, or I shouldn't go. I may have the qualifications for doing well, per- haps." "Of course you have, sir," returned Mark Tapley. " Everybody knows that." " You see," said Martin, leaning his chin u|ion his hand, and looking at the fire, "ornamental architecture apj)lied to domestic purposes, can hardly fail to be in great request in that countrv ; for men are constantly changing their resideoc^ s there, and moving further off; and it's clear they must have houses to live in." " I should say, sir," observed Mark, " that that *s a state of things as o|>ens one of the jolliest look-outs for d<}mestic architecture that ever I heerd tell on." Martin glanced at him hastily, not feeling quite free from a suspicion that this remark implied a doubt of the successful issue of his plans. But Mr, Tapley was eating the boiled beef and bread with such entire good faith and singleness of purpose expressed in his visage, that he could not but te satisfied. Another doubt arose in his mind, however, as this one disappeared. He producorogon! Wasn't the young lady a sitting with hini then, and didn't she fall a laughing in a maiiiier as was beautiful to see ! Didn't your granJrathcr say, 'Come back again next week;' and didn't I go next week ; and didn't he say that he couldn't make up his mind to trust nobody no more, and therefore wouldn't engage me; but at the same time stood something to drink as was hand>otnp ! Why," cried i\Ir. Tapley, with a comical mixture of delight and cliagrin, " where 's the credit of a man's being jolly under such circumstances I who could help it, when things come about like this I" For some moments, Martin stood gazing at him, as if he really doubted the evidence of his senses, and could not believe that Mark stojd there, in the body, before him. At length he asked him whether, if the young lady were still in London, he thought lie could contrive to de- liver a letter to her secretly. "Do I think I can!" cried Mark. " Think I can ! Here, sit down, sir. Write it out, sir I" With that he cleared the table by the summa- ry process of tilting everything upon it into t!»e fire-place ; snatched some writing materials from the mantel-shelf; set Martin's cliair before them ; forced him down into it; dipped a pen into ttie ink ; and put it in his hand, " Cut away, sir !" cried Mark, " Make it strong, sir. Let it be wery pointed, sir. Do I think so ? /should think so. Go to work, sir 1" Martin required no further adjuration, but went MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 97 I. work at a crcat rate; while Mr, Tapley, in- stalliiitr liimseli' without any more fbrmaiities into ihe functions of his valet and g-eneral attendant, divested himself of iiis coat, and went on to clear the fire-place and arrang-e the room : talking to himself in a low voicg the whole time. "Jolly sort of lori<;ing-s," said Mark, rubbing his nose with the knob at the end of the fire- s!iiivol, and looking uround the poor chamber; " that 's a comlbrt. The rain 's come through tiie j fuof too. 'I'hat an't bad. A lively old bedstead, | I '11 be bound ; po|)ilatcd by /ots of wannires, no doubt. Come ! my spirits is a getting up agam. An uncommon ragged nightcap this. A very good sign. VVe shall do yet ! Here, .Tane, tii y dear," calling down the stairs, "bring up that there hot tumbler for my master, as was a mixing when I come in. That's right, sir," to Martin, "Go at it as if you meant it, sir. Be very ten- der, sir, if you please. You can't make it loo strong, sir 1" CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH MARTIN BIDS ADIEU TO THE LADY OF HIS LOVE; AND HONOUttS AV OBSCURE INDIVIDUAL WHOSE FORTUNE HE INTENDS TO MAKE, BY COMMENDING HER TO HIS PROTECTION. The letter being duly signed, sealed, and de- livered, was handed to Mark Tapley, for imme- diate conveyance if possible. And he succeeded so well in his embassy as to be enabled to return that same night, just as the house was closing, with the welcome intelligence that he had sent it up stiirs to the young lady, enclosed in a small manuscript of his own, purporting to contain his farther petition to be engaged in Mr. Chuzzlewit's eervice ; and that she had herself come down and told him, in gieat haste and agitation, that she would meet the gentleman at eight o'clock to- irmrrow morning in St. James's Park. It was then agreed between the new master and the new man, that Mark should be in waiting near the hotel in good time, to escort the young lady to the place of appointment ; and when they had parted for the night with this understanding, Mark took up his pen again ; and before he went to bed wrote another letter, whereof more will be seen pre- sently. He was up before daybreak, and came upon the park with the morning, which was clad in the least engaging of the three hundred and sixty-five dresses in the wardrobe of the year. It was raw, damp, dark, and dismal ; the clouds were as muddy as the ground ; and the short perspective of every street and avenue was closed up by the mist as by a filthy curtain. " Fine weather, indeed," Martin bitterly solilo- quized, " to be walking up and down here in, like a thief I Fine vceather indeed, for a meeting of lovers in the open air, and in a public walk ! I need be departing with all speed for another coun- try ; for I have come to a pretty pass in this !" He might perhaps have gone on to reflect that of all mornings in the year, it was not the best calculated for a young lady's coming forth on such an errand, either. But he was stopped on the road to this reflection, if his thoughts tended that way, by her appearance at a short distance, on which he hurried forward to meet her. Her squire, Mr. Tapley, at the same time fell discreetly back, and surveyed the fog above him with an ap- pearance of attentive interest. " My dear Martin !" said Mary. " My dear Mary I" said Martin ; and lovers are *uch a smgular kind of people that this is all they 13 did say just then, though Martin took her arm, and her hand too, and they paced up and down a short walk, that was least exposed to observation, half a dozen times. "If you have changed at all, my love, since we parted," said Martin at length, as he looked upon her with a proud delight, "it is only to be more beautiful than ever !" Had she been of the common metal of love- worn young ladies, she would have denied this in her most interesting manner; and would have told him that she knew she had become a perfect fright; or that she had wasted away witli weeping and anxiety; or that her mental sufferings were unspeakable; or would, either by tears or words, or a mixture of both, have furnished him with some other information to that efl'cet, and made him as miserable as possible. Birt she had been reared up in a sterner school than the minds of most young girls are formed in; she had had her nature strengthened by the hands of iiard endu- rance and necessity ; had come out from her young trials constant, self-denying, earnest, and rievoted ; had acquired in her maidenhood — whether hap- pily in the end, for herself or him, is foreign to our present purpose to inquire — something of thaf nobler quality of gentle hearts which is developed often by the sorrows and struggles of matronly years, but often by their lessons only. Unspoiled, unpampered in her joys or griefs; with frank, and full, and deep affection for the object of her early love; she saw in him one who for her sake was an outcast from his home and fortune, and she had no more idea of bestowing tliat Inve upon him in other than cheerful and sustaining words, full of high hope and grateful trustfulness, than she had of being unworthy of it, in her lightesj thought or deed, for any base temptation that the world could offer. " What change is there in you, Martin," she re- plied ; " for that concerns me nearest ? You look mo'e anxious and more thoughtlul than you used." " Why as to that, my love," said Martin, as iif drew her waist within his arm, first looking round to see that there were no observers near, and hi; holding Mr. Tapley more intent than ever on tlif- fog ; " it would be strange if I did not ; for my lil'e — especially of ^ate — has been a hard one." OS LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " I know it must have been," she answered. ' When li;ive I loigotten to think of it and you ?" " Not olten, I hope," said Martin. " Not often, I am sure. Not often, I have .«omc riglit to ex- pect, M.iry ; for I have undergone a <;reat deal of vi'xation and privation, and 1 naturally look for that return, you know." "A very, very poor return," she answered with a fainter sniile. "But you have it, and will have it always. You have paid a dear price for a poor heart, Martin ; but it is at least your own and a .rue one." " Of course I feel quite certnin of that," said Martin, "or I should n't have put myself in my present position. And don't say a poor heart, Mary, for I say a rich one. " Now, I am about to break a design to you, dearest, which will startle you at first, but which is undertaken for your sake. I am going," he added slowly, look- ing far into the deep wonder of her dark bright eyes, " abroad." * "Abroad, Martini" " Only to America. See now — how you droop directly 1" " If I do, or, I hope I may say, if I did," she answered, raising her head after a short silence, and looking once more into his face, " it was for grief to tiiink of what you are resolved to undergo for me. I would not venture to dissuade you, Martin ; but it is a long, long distance; there is a wide ocean to be crossed ; illness and want are sad calamities in any place, but in a foreign country dreadful to endure. Have you thought of all this?" •' Thought of it !" cried Martin, abating in his fondness — and he was very fond of her — hardly an iota of his usual impetuosity. " What am I to do ? It 'e very well to say, Have I thought of it ? my love ; but you should ask me in the same breath, have I thought of starving at home; have I thought of doing porter's work for a living; have I thought of holding horses in the street to earn my roll of bread from day to day ? Come, come," he added, in a gentler tone, " do not hang down your head, my dear, for I need the en- couragement that your sweet face alone can give me. Why, that's well! Now you are brave again !" " I am endeavouring to be," she answered, emiling through her tears. " Endeavouring to be anything that 's good, and being if, is, with you, all one. Don't I know that of old ?" cried Martin, gaily. " So I That's famous ! Now I can tell you all my plans as cheerfully as if you were my little wife already, Mary." She hung more closely on his arm, and looking jpward in his face, bade him speak on. " You see," said Martin, playing with the little hand upon his wrist, " that my attempts to advance myself at home have been baffled and rendered abortivf!. I will not say by whom, Mary, for that would give pain to us both. But so it is. Have you heard him speak of late of any relative of nnne or his, called Pecksniff'? Only tell me what I ask you, no more." " I iiave heard to my surprise, that he is a bet- ter man than was sufiposed." ** I thought so," interrupted Martin. "And that it is likely we may come to know ('•m, if not to visit and reside with him and — I think — his daughters. He Aas daughters, bs" he. love ?" "A pair of them," Martin answered. A pre. cious pair ! Gems of the first water '" "Ah! You are jesting I" " There is a sort of jesting which is very much in earnest, and includes some pretty serious dis. gust," said Martin. " I jest in reference to Mr. Pecksniff (at whose house I have been living as his assistant, and at whose hands I have received insult and injury), in that vein. Whatever be- tides, or however closely you may be brought into communication with his family, never forget tiiat, Mary ; and never for an instant, whatever appear- ances may seem to contradict me, lose sight of this assurance — Pecksniff" is a scoundrel." " Indeed I" " In thought, and in deed, and in everything else. A scoundrel from the topmost hair of his head, to the nethermost atotn of his heel. Of his daughters I will only say that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, they are dutiful young la- dies, and take after their father, closely. This is a digression from the main point, and yet it brings me to what I was going to say." He stopped to look into her eyes again, and seeing, in a hasty glance over his shoulder, that there was no one near, and that Mark was still intent upon the fog, not only looked at her lips 'jo, but kissed them into the bargain. " Now, I am going to America, with great prospects of doing well, and of returning home myself very soon ; it may be to take you there for a few years, but, at all events, to claim you for my wife; which, after sueh trials, I should do with no fear of your still thinking it a duty to cleave to him who will not suffer me to live (for this is true) if he can help it, in my own land How long I may be absent is, of course, uncer- tain ; but it shall not be very long. Trust me for that." " In the meantime, dear Martin " "That's the very thing I am coming to. In the meantime you shall hear, constantly, of all my goings-on. Thus." He paused to take from his pocket the letter he had written over-night, and then resumed : " In this fellow's employment, and living in this fellow's house, (by fellow, I mean Mr. Peck- enifT, of course), there is a certain i)erson of the name of Pinch — don't forget it ; a poor, strange, simple oddity, Mary ; but thoroughly honest and sincere; full of zeal ; and with a cordial regard for me; which I mean to return one of these days, by setting him up in life in some way or other." " Your old kind nature, Martin !" " Oh !" said Martin, that's not worth speaking of, my love. lie's very grateful and desirous to serve me ; and I am more than repaid. Now one night I told this Pinch my history, and all about myself and you; in which he was not a lillle in- terested, I can tell yoUj for he knows you ! Ay, you may look surprised — and the longer the het- tcr, for it becomes you — but you have heard him play the organ in the church of that villiige before now; and he has seen you listening to his niusio, and has caught his inspiration from you, too:" " Was he the organist ?" ciied Mary. " I thanh him from my heart." Mr. Tapley acts Third Party with great discretion. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 99 " Yes, he was," said Martin, " and is, and gets not'nmg for it cither. There never was such a Biinple fellow! Quite an infant! But a very good sort of creature, I assure you." * I am sure of thul," she said, with great earnestness. " He must be I" " Oh, yes, no doubt at all about it," rejoined Martin, in his usual careless way. " lie is. Well ! It has occurred to me — but stay, if I read you what I liave written and intend sending to him by post to-night, it will explain itself. ' My dear Tom Pincli.' That's rather familiar, per- haps," said Martin, suddenly remembering that he was proud when tiiey had last met, " but I call him my dear Tom Pinch, because he likes it, and it pleases him." " Very right, and very kind," said Mary. " Exactly so !" cried Martin. " It 's as well to be kind whenever one can ; and, as I said before, he really is an excellent fellow. ' My dear Tom Pinch, — I address this under cover to Mrs. Lupin, at the Blue Dragon, and have begged her in a short note to deliver it to you without saying anything about it elsewhere ; and to do the same •with all future letters she may receive from me. My reason for so doing will be at once apparent to you.' I don't know that it will be, by the bye,' said Martin, breaking off, "for he's slow of comprehension, poor fellow ; but he '11 find it out in time. My reason simply is, that I don't want my letters to be read by other people ; and particularly by the scoundrel whom he thinks an angel." " Mr. Pecksniff again ?" asked Mary. " The same," said Martin : " ' — will be at once apparent to you. I have completed my arrangements for going to America ; and you will be surprised to hear that I am to be accom- panied by Mark Tapley, upon whom I have stumbled strangely in London, and who insists on putting himself under my protection' — mean- ing, my love," said Martin, breaking off again, "our friend in the rear, of course." She was delighted to hear this, and bestowed a kind glance upon Mark, which he brought his eyes down from the fog to encounter, and receiv- ed with immense satisfaction. She said in his hearing, too, that he was a good soul and a merry creature, and would be faithful, she was certain ; commendations which Mr. Tapley inwardly re- solved to deserve, from such lips, if he died for it. " ' Now, my dear Pinch,' " resumed Martin, proceeding with his letter; "'I am going to re- pose great trust in you, knowing that I may do eo with perfect reliance on your honour and secrecy, and having nobody else just now to trust in.' " " I don't think I would say that, Martin." "AVouldn't you? Well! I '11 take that out. h 'e perfectly true, though." *• But it might seem ungracious, perhaps." ''Oh, I don't mind Pinch," said Martin. * There 's no occasion to stand on any ceremony with him. However, I '11 take it out, as you wish it, and make the full stop ' at secrecy.' Very well I ' I shall not only' — this is the letter again, you know." " I understand." " ' I shall not only enclose my letters to the young lady of whom I have told you to your I charge, to be forwarded as she may request, hut I most earnestly commit her, the young lady herself, to your care and regard, in the event of your meeting in my absence. I have reason to tliink that the probabilities of encountering each other — perhaps very frequently — are now neithi r remote nor few ; and although in your position you can do very little to lessen the uneasiness of hers, I trust to you implicitly to do that much and so deserve the confidence I have reposed in you.' You see, my dear Mary," said Martin, " It will be a great consolation to you to have anybody, no matter how simple, with whom you can speak about me ; and the very first time you talk to Pinch, you '11 feel at once that there is no more occasion for any embarrassment or hesifa- tion in talking to him, than if he were an old woman." " However that may be," she returned, smiling, " he is your friend, and that is enough." " Oh, yes, he is my frie.id," said Martin, " cer- tainly. In fact, I have told him in so many words that we '11 always take notice of him, and protect him ; and it 's a good trait in his charac- ter that he 's grateful — very grateful indeed. You '11 like him of all things, my love, I know. You'll observe very much that's comical and oldfashioned about Pinch, but you needn't mind laughing at him ; for he '11 not care about it. He '11 rather like it, indeed." " I don't think I shall put that to the test, Martin." " You won't if you can help it, of course," he said, " but I think you '11 find him a little tot much for your gravity. However, that's neither here nor there, and it certainly is not the letter, which ends thus: ' Knowing that 1 need not im- press the nature and extent of that confidence upon you at any greater length, as it is already sufficiently established in your mind, I will only say in bidding you farewell, and looking forward to our next meeting, that I shall charge myself from this time, through all changes for the bettt r, with your advancement and happiness, as if they were my own. You may rely upon that. And always believe me, my dear Tom Pinch, faith- fully your friend, Martin Chuzzlewit. P. S. J enclose the amount which you so kindly' — Oh," said Martin, cheeking himself, and folding up the letter, "that's nothing!" At this crisis Mark Tapley interposed, with an apology for remarking that the clock of tlie Horse Guards was striking. " Which I shouldn't have said nothing about, sir," added Mark, "if the young lady hadn't begged me to be particular in mentioning it." " I did," said Mary. " Thank you. You are quite right. In another minute I shall be ready to return. We have time for a very tew words more, dear Martin, and although 1 had much to say, it must remain unsaid until the happy time of our next meeting. Heaven send it may comi; speedily and pros-perously ! But I have no fear of that." "Fear I" cried Martin. "Why, who has? What are a few months ? What is a whole year T When I come gaily back, with a road tiimnrrh life hewn out before me, then indeed, lookii.'g back upon this parting, it may seem a dism.-J one. But now I I swear I wouldn't have it hat- 100 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF pen under more favourable auspices, if I could : for ihen I should be less inclined to go, and less impressed with the necessity." "Yes, yes. I feel that too. When do you go : " To-night. We leave for Liverpool to-night. A vessel sails from that port, as I hear, in three days. In a month, or less, we shall be there. Why, what's a month! How many months have flown by since our last parting !" " Long to look back upon," said Mary, echoing his cheerful tone, " but nothing in their course !" "Nothing at all!" cried Martin. "I shall have change of scene and change of pbce ; change of people, change of manners, change of cares and hopes ! Time will wear wings indeed ! I can bear anything, so that I have swift action, Mary." Was he thinking solely of her care for him, when he took so little heed of her share in the separation ; of her quiet monotonous endurance, and her slow anxiety from day to day ? Was there nothing jarring and discordant even in his tone of courage, with this one note self for ever audible, however high the strain ? Not in her ears. It had been better otherwise, perhaps, but BO it was. She heard the same bold spirit which had flung away as dross all gain and profit for her sake, making light of peril and privation that she might be calm and happy ; and she heard no more. That heart where self has found no place and raised no throne, is slow to recognise its ugly presence when it looks upon it. As one possess- ed of an evil spirit was held in old time to be alone conscious of the lurking demon in the breasts of other men, so kindred vices know each other in their hiding-places every day, when Vir- tue is incredulous and blind. " The quarter 's gone !" cried Mr. Tapley, in a voice of admonition. " I shall be ready to return immediately," she said. " One thing, dear Martin, I am bound to tell you. You intreated me a few minutes since only to answer what you asked me in reference to one theme, but you shoulr* and must know — otherwise I could not be at ease — that since that separation of which I was the unhappy occasion, he has never once uttered your name ; has never coupled it, or any faint allusion to it, with passion or reproach ; and has never abated in his kind- ness to me." " I thank him for that last act," said Martin, " and for nothing else. Though on consideration I may thank him for his other forbearance also, inasmuch as I neither expect nor desire that he will mention my name again. He may once, perhaps — to coujile it with reproach — in his will. Let him, if he please ! By the time it reaches me, he will be in his grave : a satire on his own anger, God help him!" "Martin! Jf you would but sometimes, in •ome quiet hour; beside the winter fire; in the Bummer air ; when you hear gentle music, or think of Death, or Home, or Childhood ; if you would at such a season resolve to think, but once a month, or even once a year, of hirii, or any one who ever wronged you, you would forgive him in your heart, I know !" " If I believed that to be true, Mary," he ra- llied, " I would resolve at no such time to bear him m my mind : wishing to spare myself (h^ shame of such a weakness. I was not born to be the toy and puppet of any man, far less his ; to whose pleasure and caprice, in return for any good he did me, my vv'hole youth was sacrificed. It became between us two a fair exchange — a barter — and no more: and there is no such bal- ance against me that I need throw in a mawkish forgiveness to poise the scale. He has forbidden all mention of me to you, I know," iie added hastily. "Come! Has he not ?" "That was long ago," she returned; "imme- diately after your parting; before you had left the house. He has never done so since." " He has never done so since, because he has seen no occasion," said Martin ; "but that is of little consequence, one way or other. Let all allusion to him between you and me be interdicU ed from this time forth. And therefore, love — " he drew her quickly to him, for the time of part- ing had now come — " in the first K-tter that you write to me through the Post-office, addressed tu New York ; and in all the others that you send through Pinch ; remember he has no existence, but has become to us as one who is dead. Now, God bless you ! This is a strange place for such a meeting and such a parting ; but our ne.xt meeting shall be in a better, and our next and las* parting in a worse." " One other question, Martin, I must ask. Have you provided money for this journey ?"' " Have I ?" cried Martin ; it might have been in his pride ; it might have been in his desire to set her mind at ease : " Have I provided money ? Why, there 's a question for an emigrant's wife ! How could I move on land or sea without it, love ?" " I mean, enough." " Enough ! More than enough. Twenty times more than enough. A pocket-full. Mark and I, for all essential ends, are quite as rich as if w« had the purse of Fortunatus in our b.iggage." " The half hour 's a going I" cried Mr. Tapley. "Good bye a hundred times!" cried Mary, in a trembling voice. But how cold the comfort in Good bye ! Mark Tapley knew it perfectly. Perhaps he knew it from his reading, perhaps from his experience, perhaps from intuition. It is impossible to say; but however he knew it, his knowledge instinc- tively suggested to him the wisest course of pro- ceeding tiiat any man could have adojjted under the circumstances. He was taken with a violent fit of sneezing, and was obliged to turn his liead another way. In doing which, he, in a manner, fenced and screened the lovers into a corner by themselves. There was a short pause, but Mark had an undefined sensation that it was a satisfactory one in its way. Then Mary, with her veil lowered, passed him with a quick step, and beckoned him to follow. She stopped once more before they lost that corner ; looked back ; and waved her hand to Martin. He made a start towards them at the moment as if he bad some other t'arewel! words to say; but she only hurried oft" the faster and Mr. Tapley followed as in duty bound. Wl)en he rejoined Martin again in his own chamber, he found that gentleman seated moodily before the dusty grate, with his two feet on tJie MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT 101 fender, his two elbows on his knees, and his chin supported, in a not very ornamental manner, on tlie paltns of his hands. " Well, Mark ?" "Well, sir," said Mark, taking a long breath, " I see tlie young lady safe home, and I feel pretty comfort;ible after it. She sent a lot of kind words, sir, and this," handing him a ring, "for a parting keepsake." " Diamonds !" said Martin, kissing it — let us do him justice, it was tor her sake, not theirs — and putting it on his little finger. "Splendid dia- monds. My grandfather is a singular character, Mark. He must have given her tiiis, now." Mark Tapley knew as well that she hud bought it, to the end that that unconscious speaker might carry some article of sterling value with him in his necessity ; as he knew that it was day, and not night. Though he had no more acquaintance of his own knowledge with the history ol'the glit- tering trinket on Martin's outspread finger, tlian Martin himself had, he was as certain that in its purchase she had expended her whole stock of hoarded money, as if he had seen it paid down coin by coin. Her lover's strange obtuseness in relation to this little incident, promptly suggested to Mark's mind its real cause and root; and from that moment he had a clear and perfect insight into the 0(12' abso.-bing principle ;)f Maitin'f character. ''She is worthy of the sacrifices I have made," said Martin, folding his arms, and looking at tiie ashes in the stove, as if in resumption of some former thoughts. " Well worthy of them. No riches," — here he stroked his chin, and mused — " could have compensated for the loss of such a nature. Not to mention that in gaining her atfec tion, I have followed the bent of my own wishes^ and balked the selfish schemes of others who had no right to form them. Slie is quite worthy — more than worthy — of the sacrifices I have made. Yes, she is. No doubt of it." These ruminations might or might not have reached Mark Tapley ; for though they were I y no means addressed to him, yet they were softly uttered. In any case, he stood there, watching Martin, with an indescribable and most involved expression on his visage, until that young mm roused himself and looked towards him ; when he turned away, as being suddenly intent on certain preparations for the journey, and, without givii:g vent to any articulate sound, smiled with surpass- ing gliastliness, and seemed by a twist of his features and a motion of his lips, to release him- self of this word : " Jolly'" CHAPTER XV. THE BURDEN WHEREOF, IS HAIL COLUMBIA! A DARK and dreary night ; people nestling in their beds or circling late about the fire ; Want, colder than Charity, shivering at the street cor- ners; church-towers humming with the faint vibration of their own tongues, but newly resting from the ghostly preachment " One !" The earth covered with a sable pall as for the burial of yes- terday ; the clumps of dark trees, its giant plumes of funeral feathers waving sadly to and fro : all hushed, all noiseless, and in deep repose, save the swift clouds that skim across the moon, and the cautious wind, as, creeping after them upon the ground, it stops to listen, and goes rustling on, and stops again, and follows, like a savage on the trail. Whither go the clouds and wind so eagerly ? If like guilty spirits they repair to some dread conference with powers like themselves, in what wild region do the elements hold council, or where unbend in terrible disport? Here ! Free from that cramped prison called the earth, and out upon the waste of waters. Here, roaring, raging, shrieking, howling, all night long. Hither come the sounding voices from the caverns on the coast of that small island, Sleeping a thousand miles away so quietly in the midst of angry waves ; and hither, to meet them, rush the b'asts from unknown desert places of the world. Here, in the fury of their unchecked liberty, they storm and buffet with each other, until the sea, lashed into passion like their own, leaps up in ravings mightier than theirs, and the «hole scene is whirlmg madness. On, on, on, over the countless miles of angry I space roll the long, heaving billows. Mounta.ie and caves are here, and yet are not; for what is now the one, is now the other; then all is but a boiling heap of rushing water. Pursuit, and flight, and mad return of wave on wave, and savage struggle, ending in a spouting-up of foam that whitens the black night ; incessant change of place, and form, and hue; constancy in nothing but eternal strife ; on, on, on, they roll, and darker grows the night, and louder howl (he winds, and more clamorous and fierce become the million voices in the sea, when the wild cry goes forth upon the storm "A ship!" Onward she comes, in gallant combat with the elements, her tall masts trembling, and her timbers starting on the strain ; onward she comes, now high upon the curling billows, nnv7 low down in the hollows of the sea, as hiding for the moment from its fury ; and every storm-voiee in the air and water cries more loudly yet, " A ship !" Still she comes striving on: and at her bold- ness and the spreading cry, the angry waves rise up above each other's hoary heads to look , and round about the vessel, far as the mariners '>n her decks can pierce into the gloom, they press upon her, forcing each other down, and starting up, and rushing forward from afar, in drcadfu. curiosity. High over her they break; and round her surge and roar ; and giving place to others, moaningly depart, and dash themselves to frag- ments in their baffled anger: still she cnine« onward bravelv. And though the eager niulii tude cxowd ttiidi. and fast upon her «I1 the night. 102 LIFE AND ADVENTURED OF and tJrtwn of ^ay Jiscoveis,th;3 uijtirir.g train yet hearing down upon the ship in an eternity of troubled water, onward she conits, with dim lights burning in her hull, and people there asleep : as if no deadly element were peering in at every seam and clink, and no drowned seamen's grave, with hut a plunk to cover it, were yawning in the Unfathomable depths below. Among these sleepy voyagers were Martin and IVIark Taple}', wlio, rocked into a heavy drowsi- ness by the unaccustomed motion, were as insen- sible to the foul air in which they lay, as to the uproar without. It was broad day, when the latter awoke with a dim idea that lie was dream- ing of having gone to sleep in a four-post bed- stead which had turned bottom upwards in the course of the night. There was more reason in this too, than in the roasting of eggs; for the first objects Mr. Tapley recognised when he opened his eyes were his own heels — looking down at him, as he afterwards observed, from a nearly perpendicular elevation. " Well 1" said Mark, getting himself into a sitting posture, after various ineffectual struggles with the rolling of the ship. " This is the first time as ever I stood on my head all night." "You shouldn't go to sleep upon the ground with your head to leeward, then," growled a man in one of the berths, " With my head to where?" asked Mark. The man repeated his previous sentiment. '' No, I won't another time," said Mark, " when I know whereabouts on the map that country is. In the meanwhile I can give you a better piece of advice. Don't you nor any other friend of mine never go to sleep with liis head in a ship, any more." The man gave a grunt of discontented acqui- escence, turned over in his berth, and drew his blanket over his head. '• For," said Mr. Tapley, pursuing the theme by way of soliloquy, in a low lone of voice ; " the sea is as'nonscnsical a thing as anything going. It never knows what to do with itself It hasn't got no employment for its mind, and is always in a state of v:icancy. Like then Polar bears in the wild-beast-shows as is constantly a nodding their heads from side to side, it never can be quiet. Which is entirely owing to its uncommon stupidity." " Is that you, Mark ?" asked a faint voice from another berth. " It's as much of me as is left, sir, after a fort- night of this work," Mr. Tapley replied. " What with leading the life of a fly ever since I 've been aboard — for I 've been perpetually holding-on to something or other, in a upside-down position — v;hat with that, sir, and putting a very little into myself, and taking a good deal out in various ways, there an't too much of me to swear by. How do you find yourself this morning, sir ?" "Very miserable," said Martin, with a peevish groan. " Ugh ! This is wretched, indeed !" "Creditable," niutteied Mark, pressing one nnnd upon his aching head, and looking round him with a ruefiil grin. "That's the great com- fort It is credituhle to keep vp one's spirits nere. Virtue's its own reward. So 's jollity." Mark was so far right, that unquestionably any man who retained his cheerfulness among the steerage accommodations of that njble and fast sailing line of packct-sl.ip, "The Screw," was solely indebted to his own resources, and shipped his good humour, like his provisions, without any contribution or assistance from the owners. A dark, low, stifling cabin, surrounded by berths all filled to overflowing with men, women, and chil- dren, in various stages of sickness and misery, is not the liveliest place of assembly at any time; but when it is so crowded (as tlie steerage cabin of the "Screw" was, every passage out,) that niattrasses and beds are heaped upon the floor, to the extinction of everything like comfort, cleanli- ness, and decency, it is liable to operate not only as a pretty strong barrier against amiability of temper, but as a positive encourager of selfish and rough humours. Mark felt this, as he sat looking about liiin ; and his spirits rose proportionately. There were English people, Irish ptople, Welsh people, and Scotch people there ; all with their little store of coarse food and shabby clothes ; and nearly all, with their families oi cliildreii. There were children of all ages ; from the baby at the breast, to the slattern-girl who was as much a grown woman as her mother. Every kind of domestic suffering that is bred in poverty, illness, banishment, sorrow, and long travel in bad weather, was crammed into the little space ; and yet was there infinitely less of complaint and querulous- ncLS, and infinitely more of mutual assistance and general kindness to be found in that unwhole- some ark, than in many brilliant ball-rooms. Mark looked about him wistfully, and his fa;e brightened as he looked. Here an old grandmo- ther was crooning over a sick child, and rocking it to and fro, in arms hardly more wasted than its own young limbs ; here a poor woman with an infant in her lap, mended another little creature's clothes, and quieted another who was creeping up about her from their scanty bed upon the floor. Here were old men awkwardly engaged in little household olfices, wherein they would have been ridiculous but for their good-will and kind pur- pose ; and here were swarthy fellows — giants in their way — doing such little acts of tenderness for those about them, as might have belonged to gen- tlest-hearted dwarfs. The very idiot in the corner who sat mowing there, all day, had his faculty of imitation roused by what he saw about him ; and snapped his fingers, to amuse a crying child. " Now, then," said Mark, nodding to a woman who was dressing her three children at no great distance from liiin — and the grin upon his face had by this lime spread t>om ear to ear — " Hand over one of them young uns, according to custom." " I wish you'd get breakfast, Mark, instead of worrying with people who don't belong to you," observed Martin, petulantly. "All right," said Mark. " SAe '11 do that It's a fair division of labour, sir. I wash her boys, and she makes our tea. I never could make tea, but any one can wash a boy." The woman, who was delicate and ill, felt and understood his kindness, as well she might, for she had been coviTed every night with his great- coat, while he had had for his own bed the bare boards and a rug. But Martin, who seldom got up or looked about him, was quite incensed by the folly ot liiis speech, and expressed his dissatia- taction by an impatient groan. MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT, 103 "So it is, ccrt.-iinly," said Mark, Itrupiiingf the I rliild's iiair as cooll)' as il' he liad been born and Dnd a barber. " \\'liat are you talking about now?" asked Martin. " VVi.at yoti said," replied Mark; "or what you meant, when you gave that there dismal vent to your feelings. I quite go along with it, sir. It ig very liard upon her." " What is ?" "Making the voyage by herself along with these young impediments here, and going such a way at such a time of year to join her husband. If you don't want to be driven mad with yellow soap in your eye, young man," said Mr. Tapley to the second urchin, who was by this time under his hands at the basin, "you'd better shut it." " Where does she join her husband ?" asked Martin, yawning. " Wliy, I'm very much afraid," said Mr. Tap- ley, in a low voice, "that siie don't know. I hope she mayn't miss liim. But she sent iier last letter by liand, and it don't seem to have been very clearly understood between 'em without it, and if slie don't sec liim a waving his pocket-handker- chief on the shore, like a picter out of a song- book, my opinion is, she '11 break her heart." " Why, how, in Folly's name, does the woman come to be on board ship on such a wild-goose venture I" cried Martin, Mr. Tapley glinced at him for a moment as he lay prostrate in his berth, and then said, very quietly, " Ah ! How, indeed ! I can't think ! He 's been away from her for two year; she's been very poor and lonely in her own country ; and has always been a looking forward to meeting him. It's very strange she should be here. Quite amazing I A little mad, perliaps! There can't be no other way of accounting for it." Martin was too far gone in the lassitude of sea- sickness to make any reply to these words, or even to attend to them as they were spoken. And the subject of their discourse returning at this crisis with some hot tea, effectually put a stop to any resumption of the theme by Mr. Tapley ; who, when the meal was over and he had adjust- ed Martin's bed, went up on the deck to wash the breakflist service, which consisted of two half- pint tin mugs, and a shaving-pot of the same metal. It is due to Mark Tapley to state, that he suffered at least as much from sea-sickness as anv man, woman, or child, on board ; and that he had a peculiar faculty of knocking himself about on the smallest provocation, and losing liis It-gs at every lurch of the ship. But resolved, in his usual phrase, to "come out strong" under dis- advantageous circumstances, he was the life and snul of the steerage, and made no more of stop- ping in the middle of a facetious conversation to go away and be excessively ill by himself, and afterwards come back in the very best and gayest of tempers to resume it, than if such a course of proceeding had been the commonest in the world. It cannot be said that as his illness wore off, his cheerfulness and good-nature increased, be- cause they would hardly admit of augmentation; but his cheerfulness among the weaker menibLrs of the party was much enlarged ; and at all lim-s and seasons there he was exerting it. If aglenn of sun shone out of the dark sky, df)wn Mn k tumbled into the cabin, and presently up he chum again with a woman in his arms, or half a dozen children, or a man, or a bed, or a saucepan, or a basket, or something animate or inanimate, th .t he thought would be the better for the air. If an hour or two of fine weather in the niidii.e of tlie day tem])ted those who seldom or nevir came on deck at other times, to crawl into the long-boat, or lie down upon the spare spars, and try to eat, there in the centre of the group was Mr. Ta[)ley, handing about salt beef and biscuit, or dispensing tastes of grog, or cutting up the children's provisions with his pocket-knife, lor their greater ease and comfort, or reaho was op- pressed to inconvenience by a sense of his own greatness — led the way up a dark and dirty flight (if stairs into a room of similar character, all lit- tered and bestrewn with odds and ends of news- papers and other crumpled fragments, both in proof and manuscript. Behind a mangy old writing table in this apartment, sat a figure with the stump of a pen in its mouth and a great pair ot scissors in its right hand, clipping and slicing at a file of Rowdy Journals; and it was such a laughable figure that M;irtin had some difficulty in preserving his gravity, though conscious of the close observation of Colonel Diver. The individual who sat clipping and slicing as aforesiid at the Rowdy Journals, was a small 3 0ung gentleman of very juvenile appearance, and unwhole-oniely pale in the face; partly, perhaps, f om intense thought, but partly, there is no doubt, fr.jni the excessive use of tobacco, which he was at that moment chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt-collar turned down over a black ribbon, iind his lank hair — a fragile crop — was not only smoothed and parted hack from his brow, that ni>ue of the Poetry of his aspect might be lost, but had here and there been grubbed up by the roots; which accounted for his loftiest develop- ments being somewhat pimply. He had that order of nose on which the envy of mankind has bestowed ttie appellation "snub," and it was very much turned up al the end, as with a lofty scorn. L'oon the upper lip of this young gentleman, were tokens of a sandy down — so very, very smooth and scant, that though encouraged to the utmost, it looked more like a recent trace of gingerbread, than the fair promise of a moustache ; and this conjecture, his apparently tender age went far to strengthen. He was intent upon his work ; and every time he snapped the great pair of scissors, he made a corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave iiim a very terrihle api)earance. Martin was not long in determining within himself that this m\ist be Colonel Diver's son; the hope of the family, and tiiture mainspring of the Rowdy Journal. Indeed he had begun to say that he presumed this was the colonel's liUle boy, and that it was very pleasant to see him playing at Editor in all the guilelessness of childhood, when the colonel proudly interposed, and said : " My War Correspondent, sir — Mr. Jefferson Brick!" Martin could not help stnrting at this unex- pected announcement, and the consciousness of the irretrievable mistake he iiad nearly made. Mr. Brick seemed pleased with the sensation he produced upon the stranger, and shook hands with him with an air of patronage designed to reassure him, and to let him know that there was no occasion to be frightened, for he (Brick) wouldn't hurt him. " You have heard of Jeff'erson Brick I see, sir," quoth the colonel, with a smile. " England has heard of Jefferson Brick. Europe has heard of Jefferson Brick. Let me see. When did yoi leave England, sir ?" " Five weeks ago," said Martin. " Five weeks ago," repeated the colonel, thought- fully ; as he took his seat upon the table, and swung his legs. " Now let me ask you, sir, which of Mr. Brick's articles had become at that time the most obnoxious to the British Parliament and the court of Saint James's?" " Upon my word," said Martin, " I — " " I have reason to know, sir," int-^rrupied the colonel, "that the aristocratic circles of your country quail before the name of Jefferson Briclt, I should like to be informed, sir, from your lips, which of his sentiments has struck the deadliest blow — " " — At the hundred heads of the Hydra of Cor- ruption now grovelling in the dust beneath the lance of Reason, and spouting up to the universal arch above us, its sanguinary gore," said Mr. Brick, putting on a blue cloth cap with a glazed front, and quoting his last article. " The libation of freedom, Brick" — hinted the colonel. " — Must sometimes be quaffed in blood, colo- nel," cried Brick. And when he said 'blood,' he gave the great pair of scissors a sharp snap, as W they said blood too, and were quite of his opin- ion. This done they both looked at Martin, pausing for a reply. " Upon my life," said Martin, who had by this, time quite recovered his usual coolness, " I can't give you any satisfactory information about it; for the truth is that I — " " Stop I" cried the colonel, glancing sternly at his war correspondent, and giving his head on>J shake afler every sentence. "That you never heard of Jefferson Brick, sir. Th^t you never 108 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF read Jefferson Brick, sir. That you never saw I the Rowdy Journal, sir. That you never knew, sir, of its mig;hty influence upon the cabinets of Europe — Yes ?" "That's what I was about to observe, certain- ly," said Martin. " Keep cool, JeiTerson," said the colonel gravely. " Don't bust ! oh you Europeans ! Arter that, let's have a glass of wine !" So saying, he got down from the table, and produced from a basket outside the door, a bottle of champagne, and three glasses. " Mr. Jefferson Brick, sir," said the colonel, fill- ing Martin's glass and his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman, "will give us a senti- ment." " Well, sir I" cried the war correspondent, " since you have concluded to call upon me, I will re- spond. I will give you, sir. The Rowdy Journal and its bretheren ; the well of Truth, whose wa- ters are black from being composed of printers' mk, but are quite clear enough for my country to behold the shadow of her Destiny reflected in." "Hear, hear!" cried the colonel, with great complacency. " There are flowery components, sir, in the language of my friend ?" " Very much so, indeed," said Martin. " There is to-day's Rowdy, sir," observed the colonel, handing him a paper. " You '11 find Jef- ferson Brick at his usual post in the van of hu- man civilisation and moral purity." The colonel was by this time seated on the table again. Mr. Brick also took up a position on that same piece of furniture ; and they fell to drinking pretty hard. They often looked at Martin as he read the paper, and then at each other ; and when he laid it down, which was not until they had fin- ished a second bottle, the colonel asked him what be thought of it. " Why, it's horribly personal," said Martin. The colonel seemed much flattered by this re- mark ; and said he hoped it was. "We are independent here, sir," said Mr. Jef- ferson Brick. " We do as we like." " If I may judge from this specimen," returned Martin, " there must be a few thousands here ra- ther the reverse of independent, who do as they don't like. " Well ! They yield to the mighty mind of the Popular Instructor, sir," said the colonel. " They rile up, sometimes ; but in general we have a hold upon our citizens, both in public and in private life, which is as much one of the eimobling insti- tutions of our happy country as — " " As nigger slavery itself," suggested Mr. Brick. " En — tirely so," remarked the colonel. " Pray," said Martin, after some hesitation, " may I venture to ask, with reference to a case 1 observe in this paper of yours, whether the Popu- lar Instructor ollen deals in — I am at a loss to ex- press it witliout giving you offence — in forgery ? In forged letters, for instance," he pursued, for the colonel was porfoctly oalin and quite at his ease, " solenniiy purpcirtiiig to have been written lit recent periods by living men?" "Well, sir!" replied the colonel. "It docs, now and ilien." "And the popular instructed — what do they i!<-)?" iisked Martin. ■' Buy 'em :" said the colonel. Mr. Jefferson Brick expectorated and laughert the former copiously, the latter approvingly. " Buy 'em by hundreds of thousands," resumed the colonel. " We are a smart people here, and can appreciate smartness." " Is smartness American for forgery?" asked Martin. " Well !" said the colonel, " I expect it 's .Anie. rican for a good many things that you call hv other names. But you can't help yourselves in Europe. We can." " And do, sometimes," thought Martin. " You help yourselves with very little ceremony, too 1" " At all events, whatever name we choose to employ," said the colonel, stooping down to roil the third empty bottle into a corner after the otl.tr two, " I suppose the art of forgery was not in- vented here, sir ?" " I suppose not," replied Martin. " Nor any other kind of smartness, I reckon ?" " Invented ! No, I presume not." " Well I" said the colonel; "then we got it all from the old country, and the old country's to blame for it, and not the new 'un. There's an end of that. Now if Mr. Jefferson Brick and you will be so good as clear, I'll come out last, and lock the door." Rightly interpreting this as the signal for their departure, Martin walked down stairs after the war correspondent, who preceded him with great majesty. The colonel fbllov.'ing, they left the Rowdy Journal Office and walked forth into the streets : Martin feeling doubtful whether lie ought to kick the colonel for having presumed to speak to him, or whether it came within the bounds of possibility that he and his establishment could be among the boasted usages of that regenerated land. It was clear that t^olonel Diver, in the security of his strong position, and in his perfect under- standing of the public sentiment, cared very little what Martin or anybody else thought about him. His high-spiced wares were made to sell, and they sold ; and his thousands of readers could as ra- tionally charge their delight in filth upon him, as a glutton can shift upon his cook the responsibi- lity of his beastly excess. Nothing would have delighted the colonel more than to be told that no such man as he could walk in high success the streets of any other country in the world : lor that would only have been a logical assurance to him of the correct adaptation of his labours to the prevailing taste, and of his being strictly and pe- culiarly a national ((.mature of America. They walked a mile or more along a handsome street which the colonel said was called Broadway, and which Mr. Jeft'erson Brick said " whipped tlie universe." Turning, at length, into one of tht numerous streets which branched from this main thoroughfare, they stopped before a rather mean- looking house with jalousie blinds to every win dow ; a flight of steps before the green street-door; a shining white ornament on tlie rails on either side like a petrified pine-a|)ple, polished ; a little oblong [ilate of the same material over the knocker, whercoii the name ot' " Pawkins" was eiifiraved; and linir accidental pigs looking down the area. The colonel knocked at this house with the air of a man who liveo there; and an Irish girl pop- ped her head out of one of the lop windows t(> see who it was. Pending her journey down -uair^ MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 109 the j)i£rs were joined by two or three friends from Oie next street, in company with whom they lay down sociably in the gutter. " Is the major in-doors ?" inquired the colonel, as lie entered. " Is it the master, sir ?" returned the girl, with a hesitation which seemed to imply that they were rather flush of majors in that establish- ment. " The master I" said colonel Diver, stopping short and looking round at his war correspon- dent. " Oh ! The depressing institutions of that Bri- tish empire, colonel I" said Jefl'erson Brick. " Master !" " What 's the matter with the word ?" asked Martin. " I should hope it was never heard in our coun- try, sir : that 's all," said JetFerson Brick : " ex- cept when it is used by some degraded Help, as new to the blessings of our form of government, as this Help is. There are no masters here." " All ' owners,' are they ?" said Martin. Mr, Jefferson Brick followed in the Rowdy Journal's footsteps without returning any answer. Martin took the same course, thinking as he went, that perhaps the free and independent citizens, who in their moral elevation, owned the colonel for their master, might render better homage to the goddess. Liberty, in nightly dreams upon the oven of a Russian Serf. The colonel led the way into a room at the back of the house upon the ground-floor, light, and of fair dimensions, but exquisitely uncomfortable : having nothing in it but the four cold white walls and ceiling, a mean carpet, a dreary waste of dining-table reaching from end to end, and a be- wildering collection of cane-bottomed chairs. In flie further region of tliis banqueting-hall was a stove, garnished on either side with a great brass spittoon, and shaped in itself like three little iron barrels set up on end in a fender, and joined to- gether on the principle of the Siamese Twins. Before it, swinging himself in a rocking-chair, lounged a large gentleman with his hat on, who amused himself by spitting alternately into the spittoon on the right hand the stove, and the spit- t'jon on the left, and then working his way back again in the same order. A negro lad in a soiled white jacket was busily engaged in placing on the table two long rows of knives and forks, re- lieved at intervals by jugs of water ; and as he travelled down one side of this festive board, he straightened with his dirty hands the dirtier cloth, wliich was all askew, and had not been removed since breakfast. The atmosphere of this room was rendered intensely hot and stifling by the stove ; but being further flavoured by a sickly gush of soup from the kitchen, and by such re- mote suggestions of tobacco as lingered within tlie brazen receptacles already mentioned, it be- came, to a stranger's senses, almost insupport- able. The gentleman in the rocking-chair having his back towards them, and being much engaged in his intellectual pastime, was not aware of tlieir approach until the colonel walking up to the stove, contributed his mite towards the support of the left-hand spittoon, just as the major — for it was the major — bore down upon it. Major Pawkins then reserved his fire, and looking upward, said, with a peculiar air of quiet weariness, like a man who had been up all night — an air which Martin had already observed both in the colonel and Mr Jefferson Brick — " Well, colonel !" " Here is a gentleman from England, major," the colonel replied, " who has concluded to locate himself here if the amount of compensation suits him." " I am glad to see you, sir," observed the major, shaking hands with IMarlin, and not moving a muscle of his face. " You are pretty bright, I hope ?" " Never better," said Martin. " You are never likely to be," returned the major. " You will see the sun shine here." " I think I remember to have seen it shine at home, sometimes,'" said Martin, smiling. " I think not," replied the major. He said so with a stoical indifference certainly, but still in a tone of firmness which admitted of no further dis- pute on that point. When he had thus settled the question, he put his hat a little on one side tor the greater convenience of scratching his head, and saluted Mr. Jefferson Brick with a lazy nod. Major Pawkins (a gentleman of Pennsylvanian origin) was distinguished by a very large skull, and a great mass of yellow foreiiead ; in deference to which commodities, it was currently held in bar-rooms and other such places of resort, that the major was a man of huge sagacity. He was f .r- ther to be known by a heavy eye and a dull slow manner ; and for being a man of that kind who — mentally speaking — requires a deal of room to turn himself in. But in trading on his stock of wisdom, he invariably proceeded on the principle of putting all the goods he had (and more) inti his window ; and that went a great tvay with hr constituency of admirers. It went a great way perhaps, with Mr. Jefferson Brick, who took 06 casion to whisper in Martin's ear : " One of the most remarkable men in our coun try, sir !" It must not be supposed, however, that the per petual exhibition in the market-place of all hii stock in trade for sale or hire, was the major's sole claim to a very large share of sympathy and support. He was a great politician ; and the one article of his creed, in reference to all public obli- gations involving the good fai'h and integrity of his country, was, " run a moist pen slick through everything, and start fresh." This made him a patriot. In commercial affairs he was a bold spe- culator. In plainer words he had a most distin guished genius for swindling, and could start a bank, or negociate a loan, or form a land-jobting company (entailing ruin, pestilence, and death, on hundreds of families), with any gifted creature in the Union. This made him an admirable man of business. He could hang about a bar-room, discussing the affairs of the nation, for twelve hours together ; and in th.it time could hold forth with more intolerable dulness, chew more tobacco, smoke more tobacco, drink more rum-toddy, mint- julep, gin-sling, and cocktail, than any private gentleman of his acquaintance. This made him an orator and a man of the people. In a word. the major was a rising character and a popular character, and was in a fairway to be sent bv tli« no LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF popular party to tbe Sfate House of New York, ! it' not in the end to Washington itself. But as a man's private prosperity does not always keep pace with his p::triotic devotion to public affairs; and as fraudultnl transactions have their downs as well as ups; the major was occasionally under a cloud. Hence, just now, Mrs. Pawkins kept a boarding-house, and Major Pawkins rather "loafed" his time away, than otherwise. " You have come to visit our country, sir, at a Beason of great commercial depression," said the major. "At an alarming crisis," said the colonel. " At a period of unprecedented stagnation," said Mr. Jeil'erson Brick. " I am sorry to hear that," returned Martin. "It's not likely to last, I hope?" Martin knew nothing about America, or he would iiave known perfectly well that if its in- dividual citizens, to a man, are to be believed, it always is depressed, and always is stagnated, and always is at an alarming crisis, and never was otherwise; though as a body they are ready to make oath upon the Evangelists at any hour of the day or night, that it is the most thriving and prosperous of all countries on the habitable globe. " It 's not likely to last, I hope?" said Martin. " Well !" returned tiie major, " I expect we shall get along somehow, and come right in the end." " We are an elastic country," said the Rowdy Journal. " We are a young lion," said Mr. Jefferson Brick. " We have revivifying and vigorous principles within oursclvt s," observed the major. " Shall we drink a bitter afore dinner, colonel ?" The colonel assenting to this proposal with great alacrity, Major Pawkins proposed an ad- journment to a neighbouring bar-room, which, as he observed, was "only in tiie next block." He then referred Martin to Mrs. Pawkins for all particulars connected with the rate of board and lodging, and informed him that he would have the pleasure of seeing that lady at dinner, which would soon be ready, as tiie dinner hour was two o'clock, and it only wanted a quarter now. This reminded him that if the bitter were to be taken at all, there was no time to lose ; so he walked off without more ado, and left them to follow if they thought proper. When the major rose from his rocking-chair before the stove and so disturbed the hot air and balmy whiff of soup which fanned their brows, the odour of stale tobacco became so decidedly prevalent as to leave no doubt of its proceeding mainly from that gentleman's attire. Indeed as Martin walked beliitid him to the bar-room, he could not help thinking that the great square major, in his listlessness and languor, looked very much like a stale weed himself, such as might be hoed out of the public garden with great advantage to thd decent growth of that preserve, and tossed on some congenial dunghill. They encountered morn weeds in the bar-room, fconie of Y^ht/fn (being thirsty souls as well as airty) weie pretty stale in one sense, and pretty fre^li in anotlier. Among Ihetn was a gentle- man, who, as Martin gallurtd from the conversa- lioc thwt tojk place over the bitter, started that afternoon for the Far West on a six months' business tour; and who, as his outfit and equip ment for this journey, had just such another shinv hat and just such another little pale valise, as had composed the luggage of the gentleman who caine from England in the Screw. They were walking back very leisurely; Mar- tin arm-in-arm with Mr. Jefferson Brick, and the major and the colonel side-by-side before them; when, as they came within a house or two of the major's residence, they heard a bell ringing vio lently. The instant this sound struck upon their ears, the colonel and the major darted off, dashed up the steps and in at the street-door (which stood ajar) like lunatics; while Mr. Jefferson Brick, detaching his arm from Martin's, made a precipi- tate dive in the same direction, and vanished also. "Good Heaven!" thought Martin, "the pre- mises are on fire ! It was an alarm-bell I" But there was no smoke to be seen, nor any flame, nor was there any smell of fire. As Mar- tin faltered on the pavement, three more gentle- men, with horror and agitation depicted in their faces, came plunging wildly round the street corner ; jostled each other on the steps ; struggled for an instant; and rushed into the house in a confused lieap of arms and legs. Unable to bear 't any longer, Martin followed. Even in hia rapid progress, he was run down, thrust aside, and passed, by two more gentlemen, stark mad, as it appeared, with fierce excitement. "Where is it?" cried Martin, breathlessly, to a negro whom he encountered in the passage, " In a eatin.«)om sa. 'Kernel sa, him kept a seat 'side hitoself sa." "A seat!" cried Martin. " For a dinnar sa." Martin stared at him for a moment, and burst into a hearty laugh ; to which the negro, out of his natural good humour and desire to please, so heartily responded, that his teeth shone like a gleam of light, " You 're the picasaiitcst fellow I have seen yet," said Martin, clappin'/ him on the back, " and give me a better appetite than bitters." With this sentiment he walked into the dining room and slipped into a chair next the colonel, which that gentleman (by this time nearly through his dinner) had turned down, in reserve for him, with its back against the table. It was a numerous company — eiglitccn or twenty, perhaps. Of these, some five or six were ladies, who sat wedged together in a little pha- lanx by themselves. All tlie knives and forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming ; very few words w-ere spoken ; and everybody seemed to eat his utmost in seli-detence, as if a famine were expected to set in before breakfast time to-morrow morning, and it had become high time to assert the first law of nature. The poultry, which may perhaps be considered to have formed the staple of the entertainment — for there was a turkey at the top, a pair of ducks at the bottom, and two fowls in the middle — dis- appeared as rapidly as if every bird had had lire use of its wings, and had flown in desperation down n human throat. The oysters, stewed and pirklcd, leaped from their capacious reservoir.* and slid by scores into the mouths of the assem MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. Ill bfy. Tne sharpest pickles vanished; whole cucumbers at once, like siitrar-plmnbs ; and no man winked his eye. Great heaps of indigesti- ble matter melted away as ice before the sun. It was a solemn and an awful thingf to see. Dys- peptic individuals bolted their food in wedf^es ; lt''!'fpediQor, not themselves, but broods of nightmares, who were continually standing at livery within them. Spare men, with lank and rigid cheeks, came out unsatisfied from the destruction of heavy disiies, and glared with watchful eyes upon the pastry. What Mrs. Pawkins felt each day at dinner-time is hidden from all human knowledge. But she liad one comfort. It was very soon over. When the colonel had finished his dinner, which event to<3k place while Martin, who had sent his plate for some turkey, was waiting to begin, he asked him vviiat he thought of the boarders, who were from all parts of the Union, and whether he would like to know any particulars concerning them. " Pray," said Martin, " who is that sickly little girl opposite, with the tight round eyes? I don't see any body here, who looks like her mother, or who seems to have charge of her." " Do you mean the matron in blue, sir ?" asked the colonel, with emphasis. "That is Mrs. Jef- ferson Brick, sir." " No, no," said Martin, " I mean the little girl, like a doll — directly opposite." " Well, sir !" cried the colonel. "That is Mrs. Jefferson Brick." Martin glanced at the colonel's face, but he was quite serious. " Bless my soul ! I suppose there will be a young Brick then, one of these days?" said Martin. " There are two young Bricks already, sir," returned the colonel. The matron looked so uncommonly like a child herself, that Martin could not help saying as much. " Yes, sir," returned the colonel, " but some institutions develop human natur : others retard it." " Jefferson Brick," he observed, after a short silence, in commendation of his correspondent, " is one of tlie most remarkable men in our country, sir." This had passed almost in a whisper, for the distinguished gentleman alluded to, sat on Mar- tin's other hand. " Pray Mr. Brick," said Martin, turning to him, and asking a question more for conversation's sake than from any feeling of interest in its sub- ject, " who is that" he was going to say " young" but thought it prudent to eschew the word — " that very short gentleman yonder, with the red nose ?" " That is Pro — fessor Mullet, sir," replied Jef- ferson, " May I ask what he is Professor of?" asked Martin. " Of education, sir," said Jefferson Brick. " A sort of schoolmaster, possibly ?" Martin ventured to observe. " He is a man of fine moral elements, sir, and not commonly endowed," said the war corres- pondent. " lie felt it necessary, at the last elec- tion for President, to repudiate and denounce his father, who voted on the wrong interest. He has Bince written some powerful pamphlets, under the iignature of 'Suturb,' or Brutus reversed. He is one of the most remarkable men in our country sir." "There seem to be plenty of 'em," though Martin, " at any rate." Pursuing his inquiries, Martin found that thtre were no fewer than four majors present, two colonels, one general and a captain, so that he could not help thinking how strongly officered the American militia must be; and wondering very much whether the officers commanded eacli other; or if they did not, where on earth the pri- vates came from. There seemed to be no man there without a title : for those who had not attained to military honours were eitlier doctors, professors, or reverends. Three very hard and disagreeable gentlemen were on missions from neighbouring States ; one on monetary affairs, one on political, one on sectarian. Among the ladies, there were Mrs. Pawkins, who was very straight, bony, and silent; and a wiry-faced old damsel, who held strong sentiments touching the rights of women, and had diffused the same in lectures ; but the rest were strangely devoid of individual traits of character, insomuch that any one of them might have changed minds with tiie other, and nobody would have found it out. These, by the way, were the only members of the party who did not appear to be among the most remark- able people in the country. Several of the gentlemen got up, one by one, and walked off as they swallowed their last mor- sel ; pausing generally by the stove for a minute or so to refresh themselves at the brass spittoons, A few sedentary characters, however, remained at the table full a quarter of an hour, and did not rise until the ladies rose, when all stood up. " Where are they going ?" asked Martin, in the ear of Mr. Jefferson Brick. " To their bed-rooms, sir." " Is there no dessert, or other interval of conver sation ?" asked Martin, who was disposed to en- joy himself after his long voyage. " We are a busy people here, sir, and have no time for that," was the reply. So the ladies passed out in single file, Mr. Jefferson Brick and such other married gentle- men as were left, acknowledging the departure ot their other halves by a nod ; and there was an end of them, Martin thought this an uncomtbrta ble custom, but he kept his opinion to himself ibf the present, being anxious to hear, and inform himself by the conversation of the busy gentle, men, who now lounged about the stove as if a great weight had been taken off their minds by the withdrawal of the other sex; and who mado a plentiful use of the spittoons and their tooth picks. It was rather barren of interest, to say the truth ; and the greater part of it may be summed up in one word — dollars. All their cares, hopes, joys, affections, virtues, and associations, seemed to be melted down into dollars. Wiiatever the chance contributions that fell into the slow caul dron of their talk, they made the gruel thick ana slab with dollars. Men were weighed hy theii dollars, measures gauged by their dollars ; life was auctioneered, appraised, put up, and knock<(i down for its dollars. The next respectable liiiii; to dollars was any venture liaving their attain mcnt for its end. Tlie jnore of that worthlefsi 112 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ballast, honour and fair-dealingf, which any man cast overboard from the ship of his Good Name and lioud Intent, the more ample stowage-room iie had for dollars. Make commerce one huge lie and mighty theft. Deface the banner of the niilion for an idle rag ; pollute it star by star ; and cut out stripe by stripe as from the arm of a de- gmdcd soldier. Do anything for dollars ! What is a flag to them ! One who rides at all hazards of limb and life in the chase of a fox, will prefer to ride recklessly at most times. So it was with these gentlemen. He was the greatest patriot, in their eyes, who brawled the loudest, and who cared the least for decenc}'. He was their champion, who in the brutal fury of his own pursuit, could cast no stig- ma upon them, for the hot knavery of theirs. Thus, Martin learned in the five minutes' strag- gling talk about the stove, that to carry pistols into legislative assemblies, and swords in sticks, and other such peaceful toys ; to seize opponents by the throat, as dogs or rats might do ; to bluster, bully, and overbear by personal assailment ; were glowing deeds. Not thrusts and stabs at Free- dom, striking far deeper into her House of Life than any sultan's scimetar could reach; but rare incense on her altars, having a grateful scent in patriotic nostrils, and curling upward to the se- venth heaven of Fame. Once or twice, when there was a pause, Martin asked such questions as naturally occurred to him, being a stranger, about the national poets, the theatre, literature, and the arts. But the information which these gentlemen were in a condition to give him on such topics, did not extend beyond the effusions of such master-spirits of the time, as Colonel Diver, Mr. Jefferson Brick, and others ; renowned, as it appeared, for excel- lence in the achievement of a peculiar style of broadside-essay called " a screamer." " We are a busy people, sir," said one of the captains, who was from the West, " and have no time for reading mere notions. We don't mind 'cm if they come to us in newspapers along with almighty strong stuff of another sort, but darn yi)ur books." Here tiie general, who appeared to quite grow faint at the bare thouglit of reading anything which was .neither mercantile nor political, and was not in a newspaper, inquired " if any gentle- man would drink sotne ?" Most of the company, considering this a very choice and seasonable idea, lounged out one by one to the bar-room in the next block. Thence they probably went to their stores and counting-houses ; thence to the bar- room again, to talk once more of dollars, and enlarge their minds with the perusal and discus- sion of screamers ; and thence each man to snore in the bosom of his own family. " Which would seem," said Martin, pursuing the current of his own thoughts, "to be the prin- cipal recreation they enjoy in common." With lii.it, lie fell a-musing again on dollars, dema- gogues, and bar-rooms ; di^bating within himself vvhether busy people of this class were really as t)-jsy as they claimed to be, or only had an inap- titude for social and domestic pleasure. It was a diflicult question to solve; and the mere fact of its being strongly presented to his mind bv al! that he had seen and heard, was not encouraging. He sat down at the deserted board and becoming more and more despondent, as lie thought of all the uncertainties and difnculties of his precarious situation, sighed heavily. Now, there had been at the dinner-table a mid- dle-aged man with a dark eye and a sunburnt face, who had attracted Martin's attention by having something very engaging and honest in the expression of his features; but of whom he could learn nothing from either of his neighbours, who seemed to consider him quite beneath their notice. He had taken no part in the conversation round the stove, nor had he gone forth with the rest; and now, when he heard Martin sigh for the third or fourth time, he interposed with some casual remark, as if he desired, without obtrud- ing himself upon a stranger's notice, to engage him in cheerful conversation if he could. His motive was so obvious, and yet so delirateh' ex- pressed, that Martin felt really grateful to him, and showed him so, in the manner of his reply. "I will not ask you," said this gentleman with a smile, as he rose and moved towards him, "how you like my country, for I can quite antici- pate your real feeling on that point. But, as I am an American, and consequently bound to begin with a question, I '11 ask you how do you like the colonel ?" "You are so very frank," returned Martin, "that I have no hesitation in saying I don't like him at all. Though I must add that I am be- holden to him for his civility in bringing n>e here — and arranging for my stay, on pretty reasonable terms, by the way," he added : remem bering that the colonel had whispered him to thai effect, before going out. "Not much beholden," said the stranger drily. "The colonel occasionally boards packet-ships, I have heard, to glean the latest information for his journal ; and he occasionally brings strangers to board here, I believe, with a view to the little per- centage which attaches to those good offices ; and which the hostess deducts from his weekly bilL I don't offend you, I hope ?" he added, seeing that Martin reddened. " My dear sir," returned Martin, as they shook hands, " how is that possible ! to tell you tite truth, I — am — " "Yes?" said the gentleman, sitting down beside him. " I am rather at a loss, since I must speiik plainly," said Martin, getting the better of his hesitation, " to know how this colonel escapes being beaten." " Well ! He has been beaten once or twice," remarked the gentleman quietly, " He is one of a class of men, in wIioit) our own Franklin, ^*o long ago as ten years betbre the close of the last century, foresaw our danger and disgrace. Per- haps you don't know that Franklin, in very severe terms published his opinion that those who were slandcr<'d by such fV'liows as this colonel, having no sufticient renudy in the administration of tiiis country's laws, or in tiio decent and right-minded I'ccling of its penple, werr justified in retorting on such public nuisances by means of a stout cudgel'" " I was not aware of that," said Martin, " but I am very glad to know if, and I think it wortliy of his memory ; especially" — here he hesitatetf again. MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. IKI "•Go on," said the other, smiling as if he knew what stuck iti Martin's throat. " Kspeniaily," pursued Martin, "as I can al- ready understand that it may have required great courage, even in his time, to write freely on any qupstion which was not a party one in this very free country." " Some courage, no doubt," returned his new friend. " Do you think it would require any to do so, now ?" " Indeed, I think it would ; and not a little," said Martin. " You are right. So very right, that I believe no satirist could breathe this air. If another Juvenal or Swift could rise up among us to- morrow, he would be hunted down. If you liave any knowledge of our literature, and can give me the name of any man, American born and bred, who has anatomised our follies as a people, and no' as this or that party ; and has escaped the fuuiest and mos-t brutal slander, the most invete- rate hatred and intolerant pursuit; it will be a strange name in my ears, believe me. In some cases I could name to you, where a native writer has ventured on the most harmless and good-hu- moured illustrations of our vices or defects, it has been found necessary to announce, that in a se- cond edition the passage has been expunged, or altered, or explained away, or patched into praise." " And how has this been brought about?" askw Martin, in dismay. "Think of what you have seen and heard to day, beginning with the colonel," said his frici.d, "and ask yourself How they came about is another question. Heaven forbid that thty should be sampius of the intelligence and virtue of America, but they come uppermost; and in great numbers too; and too often represent iu Will you walk ?" Tliere was a cordial candour in his manner and an engaging confidence that it would not bo aliused ; a manly bearing on his own part, and a simple reliance on the manly fiith of a stranger which Martin had never seen before. He linked his arm readily in that of the American gentleman, and they walked out together. It was perhaps to men like this, his new com- panion, that a traveller of honoured name, wlio trod those shores now nearly forty years ago, and woke npon that soil, as many have done since, to blots and stains upon its high pretensions, which in the brightness of his distant dreams were lost to view, appealed in these words — Oh hut for such Columbia's days were done; Rank without ripeness, quickened without sun. Crude at the surface, rotten at the core. Her fruits would fall before her Spring were o'er. CHAPTER XVII. MARTIN ENLARGES HIS CIRCLE OF ACQUAINTANCE ; INCREASES HIS STOCK OF WISDOM; AND HAS AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY OF COMPARING HIS OWN EXPERIENCES WITH THOSE OF LUMMY NED OF THE UGHT SALISBURY, AS RELATED BY HIS FRIEND MR. WILLIAM SIMMONS. It was characteristic of Martin, that all this while he had either forgotten Mark Tapley as com- pletely as if there had been no such person in ex- istence, or, if for a moment the figure of that gentleman rose before his mental vision, had dis- missed it as something by no means of a pressing nature, which might be attended to by-and-by, and could wait his perfect leisure. But being now in the streets again, it occurred to him, as just coming within the bare limits of possibility, that Mr. Tapley might, in course of time, grow tired of waiting on the threshold of the Rowdy Journal Office; so he intimated to his new friend, tliat if they could conveniently walk in that direc- tion, he would be glad to get this piece of business off his mind. " And sneaking of business," said Martin, "mav I ask, in order that I may not be behind-hand with questions either, whether your occupation holds you to this city, or, like myself, you are a visitor here ?" " A visitor," replied his friend. " I was 'raised' in tlie State of Massacfmsetts, and reside there ftill My ho-.ne is in a quiet country town. lam not often in these busy places; and my inclin:i- tion to visit them does not increase with our bet- ter acquaintance, I assure you." | " You have been abroad ?" asked Miirtin. I ** Oil yes." "And, lilie most people who Iravi'l, have be- i come more than ever attached to your home and native country," said Martin, eyeing him cu- iiously. " To my home — yes," rejoined his friend, "To my native country as my home — yes, also." " You imply some reservation," said Martin. " Well," returned his new friend, " if you ash me whether I came back here with a greater relish for my country's faults ; with a greater fondness for those who claim (at the rale of so many dollars a day) to be her friends; with a cooler indifference to the growth of principle.- among us in respect of public matters and of pri- vate dealings between man and man, the advo- cacy of which, beyond the foul atmosphere of a criminal trial, would disgrace your own Old Bailey lawyers; why, then I answer plainly, No." " Oh !" said Martin ; in so exactly the samti key as his friend's No, that it sounded like an echo. " If you ask me," his companion pursued " whether I came back here better satisfied with a state of things wbich broadly divides society into two classes — whereof one, the great mass, asserts a spurious independence, most miserablw dependent for its mean existence on the disre- gard of humanizing conventionalities of manner and social custom, so that the coarser a man i». the more distinctly i shall appeal to his ta»t^ n4 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF while the other, ^iiigusted with the low standard tlius pet up and made adaptable to evcrytliiug-, takes refuge among the graces and refinements it can bring to bear on private life, and leaves the public weal to such fortune as may betide it in the press and uproar of a general scramble — then again I answer No." And again Martin said "Oh !" in the same odd way as before, being anxious and disconcerted; not so much, to say the truth, on public grounds, as with reference to tlie fading prospects of domestic architecture. " In a word," resumed the other, " I do not find and cannot believe, and therelbre will not al low that we are a model of wisdom, and an ex- ample to the world, and the perfection of human reason ; and a great deal more to the same pur- pose, which you may hear any hour in the day ; simply because we began our political life with two inestimable advantages." " What were they ?" asked Martin. "One, that our history commenced at so late a period as to escape the ages of bloodshed and cruelty through which otiier nations have passed ; and so had all the light of their probation, and none of its darkness. The other, that we have a vnst territory, and not — as yet — too many people on it. These facts considered, we have done little enough, I think." " Education ?" suggested Martin, faintly. "Pretty well on that head," said the other, shrugging his shoulders, " still no mighty matter to boast of; for old countries, and despotic coun- tries too, have done as much, if not more, and made less noise about it. We shine nvit brightly in comparison with England, certainly, but hers is a very extreme case. You complimented me -Ml my frankness, you know," he added, laughing. "Oh I I am not at all astonished at your speak, ing thus openly when my country is in question," returned Martin. " It 's your plain-speaking in reference to your own that surprises me." " You will not find it a scarce quality here, I assure you, saving among the Colonel Divers, and Jefferson Bricks, and Major Pawkinses — though the best of us are something like the man in Goldsmith's Comedy, who wouldn't suffer any- body but himself to abuse his master. Cornel" ne added, ".let us talk of something else. You have come here on some design of improving your fortune, I dare say ; and I should grieve to put you out of heart, I am some years older than you, besides ; and may, on a few trivial points, advise you, perhaps." There was not the least curiosity or imperti- nence in the manner of this offer, which was open-hearted, unatfected, and good-natured. As it was next to impossible that he should not have his confidence awakened by a deportment so [)rcpos- sessing and kind, Martin plainly stated what had brought liim into those parts, and even made the very diiFicult avowal that he was poor. He did not say how poor, it must be admitted, rather tlirowing off the declaration with an air which might havo implied that he had money enough tirir six months, instead of as m:'my weeks; but |KX)r he said he was, and gratci'ul he said he would be, for any counsel that his friend would give him. It Would hot iiave been very dillicult for any jtkc to see but it was particularly easy for Mar- tin, whose perceptions were sharpened bv his c'u eumstances, to discern; that the i^tranger s fact grew infinitely longer as the domestic-architecture project was developed. Nor, although he made a great effort to be as encouraging as possible, could he prevent his head from shaking once invoKin tarily, as if it said in the vulgar tongue, upon iu own account, " No go !" But he spoke in a cheerful tone, and said, that although there wa.s no such opening as Martin wished in that city, he would make it matter of immediate consideia- tion and enquiry where one was most likely tc) exist; and then he made Martin acquainted wi<'' his name, which was Bevan ; and with his pro- fession, which was pliysic, though he seldom or never practised ; and with other circumstances connected with himself and family, which fully occupied the time, until they reached the Rowdy Journal Office. Mr. Tapley appeared to be taking his ease on the landing of the first-floor ; for sounds as of some gentleman established in that region, whist- ling " Rule Britannia" with all his might and main, greated their ears before they reached the house. On ascending to the spot from whence this music proceeded, they found him recumbent in the midst of a fortification of luggage, appa- rently performing his national anthem for the gratification of a grey-haired black man, who sat on one of the outworks (a portmanteau), staring intently at Mark, while Mark, with his head re- dining on his hand, returned the compliment in a thoughtful manner, and whistled all the time. He seemed to have recently dined, for his knife, i a case-bottle, and certain broken meats in a hand- kerchief, lay near at hand. He had employed a portion of his leisure in the decoration of the Rowdy Journal door, whereon his own initial* now appeared in letters nearly half a foot long together with the day of the month in smaller type: the whole surrounded by an ornamental border, and looking very fresh and bold. " I was a'most afraid you was lost, sir !" cried Mark, rising, and stopping the tune at that point where Britons generally are supposed to declare (when it is wliistled) that they never, never never, — " Nothing gone wrong, I hope, sir." " No, Mark. Where 's your friend ?" "The mad woman, sir?" said Mr. Tapley. " Oh ! she 's all right, sir." " Did she find her husband ?" "Yes, sir. Least ways she's found his re- mains," said Mark correcting himself "The man's not dead, I hope?" "Not altogether dead, sir," returned Mark, " but he's had more fevers and agues than is q.iite reconcileable willi being alive. When she didn't see him a waiting for her, I thought she'd liave died herself, I did I" " Wan he not here, then I" " He wasn't here. There was a feeble old sha- dow come a creeping down at last, as much like his substance when she know'd him, as your shadow when it's drawn out to its very finest and longest by the sun, is like you. But it was his remains, there's no doubt about that. She took on with joy, poor thing, as much as if it had been all of him I" " Had he bought land ?" asked Mr Bcvdo. MARTIN CIIUZZLEVVIT. 115 " Ah ! He 'd boujsfht land," said Mark, shaking his head, " and paid for it too. Every sort of nateral advantage was connected with it, the ao-ents said ; and there certainly was one, quite unlimited. No end to the water !" " It 's a thingf he could n't have done without, 1 suppose," observed Martin, peevishly. " Certainly not, sir. There it was, any way ; iihv;iys turned on, and no water-rate. Indepen- dent of three or four slimy old rivers close by, it varied on the farm from four to six foot deep in tine dry season. He could n't say how deep it was in the rainy time, for he never had any thing long enough to sound it with." " Is this true?" asked Martin of his companion. " Extremely probable," he answered. " Some Mississippi or Missouri lot, I dare say." " However," pursued Mark, " he came from I- don't-know-where-and-all, down to New York here to meet his wife and children; and they started off again in a steamboat tiiis blessed after- noon, as happy to be along with each otlier, as if they was going to Heaven. I should think they was, pretty straight, if I may judge from the poor man's looks." " And may I ask," said Martin, glancing, but not with any displeasure, from Mark to tlie ne- gro, " who this gentleman is ? Another friend of yours ?" " Why, sir," returned Mark, taking him aside, and speaking confidentially in his ear, " he 's a man of colour, sir." " Do you take me for a blind man," asked Mar- tin, somewhat impatiently, "that you think it necessary to tell me that, when his face is the blackest that ever was seen ?" "No, no; when I say a man of colour," re- iurncd Mark, " I mean that he 's been one of them as there 's picters of in the shops. A man and a brother, you know, sir," said Mr. Tapley, favour- ing his master with a significant indication of the figure so often represented in tracts and cheap prints. " A slave !" cried Martin, in a whisper. " Ah !" said Mnrk, in the same tone. " Nothing el?e. A slave. Why, when that there man was young — don't look at him, while I 'm telling it — he was shot in the leg ; gashed in the arm ; scored in his live limbs, like pork; beaten out of shape; had his neck galled with an iron collar, and wore iron rings upon his wrists and ancles. The marks are on him to this day. When I was having my dinner just now, he stripped off his coat, and took away my appetite." '^ " Is this true ?" asked Martin of his friend, who stood beside them. " I have no reason to Joubt it," he ansveered, looking down, and shaking his head. "It very often is." " Bless you," said Mark, " I know it is, from hearing his whole story. That master died ; so did his second master from having his head cut open with n hatchet by another slave, who, when he 'd done i', went and drowned himself: then he got a better one: in years and years he saved up a little money, and bought his freedom, which he got pretty cheap at last, on account of his strength being nearly gone, and he being ill. Then he come here. And now he's a saving up to treat himself afore he dies to one small purchase — it 's nothing to speak of; only his own daughter ; that's all I" cried Mr. Tapley, becoming excited. "Liberty for ever I Hurrah!" " Hushl" cried Martin, clapping his hand upon his mouth: "and don't be an idiot. What is he doing here ?" " Waiting to take our luggage off upon a truck," said Mark. " He'd have come for it by- and-by, but I engaged him for a very reasonable charge — out of my own pocket — to sit along with me and make me jolly; and I am jolly ; and if I was rich enough to contract with him to wait apon me once a day, to be looked at, I 'd never be any thing else." The fact may cause a solemn impeachment of Mark's veracity, but it must be admitted never, theless, that there was that in his face and man- ner at the moment, which militated strongly against this emphatic declaration of the state of his mind. " Lord love you, sir," he added, " they 're so fond of Liberty in this part of the globe, that they buy her and sell her and carry her to market with 'em. They 've such a passion for Liberty, that they can't help taking liberties with her. — That 's what it 's owing to." " Very well," said Martin, wishing to change the theme. " Having come to that conclusion, Mark, perhaps you '11 attend to me. The place to which the luggage is to go, is printed on this card. Mrs. Pawkins's Boarding House." " Mrs. Pawkins's boarding-house," repeated Mark. " Now Cicero." " Is that his name ?" asked Martin. " That 's his name sir," rejoined Mark. And the negro grinning assent from under a leathern portmanteau, than which his own face was many shades deeper, hobbled down stairs with his por- tion of their worldly goods: Mark Tapley having already gone before with his share. Martin and his friend followed them to the door below, and were about to pursue their walk, when the latter stopped, and asked, with some hesita- tion, whether that young man was to be trusted. "Mark! Oh certainly ! with any thing." " You don't understand me, — I think he had better go with us. He is an honest fellow, and speaks his mind so very plainly." "Why, the fact is," said Martin, smiling, "that being unaccustomed to a free republic, he is used to do so." " I think he had better go with us," returned the other. " He may get into some trouble other- wise. This is not a slave State; but 1 ai" ashamed to say that the spirit of Tolerance is not so common any where in these latitudes as the form. We are not remarkable for behaving very temperately to each other when we differ : but to strangers ! no, I really think he had better go with us." Martin called to him immediately to be of their party ; so Cicero and the truck went one way , and they three went another. They walked about the city for two or three hours; seeing it from the best points of view, and pausing in the principal streets, and before suclj public buildings as Mr. Bevan pointed out. Night then coming on apace, Martin proposed that they should adjourn to Mrs. Pawkins's establishmenl for coffee; but in this he was overruled by l»i« 116 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP new acquaintance, who seemed to have set his heart on carrying him, though it were only for an hour, to the house of a friend of his who hved hard by. Feehng (however disincHned he was, being weary) that it would be in bad taste, and not very gracious, to object that he was unintro- duced, when this open-hearted gentleman was so 'eiidy to be his sponsor, Martin — for once in his life, at all events — sacrificed his own will and pleasure to the wishes of another, and consented with a fair grace. So travelling had done him that much good, already. Mr. Bevan knocked at the door of a very neat house of moderate size, from the parlour windows of which, lights were shining brightly into the now dark street. It was quickly opened by a man with such a thoroughly Irish face, that it seemed as if he ought, as a matter of right and principle, to be in rags, and could have no sort of business to be looking cheerfully at anybody out of a whole suit of clothes. Commending Mark to the care of this pheno- menon — for such he may be said to have been in Martin's eyes — Mr. Bevan led the way into the room which had shed its cheerfulness upon the street, to whose occupants he introduced Mr. Qmzzlewit as a gentleman from England, whose acquaintance he had recently had the pleasure to make. They gave him welcome in all courtesy and politeness; and in less than five minutes' time he found himself sitting very much at his Base, by the fireside, and becoming vastly well acquainted with the whole family. There were two young ladies — one eighteen ; the otiier twenty — both very slender, but very pretty ; their mother, who looked, as Martin tliought, much older and more faded than she ought to have looked ; and their grandmother, a little sharp-eyed, quick old woman, who seemed to have got past that stage, and to have come all right again. Besides these, there were the young ladies' father, and the young ladies' brother ; the first engaged in mercantile afTairs ; the second, a Ffudent at college — both, in a certain cordiality of manner, like his own ^riend ; and not unlike him in face, which was no great wonder, for it soon appeared that he was their near relation. Martin could not help tracing the family pedigree from the tvfj young ladies, because they were foremost in his thoughts ; not only from being, as aforesaid, very pretty, but by reason of their wear- ing miraculously small shoes, and the thinnest possible silk stockings : the which their rocking- chairf, developed to a distracting extent. There is no doubt that it was a monstrous comfortable circumstance to be sitting in a snug Well-furnished room, warmed by a cheerful fire, and full of various pleasant decorations, including four small shoes, and the like amount of silk Btockings, and- yes, why not? — the feet and legs therein enshrined. And there is no doubt that M.irtin was monstrous well-disposed to regard his position in that light, after his recent experience of the Screw, and of Mrs. Pawkins's ho;irding-liousc. The consequence was, that he made himself very agreeable indeed ; and by the time the tea and coffee arrived (with sweet pre- ■erves, and cimning tea-cakes in its train), was in n highly genial state, and much esteemed by the • IhjIc family. Another delightful circumstance turned up tx?. fore the first cup of tea was drunk. The whole family had been in England. There was a plea- sant thing I But Martin was not quite so glad o: this, when he found that they knew all the great dukes, lords, viscounts, marquesses, duchesses, knights, and baronets, quite affectionately, and were beyond everything interested in the lea;.t particular concerning them. However, when they asked after the wearer of this or that coronet, and said ' Was he quite well ?' Martin answerea ' Yes, oh yes. Never better;' and when they said his Lordship's mother, 'the Duchess, was sl>e much changed?' Martin said, 'Oh dear no, they would know her anywhere if they saw her to- morrow ;' and so got on pretty well. In like man ner when the young ladies questioned him touch ing the Gold Fish in that Grecian fountain in such and such a nobleman's conservatory, and whether there were as many as there used to be, he gravely reported, after mature consideration, tint there must be at least twice as many: and as to the exotics, ' Oh ! well ! it was of no use talking about them; they must be seen to be believed;' whieii improved state of circumstances reminded the family of the splendour of that brilliant festival (comprehending the whole British Peerage and Court Calendar) to which they were specially in- v.ted, and which indeed had been partly given in their honour : and recollections of what Mr. Norris the father had said to the Marquess, and of what Mrs. Norris the mother had said to the Marchioness, and of what the Marquess and Marchioness had both said, when they said that upon their words and honours they wished Mr. Norris tlie father and Mrs. Norris the mother, and the Misses Norris the daughters, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son, would only take up their perma- nent residence in England, and give them tlw pleasure of their everlasting friendship, occupied a very considerable time. Martin thought it rather strange, and in .some sort inconsistent, that during the whole of these narrations, and in the very meridian of their en. joyment thereof, both Mr. Norris the father, and Mr. Norris Junior, the son (who corresponded, every post, with four members of the English Peerage), enlarged upon the inestimable advan- tage of having no such arbitrary distinctions in that enlightened land, where there were no noble- men but nature's noblemen, and all society was based on one broad level of brotherly love and natural equality. Indeed Mr. Norris the father gradually expanding into an oration on this swell- ing theme was becoming tedious, when Mr. Bevan diverted his thoughts, by happening to make some casual inquiry relative to the occupier of the next house; in reply to which, this same Mr. Norris the father observed, that " that person entertained religious opinions of which he couldn't approve; and therefore he hadn't the honour of knowing the gentleman." Mrs. Norris the mother added another reason of her own, the same in effect, but varying in words; to wit, that she believed tho people were well enough in their way, but they were not genteel. Another little trait came out, which impressed itself on Martin forcibly. Mr. Bevan told them about Mark and the negro, and then it nppi'and that all the Norrises were abolitionists. It was u MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 117 rfrcat relief to hear this, and Martin was so much I jiieouraged on iitiding himself in such company, thiit he expressed his sympathy with tlie oppressed and -vretched blacks. Now, one of the young ladies — tile prettiest and most delicate one — was mig-htily amused at the earnestness with whicli he ppoke ; and on his craving- leave to ask her why, was quite unahle for a time to speak for laughing. As soon, however, as she could, she told him that the negroes were such a fuiuiy people ; so excess- ively ludicrous in their manners and appearance ; that it was wholly impossible for those who knew them well, to associate any serious ideas with such a very at)surd part of the creation. Mr. Norris the father, and Mrs. Norris the motlier, and Miss Norris the sister, and Mr. Norris .Junior the brother, and even Mrs. Norris Senior the grandmother, were all of this opinion, and laid it down as an absolute matter-of-fact — as if there were nothing in suffering and slavery grim enough to cast a solemn air on any human animal; though it were as ridiculous, physically, as the most gro- tesque of apes ; or, morally, as the mildest Nim- rod among tuft-hunting republicans! " In short," said Mr. Norris the father, settling the question comfortably, " there is a natural antipathy between the races." " Extending,"' said Martin's friend, in a low voice, " to the cruellest of tortures, and the bar- gain and sale of unborn generations," Mr. Norris the son said nothing ; but he made a wry fice, and dusted his fingers as Hamlet might after getting rid of Yoriek's skull : just as though he had that moment touched a negro, and some of the black had come off upon his hands. In order that their talk micrht fall again into its former pleasant channel, Martin dropped the subject, with a shrewd suspicion that it would be a dangerous theme to revive under the best of circumstances; and again addressed himself to the young ladies, who were very gorgeously attired in very beautiful colours, and had every article of dress on the same extensive scale as the little shoes and the thin silk stockings. This sug- gested to hiin that they were great proficients in the French fashions, which soon turned out to be the case, for though their information appeared to be none of the newest, it was very extensive : and the elder sister in particular, who was distin- (juished by a talent for metaphysics, the laws of hydraulic pressure, and the rights of human kind, had a novel way of combining these acquirements and bringing them to bear on any subject from Millinery to the Millennium, both inclusive : which was at once improving and remarkable, — so much so, in short, that it was usually observed to reduce foreigners to a state of temporary insanity in five minutes. Martin felt his reason going; and as a means of saving himself, besought the other sister (seeing a piano in the room) to sing. With thiS request she willingly complied; and a bravura concert, solely sustained by the Misses Norris, presently began. They sang in all languages except their own. German, French, Italian, Spanish, Portu- guese, Swiss ; but nothing native ; nothing so low as native. For in this respect languages are like many other travellers — ordinary and common- place enough at home, but 'specially genteel Abroad. There is little doubt that in course of time the Misses Norris would have come to Hebrew, if they had not been interrupted by an announce ment from the Irishman, who flinging open th« door, cried in a loud voice — "Jiniral Fladdock!" " My !" cried the sisters, desisting suddenly " The General come back I" As they made the exclamation, the Genera! attired in full uniform for a ball, came darting i with such precipitancy that, hitching his boot in the carpet, and getting his sword between his legs, he came headlong, and presented a curious little bald place on the crown of his head to tt>e eyes of the astonished company. Nor was this the worst of it ; for being rather corpulent and very tight, the General, being down, could not get up again, but lay there, writhing and doing such things with his boots, as there is no other instance of in military history. Of course there was an immediate rush to his assistance; and the General was promptly raisea! But his uniform was so fearfully and wonderfully made that he came up stiff and without a bend in him, like a dead Clown, and had no command whatever of himself until he was put quite fi.it upon the soles of his feet, when he became ani- mated as by a miracle, and moving edgewise that he might go in a narrower compass and be in less danger of fraying the gold lace on his epau- lettes by brushing them against anything, ad- vanced with a smiling visage to salute tlie lady of the house. To be sure, it would have been impossible fur the family to testify purer delight and joy than at this unlooked-for appearance of General Fladdock I The General was as warmly received as if New York had been in a state of siege, and no other General was to be got, for love or money. He shook hands with the Norrises three times a.U round, and then reviewed them from a little dis- tance, as a brave commander might, with his ample cloak drawn forward over the right shoul- der and thrown back upon the left side to reveal his manly breast. "And do I then," cried the General, "once again behold the choicest spirits of my country !" " Yes," said Mr. Norris the father. " Here we are, General." Then all the Norrises pressed round the General, inquiring how and where he had been since the date of his last letter, and how he had enjoyed himself in foreign parts, and, particularly and above all, to what extent he had become acquainted with the great dukes, lords, viscounts, marquesses, duchesses, knights, and baronets, in whom the people of those benighted countries had delight. " Well then, don't ask me," said the Genera!, holding up his hand. "I was among 'em all the time, and have got public journals in my trunk with my name printed" — he lowered his voice and was very impressive here — " among the fash ionable news I But, oh, the conventionalities t.f that a-mazing Europe I" " Ah !" cried Mr. Norris the father, giving his head a melancholy shake, and looking towards Martin as though he would say, " I can't denv it, sir. I would if I could." " The limited di Fusion of a moral sense in that 118 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF conntry !" exclaimed the General. " The absence ot ;i moral dignity in m;,n!" " Ah I" sighed all the Norrises, quite over- wlii ln)ed with despondency. " I couldn't have realised it," pursued the Gen- eral, " without being located on the spot. Norris, your imagination is the imagination of a strong iviu, but you couldn't have realised it, without eing located on the spot ?" " Never," said Mr. Norris. " The ex-clusiv€ness, the pride, the form, the ceremony," exclaimed the General, emphasizing the article more vigorously at every repetition. " The artificial barriers set up between man and njan ; the division of the human race into court cards and plain cards, of every denomination, into clubs, diamonds, spades — anything but hearts I" " Ah !" cried the whole family. " Too true. General I" " But stay !" cried Mr. Norris, the father, taking him by the arm. " Surely you crossed in the Screw, General ?" "Well ! so I did," was the reply. " Possible !" cried the young ladies. " Or.Iy think !" / The General nr-er^'ed at a loss to understand why his .Savir.i^ cctne home in the Screw should occasion such a seufvation, nor did he seem at all clearer on the subject, when Mr. Norris, intro- ducing him to Martin, said — " A fellow-passenger of yours, I think ?" "Of mine i'' excla:med the General; "No!" He had never seen Martin, but Martin had seen him, and recognised him, now that they stood face to face, as the gent'enian who had stuck his hands in his pockets towards the end of the voyage, and walked the deck with his nos- trils dilated. Everybody looked at Martin. There was no help for it. The truth must out. " I came over in the same ship as the Gen- eral," said Martin, " but not in the same cabin. It being necessary for me to observe strict econo- my, I took my passage in the steerage." If the General had been carried up bodily to a loaded cannon, and required to let it off that mo- ment, he could not have been in a state of greater consternation than when he heard these words. He, Fladdock, — Fladdock in full militia uniform, Fladdock the General, Fladdock t' e caressed of foreign noblemen, — expected to know a fellow who had conie over in the steerage of a line-of- packet ship, at a cost of four pound ten ! and meeting that fellow in the very sanctuary of New York fashion, and nestling in the bosom of the New York aristocracy ! He almost laid his hand upon his sword. A death-like stillness fell upon the Norrises. If this story should get wind, their country rela- tion had, by his imprudence, for ever disgraced them. They were the bright pnrticular stars of an exalted New York sphere. There were other fashionable spheres above them, and ottier fash- ionable spheres below, and none of the stars in any one of these spheres had anything to say to the stars in any other of these' spheres. But, .nrouirh all the splieres it would go forth, that the Norrises, decei-ed by gciitlemanlv manners mid appearances, had, falling trom "their high estate, " received" a dollarless and unknowTi mau. O guardian eagle of the pure Republic, had thej lived for this ! " You will allow me,' said Martin, after a terrible silence, " to take my leave. I feel that I am the cause of at least as much embarrassment here, as I have brought upon myself. But I am bound, before I go, to exonerate this gentleman, who, in introducing me to such society, was quite ignorant of my unworthiness, I assure you." With that he made his bow to the Norrises, and walked out like a man of snow, very cool externally, but pretty hot witliin. " Come, come," said Mr. Norris, the father, looking with a pale face on the asseniblcd circle as Martin closed the door, " the young man has this night beheld a refinement of social manner, and an easy magnificence of social decoration, to which he is a stranger in his own country. Let us hope it may awake a moral sense within him." If that peculiarly ttansatlantic article, a moral ser.se, — for if native statesmen, orators, and -pamphleteers, are to be believed, America quite monopolizes the commodity, — if that peculiarly transatlantic article be supposed to include a benevolent love of all mankind, certainly Mar- tin's would have borne just then a deal of waking: for as he strode along the street, with Mark at his heels, his immoral sense was in active opera- tion ; prompting him to the utterance of some rather sanguinary remarks, which it was well for his own credit that nobody overheard. He had so far cooled down, however, that he had begun to laugh at the recollection of these incidents, when he heard another step behind him, and turning round, encountered his friend Bevan, quite out of breath. He drew his arm through Martin's, and entreat- ing him to walk slowly, was silent for soma minutes. At length he said : " I hojje you exonerate me in another sense ?" " How do you mean ?" asked Martin. " I hope you acquit me of intending or fore seeing the termination of our visit. But I scarce ly need ask you that." " Scarcely indeed," said Martin. " I am the more beholden to you for your kindness, when 1 find what kind of stuff the good citizens here are made of." " I reckon," his friend returned, " that they are made of pretty mu'-h the same stuff as other folks, if they would but own it, and not set up on false pretences." " In good faith, that's true," said Martin " I dare say," resumed his friend, "you might have such a scene as that in an English comedy, and not detect any gross improbability or ano- maly in the matter of it ?" " Yes, indeed !" " Doubtless it is more ridiculous here than anywhere else," said his companion ; " but our professions are to blame for that. So fir as 1 myself am concerned, I may add that I was per- fectly aware from the first that you came over in the steerage, for I hud seen the list of passengers, and knew it did not comprise your name." " 1 feel more obliged to you than before," said Martin. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 113 "Norris is a very good fellow in liis way," ob- Kjrved IVIr. Bcvan. " Is he ?" said Martin drily. "Oh yes! there are a hundred g-ood points abo'jt him. If you or any body else addressed him as another order of being, and sued to him in forma pauperis, he would be all kindness and consideration." " I needn't have travelled three thousand miles from home to find such a character as that" said Martin. Neither he nor his friend said anything more on the way back ; each appearing to find sufficient occupation in his own thoughts. The tea, or the supper, or whatever else they Called the evening meal, was over when they reached the Major's; but the cloth, ornamented with a few additional smears and stains, was still upon the table. At one end of the board Mrs. Jefferson Brick and two other ladies were drink- ing tea — out of the ordinary course, evidently, for they were bonneted and shawled, and seemed to have just come home. By the liglit of three flaring candles of different lengths, in as many candlesticks of different patterns, the room showed to almost as little advantage as in broad day. These ladies were all tiiree talking together in a very loud tone when Martin and liis friend entered ; but, seeing those gentlemen, they stopped directly, and became exceedingly genteel, not to say frosty. As the}' went on to exchange some few remarks in whisjjers, the very water in the tea-pot might have fallen twenty degrees in tem- perature beneath their chilling coldness. "Have you been to meeting, Mrs. Brick?" \sked Martin's friend, with something of a roguish twinkle in his eye. " To lecture, sir." " I bog your pardon, I forgot. You don't go to meeting, I think?" Here the lady on the right of Mrs. Brick gave a pious cough, as much as to say "/ do!" — as, indeed, she did, nearly every night in the week, " A good discourse, ma'am ?" asked Mr. Bevan, addressing this lady. The lady raised her eyes in a pious manner, and answered " Yes." She had been much com- forted by some good, strong, peppery doctrine, which satisfactorily disposed of all her friends and acquaintance, and quite settled their business. Her botinet, too, had far outshone every bonnet in the congregation : so she was tranquil on all accounts. " What course of lectures are you attending now, ma'am ?" said Martin's friend, turning again to Mrs. Brick. "The Philosophy of the Soul — on Wednes- days." " On Mondays ?" " 'I'he Philosophy of Crime." " On Fridays ?" "The Philosophy of Vegetables." " Yo{i have tbrgotten Thursdays — The Philo- sophy of Government, my dear," observed the third lady. "No," said Mrs. Brick. "That's Tuesdays." "So it is !" cried the lady. "The Philosophy of Matter on Thursdays, of course." "You see, Mr. Chuzzlewit, our ladies are fully employed," said Bevan. " Indeed you have reason to say so," answered Martin. "Between these very grave pursuits abroad, and family duties at home, their time mu.sl \i be pretty well engrossed." Martin stopped here, for he saw that the ladief regarded him with no very great favour, tiiougl; v\ hat he had done to deserve the disdaintul e.^pres sion which appeared in their faces he was at a loss to divine. But on their going up stairs tu their bed-rooms — whicli they very soon did — Mr Bevan informed him that domestic drudgery was far beneath the exalted range of these Philo.so- phers, and that the chances were a hundred to one that neither of the three could perform th.e easiest woman's work for lierself, or make the simplest article of dress for any of her children. " Though whether they might not be better employed with even such blunt instruments as knitting-needles, than with these edge-tools," he said, " is another question ; but I can answer for one thing — they don't often cut themselves. De- votions and lectures are our balls and concerts. They go to these places of resort, as an escape from monotony ; look at each other's tlothes ; and come home again. " When you say ' home,' do you mean a house like tiiis ?" " Very oflen. But I see you are tired to death, and will wisli you good night. We will discuss your projects in the morning. You cannot but feel already that it is useless staying here, with any hope of advancing them. You will have to go farther." " And to fare worse ?" said Martin, pursuing the old adage. " Well, I hope not. But sufficient for the day, ymi know — Good night I" Tiiey shook hands heartily, and separated. As soon as Martin was left alone, the excitement of novelty and change which had sustained him through all the fatigues of the day, departed ; and he felt so thoroughly dejected and worn out, that he even lacked the energy to crawl up stairs to fc-ed. In twelve or fifteen hours, how great a change had fallen on his hopes and sanguine plans I New and strange as he was to the ground on which he stood, and to the air he breathed, he could not — recalling all that he had crowded into that one day — but entertain a strong misgiving that his enterprise was doomed. Rash and ill-considered as it had often looked on ship-board, but had never seemed on shore, it wore a dismal aspect now that frightened him. Whatever thoughts he called up to his aid, they came upon him in depressing and discouraging shapes, and gave him no relied Even the diamonds on his finger s[)arkled with the brightness of tears, and had no ray of hope in all their brilliant lustre. He continued to sit in gloomy rumination by the stove — unmindful of the boarders who dropped in one by one from their stores and counting, houses, or the neighbouring bar-rooms, mid afler faking long pulls from a great white water-jug upon the sideboard, and lingering with a kind of hideous fascination near the brass spittoons, lounged heavily to bed — until at length Mark Tapley came and shook him by the arm, suppos- ing him asleep. " .Mark i" he cried, starting. "All right, sir." said Miat cheerful tellow 120 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF sruiffing with his fingers the candle he bore. " It ain't a very large bed, your'n, sir; and a man as wasn't thirsty might drink, afore breakfast, iril the water you 've got to wash in, and ailer- wards eat the towel. But you '11 sleep without rocking to-niglst, sir." " I feel as if tlie house were on the sea," said .Martin, staggering when he rose; "and am ut- K'rly wretched." "I'm as jnllv as a sandboy* myself, sir," said Mark. " But, Lord, I have reason to be ! I ought to have been born here ; that's my opinion. Take Ciire iiow you go" — for they were now ascending the stairs. " You recollect the gentleman aboard the Screw as had the very small trunk, sir?" " The valise ? Yes." "Well, sir, there's been a delivery of clean clothes from the wash to-night, and they 're put otilside the bed-room doors here. If you take notice as we go up, what a very few shirts there dre, and what a many fronts, you'll penetrate the mystery of his packing." But Martin was too weary and despondent to take heed of anything, so had no interest in this discovery. Mr. Tiipley, nothing dashed by his indifference, cotiducttd him to the top ofthe iiouse, wid into the b( d-chaiiiber prepared for his recep- tion: which was a very little narrow room, with biilf a window in it ; a bedstead like a chest vvith- c«ut a lid ; two chiirs ; a piece of carpet, such as *;ioes are coriiinonly tried upon at a ready-made 'stablishment in England; a little looking-glass nailed against the wall; and a washing-table, with a jug and ewer, that might have been niis- tuken for a milk-pot and slop-basin. " I suppose they polish themselves with a dry doth in this country," said Mark. "They've ceJtainly got a touch ofthe 'phoby, sir." "I wish you would pull oft" my boots for me," said Martin, dropping into one ofthe ch;iirs. "I a isn't time ? No, I shou'd hope not. But you 'd 16 live to be a couple of hundred if you cnuld ; and after all be discontented. / know you I" The old man sighed, and still sat cowering 1<€- fore the fire. Mr. Jonas shook his Briltania-in.etal teaspoon at him, and taking a lotti(;r position went on to argue the point on high moral grounds. " If you 're in such a state of mind as that," he grumbled, but in the same subdued key, "why don't you make over your property? Buy an annuity cheap, and make your life interesting to yourself and everybody else that watches tiie speculation. But no, that wouldn't suit ymi. That would be natural conduct to your own son, and you like to be unnatural, and to keep him out of his rights. Why, I should be ashamed of my- self if I was you, and glad to hide my head in tlie what you may call it." Possibly this general phrase supplied the place of grave, or tomb, or sepulchre, or cemetery, or mausoleum, or other such word which the filial tenderness of Mr. Jonas made him delicate of pronouncing. He pursued the theme no further ; for Chutfey, somehow discovering, from his old corner by the fireside, that Anthony was in the attitude of a listener, and that Jonas appeared to be speaking, suddenly cried out, like one inspired : " He is your own son, Mr. Chuzzlevvit. Your own son, sir 1" Old ChufFey little suspected what depth of af*. plication these words had, or that, in the bin r satire which they bore, they might have sunk inU; the old man's very soul, could he have known what words were hanging on his own son's lips, or what was passing in his thoughts. But tne voice diverted the current of Anthony's reflections, and roused him. " Yes, yes, ChufFey, Jonas is a chip of the old block. It's a very old block now, Ciiuftey," said the old man, with a strange look of discomposure. " Precious old," assented Jonas. "No, no, no," said ChufFey. "No, Mr. Chuz- zlevvit. Not old at all, sir." " Oh ! He 's worse than ever, you know I" cried Jonas, quite disgusted. "Upon my soul, father, he 's getting too bad. Hold your tongue, will you ?" " He says you 're wrong !" cried Antiiony to the old clerk. "Tut, tut!" was ChufFey's answer. " I know better. I say Ae 's wrong. I say Ae'« wrong He's a boy. That's what he is. So are you, Mr. Ch azzlewit — a kind of boy. Ha ! ha ! ha I You're quite a boy to many I have known; you're a boy to me ; you 're a boy to hundreds of us. Don't mind him I" With which extraordinary speech — for in the case of ChufFey this was a burst of eloijueuce without a parallel — the poor old shadow dre.v til rough h s palsied arm his master's hand, anu held it there, with his own folded upon it, as if he would defend him. " I grow dealer every day, ChufF," said An thony, with as much softness of manner, or, lu >22 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF uescribe it more correctly, with as little hardness IS he was capable of expressing. " No, no," cried Chuftey. " No you don't. What if you did? I've been deaf this twenty year." " I grow blinder, too," said the old man, shak- ing his head. " That 's a good sign I" cried ChufFey. " Ha ! ha I The best sign in the world 1 You saw too well before." He patted Anthony upon the hand as one might comfort a ciiild, and drawing the old man's arm still further through his own, shook his trembling fingers towards the spot where Jonas sat, as tliough he would wave him off. But Anthony remaming quite still and silent, he relaxed his hold by slow degrees and lapsed into his usual niche in the corner : merely putting forth his hand at intervals and touching his old employer gently on the coat, as with the design of assuring Jiimself that he was yet beside him. Mr. Jonas was so very much amazed by these proceedings that he could do nothing but stare at the two old men, until Chuffey had fallen into his usual state, and Anthony had sunk into a doze ; when he gave some vent to his emotions by going close up to the former personage, and making as tliough he would, in vulgar parlance, " punch his head." " They 've been carrying on this game," thought Jonas in a brovpn study, " for the last two or three weeks. I never saw my father take so much no- tice of him as he has in tiiat time. What I You're legacy-hunting are you, Mister Chuff? Eh ?" But Chuffey was as little conscious of the thought as of the bodily advance of Mr. Jonas's clenched fist, which hovered fondly about his ear. \V hen he had scowled at him to his heart's con- tent, Jonas took the candle from the table, and walking into the glass office, produced a bunch of keys from his pocket. With one of these he opened a secret drawer in the desk: peeping stealthily out, as he did so, to be certain that the two old men were still befure the fire. " All as right as ever," said Jonas, propping the lid of the desk open with his forehead, and un- folding a paper. " Here 's the will. Mister Chuff. Thirty pound a year for your maintenance, old boy, and all the rest to his only son, Jonas. You needn't trouble yourself to be too affectionate. You won't get anything by it. What's that?" It zcas startling, certainly. A face on the other side of the glass partition looking curiously in : and not at him hut at the paper in his hand. For the eyes were attentively cast down upon the writing, and were swiftly raised when he cried out. Then they met his own, and were as the uyes of Mr. PecksnifT. Suffering the lid of the desk to fall with a loud noise, but not forgetting even then to lock it, Jo- nas, pale and breathless, gazed upon this phantom. It moved, opened the door, and walked in. " What 's the matter ?" cried Jonas, falling back. " Who is it? Where do you come from? What do you want?" " Mutter!" cried the voice of Mr. Pecksniff, as Pucksniff in the flesh smiled amiably upon him. "The matter Mr. Jonas 1" " What are yon prying and peering about here *or ?" said Jonas, angrily. " What do you mean by coming up to town in this way, and takmg one unawares ? It's precious odd a man can't read the — the newspaper in his own office witl>- out being startled out of his wits by people coin ing in without notice. Why didn't you knock at the door ?" " So I did, Mr. Jonas," answered Peeksnill, "but no one heard me. I was curious," he added in his gentle way as he laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder, "to find out what part ot the newspaper interested you so much ; but the glass was too dim and dirty." Jonas glanced in haste at the partition. WelL It wasn't very clean. So far he spoke the truth. " Was it poetry now ?" said jMr. Pecksniff shaking the forefinger of his right hand with an air of cheerful banter. " Or was it politics ? or was it the price of stocks ? The main chance Mr. Jonas, the main chance I suspect." " You ain't far from the truth," answered Jo- nas, recovering himself and snuffing the candle: " but how the deuce do you come to be in London again ? Ecod ! it 's enough to make a man stare to see a fellow looking at him all of a sudden, who he thought was sixty or seventy miles away." "So it is," said Mr. Pecksniff. " No doubt of it my dear Mr. Jonas. For while the human mind is constituted as it is — " " Oh bother the human mind," interrupted Jo- nas with impatience, " what have you come up for ?" " A little matter of business," said Mr. Peck sniff, " which has arisen quite unexpectedly." "Oh!"cried Jonas, "is that all? Weill Here's father in the next room. Hallo father, here 's PeeksniffI He gets more addle-pated every day he lives, I do believe," muttered Jonas, shaking his honoured parent roundly. " Don't I tell you Pecksniff's here, stupid-head ?" The combined effects of the shaking and this loving remonstrance soon awoke the old man, who gave Mr. Pecksniff a chuckling welcome, which was attributable in part to his being glad to see that gentleman, and in part to his unfading delight in the recollection of havinp- oal'^H him a hypocrite. As Mr. Pecksniff had not yet taken tea (indeed he had but an hour before arrived in London) the remains of the late collation, with a rasher of bacon, were served up for his entertain- ment; and as Mr. Jonas liad a business appoint- ment in the next street, he stepped out to keep it: promising to return before Mr. Pecksniff could finish his repast. "And now my good sir," said Mr. PoeksniiTto Anthony : "now that we are alone, pr:iy tell me what I can do for you. 1 say alone, because 1 believe that our dear friend Mr. Chuffey is, meta- physically speaking, a — shall I say a dumuiy ?" asked Mr. Pecksniff with his sweetest smile, and his head very much on one side. " He neither hears us," replied Anthony, " nor sees us." "Why then," said Mr. Pecksniff, "I will be bold to say, with the utmost sympathy for his altiietions, and the greatest admiration of tho?e cxcell(;nt qu;ilities which do equiil honour to his head and to his heart, that he is what is playfully termed a dummy. You were going to obserw, I ray dear sir — " MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 123 " I was not going' to make any observation that I know of," replied the old man. " / was," said Mr. Pecksnift', mildly. " Oil 1 you were ? What was it ?" "'I'liat I never," said Mr. Pecksniff, previously rising to see that the door was shut, and arrang- ing his chair when he came back, so that it could not he opened in the least without his immediately becoming aware of the circumstance; "that I never in my life was so astonished as by the re- ceipt of your letter yesterday. That you should do me the honour to wish to take counsel with me on any matter, amazed me; but that you should desire to do so to the exclusion even of Mr. Jonas, showed an amount of confidence in one to whom you had done a verbal injury — merely a verbal injury, you were anxious to repair — which grati- fied, which moved, wliich overcatne me." He was always a glib speaker, but he delivered this short address very glibly, having been at some pains to compose it outside the coach. Although he paused for a reply, and truly said that he was there at Anthony's request, the old man sat gazing at him in profound silence, and with a peifectly blank face. Nor did he seem to have the least desire or impulse to pursue the con- versation, though Mr. Pecksniff looked towards tiie door, and pulled out his watch, and gave him many other hints that their time was short, and Jonas, if he kept his word, would soon return. But the strangest incident in all this strange behaviour was, that of a sudden — in a moment — so swiftly that it was impossible to trace how, or to observe any process of change — his features fell into their old expression, and he cried, striking his hand passionately upon the table, as if no interval at all had taken place : " Will you hold your tongue, sir, and let me speak ?" Mr. Pecksniff deferred to him with a submis- sive bow, and said within himself, " 1 knew his hand was changed, and that his writing staggered. I said so yesterday. Ahem ! Dear me I" "Jonas is sweet upon your daughter, Peck- sniff," said the old man, in his usual tone. "We spoke of that, if you remember, sir, at Mrs. 'I'odgers's," replied the courteous architect. " You need n't speak so loud," retorted Anthony. " I'm not so deaf as that." Mr. Pecksniff had certainly raised his voice pretty high ; not so much because he thought Anthony was deaf, as because he felt convinced that his perceptive faculties were waxing dim ; but this quick resentment of his considerate beha- viour greatly disconcerted him, and, not knowing what tack to shape his course upon, he made an- :»ther inclination of the head, yet more submissive than the last. "I have said," repeated the old man, "that Jonas is sweet upon your daughter." " A charming girl, sir," murmured Mr. Peck- sniff, seeding that he waited for an answer. " A dear girl, Mr. Chuzzlewit, though I say it, who should noi." " You know better," cried the old man, advan- cing his weazen face at least a yard, and starling forward in his chair to do it. " You lie ! What, you will be a hypocrite, will you ?" " My good sir," Mr. Pecksniff began. •' Don't call me a good sir," retorted Anthony, "and don't claim to be ore yourself If your daughter was what you would have mc believe, she wouldn't do tor Jonas. Being what she in, I think she will. He might be deceived in a wife. Siie might run riot, contract debts, and waste his substance. Now, when I am dead — " His taee altered so horribly as he said the word, that Mr. Pecksniff really was fain to look another way. " It will be worse for me to know of such doings than if I was alive; for to be toimented for getting that together, which, even while 1 suffer for its acquisition, is flung into the very kennels of the streets, would be insupportable torture. No," said the old man hoarsely ; " let that be saved, at least — let there be something gained, and kept fast hold of, when so much la lost." "My dear Mr. Chuzzlewit," said PecksniflSi "these are unwholesome fancies; quite unneces- sary, sir, quite uncalled for, I am sure. The truth is, my dear sir, that you are not well I" "Not dying, though!" cried Anthony, with something like the snarl of a wild animal. "Not yet ! There are years of life in me. Why, look at him," pointing to his feeble clerk. " Death has no right to leave him standing, and to mow me down." Mr. Pecksniff was so much afraid of the old man, and so completely taken aback by the state in which he found him, that he had not even pre- sence of mind enough to call up a scrap of mo- rality from the great starehouse within his own breast. Therefore he stammered out that no doubt it was, in fairness and decency, Mr. Chufc fey's turn to expire ; and that from all he had heard of Mr. Chuffey, and the little he had the jjleasure of knowing of that gentleman perscmally, he felt convinced, in his own mind, that he would see the propriety of expiring with as little delay as possible. " Come here !" said the old man, beckoning him to draw nearer. "Jonas will be my heir, Jonas will be rich, and a great catch for you. You know that. Jonas is sweet upon your daughter." " I know that too," thought ftlr. Pecksniff, " for you have said it often enough." "He might get more money than with her," said the old man, "but she will help him to take care of what they have. She is not too young or heedless, and comes of a good hard griping stock. But don't you play too fine a game. She only holds him by a thread ; and if you draw it too tight, (I know his temper,) it'll snap. Bind him when he 's in the mood, Pecksniff; bind him. You 're too deep. In your way of leading him on, you '11 leave him miles behind. Bah, you man of oil, have I no eyes to see how you have ang.ed with him from the first?" " Now I wonder," thought Mr. Pecksniff, look- ing at him with a wistful face, " whether this is all he has to say !" Old Anthony rubbed his hands, and muttered to himself; complained again that he was cold ; drew his chair before the fire; and, sitting with hia back to Mr. Pecksniff, and his chin sunk down upon his breast, was, in another minute, quit« regardless or forgetful of his presence. Uncouth and unsatisfactory as this short inter view had been, it had fi.rnished Mr. Peck«ui!} 124 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF with a hint which, supposing nothing further were imparted to liiin, repaid the journey up, and home again. For the good gentleman had never (for want of an opportunity) dived into the depth of Mr. Jonas's nature ; and any recipe for Cdtcli- ing such a son-in-law (much more, one written on a leaf out of his own fatlier's book) was worth the having. In order that he might lose no ciiance of improving so fuir an opportunity by allowing Anthony to fall asleep betbre he had finished all he had to say, Mr. PecksnilF, in the disjjosal of the refreshments on the table — a work to which he now applied himself in earnest — re- sorted to many ingenious contrivances for attract- ing his attention, such as coughing, sneezing, clattering the teacups, sharpening the knives, dropping the loaf, and so forth. But all in vain, for Mr. Jonas returned, and Anthony had said no more. " What ! my father asleep again ?" he cried, as he hung up his hat, and cast a look at him. "Ah! and snoring. Only hear!" " He snores very deep," said Mr. Pecksniff. "Snores deep?" repeated Jonas. "Yes; let him alone for that. He '11 snore for si.x, at any time." " Do you know, Mr. Jonas," said Pecksniff, "that I think your father is — don't let me alarm you — breaking ?" " Oh, is he though," replied Jonas, with a shake of the head which expressed the closeness of his dutiful observation. " Ecod, you don't know how tough he is. He ain't upon the move yet." •It struck me that he was changed, both in his appearance and manner," said Mr. Pecksniff. " That 's all you know about it," returned Jonas, seating himself with a melancholy air. "He never was better than he is now. How are they all at home ? How 's Charity ?" "Blooming, Mr. Jonas, blooming." "And the other one — how 's she ?" " Volatile trifler I" said Mr. Pecksniff, fondly musing. " She is well — she is well. Roving from parlour to bed-room, Mr. Jonas, like the bee ; skimming from post to pHar, like the but- terfly ; dipping her young beak into our currant wine, like the humming-bird ! Ah ! were she a little less giddy than she is ; and had she but the sterling qualities of Cherry, my young friend 1" " Is she so very giddy, then?" asked Jonas. "Well, well I" said Mr. PecKsniff, with great feeling; "let me not be hard upon my cliild. Beside her sister Cherry she appears so. A strange noise that, Mr. Jonas I" " Something wrong in the clock, I suppose," said Jonas, glancing towards it. " So the other one ain't your favourite, ain't she ?" The fond father was about to reply, and had already sumnioricd into his face a look of the in- lensest sensibility, when the sound he had already Doriced was repeated. " Upon my word, Mr. Jonas, that is a very ex- Iraorduiary clock," said Pecksniff [t would have been, if it had made the noise which startled them; but another kind of time. yiece was fust running down, and from that the sound proceeded. A scream from Chuffoy, ren- dered a hundred firncs more loud and formidiible by his silent habits, made the house ring from nuf to cellar; and, looking round, they saw An- thony Chuzzlewit extended on the floor, with the old clerk upon his knees beside him. He had fallen from his chair in a fit, and Ijijr there, battling for each gasp of breath, with every shrivelled vein and sinew starting in its placn, as it were bent on bearing witness to his age, and sternly pleading with Nature against his ucn- very. It was frightful to see how the prinei|ile of life, shut up within his withered i'rame, foutfi't like a strong devii, mad to be released, and rent its ancient prison-house. A young man ni tbe fulness of his vigour, struggling with so much strength of desperation, would l)ave been a dismal sight; but an old, old, shrunken body, endowed with preternatural might, and giving the lie in every motion of its every limb and joint to its enfeebled aspect, was a hideous spectacle iiideed. They raised him up, and fetched a surgeon with all haste, who bled the patient, and applied some remedies ; but the fits held him so long, that it was past midnight when they got him — quiet now, but quite unconscious and exhausted — into bed. " Don't go," said Jonas, putting his ashy lips to Mr. Pecksniff's ear, and whispering across the bed. " It was a mercy you were present when he was taken ill. Some one might have said it was my doing." "i'oMr doing I" cried Mr. Pecksniff. " I don't know but they might," he replied, wiping the moisture from his white face. " Peo- ple say such things. How does he look now ?" Mr. Pecksniff sliook his head. " I used to joke, you know," said Jonas : " but I — I never wished him dead. Do you think he 'a very bad ?" " The doctor said he was. You heard," was Mr. Pecksniff's answer. " Ah ! hut he might say that to charge us more, in case of his getting well," said Jonas. "You mustn't go away, Pecksniff. Now it's come to this, I wouldn't be without a witness for a thousand pound." Chuffey said not a word, and heard not a word. He had sat himself dovrn in a chair at the bed- side, and there he remained, motionless ; except that he sometimes bent his head over the pillow, and seemed to listen. He never changed in this. Though once in the dreary night Mr. Pecksniff, having dozed, awoke with a confused impression that he had heard him praying, and strangely mingling figures — not of speech, but arithmetic — with his broken prayers. Jonas sat there, too, all night: not where his father could have seen him, had his consciousness returned, but hiding, as it were, behind him, ami only reading how he looked in Mr. Pecksniff's eyes. He, the coarse upstart, who had ruled the house so long — the craven cur, who was afraid to move, and shook so that his very shadow tint, tered on the wall ! It was broad, bright, stirring day when, leav- ing the old clerk to watch him, they went down to breakfast. People hurried up and down the street; windows and doors were opened; thieves and beggars took their usual posts; workmen bestirred themselves ; tradesmen set forth their shiips; baihlfs and constables were on the watcli; all kinds of human creatures strove, in their I several ways, as hard to live, as the one sick olU ''IIDWIFFI Mr. Pecksuiflf on his Mission. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 125 man who combated for every grain of sand in his fust-emptying glass, as eagerly as if it were an empire. " If anything happens, Pecksniff," said Jonas, " you must promise me to stop here till it 's all wer. You shall see that I do what's right." ''I know that you will do what's right, Mr. Jonas," said Pecksniff. " Yes, yes, but I won't be doubted. No one shall have it in his power to say a syllable against me," he returned. " I know how people will tilk. — Just as if he wasn't old, or I had the secret of keeping him nlive I" Mr. Pecksniff promised that he would remain, if circumstances should render it in his esteenied friend's opinion desirable; and they were finish- ing their meal in silence, when suddenly an ap- parition stood before them, so ghastly to tlie view, that Jonas shrieked aloud, and both recoiled in horror. Old Anthony, dressed in his usual clothes, was in the room — beside the table. He leaned upon the shoulder of his solitary friend ; and on his livid face, and on his horny hands, and in hi? glassy eyes, and traced by an eternal finger in the very drops of sweat upon his brow, was one word — Death. He spoke to them — in something of his own voice too, but sharpened and- made hollow, like u dead man's face. What he would have said, (Jod knows. He seemed to utter words, but they were such as man had never heard. And this was the most fearful circumstance of all, to sec him stand- ing there, gabbling in an unearthly tongue. "He's better now," said Ciiuffey. "Better now. Let him sit in his old chair, and he'll be well again. I told him not to mind. I said so, yesterday." They put him in his easy-chair, and wheeled it near the window; then setting open the dooe, exposed him to the free current of morning air. But not all the air that is, nor all the winds that ever blew 'twixt Heaven and Earth, could have brought new life to him. Plimge him to the throat in golden pieces now, and his heavy fingers should not close on one. CHAPTER XIX. THE READER IS BROUGHT INTO COMMUNICATION WITH SOME PROFES SIONAL PERSONS, AND SHEDS A TEAR OVER THE FILIAL PIETY OF GOOD MR. JONAS. Mr. Pecksniff was in a hackney cabriolet, for Jonas Chuzzlewit had said "Spare no expense." Mankind is evil in its thoughts and in its base constructions, and Jonas was resolved it should not have an inch to stretch into an ell against him. It never should be charged upon his fa- ther's son that he had grudged the money for his father's funeral. Hence, until the obsequies should be concluded, Jonas had taken for his motto "Spend, and spiire not!" Mr. Pecksniff had been to the undertaker, and was now upon his way to another officer in the train of mourning — a female functionary, a nurse, and watcher, and performer of nameless offices about the persons of the dead — whom he had re- commended. Her name, as Mr. Pecksniff had githered from a scrap of writing in his hand, was (i.unp; her residence in Kingsgate Street, High Holborn. So Mr. Pecksniff, in a hackney cab, was rattling over Holborn stones, in quest of Mrs. Gamp. This lady lodged at a bird-fancier's ; next door but one to the celebrated mutton-pie shop, and directly opposite to the original cat's meat ware- house ; the renown of which establishments was duly heralded on their respective fronts. It was a little house, and this was the more convenient; for Mrs. Gamp being, in her highest walk of art, a monthly nurse, or, as her sign-board boldly had it, " Midwife," and lodging in the first-floor-front, was easil}; assailable i/t night by pebbles, walking- sticks, and fragments of tobacco-pipe: all much more efficacious than the street-door knocker, which was so constructed as to wake the street with ease, and even spread ai.irms of fire in Hol- born, without making the smallest impression on the prtini'ses to which it was addressed It chanced on this particular occasion that Mrs. Gamp had been up all the previous night, in attendance upon a ceremony to which the usage of gossips has given that name which expresses, in two syllables, the curse pronounced on Adam. It chanced that Mrs. Gamp had not been regu larly engaged, but had been called in at a crisis, in consequence of her great repute, to assist an. other professional lady with her advice; and thus it happened that, all pwints of interest in the case being over, Mrs. Gamp had come home again to the bird-fancier's, and gone to bed. So when Mr Pecksniff drove up in the hacksey cab, Mrs Gamp's curtains were drawn close, and Mrs Gamp was fast asleep behind them. ^ If the bird-fancier had been at home, as he ought to have been, there would have been no great harm in this ; but he was out, and his shop was closed. The shutters were down certainly; and in every pane of glass there was at least one tiny bird in a tiny bird-cage, twittering and hop- ping his little ballet of despair, and knocking his head against the roof; while one unhappy go.d- finch who lived outside a red villa with his name on the door, drew the water for his own drinking, and mutely appealed to some good mm to drop a farthing's worth of poison in it. Still, the door was shut. Mr. Pecksniff tried the latrh, and shook it, causing a cracked bell inside to ring most mournfully ; but no one came. The bird- fancier was an easy shaver also, and a fasiiiona ble hair-dresser also; and perhaps he had been sent for, express, from the court end of the town, to trim a lord, or cut and curl a lady ; but however tliat miglit be, there, upon his own ground, ho was not; nor was there any more distinct tract- of h'm 'o assist the iinagiiiatioii of an inijuire'' 126 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF than a professional print or emblem of his calling (much favoured in the trade), representing a hair- dresser of easy manners curling a lady of distin- guished fashion, in the presence of a patent up- right grand piano. Noting these circumstances, Mr. Pecksniff, in the innocence of his heart, applied himself to the knocker ; but at tlie very first double knock, every window in the street became alive with female j heads : and before he could repeat the perform- ance, whole troops of married ladies (some about to trouble Mrs. Gamp themselves, very shortly) came flocking round the steps : all crying out with one accord, and with uncommon interest, ** Knock at the winder, sir, knock at the winder. Lord bless you, don't lose no more time than you can help — knock at the winder 1" Acting upon this suggestion, and borrowing the driver's whip for the purpose, Mr. Pecksniff soon made a commotion among the first-floor flower-pots, and roused Mrs. Gamp, whose voice — to the great satisfaction of the matrons — was heard to sa}', "I'm coming." "He's as pale as a muffin," said one lady, in allusion to Mr. Pecksniff. " So he ought to be, if he 's the feelings of a man," observed another. A third lady (with her arms folded) said she wished he had chosen any ether time for fetching Mrs. Gamp, but it always happened so with her. It gave Mr. Pecksniff much uneasiness to find from these remarks that he was supposed to have come to Mrs. Gump upon an errand touching — not the close of life, but the other end. Mrs. Gamp herself was under the same impression, for throwing open the window, she cried behind the cartains, as she hastily attired herself — " Is it Mrs. Perkins ?" " No 1" returned Mr. Pecksniff, sharply, " no- thing of the sort." " What, Mr. Whilks !" cried Mrs. Gamp. "Don't Bay it's you, Mr. Whilks, and that poor creetur Mrs. Whilks with not even a pincushion ready. Don't say it's you, Mr. Whilks I" "It isn't Mr. Whilks," said Pecksniff. "I don't know the man. Nothing of the kind. A gentle- man is dead ; and some person being wanted in ithe house, you have been recommended by Mr. Mould, the undertaker." As she was by this time in a condition to ap- pear, Mrs. Gamp, who had a face for all occasions, looked out of the window with her mourning countenance, and said she would be down directly. But the matrons took it very ill, that Mr. Peck- sniff's mission was of so unimportant a kind ; and the lady with her arms folded rated him in good round terms, signifying tliat she would be glad to know what he meant by terrifying deli- cate females " with his corpses ;" and giving it as her opinion that he was quite ugly enough to know better. The other hidies wore not at all behind-hand in expressing similar sentiments; and the children, of whom some scores had now collected, hooted and defied Mr. Pecksniff quite savagely. So when Mrs. Gamp appeared, the unoffending gentleman was glad to hustle her with very little ceremony into the cabriolet, and irive off overwhelmed with popuhir execration. Mrs. G;imp had a large bundle willi her, a pair t)!* pattens, and a species of j/ig umbrella ; the lat- ter article in colour like a faded leaf, except where a circular patch of a lively blue had been de.xterously let in at the top. She was much flurried by the haste she had made, and laboured under the most erroneous views of cabriolets, which she appeared to confound with mail-coaches or stage-wagons, inasmuch as she was constantly endeavouring for the first half mile to force her luggage through the little front window, and cla- mouring to the driver to " put it in the boot." When she was disabused of this idea, her whole being resolved itself mto an absorbing anxiety about her pattens, with which she played innu- merable games at quoits, on Mr. Pecksniff's legs. It was not until they were close upon the house of mourning that she had enough composure to observe — " And so the gentleman 's dead, sir ! Ah ! The more 's the pity" — she didn't even know liis name. " But it 's what we must all come to. It's as certain as being born, except that we can't make our calculations as exact. Ah ! Poor dear !" She was a fat old woman, this Mrs. Gamp, with a husky voice and a moist eye, which she had a remarkable power of turning up, and only showing the white of. Having very little neck, it cost her some trouble to look over herself, if one may say so, at those to whom she talked. She wore a very rusty black gown, rather the worse for snuff, and a shawl and bonnet to corre- spond. In these dilapidated articles of dress she had, on principle, arrayed herself, time out of mind, on such occasions as the present; lor thij at once expressed a decent amount of veneration for the deceased, and invited the next of kin lo present her with a fresher suit of weeds : an ap- peal so frequently successful, that the very i'vi:\: and ghost of Mrs. Gamp, bonnet and all, migiil be seen hanging up, any hour in the day, in at least a dozen of tiie second-hand clothes shops about Holborn. The face of Mrs. Gamp — the nnst in particular — was somewhat red and swoln, and it was difficult to enjoy her society without be- coming conscious of a smell of spirits. Like most persons who have attained to great eminence in their profession, she took to hers very kindly ; insomuch, that setting aside her natural predilec- tions as a woman, she went to a lying-in or a laying-out with equal zest and relish. " Ah I" repeated Mrs. Gump ; for it was always a sate sentiment in cases of mourning. " Ah dear ! When Gamp was summoned to his long home, and I see him a-lying in Guy's Hospital with a penny-piece on each eye, and his wooden leg under his left arm, I thought I should have fainted away. But I bore up." If certain whispers current in the Kingsgute Street circles had any truth in them, she ht-d in- deed borne up surprisingly; and had exerted such uncommon fortitude, as to dispose of Mr. Gamp's remains for the benefit of science. But it sht)uld bo added, in fairness, that this had hapixMicii twenty years ago; and that Mr. and Mrs. (j,i!ii() had long been separated, on the ground of incoia- patibility of temper in their drink. " You have become indifferent since then. I suppose ?" said Mr. Pecksniff. " Use is second nature, Mrs. Gamp." " You may well say second rater, sir." '"o MARTIN CnUZZLEVVIT. 1^7 turned that lady. "One's first ways is to find sich things a trial to the feelings ; and so is one's lasting custom. If it wasn't for the nerve a little sip of liquor give nie (I never was able tc do more than taste it) I never could go through with what I sometimes have to do. ' Mrs. Harris,' I says, at the very last case as ever I acted in, which it was but a young person; 'Mrs. Harris,' I says, leave the bottle on the chimney-piece, and don't ask me to take none, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged, and then I will do what I'm engaged to do, according to the best of my ability.' ' Mrs. Gamp,' she says, in answer, ' if ever there was a sober creetur to be got at eigh- teen pence a day for working people, and three and six for gentlefolks — night watching, " said Mrs. Gamp, with emphasis, "'being a extra charge — you are that inwalable person.' ' Mrs. Harris,' I says to her, 'don't name the charge, for if I could atford to lay all my feller creeturs out for nothink, I would gladly do it; sich is the love I bear 'em. But vviiat I always says to them as has the management of matters, Mrs. Harris' " — here she kept lier eye on Mr. Pecksniff — " ' be they gents or be they ladies — is, don't ask me whether I won't take ijone, or whether I will, but leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged.' " The conclusion of this affecting narrative brought them to the house. In the passage they encountered Mr. Mould the undertaker : a little elderly gentleman, bald, and in a suit of black ; with a note-book in his hand, a massive gold watch-chain dangling from his fob, and a face in which a queer attempt at melancholy was at odds with a smirk of satisfaction ; so that he looked as a man might who, in the very act of smacking his lips over choice old wine, tried to make believe it was physic. " Well, Mrs. Gamp, and how are you, Mrs. Gamp ?" said this gentleman, in a voice as soft as his step. •' Pretty well, I thank you, sir," dropping a curtsey. " You '11 be very particular here, Mrs. Gamp. This is not a common case, Mrs. Gamp. Let everything be very nice and comfortable, Mrs. Gamp, if you please," said the undertaker, shaking his head with a solemn air. " It shall be, sir," she replied, curtseying again. '* You knows me of old, sir, I hope." "I hope so, too, Mrs. Gamp," said the under- taker; "and I think so also." Mrs. Gamp curt- seyed again. " This is one of the most impres- sive cases, sir," he continued, addressing Mr. Pecksniff, " that I have seen in the whole course of my professional experience." " Indeed, Mr. Mould I" cried that gentleman. " Such affectionate regret, sir, I never saw. There is no limitation — there is positively no lim- itation," — opening his eyes wide, and standing on tiptoe, " in point of expense. I have orders, sir, to put on my whole establishment of mutes ; and mutes como very dear, Mr. Pecksniff; not to men- tion their drink. To provide silver-p aied handles of the very best description, ornamented with angels' heads from the most expensive dit-s. To be perfectly profuse in feathers. In short, sir, to turn out something absolutely gorgeous." " My friend Mr. Jonas is an excellent man," said Mr. Pecksniff. " I have seen a good deal of what is filial in niy time, sir," retorted Mould, " and of what is uii- filial too. It is our lot We come into the knowledge of those secrets. But anything sc filial as this; anything so honourable to human nature ; so calculated to reconcile all of us to the world we live in ; never yet came under my ob- servation. It (nly proves, sir, what was so forci bly observed by the lamented theatrical poet buried — at Stratford — that there is good in every thing." " It is very pleasant to hear you say so, Mr Mould," observed Mr Pecksniff. " You are very kind, sir. And what a man Mr. Chuzzlewit was, sir ! Ah ! what a man he was. You may talk of your lord mayors," said Mould, waving his hand at the public in general, "your sheriffs, your common councilmen, your trumpery ; but show me a man in this city who is wortiiy to walk in the shoes of tiie departed Mr. Chuzzlewit. No, no," cried Mould, with bit ter sarcasm. " Hang 'em up, hang 'em up ; sole 'em and heel 'em, and have 'em ready for his son against he's old enough to wear 'em; but don't try 'em on yourselves, for they won't fit you. We knew him," said Mould, in the same biting vein, as he pocketed his note-book; " we knew him, and are not to be caught with chaff. Mr. Pecksniff, sir, good morning." Mr. Pecksniff returned the compliment; and Mould, sensible of having disting».\siied himseif was going away with a brisk smile, wlien he for- tunately remembered the occasion. Quickly be- coming depressed again, he sighed ; looked into the crown of his hat, as if for comfort; put it on without finding any ; and slowly departed. Mrs. Gamp and Mr. Pecksniff then ascended the staircase; and t'le former, having been shown to the chamber in which all that remained of Anthony Chuzzlewit lay covered up, with but oii« loving heart, and that a halting one, to mourn it, left the latter free to enter the darkened room be- low, and rejoin Mr. Jonas, from whom he had now been absent nearly two hours. He found that example to bereaved sons anU pattern in the eyes of all performers of funerals, musing over a fragment of writing-paper on the desk, and scratching figures on it with a pen. The old man's chair, and hat, and walking-itick, wtre remored from their accustomed places, and (lut out of sight; the window-blinds, as yellow as Noveoi- her fogs, were drawn down close ; Jonas himself was so subdued, that he could scarcely be heard to speak, and only seen to walk across the room. " Pecksniff," he said, in a whisper, " you sliall have the regulation of it all, mind. You shall be able to tell anybody who talks about it that every thing was correctly and freely done. There isu'i any one you 'd like tb ask to the funeral, is there /" " No, Mr. Jonas, I think not." "Because if there is, you know," said Jonas, " ask him. We don't want to make a secret of it." " No," repeated Mr. Pecksniff, after a little re flection. " I am not the less obliged to you oi' that account, Mr. Jonas, for your libt.ru' hospila" ty ; but there really is no one " 128 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Very well," said Jonas ; " then you, and I, •ind Cliuffey, and tlie doctor, will be just a coach- ful. We'll have the doctor, Pecksniff, because he knows what was the matter with him, and lh:,t it couldn't be helped." " Where is our dear friend, Mr. Chuffey ?' opked Pecksniff, looking round the chamber, and winking both his eyes at once — for he was over- come by his feelings. Hut here he was interrupted by Mrs. Gamp, who, divested of her bonnet and shawl, came si- dling and bridling into the room ; and, with some sharpness, demanded a conference outside the door with Mr. Pecksniff. " You may say whatever you wish to say here, Mrs. Gamp," said that gentleman, shakmg his head with a melancholy expression. " It is not much as I have to say, when people is a mourning for the dead and gone," said Mrs. Gamp ; " but what I have to say is to the pint and purpose, and no offence intended, must be so C(>nsidcred. I have been at a many places in my time, gentlemen, and I hope I knows what my duties is, and how the same should be performed: in course, if I did not, it would be very strange, and very wrong in sich a gentleman as Mr. Mould, which has undertook the highest families in this land, and given every satisfaction, so to recommend me as he does. I have seen a deal of trouble my own self," said Mrs. Gamp, laying greater and greater stress upon her words, " and I can feel for them as has their feelings tried : but I am not a Rooshan or a Prooshan, and con- 's quently cannot suffer Spies to be set over me." Before it was possible that an answer could be returned, Mrs. Gamp, now growing redder in the face, went on to say : " It is not a easy matter, gentlemen, to live when you are lefl a widder woman ; particular when your feelings works upon you to that ex- tent that you often find yourself a going out on terms which is a certain loss, and never can repay. Hut, in whatever way you earns your bread, you may have rules and regulations of your own, which cannot be broke through. Some people," B;iid Mrs. Gamp, again enirenching herself be- hind her strong point, as if it were not assailable by human ingenuity, "may be Rooshans, and some may be Prooshans ; they are born so, and will please themselves. Them which is of other naturs thinks different." " If I understand this good lady," said Mr. Pecksniff, turning to Joijus, " Mr. Cnuffey is troublesome to her. Shall I fetch him down ?" " Do," siiid Jonas. " I was going to tell you he was up there, when she came in. I 'd go myself and bring him down, only — only I 'd ra- ther you went, if you don't mind it." Mr. Pecksniff promptly departed, followed by Mrs Gump, who, seeing that he took a bottle and gidss from the cu|)board, and carried it in his hijiid, Wiis much softened. " I am sure," slie said, " that if it wasn't for lus own happiness, I should no more mind his being there, poor dear, tlian if he was a fly. But them as isn't used to these thmgs, thinks so much of 'em afterwards, that it's a kindness to 'cm not to let 'tin liave their wish. And even," suid Mrs. (iuinp, probably in reference to some flowers ol" H»eech she hud already strewn on Mr. Chuti'ey, "even if one calls 'em names, it's only done to rouse 'em." Whatever epithets she had bestowed upKjn the old clerk, thev had not roused Itim. He sat beside the bed, in the chair he had occupied all the pre- vious night, with his hands folded before him, and his head bowed down; and neither looked up, on their entrance, nor gave any sign of conscious- ness, until Mr. Pecksniff took him by the arm, when he meekly rose. "Three score and ten," said Chuffey, "ought and carry seven. Some men are so strong that they live to fourscore — lour times ought 's an ought, four times two 's eight — eighty. Oh ! why — why — why — didn't he live to four times ought's an ought, and four times two's eight — eighty?" "Ah I what a wale of grief I" cried Mrs. Gamp, possessing herself of the bottle and glass. " Why did he die before his poor old crazy ser- vant !" said Chuffey, clasping his hands and look- ing up in anguish. " Take him from me, and wliat remains ? " Mr. Jonas," returned Pecksniff, " Mr. Jonas, my good friend." " I loved him," cried the old man, weeping. " He was good to me. We learnt Tare and Tret together, at school. I took liiin down once, six boys, in the arithmetic cLss. God forgive mc ! Had I the heart to take him down !" "Come, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff, "come with me. Summon up your fortitude, Mr. Chuffey." " Yes, I will," returned the old clerk. " Yes. I 'II sum up my forty — How many time's forty — Oh, Chuzzlewit and Son — Your own son, Mr Chuzzlewit; your own son. Sir !" He yielded to the hand that guided him, as he lapsed into this familiar expression, and submitted to be led away. Mrs. Gamp, with the bottle on one knee, and the glass in the other, sat upon a stool, shaking her head for a long time, until, in a moment of abstraction, she poured out a dram of spirits, and raised it to her lips. It was suc- ceeded by a second, and by a third, and then hiT eyes — either in the sadness of her reflections upon fife and death, or in her admiration of the liquor — were so turned up as to be quite invisible. But she shook her head still. Poor Chuffey was conducted to his accustomed corner, and there he remained, silent and quiet, save at long intervals, when he would rise, and walk about the room, and wring his hands, or raise some strange and sudden cry. For a whole week they all three sat about the hearth and never stirred abroad. Mr. Pecksnitf would have walk- ed out in the evening time, but Jonas was so averse to his being absent for a minute, that he abandoned the idea, and so, from morning until night, they brooded together in the dark •ot)m, witliout relief or occupation. The wcigltt of that which was stretched out stiff and stark, in the awful chamber above stairs, so crushed and bore down Jonas, that he bent be- neath the load. During the whole long seven days and nights, he was always oppressed and haunted by a dreadful sense of Its presence in the house. Did the door move, he looked towards it with a livid face and starting eye, as if he fully believed that ghostly fingers clutched the handle Did the fire flicker in a draught of air, he glanced MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 129 OTv • is shouldrr, as almost dreading' to behold BoiiK. shroud(d figure fanning- and flapping at It wii.i its tearful dress. The lightest noise dis- I'.irbeu him ; and oncf;, in the night, at the sound of a fLolstep ovcr-luad, he cried out that the dead man was walking — tramp, tramp, tramp — about his cntRfi. He l.iy at night upon a mattress on the floor of Uie silting-room, his own chamber having been assigned to Mrs. Gamp; and Mr. PecksnitF was similarly accommodated. The howling of a dog before the house, filled him with a terror he could not disguise. He a-oided the reflection in the opposite windows of the light that burned above, as though it had been an angry eye. He often, in every night, rose up from his fitful sleep, and looked and longed for dawn; all directions and arrangements, even to the ordering of their daily mertls, he abandoned to Mr. Pecksnift'. That excellent genlh-in.in, deeming that the mourner wanted comtiirt, and that high feeding was likely to do him infinite service, availed himself of these opportunities to such good purpose, that they kept quite a dainty table during this melanciioly sea- son ; with sweethreads, stewed kidneys, oysters, and other such light viands, for supper every night; over wliich, and sundry jorums of hot punch, Mr. Pecksniff delivered sucli moral reflec- tions and spiritual consolation as might have con- verted a hcathea — especially if he had had but an imperfect acquaintance with the English tongue. Nor did Mr. Pecksniff alone indulge in the creature comforts during this sid time. Mrs. (iamp proved to be very choice in her eating, and repudiated hashed mutton with scorn. In her drinking, too, she was very punctual and particu- lar, requiring a pint of mild porter at lunch, a pint at dinner, half a pint as a species of stay or hold- fast hetween dinner and tea, and a pint of the celebrated staggering ale, or Real Old Brighton Tipper, at supper ; besides theJiottle on the chim- ney-piece, and such casual invitations to refresh herself with wine as the good-breeding of her employers miijht prompt them to offer. In like mannor, Mr. Mould's men found it necessary to drown their grief, like a young kitten in the morn- ing of its existence; for which reason they gene- rally fuddled themselves before they began to do anything, lest it should make head, and get the better of them. In short, the whole of that strange week was a round of dismal joviality and grim enjoyment; and every one, except poor ChufFey, who came within the shadow of Anlliony Chuzzle- wit's grave, le.isted like a ghoule. At length the day of the funeral, pious and truthful ceremony that it was, arrived, Mr. Mould, with a glass of generous port bet.ween his eye and the light, leaned against the desk in the little glass office, with his gold watch in his un- occupied hand, and conversed with Mrs. Gamp; two mutes were at the house-door, looking as mournful as could be reasonably expected of men with such a thriving job in hand; the whole of Mr. Mould's establishment were on duty within the house, or without; feathers waved, horses Rnorted, silks and velvets fluttered ; in a word, as Mr. Mould emphatically said, "everything that money could do, was done." "And what can do more, Mrs. Gamp?" ex- 17 claimed the undertaker, as he emptied his glass and smacked his lips. " Nothing in the world, sir." " Nothing in the world," repeated Mr. Mould. "You are right, Mrs. (iamp. Why do people spend more money" — here he filled his glass ag.iin — " upon a death, Mrs. Gamp, than upon a hirlli ! Come, that 's in your way ; you ought to know. How do you account for that, now ?" " Perhaps it is because an undertaker's chargt-s comes dearer than a nurse's charges, sir," said Mrs. Gamp, tittering, and smoothing down iier new black dress with her hands. "Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Mould. "You have been breakfasting at somebody's expense this morning, Mrs. Gamp." But seeing, by the aid of a little shaving-glass which hung opposiie, liiat he looked merry, he composed his features, ami became sorrowful. " Many 's the time that I 've not breakfasted at my own expense, along of your kind recommend- ing, sir; and many 's the time I hope to do the same in time to come," said Mrs. Gamp, with an apologetic curtsey. "So be it," replied Mr. Mould, "please Provi- dence. No, Mrs Gamp; I'll tell you why it is. It 's because the laying out of money with a weli- conducted establishment, where the tiling is per- formed upon the very best scale, binds llie broken heart, and sheds balm upon the wounded spirit. Hearts want binding, and spirits want h.ilmiu!;, when people die ; not when people are born. Look at this gentleman to-day ; look at him." " An open-handed gentleman 1" cried Mrs. Gamp, with enthusiasm. "No, no," said the undertaker; "not an open- handed gentleman in general, by any means There you mistake him : but an afflicted gentle- man, an affectionate gentleman, who knows whit it is in the power of money to do, in giving him relief, and in testifying his love and veneration t'or the departed. It can give him," said Mr. .Mould, waving his watch-chain slowly round and round, so that he described one circle after every item; "it can give him four horses to each vuiiicle; il can give him velvet trappings; it can give hiia drivers in cloth cloaks and top-boots; it cim give him the plumage of the ostrich, dyed black; it can give him any number of walking attendants, drest in the first style of funeral fashion, and ear- rying batons tipped with brass; it can give him a handsome tomb; it can give him a j>lace in Westminster Abbey itself, if he choose to iiivesi it in such a purchase Oh I do not let us say liiat gold is dross, when it can buy such things as these, Mrs. Gamj)." " But what a blessing, sir," said Mrs. Gamp " that there are such as you, to sell or let 'em oal on hire!" " Ay, Mrs. Gamp, you are right," rejoined tlit undertaker. " We should be an honoured callmif. We do g'e, and maim us for their pleasure — But tiiey die ; Hurrah, they die I" So through the narrow streets and winding city ways, went Anthony Chuzzlewit's funeral : Mr. Jonas glancing stealthily out of the coach-wiiidu'.v now and tlhen, to ob.s<;rve its effect upon the crowd ; Mr. Mouki, as he walked along, listenin-^ with a sober pride to tl>o esclumafions ot" tiiu by- standers; the doctor whispering his story to Mr. Pecksniff, without appe-iring to come any nearer t'.e end of it; and poor old Chuffey tiobbing un- regarded in a comer. But he had grc.iUy c^can dalised Mr. Mould at an early stage of the cere- mony by carrying his Irandkerchiei' in his hat in a perfectly informal raiinner, and wiping his cy<-» with his knuckles. And as Mr. Mould himself had said already, his behaviour was indecent, and quite unworthy of such an occasion; and lie ne- ver ought to have been there. There he was, however ; and in the churchyard there he wis, also, conducting himself in a no less unbecoming manner, and leaning for support on Tacker, who plainly told hiin that he was fit for nothing heller than a walking funeral. But Chuffey, Heaven help him ! heard no sound but the echoes, lingering in his own heart, of a voice for ever silent. " I loved him," cried the old man, sinking down upon the grave when all was done. " He was very good to me. Oh, my dear old friend and master !" "Come, come, Mr. Chuffey," said the doctor, "this won't do; it's a clayey soil, .Mr. Chuffey. Yoi) mustn't really." "If it had been the commonest thing we do, and Mr. Cimtfey had bien a Bearer, geiillemcn," said Mould, easting an imploring ghnce uiKin them, as he helped to raise him, " he couKJii't have gone on worse than this." " He a man, Mr. Chuffey," said PeeksnitT: " Be a gentleman, Mr. Chuffiy," said Vl.iiilH. " I'poii my word, my good friend," iiuirinured the doctor, in a tone of si itfly re|)rool", us he sli;,,- ped up to the old man's side, " this is worse than weakness. This is bad, selfi-^h, very wrong, Mr. C^huffey. You slH)uld take example from others, my good sir. You forget that you were not C( n- nected by ties ot' blood with our decreased friend and that he hid a very near and very dear rcla- lion, Mr. Chuffey." " Ay, his own son J" cried the old man, clasping MARTIN CHUZZLEVVIT. 131 .11:; hnnds with remarkable passion. " His own, jwii, only eon I" " Ho 's not right in his head, you know," said Ji'nus, lurninhorl struggle in the passage which scandalized Miss Cherry very much. " Upon my word. Merry," urged that young lady, " I W'onder at you ! There are bounds even to absurdity, my dear." "Thank you my sweet," said .Merry, pursing up her rosy lips. "Much obliged to it lor its advice. Oh ! do leave me ulone, you monster, do !" This entreaty was wrung from her by a new proceeding on the part of Mr. Jonas, who pulled her down, all hreatliiess as she was, into a seat beside iiiin on the sola, having at the same time Miss ('lierry upon the other side. " Now," said Jonas, eliisping the waist of each; "I have got both arms full, liaven't 1 V" "One of theni will be black and blue to-mor- row, if you don't let me go," cried tlic playful Merry. " Ah ! I don't mind your pinching," grinned Jonas, " a bit." " Pinch liim for me. Cherry, pray," said Mer- cy. " 1 never did hate anybody so mucli as I hate this creature, 1 declare!" " No, no, don't say that," urged Jonas, " anJ don't pinch either, because I want to be serious I say — Cousin Cliarity — " " Well I what ?" she answered, sharply. MAKTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 133 " I want to have some sober talk," said Jonas : •• I want to prevent any mistakes, you know, and to put everything upon a pleasant understanding. Tliat's desirable and proper, ain't it?" Neither of the sisters spoke a word. Mr. Jonas paused and cleared his throat, which was very ary. " She Ml not believe what I 'm going to say, will niie cousin V said Jonas, timidly squeezing Miss Ciiurity, " Really Mr. Jonas I don't know, until I hear wliat it is. It's quite impossible !" " Why, you see," said Jonas, " lier way always being to make game of people, I know she '11 1.1 ugh, or pretend to — I know that, beforehand. But you can tell her I 'm in earnest, cousin ; 3;in't you ? You'll confess you know, won't you? You '11 be honourable, I 'm sure," he added per- suasively. No answer. His throat seemed to grow hotter and hotter, and to be more and more difficult of control. " You see, Cousin Charity," said Jonas, " no- body but you can tell her what pains I took to get into lier company when you were both at the boarding-house in the cit}', because nobody 's so well aware of it, you know. Nobody else can tell her how hard 1 tried to get to know you bet- ter, in order that I might get to know her with- out seeming to wish it: can they? I always asked you about her, and said where had she gone, and when would she come, and how lively she was, and all that; didn't I, cousin ? I know you '11 tell her so, rf you haven't told her so al- ready, and — and — I dare say you have, because I 'm sure you 're honourable, ain't you ?" Still not a word. The right arm of Mr. Jonas >^the elder sister sat upon his right — may have been sensible of some tumultuous throbbing which was not within itself; but nothing else apprised him that his words had had the least effect. " Even if you kept it to yourself, and haven't told her," resumed Jonas, " it don't much matter, because you 'II bear honest witness now ; won't you ? We 've been very good friends from the fust; haven't we? and of course we shall be quite friends in future, and so I don't mind speak- ing before you a bit. Cousin Mercy, you 've heard v-fhat I've been saying. She'll confirm it, every word ; she must. Will you have me for your husbiind ? Eh ?" As he released his hold of Charity, to put this question with better effect, she started up and hurried away to her own room, marking her pro- gress as she went by such a train of passionate and incoherent sound, as nothing but a slighted woman in her anger could produce. " Let me go away. Let me go after her," said Merry, pushing him off, and giving him — to tell tlie truth — more than one sounding slap upon his outstretched face. " Fot till you say yes. You haven't told me. Will you li-ve me for your husband ?" '* No, I wont. I can't bear the sight of you. I have told you so a hundred times. You are a f"ig}it. Besidrs, I always thought you liked my eister best. We all thought so." " But that wasn't my faulty" sjid Jonas. " Yes it wa? • su k- r ^ ii was." " Any trick is fair in love," s;iid .Tonas " Sliq may have thought 1 liked her best, but you didn't." " I did !" " No, you didn't. You never could have thouglit I liked her best, when you were by." "There's no accounting for tastes," said Mer- ry ; " at least I didn't mean to say that. I don'l know what I mean. Let me go to her." " Say ' Yes,' and then 1 will." " If I ever brought myself to say so, it should only be, that I might hate and lease you all my life." "That's as good," cried Jonas, "as saying it right out. It's a bargain, cousin. We're a pair, if ever there was one." This gallant speech was succeeded by a con- fused noise of kissing and slap|)ing; and then the fair, but much dishevelled Merry, broke away and followed in the footsteps of her sister. Now, whether Mr. Pecksniff had been listening — which in one of his character appears impossi- ble : or divined almost by inspiration what tiie matter was — which, in a man of his sagacity, is far more probable : or happened by sheer good fortune to find himself in exactly the riglit place, at precisely the right time — which, under the spe- cial guardianship in which he lived might very reasonably happen : it is quite certain that at the moment when the sisters came together in their own room, he appeared at the chamber door. And a marvellous contrast it was — they so heated, noisy, and vehement; he so calm, so self-possessed, so cool and full of peace, that not a hair upon his head was stirred. "Children I" said Mr. Pecksniff, spreading out his hands in wonder, but not before he had shut the door, and set his back against it. "Girls I Daughters! What is this?" " The wretch ; the apostate ; the false, mean, odious villain ; has before my very face proposed to Mercy I" was his elder daughter's answer. " Who has proposed to Mercy ?" said Mr. Peck sniff. " He has. That thing. Jonas, down stairs." "Jonas proposed to Mercy!" said Mr, Peck sniff. " Ay, ay ! Indeed !" " Have you nothing else to say ?" cried Charity "Am I to be driven mad, papa ? He has proposed to Mercy, not to me." "Oh, fie! For shame!" said Mr. PecksnitT, gravrly. " Oh, for shame ! Can the triumph of a sister move you to tiiis terrible display, my child ? Oh, really this is very sad ! I am sorry ; I am surprised and hurt to see you so. Mercy, my girl, bless you ! See to her. Ah, envy, envy, wliat a passion ynu are !" Uttering this apostrophe in a tone full of grief and lamentation, .Mr. Pecksniff \e(l tlie room (taking care to shut the door behind him), and walked down stairs into the parlour. Tiicre he fuund his intended son-in-law, whom he seizeij by both hands. "Jonas!" cried Mr. Pecksniff, ".Tonas. the dearest wish of my heart is now fulfilled!" "Very well; I'm glad to hear it," said Jon:i3 "That'll do. I say, as it ain't the one you're so fond of, you must come down with anoilier tnou- saiid, Pecksniff. You imist make it up five. It 'a worth that to keep your treasure to yourself, you 136 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF know. You get ofF very cheap that way, and haven''t a sacrifice to make." The grin with which he accompanied this, set off his other attractions to sucli unspeakable ad- vantage, that evtii Mr. Pecksniff lost his presence of mind for the moment, and looked at the young man as if he were quite stupified with wonder and admiration. But he quickly regained his composure, and was in the very act of changing the suljcct, when a hasty step was heard without, and Tom Pinch, in a state of great excitement, came darting into the room. On seeing a stranger there, apparently engaged with Mr. Pecksniff in private conversation, Tom was very much abashed, though he still looked as if he had something of great importance to com- municate, which would be a sufficient apology for his intrusion. "]\Ii. Pinch," said Pecksniff, "this is hardly decent. You will excuse my saying that I think your conduct scarcely decent, Mr. Pinch." "I big your paidon, sir," replied Tom, "for not knocking at the door." *' Rather beg this gentleman's pardon, Mr. Pinch," said Pecksniff. " / know you ; he does not. — My young man, Mr. Jonas." The son-in-law that was to be gave him a slight nod — not actively disdainful or contemptu- ous, only passively : for he was in a good humour. "Could 1 speak a word with you, sir, if you {lease, said Tom. "It's rather pressing." "* It should be very pressing to justify this strange behaviour, Mr. Pinch," returned his mas- ter. " Excuse me for one moment, my dear friend. Now, sir, what is the reason of this rough intrusion ?" "I am very sorry, sir, I am sure," said Tom, standing, cap in hand, before his patron in tiie passage : "and I know it must have a very rude ippearurice — " " It has a very rude appearance, Mr. Pinch." "Yes, I feel that, sir; but the truth is, I was 30 surprised to see them, and knew you would be ■.oo, that I ran home very fast indeed, and really hadn't enough command over myself to know what I was doing very well. I was in the church just now, sir, touching the organ for my own amusement, when I ha])pincd to look round, and saw a gentleman and lady standing in the aisle listening. They seemed to be strangers, sir, as well as I could make out in the dusk: and I thought I didn't know them : so presently I left nir, and said, would (hey walk up into the orjran- loit, or take a seat? No, they said, tliey wouldn't do that ; but they thanked me for the iTnisic they had heard — in fact," observed Tom, hlusliing — "they said, ' Delicious music!' at least, sA« did; and I am sure that was a greater pleasure and honour to n)e, than any compliment I could have h.id. I — I — b( g your pardon, sir ;" he was all in a tremble, and dr(i|)p(d his hat lor the second Utile ; " but I — I 'ni rather flurried, and I fear • *vc w iodered from the point." ' If you will come back to it, Thomas," said Mr. Pecksniff, with an icy look, " I shall fed obliged." "Yes, sir," returned Tom, "certainly. Thej had a posting carriage at the porch, sir, and had stopped to hear the organ, they said, and then they said — she said. I mean, ' I believe you live with Mr. Pecksniff, sir?' 1 said I had that ho nour, and I took the liberty, sir," added Tom, raising nis eyes to his benefactor's face, " of say ing as I always will and must, with your permission, that I was under great obligations to you, and never could express my sense of Ihein sutficiently." " That," said Mr. Pecksniff, " was very, very wrong. Take your time Mr. Pinch." " Thank you, sir," cried Tom. "On that they asked me — she asked, I mean — 'Wasn't there a bridle-road to Mr. Pecksniff's house, — ' " Mf. Pecksniff suddenly became full of interest. " Without going by the Dragon?' When I said vtiere was, and said how happy I should be to show it 'em, they sent the carriage on by the road, and came with me across the meadows. I left 'em at the turnstile to run forward and tell you they were coming, and they '11 be here, sir, in — in less than a minute's time, I should say,** added Tom, fetching his breath witii difficulty. " Now who," said Mr. Pecksniff, pondering, " who (nay these people be I" " Bless my soul, sir !" cried Tom, " I meant to mention that at first — I thought I had. I knew them — her, I mean — directly. The gentleman who was ill at the Dragon, sir, last winter ; and the young lady who attended him." Tom's teeth chattered in his head, and he po>>i. tively staggered with amazement, at witnessin;^ the extraordinary effect produced on Mr. Peck- sniff by these simple words. The dread of losing the old man's favour almost as soon as they were reconciled, tlirough the mere fact of having -lonas in the house; the impossibility of dismissing Jonas, or shutting him up, or tying him hand and foot and putting him in the coal-cellar, with- out offending him beyond recall; the horribh' d's- cordance prevailing in the establishment, and the impossibility of reducing it to decent harmony with Charity in loud hysterics, l\lercy in the ut- most disorder, Jonas in the parlour, and Martin C'ImzzIcwit and his j'oung charge upon tiie vi-ry door-steps ; the total hopelessness of being able to disguise or feasibly ex])lain this state of rampant confusion; the sudden accumulation over his de- voted head of every complicated perplexity and entanglement — for fiis extrication from which he had trusted to time, good fortune, chance, atid his own plotting — so filled the entrapped arc'ii- tect with dismay, that if Tom could have boon a Gorgon staring at Mr. Pecksniff, and Mr. Prck- sniff could have been a Gorgon staring at 'I'oni they could not liavc horrified each other half s nmch as in their own bewildered persons. ** Dear, dear I" cried Tom, " what have I done / I hoped it would be a pleasant surprise, ."ir. I thought you would like to know." I^It at that moment a. loud knocking was heard at the liall-door. MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 137 CHAPTER XXI. WORE AMERICAN EXPERIENCE. MARTIN TAKES A PARTNER. AND MAKES A PURCHASE. SOME ACCOUNT OF EDEN, AS IT APPEARED ON PAPER. /vLSO OF THE BRITISH LION. ALSO OF THE KIND OF SYMPATHY PRO FESSED AND ENTERTAINED BY THE WATERTOAST ASSOCIAITON OF UNITED SYMPATHIZERS. The knockinjr at Mr. Pecksniff's door, though lud enough, bore no resemblance whatever to the imise of an American railway train at full speed. It in.iy be will to bog-in the present chapter with liiis frank admission, lest the reader should ima- gine that tlie sounds now deafening this history's ivirs have any coiinection with the knocker on Mr. Pecksniff's door, or with the great amount of agitation pretty equally divided between that worthy man and Mr. Pinch, of which its strong pt rformance was the cause. .Mr. Pecksniff's house is more than a thousand leagues away; and again this happy chronicle L.is Liberty and Moral Sensibility for its high companions. Again it breathes the blessed air of Independence; again it contemplates with [Mnus awe tliat moral sense which renders unto tVpsar nothing that is his; again inhales that pacred atmospliore which was the life of him — oh liuble patriot, with many followers ! — who dreamed ot Freedom in a slave's embrace, and, waking, sold her offspring and his own in public markets. How the wheels clank and rattle, and the tratn- roiid shakes, as tlie train rushes on I And now the engine yells, as it were lashed and tortured .ike a living labourer, and writhed in agony. A pijor fancy ; for steel and iron are of infinitely Afreater account, in this commonwealth, than flesh ' and blood. If the cunning work of man be urged beyond its powers of endurance, it has within it tlie elements of its own revenge ; whereas the wretched mechanism of the Divine Hand is dan- gerous with no such property, but may be tam- pered with, and crushed, and broken, at the diiver's pleasure. Look at that engine ! It shall c.ist a man more dollars, in the way of penalty and fine, and satisfaction of the outraged law, to defdCe in wantonness that senseless nKiss of rne- tiil, than to take the lives of twenty human crea- tures! Thus the stars wink upon the bloody stripes; and Liberty pulls down her cap upon her eyes, and owns Oppression in its vilest aspect, for her sister. The engine-driver of the train whose noise awoke us to the present chapter, was certainly troubled with no such reflections as these; not is it very ])robahle that his mind was disturbed by uny refleotiiins at all. He leaned with folded arms Biid crossed legs against the side of the carriage, Biiioking; and, except when he e.xpressed, by a grtnit as short as his pipe, his approval of some pirticulai'ly dexterous aim on the part of his col- '■ ltM<;ue, the fireman, who beguiled his leisure by throwing logs of wood from the tender at the nu- nierous stray cattle on the line, he preserved a oi'.nposurc so immovable, and an indifference so ciiinplete, that, if the locomotive had been a suek- ii''/-|'itr, he could not have been more perfectly in- diffeieiit In its doings. Nntvvithst.mding the .".Miquil state of tliis offieer, and his unbroken peace of mind, the train was proceeding with 18 tolerable rapidity ; and the rails being but poorly laid, the jolts and bumps it met with in its pro- gress were neither slight nor few. There were three great caravans or cars at- tached — the ladies' car, the gentlemen's car, anci the car for negroes ; the latter painted black, as :iil' appropriate compliment to its company. Martiri and Mark Tapley were in the first, as it was the' most comfortable ; and, being far from full, ro- ceived other gentlemen who, like them, were un- blessed by the society of ladies of their own. They were seated side by side, and were engaged in earnest conversation. "And so, Mark," said Martin, looking at him with an anxious expression, — " and so you arc glad we have left New York far behind us, are you ?" " Yes, sir," said Mark, " I am. Precious glad." " Were you not 'jolly' there?" asked Martin. "On the contrairy, sir," returned Mark. "Tiic jolliest week as ever I spent in my life, was thai there week at Pawkins's." "What do you think of our prospects?" in- quired Martin, with an air that phiinly said he had avoided the question for some time. " Uncommon bright, sir," returned Mark. " In> possible for a place to have a better name, sir, than the Wnlley of Eden. No man couldn't think of settling in a better place than the VValley of Eden. And I'm told," added Mark after a pause, " as there's lots of serpents there, so we shall come out, quite complete and reg'Iar." So far from dwelling upon this agreeable piece of information with the least dismay, Mike's face grew radiant as he called it to mind ; so very ra- diant, that a stranger might have supposed he had all his life been yearning for the society of ser. pents, and now hailed with delight the approach- ing consummation of his fondest wislies. " Who told you that ?" asked Martin, sternly. "A military officer," said Mark. "Confound you for a ridiculous fellow!" cried Martin, laughing heartily in spite of himself — "What military office^'' you know they spring up m every field" "As thick as scarecrows in England, sir," in terposed Mark, " which is a sort of militia tbeiii- selves, being entirely co.it and wr^coat, with a stick inside. Ha, ha! — Don't mind me, sir; it's my way sometimes. I can't help being jolly. — Why, it was one of them inwading conquerors at Pawkins's, as told me. 'Am I rightly in'Ijrmed,' he says — not exactly through his nose, but as if he'd got a stoppage ir. .., very high up — 'that you're a going to the Wullcy of Eden ?' ' I heard some talk on it,' I told him. ' Oh I' says he, ' if you should ever happen to go to bed there — yoii may, you know,' he says, ' in course of time. h« civilisation progresses — don't fortret to taKe a a.'.o with you.' I lo(jks at him tolerable hard. ' Fleas f' f 138 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP says I. ' And more,' says he. ' Wampires ?' says I. ' And more,' says he. ' Musqnitnes!, perhaps ?' fi:ivs I. ' And more,' says he. ' What more V gays I. 'Snakes more,' says he; 'rattlesnakes. You're rijfht to a certain extent, strnngfcr ; there air some catawampous chavvers in the small way, too, as jrraze upon a human pretty strong- ; but don't mind them — lliey 're company. It's snakes,' he says, 'as yon 'II object to; and whenever you wake and sec one in a upright poster on your bed,' he savs, ' like a corkscrev/ with the handle offii sittin' on its bottom ring, cut him down, for he means wttioni.' " "Why didn't you tell me this before!" cried Martin, witli an expression of face which set off the cheerruliiess of Mark's visage to great ad- vantage. " I nt'VfT fliought on it, sir," said Mark. " It come in at one ear, and went out at the other. Rut Lord love us, he was one of another Company I dare say, and only made up the story that we might go to his Eden, and not the o[)position one." " There 'a some probability in that," observed Martin. " I can honestly say that 1 hope so, with all my heart." •' I 've not a doubt about it, sir," returned Mark, who, full of the in'jpiriting influence of the anec- d')te himself, had for the moment forgotten its probable eflect upon his master: "anyhow, we must live, you know, sir." " Live I" cried Martin. " Yes, it 's easy to say live; but if we should happen not to wake when rattlesnakes are making corkscrews of themselves upon our beds, it may not be so easy to do it." " And that 's a fact," said a voice so close in his ear that it tickled him. "That's dreadful true." Martin looked round, and found that a gentle- man, on the scat behind, had thrust his head between himself and Mark, and sat with his chin resting on the back rail of their little bench, en- tertnining himself with their conversation. He was as languid and listless in his looks, as most of the genlleinen they had seen; his cheeks were BO hollow that he seemed to be always sucking tbern in; and the sun had burnt him — not a wholesome red or brown, but diity yellow. Me liad briglil dark eyes, which he kept half closed ; only peej)ing out of the corners, and even then with a glance that seemed to say, " Now you ■won't overreach me : y»u want to, but you won't." His arms rested carelessly on iiis knees as lie leant forward; in the palm of his left hand, as English rustics have their slice of cheese, he had a cake of tobacco ; in his right a ijcnknife. He struck mto the dialogue with as little reserve as if he had been specially called in, days before, to hear the arguments on both sides, and favour them with his o|iitii(m ; and Jie no more contemplated or Cared tor the possibility of their not desiring the honour of his acquaintance or interference in Uielr privdte alTuirs, than if he had been a bear or a buffalo. "'i'hat," he repeated, nodding condescendingly Vi Martin, as to an outer barbarian and foreigner, "is dreadful true. Darn uU manner of vermin." Martin could not help frowning for a moment, as if he were disposed to insinuate that the gentle- man had uncoMseinusly " darned" himself. Hut "ememocring the wisdom of doing at Rome as Romans do, he smiled with the pleasantesf exprcb sion he could assume upon so short a notice. Their new friend said no more just then, being busily employed in cutting a quid or plug from his cake of tobacco, and whistling softly to hiiiw self the while. When he had shaped it to his lik- ing, he took out his old pfug, and de|)osited tiie same on the back of the seal between Mark and Martin, while he thrust the new one into the bel- low of his cheek, where it looked like a largo walnut, or tolerable pippin. Finding if quite satis- factory, he stuck the point of his kiiifu into the old plug, and holding it out for their inspection, remarked with the air of a man who had not lived in vain, that it was "used up considerable." Then he tossed it away; put his knife into one pocket and his tobacco into another; rested iiis chin upon the rail as before ; and approving of the pattern ou IMartin's waistcoat, reached out his hand to feel the texture of that garment. " What do you call this now ?" he asked. " Upon my word," said Martin, " I don't know what it 's called." " It 'If cost a dollar or more a yard, I reckon?" " I really don't know." y " In my country," said the gentleman, " we ^now the cost of our own pro-duce." Martin not discussing the question, there wa« a pause. " Well I" resumed their new friend, after star- ing at them intently during the whole interval of silence: "how's the unnal'ral old parent by tlii* time ?" Mr. Tapley, regarding this enquiry as only another version of impertinent English question — " How 's your mother ?" — would have resented it instantly, but for Martin's prompt interposition. " You mean the old country ?" he said. % " Ah !" was the reply. " How 's she ! Progress- ing back'ards, I expect, as usual ? Well ! How 's Queen Victoria ?" " In good health, I believe," said Martin. "Queen Victoria won't shake in her royal shoes at all, when she hears to-morrow named," ob. served the stranger. " No." " Not that I am aware of Why should she ?" " She won't be taken with a cold chill, when she realises what is being done in these diggings," said the stranger. "No." "No," said Martin. "I think I could take my oalh of that." The strange gentleman looked at him as if in pity for his ignorance or prejudice, and said: " Well, sir, I tell you this — there ain't a en-gine with its hiler bust, in God A'mighty's free U-nil<-d States, so fixed, and nipped, and frizzled to a ino,4 e-tarna! smash, as that young critter, in her hi cu- rious lo-cation in the Tower of Limdon, will be, when she reads the next double extra Watertoast ; Gazette." ' Several other gentlemen had left their seats and gathered round during the foregoing dialogue Tfiey were highly delighted with this spei tli. One very lank gentleman, in a loose limp wl)ito cravat, a long white waistcoat, and a black gnat- coat, who seemed to be in authority among them, felt called U|)oii to acknowledge it. " Hem ! Mr. La Fayette Kettle," he said, taking off his hat. . MARTIN CnUZZLEWIT. 139 There was a grave murmur of " Hush 1" " Mr. La Fayettlc KoltJe! Sirl" Mr. Kettle bowed. " In the name of this compiny, sir, and in tlie name of our common country, and in the name of that righteous cause of holy sympathy in which we are engaged, I ll.ank you. I thank you, sir, in the name of tlie VVatertoist Sympathizers; and I thank you, sir, in tlie name of the VVaterloast Gazette; and I (hank yon, sir, in the name of tlie sttr-sjiaiiglcd banner of the Great United States, for yiiur eloquent and categoric, il exposition. And if, sir," said the s[)eaker, poking Martin with the handle of his umbrella to bespeak his attention, for he was listening to a whisper from Mark; "if, sir, in such a place, and at such a time, I might ven- ture to con-elude with a sentiment, glancing — however slantin'dieularly — at the subject in hand, I would say, sir. May the British Lion have his talons eradicated by the noble bill of the Ameri- can Eagle, and be taught to play upon the Irish Harp and the Scotch Fiddle that music which is breatlied in every empty shell that lies upon the shores of green Co-lumbia!" Here the lank gentleman sat down again, amidst a great sensation ; and every one looked very grave. " General Choke," said Mr. La Fayette Kettle, "you warm my heart; sir, you warm my heart. But the British Lion is not unrepresented here, sir; and I should be glad to hear his answer to those remarks." " Upon my word," cried Martin, laughing, ■since you do ine the honour to consider me his representative, I have only to say that I never heard of Queen Victoria reading the What 's-his- name Gazette, and that I should scarcely think it probable." General Choke smiled upon the rest, and said, in patient and benignant explanation : • " It is sent to her, sir. It is sent to her. Per Mail." " But if it is addressed to the Tower of London, it would hardly come to hand, I fear," returned Martin : "for she don't live there." "The Queen of England, gentlemen," observed Mr. Tapley, affecting the greatest politeness, and regarding them with an immovable face, " usually lives in the Mint, to take care of the money. She has lodgings, in virtue of her office, with the Lord Mayor at the Mansion-House ; but don't often occupy them, in consequence of the parlour chim- ney smoking." " Mark," said Martin, " I shall be very much obligrd to you if you'll have the goodness not to interfere with preposterous statements, however jocose they may appear to you. I was merely remarking, gentlemen — though it's a point of very little import — that the Queen of England does not happen to live in the Tower of London." "General !" cried Mr. La Eayette Kettle. ** You hear?" " General .'" echoed several others. " General !" " Hush ! .Pray, silence I" said General Choke, nolding up his hand, and speaking with a patient and complacent benevolence that was quite touch- ing. " i have always remarked it as a very ex- traordinary circumstance, which I impute to the natur' of British Institutions and their tendency to suppress that popular inquiry and information which air so widely diffused even in the trackless forest.s of tms vast Continent ot the Western Ocean ; that the knowledge of Britishers them- selves on such points is not to be compared uiUi that possessed by our intelligent and lo.^oniotiv'e citizens. 'This is interesting, and contiinis my observation. When you say, sir," he continui ■!, addressing Martin, "that your Queen does not re.-^ide in the Tower of London, you fall into an error, not uncommon to yo'ir countrymen, even when their abilities and moral elements air such as to command respect. But, sir, you air wrong. She docs live there — " " When she is at the Court of Saint James's ;" interposed Kettle. " When she is at the Court of Saint James's, of course," returned the General, in the same benign, ant way: "for if her location was in Winds. jr Pavilion it couldn't be in London at the same time. Your Tower of London, sir," pursued the (ieneral, smiling with a mild consciousness of his knowledge, "is nat'rally your royal residence, Bding located in the immediate neighbourhood of your Parks, your Drives, your Iriumphant Arches, your Opera, and your Royal Almacks, it nat'rally suggests itself as the place for holding a luxurious and thoughtless court. And, con.-ie- quently," said the General, " consequently, tlie court is held there." " Have you been in England ?" asked Martin. . "In print I have, sir," said the General, "not otherwise. We air a reading people here, sir , You will meet with much inliaMnation among us that will surprise you, sir." " I have not the least doubt of it," returned Martin. But here he was interrupted by Mr. La Fayette Kettle, who whispered in his ear : " You know General Choke ?" " No," returned Martin, in the same tone. " You know what he is considered ?" " One of the most remarkable men in the couu try ?" said Martin, at a venture, " That 's a fact," rejoined Kettle, " I was suro you must have heard of him 1" " I think," said Martin, addressing himself tc the General again, "that I have the pleasure of being the bearer of a letter of introduction to you» sir. From Mr. Bevan, of Massachusetts," hr, added, giving it fo him. The General took it and read it attentively : now and then stopping to glance at the two stran. gers. When he liad finished the note, he camo over to Martin, sat down by him, and shook hands. " Well !" he said, " and you think of settling in Eden ?" "Subject to your opinion, and the agent's ad vice," replied Martin. " I am told there is nothing to be done in the old towns." " I can introduce you to the agent, sir," sair the General. "I know him. In fiet, I am i member of the Eden Land Corporation myself" This was serious news to Martin, (ijr ins t'riend had laid great stress upon the General's haviiiw no connection, as he thought, with any land com- pany, and therefore beinjr likely to give him disiu terested advice. The General explained that lie had joined the Corporation only a few weeljs ago, and thit no communication had passed betweer hunself und Mr. Bevan since. 140 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "We have very little to venture,"jSaid Martin anxiously — "only a few pounds — but it is our all. N'lw, do you think that for one of my profession, this would be a speculation with any hope or chance in it ?" " Well !" observed the General, gravely, " if there wasn't any hope or chance in tiie specula- tion, it wouldn't have engaged my dollars, I opin- ionate." " I don't mean for the sellers," said Martin. " F'lr the buj'crs — for the buyers I" " For the buyers, sir ?" observed the General, in a most impressive manner. "Well! you come from an old country : from a country, sir, that has p'lid up gr)!den calves as high as Babel, and wor- shipped 'i m for ages. We are a new country, sir; iiii:n is in a more primeval state here, sir; We have not the excuse of having lapsed in the , slow course of time into degenerate practices; we i have no false gods; man, sir, here, is man in all I his dignity. We fought for that or nothing. Here am I, sir," said the General, setting up his Umbrella to represent himself; and a villanous- looking umbrella it was; a very bad counter to stand for the sterling coin oT" his benevolence : " here am I with grey hairs, sir, and a moral sense. Would I, with my principles, invest capi- tal in this speculation if I didn't think it full of hopes and chances for my brotlier man?" Martin tried to look convinced, but he thought of New York, and found it difficult. " Wliat are the Great United States for, sir," pursued the Geno^l, " if not for the regeneration of man? But it is nal'ral in you to make such an enquerry, for you come from England, and you do not know my country." " Then you think," said Martin, " that allowing for the hardsliips we are prepared to undergo, there is a reasonable — Heaven knows we don't ex- pect much — a reasonable opening in tliis place?" " A reasonable opening in Eden, sir ! But see the agerjt, see the agent ; see the maps, and plans, sir; and conclude to go or stay, according to the natur' of the settlement. Eden hadn't need to go a begging yet, sir," remarked the General. "It ia an awful lovely place, sure-ly. And frightful wholesome, likewise !" said Mr. Kettle, wiio h;id made himself a party to this conversa- tion as a matter of course. Martin felt that to dispute such testimony, for no better reason than because he had his secret iiiis^rivings on the subject, would be ungentlcmanly and iiuiecent. So he thanked the General for his promise to put him in personal communication with tlie agent; and "concluded" to see that offi- cer next morning. He tfien begged the General to inform him who the Watcrtoast Sympathizers were, of whom lie had spoken in addressing Mr. I. a Fiiyctte Kt tile, am) on what grievances they bi:stov.'ed their Sympathy. To which the Gene- ral, loo!iing very serious, made answer, that he rnight fully enlighten himself on those points to- morrow by attending a Great Meeting of the Bo- dy, which would then be held at the town to which they were travelling : "over which, sir," said the p General, " my fellow. citizens have Culled on me to preside." They came to their journey's end late in the vvening. ('lose lo the railway was an immense wfiiie edifice, like an ugly hospital, on which was painted " National Hotel." There was a wood- en gallery or verandah in front, in which it was rather startling, when the train stopped, to behold a great many pairs of boots and shoes, and tl>e smoke of a great many cigars, but no other evW dences of human habitation. By slow degrtc», however, some heads and shoulders appeared, and connecting themselves with the boots and shoes, led to the discovery that certain gentlemen board- ers, who had a fancy for putting their heels whe.'-e the gentlemen boaiders in other countries usually put their heads, were enjoying themselvus alU.1 their own manner, in the cool of the evening. There was a great bar-room in this hotel, and a great public room in which the general tabte was being set out for supper. There were inter, minable whitewashed staircases, long whitewash- ed galleries up stairs and down stairs, scores of little whitewashed bedrooms, and a four-sided ve- randah to every story in the house, which I'ormed a large brick square with an uncomfortable court- yard in the centre : where some clothes were dry- ing. Here and there, some yawning gentlemen lounged up and down with their hands in their pockets; but within the house and without, wherever half-a-dozen people were collected toge- ther, there, in their looks, dress, morals, manners, habits, intellect, and conversation, were Mr. Jet ferson Brick, Colonel Diver, Major Pawkins, Gen- eral Choke, and Mr. La Fayette Kettle, over, and over, and over again. They did the same things ; said the same things; judged all subjects by, and reduced all subjects to, the same standard. Ob- serving how they lived, and how they were always in the enchanting company of each other, Martin even began to comprehend their being the social, cheerful, winning, airy men they were. At the sounding of a dismal gong, this pleasant company went trooping down from all parts of the house to the public room ; while from the neighbouring stores other guests came flocking in, in shoals; for half the town, married folks as well as single, resided at the National Hotel. Tea, coffee, dried meats, tongue, ham, pickles, cake, toast preserves, and bread and butter, were swal- lowed with tiie usual ravaging speed ; and then, as before, the company dropped off by degrees, and lounged awj-y to the desk, the counter, or the bar-room. The ladies had a smaller ordinary of their own, to which their husbands and brothers were admitted if they chose; and in all other re- spects they er)joyed themselves as at Pawkins's. "Now Mark, my good fellow," said Martin, closing the door of his little chamber, "we inii^t hold a solemn council, for our fate is decided l(v morrow morning. You are determined lo invest these savings of yours in the common stock, are you ?" " If I hadn't been determined to make that wcntur, sir," answered Mr. Tapley, " I shouldn't have come." " IIovv much is there here, did you say ?" ask ed Martin, holding up a little bag. "Thirty-seven pound ten and sixpence. Tlie Savings' Bank said so, at least. I ne\er counted it. But ihry know, bless yon," said Mark, with a shake of the head exi)ressivc of his uni)ounde. rary office too; for the Edeners were "g-, and all the sarcasm in italics. Mrs. Hominy had looked on foreign countries with the eye of a perfect republican hot from the model oven ; anf nations yet unborn, and very progress of the iiuman race, than are the swine who wallow in their streets. Who think that crying out to other nations, jld in their iniquity, " We are no worse than you !" (No worse I) is high defence and 'vantage ground enough for that Republic, but yesterday let loose upon her noble course, and but to-day so maimed and lame, so full of sores and ulcers, foul to the eye, and almost hopeless to the nense, that her best friends turn from the loath- some creature with disgust. Who, havirig by their ancestors declared and won their Independ- ence, because tlrey would not bend the knee to certain Public vices and corruptions and would not abrogate the truth, run riot in the Bad, and turn their backs upon the Good ; and lying down contented with the wretched boast that other Tem- ples also are of glass, and stones which batter theirs may be flung back; show themselves, in that alone, as immeasurably behind the import of the trust they hold, and as unworthy to possess it, as if the sordid hucksterings of all their little governments — each one a kingdom in its small depravity — were brought into a heap for evidence against them. Martin by degrees became so far awake, that he had a sense of a terrible oppression on his mind; an imperfect dream that he had murdered a particular friend, and couldn't get rid of the body. When his eyes opened, it was staring him full in the face. There was the horrible Hominy, talking deep truths in a melodious snuffle, and pouring forth her mental endowments to such an extent that the Major's bitterest enemy, hearing her. would have forgiven him from the bottom of liis heart. Martin might have done something desperate if the gong had not soun