title: Mr. Pickwick's Christmas
text: ufn»i«fm<iiHiiuH»iMsi HHnffliJJ«Ji(iMS!lji* j5,y^ IC )DiliiininiiittntiitttiDtiriitrimtn)itmntniritinirmtinttni)i immmmmimmmmmnmmammaammmmi 'immMmmmmMl I IIINII I III I II III ill III II II liiiililliiiiii THE WILLIAMS EDITION OF A CHRIST 31 AS CAROL and THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND LINE BY GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS A COMPANION VOLUME TO " MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS " THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO. ...Publishers ... 33-37 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET. NEW YORK MK. ICKS C i i\ o BEING APv o.v.iCKT*v CHRIST^ vl. OV r. AS WRiTTr aPERS Bv WITH ILLUSTRA By C THE BAKER t t..-'j.t\ir.'V'N \ 33~37 East Seventeenth Strski (Uniok Squarb North) NEW YORK .... 355«ta88o 2«o^At>wA3A TMo\ sAJ iwb '1^- As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light a^ fairies, did the four Pickwickians assemble MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS BEING AN ACCOUNT OF THE PICKWICKIANS' CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR FARM, OF THE ADVENTURES THERE; THE TALE OF THE GOBLIN WHO STOLE A SEXTON, AND OF THE FAMOUS SPORTS ON THE ICE AS WRITTEN IN THE PICKWICK PAPERS By CHARLES DICKENS WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND LINE By GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS THE BAKER ^ TAYLOR COMPANY 33-37 East Seventeenth Street (Union Square North) NEW YORK Ccypyright, 1906. hy The Baker & Taylor Company Published, September, 1906 OCT 2 1806 .. HflWrttW Diin* ' OOPVB rft« Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S. A. INTRODUCTION TO begin with nothing and end with some- thing as great as Pickwick is an achieve- ment given to few men to reahse. Yet it seems that in this most haphazard way Pickwick was created. At the age of twenty-three Charles Dickens opened his door in Furnival's Inn to the managing partner of the firm of "Chapman and Hall." The idea then propounded to Dickens was that a monthly publication should be the vehicle for certain plates to be executed by Robert Seymour, an admirable humourist-artist of great popularity. These were to deal with a Nimrod Club and their adventures, fishing, hunting, and so forth, ren- dered intensely humorous by exposing the lack of experience and dexterity of the members. Dickens was requested to contribute a letter-press [V] INTRODUCTION to these pictures, but he objected on the grounds that he was not familiar enough with sports or the sportsman's hfe to produce such material and also because the idea was not fresh. He thought the results would be much happier if he wrote more freely of the English people and their cus- toms, and, too, it would be infinitely better were the plates to be inspired by the text. The sug- gestions were accepted and "I then wrote," says Dickens, *'the first number and from the proof- sheets Mr. Seymour made the drawing of the Pickwick Club, producing that happy portrait of the founder by which he was made a reality.'* In March, 1836, the first monthly number of the "Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club" made its appearance and *'. . . in less than six months from this time the whole reading world was talking about them; the names of Winkle, Wardle, Weller, Snodgrass, Dodson, and Fogg had become familiar in our mouths as household words. 'Pickwick chintzes' figured in linen-dra- pers' windows, and ' Weller corduroys ' in breeches- [vi] INTRODUCTION makers' advertisements; 'Boz cabs' might be seen rattling through the streets, and the portrait of the author of Pelham and Crichton was scraped down or pasted over to make room for that of the new popular favourite in the omnibuses." It was only natural that a work so launched, with the author pressed for copy for each part, should be lacking in any definite form or plot. Dickens writes in the preface to the original edition : "The publication of the book in monthly num- bers, containing only thirty-two pages in each, rendered it an object of paramount importance that, while the different incidents were linked together by a chain of interest strong enough to prevent their appearing unconnected or impossi- ble, the general design should be so simple as to sustain no injury from this detached and desultory form of publication, extending over no fewer than twenty months. In short, it was necessary — or it appeared so to the author — that every num- ber should be, to a certain extent, complete in [vii] INTRODUCTION itself, and yet that the whole twenty numbers, when collected, should form one tolerably har- monious whole, each leading to the other by a gentle and not unnatural progress of adventure. "It is obvious that in a work published with a view to such considerations, no artfully inter- woven or ingeniously complicated plot can with reason be expected. The author ventures to ex- press a hope that he has successfully surmounted the difficulties of his undertaking. And if it be objected to the Pickwick Papers, that they are a mere series of adventure, in which the scenes are ever changing, and the characters come and go like the men and women we encounter in the real world, he can only content himself with the re- flection that they claim to be nothing else, and that the same objection has been made to the works of some of the greatest novelists in the English language." The publishers of the present volume felt that the very manner in which "Pickwick" was first issued justifies the separate reprinting of those [viii] INTRODUCTION chapters which deal with the Christmas festivities at the Manor farm. Aside from this there is an especial interest attached to the Christmas senti- ment contained in these chapters, because it marks the first formal expression of that Christ- mas feeling to which Dickens afterwards devoted a considerable series of delightful works. It is perfectly natural that Pickwick should be the character to inspire Dickens to those warm, whole-souled thoughts at a season when our enthusiasm is always more perceptible. A quo- tation from a preface prepared for an edition of his writings, which was designated in the dedi- cation to John Forster as the best edition of his works, will allow us to realise the importance of Pickwick as such a vehicle. Dickens says: " It has been observed of Mr. Pickwick, that there is a decided change in his character, as these pages proceed, and that he becomes more good and more sensible. I do not think this change will appear forced or unnatural to my readers, if they will reflect that in real life the [ix] INTRODUCTION peculiarities and oddities of a man who has any- thing whimsical about him generally impress us first, and that it is not until we are better ac- quainted with him that we usually begin to look below these superficial traits, and to know the better part of him." So here at the Manor Farm we find ourselves joining in those wholesome sports and human interests that make these Christmas chapters so contagious. "As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assem- ble on the morning of the 22nd of December." Who can resist such enthusiasm and not feel the purport of these lines. "And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families whose members have been dispersed and scattered, far and wide, in the restless struggles of life are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of com- panionship and mutual good-will, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight and [X] INTRODUCTION one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations and the rude traditions of the roughest savages alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken! "We write these words now, many miles dis- tant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped have grown old; the eyes we sought have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recur- rence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, [xi] INTRODUCTION that can win us back to the dehisions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; and transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and quiet home." What wonder that the idea to present Pickwick pictorially should appeal to Robert Seymour and inspire that famous plate, "Pickwick addressing the Club"! This is a happy portrait and has fixed for all lime the indelible image of its subject upon the world's mind. In this matter of ])ictorial embellishment Dick- ens's writings have always held a unique position. Dickens himself preferred to have his works appear unadorned by pictures, but the demand made by his public called into service the most talented pencils from George Cruikshank to Fred- erick Barnard. Hence, beside the plates for the original editions, we have innumerable engrav- ings for subsequent editions and for special forms of reproduction. Forster, the biographer of Dickens, informs us [xii] INTRODUCTION that rarely, if ever, did anything but disappoint- ment await the noveHst so far as the illustrations were concerned; a fact easily determined by tra- cing the dissatisfaction he evinced through his intimate and friendly intercourse with the pictorial interpreters of his text. The artist of the earlier part of the nineteenth century seldom resorted to the use of the living model in preparing their pictures, and this in no small way accounts for the puppet-like appearance of many of their figures. The only guide was the vivid descriptions of the author, an artist who drew all his inspiration from life. However, in the early sixties there arose a new school of illustrators who lavished the same care upon the preparation of an illustration as a painter does upon his canvases. The result was a series of pictures filled with human interest, — pictures not relying upon exaggeration of details and facial expression to convey their meaning. The only claim that can be made for the early plates as compared to these later ones is their charm of [xiii] INTRODUCTION association. Work of men such as Frederick Barnard and Charles Green far surpasses tech- nically these earlier productions and gives to us an interpretation more human and living. In the illustration of the original edition of *' Pickwick " we are concerned with three artists, Robert Seymour, Robert Buss, and Hablot K. Browne, better known as "Phiz." Seymour's services were prematurely ended by his suicide. His successor. Buss, was also of short duration and evidently not satisfactory to the author or publisher, for there follows a long list of applicants desiring to fill the vacant post, among them Wm. M. Thackeray. In responding to a toast of "Literature," at the Royal Academy banquet years after, the latter said, "I can re- member when Mr. Dickens was a very young man and had commenced delighting the world with some charming humorous works, of which I can- not mention the name but which were coloured light green and came out once a month, that this young man wanted an artist to illustrate his [xiv] INTRODUCTION writings, and I recollect walking up to his cham- bers with two or three drawings in my hand, which, strange to say, he did not find suitable. But for that unfortunate blight which came over my artistical existence it would have been my pride and my pleasure to have endeavoured one day to find a place on these walls for one of my performances.'* Later he alluded to the rejection of his services as "Mr. Pickwick's lucky escape." In the end Browne was accepted and of all the illustrators of those early editions he is the one par excellence, excepting only Luke Fildes R. A., the illustrator of the first edition of " Edwin Drood." When Fildes interviewed Dickens preparatory to taking up this commission, he informed the author that although he appreciated the honour of being selected to illustrate "Edwin Drood," he felt compelled to forego most reluctantly the pleasure of it if the designs had to be of a comic and wholly humorous nature after the manner of Phiz and his predecessors. He reminded [XV] INTRODUCTION Dickens that his writings possessed an intensely serious as well as a jocular side and would lend themselves admirably to a graver style of hand- ling. Dickens replied that he was rather tired of having his illustrators consider him entirely as a humourist and caricaturist. While there is a vast difference between " Pickwick " and " Edwin Drood," yet there is much of serious life depicted in the various escapades of the club, and it is the keen appreciation of this quality that seems to have escaped entirely the earlier artists. We turn to Charles Green and find in his series of large water-colours one entitled, *' The Pickwick Club,*' and our intimate friend clothed, not in caricature, but in all the atmosphere of reality, losing thereby none of his jovial and comic char- acteristics. The real Winkle, the real Snodgrass, the real Tupman, are listening to his address, and the unnatural elements of the first plates have given way to a more suitable form of expression though retaining the quaint humour of the text. Who does not find here the Pickwick we [xvi] INTRODUCTION have always sought - the Pickwick created by Dickens ? The writer has endeavoured to produce in this series of pictures the true atmosphere, human in the blending of the serious and the comic, and to give to them the semblance of reality {)roduced in our minds by the text. George Alfred Williams. Chatfuim, N. J. [ xvii ] CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE A good-humoured Christmas chapter, containing an account of a wedding, and some other sports beside, which although in their way, even as good customs as marriage itself, are not quite so religiously kept up, in these degenerate times 25 CHAPTER II I'he Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton ... 87 CHAPTER III How the Pickwickians made and cultivated the ac- quaintance of a couple of nice young men. belonging to one of the liberal professions; how they disported themselves on the ice ; and how their visit came to a conclusion . . . . ■ 118 [xix] ILLUSTRATIONS As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assemble . . . Fr()nlis|)iece Faciiuj I'age Emily Wardle 42 Then the old church bell rang . . . and they all re- turned to breakfast 56 A five and twenty mile vmlk, undertaken by the males. at Wardle's recommendation 64 Wardle singing the Christmas Carol 80 As he wended his way up the ancient street, he saw the cheerful ligJU of the blazing fires .... 90 Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with astonishment and terror 90 A rich and beautiful landscape was disclosed to view . 110 " How slippery it is, Sam / " 130 Went slowly and gravely down the slide, with his feet about a yard and a quarter apart 138 [xxi] A GOOD-HUMOURED CHRISTMAS CHAPTER MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS CHAPTER I A GOOD-HUMOURED CHRISTMAS CHAPTER, CON- TAINING AN ACCOUNT OF A WEDDING, AND SOME OTHER SPORTS BESIDE, WHICH AL- THOUGH IN THEIR WAY, EVEN AS GOOD CUSTOMS AS MARRIAGE ITSELF, ARE NOT QUITE SO RELIGIOUSLY KEPT UP, IN THESE DEGENERATE TIMES. A S brisk as bees, if not altogether as light -^ ^ as fairies, did the four Pickwickians as- semble on the morning of the twenty-second day of December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully-recorded adventures, were undertaken and accomplished. Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty hon- esty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness; the old year was prepar- ing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his [25] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS friends around him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly away. Gay and merry was the time; and right gay and merry were at least four of the numer- ous hearts that were gladdened by its coming. And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited) and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual good- will, which is a source of such pure and un- alloyed delight, and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future state of existence, provided for the blest and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dor- mant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken! We write these words now, many miles dis- [26] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS tant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstance connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday. Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days, that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the sailor and the traveller, thou- sands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home! But we are so taken up, and occupied, with the good qualities of Christmas, who, by the way, is quite a country gentleman of the old [27] MR. riCKVVlCK'S CllUlSTMAS school* ll«nl \\(' arc kcopinjj; Mr. Pickwick and Ills fri(Mitls Nvailiii*; in llic cold, on \hv outside (>r I lie Mii«:;«2;U'l()n coach, which llicy have just attained, well wrapped up, in ^roat-oouts, shawls, and cond'oiicrs. Tlic porlnianlcaus and car|)ot-ha«j;s have he(Mi slowed away, and Mr. \V<'Iler and Ihe «^nard are (Mideavonrin*;" lo in- sinuate inio I he fore-hoot a hn^e cod-fish several sizes loo larii;e for it, which is siui<i;ly [)aeked up, in a lon<j; hrt)wn hasktl, wilh a layer of straw over llu' lop, and which has hccMi left lo the last, in order Ihal he may rt^pose in safety on llu* half-do/en barrels of vciA native oysters, all ihe properly of INlr. Pickwick, which liave been arran«;ed in regular order, at the bottom of the reee[)laclt\ The interest displayed in Mr, Pick- wick's countenance is most intense, as INTr. Weller and tht» i^nard try to st|ueeze the ood-tish iutt» the boot, first lu^ul first, and then tail first, and then top u}>wards, and then bottom upwards, and tluMi sitleways, ami then louiiij- Nvays, all of which artifices the im[>lacable cod- 1 -S ] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS fish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally hits him in the very middle of the basket, whereupon he suddenly disappears into the boot, and with him, the head and shoulders of the guard himself, who, not calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected shock, to the unsmotherable delight of all the porters and by-standers. Upon this, Mr. Pick- wick smiles with great good humour, and draw- ing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket, begs the guard, as he picks himself out of the boot, to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy and water, at which, the guard smiles too, and Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, all smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller disappear for five minutes, most probably to get the hot brandy and water, for they smell very strongly of it, when they return, the coach- man mounts to the box, Mr. Weller jumps up behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats round their legs, and their shawls over their noses; the [ ^^^> ] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS helpers pull the horse-cloths off, the coachman shouts out a cheery "All right," and away they go. They have rumbled through the streets, and jolted over the stones, and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels skim over the hard and frosty ground; and the horses, bursting into a canter at a smart crack of the whip, step along the road as if the load behind them, coach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster barrels, and all, were but a feather at their heels. They have descended a gentle slope, and enter upon a level, as compact and dry as a solid block of marble, two miles long. Another crack of the whip, and on they speed, at a smart gallop, the horses tossing their heads and rattling the harness as if in exhilaration at the rapidity of the motion, while the coachman, holding whip and reins in one hand, takes off his hat with the other, and resting it on his knees, pulls out his handkerchief, and wipes his forehead, partly because he has a habit of doing it, and [30] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS partly because it's as well to shew the pas- sengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to drive four-in-hand, when you have had as much practice as he has. Having done this very leisurely (otherwise the effect would be materially impaired), he replaces his hand- kerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and on they speed, more merrily than before. A few small houses, scattered on either side of the road, betoken the entrance to some town or village. The lively notes of the guard's key- bugle vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up the old gentleman inside, who carefully letting down the window-sash half way, and standing sentry over the air, takes a short peep out, and then carefully pulling it up again, informs the other inside that they're going to change directly; on which the other inside wakes him- self up, and determines to postpone his next nap until after the stoppage. Again the bugle sounds lustily forth, and rouses the cottager's [31] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS wife and children, who peep out at the house- door, and watch the coach till it turns the corner, when they once more crouch round the blazing fire, and throw on another log of wood against father comes home, while father him- self, a full mile off, has just exchanged a friendly nod with the coachman, and turned round, to take a good long stare at the vehicle as it whirls away. And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles through the ill-paved streets of a country town; and the coachman, undoing the buckle which keeps his ribands together, pre- pares to throw them off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, and looks about him with great curiosity; per- ceiving which, the coachman informs Mr. Pick- wick of the name of the town, and tells him it was market-day yesterday, both which pieces of information Mr. Pickwick retails to his fellow- passengers, whereupon they emerge from their coat collars too, and look about them also. Mr. [32] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one leg dangling in the air, is nearly precipitated into the street, as the coach twists round the sharp corner by the cheesemonger's shop, and turns into the market-place ; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up at the inn yard, where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting. The coach- man throws down the reins and gets down himself, and the other outside passengers drop down also, except those who have no great confidence in their ability to get up again, and they remain where they are, and stamp their feet against the coach to warm them; looking with longing eyes and red noses at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament the window. [33] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS But the guard has delivered at the corn- dealer's shop, the brown paper packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his shoulder by a leathern strap, and has seen the horses carefully put to, and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from London on the coach-roof, and has assisted in the conference between the coachman and the hostler about the grey mare that hurt her off- fore-leg last Tuesday, and he and Mr. Weller are all right behind, and the coachman is all right in front, and the old gentleman inside, who has kept the window down full two inches all this time, has pulled it up again, and the cloths are off, and they are all ready for start- ing, except the "two stout gentlemen," whom the coachman enquires after with some im- patience. Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers, who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for the missing [34] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS gentleman as loud as they can bawl. A distant response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pick- wick and Mr. Tupman come running down it, quite out of breath, for they have been having a glass of ale a-piece, and Mr. Pickwick's fingers are so cold that he has been full five minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory "Now, then, gen'lm'n," the guard re-echoes it — the old gentleman inside, thinks it a very extraor- dinary thing that people will get down when they know there isn't time for it — Mr. Pick- wick struggles up on one side, Mr. Tupman on the other, Mr. Winkle cries **A11 right," and off they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are re-adjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses disappear; and they are once again dashing along the open road, with the fresh clear air blowing in their faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them. Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the Muggleton Telegraph, on [35] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS their way to Dingley Dell; and at three o'clock that afternoon, they all stood, high and dry, safe and sound, hale and hearty, upon the steps of the Blue Lion, having taken on the road quite enough of ale and brandy, to enable them to bid defiance to the frost that was binding up the earth in its iron fetters, and weaving its beautiful net-work upon the trees and hedges. Mr. Pickwick was busily engaged in counting the barrels of oysters, and superintending the disinter- ment of the cod-fish, when he felt himself gently pulled by the skirts of the coat; and looking round, he discovered that the individual who resorted to this mode of catching his attention, was no other than Mr. Wardle's favourite page, better known to the readers of this unvarnished history by the distinguishing appellation of the fat boy. [36] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS "Aha!" said Mr. Pickwick. "Aha!" said the fat bo^. And as he said it, he glanced from the cod- fish to the oyster barrels, and chuckled joyously. He was fatter than ever. " Well, you look rosy enough, my young friend," said Mr. Pickwick. "I've been asleep, right in front of the tap- room fire," replied the fat boy, who had heated himself to the colour of a new chimney-pot, in the course of an hour's nap. "Master sent me over with the chay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house. He'd ha' sent some saddle horses, but he thought you'd rather walk, being a cold day." "Yes, yes," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily, for he remembered how they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. "Yes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam." "Sir," said Mr. Weller. "Help Mr. Wardle's servant to put the pack- ages into the cart, and then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once." [37] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr. Pickwick and his three friends struck into the footpath across the fields, and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller and the fat boy confronted together for the first time. Sam looked at the fat boy with great astonishment, but without saying a word; and began to stow the things rapidly away in the cart, while the fat boy stood quietly by, and seemed to think it a very interesting sort of thing to see Mr. Weller working by himself. "There," said Sam, throwing in the last car- pet bag. *' There they are." "Yes," said the fat boy, in a very satisfied tone, "there they are." "Veil, young twenty stun," said Sam, "you're a nice specimen of a prize boy, you are." "Thankee," said the fat boy. "You ain't got nothin' on your mind, as makes you fret yourself, have you.^" inquired Sam. "Not as I knows on," replied the boy. [38] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS "I should rayther ha' thought, to look at you, that you was a labourin' under an unrequited attachment to some young 'ooman," said Sam. The fat boy shook his head. "Veil," said Sam, "I'm glad to hear it. Do you ever drink anythin'?" "I likes eating, better," replied the boy. "Ah," said Sam, "I should ha' s'posed that; but what I mean is, should you like a drop of anythin' as'd warm you.? but I s'pose you never was cold, with all them elastic fixtures, was you.?" "Sometimes," replied the boy; "and I likes a drop of something, when it's good." "Oh, you do, do you.?" said Sam, "come this vay, then." The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed a glass of liquor without so much as winking, — a feat which considerably advanced him in Mr. Weller's good opinion. Mr. Weller having transacted a similar piece of busi- ness on his own account, they got into the cart. [39] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS "Can you drive?" said the fat boy. "I should rayther think so," rephed Sam. "There, then," said the fat boy, putting the reins in his hand, and pointing up a lane, "It's as straight as you can go; you can't miss it." With these words, the fat boy laid himself affectionately down by the side of the cod-fish, and placing an oyster-barrel under his head for a pillow, fell asleep instantaneously. "Veil," said Sam, "of all the cool boys ever I set my eyes on, this here young gen'lm'n is about the coolest. Come, vake up, young dropsy." But as young dropsy evinced no symptoms of returning animation, Sam Weller sat himself down in front of the cart, and starting the old horse with a jerk of the rein, jogged steadily on, towards Manor Farm. Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends hav- ing walked their blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on; the paths were hard, the grass was crisp and frosty, the air had a fine, dry, bracing coldness, and the rapid approach of [40] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS the grey twilight (slate-coloured is a better term in frosty weather) made them look forward with pleasant anticipation to the comforts which awaited them at their hospitable entertainer's. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off their great coats and play at leap-frog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety; and we firmly believe that had Mr. Tupman at that moment proffered "a back," Mr. Pickwick would have accepted his offer with the utmost avidity. However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any such personal accommodation, and the friends walked on, conversing merrily. As they turned into a lane which they had to cross, the sound of many voices burst upon their ears; and before they had even had time to form a guess as to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of the party who were expecting their arrival — a fact which was first notified to the Pickwickians, by the loud "Hurrah," which burst from old Wardle's lips, when they appeared in sight. [41] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS First, there was Wardle himself, looking, if that were possible, more jolly than ever; then there were Bella and her faithful Trundle; and, lastly, there were Emily and some eight or ten young ladies, who had all come down to the wedding which was to take place next day, and were in as happy and important a state as young ladies usually are, on such momentous occasions; and they were, one and all, startling the fields and lanes far and wide with their frolic and laughter. The ceremony of introduction, under such cir- cumstances, was very soon performed, or we should rather say that the introduction was soon over, without any ceremony at all; and in two minutes thereafter, Mr. Pickwick was joking with the young ladies who wouldn't come over the stile while he looked, or who, having pretty feet and unexceptionable ankles, preferred standing on the top-rail for five minutes or so, and declaring that they were too frightened to move, with as much ease and absence of reserve or constraint, as if he had known them for life. It is worthy of [42] ,\'1 .,.-v Etidljl Wiinllc. MR. PICKWICK'S CinilSTMAS remark too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far more assistance than the absolute terrors of the stile (although it was full three feet high, and [45] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem to require; while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair of boots with fur round the top, was observed to scream very loudly, when Mr. Winkle offered to help her over. All this was very snug and pleasant: and when the diflSculties of the stile were at last surmounted, and they once more entered on the open field, old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they had all been down in a body to inspect the furniture and fittings-up of the house, which the young couple were to tenant, after the Christmas holi- days; at which communication Bella and Trundle both coloured up, as red as the fat boy after the tap-room fire; and the young lady with the black eyes and the fur round the boots, whispered some- thing in Emily's ear, and then glanced archly at Mr. Snodgrass, to which Emily responded that she was a foolish girl, but turned very red, not- withstanding; and Mr. Snodgrass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the crimson rising to the crown of his head, and [46] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS devoutly wished, in the inmost recesses of liis own heart, that the young hidy aforesaid, with her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the top, were all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county. But if they were social and happy, outside the house, what was the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm ! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr. Pickwick: and Emma bestowed a half-de- mure, half-impudent, and all pretty look of recognition on Mr. Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the pas- sage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them. The old lady was seated in customary state in the front parlour, but she was rather cross, and by consequence, most particularly deaf. She never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if any body else took the liberty of doing what she [47] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS couldn't. So, bless her old soul, she sat as up- right as she could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might be — and that was benevolent after all. *' Mother," said Wardle, "Mr. Pickwick. You recollect him." "Never mind," repHed the old lady with great dignity. "Don't trouble Mr. Pick- wick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares about me now, and it's very nat'ral they shouldn't." a\ Here the old lady tossed her head, )yj^ and smoothed i^^''^^:^ down her lavender- coloured silk dress, with trembling hands. "Come, come, Ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "I can't let you cut an old friend in this way. I have [48] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS come down expressly to have a long talk, and another rubber with you; and we'll show these boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before they're eight- and-forty hours older." The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it all at once; so she only said, "Ah: I can't hear him." "Nonsense, mother," said Wardle. "Come, come, don't be cross, there's a good soul. Recol- lect Bella; come, you must keep her spirits up, poor girl." The good old lady heard this, for her lip quiv- ered as her son said it. But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought round yet. So, she smoothed down the lavender- coloured dress again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick said, "Ah, Mr. Pickwick, young people was very different, when I was a girl." "No doubt of that. Ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "and that's the reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the old stock," — and saying this, Mr. Pickwick gently pulled [40] MR, PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS Bella towards him, and bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit down on the little stool at her grandmother's feet. Whether the expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old lady's face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr. Pickwick's affectionate good nature, or whatever was the cause, she was fairly melted; so, she threw herself on her grand-daughter's neck, and all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush of silent tears. A happy party they were, that night. Sedate and solemn were the score of rubbers in which Mr. Pickwick and the old lady played together; and uproarious was the mirth of the round table. Long after the ladies had retired, did the hot elder wine, well qualified with brandy and spice, go round, and round, and round again; and sound was the sleep, and pleasant were the dreams that followed. It is a remarkable fact, that those of Mr. Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily Wardle; and that the principal figure in Mr. [50] MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS Winkle's visions, was a young lady with black eyes, an arch smile, and a pair of remarkably nice boots, with fur round the tops. Mr. Pickwick was awakened early in the morn- ing, by a hum of voices and pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from his heavy slumbers. He sat up in bed, and listened. The female servants and female visitors were running constantly to and fro; and there were such multi- tudinous demands for warm water, such repeated outcries for needles and thread, and so many half- suppressed entreaties of "Oh, do come and tie me, there's a dear," that Mr. Pickwick in his innocence began to imagine that something dread- ful must have occurred, when he grew more awake, and remembered the wedding. The occa- sion being an important one, he dressed himself with peculiar care, and descended to the breakfast room. There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of pink muslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about the house in a [51] MR. PICKWICK'S CHIUSTMAS state of excitcnuMil mul iigiliitioii, which it would be impossibh' to (Inscribe. The old huly was (h-essed out, iu a brocaded gown, which had not se( II I lie light for twenty years, saving and excepl- ing sMch truant rays as had stolen through the chinks in I he box in which it had been laid by, during Ihe whole time. Mr. Trundle was in higli fealher and spirits, but a little nervous withal. Tlu* hearly old landlord was trying to look very cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in the attempt. All Ihe girls were in tears and while muslin, except a select two or three, who were l)eing honoured with a private view of the bride jMid bridesmaids, up stairs. All the Pickwickians were in most blooming array; and there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front oT Ihe house, occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobblede- hoys attached to the farm, each of whom liad got a white bow in his bultonhole, and all of whom were cheering with might and main: l)eing incited therelo, and stinndaled therein, by the prece})t Mud exiiniple of Mr. Samuel Weller, who had MR. riClvWlCK'S CHRISTMAS manji^od to IxToinc mi^lily popular already, nnd was as imicli al liome as if lie had Ixhmi horn on the land. 