Chapter: Having accomplished the main end and object of his journey, by the
exposure of Jingle, Mr. Pickwick resolved on immediately returning to
London, with the view of becoming acquainted with the proceedings which
had been taken against him, in the meantime, by Messrs. Dodson and Fogg.
Acting upon this resolution with all the energy and decision of his
character, he mounted to the back seat of the first coach which left
Ipswich on the morning after the memorable occurrences detailed at
length in the two preceding chapters; and accompanied by his three
friends, and Mr. Samuel Weller, arrived in the metropolis, in perfect
health and safety, the same evening.

Here the friends, for a short time, separated. Messrs. Tupman, Winkle,
and Snodgrass repaired to their several homes to make such preparations
as might be requisite for their forthcoming visit to Dingley Dell; and
Mr. Pickwick and Sam took up their present abode in very good, old-
fashioned, and comfortable quarters, to wit, the George and Vulture
Tavern and Hotel, George Yard, Lombard Street.

Mr. Pickwick had dined, finished his second pint of particular port,
pulled his silk handkerchief over his head, put his feet on the fender,
and thrown himself back in an easy-chair, when the entrance of Mr.
Weller with his carpet-bag, aroused him from his tranquil meditation.

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Sir,' said Mr. Weller.

'I have just been thinking, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that having left a
good many things at Mrs. Bardell's, in Goswell Street, I ought to
arrange for taking them away, before I leave town again.'

'Wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'I could send them to Mr. Tupman's, for the present, Sam,' continued Mr.
Pickwick, 'but before we take them away, it is necessary that they
should be looked up, and put together. I wish you would step up to
Goswell Street, Sam, and arrange about it.'

'At once, Sir?' inquired Mr. Weller.

'At once,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'And stay, Sam,' added Mr. Pickwick,
pulling out his purse, 'there is some rent to pay. The quarter is not
due till Christmas, but you may pay it, and have done with it. A month's
notice terminates my tenancy. Here it is, written out. Give it, and tell
Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, as soon as she likes.'

'Wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller; 'anythin' more, sir?'

'Nothing more, Sam.'

Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something more;
slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a
couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out--

'Sam.'

'Yes, sir,' said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the door
behind him.

'I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain how Mrs.
Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really
probable that this vile and groundless action is to be carried to
extremity. I say I do not object to you doing this, if you wish it,
Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

Sam gave a short nod of intelligence, and left the room. Mr. Pickwick
drew the silk handkerchief once more over his head, And composed himself
for a nap. Mr. Weller promptly walked forth, to execute his commission.

It was nearly nine o'clock when he reached Goswell Street. A couple of
candles were burning in the little front parlour, and a couple of caps
were reflected on the window-blind. Mrs. Bardell had got company.

Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval--
occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the party
within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be
lighted--a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and Master
Bardell presented himself.

'Well, young townskip,' said Sam, 'how's mother?'

'She's pretty well,' replied Master Bardell, 'so am I.'

'Well, that's a mercy,' said Sam; 'tell her I want to speak to her, will
you, my hinfant fernomenon?'

Master Bardell, thus adjured, placed the refractory flat candle on the
bottom stair, and vanished into the front parlour with his message.

The two caps, reflected on the window-blind, were the respective head-
dresses of a couple of Mrs. Bardell's most particular acquaintance, who
had just stepped in, to have a quiet cup of tea, and a little warm
supper of a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted cheese. The
cheese was simmering and browning away, most delightfully, in a little
Dutch oven before the fire; the pettitoes were getting on deliciously in
a little tin saucepan on the hob; and Mrs. Bardell and her two friends
were getting on very well, also, in a little quiet conversation about
and concerning all their particular friends and acquaintance; when
Master Bardell came back from answering the door, and delivered the
message intrusted to him by Mr. Samuel Weller.

'Mr. Pickwick's servant!' said Mrs. Bardell, turning pale.

'Bless my soul!' said Mrs. Cluppins.

'Well, I raly would not ha' believed it, unless I had ha' happened to
ha' been here!' said Mrs. Sanders.

Mrs. Cluppins was a little, brisk, busy-looking woman; Mrs. Sanders was
a big, fat, heavy-faced personage; and the two were the company.

Mrs. Bardell felt it proper to be agitated; and as none of the three
exactly knew whether under existing circumstances, any communication,
otherwise than through Dodson & Fogg, ought to be held with Mr.
Pickwick's servant, they were all rather taken by surprise. In this
state of indecision, obviously the first thing to be done, was to thump
the boy for finding Mr. Weller at the door. So his mother thumped him,
and he cried melodiously.

'Hold your noise--do--you naughty creetur!' said Mrs. Bardell.

'Yes; don't worrit your poor mother,' said Mrs. Sanders.

'She's quite enough to worrit her, as it is, without you, Tommy,' said
Mrs. Cluppins, with sympathising resignation.

'Ah! worse luck, poor lamb!' said Mrs. Sanders.

At all which moral reflections, Master Bardell howled the louder.

'Now, what shall I do?' said Mrs. Bardell to Mrs. Cluppins.

'I think you ought to see him,' replied Mrs. Cluppins. 'But on no
account without a witness.'

'I think two witnesses would be more lawful,' said Mrs. Sanders, who,
like the other friend, was bursting with curiosity.

'Perhaps he'd better come in here,' said Mrs. Bardell.

'To be sure,' replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea; 'walk
in, young man; and shut the street door first, please.'

Mr. Weller immediately took the hint; and presenting himself in the
parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus--

'Wery sorry to 'casion any personal inconwenience, ma'am, as the
housebreaker said to the old lady when he put her on the fire; but as me
and my governor 's only jest come to town, and is jest going away agin,
it can't be helped, you see.'

'Of course, the young man can't help the faults of his master,' said
Mrs. Cluppins, much struck by Mr. Weller's appearance and conversation.

'Certainly not,' chimed in Mrs. Sanders, who, from certain wistful
glances at the little tin saucepan, seemed to be engaged in a mental
calculation of the probable extent of the pettitoes, in the event of
Sam's being asked to stop to supper.

'So all I've come about, is jest this here,' said Sam, disregarding the
interruption; 'first, to give my governor's notice--there it is.
Secondly, to pay the rent--here it is. Thirdly, to say as all his things
is to be put together, and give to anybody as we sends for 'em.
Fourthly, that you may let the place as soon as you like--and that's
all.'

'Whatever has happened,' said Mrs. Bardell, 'I always have said, and
always will say, that in every respect but one, Mr. Pickwick has always
behaved himself like a perfect gentleman. His money always as good as
the bank--always.'

As Mrs. Bardell said this, she applied her handkerchief to her eyes, and
went out of the room to get the receipt.

Sam well knew that he had only to remain quiet, and the women were sure
to talk; so he looked alternately at the tin saucepan, the toasted
cheese, the wall, and the ceiling, in profound silence.

'Poor dear!' said Mrs. Cluppins.

'Ah, poor thing!' replied Mrs. Sanders.

Sam said nothing. He saw they were coming to the subject.

'I raly cannot contain myself,' said Mrs. Cluppins, 'when I think of
such perjury. I don't wish to say anything to make you uncomfortable,
young man, but your master's an old brute, and I wish I had him here to
tell him so.'

I wish you had,' said Sam.

'To see how dreadful she takes on, going moping about, and taking no
pleasure in nothing, except when her friends comes in, out of charity,
to sit with her, and make her comfortable,' resumed Mrs. Cluppins,
glancing at the tin saucepan and the Dutch oven, 'it's shocking!'

'Barbareous,' said Mrs. Sanders.

'And your master, young man! A gentleman with money, as could never feel
the expense of a wife, no more than nothing,' continued Mrs. Cluppins,
with great volubility; 'why there ain't the faintest shade of an excuse
for his behaviour! Why don't he marry her?'

'Ah,' said Sam, 'to be sure; that's the question.'

'Question, indeed,' retorted Mrs. Cluppins, 'she'd question him, if
she'd my spirit. Hows'ever, there is law for us women, mis'rable
creeturs as they'd make us, if they could; and that your master will
find out, young man, to his cost, afore he's six months older.'

At this consolatory reflection, Mrs. Cluppins bridled up, and smiled at
Mrs. Sanders, who smiled back again.

'The action's going on, and no mistake,' thought Sam, as Mrs. Bardell
re-entered with the receipt.

'Here's the receipt, Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell, 'and here's the
change, and I hope you'll take a little drop of something to keep the
cold out, if it's only for old acquaintance' sake, Mr. Weller.'

Sam saw the advantage he should gain, and at once acquiesced; whereupon
Mrs. Bardell produced, from a small closet, a black bottle and a wine-
glass; and so great was her abstraction, in her deep mental affliction,
that, after filling Mr. Weller's glass, she brought out three more wine-
glasses, and filled them too.

'Lauk, Mrs. Bardell,' said Mrs. Cluppins, 'see what you've been and
done!'

'Well, that is a good one!' ejaculated Mrs. Sanders.

'Ah, my poor head!' said Mrs. Bardell, with a faint smile.

Sam understood all this, of course, so he said at once, that he never
could drink before supper, unless a lady drank with him. A great deal of
laughter ensued, and Mrs. Sanders volunteered to humour him, so she took
a slight sip out of her glass. Then Sam said it must go all round, so
they all took a slight sip. Then little Mrs. Cluppins proposed as a
toast, 'Success to Bardell agin Pickwick'; and then the ladies emptied
their glasses in honour of the sentiment, and got very talkative
directly.

'I suppose you've heard what's going forward, Mr. Weller?' said Mrs.
Bardell.

'I've heerd somethin' on it,' replied Sam.

'It's a terrible thing to be dragged before the public, in that way, Mr.
Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell; 'but I see now, that it's the only thing I
ought to do, and my lawyers, Mr. Dodson and Fogg, tell me that, with the
evidence as we shall call, we must succeed. I don't know what I should
do, Mr. Weller, if I didn't.'

The mere idea of Mrs. Bardell's failing in her action, affected Mrs.
Sanders so deeply, that she was under the necessity of refilling and re-
emptying her glass immediately; feeling, as she said afterwards, that if
she hadn't had the presence of mind to do so, she must have dropped.

'Ven is it expected to come on?' inquired Sam.

'Either in February or March,' replied Mrs. Bardell.

'What a number of witnesses there'll be, won't there?' said Mrs.
Cluppins.

'Ah! won't there!' replied Mrs. Sanders.

'And won't Mr. Dodson and Fogg be wild if the plaintiff shouldn't get
it?' added Mrs. Cluppins, 'when they do it all on speculation!'

'Ah! won't they!' said Mrs. Sanders.

'But the plaintiff must get it,' resumed Mrs. Cluppins.

'I hope so,' said Mrs. Bardell.

'Oh, there can't be any doubt about it,' rejoined Mrs. Sanders.

'Vell,' said Sam, rising and setting down his glass, 'all I can say is,
that I vish you _may _get it.'

'Thank'ee, Mr. Weller,' said Mrs. Bardell fervently.

'And of them Dodson and Foggs, as does these sort o' things on spec,'
continued Mr. Weller, 'as vell as for the other kind and gen'rous people
o' the same purfession, as sets people by the ears, free gratis for
nothin', and sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes among
their neighbours and acquaintances as vants settlin' by means of
lawsuits--all I can say o' them is, that I vish they had the reward I'd
give 'em.'

'Ah, I wish they had the reward that every kind and generous heart would
be inclined to bestow upon them!' said the gratified Mrs. Bardell.

'Amen to that,' replied Sam, 'and a fat and happy liven' they'd get out
of it! Wish you good-night, ladies.'

To the great relief of Mrs. Sanders, Sam was allowed to depart without
any reference, on the part of the hostess, to the pettitoes and toasted
cheese; to which the ladies, with such juvenile assistance as Master
Bardell could afford, soon afterwards rendered the amplest justice--
indeed they wholly vanished before their strenuous exertions.

Mr. Weller wended his way back to the George and Vulture, and faithfully
recounted to his master, such indications of the sharp practice of
Dodson & Fogg, as he had contrived to pick up in his visit to Mrs.
Bardell's. An interview with Mr. Perker, next day, more than confirmed
Mr. Weller's statement; and Mr. Pickwick was fain to prepare for his
Christmas visit to Dingley Dell, with the pleasant anticipation that
some two or three months afterwards, an action brought against him for
damages sustained by reason of a breach of promise of marriage, would be
publicly tried in the Court of Common Pleas; the plaintiff having all
the advantages derivable, not only from the force of circumstances, but
from the sharp practice of Dodson & Fogg to boot.


There still remaining an interval of two days before the time agreed
upon for the departure of the Pickwickians to Dingley Dell, Mr. Weller
sat himself down in a back room at the George and Vulture, after eating
an early dinner, to muse on the best way of disposing of his time. It
was a remarkably fine day; and he had not turned the matter over in his
mind ten minutes, when he was suddenly stricken filial and affectionate;
and it occurred to him so strongly that he ought to go down and see his
father, and pay his duty to his mother-in-law, that he was lost in
astonishment at his own remissness in never thinking of this moral
obligation before. Anxious to atone for his past neglect without another
hour's delay, he straightway walked upstairs to Mr. Pickwick, and
requested leave of absence for this laudable purpose.

'Certainly, Sam, certainly,' said Mr. Pickwick, his eyes glistening with
delight at this manifestation of filial feeling on the part of his
attendant; 'certainly, Sam.'

Mr. Weller made a grateful bow.

'I am very glad to see that you have so high a sense of your duties as a
son, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'I always had, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.

'That's a very gratifying reflection, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick
approvingly.

'Wery, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller; 'if ever I wanted anythin' o' my
father, I always asked for it in a wery 'spectful and obligin' manner.
If he didn't give it me, I took it, for fear I should be led to do
anythin' wrong, through not havin' it. I saved him a world o' trouble
this vay, Sir.'

'That's not precisely what I meant, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking his
head, with a slight smile.

'All good feelin', sir--the wery best intentions, as the gen'l'm'n said
ven he run away from his wife 'cos she seemed unhappy with him,' replied
Mr. Weller.

'You may go, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Thank'ee, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller; and having made his best bow, and
put on his best clothes, Sam planted himself on the top of the Arundel
coach, and journeyed on to Dorking.

The Marquis of Granby, in Mrs. Weller's time, was quite a model of a
roadside public-house of the better class--just large enough to be
convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the
road was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head and
shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a red coat
with deep blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over his three-
cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags; beneath
the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and the whole
formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of
glorious memory. The bar window displayed a choice collection of
geranium plants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open
shutters bore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds
and neat wines; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging
about the stable door and horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof of
the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam
Weller paused, when he dismounted from the coach, to note all these
little indications of a thriving business, with the eye of an
experienced traveller; and having done so, stepped in at once, highly
satisfied with everything he had observed.

'Now, then!' said a shrill female voice the instant Sam thrust his head
in at the door, 'what do you want, young man?'

Sam looked round in the direction whence the voice proceeded. It came
from a rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who was seated
beside the fireplace in the bar, blowing the fire to make the kettle
boil for tea. She was not alone; for on the other side of the fireplace,
sitting bolt upright in a high-backed chair, was a man in threadbare
black clothes, with a back almost as long and stiff as that of the chair
itself, who caught Sam's most particular and especial attention at once.

He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin countenance, and a
semi-rattlesnake sort of eye--rather sharp, but decidedly bad. He wore
very short trousers, and black cotton stockings, which, like the rest of
his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were starched, but his
white neckerchief was not, and its long limp ends straggled over his
closely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion.
A pair of old, worn, beaver gloves, a broad-brimmed hat, and a faded
green umbrella, with plenty of whalebone sticking through the bottom, as
if to counterbalance the want of a handle at the top, lay on a chair
beside him; and, being disposed in a very tidy and careful manner,
seemed to imply that the red-nosed man, whoever he was, had no intention
of going away in a hurry.

To do the red-nosed man justice, he would have been very far from wise
if he had entertained any such intention; for, to judge from all
appearances, he must have been possessed of a most desirable circle of
acquaintance, if he could have reasonably expected to be more
comfortable anywhere else. The fire was blazing brightly under the
influence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily under the
influence of both. A small tray of tea-things was arranged on the table;
a plate of hot buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire; and
the red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice
of bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentality of
a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hot
pine-apple rum-and-water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every time
the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye, with
the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two of the
hot pine-apple rum-and-water, and smiled upon the rather stout lady, as
she blew the fire.

Sam was so lost in the contemplation of this comfortable scene, that he
suffered the first inquiry of the rather stout lady to pass unheeded. It
was not until it had been twice repeated, each time in a shriller tone,
that he became conscious of the impropriety of his behaviour.

'Governor in?' inquired Sam, in reply to the question.

'No, he isn't,' replied Mrs. Weller; for the rather stout lady was no
other than the quondam relict and sole executrix of the dead-and-gone
Mr. Clarke; 'no, he isn't, and I don't expect him, either.'

'I suppose he's drivin' up to-day?' said Sam.

'He may be, or he may not,' replied Mrs. Weller, buttering the round of
toast which the red-nosed man had just finished. 'I don't know, and,
what's more, I don't care.--Ask a blessin', Mr. Stiggins.'

The red-nosed man did as he was desired, and instantly commenced on the
toast with fierce voracity.

The appearance of the red-nosed man had induced Sam, at first sight, to
more than half suspect that he was the deputy-shepherd of whom his
estimable parent had spoken. The moment he saw him eat, all doubt on the
subject was removed, and he perceived at once that if he purposed to
take up his temporary quarters where he was, he must make his footing
good without delay. He therefore commenced proceedings by putting his
arm over the half-door of the bar, coolly unbolting it, and leisurely
walking in.

'Mother-in-law,' said Sam, 'how are you?'

'Why, I do believe he is a Weller!' said Mrs. W., raising her eyes to
Sam's face, with no very gratified expression of countenance.

'I rayther think he is,' said the imperturbable Sam; 'and I hope this
here reverend gen'l'm'n 'll excuse me saying that I wish I was _the
_Weller as owns you, mother-in-law.'

This was a double-barrelled compliment. It implied that Mrs. Weller was
a most agreeable female, and also that Mr. Stiggins had a clerical
appearance. It made a visible impression at once; and Sam followed up
his advantage by kissing his mother-in-law.

'Get along with you!' said Mrs. Weller, pushing him away.

'For shame, young man!' said the gentleman with the red nose.

'No offence, sir, no offence,' replied Sam; 'you're wery right, though;
it ain't the right sort o' thing, ven mothers-in-law is young and good-
looking, is it, Sir?'

'It's all vanity,' said Mr. Stiggins.

'Ah, so it is,' said Mrs. Weller, setting her cap to rights.

Sam thought it was, too, but he held his peace.

The deputy-shepherd seemed by no means best pleased with Sam's arrival;
and when the first effervescence of the compliment had subsided, even
Mrs. Weller looked as if she could have spared him without the smallest
inconvenience. However, there he was; and as he couldn't be decently
turned out, they all three sat down to tea.

'And how's father?' said Sam.

At this inquiry, Mrs. Weller raised her hands, and turned up her eyes,
as if the subject were too painful to be alluded to.

Mr. Stiggins groaned.

'What's the matter with that 'ere gen'l'm'n?' inquired Sam.

'He's shocked at the way your father goes on in,' replied Mrs. Weller.

'Oh, he is, is he?' said Sam.

'And with too good reason,' added Mrs. Weller gravely.

Mr. Stiggins took up a fresh piece of toast, and groaned heavily.

'He is a dreadful reprobate,' said Mrs. Weller.

'A man of wrath!' exclaimed Mr. Stiggins. He took a large semi-circular
bite out of the toast, and groaned again.

Sam felt very strongly disposed to give the reverend Mr. Stiggins
something to groan for, but he repressed his inclination, and merely
asked, 'What's the old 'un up to now?'

'Up to, indeed!' said Mrs. Weller, 'Oh, he has a hard heart. Night after
night does this excellent man--don't frown, Mr. Stiggins; I _will _say
you _are _an excellent man--come and sit here, for hours together, and
it has not the least effect upon him.'

Well, that is odd,' said Sam; 'it 'ud have a wery considerable effect
upon me, if I wos in his place; I know that.'

'The fact is, my young friend,' said Mr. Stiggins solemnly, 'he has an
obderrate bosom. Oh, my young friend, who else could have resisted the
pleading of sixteen of our fairest sisters, and withstood their
exhortations to subscribe to our noble society for providing the infant
negroes in the West Indies with flannel waistcoats and moral pocket-
handkerchiefs?'

'What's a moral pocket-ankercher?' said Sam; 'I never see one o' them
articles o' furniter.'

'Those which combine amusement With instruction, my young friend,'
replied Mr. Stiggins, 'blending select tales with wood-cuts.'

'Oh, I know,' said Sam; 'them as hangs up in the linen-drapers' shops,
with beggars' petitions and all that 'ere upon 'em?'

Mr. Stiggins began a third round of toast, and nodded assent.

'And he wouldn't be persuaded by the ladies, wouldn't he?' said Sam.

'Sat and smoked his pipe, and said the infant negroes were--what did he
say the infant negroes were?' said Mrs. Weller.

'Little humbugs,' replied Mr. Stiggins, deeply affected.

'Said the infant negroes were little humbugs,' repeated Mrs. Weller. And
they both groaned at the atrocious conduct of the elder Mr. Weller.

A great many more iniquities of a similar nature might have been
disclosed, only the toast being all eaten, the tea having got very weak,
and Sam holding out no indications of meaning to go, Mr. Stiggins
suddenly recollected that he had a most pressing appointment with the
shepherd, and took himself off accordingly.

The tea-things had been scarcely put away, and the hearth swept up, when
the London coach deposited Mr. Weller, senior, at the door; his legs
deposited him in the bar; and his eyes showed him his son.

'What, Sammy!' exclaimed the father.

'What, old Nobs!' ejaculated the son. And they shook hands heartily.

'Wery glad to see you, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, 'though how
you've managed to get over your mother-in-law, is a mystery to me. I
only vish you'd write me out the receipt, that's all.'

'Hush!' said Sam, 'she's at home, old feller.'

She ain't vithin hearin',' replied Mr. Weller; 'she always goes and
blows up, downstairs, for a couple of hours arter tea; so we'll just
give ourselves a damp, Sammy.'

Saying this, Mr. Weller mixed two glasses of spirits-and-water, and
produced a couple of pipes. The father and son sitting down opposite
each other; Sam on one side of the fire, in the high-backed chair, and
Mr. Weller, senior, on the other, in an easy ditto, they proceeded to
enjoy themselves with all due gravity.

'Anybody been here, Sammy?' asked Mr. Weller, senior, dryly, after a
long silence.

Sam nodded an expressive assent.

'Red-nosed chap?' inquired Mr. Weller.

Sam nodded again.

'Amiable man that 'ere, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, smoking violently.

'Seems so,' observed Sam.

'Good hand at accounts,' said Mr. Weller. 'Is he?' said Sam.

'Borrows eighteenpence on Monday, and comes on Tuesday for a shillin' to
make it up half-a-crown; calls again on Vensday for another half-crown
to make it five shillin's; and goes on, doubling, till he gets it up to
a five pund note in no time, like them sums in the 'rithmetic book 'bout
the nails in the horse's shoes, Sammy.'

Sam intimated by a nod that he recollected the problem alluded to by his
parent.

'So you vouldn't subscribe to the flannel veskits?' said Sam, after
another interval of smoking.

'Cert'nly not,' replied Mr. Weller; 'what's the good o' flannel veskits
to the young niggers abroad? But I'll tell you what it is, Sammy,' said
Mr. Weller, lowering his voice, and bending across the fireplace; 'I'd
come down wery handsome towards strait veskits for some people at home.'

As Mr. Weller said this, he slowly recovered his former position, and
winked at his first-born, in a profound manner.

'It cert'nly seems a queer start to send out pocket-'ankerchers to
people as don't know the use on 'em,' observed Sam.

'They're alvays a-doin' some gammon of that sort, Sammy,' replied his
father. 'T'other Sunday I wos walkin' up the road, wen who should I see,
a-standin' at a chapel door, with a blue soup-plate in her hand, but
your mother-in-law! I werily believe there was change for a couple o'
suv'rins in it, then, Sammy, all in ha'pence; and as the people come
out, they rattled the pennies in it, till you'd ha' thought that no
mortal plate as ever was baked, could ha' stood the wear and tear. What
d'ye think it was all for?'

'For another tea-drinkin', perhaps,' said Sam.

'Not a bit on it,' replied the father; 'for the shepherd's water-rate,
Sammy.'

'The shepherd's water-rate!' said Sam.

'Ay,' replied Mr. Weller, 'there was three quarters owin', and the
shepherd hadn't paid a farden, not he--perhaps it might be on account
that the water warn't o' much use to him, for it's wery little o' that
tap he drinks, Sammy, wery; he knows a trick worth a good half-dozen of
that, he does. Hows'ever, it warn't paid, and so they cuts the water
off. Down goes the shepherd to chapel, gives out as he's a persecuted
saint, and says he hopes the heart of the turncock as cut the water off,
'll be softened, and turned in the right vay, but he rayther thinks he's
booked for somethin' uncomfortable. Upon this, the women calls a
meetin', sings a hymn, wotes your mother-in-law into the chair,
wolunteers a collection next Sunday, and hands it all over to the
shepherd. And if he ain't got enough out on 'em, Sammy, to make him free
of the water company for life,' said Mr. Weller, in conclusion, 'I'm one
Dutchman, and you're another, and that's all about it.'

Mr. Weller smoked for some minutes in silence, and then resumed--

'The worst o' these here shepherds is, my boy, that they reg'larly turns
the heads of all the young ladies, about here. Lord bless their little
hearts, they thinks it's all right, and don't know no better; but
they're the wictims o' gammon, Samivel, they're the wictims o' gammon.'

'I s'pose they are,' said Sam.

'Nothin' else,' said Mr. Weller, shaking his head gravely; 'and wot
aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see 'em a-wastin' all their time and
labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don't want 'em,
and taking no notice of flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I'd my vay,
Samivel, I'd just stick some o' these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy
wheelbarrow, and run 'em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day.
That 'ud shake the nonsense out of 'em, if anythin' vould.'

Mr. Weller, having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis,
eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his
glass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe, with native
dignity.

He was engaged in this operation, when a shrill voice was heard in the
passage.

'Here's your dear relation, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller; and Mrs. W. hurried
into the room.

'Oh, you've come back, have you!' said Mrs. Weller.

'Yes, my dear,' replied Mr. Weller, filling a fresh pipe.

'Has Mr. Stiggins been back?' said Mrs. Weller.

'No, my dear, he hasn't,' replied Mr. Weller, lighting the pipe by the
ingenious process of holding to the bowl thereof, between the tongs, a
red-hot coal from the adjacent fire; and what's more, my dear, I shall
manage to surwive it, if he don't come back at all.'

'Ugh, you wretch!' said Mrs. Weller.

'Thank'ee, my love,' said Mr. Weller.

'Come, come, father,' said Sam, 'none o' these little lovin's afore
strangers. Here's the reverend gen'l'm'n a-comin' in now.'

At this announcement, Mrs. Weller hastily wiped off the tears which she
had just begun to force on; and Mr. W. drew his chair sullenly into the
chimney-corner.

Mr. Stiggins was easily prevailed on to take another glass of the hot
pine-apple rum-and-water, and a second, and a third, and then to refresh
himself with a slight supper, previous to beginning again. He sat on the
same side as Mr. Weller, senior; and every time he could contrive to do
so, unseen by his wife, that gentleman indicated to his son the hidden
emotions of his bosom, by shaking his fist over the deputy-shepherd's
head; a process which afforded his son the most unmingled delight and
satisfaction, the more especially as Mr. Stiggins went on, quietly
drinking the hot pine-apple rum-and-water, wholly unconscious of what
was going forward.

The major part of the conversation was confined to Mrs. Weller and the
reverend Mr. Stiggins; and the topics principally descanted on, were the
virtues of the shepherd, the worthiness of his flock, and the high
crimes and misdemeanours of everybody beside--dissertations which the
elder Mr. Weller occasionally interrupted by half-suppressed references
to a gentleman of the name of Walker, and other running commentaries of
the same kind.

At length Mr. Stiggins, with several most indubitable symptoms of having
quite as much pine-apple rum-and-water about him as he could comfortably
accommodate, took his hat, and his leave; and Sam was, immediately
afterwards, shown to bed by his father. The respectable old gentleman
wrung his hand fervently, and seemed disposed to address some
observation to his son; but on Mrs. Weller advancing towards him, he
appeared to relinquish that intention, and abruptly bade him good-night.

Sam was up betimes next day, and having partaken of a hasty breakfast,
prepared to return to London. He had scarcely set foot without the
house, when his father stood before him.

'Goin', Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller.

'Off at once,' replied Sam.

'I vish you could muffle that 'ere Stiggins, and take him vith you,'
said Mr. Weller.

'I am ashamed on you!' said Sam reproachfully; 'what do you let him show
his red nose in the Markis o' Granby at all, for?'

Mr. Weller the elder fixed on his son an earnest look, and replied,
''Cause I'm a married man, Samivel, 'cause I'm a married man. Ven you're
a married man, Samivel, you'll understand a good many things as you
don't understand now; but vether it's worth while goin' through so much,
to learn so little, as the charity-boy said ven he got to the end of the
alphabet, is a matter o' taste. I rayther think it isn't.'

Well,' said Sam, 'good-bye.'

'Tar, tar, Sammy,' replied his father.

'I've only got to say this here,' said Sam, stopping short, 'that if I
was the properiator o' the Markis o' Granby, and that 'ere Stiggins came
and made toast in my bar, I'd--'

'What?' interposed Mr. Weller, with great anxiety. 'What?'

'Pison his rum-and-water,' said Sam.

'No!' said Mr. Weller, shaking his son eagerly by the hand, 'would you
raly, Sammy-would you, though?'

'I would,' said Sam. 'I wouldn't be too hard upon him at first. I'd drop
him in the water-butt, and put the lid on; and if I found he was
insensible to kindness, I'd try the other persvasion.'

The elder Mr. Weller bestowed a look of deep, unspeakable admiration on
his son, and, having once more grasped his hand, walked slowly away,
revolving in his mind the numerous reflections to which his advice had
given rise.

Sam looked after him, until he turned a corner of the road; and then set
forward on his walk to London. He meditated at first, on the probable
consequences of his own advice, and the likelihood of his father's
adopting it. He dismissed the subject from his mind, however, with the
consolatory reflection that time alone would show; and this is the
reflection we would impress upon the reader.

 Mr. Pickwick makes arrangements to move out of Mrs. Bardell's house and into a hotel. He sends Sam Weller to pay the rent, give a month's notice, and see about having his possessions moved. Sam is also supposed to find out what is taking place with regard to the lawsuit. Sam's arrival throws Mrs. Bardell and two visiting neighbors into a flurry, but his apparent sympathy invites them to discuss the suit. Sam learns that Mrs. Bardell intends to take Mr. Pickwick to court, and that Dodson and Fogg have a good chance of winning, since they took the case on speculation. Sam reports this to Mr. Pickwick, who is making preparations for his Christmas visit to Dingley Dell. Sam takes two days' leave from Mr. Pickwick to visit his father at Dorking. He finds his stepmother sitting with a seedy, gluttonous evangelist, neither of whom is very pleased to see him. The Reverend Stiggins and Susan Weller are self-righteously united against Sam's father, Tony. It is obvious that Stiggins takes advantage of the Wellers. Mr. Weller arrives and greets Sam warmly, and the two of them discuss Stiggins' hypocrisy. Before he leaves the next day, Sam tells his father that he would get rid of Stiggins, to which Tony replies that it is one of the burdens of marriage.

